Their lovemaking felt celebratory to Rolfe that night. Indeed, he wanted to reward Annelise for being so worthy of his trust. It seemed to him that she was more passionate, more giving, more welcoming than she had been yet, and he wanted only to please her. It was a delight to watch her abed and he knew no other woman would ever have such a hold over his attention. Rolfe had never felt so bound to another, and yet, their partnership felt right to him.

When she approached the crest of her pleasure, he smiled in anticipation of her release. She clutched him tightly, gasping and trembling as the tumult made her shake like a leaf in the wind. The gentle touch of her lips to his cheek pushed him over the edge and he held her close as his release went on and on.

She whispered his name and he liked the sound of it well.

Then she whispered three words that shocked him.

“I love you.”

Annelise’s confession was as soft as a whisper. She was sliding into sleep, dozing against him, perhaps unaware of what she had said. Rolfe was both awed and terrified by her confession. He was honored to have won her heart, but he feared that her love might not survive all of his truth.

The second djinn had insisted that love would break the curse, but Rolfe had little faith in the efficacy of her spells. How abiding was Annelise’s love? Would she continue to love him if the curse was not broken? What if she witnessed his transformation? He could not imagine that any tender feelings could survive the sight. The change was agonizing and could not be easy to watch. And he knew well enough that it was one thing to be aware of a truth, and yet another to see it before one’s eyes.

Could the price of the curse be his wife’s love?

Rolfe hated to even consider the possibility. He could not conceive of a life without Annelise. He tucked her against his side and she sighed as she slept, confident that he would defend her against any peril.

She was right. He would do as much. Rolfe would readily risk his own life to see Annelise safe. But what of love? What of their future? He knew in his heart that this challenge was not yet behind them, though he could not discern a resolution. He listened to her sleep and stared at the canopy overhead, aware of the sounds of the palace around him.

And the threat that was secured in the chamber beside the stables. He did not like or trust Enguerrand and could not wait for that man to be gone. He feared trickery from the other knight, or deception. Rolfe knew that this parting would not be the last of Enguerrand. He suspected that some ploy would be launched that might gain Enguerrand an advantage—and put Annelise in jeopardy. It might even occur before Enguerrand’s planned departure.

For Rolfe was vulnerable and he knew as much. He wondered how much Enguerrand suspected of his situation and feared it was too much. With Rolfe’s transformation at the dawn, he would be unable to defend Annelise within the palace, so he had to ensure that Enguerrand had departed by then.

It was yet several hours to the dawn. Rolfe knew he would not sleep, not with the other knight within his walls.

Perhaps it was time for his hospitality to come to its end. He disliked being ungracious, but Annelise must be defended from the other knight’s malice. Rolfe rose from the bed and dressed quickly, leaving his lady to sleep.

* * *

Enguerrand knew there was something odd about the palace. Its location made no sense. The weather within its walls made no sense. The lack of servants yet the provision of every comfort made no sense—just as the sudden appearance of servants with the lord’s return made no sense.

The bard’s tale had to be true.

But if it was, then why was Rolfe de Viandin not a wolf?

Enguerrand could not reconcile the tale with his host’s appearance. Being cursed to take the form of a wolf had been the price of gaining the palace from the djinn. How had he broken that curse? Was their host a sorcerer himself? Or was he an illusion? That seemed a whimsy beyond all.

It was not whimsy that had barred the portal of their chamber from the outside. Enguerrand had tried to leave the chamber, after the rest of his party fell asleep. He was certain that some hint of the truth could be found in the palace, but the portal had been secured.

That meant he was right. Rolfe de Viandin had secrets and they could be unearthed.

And why had Rolfe decreed that Enguerrand and his fellows must leave before the dawn? Such an hour of departure was unknown. There had to be a reason and Enguerrand wanted to remain through the dawn to find out what it was.

His host, however, had anticipated him.

Enguerrand jumped when the portal was suddenly flung open. He spun to find his host silhouetted in the portal, the moonlight shining into the garden behind him. “The storm has stopped,” that man said grimly. “You will leave immediately.”

