Sitting again on the straw, Rae watched the wolf pace. She thought of the girl locked away; she thought of Mop and Ness, waiting and grieving, uncertain of her fate. The hours were long with the guilt she felt.

“He’ll let us go,” she said quietly, as much to herself as to the wolf. “I promise, you won’t have to stay here forever.”

Later that day, the same hollow-eyed guard returned to bring Rae to her meal. The king at least fed her well. Twice already, she had been led from her chamber and brought before a table set for her alone. And this afternoon—or, what Rae guessed was afternoon from the light in the window—the table was nearly sagging under the weight of the platters.

Seeing her hesitation, the guard pointed and whispered the names: “Poached urchins in milk. Quail eggs in brine. Dumplings of pheasant. Peacock with gravy. Brain pudding with mint. Nut custard in wine. Figcake and quinces. Cheesecake and mulberries. Cooked cream.”

Rae, unused to such dishes, looked for foods that reminded her of home: warm bread, fragrant cheese, cabbage, carrots, parsnips, grapes. While the guard watched, she filled her plate, then ate alone in the corner. She could not deny the food was delicious. It made the coldness of the chamber where she was kept feel a little less hopeless, and as she savored each bite, she imagined Mop and Ness at their own table and thought how they would be comforted knowing she was well fed.

Plate clean, she returned to the table once more. She would bring something back for the wolf, she decided. Surely there was something he would like.

“Still hungry?” The guard hovered as she perused the table. “The stewed pears there may be to your liking.”

Rae shook her head. “No, I’m full.” Not the peacock, she thought. Not the urchins. “Ah!” She’d found something. Reaching through the platters, she lifted a chain of plump sausages. Holding the greasy links in her hands, she nodded to the guard. “I’m ready now.”

“Oh, no. You cannot.” The guard, glancing at the door, spoke in hushed tones. “You may only eat here.”

“This is for the wolf.”

“The governor-advisor has said that’s not allowed.”

“But,” Rae protested, gesturing at the table, “there’s so much!”

“Shh!” The guard put his finger to his lips. “I’m sorry; I cannot let you bring those.” Shaking his head, the guard truly did look regretful. He watched as she deposited the meaty baubles back on their plate. “I believe they feed the wolf while you eat here,” he offered quietly.

“I know,” Rae said. “I’ve seen the empty bowl. But the sausages looked so rich, I thought he might like them. And he has seemed hungry the past few days.”

The guard’s brows furrowed. He made a hmm-ing noise. “Well, perhaps that is the nature of a wolf. To be always hungry.” He held his palm to the open door.