by Amanda Milo
Gareth’s arms somehow manage to tighten a fraction tighter. “FUCK THAT, Ella! FUCK THAT. Shut up.”
Feeling my fur sprouting everywhere, and my bones shifting, my body reshaping to wolfform, I gasp, “Gareth, my Duck, wait—you don’t understand!”
At my use of his nickname, Gareth’s breaths hitch. With a tighter squeeze, he crushes me to his chest, snarling, “I understand perfectly, Ella. For once, give me a chance to tell you that.”
I can’t respond, because my lips have smoothed onto a wolf’s long muzzle, and all I can do now is howl, whimper, and give an odd woof.
Surprisingly, not even his beloved intended turning into a creature from night terrors makes Gareth miss a beat. He takes one arm off of me in order to shove himself up—hauling me right up with him—and then he’s carrying me, one arm supporting my weight, one hand wrapped around my muzzle so I can’t snap at his face to encourage him to drop me.
And one of my greatest fears plays out when Gareth stalks into his room—a place I probably never should have had a chance to see until or unless we’d actually married, but a place he and I snuck off to each and every chance we got, forcing the king and queen to post a guard in Gareth’s room during functions to discourage us from enjoyable private shenanigans whenever we got the chance to slip away together.
But there’s no guard here. And now Gareth’s room is... different. Darker. Full of broken furniture, torn bed drapings, and shredded wall hangings. The only thing in the room of any good-looking condition is a giant steel cage.
Without hesitation, Gareth strips me of my ruined dress and prosthetic—none too gently, I’ll add—and he shoves me nose-first into the animal-sized prison.
The moment his hands release my scruff and hinquarters, I whirl, ready to dodge under his arms—but he slams the door, the clang echoing off the stone walls. Yet I can barely register that over the deafening pounding of my own heart.
Likewise, Gareth’s heart is pumping mightily, almost exhilarated. It’s the sound of triumph. Even if my senses couldn’t tell me this, my ears can’t miss it in his voice. “I know you’re scared, but...” Gareth’s eyes are fierce on mine. “Too bad.”
CHAPTER 11
White patches appear on either side of Gareth’s mouth: he’s clenching his teeth. “Ella, say something.”
You’re an arrogant ass.
Gareth sags, seemingly in relief. The wan smile he flashes me confirms it.
I wurrf once, stunned.
His smile melts away. Too agitated, he rears up, his chest launching like the bow of a Viking’s dragonship as it crests a high-tossed wave. “No more secrets between us, Ell,” he orders, sounding every bit the prince he is. Like he expects me to throw down everything just because he said so.
I sneeze.
Gareth cuts me a narrow-eyed look. Then he shuts his eyes, looking grieved. “The hounds showed us the grave that first night.”
My heart stutters. If they found the grave that night, then they’ve known all along that Stepmother’s story of my father’s death was a lie.
They could have ordered her death for it. I speak up. You didn’t confront her? You didn’t question why she had lied, and how he died? And not to point out the obvious, but you’re not… you’re not shocked I’m a wolf who can mindspeak to you?”
Gareth’s mouth twists unhappily. “You could say we had a fair idea of what must have happened.” His eyes roam over me. “One look at her face, and her guilt was plain.” His chest rises sharply, then falls slowly. “But even more apparent was her pain.” And looking pained himself, he locks his gaze to mine. “And dammit, Ella, I’ve been able to hear you from the beginning.”
They believed my father’s death was an accident—which it was—but they didn’t know why, the real why. Still, the king strongly suspected my mother had murdered her husband, and he was merciful.
Would he have pardoned her if he’d known about the wolf?
And Gareth did hear me that night. My heart pangs, feeling so, so badly damaged from being torn away from him. From running from him. I search Gareth’s face, wondering how he can be so calm about me being a wolf. I raise my head, and twist, examining the cage he’s locked me in. A cage. My eyes slide back to him. He’s had plans to catch a creature. To catch me.
