We do not venture out all day. Instead, at Mistress Nina’s insistence, we head to the sewing room and work. Beyond the window, light snow begins to fall, covering up the terrible things that came to pass… maybe even the marks upon my door.
“A lot of foolishness goes on the day after such a raid,” she tells me. “Better we keep our noses out of it and stay here. I’ll open again tomorrow when everyone has settled down. I’ve got plenty of food in the larder and bread that will last us today.”
I don’t go out the next day either, nor the one that follows. A few customers begin to call; an order is collected, and a new order is placed.
My sleep is fitful. The dreams are strange, the kind that fade too soon after waking yet leave a sense of unease.
I fear the sound of the bell.
I imagine I hear the mournful cry of a wolf.
One week after the raid, the weather turns milder, and the light snow melts.
“Time you ventured out, my dear,” Mistress Nina says. “We have both been cooped up too long. A little fresh air will do us both good. I have a few errands to run. Why don’t you join me?”
I know what she is doing. We have not spoken about what happened during the raid: how I have been marked for claiming, or how I am to be a wolf tithe. She is right—I am nervous about going out again. Gripped by a fear that they might be waiting to spirit me away.
Her shop is always closed on Wednesday afternoons. I get the time off, too. Usually, I wander the streets and peer into theshops before I write a letter to my parents. Only, I have been putting off writing it because I do not want to worry them by telling them about the raid. Maybe they already know or will soon. Such news travels surprisingly fast. I need to tell them I am safe, lest they fret. With my five younger brothers and sisters, they have worries enough without me adding to their load.
Going out is the right thing to do, for I cannot hide in here forever.
“I will,” I say.
She smiles brightly.
I go to collect my coat, hat, and gloves from my room.
Since the night of the raid, my mind has swung like a pendulum. One moment, I convince myself it is all a lot of nonsense, and the next, I’m sure that three giant wolf shifters are about to break down the door and ravish me on the kitchen floor… in my bed… bent over the little dresser… There is a great deal of ravishment going on in my overactive imagination. This creates a source of acute shame, for I have never met them in their human forms, and so my soul-deep yearnings are filled with images of their giant, beastly wolves.
My throat still pulses on occasion, from the memory of his touch. Worse, I think about his tongue in other, more intimate places. I fear the events of that night have broken me, for no good girl should ever think thus about a male they are not even properly acquainted with.
Shaking my head to dispel such thoughts, I quickly grab my things and head back down the stairs, meeting Mistress Nina in the kitchen, and we head out the door together.
But it is not long before the somber mood of the town grips me. A damaged shop front has been torn down at the corner of the street, and another is undergoing repairs.
“I’m just going to pop into the wool shop,” Mistress Nina announces.
She is firm friends with Mistress June, who owns the shop, and the two of them can chatter once they get started.
“Then I shall go to the bookshop,” I say. Thus far, I have only purchased one, much-prized, novel. On my last visit, I did not find any books to tempt me. Although one did catch my eye just as I was leaving last time. I caught sight of a richly embossed cover shelved between more drab companions. “I dare say a new book might provide the distraction I sorely need.”
“A wonderful idea, Evanthe. I shall join you shortly.”
The door chime rings as I enter. Master Peter calls from the storeroom, his voice muffled. “My apologies. I have had a delivery of new stock and will be a few moments yet.”
I smile. He is always sorting something. Not that it troubles me, for I enjoy browsing the shelves.
The book I glimpsed last time is still there, waiting. I reach up and trace my finger over the gilt symbols along the spine. Careful not to damage the binding, I draw it down from the shelf and eagerly read the title.
Claimed by Wolves
My brows pull together. My heart does a strange little dance inside my chest. I want to put it back, but find that I cannot.
I huff a breath.
“Ah! Evanthe. Have you found anything you like?”
I turn to find Master Peter at the end of the aisle, and return his smile.
