Sohna and Vivian - My Brother's Keeper

Wolf stared down at Virginia, who lay asleep on her side facing him in the dim light of the sliver of moon shining in through the tower window. Despite the virtual lack of illumination, he had no trouble at all seeing her sweet face, or watching the rise and fall of the great swell of her nearly ripe womb with her breath. As it usually did, the mere sight of her lying in his bed, gravid with his child, overwhelmed him; it was almost impossible to remember that less than a year ago, he’d still been imprisoned in the Snow White Memorial Prison, with no real hope of ever leaving. He needed to think of that, he told himself, whenever he started thinking of the Wizards’ Citadel as too confining, as he’d thought of it too often in the past two or so months, ever since the siege of Wendell’s castle had begun. At least here he had Virginia with him, a comfortable bed, and good food.

He looked over at the covered platters of steaming meat, fresh vegetables, and hot bread he’d gone to get for his beloved (and, well, also for himself – he couldn’t very well not keep her company at the table, now could he?). Around three weeks ago, she’d no longer been able to sleep completely through the night without waking up to eat. And although she’d told him that it was perfectly fine to just bring up a snack for her midnight meal before they went to bed, he loved preparing something special for the occasion. It also gave him something to do besides think about what they’d decided his sentence for practicing magic without permission had been and – worse – how his child was going to grow up in a land ravished by war, neglect, and hate.

They were, in fact, incredibly lucky to be stuck in the Citadel for now at all, as Virginia had pointed out to him several times. Food had become quite scarce in the kingdoms; the war had essentially started right before planting season, and with no new crops sown, the prices of previous years’ stores had placed even basic food out of most peoples’ reach. Starvation had become common for the first time in several hundred years. And while they could have gone to live in New York, he had to admit it was probably safer for the baby to come in the kingdoms: his wife’s description of what the hospital’s reaction to a wolf-cub being born would probably be made him want to avoid it as much as she did. After all, they did have Doctor Oberon here with them. Considering what he’d been able to do – actually give them a look at their daughter before birth (with the assistance of the wizards, of course) – Wolf had no doubt that Virginia was completely safe with him.

He looked back over at her sleeping form, drenched in the silvery wash of the moon. She really is huge, he thought, envisioning his tiny daughter curled up inside his wife’s bulging womb. Succulently huge, like a ripe, juicy piece of fruit about to burst. He smiled, remembering Virginia’s reaction when the doctor had finally been able to tell them why: she’d been incredulous, and then she’d laughed until tears ran down her face. He didn’t really understand why; it had made perfect sense to him: Because Virginia was not a half-wolf, her metabolism was not able to keep up with the baby’s, so the afterbirth had grown to enormous proportions in compensation. He was, however, very glad that she stopped worrying so much (as he knew she had). Now if only he could stop worrying himself.

Not that he was worried about Virginia or the baby. Well, not exactly. What worried him, and had ever since he’d heard his sentence pronounced, was that he might not be there when Virginia went into labor. Why this was desperately important to him he couldn’t say - rationally, he told himself that plenty of people would be there to help her - people far more knowledgeable than himself (including both his auntie and the doctor), and that, while it would be preferable to share the moment with his beloved, the world would not end if he were elsewhere. Virginia had even told him she understood. None of it did any good; he knew in his heart that he simply had to be present, with a feeling nearly as strong as the one which had overpowered him when he’d first met Virginia face-to-face in her grandmother’s house and had known instantly that from that moment he had to be the best person he could be.

The trouble was, he couldn’t fulfill the obligation of the imposed sentence until the siege of Wendell’s castle ended, and because a lengthy time was involved, they’d decided he should learn an additional spell to help him in his quest - and it was taking too long for him to master it. Virginia might still be six weeks away from delivery, but even if the siege ended tomorrow, he’d be stuck spending extra time still learning the spell. And he knew they’d expect him to begin the quest immediately, as soon as it became possible, regardless of Virginia’s condition (although he granted that they’d probably make an exception and let him wait for the birth to take place if she were already in labor).

His exceedingly succulent sweetheart stirred restlessly in her sleep. He placed a hand tenderly on the curve of her tummy, feeling the even more restless struggling of his child. Virginia’s eyes opened.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she whispered, laying her hand atop his and smiling wanly. “She’s ready for her nightly feeding.”

He smiled. “Her daddy’s got the food ready,” he told her.

