Bree looks up, green eyes haunted. “I plan to do that for myself, dragonfly.” He pauses. “But that’s not the point of telling you all of this. My father is ruthless and motivated solely by greed. If he’s involved with King Eero, we can assume it’s not for anything good. We need to be careful.”
Drystan nods. “When the redcap returns from wherever he blinked Wraith, we’ll warn him—though it shouldn’t be an issue, given how easily he shrugged off Rose’s charm. Where is Jaro?”
I stiffen. “He needed some space.”
“Rose’s advances triggered his wolf,” Bree notes. “I’m pretty sure he was five seconds away from biting her and starting a mating bond before he ran off.”
“Great, so there’s a mentally unstable shifter roaming the halls of the Summer Palace with no idea he’s at risk from a púca with charm magic.” Drystan stands, lifting me effortlessly before depositing me on the bed. “Stay here. I’ll sort it.”
He’s out of the door in the next second, and Bree shakes his head. “Perhaps if he lost the overdeveloped sense of responsibility, he’d be a little less…”
I shake my head, drawing the covers around me to fight the sudden chill. “No. I’m pretty sure that’s just how he is.”
Thirty-Seven
Jaromir
Every single step is a battle. The wolf is snarling in my mind, demanding that I turn back, take what Rose is offering, and then sink my teeth into her neck and demand she do the same in return. High fae murmur as I rush past them like my ass is on fire, headed in no direction in particular.
Before I know it, I’m outside in the enormous courtyard, skidding past the immaculate stone gardens draped with heavy vines of ripening grapes. The night air is heavy with the chirping of insects and the scent of the sea, but my wolf can’t get the sweet floral scent of our mate out of his nose. The sounds of her little gasps as we devoured her mouth chase me farther from her.
Can’t mate her. She won’t know what’s happening. It could screw up the bonds with the rest of the Guard.
“Sir, the king has—” The portly Guard at the gate cuts off as I let out a roar worthy of a lion shifter, rather than a wolf.
The acrid smell of piss hits me as I run past him, shoving the wooden doors of the palace wide as I flee through the winding, steep roads of the city, searching for a park, an open space, somewhere I can shift and let the beast roam.
I just need him to wear himself out. Once he’s calm, I can reason with him. I hope. He doesn’t really want to upset Rose. If I can just get him to listen…
The meadows and forests of the Summer Court blur past me before I realise how far I’ve run, and my wolf isn’t waiting anymore. Dirt shifts beneath my paws, erupting with a hundred different scents as I shed my clothes and shake out my fur.
I’m gone. A passenger in my own body in a way I haven’t been since I was a teenager struggling with control. It takes a lot to wear out an adult shifter, and the sun is already climbing in the sky by the time my wolf finally stops to drink from one of the streams we pass. I’m drifting, holding on in case he decides to do something stupid like race back to the city and burst into Rose’s room, but I don’t think he will.
Sure, he’s furious at those who ‘killed’ her, but even he recognises those threats aren’t here now. Mostly, he’s… sad. Rejected. Disappointed in me and in Rose.
“It wasn’t her choice. None of this is her fault.”
But the wolf doesn’t understand.
As he curls up on the bank, all he knows is that I’ve told him our mate doesn’t want us. That he’s not good enough. The loyal heart of the beast is convinced it’s because we failed to protect her a hundred times over, unable to believe that none of those deaths were real. All he wants to do is slaughter her enemies. Prove his worthiness. Mate her.
Slaughter. Prove. Mate.
The instinctive chant becomes a little more hopeless each time.
There’s no Lore here to hurt me until the wolf submits either.
I’m so caught up in trying to force a shift that I don’t notice the hunters at my back. And my wolf? He no longer cares as the net comes down. Darkness follows shortly after.
* * *
“Sir Jaromir.”
I know that voice. Where do I know that voice from? Why is my head so foggy? Did my sisters get my wolf drunk again?
“Sir Jaromir, you have to wake up.”
One eye opens, but my vision is so blurry that I have to blink several times to clear it. My wolf is hiding, almost silent in my mind, and all I can garner from him is a general sense of shame that makes no sense. The wind is buffeting, ruffling my hair, and chilling my bare skin. The scent of the sea is everywhere. I must’ve shifted back in my sleep.
