Defying Destiny Read online

  watched her with a worried expression as

  she breezed, waiflike, through the lobby.

  She took her letter to the post, a sluggish

  system of delivering mail via horseback.

  “I would like to have this delivered to

  the Decatur Estates in Dubwar.” She

  handed the clerk her envelope.

  The young man smiled down at the

  letter. “Dubwar, you say? There is a horse

  leaving for Dubwar in the morning.”

  “A bit of good fortune. What is the

  charge?”

  “Eight coppers,” he told her, glancing

  up at her for the first time. “Are you

  feeling well, miss?”

  She scowled at him. “Of course I am.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend,” he said.

  “You just look…ill.”

  “I am very well, sir.” She reached into

  her cloak and retrieved her money pouch.

  She upended the pouch in the palm of

  her hand and several coins along with a

  pair of small, dragonfly-shaped barrettes

  tumbled out. She stared at the barrettes.

  Her heart gave an unpleasant thud, as her

  thoughts drifted to a different time and

  place.

  “Eight coppers,” the clerk reminded

  her. She’d been standing there silent for

  more than five minutes.

  Maralee started and glanced up at the

  clerk. “Right,” she agreed, locating the

  proper coins. “How long will it take to get

  a reply?”

  “A week at best,” the young man told

  her. He accepted the coins and made some

  notes on her envelope. “A month at

  worst.”

  “A month?” she muttered. “No, that’s

  much too long. I need money now.”

  “If it’s money you need then why don’t

  you…”

  Maralee gazed at him, confused. “Then

  why don’t I what?”

  The young man hesitated. “Well,” he

  said slowly. “I was about to suggest you

  get a job, but you look like you’re about to

  faint.”

  She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous,”

  she said. “Me, faint? I would never—”

  She lost her train of thought as a wave

  of dizziness forced her to clutch the low

  counter in front of her.

  “Miss? Are you all right?”

  “I think I need to lie down,” she

  admitted. She never expected to do so

  right there on the floor without further

  provocation or any warning.

  CHAPTER 21

  The dream again. The same dream, and yet

  very different.

  She wasn’t slaying Wolves with her

  silver sword, but men, women, and, worst

  of all, children. They succumbed easily

  to her poisonous, silver blade, falling

  lifeless all around her as she continued

  her merciless slaughter.

  “My destiny,” she cried as she killed

  another and another. “I cannot turn

  away from my duty as a Decatur. I must

  protect…people…”

  She stopped abruptly. Small hands

  clutched both wrists.

  “You have to stop this,” a small voice

  pleaded.

  “Please, no more,” another said.

  She looked down and saw a child

  holding her wrist. The young boy had

  black hair, except for a single lock of

  white draped over one eye. Nash as a

  boy? There was definitely a resemblance,

  but this boy had silver eyes, and full lips.

  Like hers. Standing next to this boy,

  holding her other wrist, was another boy,

  identical to the first except his hair was

  startling white except for a single lock of

  black draped over one eye.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “You have to stop this,” one boy said

  to her.

  “Please, no more,” the other said.

  “Tell me who you are.” Her voice

  was frantic.

  They vanished. Nash stood in their

  place. “I want this to end,” he said. He

  was holding her gaze. His hands covered

  hers. The tip of her sword pierced the

  skin of his chest. He was driving her

  sword ever deeper into his heart. She

  couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t look away

  from his beautiful blue-green eyes. Blue-

  green? But Nash’s eyes were amber.

  “With my spilled blood—”

  “No!” she screamed. She bolted

  upright, instantly awake. Her heart was

  pounding and tears streamed down her

  face in torrents. “No,” she whispered, still

  caught in the emotions of her dream.

  “Hey there, are you awake now?” an

  unfamiliar voice asked.

  She glanced around the dimly lit,

  unfamiliar room. A man appeared,

  standing above her. He had gentle blue

  eyes behind thin-rimmed spectacles and

  untidy brown hair. He raked a hand

  through his hair, mussing it even more.

  She estimated his age to be around thirty,

  though he seemed unduly wise for his age.

  He offered her a smile of reassurance

  before he urged her to lie back on the bed.

  “Where am I?” she asked.

  “I’ll answer that after you answer

  some questions for me.”

  She sat up again and pushed his light

  grip

  from

  her

  shoulders.

  “What

  happened?” Panic wrapped a fist around

  her throat as she tried to make sense of her

  surroundings and this take-charge stranger.

  “Try to think. What happened?”

  Maralee screwed up her face with

  concentration. “I went to the post to send a

  letter to my aunt, and then I saw the

  barrettes and…” She glanced up at him. “I

  fainted, didn’t I?”

