I tilted my head and studied her. The elegant length of her neck, the curve of her cheek, the warm hazel eyes. “What does the real Morgaine look like?”
Colour rose to her cheeks as she met my gaze. “I don’t know anymore. I can’t remember.”
A light breeze blew a strand of dark brown hair across her face and I instinctively reached out to tuck it back behind her ear. She didn’t move to stop me, or take her eyes off mine. Until a rumbling growl made us both turn sharply. Twigs snapped and snarls surrounded us as a pack of large wolves prowled towards us, teeth bared, strings of saliva swinging from their jaws.
I leapt into action, drawing my short sword from my belt, and pushed Morgaine behind me. I didn’t wait for the wolves to attack, I struck out, catching the first one off guard as I slashed through its neck with my blade, cutting off its pained howl. Another lunged for us, and I kicked out at it, before slicing downwards with my sword, both hands on the hilt.
Morgaine’s voice reached my ears, low and rhythmic, repeating words I couldn’t quite hear or understand over the snarling and snapping. She must have been attempting to ensorcel the wolves. I kept swinging, my arms aching under the strain, my breath coming in grunts and pants. I killed the finalwolf with a roar, sending a spray of dark blood across the forest floor.
How had I not heard them approaching? Too distracted by the witch and her manipulations, even her beauty was nothing but an enchantment designed to lure men in. I mentally kicked myself for falling prey to her magical machinations.
Then my heart stopped at the sound of Morgaine’s gasp. I spun around to see another, smaller, wiry creature with black and grey fur, slinking from the shadow of an oak tree. Its maw dripped with saliva and its eyes were cloudy, it looked sick or malformed, somehow. It struck out at Morgaine, and I moved without thinking. Before I knew it, I was between her and the wolf, sword raised horizontally in preparation. When the animal pounced, I thrust my blade into its milky eye, but a searing pain lanced through my forearm. The wolf’s canine tooth had pierced my flesh, and blood now gushed from the wound.
I put a foot on the now dead wolf’s head and withdrew my sword, staggering slightly as I wiped the blade off on my sleeve.
“Stefano, here.” Morgaine gripped my other arm and helped me to take a seat on a large boulder. I felt hot and feverish, lightheaded.
“Something’s wrong with those wolves,” I managed to say, but it felt like there was wool in my mouth and ears. The wolf’s saliva must have poisoned me.
“Give me your hand,” Morgaine said firmly, taking my injured arm and wrapping her fingers around it without waiting for me to react. She brought her face close to the seeping wound and sniffed. Then she rummaged in her satchel and pulled out a jar and a roll of bandages. She opened the lid and scooped out the green sludge and slathered it onto my injury. I yelped at the sudden pain and cold, and tried to pull my arm free, but she was stronger than I’d realised.
“Stop struggling,” she bit out. “I’m trying to help you before we both die of blood poisoning.” She wrapped the bandages around my forearm, then placed one hand on my chest, over my heart. I squinted at her, swaying slightly and seeing double. But then a cool, soothing sensation rushed through my bloodstream and I breathed out, feeling instantly better.
“What’s in that thing?”
“It’s just a herbal remedy. Burdock, yarrow, pepper and beeswax.”
I sighed, feeling drowsy. “Smells like home.”
“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Morgaine wasn’t looking at me, and I almost didn’t catch her quiet words.
“Do what?” I could hardly form a coherent thought, so weakened by the poison was I, and lulled by the medicine and Morgaine’s magic.
“Jump in front of that wolf,” she replied. “I had it.”
I let out a dark laugh. “Oh, you had it, did you? That was you in complete control, about to be savaged by that wolf?”
She flicked her dark hair behind her shoulder. “You know, I could have turned into a bear and torn them to shreds.”
I frowned. “You could?”
She let out a throaty laugh. “No, but I still had it.”
The magic and the poultice had made me sleepy—or perhaps it was the blood loss. I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the boulder.
“We should make camp here for the night, I don’t want to move you until you’re feeling better. We’ll find the clearing in the morning, and tomorrow night will be the new moon.”
“At least we have all these new rugs and blankets,” I said, gesturing blindly at the dead wolves all around us.
The next night we’d perform the ritual and the bond would be broken. All I needed to do was survive until then, and I’d be free of this confusing, maddening woman. Just one more day.
15
MORGAINE
“Do you think my sword is now impregnated with some kind of poison?”
Stefano sat on a fallen log in the clearing, cleaning the wolf blood off his blades, a stack of skins beside him. I’d let Kipper out to hunt for his supper and could hear him splashing in the water, trying to catch a fish.