“But my men sleep.”

“They can sleep at Beauvoir. You should hurry, as there may be more snow before midday.” Rolfe stepped into the chamber and Enguerrand saw the determination in his gaze. There was steel in his tone. “I would not have you caught between sanctuaries in such weather.”

Such curious eyes the man has. One blue and one silver-gray. Enguerrand had never seen the like and he found Rolfe’s steady gaze unsettling. The other knight seemed capable of reading his thoughts or guessing his intentions, and Enguerrand knew he did not imagine Rolfe’s disapproval.

“My men will need time to shave and arm themselves...”

“I think less time than you believe,” Rolfe said, shaking each one in turn. “Rise! You have a short opportunity to ride for Beauvoir! Make the most of it, lest you meet your fate in the winter forest.”

The men stumbled to their feet, their eyes bleary from their indulgence in the wine.

“Boys!” Rolfe roared. “See to your knights, and make haste.”

“There is no need to do as much,” Enguerrand protested, sensing his host’s urgency to see them gone. But the squires scampered this way and that, packing saddlebags and gathering armor, following Rolfe’s command instead of Enguerrand’s.

“The horses must be tended,” Enguerrand protested.

Rolfe smiled but there was no warmth in his expression. “You will find them saddled and stamping to leave by the time you reach the stables,” he said smoothly.

What secret did he want to keep from Enguerrand?

It did not matter in the end, for all objections were dismissed. The rest of Enguerrand’s company seemed to take on their host’s urgency and it was not long before they were riding toward the gates under Rolfe’s watchful gaze. Enguerrand tried to delay their departure with fulsome thanks, but Rolfe gruffly interrupted him and bade him make haste.

Their host eyed the sky. “Yes, the blizzard will return threefold by midday. Ride! Ride now for Beauvoir while you may!” He slapped the rump of one destrier as the gates opened and the knights lunged through the open portal. The palfreys followed the stallions, prancing in their desire to run.

Enguerrand reined in his steed with difficulty and eyed Rolfe. “I thank you for your hospitality,” he said, his tone acid. “No doubt we shall meet again.”

His host smiled. There was something hungry about Rolfe’s expression, something that made Enguerrand shiver.

“No doubt,” that man said. “But know this, Enguerrand de Roussineau, you will never threaten my lady wife again and survive to see the next dawn.”

“I have never threatened Annelise!”

“Have you not?” Rolfe stepped closer to the gates. “She was fearful when I returned and uncertain of your intent. That is a poor reward for her grace in inviting you to take refuge from the snow.”

“I cannot imagine why she should have been concerned,” Enguerrand said. “We are old friends, Annelise and I...”

“You are a declined suitor, one whose offer was found inadequate,” Rolfe said, interrupting Enguerrand with resolve. Enguerrand did not appreciate the reminder of his failure.

“And what of you?” he challenged. “You keep her imprisoned here, far from society, beyond the reach of her overlord, hidden from her family. Only a dishonest man would do as much.” He dropped his voice low. “Or a man with a fearsome secret.”

Rolfe laughed. “You are a fool, Enguerrand, to put such faith in the tales of bards. Any man of sense would know that such fables are entertainment alone.”

“Any man of sense would know there is something amiss with this palace.”

Rolfe stepped closer. “Any man of sense would know when he had exceeded his welcome.” The gates began to close and Enguerrand’s destrier moved toward the forest of its own volition.

“I will tell Tulley of this!” Enguerrand cried.

“I invite you to do so,” Rolfe said. He pointed. “Beauvoir and Tulley lie that way.”

He stood there, indomitable and determined as the gates closed. Enguerrand eyed the smooth expanse of pale stone and his conviction that there was more to this situation grew. A few snowflakes fell and he spurred his horse, riding after his party. They were already a good distance away.

But it did not take long for Enguerrand to decide that there might be an easy way to discover why Rolfe wished him to leave before the dawn.

He would linger and watch.

