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“Mistresses often wear finer gowns than wives.”

Madame Ella, An Observation

N ia waltzes into my room with fire in her eyes as she rips the covers from my languid form. “We’re going to town.”

When she throws open the curtains, I hate that I search the windowsill for a flower.

A flower that isn’t there.

Damn this light and the sun that gives it. “It’s too bright.” I catch the end of my covers and drag them over my head. Why does it never rain in this cursed city? I want it to rain so hard that the streets flood and wash everything away. So that it’s perfectly acceptable to feel this melancholy and remain indoors for the foreseeable future.

“There’s a bath waiting for you. When you’re finished, come downstairs for breakfast.”

“I don’t want a bath.” Or breakfast, for that matter. I don’t want anything but sleep and darkness.

“Too bad. I’m not going anywhere with you smelling like scummy pond water.”

That’s fine with me because I don’t want to go anywhere with her either.

She steals my covers like the irritating woman she is, rolling them into a ball and flinging them into the corner where I cannot reach them without getting out of bed. “Let’s go. Up you come.”

Why must she be so bloody insistent? I push to my feet, my stiff legs refusing to bend as I hobble toward the bathing room where steam curls from the copper tub. I strip bare but as I sink into the water, all I can think about is the way it felt to be in the water with him . Everett has even taken the enjoyment out of a bloomin’ bath. How insufferable is that?

I hate him.

Tears trail down my cheeks, and I press the heels of my palms to my eyes to staunch the flow.

No, I don’t. I only wish I hated him. Then I could find a way to move on. As it stands, I might never marry.

All I can hope for now is contentment.

Bland, boring contentment.

I slip lower and lower, until water closes over my face and silence fills my ears. When my lungs start to burn, I have no desire to search for air. Perhaps I’ll stay here, where it’s dark and quiet and?—

A hand catches my shoulder, and Nia forces me back to the surface. I blink through the water and my tears, drained of life. Of energy. Of enthusiasm.

With a disappointed tsk , my cousin forces me from the tub, towel dries my hair, and plaits the heavy strands. Back in my room, I stare at the dresses in my closet, not even caring which one I put on. What’s the point? There is only one man I wish to marry, and he is pledged to another. For all I know, he might have married her already.

My hands start to tremble at my sides.

He’s gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

Nia must notice me faltering and selects a pale pink gown with tiny rosebuds sewn into the bodice that reminds me of the vines outside my window back home.

Maybe I should go back to Gravale and hide in the mountains until I’m able to exist without shattering.

* * *

I force a tasteless croissant between my lips as we step outside where the sun caresses my bare shoulders, reminding me of the heat of Everett’s lips. Drifting along next to Nia, I barely pay attention to anyone or anything around me.

She stops at a tea house where Trevor and Nolan wait at a table set for four. When Trevor sees me, his face brightens, and he pushes to his feet to slide out my chair for me. He brought a bouquet of wildflowers, their long, jagged stems tied with twine.

He hands me the bouquet with a chagrined smile. “I want to apologize. You were right in calling me a coward. I never should’ve given in to the prince’s demands.”

No, he shouldn’t have. Not that it matters now.

I thank Trevor for the flowers and set them on the table beside me.

Why must there be so many? They feel so impersonal.

Trevor either doesn’t notice my misery or he doesn’t care. He just sits there drinking his tea with a small, contented smile on his conventionally handsome face.

A face I might have loved if it weren’t for him.

Nia and Nolan keep the conversation light, discussing the upcoming summer festivals and the new café opening on the other side of town near Madame Ella’s. Apparently, they specialize in fish. Not sure why anyone would want to go somewhere that offers only one type of food on the menu, but what do I know?

Trevor orders a pear and rhubarb tart, offering me half.

I don’t even want food but when the waitress drops off the plate, I force myself to eat so that I don’t have to join in the conversation. Bedtime cannot come soon enough.

Trevor dabs the crumbs from his lips with his serviette. “What news from The Divide, Nolan?”

Nia’s brow furrows as she glances at me, and then to the man holding her hand. “What is he talking about, dearest?”

I hate how much my ears perk up at the mention of the canyon. I try to appear nonchalant, but my knuckles have gone white where I grip my fork.

Nolan clears his throat, a flush creeping along his jaw as his gaze darts between my cousin and me. “This information does not leave this table,” he says quietly, his expression grim. Once we’ve all nodded, he continues. “One of the men on patrol last night was mauled to death by a wolf.”

But Everett said there were no wolves on our side of The Divide.

Had that been a lie?

