The emerald mountain of skirts scrunched and hindered when I lowered to my knees to catch Helvectus before he fell and hit the table. “You’re so sneaky to learn such a thing in my absence, little Hel.”

“Asher,” he said, poking my cheek.

Carelda closed the door. “He started saying it after you left.”

I stole his finger and feigned eating it. He giggled so hard he folded to his knees, which only served to make him laugh more. I helped him up and righted his tiny charcoal vest over his green tunic. “I like it,” I whispered, brushing his black hair back from his angelic, pinkened face.

“He’s showing signs of a wolf within,” Carelda said, and cautiously, as if afraid of what that might mean for her son. “Tremors and a glowing of his eyes when his emotions get too volatile.”

Rorn would be pleased.

Admiring Helvectus’ blue and emerald gaze, I stroked beneath his silken chin. He giggled again, saliva dribbling. “A fine wolf he will make.” I rose and smoothed my skirts.

Carelda smiled her gratitude, though worry still tightened her mouth. Sighing, she said, “I wasn’t sure you would ever return.”

“I didn’t want to,” I confessed, quiet but resolute.

Carelda nodded, peering down at her cupped hands. Helvectus stole one of the dry paintbrushes from an easel and tossed it against the wall.

He laughed when it clattered and went to retrieve it while I struggled to find something to say.

I decided withholding the truth, in this instance especially, was cruel, and I was tired of hiding. I stepped forward to clasp her hand. “Not because of you, but because I was happy there.”

“You’ve found another male,” she said simply, for she certainly knew as much already.

“Quite some time ago, actually, yes.”

Her eyes lifted, her fingers wrapping around mine. “Rorn was in a state, Astrantia. Wild like I’ve never witnessed before.” I frowned, able to envision his anger and ready to apologize for leaving her to deal with it when she added, “He desires me, but he is still very much in love with you.”

My heart sank so hard and fast that I felt the color drain from my face.

Unbalanced by guilt I hadn’t expected, that I’d never thought I would feel regarding Rorn, I feared I would be ill.

Then Hel squealed with a large pot of paint in hand.

Carelda cursed and rushed to pry it from his fingers. He wasn’t happy about it, but he was soon smiling again when I snatched a tulip from the vase on the tall table beside me and handed it to him.

“You owe me nothing, my queen, but I’m afraid I do need you to promise me something.” Carelda plucked a rusted key from her pocket. “That you will not leave before the ball is over, or I will find myself in severe shit indeed.”