ã€ŠBad Bloodã€‹


 Zero: The Hunt

    Asra¡¯s hunt began the same way her hunts always began these days¡ªin a dusty saloon on the outskirts of the capital city.

    She kept to the shadows at the far end of the bar, the wide brim of her cow-herding hat pulled low over her face. The stench of tobacco smoke and cheap ale poisoned the air, and her ears buzzed with chatter and the grating notes of the pianist in the corner. The only thing that didn¡¯t offend Asra¡¯s senses was the temperature; the interior of the wooden building was mercifully cool compared to the summer heat outside.

    She glanced to the corkboard pinned full of wanted posters near the swinging double doors at the entrance. The likenesses of countless gunslingers and magic-wielding outlaws glared back at her. Her own face would be on one of those yellowing pages if the humans knew what her face looked like when she appeared human.

    Her quarry¡¯s face should have been on that board as well, but his crimes had been sanctioned by his king. After all, the slaughter of Asra¡¯s people fifteen years ago had been a victory in King Nolan¡¯s eyes.

    Asra drummed her fingers on the bar, worrying once again that the retired general may not come through this small town. She¡¯d lost track of him a few days ago, on the edge of the southern badlands.

    She forced the worry aside. This was the last watering hole before Windemere City, and humans weren¡¯t as adapted to surviving the badlands as Asra¡¯s kind. He would need to pass through here eventually. She would just need to be patient.

    Unfortunately, that was not one of her strong suits.

    ¡°Another glass?¡± the barkeep asked.

    The woman¡¯s pinned-back blonde curls bounced as she nodded toward Asra¡¯s empty glass of milk. The woman¡¯s demeanor was stiff, professional.

    Asra smiled. ¡°You could just say it¡¯s a weird drink for a grown woman, if you want.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want. I¡¯d much rather have you here guzzling down milk like a half-starved calf than deal with most of the riffraff here making a mess out of my bar. You want another or not?¡±

    Asra shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m done, thanks. What do I owe?¡±

    ¡°Three royals, darlin¡¯.¡±

    Asra counted out three paper bills. Of all the humans¡¯ inventions, this was by far the strangest. The value of precious metal and jewels at least made some sense¡ªhumans were as obsessed with shiny trinkets as magpies¡ªbut Asra would never understand the fixation with the odd scraps of paper.

    ¡°You be careful out there, now,¡± the woman said as she took the money. ¡°Werewolves are bound to be out tonight, especially with it being both His Majesty¡¯s birthday and the full moon.¡±

    Asra pulled the sleeve of her leather riding duster down over the back of her hand, hoping to hide the bright-yellow sigils emblazoned on her brown skin. The sigils and her amber eyes were the only visual indicators she was not human herself.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you take those ghost stories seriously, Yvonne,¡± a man a few seats down said. ¡°No such thing as werewolves.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Yvonne asked, hands on her hips. ¡°What do you think is killing all those rich folk, then?¡±

    The man shrugged. ¡°Hellhounds, of course. We all know the gods ain¡¯t happy with the king.¡±

    Yvonne¡¯s pale face fell even paler, and the patrons within earshot all quieted.

    ¡°Keep your voice down,¡± Yvonne whispered hoarsely. ¡°You know there¡¯s guards everywhere right now.¡±

    ¡°So?¡± the man said, puffing out his chest. ¡°It¡¯s the truth.¡± He spat his chewing tobacco into a tin can in his hand. ¡°What do we need him for, anyway? We were all doing just fine on our own before that pup decided we needed to be ¡®unified.¡¯¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious, Charlie,¡± Yvonne snapped. ¡°Shut your mouth.¡±

    Even with the silver band on her wrist, Asra could smell the alcohol that emboldened the man¡¯s words on his breath. She glanced around the room. No sign of soldiers or the king¡¯s royal guard. Regardless, Asra should stop this man¡¯s ranting before he got himself and everyone else here in trouble.

    ¡°My family¡¯s been hunting wolves for generations,¡± she said with a shrug. ¡°I can handle myself.¡±

    ¡°All right, tough girl,¡± Yvonne said, the corner of her mouth twitching. ¡°I ordered extra milk just for you, so don¡¯t go dying on me.¡±

    Asra¡¯s heart sank. Once she dispatched this general, there was no one left to eliminate besides the king.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be back,¡± she said. Then, she left an extra twenty royals on the bar, hopefully enough to cover the woman¡¯s costs of extra milk.

    Sadness flashed across the woman¡¯s face, then her usual flippant composure took over. She was likely used to regulars venturing out into the badlands and never returning.

    ¡°Well,¡± Yvonne said, snatching the twenty-royal bill off the bar. ¡°Been a lot of cats hanging out around here. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll appreciate the milk.¡±

    Asra smiled. ¡°Give some extra to the gray one, with the one white paw. She¡¯s my favorite.¡±

    Yvonne returned the smile. ¡°Will do, darlin¡¯. You take care.¡±

    Asra stood and tipped her hat to the barkeep, the way she¡¯d watched humans do countless times, then took her leave.

    As she pushed through the swinging double doors, the heat of the sun accosted her, and she closed her eyes against the glaring light. Asra blinked and the desert vista came into focus. Her quarry must be truly desperate to hide out here, rather than his more temperate and green home of Windemere City.

    Good. His fear would make him easier to sniff out.

    She removed the silver band from her wrist and put it into a pocket in the leather rucksack she slung over her back, and the full range of her sharp senses returned to her. Even for her sensitive nose, there wasn¡¯t much to smell out here¡ªthe saloon¡¯s smoke behind her, the bald eagle soaring high above, and the sparse sagebrush dotting the rugged terrain.

    She headed to the rocky outcropping a few hundred yards away that she¡¯d used as a hunting blind many times before. As she settled herself into a crook in the red rocks, she closed her eyes and focused on her nose.

    It didn¡¯t take long for the stench of adrenals to settle into her blood, as it always did before a hunt. She would smell it in the general¡¯s blood as well, sweeter than her own, as he tried fruitlessly to run from her, or to fight her off, or perhaps to bargain with her for his life. Her stomach twisted at the thought, and bile rose in her throat as she imagined his family mourning over his casket.

    And then she thought of her own family, her father and her younger siblings, now nothing more than bones turned to dust beneath the rubble of her home. She forced the nausea away.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The general had chosen his fate fifteen years ago. Asra was simply here to deliver it to him.

    Evening had fallen when she smelled it¡ªnot just the human¡¯s scent, but her own as well. The scent of her blood, powering the spell that made the human general dangerous. It was the reason he couldn¡¯t be allowed to live.

    And it didn¡¯t take long for the man himself to come into focus.

    The old general slouched in the saddle of an exhausted horse. He was the complete opposite of how he¡¯d looked when he infiltrated the protection spell of Asra¡¯s hometown. His brown hair was disheveled and greasy, his white skin burned red under the unforgiving sun. There was nothing left of the bravado he¡¯d shown fifteen years ago.

    Asra dropped down in front of him, her leather duster billowing around her. The horse balked, but was quickly brought back into line by its experienced rider.

    The general straightened in the saddle. He took a long drag from the cigarette in his mouth before he spoke.

    ¡°It took you some time to find me, dog-woman,¡± he said in an exhale of smoke. ¡°Losing your edge?¡±

    Asra¡¯s pulse roared in her ears. She remembered his voice that night in the palace, barking orders at his soldiers to hold her down as the human doctor drew her blood. Judging by his stench, he still favored the same brand of cigarettes.

    Asra pulled off her duster and shoes and tossed them aside. The cotton shirt and trousers were replaceable, but shoes were expensive, and she was rather attached to her duster. She¡¯d tanned the leather and sewn it together herself.

    I know it¡¯s pointless to run,¡± the human called. ¡°But shouldn¡¯t we do this somewhere away from people? We wouldn¡¯t want anyone else to get hurt.¡±

    Asra bared her teeth.

    ¡°No tricks,¡± the general said, holding his hands up in the very picture of innocence. ¡°You¡¯d be able to sniff them out, anyway, wouldn¡¯t you, shapechanger?¡±

    Asra turned back to the saloon behind her, glowing on the horizon. The further she could keep the violence away from innocents, the better.

    She turned back to the general and nodded.

    Asra followed the man around the bend into a shallow canyon. The red rocks towered over her on either side, threatening to topple down on her at any moment. She took a deep breath and willed her trembling hands to still and her heart rate to ease.

    Something skittered across the rocks above her¡ªa cougar, perhaps. She didn¡¯t dare look up to confirm this for fear of losing what little nerve she had.

    She rounded a final bend, and the narrow canyon opened into a wide clearing. The general sat calmly atop his still horse, and alarm bells went off in Asra¡¯s head. She finally glanced to the top of the canyon walls.

    The source of the flurry above the canyon was not a cougar, but a squat man. His hands fumbled a bundle of odd red tubes.

    Asra¡¯s nostrils flared, and she sniffed it just in time¡ªthe dynamite the humans were so fond of embedded into the cliffs, the long wicks snaking down to the ground and ending near the hooves of the general¡¯s horse. The man raised his fist, a lodestone clutched inside. Magic emanated from the iridescent stone, prickling against Asra¡¯s skin, and his other hand erupted in a torrent of flames, aimed directly toward the dynamite¡¯s wick beneath him.

    An ordinary fire would have taken minutes to meander up to the dynamite above, but the magic flames slipped across the wicks like the current of a river. Cliffs above her exploded into a landslide, and the sound of thunder roared in her ears. For a moment, she was frozen, just as she¡¯d been as a little girl watching from a bird''s-eye view as similar boulders plummeted beneath her, burying everything she¡¯d held dear.

    Asra forced her quivering limbs to move, and in an instant she changed from a human woman into a giant gazehound. She dodged the stones at sharp turns and breathtaking speeds even her canine ancestors would envy. As she neared the general, the man raised the lodestone again, flames once more leaping from his empty palm toward Asra.

    She dodged the flames, then nipped at the horse¡¯s hooves. The beast reared back, and the general fumbled and dropped the lodestone to grip the saddle pommel. When the horse settled, the man reached for the pistol in his holster.

    Asra tried to spook his steed again, but the general was too quick on the trigger. The gun cracked, and pain blossomed through Asra¡¯s front left shoulder.

    Ears ringing, Asra leapt over the horse¡¯s back, snagging the general¡¯s shirt with her jaws as she passed, and she wrenched him off the saddle. She landed on top of him with enough force that the skin at the back of his head split, and she smelled his blood before she saw it pooling beneath him.

    He¡¯d known¡ªhe knew what it would do to her to face that rockslide. He¡¯d been there for the slaughter of her comrades; he¡¯d been there when her father had buried himself beneath the mountain to let the rest of them escape.

    What the general clearly didn¡¯t know was how dedicated Asra was to preventing that from ever happening again. She snarled down at him and pinned his chest with her massive paw. The man heaved and coughed before he spoke.

    ¡°You¡¯re faster than I thought,¡± he wheezed.

    ¡°You¡¯re dead.¡±

    The words were somewhat distorted as she forced them past her canine fangs, but they were still perfectly intelligible to the general at her mercy.

    ¡°I fully expected that,¡± he said. His toothy grin was stained with his own blood. ¡°Why else do you think I was here?¡±

    Asra¡¯s heart leapt into her throat. ¡°You were a distraction.¡±

    ¡°His Majesty knew you couldn¡¯t resist taking me out. He¡¯s somewhere safe by now. You¡¯ll be lucky if you ever see him again.¡±

    She growled. Nolan had been out, away from the protection spells of the palace, vulnerable and exposed. She could have had him, but she was too distracted by the general dangling himself in front of her.

    ¡°You were bait,¡± Asra said. ¡°He used you.¡±

    The man choked on his laughter. ¡°You don¡¯t think I was forced into this, do you? I volunteered, and I would do it again. I would die a hundred deaths in service of my king.¡±

    Asra snarled. There was nothing left to say to this monster.

    She snapped at his throat, and one quick jerk of her head simultaneously snapped his neck and tore out his jugular. He was dead before his body could register any pain¡ªa fate far more merciful than he¡¯d granted Asra¡¯s people.

    Asra watched him for a moment. She let the drool drip from her tongue and fangs, carrying away the foul taste of his blood. She glanced to the bullet wound in her shoulder. It hurt like hell, but the wound was largely superficial, and it would heal soon enough.

    Groans from beneath the rocks caught Asra¡¯s attention. The general¡¯s lackey must still be alive. Asra shook herself off and limped toward the man to pull him from the landslide. No one deserved to suffocate to death beneath rubble.

    By the time she reached him, the stout man had already extricated himself from the rocks. His hand flew to his holster, and he aimed his pistol at Asra with quivering hands.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Asra said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to kill you.¡±

    The man slowly lowered his gun, his eyes darting from Asra to the canyon exit and back again. He was filthy from the debris, but the golden thread of the embroidery on his silk overcoat still shone in the moonlight. A nobleman, clearly unfamiliar with actual combat. He¡¯d likely hoped to gain some favor with the king by helping the general with his fool¡¯s errand. The general had likely not informed him that this was a suicide mission.

    ¡°You¡¯re from Windemere City?¡± Asra asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡± The man¡¯s voice warbled.

    ¡°Then I have a message for your king.¡±

    ¡°What do you wish me to tell him?¡±

    Asra¡¯s nose curled. ¡°One hundred and twenty-seven.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± the man said. ¡°Anything ¡­ anything else?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    She jerked her head to the canyon exit, and the man scrambled to his feet. He mounted the general¡¯s horse and rode off into the night.

    Asra sighed, and moved toward the exit herself. As she neared the end of the clearing, she glanced one more time to the body of the man who had ravaged her home.

    One hundred and twenty-seven down.

    One to go.

 One: The Parade

    If everything went according to Asra¡¯s plan, today would be the final birthday celebration of King Nolan of Windemere.

    Unfortunately, nothing ever went according to Asra¡¯s plans.

    The thunder was the first sign something would go wrong. Summer in Windemere City was rarely marred by foul weather. However, dark clouds blanketed the sky, punctuated by flashes of lightning. The silver band on Asra¡¯s wrist dulled her canine senses to nearly human, but each peal of thunder still rumbled in her bones.

    She shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather duster, though it did little to calm their trembling. Memories of crushing rocks and thunderous landslides dominated her mind. She took a deep breath and reminded herself she couldn¡¯t afford to lose her nerve now.

    It had been three years since she¡¯d killed the general, number one hundred and twenty-seven, but she had made no progress toward killing number one hundred and twenty-eight in that time. King Nolan still drew breath, and Asra could not rest until she ensured he would never cause harm to her people again.

    The screaming and cheering of the crowds surrounding her on the sidewalk did not help her nerves. Normally congested streets had been roped off and cleared of horse-drawn carriages and pedestrians to make room for the vibrant parade floats that drifted down the streets in front of her. Asra felt the magic of the lodestones that powered the lights and displays on the floats like fingernails brushing against her skin.

    The humans¡¯ technology had enamored her when she¡¯d come to the capital city for the first time as a young girl. Now it¡ªalong with the raucous noise¡ªwas just one of the many reasons she was eager to leave.

    Sweat dripped down her back and beaded on her forehead as she pushed through the exuberant horde of people. She kept her head low to hide her amber eyes beneath the brim of her cow-herding hat, her sleeves pulled down to hide the sigils on her skin.

    Her eyes flicked to each noble that she passed, terrified that she may be discovered before she even had a chance to strike. But if the surrounding nobles found Asra¡¯s comparatively shabby clothing off-putting or suspect, they made no mention of it.

    Asra should have expected no less. Windemerean nobles were perfectly content to ignore anyone with lower status than them.

    She felt eyes on her and hastily scanned the crowds for the observer. She found him in the form of a young boy perched on his father¡¯s shoulders. He was pale-skinned and sandy-haired, like his father, whose acrid cologne and well-worn shoes identified him as a commoner.

    When Asra¡¯s eyes met the boy¡¯s, his face lit up with a wide grin and he waved to her. He must have noticed the glint of her yellow eyes. She held her finger to her lips, and the boy returned the gesture.

    ¡°Come on, Johnny,¡± the boy¡¯s father said. ¡°You dragged me down here and now you¡¯re not even paying attention!¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Dad,¡± the boy said, and his head snapped back to the procession in front of him. ¡°He¡¯s just taking forever to get here!¡±

    ¡°Watch your tone,¡± the father said, casting anxious glances at the nobles surrounding him. ¡°His Majesty will be here soon. Watch that corner there.¡±

    Asra¡¯s gaze shifted to the corner the man pointed to. There was a mural on the brick building, colorful depictions of Windemere¡¯s national flowers and the ridgeback dogs the royal family were known for.

    There was an alley behind Asra. With luck, she could dash into it quickly enough to avoid any casualties besides the king¡ªif she made it there alive. She glanced back at the boy, now fully enraptured by the parade again, and she hoped something else would grab his attention when the time came.

    The general¡¯s words taunted her in her mind.

    I know it¡¯s pointless to run, but shouldn¡¯t we do this somewhere away from people? We wouldn¡¯t want anyone to get hurt.

    Asra had no choice this time. Her repeated assassination attempts had, of course, only made Nolan more paranoid. The royal parade was the only day Nolan had left his palace for the past three years. Addresses to the public were done through court officials, and Nolan rarely made appearances even at private court events.

    But his birthday celebration was always a spectacle, and the monarch wouldn¡¯t miss the opportunity to bask in the adoration of his wealthy subjects in his annual parade. This would be Asra¡¯s last opportunity to kill him until next year.

    If he wanted a spectacle for his birthday, she would give him one.

    A roar of renewed cheers brought her attention back to the parade. The king¡¯s float was unmistakable as it rounded the corner. It had three tiers, each adorned with crystals and jewels that glittered even under the overcast skies.

    The bottom tier bore sharply dressed, high-ranking nobles, the kind of people who clamored for the king¡¯s favor like their pampered lap dogs begged for table scraps. The second tier held a small retinue of royal guards. In the center of them, Prince Ciaran stood and waved graciously at the crowds.

    It was an uncommonly lucky break for Asra that he was here, considering Ciaran hadn¡¯t shown his face at his older brother¡¯s parade for several years now. Asra had never accounted for him in her assassination attempts because she¡¯d frankly never felt it necessary. The man spent so much time in a sobering-up cell that they might as well move his throne there. The kingdom would likely crumble in a matter of months after Ciaran took over, and good riddance towards it.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Ciaran also had nothing to do with the attack on her home, and he didn¡¯t have the secrets of her people that made him dangerous to her. However, Asra didn¡¯t trust anyone with the power the royal family carried, and she wouldn¡¯t reject an opportunity to eliminate a potential threat when she was granted one.

    Asra slid her gaze up to the top tier, where King Nolan sat atop an ornate gilded throne. She hadn¡¯t seen him in person since she was ten years old. He had the same pale skin and chestnut brown hair as his brother, the same classically handsome looks, but he had an air of authority that his brother lacked. Ciaran¡¯s crown made him look like a young boy playing dress-up. Nolan¡¯s crown made him look like a ruler born and bred to conquer nations.

    Asra had hoped that her adult perspective would make him seem smaller, weaker. But she still shivered as she remembered how Nolan had wheedled her for information the last time they¡¯d met, dazzling her with his charisma and the splendor of the palace.

    You know, your father and I are good friends, he¡¯d said. I think we could do a lot to help each other, your people and mine. How far did you say your settlement was? I¡¯m sure it won¡¯t be any trouble to get there ¡­

    Asra had been too innocent, too na?ve to understand his ulterior motives. By the time she realized she¡¯d revealed too much, it was too late. Her town burned that night, and more than half of its inhabitants burned with it.

    She slipped the silver band off her wrist and gripped it in her other hand. Another roar of thunder assaulted her ears, and she counted to ten in her head to steady her racing heart. The float was only a couple dozen yards away now. She took a deep, shuddering breath and rolled the silver bracelet into the street, making it look as much like an accident as possible.

    As she lifted the rope and chased after it, several guards shouted warnings at her. The bracelet circled and dropped in the center of the street. Asra stooped, pretending to reach for it. Every sound was magnified tenfold now that the silver had left her skin. Concerned murmurs rippled through the onlookers. More warnings issued from the guards. Some of them reached for the revolvers at their sides and took aim, while others opted for the long rifles slung across their backs.

    Asra inhaled deeply through her nose, savoring the wealth of scents the silver band had locked away from her. The odor of horse urine and manure was just as overpowering as it had been with the silver on, but now she could smell the traces of rats and cats in the alleys, the aromas of each ingredient in the street food sold in nearby stalls, and the nuances of the adrenals coursing through the bloodstreams of the apprehensive humans surrounding her. She had hoped to smell the fear in Nolan¡¯s blood, but he was downwind.

    Dozens of pistols cocked. She put her hands on the hot cobblestones, one foot placed slightly behind the other, like a runner at the start of a race, and launched herself into the air. Her shoes and clothing shredded and fell from her body as her feet and hands became paws, her skin cloaked itself in a fine brown pelt, and her face elongated into a long, sloped muzzle full of glittering teeth.

    She was set on a perfect arc to land on the highest tier of the royal float. The surrounding guards fired on her, but her gazehound shape was too fast. One quick snap of her jaws would free Nolan¡¯s head from his neck. Her heart pounded. A guttural snarl erupted from her throat.

    And then the winds changed direction, and the scents of the people on board the float hit her like a brick wall. Nolan¡¯s scent filled her wet nose, only it wasn¡¯t Nolan¡¯s scent.

    The man sitting on the throne was an imposter.

    Asra wasn¡¯t sure if the uncanny resemblance resulted from impressive theater makeup or some sort of magic trickery, but he certainly wasn¡¯t the king. She flailed her long legs in midair, desperately trying to alter her trajectory. She yelped as her bony ribs collided with the safety railing on the top tier. Nobles on the lower tier screamed and scrambled out of the way as she tumbled down to the street. Dazed, she only barely rolled out of the way of the float in time to avoid being crushed.

    Pain ripped through her hind leg and shoulder as bullets tore through her flesh. She hauled herself up and raced for the alley. The surrounding crowds were already scattering in a panic. She had to keep the gunfire away from them.

    She raced straight for the wall at the end of the alley. The adrenals coursing through her veins mercifully dulled the pain from her wounds as she ran up the side of the building. Bullets collided with the brick, sending chips of the masonry into the air. As she lost momentum, she gave one final push with her hind legs and hauled herself over the roof.

    Asra leaped from rooftop to rooftop as alarm bells below her rang. She needed to lose the guards and find a place to hide. She wouldn¡¯t be able to change back into her skin until her injuries healed, and the only place she could think of that would hide a horse-sized dog was the park about fourteen blocks to her right.

    She headed toward the southern gate of the city, sprinting along the edges of the buildings so that the guards below could catch glimpses of her. The southern gate was small and not as well guarded as the others. If she could make the guards pursuing her below believe she was going to make a break for it, they would need to call reinforcements from around the city to fortify it. She could then double back and disappear into the city.

    She skidded to a halt and pivoted towards the park. The sound of thudding hooves and shouting guards disappeared behind her. As she reached the last row of buildings before the park, she stopped and waited for the street below to clear of people, then she leaped down. Her muscles and tendons protested the hard landing, but she pushed through the pain and ran into the trees.

    When she was certain she was far enough away from the nature trails and sidewalks that meandered through the park, she collapsed, chest heaving with her panting, tongue lolled out on the ground. She blinked back tears, partially from the rapidly returning pain in her leg and shoulder, but mostly from the humiliation of her failure.

    Hindsight made it so obvious. Nolan sitting exposed at the top of the float. Ciaran deciding to make an appearance at the parade when he hadn¡¯t in years. Nolan would of course be expecting her. He knew she wouldn¡¯t be able to resist the opportunity to take them both out at once. She¡¯d played right into his plan, though he¡¯d probably intended for her to take significantly more bullets.

    Slow down, Asra. Stop and think about what you¡¯re doing before you do it.