No. Everett wouldn’t have lied. Not about this.

Maybe he wasn’t lying, but wrong.

Either way, a man is dead. Why would this be a secret though? If the people of Rosehill aren’t safe, shouldn’t they be told?

The three of them continue speaking in low whispers, but all I can do is sit back and stare into my milky tea, wondering if there really is a wolf loose in Rosehill.

* * *

I leave the restaurant without making plans to see Trevor again, ignoring the way his head hangs as he returns to the library to finish his shift.

Nia takes my hand as we stroll back to her parent’s house, plying me with question after question about why I was so dismissive of Trevor.

She’s so determined to find me a husband in Rosehill that she’s forgetting one very important thing: This is going to be my husband, not hers.

I cannot tie myself to someone so cowardly.

Nia’s skirt brushes mine as we walk, our hands swinging. “I still cannot believe a wolf killed one of our own. I never thought I’d say it but thank heavens for the curfew. I’m not sure I’ll go out at night ever again.”

It could have been me .

If I’d gone to The Divide last night, I could’ve been the wolf’s victim.

It could have been Everett.

I hope he made it home safely.

Her fingers grip mine a little tighter, her eyes pleading as she slows to a stop, forcing me to halt as well. “Kerris, please. I know you’re sad, but you didn’t honestly believe there could be a future for the two of you.”

That’s just it. Part of me did start to believe in us.

“I’m sorry, Nia. I will be back on track tomorrow. I promise.” And if I don’t, I’ll send a letter to Theo asking if he’d like some company in Applewood. Perhaps the men there won’t be such an overwhelming disappointment.

* * *

Inside the house, the tangy scent of lemons hangs in the air.

My aunt waits on the sofa, her apron spotted with flour and batter. When she sees us, she launches to her feet. “Oh, good. You’re back. Come in and have a seat.”

The sofa’s springs squeak as Nia and I both sink onto the cushions.

Nia doesn’t lean back against the ruffled pillows, her posture rigid as a plank. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, honey,” Aunt Cordelia assures her with a quick pat on the knee. “Your father and I were simply discussing what to do with all this wolf nonsense.”

What can any of us do? Start a hunting party? The thought is laughable. What weapons would we use? Butter knives?

My aunt’s gaze slices toward me. “Kerris, dear, we think it might be best if you returned home.”

Wait. What?

Nia catches my hand as if I’m about to race off to the mountains this very second. “You cannot send her away, Mother. She hasn’t found a husband yet.”

“She would be more than welcome to come back after it’s safe.”

Although I hear what she’s saying, what she’s not saying is even louder.

I curl my toes in my slippers, careful to keep my expression passive despite the indignation burning through my chest. “That’s not true, is it? You don’t want me to ever come back.”

I don’t know why I feel so betrayed. Wasn’t I just contemplating leaving?

“Out of concern for your safety. Nothing more.”

Poppycock. She wants me gone and it has nothing to do with my bloomin’ safety. “Then I assume you’ll be sending Nia to Gravale with me? Or is your daughter’s safety not as important as my own?”

Nia crosses her arms, her chin lifting as she narrows her eyes at her mother. “Yes, Mother. Which is it?”

“Nia is more than welcome to visit you after she finds a husband.”

“Unbelievable,” Nia scoffs.

“Is it, really? You know as well as I do what everyone is saying about her. Do you want your cousin’s poor choices to hurt your prospects for a husband as well?”

I never even considered how my connection to Everett would impact Nia. Am I hurting her prospects? That’s the last thing I want to do, especially when she is so keen to marry Nolan.

Nia launches to her feet, her tight fists banging against her thighs. “Any man who doesn’t want to marry me simply because of who I’m related to isn’t worth my time. Unlike you , I don’t want a coward for a husband.”

“Nia Quill. You will hold your tongue.” Aunt Cordelia snaps her fingers, her cheeks a ruddy shade of red.

It’s my turn to stand and take Nia’s hand—after I pry her fist open. “It’s all right.” Her mother is only trying to protect her. I’m certain that my mother would have done the same for me. “Aunt Cordelia, I can assure you that my dealings with the Unseelie have ended. But if you still want me to leave, I will.”

Nia strangles my hand, her voice trembling. “Kerris, no.”

My aunt’s wariness lives in the lines on her face. “If you can assure me that you are no longer entertaining the notion of aligning yourself with the Unseelie, then you are welcome to stay.”

After all that has happened, I’m not sure I want to stay. But for my cousin, I make the promise, wishing it weren’t true.