The Knock That Never Came

"If the prince's wolf kills her, we won't even have to postpone our ceremony."

Derek said it from my stepsister's bed.

I stood outside her half-open door with a bag packed for the escape he had promised me. My mother's locket lay against my chest. Inside the bag were my kitchen wages, two dresses, and a photograph of my brother missing his front teeth.

Derek was supposed to knock three times before the royal escort arrived.

Instead, he was shirtless against Tessa's pillows, stroking her hair while she sat across his lap.

"You promised I would be your Luna," she said.

"And I keep my promises."

He kissed her forehead with a tenderness I recognized. That was the worst part. Nothing about him looked unfamiliar until he opened his mouth again.

"Nora is probably still waiting by the window. I told her we would leave together."

Tessa laughed against his throat.

Three years. I had given him three years of my adult life, and he had turned them into something they could laugh about in bed.

I moved backward. The clasp of my locket caught on my bag strap, snapped open, and struck the floor.

Both of them looked toward the door.

Derek did not jump up. He did not even take his hand off her waist.

"You should have stayed in your room," he said.

My mouth felt full of dust. "You said you would take me away."

Tessa drew the sheet over her legs, slowly enough to make sure I watched.

"He is the next Alpha, Nora. Did you really imagine he would abandon his pack for you?"

I looked only at him.

He sighed. "Your father enrolled you. There was nothing I could do."

"You were just discussing my funeral."

His jaw tightened. He disliked being quoted when the words were ugly.

For a moment, I saw another Derek: twenty-one, waiting outside the kitchens with a bruised apple because he had heard I missed lunch. I had kept its seeds in a dish for a week. I had thought a man who noticed my hunger would never deliberately hurt me.

Now I wondered whether he had simply noticed how little it took.

"You were never going to make this easy," he said. "You always wanted another promise before you gave me anything."

My eyes burned. "I loved you."

"Then you should understand that I have responsibilities."

Tessa smiled at the word, as though she were one of them.

Downstairs, someone called for my father. A car door slammed outside.

The escort had come.

I bent to retrieve the locket. My hands shook so badly that I could not fasten it. I closed my fist around it instead.

Derek watched me struggle. A small crease appeared between his brows, familiar enough to hurt. Once, he would have reached for the clasp.

"Nora, do not make a scene in front of the royal guards."

I took the narrow silver band off my finger. He had given it to me on my twentieth birthday and called it the beginning of forever.

I set it on the bedside table.

Tessa reached for it.

"It will turn your skin green," I told her. "It did mine."

Then I left before either of them could see me cry harder.

My father waited at the foot of the stairs in his good coat. He wore it for ceremonies, debt negotiations, and anything he hoped might improve his standing.

Two royal guards stood by the door. Between them, my twelve-year-old brother held his training boots in his hands.

Owen had been dragged out of bed. One lace trailed across the floor.

"You said she was going tomorrow," he told our father.

"Get back upstairs."

I went to Owen and knelt. He was growing so quickly that his wrists already extended beyond his sleeves.

"Are you going to marry the prince?" he whispered.

I had no answer fit for a child.

Prince Lucien Voss had been unconscious for four months. His parents wanted an heir before whatever held him asleep finally killed him. Every one of the thirteen packs had been ordered to provide an unmated candidate.

His spirit wolf guarded his bed. According to Derek, it had already killed women who tried to approach.

"I am going to the palace," I said. "I will write as soon as I can."

Owen's fingers closed around my wrist. "You can take my money. I have nineteen crowns."

I pressed my face into his hair before my expression could give me away.

"Keep it for new boots."

"These still fit."

They did not. His toes had made pale ridges in the leather.

I stood and faced my father.

"How much?"

His eyes flicked toward the guards. "This is an honor."

"How much did you receive for offering me?"

One guard, a broad man with gray at his temples, looked at the polished buckle on my father's belt.

My father lowered his voice. "The Crown cleared the pack levy against this household. You should be grateful your service benefits your family."

"And Derek? What did he give you?"

"The Mercer family has agreed to restore my seat on the pack council."

There it was. My future, measured in a chair and a canceled debt.

"Use some of what you saved to buy Owen boots."

My father caught my elbow. "Remember whose daughter you are when you get there."

For once, I did not lower my eyes.

"I suspect I will have trouble forgetting."

The older guard stepped forward before my father could answer.

"We must leave, Miss Vale."

His name, stitched discreetly inside his coat, was Captain Rusk.

He opened the car door himself.

I watched Owen through the rear window until the house disappeared. He stood barefoot on the steps, still holding the boots.

Only then did I cry without trying to hide it.

Rusk offered a folded handkerchief over the seat. He did not turn around to watch me take it.

That small mercy almost undid me.

The drive lasted an hour. Pines pressed against the road, and frost silvered the ditch grass. My wolf moved beneath my ribs, restless behind the barriers my mother had built when I was a child.

Elena Vale had given me bitter drops every full moon.

"People will ask what you can do for them," she had told me. "Be careful of anyone who never asks what it costs you."

I had spent years thinking she meant my father.

Blackthorn Palace rose beyond iron gates, pale stone against a winter sky. Electric lamps burned beneath carved wolves. Somewhere inside, a bell struck three.

A severe woman in a gray dress examined my travel-stained clothes.

"Mrs. Holt," she said. "You will address me by that name. Your belongings will be inventoried."

I held my bag tighter. "The locket stays with me."

She noticed my closed fist and then Rusk behind me.

"Very well. Come along."

We passed warm kitchens, silent galleries, and a corridor where every door had a guard. At the last one, a young servant whispered that I should keep my hands visible.

"Does that help?" I asked.

He could not meet my eyes.

Mrs. Holt opened the door.

The chamber smelled of cedar and clean snow. A dark-haired man lay motionless beneath ivory sheets, his face turned slightly toward the window.

Beside his bed, something blue and enormous unfolded from the shadows.

A wolf made of light rose to its feet.

Every guard drew his sword.

The wolf ignored them.

It came straight toward me.