Isabella woke to the sound of dripping water and the scent of old stone. Her cheek rested against something cold and smooth, and for a moment she thought she was back in the cave. But the air here was different. It was still and dry, and it smelled faintly of dust, candle wax, and roses.
She sat up slowly. Her wrist throbbed, and the mark glowed softly in the dark, two silver wolves circling each other beneath her skin.
She was in a round chamber. Wolves were carved into every wall, hundreds of them, running in an endless circle toward a stone basin at the center of the room. Above it, a narrow shaft of pale light fell from somewhere far above. She knew the wolf at the top of the shaft. Its eyes were chipped, and its snarl was frozen in silence.
It was the wolf from the fountain in the
