Seven days

The door would not open.

I tried it twice. On the third try I pulled hard enough to hurt my shoulder. Nothing. Then a deep voice outside said, "Please step back, my lady."

I stopped. "Who is that?"

"Orders from Miss Winslow. You are to wait here until the Council sends for you."

"Miss Winslow does not give orders in this castle."

"She does today, my lady."

I leaned my forehead against the cold wood. A few hours ago I had been a woman with a plan. Now I was a woman in a locked room with a broken cup, a cruel rival, and a dying Alpha who would not let me go.

I went to the window. Two guards in gray cloaks now stood on the lawn between the arch and the lake, arms crossed. A third paced the shore.

Gideon had meant what he said.

I sank onto the window seat and tried not to scream.

They came for me at sunset.

It was the maid from the morning, the one with the round face. Her eyes were still red. Behind her stood two guards who would not look at me.

"I am Calista, my lady," she whispered, pressing a clean gray dress into my hands. "I should have told you earlier. I am sorry about the lie this morning. I was told to say it."

"Told by whom?"

Her eyes flicked to the guards. "Please. The Council is waiting."

I changed. I did not argue. But as we walked down the stone corridor with guards on both sides, every servant we passed stepped to the wall and stared at the floor, as if I carried a sickness.

Camille had been busy.

The Council chamber was round, with a high ceiling and a long table of black wood. Five elders sat behind it. Four of them looked bored, the way old people look at things they have seen many times.

The fifth was a silver-haired man with kind eyes and a gentle smile. He wore a plain gray robe and a ring shaped like a wolf's head. When I came in, he stood and bowed like a gentleman greeting a lady.

"Lady Amelia. I am Elder Lorcan Stroud. Please, sit."

He said it so warmly that I almost forgot to be afraid.

I took the single chair facing the table. The guards stayed by the door.

"This is a difficult matter," Lorcan said, folding his hands. "Five years ago you left this pack without leave. By our law, that is desertion. Today you returned, and the pack has questions."

"I am here to answer them."

"Wonderful. Then tell us. Why did you go?"

My mouth went dry.

I had nothing. The real Amelia had taken that answer with her. In the book, she left because she was selfish, and that was all anyone ever said.

"I cannot say yet," I answered slowly.

A murmur ran down the table.

"Cannot," Lorcan asked gently, "or will not?"

"I need time."

"The law is not generous with time, my lady."

"Then I will make it simple." A hard voice cut across the room. "She has time because I say so."

The doors had opened.

Gideon stood in the entrance with Silas behind him, his coat dusty from riding, his gold eyes cold. The elders straightened in their chairs.

"Alpha," Lorcan said smoothly. "We were only beginning."

"Then you can finish." Gideon walked to my chair and stopped beside it, so close I could feel the heat of him. "She is under my protection. Nobody touches her. Nobody locks her door. Whoever gave that order will answer to me."

"Protection is not exemption," Lorcan said. "The law demands an account."

"Then give her one week."

"Seven days?" Another elder frowned. "That is generous."

"It is a deadline, not a favor." Gideon's jaw tightened. "In seven days she tells us what happened that night, or she faces the Council's judgment. I will not interfere."

My stomach dropped. "Judgment?"

"Exile," Lorcan said quietly. "Or worse."

Gideon did not look at me. But his hand, resting beside my chair, curled into a fist so tight his knuckles went white.

"Seven days," Lorcan agreed at last. He smiled again, warm, and just a little too patient. "May the moon goddess guide you, Lady Amelia."

Gideon walked me back himself.

He sent the guards away. The corridor was empty and dim, the torches burning low. We did not speak for a long time.

Then I remembered Tessa's voice. Look him in the eye and tell him to stay away. And watch what happens.

I stopped walking.

"Alpha."

He turned. "What."

I took a breath and made myself look straight into those gold eyes.

"Stay away from me."

Nothing happened for one second.

Then something moved across his face, too fast to name, and he let out a short, rough breath.

"No," he said.

"I am asking you."

"I know." His voice was low and strained. "I heard you. And I cannot."

"You cannot, or you will not?"

"I tried." He gave a bitter, broken laugh. "When I woke this morning and heard you were back, I told myself I would walk the other way. I made it as far as the courtyard. Then I felt you in the castle like a hook behind my ribs, and I was at your window before I knew I was moving."

My heart pounded. "That is not normal."

"No." His eyes held mine. "It is not."

He swayed. It was small, just a lean toward the wall, but I saw it. His hand shot out and gripped the stone, and a thin line of sweat broke across his forehead.

Without thinking, I stepped forward and caught his arm.

His skin burned like a fever.

He hissed through his teeth and coughed, hard and dry. When he lowered his hand from his mouth, a bright red spot stained his lip.

"Gideon..."

"It is nothing." He wiped it away, fast, and pulled free of my grip. "Do not touch me. Please."

I stared at the spot of blood on his sleeve.

Tessa had been right.

I was alone in the herb room again when the tray came.

Calista was gone. A different servant brought it, a thin girl in a gray cap with her eyes fixed on the floor. She set down bread, cheese, a bowl of soup, and a steaming silver cup.

"Miss Winslow sent Calista to the kitchens," she mumbled. "I am to serve you tonight."

She left before I could ask anything.

I sat at the table. My stomach hurt with hunger and fear. The cup smelled sweet and warm, like honey tea. I wrapped my fingers around it and lifted it toward my lips.

Then I stopped.

A thought ran through my head, thin and strange.

I had read about this cup.

In chapter nine of the book, a woman in a gray dress drank a cup of honey tea in a room just like this one. The tea was poisoned. The woman died.

I held the cup beneath my nose and breathed in slowly.

Under the honey, faint and bitter and green, there was something else.

My blood turned to ice.