I walked into the room of Thibaud Arnou Jr., which smelled oddly of lilacs, licorice…and death. The nurse—they called her Rachel Nurse—was mute. She used sign language to communicate but I had no knowledge of it. I smiled and nodded at her when she brought me to the room and left me there, then put sign language on my mental list of languages I wanted to learn. I knew braille already, so why not sign?

Tristan had just walked out the door and told me not to leave from his house. Apparently, there were guards all around—even of the shifter variety. He didn't have to worry about that. As long as he promised to return to me, I'd be right here.

I closed the door and walked over to Thibaud's bedside. His eyes were barely open. He looked so weak. He tried to smile when he saw me. I glimpsed a machine near the bedside. It looked like some kind of life support system or breathing machine. It didn't matter now. The machine was unplugged.

"Mr. Arnou, I'm pleased to finally meet you," I said. "Tristan said you wanted to see me. You don't have to talk."

He smiled, nodded and pointed to his water tray. I grabbed it for him. There were some herbs on the tray along with some honey. Based on the types of herbs, I knew the concoction was meant to ease the soreness in his throat and clear out his airways. The water in the kettle was already cold.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'll make you some more."

He watched me make his tea. I took the back of the spoon and crushed all the herbs in the exact amounts before placing them in the strainer. He picked up a pencil and wrote something on a piece of paper.

It read: You should teach Rachel Nurse how to make that. Who taught you?

"Roman De’Santo Caedmon, my uncle," I said.

He nodded.

I looked around but there wasn't any fire in the room.

"Do you know about me, Mr. Arnou?" I asked him.

He nodded. He made the sign for witch.

I laughed and he tried to laugh too, but it only came at as a hoarse chortle.

"That's correct. I'm a witch." I said a quick spell and the water began to boil in the small kettle.

My actions didn't even seem to faze Thibaud. He already knew about my powers. I was glad that I didn't have to explain myself.

I strained the tea, adding the right mix of herbs and then helped him sit up on the bed. He drank the tea and then stopped to write something else.

It read: Tristan talks a lot about you. A whole lot.

I blushed. "Your grandson is very special to me."

He nodded and drank the entire contents of the cup. He cleared his throat and said, "He loves you."

I smiled, happy to finally hear his voice.

"I love Tristan."

"He's changed his whole outlook on life since he met you."

"I've seen the changes," I replied.

"He's hard-headed, but you'll have to make him listen. I think you can. I see your strength. That's why fate picked you for him."

"I'll try."

"You have your father's chin," Mr. Arnou noted.

I chuckled. "You've met him."

"Yes, I've seen him once or twice. I even talked to him one night at a trading post before I got sick."

"You've lived a long life," I said. "Longer than most."

"Not longer than your uncle, Roman, but the Arnou men do have very long life spans even when we're sick…unfortunately."

"You're here for a reason," I told him.

"Yes, Elisa. I was here for a reason. My duty is done. And now my time has come."

I wasn't going to argue with him. He seemed to have decided his fate that night.

"I wanted to see you before I took my last breath," he said. "You're a Caedmon witch. You're such a beautiful person. You'll advise Tristan well. And a King always needs a Queen."

"I hope so," I said.

"I'm not expected to live past tonight."

My gaze trailed over to the blood-stained towel on his bed and the picture of a pretty woman beside it.

"The doctor told me yesterday and then confirmed it again today. Even if I plugged the machine back in, I would still die. I didn't tell Tristan."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I need your help with something else."

"With what?" I asked, knowing.

"I want you to help my wolf spirit find peace. I want you to set it free. I don't want it to die with me."

"Mr. Arnou…" He was asking me to aid him in passing.

"Please, I'm going to die either way." He reached on his desk for a blue slip. "Here's the note from the doctor. I had him write it because I knew you'd question me. I knew you wouldn't do it without proof. His cell phone number is there if you need verification."

"I've only done this once," I told him.

"I know. I've heard the rumors of your greatness," he said. He pointed to a bottle of pills. "The doctor gave me the pills just in case you said no. That way, I won't be in pain. And then there's the other way."

"The other way?" I bit my lip.

"The .38 special way," he said, simply.

My heart pounded in my chest and a vision flashed before me. I had seen his future death in a vision once. A vision that predicted he would die by his own hands using the gun.

"No…please don't shoot yourself. Tristan would be devastated. I think you should go peacefully. It would be best if Tristan knew you went peacefully," I said.

"Will you help me? Please…I didn't want to leave Tristan behind, but this pain is torture."

"I can't keep this from him. We're true mates and he'll know that I did this. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't keep this from him," I told him.

"I'm not asking you to lie to Tristan about how I chose to go out. He knows that I want this. I’ve been begging him for years to end me and he refuses to do it. Once you do this, there’ll be no question. He’ll know that I chose to go out my way. Please help me go, and set my wolf free. I'm ready now."

I sighed. "I'll do it."

"Thank you. I leave knowing that my grandson is in good hands now with you," he said.

I sat on the bed beside him and held out my palms. He gave me his hands without pause. He closed his eyes as I said the words. The words to unbind this wolf spirit from his human body so they both would rest in peace. Because he barely had any life left in him at all, it took under a minute from start to finish. His heart came to a complete stop and all the breath rushed out in one last push.

I took the photo of the woman he'd been holding before I came into the room and placed it in his cold hands.

"May your spirit live on. Rest well."