Defying Destiny (24 page)

door. Carsha followed him, weaving

between his long legs until he pulled the

door open with his teeth. Carsha burst out

of the house as a dark gray flash. Nash

raced after her, wild and free, as they

dashed between the trees. He knew

Maralee would never understand the joy

of being a Wolf. She would therefore

never realize the significance behind his

promise to become only a man for her. It

no longer mattered anyway. She was gone

and perhaps now he would remain forever

a Wolf for himself. Being a man hurt too

much.

Maralee’s most pressing issue was her

current lack of funds, or so she told

herself. The fact she never slept was a

temporary nuisance. Forgetting to eat and

staring into nothingness for hours was due

to her insomnia. It couldn’t possibly have

anything to do with Nash being out of her

life.

After five days of drifting in

loneliness, Maralee decided to pen a

letter to her aunt and have her send some

of her inheritance. She could collect

bounties after the next full moon, but that

didn’t help her current situation. Now that

Maralee was twenty-one, she was in

charge of her own estate. She had yet to

remove her aunt from her home in

Dubwar. Although the two of them had

never agreed on anything, her aunt had

always ensured Maralee did not starve

and had clothes on her back, so she didn’t

mind Aunt Bailey living there while she

moved from town to town in search of

Wolves.

Aunt Bailey had been her deceased

uncle’s wife—an aunt by marriage, not

blood. She had agreed to handle

Maralee’s monetary affairs until she

became old enough to gain legal

possession of her funds. Although her

twenty-first birthday had come and gone,

Maralee had yet to claim what was

rightfully hers. She was glad it was at her

disposal however, now that she was in

such dire need of money.

In her letter, Maralee requested a tidy

sum, enough money to get her through

several months of expenses. She could

imagine her aunt’s reaction, but knew she

would comply since she had no legal right

to

live

in

the

Decatur’s

manor,

squandering Maralee’s the fortune, and

bossing servants around all day. Maralee

folded the letter, and was about to seal it

in

an

envelope,

when

something

compelled her to put in a second request.

She unfolded the letter, drew ink into her

fountain pen and added a postscript. She

described a book written by an ancient

sage about shape-shifting Wolves and

requested it be sent along with the money.

She didn’t know why she wanted the

book. She attributed her impulsive

behavior to her current state of exhaustion.

Maralee sealed the letter, put on her

boots and cloak and left the room she

rented at the inn. The innkeeper, Gordon,

watched her with a worried expression as

she breezed, waiflike, through the lobby.

She took her letter to the post, a sluggish

system of delivering mail via horseback.

“I would like to have this delivered to

the Decatur Estates in Dubwar.” She

handed the clerk her envelope.

The young man smiled down at the

letter. “Dubwar, you say? There is a horse

leaving for Dubwar in the morning.”

“A bit of good fortune. What is the

charge?”

“Eight coppers,” he told her, glancing

up at her for the first time. “Are you

feeling well, miss?”

She scowled at him. “Of course I am.”

“I didn’t mean to offend,” he said.

“You just look…ill.”

“I am very well, sir.” She reached into

her cloak and retrieved her money pouch.

She upended the pouch in the palm of

her hand and several coins along with a

pair of small, dragonfly-shaped barrettes

tumbled out. She stared at the barrettes.

Her heart gave an unpleasant thud, as her

thoughts drifted to a different time and

place.

“Eight coppers,” the clerk reminded

her. She’d been standing there silent for

more than five minutes.

Maralee started and glanced up at the

clerk. “Right,” she agreed, locating the

proper coins. “How long will it take to get

a reply?”

“A week at best,” the young man told

her. He accepted the coins and made some

notes on her envelope. “A month at

worst.”

“A month?” she muttered. “No, that’s

much too long. I need money now.”

“If it’s money you need then why don’t

you…”

Maralee gazed at him, confused. “Then

why don’t I what?”

The young man hesitated. “Well,” he

said slowly. “I was about to suggest you

get a job, but you look like you’re about to

faint.”

She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous,”

she said. “Me, faint? I would never—”

She lost her train of thought as a wave

of dizziness forced her to clutch the low

counter in front of her.

“Miss? Are you all right?”

“I think I need to lie down,” she

admitted. She never expected to do so

right there on the floor without further

provocation or any warning.

The dream again. The same dream, and yet

very different.

She wasn’t slaying Wolves with her

silver sword, but men, women, and, worst

of all, children. They succumbed easily

to her poisonous, silver blade, falling

lifeless all around her as she continued

her merciless slaughter.

“My destiny,” she cried as she killed

another and another. “I cannot turn

away from my duty as a Decatur. I must

protect…people…”

She stopped abruptly. Small hands

clutched both wrists.

“You have to stop this,” a small voice

pleaded.

“Please, no more,” another said.

She looked down and saw a child

holding her wrist. The young boy had

black hair, except for a single lock of

white draped over one eye. Nash as a

boy? There was definitely a resemblance,

but this boy had silver eyes, and full lips.

