Page 171 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

“Your Highness, I can’t leave you alone with—“

“The wolf can barely stand. I think I’ll manage.”

Shade hesitates for a long moment. I can feel his internal conflict but he relents. His departure is reluctant. He glances back twice before entering the building.

When we’re alone, Rhianelle inches closer.

“You’re not a normal wolf,” she murmurs, studying my face with those perceptive eyes. “What are you?”

Thank fuck. Finally. Someone who sees. I want to tell her everything.

My ears flatten against my skull. If I still had hands, they’d be trembling.

I scrape uselessly on the ground, trying to form shapes with my paw. I want to scratch letters in the dirt and find some way to communicate the horror of what Quinnlan did to me. But my paws are made for running, not writing. I attempt to speak again. What comes out is a strangled whine.

Rhianelle seems to understand my frustration. “I see. Someone did this to you,” she says quietly. “Anastarros’s blessing alone won’t heal this. You’re lucky I just came back from the temple.”

She reaches into a small pouch at her belt and pulls out some herbs. Her fingers work quickly, crushing and mixing them with water from a small vial to create a paste that smells of earth and ash. She begins packing the paste into my wound with gentle fingers.

“My sister taught me this,” she says, her voice distant with memory. “Before she... before I lost her.”

There’s grief in those words. The paste burns at first, then cools. My wolf body shudders at the sensation but I don’t pull away.

The initial contact is like fire against raw flesh. But within seconds the burning fades, replaced by a spreading coolness.

“You lost something,” she says softly, working the medicine into the infected flesh. “I can see it in your eyes.”

She pauses, her hands stilling for just a moment.

“I know about lost things. I lost my sister when I was young. And now my friend Blaire is missing.” Her voice cracks slightly, the queen’s mask slipping to reveal the girl underneath. “Everyone tells me she’s probably dead. That I should give up hope and move on.”

She resumes her work. “But I’m not giving up. I’m going to the Demon Lord’s castle to find her.”

The determination in her voice reminds me of Aurora. That same stubborn refusal to accept the world’s cruelty. Queen Rhianelle works in silence after that, cleaning the infection and passing me Anastarros’s blessings. She binds the wound with soft cloth she tears from the hem of her own dress. Her hands are practiced, like she’s done this many times before.

“There,” she says finally, tying off the bandage. “The blessings from Anastarros should draw the poison out by morning.”

Already I can feel it working.

The burning in my wound becomes bearable for the first time since the guard’s spear found its mark. My body, traitorous thing that it is, chooses life even when my mind had been choosing death.

Shade returns with a wooden plate piled with cold meat and a large bowl of water. He sets them down carefully between us, then immediately returns to his protective position behind the Queen.

The smell of food fills me with desperate hunger. Yet, I hesitate at taking a bite. The meat is some kind of roasted fowl or game bird. It would be so easy to just let go. But the last time I ate raw meat, I felt more animal than myself. I’m not sure I can afford to lose more of myself.

“Eat,” Rhianelle says gently. “You need your strength. Whatever you’re planning to do next, you can’t do it starving.”

She’s right. The hunger is overwhelming. I lower my muzzle to the plate and gobble the whole thing.

The meat disappears in seconds, swallowed until it’s gone. I barely taste it. My body knows what it needs and takes it. I love this simple clarity of predator instincts. But every time I give in to the ease of running on four legs, to the satisfaction of using teeth and claws, I can feel myself fading.

When I’m finished, Rhianelle stands and brushes dirt from her dress. “Come with me,” she says. “There’s an old stable behind the garden. No one uses it anymore, but it’s dry and safe.”

I follow her on unsteady legs, Shade trailing behind us like a silent shadow. The food is already helping and my steps are easier. Energy spreads through my body, pushing back the exhaustion.

The stable is exactly as she described with clean straw on the floor and walls that will keep out the wind.

“You can stay here,” the queen decrees. “I’ll arrange for healers to check on you and food to be brought regularly. You’ll be safe within the compound walls.”