“Deep in the forest, maybe a mile past the old oak grove. He was unconscious, bleeding heavily from multiple wounds.”
“What else did you see? Any signs of his attackers? Strange scents? Anything unusual?”
I think about the red mist, but something makes me hesitate. Did I imagine it? It seemed so real at the time, swirling around us, but maybe it was just some kind of hallucination brought on by stress and exhaustion.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just him, injured and alone.”
“The wounds,” he presses. “What did they look like? Claw marks? Bite marks?”
“Claw marks, mostly. Deep ones. Whatever attacked him wasn’t human.” I meet his gaze steadily.
Seth’s frown deepens. My calm, straightforward answers are clearly not what he expected. I can see the confusion in his expression, the way he keeps studying my face as if he’s looking at a stranger.
As our eyes meet, I want to smile. A burden has been removed from my heart, and I can finally breathe again.
Chapter Three
Seth
“Anything?”I ask the soldier hurrying toward me as I stride through the infirmary wing.
Roy shakes his head. “Nothing. We’ve had two of our witches go over the area. There’s no trace of magic, but there’s no scent, either, not even the healer’s. Lord Zane’s blood is there, but there’s no scent. We used human testing to check the blood. It’s his.”
My jaw tightens. “Has Lord Zane woken up?”
“Yes,” Roy says. “He’s waiting for you to come see him.”
I start walking toward the part of the infirmary that is reserved for those of royal blood or nobility. Zane Radrick falls into both categories. He’s the nephew of the late queen’s cousin and from the prominent Radrick family. He is also part of the Umbra Council, which could mean he’s dangerous. He has never really revealed which faction of the Council he sides with, and that makes him a wild card.
When Selene emerged from the forest like something from a nightmare—her dress torn and bloodied, her small frame barely supporting Zane’s unconscious weight—the sight stopped my heartcold. My body started moving before I could even process what I was seeing.
She had run from me in tears, my vicious words driving her into the darkness while I returned to the celebration. I forced myself to rejoin the party, to pretend nothing had happened, sure she would return soon. But she didn’t. My eyes searched for her for two hours, and when she didn’t show up, I decided to go find her. I had taken a few steps toward the forest when I saw her stumble out of the trees, covered in blood, barely able to walk, supporting a badly injured man.
My heart dropped into my stomach. For one terrifying moment, I thought it was her blood. I thought she had encountered danger in the forest, and I cursed myself in that moment.
I should have followed her!
The relief when I realized the blood wasn’t hers nearly brought me to my knees. But I ran to her and caught her just as she collapsed, her small body crumpling into my arms like she weighed nothing at all. My wolf howled with contentment even as my heart pounded in my chest.
I’ve been guarding the healers’ compound non-stop, unable to leave. Every time I try to walk away, something pulls me back. I tell myself it’s duty, or protocol, but deep down, I know the truth. I simply can’t bear to be away from Selene.
Earlier, when I pushed aside the curtain after hearing her voice, I immediately knew something was off. Her eyes widened for a moment, and then she laughed through tears, a hysterical laugh that made my blood go cold. I’ve never seen her look so relieved. And then, when she spoke to me, it was like I was no one.
I couldn’t sense any of the physical reactions she used to have to me. No quickened pulse. No change in scent. No trembling or breathless quality to her voice. Nothing.
My wolf is anxious, pacing restlessly in my mind, whimpering in confusion. He doesn’t understand why our mate isn’t responding to us anymore. The bond still thrums in my chest; I can still feel the fated connection pulling at me with that familiar ache. So, why is she not reacting to my presence?
I’m tense, every muscle coiled tight. Something happened in that forest; I’m sure of it. I just don’t know what.
I knock twice on the heavy, oaken door and wait for permission to enter. Even with my suspicions about him, protocol demands respect when dealing with the head of a noble house.
“Enter,” comes the smooth reply from within.
I push open the door and step inside, offering a brief bow of acknowledgment. “Lord Zane. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
Zane Radrick sits propped up against pristine, white pillows, looking far too composed for someone who was supposedly dying two nights ago. His dark hair sits on his head in carefully arranged waves that somehow look perfectly tousled despite his ordeal. His chocolate brown eyes are inviting and welcoming as they meet mine, the kind of gaze that would put most people immediately at ease. Yet something about that cordiality feels too practiced, too perfect, making my wolf pace restlessly beneath my skin.
At thirty-two, he’s the youngest head of a major house in recent memory, a position he inherited after a series of convenient deaths. His father died in a hunting accident three years ago. His uncle—the previous heir—succumbed to a sudden illness just months later. A second uncle went missing during what should have been a routine business trip to the border territories. His body was never found, and after a year with no word, he was declared dead.