  He smiled gently. “You did. You hit

  your head fairly hard. Young Thomas

  Starling was in a panic when he carried

  you in here.”

  “Thomas Starling?” The name was

  entirely unfamiliar to her.

  “The postal clerk.”

  She nodded. Her head pounded with

  protest at the jarring motion. “And who

  are you?”

  “First, tell me who you are.”

  “I asked you first.”

  He laughed—a soft, joyful sound that

  seemed to warm the entire room. “That

  you did,” he agreed. “I am Doctor Sabin.”

  “Doctor!” she gasped. Was it really so

  bad that she had needed a doctor?

  “Does that surprise you?” he asked,

  running a hand through his hair again. “I

  guess most people think doctors should be

  old and—”

  “It’s not that,” she interrupted. “Why

  would I need a doctor?”

  He smiled at her. “You haven’t

  answered my question yet. I refuse to

  answer any more of yours until you clearly

  state your name and where you are from.”

  “My name is Maralee Decatur. I come

  from Dubwar in the Northern Pr
ovince.”

  He wrote some notes into a chart and

  then flashed a bright light into one eye,

  before jotting some more notes. “Well,

  you seem to be in command of your

  senses.”

  His diagnosis would have been

  different if he’d seen her a week ago,

  when she’d been hopelessly in love with a

  half-Wolf. Luckily, she was completely

  over that bit of madness.

  “How long has it been since you last

  slept?” he asked, taking on the serious

  look of a concerned doctor now.

  “Five minutes ago.”

  He laughed again. “You are quite

  delightful,” he said, shaking his pen at her.

  “Before you fainted.”

  “I…” She hesitated. “I honestly don’t

  remember.”

  “Several days, in any case. You’re

  suffering from extreme exhaustion and if

  aren’t careful, you will fall ill.”

  “I am obviously already ill. I’ve never

  fainted in my life.”

  “It’s nothing a little sleep won’t cure,

  unless…” he caught her gaze. “Is there any

  possibility you might be pregnant?”

  Maralee’s eyes widened. “No,” she

  said. “No. It’s not possible. I couldn’t be.

  No. I—”

  “Easy,” Dr. Sabin said. “I didn’t mean

  to upset you.”

  “I can’t be,” she said. She covered her

  mouth with a trembling hand and gazed up

  at the doctor in horror. “That would be…

  impossible.”

  “I understand, Miss Decatur. You are

  still an untried maiden. I didn’t mean to

  insult you.”

  “Actually…” she trailed off and lay

  back on her pillows. Her dream. Those

  two boys. Hers? And Nash’s? She turned

  onto her side away from the doctor, buried

  her face in her pillow and sobbed.

  Dr. Sabin sat down beside her on the

  bed and gave her shoulder a reassuring

  squeeze. “Now, there. It isn’t as bad as

  that. If you are in trouble, there are things I

  can do to help.”

  She sobbed harder. If he only knew

  how wrong he was. Nothing could change

  Nash from half-Wolf to full human and

  nothing would turn the duty in her Decatur

  blood innocuous.

  “Don’t cry, Miss Decatur. If you

  explain your situation, maybe I—”

  “Please leave me alone.”

  “Sorry, can’t do that. If there is one

  thing my father taught me, it was to never

  leave a lady alone with her tears.”

  She wasn’t sure how it happened

  exactly. Had she gone into his arms? Had

  he pulled her into such a position? She

  found at least some comfort held gently

  against his chest. At least she didn’t feel

  as if she would drift away on the current

  of her tears. When she had quieted to

  shaky sniffles, he released her, handing

  her a handkerchief so she could dab at her

  swollen eyes and blow her nose. He

  reclaimed his handkerchief and tucked it

  in his pocket, as if unconcerned by its

  apparent dampness.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “A little.”

  “Do you think you might like to eat

  something?”

  “No, I’m too tired to eat.”

  He smiled. “Well, that’s something.

  I’ll keep you here at the clinic tonight for

  observation, and tomorrow, if you eat a

  good breakfast, I’ll release you.”

  She nodded in obedient agreement.

  “Sleep well.” He lifted a lantern from

  the stand beside the bed. “If you need

  anything before morning, just give a shout.

  I’ll be sleeping in the next room.”

  She nodded again, but thought she

  would never have the need of something

  so badly she would call for assistance

  from a perfect stranger in the middle of the

  night. Of course, she hadn’t thought she

  would ever faint either.

  CHAPTER 22

  The dream went on and on: a

  ceaseless torment. Punishment for all the

  blood she’d spilt over the years. The

  dream played through from beginning to

  end as before, but it continued now and

  she couldn’t wake up.

