The Wolf Esprit: Lykanos Chronicles 3
Chapter Eleven

My mind raced to keep up with the baron’s words.

“What do you mean ‘the choice’?”

“Just that,” he said. “You may choose to stay here with Gabrielle and me. We welcome you to live with us—to be enriched, educated, and protected by us. We welcome you to become a son of this house for as long as you wish.”

I didn’t answer but watched Maximillian until he broke the silence.

“Or… I will return you to your family tonight. You may leave our realm unharmed and with our blessing.”

I was at a loss, unsure how to respond. I didn’t want to accept what he told me as the truth. It all seemed so… contrived? The events of the past three days were such a departure from my everyday life that I wanted nothing more than to reject it and wake up from this bizarre dream.

The baroness sighed at length. Her face adopted an expression of sincere empathy that all her powder and rouge couldn’t hide.

“Must I come alone?” I asked.

Both of them appeared startled by the question as if they didn’t understand my meaning.

“May I bring my friend with me to stay here?”

“The girl I saw with you?” he asked. “The face floating in your mind?”

“Thérèse, yes,” I answered. “If she could join me… If I stayed here as your nephew, could she not join me as your niece?”

I saw the holes open wide in my feeble plan as I spoke the words. Even if Thérèse wanted to live among these people, pampered by the excess and freedom of wealth, why would she want to leave her family? Why would Thérèse leave behind her people or the promise of her future husband and children? To keep my coward’s soul company on this departure from everything I knew? It was a loathsome bit of selfishness that disarmed me when I realized it. I would’ve given anything to retract my foolish question.

Maximillian didn’t answer but nodded that he’d heard my thoughts.

“That’s it exactly,” the baroness said. “It has happened to you, not her. All of her future remains unchanged because she is not lycan. It would not do to change her path, and she can never know the truth about us. Would you have accepted Max’s nature—the form of his beast, with its savagery and power—had you been unable to hear and see his thoughts? Would Thérèse ever accept the same on account of our spoken words alone?”

For a moment, I let myself believe I could convince her of it—how living in silence among us would still be a dream for her. There were other people here, normal people, who seemed quite happy. Could Thérèse not also live among us here as one of them?

“How could she?” the baroness countered. “We ask you to remain and adopt the visage of our nephew because you are one of us. Why would she do that? How could she ever believe the purpose and reason for your request or our offer? She will think you’re mad when you tell her what we are—what you are. What could you ever say to convince her otherwise? She too will presume we are demons, or at least wicked souls with nefarious designs.”

“But she could work as your maid,” I said. “Thérèse is excellent at applying cosmetics. I’m sure she knows how to dress a lady.”

As the words left my mouth, I became further embarrassed by my feeble statement.

“I would happily offer her a position here,” the baroness assured me in a gentle tone, “but what would that change? How will you ever explain why she labors to attend to my dresses while you live as our family and heir?”

Of course, she was correct, and it took all my will to let the baroness finish her answer. I wanted to cover my childish face.

“No, no, my dear. Don’t think I don’t understand why you ask,” she said to me, her words spoken with unqualified tenderness. “These choices fell to Max and me both similarly. I left my sister and mother without a word. They received only a letter from a priest assuring them I was all right, that I’d secured employment in a lord’s house far away. And when my heart yearned to be with them again, I begged my lycan father to let me see them again. I was desperate to show them both I was well. And Father set the painful truth before me as I do for you now. The ruse we must set for strangers can never hold among those who are beloved to us. In time, your family and friends will expect to see you again. And one day, they will see plain enough how you haven’t aged.

“But for you, the leap is even more impossible,” she continued. “Thérèse will not accept that you would choose to leave your family, that you would abandon her for any reason. Again, what could you say to make her believe it? No, Esprit. If you love her, if you love your family, you must break with them in the only way they will ever understand and accept. Even if you decline to stay here, the pain of your loss is inevitable now. It will replace them soon.”

My mind raced at the idea upon which Gabrielle insisted. Staying here, allowing myself to become their nephew—their son—would mean that I would have to die to everyone else in my life.

I shook my head at the idea.

“You need time to consider,” Maximillian said gently. “Come, let us dine, and you may consider this all. And whatever decision you might arrive at tonight, I will return you to your family so you may live with the idea among them for a while.”

“Is there no other way?” I asked, my eyes not leaving the baroness.

“For you? None, I’m afraid,” she said with a stoic sincerity. “At least, I don’t see how. What else would satisfy them? If you ran away, they would search for you until they found your body. If you told them you wanted to leave their troupe for a life of service in a baron’s house, it wouldn’t end the story. Even if they allowed you to stay, wouldn’t they insist on seeing you again soon? What mother would allow herself to be separated from her son forever? How many years of such a ruse would be enough to satisfy you? Would you wait until you saw the distrustful look of confusion and fear in Thérèse’s eyes when her hair is grey while your face still appears seventeen? Would you allow yourself to do that to her just to satisfy the longing ache in your heart?”

The baroness shook her head after she’d let her question sit with me for a moment. “No, my dear. I know you wouldn’t allow harm to come to her unnecessarily. Time will only darken and destroy her peace of mind. You must replace the strength to set her free.”

I didn’t know what to say to her. The unmasked finality of her words left me without argument, though I wanted nothing more than to fight for Thérèse. Perhaps the entire debate happened because I wasn’t ready for such a drastic change.

“Don’t think for a moment we misunderstand the enormity of your decision,” Maximillian said. “But I would remind you of how you must make it soon. Decide if your new life begins with us here or next week in Dijon with others.”

“Indeed,” Gabrielle said. “But either way, it will mean giving up the world you know, whether by choice or force.”

I remained at the fortress for another two hours, though it was challenging to keep my mind in the present.

Throughout dinner, I answered their questions, which included trivial matters about foods I liked and what literature I’d read. But my answers were stunted and brief. They must’ve known how scattered my thoughts were. Had Gion not assisted me out of the gentleman’s clothes I wore, I doubt I would’ve had the focus to remove them undamaged. And when Maximillian sat with me for the carriage ride back to camp, he had the courtesy to let me think in silence, speaking to me only to answer questions as I thought of them.

“How would we do it?”

I asked him to explain what I presumed he’d already planned out, though I hadn’t yet decided I would take their offer.

“You will slip out of camp as you did tonight, only you will not return,” he began, his words precise and thoughtful. “Your father and uncle will search for you, and by sunrise, they will approach the town guards for word on your whereabouts. None will come at first, but by mid-day, the captain of the guard will report to your family how he believes they have found your remains in a bear’s den along with several others. Your father will demand to see your body, but all that remains will be unidentifiable. Because of the circumstances, the captain will offer your father the right to inter some of your remains in the town cemetery. The ritual will give your people the chance to grieve properly. And shortly after, they will leave Saulieu to go ahead on their journey without you, holding to resolved, bitter peace in their hearts.”

Even if he could bring about such a grisly scenario, I thought it was absurd to expect the town guards to be so kind or helpful. They hated our people and would never allow outsiders to lie in their cemetery.

“I will make it so,” Maximillian answered my unspoken resistance. “You can trust Gabrielle and me to resolve every detail. Tomorrow, take the day to say goodbye to them all. Silently, of course—in your heart. Observe them through unclouded eyes to remember what once was. I will return for you in the pasture an hour before sunset.”