    She couldn¡¯t put a name to the voice in her head because she¡¯d heard it from so many. Mainly her mother, though not for a very long time. Her uncle. Sophie and Liam, her closest friends. Her siblings inevitably would have told her so, had they ever grown old enough.

    It was one of the last things her father told her, the day before he chose to save her instead of the town. It was the only mistake Asra could remember him ever making.

    As the thunder subsided and the dark clouds moved on, Asra¡¯s tinnitus returned in full force, so loud that she swore someone standing next to her could hear the ringing in her ears, too. It was a lingering side effect from the explosion that had taken half her left ear¡ªthe same explosion that had taken her brother and sister during the attack on her home. It wasn¡¯t fair, the way that Nolan had taken so much from her, yet remained untouchable.

    Another year trapped in this city, waiting for her next opportunity. Her eyelids grew as heavy as her heart, and she succumbed to sleep.

 Two: The Party, Part One

    If Prince Ciaran had ever done anything stranger or more terrifying than throwing a birthday gala for a man who he strongly suspected wanted to kill him, he certainly couldn¡¯t think of it.

    It was a situation made even more strange and terrifying by the fact that this man was not just the most powerful man in Windemere, but also his older brother.

    Ciaran threw back his sixth¡ªor was it his seventh?¡ªmeasure of whiskey that evening, along with a handful of lords and ladies who joined him in the southern pavilion. The liquor was peaty and smooth and warmed him to his core; everything he loved in a good whiskey. He allowed the flavor to linger in his mouth for a few seconds before taking a sip of sparkling wine from the flute in his other hand.

    The alcohol had all been obtained from the two territories the kingdom had acquired that year. It seemed a fitting tribute to Nolan¡¯s rule.

    He glanced down to check on his royal ridgeback, Bane. The dog sat next to Ciaran, facing the opposite direction so that he could watch for any approaching threats behind the prince. His lovely red wheaten coat glistened in the evening light. A strip of fur along his spine grew in the opposite direction from the rest of the sleek pelt, creating a ridge that ended in two whorls just under the dog¡¯s shoulder blades. This was a hallmark of the breed that Ciaran¡¯s family had spent generations perfecting.

    Ciaran stroked one of Bane¡¯s soft drop ears and the dog¡¯s tail wagged against his foot.

    ¡°You¡¯ve outdone yourself again, Your Highness,¡± one nobleman said to Ciaran with a bow.

    Ciaran gave him a polite dip of his head. Etiquette dictated he try to deflect the compliment, to humble himself in some way, but Ciaran didn¡¯t see the point in arguing with a true statement. The palace gardens sparkled beneath the purple sky. Waiters offered platters of finger foods to the guests and ensured no one¡¯s glass was ever empty. Nolan and Ciaran had very different tastes in music, so Ciaran had opted for a sensible pianist whose sonatas filled the air just above the excited chatting of the guests.

    If this was the last party he was ever going to throw for his brother, he might as well make it the best one yet. Despite their current situation, he still owed Nolan that much. And admittedly, there was still a part of him that hoped he could gain back his brother¡¯s favor.

    The fact that Ciaran had no proof that Nolan wanted him dead made his stomach churn, but he couldn¡¯t help but be reminded of their father¡¯s increasingly erratic behavior in the weeks leading up to their mother¡¯s death. The red flags were only growing redder.

    And if Nolan was going to go the same way as their father, Ciaran was determined to strike first. After all, if he died, who would care for Bane?

    ¡°All the more impressive considering you spent the afternoon facing down a werewolf,¡± a woman said.

    Ciaran shrugged good-naturedly. ¡°It wasn''t the first time I¡¯ve dealt with a dangerous animal.¡±

    He took another sip from his glass. He hated this charade.

    ¡°Has anyone seen Lady Ophelia around?¡± Ciaran asked. ¡°I was looking for her but I got¡ªah¡ªdistracted.¡±

    ¡°I believe I saw her out in the west gardens earlier,¡± a noblewoman answered.

    She gave a salacious glance to the lady next to her. Ciaran paid it no mind. Ophelia was a free woman for the next three months, and their relationship was no one¡¯s business until then. He threw back the rest of the wine and turned to leave, but was cut off.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose His Majesty will be joining us?¡±

    Ciaran shook his head with a gracious smile. ¡°He has work to attend to, I¡¯m afraid. The kingdom doesn¡¯t stop for a birthday.¡±

    ¡°Probably has even more work now, with that beast showing itself,¡± said a man.

    ¡°It¡¯s been so long since anyone has seen one. Why do you think they¡¯re back now?¡± a woman asked.

    ¡°What was it like, being so close to one?¡± said another woman.

    Ciaran could see where this was going, and he didn¡¯t have any desire to continue the conversation. He tapped Bane¡¯s hind leg with his foot twice, and the dog immediately broke his statuesque sit to tug on Ciaran¡¯s trouser leg.

    ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry, but I think Bane needs to relieve himself. If you¡¯ll excuse me.¡±

    The guests bowed reverently, disappointment and a thousand more questions evident on their faces. When they were out of earshot, Ciaran tousled Bane¡¯s ear and said to him, ¡°Good boy.¡±

    Ciaran wandered through the east gardens to the west gardens, nodding to each guest that bowed to him as he passed. His dog stayed strictly at his left side, ever alert for danger.

    Ciaran fiddled with one of the numerous earrings he wore in each ear. It was still relatively new and was beginning to itch. Perhaps he¡¯d been too hasty to swap the simple gold stud out for a heavier jeweled stud.

    As he wandered, he considered the guests¡¯ last questions. Werewolves¡ªor whatever these shapechangers were¡ªhad all vanished over a century ago. The only sign they still existed was the occasional sighting in the badlands, where Ciaran presumed their settlements must be.

    It had only been within the last ten years that they began reappearing in the capital city. Ciaran had been to enough closed-casket funerals of unfortunate guards and soldiers to know how much damage these creatures could do.

    Eventually Ciaran¡¯s feet took him where they always did when he wandered the palace grounds¡ªthe memorial garden that housed the statue of his mother.

    She stood as tall and proud as she did in his memories. At her right side stood Rimfire, Bane¡¯s grandsire, and cradled in her arms was a puppy¡ªTrigger, the bitch who would grow to become Bane¡¯s dam. Trigger¡¯s litter was the last one Ciaran whelped together with his mother.

    ¡°I thought I might find you out here.¡±

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    Ciaran turned to see Ophelia approaching him, the skirts of her summer dress flowing easily around her long legs. Gold bangles shone against her dark brown skin, and her thin braids were twisted into an elegant bun on top of her head.

    ¡°I was looking for you, actually,¡± Ciaran said when she reached him.

    ¡°And doing a wonderful job at it.¡± They kissed each other once on each cheek. ¡°I¡¯m surprised to see you still sober.¡±

    He laughed. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not for lack of trying.¡±

    Bane whimpered softly at Ciaran¡¯s side, drawing Ophelia¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t forget about the best boy in the whole world,¡± she sing-songed to him as she bent down to scratch his neck. He leaned into the touch and pulled the corners of his lips back into a doggy smile.

    ¡°It¡¯s a shame dogs can¡¯t talk to us, isn¡¯t it?¡± Ophelia asked. ¡°I bet Bane would have a lot to say.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a shame at all,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°They can communicate with us just fine. We just have to be humble enough to learn their language, rather than demand they learn ours.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t get touchy,¡± Ophelia said, rolling her eyes. ¡°You know what I meant.¡±

    ¡°Was there something you needed from me?¡± His temper was shorter than he realized if he was being impatient with Ophelia.

    She straightened and said, ¡°Not really.¡± She brushed her fingertips up and down Ciaran¡¯s arms and continued, ¡°I was just wondering if I would see you this weekend.¡±

    Ciaran sighed as he took her hands in his. ¡°Unfortunately not. That¡¯s why I needed to speak with you, actually. I¡¯ll be at the downtown penthouse. Vincent is coming to pick up the rest of his things.¡±

    Not entirely a lie.

    Ophelia laughed. ¡°So neither of us will be having any fun this weekend.¡±

    ¡°At least he¡¯ll finally be out of my hair.¡±

    ¡°Out of everyone¡¯s hair. I¡¯m tired of him glowering at everyone in the palace. Speaking of which, has the guest of honor made an appearance at all today?¡±

    Ciaran shook his head. ¡°He¡¯s been holed up in his office all day.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t say I blame him, after what happened at the parade.¡± She fidgeted with the betrothal ring on her left hand. The Duke of Westbrook was a very lucky man. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ve caught that beast yet?¡±

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Ciaran said, laughing. ¡°If they had, Nolan would be staging a public execution as we speak. He couldn¡¯t ask for a better birthday present.¡±

    Ophelia didn¡¯t share his laughter. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that some of the commoners think it was a hellhound. Surely it can¡¯t be?¡±

    Ciaran held out a hand to the tranquil garden, the string lights glittering like the twilight sky above them. ¡°Does this look like the end of days to you?¡±

    ¡°Then what was it? A werewolf?¡±

    Ciaran recalled the blurry photographs captured that afternoon. ¡°It didn¡¯t look like a wolf to me. It looked like a gazehound of some kind.¡±

    ¡°A what?¡±

    Ciaran sighed. Sometimes he forgot how clueless the average person was about dogs. ¡°A type of dog bred to hunt by sight rather than scent. They¡¯re typically slender and tall with a deep chest, like a greyhound. Bane¡¯s breed is considered a gazehound.¡±

    ¡°Well, you would know a lot more about that than I would.¡±

    They fell into silence as Ciaran recalled the guards¡¯ reports of the afternoon. The assassin had seemed like a completely normal woman at first, aside from the bright yellow sigils on her arms and face. Tall and lean, but well muscled. Brown skin and dark brunette hair. And then in an instant she was a giant dog, nearly the size of a horse.

    As far as he knew, he had only ever met one other shapechanger, when he was eight years old. She had been a young child herself, no more than a year or two older than him. She¡¯d been caught stealing and was brought to Nolan in the palace, where he and Ciaran were eating dinner. His brother had been kind to her and even offered her a place at the table. Not too long after, he¡¯d sent Ciaran to bed.

    Ciaran saw her once more that night, when the emergency bells woke him from his sleep. He¡¯d escaped the nanny to search for Nolan, racing through the palace halls only to run into the largest dog he¡¯d ever seen in his life. She towered over him, fangs bared, her muzzle still red and slick from the blood of the guard whose throat she¡¯d torn out. He couldn¡¯t suppress his shiver at the memory.

    He wondered if it was the same person who tried to murder Nolan today. They had the same color hair and skin, the same gazehound shape. He could never remember the girl¡¯s name, though it always seemed right on the tip of his tongue. Aria, or Ava, or¡ª

    ¡°She¡¯s watching over you from Paradise. She had a strong legacy.¡±

    He startled at Ophelia¡¯s gentle voice. He hadn¡¯t noticed that his mind had wandered with his eyes lingering on the statue of his mother.

    ¡°Maybe a little too strong,¡± Ciaran grumbled. ¡°It casts a long shadow.¡±

    ¡°She would be proud of you,¡± Ophelia said, turning toward Ciaran to pin him with an earnest look. When he said nothing, she went on, ¡°You should build another kennel. Get more dogs. I know it won¡¯t replace what you lost, but you could use something to occupy your time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve tried. Nolan won¡¯t let me.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    Ciaran threw his shoulders up. ¡°Who knows? Getting an answer would require him to actually want to speak to me.¡±

    ¡°He loves you, Ciaran. You know that.¡±

    ¡°Does he? He has a funny way of showing it.¡±

    He shook his head. Badmouthing the king shortly before he was mysteriously assassinated was probably not a wise choice.

    And besides, it wasn¡¯t Nolan¡¯s fault he was so suspicious of everyone around him. He¡¯d welcomed that shapechanger into his palace, and had been betrayed by her kind many times over. There was one girl¡ªone woman, at this point¡ªwho could be blamed for his brother¡¯s paranoia. She was the reason Ciaran was in this predicament.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°That was unfair of me. He just hasn¡¯t been the same since ¡­ ¡±

    Ophelia took his hand in hers. ¡°Nolan is hurting, too. Anyone would be changed by what you both went through.¡±

    It took Ciaran a moment to realize Ophelia was not referring to the night the shapechanger girl had been brought to the palace.

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant,¡± he snapped.

    Ophelia dropped his hand, and Ciaran instantly regretted his words.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said. ¡°The stress from this week is getting to me, but it¡¯s not fair to take it out on you.¡± He held out his elbow to her, and thankfully she took it in her elegant hands as they headed back to the party. ¡°He¡¯ll have to talk to me today, at least. I have to tell him I¡¯ll be at the penthouse all weekend.¡±

    Ophelia¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Oh, I hope for your sake you got him a very good birthday gift.¡±

 Two: The Party, Part Two

    Ciaran left Ophelia in the southern gardens to enjoy the rest of the evening, then headed into the palace to find his brother. Bane¡¯s paw steps were nearly silent as he heeled next to Ciaran. Nail trims were an important part of his extensive grooming and physical conditioning regimen; there were no claws clicking on the marble floors in this palace.

    They passed through hall after hall, occasionally catching glimpses of the party guests through open windows. Eventually they entered the hallway that led to Nolan¡¯s office. Paintings of Ciaran¡¯s ancestors lined the long room. His eyes rested briefly on the painting of Nolan, hung in the spot where their father¡¯s portrait had previously hung.

    As far as Ciaran knew, no other monarch¡¯s painting had been completely replaced by their successor¡¯s, but no one had objected when Nolan ordered it to be taken down after his coronation. Ciaran himself had been happy to see their father¡¯s portrait go.

    It had been almost twenty years to the day since his father had shot and killed his mother. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to meet the eyes of his mother in her painting, and so he turned and headed towards Nolan¡¯s office once again.

    When he rounded the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks, blinking a few times to be sure his eyes weren¡¯t fooling him. A group of ten guards, each armed to the teeth, stood watch in front of the door. There were far more here than Ciaran was used to, and he didn¡¯t recognize any of them. Bane was apparently startled by the new guards as well, judging by his raised hackles and the low uff he emitted.

    ¡°Easy, boy,¡± Ciaran said, tousling the dog¡¯s ear.

    Ciaran strode towards the door past the guards but was halted by a firm hand on his chest.

    ¡°No entry to anyone besides the king,¡± the unfamiliar guard said.

    ¡°Pardon me?¡±

    Ciaran had intended it to be a warning, a second chance to amend an insult. But the guard didn¡¯t even flinch under his gaze, nor did he remove his hand from Ciaran¡¯s chest.

    ¡°No one is allowed to see the king today,¡± the guard said.

    Ciaran stared at the strange guard for a moment, unsure if this was some sort of odd joke. Nolan had been increasingly illusive the last several years, but he¡¯d never outright forbidden Ciaran from visiting him.

    ¡°No one except his brother, perhaps,¡± Ciaran said, pushing the man¡¯s hand away. ¡°If I don¡¯t tell him happy birthday, I¡¯ll never hear the end of it.¡±

    As Ciaran stepped past the guard, the man snatched his arm, holding him in place with a firm grip. Bane snarled so savagely that the guard released Ciaran immediately, eyeing the dog with apprehension.

    ¡°Stand down!¡± came a familiar voice.

    Ciaran turned as a squat man with flushed cheeks approached. The man bowed when he reached the prince, fully exposing the bare patch of pale skin at the top of his head. Thomson was one of the royal family¡¯s longest-serving guards, and Ciaran¡¯s relief at seeing him was immediate.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± Thomson snapped to the new guards. ¡°Let His Highness through immediately!¡±

    ¡°But the king said¡ª¡±

    ¡°His Majesty has made an exception for His Highness.¡± Thomson turned toward Ciaran and bowed. ¡°I would be happy to escort you, Your Highness.¡±

    Ciaran nodded, and Thomson shoved the insubordinate guard aside. As Ciaran followed, he glanced back at the new guards. They had an unnatural stillness, like a predator eyeing its prey, and each of them maintained unwavering eye contact with him as he passed, as if daring him to make one wrong move. No one had ever stared Ciaran down like that, much less a royal guard.

    Bane apparently had the same impression. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he passed the strange guards, his hackles raised long after the three of them had entered the next hallway.

    ¡°I do apologize for the inconvenience, Your Highness,¡± Thomson said, brushing his waistcoat with short, agitated strokes. ¡°These new guards haven¡¯t the slightest idea what they¡¯re doing. No respect for the crown. Don¡¯t know where your brother dug them up. You¡¯d think with as paranoid as he¡¯s been lately, he¡¯d¡ª¡±

    Thomson¡¯s eyes widened, and he stopped mid-stride to bow again.

    ¡°Not that I would ever speak ill of His Majesty, Your Highness,¡± he said to the floor.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Thomson,¡± Ciaran said with a smile and shrug. ¡°You know I¡¯d never tattle on you.¡±

    Thomson straightened, and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. ¡°I see all those years I spent sneaking you extra pastries after supper have paid off.¡±

    ¡°What can I say? My loyalties are easily bought.¡±

    ¡°I remember when you barely came up to my waist,¡± Thomson said with a chuckle. ¡°And look at you now. I have to crane my neck to see your face!¡± He sighed. ¡°I wish Her Majesty could have seen you grown.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s smile faded, and a knot settled in his stomach. Perhaps it was a mercy that his mother wasn¡¯t here to witness her sons tear each other apart. Or perhaps Nolan never would have gone off the deep end if she were still here. Perhaps Ciaran would still have his brother if he hadn¡¯t been forced to assume the crown so young.

    ¡°Well, here we are.¡±

    Thomson¡¯s voice broke Ciaran from his ruminations. They stood at the door to Nolan¡¯s office at the far end of the hallway. Ciaran¡¯s heart hammered in his chest.

    ¡°Your Highness ¡­ ¡± Thomson began, tugging at the sleeves of his tailcoat.

    The apprehension in the old guard¡¯s voice brought Ciaran¡¯s focus solely on him.

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°I just ¡­ please be careful in there, Your Highness. I do believe your brother cares for you, but ¡­ ¡± He fiddled with a button on his waistcoat. ¡°I¡¯ve seen what the throne can do to a man¡¯s mind.¡±

    Hearing the concern voiced by someone else, as if it were absolute, only made Ciaran second guess himself more. It seemed like such an absurd thing to say out loud. Surely Thomson was wrong. Surely Nolan could still be reasoned with. Surely Ciaran wouldn¡¯t have to kill his own brother.

    ¡°Thank you, Thomson,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°You¡¯re dismissed.¡±

    The old guard bowed, then took his leave. As Ciaran watched the man disappear behind the door at the far end of the hall, he pulled a flask from his coat pocket and took a deep swig of the potent rum. He waited for the numbness to reach his head and warm his chest, then took a deep breath and knocked on Nolan¡¯s door.

    ¡°Enter,¡± came Nolan¡¯s voice.

    Ciaran patted his dog¡¯s head for reassurance, and Bane¡¯s tail wagged. Ciaran palmed the lodestone in his pocket. There wasn¡¯t enough power there to do any real damage, but it would be enough to create a distraction should this conversation take a turn for the worse. He smoothed the silk lapels of his frock coat, squared his shoulders, and pushed the door open.

    His footsteps echoed in the long room of Nolan¡¯s office as he approached his brother, who was engrossed in reading the papers strewn across his desk. Ciaran¡¯s eyes flicked to the additional guards that stood behind Nolan. He didn¡¯t recognize any of these guards, either. Something about them seemed twitchy and eager for a reason to use the arsenal they wore.

    Paintings and photographs lined the length of the room, but his eyes naturally locked onto the enormous portrait on the wall directly behind Nolan. His mother watched him from within the ornate frame. He shook his head and looked back to Nolan.

    ¡°I understand if you don¡¯t want to see me, but you could at least let Bane tell you happy birthday. You¡¯ll break his little heart.¡±

    Nolan glanced up at Ciaran with a smile. There were dark circles and deep lines drooping from his eyes, and Ciaran was sure he looked a few pounds lighter than the last time he¡¯d seen him.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Nolan said. ¡°The guards have been a little overzealous today.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing they still haven¡¯t caught that woman?¡± Ciaran took a seat in one of the plush, high-backed chairs that faced Nolan¡¯s desk. Bane sat next to Ciaran, his hackles once again raised. The dog¡¯s nostrils flared as he analyzed each of the strange guards surrounding the room.

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    Nolan leaned back in his chair and shook his head.

    ¡°And the guards were worried she was a diversion for a direct attack on the palace, I¡¯m assuming,¡± Ciaran said.

    ¡°Yes, though I didn¡¯t share the same concern.¡±

    ¡°You think it¡¯s just the one woman working on her own? Why?¡±

    Nolan smiled and shook his head, the way that a parent would decline to answer a question that was too mature for a child to understand. Ciaran bristled, but pushed his annoyance away.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Nolan said. ¡°Their kind won¡¯t be a concern to us for much longer, anyway.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s brows drew together. ¡°Are you planning another attack on them?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s nothing for you to worry about,¡± Nolan said.

    Ciaran¡¯s blood turned to ice. Another attack would only draw more of these creatures¡¯ ire, not to mention draw resources away from the war that actually mattered. He swallowed and considered his next words carefully.

    ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s wise? The last attack didn¡¯t exactly end well.¡±

    ¡°The last attack was a success,¡± Nolan said, an irritated edge to his voice. There was nothing he hated more than being second-guessed. ¡°Casualties are an inevitability of war, and we have a way to mitigate those now.¡±

    It took a moment for Ciaran to realize what Nolan meant.

    ¡°You have some kind of weapon against them?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We will, in due time.¡±

    ¡°Nolan, this isn¡¯t what Mother would have ¡­ ¡±

    Nolan¡¯s expression caused the words to die on Ciaran¡¯s lips.

    ¡°I only meant ¡­ you¡¯re working yourself to death. You should take some time to relax every once in a while.¡±

    Nolan¡¯s shoulders lowered. ¡°Then you¡¯ll be glad to hear that I¡¯ll be at the vacation house for the next month.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡±

    ¡°Yes, in a few hours. I just have a few matters to attend to here before I leave.¡±

    This complicated things. Ciaran knew the royal palace like the back of his hand. He knew each guard¡¯s patrol, each secret passage beneath the ground, the bypass for each protective spell and ward. It wouldn¡¯t be easy to sneak an assassin inside, but it would be possible.

    The vacation house was a different story. Ciaran didn¡¯t believe for a second that Nolan was going there to relax. The secluded property had become Nolan¡¯s base of operations, particularly for matters he wanted to keep secret from Ciaran. He had only vague ideas of what security measures were in place there.

    ¡°But ¡­ isn¡¯t it dangerous to leave tonight?¡± Ciaran asked.

    Bane growled softly at Ciaran¡¯s side, his eyes locked on the guard closest to Nolan. The man had dark brown skin and a jagged scar above his lip, and he glared at Bane in a way that Ciaran found particularly offensive.

    Ciaran hushed Bane, but the dog¡¯s interruption seemed to have snapped Nolan out of his uncharacteristic willingness to discuss his affairs with his brother.

    ¡°It¡¯s not your concern, Ciaran,¡± he said. ¡°I have this under control.¡±

    Ciaran decided not to push the subject. Nolan wasn¡¯t going to tell him anything else about this weapon or his plans willingly, and prodding too much would look suspicious.

    Ciaran leaned back in the chair and said, ¡°Can¡¯t help but notice that you never invite me when you go on holiday. Is it the pressures of the kingdom you¡¯re trying to escape, or just your annoying little brother?¡±

    ¡°Noticed that, have you?¡± Nolan said with a smile. ¡°Perhaps you inherited some of Mother¡¯s brains after all.¡±

    ¡°I thought we¡¯d already agreed you got all of her brains and I got all of her good looks? Are you finally admitting that I got both?¡±

    Nolan laughed, and Ciaran considered how long it had been since he¡¯d last heard the sound. They¡¯d laughed together often as boys.

