Curse of the Wolf King - Tessonja Odette Page 0,102

garden.”

Once we’re both properly bundled, I lead her outside to the back gardens. We find a few couples strolling along several of the paths, and it takes a while to find an unoccupied one. Steering clear of Elliot’s rose courtyard—which has been blocked off by statues and large potted plants to keep out any potential guests—we make our way to the far corner where we link arms and begin to circle a large topiary in the shape of a fawn.

“You’ve kept me in suspense long enough,” Imogen says with a slight tremble to her voice. “Tell me at once what you brought me here to say.”

I take a deep breath and slowly release it, creating a white cloud in the chilly air. The cold feels like a comforting caress against my overheated skin. “Imogen, there’s a secret I must tell you about Mr. Rochester. He isn’t who you think he is.”

She nearly trips as her head swivels toward mine. “Oh, no. No, this can’t be—”

“He’s so much more.” This quiets her, creates the suspense I need to build the final piece of my scheme, the one that will topple her over and pin her in its clutches. I pause and face her, taking her hands in mine as I prepare to deliver my next words. Guilt tugs at my heart, for what I’m about to say goes against Elliot’s wishes. At least they weren’t woven into the terms of our bargain. “Imogen, Mr. Rochester is the Unseelie King of Winter.”

She gasps, her face going pale. For a few seconds, she simply stares at me in disbelief. When she speaks, her voice is strained, quiet. “This can’t be. The Unseelie King of Winter? I mean, I’ve never seen him in person, but…but…his name isn’t Elliot Rochester. It’s…it’s…”

She blinks a few times, then shakes her head.

Now it’s time to spin a thread of lies to mingle with the truth. “Elliot Rochester is his seelie name. His unseelie name—his fae name—is lost.”

“Lost?”

I nod gravely. “Lost inside a treacherous curse.”

She brings a hand to her lips. “He’s…cursed?”

“A wicked fae cursed the king so that all would forget his name.”

Imogen lowers her hand. “How cruel.”

“It gets worse.” I pluck another strand of lie from my mind and weave it with the ammunition of truth. It feels treacherous, but I can’t think of that right now. This is what I’ve been working toward for weeks. “Mr. Rochester recently learned that his curse is coming to claim his life. As far as he can tell, he has barely more than a week left to live, if even that.”

A sharp cry escapes her lips, and she clutches her heart. “Mr. Rochester is going to die? What about me? What about…what about this courtship I’ve been swept up in? Was he never going to tell me?”

I place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It was so recent that he discovered this was going to happen, and by then, his feelings for you had been set. He doesn’t know how to tell you himself.”

Tears glaze her eyes, and she pulls her shoulders from under my grasp. However, it isn’t sorrow she responds with but rage. “What a waste! Have you any idea how much favor I’ve spent on him? How much attention I gave him when I could have given it elsewhere? I wouldn’t have looked at him twice if I didn’t think he’d live long enough to marry me.”

A surge of alarm runs through me. I thought she’d be more moved by this news, heartbroken. Instead, I’m losing her. Obviously, her love for Elliot isn’t as deep as she first let on. I should have known better. I should have known it isn’t him she’s in love with, but the money and prestige he offers as a husband. At least that will make her final demise even sweeter when Elliot does away with her. Now it’s time to throw my final hook and reel her in.

“I know you must be devastated,” I say, forcing far more pity into my voice than I feel. “If only it wasn’t so hard to break his curse. Then perhaps the two of you could be together like you wish.”

Her expression goes blank as she calculates my words. In the span of a second, her anger subsides. “You mean his curse can be broken?”

“It can, but it’s so, so hard.”

She snaps her fingers. “Well, come out with it. What must be done?”

I infuse my words with a romantic wistfulness as I say, “A human