Chapter 34: Danger

Hecate POV

The hem of my black velvet robes whispered against the polished stone floor as I walked through the castle corridors that night. The sound was the only company I wanted. The only sound that did not remind me of what had happened in my studio earlier.

I could not sleep.

Of course I could not sleep. How could I, when every time I closed my eyes I saw his face? When every breath I took carried the memory of his hands on my hips, his mouth on my neck, the desperate way he had held me like I was the only thing keeping him from drowning?

I had thought about going to my studio. Work usually settled my mind. Grinding herbs, mixing tinctures, the precise dance of magic and medicine. But tonight my hands trembled too much. My thoughts were too tangled. I would have ruined a batch of potion or set something on fire.

So I walked.

My feet carried me through the sleeping castle, past the guards who nodded at me with sleepy respect, past the servants who hurried to their quarters, past the portraits of kings and queens who had ruled long before Maddox was born. Their painted eyes seemed to follow me. Accusing. Knowing.

I found myself outside the Beta's wing.

Ysabella's door was closed, but a sliver of candlelight escaped from beneath it. I raised my hand to knock, then hesitated. What would I say? I had sent her to Tori with a letter that revealed everything. She knew the truth now. She knew that Hecate was Samantha, that I had been lying to her since the moment I arrived.

But I needed to know. Had she come back? Had she read the letter and decided to confront me, or ignore me, or expose me to the king? The not knowing was worse than any answer could be.

I knocked.

The door opened a moment later, but it was not Ysabella who stood there. It was a maid, a young woman with tired eyes and a rumpled apron. She curtsied when she saw me.

"Healer Hecate. I am sorry, but Lady Ysabella has not returned yet."

Not returned. The snowstorm. Of course. She had likely stayed at the cottage with Tori, waiting for the weather to clear. A sensible choice. And perhaps a blessing. She would have time to absorb everything, to talk with Tori, to decide where her loyalties lay.

"Do you know when she will be back?" I asked.

The maid shook her head. "The storm is still heavy. I do not think she will risk the journey until morning."

I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment. "And the child? Aileen?"

The maid's expression softened into something sad. "The little one has been crying for her mother. She misses her terribly. I gave her warm milk and tucked her in, but I do not think she is sleeping."

"May I see her? Just to say goodnight."

The maid smiled and gestured for me to follow. "She would like that. She has asked about you, Healer. About the doll you gave her."

We walked down the hallway to the small chamber where Aileen slept. The door was slightly ajar, and a night candle burned on the bedside table, casting soft shadows on the walls. The bed was rumpled, the blankets tossed aside.

But the bed was empty.

The maid gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth, and a strangled sound escaped her throat. "No. No, she was here. I tucked her in not twenty minutes ago. She could not have gone far."

I crossed to the window. It was unlatched. The cold air seeped through the gap, carrying with it the faint scent of snow and something else. Fear. I pushed the window open and leaned out, but the darkness and the falling snow revealed nothing.

The maid was already backing toward the door, her face pale. "I must wake the guards. I must tell someone."

"Wait." I held up my hand. "Give me a moment."

I turned back to the bed and picked up a small stuffed rabbit that lay on the pillow, still warm from Aileen's body. I closed my eyes and focused on the scent of the child, sweet and young, underlaid with the unique signature of her life force. I had learned this spell in the Midnight Pack, from a wise woman who could track anyone anywhere as long as she had something they had touched.

The words came to my lips in the old language, the one that made the air shimmer and the candles flicker. Power built in my chest, warm and urgent, and flowed down my arms into my hands.

An image formed behind my eyelids.

Aileen, small and shivering, wrapped in a thin nightgown. Her bare feet were blue with cold. Tears streamed down her cheeks, freezing before they fell. She was walking through the snow, her small arms wrapped around herself, her breath coming in short, hitching sobs.

Behind her, the castle walls rose against the night sky. Ahead of her, the forest stretched like a dark mouth waiting to swallow her whole.

The rogue forest.

My eyes snapped open.

"Aileen is in danger."