★ELOWEN★
I decided to explore more of the gardens, this time with Grandmother Isolde safely indoors. I had escorted her back inside the castle myself before doubling back — I did not particularly want her watchful presence hovering over me during my wanderings.
With my jotter in hand, I walked the garden paths and noted down the names of flowers I recognised and the ones that struck me as peculiar. The purple-rose one gave me pause. I stopped before it, staring down at its blooms, the memory of the zap it had sent through my fingers still quite fresh in my mind.
I sighed and moved on, venturing further into the garden until I reached a more secluded section enclosed by a second gate. I glanced to my left, then my right. Finding no one about, I pushed the gate open and stepped through.
My jaw fell open.
A fountain stood at the centre of the space, its stone carved with the figures of wolves and another manner of creature — one that bore a striking and rather unsettling resemblance to vampires — intertwined in an elaborate embrace. I walked toward it slowly. The water was as clear as glass, reflecting my form with perfect fidelity.
"What on earth is this?" I whispered.
I reached out and let my fingers graze the water spilling from the wolf's mouth. Another zap came — softer this time, almost like a gentle tickle beneath the skin rather than a jolt. I withdrew my hand and looked down into the water.
My reflection stared back at me — but with white hair.
My hands flew up to touch my own hair, and when I looked again, the reflection had returned to its usual strawberry-blonde. My heart struck the inside of my ribs so forcefully I was certain it could be heard.
Was I inventing these things entirely?
"It reflects beautifully."
I startled so violently that my sandalled toe struck the base of the fountain. I bit back a groan and spun around to find Grandmother Isolde standing with perfect composure, her walking stick planted firmly in the earth.
"The water," she completed, moving to stand at my side as though she had been there all along.
"Yes." I steadied my breathing and arranged my expression into something approaching calm, turning back to face the fountain. "It does."
"Azrael had it commissioned after his coronation. He wished for something rather unlike anything else." She gazed up at the carved figures with an expression I could not quite read.
"He was coronated following his father's passing." I had still been quite young when word had spread of the new King of the SinBound Pack. It had not once crossed my mind that I might one day find myself woven into that life.
"He was. The early days of his reign were not easy ones. But he adapted with remarkable swiftness. Possesses keener senses than any wolf I have known."
"I can well believe it," I murmured.
Grandmother Isolde and I exchanged a few lighter pleasantries after that, though in truth my attention was nowhere near her words. It had remained fixed, stubbornly, on the white-haired reflection I had seen staring back at me from the water.
---
★AZRAEL★
I oversaw the afternoon training session from the ground. Spar after spar — hand fighting, sword fighting, shift fighting. I watched and corrected where needed, moving between the pairs with a growing sense of unease that I could not entirely attribute to the fighters themselves. Something in the air felt wrong. Taut. I had learned long ago not to dismiss such instincts.
Two wolves occupied the central ground. One was built like a sledgehammer — broad and immovable. The other was lean as a rapier. The outcome seemed foregone before the first blow was exchanged.
The crowd erupted when the larger wolf drove the leaner one to the ground and began striking him with relentless force. I was already moving to intervene when the scent of blood reached me — sudden and overwhelming, hitting me directly in the face. I very nearly stumbled. I caught myself only by gripping Noah's shoulder.
"Are you alright, Alpha King?"
My vision had blurred at the edges. My thirst rose with savage swiftness, and my skull had begun to pound in earnest. I spoke through clenched teeth. "Pull Neil off Kevin before he kills the boy." I released Noah's shoulder and turned away, walking back toward the main house with more composure than I felt. Once inside my study, I pulled two bottles of stored animal blood from the cabinet and drained them both.
I stood there breathing for a long moment. Then I went in search of my wife.
I found her in the secluded section of the garden.
Of course I did. Curious little creature.
She was with Grandmother Isolde, the two of them in quiet conversation near the fountain. As was invariably the case, my wife noticed me first.
"You look rather strained," she said, her brows drawing together as she came toward me.
"I am. I have been overseeing the training grounds." She nodded at that.
"Grandmother Isolde was telling me about your coronation," she said, glancing back at the fountain.
I looked to my grandmother, who took her cue and excused herself from the garden with admirable efficiency.
"One would think Grandmother Isolde takes her leave whenever you appear," my wife remarked, the words shaped like a jest though her tone held a genuine note of curiosity.
"Perhaps she does," I said, lifting one shoulder.
"What inspired you to have this built?" Her gaze returned to mine — bright, green, and entirely too beautiful for my peace of mind.
"Nothing in particular," I said. That was not true in the slightest. I had wanted something that reflected what I was. Something honest, at least in stone, if not in words.
"I see." She studied the fountain. "It is truly lovely. Whoever designed it is enormously talented."
I looked at her instead of the fountain. The afternoon light was catching her hair, gilding it in a way that made it difficult to look anywhere else. I swallowed. I was not entirely certain what to call what I was feeling for her. Infatuation, perhaps — though that word felt too slight for the weight of it.
I checked myself. I ought not to be feeling anything of the sort. I wanted her to live far longer than my previous wives. Sentiment of this nature was a liability I could ill afford.
"Forgive me," her voice reached me. "If I have been too inquisitive."
I smiled. "You have not been." I raised my hand and drew my knuckles gently across her cheek. "Shall we take a walk?"
"Yes, I should like that very much."
We left the fountain enclosure and made our way through the main garden. She spoke of the flowers she recognised and the ones she had taken a particular liking to. I noticed the jotter she carried but did not enquire after it.
We came to a stop before the purple-rose flower. I narrowed my eyes at it. I had not seen it before the past fortnight — it had simply appeared, as though it had decided of its own accord to take root here.
"It is new," she said. "And rather unusual. Grandmother believes it may be growing from the nearby plants."
"She said that?"
My wife nodded. "It is beautiful, though."
"It is," I agreed, though I was looking at her when I said it.
We walked and talked until we reached the main house. She paused at the door and tilted her face up toward me.
"I shall go to the library. Will you return to the training grounds?"
"No," I said. "I have work to see to in my study. You are welcome to interrupt me, should the inclination strike."
She smiled — properly, the kind that brought out her dimples — and I felt something in my chest do something I had no adequate word for. I escorted her to the library, then made my way to my study. The thirst had quietened considerably since I had found her. I had noticed that pattern before and did not know what to make of it — that her nearness seemed to settle something in me even as it strained my control in equal measure.
I did not wish to be away from her. But duty, as ever, insisted.
I stepped into my study and stopped before the painting on the wall. I stood there looking at it for a long moment.
The feminine figure rendered in oils. Dark-eyed, still, preserved in pigment on canvas.
A portrait of my mother.