    Nolan sobered, and Ciaran forced himself to not balk under his brother¡¯s solemn gaze. He arranged his face in a way that he hoped didn¡¯t announce his guilt.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I¡¯ve been so distant, Ciaran,¡± Nolan said quietly. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to avoid you. I swear it. I know I haven¡¯t been there for you the way I should. Sometimes I wish ¡­ ¡± He shook his head. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll try to carve out some time for you when I get back.¡±

    Ciaran nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

    Nolan gave him a cocked smile and said, ¡°Speaking of time, I don¡¯t have much of it. Was there a reason you needed to pester me, annoying little brother?¡±

    Ciaran stood and straightened his waistcoat, hoping to look as casual as possible. He couldn¡¯t help but glance at the guards behind Nolan.

    ¡°Oh, nothing important,¡± he said. ¡°I just wanted to let you know I¡¯ll be staying at the downtown penthouse this weekend. Vincent needs to get his things. I didn¡¯t want you to worry.¡±

    Too late for that. Worry etched even more lines into Nolan¡¯s exhausted face. He leaned forward, arms resting on his messy desk.

    ¡°Ciaran, can¡¯t that wait until we¡¯ve caught this criminal? Or at least until I¡¯ve come back from holiday?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have Bane with me,¡± Ciaran said, casually backing up towards the exit. He needed to get out before Nolan outright told him no. ¡°And you know how heavily guarded that building is. I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t promise that,¡± Nolan said, rising to his feet. ¡°We have no idea where she is or if there are any others with her. Do you really think you¡¯re going to fare any better than the hundreds of soldiers those beasts have killed?¡±

    ¡°Yes, because they¡¯re clearly not after me.¡± Ciaran turned and headed to the door with purpose. Bane stayed obediently at his side, though his head and tail were held low. He hated it when Ciaran and Nolan argued.

    ¡°If you think she¡¯s not above using you to get to me, you¡¯re delusional. These are monsters, Ciaran. They¡¯ll do whatever they think is necessary to destroy us.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t stop me from going where I please, Nolan!¡± Ciaran said, whirling to face his brother again.

    ¡°The hell I can¡¯t! I am your king!¡±

    ¡°So is this where we are now?¡± Ciaran said with a bitter laugh. ¡°You¡¯re going to use your rank against me?¡±

    ¡°I am trying to keep you safe! What the hell do you want from me, Ciaran?¡±

    ¡°I want you to go back to acting like my brother and not my father!¡±

    He immediately wished he could take those words out of the air and put them back in his mouth. Nolan stood deathly silent at the other end of the room. Ciaran half expected him to order the guards to shoot him, and he half wished he would. At least it would break the tension in the room.

    But Nolan only waved to the guards and said, ¡°Get him out of here.¡±

    As the guards approached, Bane stiffened, his head low and hackles high. He growled a warning that the guards did not heed.

    ¡°Bane, easy,¡± Ciaran commanded. He grabbed the dog¡¯s collar, hoping to drag him away before he got himself in trouble, but Bane was immovable. Ciaran¡¯s heart leaped into his throat. His dog had never willfully disobeyed like this, and he¡¯d never acted hostile to palace guards.

    ¡°Bane, that¡¯s enough,¡± Ciaran said, but it was too late.

    The guard with the jagged scar above his lip grabbed Ciaran¡¯s arm, and in a blur of brown fur, Bane latched himself onto the man¡¯s arm, snarling and shaking his head to pull the man to the ground. Blood splattered across the crisp marble floors, and Ciaran forced away his lightheadedness at the sight. He needed to get control over his dog.

    ¡°Bane, out!¡±

    Bane released his jaws the instant he heard the command, but he continued to snarl and snap, straining against Ciaran¡¯s grip on his collar. Ciaran¡¯s eyes flicked to the guards as they reached for their pistols and took aim at his dog.

    ¡°No! Don¡¯t touch him!¡±

    Without thinking, Ciaran reached inside his pocket for the lodestone. He threw it to the ground, where it erupted into a short wall of fire, enough to spook his dog and force the guards away. Ciaran tackled Bane, then dragged the dog onto his lap to restrain him.

    Ciaran¡¯s pulse roared in his ears as he stared at Nolan over the flames. The guards still held their pistols level, awaiting a command from Nolan or another misstep from Ciaran or his dog. Nolan didn¡¯t move a muscle, but even from a distance, Ciaran was sure he could see his clenched jaw.

    Nolan stepped around his desk and approached Ciaran and Bane as the flames flickered and died. Ciaran craned his neck to look up at Nolan as his brother loomed over him. He¡¯d never been afraid of Nolan before, and the sensation nauseated him.

    Nolan¡¯s voice was low when he spoke, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Ciaran thought he spoke with their father¡¯s voice.

    ¡°The only reason I¡¯m not ordering your dog to be put down is because I know what that would do to you. You are not to bring him or any other weapon into my office again, and you are not to leave this palace while I am gone. Do you understand me?¡±

    Ciaran dropped his gaze, his free hand moving to grip his dog¡¯s short fur, the same way he did when Nolan had chastised him as a little boy.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said.

    ¡°Good. Now get out.¡±

    Ciaran stood and bowed stiffly to his brother, hand still firmly on Bane¡¯s collar, then turned and marched out the door. Bane trotted next to him, growls still rumbling from his throat.

    They walked past the guards on the other side without a word. Ciaran managed to keep his composure until they were all the way at the end of the hall and around the corner. He stepped into a small alcove and scooped Bane up off the floor, crushing him into a hug.

    ¡°What the fuck were you thinking? You know how paranoid he¡¯s getting and you pull a stunt like that?¡±

    Bane, of course, did not answer. He instead committed to covering every square inch of Ciaran¡¯s face with slobber, his tail wagging so hard Ciaran worried it would split open as it slammed into the wall next to them over and over.

    Ciaran set him down, then leaned his back against the wall and slumped to the floor. He pulled the flask from his coat again, his shaking hands causing him to fumble it a couple times before he brought it to his lips. Bane laid down next to him, resting his head in his owner¡¯s lap.

    Nolan had never threatened him that way before. Whatever tiny shred of hope Ciaran had that Nolan could be reasoned with had been destroyed in that office.

    Ciaran had run out of options. Nolan and his guards were getting so paranoid that it was only a matter of time before they shot him¡ªor worse, Bane¡ªjust for looking at his brother the wrong way. He needed to find someone to take Nolan out. Someone who was capable of killing, and who wanted Nolan gone even more than he did.

    He knew exactly the person for the job, and he knew exactly how to find her.

 Three: The Shelter

    A rustling sound dragged Asra from her sleep. She peeled her eyes open to a forest cast in the blues and lavenders of twilight. She didn¡¯t move to get up, but tested the air with her nose. It was filled with the scents of charcoal and smoke, sizzling steaks and frying potatoes from taverns and inns surrounding the park. Her stomach grumbled.

    Her front leg and shoulder throbbed. She lifted her head to check the damage. The bullet wounds had nearly closed, but the muscles were still swollen and bruised. It needed another hour or so to heal fully before she could change back into her skin.

    The wound in her shoulder only barely missed bone. If the guard had aimed even a millimeter to the left, the bullet likely would have gone straight through her heart. The thought raised her hackles.

    Thankfully her leather duster and hat laid on the grass nearby, and her packsack was still firmly strapped to her back. The enchanted straps always stayed snug against her body, regardless of what shape her body took, a common item for her people. Her father told her it was invented in a time when humans and shapechangers of all kinds worked together and shared knowledge freely. Asra couldn¡¯t imagine such a time ever existing.

    Notably missing was her silver bracelet. She grumbled. Blending into human society without it would be significantly more complicated.

    She heard rustling again, and her ears pivoted forward and back, trying to pinpoint its exact location. It was too large to be a squirrel or pigeon.

    Asra¡¯s heart leaped into her throat as she pictured one of the royal guard dogs sent to track her down, but quickly settled when she remembered there were no royal guard dogs left. Prince Ciaran¡¯s constant companion was the only one still around after a kennel fire several years back, and that dog never left his side. She growled as she acknowledged this was yet another dead giveaway that the monarchs on the parade float were imposters.

    There was another rustle, followed by an odd croak. Asra glanced up and locked eyes with a wolfbird perched on a tree branch above her. Its glossy black feathers shone in the evening light, and it clacked its large black beak at her.

    Asra reflexively bared her teeth. Her people were generally opposed to superstitions, but wolfbirds were an exception. They had been considered a bad omen since the days when the wolf shapechangers had waged war against the others. Their beloved scouting birds were a clear sign of wolf presence, and likely an imminent attack.

    She leapt up, snarling and barking at the bird. It took to the air with a flurry of feathers and an angry caw, then vanished into the evening sky.

    Asra shook herself off and allowed the fur along her spine to settle. She couldn¡¯t stay out here in the open, but the city gates would all be too heavily guarded for her to escape tonight. She needed somewhere to lie low for the next few days, and that meant she¡¯d spend the next few days toiling in a hot kitchen.

    At least there would be friendly faces there.

    <hr>

    Asra wiped the sweat off her forehead as she took a half-full food tray from the volunteer to her right. Her head itched from the knit hat she wore to cover her missing ear, and her glasses slid down her nose for what must have been the hundredth time. She wished she could rip them off, but she needed the disguise. She wasn¡¯t sure who here would be willing to rat her out to the guards for whatever bounty was on her head. Attention from the guards was the last thing this place needed.

    At least her wounds had healed fully, though the scars would likely remain for quite a while.

    A familiar old man hovered at the end of the line, and Asra did her best to ignore him. It became more and more difficult as the line dwindled and the building emptied. She spooned some mashed potatoes into the last open slot on the food tray in her hand, then passed it to the tired woman standing on the other side of the food line. She smiled graciously and shuffled off to find an open spot at a table.

    Asra made the mistake of glancing to the side to see if the old man was still standing there, and their eyes met. His face lit up with his nearly-toothless smile.

    ¡°Lewis,¡± Asra said with an annoyed tilt of her head, ¡°I already told you you¡¯re not getting any seconds until everyone else has their first plate.¡± She was already bending the rules for him. The food kitchen technically only gave one meal per person per night, but she had a bit of a soft spot for Lewis.

    ¡°I ain¡¯t asking you to break the rules for me, Sara,¡± he said sweetly.

    Eighteen-year-old Asra had thought using an anagram of her own name as an alias was clever. Twenty-eight-year-old Asra disagreed.

    Lewis leaned in closer and half-whispered, ¡°I was hoping you brought some goodies for me.¡±

    ¡°Not tonight,¡± Asra said. ¡°I haven¡¯t had time to go hunting in a while.¡±

    Disappointment replaced Lewis¡¯s grin with an exaggerated pout. His skin was tanned and leathery from a lifetime of working under the sun. Perhaps that was part of her sympathy towards him. It wasn¡¯t fair how much of his life he¡¯d worked himself to the bone while the nobles lounged in their magic-cooled estate houses. Her own people never would have allowed such a thing.

    Asra sighed and said, ¡°Hang on.¡± She rifled through her bag on the floor behind her and pulled out a small leather pouch of deer jerky she¡¯d dehydrated herself. It was the last one, which meant she¡¯d have nothing to send back home if Jasper came by this week. She frowned. He would get over it.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re a peach,¡± Lewis said, his face lighting up again as he took the bag of jerky from her.

    ¡°You harassing my volunteers again, Lewis?¡±

    Asra turned to see a plump old woman standing at the door to the kitchen, hands on her hips. Her wrinkled skin was nearly as white as the fluffy cloud of hair on top of her head. Her name was Laverne, but she insisted everyone call her Lala, since, as she put it, ¡°It¡¯s what my grandbabies call me.¡±

    ¡°Not at all,¡± Lewis said, saluting to the two women with the bag of jerky. ¡°I was just heading back to my seat.¡±

    Asra shook her head and reached for the tray that the volunteer to her right passed to her, but felt Lala¡¯s firm hand on her shoulder. She looked down at the considerably shorter woman.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you take a break?¡± she said. ¡°You look like you¡¯re about to keel over.¡±

    Asra wanted to protest, but every muscle in her body ached, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. She nodded as she fought back a yawn.

    ¡°Meet me in the office,¡± Lala said. ¡°I¡¯ll bring you some food.¡±

    Asra grabbed her bag, duster, and hat off the floor and shuffled through the kitchen to the tiny office in the back of the building. She pushed the worn door open much more forcefully than she intended, forgetting that she still didn¡¯t have her silver bracelet to curb her strength.

    The room was cramped, filled almost entirely by two mismatched wooden chairs and a small desk that held a lost-and-found box. The walls were cluttered with licenses, certificates, volunteer schedules, and photographs. Asra sank into a chair, which whined its protest, and studied the photographs to keep her drooping eyes open.

    Most of them were of Lala or volunteers working in the kitchens or on the food line. There were a few of Lala¡¯s family, and several of wealthy benefactors posed with the ostentatiously large stacks of paper money they donated to the food kitchen¡¯s funds.

    Most of these were from Vincent Baudelaire, a highly successful businessman popular amongst both the nobles and the commoners. He¡¯d made his fortune developing magic-powered technology, then gained his popularity¡ªand notoriety¡ªas the prince¡¯s on-again, off-again lover.

    As far as nobles went, Asra thought he was one of the better ones. She didn¡¯t trust anyone as obsessed with money and status as he was, but he did at least donate to charity on a regular basis and seemed to genuinely want to improve the world. At any rate, he obviously knew how to piss off the prince, and Asra had to respect that.

    She nodded off for just a moment, and the sensation of her glasses falling from her face snapped her back to consciousness. The instant the metal frames left her skin, the sigils on her arms returned. She grabbed the glasses out of the air. The marble-sized lodestone that powered the disguising spell swung from the fine chain that attached it to the glasses. Asra pushed the glasses back onto her face, and the sigils on her skin vanished once more.

    As irritating as Jasper could be, Asra made a mental note to thank him for the glasses next time she saw him. They made blending in with the humans much less of a headache.

    The door creaked open, and Lala pushed her way through, a food tray in each of her hands. She passed one to Asra as she closed the door with her hip, then slid into the other chair. It screamed as loudly as Asra¡¯s had.

    ¡°Sorry it¡¯s not as much as normal,¡± Lala said as she dug into her food. ¡°Funds are a little tight this month, and I want to make sure everyone gets food tonight.¡±

    Asra shoved a heap of mashed potatoes into her mouth. She hadn¡¯t realized how hungry she was until she took her first bite. She¡¯d been too anxious to eat yesterday and this morning.

    She swallowed, then said, ¡°Are you paying a lot in taxes this month?¡±

    ¡°Taxes?¡± The word was muffled by the food in her mouth, but the bewildered look on her face was clear. ¡°This is a charity, Sara. I don¡¯t pay any taxes.¡±

    Asra¡¯s brows drew together as she chewed her chopped steak. Money had been difficult enough of a concept for her to understand when she first came to the human city. It had taken her forever to grasp the value of a single paper royal, and she was horrified when she found out that value fluctuated over time. Taxes were even more complicated than that, and were apparently beyond her ken.

    ¡°I guess it¡¯s indirectly because of taxes. Everyone¡¯s broke. Donations keep going down every month.¡±

    ¡°Is that because of the war?¡± Asra asked.

    ¡°The war? The war is the only thing keeping this economy above water. No, the taxes are to fund all the fool¡¯s errands the king keeps insisting on. They just had another bridge over Bellefail River destroyed. You¡¯d think they¡¯d learn not to mess with river horse territory.¡±

    Asra thought of the book about river horses she¡¯d read as a child as she bit into her crumbly cookie. Magical freshwater fish with an upper half that had an uncanny resemblance to a horse. Their raptorial arms were capable of delivering a punch that could kill a human in a single blow, and they had incredibly powerful water magic. Asra had nightmares for weeks after reading it.

    This wasn¡¯t the first bridge they¡¯d destroyed.

    ¡°The king¡¯s wasting everyone¡¯s money on nonsense like that. Still under the delusion he can conquer the badlands like he can states. Hellhounds take him, the fucking idiot.¡±

    ¡°Watch yourself,¡± Asra said sharply.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need you in here defending the king.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not defending the king.¡± The hair on Asra¡¯s arms stood up at the thought. ¡°I just don¡¯t want to see you hanging from his gallows. People here need you.¡±

    ¡°You sound just like your daddy,¡± Lala said with a chuckle.

    Asra¡¯s chest squeezed. Her father had been the whole reason she¡¯d come here the first time, nearly ten years ago. She had just left her home for the last time, and aimlessly wandered the city. She¡¯d caught her father¡¯s scent and it led her here, to an old hat that he¡¯d left behind. Lala said she didn¡¯t want to throw it out, in case he came back. Asra had to be the one to tell her he wasn¡¯t coming back.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Asra set her fork down on her tray, her appetite vanished. Lala¡¯s face sobered immediately.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said with a heavy sigh. ¡°I know you don¡¯t like talking about Taj. I just miss him sometimes. And sometimes having you around makes it feel like he¡¯s still around.¡±

    Asra smiled weakly, trying to accept the compliment for what it was.

    Lala sighed. ¡°Anyway, would have been nice if that werewolf had just eaten the king at the parade today. We would have been stuck with his brother, but at least then we¡¯d have different problems.¡±

    Asra raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging one side of her mouth. This wasn¡¯t the first time Asra suspected that Lala knew what she really was. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for the older woman to say things that felt an awful lot like fishing for a confession or slip-up. Asra often wondered if her father had ever told Lala what he was.

    When Asra didn¡¯t take the bait, Lala said, ¡°What do you think they want?¡±

    Asra shrugged. She would have to tread lightly during this conversation. She hated having to pretend to be human.

    ¡°You think they¡¯re here to help us?¡± Lala said. ¡°You think those tales about them being messengers of the gods are true?¡±

    Asra was familiar with the tale¡ªthat shapechangers hid amongst the humans in their skin, spying on them, then returned to the gods in their fur to relay their findings.

    ¡°I would think they would have better things to do with their lives,¡± Asra said with a scoff.

    Lala laughed. ¡°I reckon you¡¯re right.¡± She grunted thoughtfully. ¡°Why do you think she ran off?¡±

    Asra opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a buzz of magic emanating from her bag. She jumped and scrambled to pull the culprit out¡ªa small lodestone, cut in half, responding to the magic of its other half somewhere far away.

    To Lala, the sound was likely just a dim hum. But the high-pitched squeal that Asra¡¯s more sensitive ears could detect set them ringing even more than usual.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how your daddy managed to afford a pair of speaking mirrors, but it¡¯s lucky for you that he did.¡± Lala smiled. ¡°Guess I don¡¯t need to ask who¡¯s on the other side. You¡¯re not still leading that poor girl on, are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not leading anyone on,¡± Asra said, stuffing the irritating stone into a silver-lined bag. It fell silent. ¡°I told you Sophie doesn¡¯t like me like that.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Lala said. She set her empty tray down on the table so that she could lean back in her chair, arms folded. ¡°You know, you could just admit you¡¯re afraid to tell her your feelings.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of anything.¡±

    Lala cocked an eyebrow.

    Asra sighed and leaned her head back. ¡°I did something ¡­ really stupid today. She just wants to yell at me.¡±

    Asra cautiously opened the bag, and the stone resumed its squealing. Sophie hadn¡¯t tried to use the stone for several hours, and Asra had hoped that meant she could push off that conversation for another day or two. Lala scooped up the two empty trays, chuckling, and pushed herself up with a grunt.

    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve got some business to take care of,¡± she said, patting Asra¡¯s shoulder as she walked past her and out of the office.

    The stone buzzed again. Asra groaned and snatched up her belongings as she followed Lala out of the cramped room.

    She donned her duster and stepped out into the back alley. The late night sky was pitch black, starless as usual thanks to the bright lights of the city. Asra missed the stars.

    Her hands shook as she pulled a leather case from her bag, then slipped a hand mirror out from inside it. Her reflection on the surface looked every bit as nauseated as she felt.

    Asra slipped the half-lodestone into a slot in the intricate filigree frame. She braced herself as her face disappeared from the mirror and was replaced with a different image.

    ¡°Hey, Soph¨C¡±

    The scream that roared through the mirror made Asra jump. She clutched it to her chest, hoping no one nearby heard it, then shuffled deeper into the shadows of the alley before holding the mirror up again.

    ¡°¡ªis wrong with you? You send this vague and cryptic ¡®goodbye¡¯ and then neither of us can get ahold of you! We spent all day waiting for a courier to bring news¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hello, Sophie. Hello, Liam,¡± Asra said dryly.

    Sophie did not cease her tirade. Her normally straight blonde hair was frizzy and disheveled, and her pale cheeks were flushed as pink as the dress she wore. When she realized Asra wasn¡¯t listening, she rounded on the man sitting next to her.

    ¡°Liam, say something to her! She¡¯ll listen to you.¡±

    Liam snorted, the tight curls of his hair swaying as he shook his head. He absentmindedly traced the outlines of the blue sigils that coiled on his dark brown skin. His hair was black, streaked with silver and brown, the natural color of his shaggy wolfhound coat.

    ¡°Are you joking?¡± he said. ¡°When has Asra ever listened to me?¡±

    Asra focused on the large window behind them. She didn¡¯t recognize it from either of their houses, though it seemed familiar.

    ¡°Where are you?¡± she asked.

    ¡°We¡¯re at the quarantine cabin!¡± Sophie snapped.

    Asra¡¯s brow furrowed as she said, ¡°You ran all the way out there today?¡±

    ¡°What else were we supposed to do?¡± Sophie¡¯s voice was shrill. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t respond to the mirror, and¡ª¡± Her voice hitched, and Liam put a hand on her shoulder.

    ¡°We figured you went after the king today,¡± he said, concern wrinkling his brow. ¡°We thought if you made it out, you might be at the cabin.¡±

    ¡°And then we got here, and you weren¡¯t here,¡± Sophie choked through a sob. Tears shimmered in her bright yellow eyes. It shattered Asra¡¯s heart to see her so distressed, so she looked away.

    ¡°I did go after him,¡± Asra said. ¡°But they used some kind of body double. I got shot, so I had to stay in the city until¡ª¡±

    ¡°You got what?¡± Sophie shrieked.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Sophie. Relax.¡± Asra couldn¡¯t keep the exasperation out of her voice.

    ¡°Asra, really, this is ridiculous! You¡¯re making attacks in broad daylight now on a street full of people. You need to come home before you get yourself killed.¡±

    ¡°You know I can¡¯t do that.¡±

    Sophie¡¯s mouth was set in a hard line. Pale lavender sigils swirled around her doe eyes, which were framed by impossibly long lashes. Even when Sophie was being stubborn, Asra couldn¡¯t help but be caught off guard by her beauty. She took the opportunity to change the subject.

    ¡°I can probably sneak out sometime tomorrow,¡± Asra said. ¡°If you¡¯re both at the cabin, I could meet you there. It¡¯s almost migration season for the bison, right? We could¡ª¡±

    ¡°The bison already came through!¡± Sophie said.

    ¡°What?¡± Asra said.

    ¡°They came through early this year,¡± Liam said. ¡°There were a ton of them. And they were huge. You really missed out.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Asra couldn¡¯t think of anything else to say.

    ¡°We had enough leather to redo all the seats in the theater,¡± Sophie said, obviously latching onto this new tactic to make Asra homesick. ¡°You would have loved it.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t feel too disappointed, though,¡± Liam said. He was always the mediator. ¡°At least you didn¡¯t have to deal with the embarrassment of me kicking your ass in another hunting contest.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Asra said with a snicker. ¡°When has your clumsy ass ever beaten me in a hunting contest?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re just jealous you¡¯re so much shorter than me.¡±

    ¡°Why would I be jealous of that? Hey, Soph, you remember that time¡ª¡±

    ¡°Here we go,¡± Liam sighed, leaning his head onto the back of the couch.

    ¡°¡ªLiam and Jasper got into it in Stella¡¯s storehouse, and he changed into his fur, and his head went straight through the ceiling?¡±

    Sophie giggled, and the sound made Asra feel lighter than she had in months.

    ¡°I remember Stella making him patch it up, too,¡± Sophie said.

