She couldn’t suffer that either. She put both her hands up to ward him off.
Then there came a swirl of fabric and the scent of apple blossoms.
Primrose was there.
Primrose was making calm sweet noises, wrapping Rue in soft gentle arms and guiding her back aboard the Custard and away from all the staring. Away from Quesnel’s hurt sympathy. Away from Paw’s glassy wolf eyes. Up the gangplank and through a silent mass of sombre decklings and a strangely agonised-looking Percy, and down the stairs, and into the privacy of the captain’s quarters.
There Rue could heave out the sobs of certain loss that come with change. For Paw was meant to be immortal, and for the first time Rue knew that he was not.
FOUR
In Which the Maccon Family Is Quite Imprudent
Primrose stayed, rubbing Rue’s back and making sympathetic noises. Primrose was good like that. She didn’t ask what was wrong.
Finally Rue said, “I” – sniff – “hate” – sniff – “stays.”
“Let’s get you out of that corset, then, shall we?” Which was a mark of how good a friend Primrose was, for she was normally the most proper young thing and tried not to know that Rue rarely wore underpinnings. Now she pretended delight at helping her strip and climb into a comfortable tea-gown.
Rue loved her for the pretence.
“Prim, something’s wrong with Paw.” Rue sat on the edge of the counterpane and looked at her hands, trying not to cry again.
Primrose perched next to her. “Yes. I do believe you might be right about that.”
“It’s Alpha’s curse.”
Prim did not mollify that horrible statement with platitudes. “Do you know how old he is, your father?”
“Old enough.”
“Is that what it looks like, the curse?”
“It differs, depending on the Alpha. There are not many cases recorded, as most don’t survive long enough. Prim, he looked right at me and yet did not see me. And in his eyes there was only the wolf. No Paw.”
Primrose likely didn’t follow but she nodded. “You might want to talk to someone who knows more about this situation.”
“Dama?” Rue scrubbed at her face with her hand.
“No – your mother. I know it’s not your favourite thing to do, but I believe you should confront her. They must have been hiding this from you. We weren’t out of the country so long that he should have deteriorated this quickly.”
“Unless I wilfully refused to notice.”
“Rue, be kind to yourself. Even you aren’t that obtuse.”
“It takes a lot out of me, confronting my mother. I need a plan, in case she doesn’t have one.”
Prim gave her a look. “You mean if you disagree with hers? Your mother always has a plan.”
“Fair point. Do you think Percy would look up Alpha’s curse, see what he can find?”
“Of course. I’ll ask him. You believe there’s something we can do that hasn’t been tried before?”
“To stop Alpha’s curse? I doubt it. But we might isolate him for the safety of others.”
“And stop him being challenged and killed by some whippersnapper? To what purpose? So he can die alone and insane? Be fair to him, Rue.”
Rue closed her eyes and swallowed. Primrose was right. She couldn’t decide her father’s fate any more than he could dictate hers. “I have to try something!”
Primrose stood and went to the porthole. “A few hours until sunset. I’ll put Percy on it.”
“What happened to Quesnel?”
Primrose looked severe. “Mr Lefoux has gone about his business. He tried to follow us but Percy sent him on his way.”
“Did he really? They didn’t start yelling at each other again, did they?”
“No, thank goodness. My brother has been known to be capable in emergency situations.”
“Is this an emergency situation?”
“Yes, I do believe it might be. Now I’ll go and talk to him. Should I fetch tea?”
“Would you join me?”
“By all means. I’ll stay as long as you need.”
Rue found a small smile somewhere and pasted it on. “Would you read to me?”
It harkened back to their childhood days. Primrose was a quick study and had read earlier than Rue, who was frankly too lazy to bother with book learning overmuch. Primrose would read to Rue out loud in her halting child’s treble. As they got older, Prim would do the voices and get all dramatic. Rue could read herself by then, but she liked being spoiled.
Primrose gave a tinkling laugh. “I’d be delighted. German poetry perhaps?”
“Something less painful, I think.”
Primrose disappeared briefly. Tea arrived a quarter of an hour later, brought in by a worried-looking Virgil. He’d been sent by Percy, because tea detail wasn’t ordinarily Virgil’s responsibility. Footnote followed, or was pushed gently into the room by some redhead hovering out of view. The feline performed his catlike duty by jumping instantly onto Rue’s lap and purring up a storm.
Primrose followed shortly. “I’ve brought you Byron – always makes things better.”
Cook had included a few custard éclairs – Rue’s favourite. She managed to inhale two while Prim sipped tea and read Byron in ridiculously sepulchral tones. Everyone was being so nice, Rue almost felt the urge to cry again. She put her tea down and buried her face in Footnote’s fuzzy coat, which smelled faintly of cheese.