* * *

The cursed man had an ability to delay matters beyond expectation. It was close to the dawn by the time the sound of the party’s horses faded. Rolfe could not wish Enguerrand far enough away. He paced in the garden, unwilling to awaken Annelise but wanting to talk to her as well. He had never been so conflicted in the past, so caught between his desire and his knowledge of the rational choice.

He sighed and turned, only to find his lady in the portal in her chemise. “I said it,” she whispered. “And you are displeased.”

Rolfe strode to her side and smiled. “On the contrary, I am delighted by your confession.”

She studied him, those wondrous eyes almost glowing. “But you do not respond in kind. Do you not wish to break the curse?”

“I do not believe matters to be so simple.”

“Whyever not?”

Rolfe sighed and bowed his head. “I fear that there are things you could witness that might change your thinking.”

Annelise shook her head as he knew she would. “No! Love is true and good. Love is unchanging and steady. A heart once surrendered is lost forever.”

“But what if it is not fully surrendered or captured?”

“How can you suggest that my love is not enough?”

He bent and brushed his lips across hers. “I feel the change coming, my Annelise. The curse is not broken, so therefore, love has not broken it.”

“Because you do not love me.”

“Because your love is not complete.”

Annelise’s lips tightened, even as she took two fistfuls of Rolfe’s shirt and tried to shake him. “Oh, if ever I meet this Rosalinde, I will have words for her!” she said with ferocity.

“What has she to do with the matter?”

“She taught you that women could not be relied upon.” Annelise poked a finger in his chest. “I will teach you that she alone could not be relied upon and that you can trust me.”

“I do trust you...”

“Not completely, Rolfe. I will wager that love must be reciprocal to break the curse. Because you do not believe, it is not broken.” A determined glint claimed her eye. “Tell me what I could do to dismiss the last of your doubt.”

Rolfe knew the only reply there could be, but he was reluctant to utter it aloud.

What if his worst fear came true? What if she was revolted by his change and then by him? What if she spurned him and he lost all that he had gained?

At the same time, he felt the dawn’s approach just as he always did. Something began to change within him, shifting in preparation for his transformation. Within moments, the sky would lighten and he would have a tail. Then the fur would sprout and his ears would lengthen, even while he was pushed to the gates by some unseen force.

“You must watch,” he whispered, knowing that this lady would have the strength to do as much.

What Rolfe could not guess, though, was how she might respond to the sight.

* * *

Watch.

Annelise understood precisely what Rolfe meant. She knew from his expression that the transformation must be horrific and saw in his eyes that he feared the sight of it would destroy every shred of love in her heart.

“Does it hurt?”

He nodded once, making no issue of the matter. “It is done soon enough, I suppose, although it feels endless.”

She glanced at the sky. “Soon?” she asked, then saw that he had a tail. It was long and graced with silver fur, the tip of a paler hue than the rest.

The first light of the dawn had stolen over the horizon.

The gates groaned as they opened.

Annelise caught her breath as Rolfe’s shape altered. As horrible as it was to watch his nose darken and his ears sprout, it was equally fascinating to witness the change.

She stared in amazement as his limbs shortened and his body transformed. She could see the anguish in his expression, then he moved suddenly to the gates as if he was to be flung through them. She ran after him, even as he dropped to all fours and was forced from the palace.

The rising sun painted the palace and the snow beyond the gates with rosy gold light. The stars disappeared, and the wind nudged the barren trees as it, too, seemed to awaken.

Then the wolf turned to fix her with a steady look.

He had one blue eye and one silver-gray.

He was daring her to accept what she had seen.

Annelise swallowed her instinctive fear with difficulty. This was Rolfe, the man who granted her shelter, who made her flesh sing with desire, who spoke to her with an understanding she had never known. This was the man whose ring she gladly wore.

Annelise stepped through the gates with resolve.

The wolf did not move.

She continued, her heart hammering, realizing that she was more afraid of the wolf than the change. This time, he did not wag his tail to encourage her, and there was no resemblance to the ostler’s puppies.

This time, it was a test.