    ¡°Of course she remembers,¡± Liam said as the two women burst into laughter. ¡°You¡¯ll never let either of us forget it. I¡¯ll have you know Stella¡¯s long since forgiven me. Says I make the best cocktails she¡¯s ever had. You would know that if you came home every once in a while.¡±

    Liam had clearly intended it to be a friendly jab, but the laughter died off into an uncomfortable silence. Asra felt Sophie¡¯s protest before she said it, but wasn¡¯t fast enough to cut her off.

    ¡°Asra, come home. You belong here.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t. Not until I¡¯m done here.¡±

    ¡°This is so silly,¡± Sophie said. ¡°This isn¡¯t your responsibility. No one blames you for what happened.¡±

    Asra scoffed.

    ¡°No one who matters blames you for what happened,¡± Liam said firmly.

    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right,¡± Asra said. ¡°Guess Sylvia doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair,¡± Sophie said, a stubborn look wrinkling her brow. ¡°Your mom is having a hard time with all of this, too. Especially with you not being home.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure she¡¯s real upset about me not being home. We talk about it all the time.¡±

    ¡°Asra¡ª¡± Liam began.

    ¡°Hey, I really gotta get back to work,¡± Asra said. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to you two later, okay?¡±

    She pulled the lodestone from the mirror¡¯s frame, silencing whatever protests they were preparing. She leaned back against the brick wall, pushing her glasses on top of her head. Asra pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes so hard that she saw bursts of color behind her eyelids, as if she could push the tears back into their ducts if she applied enough force.

    She shouldn¡¯t have cut them off like that. None of this was their fault, and they didn¡¯t deserve her anger. They should have given up on her long ago, and she could never figure out why they refused to do so.

    Asra growled and kicked the metal trash can next to her, sending it flying across the alley. It landed with a loud clang, and its contents spilled over the ground.

    ¡°Hey! Who¡¯s down here?¡±

    Asra snapped to full alertness as two guards rounded the corner at the end of the alley. She pulled her glasses back over her eyes just before she was caught in the beam of a flashlight.

    ¡°What are you doing out here past curfew?¡± one of the guards asked.

    Asra wet her lips. She could handle two guards, but the commotion would attract more attention from more guards. Perhaps she could talk her way out of an altercation.

    ¡°Do you work at this food kitchen?¡± the other guard asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Asra said. She didn¡¯t want to give them any reason to cause trouble for Lala.

    ¡°Then why are you skulking around back here?¡± the one holding the flashlight said.

    Asra¡¯s eyes flicked to the other guard. He had his hand on his pistol, ready to draw it in an instant. Asra¡¯s chances of bluffing her way out did not look great.

    ¡°You got worker¡¯s documents on you?¡± the flashlight guard asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Asra said. Then, hoping to reduce suspicion, she added, ¡°I left them at home.¡±

    The guards stepped closer. Maybe she could change into her fur and run. She looked over her shoulder and swore to herself. She didn¡¯t have enough of a running start to scale the walls surrounding her.

    ¡°Get your hands up,¡± the flashlight guard said.

    Asra considered the possibility of leaping over the guards, but a giant dog running through city roads would be very easy to track down.

    ¡°Get your hands up, now.¡±

    Maybe she could just snap their heads off quickly enough that they wouldn¡¯t have time to react. But how would Lala deal with a crime scene behind her kitchen? Asra couldn¡¯t do that to her.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell you again. Get your hands up!¡±

    Asra readied herself. She would have to let them make the first move. The guard without the flashlight unholstered his gun and aimed it at her. She tensed, ready to respond. And then:

    ¡°Jess! There you are.¡±

    It was a new voice, one she didn¡¯t recognize but somehow felt familiar. The guards turned to address the intruder, and immediately bent themselves into a bow.

    She saw the silhouette of a man over the guards¡¯ backs, a powerful dog at his side. The man¡¯s features were difficult to make out in the flickering light of the street lamps, but she wouldn¡¯t trust her eyes anyway. She sniffed the late night air and caught his scent.

    She would recognize that scent anywhere. It was the scent of the young boy, seated across from her at a dinner table in the palace, moments before her life changed forever.

    It was Prince Ciaran.

 Four: The Meeting

    Ciaran stepped past the two guards to approach the woman. Bane heeled obediently at his left side, but Ciaran still kept a firm hand on his collar until they were within a few feet of the shapechanger, just in case the dog decided to take a bite out of one of these guards, too.

    ¡°Where have you been?¡± Ciaran asked the woman. ¡°You were supposed to be at my flat over an hour ago.¡±

    He took another step towards her, and she tensed. She slid one foot behind her into a position that made her perfectly poised to either turn tail and flee or leap forward and attack.

    The finer details of the woman¡¯s features were difficult to make out in the dim light, but her body language was unmistakable. Ciaran had seen it many times in cornered animals, constantly searching for exit points and constantly sizing up the threat.

    And like a trapped animal, she clearly knew how to find the optimal escape route.

    ¡°I ¡­ ¡± The woman¡¯s eyes flicked to the guards behind Ciaran, then back to him. ¡°I got lost.¡±

    ¡°Of course you did,¡± Ciaran said. He sighted and slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers. ¡°Where¡¯s your map? I just gave it to you a few days ago.¡±

    ¡°I forgot it.¡±

    He rolled his eyes as he said, ¡°Of course you did. You¡¯d forget your head if it wasn¡¯t attached to your neck.¡±

    He stepped next to her, turning to face the guards, and slid his arm around her waist. She stiffened, but otherwise did not protest.

    ¡°Well, the important thing is that you¡¯re safe,¡± he said to her, then looked to the guards and said, ¡°Thank you. You¡¯re dismissed.¡±

    The guards did not move, and there was an uneasy tension in their stances. Ciaran frowned. These guards he recognized; there was no excuse for insubordination from them.

    ¡°I said you¡¯re dismissed.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Your Highness,¡± one of them said, apprehension making his voice thin. ¡°His Majesty said we needed to check the documents of anyone out past curfew.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m telling you she¡¯s with me. You can take it up with Nolan if you¡¯d like.¡±

    The looks on their faces clearly showed they would do no such thing, nor would they dare to argue with Ciaran any further. They bowed and hurried out of the alley.

    When Ciaran was sure they were out of earshot, he pulled his arm away from the woman¡¯s waist and turned to her.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, taking a step back. ¡°I hope that wasn¡¯t too forward. I needed to make it convin¡ª¡±

    His voice was cut off as he was hauled into the air by the lapels of his frock coat and slammed into the brick wall behind him. The skin at the back of his skull split, and it took a few blinks to clear his vision. When it did, he found himself face-to-face with the woman, her nose barely an inch away from his.

    He cast his eyes out for Bane, and found him sitting nearby, watching the assault with curious interest. So much for having a personal protection dog.

    ¡°Give me one good reason why I should let you walk out of here alive.¡± The woman¡¯s voice was so low he could barely hear it, but the sound reverberated through his bones.

    ¡°I just saved your life!¡± He tried to push against the vice grip she had on his coat, but she was like stone.

    She scrunched her brow. ¡°From a couple of guards?¡±

    Ciaran swallowed. If he¡¯d saved anyone, it had been the guards.

    His fingers fished in his pocket for the plum-sized lodestone that weighed there. He prayed he wouldn¡¯t have to use it.

    ¡°I know what you¡¯re after,¡± he said, his heart hammering in his chest. ¡°I can help you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need your help.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what it looked like this afternoon.¡±

    Her upper lip curled into a snarl, and Ciaran was relieved to see normal, human teeth.

    ¡°Look,¡± Ciaran said, ¡°you¡¯re obviously having a hard time getting close to Nolan, or else he would be dead now. I need him gone, but I can¡¯t kill him myself. I figured we could come up with a ¡­ mutually beneficial arrangement.¡±

    ¡°Why would you want to murder your own brother?¡±

    Ciaran opened his mouth to speak, but as the memories of the events in Nolan¡¯s office that evening ran through his mind again, he decided against the truth. He couldn¡¯t admit to her that he was afraid for his own life. Certainly her kind wouldn¡¯t tolerate weakness.

    ¡°I should think that¡¯s obvious,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°He¡¯s on the throne now, and I want to be there instead.¡±

    The woman scoffed. ¡°So you¡¯re just greedy.¡±

    Ciaran bristled. He did not need moralizing from a murderer.

    ¡°Why not do it yourself?¡± she asked.

    Ciaran winced. ¡°Frankly, I don¡¯t have the stomach for it.¡±

    ¡°So you want me to do your dirty work for you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s your own dirty work, isn¡¯t it?¡± Ciaran said with a huff. ¡°I¡¯m just offering you some assistance.¡±

    ¡°How do I know this isn¡¯t a trap? Or you won¡¯t have me killed as soon as I¡¯ve killed your brother?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t, just like I don¡¯t know you won¡¯t eat me as soon as you¡¯ve eaten Nolan. We¡¯re just going to have to trust each other, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    The woman¡¯s glare deepened. She looked like she trusted him about as far as she could throw him. Which, admittedly, was probably pretty far. Something about that was oddly exhilarating.

    For a moment, she said nothing, and Ciaran saw the gears turning in her head as she weighed her options. Then:

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    She released him, and he took a deep breath, relieved she was no longer constricting his chest. He wiped the sweat off his palms onto his trousers as casually as he could manage, then straightened his bow tie and the silk lapels of his coat as he said, ¡°Well, I would introduce myself, but you already know who I am, obviously.¡±

    The woman said nothing as she grabbed a bag off the ground and threw it over her shoulder.

    ¡°Can I have your name?¡± Ciaran asked, extending his hand to her for a handshake.

    The woman simply looked at it, then back to him with a curious expression, as though the answer should be obvious.

    ¡°Asra Taj-Sylvia.¡±

    It sounded like a perfectly normal name, if not a bit of a mouthful. He had expected something more feral and animalistic, like Swiftkill or Bloodspill or¡ª

    Asra.

    His eyes widened and his hand dropped back to his side.

    ¡°Gods around us,¡± he whispered. ¡°It is you.¡±

    ¡°Who else would it be?¡±

    Ciaran wasn¡¯t sure how to answer that question as he watched her adjust the chest straps on her bag. It seemed oddly convenient to run into this specific shapechanger out of the dozens or perhaps hundreds that hid in the city, devouring soldiers and guards. It seemed even more odd that she didn¡¯t see why it was odd.

    The image of Asra looming over him with a blood-slick muzzle raced through Ciaran¡¯s mind again, and his hand found the lodestone in his pocket once more. He looked to Bane, but the dog didn¡¯t show the shapechanger anything more than the standard aloofness he showed any stranger on the street. Ordinarily, Ciaran trusted Bane¡¯s assessment of potential threats, but after the debacle in Nolan¡¯s office, he was beginning to wonder if his dog was broken.

    Nevertheless, he released his grip on the lodestone.

    ¡°How did you find me?¡± Asra asked.

    Ciaran pulled a thick silver band out of his coat pocket and handed it to her.

    ¡°You left this behind this afternoon. Bane¡¯s an excellent tracker.¡±

    He stroked Bane¡¯s neck. Asra¡¯s eyes flicked to the dog, and a brief look of disgust flashed across her face. Ciaran¡¯s opinion of her was deteriorating by the minute.

    ¡°So what¡¯s your plan?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t really want to discuss it out in the open,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I have a penthouse not too far from here. We can discuss it there.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed at him again, and he sighed.

    ¡°Listen,¡± he said, ¡°if this is going to work, I¡¯m going to need you to stop glaring at me every eight seconds, like I¡¯m waiting to stab you in the back. It¡¯ll just be you, me, and Bane there. It¡¯s far more dangerous for me than for you.¡±

    Asra grumbled, then said, ¡°How far away is this place?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s about four blocks over.¡±

    Ciaran started towards the street, but Asra said, ¡°Wait.¡± He paused and turned back to her.

    She walked back to the rear door of the food kitchen and stared at it for a moment, as if contemplating if she wanted to go inside. She then slowly removed the knit cap from her head and placed it on the stoop. The scene was bizarre, yet uncomfortably intimate, as if Ciaran had just interrupted a stranger¡¯s funeral.

    Eventually she turned back and met him on the sidewalk. She looked at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to move, but the full view of her face momentarily distracted him.

    The hair on the left side of her head was trimmed shorter than the other, prominently displaying her left ear. The lobe and a long strip of the top remained, but nearly everything in between was tattered or missing. His eyes widened. It hadn¡¯t looked like that when he first saw her eighteen years ago.

    ¡°What?¡± she snapped.

    Ciaran shook his head, ashamed of himself for staring. He extended an arm out, indicating which direction to walk, and she slammed a felt cattle-wrangler¡¯s hat on her head before shouldering past him without a word.

    Bane sat at Ciaran¡¯s side, watching the woman leave. Ciaran¡¯s head throbbed, and he tentatively patted the back of his skull. When he pulled his fingers away, they were smudged with red. His stomach roiled and he snatched the handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the blood away.

    He looked down at his dog and said, ¡°Thanks for the backup. Some protection dog you are.¡±

    Bane only wagged his tail in response.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    <hr>

    They arrived at the building of Ciaran¡¯s penthouse in stony silence. It towered over the surrounding buildings, its beautiful red brick facade a stark contrast to their wooden exteriors. Flowering bushes and a lush lawn adorned the entrance, and guards stood dutifully along the edges of the cobblestone pathway to the lobby.

    ¡°How is no one gonna see us here?¡± Asra asked. ¡°This place is crawling with guards.¡±

    ¡°No guards in my private entrance, or my penthouse.¡±

    He directed her to the rear of the building, where strategically placed hedges hid a lift, its doors protected by a gilded iron gate.

    ¡°Why?¡± Asra asked as Ciaran fished the lodestone key from his coat pocket.

    ¡°Because, believe it or not, I like to keep my private life private. I don¡¯t need a scandal every time I bring someone new home with me.¡±

    A foresight that proved exceptionally useful for him now. The lowly city guards patrolling the streets may not have known Ciaran had been forbidden from leaving the palace, but the royal guards in front of this building certainly would.

    He held a small, iridescent lodestone dangling from a fine chain over a corresponding stone built into the wall. Magic snapped up the chain into his fingers, and the gate slid open.

    Ciaran frowned. Vincent had personally installed this lock spell. He should get it replaced soon.

    ¡°Get around a lot, do you?¡± Asra asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s any of your business.¡± Ciaran wasn¡¯t sure whether to be annoyed or amused. He hadn¡¯t expected the dog-woman to be a prude.

    Thankfully, the doors to the lift opened, preventing him from having to field any further questions about his personal life. Asra stepped in first, and Ciaran followed to stand on her right side. Bane stepped between them, turning to sit at Ciaran¡¯s left hip as usual. Asra looked down at the dog and grimaced. She leaned away from him, resting her head and shoulder on the lift wall as she watched the floor numbers steadily rise.

    The doors opened into a small foyer leading to the front door. As they stepped out and Ciaran unlocked the door, he realized his housekeeper Susan wasn¡¯t scheduled to come by for another two days. He opened his mouth to apologize for the shoes and coats haphazardly strewn across the floor of the foyer, but Asra didn¡¯t seem to care, or even notice. She pushed past him, and Ciaran followed her brisk pace out to the living area.

    Asra scanned the open penthouse, her sneer sharp enough to cut glass. Ciaran wasn¡¯t sure what her problem was. Some of the kingdom¡¯s most popular craftsmen and artisans had designed and furnished it.

    The wall to their right featured large glass doors, adorned by intricate cast iron rhododendron branches and flowers, leading to an outdoor entertaining area. The adornments directed Ciaran¡¯s gaze to the mahogany cabinets and marble countertops in the kitchen, then floated down the matching mahogany wainscoting to the parlor. The stone fireplace¡ªclassic wood-burning, not lodestone-powered¡ªwas the focal feature, further emphasized by the enormous ridgeback painting hanging above the mantle. Trigger had always been a lovely model.

    Ciaran never could decide which feature was his favorite part of the penthouse.

    He ran his tongue over his dry lips, unsure of how to broach the subject at hand.

    ¡°Would you ¡­ like a drink?¡± he said.

    ¡°I want to bathe.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Right, of course. You¡¯ll probably want to use the bathroom in the guest suite upstairs.¡±

    He led her up a metal spiral staircase to an open loft. He opened a door to their right to reveal a large bathroom. Copper pipes snaked up the far wall in an intricate design of straight lines and sharp angles, showcasing the natural beauty of the lodestones that heated and pumped water through them.

    ¡°There are towels and soaps in the corner over there,¡± Ciaran said.

    Asra paused for a moment, then turned to him and said, ¡°You should clean out that cut on your head. Your blood smells awful.¡±

    Ciaran held back a retort as she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door in his face. He had a feeling that was as close to ¡°I¡¯m sorry for assaulting you in a dodgy back alley¡± as he was going to get. He sighed and walked back downstairs and into the kitchen.

    He tapped the back of his head. Dried blood cracked on his neck and a spot at the base of his skull throbbed. He wet a dish rag and wiped the area down, pretending that the red blotches on the towel were anything other than blood, then he tossed the rag into the trash and poured a glass of whiskey from a decanter on the counter.

    By the time he was finished, Asra¡¯s footsteps clanged on the metal stairs. He looked up and saw she was fully dressed again, including her filthy duster and muddy shoes.

    ¡°You can take your shoes off if you¡¯d like,¡± he said, hoping she would take the hint.

    She stared at him for a moment as she reached the floor, her towel-dried hair still dripping, then said, ¡°Are we not leaving tonight?¡±

    Ciaran made a point to look at the clock in the den whose hands clearly displayed it was past midnight.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t planning on it,¡± he said. ¡°One assassination attempt isn¡¯t enough for you today?¡± He took another sip of his whiskey. ¡°Besides, we¡¯ll need time to strategize, not to mention time to pack.¡±

    ¡°Pack?¡±

    He sighed. Might as well rip the arrow out now.

    ¡°Nolan isn¡¯t in the city right now,¡± he said.

    ¡°Bullshit.¡±

    ¡°Why would I lie to you about that?¡±

    ¡°He hasn¡¯t left the palace in years.¡±

    ¡°He has several times in the last few years, actually. Do you really think he announces his itinerary with people who want to kill him? I don¡¯t even know what he¡¯s doing half the time.¡±

    Asra growled, then ripped off her glasses. In an instant, her eyes changed from brown to a bright amber. Ciaran had forgotten how shockingly yellow her eyes were. He stood transfixed, unaware that she¡¯d spoken until she barked, ¡°Prince!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°I said, ¡®Where is he?¡¯¡±

    Ciaran sighed. ¡°Our vacation house to the north.¡±

    ¡°How far away is that?¡±

    ¡°About a week¡¯s ride, depending on the weather.¡±

    Asra growled. ¡°At least it¡¯ll be easier to get into than the palace.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t count on that,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°Nolan goes there when he wants to keep things secret from everyone in the palace. I imagine he¡¯s got it completely locked down.¡±

    ¡°You ¡®imagine¡¯?¡±

    Ciaran shrugged. ¡°I haven¡¯t been there in years.¡±

    ¡°Then why do I need you?¡±

    ¡°Because you won¡¯t stand a chance at getting in without me. The magic protections on the palace are a joke compared to the protections at the vacation house. Only someone as familiar with the royal wards as I am could get you in.¡±

    Asra grunted and removed her duster and hat, tossing them to the ground before she turned to prowl the perimeter of the penthouse.

    Ciaran picked up his glass and the decanter and followed her into the parlor, where she appraised every photograph and piece of furniture with scorn. He placed the glasses on an end table and sat on the cherry-red accent chair. He hadn¡¯t been this close to her since their first meeting as children, and he took the opportunity to observe her now.

    With the removal of her glasses and her sleeveless undershirt exposing more of her skin, the yellow sigils all over her body were clearly visible. They started at her hands and spiraled up her arms and neck onto her face, swirls and spots and curling shapes. Her warm brown skin looked feather-soft, belying the hard muscle beneath that flexed and rippled with every movement.

    She reminded him of the mountain lion he¡¯d seen at the zoo as a child, pacing the length of its enclosure. Power had reverberated up its legs with each step it took, saliva dripping from its yellow fangs. The only thing that kept it from turning those fangs on the humans gawking at it was the moat surrounding its pen. Ciaran knew it, and he was sure the mountain lion did, too.

    Bane padded over to Asra and attempted to nuzzle her hand. She snatched it away and took a step back. Ciaran frowned, then called his dog back to him.

    ¡°Do you not like dogs?¡± Ciaran asked as he stroked Bane¡¯s head. The look Asra pinned his dog with made him feel like her issue with Bane was very personal.

    ¡°I¡¯m more of a cat person.¡±

    Ciaran laughed, but Asra¡¯s glare shut him up.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I thought you were joking since, you know, you¡¯re literally a dog person.¡±

    Her glare didn¡¯t soften.

    ¡°I mean ¡­ is that not the proper term? You told me a long time ago you¡¯re not a werewolf.¡±

    ¡°Werewolves are something you humans made up. They¡¯re not real.¡± She picked up a framed photograph from the console table behind the sofa. Judging by the look on her face, it was one of Nolan.

    ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°Well, we don¡¯t turn into big, ugly, two-legged monsters for starters.¡±

    Ciaran smiled and said, ¡°Oh, I think that¡¯s because of theater. It¡¯s far easier to dress a man up in a wolf costume than try to make an actual giant wolf. I guess the image kind of stuck.¡± He thought for a moment, then said, ¡°Is it true that when you bite someone, they turn into a were¡ªI mean, one of you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°But you do heal quickly?¡±

    ¡°Faster than you.¡± Her nose crinkled, and Ciaran wondered if she could still smell the wound on his head.

    ¡°And I¡¯m assuming silver being lethal is a myth, too, considering your bracelet.¡±

    Asra¡¯s eyes narrowed at him once again.

    ¡°Is there a point to these questions?¡± she asked, dropping the frame back onto the table so carelessly that it toppled onto the floor.

    ¡°No. I was simply curious. Just making small talk.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not interested in small talk.¡± She threw herself down on the loveseat, sprawling out with one leg propped up on the couch. The sole of her filthy shoe stood in full contact with the white suede cushion.

    ¡°Would you mind sitting properly?¡± he said, struggling to keep the annoyance out of his voice. ¡°You¡¯re going to get the cushions dirty.¡±

    She stared him straight in the eye as she dragged her foot off the sofa and onto the floor, her shoe leaving a grungy streak in its wake.

    ¡°Is there a problem here?¡± Ciaran asked, sitting forward. ¡°We¡¯re on the same side. I¡¯m trying to help you.¡±

    Asra scoffed. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that shit. You¡¯re trying to help yourself. You¡¯re only helping me out on accident.¡±

    ¡°By accident,¡± Ciaran corrected.

    Asra rolled her eyes and put on a crude impression of his accent. ¡°Sorry to have offended you with my common tongue, my prince.¡±

    She spat the title at him like it was an insult or swear. It made him oddly defensive, as if the next thing out of his mouth should be to insist that he certainly was not a prince, and how dare she insinuate such a thing. He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if doing so could stave off his confusion. Perhaps the whiskey was hitting him harder than normal tonight.

    ¡°I¡¯ve risked my life bringing you here,¡± he said. ¡°As far as the law is concerned, I¡¯m a traitor. The least you could do is treat my property with respect and not act like an animal while you¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°An animal,¡± Asra repeated, her voice quivering. ¡°You¡¯re covered in gold and jewels from my home, from our mines that your brother slaughtered us for, and you¡¯re going to preach to me about not acting like an animal?¡±

    Ciaran sipped his glass before speaking. ¡°You can play the victim all you want, but we both know if your kind hadn¡¯t been skulking around the city, stealing whatever you liked, Nolan never would have touched your town.¡±

    ¡°My kind?¡± Asra snapped, leaping to her feet. ¡°My ¡®kind¡¯ don¡¯t steal, and we sure as hell don¡¯t need to steal from you.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Ciaran asked. ¡°Then what were you doing in the palace that night?¡±

    ¡°Your brother had me kidnapped!¡±

    She loomed over him like a hawk descending on its prey. Ciaran rose to meet her gaze. He hadn¡¯t realized just how tall she was. They stood eye-to-eye, and Ciaran was not a short man.

