Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
My husband is long dead. My lover is long gone. My kids are long lost. I shouldn’t exist.
—Lorinne Leroux’s private journal.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
West was up and out of bed, prowling towards the door. “What!” he shouted.
These outbursts of his were insufferable. Winter rolled her eyes and turned to her other side, dragging her aching pelvis along with her.
“Sir, we’ll need your orders.”
She darted her eyes to the door. West opened it and spoke with someone she couldn’t see. “Put him in the dungeon,” he said. “Enough chains until he’s wheezing.”
“Who?” she asked as he made his way back.
“The queen’s brother has arrived. Don’t worry, he’s the pathetic sibling.”
Shit, shit, shit.
A gust of air flew past West, swirled through the room, and settled by her feet.
“Stop tickling me!” If Kaden was here … This was bad. Very. Fucking. Bad.
The wind blasted her face, blowing her hair back.
“Hi,” she said, giving it an exasperated look.
She knew what the wind wanted, but telling West the truth about Kaden wasn’t going to bring them closer together.
What was it thinking barging in right now?
West would kill her if he found out about their engagement—royally kill her.
She shooed the wind away, her panic backing every swat.
A tendril of air twirled around West’s torso, pulling him over to sit. He faced her. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh,” was all she said, unsure how she was going to start. “So, um, the queen’s brother. Well …” No, no. She couldn’t do this.
“What is it?”
Ugh. Why was honesty such a nuisance? “He’s my problem, sort of. Not yours.”
“You’re welcome to kill him. I’m fine with that.”
Her palms grew clammier by the second. “No. We’re not killing him. I mean, can’t we just keep him down there?”
“What?”
Fine. This wasn’t working. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it. Kaden was my fiancé.”
The wind couldn’t restrain him. He was up and chucking the queen’s gilded nightstand against the wall.
It broke in half while stone cracked and crumbled.
“What?” he shouted, his anger reverberating off the marble.
“He was who you were betrothed to? Is this why you never wanted to talk about it?” West actually gagged then he started pacing. “How could you?”
“West.” She held her hand out, urging him to come back.
“He manipulated me—everything. I promise I didn’t know who he really was, not until I time traveled.
And the moment I found out, it ended quickly.
But now that I have you, I know what love is.
The real kind. I’ve never felt anything like this before. ”
He stepped up to the bed, his face pale. “You lied to me.”
Her sadness shifted to anger. He had no right to say that. Not anymore. “You had a relationship with the queen. One you didn’t tell me about until it was too late, or did you forget?”
He pointed his finger towards the door. “You chose to be with him.”
The words stole all the air from her lungs.
Her mate had been forced to be with the queen, then Winter had compelled him to do unspeakable things on top of it. Throwing it back in his face was wrong. And for what? To make herself feel better lying about Kaden?
The truth was, she’d craved simplicity. She’d wanted her time with West to be unencumbered by her past. A fresh start.
A new timeline. Withholding those parts of her, the pieces that hurt the most, was a protective mechanism she’d yet to let go of.
But he was hurt. The pain burned deep in his eyes, and now she couldn’t take the words back.
Winter pressed palms to her face and cried. “I can’t do this anymore.” She didn’t want to be a liar. She didn’t want to hide the truth.
West taught her about being a wolf, and with that came nobility, authenticity, and most importantly, respect.
She set her watery gaze on his. “I know sorry won’t do, so I won’t bother.
You deserve someone who is open and kind, West. I’m neither of those things.
I’m not sure how to be soft or vulnerable—not after being raised by someone who never said I love you.
I’ve spent my entire life constructing walls of lies because that’s what keeps me safe.
At least, that’s what I thought.” She dropped her forehead to her knees. “Forgive me. Or don’t, if you can’t.”
The quiet minute that ticked by weighed heavy on her heart.
She heard soft footsteps creep closer. Then his knuckle nudged her chin, lifting her head up. She was prepared for anger and wrath, but was met with compassion instead. “I don’t understand how someone couldn’t love you.”
She turned her cheek, unable to bear his sympathy. “It’s quite easy.”
“No, it’s not.” He sat beside her. “Tell me about your parents. The truth, please.”
After swallowing the lump in her throat, she began.