“It’ll have to wait a minute until mommy makes a little detour,” she returned.

He helped her stand, then watched her waddle to the bathroom. Another good thing about being here, he reminded himself. The plumbing’s very similar in appearance to what’s in New York. It occurred to him fleetingly that the New York toilets didn’t magically dispose of their waste, but that wasn’t a line of thought he really wanted to pursue.

“It smells delicious,” she told him when she came back, as she dropped herself into a chair at their little table.

He described each dish in detail, but she didn’t bother waiting for him to finish before helping herself to a little of everything. He took only a small portion of each himself, to make sure that Virginia would have as much as she needed, but as usual, she ate only what he considered a tiny bit.

“Oh, I’m stuffed,” she declared.

“You hardly ate,” he insisted.

“I had two helpings of corn pudding,” she informed him.

“They weren’t helpings, they were teaspoonfuls,” he countered, continuing with the teasing banter which had become their habit at their nightly feasts.

She was silent a moment, thinking.

“You know,” she finally said, “We should really try candlelight for these meals. It’s dark out, the whole place is quiet and asleep ...”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll get some candles for tomorrow,” he replied, trying to maintain his enthusiasm for what he sincerely thought was a very good idea, but it waned as the feeling of something going wrong overcame him again.

“What’s the matter?” she asked gently. “Is it still that sentence they imposed on you?”He nodded. She didn’t bother to ask any details or repeat her reassurances. They’d discussed it several times before. But he knew it was letting it consume him more and more the closer they got to the due date.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.

She stood up and took his arm.

“Come here,” she murmured, leading him back to bed.

They lay down and she drew him as close to her as she could and held him. He fell asleep in his wife’s arms, feeling his daughter’s knees and feet thumping against him.

The next morning he led Virginia down to an early breakfast. To his surprise, Grandmaster Roscoe was already present, along with his teleportation instructor. He stopped when he saw them, the dread he’d anticipated welling up within him. But when they told him the siege of Castle White had ended, he merely nodded.

Virginia was already starving, even though she’d eaten in the middle of the night, so she simply helped herself to the buffet that had been set out by the staff of apprentices, knowing Wolf understood completely why she couldn’t wait for him. When she sat down, he was still deep in conversation with the two master wizards, and she bit her lip in consternation. She’d heard them say the siege had ended, and while she was glad of that for Wendell’s (and New York’s) sake, she knew they were talking about the quest Wolf had been dreading.

The actual task they’d set him was not really that bad, she thought as she ate, assuming that what everyone thought was true - that the Swamp Witch was really and truly dead. Samantha’d reported to everyone exactly what had taken place in the cellar of the little cottage and the general consensus had been that the old witch had been destroyed with what was probably the only weapon that could have defeated her: the truth. But there was still a lot of unfinished business for the wizards to take care of concerning her. Wolf’s task was to return to the cottage in the swamp, and identify and collect all the magical artifacts the witch had possessed - chiefly her mirrors. But that was all: if he unexpectedly discovered that the Swamp Witch still lived (so to speak), the other wizards would come to his aid. It was actually quite simple, considering what his sentence might have been, but Virginia knew it wasn’t what the task entailed that was bothering her husband. He was worried that the baby would come while he was gone, and no amount of reassurances she could give him about it not mattering to her (although it did) had helped.

She’d have dismissed it herself, however, as something they’d no longer care about a year from now, if he hadn’t been so insistently upset. At first, she’d thought it no more than Wolf’s normal over-reaction to everything in life, but for the past week, she’d begun to wonder if maybe there weren’t more to it than that; that there was some reason he had to be present other than just the wanting to be. Unfortunately, it had done no good to ask - he was either unwilling or unable (she suspected the latter) to give an answer.

And now the siege was over and he’d be expected to fulfill his quest as soon as he completed the training class he needed in order to transport the mirrors, and she knew it wasn’t something he found easy to master. Teleporting the mirrors, he said, was identical to teleporting a living being, and took far greater care than what was necessary to move, for instance, a couple of crates from one place to another.