  Nash had succumbed to her sword.

  He lay at her feet, the blank stare of

  death on his face. Carsha confronted

  Maralee, who stood over his body in

  utter shock.

  “You killed Uncle Nash,” she

  accused. “First my father and now Uncle

  Nash! I hate you!”

  Maralee was confused. She needed to

  deny it. She needed to plead her

  innocence. “Your father? I didn’t kill

  your father. I’ve never killed a man. I

  only kill monsters.”

  The woman who had once cleaned

  Nash’s wounds and ignited Maralee’s

  jealousy was holding Carsha’s hand

  now. Rella. She spoke as if she were

  talking about the weather. “A monster to

  you. A brother to Nash. A father to my

  children. A husband, a lover, a friend to

  me.”

  “No,” Maralee denied. “I only kill

  wolves. I only kill…I kill…people…”

  She screamed so loudly it woke her

  up. Her entire body was drenched in cold

  sweat. She was trembling so hard her

  muscles ached. Dr. Sabin was suddenly

  beside her bed. He hadn’t even bothered

  with the candle. He found her in the

  shadows of the dawn and gripped her by

  both arms.

  “Miss Decatur, what is it?”

  “I—nothing,” she gasped. “It was

  nothing.”

  “You screamed,” he said. “You were

  terrified. I heard you scream.”

  “No, just a dream. A dream, that’s

  all.” It was still haunting her even now

  that she was awake.

  “Do you often have nightmares?” he

  asked. He sat down on the edge of her

  bed, checking her for fever with his

  fingers.

  “Yes. Every night. I’m used to it by

  now.”

  “No wonder you don’t want to go to

  sleep.” He looked at her with compassion

  in his blue eyes. “I can give you a

  concoction that will allow you to sleep

  more peacefully.”

  “Truly?” It was bad enough dreaming

  about the massacre of her family every

  night, but now she was dreaming of being

  a murderer—a murderer of people, not

  monsters.

  “Would you like to try it? You will

  probably sleep twelve hours.”

  She gazed across the room out the

  window at the pinks and oranges

  spreading across the sky. “It’s morning.

  You said you’d release me if I ate a good

  breakfast.”

  He sighed, looking worried. “I did say

  that. Where are you staying?”

  “At Smithy’s Inn.”

  “I could stop by t
his evening and give

  you the concoction. You would sleep very

  soundly tonight.”

  She smiled, fighting an urge to hug

  him. “I could sleep without dreaming?”

  He nodded, smiling in return.

  “That would be wonderful.”

  She could see the caring in his eyes,

  his urge to help others, his need to do

  everything he could for even strangers.

  “Very good,” he said. “Now to find

  you some breakfast. I guarantee you will

  not enjoy my cooking, so why don’t we go

  over to the inn. I could go for some of

  Phyllis’s fantastic griddlecakes.”

  “That’s a deal,” Maralee said. She

  wondered if the innkeeper and his wife

  knew she had spent the night at the clinic.

  She wouldn’t be surprised if Gordon had

  a posse of armed men standing out in the

  street waiting to come to her rescue. Like

  he had when she’d first stayed with Nash.

  Nash. If she’d heeded Gordon’s warning

  that day, she might have forgone the agony

  of losing Nash, though she wouldn’t have

  traded those two weeks of blissful

  ignorance in his arms for anything.

  “It’s a date,” Dr. Sabin said.

  Maralee raised her brows at him in

  question.

  “Not a real date, Miss Decatur.” He

  chuckled and shifted his eyes to one side.

  “I’m your doctor. I can’t go around falling

  for every beautiful, young lady in my care.

  I’d never have time to shave.”

  He scratched his jaw, covered with a

  night’s

  growth

  of

  beard.

  Maralee

  chuckled, the lump of lead in her chest

  lightened marginally.

  He smiled at her and turned to leave

  the room. “You’ll find your clothes in the

  wardrobe.”

  He left her alone, closing the door to

  respect her privacy, though he must have

  seen her naked already. She climbed from

  the bed, noticing her weakness for the first

  time. The moon would be full in ten days.

  How would she fight Wolves if she

  couldn’t stand? How could she kill them if

  she dreamt they were people?

  Damn Nash! He’d been the one who

  had

  given

  her

  this

  feeling

  of

  incompetence. She had never questioned

  her duty in the past. And now, she couldn’t

  even decide upon her destiny. Her duty

  had been clear before, but now it was a

  hazy cloud of doubt, lined with regret.

  Had her entire purpose in life been one

  huge mistake? Was saving the lives of