Gareth bares his teeth, sucking in breath. “Ella, I’ve wanted to tell you that you’re safe with me, but you didn’t hear me when you…” He glances at my rear leg, even though I’m crouched too low for him to see the damage I rendered to myself in order to escape his hunting party. “When you were so hurt and afraid. And then you ran from me.” Pain lances his features before he gets control of his emotions. “You never let me get close after that. I wanted to tell you everything, and couldn’t.”
Gareth’s shoulders have stiffened, his breaths coming too fast, too deep. Feeling pretty upset myself, I extend my paw through the bars, as if I could touch his arm in reassurance. And for reassurance.
To my surprise, Gareth crouches and catches it, palming my paw gently. He regards me in silence for a moment, before dropping his gaze to my dewclaw. He rubs his thumb there, making my leg twitch. My family has touched me some in my wolf form, but impersonally; a brush over the head or my back. I suppose they don’t want to treat me too familiarly, as if I’m a dog when they know I’m really their daughter, their sister, trapped.
Gareth touches me as if I’m Ella, extra-furry or not. He has to swallow several times before he shares, “Did you know that besides my father, your father was my mother’s closest friend and confidant?”
Yes. She considered my father a dear friend. My da was wonderful. We all lost a great man. Even my internal voice feels raw and pained, as if I’m forcing the words through my throat and not my mind. I’m so sorry she lost him, Gareth.
Gareth’s fingers flex around my paw, and his chest begins rising and falling, deeply affected by his emotions. “Ella. My mother was the wolf.”
My paw jerks off his hand—or nearly does, before he captures it in an implacable grip. The queen! She was—no! No, she…
The wolf’s voice had been so familiar.
Now that he’s said it, I know it. Oh, Gareth...
Grief turns his already-drawn face into a crushed scowl.
You... know what happened to her?
Gareth gives one sharp, short nod. “We have a fair idea.”
But she—she... I cast around, nose bumping the bars as I try to piece it all together. The wolf. It—she—came to our door. She spoke to me, just like I’m speaking to you! She started to tell me something, then…
I don’t finish that.
I am struck by a confounding point though. Your father is the Wolf Slayer! Did he know his queen—
“Of course he knew,” Gareth whispers. His brows pull in and he searches my eyes, his gaze sincere. “Did you ever hear him gloat about any wolf kills? Ever hear him say that name?” Gareth’s full lower lip compresses. “He didn’t give himself the title. The people called him that after he decreed no wolves were to be touched in his forest.” His voice roughens. “He meant to keep my mother safe.”
My long lower jaw drops open. The hounds chasing wolves...
Gareth shakes his head sharply. “They ran with her. Not chased.”
The magnitude of misunderstanding, and lost time... I can only stare at him, horrified.
Gareth’s eyes search me; his chin firms. “My father has never hunted wolves, Ella. He hunted with a wolf.” He looks away, swallowing. “My mother. He suffered no wolf killers in his woods, because he wanted my mother safe.” Gareth’s eyes snap to mine. “And yours.”
My entire cage scoots forward because I crash against it, staggered. WHAT?
Gareth’s eyes drop, and his nod is such a sorrowful one. “You know how your mother—your birth mother, that is—came from the same village as my mother?”
I remember her telling me so. They had such a bond of friendship, they left home together. Before one became queen of the rea
lm and one a baroness, they were simply two women who were the best of friends. Even after each of them married, they were nearly inseparable. That’s why this little baronesses’s daughter grew up scampering alongside the eldest King’s son.
“They were from the same clan,” Gareth says, his gaze raising to mine again. “The same shapeshifter clan. Ella, your mother was like you. You were told she died; she was killed.” His lips thin. “It was a poacher. My father tortured him so brutally that no one dared to break his decree and harm a wolf in our woods after that day. He knew it wouldn’t bring your mother back, but he knew you’d turn into a wolf someday, and he wanted you to free to run. He ensured my mother had the same freedom,” he adds softly.
How do you know all of this? You haven’t always known— Hurt stabs at me. Have you?
Gareth gives me a chiding look. “I would have told you if I did.”
I lower my head. Somewhere inside, I was sure of his answer. Of him.
Gareth moves closer, his masculine scent, a blend of leather, horse, and man filling my nostrils. “We trust each other. That hasn’t changed, Ella.”
