claim him when her eyes had widened and moistened with pain and fear. He would forget the familiar righteous anger that had flamed to life in his chest when she’d been threatened.
The only way he’d survive the loss of Bell would be to send Anna back to her mother as soon as possible. Bell was gone and Anna would soon be out of his life, as well. He wouldn’t allow her to accept the sword’s Call. There had been a girl the Call had been meant for, but she was gone. He might be a man, but he was also a monster created by a Volkhvy queen, and the only woman who had ever made him long to walk on two legs again was gone.
By the time Soren returned to Anna’s side, every bit of softness in his heart was gone, as well.
It was evening before Soren came back to the castle. She’d wondered if he would come back at all. If she’d had the ability to shift into a wolf, she might have chosen that option rather than face him again.
As the daughter of Vasilisa, she had to dress for dinner when she was summoned by the master and mistress of Bronwal. Ivan and Elena were trying to treat her as a guest rather than an enemy. The least she could do was meet their efforts halfway...even if it meant exposing herself to more of Soren’s scathing reception.
She’d packed light, but she’d also been conscious of the fact that she would be visiting a castle and its recently reinstated king with his newly wedded queen. Ivan Romanov had been every inch a royal even before the curse had been lifted. He’d ruled Bronwal far longer than his father, continuing as its master after all hope of surviving the curse was lost.
Bell had been one of his subjects.
He’d tried to help her survive, never knowing that she was the daughter of the witch who had cursed them all because of Vladimir Romanov’s betrayal.
The least she could do was pull the carefully rolled evening dress from her backpack and shake out its white silken folds. She’d chosen the color carefully as a gesture of truce. She was fairly certain her mother had it put in her closet for a night like tonight. Anna would be Vasilisa’s envoy in a place where the Light Volkhvy queen herself would probably never be welcome.
No pressure.
The dress slid liquidly over her skin and settled into place as a simple shift, although the shimmer of the exquisite material gave lie to simplicity when she moved to slip on her shoes. The satin slippers would have been ruined in minutes in the old Bronwal, but now the floors were clean and covered in finely woven carpeting.
It was strange to dress in a bedchamber that was clean and modernized in a castle that had been more haunted than functional for centuries. In addition to the cleanliness and the carpeting, running water and sweet-scented toiletries startled her. She felt far removed from the desperate waif she’d been as she tamed and styled her curls on top of her head. Tendrils of gleaming chestnut were the only ornaments around her face.
But she couldn’t resist bright ruby lips and lush mascara. To those dashes of color she also added contours of blush on her cheeks. She had been as pale as death since she’d encountered Soren in the woods. The cosmetics might help to disguise her continued reaction to his transformation as well as her own. Her preparations didn’t soothe her. She felt alien when a servant she’d never known came to escort her to a sitting room, where her hosts waited.
Elena Romanov wore a stunning dress crafted of pale peach layers in crepe and chiffon. As always, no matter what she wore, she looked as if she might still pirouette rather than step from room to room. Every movement from her smile to the turning of her head was graceful and artistic.
But the former dancer was no delicate swan.
She had been as hard as she had to be to accept the sapphire blade’s Call. Tonight, she wore glittering sapphires in her ears and around her neck in honor of the blade she’d left elsewhere. Thankfully, she also wore a genuinely warm smile for Anna. They had become friends before her parentage was revealed, and it seemed that Elena had chosen to continue that friendship.
Of course, she was new to Bronwal. Vasilisa had only been her enemy for a short time, and the curse had actually brought her and Ivan together.
“Soren is back,” Elena said. She approached on light steps and Anna allowed her to grasp both of her gloved hands without flinching. It was only dinner. There was no reason to fear that her power might flare. Elena didn’t mention her elbow-length gloves, even though they didn’t exactly match her evening apparel. She only squeezed her fingers and met her nervous gaze. “He hasn’t been back for months. I hoped you might have some positive influence.”
“According to Soren, she frightened Lev away. He searched the entire wood and the white wolf was nowhere to be seen,” Ivan Romanov interjected as he entered the room.
Anna pulled her hands from Elena’s and turned to face the alpha wolf in his human form. Unlike Lev, he had resisted shifting for centuries until the savagery of the black wolf gleamed from his dark eyes and his wild, wavy hair. Although the curse had been broken, he still looked barely civilized. Maybe because he was free to shift at will now with his warrior mate by his side.
He wasn’t smiling.
As he approached, his expression was guarded and his brows were heavy. He’d always looked as if the entire weight of Bronwal rested on his broad shoulders. That hadn’t altered, unless you could call the addition of more weight and more responsibilities a change. He now had a wife and a rematerialized people to stand for.
Not to mention a former charge turned witch.
“It was an accident. I didn’t want to be eaten. Lots of things have changed, but that remains the same,” Anna said.
“I understand,” Elena said. The feral white wolf had also threatened her when she’d first come to Bronwal. Maybe her understanding would remind Ivan of that fact.
“Soren says they’re leaving in the morning,” Ivan continued, as if Elena hadn’t spoken. But he did pause by her side and place a large hand gently on her petite shoulder. Anna was hypnotized by the giant man’s soft touch against his wife’s arm. His face was lit by concern for his brothers and a wariness for Vasilisa’s daughter, but it was softened by his love for Elena.
Anna suddenly realized that she might not have been welcomed at Bronwal if not for the tiny dancer turned fierce warrior. The sapphire blade was nowhere to be seen, but Elena had its glow in her eyes when she faced her powerful husband. She was his equal as well as his lover. And her friendship with Anna would be respected as much as the king could allow.
No matter his personal trust issues about the waif turned witch in their midst.
He had been the only liege Anna had known for centuries. She hadn’t been close to Ivan Romanov. No one had. He’d been a lone wolf even when he’d chosen to only walk on two legs. But even cursed, he had been the legendary champion of the Light Volkhvy and master of Bronwal in all of its dark, labyrinthine glory.
He saw her as the enemy now. That hurt. It also shook how she saw herself.
“He won’t give up on Lev, but there’s something we have to do,” Anna said. She hoped no one, least of all Soren, would mention the emerald blade to Ivan Romanov. His distrust might erupt into fury, and the tingling her hands told her that her reaction, even in self-defense, might be irredeemable.
Ivan was dressed in a black suit that matched his queued hair. His eyes glittered in the soft light of candles. The castle was being modernized, but even with Vasilisa’s magical help, updates took time. There were numerous silver candelabra that had been brought in to supply light to Elena’s sitting room. The doorway glowed in a soft, wavering spotlight created by fire. In the spotlight, Soren appeared out of the shadowed corridor.
He was not in a suit.
The tangle of his red hair was still in a wild mane around his face and shoulders.
His