by Jane Godman
Although what she was saying needed no illustration, they crested a slight hill and before them the waste and destruction she was describing could clearly be seen. In the valley below a series of small villages lay in ruins, the buildings nothing more than burned-out shells. Violet paused, feeling bitter tears sting her eyes.
“I remember this place.” She groped for Nate’s hand. “Oh, I was never allowed to come here because, even though it was on Urlati, this was Anwyl’s territory and I was Nevan the Rebel’s daughter. But the villagers were known for their generosity. They tended the sick and injured, gave shelter to travelers from other lands and cared for orphans from other packs. When Anwyl was defeated, my father had them all put to death.”
“I suppose you think you could do better than I?” Nevan snarled.
Still gripping Nate’s hand, Violet faced him bravely. “I know I could not do worse.”
* * *
Nate stood at the window of the attic room he had been allocated and gazed out over the darkening landscape, his mind attempting to make sense of everything he had heard since he arrived on Wolf Nation soil.
This beautiful mansion reminded him of a stately home he had once visited in the mortal realm. It was like stepping back in time. Or maybe stepping into the pages of a Gothic novel. Tucked under a hill, surrounded by towering sentinel trees, this could be Sleeping Beauty’s bower, untouched by time. The exterior of the house was adorned with decorative, fairy-tale features. It had high, arched windows, pinnacles and finials, gables and a forest of chimneys. Known as the Voda Kuca—the Leader’s House—it was the perfect secret hideaway.
From the moment he stepped foot over this threshold, he had experienced the strangest, unshakable sensation. He felt like he had come home.
Of course, Nevan had wasted no time in relegating him to this poky room under the eaves. Nate’s lips had twitched in amusement as Emil led him along a series of increasingly narrow corridors. The message was clear. Nate’s presence may have been forced upon him by Cal, but Nevan had a point to make. I am banished to the servants’ quarters. Violet had protested, but Nate had silenced her with a shake of her head. Save your energy for other battles. He had a feeling she was going to need it.
The conflicting emotions this place aroused in him were shocking and exciting at the same time. How could he feel like this was somewhere he was meant to be? This was the Wolf Leader’s stronghold. It should be the last place on earth Nate felt comfortable. He wondered if it was because this was Violet’s home. Was he drawn to this place because she was his home? Although that was true, it was more than that. Yes, he would feel comfortable wherever Violet was. If he could be with her, his surroundings wouldn’t matter. He would make his home in a tent, in a cave or in the open under the stars. But this house mattered. It drew him in, wrapped itself around him, called to something deep within him. And it wasn’t just the house. Although it was strongest here, it was the land itself.
Could I, the man who hates werewolves, have found myself in sympathy with the Wolf Nation?
The question raised a whole world of possibilities, ones that meant Nate had to open his mind. He had to rethink the last six years of his life. It was a scary thought. He was just getting used to the idea that Cal had not completely destroyed the wolf in him. The silver dagger that had pierced his heart hadn’t driven out all of his werewolf urges. So much had happened since he had allowed himself to accept that likelihood that Nate hadn’t had time to fully examine it. He knew he liked one part of it very much. The part that drew him to Violet. The part that made them soul mates.
Was the residual wolf within him drawn to this land of werewolves? That could be one explanation for why he felt this way. But he knew there was more to it. He had to face up to something more fundamental than that. Something that made him question his own motivation over the last six years. Ever since the night he had been attacked by a feral werewolf, he had been living apart from the world, touched by only two things...his hatred for Nevan and his ambition to rid the world of feral werewolves. He had believed those two emotions added up to a hatred of all wolves.
Listening to Violet confront Nevan today, hearing the passion in her voice as she denounced her father’s behavior and described his atrocities, Nate had been seized with admiration. And more. He had experienced a deep and profound yearning to help, to be a part of the solution. When Violet had responded to Nevan’s taunt that she couldn’t do worse than he had, Nate had wanted to stand shoulder to shoulder with her and say, “Together we can put this right.” He, the man who had believed he hated werewolves, burned with a fierce desire to help them. He wanted to rebuild this dynasty, to restore its lost pride and nobility.
It was similar to his wish to hunt down and kill feral werewolves, even though they were a danger and a curse. Nate had never hated the rogue werewolves he hunted on Cal’s behalf. He pitied them. Having been through that transformation himself, he understood their suffering. He knew death was preferable to prolonging their agony.
So here he was, six years on from that strange turning point in his life, standing at a new crossroads. He was in love with a werewolf. Through her, he was learning to accept that a large part of his own psyche was still wolflike. And this new discovery that his sympathies lay with the werewolves was not repulsive to him. On the contrary, he found it exciting and tempting. Which meant he had to ask himself whether he had ever hated all werewolves...or whether he had misread and misdirected his hatred for Nevan.
He forced himself to face the truth. He had projected all the fear and loathing he had felt for that insidious, lisping voice that had penetrated his mind and driven him to murder onto a whole species instead of accepting it for what it was...a justifiable hostility toward Nevan.
