Chapter 2

Late autumn. I was sweeping fallen leaves in the courtyard.

Alaric stood at the far end of the colonnade, a book in his hand. But his eyes weren't on the pages.

They were on me.

Studying. Probing. Carrying something I couldn't quite read.

I lowered my gaze and swept faster.

"You can take a beating, can't you?" he said suddenly.

He paused.

"Graves tells me you're starving. But you've never asked me for a thing. Are you afraid I'll kill you?"

Afraid?

The servants avoided him like the plague.

But he'd given me food. A roof over my head. That was more than I'd ever had in my life.

I shook my head. "I'm not afraid."

He went still.

He stared at me for a long, long moment. Then he looked away and walked back inside.

That night, a small dish of braised venison appeared in my food basket.

Days passed quietly enough. Then the full moon drew near.

He couldn't sleep through the nights. His temper frayed to nothing. He smashed everything in his chamber.

The servants hid in their rooms, terrified of being torn to pieces.

Only I went in every single day to clean up the wreckage.

He cursed me with the foulest words. He threw whatever he could grab at me.

I never dodged. Never made a sound.

Just cleaned in silence. And left.

The night before the full moon, a blizzard descended on the castle.

I huddled under my thin blanket, listening to the sounds echoing through the stone walls.

At first, they were muffled—like a trapped beast's cries of agony.

Then they rose into terrible, guttural howls. The clatter of silver chains. The scraping of claws against stone.

The servants all cowered together in their rooms, trembling.

"The prince is losing control again..."

"Anyone who goes near him right now will be ripped apart."

"Poor soul. He was the greatest warrior in the kingdom. Now he can't even master his own wolf..."

I wrestled with myself under the covers for a long time.

Graves's old leg injury had flared up with the cold. He could barely get out of bed.

That afternoon, he'd grabbed my hand, his face etched with worry.

"The prince is bound in silver—his wolf is growing weaker by the day..."

"And with this blizzard, no one's been feeding his fire. What if he freezes?"

I pulled on my worn cloak, picked up a brazier of coals, and pushed open the door to his chamber.

The hinges groaned.

He was curled on the floor. Silver chains cut deep into his wrists and ankles. His forehead was slick with cold sweat. His face was as white as the snow piling up outside.

"Get out!"

He saw me, and his eyes blazed gold-red.

I ignored him.

I set the brazier at his feet. Then I dragged a thick blanket over his shivering body.

He shoved me away—so hard I flew backward and hit the floor.

"I said get out!" he snarled. "Are you deaf?!"

I picked myself up. My knees throbbed from the impact.

And I pulled the blanket back over him.

He went completely still.

Those gold-red eyes—for the first time—held something else.

Confusion.

Like a beast that had been caged too long, finally meeting someone who didn't flinch from its claws.

I turned to leave.

He caught my wrist.

His hand was cold as iron.

"Why?" His voice cracked. "Aren't you afraid to die?"

I looked at him. I didn't know how to answer.

Because Graves said he needed someone.

Because I couldn't bear to let him freeze alone in the dark.

His grip on my wrist tightened.

Then—outside the stained-glass window—a shadow moved.

An arrow flew toward his unprotected back.

This shot was meant to kill him.

I didn't think. I just shoved him aside. "Watch out!"

And took the arrow in my back.

The pain exploded through me like lightning.

My vision went black. I collapsed into his arms.

Through the haze, I saw his face—stunned. Like he couldn't comprehend why I'd done it.

More arrows rained down...

The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness: a massive wolf-shadow, shielding me with its body.