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My breathing came in sharp rasps as I found myself sinking to the floor, my legs shaking. I leaned forward, bracing myself over my knees as I struggled to breathe.

“This Wolven Mage,” Alaric said, his voice strangely calm. “Did he have white fur?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” Geraldine said. “Did you see it?”

“It’s dead,” Alaric said shortly.

“Oh. Well, I suppose that’s good.”

More sobs escaped me, the tears flowing freely down my face.

“Were any other Wolven Mages kept here?” Alaric asked.

“No, it was just that one.”

I looked up, my vision blurry with tears as I tried to ascertain how Alaric was staying so calm about all this.

His brows were lowered, and his arms were crossed over his chest. Those golden eyes burned with hatred as he watched Geraldine.

“Is there anyone else here besides us?” Alaric asked, his voice dangerously soft.

I was climbing to my feet, my skin prickling. “Alaric…”

“No, just us.” Geraldine was obviously clueless, unperturbed by the deadly tone of Alaric’s voice.

“Alaric!” I shouted, but I was too late. He lunged for Geraldine, who shrieked and scrambled off her chair. With one swift motion, Alaric’s fist collided with her skull, and she went limp on the floor.

I tugged uselessly at Alaric’s arm, even knowing I was too late. “What—what have you done?” I wailed.

“She’s just knocked out,” he said, his face full of disgust as he looked down at the unconscious witch.

My mouth fell open, and I followed his gaze. Sure enough, Geraldine was breathing softly on the floor. “You—you didn’t kill her?” I asked in shock.

Alaric frowned at me. “No.”

“W-why?”

“Because she needs to be questioned by my people. She may not have known what happened to King Nolan, but she certainly knows more about my kind than she should.”

I took a trembling breath and nodded slowly as I sat back down on the floor. My legs were so wobbly I didn’t trust myself to stand for very long. I was shaking again, my body overcome with emotion from everything that had happened today. I wept harder, shoulders heaving as agony seemed to spill out of me.

Alaric sank to his knees beside me, his arms pulling me against his chest, strong and reassuring. I didn’t let myself dwell on why it felt so comfortable to be in his arms, or why the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear seemed to calm my overwhelming thoughts. Instead, I clung to him, my tears spilling onto his chest as he let me cry and cry until my voice was hoarse.

Twenty-Three

THE WOLF

Cerise cried for hours in my arms. I wasn’t sure why I held her for so long. I told myself I would only wait until she stopped crying, but even when the tears abated, I couldn’t bring myself to let her go.

There was so much sorrow—so much tortured grief—emanating from her. Even if Tavik hadn’t been mentally urging me to comfort her, I still would have done it.

I couldn’t bear to see her so heartbroken.

When she was finally asleep, her face blotchy and tear-stained, I dragged a cushion from one of the chairs and lay it behind her head, then gently reclined her onto the floor. She hummed in her sleep and turned over on her side but didn’t wake.

For a moment, I allowed myself to gaze at her sleeping figure. Her shoulders rose and fell with slow, heavy breaths. Her ginger curls were sprawled around her like wispy flames. Long, pale eyelashes fluttered against her cheek. A smattering of tiny freckles dotted her face, mingling with the faint flush of her cheeks from her crying. My fingers brushed along the moon and stars tattoo on her wrist. It marked her as a witch, but at this moment, it didn’t bother me.

Every facet of her was beautiful. As abhorrent as I found witches to be, I couldn’t deny how stunning the creature before me was.