Her plate empty, she put down her fork and rested a hand lightly on each side of her oversized, protruding belly as she gazed down at it. The timing did seem as if it were going against them, she thought. Ostensibly she had six more weeks to go before delivery, but she thought it was quite possible, as she was now quite a bit larger than most women were at full term, that the baby might come at any time. They’d already had a little scare with it not quite three weeks before when she’d first started having to get up in the middle of the night to eat: She hadn’t realized what was happening at first, and had suffered through about five early mornings of steadily worsening nausea, justifying it to herself as long-overdue morning sickness. Then, on the sixth night, she’d awakened at three a.m. with stomach cramps so bad she’d thought it was early labor and they’d called the doctor in. And although he was able to tell fairly quickly what the problem really was (he’d already gone through the process of finding out exactly why she was so huge), it had taken quite a bit of convincing from both him and Wolf to get her to swallow even a bite. Even then, the cramps were so strong she didn’t dare eat more than a tiny bit (of dry cracker) at a time, and it took her the better part of three hours to finally consume enough to completely quell the pain. Ever since, she’d had to wake in the middle of the night to eat, and she’d wondered if the baby might come early if her body became unable to provide what it needed, oversized placenta or not.

Wolf sat down, setting a bowl of melon salad in front of her as he placed his own meal - of bacon, ham, and kipper - on the table. Embracing her with his now-free left hand, he gently brushed his right hand over her swollen abdomen and kissed her on the temple. Tears formed in her eyes and on impulse, she threw her arms about him and hugged him hard.

“What did they say?” she asked. “Do I have to leave?”

“Oh, no,” he told her between mouthfuls. “You can stay as long as I do.”

She thought he was going to say more, but he quietly applied himself to his breakfast instead. She let it go for the time being, glad at least of the reprieve which let her stay with him; the wizards had been able to answer her questions about what had gone on at Castle White - they were simply against any interference in it - so she knew, for instance, that her grandmother had returned to New York, and that Wendell had supplied the castle residents from the other side of the mirror during the siege as well.

Finally, Wolf added, “They’re letting Queen Riding Hood stay, too.”

“Really, no kidding?” she exclaimed, although she understood why immediately: The queen was considered necessary to breaking the curse, and if they’d sent her back to her own kingdom, which had, unsurprisingly, allied with the Fifth Kingdom and declared war on Wendell’s over the wolf pardon issue, she and Rafe would be unlikely to get together again. Virginia wondered if this couldn’t be considered political interference, no matter that they thought it justified, but it wasn’t as if the queen’s kingdom had missed its ruler much. She supposed they thought she was still off at the “cottage,” awaiting the birth of her son, not languishing in a sickbed, suffering from severe depression as she actually was.

But while Virginia pitied the woman for her loss, she felt, as did everyone else, that the queen’s relationship to her brother-in-law was simply a fluke. Even Wolf, who had maintained that the two must be lifemates to produce a child in the first place, thought it unlikely that his brother could ever emotionally resolve what he knew about Queen Riding Hood enough to remain sane, after at last having heard the entire tale of what had happened to Rafe’s family from his aunt. In her husband’s opinion, the curse had taken advantage of Rafe’s emotional agony over his lifemate’s identity to use him for its purposes, but while their mating was unusual, he’d remarked with sheer doggedness that if the solution to breaking the curse was their union, it still didn’t answer the question of why the traveling mirrors all led to New York City. Virginia had agreed, but without much enthusiasm. She knew she was being selfish, but since hearing that breaking the curse might turn all the wolfs human, she preferred a solution which could never occur; she was too afraid Wolf would change so much he’d no longer love her, although she hadn’t spoken of it to anyone, even her husband.

He finished the last of what was on his plate and turned to her.

“Yes,” he said, belatedly answering her question about the queen being able to stay. “They want her to go to Wendell’s with us when we leave. And they’d like you to talk to her. Today.”

Wolf knew the wizards had tried to convince Queen Riding Hood to help them hopefully break the curse, but hadn’t been satisfied with the results. They’d decided that Virginia might be able to succeed where they had failed. Being an expectant mother herself, they thought that she might entice the queen with the possibility of conceiving another child. Wolf, however, knew it was not that easy, and that even if she were suddenly to agree, it was unlikely in the extreme that his brother would cooperate.

Not long after they’d all arrived at the Citadel, he’d been allowed leave to go with his aunt to bury Claire’s and his brother’s dead baby. Millie’d thought it appropriate to bury him with Rafe’s other children. The sight of the small graveyard where the two small children were buried next to their mother, within view of the small cottage Rafe had once shared with his family, made the events which had happened far more real to Wolf than the simple explanation Millie had given him earlier. And he felt it all the more when, as he dug the grave, she finally told him the complete story, as she knew it:

Rafe had heard his mate’s howl for help and come running home as quickly as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough. When he’d gotten there, he’d found his mate, Elie, and daughter, Melody, dead, killed by a passing Red soldier (as they were known), whom Elie had managed to kill before she died. His son Charlie lay a short distance away, unconscious, with a head injury. Rafe had focused on Charlie, as he was still alive, picking him up and running the several miles to Millie’s house for help.

