Peniel
Who would have expect that across from me sat the calm wolf, her hands loosely clasped around the porcelain mug as though it was her anchor. Steam curled up between us, blurring the lines of tension etched into her face.
“That’s how it is,” she said finally, her voice low, almost swallowed by the hum of the café. A sigh escaped her, heavy, as if carrying years of regret.
I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing. “You kissed—or worse—another prince to break the curse?” My words barely rose above a whisper, but their weight hit like a stone in the quiet space between us.
Her lips trembled around the rim of her cup before she took a long, steadying sip. “Yes,” she admitted, the word tumbling out like a confession, raw and unpolished. “I did it because he was dangerous. More powerful tha
