"Why, Etheridge?" demanded Inspector Alec Mulgrew, pacing the small length of the cell. "Why the hell did you do this?"
Beneath the anger in the other wolf's words, Etheridge also heard a note of despair. They had been close, friends even, working together for years to solve crimes within the pack. Theft, murdersâtreason.
When Etheridge remained silent, the other inspector sighed. "Don't make me order a round of torture to encourage your confession. Please."
Etheridge tried to keep his breathing steady while listening to the faint roar of waves. Even this far below the castle, the power of the ocean could be felt, shaking the very bedrock. The rhythm gave him something to follow, something to concentrate on while trying to explain things he barely understood himself. "I couldn't follow orders anymore. Not when they involved innocent pack members."
The other wolf scoffed. "That can't be what took away your loyalty. She's our queen. She led us through wars with other packs. She's kept us whole and firm through the assassination attempt that took our king-consort and our pack heir. We wouldn't survive without her leadership."
"Some of us aren't surviving as it is. Twenty-one she-wolves lost to her vanity."
Alec shook his head. "You knew this had been going on for a year. What made this last victim so special? Or was it the sea-wolf who found her?"
Something must have changed in his expression, because Alec then studied him more intently. "The sea-wolf. So much for Burke's theory that another pack had bought you off to weaken the queen's rule. The sea-wolves are wild, uncaring of crowns and lands. The only plans they make are how to catch their fish. How could this one drive all reason from your head?"
For the first time, Etheridge looked up at Alec. As their gazes matched, he said, "The answer is simple, but I don't think you'll believe me. I decided to protect her instead of our queen. That's all."
Despite their vastly different statesâAlec wearing a pristine uniform complete with badge and Etheridge bloody and chainedâthe other wolf remained openly distraught, running his fingers through his hair until the blonde strands were disheveled. "Do you regret it?"
"No."
"For God's sake, don't admit that to anyone else. There's no way to change your sentence, but... it's possible the queen may accept that the silver poisoning affected your mind. That madness drove your decision. In that case, you'll be killed before being skinned."
"Don't risk her wrath for me. The queen has never been merciful."
Alec couldn't disagree. "How could you do this? No one who knows you can believe this was an act of free will. The queen herself has ordered half of the enchanters to search for any hint of mind control magic that may have infiltrated the pack."
A short silence followed before Etheridge found himself searching for an answer that would be understood. The words were honest and thoughtless, perhaps a result of realizing he'd never speak to the other wolf again. "You might be given my position as the chief royal inspector. Life at court is as glamorous as it sounds, yet I found myself as distant from the queen as when I was an orphan brought into the pack. Despite rising from the lowest position to one of the highest, I've never seen her face clearly. She's always been a distant figure. I followed her orders with all my trust. I learned to recognize and react to her whims when she held council with all the advisors. I never questioned anything.
"Then came the attack at court that left so many of us wounded. We were hidden out of sight, expected to rot away in an agonizing death. It gave me enough time to realize everything I felt about the queen was delusion. I offered a remote creature all my loyalty with no thought for what she did, and others suffered badly for it."
Alec sank to his heels to face him. The other wolf's eyes burned with anger and disbelief. "That is our purpose, Etheridge. We obey. Even a pup understands how a pack functions."
Etheridge bit his tongue to hold back his response. The words continued in his mind, unfettered. I understood it all well enough. I even believed in it enough to accept a slow, lonely death. Then a she-wolf with green-flecked eyes appeared at my bedside, teasing me like an old friend and chasing away all pain from the poison. Giving me hope and comfort out of nothing more than innate kindness. My loyalty to the queen for simply wearing a crown grew to feel as poisonous as the silver lingering in my body.
Alec still studied him. His fists were clenched in rage, but his expression now shifted to a heavy satisfaction. "The she-wolf you rescued this morning was the same one who nursed you back to health, wasn't she? And you fell for her. I remember you asking for records, and when there weren't any, you questioned involved wolves on your own time. Rowan Mulgrew even complained about it. She thought you were casting doubts on her ability as the pack's head nurse."