Annelise crouched in the snow before him and gazed into those unusual eyes. “I love you, Rolfe de Viandin,” she said with conviction. “I love all of your truth, and I know I always will.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, as if incredulous, then bent and licked the back of her hand. She reached to sink her fingers into the thickness of his fur and marveled that this was her husband.

Another wolf howled in the distance and Rolfe’s head snapped up. Annelise saw the yellow gleam of a pair of eyes in the fading shadows. Rolfe’s lip lifted in a menacing snarl and then he barked with vigor.

The second wolf disappeared, abandoning her to seek other prey.

It was clear that in either form, her husband defended her.

Rolfe nudged her elbow with his nose, urging Annelise to her feet. He pushed her toward the gate but she held her ground. “If you are in peril, then I will remain with you,” she said, thinking her offer most reasonable.

Rolfe growled in disagreement. He trotted to the gate of the palace, then back to her, effectively telling Annelise what he intended.

She folded her arms across her chest. “I am not going back in there without you.”

Rolfe snarled and increased the speed of his pacing between Annelise and the gate.

“No,” she insisted. “As long as you remain out here, then so will I.”

Rolfe glanced in the direction that the other wolf had disappeared, then growled at Annelise.

She leaned over and tapped him smartly on the snout. “You do not frighten me, husband of mine.”

Rolfe dove behind Annelise and pushed her in the direction of the gate with his head. She shook her head at his determination, pivoting to face him.

“I wish to remain with you.” She raised her voice. “Close!” she called to the gates and they did. “Let me fetch my cloak and my boots. We will remain together in the forest.”

Rolfe backed up, shaking his head from side to side as he did so. He settled on his haunches and dropped his nose to rest on his paws. He looked to be annoyed with her, but that was only fair, as she was irked with him.

“Vexing man.”

He exhaled in a low growl, his eyes gleaming. Indeed, the resemblance to him when he was a man and annoyed with her was so striking that Annelise almost laughed out loud.

“Who commands the gates of my palace?” a woman demanded, her voice low and resonant. A shiver ran up Annelise’s spine at the sound and she spun to find a dark shadow looming over her. It was a woman, but not a woman, for she was both there and not there. Annelise could see the closed gates through the woman’s form, but the force of her glare was not inconsiderable.

Her palace.

The djinn.

Annelise took a reluctant step back. Rolfe leaped in front of her, teeth bared as he snarled at the apparition before them.

The djinn laughed, exhibiting an array of brass teeth. “You think you are clever, Rolfe de Viandin, because you have been fortunate. Do not imagine that I will permit you to break the curse.” She slowly grew taller, until she towered over the walls of the palace and Annelise like a storm cloud. She turned her gaze upon Annelise. “Have you a name, mortal?”

“I am Annelise de Sayerne, wife of Rolfe de Viandin, lord of this palace.”

The djinn glared and the fur on the back of Rolfe’s neck bristled. “I am the only owner of this palace, not you, mortal, or your companion.”

Annelise cleared her throat. “I believe that you have made a gift of this palace to my husband.”

The djinn’s eyes flashed like lightning. “A loan, and a reluctant one at that. Just because I was forced to surrender it to a mortal man does not mean that he will be at peace!” She swirled, and the wind swept around them, pelting Annelise and Rolfe with cold chunks of snow as she shouted.

Annelise buried her face in Rolfe’s fur, her arms flung around his neck. “You cannot change the curse,” she dared to say. “That is not fair!”

The djinn laughed. “And when has the world been fair?” She leaned close, smiling so that Annelise saw all her sharpened brass teeth. “I like it warm in the garden.” Her eyes shone with malice. “Always, always warm.” Then she dropped her voice to a whisper.

“No!” Annelise cried, but the djinn picked her up, forcibly pulling her away from Rolfe. Annelise screamed in protest but the djinn only laughed.

Then she flung Annelise into the gardens of the palace.

The gates shut with a heavy thump, sealing Annelise on the inside and Rolfe on the outside. She heard him howl in frustration, even as she leaped to her feet and ran to the gates. She ran her hands over the portal. “Open,” she commanded firmly, hoping they would obey her.

