Page 23 of Master Wolf

“A few years ago, he had a vision—”

“A vision,” Marguerite repeated, and her dark gaze shifted to Wynne.

Wynne nodded, but did not speak, leaving Lindsay to tell the story.

“The vision told him I was ruled by three wolves,” Lindsay continued. “The first, he said, is master of my body. The second is the master of my will.”

“Your own wolf, and Duncan’s,” Marguerite surmised flatly. “And the third?”

Lindsay was quiet a moment. “The third is the master of my heart.”

For the space of a few heartbeats, there was silence. No one looked at Drew, not even Lindsay, but he flushed hotly and shifted in his dainty chair, unsettled.

Was his wolf the third wolf? His immediate thought was that it must be—who else’s could it be? But… perhaps not. Who was to say a maker bond had anything to do with the heart? Hadn’t Drew always argued otherwise?

And why did that thought make him feel so overwhelmingly sad?

It was a relief when Lindsay finally cleared his throat and continued, breaking the oppressive silence.

“After the scrying, we spoke with a friend of Wynne’s about what it meant.”

Marguerite’s scent sharpened and her eyes narrowed as she searched Lindsay’s face. At last she sighed. “You confided in this friend.”

“I didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know about.”

“Lindsay, the first rule I taught you—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “Never tell a human what you are. I broke that rule. Again. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I think you would have done the same in my place.”

She shook her head at that but said nothing.

“She asked me if I wanted to escape my three wolves. I remember I laughed and said, ‘some of them’ but she didn’t laugh with me. She told me that I had a choice. I could escape all three, or none, but I could not pick and choose between them. She said if I wanted to go down that road, it would be painful.”

“And you said you did,” Marguerite said wearily. “Of course.”

Lindsay’s smile was sweet and a little rueful. “Yes.”

“She was the one who gave you the Wolfsbane idea?”

Lindsay nodded. “She entrusted Wynne with the recipe for the poultice.”

Wynne’s expression was grim now, but he said nothing.

“Poultice,” Marguerite said awfully, her voice icy.

Wordlessly, Lindsay pulled up the wide sleeve of his dressing gown to the elbow. His arm was wrapped in linen bandage, from his wrist stretching up into the cavernous sleeve. Drew wondered how far the bandages went, and if they only covered this arm or more of his body. He did not ask though.

“The poultice is under the bandages,” Lindsay said. “We’ve built up the amount of pure Wolfsbane in there over time.”

“What does it do?” Drew said, the words blurting out before he could stop them.

Lindsay met his gaze. His expression was odd, He lookedsorry, Drew thought.

“Eventually, it will sever the bond between me and my wolf,” Lindsay said. “It takes time though. Over two years to get where I am now.”

“And where are you now?” Marguerite asked, her eyes glittering with angry grief.

“I don’t shift anymore, or feel my wolf’s presence—at least not when I’m wearing the medicine. When I take it off, I begin healing.” He frowned, as though that was a bad thing. “If I have the medicine off for a while, I can begin to detect him, but only distantly, as though he’s locked up a long, long way away.”