    ¡°As I recall,¡± he said, ¡°the guards picked you up. Because you were shoplifting.¡±

    Asra¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Well ¡­ technically yes, but¡ª¨C¡±

    ¡°Then you weren¡¯t kidnapped at all.¡± Ciaran threw back the rest of the whiskey and dropped the glass on the end table. ¡°You were lawfully arrested, and Nolan did what was necessary to uphold our law.¡±

    ¡°He slaughtered civilians! He killed hundreds of people!¡± Her breath was hot and damp on his face.

    ¡°No, you got them killed! If you hadn¡¯t been there that night, running a crime spree, Nolan never would have¡ª¨C¡±

    Ciaran registered the pain radiating in his shoulders before he realized Asra had grabbed him. There was a madness in her eyes, and Ciaran became keenly aware he¡¯d crossed a line.

    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that?¡± she shouted, her voice quivering. ¡°You think I haven¡¯t spent every night of my fucking life wishing it had been me instead of them? Wishing the guards had just killed me when they found me?¡±

    The fire left her eyes instantly. An expression somewhere between shock and regret spread across her face, and Ciaran had the distinct impression she hadn¡¯t wanted to tell anyone that, least of all him.

    She released him with a shove that made him stumble backwards. For a moment he thought she might renege on their agreement and eat him right then and there, but she turned away without another word. She stomped up the spiral staircase, the vibrations from the metal thrumming through the parqueted floor, then the door to the guest suite slammed shut.

    Ciaran slumped to the couch. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, trying to rein in his racing heartbeat.

    Bane hopped onto the sofa as delicately as a dog his size could manage, then lay across Ciaran¡¯s lap. Ciaran stroked the length of the dog¡¯s backwards strip of fur until his breathing slowly returned to normal. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, cursing himself for losing his temper.

    He didn¡¯t necessarily regret what he¡¯d said to her. It was the truth. If Asra had never committed her crimes in his city that night, Nolan never would have had her hauled into the palace, and none of them would be in the situation they were now.

    The problem was that Asra would logically still be alive after she¡¯d killed Nolan¡ªthe woman had already proven to be exceptionally resilient.

    And whatever chance there had been for him and Asra to peacefully part ways after Nolan¡¯s death, Ciaran was sure he just watched it go up in flames.

 Five: The Penthouse

    When Asra awoke the next morning, it took her a moment to remember where she was. Her initial panicked thought was that she¡¯d been captured, but prison wouldn¡¯t have such a luxurious bedspread¡ªcertainly not any prison she¡¯d be sent to.

    She groaned as she finally remembered. Life in prison would be a far lighter sentence than being stuck with the prince in his apartment.

    Despite this being the most comfortable bed she¡¯d ever laid on, she¡¯d gotten almost no sleep the night before. Memories of last night¡¯s storm raced through her mind as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her silver bracelet swinging from her wrist. The damn thing hadn¡¯t done much to block out the sounds of thunder the night before.

    She took her bracelet off and tossed it onto the bed. The delicate smells of incense and scented candles hung in the air. But most noticeable was the stench of her own sweat, still pungent with adrenals and fear.

    Asra grabbed her bag and headed into the bathroom. Her fight with the numerous knobs and buttons in the enormous shower space went slightly better this morning than it had last night, when she had resigned herself to ice cold water. She at least managed to get the water lukewarm this time.

    As she washed herself, her thoughts lingered on last night¡¯s events. Her final words to Ciaran ran through her mind, and her cheeks burned. Why had she bothered humoring the prince¡¯s questions in the first place? She¡¯d barely even set foot in this place and she was already telling him things she¡¯d never told anyone else. He was just like his brother.

    When she¡¯d finished and dressed, she stepped out of the guest suite to head downstairs. The morning light illuminated a small alcove in the loft hallway that she had not seen the night before. The wall was crowded with framed photographs above a small table, which held more framed photos, trophies, and a dog collar that caught Asra¡¯s attention. She headed over to examine it.

    It was dark brown leather, a thick collar about Bane¡¯s size, inlaid with precious gemstones. She was impressed not only with the craftsmanship but also with its high level of maintenance. The leather was supple and nicely oiled with no signs of drying or cracking. The jewels¡ªrubies, emeralds, and sapphires¡ªwere arranged in a beautifully flowing, swirling pattern around the collar. Hanging from the D-ring was a hand-stamped metal tag that read:

    Jewel of the Crown¡¯s

    Bullet to the Heart

    ¡°TRIGGER¡±

    She put it back on the table and scanned the pictures on the wall¡ªphoto after colorless photo of ridgeback dogs posed with ribbons and trophies, Ciaran proudly holding the leash. He was very young in some of these, around the age Asra had first met him.

    Asra¡¯s eyes trailed down the hall to a group of family photographs and paintings. Most of these were old pictures of Ciaran with a woman who could only be his mother. She had the same eyes and the same smile, and obviously the same affinity for dogs, which featured prominently in the photos of the two of them. Several pictures contained Nolan, though Asra noted none of them included their father.

    Asra didn¡¯t know much about Ciaran and Nolan¡¯s parents, other than their father had killed their mother and then himself about twenty years ago. Nolan had been crowned not long after that, at the age of eighteen. That was just a couple of years before Asra met him.

    Asra¡¯s eyes were drawn to the only full-color photograph here: a picture of Ciaran, a plump toddler in a chair tall enough for him to eat at the table in front of him, with a teenaged Nolan seated next to him. Their mother stood between them, her blonde hair pinned back. She bent over to wrap her arms around each of them, pulling them in for a tight hug. They all flashed the same exuberant smile at the camera.

    It would have been a happy picture if it had been of anyone else. Nolan looked too much like the young man who had Asra dragged into the palace as a young girl, dazed by the human city and ignorant of their laws and customs.

    Asra¡¯s family had photographs like this once, long ago. They were nothing but ash now, and Asra¡¯s only option to keep Nolan from repeating that night was to work with his pampered little brother. She didn¡¯t care that Ciaran hadn¡¯t had a direct hand in the attack on her town. He profited from the blood of her people regardless, and worse, he didn¡¯t seem to know or care. He could rot with his brother.

    The muffled sound of the prince¡¯s voice broke Asra from her ruminations, and she crept to the top of the stairs. Ciaran sat on the couch below, but there was no one around him except Bane. The dog sat on the floor facing Ciaran, who had Bane¡¯s head cupped in his hands, whispering to him. Asra could just make out the words now that she was focused on the prince.

    ¡°...touching up on your training as soon as this mess is over. You¡¯re a protection dog. You¡¯re supposed to protect me, not stand there and watch while I get assaulted by a murderer.¡±

    Asra¡¯s nose wrinkled. She couldn¡¯t stand the perfectly practiced, posh accent he used. It was not a natural dialect¡ªthe nobles were all taught to speak that way in their fancy boarding schools.

    He wore only a pair of short cotton trousers, a sweat-drenched towel slung around his neck. The muscles of Asra¡¯s people and the human commoners came through hard, honest work. Nobles could only achieve them through dedicated training and weightlifting. A leisure activity, and a sad mimicry of real work.

    The sound of Asra¡¯s footsteps on the metal stairs brought Ciaran¡¯s attention to her.

    ¡°Finally awake, are you?¡± he asked as Asra wound down the stairs. ¡°You were nagging me about leaving all last night, but then you slept in all day today.¡±

    Asra glanced at the ornate clock on the wall adjacent to the fireplace. ¡°It¡¯s barely eight o¡¯clock. Why are you up so early?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m always up this early,¡± he grumbled as he stood and walked into the kitchen. ¡°Ever since I was old enough to walk. Dogs need to be fed and worked, and kennels need to be mucked out and cleaned.¡± His face grew dark as he pulled an assortment of raw meat out of the cold box. ¡°There are no kennels to clean anymore, but Bane still needs to be cared for.¡±

    Asra watched him pull a silver dog bowl and a few containers of grains from a kitchen cabinet and slam them onto the counter. The sound of the metal hitting the marble set Asra¡¯s teeth on edge, and she was sure it wasn¡¯t just her sensitive hearing that made it sound far louder than it needed to be.

    Her stomach grumbled and her mouth watered as Ciaran cut up and portioned out the variety of meat on a food scale¡ªchicken gizzards and feet, beef liver and tongue, a rabbit head, fish tails, and other delicious odds and ends the human nobles were too squeamish to eat. Likely scraps from the palace¡¯s kitchen.

    ¡°What?¡± Ciaran asked.

    Asra wiped the saliva from the corners of her mouth. She hadn¡¯t realized how intently she¡¯d been staring. The last thing she needed was for him to launch into an onslaught of questions about her diet.

    ¡°Surprised you don¡¯t have a servant to do that for you,¡± she said as Ciaran measured out a cup of oats and dumped it into the bowl.

    ¡°I have a housekeeper who cooks and tidies up. But she doesn¡¯t do anything with Bane, other than spoil him with treats when I¡¯m not looking. I¡¯m the only one who touches him. Well, besides his veterinarian.¡±

    Asra looked at Bane, who sat expectantly on a raised cot just outside of the kitchen. A long line of drool dangled from his jowls. The sight might have made her feel a sense of kinship with him if he¡¯d been anyone else¡¯s dog. She¡¯d spent too much time running from the prince¡¯s hounds to have any amicable feelings towards them.

    Ciaran placed the metal bowl on the floor, then looked at Bane. The dog stared at him stock-still, not breaking eye contact even to blink.

    ¡°Take it,¡± Ciaran said, and Bane dove off the cot to devour the food in the bowl.

    ¡°Slow down, idiot,¡± Ciaran admonished as he washed his hands. ¡°You¡¯re going to make yourself sick. Or choke.¡±

    Bane hacked, then gagged up a large piece of chicken. Unperturbed, he continued his feast.

    ¡°What did I just tell you?¡± Ciaran said as he dried his hands on the towel hanging beneath the sink. He scratched the back of his head in frustration, then swore, and Asra smelled the bitter stench of his blood seeping through the reopened wound on the back of his head. He lifted the white towel from his neck and held it to his skull.

    ¡°Thanks for this, by the way,¡± he said, turning to look at her.

    ¡°That hasn¡¯t healed yet?¡±

    ¡°Overnight?¡± His voice was pitched high with disbelief. He scoffed and said, ¡°No, Asra. The gash on my head did not magically heal overnight.¡±

    Asra took his point. She always forgot just how squishy humans were. She sighed and slipped her bracelet into her back pocket, then headed over to him.

    ¡°Let me take a look at it.¡±

    Ciaran eyed her suspiciously. ¡°Is healing magic just another ¡®werewolf¡¯ myth?¡±

    ¡°No, we can actually do that. If you would hold still and let me look at it.¡±

    He hesitated for a second, but acquiesced. He pulled the towel down, and at the sight of the blood stained on the white cloth clamped his lips together and turned away, his face even paler than usual.

    ¡°It¡¯s not even that bad,¡± Asra said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like blood,¡± Ciaran said. Catching the unamused look on Asra¡¯s face out of the corner of his eye, he continued, ¡°Call me squeamish if you want.¡±

    Asra could think of a hundred other things she¡¯d rather call him. She tossed the towel on the counter and reached for his head, but he took a step back.

    ¡°Do you want me to fix it or not?¡± she snapped.

    ¡°You said you were going to look at it, not touch it.¡±

    ¡°I can see the whole injury better with my magic than my eyes.¡±

    Ciaran frowned, then took a step towards her. Asra slid her glasses to the top of her head, then she cupped his cheek in her left hand to steady him. She reached around the back of his head with her right hand and closed her eyes to concentrate.

    Asra had to admit the damage was worse than she thought. It was swollen and bruised, and the injury extended down to the subcutaneous tissue. Both dried blood and a sticky mixture of fresh blood and serous fluid mingled in his hair and on his skin. She took a deep breath and directed the warmth of her magic to flow from her hand into his wound. Capillaries reconnected, blood flowed away from the site, and skin and soft tissue mended. A relatively clean heal, aside from some missing hair.

    Asra stepped away, and Ciaran rubbed up and down the back of his scalp. He headed into the living room to examine Asra¡¯s handiwork in an elegantly framed mirror on the wall.

    ¡°Gods,¡± he breathed. ¡°That¡¯s incredible.¡±

    Asra couldn¡¯t help the little thrill of triumph in her chest. It had been a long time since she¡¯d healed anyone else, and even longer since she¡¯d had a healing lesson, and she didn¡¯t do half bad. She even remembered what serous fluid was called.

    Ciaran pressed where the wound once was and said, ¡°It¡¯s still a little sore.¡±

    Asra pursed her lips. ¡°I didn¡¯t check your skull for fractures.¡±

    She stepped closer to him and placed her hands on his head as she had before, then closed her eyes and concentrated again.

    Not long after, Asra felt his gaze on her. When she opened her eyes, she found Ciaran studying every detail of her face.

    ¡°Eyes to yourself, prince.¡±

    ¡°Relax, it¡¯s not what you think.¡± His voice was a little too innocent. ¡°I was just admiring your sigils. I¡¯ve never had a chance to look at them up close.¡±

    Asra closed her eyes and tried to focus once more.

    ¡°Do all your people have them? Do they function the same way they do in magic animals? Do they spread quickly, or¡ª¡±

    The lock on the front door clicked open, then an icy voice said, ¡°I hope I¡¯m not interrupting anything.¡±

    A man stood at the entrance, eyes narrowed at both of them. Asra whipped her glasses back down to her nose and Ciaran jumped out of his skin. These must have come across as guilty gestures to the stranger, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

    The man wore a slim-fitting riding duster and leather boots with intricate stitching. His glossy blond hair was expertly coiffed, his pale skin smooth and clear. He had an air of superiority around him typical of a noble, and although he looked to be in his late twenties, he carried himself with the authority of someone much older.

    Asra hoped the man hadn¡¯t noticed the sigils on her body. She sniffed in his direction as subtly as she could manage, and her eyes widened. She¡¯d never spoken to Vincent Baudelaire any of the times he¡¯d come to the food kitchen, but she¡¯d know his scent anywhere.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°It¡¯s polite to knock, you know,¡± Ciaran said, his hands flexing into fists at his side.

    ¡°And it¡¯s polite to remember when you make appointments,¡± Vincent said. ¡°I told you several times I¡¯d be here today at half past eight.¡±

    His voice was even and cool, each word precisely enunciated. He had the same trained noble accent Ciaran did, but it suited Vincent much better.

    Asra slipped her silver bracelet from her back pocket onto her wrist. Changing into her fur in front of Vincent would be a very bad idea.

    ¡°I suppose I shouldn¡¯t be surprised that you¡¯ve forgotten something yet again,¡± Vincent said.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t forget,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°I just didn¡¯t care.¡±

    Asra frowned. Bringing her into this apartment knowing Vincent would be here the next morning would be an astonishingly stupid thing to do, even for Ciaran. Why would he even bother lying when it was clear he had forgotten?

    Vincent sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t have all day to wait around for you, Ciaran. I have a carriage waiting on me. Someone has had me reassigned to New Port.¡±

    ¡°Well, my brother never did like you,¡± Ciaran said.

    Vincent smiled all too pleasantly. ¡°Of course. Shall I go get my things, then?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Ciaran barked. ¡°Stay here and try to be civil for two minutes.¡±

    He stormed into his bedroom, Bane at his side. Vincent closed the distance between himself and Asra and held his hand out to her. Everything about his movements was calculated and deliberate.

    ¡°He tells me to be civil, yet he doesn¡¯t even have the decency to introduce us,¡± he said. ¡°Vincent Baudelaire, currently Lord of Windemere City, soon to be Lord of New Port.¡± The bitterness in his voice was palpable.

    Asra tried to grab his hand in her usual firm handshake, unsure of what else to do, but Vincent deftly rotated it palm down. He held her fingers and brought the back of her hand to his lips for a chaste kiss. He continued to hold her hand for a moment, waiting for something, then raised an eyebrow at her.

    ¡°And may I have your name?¡± he said.

    ¡°Oh. Sara.¡±

    Vincent didn¡¯t move. ¡°Just Sara?¡±

    She realized she¡¯d never invented a human last name for herself, and she wasn¡¯t sure if her lineage name would be a dead giveaway of her species.

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    Vincent gave her the smile of an adult dealing with a child who simply didn¡¯t know any better. He bowed his head and said, ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Sara.¡±

    She nodded. Asra had many run-ins with nobles over the years, but she¡¯d never learned how to hold a polite conversation with one.

    ¡°You¡¯re not from the nobility, are you?¡± Vincent asked, straightening.

    ¡°How would you know?¡±

    Vincent smiled. ¡°There¡¯s no polite way for me to answer that.¡±

    He strode to the kitchen and pulled a jug of water out of the cold box, then poured it into a glass from the cabinet. When he turned, his eyes landed on the kitchen island cluttered with raw meat and animal parts, dirty dishes, and open containers of cereal and grains, then to the metal bowl on the floor, glistening with Bane¡¯s drool. His lip curled.

    ¡°I was born a commoner, too, actually,¡± he said, then took a sip from the glass. ¡°I suppose Ciaran has a type.¡±

    Asra said nothing, despite her skin crawling at the insinuation. It was safer for him to think she and Ciaran were together than for him to wonder why she was here.

    Vincent¡¯s eyes landed on the band on Asra¡¯s wrist. ¡°I¡¯m surprised to see you wearing silver. Ciaran hasn¡¯t told you silver¡¯s out of style? He hasn¡¯t reminded you eight hundred times that he single-handedly replaced silver with gold last year? He¡¯s so proud of that. He never shuts up about it.¡±

    Asra could already tell Ciaran never shut up about anything. She wished the prince would hurry up. Every moment she spent being interrogated by Vincent was a moment that he could realize who and what she was.

    Vincent took another sip of his water, then studied Asra for a moment. His gaze sent a chill crawling up her spine, and she stifled a growl.

    ¡°Have we met before?¡± he asked. ¡°You look familiar.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    She and Vincent had never interacted when he visited the food kitchen, but she was sure he¡¯d seen her there. She didn¡¯t want to drag Lala into any of this mess.

    ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± Vincent said. ¡°I¡¯m sure I would have remembered your glasses.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because they¡¯re one of my inventions, and I would have loved to brag about that. Ciaran isn¡¯t the only one who has an overinflated ego.¡±

    He took another sip of water, and Asra gripped her silver bracelet.

    ¡°Useful, isn¡¯t it?¡± Vincent continued. ¡°The disguising spell, I mean. It was part of my thesis project for my doctoral degree. Must be a relief to not have to slather yourself in makeup every time you want to blend in, yes? Certainly better than having nobles gawk at you all the time.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t spend much time around nobles.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I can tell that,¡± he said with a laugh.

    He knew. Asra twisted the bracelet around her wrist.

    ¡°Where are you from, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡± Vincent said.

    Should she kill him now? Or would that just make things worse? She couldn¡¯t risk him blabbing to Nolan. Where the hell was Ciaran?

    ¡°A little town in one of the independent states,¡± Asra said. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have heard of it.¡±

    ¡°I travel a lot. You¡¯d be surprised.¡±

    ¡°I thought I told you to be civil?¡±

    Asra didn¡¯t think she¡¯d ever be relieved to hear the prince¡¯s voice, but she let out a soft sigh at the sight of him standing in the hallway, a worn wooden box in his arms.

    ¡°Just because you struggle with civility doesn¡¯t mean the rest of us do,¡± Vincent said. ¡°We were having a perfectly cordial conversation, weren¡¯t we, Sara?¡±

    ¡°Here¡¯s your shit,¡± Ciaran said, shoving the box into Vincent¡¯s arms. ¡°You can stop harassing my assistant and get out.¡±

    ¡°Assistant.¡± Vincent¡¯s smile was saccharine. ¡°If that¡¯s what you want to call it. I¡¯m sure she assists you with many things.¡±

    ¡°You have a carriage waiting on you,¡± Ciaran said, his jaw set in a hard line.

    ¡°Of course. I won¡¯t inconvenience you with my presence any longer.¡± Vincent turned to Asra and bowed, the movement encumbered by the large box in his arms. ¡°It was an honor, Ms. Sara. I hope we cross paths again.¡±

    Ciaran already had the door to the foyer open for Vincent. The moment Vincent crossed the threshold, Ciaran slammed it shut.

    Asra waited for the sound of the elevator doors opening and closing before she said, ¡°He knows.¡±

    ¡°Knows what?¡± Ciaran¡¯s face was flushed, and his eyes were still fixed on the door.

    ¡°What I am. Who I am.¡±

    He shrugged and said, ¡°Of course he knows. He¡¯s not stupid. He won¡¯t do anything about it, though.¡±

    Asra¡¯s brows drew together. ¡°Why won¡¯t he?¡±

    ¡°Because he¡¯d love for someone to off Nolan. We¡¯re doing him a favor.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t seem very grateful to me.¡±

    Ciaran ran a hand through his hair. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect you to understand. He¡¯s toothless, trust me.¡±

    Ciaran stomped back to the kitchen, leaving Asra to stare at the foyer door in fear that it may burst open with guards at any moment. Vincent was anything but toothless, but there wasn¡¯t much she could do about him now. It was all the more motivation to get rid of Nolan as quickly as possible.

    <hr>

    Asra thought the prince was insufferable when he was just a vague memory and a face in the newspapers. Now that she knew the real Ciaran, he was so much worse than she had imagined.

    ¡°For the last time, I don¡¯t want a drink,¡± Asra said through gritted teeth, clenching her fists on the glossy marble counter. Her eyes flicked to the clock in the living room and she stifled a groan. They¡¯d been at this for three hours now.

    Ciaran poured yet another glass of whiskey from a crystal decanter. Asra didn¡¯t want to know how much it cost¡ªthe whiskey or the decanter.

    ¡°You could use one,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°It would help you lighten up a little.¡±

    ¡°I would lighten up a lot if you could come up with a plan, like you promised.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve come up with plenty of plans. You keep knocking them down.¡±

    ¡°Your plans all end in me dying.¡±

    ¡°Not if you¡¯re good enough at your job.¡± He took a sip of whiskey and pondered for a moment. ¡°What if we pretended I captured you? I could deliver you straight to him, then you could¡ª¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll never buy that.¡±

    ¡°How do you know?¡±

    Asra snorted. ¡°First off, because there¡¯s no way you could ever capture me in the first place. And second, because I know Nolan.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know him like I know him.¡±

    Asra¡¯s lip curled. ¡°No. I know him for what he actually is.¡±

    Ciaran threw his head back and rolled his eyes. ¡°I get it. You¡¯re the victim in your little revenge fantasy.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t about revenge. This is about keeping my town safe.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? How long did it take you to convince yourself of that?¡±

    This wasn¡¯t going to work, and it was stupid of Asra to have thought it would. She pushed off the counter and stormed into the living room, sending Bane scrabbling to get out of her path.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Ciaran said.

    Asra grabbed her bag and threw it over her shoulders, then headed to the door. Ciaran cut her off before she could reach it, standing solid in her path.

    ¡°I asked you where you were going.¡±

    Asra stared him in the eye. This was the tantrum of a man who¡¯d spent his whole life getting his way, surrounded by people who catered to his every whim. Asra was not one of those people. She shouldered past him with far more force than was necessary, sending him stumbling a few steps backward.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you walk away from me!¡±

    Asra pushed open the front door and headed to the elevator. When Ciaran spoke again, his voice was tight with desperation.

    ¡°I thought you said you wanted to keep your town safe?¡±

    Asra pressed the button for the elevator and tightened the chest strap of her packsack.

    ¡°If you walk out now, you won¡¯t be able to help them. What Nolan has planned will make the last attack look like a slap on the wrist.¡±

    Asra whipped her head around and said, ¡°What the hell are you talking about?¡±

    Relief washed over Ciaran¡¯s face as Asra turned away from the elevator, but faded with every step Asra took towards him.

    ¡°What is he planning?¡± Asra said, her face now inches from Ciaran¡¯s.

