“It was, Mother. She’s a loup garou and I frightened her into the change.” He took a deep breath. “She’s been injured.”
“The wolf that our subjects are ranting about,” his mother said quietly.
“Yes. But Grandmother Hazel believes she has a plan.”
He explained the witch’s idea to his mother, watching her carefully composed face as he did so. After he finished, his mother nodded slowly.
“I believe the plan will work. Etienne, at the first sign of daylight, you must set out. Do you know where you will start looking?”
“Yes. I’ll start near the part of the forest where we met, where she kept the wolf pups.” Doubt speared him and he fought not to let his fear show in his voice. “Loupe scared a lot of people tonight when she ran past the crowd. Many villagers are superstitious, and they all fear the loup garou. What if Loupe’s family discovers her before I can get to her?”
He could tell by the looks on their faces that they had thought of the same thing. They glanced at him and at each other, shifting uncomfortably.
His mother drew herself up to her full height, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. “Etienne, do you know the story of how your great-great-grandmother came to be queen of this kingdom?”
Etienne frowned, momentarily puzzled out of his fear. “I know our family took control of this kingdom away from a mass murderer who used human sacrifice to try and preserve his own power.”
“Yes, but there is more to the story. King Laurimar decided that to truly cement his bond to the land, he needed a queen. A witch had apparently convinced him that the kingdom needed a royal couple to assure the continued fertility of the land. She told him he must get a queen from the kingdom of Hellas.”
“The kingdom our ancestors hail from,” Etienne said, intrigued. “Are you telling me my great-great-grandmother was King Laurimar’s bride?”
“She was kidnapped and brought here to marry the king, yes. But King Laurimar bit off more than he could chew. After the sham of a marriage was complete and he retired to the bedroom with his ill-gotten bride, your great-great-grandmother shifted right there in the bed and ate him.”
Etienne’s jaw dropped. He laughed, a short burst of sound. “I didn’t know.”
His mother gave a small smile. “Well, we try not to throw the details around too often. Still, it is true. Your great-great-grandmother went to the balcony the next day and called her new subjects to her. She cast down the remains of King Laurimar’s body and announced that he would be the final sacrifice to the land. She decreed that from then on, no subject of her great kingdom would ever be harmed in the name of the land again. She won the hearts and loyalty of her people that day and that is how our family came to rule this kingdom.”
“Mother, that is an inspiring story, but why share it with me now?”
The queen looked into Etienne’s eyes. “Do not underestimate Loupe. She may appear meek, and helpless, but a woman cornered will fight. You have not seen what Loupe is capable of yet. But I promise you, you will.”
With that last assurance, the queen held out her hand to her husband. He stepped forward and took it, bending low to lay a kiss on the back of her hand. Etienne’s chest constricted at the obvious love his father had for his mother, the respect he had for her. He swore to himself that he would have such a wife one day.
“Your mother is right you know,” the witch agreed.
Etienne turned to face her, raising his eyebrows. “In what way?”
“Your great-great-grandmum didn’t start out a fierce warrior for her people. She was terrified when I first told her she had to allow herself to be kidnapped. It took me three months to convince her and then another year to convince the rest of her family.” She cackled, her eyes sparkling. “But I knew she had it in her. Proudest day of my life was when she threw that carcass over the balcony and stood there, covered in blood, and announced that that miserable excuse for a monarch would be the last sacrifice the land would ever see.”
Etienne’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You were there?” How old are you?
He was certain he hadn’t said that last part out loud, but the look in the witch’s eyes said she’d heard it anyway. She just smiled.
Chapter 9
Pain woke Loupe. Her foot was on fire, the agony like a living thing trying to devour her leg. She opened her eyes and squinted as the sun burned her retinas. After a fluttering round of blinking, her eyes finally adjusted and she was able to take in her surroundings.
She was in the forest, a mere stone’s throw from her house. Her foot was a mass of hot, stinging needles and she looked down. A scream tried to rip its way out of her throat and Loupe slapped a hand over her mouth. Blood pounded in her ears as she stared down at the bloody mess of her foot. One of her toes was missing.
Nausea closed its fist around her and Loupe lunged to the side, getting sick in the bed of leaves. Her head spun, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. She didn’t know if it was the bloodloss or the sight of her injury that made her so ill, but as it was, she felt like death warmed over.
A breeze flowed over her and Loupe groaned as she realized she was naked. The sun was up, which meant there would be people around. How was she ever going to get back to the house without drawing attention to herself? Oh, why had she ever left home on the night of the full moon…
In a flash, the previous night came back to her. Prince Etienne, his pale grey eyes looking at her with such unwavering intensity, the feel of his strong body pressed against hers, the feel of his lips on her neck…
That image abruptly gave way to the memory of Etienne staring into her eyes, the word “werewolf” on his lips. Loupe clenched her teeth, blinking against the burn of tears as the memory went hazy, a common occurrence when the wolf inside her took over. Etienne must have seen. He must know her secret.
