“My mother has lost the ability to change.”
“Lost it?” Erik asked. “Why?”
Valaree shrugged. “No one knows. That is why my father rarely transforms.”
“Is this another of your dens?”
“Yes.” Valaree glanced around. “We come here often. It is the largest. Come, sit. I will prepare something to eat. Elsbeth has killed a deer.” She looked at Erik, her expression thoughtful. She started to speak, glanced at Kristine, and changed her mind. “Why don’t you rest awhile, Kristine?” she suggested.
“Yes, I think I will.”
“There are blankets in the back of the cave.”
“I’ll get them,” Erik said. He stared at Valaree a moment, then walked to the back of the cavern.
There were several furs and blankets piled against the cave wall, as well as a small cask of wine. He also noted several clay jars filled with water; others held herbs and dried meat.
He picked up two thick wool blankets. “Here.” He spread one of the blankets on the floor of the cave, out of the way of the smoke.
“Thank you,” Kristine replied. “I am a little tired.” More than a little, she thought, but she didn’t want to worry Erik. He had enough to worry about.
He brushed a kiss across her lips, then covered her with the second blanket.
“Erik?”
“What is it?”
“You won’t leave me?”
“No, beloved, I won’t leave you.”
She smiled at him; then, with a sigh, she closed her eyes. Moments later, she was asleep.
“This journey must be difficult for her in her condition,” Valaree remarked when Erik returned to the fire.
“Yes.”
“Yet she never complains. She is a brave girl.”
He nodded, thinking brave did not begin to describe it.
Valaree regarded him through eyes that were dark and wise, eyes that knew him better than he knew himself. She cut off three thick chunks of venison and placed them on the ground. One by one, the wolves came forward, accepted the meat, and then went outside to eat.
Valaree looked up at Erik, the knife clutched in her hand. “Do you want to have yours now, while she sleeps?”
Erik stared at Valaree, his heart suddenly beating faster. He knew what she was asking. He looked at the haunch of venison. Unable to help himself, he sniffed the air, his mouth watering as he inhaled the rich, gamy scent of the meat. For a moment, he imagined what it would be like to sink his teeth into the raw meat, to taste the warm bloody flesh and then, with a groan, he shook his head. “Cook it.”
“It will be less painful for you if you stop fighting,” Valaree remarked softly.
“I can’t stop. I can’t give in.” He clenched his good hand into a tight fist. “Don’t you understand? I cannot let her win.”
“The witch has won already.”
“No!” Erik stared at his left hand. With a low-pitched growl of pain and resignation, he turned and left the cave.
Valaree stared after him, her heart aching with sympathy and understanding.
Late that night, long after the others were asleep, Erik stood outside the cave, staring into the distance. They would reach the mage’s castle on the morrow.
He refused to let himself believe the mage would be able to break the spell. Better to expect the worst. At least then he would not be disappointed. And yet a tiny spark of hope burned deep in his heart. He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to be a whole man again, to have the use of two good hands, to return to the company of men, to associate freely with his friends and neighbors. To make love to Kristine without fear, to feel her hands upon his flesh . . .
Kristine . . . She had made the last few months both heaven and hell. How had he ever lived without her? He prayed she would be delivered of a healthy child, that she would not grieve overlong for him, but go on with her life, find a man who would love her and be a good father to her child . . . the child he would never see. He had hoped the curse would not be complete until after the babe was born, but he feared it was not to be.
He glanced over his shoulder as a soft sound alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone. “Valaree.”
“I woke and you were gone.”
He nodded.
“It will be all right,” she said quietly.
“I wish I could believe you.”
“You must be strong. You must have faith.”
Slowly, he shook his head. “Faith? In what? The mage’s ability to reverse Charmion’s spell? I know it cannot be undone.”
“Then why are we seeking his help?”
“Because I have to try. I’ll do whatever he asks, pay whatever price is demanded, endure any pain.”