Castle of the Wolf

by Sandra Schwab

  And suddenly, so much made sense, most importantly her husband’s strange behavior. Why he was keeping his distance. And yet…

  She had already given him all of herself, and it hadn’t been enough to break the curse.

  Cissy shivered.

  Though she finally understood the game, she had already lost all her trump cards. There was nothing left. The realization was a bitter pain that sliced her heart. She doubted she had ever really had a chance to win this particular game.

  She took a deep breath, then smiled weakly at the valet. “Thank you, Johann. You have helped me greatly. Thank you. And good night.”

  She thought she saw something like compassion in his gentle brown eyes before he bowed. “Good night, gnädige Frau.”

  Chapter 21

  Weeks passed, and while Cissy now never saw her husband during the day, his nightly wanderings on the ramparts did not cease. Whenever she spotted the flickering light of his lantern, a curious, painful mixture of anger and regret, longing and compassion—and love, so much love, always love—would fill her. It cut her to pieces.

  Sometimes she wanted to go to him and whack him over the head in the hope it would right his addled brain. Given the obstinacy of her demon wolf, she very much doubted violence would do the trick. Instead, she spent her days overseeing the spring cleaning, making sure that all the rooms were refurbished, that the furniture was waxed, and the tapestries mended.

  On Wednesdays she went to the market in Kirchwalden with the kitchenmaid. She loved the hustle and bustle of the market, loved strolling from stall to stall and choosing fresh vegetables, fruit and meat for the kitchen of the castle. And it was there, in the market of the little town on a sunny spring day, that the footman of the Villa Wolfenbach came to find her.

  When she spotted the disconcerted man, the smile left Cissy’s face. “What is it, Franz?” she asked.

  “Gnädige Frau…” Sharp lines bracketed Franz’s mouth. “Something dreadful has happened. The young Herr von Wolfenbach, your husband, has had an accident.”

  “Oh my God.” A droning sound filled Cissy’s ears. The noises of the market receded in the background, were blended out in a rush. “What…”

  “You need to come, gnädige Frau. They’ve brought him back to the castle. Graf and Gräfin von Wolfenbach are already on their way, and the doctor has been sent for as well.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course,” Cissy murmured. God, it would take them an hour to walk back to the castle! An hour! How much could happen in that time!

  Never before had the path up the hill seemed so long, even though Cissy was walking so fast she soon had left the little kitchenmaid behind. The forest closed darkly around her, the trees humming amongst themselves, looming over her.

  Cissy shook her head. On and on she ran. By the time she stumbled over the wooden bridge and up the ward, sweat drenched her clothes. Her heart hammered frantically in her chest. Oh, my wolf, my wolf…

  In the Great Hall she found Frau Häberle huddled on a chair. “Oh gnädige Frau, it’s the most dreadful thing!” the old woman wailed as she caught sight of Cissy. “The poor young master!” With a white handkerchief she dabbed at the corners of her red-rimmed eyes.

  With flying fingers, Cissy unbuttoned her spencer. “Where is he?”

  “They brought him upstairs to his room. The doctor’s there with him.” Frau Häberle took the spencer and Cissy’s bonnet. “Oh, he looked such a fright when they brought him in! Pale as death, and blood everywhere!”

  Pale as death?

  An icy hand gripped Cissy’s heart and squeezed her lungs tight. Breathing became difficult.

  “Oh, gnädige Frau, whatever shall we do if the young master… Oh, gnädige Frau!” Frau Häberle buried her face in her handkerchief. “The poor young master,” she sobbed. “Pale as a corpse, he was!”

  Impossibly fast, the ice spread through Cissy’s whole body, numbing her limbs, freezing her soul. She caught her breath.

  He couldn’t…

  He wouldn’t…

  “No,” she muttered. “No.” And louder. “No! He cannot.” Her eyes burned. One night. He had been hers for only one night. She wanted more, so much more.

  Wide-eyed, the housekeeper stared.

