“Piss off.”

I smirk, then something softens in me. Though part of me is glad to have seen him in this way—sure I will be able to use it to my advantage at some point—he’s in a such a pitiful state, I cannot help but feel a bit of sympathy for him.

When I was afraid as a child, my mother would sing to me. I try to recall her melody.

Softly, I start to hum.

The tune always brought me comfort, and I hope that it will do the same for him.

When she sang it, I would imagine myself running through the wild grass, the moon shining, the stars clear and bright. And I would know that I was not alone. I was safe.

Blake’s shoulders soften, and he releases a gentle sigh. “I’m serious. If you speak of this, you’re dead.”

I shush him and continue with the soft melody.

I have not thought of this song for a while, and I find myself getting lost in it as the thunder rattles the castle, and lightning illuminates the loch through the window.

It is not until I hear a gentle snore that I stop, startled.

Despite the storm outside, Blake is asleep.

He’s rolled onto his back, and one of his arms is flung above his head. I take the opportunity to openly look at the angry white scar that marks his forearm near his elbow. It looks like a bite from a very large beast. A wolf, perhaps.

His expression is peaceful, and it’s a stark contrast to the dark violence he usually emanates. He looks almost pleasant, handsome, even, without the smirk on his lips or the cunning ambition glinting in his eyes.

His chest rises and falls softly.

I blink, suddenly aware that I’ve been staring too long.

I stand abruptly and cross the room.

“I prefer you when you’re sleeping,” I mutter as I close the door and head back to my chambers.

***

I will have my revenge on Isla.

I’d like to have my revenge on Magnus, too, but that awful wolf seems to be giving me a wide berth. He’s not been in the Great Hall or running drills in the yard for the past couple of days.

In fact, most Wolves seem to be avoiding me. It seems Blake’s collar acts as a larger deterrent than Callum’s—even though I’ve not seen the dark-haired wolf since the storm.

The negative side of this is that Kayleigh will no longer speak to me in the kitchens. Her face turned white when she first saw the black strip around my neck, and since then she’s wanted nothing to do with me.

Isla, however, has taken every opportunity to call me a slut, and to giggle with her friends about me every time I see her.

She knew how much danger I’d be in without Callum’s collar. She wanted someone to hurt me. And what’s more, she hasn’t given it back.

I cannot let it stand.

I get the idea from the potion Blake made on the night of the storm.

I take some wolfsbane and some buckthorn from his stores in the infirmary, and crush them into a powder. I’m not trying to kill her. I just need to neutralize the wolf so the laxative properties of buckthorn can kick in. I want to humiliate her a little.

When I’m left alone in the kitchens, I pull out the small vial with the powder in. I pop out the cork, and hover over the bowl of mashed potato I’m intending to set down in front of Isla and her friends.

Someone grabs my wrist, and I turn.

“Is that why you chose to come here, little rabbit?” Blake’s eyes gleam with curiosity. “To poison us all?”

If he’s embarrassed about the other night, he doesn’t show it. He’s as well put together as usual, with his black shirt emphasizing his toned chest, and an unreadable expression on his face.

My heart pounds. If he tells anyone what he just caught me doing, I’ll surely be killed before Callum can return.

“Only Isla. For stealing from me.”

He brings the vial to his nose, and inhales deeply. “Wolfsbane. Death is a harsh punishment for theft. I didn’t think you had it in you. Though, if you’re going to kill her, perhaps you could use a different method? Poison is my trademark. They’ll think it was me.”

“It’s not. . . I’m not going to kill her!” My cheeks flame. “The wolfsbane is just there to neutralize the wolf!”

He smells the vial again, then he grins and dimples puncture his cheeks. “Buckthorn.” He shakes his head, plucking the vial from my fingers. “You’ve put too much wolfsbane in. This will kill her.” He nods at the mashed potato. “Isla is lactose-intolerant. A nob of butter should have the desired effect.”

He pushes the cork into the vial, then pockets it. “Mind if I keep this? I have a better use for it.”

He walks across the kitchen and pauses in the doorway. His gaze is appraising as he looks me up and down. “You’re a devious little thing, aren’t you?”

Strangely, it doesn’t sound like an insult.

My breathing doesn’t return to normal until I can no longer hear his retreating footsteps.

Later, after Kayleigh and I have finished serving the food, I sit alone at the end of one of the tables in the Great Hall with my bowl of stew and mashed potato. As usual, everyone is giving me a wide berth.

About halfway through the meal, Isla stands up with a panicked expression.

Her stomach growls so loudly that the chatter in the hall desists.

She releases gas, and her cheeks turn bright red.

A number of the surrounding Wolves, including her friends, roar with laughter. I suppress my smile as I look resolutely in the other direction.

Blake catches my eye from the alpha table and winks before going back to his conversation with Robert.

Isla flees the Great Hall.

***

Later, I sleep better than I have in the days since Callum left. Until a loud sound wakes me. I sit upright in bed.

Outside, men are shouting.

I hurtle to the window.

The sun is rising and the sky is painted crimson. People on horseback thunder down the hill toward the castle. The male at the front wears red tartan.

My heart jumps into my throat.

Callum.

He’s home.

I pull on a dress, then run out of my chambers.

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Chapter Forty

I sit on the edge of Callum’s four-poster bed and wait.

All my life, it seems, I have been waiting for something. Waiting to be dismissed by my father, waiting to be wed to the highest bidder, waiting to be seen. To be heard.

To be used.

To be free.

I have been waiting for Callum, now, for days.

I am tired of waiting.

Since he’s been gone, something wild and ugly has sprouted in my chest and grown thorns.

I knew he would need to leave at some point, but he left without saying goodbye. He kissed me then abandoned me. He left me to the Wolves.

What’s more, he left to retrieve the Wolf King, who will either trade me for the Heart of the Moon in the coming days or realize I’m of no value to him, and execute me. What is to be my fate, now he is here?

It’s always been part of my plan to be sent back to my people. I wanted to make a trade of my own with my father; information on the Wolves, and the Wolf King himself, in exchange for my freedom. I have plenty of that now.

The more time I’ve spent with Callum the harder I’ve realized that will be. I do not want to betray him. In fact, I’d started to wonder whether I wanted to leave him at all.

I wonder now if I have been foolish, and misinterpreted his affections like a naïve princess with a silly crush.

I am envious of the Northlands winds that rattle the window and howl against the stone walls. How good it would feel to unleash that rage with no thought to the consequences.

My muscles tighten when footsteps approach the door. It bursts open, and my breath catches in my throat.