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At least until you’re on the outside of the cage…be kind to your jailer.

The fogginess of sleep ebbed, and the horrible memories of the previous night flooded back.

I blinked at the floor and caught sight of two black boots through the cell door.

Following them up, I found Rook leaning against the bars, arms splayed above him.

How long had he been there, glaring down upon me with such contempt?

My body ached and I cracked my neck as I sat up.

“You said you didn’t have a choice,” Rook spat. “What did you mean?”

“I—”

“What were you planning on doing after you killed me, hm?” I smoothed my trousers and waited. Rook huffed and crossed his arms. Seemingly against his will, his eyes drifted down my chest, where the torn fabric was nearly indecent. Even in his rage, Rook wanted me.

And he couldn’t stand it.

His jaw flexed, and he looked at the ground. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Proceed.”

“Our queen. She offered a reward for the Hound’s heart.”

“Ah!” Rook spit, his eyes bulging. “You’d have killed me for wealth?” He slammed the bars. “How much am I worth? Hm? You could have taken any number of things from this castle, and I would have allowed it, but alas, your greed knows no bounds!”

“The Hound killed my father.”

Rook’s jaw slackened; his arms fell limp at his sides.

“Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t control who you killed?” I asked, though it sounded an awful lot like an accusation.

“You’re asking me why I wasn’t honest?” Rook’s fingers curled around the bars, his face reddening behind them. “You were going to carve out my fucking heart , Liliwen!”

Well, I suppose I had that coming.

“When you said you couldn’t control who you killed,” I whispered. “What did you mean?”

Rook re-crossed his arms, and he stayed that way for a long time. His face scrunched here and there, as if he were calculating, trying to solve some complex problem. And it certainly was a complex problem.

Deciding whether to trust me or not.

“The Hound really killed your father?” he asked.

I looked Rook dead in the eye.

“Yes.”

Rook let his arms rest on the bars. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the cell too.

“I was here for sixty-eight years, and the Hound never killed anyone.” Rook sighed.

“One day, someone breached the veil. Ushered in by the wolves, or so I thought at the time.” Rook rubbed his throat.

“I hadn’t spoken to anyone in so long, I was desperate.

I welcomed them and spoke freely.” He ground his forehead against the bars.

“When I woke the next morning, they were gone.” Rook raised his arm and spun the cuff around his wrist. “This was left in their stead.” Rook’s hand dropped.

“The Hound attacked the first person that night.”

“My father.” I nodded. “He was the first.”

Rook ran a hand across his face, hiding his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Sorry wasn’t enough; we both knew that.

What else could he do but say it?

“Believe it or not, vengeance isn’t why I’m here either.

My brother, Lysander, the Hound attacked him also.

” What little colour remained in Rook’s complexion slipped away.

“Like Father, Lysander escaped, but the damage to his body… It’s only a matter of time before death claims him.

In lieu of a reward, I was going to ask the queen—or rather, her physician, to help my brother.

” I rested my head against my arms. “After losing my father, I just… I can’t lose Lysander. ”

Locked in this cell, I was no closer to helping my brother.

The hopelessness struck, and a sob shuddered through me.

I couldn’t fight it anymore, I let everything out.

Ugly, heaving wails shook my entire body.

Years of concealing tears from my mother and Lottie screamed, “Get a grip girl!” I didn’t care!

I didn’t care that Rook saw the weakness.

Let him see! I was done hiding. I was done trying my best only to fail time and time again…

Creak.

The cell door was open.

On his knees, Rook knelt beside me.

There was a flighty urgency about him when he said, “Take me to him.”

Wiping snot from my nose, I asked, “What?”

Rook was already picking me up. “I might be able to help your brother.” Gently, he pushed me from the cell. “Take me to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come with me.”

Rook’s eyes were alight with opportunity. Saying sorry wasn’t enough but, if he could help my brother…

It was a start.

***

In the physician’s room, Rook showed me the needle with the small plunger. “Do you remember this?”

“I do.” Crossing my arms, I leaned on a table.

“Embrace it again.”

“I said I remembered.”

“Lili,” Rook said. “Please.”

Though weary, I took the needle and let the memory in.

Exactly as I remembered, the man lay on a table amongst a crowd of rushing women.

As the fair-haired and freckled woman plunged the needle into his neck, I remembered how I thought he had the same waxen look as Lysander.

Ripping myself from the memory I pointed the needle at Rook, who raised his arms in defense.

“We can use this to help my brother?”

Rook walked along the lines of melons and various experiments.

“And these. These objects hold memories, recipes, for a sort of…cure. I’ve been working again, trying to understand it all better, in the hopes of finding something for myself.

” Rook led me to a table, where a cloth shrouded a large object.