He’d burst in her door, she said, frantic with anxiety, the boy limp and bleeding in his arms. Rafe had barely been able to speak, and she’d had to prompt him for clearer explanations of what had happened, trying to calm him while she examined her nephew - and trying to remain calm herself for Rafe’s sake. Unfortunately, she could tell fairly easily that there was nothing which could be done for Charlie, and that it would be a mistake to try; his skull had been crushed and the brain visibly damaged. And while she knew it would kill Rafe to hear such a pronouncement, she also knew it would be worse if she lied about it. Rafe, however, took the news far worse than she had expected. He’d called her a liar and accused her of siding with the queen - upon whom he said he would avenge their deaths - and wanting her nephew to die. She’d known he was overcome with grief and denial and had no idea what he was saying, but even while she tried to calm him, Charlie went into convulsions and died. Rafe had stared at his dead son, his face twisted in rage and grief, but didn’t speak. After a moment, he’d gathered the boy’s body gently into his arms and darted out the door the way he had come. The next day, Millie found the three graves, but no sign of Rafe. She hadn’t seen him again (nor had his sisters) until the day of Wolf’s wedding.

Wolf knew that if he were ever put through such a thing with Virginia and their children, that he’d want to die himself; that the only thing which would keep him alive would be the thought of taking revenge on whoever was responsible. He’d have no interest in breaking curses or anything else which might be of benefit to the living - his sole focus would be on his quarry. But he was unable to even imagine what he would feel if he found his quarry were also his lifemate. The two concepts were so opposed that he doubted he would remain sane. He knew Rafe had not.

Virginia knocked on the queen’s door and waited. She wasn’t at all comfortable with what the Wizards’ Council wanted her to do - in fact the idea gave her butterflies, but she couldn’t very well refuse to help them break the curse when so many lives were at stake, no matter if she herself wished everything could somehow remain as it had been. She just didn’t see how having a woman as obviously pregnant as herself going to talk to the poor woman about having another baby would help. She thought that if she’d been in the queen’s position, such a visit would only upset her (and, in fact, she had avoided the queen entirely until now just for this reason), but she hadn’t been able to convince the Council of that; worse, Dr. Oberon had agreed with the Council.

There was no answer to her knock from inside the room, but the wizards had told her to expect that and to go in anyway after waiting a reasonable time. Steeling herself, she turned the knob and opened the door.

The queen lay in her bed, her long, somewhat tangled blonde hair scattered across the pillows which partially propped her up, her face turned to the window. Pale grey light from the overcast day streamed in, illuminating the coverlet and the side of her face that Virginia could see.

Virginia cleared her throat.

“Hello,” she began somewhat quietly. Getting no reaction, she forced herself to talk a bit louder. “I’m Virginia; they asked me to come talk to you ...”

Still, the queen did not stir. Virginia bit her lip and walked over to the bed. At close range she was shocked to see how thin Queen Riding Hood had become. The bones of her face stood out prominently, her pale and now somewhat sallow skin making her watery, swollen, red-rimmed eyes huge. She wasn’t crying at the moment, but it was evident that she had been recently and probably would be again soon. But still, she gazed out the window at the grey, cloudy sky and didn’t look at Virginia at all.

Taking a deep breath, Virginia walked around the bed and deliberately placed herself in the queen’s line of vision.

“Hello,” she said again, “I’m Virginia, and they’ve asked me ...”

“Yes, I heard you,” the queen whispered numbly. Her eyes met Virginia’s, directly in her line of sight from the window, then dropped to her obvious pregnancy and stayed there.

“Okay,” said Virginia, wondering what she was supposed to actually say next. She stood uncomfortably as Queen Riding Hood resumed staring listlessly past her. Oh, I knew this was a bad idea, she thought. What am I supposed to say, anyway? Come on to the Fourth Kingdom and have another baby? What if she doesn’t even want anything to do with Rafe? Or, what if she does - do I tell her he’s locked up in a dungeon cell, probably insane? She sighed.

The queen seemed to hear Virginia sigh and looked back over at her belly. After a moment, she said, still whispering, “You’re big.”