    ¡°I ¡­ I don¡¯t know entirely. Something about a weapon and your kind not being a problem for much longer.¡±

    Asra grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall beside the door, knocking over a large vase that shattered all over the floor. Bane snarled, baring his fangs near Asra¡¯s thigh, but he didn¡¯t bite her. Perhaps he knew better.

    ¡°You piece of shit!¡± Asra snarled. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me this before?¡±

    The elevator bell dinged behind them, and the doors slid open with a mechanical whir.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think I needed to!¡± Ciaran said. Even with her silver on, she could smell the alcohol on his breath. ¡°You were so hellbent on getting to him that I didn¡¯t think you needed more motivation.¡±

    Bane began a steady, constant rhythm of staccato barks.

    ¡°No, you needed a bargaining chip,¡± Asra said, her voice quivering. ¡°Something you could hold over me to protect your miserable life when Nolan was dead.¡±

    ¡°Can you blame me? You haven¡¯t exactly given me reason to trust you!¡± Ciaran¡¯s voice was barely audible over Bane¡¯s barking.

    ¡°Shut that dog up!¡±

    ¡°Bane¡ª¡± Ciaran¡¯s eyes widened in horror. ¡°Bane!¡±

    Bane snarled, and a strange voice screamed. Asra turned just as the dog let out an ear-splitting yelp, then a whimper, then fell silent.

    The foyer was crowded by masked figures descending on them. Asra barely had time to register Bane¡¯s bloody body on the floor, barely had time to try to wriggle out of her silver band, before the intruders were on them.

    Then everything went dark.

 Six: The Attack

    When Ciaran finally came to, his head was pounding, a sensation not helped by the way it rattled against the solid interior of the carriage. He tried to sit up¡ªalready a difficult feat with his hands cuffed behind him¡ªbut doing so caused his stomach to lurch and bile to rise in his throat. He sat back, deciding he¡¯d rather deal with the headache. He didn¡¯t dare open his eyes.

    Yet another bout of bottleache, and this one was already proving to be miserable. No doubt he was on his way to the sobering-up cell now. Nolan was going to be furious. He groaned. All he needed to feel better was a little hair of the dog and¡ª

    Bane!

    Ciaran sat straight up, his panic forcing the nausea away. He tried to open his eyes and found he was blindfolded. His hands weren¡¯t cuffed; they were bound with rope. His body ached, and the hard bench he sat on dug into his pelvis.

    The sound of Bane¡¯s silenced whimper rang in Ciaran¡¯s ears. He¡¯d thought Bane was barking to warn Asra off her assault, but he realized now that he must have been alerting to a different threat, one that likely came up that lift and into the foyer ¡­ He didn¡¯t want to think about what could have silenced his dog that suddenly.

    A shoulder butted into Ciaran¡¯s, and he yelped. There was an irritated growl near his ear.

    ¡°Asra?¡± he squeaked, then said more confidently, ¡°Is that you?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s Bane?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Where are we?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! Shut up and let me think.¡±

    Ciaran sat back and tried to calm his breathing. Asra shuffled next to him. Hooves thudded against soft earth outside, and a musty, sweaty odor filled the air, though perhaps that was Ciaran¡¯s own perspiration.

    ¡°I can¡¯t smell anything over this stench,¡± Asra said, and Ciaran hoped it wasn¡¯t his. The ropes on Asra¡¯s wrists brushed against his arms as she turned away from him and said, ¡°Get this silver off me so we can get out of here.¡±

    Ciaran turned away so that they were back-to-back and fumbled behind him until he felt the silver bracelet¡ªa solid band with a gap in the center¡ªon Asra¡¯s wrist. Unfortunately, between his shaking hands, sweaty palms, and the way the bracelet kept catching on the bony bumps of Asra¡¯s wrist, getting the bracelet off was easier said than done.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have all day, prince.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m working on it.¡±

    Finally the bracelet slipped into place and Ciaran pulled it free. He heard a small crackle of fire, then his blindfold was removed. As he blinked, Asra¡¯s face came into focus in front of him. The wooden carriage they rode in was entirely enclosed, and metal bars replaced glass windows.

    Asra grabbed the rope on his wrists, and small flames flew from her palms, burning away the ties. She hauled him up by his arm and said, ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    The carriage lurched to a halt, and they both fell to the floor.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Asra whispered, then dragged Ciaran to the door. He grabbed the handles and tried to push it open, but it wouldn¡¯t budge. Muffled voices drifted in from outside, at the front and rear of the carriage.

    ¡°Move!¡± said Asra, and Ciaran scrambled aside. She lifted her leg and brought it down so hard on the handle that the doors burst open.

    Three armed people, two on foot and one on horseback, looked up in surprise. They were on a narrow dirt road, raised up above the water of the marshland surrounding them.

    The two strangers on foot raised their pistols, and the man on horseback shouted, ¡°Hands up, prince, unless you want us to shoot your lover there.¡±

    The burly man¡ªpresumably the leader of the bunch¡ªspoke in Coastal, a native tongue of some of the eastern territories. At the mention of Asra, the other two kidnappers aimed their weapons at her. One was a woman almost as large as the man on horseback. The other was a thin man with a nervous twitch.

    ¡°She¡¯s not my lover,¡± Ciaran said in their language, and Asra gave him a curious look. Ciaran wasn¡¯t sure why; he figured she¡¯d agree that there were no fuzzy feelings between them.

    The man smiled and said, ¡°Whoever she is, you probably don¡¯t want her blood all over your nice clothes.¡±

    ¡°This is treason. You¡¯ll all be hanged if you¡¯re caught. But I¡¯m willing to show you leniency if you release us.¡±

    The group laughed, their voices joining the chorus of buzzing insects.

    ¡°You can speak their language?¡± Asra said.

    ¡°Of course I can. I speak all of my territories¡¯ languages.¡±

    Asra¡¯s eyes narrowed at the kidnappers, then she said, ¡°They¡¯re commoners. Tell them I don¡¯t want to hurt them and they need to get out of the way.¡±

    The group laughed again as Ciaran relayed the message to them.

    ¡°We were told she¡¯s a werewolf,¡± the leader said, ¡°but none of us believe that.¡±

    ¡°That silver bracelet would have killed her, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± the large woman standing next to him said.

    Ciaran relayed their words to Asra, and she growled, ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this. They have ten seconds to get out of my way, or I¡¯ll show them exactly what I am.¡±

    ¡°Asra, calm down,¡± Ciaran said, gripping Asra¡¯s arm. ¡°There¡¯s no reason for this to turn violent.¡±

    The man on horseback pulled a round object from his pocket. He tossed and caught it over and over. It took Ciaran a moment to realize it was a lodestone, one with enough magic to put them in serious trouble.

    ¡°I assure you she is every bit as dangerous as you were told,¡± Ciaran said in Coastal. ¡°I would recommend for your own sake that you let us go on our way.¡±

    The leader and the woman next to him laughed yet again, but the smaller man shifted on his feet nervously.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough of this,¡± said the leader. ¡°Kill her.¡±

    Asra apparently did not need that translated. As the woman opened fire, Asra crouched down and launched herself into the air with enough force to rock the whole carriage, sending Ciaran clamoring for a hold on the wall. When Asra landed on top of the burly woman, she was no longer a human, but an impossibly giant gazehound.

    Asra¡¯s withers stood as tall as the shoulders of the tallest person there, and her jaws were large enough to crush the head of the woman beneath her paws before she could scream. Asra turned her fangs toward the man on foot, who fumbled his pistol. But before Asra could snap his head off, the man on horseback sent a burst of flame from his hand in her direction. The flames licked her snout, and she whirled on the leader.

    The man on foot found his weapon, and before Ciaran could shout a warning, he fired. Asra snarled, and blood cascaded from her hind leg. She whipped back around to him, grabbing him by the chest and shaking him like a terrier shaking a rat. He fell to the ground in a motionless heap.

    Ciaran¡¯s head swam, but he forced himself to stay focused on the present. The leader¡¯s pistol aimed directly at the back of Asra¡¯s skull. Ciaran cast his eyes out for some kind of weapon, and found a branch still alight from the leader¡¯s magic flames. He snatched it and thrust it into the horse¡¯s face. The stallion reared back, and his rider¡¯s bullet flew over Asra¡¯s ear into a tree trunk.

    The stallion¡¯s hooves loomed over Ciaran¡¯s head. He tried to crawl backward out of their trajectory, but the soft earth offered little purchase. He threw his arm up, bracing for the blow, but Asra leapt in front of him. The horse¡¯s hooves slammed into her ribs, and she crashed into the mud with a yelp.

    Asra scrambled to her paws just in time to avoid another burst of flame from the leader¡¯s palm. Angry embers singed her fur as she slipped past. She lunged at the horse, her jaws locking onto its throat, and wrenched her head downward. Horse and rider toppled to the ground, and Asra pounced on the leader, tearing his throat just as she had his horse¡¯s.

    Ciaran tried to push himself to his feet, but his limbs were jelly, and he collapsed onto all fours, his hands sinking into the mud. He closed his eyes against the massacre before him and saw his mother in his mind¡¯s eye, drenched in so much of her own blood that it saturated the silken bedsheets she lay on and dripped onto the floor beneath her limp hand. Ciaran¡¯s tiny face reflected in her eyes as they glazed over.

    Ciaran had only just cleared the memory from his mind when he was hoisted into the air by his shirt and dropped onto his back. A paw almost as large as his head pressed down onto his chest. For a moment he thought it was all over, but Asra didn¡¯t press down any further. He opened his eyes to see her bared fangs mere feet from his face, each nearly as long as his fingers.

    ¡°Did you set this up?¡± Asra¡¯s voice was lower pitched in this form as it resonated in her deep chest.

    ¡°No! Why would I kidnap myself?¡±

    ¡°What is he planning?¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    Asra snarled, a primal sound that rumbled down her leg and rattled Ciaran¡¯s bones. Drool beaded at the bottom of her teeth, threatening to drip down onto Ciaran¡¯s face. He was no stranger to being covered in dog slobber, but the amount here could effectively drown him.

    ¡°Your brother! You said he was planning another attack. What is it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    The massive paw pressed down onto his ribcage as another snarl erupted from Asra¡¯s throat.

    ¡°I swear I don¡¯t know! He doesn¡¯t tell me much anymore.¡± He tried to take a deep breath, but it was impossible under the force of Asra¡¯s paw. ¡°The last time I saw him, he said something cryptic about your kind not being a problem for much longer. When I pressed him on it, he said he had a weapon. Or that he would have one soon. That¡¯s all I know, I swear.¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°How soon?¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t say, but ¡­ ¡± Ciaran mentally ran through the last conversation with his brother. ¡°He said he¡¯d be at the vacation house for a couple months. It¡¯ll take time to assemble and ready troops. I¡¯d say two and a half months, maybe three.¡±

    Asra¡¯s growl rumbled in her throat, then she snorted down on Ciaran. He closed his eyes against the spray of her nose sweat as she stalked off.

    ¡°Get up,¡± she said. ¡°We need to figure out what¡¯s going on here.¡±

    Ciaran slowly pushed himself upright so as not to cause his head to spin again. The sight of the carnage nauseated him, and he reached out to grasp Bane¡¯s coat. His heart dropped.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Bane?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Asra didn¡¯t look back at Ciaran as she nosed through the coat on one of the bodies. Ciaran forced himself to his feet and scanned the interior of the carriage behind him.

    ¡°My dog! Where is my dog?¡±

    ¡°How should I know?¡±

    ¡°Can you smell him? Is he¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ciaran, the dog is probably dead.¡±

    The ground fell out beneath Ciaran, and a void forced itself into the space where his heart should be. He stumbled and leaned against the side of the carriage for support. Asra inhaled deeply through her nose, then forced the air back out in one short burst.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have said that.¡±

    Ciaran sank onto the step below the carriage¡¯s door. He swallowed the lump in his throat before he spoke. ¡°No, you¡¯re right. I ¡­ needed someone else to say it.¡±

    ¡°He was a nice dog.¡±

    Rage flared in Ciaran¡¯s chest. Bane wasn¡¯t a nice dog. He was the best dog. Bane¡¯s final yelp echoed through his mind again. When he found out who did this, they would be punished.

    ¡°Do you know who these people are? Why they did this?¡± Her voice was softer and gentler than Ciaran thought was possible.

    ¡°No. I mean¡ªnot specifically.¡± He blinked away the tears welling up in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m royalty. There¡¯s not exactly a shortage of people who would like to see me dead for one reason or another. Present company included.¡±

    Asra didn¡¯t seem to notice the jab at her. She resumed nosing through the clothing of the deceased, occasionally using her teeth to move things around. Ciaran couldn¡¯t stand to look at the carnage, so he instead focused on Asra herself.

    She must have been five feet tall at her withers. An uneducated observer would likely think her emaciated with how bony she was. Her pelvis was prominent and her ribs were clearly visible. But Ciaran was anything but uneducated when it came to dogs. Emaciated dogs couldn¡¯t build the densely packed muscle that Asra had on her thighs and shoulders, and Ciaran remembered the rippling muscles in her human arms and legs. This was a classic gazehound build.

    Her brown coat was short on most of her body aside from light feathering on her tail and forelegs, and it bore the same yellow sigils that she had on her skin when human. Her right ear was a drop ear, lengthened further by fine, dark brown fur. In contrast, her left ear was short-furred and stood erect. Ciaran would have guessed that it had been intentionally cropped if not for the ragged edge. He wondered if the position of her ear had anything to do with the way it had been injured.

    Ciaran then remembered the commonality between all the murdered soldiers and guards over the last decade. The speed and efficiency at which Asra had just killed these armed assailants ¡­

    ¡°It was you,¡± he said. ¡°It was all you.¡±

    Asra pulled a duster off a corpse with her teeth and shook it far more gently than she had the man inside the coat. A coin purse fell out, then Asra swung her head to toss the coat aside. She didn¡¯t put any weight on her left hind leg. Her blood shone on the fur there.

    ¡°What was?¡± she asked.

    ¡°The guards. All of the soldiers from that assignment¡ª¡± He swallowed. The attack on her town. Of course. ¡°You killed them all. By yourself.¡±

    ¡°Of course I did,¡± Asra said, giving him a look as if that should be painfully obvious. ¡°Who else would it be?¡±

    ¡°Asra, there must have been over a hundred people you killed.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Asra, we ¡­ ¡± He swallowed, contemplating his next words carefully. He didn¡¯t want to be the next body on the ground. ¡°We thought it was groups of your kind. Killing the soldiers. Stealing from people. Trying to kill Nolan. That¡¯s why he wants your kind gone.¡±

    Asra carried the coin purse between her teeth, then dropped it at Ciaran¡¯s feet.

    ¡°Nolan doesn¡¯t think that,¡± she said. ¡°And if that¡¯s what he told you, he lied. I made sure he knew it was me each time.¡± She headed back to the bodies. ¡°No one but me has been in your city since my dad, and he never hurt anyone. He only went there to look for converts.¡±

    ¡°Converts?¡±

    She picked up another corpse and carried it to Ciaran, dropping it at his feet with a sickening plop. He pulled his legs up away from it.

    ¡°We¡¯re wasting time. We need to figure out what happened.¡± She nodded to the corpse in front of Ciaran. ¡°Look through her pockets. See if there¡¯s anything that can identify her.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s stomach roiled. ¡°You do it. You¡¯re the one who killed them.¡±

    Asra shifted her weight on her front paws. ¡°I can¡¯t. Not until my wounds are healed. I need time to heal before I can change out of my fur, or it¡¯ll make it worse.¡±

    Ciaran glanced at the open bullet wound in her hind leg and the burnt fur on her chest. There was a part of him that couldn¡¯t help but be impressed by how coherent she was despite the immense pain she must be in. He realized with a pang of sympathy that she must be used to it.

    Asra limped back to the other bodies. ¡°You¡¯re the one with fingers right now.¡±

    Ciaran groaned, then held his breath, hoping it would keep him from vomiting.

    ¡°What am I looking for?¡± he said as he gingerly pried the lapel of the woman¡¯s oilskin coat back to display her inside pockets.

    ¡°Anything that tells us where we are or who did this. See if they have worker¡¯s documents or something.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to kill them. We may have been able to find a diplomatic end to this. You didn¡¯t even give me a chance.¡±

    ¡°When you¡¯re the one jumping in front of the bullets, you can decide whether the shooters die or not.¡±

    He couldn¡¯t believe how callous Asra was about this. Though she had haunted his nightmares as a boy, his more rational adult mind had always assumed that Asra had more nuance than simply being a murderous beast. Her nonchalance over slaughtering three people in quick succession made him worry he¡¯d granted her too much benefit of the doubt.

    ¡°You must really hate humans,¡± he said.

    ¡°I have no problem with humans,¡± Asra said, examining the exterior of the carriage. She gave a wide berth to the two draft horses at the front. ¡°I hate your brother. I hate people like you who have never worked a day in their lives and live in luxury while people starve on the streets.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t help how I was born any more than you can.¡±

    ¡°No, but all you care about is getting more power. I try to help people.¡±

    ¡°By killing them? What about all those soldiers and guards? They had families. Lives of their own.¡±

    She grabbed the handle of the carriage door with her teeth and yanked until the entire door ripped off the frame, then tossed it aside.

    ¡°They should have thought about that before they destroyed my family,¡± she said.

    ¡°So you lied to me,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°This is about revenge for you.¡±

    At first Ciaran wasn¡¯t sure whether she had heard him. Her head was inside the carriage, her chest heaving as she sniffed inside. When she emerged, her large packsack was between her teeth. She dropped it at her paws before she spoke.

    ¡°No,¡± she said finally. ¡°They all knew ¡­ a secret. Something that puts my people in danger. I made sure that secret died with them. Now Nolan¡¯s the only one left who knows.¡±

    He thought back to the night the guards had brought her into the palace as a child. She¡¯d been nervous at first, convinced she was in trouble. But Nolan knew how to put people at ease, and by the time Ciaran had been sent off to bed, she was animated and chatty.

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who told Nolan that secret,¡± he said. ¡°Something that let him launch the attack.¡±

    Asra¡¯s head shot up, her teeth bared. ¡°Are you helping me look for clues or not?"

    ¡°I still don¡¯t know what I¡¯m supposed to be looking for.¡±

    ¡°You could start with where we are.¡±

    Asra lifted her head to the skies, barely visible beneath the canopy of marshland pines and cypress. Ciaran took inventory of the loudly croaking tree frogs and damp, slightly sulfuric odor.

    ¡°If I had to wager a guess, I¡¯d say we¡¯re somewhere near New Port.¡±

    ¡°Where the hell is that?¡±

    ¡°On the other side of the kingdom. It¡¯s a little state on the east coast.¡±

    Asra furrowed her brow and pursed her lips, a bizarre expression to see on a dog.

    ¡°What were they saying to you?¡± she asked, glancing at the corpses.

    Ciaran snorted. ¡°They thought we were lovers. He was threatening to shoot you to bully me into doing what he wanted.¡±

    ¡°Well, they weren¡¯t robbers.¡± Asra jerked her muzzle toward her bag she had dropped to the ground. ¡°We both still have our jewelry, too.¡±

    Ciaran touched his ear. Sure enough, the earrings were all still there. Asra was right; common thieves would have taken their valuables and tossed them in a ditch somewhere.

    ¡°They knew who I am,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°And that you¡¯re a shapechanger.¡±

    Asra¡¯s brows lifted. ¡°And they thought we were romantic. And they had access to your apartment.¡± A smug, toothy grin spread across her muzzle. ¡°It was your lover boy, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Ex--suitor,¡± Ciaran corrected through gritted teeth. ¡°And he wouldn¡¯t dare. I already told you he¡¯s not worth worrying about.¡±

    Asra lifted her nose in the air. She sniffed, then followed a trail Ciaran could not detect, down to the ground and to one of the bodies in the mud. She nosed the coat open and pulled something out of an interior pocket. She limped back over to Ciaran and dropped it onto the ground beside him¡ªan iridescent lodestone dangling by a fine chain.

    ¡°That¡¯s his key, isn¡¯t it?¡± Asra said, towering over him with an irritating smile. ¡°To your apartment. I can smell him all over it.¡±

    Ciaran looked away from her and grunted, ¡°Yes.¡±

    Asra laughed, a sound that only made him more irritable. ¡°¡®Oh, he¡¯s toothless,¡¯ you said.¡± She stretched her injured leg out behind her, flaunting the rapidly drying blood that caked the fur. ¡°Well he¡¯s got some pretty toothy friends.¡±

    She put her leg down and slowly put weight on it. She winced, but did not lift it again.

    ¡°What¡¯d you do to piss him off so bad?¡± she said.

    ¡°That¡¯s none of your business.¡±

    Asra snorted. ¡°What, only you¡¯re allowed to ask invasive personal questions? I think it¡¯s plenty my business when he had me kidnapped and almost killed.¡±

    Ciaran shoved the lodestone into his pocket. Vincent was a prick, but Ciaran couldn''t believe he¡¯d resort to murder. Jealousy wasn¡¯t an unusual emotion for him, but surely Vincent wasn¡¯t stupid enough to believe Ciaran and Asra were actually involved in any way?

    He shook his head. It didn¡¯t matter why Vincent had done this. Bane was gone, and whether directly or indirectly, that was Vincent¡¯s fault.

    ¡°We need to get going,¡± Asra said. ¡°Which way do we need to go?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re asking me?¡±

    Asra grunted. ¡°I¡¯ve never been away from ¡­ ¡± She paused for a moment, as if worried she would reveal something she shouldn¡¯t. ¡°From the west coast. You supposedly know this kingdom like the back of your hand.¡±

    Ciaran nodded, then glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting in front of them.

    He pointed behind them and said, ¡°If we¡¯re where I think we are, there should be a checkpoint not too far east, right outside of New Port. We can rest there and plan our next step.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea? Didn¡¯t Vincent say he was going to New Port?¡±

    ¡°Vincent isn¡¯t stupid enough to do anything out in the open. He got us in the penthouse because he knew how to sneak people in without alerting anyone.¡±

    Asra seemed unconvinced, but she didn¡¯t argue further. She instead looked to the two placid draft horses still attached to the carriage.

    ¡°We won¡¯t get anywhere with your short legs,¡± Asra said. ¡°Can you ride one of these damn things?¡±

    ¡°Technically yes, but that¡¯s not a good idea,¡± Ciaran said, and he nodded toward the crest that had been seared into their flanks long ago. ¡°They¡¯re branded. Someone around here might recognize them.¡±

    ¡°Should we kill them?¡±

    ¡°Is that your answer for everything?¡±

    Asra growled. ¡°It¡¯s kinder than leaving them here to starve to death. Or to be eaten alive by a predator.¡±

    Ciaran glared at her as he straightened himself. He headed to the horses and removed their tack, then directed them down the road in the opposite direction he and Asra would travel.

    ¡°They¡¯re nice horses,¡± Ciaran said as Asra picked up her bag. ¡°Someone will find them and recognize the brand and return them to their owners. Not everything has to end in violence.¡±

    ¡°Whatever,¡± Asra said, her voice muffled by the straps in her mouth. ¡°Let¡¯s get going. And grab my glasses out of the carriage. I¡¯ll crush them if I try to carry them.¡±

    Ciaran watched the enormous gazehound pad down the road ahead of him. He grabbed the glasses from the floor of the carriage, then headed toward Asra. As he stepped past the leader¡¯s corpse, a glint in the mud caught his eye¡ªthe lodestone the man had used against them.

    He looked back to Asra, who paid him no mind. Ciaran wasn¡¯t sure how much power was left in the stone, but anything he could use to protect himself against Asra was better than nothing.

    As he turned to leave, he started to call Bane to his side, and the pain of his loss washed over him again. As soon as Nolan was dealt with, Vincent would be next. He just had to stay on Asra¡¯s good side for a little while longer.

 Seven: The Resort

    Asra hated the swamp even more than she hated the capital city.