Rook withdrew the cloth—the snarling jaws of a thin wolf greeted me.

I recoiled so violently, I sent several beakers spilling from a nearby shelf.

“Sorry,” Rook apologized, and dragged me back.

The wolf was dead.

A deep laceration trailed down the wolf’s neck. I recognized the wounds; the same cuts ran down Lysander’s body.

“The Hound bit this wolf and it lived,” Rook said. “I brought it back here and cured the sickness that grew from the wounds.”

“Okay, but this wolf is dead.”

“Well, yes, of course it’s dead,” Rook agreed. “I think it died of shock. The whole endeavor was too much for the creature’s heart…” Rook trailed away. “But! I’m fairly certain I cured the sickness before it perished.”

My hopes died on the table with the wolf.

“Rook, I don’t know.” What if I allowed Rook to inject my brother, only for him to die faster—or more painfully. Suddenly, it was Lysander lying on the table, dead. I set the needle down, far away from me. “I just… I don’t know.”

“Please,” Rook begged. “You must allow me to fix this, if I can.” I met Rook’s pleading eyes. What other choice did I have?

“Fine,” I muttered, though barely any sound came out.

Rook wasted no time. He grabbed a bag and tossed items in. After a stack of vials, he stopped. “Lili, this might be difficult to hear, but I don’t control who I kill. Do you understand what that means?”

Of course. I hadn’t stopped thinking about the implications of that statement. How could I not? But the thought was so appalling, so utterly impossible, that I didn’t dare voice it, as if that might lend the insanity some merit.

“Whether you want to admit it or not,” Rook said, “someone wants your family dead.” How could that be true? I buried my head in my hands. Rook continued, gently. “Do you have any idea as to whom that might be?”

Hugging myself, I whispered, “I don’t.”

“You can’t think of anyone with motive? Anyone who might have something to gain? An inheritance, perhaps?”

I shrugged. “Mother and Lottie are guards, Lysander a gatherer, and I a seamstress. We have little money and even less land. The cottage is falling apart, no one could possibly want it. As far as I know, we haven’t mortally offended anyone.”

“Who was the last person the Hound attacked?”

After a deep breath, I said, “My sister.” Rook stopped packing; his head tilted in mortified sympathy. I chewed my lip and looked at the floor.

“Who would want to harm her?”

I choked on a laugh. “I’m sure half the town has considered throttling Lottie at some point, me included.” Rook looked taken aback. “Trust me, you’ll see.”

“Well,” Rook said. “Personality aside, who would have a serious reason to harm your sister?”

“I don’t know!” I threw up my hands. “Like I said, everyone kind of wants to hurt Lottie; she’s not a good measure. The real question is, who would want to harm her as well as my father and Lysander?” I massaged my temples. “And why hasn’t the Hound come for me yet?”

“Don’t!” Rook threw a bundle of gauze at me. I dodged and he said, “Don’t put that question into the world!”

I rubbed my neck. “The person who came to you—what did they look like?”

“I have no idea.”

“How?!”

“Do you think it’s not frustrating for me also?” Rook growled back. “We drank together; they must have slipped some concoction in my drink. I possess the memory of them, though their face is gone.”

“Hair colour? Clothing?”

“No!” Rook uttered. “It could have been a young man; it could have been a grey-haired old woman.” He gestured to the dead animal on the table. “It could have been a wolf dressed in a black cloak for all I know.”

I dragged a hand down my face. “Alright. Well, one problem at a time.”

***

Rook was quiet as we trudged through the Hollow. Though I tried small talk, his only responses were curt nods and fleeting smiles. When Rook finally spoke, it was grim.

“If this doesn’t work, I want you to continue with the original plan.”

I tripped on a fallen log and snapped, “What?”

“If your brother doesn’t respond to the cure,” Rook said, “you should deliver the Hound’s heart to the queen.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

Rook stopped. “Lili, please.”

I shook my head. “You said it yourself; you’ve nearly found a way to cure your sickness. You have a chance at a normal life.”

“If this works, and your brother lives, yes. But if he dies… I’d rather die trying to save him than live knowing I killed him.”

“Rook, no—”

Rook took my hands, silencing me. “Lili, I can barely breathe when I look at you. Knowing the pain I’ve caused.

” In desperation, he said, “I cannot live, having stolen your brother.” I tried to pull away, an impossible task in Rook’s grip.

“I owe you this. Please.” Rook’s eyes searched mine, pleading.

Anxious fingers tapped against me, and his voice cracked when he said, “I’m not a beast.”

I held fast. “No.” I resisted Rook’s grip, and reluctantly, he let go. As we walked back to the cottage, back to Lysander, the dread that I thought could go no further, deepened.