“Oh,” exclaimed Virginia, not really expecting such a comment after all the silence. “Yes, well, um ... Yes, I am. It’s because the baby is a half-wolf and I’m not, so they tell me.” She wasn’t worried about mentioning the half-wolfs in front of her; it had been obvious by her previous reaction to the Council’s telling her that her kingdom was at war that she no longer agreed with their prosecution. In fact, the only thing Virginia had been asked not to mention was the war - it had taken a long time for them to calm the queen after she’d heard about it.

“Oh,” was all the queen said, her eyes returning to study the edge of the window. But Virginia saw her left hand stray to her own flat stomach.

“I, um ... I know the wizards have talked to you about going to Wendell’s castle,” she continued, intending to get her pitch in and over with, but she was interrupted again by a question from Queen Riding Hood.

“Does it move?” she asked. “Can you feel it?”

“Well, yes,” said Virginia, surprised again. Then, on an impulse, she said, “Would you like to feel her kick me?”

Getting no answer, she picked up the queen’s hand, and when the woman didn’t pull it away, pressed it to the side of her abdomen, where the baby was jabbing her most noticeably at the moment. Some emotion Virginia couldn’t identify flickered momentarily on the queen’s face.

“It’s alive,” she murmured tonelessly.

“Yes, very,” Virginia assured her.

Queen Riding Hood’s hand dropped and she looked away, her reddened eyes filling with tears. Virginia felt immediately guilty.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have ...”

“He’s there,” the queen said.

“What?” asked Virginia, confused by the sudden change of subject. “Who?”

“They said he was at Wendell’s ... that the curse had gotten him ... that he was a prisoner in the dungeon.” Tears tracked down her face unheeded as she spoke, staring intently past Virginia’s side at the window frame.

“Oh, yes, Rafe. Yes, he’s there.” Virginia had no idea what she could say after that...

After a moment the queen said, “They want me to go there.”

“Yes.”

The queen looked down at her lap silently for several moments.

At last she said, “I will.”

A little more than three weeks later, Wolf found himself running towards the Deadly Swamp as fast as he could. He knew he’d have to slow down once he got there, so every moment he could save before then was doubly important to him. His instructor had finally been satisfied that he could teleport the mirrors - if he concentrated hard enough on the process - and even though he himself felt he could be better at it (especially if they let him wait until after Virginia had the baby), the pressure from the Wizard population for him to get on with his punishment had forced him to leave.

Not that he had left by himself - Virginia had come back to Wendell’s with him, as had her father, Samantha, Dr. Oberon, and Queen Riding Hood. Samantha, he knew, had been under as much pressure from the Wizard Council as he was, probably more; they did not approve of her attachment to Tony - he was too close to Wendell, and they felt she would be too politically influenced. Wolf hadn’t waited around to see what everyone else was doing, however, just given Virginia a quick kiss goodbye and run out the door.

He tried to tell himself he shouldn’t be so concerned about possibly not being there when his cub was born, but it did no good - he was worried, and although he knew that worry was sort of a natural state for him, he was a lot more worried than he thought he should have been. It was silly, he knew - Dr. Oberon was there with Virginia, as was his Aunt Millie, who had returned from the Second Kingdom, where she’d gone to be with his sister Deirdre after the burial. The wizards had at least allowed that much - they’d provided transportation back for her specifically so she could stay with Virginia while Wolf was gone. And while this didn’t stop him from wanting to be there, what he felt went beyond that somehow.

He stopped suddenly and sniffed the air. The odor of unwashed bodies came to him on the wind, too strongly for it to be a single person, or just a family. Warily, he cocked his head and listened. Far off, he heard horses neighing and the faint background rumble of many voices. The army that had besieged Wendell hadn’t left after all, he realized. They’d simply pulled back, waiting. For what, he didn’t know, but there was really nothing he could do about it except hurry with what he had to do and get back to Virginia as quickly as he could.

Although he had known King Wendell’s castle had been besieged, Dr. Oberon was shocked by how different everything looked when he at last returned from the Wizards’ Tower. Plaster dust still lay thickly on everything and guards standing at stiff attention stood in virtually every room and corridor. Paintings had been removed from the walls and the carpets rolled up and stored away. Wendell himself, contrary to his custom, did not come to greet them all but sent an attendant back with a message of welcome, conveying his apologies and explaining that there was still a tremendous amount to be done to restore order to his kingdom.

