Another dreary morning. Claire wished she had died in her sleep.
She'd had the same wolf dream, only that the wolf didn't leap on her. It just watched her from the shadows of the woods, with its gleaming green eyes.
Her throat was dry, and her stomach seemed to hurt. All she had taken the previous night was wine. Too much wine. Nothing more.
Her head hurt slightly; so did other parts of her body. As the events of the previous night flooded her memory, she squinted her eyes shut. Aurora's pale face and bruised neck still haunted her. Was her sister well taken care of? Where were they keeping her?
Claire had cried herself to sleep the previous night. Surprisingly, her uncle had not paid her any unwelcome midnight visits, for which she was glad.
A brisk knock cracked the silence, followed by the sound of a key scraping in the lock. Dana came in bearing a tray of diced-up limes. Where was Seraphine? Seraphine had always snuck food up to her when she visited.
