Curse of the Wolf King - Tessonja Odette Page 0,123

me. Why is that? What have you done?”

My eyes go unfocused, and a chill crawls up my spine. He didn’t marry Imogen. Nor did he break the curse himself. That means…

Saints, no.

“Tell me what you did!” Imogen lunges forward and grasps my wrist in her fingers, squeezing hard.

I yank my arm back, but her grip is painfully tight. “Let me go!”

Nina tugs on Imogen’s other arm. “Get away from her, you lunatic.”

She ignores my sister’s attempts to pull her away. “Not until you confess. Tell me the truth. Tell me you’re just like Mother said. Just like your father said. You’re a whore. A temptress. A seductress. You let me fall for Mr. Rochester, just to yank him away.”

My stomach sinks with guilt; she’s partially right. I orchestrated this scheme to trick her, to punish her for how much I dislike her, for the awful things she’s said to me. And yet, it’s clear she’s hurting, funneling all her grief into rage. It’s as familiar to me as a mirror. “I’ve wronged you,” I say, speaking through clenched teeth. “And that I am sorry for. I never should have involved you with Mr. Rochester, and I never should have lied to you.”

Nina’s eyes dart from me to Imogen, her expression perplexed.

Imogen’s eyes widen. “So you admit it! You’re a shameless harlot!”

“Think what you will of me, I don’t care. I meant it when I said I’m sorry, and I’ll mean it for the rest of my days.” I step closer, sharpening my tone. “But if you don’t release me at once, I’ll break your freezing arm!”

She holds my gaze for a matter of seconds before going a shade paler. Then she takes a reluctant step back and slides her fingers from around my wrist. Nina steps between us, burning Imogen with an angry scowl and forcing her to step back even farther. If matters weren’t so dire, I’d have time to admire Nina’s ferocity in my defense.

But I don’t have time. In fact, I might be too late.

Nina seems to understand, even without knowing the severity of the situation. “Go,” she whispers.

With that, I dart to the front of the coach. “Thirty-three Whitespruce Lane,” I call to the driver. “Hurry!”

40

The manor is as quiet as a tomb when I reach it. I enter the front doors and am taken aback when I find the front hall crowded with wolves. Not the wolf-people I’m used to but actual canines. Some sit back on their haunches, heads hanging low. Others rest on their bellies or their sides. A few stalk from one side of the hall to the other, restlessness written in every move. I take a step inside the hall, and all stop to look at me, dozens of sets of eyes locking me in their predatory gaze.

That’s when I realize—it’s been nearly a month since I first came here and fell into Elliot’s trap. A moon cycle has passed, and it is once again the time of the full moon. Time when the curse allows the wolves of the manor to shift into their unseelie forms.

Despite knowing the wolves are the same creatures I’ve spent time with over the past few weeks, I can’t help but be unnerved by their silent, prowling presence. I swallow hard before speaking. “Where’s the king?”

A wolf with tawny fur pads toward me, but a shaggy brown—the first wolf I ever saw when I came here—leaps before me, a growl tearing through its mouth. “Who are you?” It speaks with Gray’s creaky voice, filled with an uncharacteristic rage and suspicion.

“It’s me…it’s Gemma,” I say, voice trembling as I lurch a step back.

“I don’t know you,” she says.

The tawny wolf bounds in front of Gray, trying to block her view of me. “Easy. We know her.” This voice belongs to Blackbeard.

“I don’t know her. I don’t even know you.”

My heart clenches. Gray’s memories have been taken. Does that mean the curse…no. If Blackbeard still has his memories—or at least some of them—then the curse can’t have come to claim them yet.

“It’s all right,” Blackbeard says, along with a low, almost soothing growl. “She’s a friend.”

Gray lets out a frustrated bark, then takes off down the hall and up the stairs.

Blackbeard pads forward, head low. “He’s in the rose courtyard.”

That’s all I need to hear. I rush down the hall, past more wolves, hoping I’m not stopped by anyone else who’s forgotten me. Desperation won’t let me slow down or feel the fear I should be experiencing