Page 11 of Beast and Remedy
It bares its teeth, rumbling as its chest rises and falls rapidly. Panting.
It must be in so much pain.
I lower my voice. “Marian, move and try to see what vials it got into.”
“But—”
“Do it.Hurry!” I snap, inching closer to the beast.
I reach inwardly for my magic’s tether before cooing, “Will you let me help you?” I extend an open palm, trying to communicate my desire to aid, not harm.
Glass crunches, followed by a sharp intake of breath, and a deep, guttural growl escapes from the wolf.
It thrashes, pained and enraged, and my heart twists. Why isn’t my power working? Why can’t I calm it? I can see and sense its torment, and it battles whatever reaction my medicine and herbs are doing to it.
Copper fills the air, and the animal halts, its snout twitching. It’s not my blood it smells, nor its own. ButMarian’s.
Damn the slippers we wore for a party.
The creature gnaws and snarls, its claws screeching against the floor. Drool pours from the wolf’s foaming mouth, preparing to—
My stomach dips. “Marian, look out!”
3
Why Am I Overthinking?
The wolf charges, and a blur of gold stumbles from the shattered disarray, heading for the window.
Terror freezes me in place as my sister thrusts it open, gripping the metal frame before disappearing through it.
“Marian!” I yell as the creature follows her, vanishing from sight.
I rush to the opening, the wind blowing my waves in front of my face. Sweeping the loose strands back, I peer at the ground, trying to find any signs of Marian and the beast.
Grass rustles and I lift my gaze. Something sprints into Haliver Woods.
“Marian!” I holler, but a huff from my right startles me.
My sister hangs from the lip of the window, clinging to it.
I grab the latch and reach for her with my free hand. Heaving through the pulling of my body, I guide her toward the castle and close the opening.
Her hold loosens on the frame when her feet land on the threshold, and she crashes against me. The two of us fall, and my head hits the cold stone.
“Ow!” I grit out, clutching Marian’s dress.
Small shards poke through the back of my gown as Marian swerves off me, allowing more broken glass to pinch me. Hissing, I, too, roll to my side, slower than my sister, who dusts off her clothes.
“We should go after it,” she says with determination.
“We can’t. Besides, it’s probably long gone by now.” I struggle as I ease up. “You’re injured.”
She inspects her red-stained slippers before meeting my worry with nonchalance and an outstretched palm. “I’ve had worse.”
I take her offered hand, groaning as I rise. Glass clings to my dress, and I swipe it away as Marian wobbles to the storage closet.
“I swore I locked it before leaving,” she whispers, her features furrowing as she examines the damaged cage. “But I don’t understand why it was acting likethat.”