Etheridge drew in a ragged breath. Was there any use denying his obsession with Joan? No, and he didn't wish to. "I remembered her well enough to recognize her on the beach. I didn't want to lose her again."
The other wolf rubbed at his eyes, shoulders sagging despite his stiff uniform. "Damn you, Etheridge. Of all the wolves who could betray us, I never thought it would be you, and not for such a pathetic reason. Throwing everything away for a she-wolf is something that even a young wolf would be called a fool for. At your age and level at court, it'sâit'sâ"
"Delusional?" finished Etheridge, unable to keep a hint of bitter humor out of the word. It was darkly funny, to be accused of madness when he finally felt clear-headed about his decisions.
In response, Alec rose to his feet again. By the time he knocked on the heavy door to be let out, his face had smoothed into a hard, professional mask. "There's one thing you'll get at least: a chance to see the queen up close and personal. Later tonight, you'll be taken into her private quarters on her orders."
Fear coiled around Etheridge's heart. Traitors were usually kept in a cell before being taken out to the public for their execution at dawn. Why did she want to see him tonight? "For what purpose?"
"Nothing nice, I can tell you that much." Then the other wolf sighed again, something like regret glimmering in his eyes. "Goodbye, Etheridge."
Even once he was alone in the cell again, his mind continued to race. What did the queen plan for him? He had resigned himself to agony, something less frightening now that he knew the bite of silver. Yet what if he hadn't been the only wolf caught?
There was no way to tell how much time passed before royal guards returned to his cell, chaining his hands together at the front before leading him out. He ignored the throbbing in his bad knee and the dried blood on his shirt collar, refusing to cower in shame at his disgraced state compared to the spotless uniforms of the guards.
The prisoner cells were beneath the castle; the queen's private rooms were in the highest tower. By the time they reached the red walls signifying royal quarters, Etheridge sweated from the pain. His hands clenched into fists at sight of the gold, gilded double doors waiting before them.
The interiors of the queen's rooms were just as ornate, a dizzying labyrinth of velvet, silk, and carved wood in various reds, creams, and gold. Flower bouquets overwhelmed every other scentâalmost. His nose still caught faint hints of rotting flesh, all the more repulsive from being shrouded in lilies, roses, and irises.
Candles flickered from all directions as the guards sat him in a velvet-upholstered chair, hovering close in case he tried to move. He didn't, instead keeping still as possible to avoid revealing the fear growing in his thoughts. Windows waited on his left. One was patched over to hide where that poor she-wolf had flung herself through the glass to escape the queen's ritual. In front of him a hearth crackled with a lit fire, but the stiff, gold curtains on his right were what kept his attention; they looked like they hid the entrance to another room and whateverâor whoeverâwaited inside it.
Then the heavy fabric twitched and parted. The queen stepped through in a dress as fine as her rooms, a gold evening gown glittering with diamonds at the sleeves. Etheridge immediately bowed his head and hated himself for it, keeping his gaze on the thick red carpet instead of the gold veil that hid the queen's face. Still, that glimpse was enough to reinforce what he had always observed about her: as pale and elegant as a marble carving. Despite his many times at court or council meetings, he'd never seen her throw a tantrum. Whenever she'd been told of bad news or a slight from another pack, her rage had been glacialâher expression as frozen and hard as a mask.
She wore that same expression now, and a bead of sweat ran down his neck before she spoke. "Thomas Etheridge. The quietest of my advisors, and the one I believed to be the most loyal. You've made me look like a fool."
He tried to keep the hoarseness from his voice. "Why was I brought into your private rooms?"
"And now you're even bold enough to ask questions as if we're equals instead of a traitor brought before his queen." Then came the touch of her fingers beneath his chin as she forced him to look up at her. The veil continued hiding her face from view, but he caught a hint of her eyes through it, a purest gold glittering with fury. Her voice remained low and even as she added, "Where did this defiance spring from? No silver bullet could poison your mind in this way."
