The Locked Drawer

Isabella

"There was a silver hairpin on his desk," I told James as soon as I stepped into the tower chamber. "It was shaped like a curling vine, and it rested on a folded velvet cloth. It was the twin of the one in your sketch."

James went completely still, and his silence was not a careful plan this time. He stared at me with real shock, and I could see that he had not known.

"My father kept it," he said slowly. "All these years, and I never knew."

‘He is telling the truth,’ I thought, and my heart softened in spite of myself. ‘He looks as lost as I feel.’

"Then this is my question for tonight," I said, sitting beside him. "What do you know about it? Please, James. Give me something honest."

He rubbed his forehead and let out a long breath. "When I was fifteen, I found the decree in his study. That same night, I saw my father sitting alone, weeping over an empty velvet cloth. It made no sense to me then. I only understood it years later, when I realized who the cloth had been made for."

"Who was it made for?" I whispered.

"For Seraphine," he said gently. "And after I learned that her daughter might still be alive, I began sending money to your family. The payments for Noah started because of that."

My breath caught. "You mean because of me."

"Yes." He met my eyes. "It is not the whole truth, and I know that. But it is the closest I can come to it tonight."

'It is not everything,' I thought, and tears burned behind my eyes. 'But for the first time, it feels real.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "That was harder to say than you think."

"It was," he admitted, and a tired smile crossed his face.

The exhaustion of the past three weeks settled over us both, and neither of us had the strength to hide it anymore. I leaned back and pressed my hands against my eyes.

"My mother used to sing me a lullaby," I said softly. "I forgot it for thirteen years, and then my wolf showed it to me in the dark. I keep humming it, and I do not even know why."

"Tell me the words," James said.

I sang the first line in a whisper, and he listened without moving. "Noah's fevers are worse in the night," I continued, my voice shaking. "I sat beside his bed for years, and I never knew someone was making him sick. And now the Rite is in six days, and I am so afraid, James. I am afraid they will read my blood and find nothing."

"They will find something," he said firmly. "I promise you that."

'I want to believe him,' I thought, 'but I have learned not to trust promises easily.'

"You cannot promise that," I whispered.

"No, but I can promise I will stand beside you." He looked down at his hands. "May I tell you something in return? I cannot shift, Isabella. My wolf has been silent since the curse began, and the vines on my arm spread a little further every night."

"You never told me it was that bad," I said, and my chest ached.

"I did not want you to pity me."

"I do not pity you." I reached for his hand. "I only wish you had not carried it alone."

His fingers closed around mine, and then he leaned forward until his forehead rested against mine. His breath was warm, and I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears. I knew it was dangerous and that i should have pulled away. Instead I stayed where I was, and I felt the bond between us grow warm.

The mark on my collarbone glowed, and beneath his sleeve, the black lines flared with sudden light. James gasped and pulled back, gripping his arm, and the moment broke apart.

"I am sorry," he said hoarsely. "I did not mean to..."

"Do not apologize." I stood up quickly and turned away, because my cheeks were burning. 'What is wrong with me?' I thought angrily. 'I am furious with him for watching me for years, and yet I wanted him to stay close. I hate that I wanted it.'

I looked at the writing desk across the room, and the anger I had been holding finally turned toward something I could act on. "The drawer," I said, and my voice was sharper than I intended. "The one you told me never to open. I want to see it."

"Isabella," James said carefully. "It is not..."

"You have watched me for years, and you have kept every secret from me," I said. "I have given you every piece of myself tonight. You owe me this."

He was silent for a long moment, and then he nodded. "You are right."

He crossed the room and took a small key from his pocket. His hand hesitated over the lock, and then he turned it and pulled the drawer open. 'He is trusting me,' I thought. 'This must be the thing he guards most.' Inside lay a single folder stamped with the mark of the border camp.

"This is the last photograph I took before I was cursed," he said quietly, handing it to me. "I have not looked at it in months."

I opened the folder, and my eyes fell on a night photograph of a tent surrounded by shadows. It was James's own tent, lit by a single lantern. I studied it carefully, wondering why he had kept it, and then I noticed something at the edge of the frame.

A man was standing there with his back turned. He wore a plain coat, but at his waist I could see a belt buckle with a small chipped corner. My stomach dropped, and my fingers went numb.

'I know that buckle,' I thought, and my mind went blank. I soldered that chip myself two winters ago, when he dropped it in the tavern.'

Riley, I thought, and my throat tightened with grief and anger. Was it you standing there all along?

I remembered the autumn that followed, when Riley left for six weeks on border patrol. He had returned with more coin than his duties should have paid, and I had been too relieved to ask where it came from.

"Do you see something?" James asked carefully. He watched me closely, but I kept my breathing steady.

I made my face calm. "Who is he?"

"I do not know," James said. "It may be nothing. Buckles are common, and half the soldiers at that camp wore something like it."

"You are probably right," I said softly, and I closed the folder.

'I cannot tell him yet,' I thought, and my hands tightened around the paper. 'Not until I am sure. Not until I know what it means.'

I said goodnight, and as I walked toward the door, I slid the photograph into my sleeve. I returned to my chambers alone, and I felt the small square of paper against my wrist, and I understood that it was the first secret I had ever kept from him.