The thin woman beside him, although the queen of a kingdom herself and no doubt used to being greeted with pomp, seemed more relieved than anything at King Wendell’s absence. Tom remembered that her kingdom had declared war on Wendell’s, and even though it had been without her leave, he thought he understood her reasons. His thoughts, however, were not so much on the queen as they were on the woman beside Virginia, who had been introduced to him simply as “Wolf’s aunt”.

She was a striking woman, he thought, but that wasn’t the reason for his interest. Although he presumed that she must also be a werewolf, she had a kind of manner in speaking to others he’d previously seen nowhere except among the abused. This, combined with her obvious limp, had caused him to imagine all sorts of past histories for her, the most fanciful being that she had been hurt repeatedly by a member of her own kind (an uncle of Wolf’s?) during full moon frenzies. That also made Tom wonder anew what the ramifications would be to Virginia when the full moons started affecting Wolf again. Was she in danger of ending up the same way?

“I’d like to see him at once,” the queen stated quietly, interrupting his thoughts about Wolf’s aunt.

Everyone knew who she meant. No one tried to talk her out of it, but, as Tom looked at them, all except the aunt seemed bothered by her statement. She came forward, a bit hesitantly even for her, he thought, and deprecatingly asked the queen to please follow her. He and Virginia had followed the two women halfway down the stairs to the dungeon before it occurred to him that the aunt’s attitude around the queen could easily be explained by her being one of the queen’s subjects. Lost in thought, wondering if something this simple could account for all of her distant behavior, he passed the turnoff to where the mirror was kept, now flanked by a pair of guards, and suddenly brought up short.

He had completely forgotten about how long he’d been away from his office in New York. True, he’d notified his associates that he’d be gone for an indefinite length of time, but he’d never realized it would be months. And while it was true that he’d thought of New York - occasionally - in terms of what might happen should Wendell’s castle fall and the mirror be discovered, he wondered if he should be surprised at how little it mattered to him that he’d been gone for so long. Somehow, the events happening on this side of the mirror seemed more real to him than his life in New York of work and emptiness.

Here, as he neared Rafe’s cell, he realized he wasn’t the only one who was empty, although he thought the old saying ‘misery loves company’ not the sentiment he was looking for. He’d heard - as had everyone who’d returned to the Fourth Kingdom - what had happened to Rafe’s family two years ago. In certain respects it was much like his own story, only worse - at least Tom hadn’t had any children to lose. He felt vaguely guilty for how he’d thought of Rafe before - as a rather common criminal. But this time, as they turned the corner and the man came into view, he recognized too well what Rafe was feeling. He’d been there himself and still was. The only difference between them was the false decorum Tom had adapted to placate others. In his soul, he and Rafe were one.

Wolf’s brother sat on the cot in his cell, his bony knees hugged to his chest, and stared at a point somewhere in the air in front of him. His dark hair was matted and filthy, as were his clothes. An odor of sweat and human waste emanated from the cell; looking closer, Tom could see the bucket he used for excretion, which, in his apathy, he no doubt left alone until it was full. No servant would venture in to get it, he knew, and would wait until he set it within reach before emptying it.

The woman beside him stiffened at the sight of him and stopped, her hand flying to her breast. Tom knew, from listening to her raving while she was delirious with fever after they’d first found her, that she blamed herself for his family’s death. He also knew that she loved him desperately. It was this, more than the (in his opinion) not too well thought out method for breaking the curse that had caused him to agree that she should see him as soon as possible. Knowing would be better for her than the torture she was putting herself through in her imagination, or so he thought. He admitted, however, that he had no real idea how Rafe (who, by certain things Wolf had said, he believed returned the queen’s feelings - or at least he would have, had circumstances been different) would react to seeing her. Would he blame her as well? Tom was uncertain himself about how he’d feel if he found himself in love with someone he later discovered had been instrumental in Julie’s death. He doubted Rafe himself knew.

Queen Riding Hood squared her shoulders and stepped forward, her hesitation lasting only seconds. For the first time since Tom had known her he thought she looked like a queen, tall and dignified. Silently, Wolf’s aunt motioned for the guard to unlock the cell door. As she entered, alone, Rafe remained in his place on the cot, not looking up, or even seeming to acknowledge that any of them were there, unmoving. Then the lock clanged shut behind her, and he sprang.

