A surge of triumph floods through me, so strong I gasp. A strange, smoky darkness twists inside my chest—unwelcome, but familiar. A laugh spills from my lips, though I’m not sure where it’s coming from.

Callum’s brow furrows. “Princess? What is it?”

“I. . . I frown. “I don’t know. Sorry. I. . . what were you—?”

Blake is watching me. And I. . . I feel it. I feel his amusement as strongly as I feel my own confusion.

I recall the moment when I was dying. He offered me something and I took it. I felt him then, too. Dark, and smoky, and scented like the forest. He filled me. He was inside me. He gave me light. And I saw things. Felt things. Flickers of memories that weren’t mine.

Dread seeps through my bones.

“What have you done?” My words are quiet and filled with horror.

Callum’s eyebrows knit together as he turns to look at Blake.

“Ah, yes, about that. . .” Blake straightens the cuffs of his black shirt. “I shared my life force with you to save you. Only, it appears there may be a slight. . . consequence. . .”

“What consequence?” I hiss.

Blake runs a hand over his jaw. “It seems to have created a. . . bond. . . of sorts, between us.”

He shrugs as though his words are meaningless but they slam into me so forcefully I physically jerk back.

“What do you mean?”

“I can feel what you feel. You can feel what I feel. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?”

My blood turns cold, while Callum’s entire body hardens.

Before I can do it myself, Callum crosses the room, grabs Blake by his collar, and slams him into the closed door. “You piece of—”

Pain surges through me and I cry out.

Blake arches an eyebrow.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” he asks. “If you hurt me, you hurt her. If you kill me, she dies. And if your brother gets hold of me—then any pain he inflicts upon me will also be inflicted upon Aurora, too. So, if I were you, I’d focus your aggression on him. Because I stuck my neck out for the both of you, and you’d better believe James is going to come after me for it.”

Callum relaxes his hold on Blake’s neck, though his shoulders are still hard.

Blake sighs. “Do you think I wanted this? I’m a private person, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

The two stare at one another for a long moment, before Callum lets him go. “You’d better find a way to break this. . . connection.”

Though Blake is acting sincere, I can taste the smoky amusement on the back of my tongue. “Believe me, this pains me more than it does you,” says Blake.

He smirks.

“I hate you,” I say.

“Oh, believe me, I know.”

Blake smooths down his shirt as Callum comes to sit down on the bed beside me, his jaw tense.

“In the meantime, you’re both welcome to stay at my castle,” says Blake. “I’ll help you recruit the outlying clans before you challenge James for the throne. You won’t be able to take the throne without their support.”

“You’ll help?” Callum’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

I watch Blake. Even if I couldn’t feel the dark waves of smugness coming off him, I’d know he was plotting something.

“What’s in this for you, Blake?” I ask.

“I’d prefer Callum as king. And I’m better at politics than he is. He doesn’t know how to play the game.”

The ghosts of our previous conversations curl around us. For a moment, I wish I could read his thoughts as well as his feelings.

He turns and opens the door. “I’ll see if any word has come back from my scouts. James is probably licking his wounds right now, but it doesn’t hurt to be vigilant. We’ll start recruiting the outlying clans tomorrow.”

“Aye. Okay. You’re an obnoxious prick, Blake. But you saved Rory. I’m thankful for that.”

Blake glances at me, and a strange feeling I cannot quite place washes over me. He shrugs, and strides out into the hallway.

Callum sighs. “Budge over,” he says, knocking me gently with his hip.

He slides his legs onto the bed beside me, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry I left you. I won’t do it again.”

I breathe him in, and soften against his solid body. “I don’t want to be powerless again. I want to learn to fight. To defend myself.”

“Aye?” I hear pride in his voice again. “You did a good job, as far as I’m concerned. But I shall teach you.”

“Good.”

I stiffen as I remember the conversation Callum and Blake had while I was dying.

“Am I a wolf?”

“It. . . er. . . it seems that may be the case.” He chews his bottom lip. “Blake thinks your mother was a wolf. The way she died. . . he thinks she was poisoned with wolfsbane. He thinks you were poisoned with it, too, for a while.”

My soul freezes and ice spreads through my veins. “Sebastian said my father murdered her.”

Callum exhales, his expression gentle. “Aye. That was the conclusion Blake came to, too. I’m sorry, Princess.”

I shake my head, trying to process it all. Until fear dowses the anger. “What does that mean? Will I shift at the next full moon?”

“I don’t know, Princess. James’s bite could have activated the wolf inside you. What Blake did might have stopped it. I don’t know. If you do shift, I’ll be right there beside you.” His arm tightens around my shoulder. “There’s nothing to fear. I swear it.”

My head sinks into the crook of his shoulder, and he pulls me down onto the mattress, stroking my hair. I sigh.

“You’re going to challenge James for the throne?” I ask.

He hesitates. “I know I said I’d take you to Highfell—”

“No,” I say, my muscles hardening. “Let’s take his throne. I have just as much cause for revenge as you. I want to make him pay.”

Callum grins, then brushes his lips against mine. “My wild and fearsome creature,” he mumbles against my mouth.

“My wolf,” I say as I kiss him back.

***

Something wakes me. Perhaps it is the dull throbbing in my side where James bit me. Or perhaps it is Callum’s absence. I feel it instantly. There is a lack of warmth. Of comfort. Of safety. Instead, a darker aura pulses against my senses.

I jerk upright in the covers. Wincing, I press the spot where James bit me.

The room is dark, though the dying embers glow red in the hearth, and a couple of candles flicker on the mantelpiece.

Blake freezes beside the bed, halfway through the motion of placing something on my bedside table.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says.

“What are you doing here?”

“Tea.” He places a chipped cup on the bedside table. “For the pain.”

I eye him warily as he straightens. I try to sense the joke, the deceit, but I feel only sincerity. I take the cup and bring it to my lips, smelling willow bark.

“I can feel it, you know,” he says. “The pain.”

I place the cup back down. “Good.”

“Are you truly so stubborn?”

When I merely stare at him, he sighs.

“Very well. I’ve experienced worse.”

He steps back and leans against the fireplace.

“Callum is getting his people out of Castle Madadh-allaidh,” he says. “He’s worried James will know we’re planning something and go after Fiona and Ryan.”

“Why did you do it?”

He picks up the decanter on the fireplace, and pours a dram of whisky. “Save you?”

“Yes. No. All of it. How does helping Callum get you what you want? Why capture me and plot against Callum only to save us both? It doesn’t make sense.” My brow furrows. “You planned all this, didn’t you?” I say.

I stretch my mind back to earlier. I’d felt Blake’s triumph when Callum said he was going to take the throne.

“You wanted Callum to challenge James all along, didn’t you?” I say. “Is that why you wanted James to propose to me? He was going to send me back to Sebastian, anyway. That would have been enough to make Callum fight.”

Blake shrugs, swirling his glass. “If James had sent you back to Sebastian, Callum would have torn the world apart to get you back. But he would have understood, deep down, why James had done it. If he’d married you, though. . . If James had taken what Callum believed to be his. . . no, Callum would never forgive him for that.”