“I am the daughter of no one.” The words came out sounding as weak as she felt.
“The product of a curse.” The wind whirled between them, ruffling the sheets.
“My mother never said I love you because I’m her mistake.
She chose to have me, then abandoned me when her secret was no longer safe.
I was a burden, so she left. It was because I was magicless, but never for the reason I was led to believe.
The truth was concealed from me.” She wiped her tears hastily, sniffling back the rest. “And I hate her for it.”
“You’re not a curse, Winter.”
“But I am. There was a monster living inside my mother. And together, they made me.”
“Who told you it was a monster?”
“That’s how she described him. His presence was a generational curse.”
He let out a long sigh and said, “Some days, I’m a monster. Perhaps it’s not what you think.”
“You don’t have to make me feel better about it. Like Aera said, I’m an anomaly.”
“No, Aera was wrong. You’re perfect, Winter. What makes you think your father wasn’t a werewolf?”
“Because he was a spirit.”
“And?”
She ran fingers through her hair. “Fuck.” Why hadn’t she ever considered that? West was so wizardly, solving riddles she didn’t even see. “You really think the spirit was a wolf?” No more guessing. She stood, padded across the room, and knocked on the mirror. “Wake up.”
“You need to rest,” West protested, following her across the room.
Winter ignored him. She’d seen enough mortal movies to know how these things worked. “Magic mirror on the wall, who is my true father after all?”
The glass rippled … and something more. The edges blurred until the center whirled like a cyclone. West moved behind her, holding her shoulders. She set her shaky hand atop his as a shadow took shape inside the frame.
The details slowly came into focus, revealing what looked to be a human.
His dark brown hair was cut in blunt angles around his sharp face.
His brows twisted like he’d been woken up from a deep slumber, then he slowly stepped up to her.
“What is this place?” he asked, looking left and right.
Warm eyes blinked, landing on Winter. “Lorinne? Have you called me here?”
She squeezed West’s fingers—a silent plea for help as she spoke to the man behind the glass. “It’s a truth mirror.”
“Who are you?” West asked, his voice stern.
The figure snapped crazed eyes to her mate. “I am King Lycaon. Why do you have my Lorinne?”
Chills ran up her arms. “I’m not Lorinne.”
The man studied her with gentle eyes. “But your faces. They are the same.”
Winter curled her upper lip in distaste. “That’s because I’m her daughter. Your daughter.”
He moved so close his head pressed into the glass, warping it. “You’re the seventh witch.”
“I’m a wolf,” she cried.
“A queen,” he countered. “For I am long dead. My soul reborn.” He stepped back, his human form flickering. Hands burst into claws and he ripped himself in half. At least, it appeared that way as he transformed into a snarling werewolf.
Why did his beast form look far more humanoid than wolf?
West’s hands slipped off her shoulders as he fell to his knees. She tugged on his tunic, speaking out of the side of her mouth. “What are you doing?”
“This is King Lycaon. The first werewolf. Without him our species wouldn’t exist. If this is your father, Winter, you are a queen.”
Her body began to shake with rage. “No.” She banged her fist against the glass three times. “Why have you done this to me? You have to tell me!”
His voice took on a deep, thunderous tone. “The seventh witch fulfills the prophecy.”
“No!” she shouted, trying to pry the mirror off the wall. “No. No. No. You have to tell me more. What does it mean?”
“The answer lies within you.”
That wasn’t the truth; that was bullshit. “You’re a monster,” she shouted, bashing her hand into the glass. “A fucking monster.”
West seized her wrist. “It doesn’t break, Winter.”
The image faded away, as if the magic had no interest in her rebuttal, only her questions. She screamed anyway. “I don’t want this.”
“Winter.”
She fought West’s hold. He fought back, pulling her closer. “I don’t want this,” she repeated. “I don’t want this.”
He held her so tight she could hardly tremble.
“I don’t want this.”
Winter had met her father—the true monster. One who possessed witches and stole their wombs for the sake of fulfilling some prophecy. She was the seventh witch, and had no idea what that meant. The four lines of the prophecy now made sense, yet she was left with more questions than answers.
Her eyes were no longer her own. How could that be?
Her cartilage was neither mage, nor wolf. What was it?
Her father had been a king and was now a spirit. Why would he do this?