Virginia shrieked in Tom’s ear as Rafe’s lunge brought the queen to the floor with a snarl, his eyes wild. Her head hit the stones with a thud, but she barely flinched at the pain and didn’t look away, just stared up at him, unresisting, as a shudder passed through his body. Then, as if he were suddenly unsure of what he was doing, he stopped, though he didn’t let her go. For a moment, neither of them moved, then the queen began to struggle, ripping at his filthy clothing.

“Kill me!” she ordered him, “Go ahead, kill me! You should! I deserve it, I ...” Her cries dissolved into wailing sobs, punctuated with screams of “Kill me!” as she struggled harder, hitting him and scratching him with her nails.

In front of Tom, Wolf’s aunt reached for the latch to the cell door. Without thinking, he pulled her back, getting another shock as she recoiled from his touch so violently her shoulder banged into the iron doorframe. He had no time to dwell on this, however. Rafe had fought to collect his assailant’s flailing arms, and holding her by the wrists, he shook her violently, screaming “Stop it!” over her cries. Tom heard Virginia murmur “Oh my God”; saw the aunt covet the latch, her features twisted with compassion, though she didn’t touch it - he’d moved himself close enough to it that she’d have to brush him to reach it, though he couldn’t have said why it was important to him that she not interrupt the scene within the cell. In fact, he was just about to give in and let her pass when Rafe shrieked “NO!,” his voice breaking on the word as he dissolved into sobs himself and gathered the now weakly protesting queen into his arms, her entreaties of “Kill me,” now mere murmurs, repeated over and over as if in ritual, to receive his response, also repeated, whispered and rough, “No.”

They had still been sitting on the floor in that same position when Tom and Virginia had returned to the main floor of the castle, leaving Rafe’s aunt to - finally - care for them.

“Did you know?” Virginia asked suddenly.

He looked up.

“Know what?”

“Know what would happen,” she explained. “You stopped Mi... Wolf’s aunt from going in there.”

“Oh. Well, I ... Maybe. I think ... no, I don’t know,” he faltered.

Virginia regarded him with astonishment.

“I wouldn’t really have forced her to stay out if she’d insisted,” he hedged.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, obviously not fooled by his change of subject. “Uh huh,” she said dubiously.

“Why did she ... recoil like that?” he asked. “She didn’t just jump because I startled her. And it can’t be some social stricture the wolfs have about touching others, since she had no problem touching either you or Queen Riding Hood. The only time I’ve ever seen a woman react that way was when she’d been abused.”

“No,” sighed his patient, “She wasn’t abused, not in the way you think.”

She surveyed him as if weighing whether or not he could be trusted with her information, causing him to recall the time, not too long before, when he’d seen nothing except that look from her. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “What happened was that she and her husband were attacked by some idiot wolf-haters. I’m not sure of the exact details, but it ended with him dead and her just barely alive. She’s apparently been like that ever since. I know I’ve never seen her really happy. Even when she smiles, it never reaches her eyes.”

He’d stopped, surprised by her answer, although it apparently wasn’t obvious to her; she’d gone on ahead by herself to wherever she’d been headed. But he was still thinking about it that night as he went to bed. As much as he’d have liked to blame her attackers or society or anything else, he’d never been able to get over blaming himself for Julie’s death. He thought he’d been able to identify with Rafe and the queen so strongly because he’d been able to see both their sides, and knowing them, had applied them to himself. Yet he’d seen Rafe - at least in some fashion - come to terms with such knowledge, and now Virginia had revealed that his aunt had been through an experience virtually identical to Julie’s - and it had made no difference that her husband had been present, or that he’d possessed abilities Tom had been sure should have made him invincible - in fact, far from saving her, by dying in the attack he’d ensured that she’d have a life of loneliness. Was that what he’d have wanted for Julie? Certainly she was no half-wolf and might get over his loss sooner, but supposing she could not? Wouldn’t she be living much as he was now, feeling somewhat responsible for his death (for after all, if he hadn’t been there when she was attacked, he’d be perfectly safe as he was now)? He couldn’t help feeling slightly guilty for entertaining such possibilities; they seemed to smell vaguely of sophistry, as if he were reasoning with a circular argument. But it genuinely had never occurred to him to even think of how Julie would feel if he’d succeeded in saving her at the cost of his own life. Would that be any better, for her to live in the hell in which he was now trapped? Unable to resolve the problem to his satisfaction, Tom fell asleep still thinking about it.