Then there came a swirl of fabric and the scent of apple blossoms.
Primrose was there.
Primrose was making calm sweet noises, wrapping Rue in soft gentle arms and guiding her back aboard the Custard and away from all the staring. Away from Quesnel’s hurt sympathy. Away from Paw’s glassy wolf eyes. Up the gangplank and through a silent mass of sombre decklings and a strangely agonised-looking Percy, and down the stairs, and into the privacy of the captain’s quarters.
There Rue could heave out the sobs of certain loss that come with change. For Paw was meant to be immortal, and for the first time Rue knew that he was not.
FOUR
In Which the Maccon Family Is Quite Imprudent
Primrose stayed, rubbing Rue’s back and making sympathetic noises. Primrose was good like that. She didn’t ask what was wrong.
Finally Rue said, “I” – sniff – “hate” – sniff – “stays.”
“Let’s get you out of that corset, then, shall we?” Which was a mark of how good a friend Primrose was, for she was normally the most proper young thing and tried not to know that Rue rarely wore underpinnings. Now she pretended delight at helping her strip and climb into a comfortable tea-gown.
Rue loved her for the pretence.
“Prim, something’s wrong with Paw.” Rue sat on the edge of the counterpane and looked at her hands, trying not to cry again.
Primrose perched next to her. “Yes. I do believe you might be right about that.”
“It’s Alpha’s curse.”
Prim did not mollify that horrible statement with platitudes. “Do you know how old he is, your father?”
“Old enough.”
“Is that what it looks like, the curse?”
“It differs, depending on the Alpha. There are not many cases recorded, as most don’t survive long enough. Prim, he looked right at me and yet did not see me. And in his eyes there was only the wolf. No Paw.”
Primrose likely didn’t follow but she nodded. “You might want to talk to someone who knows more about this situation.”
“Dama?” Rue scrubbed at her face with her hand.
“No – your mother. I know it’s not your favourite thing to do, but I believe you should confront her. They must have been hiding this from you. We weren’t out of the country so long that he should have deteriorated this quickly.”
“Unless I wilfully refused to notice.”
“Rue, be kind to yourself. Even you aren’t that obtuse.”
“It takes a lot out of me, confronting my mother. I need a plan, in case she doesn’t have one.”
Prim gave her a look. “You mean if you disagree with hers? Your mother always has a plan.”
“Fair point. Do you think Percy would look up Alpha’s curse, see what he can find?”
“Of course. I’ll ask him. You believe there’s something we can do that hasn’t been tried before?”
“To stop Alpha’s curse? I doubt it. But we might isolate him for the safety of others.”
“And stop him being challenged and killed by some whippersnapper? To what purpose? So he can die alone and insane? Be fair to him, Rue.”
Rue closed her eyes and swallowed. Primrose was right. She couldn’t decide her father’s fate any more than he could dictate hers. “I have to try something!”
Primrose stood and went to the porthole. “A few hours until sunset. I’ll put Percy on it.”
“What happened to Quesnel?”
Primrose looked severe. “Mr Lefoux has gone about his business. He tried to follow us but Percy sent him on his way.”
“Did he really? They didn’t start yelling at each other again, did they?”
“No, thank goodness. My brother has been known to be capable in emergency situations.”
“Is this an emergency situation?”
“Yes, I do believe it might be. Now I’ll go and talk to him. Should I fetch tea?”
“Would you join me?”
“By all means. I’ll stay as long as you need.”
Rue found a small smile somewhere and pasted it on. “Would you read to me?”
It harkened back to their childhood days. Primrose was a quick study and had read earlier than Rue, who was frankly too lazy to bother with book learning overmuch. Primrose would read to Rue out loud in her halting child’s treble. As they got older, Prim would do the voices and get all dramatic. Rue could read herself by then, but she liked being spoiled.
Primrose gave a tinkling laugh. “I’d be delighted. German poetry perhaps?”
“Something less painful, I think.”
Primrose disappeared briefly. Tea arrived a quarter of an hour later, brought in by a worried-looking Virgil. He’d been sent by Percy, because tea detail wasn’t ordinarily Virgil’s responsibility. Footnote followed, or was pushed gently into the room by some redhead hovering out of view. The feline performed his catlike duty by jumping instantly onto Rue’s lap and purring up a storm.
Primrose followed shortly. “I’ve brought you Byron – always makes things better.”
Cook had included a few custard éclairs – Rue’s favourite. She managed to inhale two while Prim sipped tea and read Byron in ridiculously sepulchral tones. Everyone was being so nice, Rue almost felt the urge to cry again. She put her tea down and buried her face in Footnote’s fuzzy coat, which smelled faintly of cheese.
