ログインIsabella POV The first thing Rosalind ever stole was a plum.She was eleven months old. She was sitting on a blanket in the orchard behind Winifred’s cottage, wearing a gold-trimmed bonnet and a white linen dress that Clover had embroidered with tiny silver stars. Her cheeks were round and pink. Her hair, dark and curly, stuck out in all directions like a dandelion. And in her left fist, dripping, was a plum the size of a small apple.“That is not hers,” said Winifred, severely.“She is a baby.”“She is a thief.”“She is eleven months old.”“She has a criminal’s eyes.”I looked at my daughter. She looked back at me, completely unashamed, and took a large bite, and a great purple stream of juice ran down her chin.“She does have a bit of a look,” I admitted.“I told you.”“She gets it from her father.”“She gets it from her aunt.” Odessa knelt beside the blanket, wiping Rosalind’s fingers with a damp cloth. “I know a certain young woman who once stole a whole basket of pastries. And b
Killian POVShe was born on the winter solstice, at dawn.I would like to say I was calm. I was not. I paced the corridor outside our bedroom for eleven hours in a rut I could have drawn on a map. I wore a hole in the carpet. I broke two cups. At one point, I punched a wall, and Marcus, who had been standing guard at the end of the hall with an expression of deep sympathy, said, “It is fine, Alpha, we will patch it,” and I wanted to cry.“She is all right,” said Valerie, for the fortieth time.“I know.”“Winifred is in there. And Odessa. And three of the best healers in the kingdom.”“I know.”“You are making me dizzy.”“I know.”She sighed, and put a cup of tea in my hand. I put it down immediately. Then I picked it up again, sniffed it twice and drank half.“It is not poisoned,” said Valerie, gently.“I know. I just like to check.”“You are going to check tea for the rest of your life.”“That is the plan.”A scream tore through the door.I dropped the cup.It shattered on the floor.
Isabella POVThe plums ripened in August.They hung in heavy purple clusters from the old orchard behind Winifred’s cottage, so thick that the branches bent. The air smelled of sugar and warm leaves. Bees droned lazily in the long grass. And on a wooden bench in the shade, two old women sat side by side with a basket between them, eating plums out of their hands.“You are doing it wrong,” said Odessa.“I am not.”“You have to bite from the side. Otherwise the juice goes everywhere.”“I have been eating plums for ninety-two years.”“And you still get it on your chin.”“That is a feature, not a flaw.”I stood at the edge of the orchard with my hand resting on my belly, watching them. I was six months along, and enormous. Wren said I looked like a very determined barrel. Killian said I looked like a goddess. Both of them were being generous.“Are you going to hover all day?” said Winifred, without turning her head.“I was admiring.”“Admire from a seat. You will fall over.”“I will not.”
Isabella POVI had expected to cry at the wedding. I had not expected to be the one giving the toast.“You have to,” said Isabella, pushing a glass of wine into my hand. “You are the King. And the brother. And the only one in the family who can speak without shouting.”“Valerie can speak without shouting.”“Valerie is currently dancing on a table.”I looked. She was. My sister stood on a long banquet table in her ivory dress, barefoot, with her hair coming loose, laughing so hard she could barely stay upright. Aelion stood below, arms raised, ready to catch her. Miranda was clapping in time. At the other end of the garden, three hundred guests, wolves and Fae alike, were eating roasted pheasant with their fingers and arguing loudly in four languages.It was, without question, the happiest chaos I had ever seen.“All right,” I said. “I will do it.”I climbed onto a chair. I tapped my glass with a spoon. It took a surprisingly long time for the noise to die.“Friends,” I said. “Family.
Valerie POV“Hold still,” said Clover, through a mouthful of pins.“I am holding still.”“You are fidgeting.”“I am nervous.”“You have been nervous for three months. It is a very long time to be nervous.” She tugged my sleeve into place. “Turn.”I turned. In the long mirror, a woman in an ivory dress looked back at me. The silk was soft as water. Tiny gold sunbursts had been stitched along the hem and across the bodice, each one no bigger than a thumbnail, each one catching the light. My hair had been braided and pinned up with golden thread. My mother’s pearl earrings glowed at my ears I did not look like the loud princess. I did not look like the villain of a hundred gossip stories. I looked like someone I might like.“Oh,” I said.“Do not cry. I just finished the lashes.”“I am not crying.”“You are going to.”“I am not.” My chin trembled. “Clover. It is perfect.”“It is the best thing I have ever made.” She put her hands on her hips, and her voice cracked. “I started it the nigh
Isabella POV The Eclipse Pack kitchen was smaller than I remembered.I stood in the doorway, in my plain gray coat, looking at the narrow room with its sooty stove and its sagging shelves. I had been seven the first time I stood here, with a plate in my hand, waiting for somebody to tell me I could eat. The same long wooden table ran down the middle. The same cold stone floor. Even the smell was the same, onions and old grease and damp.It was only a room. It was not a monster. It could not hurt me.“You do not have to go in,” said Killian, behind me, quietly.“I know.”“I can wait here.”“I would like you to come.”He took my hand.We walked in together. The room was empty. Sunlight fell through the small window in a thin, dusty slant. I ran my fingers along the edge of the table, rough and splintered. I stopped at the far end, by the stove, where a pile of firewood was stacked against the wall.“I used to sit here,” I said. “On the floor. In the winter. It was the only warm place.”







