This Dark Wolf (Soul Bitten Shifter #1) - Everly Frost Page 0,52

her hands turn across her knees, palms up.

My wolf continues to explore around us, but I’ve learned how to put her sensory input to the side while I focus on what’s in front of me.

“Tristan knows that you’re in control now,” Helen says, her voice soft. “In my last message I sent with Jace, I told Tristan that you weren’t ready. He knows I lied to him.”

I lower my gaze. “I’m sorry, Helen. I never wanted to create conflict between you and Tristan.”

“Hush. You didn’t ask me to do this. I offered. Besides, he’s still locked out. He can rage all he likes right now.”

Her smile remains gentle.

I close my eyes and take deep breaths. “I won’t survive once I leave this house. Tristan will throw me into situations I don’t want to be in. He doesn’t care if he gets me killed.”

Helen lowers her gaze, studying her hands. “You’re stronger than that, Tessa,” she says, finally meeting my gaze. “You’ve trained harder than any other woman who’s ever set foot in this place. You’ve conquered your wolf and tamed your energy. You’ve grown strong in your body and your mind. And… you shouldn’t underestimate your value to Tristan.”

Frustration burns hot in my chest, but I calm myself again. “I’m a chess piece to him.”

Helen tips her head, her dark hair floating at her side. She’s wearing a dress today with flowing sleeves that flutter around her wrists. “Not an ordinary piece, Tessa. You’re the queen on the board.”

My eyes widen. I don’t know much about chess, but the queen is the most powerful piece—and her end can have significant consequences.

“Right now, you’re waiting at the back of the army,” Helen says. “But Tristan plans to put you into play. After that, your choices are your own.”

Her statement makes me shiver.

“I expect Tristan will come for you tomorrow,” Helen says. “In the meantime, take the afternoon off. Prepare yourself emotionally and mentally.”

I pick at my nails, feeling nervous enough that my wolf raises her head from the flower she was inspecting.

“Deep breaths, Tessa,” Helen says gently. “You can do this.”

I give her a nod, slowing every movement down to maintain my calm. I remind myself: “I have everything I need.”

Drawing my wolf back to myself, I stand and take the stairs more calmly than I thought I would in the face of Tristan coming back for me.

Instead of returning to my room, I spend the next few hours until lunchtime exploring Hidden House like I promised myself I would one day but thought I had more time to do.

Opening my mind to possibilities, I ascend the stairs and find myself stepping out onto a glittering mountain, rockfaces soaring up on either side of me and only a narrow pass in between. In the distance, a sliver of clear sky beckons to me.

A cool breeze whistles through the mountain, but the wind is at my back, urging me to take the steps to the cliff’s edge, where the sky opens up and the rockface plummets, a smooth face that’s so high up, all I see is clouds beneath me.

I smile into the wispy white. “Love the metaphor, Helen,” I say, imagining she can hear me right now.

I’m about to walk a narrow path, boxed in on both sides with only one way forward with an inevitable fall at the end of it. But who knows what’s hidden beneath the clouds? The possibilities are endless. I just have to trust that I’ll have the courage to find out.

Turning and taking the narrow pass back to the stairs, I finally venture down to the garden for lunch.

I’m nervous about what I’ll say to Iyana—and how I’ll bring myself to say goodbye to her and Danika.

By the time I reach the garden, the trees have receded since my meeting with Helen, opening up the courtyard, which is filled with tables and chairs. The night sky above me tells me Iyana is already here, since otherwise, the midday sunlight would spear through the overhead branches.

I spy Iyana and Danika sitting at the far table nearest to the tree at the back. They gesture to me. I sense their quiet mood and catch the glances they throw each other as I approach.

I stop at the side of the table. “You want to know what’s going on?” I ask.

Iyana leans forward, gripping her empty shot glass. Her long, black hair shines where it lies across her shoulder.

She doesn’t bother with small talk, launching right into it. “We’ve