Nevan. Nate’s lip curled in contempt when he thought of Violet’s father. Those six years of hatred didn’t feel wasted. The man who had invaded his head and urged him to kill an innocent woman had not improved upon closer acquaintance. Nevan was every bit the cold, manipulative bully Nate had believed he would be. The only thing that had changed was that Nate was unable to put his vow to kill the Wolf Leader into practice. The thought brought with it a pang of regret. If ever the world would be a better place for one man’s removal, that man was Nevan. But Nevan was Violet’s father, and even though it appeared there was no love lost between them, Nate would not be the person who murdered him. When they parted, that would not be her memory of him. And he had made a promise to Cal, his friend, his mentor and the man who had saved his life.
Nate was still mulling over the problem of Nevan and the damage he had caused to his daughter and to the werewolf dynasty when a brief knock on the door was followed by Violet’s arrival. She cast a quick glance around the room.
“It is slightly larger than the cabin on the boat.” Although she smiled, Nate saw the troubled look in the depths of her eyes.
“Let me guess what has brought that frown to your face. Your father?” He held out his arms, and she walked into them with a sigh.
“I’m beginning to think I don’t want my memory back if he is part of it.”
“What has he done this time?”
“Apart from relegating you to this broom cupboard?” Violet rested her cheek against Nate’s chest. “When I tried to ask about my brothers and sisters, he initially refused to speak of them. Eventually, after I persisted, I got a brief account. It turns out none of them have anything to do with him. My sisters both have mates and families of their own. They live on other islands in the Wolf Nation and never visit with my father. One brother lives in the mortal realm, and my father banished the other one, Bartol. He hasn’t seen or spoken to either for years. He wouldn’t tell me why.” Her sigh reverberated through her slender body. “When I had the audacity to ask him about my mother, he strode away from me and slammed the door of what Emil tells me is his study.”
Nate took her hand, leading her to the nar
row bed and drawing her down to sit next to him on its edge. “And you still don’t remember any of it?”
Violet shook her head. “My only memories are of the political strife that has torn this place apart. My family, this land, this house—” there was confusion on her face as she looked up at him “—it still means nothing to me. The only recollection I have of my father is of the damage he has done to our dynasty. Surely it should be the other way around? My memories of my home and my family should be my strongest ones.”
“Not if your father is an evil bastard.” The words had left his lips before Nate could stop them.
Violet’s expression grew even more anxious. “It must be so hard for you to be here. I almost forgot that you have more reason than anyone to hate him.”
“And I find a new reason to hate him every time I see his behavior toward you,” Nate said.
“Stella told me you swore you would one day take revenge for what he did to you.” There was a worried frown furrowing Violet’s brow as she gazed at him. “It is his brutality that concerns me. Answering that with more violence is not the solution.”
He kissed the line that drew her brows together. “For your sake, I will not harm him.”
Violet relaxed against him. “It feels like I’m close to knowing who I am, but my father won’t help me. Instead, he puts up more barriers. It’s so frustrating. One thing that puzzles me more than any other is why I was in the mortal realm.”
“Then we need to talk to Roko again to find the answer to that question.”
Her lip curled. “So he can tell more lies about how much I love him?”
Nate laughed. “Maybe we can persuade him to tell the truth.”
Violet appeared unconvinced. “How will we find him? My father is hardly likely to disclose the whereabouts of the rebel leader, even supposing he knows.”
“I wasn’t proposing to ask your father.” Nate rose and held out his hand, pulling her to her feet. “I have a feeling Emil may know more about the resistance than he would like anyone else to know.”
Chapter 19
The Voda Kuca was a large house, and a team of servants ensured its smooth operation. Emil’s role seemed to be that of general maintenance. Early the next morning, Violet found him raking leaves in the gardens. When she explained that she wanted to speak to Roko, Emil dropped his rake and stared at her openmouthed.
Casting fearful glances around him, he twisted his hands together. “He is the resistance leader. I am dutiful to your father, my lady. Why would you ask me such a thing?”
Violet placed her hand on his arm. “Emil, this is not a trap to discover where your loyalties lie. I simply want to know if you can get a message to Roko for me.”
Emil licked his lips nervously. “Let us go into the clearing.”
He led her away from the trees and shrubs, where someone might hide and overhear their conversation, and toward a small field. On the way, Violet noticed a small, igloo-shaped building at the edge of an ornate lake. Its double doors were firmly secured with a huge, serviceable padlock.
“What is that?” she asked, as they passed the strange building. “I’m sorry, but, even though this is my home, I have no memory of it, and that place looks strange.”
“It’s the icehouse,” Emil explained. “Most of the structure is underground. It is no longer used, but its purpose was once for the storage of ice and the preservation of meat.”
He led Violet into the middle of the field, where he was sure they couldn’t be overheard.
“When Anwyl was defeated, your father crushed his supporters. There was no hope of them rising again,” Emil said. “But there was residual anger because of the way he treated us.”
“I know that.” It was one of the few memories Violet did have. One that hurt her most. “I wish it could have been different.”
