Silent, she followed him to a room that was on the opposite side of the eyrie from his bedroom. She shuddered when he opened the door and she realized she had to walk past him.

Watching her look around the room, he said, “My father’s housekeeper brought over the furniture and set up the room. There’s a private bathroom through that door. I expect you’ll find everything you need.” At least for tonight.

She still didn’t say anything. She looked bruised and exhausted, and the only thing he could do to help her was to leave her alone.

“Good night, Lady.” He closed the door and stared at it for a few moments. Damn you, Cat. You really kicked me in the guts this time.

But as he went back outside to tell Tassle it was all right to come in, he had a bad feeling it wasn’t his guts that would feel the pain.

Marian stared at the door. No lock. No way to prevent someone from coming in during the night to . . .

She could put a Purple Dusk shield around the room, but that would probably just insult him—or amuse him. It certainly wouldn’t stop him if he . . .

She shuddered, then clenched her hands until they ached. She couldn’t think like that. Fear was already a living thing crawling inside her. If she was going to survive staying here, she had to beat it back, not feed it.

She called in her nightgown—another piece of clothing Luthvian had been ready to discard and had given to her instead. She wouldn’t think about that either. Just wouldn’t think anymore. Couldn’t think anymore.

After changing her clothes, she settled into bed and called in her book, sure she wouldn’t get any sleep.

Later, she roused enough from a deep sleep to realize someone was gently pulling the book out of her hands and turning off the lamp on the bedside table, but not enough to wonder who it was.

SEVEN

SEVEN

Marian jolted awake, her heart pounding. She kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep to give her scrambled brain a few precious seconds to catch up and identify what had ripped her out of a deep sleep.

There. Warm breath against her hand. Someone was in her room, next to her bed. Someone who would know by the change in her breathing that she wasn’t asleep, and pretending only kept her blind to the danger.

She opened her eyes . . . and stared at the wolf who was watching her intently.

*You are awake. Yas told me not to wake you and I didn’t wake you but now you are awake.* The wolf stretched his neck so that they were nose-to-nose. *You can pet me.*

She raised her hand to obey. Then her brain identified what was wrong with this “conversation.”