Like hers. Standing next to this boy,

holding her other wrist, was another boy,

identical to the first except his hair was

startling white except for a single lock of

black draped over one eye.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“You have to stop this,” one boy said

to her.

“Please, no more,” the other said.

“Tell me who you are.” Her voice

was frantic.

They vanished. Nash stood in their

place. “I want this to end,” he said. He

was holding her gaze. His hands covered

hers. The tip of her sword pierced the

skin of his chest. He was driving her

sword ever deeper into his heart. She

couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t look away

from his beautiful blue-green eyes. Blue-

green? But Nash’s eyes were amber.

“With my spilled blood—”

“No!” she screamed. She bolted

upright, instantly awake. Her heart was

pounding and tears streamed down her

face in torrents. “No,” she whispered, still

caught in the emotions of her dream.

“Hey there, are you awake now?” an

unfamiliar voice asked.

She glanced around the dimly lit,

unfamiliar room. A man appeared,

standing above her. He had gentle blue

eyes behind thin-rimmed spectacles and

untidy brown hair. He raked a hand

through his hair, mussing it even more.

She estimated his age to be around thirty,

though he seemed unduly wise for his age.

He offered her a smile of reassurance

before he urged her to lie back on the bed.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“I’ll answer that after you answer

some questions for me.”

She sat up again and pushed his light

grip

from

her

shoulders.

“What

happened?” Panic wrapped a fist around

her throat as she tried to make sense of her

surroundings and this take-charge stranger.

“Try to think. What happened?”

Maralee screwed up her face with

concentration. “I went to the post to send a

letter to my aunt, and then I saw the

barrettes and…” She glanced up at him. “I

fainted, didn’t I?”

He smiled gently. “You did. You hit

your head fairly hard. Young Thomas

Starling was in a panic when he carried

you in here.”

“Thomas Starling?” The name was

entirely unfamiliar to her.

“The postal clerk.”

She nodded. Her head pounded with

protest at the jarring motion. “And who

are you?”

“First, tell me who you are.”

“I asked you first.”

He laughed—a soft, joyful sound that

seemed to warm the entire room. “That

you did,” he agreed. “I am Doctor Sabin.”

“Doctor!” she gasped. Was it really so

bad that she had needed a doctor?

“Does that surprise you?” he asked,

running a hand through his hair again. “I

guess most people think doctors should be

old and—”

“It’s not that,” she interrupted. “Why

would I need a doctor?”

He smiled at her. “You haven’t

answered my question yet. I refuse to

answer any more of yours until you clearly

state your name and where you are from.”

“My name is Maralee Decatur. I come

from Dubwar in the Northern Province.”

He wrote some notes into a chart and

then flashed a bright light into one eye,

before jotting some more notes. “Well,

you seem to be in command of your

senses.”

His diagnosis would have been

different if he’d seen her a week ago,

when she’d been hopelessly in love with a

half-Wolf. Luckily, she was completely

over that bit of madness.

“How long has it been since you last

slept?” he asked, taking on the serious

look of a concerned doctor now.

“Five minutes ago.”

He laughed again. “You are quite

delightful,” he said, shaking his pen at her.

“
Before
you fainted.”

“I…” She hesitated. “I honestly don’t

remember.”

“Several days, in any case. You’re

suffering from extreme exhaustion and if

aren’t careful, you will fall ill.”

“I am obviously already ill. I’ve never

fainted in my life.”

“It’s nothing a little sleep won’t cure,

unless…” he caught her gaze. “Is there any

possibility you might be pregnant?”

Maralee’s eyes widened. “No,” she

said. “No. It’s not possible. I couldn’t be.

No. I—”

“Easy,” Dr. Sabin said. “I didn’t mean

to upset you.”

“I can’t be,” she said. She covered her

mouth with a trembling hand and gazed up

at the doctor in horror. “That would be…

impossible.”

“I understand, Miss Decatur. You are

still an untried maiden. I didn’t mean to

insult you.”

“Actually…” she trailed off and lay

back on her pillows. Her dream. Those

two boys. Hers? And Nash’s? She turned

onto her side away from the doctor, buried

her face in her pillow and sobbed.

Dr. Sabin sat down beside her on the

bed and gave her shoulder a reassuring

squeeze. “Now, there. It isn’t as bad as

that. If you are in trouble, there are things I

can do to help.”

She sobbed harder. If he only knew

how wrong he was. Nothing could change

Nash from half-Wolf to full human and

nothing would turn the duty in her Decatur

blood innocuous.

“Don’t cry, Miss Decatur. If you

explain your situation, maybe I—”

“Please leave me alone.”

“Sorry, can’t do that. If there is one

thing my father taught me, it was to never

leave a lady alone with her tears.”

She wasn’t sure how it happened

exactly. Had she gone into his arms? Had

he pulled her into such a position? She