“Although Roko tried to rouse Anwyl’s followers to support him, he was never successful. Not until your father imprisoned him without reason. That changed the tide of support in Roko’s favor.” Emil cast a thoughtful glance Violet’s way as though wondering how much to tell her. “There was something else that swayed Anwyl’s supporters to rise up again and swear allegiance to Roko.”
“What was that?” It must have been something very powerful, Violet decided, to incite that downtrodden, beleaguered group to action.
“You, my lady.”
“Me?” Violet was aware that the word came out as an undignified squeak.
Emil nodded. “When Roko escaped from prison, he rallied his followers. He accused your father of sending his beta werewolves into the mortal realm to beat him and drag him back here to captivity. He also said you were on his side in the fight against your father, and that your father was so enraged by your defection that he had threatened to banish you. You have saved many of Anwyl’s followers and made even more lives better through your actions, my lady. They supported Roko because of you.”
Violet took a moment to allow the full force of what he was saying to sink in. Anger at Roko’s duplicity soon gave way to dismay at the prospect of the task that lay ahead of her. The thought that she had unwittingly become the reason why her dynasty might be once again plunged into a bloody civil war was too awful to contemplate. She had to unravel this deceit before it led to even greater harm. The only way she could think of to do that was to get Roko to withdraw his self-serving remarks about her. It was even more important than ever that she should talk to him.
“And you, Emil? Did you become one of Roko’s supporters?”
He shook his head so vehemently she didn’t doubt his honesty. “No, my lady. But I do have friends in the resistance.” He gulped in a deep breath. “I can get a message to Roko if you wish.”
“Thank you. Just tell him I wish to speak to him.” She started to walk back to the house and then turned back. “And Emil...please tell him I need it to be as soon as possible.”
When she returned to the house it was quiet, but, as she set her foot on the first stair in preparation to go up to Nate’s room, a door to her right opened. It was the room Nevan used as his study.
“You are out and about early this morning.” Was she imagining the look of suspicion in her father’s eyes because she felt guilty? But surely if he wouldn’t provide her with the information she needed, he should expect her to seek it elsewhere. Violet wasn’t entirely convinced that her loyalties should lie with this man, even though he was her father.
“You would know better than I do whether I am usually an early riser.” She paused, still with her foot on the stair. “I can’t remember.”
He inclined his head as though acknowledging the truth of her statement, but changed the subject. “Now that you are home, you will oblige me by dressing in a manner more suited to my daughter. These clothes—” he indicated her jeans and hooded sweatshirt “—are not becoming to your status.”
“Was there ever a time when I obediently did as you asked?”
He seemed taken aback at the question. “What do you mean?”
“I’m going to wear what I want to wear regardless of your wishes. But you seem to think you can tell me to change my clothes and I’ll do it. So, I’m asking a serious question. Was there ever a time when I would have done that?” He remained silent, and she decided to push the question further. “Did my mother do everything you asked her to?”
The frown that descended on his features was truly terrifying, and after staring at her for a few seconds without replying, he turned back into the room, slamming the door so hard behind him that a nearby picture frame rattled against the wall.
I guess I can add my mother to the list of taboo subjects. With a sigh, she continued up the stairs.
* * *
“Where is the refugee camp?” Nate wasn’t sure why it should matter so much, but the need to know more had taken a strong grip in his mind.
Violet, who was lying next to him in his narrow bed, turned her head to look at his face. “I don’t know. I can remember going there, but not where it is. Why?”
“Would it upset you too much to return?”
She gave it some thought before shaking her head. “I think it would be a good idea. It might help me to remember.”
Nate knew she was still intensely frustrated by her elusive memory. Bits of it had returned, but other parts remained stubbornly beyond her reach. It was as if her mind was teasing her, revealing tantalizing glimpses of her past life, while keeping the bigger picture hidden away. Nate knew how much Violet was enjoying some aspects of being back in her home environment. The ability to shift when she chose had brought a renewed strength and vitality to her body.
Every night, when darkness claimed the forest, Violet would take to the woods. Unlike feral werewolves, other wolves weren’t influenced by the phases of the moon, but they were at their strongest when it was full. Fascinated, Nate had gotten into the habit of accompanying her on her nightly expeditions. He loved to watch her face as she shifted. The intensity and enjoyment of her expression was beyond compare. Her wolf was incredible, a beautiful, magical creature. The sights and sounds of the forest as he waited for her to return from her run became familiar and comforting, like an old friend he sought for comfort. And there was another feeling he got as he watched Violet in her natural environment. He felt envy. He wanted to join her. He’d have given anything, in the instant she shifted, to experience that same euphoria, to break into a run with her, to become a creature of the night alongside his beloved wolf.
They had been at her home for three days and had seen very little of Nevan during that time. The Wolf Leader seemed preoccupied with the rebellion and was in almost constant meetings with his beta werewolves. Dario, the werewolf Nate had fought and defeated at the hotel in Barcelona, was a regular visitor. He still limped slightly from the injury Nate had inflicted with the knife. Although he cast some dark looks in Nate’s direction, he appeared to be under orders to keep his distance. It seemed Cal’s warning had a far-reaching impact.