The doors shuddered, though, and did not open. Annelise had the sense that they struggled between two conflicting commands. Rolfe had given Annelise permission to command them, but she guessed that the djinn had made an order of her own. Annelise watched the gates shudder. She thought they might swing inward or even shatter. They fairly bowed with the force bent upon them.

Abruptly, they stilled, leaving her barricaded inside.

* * *

The wolves howled of prey in the forest.

A man.

A horse.

Not a company of six horses, but one rider alone.

Rolfe guessed who it might be.

Once Annelise was safely within the palace again and the djinn had vanished, he raced toward the other wolves. He smelled the fear of a horse and the trepidation of a man. He smelled mail and steel and leather and horse dung. He heard a man shout and the barking of the wolves. By the time he reached the pack, they were trotting after the horse. The destrier whinnied and stamped, tossing his head, more concerned with looking back than forward.

The knight in the saddle was garbed in green and silver.

It was Enguerrand, and that he lingered so far behind his company of men could only mean that he had witnessed events at the palace gates.

He knew all of the truth.

Rolfe had no doubt this fiend would use that knowledge against him, use it to make Annelise a widow. He snarled in fury, feeling the raw power of the wolf inside him. Previously, he had been a man in a wolf’s skin, but on this day, thanks to the djinn’s intervention, he became of the wolf’s nature. There was evidence of the change in the manner of the other wolves: instead of easing away from him, clearly sensing that he was different, they welcomed him into the pack. He surged to the lead of the group, snarling and snapping at those who might have fought his ascendancy, and they ceded to him.

He was directly behind Enguerrand.

It was time this knight rode away.

Rolfe barked and snarled, leaping after the horse. Although he had no plan to do it injury, the wolf within was hungry and smelled blood. He snapped closer to the horse’s hooves than had been his plan and the destrier bolted. It ignored Enguerrand’s attempts to rein it in and raced forward at full speed.

The wolf within roared that the chase was on and leaped in pursuit, teeth bared. The other wolves fell back as the horse galloped through the forest, Rolfe fast behind. Enguerrand was frightened and Rolfe savored the smell of his fear. It gave the wolf more strength to make another leap for the saddle. Enguerrand swore and pulled his dagger. He made to stab at Rolfe, then froze as he stared into Rolfe’s eyes. He paled. Rolfe bared his teeth again, and Enguerrand gave the destrier his spurs.

Rolfe cut through the forest when the path bent and he leaped suddenly in the air, knowing he would abruptly appear at Enguerrand’s side. The destrier shied and Enguerrand swore again, struggling to remain in the saddle. He threw his dagger at Rolfe, his features contorted in fury, but his aim was poor. The blade sank into the trunk of a tree and Rolfe once again trotted behind the terrified destrier.

He smelled the rest of Enguerrand’s company ahead and knew he could not battle six and survive. He fell back, letting the other wolves gather around him, and knew their eyes glowed as they watched the departing knight.

“I will be back, Rolfe de Viandin!” Enguerrand shouted, his courage returned now that he was safe. “I will be back and you will regret your deed.”

Rolfe tipped his head back and howled, the wolf within reveling in the sound of the other wolves adding their voices to his. He found his fellows watching him, considering him, deciding what to do about him, and left the pack to review his own choices.

If the wolf within gained ascendancy, would he injure Annelise?

Would he forget her?

Would she forget him?

* * *

The book.

Once it was clear that Annelise was trapped alone in the palace, she hunted the book. It was the only reference she had for djinns and their ways. Perhaps there was more to be gleaned from that tale than she had realized. Perhaps there was more to the book than she had seen.

She did not like this new spell at all. Would Rolfe even be able to enter the palace at night? Would he change to a man but be left naked in the forest? How quickly would he become a wolf in truth? What could she do to assist him?

Every puzzle has a key.