“He will never want to see me again,” she murmured, her voice hitching on a sob.
Part of her wanted to lie down and cry. She wanted to let out all the pain that was holding her in its grip, finally let go of the last shred of hope her idealistic soul had held on to. She was meant to be alone. Forever.
The throbbing in her foot brought her mind to a different pain. Grim-faced, she stared at her injury. She had no time for self-pity. She had to get home and take care of the wound before her stepfamily saw it. There was no doubt in her mind that it had been her stepmother who’d shot her. No other person would have the unmitigated gall to violate the king’s most sacred law on his own property. Anger burned in her belly. She could have been killed. Etienne could have been killed.
Loupe looked around her. She wasn’t far from the lake she used for bathing. If she could make it there, she could clean her foot up. She also had a dress buried near there, a backup plan she’d come up with in case a wild animal took off with her clothes while she bathed.
Gritting her teeth, Loupe pushed herself upright, stumbling to get her balance. Putting weight on her injured foot hurt like the devil, but the clot held. She limped toward the lake. Every excruciating step threatened her resolve, but she kept taking deep breaths, willing herself to remain calm.
It felt like hours passed before she reached the lake. She collapsed to the ground and allowed herself a moment to recover from the pain. As soon as she could move without hissing, she forced herself to start digging at the base of the tree that marked the hiding spot for her clothing. Finally she found the bundle and unwrapped the blanket to reveal the plain pale green cotton dress. She tore a few strips off the blanket and used one of them as a wash rag to clean herself up as best she could. She just dabbed at the stump that used to be her toe, not wanting to make it start bleeding again before she got home to proper medical supplies.
The walk back to her house was even more painful than the walk to the lake. Loupe cried with relief at the sight of her house rising up beyond the trees. She crept up to the kitchen door, listening carefully to make certain no one was around. She
slipped inside.
Pausing in the kitchen, Loupe strained to hear her family’s movements over her pounding heart. With any luck, her stepfamily was still asleep. Grateful for the privacy, Loupe quickly lifted the trapdoor that led to her room and lowered herself gingerly down the ladder. She had just eased herself to the bed, when a shout from upstairs turned her blood to ice in her veins.
“Loupe! Loupe, get your worthless hide up here!”
Loupe stared at the trapdoor in horror. Her stepfamily was awake. Had they been up long? How had she missed them? She stared down at her foot. All the walking she’d done had cracked the clot and fresh blood was beginning to seep from the wound. Terror gripped her throat, strangling her into unwilling silence.
“Loupe!”
Desperation seized Loupe and she searched around her for some sign of Loeg. She whispered his name, trying to ignore the hint of hysteria creeping into her voice. If she could find the pixie, she could beg him to glamour her foot, her body, anything to help her escape detection.
Suddenly the trapdoor flew open and her stepmother’s head was revealed in the opening. Loupe nearly swallowed her tongue, throwing her dress skirt over her foot and praying that her stepmother hadn’t seen the injury.
“What are you doing lying in bed while I’m calling you?” her stepmother snapped. “Get your lazy carcass up here. Breakfast should have been ready when we came downstairs!”
Loupe forced herself to stand and nearly fainted from the pain. Her panic was pushing her blood faster through her veins and she knew she was bleeding everywhere. She waited for her stepmother to move away from the trapdoor, but to her horror her stepmother continued to watch her. Her gaze narrowed slightly and Loupe rushed to do as she’d ordered and climbed the ladder. She’d taken three steps away from the door when her stepmother’s gasp stopped her cold.
“You’re tracking blood all over my floors! What—”
Before Loupe could protest, her stepmother jerked up her skirt. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of Loupe’s bloody foot. Slowly, she raised her gaze to Loupe’s face. The glint in her stepmother’s cold eyes sent a shiver down Loupe’s back and fear closed her throat until she couldn’t breathe.
“Danette,” her stepmother called out, never taking her eyes from Loupe. “Are you certain you shot that wolf in the foot last night?”
Danette stalked into the kitchen, confusion and annoyance etched into her features. “Of course I’m sure. The thing was jumping around like a kitten, and I saw something fly off its foot as the arrow hit it.” She laughed, a short cruel sound. “I think I shot its toe…” Her gaze finally landed on Loupe’s injury. “Off,” she finished quietly, a touch of awe in her voice.
This cannot be happening Loupe thought dumbly, too petrified to move. My stepsister shot me?
“When was the last time you cleaned the stables, girl?” her stepmother demanded, the wild light in her eyes growing brighter.
The question caught Loupe completely off guard. Too terrified to speak, she shook her head, frozen under the watchful eyes of her stepmother and stepsister.