But I’ve changed. The night I turned into a creature—an animal I believed he’d hunt… I’ve been so afraid.
Gareth’s eyes move to the rear of the cage, to my back leg. The rims of his eyes redden. His voice is hoarse when he whispers, “I know.”
You left the meat for me, didn’t you?
“Yes.”
You saved me. I’d have starved to death.
Gareth’s gaze shifts to my side, as if he can see my ribs through my coat. “That’s what I was afraid of. My father said my mother’s intent was to teach you how to hunt as a wolf. How to change.” His eyes jerk to mine. “Can you change at will?”
Sometimes.
This seems to make him anxious. Gareth leaves his crouch, beginning to pace. “I wanted to do more. That first winter was so bloody frigid and bitter.” He shows his bared teeth. “I wanted to help you, wanted to catch you and bring you home, but I knew the extremes you would go to escape—”
‘Me,’ he doesn't say out loud, but I almost hear it in my mind, the word so pained it shatters my heart.
“After we… after our last time together, when I got home…” Gareth clears his throat, “Apparently, I still smelled of you.”
I feel the top of my muzzle wrinkle. Dreadful embarrassment fills me. Nooo… you mean your mother smelled—
“Your popped maidenhead.”
I flash my fangs at him, and even as upset as he is, Gareth grins. I whurff at him and bring my foreleg over my muzzle, like putting a hand over my face. I was going to say that she smelled that you and I made love, you ill-bred ogre.
His lips twitch up higher. “Oh. Whoops.” For just a moment, he looks more like the boy I used to know. But then he sobers. “Anyway. She knew what had happened.” He drags a hand through his hair. “She forced me into my room, sent my father to have a talk with me, and she trotted to your house to prepare you.”
Prepare me?
“Seems breaking the seal comes with a special ceremony among our mothers’ people’s clan.” He tips his head at my wolfish body. “Because that’s when a she-wolf matures into her second form. Boy did she have some choice words for me,” he shares ruefully, “but that’s the catalyst event. Making love triggers the first change. My mother set out to inform you of everything, although our parents had hoped we’d wait until you weren’t so young.” Gareth’s smile is definitely rueful. “Guess all those times they harped on us like harbor seals, ordering us to wait, they might have had a fair reason.”
Hmmf. They could have told us from the beginning!
Gareth rakes a hand down his face. “I know, my love. I know. It could have changed everything.”
Hearing him call me my love just like he used to do, as if nothing’s changed, nearly does me in. I try to choke back a mournful howl.
The small noise I can’t suppress has Gareth’s giving me a ravaged look. “We’ll tell our children, Ell. Evidently, the clan had rules against such a thing, but we don’t belong to them.”
We.
Gareth’s chin dips approvingly. “That’s right, Ell. If anything, you know you belong to me.”
Despite myself, I give him a wolfish grin, my tongue even lolling out of my mouth. If it didn’t feel so good to hear you say that, I’d give you hell, I tell him.
The corner of his mouth tilts up. “Give me hell anyway.” His smile dies, his expression suddenly dead serious. “I’ve missed you, Ella.”
I can’t hold it back anymore; my hindquarters sink and my head goes back and I howl sadly. It’s a low, mournful note. Because damn it, damn it—all the tragedy around us. The monstrosity of the wrongs and death and… maiming… and we’ve lost years.
Gareth lays his hand on the bars, curling his fingers in as he stares into my eyes. “I know, love.”
My father. My mother. His mother, too. Our queen.
The queen of the realm. How is the kingdom not in mourning? Why hasn’t anyone spoken of this?
“No one knows,” Gareth answers, voice gone thick, his long fingers reaching the fur over my shoulders and burying the tips in my thick coat. “She never was one to be about on her own, and Father goes nowhere now… now that she’s gone.” His eyes drop to my paws.
