Page 51 of Wolf's Bane
Everything was odd, and nothing fit properly.
Solenne wished she had more eloquent words to explain the sense of restless unease in her gut. Miles stayed for a few days for observation, and Luis would not leave his bedside. Godwin announced he would devise a trap to capture the beast once and for all. She only saw her father at mealtimes and never for long, which frustrated her to no end. Mr. Parkell had broken his leg badly fleeing the house and now had a fever. Charlotte wouldn’t leave his bedside, despite the appalling way he had treated her at the dance.
Three months had elapsed since the attack that took her father’s eye, and she summoned Alek. They had three months to plan, and they had been woefully unprepared. They had another three months to devise a new plan, but she feared Godwin would try for more of the same.
They had been lucky to escape with as few injuries as they did. The beast had been in their home.
Hadlickedher.
Next time, they might not escape so lightly.
As for Alek, he scarpered off to Founding the next morning, answering none of the questions he promised to address. He left a week ago on Colonel Chambers’ errand and had yet to send word. Solenne’s worry increased with each passing day, and no one seemed remotely curious about his unusual hair growth during the solstice, his claws, fangs, or that he kissed her.
Her spade dug into the raised planting bed, turning over the soil with more force than strictly necessary.
In the days since the solstice, she kept herself occupied. Godwin ignored the serious repairs the house required in favor of tinkering with his trap. Luis was no better, obsessed with devising a stronger weapon to use against the beast.
More of the same.
So that left her to be the responsible adult and to take care of what needed seeing to. The glazier from the village repaired the window for two lambs.
Two.
Solenne didn’t know whether to be humiliated at having to barter for basic repairs or insulted at the exorbitant fee. Beggars could not be choosers, but she didn’t appreciate being reminded so coolly of that fact.
The spade plunged in the dirt, hacking away at a tenacious root. Besides the entire household acting out of character, no one would discuss the events of the solstice, like they all took a vow of silence. Travers walked away the last time she broached the subject. So Solenne was in the greenhouse, working her frustration out by prepping a bed for wolfsbane seedlings because her stocks were low, because the man she loved was a werewolf.
A werewolf.
Fury boiled in her gut, anger that such a thing happened to Alek, that it kept them apart, and angrier still that he just couldn’t explain what happened to him.
Like he feared her rejection or hurting her. She honestly did not know, which added to her fury, because she would never reject Alek for a small…affliction and she knew would never hurt her despite being, you know, a werewolf.
No, she detested that superstitious term from the old world. She had used terms such as beast and creature her entire life and never thought twice. Now they felt dehumanizing. In the one and a half centuries since humans arrived on the planet, they should have developed a better vocabulary for the mutations that some population suffered.
She thought of Tristan—filled with sawdust, dressed in faded finery, and left in a corner in the library—and went cold imagining the same fate befalling Alek. Whatever happened to Tristan, he remained a person and deserved respect.Beastandcreaturewere worse terms for his particular condition than werewolf.
Fine. Werewolf. The man she loved for as long as she could remember was a werewolf and no one wouldtalkabout it.
She gently tapped the spade’s edge against the wood frame, knocking away dirt. Then she gritted her teeth and gave a choked scream, bashing the spade with all her might. She did not kneel like a lady, but squatted. The old frame groaned, wobbling because the rusty nails holding it together were nothing but powder, and that was one more blasted thing she could not fix. Then, as if out of spite, the wood handle on the spade separated from the blade. The blade sailed across the greenhouse. Stunned, she fell back onto her bottom.
Annoyed at her defeat by gravity and old tools, she gave a kick to the wood frame.
“I think you killed it,” Luis said.
“Be quiet. You’re ruining a perfectly good sulk.” She tossed the useless wooden handle away.
“What are we sulking about?” Luis set down his satchel, fetched the pieces of the broken tool, and then joined her on the ground. He leaned back on his elbow and tilted his face toward the glass ceiling. A season’s worth of dust clouded the surface, despite the steady rain. “This place really is falling apart, isn’t it? Tell me about this bee in your bonnet.”
Solenne eyed the satchel, heavy with books. She had never known Luis to be a great reader. “Money. Father.You.”
“Alek,” he said in a teasing tone.
“Be quiet.” She wasn’t in the mood for teasing.
“You’re in a foul mood because your intended is a cursed beast.”
“Don’t say that.”
