Page 98 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

“Perhaps? I suppose it’s possible she simply formed a mad attraction for you.”

He snorts. “More likely she formed a mad attraction for a new werewolf Alpha. But even that makes no sense unless I’m single and in need of a mate.”

“Maybe she hoped to get with child and use that?” I pause. “No, she also offered services that wouldn’t end in pregnancy.”

His brows lift. “You were listening to the whole thing? Testing my loyalty?”

Now it’s my turn to snort. “Hardly. I knew there was nothing to worry about, and so I was hoping to get a sense of her ultimate plan. I interceded when it seemed you might hurt her. Now, the other reason for seducing you might be to humiliate me, but I haven’t had time to drive her to that. I was simply an obstacle to be removed.”

“Someone planned this,” Bishop says. “They knew you and Ann would be alone, and they had that girl ply you with drugged wine.”

“Gin. But yes. Seduce you and then threaten to tell your new wife? Or…” I nibble my lip. “Seduce you and then kill you while you sleep. Someone may want you dead, and this was the only way to do it.”

Ann nods. “Rufus is always with you during the day. Cordelia is with you at night … unless she’s sleeping—soundly—elsewhere and you have someone else in your bed.”

“Someone who has worn you out enough to sleep.” I pause. “Although, by the time that happened, Hanora would be too tired to kill you, so you were safe either way.”

Ann mutters a comment about things she really doesn’t need to know.

“We need to talk to Hanora,” I say.

“Wasn’t that what I was trying to do?” Bishop says.

“I stopped you to discuss the matter first. Also, were you chasing her down for a conversation? Or a thrashing?”

He fixes me with a look.

“What?” I say. “You looked like you wanted to thrash her, and honestly, she seemed as if she’d enjoy it, so I don’t know how that would have helped.”

“I would have had a very civil conversation with her,” he says. “After I throttled her until she felt more like talking.”

“Mmm, I think she’d have liked the throttling, too.”

Ann groans and lifts her hands. “Enough. Yes, we need to talk to her. No, Bishop, throttling won’t help.”

“Agreed,” I say. “I know you won’t let Ann and me go after her alone, so you can follow, but stay out of sight, please. I’m going to confront her and see if I can get her to talk.”

“And if you can’t?” Bishop asks.

“Then we do it your way.”

THIRTY-FIVE

I need more tracking lessons. I can see the use of them here, as Bishop tracks Hanora from our room.

I also see the mistake I made. I didn’t pay attention to her scent, so I’m not sure I could find her even if it were an easy trail. My mother taught me to always take note of someone when I’m introduced, and not simply presume I’ll remember them at a casual glance. Being able to put names to faces helps people think well of you.

I need to do the same with scents. Start by making a conscious effort, and it’ll become automatic, as it is for Bishop. Then tracking lessons will show me how to tease out a scent from a hall that has had people passing to and fro. They’ll also teach me how to determine which trail is the most recent.

For now, Ann and I follow a few steps behind Bishop to let him creep soundlessly down this hall and then another. The wolves have all returned, but there’s less noise than I expect. At Trevelyan, the hunt left the wolves giddy and eager to continue the party into the night, whether it was with drinking, gambling, or carousing with the maids. While I’d certainly heard the Cambrians laughing and talking from the window, now that they’re in, they seem to be quiet, perhaps in deference to their guests.

Luckily for us, Hanora avoided the returning men, which means we can, too.

We find her soon enough. She’s hiding. Or, at least, she’s tucked herself away somewhere she expects Bishop won’t follow. The water closet.

I suppose it’s possible she just happened to need the toilet after her plans went awry. So we wait. And we wait. Bishop has backed away, but I have a feeling that door won’t open anytime soon. Here, my improved sense of smell—and slightly improved sense of hearing—helps by confirming she is not actually on the toilet dealing with an obstruction of the bowels. But after I cast an unlock on the door, I open it very carefully, because it’d be embarrassing to jump in shouting “Ah-ha!” only to find she’s indeed on the toilet.

She isn’t. Well, no, actually she is, but she’s sitting on the seat with her skirts still in place. When we step in, she leaps up with “Oh!” and then a scowl and “Do you mind?”