  Cissy clenched her hands into fists. “I have to see him!” Abruptly, she turned and walked toward the stairs, faster and faster, until she almost ran. It seemed to her that her feet never touched the steps at all. It hardly mattered, anyway. She would have walked barefoot through broken glass or through burning coals, if need be. If only he was there to await her. Alive.

  Alive.

  As she was rushing down the corridor to the master suite, Johann came out of the room carrying a bowl of bloodied water. Cissy’s stomach turned over.

  “Gnädige Frau…”

  She didn’t pay him any heed, but brushed past him to the room he had just exited. The first thing she saw was the doctor, clad all in black, leaning over the bed like a vulture.

  A sob rose in Cissy’s throat. She stumbled into the room—and into the arms of her mother-in-law.

  “Liebes…”

  But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the doctor leaning over the bed, half-concealing the still form of a man, her love, her husband.

  “Fenris,” Cissy whispered painfully. “Fenris.”

  With surprising strength, the Gräfin dug her fingers into Cissy’s shoulders. “Alive, my dear. Badly bruised and scraped, but alive.” Tears glittered in the eyes of the older woman. “The doctor is just putting on the last bandage.”

  Endless minutes passed before the doctor finally stepped back from the bed and Cissy could hurry forward. When she caught sight of her husband, her hands flew up to cover her mouth. His face was leeched of all color, his skin waxen. Deep grooves of pain bracketed his mouth, and his beautiful lips were chafed and cracked. A bandage ran around his head. Underneath the blankets, his big body was still and lifeless, all its intense vibrancy gone.

  Tears blurred Cissy’s vision. “Fenris!” She fell to her knees beside the bed and reached for his hand. His fingers—his long, elegant fingers, which had touched her with so much tenderness during that one night—were icy-cold. “Oh, dear God.” Desperately she pressed a kiss onto his knuckles and held his hand against her cheek. “Oh, Fenris.” Tears trickled down her face, dripped from her nose and chin.

  His lashes fluttered.

  Cissy blinked. “Fenris?” With the back of her free hand, she rubbed the wetness from her face. “Can you hear me, sweetheart?” She gripped his hand tightly.

  His eyes cracked open, his lashes fluttered once, twice; then he opened his eyes wide. They were fogged and almost black with pain, his gaze at first slightly unfocused. “Hurts…” he murmured.

  Without conscious thought, only eager to soothe him, Cissy reached out and cupped his cheek in her hand. “Yes, I know. I know,” she crooned to him, her thumb stroking his cold skin.

  “You took a nasty bump on the head, gnädiger Herr.”

  The doctor leaned over Cissy’s shoulder. Her head whipped around to stare at him. She had completely forgotten the presence of other people in the room.

  “Your horse must have shied at something and thrown you,” the doctor continued, not unkindly. “Thank God, the clever animal came running home and let people know that there was something not right.”

  Fenris frowned. “I seem to remember… There was a shot,” he murmured.

  “There you go, my dear!” his father’s voice boomed from the foot of the bed, where he and his wife stood arm in arm, their eyes fastened on their son. “It must have been a hunter, then. Somewhere nearby.”

  “A hunter? Yes.” Fenris closed his eyes, the line between his brows deepening. He groaned softly. “Did I split my skull?” He licked his dry lips. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “It feels like I split my skull.”

  “No!” Cissy gripped his hand again. “No. You’ll be all right.” Her heart wrenched at the sight of his pain. “Fit as a
fiddle,” she promised, and pressed his hand to her heart.

  His eyes shot open. He looked at her as if he had only now become aware of her presence. His mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. “Really? Pity for you, then.” He breathed heavily and his voice faltered. His lashes drifted close. “Just think about it,” he murmured. “You’d have the castle all to yourself.”

  Cissy dropped his hand as if he had burnt her. Despair pierced her heart, that he could think something like that of her. “No!” she cried, and leaned over him. “It’s not the bloody castle I want! Do you hear me? Fenris? Fenris!”

  “It is no good, gnädige Frau.” The doctor’s hand on her shoulder held her back. “He has lost consciousness once more.”

  “I…” Cissy turned her stricken face to him and then to her in-laws. “I wouldn’t…never…” How could he have said something like that?