The book was in the chamber where Enguerrand and his men had eaten. The tables were cleared and all returned to order, the book reposing alone in the middle of the room. Annelise was reminded of the most ornate Bible in the convent, the one that was kept in a place of honor and only touched by the mother superior.

She opened the book and was confounded by the sight of that foreign script.

Remembering her husband’s feat, she tentatively touched the letters with her fingertips. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the letters shimmered as they had once before, and she could read it.

Thrilled that some matters showed consistency, Annelise read the tale again from start to finish. She could discern nothing in it that was helpful, though. Had she met Leila? It was possible, for the djinn seemed to have a similar attitude. Leila had built a palace and she had been spurned by a mortal man.

That still did not give Annelise any idea of what to do.

A meal had appeared for her while she was reading. She ate a bit of it, although she had little appetite, then returned to the book. What had she missed? Annelise was so deep in thought that when she heard a throat being cleared, she jumped in shock. She spun around only to find a short, plump woman sitting on the opposite side of the chamber.

“Greetings!” The woman waved at Annelise, as if her presence was unsurprising.

Annelise blinked, but the woman did not disappear.

Her kirtle and cloak were commonplace enough, but she wore the most peculiar fur hat Annelise had ever seen. Annelise could not have easily guessed her age.

“Who are you?” Annelise asked.

“I might ask the same of you.” The woman laughed and wandered around the chamber, as if she had never visited before. She peeked into the bed chamber. “Oh, that is a fine addition,” she mused. “There is nothing like a great bed.”

“Have you been here before?” Annelise asked.

“Not for a very long time.”

Annelise noticed a faint rosy cloud hovering around her companion and kept her distance. “Are you that djinn again?” she dared to ask. “Or another one altogether?”

The woman grimaced. “Not much of an ambassador for our kind, is she?”

Her expression made Annelise suspect that they shared the same opinion about the djinn, but Annelise was determined to be careful.

“Her?” she echoed.

“Yes, her. The troublemaker herself.” The woman sighed. “There was a time when I had wondrous dreams for her and what she might become.” She shook her head then smiled at Annelise. She waved a hand at their surroundings. “You must realize that this is her palace?”

“And that she cursed Rolfe.”

“Oh!” The woman’s eyes lit with delight. “You know Rolfe? He is, of course, mortal, but all the same he has a certain charm. Do you agree?”

“Yes.” Annelise felt herself liking this other djinn. “He is my husband.”

“Truly?” At Annelise’s nod, the djinn spoke eagerly. “Oh, that is fine luck, indeed. I had never imagined be would make such progress in such short order. He looked quite grim at the prospect of marriage.”

“What manner of progress do you mean?”

“Progress against the curse, of course, my child!” The djinn shook her head, making the little red balls along the perimeter of her hat sway. “You must know about the curse—after all, you wed the man. Did he not tell you?”

“Of course,” Annelise acknowledged. If she were prudent, this talkative djinn might tell her more about how to abolish the curse.

“I hope he mentioned that I—in a markedly fine spell created entirely on impulse, one that amazes me to this day with its adept little rhyme—mitigated the curse set upon him so that he was only burdened to be a wolf by day. And look at you—you are a fine enough looking woman! What fortune that man has!”

“He has many blessings to count, indeed,” Annelise commented, her tone wry.

The djinn drew herself up taller. “When dealing with our kind, a sharp tongue is markedly less than an asset, though I am surprised to have to remind you of that. Your husband would not find himself in this situation had he been a little less quick to express his skepticism.”

Annelise was not certain that was true so held her tongue.

“You know, he was less than impressed that I could not remove the curse entirely. How anyone could expect that I truly do not know. I thought I did rather well, under duress.” The djinn grimaced. “It was no pleasure to be cloistered with her all these centuries.”

Was this Azima, the mother of the wicked djinn? Or was the confinement in the bottle a common fate for djinns? Annelise did not know.

“I can imagine it would not be,” she said with sympathy.

The djinn met Annelise’s gaze and smiled. “That is a marked improvement in your tone.”

