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“I hope so.”
“I know so.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course. I know everything.”
I giggle as something occurs to me. “We’ve said that to each other before.”
He curls his fingers around my shoulders and directs me back, only to look me in the eye. “You remember?”
I half-shrug. “Not the memory, but the words. It kind of happened a couple of times. I really wish I could actually see the memories.”
His intent stare makes me self-conscious.
“Tomorrow, after training, I’d like to take you to a witch who lives here and see if she knows why you can’t remember things. I’ll probably have to bargain with her, but with a little bribery, I’m sure she’ll help us.”
“Why do you have to bribe her?” The answer comes to me all on my own. “Wait. Is she the witch your father stole?”
He gives a hard nod. “She is. She’s been trapped here ever since, bound by a binding spell that my father tricked her into doing. Until he releases her, she can’t return to her realm. I’m not sure why he keeps her trapped in our kingdom, but as far as I can tell, he has no plans of letting her go anytime soon.”
“You think she’ll help us, then? Since you’re the king’s son?”
“With the right amount of bribery, she will. Plus, she knows I hate my father. And that, if I could free her, I would.”
“Still, why would he trap a witch here and bind her to him? What does he get out of it?”
“She has to cast any spell he demands.”
“Oh.” My gaze wanders to the window where vines cover the fields just outside. “You don’t think …” I zip my lips, not wanting to cross a line.
“I’ve thought about it,” he mutters, staring out the window, as well. “But Ava, the witch, wasn’t bound here until after the vines began to plague our lands. She also assured me that a spell isn’t what caused them to grow to begin with. Although, my father could’ve easily bound her to secrecy.”
“So, you’re saying you think your father might’ve had something to do with the vines?”
“It’s hard to say for sure. My father is a violent, cruel werewolf, who thrives off power and instilling fear in others, so I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that.” He stares down at his blood-stained hands. “After tonight, I think I might be more like him than I thought.”
I suddenly comprehend why he feels guilty about his violent act and why everyone has said he doesn’t have the killer instinct. His father beat him, forced him to don those silver rings. His father is a violent man. He hates his father. He doesn’t want to be like his father.
“I don’t even feel guilty about hurting him. Only that you saw it.” He bares the truth quietly. “What kind of a wolf does that make me?”
The answer is a mystery to me. Or is it? I’m uncertain whether I know Jules or not. Sometimes I feel like I do. My wolf sure as hell thinks she does. Seriously, I let her loose one time and she’s already trying to convince me to think like her.
I really need to ask Jules if it’s normal to be so connected to the wolf inside me.
“You’re not like your father.” I flatten my palms on his chest, feeling his heart thrash. “You slashed that wolf for me because he helped take something away from us. He deserved to have his face cut up for it, and deserves whatever awaits him tomorrow when Shade goes out to that shed.”
His brows knit. “What do you mean, he took something from us?”
I retract a palm from his chest to massage my star-marked temple. “Legend told me something earlier tonight before Slate showed up. It was something I didn’t know about that happened the day I was attacked.”
“Okay …?” He waits patiently for me to go on.
It takes me a minute to gather the strength to spill the words between us.
“This is really hard to say,” I admit. “I mean, for ten years of my life, I thought I was completely ordinary, but I never wanted to be, never wanted to be human. I hated living in foster homes. I hated high school. I hated how people looked at me.” A faltering exhale fumbles from my lips. “Then, a year ago, werewolves attacked me, and I was grateful that I wasn’t a paranormal. I was so convinced that every single one of them—besides Legend—was a monster. Particularly wolves.”
“Lake, I’m so sorry you had to go through—”