    The air was so humid she thought she might drown with every breath. Moisture clung to her coat and the open wounds on her thigh, and the soggy earth drenched the fur on her paws. The dense trees, tightly-coiled clumps of moss slung over their branches, closed in on her like prison bars.

    Worst of all was the constant roar of thousands of frogs and toads. Their croaks were even louder than the swarms of insects. She missed her arid home, where her pelt stayed dry in the warm sun, where she could climb to the top of a rocky outcropping and see for miles, and where the only sound was the wind as it caressed desert brush.

    There, she could be alone with her thoughts. Here, she could barely hear herself think.

    The frogs didn¡¯t even have the decency to be edible. She¡¯d attempted several times to snatch one up, partially to satisfy the gnawing hunger in her stomach and partially to spite the damn things. When she finally caught one¡ªa slow, fat bullfrog the size of a dinner plate¡ªit urinated. She spat it out, saliva foaming all over her muzzle. She tried to wash the taste out by lapping out of a pond, but the stagnant water tasted worse than a days-old carcass.

    Ciaran found the whole thing hilarious, and it was only when Asra flashed her fangs at him that he stopped laughing.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I guess it¡¯s just a dog thing. Every time we came through here, Bane would ¡­ ¡± His smile vanished, and he fell silent.

    At first Asra was grateful for this. She hadn¡¯t been able to get the man to shut up for more than a few seconds since she met him, and his voice was just one more irritation in the cacophony of the swamp.

    But with Ciaran¡¯s silence also came his foul mood. Each time Asra asked which direction they should go, he was short and snippy with her. Each time she growled a warning at him, and each time he shut his mouth and sulked like a teenager. She¡¯d never admit it to him, but she much preferred him being a chatterbox.

    As they neared New Port, a fresh source of revulsion revealed itself: an overwhelming malodor of decay and rotting eggs. Asra wrinkled her nose.

    ¡°What is that stench?¡± she said.

    ¡°Pluff mud,¡± Ciaran said.

    ¡°What mud?¡±

    He pointed to the edge of the water, where tall grasses grew out of a mud so dark it was nearly black. Dozens of small crabs, each with one claw significantly larger than the other, scuttled across the surface. Asra raised a paw to shoo them away.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you,¡± Ciaran said as he walked past. ¡°You could sink and get stuck, especially as big as you are.¡±

    Asra straightened and said, ¡°It¡¯s just mud.¡±

    Ciaran shrugged. ¡°Try it and find out. But I¡¯m not sticking around to help you.¡±

    Curiosity getting the better of her, Asra waved the tiny crabs away and pressed a paw into the strange substance. It was oddly fluffy and soft, as though she were digging through freshly ground flour, yet somehow wet and slimy. Intrigued, she pushed deeper, until something sharp sliced into her paw. She yelped and jerked her leg away, but the mud sucked in her paw like a tornado. She leaned back on her haunches, pain searing through her injured thigh, and yanked her paw free. Fresh blood mingled with the mud on her fur.

    Ciaran watched the event without a hint of humor on his face. ¡°Are you done?¡±

    Asra growled to herself, then followed after him, her paw aching almost as much as her bruised dignity.

    <hr>

    They finally reached New Port a couple hours later. The sky was a soft violet, dotted by the evening¡¯s first stars, and the lights of the buildings glowed on the horizon like fireflies.

    Only a handful of horseback riders traveled on the main road several hundred yards to their right. The sight of the small town only exacerbated Asra¡¯s homesickness.

    Asra stood at the edge of the trees and stretched her injured leg forward and back. It was sore, but the wounds had healed.

    She dropped her pack on the ground and said to Ciaran, ¡°Turn around. I need to take my fur off.¡± Nudity wasn¡¯t a taboo back home, but it always made the humans uncomfortable.

    Ciaran turned without a word, and Asra changed into her skin. She dressed herself with clothes from her backpack and fished out a shawl as she gave Ciaran the all-clear.

    ¡°Put this on,¡± she said, tossing him the shawl.

    He held it open in front of him by the tips of his fingers, as though it were poisonous. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because you need a disguise. And we need a story for who we are and why we¡¯re here. Give me my glasses.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t matter,¡± he said, passing her glasses to her. ¡°People there will recognize me regardless.¡±

    Asra dug through her bag for a pair of socks as she said, ¡°Didn¡¯t Vincent say he was taking over this town? We need to lay low. We don¡¯t know who could be spying for him.¡±

    But when she looked up, Ciaran had already started off towards the town.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Asra called. ¡°I still need to finish here!¡±

    Ciaran raised a hand and, without turning to look at her, said, ¡°I¡¯m sure you can catch up when you¡¯re finished.¡±

    Asra shoved her feet into her socks and shoes, muttering under her breath as she did so. She pulled on her duster and slammed her cow-herding hat onto her head, then headed off toward the prince.

    By the time Asra caught up with Ciaran, they had reached the first buildings of the town. The streets were lined with quaint shops filled with seaside trinkets. Laughter drifted out of packed taverns, and the streets thrummed with both vacationers and residents. The air was salty, and Asra could hear the faint crash of waves against the shore less than a mile away, punctuated by the warbling of seagulls fighting over discarded food.

    But Asra was more focused on the soldiers that dotted the crowds. She pulled the brim of her hat lower, hoping her ear wasn¡¯t exposed. Judging by the amount of soldiers for such a small city, New Port must have been one of the newly-conquered states. She fiddled with the silver band on her wrist, prepared to throw it off at the first sign of trouble.

    They soon arrived at a large manor that stood out like a beacon amongst the surrounding buildings worn by sea winds. Enormous, rectangular, with six marble pillars and two rows of five evenly spaced windows in between. The exterior was red brick, adorned with deep black shutters. There was a balcony on the second floor framed by an ornate wrought-iron railing, and lodestone-fueled flame lamps hung from each pillar. It was bigger than many of the mansions Asra had seen in the capital city.

    ¡°Beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± Ciaran said. ¡°Nolan had it built a few years back.¡±

    ¡°Beautiful¡± wasn¡¯t the word Asra would have used. ¡°Gaudy¡± was more accurate.

    ¡°Awfully fancy for a checkpoint, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Ciaran laughed. ¡°No, it¡¯s a resort. A vacation spot. Gods, I need a fucking drink.¡±

    He started to head in, but Asra snatched his arm, wheeling him around to face her.

    ¡°A drink? We¡¯re not here to party! We need to get back!¡±

    Ciaran wrenched his arm away from her. He took a step towards her so that they looked eye-to-eye.

    ¡°Yes, Asra, a drink. I know that you¡¯re used to all this bullshit, but I¡¯m not. I just lost my dog, I watched three people be murdered, I watched you turn into¡ª¡±

    He glanced over his shoulder to check if anyone was nearby, apparently aware of how loud his voice was rising.

    He turned back to her and finished, ¡°Whatever you are. Not to mention finding out my ex is trying to kill me. I¡¯ve had a long day, and I need a drink.¡± He brushed his sleeve off as though Asra had left dirt on it. ¡°Like it or not, I am a prince, and I¡¯m not going to let you order me around.¡± He turned on his heel and stomped inside.

    Asra counted to ten in her head as she watched him leave, focusing on slowing her breath with each number. She gripped the silver bracelet so hard that her fingers grew numb. It was all she could do to not throw the thing away and snap Ciaran¡¯s head off with one bite. She had to remind herself more than once that she only needed him until the king was dead, then she would never have to deal with him again.

    She stepped into a wide entrance hall just as opulent as the outside, right down to the guards¡¯ bright blue coats. As she stepped onto the white marble floors, the four guards standing there raised their weapons and issued a warning to her.

    ¡°Put those away,¡± Ciaran said, waving his hand at the guards. ¡°She¡¯s with me.¡±

    The guards seemed reluctant at first, but acquiesced. Asra stepped past them and followed Ciaran to the first doorway on the left.

    Inside was a ritzy lounge. High-ranking nobles lazed on the plush furniture, softly illuminated by cool blue lights. When they recognized Ciaran, they raced to their feet to bow, as if the first person to do so would be bestowed some great honor. Asra grumbled under her breath and headed to the bar to their right. When she pulled a barstool out, its legs squeaked against the floor far more loudly than she had expected, and she caught several irritated glares from the nobles.

    The bar had a larger stock of liquor than most liquor stores. Asra had only seen most of these bottles locked behind display cabinets. Each one probably cost more than a month¡¯s pay in this backwater town.

    Ciaran was far more gentle when he pulled his barstool out.

    ¡°People are supposed to bow when a prince enters the room.¡±

    Asra snorted. ¡°Good luck with that.¡±

    ¡°You were the one throwing a fit about needing to lay low and not draw attention to ourselves. If you want to blend in, you need to stop being childish and play by the rules.¡±

    The bartender approached and bowed to Ciaran. The man was portly and balding, and he was twitchy in a way that would have raised Asra¡¯s hackles if she were in her fur.

    ¡°How wonderful to see you again, Your Highness,¡± the bartender said, though the quiver in his voice said otherwise. Asra moved her hands beneath the bar top, twisting the silver band around her wrist.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have my usual, please,¡± Ciaran said. He waved toward Asra. ¡°And whatever she wants.¡±

    Asra considered telling him she didn¡¯t want anything, but her presence was already unwelcome by the other patrons here. None of them bothered to hide their sneers towards her, and the bartender himself looked as though he was being forced to serve a wild animal. She didn¡¯t want to draw more attention to herself, and though she would never admit it to Ciaran, she could use something to calm her nerves as well.

    ¡°Mezcal, neat.¡±

    The bartender opened his mouth to ask a question, but Ciaran cut him off.

    ¡°Just give her the year-aged.¡± He watched the bartender work as he said to Asra, ¡°Mezcal? I didn¡¯t expect you to order something so pretentious.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not pretentious where I come from. And you¡¯re the one who ordered the year-aged.¡±

    Ciaran took his drink from the bartender and said, ¡°I¡¯m going up to my suite to wash and change into fresh clothing. If you¡¯d like to do the same, ask one of the guards.¡±

    Asra grunted as he left. There wasn¡¯t much point in washing when they would just be heading back out into the filthy swamp soon, anyway. She¡¯d rather take advantage of the opportunity to stay off her feet for a short while.

    Although it would be a relief to escape the surrounding nobles for a moment. Their scornful glares bore into Asra¡¯s skin like hot embers. She sipped her drink and took a deep breath, and her eyes trailed off to the bartender again.

    The man¡¯s hands trembled as he worked, and he made far more clumsy mistakes than a trained professional in a fancy bar should. Asra slipped the silver bracelet off her wrist and slid it onto the bartop, trying not to wince against the loud music and conversation around her. She sniffed in his direction as subtly as she could manage.

    The man reeked of the fear and stress adrenals that flooded his bloodstream. She glanced over her shoulder at the rest of the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. What did he have to be nervous about?

    She turned back and slipped the silver band back onto her wrist. Ciaran¡¯s voice startled her when he sidled back up to the bar.

    ¡°I figured out what the silver does,¡± he said. ¡°It cancels out your power, doesn¡¯t it? It prevents you from shapechanging.¡±

    Asra glanced over her shoulder to the patrons behind them, then to the bartender. All well out of earshot. ¡°Yes. And healing. And using magic. Helps me blend in with your kind.¡±

    ¡°It makes you human.¡±

    Asra¡¯s lip curled. ¡°I¡¯m never human. But ¡­ for lack of a better term, yes.¡±

    ¡°How does it do that?¡±

    Asra shrugged.

    Ciaran leaned forward to prop his chin on his hand, tapping his lips with his finger. ¡°Interesting. You know, Vincent has been experimenting with silver. Something about it helping to defend against magic blowback when using lodestones. I bet he would know why it affects your people like that.¡±

    Asra opened her mouth to warn him against sharing that information, but was cut off by her stomach¡¯s loud grumble.

    ¡°You should eat something,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°You haven¡¯t eaten anything in five days, you know.¡±

    Asra¡¯s head snapped to him. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been five days since we left Windemere City. They must have used some kind of spell to keep us asleep for the whole trip here. Well, perhaps ¡®asleep¡¯ is the wrong word. More like frozen. If we¡¯d just been sleeping, I¡¯d already be ¡­ ¡± His brow furrowed, and he clamped his lips shut. He glared at his brandy as he swirled it in the glass.

    ¡°What?¡± Asra asked.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said, then took a sip. ¡°I¡¯m just grateful Thomson has been keeping his word.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡±

    Ciaran swirled the brandy around in his glass once more. ¡°Technically, I¡¯m forbidden from leaving the palace. Nolan¡¯s last orders before he left.¡±

    Asra sipped her mezcal. The fact that humans were forbidden from doing something simply because someone else told them they couldn¡¯t was a concept she would never understand.

    But that was not what concerned her most about this news.

    ¡°Won¡¯t that cause even more trouble for us when he finds out you¡¯re gone?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think those orders have left the capital city,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°I have a friend in the royal guard who snuck me out and is keeping the other guards from getting suspicious. Nolan has no reason to think I¡¯ve left the palace.¡±

    ¡°He will when the nobles here start blabbing.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but by the time that reaches him we¡¯ll be long gone, hopefully at our destination.¡± He sipped his drink. ¡°You think I¡¯m an idiot, but I know what I¡¯m doing. I¡¯ve dealt with this sort of thing for far longer than you have.¡±

    He downed the rest of his glass, then held it up to the bartender. The man reached behind him for a new glass, but Ciaran said, ¡°Same glass is fine, Steve. You know I¡¯m not picky.¡±

    ¡°How far back does this little detour put us?¡± Asra asked.

    The bartender dropped off Ciaran¡¯s next drink. The prince took a sip and pondered for a moment before he spoke.

    ¡°It adds at least another two weeks, maybe two and a half. The main roads have to meander a bit to avoid the worst of the badlands.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t we just go through the badlands and save time?¡±

    Ciaran barked a laugh. ¡°Oh, sure. If you have a death wish. They¡¯re called ¡®the badlands¡¯ for a reason. Have you ever encountered a dragon before?¡±

    Asra grunted. ¡°We should probably get moving, then.¡±

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°We should probably rest here and prepare for the journey. It¡¯s not going to be easy. You don¡¯t seem to understand¡ª¡±

    A noble called for him from across the room, and Ciaran turned to wave. He turned back to Asra and said, ¡°I need to speak with the duke. Try not to murder anyone while I¡¯m gone.¡±

    He left, and Asra calculated their time frame in her head. If everything went perfectly, they would arrive at Nolan¡¯s fortress in roughly three weeks, which would offer about a month¡¯s buffer before he launched his attack. A shiver rippled down Asra¡¯s spine. Knowing her luck, that didn¡¯t seem like anywhere near enough of a buffer.

    She twisted in her seat to watch Ciaran. He laughed and gossipped with the nobles, each of them hanging onto his every word. She downed the rest of her mezcal. What did that spoiled brat understand of the gravity of their situation? He was only concerned with taking the throne for himself. He didn¡¯t care about the lives that hung in the balance.

    The thought turned her attention to Sophie and Liam, which then reminded her of her speaking mirror. She wrenched her rucksack from the floor onto the bar and tore through the contents until her fingers found the familiar leather case. She took a deep breath and pulled the mirror from the soft suede.

    It was shattered. Asra¡¯s heart sank to the floor. The lodestone, thankfully, was unharmed, but she had no idea when she¡¯d be able to get her hands on another mirror. Until then, she wouldn¡¯t be able to reach her friends.

    She turned again to Ciaran. He was basking in the praise of sycophants while Asra¡¯s people were unaware of the danger that loomed over them. She pushed herself away from the bar, the stool squeaking against the floor loudly enough to startle the bartender, then stomped over to the prince.

    ¡°Are you almost done here?¡± Asra growled in his ear. ¡°We need to get moving.¡±

    He stared at her for a moment, clearly pondering his next words to her. The gathered nobles pretended not to be bothered by her, but she caught the sidelong glances in her direction and the hushed words they passed to each other.

    ¡°I told you we were going to rest here,¡± Ciaran whispered. ¡°We can discuss our next steps later tonight in private.¡±

    ¡°And you also told me that Vincent got us in your apartment because it was secluded. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea to stay here.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s also not a good idea to venture into the badlands at night wholly unprepared. Sit down and we¡¯ll discuss this later.¡±

    ¡°Who is your friend, Your Highness?¡± asked one of the nobles. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met.¡±

    The man spoke in a heavy accent that Asra was unfamiliar with and uninterested in placing. He was bald with deep brown skin and nearly as many jeweled earrings as Ciaran. Judging by the look on his face, the nobleman was not impressed by Asra¡¯s clothing or the odd glasses on her nose.

    ¡°Just my new assistant,¡± Ciaran said, with a heavy implication of no one worth worrying about.

    ¡°Your altruism is inspiring, Your Highness,¡± the nobleman continued with a tight-lipped smile. ¡°So gracious of you to uplift commoners into the roles of nobles. I only hope they don¡¯t start to think they¡¯re of noble birth themselves.¡±

    A few of the other nobles laughed, and Asra gripped her silver bracelet. The coward wouldn¡¯t be so bold if Asra were in her fur.

    Ciaran shrugged and smiled. ¡°Wasn¡¯t your grandmother a commoner? Good thing your grandfather was similarly altruistic, or you wouldn¡¯t exist to grace us with your presence.¡±

    ¡°I meant no disrespect, Your Highness,¡± the nobleman said with a deep bow. ¡°I¡¯m only concerned for your safety. I would hate to see one of your charity cases turn on you.¡±

    Ciaran smoothed his shirt, and Asra didn¡¯t miss the irritation in the motion. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to let Lady Ophelia know of your concerns with my ¡®charity cases.¡¯¡±

    The noble opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the woman next to him gripped his arm, piercing him with a warning glare. A vein bulged in the nobleman¡¯s temple, but he said no more.

    Ciaran turned to Asra and said, ¡°You can wait for me in my suite. One of the guards will take you there.¡±

    ¡°You can take this with you,¡± the noble said, forcing his empty glass into Asra¡¯s hands so abruptly that she grasped it on reflex. ¡°And tell the barkeep I want another one on your way out. There¡¯s a good girl.¡±

    Ciaran tensed beside her.

    ¡°Asra,¡± he warned, his voice barely above a whisper.

    But Asra had had enough. She threw the flute down at the man¡¯s feet, the glass shattering and skittering across the polished floor. The noble jumped back, hand clutched to his chest, and the entire room fell silent. The tension shifted toward Ciaran; everyone wanted to know how he would react to Asra¡¯s unruliness.

    He squared his shoulders to her, and his voice was low. ¡°You need to leave.¡±

    Asra squared her shoulders to him in return. ¡°You told me we were here to rest and strategize. All you¡¯ve done is drink.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not explaining myself to you. Go upstairs and wait for me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not your servant! You can¡¯t order me around!¡±

    ¡°You are in my kingdom, on my property. You will abide by the rules.¡±

    ¡°You spoiled brat!¡± Asra snarled, gripping him by the collar of his shirt. ¡°This isn¡¯t a game!¡±

    ¡°You need to put me down, Asra.¡±

    The guards from the front hall had arrived, and four rifles were now pointed at Asra. The rest of the room stood silent, transfixed by the scene before them.

    Asra shoved him away from her, and Ciaran waved off the guards. She pushed her glasses back up her nose and looked out of the corner of her eye at the nobles gathered around them. All the nagging she¡¯d done to Ciaran about keeping a low profile, and she¡¯d likely just blown what little cover they had.

    ¡°Just a little misunderstanding,¡± Ciaran said to the room. ¡°Nothing to worry about.¡±

    The music and low babble of conversation resumed, and Ciaran called over one of the guards.

    ¡°Take her to my suite,¡± he told the woman. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with her later.¡±

    She gripped Asra¡¯s arm, but Asra pulled it away from her and stomped toward the exit.

    Ciaran¡¯s voice followed her out of the room: ¡°Terribly sorry for the commotion. You know how difficult it is to find decent help these days ¡­ Wish she could at least handle her liquor ¡­ ¡±

    Asra turned to glance over her shoulder one last time as she rounded the corner out of the lounge, and the bartender¡¯s intense stare made her hair stand on end.

    <hr>

    Asra paced the length of Ciaran¡¯s suite for what must have been the eight-hundredth time. She contemplated¡ªfor what must have been the four-hundredth time¡ªsimply leaving without him. But she had no idea how to get back to Windemere City, much less Nolan¡¯s fortress, and she¡¯d certainly never faced a dragon.

    She walked the perimeter of the suite, her eyes scanning every nook and cranny from the bedroom to the bathroom to the living room. The suite was sleek and minimalistic, its stark white walls nearly bare. The only splashes of color came from tall blue vases inside brightly lit niches in the wall and the blue curtains over the windows.

    Asra thought again of the twitchy bartender. She wondered how long it would take him to rat her and Ciaran out, and how many other people here might be more loyal to Vincent than the crown.

    She approached the window in the bedroom and peeked through the drapery. She was three stories up, with nothing but cobblestone beneath. Not an ideal jump, but a broken leg was preferable to a bullet in the head.

    She headed to the small cold box in the kitchen. The inside was filled mostly with jugs of water and glass bottles of liquor and wine, along with a bottle of milk. She pushed the booze aside and stuffed all the containers of water into her bag. There was enough there to last them at least a few days, if they were careful.

    Asra¡¯s stomach growled again. Ciaran had sent up food a couple hours ago, but it was clearly his idea of a ¡°clever¡± joke. The aroma of the flaky biscuits made her mouth water and her stomach do backflips, but the grape preserves that drowned the pastries prevented her from devouring them. A single bite could seriously poison her.

    Asra was indulging in potential revenge scenarios when the lock to the front door clicked open and Ciaran stepped inside, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He reeked of brandy and the expensive perfumes of the nobles in the lounge.

    When Asra made it clear she was not going to speak to him, Ciaran asked, ¡°Care to explain that little display downstairs?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have to explain anything to you.¡±

    ¡°You certainly do if you want my help getting to Nolan.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want your help.¡±

    ¡°Well, unfortunately for both of us, you need my help. And if you¡¯re going to receive my help, you¡¯re going to behave like a civil member of society.¡±

    Asra¡¯s lip curled. ¡°If ¡®behaving like a civil member of society¡¯ means I have to let a bunch of rich pricks treat me like a servant, you can forget it.¡±

    Ciaran took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. It took him a moment to speak.

    ¡°What Duke Lambert did was ¡­ unfair,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re not a servant, and I would never present you as one. I¡¯ve never particularly liked him in the first place.¡± He took another deep breath. ¡°But you are a commoner¡ªin his eyes, at least¡ªand he is nobility, and that does mean he¡¯s owed a certain amount of deference.¡±

    ¡°And you think that¡¯s right?¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what I think, Asra. This is the way things are. I simply play my part, just like you do.¡±

    Asra snorted. ¡°Yeah, lucky for you, ¡®your part¡¯ means drinking fancy liquor while a bunch of brown-nosers kiss your ass.¡±

    ¡°Do you think I enjoy entertaining these pompous bastards?¡± Ciaran asked with a bitter laugh. ¡°Don¡¯t you understand? If I don¡¯t have the support of the most powerful nobles across the kingdom, my holdings will crumble within months after I take the crown. I¡¯ll be deposed and executed before my arse has even warmed the throne.¡±

    Asra clicked her tongue in mock sympathy. ¡°What a shame that would be.¡±

    Ciaran laughed. ¡°All this time, I¡¯ve wondered what kind of person you grew into. But you haven¡¯t grown at all. You¡¯re just as much of a child as the day we met.¡±

    His eyes flicked to the cold plate of biscuits.

    ¡°I mean, really,¡± he continued with a roll of his eyes. ¡°Do you think going on a hunger strike is going to hurt my feelings?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t eat that, idiot. It¡¯s covered in grapes.¡±

    ¡°Why would that¡ª¡± His eyes widened. ¡°Oh. Grapes are toxic to dogs.¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    His brow furrowed. ¡°But alcohol is also toxic to dogs, and you drank that.¡±

    ¡°Alcohol is toxic to everyone, prince.¡±

    Ciaran folded his arms, apparently needing a second to contemplate this. His eyes then shifted to Asra¡¯s overstuffed bag.