Annelise knew an opportunity when she saw it. The djinn was well disposed to both her and Rolfe; Annelise should make the most of a moment that might be a fleeting one.

She smiled, summoning every vestige of charm she possessed. “Dare I hope that you are Azima?”

The djinn’s expression was wary. “I might be.”

“And that you might be inclined to aid Rolfe again?”

“Again?”

“Not that I would show any lack of appreciation for your efforts thus far, but the other djinn has returned and made our situation rather worse.”

“I can imagine she might.” The djinn appeared to be intrigued, at least.

“She has added to the curse and I fear for Rolfe’s future.”

“Indeed? Tell me.”

Annelise repeated the new curse with care.

“That is less than encouraging,” the djinn acknowledged and Annelise’s hopes rose.

“Might it be possible for you to intervene now to help my husband?”

The djinn shook her head. “No, I cannot risk incurring more of Leila’s wrath. I think I have done quite enough. We are not supposed to meddle in the affairs of mortals, you know.”

Annelise’s irritation flared, though she fought against it. “But you and the other djinn are entirely responsible for the situation!”

“Entirely? Oh, I think not.” The djinn stood and brushed off her kirtle with such purpose that Annelise feared she would simply vanish.

“How can we end this curse?” Annelise asked as calmly as she could.

The djinn shrugged. “Rolfe’s salvation must be earned.”

“But how? I love him. I even told him as much and that made no difference.”

The djinn considered Annelise for a long moment. “Did it not?” she mused under her breath, then she cleared her throat. “And what did Rolfe say to you when you first spoke to him of love.”

“That a marriage based upon love could not be distinguished from a marriage with the tangible benefits of security, comfort and protection. He said love was unnecessary to ensure a bride’s happiness.”

The djinn smiled. “And what would be the tangible benefits of your love for him?”

“I meet him willingly abed.”

The djinn dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “A whore would do as much and there would be no talk of love.”

“I defend his interests and fight by his side.”

“A loyal vassal or a hired mercenary might do as much.”

“I would break this curse, no matter the price to myself.”

The djinn’s smile broadened and she raised a finger. “Now there is the measure of love and love alone, when one being cares more about the welfare of another than his or her own self.”

What would she give to see Rolfe free of the curse?

The djinn touched Annelise’s hand, and the brush of her fingertips sent renewed hope surging through her. “We must all fight for what we believe to be of import, child.”

“I am afraid that he will become a wolf and forget me,” Annelise confessed, knowing it was true as soon as she uttered the words.

“It is easy to see that Rolfe is blessed with a wife of rare courage and wit,” the djinn murmured. “You have the will within you and the means around you to solve all of this. Every puzzle, after all, has a key.”

“Surely you can aid us?”

The djinn shook her head. “I have done all that I can.”

Tears rose in Annelise’s eyes and she turned away. Despite the djinn’s confidence in her, she could not begin to imagine how to save Rolfe. She would give anything at all, but there had to be a reason for her gift.

“You will need this,” the djinn said.

Annelise spun to find a black bottle cradled in the djinn’s hands. There was something both fascinating and troubling about the dark lights that seemed to move over its surface.

“Do not look overmuch upon it,” the djinn advised. “This is the only thing I can grant you that you might need.”

“But she—”

“Leila.” The djinn’s voice was firm, and her gaze grew fierce as she pressed the bottle and its stopper into Annelise’s hands. “Her name is Leila.” The djinn looked a great deal older than she had at first.

“Azima,” Annelise guessed.

The djinn did not reply but turned away, then reached to caress the book.

Annelise dared to guess again. “Surely it is only a volume of children’s tales?” she said, suspecting that it was far more.

The djinn looked back at her, and Annelise saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “I suppose we are all destined to become tales for children.”

Her sadness was clear, but before Annelise could respond, she walked right through the stable wall and disappeared.

There was only a rosy glow left behind and by the time Annelise blinked, it had vanished as well.

She looked down at the bottle in her hands, knowing that she had not imagined the encounter.

Even better, Azima, despite her insistence that she could not help, had given Annelise an idea.