Page 96 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers
Talon’s hands freeze on the bandaging, a deep furrow between their brows. “Nothing good.”
I tuck the edges of the bandages into the folds wrapped around the backs of my hands so they don’t dangle, and draw in a tight breath. “Why does he take the risk? Coming back here.”
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the rustle of the wind.
Talon purses their lips—and I know that look by now.
Somewhere in the blur of nearly dying and the intense, never-ending pain of the last week, Talon’s begun to feel more like a friend than a guard, someone I would want to know even if Wolf hadn’t ordered them to keep an eye on me.
They’re thinking through how much to tell me.
“What makes you think he has a choice?” Talon finally says.
The thought never even occurred to me.
All this time, I always thought he was just doing whatever he wanted, taking the risks he chose. But what if the risks he’s taken by coming to the castle haven’t been his choice at all, any more than me being here is my choice?
But who could forcehishand?
Wolf is so… guarded. And controlled, in a way that I’m sure only comes from having known the sharp slice of loss and vowing never to feel that again.
You don’t know a damn thing, Maeve.
The sound of my name in Wolf’s haggard, rough voice has played in my head on a loop for the last week—and I can’t get it out.
His hand, curling at the small of my back so naturally.
Those green eyes, tangling with so much conflict and guilt. Even though I know what he’s hidden from me, the knowledge of what we’ve both lost feels like a fragile tether between us.
“He’s not who I thought he was, is he?”
Talon chuckles, and the sound is warm enough to ease some of the heaviness in my chest. “I promise that you’re not what he thought you were either.”
I swat at their arm. For the first time in days, I feel the weight of fear and worry and exhaustion shift in my chest. It all feels a little lighter when I’m not alone.
“I still hate that none of you told me the truth.”
“Yeah.” Talon neatly folds all the bandages and bindings back into their satchel and offers me a hand back up to my feet. A bead of mist trails down their nose. “I would too.”
There’s no apology. NoI promise it won’t happen again.
We both know saying either of those things would be a lie.
The Whisperers might be the best hope for our isle, but every tendril I untangle about them seems to be some new shade of gray. We might share the same goals, but they don’t see people like me as an equal in this fight yet.
I stagger up, testing my hands. The bindings help keep the worst of the pain at bay.
Talon steadies me, their eyes fixing me in place. “Try to understand. No one is owed all the information here. Knowing too much only puts us at risk—and the stakes are too high.”
A cluster of nobles gallivants around us, whispering and pulling their thick furs tight around their shoulders as the summer wind bites, chill and damp with thick mist.
We let them pass, then start back up the path toward the festival.
“You realize that’s the second time you’ve mentioned that,” I say softly to Talon.
The muscles lining their forearms tighten, their hands freezing on the fasteners of their sack. “Mentioned what?”
“The stakes of all this,” I whisper with a quick check to make sure no one is near enough to overhear us. “I remember what you said at the First Look. ‘You’re not the only one with lives on the line if you fail.’?”