I don’t want to pry, to pain him more, but I have to know. Your father… you said you know what happened to her that night. The king didn’t… he didn’t…
Gareth’s eyes close as if me thinking I have to ask brings him pain. “Ella. My father understands accidents.” His eyes open, and lock on mine. “Make no mistake: my father is in a terrible way. The loss of our mother, his queen, his mate”—his voice breaks—“nearly killed him. But he wasn’t going to orphan you and your sisters to get revenge on a grieving, guilt-ridden widow who thought she was protecting her family. That she helped you escape instead of screaming that you’d turned into a wolf told him that she harbored no ill will towards a wolf changeling. She murdered in innocence. He silently pardoned her, unbeknownst to anyone but us.”
I absorb this in silence.
Gareth tugs the fur behind my head as if he were teasing locks of my hair. “The ball is the first event we’ve held since you left. We hoped it would flush you out.” His lips turn up wryly. “Must’ve mentioned to a dozen snoopy dowagers that I wished someone would look in on your stepmother. Kept hoping they’d spot you.”
Wolves don’t really gasp—but I do suck in a breath, letting it exit through a burst of air out my nostrils. YOU sicced the biddies on us?!
Gareth is unrepentant. “I hoped you’d be here tonight, but I half believed you’d slip away. I was giving you until midnight, and then I was going to hunt your tail down,” he reaches through the bars with his other hand, and slowly, so, so slowly, he strokes my shoulder. “And bring you home to me.”
His eyes are so sincere, you would think he’d just whispered a loving declaration to me. My heart, the easy thing, certainly thinks so. It rolls over for him and I feel my long lips draw up in a stupid grin.
With a relieved breath, Gareth draws his fingers from my fur, and moves his hand to the door of the cage. He raises the latch, his gaze locked with mine. “Ready to change?”
Sometimes it takes me awhile. I can’t exactly snap my fingers and be done.
For the first time in a very long time, I get to see Gareth’s beautiful, ultra-confident, unrepentantly superior smirk. “If I could charm you out of half a dozen underskirts, I wager I can charm you out of a wolfskin.”
I chuff at him.
He draws back the door, and without warning, he’s wrapped his arms around me, and dragged me into his lap.
Gareth! I make a surprised noise that comes out like, “Mrork!”
The idiot chuckles into the soft fur behind my ear, the side of my face and the length of my cheek smushed against his shirt and hard chest. “Listen, love—you’ve got a temper, and you get ideas in your head sometimes.”
I release a warning growl.
...Which he ignores. Well, sort of. I can hear him smiling. “I wasn’t going to risk you getting spooked and running again.” His arms hug me to him as he drops his face into my fur. His words rumble right into me when he groans, “God knows, I can’t lose you twice. I’ve missed you, Ella.”
I hook a forepaw over his elbow, my way of hugging him back as much as I’m able with the way he’s got me caught against him.
I’m not complaining at his hold. I’ve missed him too. I jerk my head up, bumping his face out of my way so I can burrow my cold nose into his neck. If possible, I’ve missed you more.
“Not possible,” Gareth declares. “I win.”
I try to roll my eyes, but doing this as a wolf leaves a lot of the desired attitude out of the equation, I think, judging by the amused look that takes over Gareth. I forgot how much of a pain you can be.
Gareth readjusts me so that my head is under his, a perfect landing place for his chin. “I’m happy to remind you. And happier to inform you that you’ll never have a chance to forget again. I asked Father if I could have a set of shackles made that will fit a wolf or a woman, and would it be alright if I dragged you around with me in them. Not just here, of course, but all over the kingdom.”
He turns his head so that he can rest his cheek on me, and I can feel him grinning like an idiot into my fur. I give my tail a single wag—hard enough to curl it and strike him with it. It makes a satisfying thwack. And if Gareth is chuckling instead of complaining, I’m still calling this my win. And to that, he said…?
“He said yes, and that a man has to do what he has to do to keep his woman in line.”
He did NOT!
There’s an evil snicker in his voice. “All right—maybe not in so many words, but I knew what he meant. So I commissioned the blacksmith. You should have seen his face when I told him I needed one end of a leg shackle to fit me, and the other end needed to fit a wolf or a woman.”
I start to growl at him playfully—but my protest turns into a whine as my body starts to shift back to human.
