Page 1 of A Kiss From a Wolfman

PROLOGUE

CARYSSA

For the last sixteen years, I’ve been a captive in my own home.

If ever there was a chance to escape my royal prison, now would be the time. It’s been over a month since I aided my brother’s would-be bride, Laurelle, in escaping my family. It’s the least I could do after I watched countless girls come and go, never to be seen again—all falling victim to my brother’s cruelty.

Cruelty that he’s inherited from our father.

Their shared temper had been on full display once I returned to the palace, bringing news of Laurelle’s escape. Carysen, my brother, had been drunk. His rage had turned his face a few shades lighter than a plum. After his and my father’s initial inquisition, I avoided him at all costs. Once they had been satisfied with my assessment that Laurelle had indeed overpowered me to flee, I was sequestered in my room with a host of guards stationed outside my door at all times.

Though they may have believed my tale, they still weren’t entirely convinced of my innocence.

That is why I’ve spent the past month toiling away inside these stone walls. My mother comes to me every so often—theonly visitor I’m allowed beyond my ladies’ maids. She tells me my father is growing more irate by the day. My brother has been dispatched to bring Laurelle to us, and I pray she has made it far beyond his reach.

She lives; I believe it in my soul. Yet that same sense of hope alludes me as I think about my future. My mother has become tense on her visits. I take her in now at the edge of my bed. An aging queen—her wrinkled face is pinched, and her blue eyes are too large.

As the guards resume their position outside the door, I make my familiar plea, knowing there is very little she can do to help me.

“Mama,” I say softly, not to startle her as she stares out my third-floor window. “Can you please ask Father to release me from this room? I am growing restless. It has been a month, surely?—”

“Your brother is dead.”

My mother says it casually as if she is announcing that it may rain later today. My heart stumbles in my chest, and the needlepoint in my hand clatters to the floor.

“What?” The word is barely above a whisper. “Has someone sent word?”

Her face turns, and our matching eyes meet, yet they spark without recognition. Life inside this palace has made her a prisoner as well. The steel bars of her mind keep her contained—the woman she once was has long since perished behind them.

“Your father believes all of this is your fault.”

Bile races up my throat.

“I—”

“You will be married—within the month. If you refuse to comply, you will be sent to the dungeon to live out your days with the rats.” Her lids lower as her bony hand cups my cheek. “If I were you, I’d pick the vermin.”

With one last pat on my cheek, she rises in a swirl of glittering skirts. Knocking once on the heavy wooden door, it opens and exposes the guards stationed outside. Like a ghost, she slips between the small opening and is gone—as if she had never been here. As if she was merely an omen of my forthcoming demise.

My hands begin to tremble as I play back her words. Moisture burns my eyes. Has my life been reduced to this—two miserable choices being forced upon me? I won’t do it.

I think of Laurelle—of her curly hair and easy smile. When presented with the opportunity to flee and seize a future of her own choosing, she did not hesitate. Wherever she is now is better than any life she would’ve led shackled to my heinous brother. If I am going to survive, I will need to be brave like her.

The future I want is mine for the taking, and I will not pass up an opportunity to claim it.

Yet, the longer I stay in this room, the more I can feel my chances of escape sifting through my hand like grains of sand. Rising on stiff legs, I make the short journey to my door and try the brass handle. Giving it a tug, I’m met with familiar resistance as the lock holds fast.

A sigh slips from my lips, and I release the handle as if it has burned me. Even if the door had been unlocked after my mother’s departure, the guards would ensure I didn’t make it far. A dull ache pounds at my temples—my frustration slamming its fists against my skull.

Tears burn in my eyes, but I refuse to let any glide down my cheeks. I will be strong. I will escape. I will not let them steal my life and shackle me to some cruel man.

Even if it will take a miracle for me to get out of here.

Dark gold hair blows into my eyes from my loosened braid. I tuck it behind my ear and glance out the window, wondering if it has let in a draft. This room has been stifling my entire timein confinement. Another soft breeze tickles my cheeks, coming from the direction of my solid stone wall. I lower my brows as I take a tentative step closer.

It’s not long before the wind picks up, causing the pieces of parchment on my desk to crinkle and thrash from the invisible force. The sweet smell of blooming flowers perfumes the air. This is all rather curious. I should be alarmed, but I feel a strange sense of calm and a bit of…hope.

Perhaps I have truly gone mad in this room.

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