When he didn't respond, she let go of him to signal at the guards. One immediately caught him in the side of the face with the hilt of a dagger. Blood filled his mouth until he coughed, trying to breathe. The shock of the blow slowly bloomed into the bright pain of a broken nose while the queen waited, head tilted to one side.
The taste of iron in his mouth thickened every word as he said, "You're using blood magic. Stealing lives. I had to do something."
A sigh came from her, so soft that it barely stirred the veil. Then she lifted the delicate fabric without once taking her gaze off him. What it revealed made him shudder. A face, and a beautiful oneâbut not hers. A mere week ago, he had seen it among her huddle of ladies in waiting.
"Did you even know her name?" he managed.
"Yet another Therese. There are so many of them at court." She delicately touched the side of one cheek and then winced. There was mottling at the edges of her hairline and jaw, the first signs that the skin was rotting away. "Her beauty was much more memorable than her name, but it's sadly fading. I'll need another girl before tomorrow."
Then the curtains to the other room twitched open again. A new pair of guards stepped inside, dragging another figure in chains.
"No!" Etheridge lunged against the hands holding him in the chair. Panic strangled his throat, preventing any further words.
He couldn't see the face behind the long, black hair decorated with charms and shells, but he didn't need to, even with his broken nose taking away any chance at scenting her. The thick wave to the hair, the slender, strong limbs barely clad in the fabric that all the sea-wolves wore... it was Joan. When she was shoved to her knees beside the queen, her head continued to hang limply. He couldn't tell if she was injured, drugged, or both.
The queen laughed at his reaction in the same way as whenever she heard a witty joke among her courtiers. "Oh, it won't be this one. This creature was found trying to sneak into the castle. It's clear she's the same sea-wolf you tried to save earlier, so she will be killed as part of your punishment."
Both the guards struggled to restrain him. "Spare her. Please."
"Why her?" The queen grabbed the she-wolf's chin without raising her face. The curtain of hair trailed over the alpha-queen's sleeve as she added, "She's not very pretty. Just one of those coarse sea-wolves."
A snarl came out of him, the most vicious sound he'd ever made.
The guard on his left pulled out a dagger in response to the threat against the queen, but she stopped him with a raised hand. "You're not the first traitor to this pack, but you are easily the most baffling one. Most wolves commit treason against my crown out of greed or hatred. Instead, you somehow found her worth throwing everything away for. You were supposed to be my most loyal member of the court. And this is who you chose instead." The alpha-queen grasped the captive she-wolf's chin and forced her face up.
Yellow eyes met Etheridge's, bright and fierce and entirely unlike Joan's. His breath hissed out between his teeth as the strange she-wolf grinned at him and winked. There was a split second to hear the sudden clink of her chains before her hands were free and grabbing for the dagger on one of the guards beside her. Silver flashed as she drove it into his upper leg, ripping through the artery there. Blood spurted, drenching the queen even as she recoiled with a gasp. Then the she-wolf flung the dagger straight into her other guard's throat.
Etheridge lunged up on instinct, understanding this slim chance was all they had. The guard on his left was closer, so he went after him, looping the chain from his handcuffs around the other wolf's neck and pulling tight. They fell together, knocking over the chair. He expected to be shot at any moment from the one remaining guard but refused to let go. Something had snapped in him, and all his rage and desperation pooled into tightening the chain while the guard writhed and frothed. Metal bit into Etheridge's wrists until he smelled his own blood. He wrenched with all his strength and felt something pop in the guard's throat. Blood spurted across the carpetâa severed artery. The guard's struggles turned into convulsions.
The queen's voice rose into a hysterical shriek, but even that couldn't stop Etheridge's frenzy. His instincts had come alive, and all he knew was that he was ready to kill anyone in his path until he found Joan.