  “Oh, we know, my dear.” The Gräfin hurried around the bed and took Cissy into her arms. “We know, my dear. Fenris is…distraught.”

  “I wanted to make this all work, but he—”

  “We know, my dear, believe me, we know.” Her mother-in-law stroked her hair. “My son has become a master at pushing people away. He scares everybody off when they come too close. Don’t you know? Haven’t you guessed?” When Cissy looked up at her, the older woman wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Ever since he came home from the war, Fenris has feared intimacy. Human warmth scares him, because he fears more pain.” Her face contorted. “Of course, he doesn’t realize that this way, his heart and soul will eventually freeze and turn to stone.” She gave Cissy a sad smile. “We had so hoped…”

  “Anna,” the Graf said.

  She threw her husband a long look. “You are quite right, my dear. This is neither the time nor the place.” She looked back at Cissy. “The most important thing right now is to see that Fenris gets well again, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Cissy clasped her hands over her heart. “Yes.”

  The doctor, packing his instruments into his bag, turned. “Somebody needs to stay with young Herr von Wolfenbach throughout the night. He needs to be roused at intervals. A head wound combined with deep sleep is dangerous.” He looked at the still form of the man in the bed. Worry creased his round face, and he no longer resembled a vulture; he was just a tired old man. “Some patients slip off into an even deeper sleep, one from which no human can ever awake them.”

  Pale as a corpse already…

  Cissy shuddered. “I will sit with him,” she said quickly.

  The doctor blinked, surprise written on his face. “I’m sure a servant could—”

  A servant? A servant sitting with Fenris, while she went to sleep? Abandon him when he was at his weakest? Determined, she shook her head. “No. I will sit with him.—Would you like to stay the night?” she asked her parents-in-law. “I will tell the servants to prepare a room for you.—Johann?” The valet had returned some time ago and now hovered on the threshold.

  “Yes, gnädige Frau. It will be done immediately.” He bowed and left the room.

  Her heart heavy, Cissy threw another look at the still figure of her husband. His dark lashes lay in sooty halfcircles against his cheekbones. Despite the dark shadow of his beard on his skin, he looked impossibly young and vulnerable. So vulnerable it broke her heart.

  For a precious moment, she cupped the side of his face in her hand. I want to protect you, my darling. To see to it that no harm ever comes to you again.

  Around her, the old walls of the castle sighed and whispered, and all at once, she felt a burst of strength flowing through her. Straightening her shoulders, she stepped back from the bed and took a deep breath. She could and would do this. She was a princess, not a sheep.

  She made sure that her parents-in-law were settled comfortably in a guestroom and that dinner would be prepared for them. She saw the doctor to the door and pressed his hand in heartfelt thanks. He promised to call again the next day. And later, when she sat at her husband’s bed with her old book of the Grimms’ fairy tales on her lap, she had plenty of time to study him and to think about what his mother had said.

  Like Bearskin in the fairy tale, Fenris had grown claws that frightened people away. Yet underneath the ugly bearskin he was still a man, and his goodness shone through. Time and time again, Fenris had unwittingly given her proof of his good heart. Now she had to convince him it was time to shed the bearskin. And the claws.

  She reached out to stroke his hair.

  My wolf.

  She remembered the old tale of the woman who made clothes for the wolf-man until he came to her hearth and put his head into her lap. It’s time to come into the warmth, my wolf. Don’t you know it’s cold outside? But my house is warm and there’s a place for you there. Waiting for you. Cissy leaned forward and pressed her lips to Fenris’s forehead. “Just as I’ll be waiting for you, my darling,” she murmured.

  A sound from the door made her whip her head around.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, gnädige Frau,” Johann said, looking abashed. His face was gaunt, and the skin around his eyes smudged with fatigue. It reminded Cissy of the valet’s loyalty to her husband. For more than twelve years, Johann had served his master, and now he, too, would be worried about Fenris. She gave him a smile.

  “It’s all right. What is it?”

