The Wolf King: A Fantasy Romance

Wolfsbane.

The air is sucked out of the infirmary. Callum tenses, and a cry tears from Becky’s lips.

In the book I read, it didn’t seem like there was a cure.

“Can you fix him?” The plea in Callum’s voice breaks something inside me.

“Perhaps.” Blake walks over to his workstation, and selects a pipette.

He takes a sample of Ryan’s blood and holds it up to the torch flickering on the wall.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Identifying the strain.”

Callum’s gaze seeks mine. I can see he is lost, floating away, and looking for something to hold onto. Even though we barely know each other, he wants it to be me.

I know that feeling. I felt like I was drowning when my mother was dying. I wanted to grab onto someone, anyone—my father, my brother, the ladies-in-waiting—so that my head would remain above the water. Only, they always remained out of reach.

I will not remain out of Callum’s reach.

My gaze flits back to Blake. “Can he be cured?”

“There’s only one person in the Northlands who knows the antidote,” says Blake.

“You?”

His lips curve into a smile. He goes back to the workstation and starts mixing something in a beaker.

“Keep pressure on the wound,” he tells Callum.

When Blake returns, he tips back Ryan’s head and pours the liquid into his mouth. Ryan chokes.

I step closer, peering over Becky’s head. “That’s the antidote?”

“Yes.”

“What is it made of?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” His tone is light, but I have the distinct feeling that this is not an empty threat. “Keep hold of him.”

“I am holding him,” growls Callum. “Fix him.”

“How does it work?” I ask.

Ryan’s eyes jolt open. His back arches off the cot, and his shoulders bend in an unnatural way. He screams.

Blake clamps his hand over Ryan’s mouth, forcing him to swallow the liquid that he’s trying to spit out.

“Is that necessary?” snaps Callum.

“Get off him!” shrieks Becky. “You’re hurting him. Stop it!”

I watch the gash in Ryan’s side, fascinated. The blood loss is slowing. Blake is hurting him, yes. But he’s fixing him, too.

Becky doesn’t see it, though. She throws herself at Blake. With his free hand, he grabs her arm.

“Take her outside,” he says.

Callum looks at me, and I see the question in him, the plea.

“Come on, Becky.” I gently touch her shoulder. “Let’s—”

“No. The rabbit stays.” Blake glances at Callum. “You take her.”

Callum’s posture straightens. “If you think for a moment that I’m leaving her alone with you—”

“Do you want me to fix him?”

Callum swallows. “Aye, but—”

He winces when Ryan lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

“Then take the girl outside, and leave your pet,” says Blake. “She is of more use to me than you.”

I bristle at being called a pet, but he’s right. I can help.

Callum is too emotional. Whatever fight Ryan has ahead of him, it is clearly going to be painful—and Callum looks as if he wants to take the pain away.

The easiest way for him to do that would be to get rid of Blake. Yet Blake seems to actually know what he is doing. He is fixing him, in a way that no one was ever able to do for my mother.

“It’s okay, Callum,” I say, gently. “You should take Becky outside.”

I know Callum will not be happy to leave me, or Ryan, so I search for a way to make him feel like he is in control of the situation.

“Someone needs to find out what happened,” I say. “Others could be in danger. You should go with Becky and speak to Fergus.”

Callum takes a deep, shuddering breath. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Blake puts his hand on Ryan’s wound when Callum gets up.

Callum’s eyes narrow on him. “If you touch her—”

“Yes, yes, you’ll kill me in an undoubtedly unimaginative way. Don’t worry. I don’t harm things that are useful to me.”

Callum’s warmth floods me as he touches my shoulder and squeezes lightly.

“I’ll be fine,” I say.

He takes Becky’s arm and leads her, sobbing, away. “If you need me, I’ll hear you.”

“I know.”

They head out of the room, and he closes the door behind them.

“Others could be in danger?” Blake rolls his eyes. “You’re a manipulative little thing, aren’t you?”

I glare at Blake. I do not like being called that. I wasn’t being manipulative. I was trying to help. “I got him to leave, didn’t I?”

Blake smirks. “Get a needle and thread from my case on the workstation. And the pot of white ointment.”

I hurry over. The pot sits amid an array of glass jars, pestles, and dried herbs. I grab it, then flip open his case. There’s are cold metal scalpels in there, alongside the items he’s asking for.

When I have them, I kneel by his side.

“Put the ointment on the wound.”

“What is it?” I twist off the lid. It smells sharp, like alcohol.

When I smear it onto the gash in Ryan’s side, he shrieks. Blake grabs his shoulders and pins him down.

“It’s to kill the bacteria. Wolves heal fast, but wounds can still get infected. Now, sew it up.”

“Sew it up?”

“Yes. Imagine you’re sewing a dress.”

I look at him. Was he listening in on mine and Callum’s conversation?

He nods at the wound. “Go on.”

I grab the needle and thread. Hand shaking slightly, I hover above the wound. I am by no means queasy when it comes to blood and wounds, but this is something I haven’t done before.

Blake leans over me, and I catch the scent of dark forests as he pinches the flesh on both sides of the wound together. He takes the needle from me.

“Like this.” He punctures the skin with the needle, and Ryan shrieks again as he pulls the thread through. “Then, create a knot. Like this.”

He hands the needle back to me.

I mimic Blake’s movements as I pull the needle through his flesh.

“Wolfsbane is an intriguing poison,” says Blake. “It attacks the wolf inside us. Stops us from healing, lowers our temperature, drains our strength.”

With each pull of the needle, the wound gets smaller, and I feel more satisfied. My hand is no longer shaking by the time that I’m done.

“How does the antidote work?”

“It forces the wolf to fight back.” He points at the thread. “Now pull here, tighten it. . . There. Good. Now, cut the thread.”

He passes me some scissors, and I do so.

“How did you discover the antidote?” I ask.

He walks over to his workstation, and wipes his hand on a rag. “You don’t want to know.”

I focus on Ryan. He’s already less pale, and his breathing is steadier. “Will he be okay?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“The strength of the wolf.”

When Ryan faced Callum in the fighting ring, he was courageous. He faced his fate with strength and dignity. “He’s strong.”

“Not particularly.” Blake drops the now bloody rag, and smirks when I glare at him. “It was a weak strain of wolfsbane. He’ll recover.”

I breathe out slowly. It’s like a weight is lifted from my chest.

I don’t fight the smile that spreads across my face.

Blake looks at me curiously. Then his gaze flits lazily to the door.

“You seem to be in some pain yourself, little rabbit,” he says. “Muscular pain, from your journey here, I presume. If you come to my chambers tonight, I have just the thing to help.”

Callum strides back into the room.

“He’s in recovery,” says Blake, before Callum can speak. “You can take him to his chambers, if you—”

Blake’s gaze narrows on Ryan, and he snatches something from the boy’s pocket.

“What’s that?” Callum holds out his hand.

Blake turns over a bloody envelope. Instead of giving it to Callum, he passes it to me.

I frown.

Aurora is written in elegant calligraphy across the front.

Heart beating fast, I turn it over. The wax seal has a star in its center; the sigil of the Borderlands.

My skin turns cold as I rip it open and read.

A present for you, my love.

Think of the boy as a betrothal gift. I know you were fond of him from our time at the dog fight.

I’ll be seeing you soon.

Yours,

Sebastian