Malachi scowled, his eyes flashing gold. “What is your problem? Why are you acting like a pup? I told you, Marc is just a child. Do not take his temper to heart. Today is his birth-feast. Come. I will punish him when the moon is high.”
Malachi grabbed my hand, his grip like iron, and tried to pull me toward the Great Hall. I yanked my arm back, breaking his hold.
“You gave your word. You said when he reached his eighth year, I could go. Why are you surprised?” I asked.
Before he could growl an answer, a sharp, hateful voice came from the shadows behind us.
“Rhea, have you no shame? Always trying to steal the light, even on the boy’s special day!”
I didn’t need to turn to know that voice. It was Hestia, my step-mother and Marc’s grandmother. She was the one who had made the pact with Malachi. She promised that once Marc’s wolf began to stir at eight years old, I would be free. Why was she acting as if she had forgotten?
“I am not stealing anything, Hestia. You are the one who set the time. Eight years. I have served them,” I said.
Hestia scoffed, crossing her arms over her furs. “Must you howl about this now? On my grandson’s birthday?”