I’m about to slowly pull away when his fist turns suddenly soft, his fingers yielding as they turn upward to lace through mine in a gentle hold. A sad smile tugs his lips. “I’m starting to think it’s possible that what you say is true.”
My heart hammers against my ribs as his eyes burn into mine. Where once his stare felt invasive, it now feels…different. Still dangerous, but in a new way I’m not sure how to explain. It sends a flurry to my stomach and makes me forget how to breathe. Yes, this is a dangerous feeling indeed.
He runs a thumb over the back of my hand, and the caress seems to radiate up my arm and down to the rest of my body. His lips part, but no words come out.
Like a magnet, I find myself leaning closer, as if that could draw out what he’s neglecting to say. Or perhaps it isn’t words I’m drawing forth but something else. Something about his lips—
A flutter of movement has our eyes darting toward the rose. There, drifting in a slow, sinuous arc back and forth, a red petal falls to the snow-covered floor of the courtyard.
Elliot grows rigid. Slowly, he rises to stand, his hand slipping from mine as he walks toward the rose. “That’s…unusual.”
“What?” I stand and come up beside him, finding my knees wobbling like jelly. I’m grateful for the chilly night air, as it helps cool the fire that’s invaded my cheeks after our…whatever that moment was.
“I already saw a petal fall today.”
My mind is slow to comprehend the significance of his words. When I do, a flash of panic washes over me, but it’s quickly replaced with logic. “I’m sure it’s after midnight by now,” I say calmly. “Technically, it’s a new day.”
He releases a relieved sigh. “You’re probably right.”
Remembering he likes to take each fallen petal with him, I crouch down to retrieve it. With careful, reverent moves, I lift the petal, its texture smooth and silky beneath my cold fingers. It’s unsettling to think I’m basically holding a day of Elliot’s life in my hand. A day that could be one of his last if his curse isn’t broken.
Ever since we made our bargain, I’ve been determined to try my hardest at making our scheme work. Even when I had my backup plan—however ill-conceived it was—my main intent was breaking Elliot’s curse. All because it would serve me well in the end, those twenty thousand quartz rounds buying my freedom and independence. But now…now something has shifted inside me. I’m still eager for the financial benefits our bargain will bring, but almost as much—no, equally so—I want to save Elliot’s life.
A fire burns inside my heart, my determination fusing with my desires. I’ll make Imogen break this damn curse if it’s the last thing I do. I’ll see Elliot regain his life, his freedom, his wolf form. And I’ll claim my freedom too. For the first time since we made our bargain, I trulyfeelits importance from both sides.
I’m about to stand and hand the petal to Elliot when I notice a hint of red peeking from beneath a light layer of snow. I brush it away, revealing another petal. My blood goes cold. I continue dusting away the snow until I reveal the cobblestone floor. And five petals along the way.
I spread them out in my palm, then look up at the king. His face is pale, his eyes wide and distant. “I thought you said you collected each petal daily?”
“I do,” he whispers.
Rising to my feet, I drop the petals in the king’s trembling palm. Ice fills my heart. “What does it mean?”
“The petals are falling faster.” He meets my eyes. “I’m running out of time.”
25
Ihardly sleep that night, and the slumber I do find is fitful at best. My dreams are laced with vicious, falling rose petals and Elliot’s horrified expression.
As soon as the rising sun begins to brighten my curtains, I give up on rest and go to my window. Drawing back the drapes, my eyes immediately seek the rose garden. I’m not surprised when I find Elliot there, sitting on the bench with his shoulders slumped. Did he even try to sleep? Has he been out there all night?
When we parted ways, I begged him not to dwell on the five fallen petals too much. Until we can establish a pattern over the next couple days and analyze it with a mathematic equation, we can’t be certain this isn’t just a fluke. But, judging from the amount of red I see spread over the king’s palm, a few petals have already fallen anew.
With my newfound determination steeling my resolve, I hurry to dress and rush from my room. As I head downstairs, I’m surprised to find several of the wolf-people loitering in the hall. All are dressed in their new clothing, and some appear to even have taken Elliot’s lead in getting haircuts, but they seem stifled by an anxious energy, their normally fierce expressions now so subdued. In the corridor leading to the garden doors, I find Gray and Blackbeard leaning against the walls, whispering to each other. They straighten when they see me.
“Have you any idea why His Majesty insists on staying outside all morning?” Gray asks, her brows weaving together. “He won’t speak to us or allow us to enter the courtyard.”
“I do,” I say, “but I don’t think—”
“If it’s about the curse,” Blackbeard says, “it involves us too. We deserve to know.”
I sigh. Maybe he’s right. “Just after midnight, the king found five petals had fallen instead of just one. I…I think he’s watching to see how many fall today.”
The two fae exchange a glance. “It’s coming to claim us,” Blackbeard whispers.
Curiosity buzzes inside me, and I realize there are still a few things regarding the curse that haven’t been made clear. This might be my chance to understand the rest. “The residents in the palace chose to stay with the king when he was cursed, right?”
They nod. “Most fled right away,” Gray explains in her old, creaky voice. “Especially the young and strong, and any wolves who didn’t consider themselves part of the king’s pack. The old and injured—those who aged from severe war or iron injuries, like me—had no choice but to stay.”
