Page 35 of A Wolf for Winter

Lilac squeaked as a dozen hands seized her, hauling her upright and smacking the debris from her skirts.

“I think she can handle that part,” Edith cried, swatting a few hands away with one of her books. “Talia, help the mistress with her shawl.”

The server plucked and tugged until Lilac shooed her away. “I’m alright! Thank you, Talia.”

The young woman hung her head, mumbling an apology.

Allen doused his pliers with more of the bachelor’s whiskey, then set the tool on fire to sterilize it before returning the mostly empty flask to the disappointed bachelor.

“What was that?” he murmured, eyebrows pinching together into a frown.

“I’m not s—”

The caretaker reared his head back like a startled stallion, eyes flaring. “The barrier.” Then he seized her arm, hauled her in close, and hustled the two of them forward towards the front doors. “Come with me, witch. The Hall is under attack.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Hall is under attack.

Fear would’ve crippled Lilac had it not been for Allen’s arm around her propelling her forward. Where was her family? How could they call upon the Power of Three if they were separated? She’d never been alone like this before.

Of course she had been trained to fight, but she never relished a brawl like Boar and Rose did. Hers was supportive magic, and she wasn’t ashamed of it. But that wasn’t what was going to save her here if things got bad.

She risked a glance up at Allen. Something in the steady focus of his golden-brown eyes and the set of his jaw comforted her. His stride was purposeful but not panicked, and his body against hers was like a controlled spring.

Green Mother, help me. Can I trust him?

Her heart desperately wanted to, especially after all the deliberate thoughtfulness and kindness he’d shown her today, but her mind wasn’t ready to give up its convictions.

“I need my family,” she blurted as they rushed to the Hall’s front doors. “Rose, Boar—”

Allen inhaled deeply. “Boar’s outside. Rose is—”

“Lilac!” Her younger sister barreled into them and grabbed her hand. Relief poured into her at the contact. “Blight me, why am I hearing someone got poisoned off of our punch? It’s not like it had raw eggs in it like our breakfast did.”

Allen didn’t take the bait. “We need to get you two to your brother. I need eyes on all three of you.”

“We’re safer inside the Hall,” Lilac protested, trying to squirm free of him now that she had her sister. He was making her . . . uncomfortable, and she had to focus. Curse his insufferably strong grip. “Why are you—”

“You’re safer when all three of you are together.” The man’s voice brooked no argument. It was assured, commanding, almost . . . militant. It was the same tone he’d used on Boar before pulling the star anise pod out of Landen’s throat. It was a voice that when heard, was obeyed.

It wasn’t the voice of a grocery delivery boy.

Lilac finally pulled free of him, the suspicions she’d suppressed resurfacing. What was he keeping from her? Rose yelped as Lilac’s hand tightened down on hers, and Allen’s golden-brown eyes flashed a warning: Do not disobey.

Lilac’s expression returned her own warning: Who are you, Allen Sharpe?

Then suddenly they were outside, squinting against the gray light reflecting off the snow. When Lilac’s vision cleared, she saw red staining the snow and Boar berating a Cat & Cauldron server who held the empty punch bowl. Judith, Lilac remembered.

Allen hustled them over, then surprisingly abandoned them, continuing on into the snow-covered field to get a better view of the Hall—and, she supposed, its barrier. He rubbed the opal ring without looking at it—no doubt it allowed him to see something she could not—then his head snapped to the trail of visitors meandering to the village below. Before she could demand an explanation, for his word “attack” seemed a mite overexaggerated now, Boar’s shouting dragged her attention to the scene in front of her.

“You idiot! You threw away the evidence!”

“I’m sorry,” Judith blubbered. “I heard ‘poison’ and, well, I couldn’t just leave it there for some kid to come by and—”

“And now we’ll never know what it was or who did it! It could be you for all we know.”

“Me?” The server’s blotchy red face turned as white as paper birch. “I would never! My family’s been loyal for—”