Page 73 of The Wolf and Her Shadows

“Well, just don’t go trying to teleport anywhere you can’t see unless you’ve been there before.” Glancing over our shoulders, Greyva beckons us to come inside. “Now, get in here before the rest of the riff raff sees you two and try to drag you back to your party.”

I’m given half a second to brace myself before Vannaria grabs my hand, sweeping me up in yet another whirl of shadow. Once we reappear in front of the old woman’s all-too-familiar fireplace, she receives yet another slap on the shoulder.

“Show off,” I mutter, dropping down onto Greyva’s sofa.

“Apologies, Your Majesty.” She falls onto the cushion next to me with a smug grin. “I was told I need to practice.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Old Greyva warns, lowering herself into her favorite rocking chair with a small groan. “Use too much magic playing around and you won’t have any left to save yourselves when danger next rears its ugly head.”

Doing my best to contain my excitement, I turn to Greyva and ask, “Do you truly know a way to unlock my magic as well?”

“I might, won’t know until we try it.”

“Can we try it now?”

The old woman barks out a loud laugh, making me flinch from its volume. “Patience never was your strong suit, Mariane. Glad to see that hasn’t changed. But, yes. That is why I had Vannaria go and retrieve you.”

“As I already told you,” the elf mutters, crossing her arms over her chest.

Nudging her shoulder with mine, I roll my eyes. “Oh, my sincerest apologies, Your Highness. It seems as though in all of the unexpected teleporting, it must have slipped my mind.”

Greyva claps her hands together, successfully drawing our attention back to her. “Alright you two, as happy as it makes me seeing you be disgustingly in love, I need you both to pretend to be adults for a moment. Which means no more bickering until after Mariane is free from the wretched curse her father placed on her.”

“Curse?” My gaze immediately snaps to the old woman. “He put a curse on me?”

“He did. At least that’s what it seems like.” She gestures to the worn rug in front of her chair. “Come here and let me get a closer look. And feel free to bring the prince with you.”

Dragging Vannaria by the hand, I quickly do as she says and make my way over to the old woman, sitting cross-legged at her feet. The same way I’ve done countless times before for all manner of reasons.

The last time was when I’d developed a cough after spending too long standing out in a rainstorm. I’d refused to come inside until the rain had ceased. It had been the day my heart had been broken for the first time.

I grip the hand in mine a bit tighter, hoping it never will be again.

My eyes fall close of their own accord when Greyva places a hand on my forehead. “Hmm. Yes, as I thought. The bastard used the same forbidden magic powerful mages once used to render their fellow arcanists all but useless. Simple to reverse, but only if you know what you’re looking for.”

“And you do, so that means you can reverse it?” Vannaria asks, her tone hopeful.

“I can. It will be painful but thankfully should only take a moment.” A second hand is placed against my chest, causing my skin to warm beneath my shirt. “Hold her still, Vannaria. If I lose contact, I’ll have to start over, and it’ll only prolong the process further.”

Vannaria lets go of my hand and a moment later her strong arms wrap around my waist as she positions herself behind me, trapping me between her legs. Exhaling a shaky breath, I lean my head against her chest, doing my best to keep from tensing at the thought of the impending pain.

A soft kiss is placed against my cheek, and I take one more deep breath before nodding for the old woman to free me from a bit of the cruelty I've suffered for the last seven years.

What starts as a bit of warmth where her hands are resting soon turns into a searing heat, as if my blood is boiling and my flesh is melting from the inside out. If I’d thought my shifts over the last few years had been agonizing, that pain was nothing compared to this.

At first, I try to grit my teeth through it, but after only a few seconds my mouth falls open in a silent scream, my lungs not having enough air to produce any sound. When my body begins to convulse, I instinctively fight to escape the torment by clawing at the arms trapping me in place. Vannaria only tightens her grip, whispering pointless words of comfort in my ear, my mind too far gone to register her words.

I do, however, hear her when she brings her arm a bit closer to my face and says, “Bite down on my arm, Mariane. My armor will–”

Not waiting for her to finish, I sink my teeth into her arm, the worn leather of her bracer tasting quite disgusting, yet giving me something to focus on other than the pain. I bite down harder when another intense wave of pain washes over me, this one feeling as if my veins are filled with ice, causing me to shiver violently.

Suddenly, the pain stops. And then, everything goes dark.

As I slowly regain consciousness, it’s to the faint sound of someone humming and the feeling of fingers running through my hair. After all the times I’ve awoken in Vannaria’s arms, the fingers in my hair don't surprise me at all, but I’ve never known the elf to hum. The thighs beneath my head don’t feel quite right either.

“Vannaria?” I mutter, turning my head towards the sound.

The chuckle in response sounds nothing like Vannaria’s, yet it’s even more familiar. Slowly opening my eyes, I see my mother smiling down at me, her amusement evident in the way her golden eyes shine. “Sorry, Little Wolf. It’s only me, your poor mother who’s been worried sick ever since your lover came and found me, carrying your limp body in her arms.”