  He closed the door behind him and came nearer. For a long moment he stared down at Fenris. Something like pain flittered over his face. “He looks so…”

  “I know.” Cissy clasped her hands over the book in her lap. “As if all his vitality has been snuffed out.” She swallowed hard. She remembered how he had moved in her arms that one night. How he had risen above her, dark and magnificent, his body brimming with energy. And so alive.

  Dear God, so alive.

  Cissy drew an unsteady breath. “It hurts to see him like this.” She blinked the moisture from her eyes before she raised them to his valet. He regarded her gravely, then surprised her by taking her hand and pressing it briefly.

  “Don’t worry, gnädige Frau. My master has survived worse than this. And the doctor said he will recover soon, did he not?”

  “Yes. Yes, you’re right.” She sniffed, then wiped the back of her hands across her eyes. “Of course.” She gave him a watery smile. “Why have you come, Johann?”

  “Gnädige Frau.” He dropped to his knees in front of her. “Do you remember the other…accident?” He gave the word a peculiar emphasis. “The incident on the staircase?” He searched her face.

  A slither of ice whispered over Cissy’s back. The accident which hadn’t been an accident. She bit her lip and nodded.

  “You saw how the wood broke, didn’t you, my lady?”

  “The break which wasn’t a break,” she said softly.

  “No wood breaks that cleanly.” Johann’s gaze was intense. “Think about it, gnädige Frau. Wouldn’t it have been perfect: a lonely lane, a shying horse—who knows what might have spooked it?”

  The candlelight danced over the walls and made strange shadows flicker in and out of existence in the corners of the room. Very slowly Cissy said, “A shot in the air leaves no trace. A simple accident. Accidents happen.”

  “Whereas a shot into a man’s head or chest—”

  “Doesn’t look like an accident at all,” she finished for him. She caught her breath. “Do you think…?”

  Johann bowed his head. “With your permission, in the morning I would like to go back to the place where we found the master.”

  She licked her suddenly dry lips. Who would want to kill her husband? “Go back? But a shot in the air leaves no trace…”

  He looked up. “But a man standing on the muddy ground in the forest does.” He raised his brows.

  A murderer lurking between bushes? Fenris’s daily tour of the land was well known, after all. If he had not survived the fall, nobody would have known of the shot. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.” Johann must discover the truth.

  The valet stood and b
owed his head once more. “Thank you,” he said. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat. “There is another thing. I found this while taking off the clothes the master wore today.”

  He held out a card, and Cissy froze. On the card, a little woman leaned nonchalantly against a green table, a secret smile on her lips.

  The queen of spades. The card she had given him when she had confronted him that time in his study, when he had claimed their night of passion had meant nothing to him.

  Her hand clutched her throat. “Where…”

  “He carried it in the inner pocket of his jacket.” The valet regarded her with kind eyes. “I thought it must be something precious to him.”

  The queen of spades?

  Precious?

  Tears welled up in Cissy’s eyes. “Thank you, Johann,” she said huskily, and took the card from him. “Thank you. I will give it back to him.”

  He searched her face, then smiled. “I thought you would, gnädige Frau. Good night.” With that, he bowed and left the room.

  Cissy clutched the card.

  Something precious.

  Her heart pounded in her ears. With trembling fingers, she turned the card into the light and watched the hidden picture appear: the man who sat between the queen’s bare legs and licked her. Just like Fenris had done.

  Something precious.

  Cissy looked from the card to her sleeping husband. The wave of tenderness which swamped her was too much, too intense. Teats trickled over her cheeks. She cried a bit, then laughed and wiped the tears away. “My clever wolf,” she whispered. “So you’ve already come to my hearth and hoped I wouldn’t notice.” She sniffled. “You think you’re such a clever devil, don’t you? But I’ve found you out.” And this time I will never let you go. You won’t be able to divert me with one of your silly smokescreens, either, no matter how much you should huff and puff. No, this time we are going to look at the heart of the matter.

  Smiling, she threw the queen of spades a kiss, then opened her book and read until it was time to rouse him. Grumbling, he opened his eyes. When he saw who was leaning over him, his expression darkened. “Whatever are you doing here?” His glare was magnificent, yet his croaking voice spoiled the effect.