Without a word, her stepmother grabbed her arm and dragged her out the door of the kitchen, through the garden, and around to the small stable where they housed the family’s horse. Loupe couldn’t stifle her cry of pain as her stepmother cruelly kept a furious pace, not allowing Loupe any time to get her footing. By the time she finally pulled Loupe into the barn, Loupe could barely see through the blurry haze of agony. The sound of the horse going frantic was the final nail in her coffin. Loupe collapsed as her stepmother threw her to the floor of the stable.
“A werewolf,” she sneered. “All this time I’ve been sheltering a werewolf under my own roof.” She stepped forward, towering over Loupe until she blocked the sun streaming through the stable doors. “Did you plan to murder us in our beds? Perhaps bring the law down on our heads with a wild night of bloody massacres?”
“I—I never,” Loupe stuttered, pain and fear thickening her tongue so that she couldn’t speak.
“Danette, hand me that pitchfork!”
Danette stared at Loupe like she was a particularly interesting insect, with fascination and a little disgust. She reached out and grabbed the pitchfork then handed it to her mother.
“Get up, wolf,” Madame Tessier snarled at Loupe.
Loupe had to try twice before she could rise. Clumsy with fear and pain, she limped ahead of her stepfamily as they forced her to her room.
“Stand in the bath.”
Loupe started to cry, short, hiccupping sobs. Her stepmother was gesturing at the tub where Loupe skinned the animals so that blood didn’t leak all over the floor. The plain wooden tub had never looked so frightening, stained as it was from the blood of hundreds of wolves. She looked around the room in a wide-eyed panic. Every carcass was a threat, every skin a gruesome foretelling of what was about to happen to her.
Her stepmother grabbed a knife. Tears streamed down Loupe’s face.
“Please don’t do this,” she begged. “I’ve never hurt anyone, I would never hurt anyone.”
“It was you at the ball last night,” her stepmother sneered. “You were covered in magic and I didn’t recognize you, but it all makes sense now. You sold your soul for that magic, didn’t you? Bargained with the Devil to enthrall the prince? Everyone saw the way his eyes glazed over when he saw you, how desperate he was to be alone with you. Too bad for you that the Devil took his payment before you got your prize, isn’t it? Tell me, what did Prince Etienne’s face look like when you turned into a wolf? Did you try to eat him before you ran out and attacked his people?”
“No, no, no, no,” Loupe babbled, her entire body trembling violently as her eyes rolled up to the knife her stepmother raised into the air. She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn’t. She was frozen. A loud banging echoed in the room. Her stepmother turned just as a voice rang out.
“What the blazes do you think you’re doing?”
Chapter 10
Etienne fought not to growl as he gracefully dropped down through the trapdoor into the underground room. He kept his eyes on the woman holding a knife on Loupe. He would have given anything in that moment to be able to take his wolf form. He wanted to leap at the woman and tear her flesh from her body. He wanted to spill her blood all over the floor. He wanted… His gaze dropped.
“What is she standing in?” he asked suddenly, only half-aware that he’d asked the question out loud.
It was a tub of some kind. The inside appeared to be rotting or…
Covered in blood.
Etienne’s jaw dropped as he finally noticed the rest of his surroundings. At least a dozen wolf pelts in various stages of skinning and treating hung all about the room. There were one or two fresh kills lying next to one another in a corner, two more skins stretched on a rack, and a pile of finished furs stacked on a table next to a few plain cardboard boxes. One small table held an assortment of gruesome instruments with a space that looked just the right size for the knife in Loupe’s assailant’s hand.
Suddenly Etienne knew what Loupe was standing in. He raised his gaze to the knife-wielder’s eyes.
“Your Highness,” she said hoarsely. “This is not what it looks like.”
Etienne didn’t interrupt. He just stared at her, willing himself to maintain control. The temper that had been growing as his wolf faded was ready to burst. Slowly he reached for his sword and, feeling the comforting weight of the blade, drew it from its sheath.
“Prince Etienne, we only just arrived home from your ball late last night. After we awoke, we couldn’t find my stepdaughter anywhere.” Seeming to grow comfortable with her story, the woman straightened her spine and pointed at Loupe with the blade. “We finally discovered her down here in this hidden room. I swear to you, we knew nothing of her crimes until this morning.”
Her lies flowed like honey from her lips and Etienne couldn’t help but be amazed at how easily she tried to manipulate him. He glanced at L
oupe, standing frozen with fear in the blood-coated tub. She stared into his eyes and his heart clenched as he realized that she was afraid of him too.
“Loupe,” he whispered.
She straightened at how softly he said her name. He gave her a tender smile, wanting to reassure her.
“Step away from her,” he said to the older woman. “And put the weapon down.”
“Your Highness, you don’t understand,” the woman insisted. “She is not the meek maiden you think she is.” She held her head high. “She is a werewolf! Come out to the stables with us and see how the horse is terrified of her. I will prove to you—”
“Put the knife down and step away from her.”
Two women standing behind the woman, presumably her daughters, glanced from him to Loupe to their mother and back again. They seemed unsure of what to do.
Before Midnight (Book 1) (Blood Prince Series) Page 12