Page 5 of Of Wolves and Wives

“Of course, my lady.”

Mistress Thompson gives her a curt nod before hurrying to carry out Helena’s orders, though she still manages to give me a hard look before pushing passed Heath and out into the hall.

Helena watches me for a long moment, her own eyes calculating as she looks me over. I stare back at her, exhaustion threatening to drown me. My mind is sluggish from hunger and nearly succumbing to the prince’s torture, but I have a sinking feeling that I need to stay sharp.

I want to believe that Helena is finally showing her true colors, but I can’t. I saw the way she lashed out at Lyra. How easy it was for her to throw me into her husband’s waiting claws.

As much as I’d like to believe she’s on my side now, something deep inside me warns me against the thought.

Sinking back against the pillows, I feel my eyelids growing heavier with each passing second. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stay awake, despite the worry plaguing my mind and heart.

Helena is quiet as she moves to settle on a settee across the room, a faint smile on her lips. If I weren’t so tired, I’d watch her with unblinking wariness. I know I should, but I don’t.

Tilting my head away from Helena, I find Heath instead. His eyes soften as our gaze meets, and I wish I had the strength to give him a smile, to offer him some of the same hope that’s started to blossom in my own chest. A hope that we might just survive this castle, after all.

My eyes flutter closed, and I find myself drifting in and out of consciousness as I struggle to stay awake.

All too soon, Mistress Thompson startles me back to my senses as she bustles in carrying a large tray. Setting it down on a table by the window, she lifts the lid to reveal more food than I’ve seen in days, and my stomach grumbles violently at the sight.

Sweeping back out of the room, Mistress Thompson returns a few seconds later as she ushers several maids past Heath’s hulking form. They’re carrying a large copper tub between them which they set down by the fire.

“Did you find her new clothes?” Helena asks.

Mistress Thompson nods and snaps her fingers at one of the maids who steps forward to reveal several heavy velvet gowns. The dresses are made in stunning shades of deep blue and green, and I can’t help but admire their beauty as my eyes move over the expensive fabric and gold thread used to embroider them.

They’re easily the most beautiful dresses I’ve seen. One of them would fetch me enough coin back in the city to survive comfortably for months on end, if not years.

“No,” Helena says with a snort as she wrinkles up her nose at the dresses. “These won’t do at all. She needs something lighter. Fetch the dresses at the back of my wardrobe.”

Mistress Thompson’s lips pinch at this, but she simply nods and motions for the maid to follow her as she once again leaves the room. With her gone, Helena’s attention slips back to me. Rising, she crosses the room to stand by my side.

“Can you walk?” she asks.

“I’m not sure.”

“Then I will help you.”

“No,” I cry as she bends to reach for me. “I mean. No, thank you. I shouldn’t allow you to stoop to my level.”

Helena straightens, her eyes narrowing on me as I pray that she hasn’t noticed the way I’ve recoiled at the very thought of her touch.

“Very well then, walk to the table.”

Taking a deep breath, I grimace as I try to pull myself up into a sitting position and immediately get hit by another wave of nausea. Closing my eyes, I grit my teeth as I will myself to do as Helena has asked. Opening them again, my eyes lift to meet Heath’s as he watches on from the doorway.

Almost instantly, a wave of calm replaces the nausea and I feel strength return to me. Keeping my eyes trained on Heath, I sit up and drag my legs over the edge of the bed.

I can do this. The table is but a few paces away, and the threat of Helena’s touch should be more than enough to keep me on my feet. At least, I hope it is.

Forcing myself off the bed, I sway on my feet as I take several steps forward. My knees tremble, but I do not fall. Somehow, I make it to the table and gratefully sink into the nearest chair as my breathing becomes ragged from the exertion.

Helena eyes me warily as she moves to stand behind the chair next to me.

“Eat,” she orders.

My eyes shift from her to the platter of food, and my stomach clenches. I’m starving, but the very thought of eating makes me want to dry heave all over again. Still, I tentatively reach for a slice of buttered toast.

“You’ll be given everything the cook knows how to make, until we find what you can keep down,” Helena says, her eyes trained on me. “Youwilleat. No matter what it takes. I’ll have cooks brought from all corners of the kingdom, if I have to.”

---