Page 116 of Forest of Dreams and Whispers

“Oh… um… I’ve got…” He patted himself down. “Dagger, matches, coins, rope…”

Juliana’s ears pricked. “Rope?”

“Aye.” He wrestled with something on his belt, pressing a spool of rope into her free hand. She ran it through her fingers, trying to guess the length whilst refusing to take her eyes off the werewolf. Her eyes darted towards the nearby trees, searching for one of the right height. One, maybe two, looked climbable.

But if she ran now, there was a good chance the wolf would decide not to follow, instead returning to finish Owen off, drawn by the scent of his blood.

Thinking quickly, she drew the tip of her blade to the back of her hand and slashed it.

Never your palm,her father had told her once.Leave fingers and palms free. Elbow or back of the arm is best if you ever want to draw your own blood but not weaken yourself.

The werewolf’s nostrils flared as the blood dripped down Juliana’s hand. She ignored the sword and bolted forward. Juliana sprang backwards, sheathing her sword to free her hand and tying the rope in a careful knot. She raced up one of the trees, dropped the rope over a branch, and held out the noose she’d crafted just in time for the wolf to ram her head through it.

Juliana dropped to the other side of the branch, pulling.Hard.

“Come on,” she said to the wolf, as her back legs skittered along the forest floor. “There’s a good girl.”

The noose was designed to work against her opponent’s weight—if she struggled, it would get tighter, if she relaxed, it would loosen. Juliana only wanted her unconscious, not dead.

Her limbs flailed. Owen moaned in the undergrowth, begging his wife to stop—or maybe begging Juliana.

Slowly, the wolf started to slacken. Juliana released the rope, letting her slide to the floor. She didn’t know how long she’d be out, and she needed to bind her so she couldn’t escape for the rest of the night, but for now, her attention needed to be on Owen.

She raced back to his side.

“Is she—” he started.

“She’s fine,” said Juliana, not looking at him. She grabbed his leg. It was a bloody, pulsing mess, at least what little of it she could see by this light. “I’ll be right back.”

She raced through the woods to where she’d left her pack, returning with the elixir in her grasp and smearing it straight onto Owen’s leg. He let out a low moan, the flesh smoking as it knitted back together into something resembling skin. She dared not give him any more, instead binding it tightly and going back to the werewolf to tie her more securely while Owen gathered his composure.

Finally, she returned to his side, ditched the pack, and sank down into the mossy ground.

Minutes ticked by in silence.

“Thank you,” said Owen eventually. “For saving me. And also not murdering Saoirse.”

“What were the two of you even doing out here?”

“Trying to escape the curse,” he said. “Nearly made it too, but got waylaid by some of Ladrien’s forces…” He shook his head. “It’s definitely happened, then? The curse?”

Juliana nodded.

“What areyoudoing out here? I thought you would have been by the prince’s side when—“

“I was,” Juliana interrupted. “It’s—complicated.”

“We’ve got all night.”

“With all due respect, I’m on a mission, and can’t afford to be divulging information.”

Owen chuckled, eyes weary. “So like your father. Maybe a little of your mother.”

The comparison to Markham twisted in Juliana’s gut, but for once, no prickle of shame rose at her mother’s mention. “You knew her?”

“She was a regular. I liked her. Funny. Or, well, she used to be.”

Juliana’s voice slipped further away. She had heard the stories, of course. How this once fearless, quick-witted knight turned quiet and withdrawn,‘like her soul was slipping away from her’Alia had said. Something changed in her, chipping away little by little, until all that was left of her in Faerie was her body… and then that slipped away too.

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