Hopefully, I’ll see you tonight. There are important things you and I need to discuss.
Oh, and feel free to burn this note, too, if you so desire. I have an entire desk drawer filled with parchment and ink, and enough persistence and arrogance to write you letters for eternity. Try me.
Are you still reading this, little bird?
Your Wolf
With an annoyed growl, I crumple the parchment in my fist and move to the hearth where a low fire has been kept burning. Every sarcastic syllable in those last words repeats in my head as I toss the note to the flames. I keep the rose, though, holding it firmly between my fingers, careful of the thorns as I bring it back to my nose.
My wolf.My pain in the ass is more like it. We are certainly no Cila and Thaddius.
And telling me to stay here? Who does he think he is? He clearly learned nothing from last night. Or the night before. Or two days ago. Gods, whenever it was that we fought in the garden.
I turn back to the window, head still throbbing. I feel like death.Death that’s had a long nap and a healthy dose of determination.
Because I go where I please. As I please. When I please.
And today, I’m going to see the Memory Catcher.
* * *
Determined or not,I don’t make it as far as I’d hoped.
By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, I’m dizzy as a drunken goose, and a chilled sweat has broken across my neck. Everything aches again. My face. My teeth. My bones. My skin. I almost push onward regardless, but Mari bursts through the front door with two baskets of jarred food in her arms, her chestnut locks wild around her pretty face.
She glances up at me and startles. “Oh, stars, Miss Nephele. You scared me.”
“Forgive me,” I say with as much of a smile as I can muster. “Do you need some help?” Carefully, I move down the last few steps and join her, listening to the quiet home. I reach for one of the baskets, but she turns aside.
“It’s so good to see you up and about,” she says. “Truly. But I was told to take care of you. Not to put you to work.”
I raise a brow at that. “Told by whom?”
She shrugs. “Everyone, actually. Before they all left for the day. But Mr. Neri was adamant.”
My forced smile tightens. “Well, contrary to what he might believe,Mr. Neriis not my master.” I reach for the basket again, and this time she gives up and lets me take it, out of what appears to be a simple lack of knowing what else to do.
And I’m glad. I’m not sure I can make it to Ingrid’s home alone, and I’m not yet brave enough to tempt fate by toying with the sliph of aether upstairs, but if everyone is gone, then there’s a chance I can convince Mari to come with me.
I drag the basket handle over my forearm, doing my best to pretend the weight isn’t about to send me into a tilt from which I can’t recover. “Where to?”
She jerks her head toward the hall. “The kitchen.”
* * *
For the firsttime since the wolf’s resurrection, I’m hungry.
Sipping from a short glass of wine, I watch quietly as Mari chops fresh rosemary and thyme and sprinkles it into a kettle over the fire. This morning, she added the pork belly Harmon butchered and later added other ingredients, like onions, vinegar, and broth. She continues dumping various items into the pot—liquids, spices, and herbs I can’t begin to name.
I’m many things, but a cook is not one of them.
“Is that the same stew from the other day?” I inquire. It doesn’t smell like it.
She shakes her head, stirring the mixture with a wooden spoon. “No, this one is my special recipe. I love making it in the fall and winter. It’s so rich and hearty, and especially good for nourishment.”
I’m glad to see her somewhat at ease now that we’re here. She didn’t know Finn for long, but she seemed to take an immediate liking to him. His loss—along with the stress of everything else happening in her city—has to be difficult.
“Speaking of everyone,” I say, “where are they?”