    ¡°Are you planning on leaving tonight?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We might need to.¡±

    ¡°Asra, relax. Vincent isn¡¯t stupid enough to try anything here.¡±

    ¡°You said something similar at your apartment.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come off it,¡± Ciaran said, throwing his head back. ¡°You¡¯re as paranoid as Nolan.¡±

    Asra rounded on him, jabbing a finger into his chest. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare compare me to him!¡±

    ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t I?¡± Ciaran said, pushing Asra¡¯s hand aside. ¡°It¡¯s your fault he¡¯s like this in the first place! We were perfectly happy before you showed up in the palace that night¡ª¡±

    ¡°I was kidnapped!¡±

    ¡°We both know that¡¯s a lie. And now I may lose everything because of it. I¡¯ve already lost my brother. My dog. After that fiasco downstairs, I may lose the throne. And it¡¯s all your fault!¡±

    They were close enough that Asra could hear his heart pounding in his chest, even through the sound of their heavy breathing. They said nothing for a moment, their noses less than foot apart.

    ¡°I wish you¡¯d never shown up that night,¡± he said finally. ¡°My life would be immeasurably better without you in it.¡±

    Asra took another step towards him, closing what little space remained between them. She was used to humans yielding to her presence and body pressure, even if they weren¡¯t sure why. But his face remained resolute, and he did not yield her any ground.

    ¡°Well,¡± Asra said. ¡°There¡¯s something we can finally agree on.¡±

    Ciaran waved a hand at her, as if to shoo her away, and pushed past her toward the bedroom.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Asra said.

    ¡°To change into my nightclothes. I¡¯ll sleep on the sofa.¡± He paused with his hand on the door. ¡°I just want this day to be over.¡±

    And he disappeared into the bedroom without another word.

    <hr>

    Asra wished Ciaran had just taken the bed. She had no intention of sleeping that night, anyway, and she craved a few hours without his presence in the room.

    She paced the area in front of the door, her claws clicking on the polished floors, something that apparently annoyed the hell out of Ciaran.

    ¡°Do you ever trim those talons of yours?¡± he snapped. ¡°They¡¯re so damn loud.¡±

    ¡°Dogs have claws. Claws make noise.¡±

    ¡°Not if you trim them properly. Bane¡¯s claws never made any noise.¡±

    Asra grunted. Bane¡¯s claws had been the tiny nubs of a show dog, useless for anything practical. But she wouldn¡¯t argue with him any further. She didn¡¯t want to remind him of the loss of his dog any more than was necessary.

    Asra circled a spot on the area rug at the center of the room and flopped down, her eyes fixated on the door in front of her¡ªthe only entrance to the suite. She hoped her nerves would give her enough energy to stay awake, but the instant her elbows hit the ground, the exhaustion of the day overwhelmed her. Fortunately, the images and sensations that ran through her mind every time she closed her eyes¡ªthe crunch of bone, the gushing of blood, the pain that ripped through her flank as fast as the bullet¡ªdid more than enough to dissuade her from falling asleep.

    ¡°I don¡¯t enjoy killing people, you know,¡± Asra said. ¡°I just do what I have to.¡±

    ¡°Where did that come from? Guilty conscience?¡± Ciaran¡¯s blanket rustled behind her. ¡°Whatever helps you sleep at night.¡±

    He went silent, and Asra¡¯s head drooped. She fought to keep her heavy eyelids open, her gaze locked on the front door.

    ¡°What¡¯s a convert?¡±

    Asra¡¯s eyes peeled open, and she craned her head back to look at Ciaran. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You mentioned your father looking for converts earlier today, but you didn¡¯t explain what they were.¡±

    Asra¡¯s first instinct was to tell him it was none of his business, but talking might help her keep her eyes open long enough to keep them alive. She doubted Ciaran would be able to do any harm with the information, anyway.

    ¡°Humans who have been bitten and become shapechangers.¡±

    ¡°You said you couldn¡¯t change humans,¡± Ciaran said.

    ¡°We can¡¯t. Dogs with the gift can. Normal dogs, I mean. Or foxes or wolves or ¡­ whatever.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Footsteps creaked on the stairs outside. Asra¡¯s ears swiveled forward, muscles tensed, then relaxed when she heard nothing else.

    ¡°There¡¯s two ways to become a shapechanger,¡± she continued. ¡°You can be born to two shapechanger parents¡ªlike me¡ªor you can be bitten by a dog with the gift.¡±

    ¡°Which is?¡±

    Asra sighed. She was so tired she could barely think straight, let alone form a coherent explanation. ¡°Some dogs have a kind of magic. They can¡¯t use it themselves, but if they bite a human, they could become a shapechanger. We call it the gift.¡± She yawned and forced her eyelids open again. ¡°And the people who are bitten and survive are called converts. My dad would go to the city to look for them, to make sure they went someplace safe.¡±

    ¡°Do you get a lot of converts?¡±

    Asra grunted. ¡°No. My friend Liam was the last one, and that was over twenty years ago.¡±

    She didn¡¯t mention her people¡¯s rapidly declining population. That was information he could do harm with.

    ¡°What if a human and a shapechanger had children?¡± Ciaran asked. ¡°What would those children be?¡±

    ¡°Why would any of us want to do that?¡± Asra grumbled.

    Truthfully, she had pondered the question herself, especially with the way her father supposedly got around the capital city. There had been not-so-quiet rumors back home that her father only took so many humanitarian trips to the city because he enjoyed having human lovers. She remembered her parents¡¯ hushed late-night arguments about it.

    Asra had been hopeful that she might discover a half-sibling somewhere, but she¡¯d found no sign of one after nearly a decade in Windemere City. Either her father had been extra careful, or it simply wasn¡¯t possible for humans and shapechangers to procreate.

    Asra herself had engaged in a few short-lived flings with humans, but Asra wasn¡¯t at any risk of having children of any kind. She¡¯d made sure of that shortly after she arrived in the city.

    Stairs creaked once again outside the front door, and Asra leapt to her paws. She sniffed and found the unmistakable scent of Vincent. Not strong enough to be the man himself, but strong enough that it could only mean bad news.

    ¡°Asra, relax! No one¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± she hissed. Her ears flexed fully forward, straining for any sound. Maybe they wouldn¡¯t be able to get in. That hope was dashed as the deadbolt on the door clicked open. She crept backward as a thin tool slipped through the crack of the door to push the swing lock open.

    ¡°Get up,¡± Asra whispered as she neared Ciaran. He now sat rigid upright on the sofa, eyes wide at the increasingly useless door. ¡°Open the window.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because I don¡¯t have hands.¡± The swing lock made a soft tap as it hit the wall. Now only the lock on the knob separated them from the intruders.

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to jump out, are you?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°We both are.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Open it!¡±

    She heard a metal key slip into the slot on the other side of the door as Ciaran scrambled from the bed and fumbled with the window locks.

    ¡°Too late!¡± Asra shouted as the door burst open. ¡°Move!¡±

    Ciaran threw himself aside just as Asra lifted a hind leg and donkey kicked through the thick glass. Her bone and ligament shattered with the window, and she snarled through the pain. She snatched Ciaran by the collar of his shirt and turned to launch herself through the open frame. Sharp fragments along the opening snagged her coat and skin as she pushed through, bullets fragmenting the intact glass next to her.

    She landed hard on the concrete below, pain splintering up her paws and legs. She bit down on Ciaran¡¯s shirt and gritted through it as bullets whizzed past her head. Her claws scraped the cobblestone as she raced down the empty roads, clumsily adjusting her gait for her broken hind leg, until they reached the outskirts of town. She scented the trail they¡¯d entered on and followed it back into the swamp.

    Asra only stopped when the pain in her leg became unbearable. She dropped Ciaran to the ground and flopped over on her side, panting, tongue lolled out on the ground. Ciaran scrambled around the damp earth, then collapsed.

    Asra lifted herself upright and sniffed the air. She couldn¡¯t smell anyone for miles. There was only the stench of the swamp. She looked around for Ciaran and found him sitting cross-legged a dozen feet away, slumped over with his head in his hands.

    ¡°Hey,¡± she said between gasps. ¡°I can¡¯t go any more with this leg tonight. We¡¯ll have to sleep here.¡±

    Ciaran made no acknowledgement of her. Blood blossomed through his torn shirt and dripped down his arms, but Asra didn¡¯t smell enough to be concerned about serious injuries. She didn¡¯t want to smell it anymore than was necessary. It was bitter and pungent.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to take turns sleeping to make sure no one followed,¡± she continued. ¡°You can sleep first. I need to keep an eye on my leg while it starts healing. There¡¯s a blanket in my bag if you want it, but you¡¯ll have to get it.¡±

    Ciaran pushed himself to his feet and shuffled over to grab the blanket out of Asra¡¯s bag. He then shuffled back to his previous spot and plopped down with his back turned to Asra, pulling the blanket over him.

    Biting insects swarmed them, and the damp earth would completely soak through her fur and Ciaran¡¯s clothes by morning. The roar of amphibians was even louder than it had been that afternoon, and the way it drowned out any other sounds made Asra even more on edge.

    It was going to be a long night.

 Eight: The River

    The gashes along Ciaran¡¯s arms and legs burned almost as much as his rage.

    He sat with his arms resting on his propped up knees, skin warmed by the morning sun filtered through marshland tree branches. His hands gripped his knees to prevent him from absentmindedly reaching for Bane¡¯s fur. His only comfort now was the low hum of insects and croaking frogs. It reminded him of hunting trips through the marsh with friends he hadn¡¯t spoken with since the kennel fire took everything from him.

    Vincent had always been a jealous man¡ªjealous of Ciaran¡¯s status, jealous of how much time Ciaran spent with his dogs, jealous of how quickly Ciaran rebounded after their breakups¡ªbut this was beyond anything Ciaran thought he was capable of. Even through all of their fights, he had never felt unsafe around Vincent. He wasn¡¯t sure what could have possibly driven him to murder.

    He sipped the canteen of moonshine Asra had taken from his suite the night before, grateful that she apparently hadn¡¯t detected the alcohol. He needed something to take the edge off of his anger, and he had no interest in a lecture from her.

    He shifted his weight and a shard of glass sent a sharp stab of pain through his arm. He clamped his lips shut to keep from losing what little bit of food he had left in his stomach. That wasn¡¯t the only piece of glass that lingered under his skin, and there was no way he¡¯d be able to get them all out on his own. He would need to ask Asra for help. After their argument the previous night, he had no interest in asking her for anything.

    Branches rustled behind him, and he turned to see Asra in her human form, the same ratty shawl she¡¯d tried to get him to wear yesterday thrown over her naked body. She hauled a large stone over to a boulder half buried in the damp ground. She put the foot she¡¯d injured last night on the boulder, then raised the stone high above her head.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± Ciaran asked, but Asra was too absorbed in her task to acknowledge him.

    Ciaran watched, horrified, as she threw the stone onto her foot with a sickening thud. Without even flinching, she pushed the stone aside and ran her hands up and down her foot. Bones snapped back together and cuts mended themselves. She slipped her foot off the boulder and tested her weight on it.

    A slosh of water caught Ciaran¡¯s attention. He turned towards the sound, and his eyes widened as a massive alligator lumbered out from the water to bask in a patch of morning sun a few yards away from him. He whipped his head back to Asra, who had already discarded her shawl and was stalking towards the reptile in her gazehound form.

    As she approached the beast, it let out a warning hiss, then tried to scurry back into the water. But it was sluggish from its slumber, and Asra was dazzlingly fast. She sprung on it like a fox pouncing on a mouse in the snow and landed with her front paws on the gator¡¯s back, pinning it to the ground. She grabbed its skull with her jaws and wrenched her head straight up to snap the alligator¡¯s neck in one clean move. Its limbs twitched, then stilled.

    She dragged the reptile with her mouth and plopped it down beside Ciaran. She tore into the carcass, eating her fill of muscle meat and organs alike, then tore off a hind leg and dropped it next to Ciaran.

    Ciaran turned his head away as Asra changed back into her human shape. He heard her dress, then heard the crackling of fire.

    When he turned back to her, there was a small torrent of flame coming from her hands onto the dismembered limb. After a few moments she seemed to be satisfied with her work, and she lobbed it at Ciaran. He murmured a thank you, then tried to figure out the best way to eat this mass of meat.

    ¡°What were you doing to your foot?¡± he said. He decided the best way to eat this thing was to just take a big bite.

    ¡°Bones didn¡¯t heal right last night.¡± Her face was smeared with blood. She headed over to the pond to splash water onto it. She sputtered, shook her head, then said, ¡°I had to reset them.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you heal it yourself last night?¡± He swallowed the first bite. It was unseasoned and overcooked, but he had the sense not to complain.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t. I can¡¯t use magic in my fur.¡± She splashed her face again, then wiped the water off with her hands. ¡°Some of us can, very rarely. But I¡¯m definitely not good enough with my magic.¡±

    ¡°Why not just shift back last night, then?¡±

    ¡°I told you yesterday, I can¡¯t change when I¡¯m injured. It makes it way worse. It could kill me if it¡¯s bad enough.¡± She eyed him as he swallowed another bite. ¡°We¡¯re wasting time. Where do we go next?¡±

    ¡°We?¡± Ciaran said. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t just run off and left me here.¡±

    ¡°I wanted to,¡± Asra said, stretching her arms out above her head. ¡°But I don¡¯t know how the hell to get to Nolan, and I don¡¯t know anything about the badlands out here. I need someone to get me through all that. And you need someone to help you get revenge for Bane.¡±

    Ciaran frowned. He hadn¡¯t expected her to care about his dog.

    ¡°I see,¡± he said. ¡°¡®You rub my belly, I rub yours,¡¯ eh?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get cute. We¡¯re not friends. Where do we go next?¡±

    Ciaran sighed. ¡°Well, you get your wish. Vincent probably has spies at all of the major checkpoints, so we¡¯ll have to avoid the main roads and head through the badlands. The closest territory is Ringmell. That should only be a few hours east of here. We can stop and get supplies there. After that, we¡¯ll need to cross the Bellefail River.¡±

    ¡°And after that?¡±

    Ciaran shook his head. ¡°I think I¡¯ll keep that to myself, in case you think about leaving me behind again.¡±

    Asra cocked her head sideways in a distinctly canine way. ¡°Is it safe for us to be in a royal territory? Will Vincent be able to find us?¡±

    Ciaran reached up to scratch the back of his head in frustration, then froze, hissing in pain as a shard of glass pinched a wound.

    Asra sniffed the air between them, then said, ¡°Do all humans take as long as you to heal?¡±

    Ciaran took a deep breath, mulling over his next words. He didn¡¯t want to seem too desperate for her assistance.

    ¡°I would appreciate it if you would help,¡± he said. ¡°With my injuries.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you would.¡±

    He took another deep breath. ¡°Would you please help me with my injuries?¡±

    Asra wrinkled her nose, and for a second he thought she would refuse. But after a moment, she nodded and grabbed her bag. He sighed in relief.

    ¡°Where are you hurt?¡±

    ¡°My arms mostly,¡± he said. ¡°A couple on my chest. There¡¯s still glass in some of them.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t think to get those out?¡± Asra asked, dropping her bag on the log next to him and digging out a pair of tweezers.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t have the stomach for it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re kind of a baby,¡± she said, her words muffled by the tweezers she held between her teeth.

    ¡°Well I¡¯m sorry I don¡¯t spend my free time crushing my bones with rocks. I¡¯m not as used to pain as you are.¡±

    Her brow scrunched up in confusion, then she removed the tweezers from her mouth. ¡°You know I numbed my foot before I did that, right? With my magic?¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    She laughed. ¡°You really thought I just crushed my foot like that with nothing for the pain?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t act like you don¡¯t know you¡¯re terrifying enough for that to be believable.¡±

    There was a smug smile on her face as she ran her hand down his arm, letting it linger over each gash for a moment before moving down to the next. When she found one with glass still inside, she fished the shard out with the tweezers. She then moved back to the top of his arm and worked her way back down, healing each wound as she moved.

    The warmth of the magic was soothing, and the relief was immediate. Ciaran was surprised at how soft and gentle her hands were. He had expected her palms to be as calloused as her temperament.

    When she finished with his arms, she lifted his shirt over his head to examine his back. The brush of the rough fabric of her shawl on his bare skin sent shivers up his spine.

    She moved in front of him to examine his chest, and he looked away from her. He didn¡¯t want to give her any reason to get angry and stop healing him.

    ¡°Any other magic tricks up your sleeve?¡± Ciaran asked, mostly to distract himself from Asra touching a particularly nasty gash across his collarbone.

    ¡°Not really,¡± Asra said. ¡°I¡¯m not very good with magic. I can make fire, but not much, and not for long.¡± She was silent as she healed another cut, then said, ¡°What about you? Can you actually use that lodestone you think you¡¯re hiding from me?¡±

    Ciaran tensed. ¡°How did you know?¡±

    ¡°I can smell it. And I can feel the magic.¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°I picked up a few things from Vincent.¡± He watched her for a moment, then continued, ¡°I¡¯m surprised you agreed to heal me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want you slowing us down. Or whining.¡±

    He winced as she pulled out a large shard of glass from the wound, then exhaled through tight lips as it healed under Asra¡¯s touch.

    Yesterday¡¯s events ran through his mind. The woman was insufferable, but he couldn¡¯t remember if he¡¯d allowed his anger to get the better of him or not. His behavior yesterday was unbecoming, especially of someone of his status, and shame tugged at his heart.

    ¡°Thank you for helping me.¡±

    Asra looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. She stared for a moment, as if trying to determine if he was being sincere or not.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± she said finally, then: ¡°You¡¯re all done. Let¡¯s get moving.¡±

    <hr>

    As they headed towards Ringmell, they made a list of supplies they¡¯d need. Ciaran would need clothes, first and foremost. A tent. Dry food to supplement what they could hunt, and a water purifier and container for drinking water.

    After that, they fell into a stony silence, and reached the outskirts of Ringmell several hours later. As they approached the edge of the trees, Asra grasped Ciaran¡¯s chest and stopped him from going further.

    ¡°You need a disguise,¡± Asra said, pulling her shawl out of her bag and tossing it to him.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Ciaran said.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need money, too.¡±

    ¡°Why are you looking at me like that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have money,¡± she said. ¡°And I don¡¯t have anything to sell. You¡¯ll have to pony up.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    She pointed to her ear, and Ciaran reflexively reached up to touch his own ear. His fingers landed on the earrings dangling from his lobe.

    ¡°Damn,¡± he said, removing the three that contained emeralds. ¡°Some of these are heirlooms. Nolan is going to kill me.¡±

    He frowned, digesting the words he¡¯d just used. Perhaps that was a poor choice of phrase.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Take them all out,¡± Asra said. ¡°You¡¯ll stick out like a sore thumb with all of those things.¡±

    He did as he was told, trying not to think about how many of his newer piercings would close up and need to be redone. Asra took the earrings from him and put them in a pocket of her backpack. She then put on her glasses and hat.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± Asra said.

    They moved quickly through the small city, spurred on by Asra¡¯s paranoia they might be caught. Ringmell had sprung up in the center of a farming community, and it showed. Its inhabitants wore simple clothing, and despite the city¡¯s moderate size, there weren¡¯t many buildings taller than two stories. The streets smelled lightly of livestock and horse urine. Cats roamed freely, mainly on balconies and fences, out of reach of the small terriers that darted through the citizens¡¯ legs.

    The pawnbroker was located in a small building near the edge of the city proper. The walls were lined with farming equipment, bows, and firearms. Commoners generally weren¡¯t allowed to own guns, but exceptions were made for farmers who needed to protect their livestock from any of the numerous monsters and predators in the area.

    As Asra fished Ciaran¡¯s earrings out of her bag, he wandered down the aisles, examining the bows. A weapon would be useful if they were going to have to brave the badlands. He didn¡¯t want to have to rely on his single lodestone for the rest of the trip.

    His eye was drawn to a recurve bow made of hazel wood. He picked it up and called the shopkeeper for a string.

    ¡°Put that down before you break it,¡± Asra whispered.

    ¡°Why would I break it?¡± Ciaran said, taking the bowstring from the gruff shopkeeper. ¡°I¡¯ve been training with these since I was a child.¡±

    He lifted the bow and pulled back on the string. It had a draw weight that was comfortable but would pack a decent punch, even against the more formidable creatures in the badlands. He felt Asra¡¯s sharp stare as he unstrung the bow and placed it on the counter.

    ¡°What?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t a gun be more useful?¡±

    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°And I have no interest in using a gun.¡±

    The shopkeep offered far less for Ciaran¡¯s earrings than they were worth, even factoring in the cost of the bow, quiver, and arrows, but Asra refused to allow Ciaran to argue with the man. She put the rest of the earrings back in her bag, and Ciaran hoped he wouldn¡¯t have to part with all of them before the end of their journey.

    Ciaran was at least able to convince her to stay the night in an inn, though she would only agree to the cheapest one they could find, a decrepit building on the edge of town. He had been looking forward to a hot bath more than anything, but he wasn¡¯t sure if he actually got any cleaner in the cramped, yellowing bathtub.

    At dawn the next morning, nausea woke him from restless sleep on the cheapest mattress he¡¯d ever laid on. Asra was still asleep on the bed next to his. He dressed in a fog of exhaustion, hands shaking and head pounding, and took his new bag outside with him.

    Ciaran slouched against the rough-hewn wood exterior of the inn, and his hand reached for Bane¡¯s head¡ªa silly thing to do. He slumped down to the ground, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

    He reached inside his bag and grabbed one of the bottles of gin disguised as a bottle of water. Originally he had done it to fool Vincent, but was grateful it seemed to fool Asra as well, at least for the time being. It wouldn¡¯t be long before her nose sniffed it out. He took a deep swig and sighed as the warmth spread through him.

    Ciaran felt hollow without Bane. He knew it was foolish to get his hopes up, but he still hoped his dog somehow managed to get away. The sound of his final yelp played in his head again. He took a deep drink from the metal canteen, hoping to erase the sound from his mind.

    He¡¯d fought so hard to keep Bane alive, from his battle with distemper as a puppy to the kennel fire, and in return, Bane had put his life on the line multiple times to protect Ciaran. He owed his life to his dog.

    And yet, despite everything Ciaran had done, he couldn¡¯t help but feel like he should have done more. After all, he¡¯d brought Vincent into their lives, and it was because of Vincent that Bane had been hurt.

    Ciaran thought of Bane¡¯s dam Trigger, which brought his thoughts to his mother. He remembered how she looked when they tended to the kennels together¡ªher honey blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, wisps escaping to hang over her ears and forehead, the simple trousers and blouse she always wore for kennel work. No matter how plain her clothing, she always looked like a queen.

    He remembered the pride in her eyes as she handed a newborn Trigger to Ciaran. Nolan had never shown much interest in the dogs, and she had been relieved when Ciaran had shown the same aptitude for dogmanship that she had in her youth.

    But she was gone. And so was Trigger. And now, so was Bane.

    Ciaran and Nolan were the only ones left, and Ciaran was on a mission to kill his brother. How would his mother feel about what he was doing? If he did make it to Paradise, would he ever be able to look her in the eye, knowing that he had killed her only other child?

    He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn¡¯t hear Asra approach him.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± she said.

    Ciaran jumped, sloshing moonshine all over his shirt. Damn. Asra would surely smell it now. Her eyes flicked from Ciaran¡¯s bottle to the wet spot on his shirt, then narrowed.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said, shoving his bottle back in his bag.

    He stood, feeling much dizzier than he anticipated. He swayed and grabbed the wooden wall behind him to balance himself. Asra was deathly silent.

    ¡°Next town¡¯s not too far off,¡± Ciaran said.

    ¡°We need to cross the Bellefail River today, right?¡± Asra said.

    Ciaran¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Who told you that?¡±

    ¡°You did.¡±

    ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°Yesterday! What the hell is wrong with you?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. I remember now.¡± He rubbed the back of his head. ¡°I¡¯m just not completely awake yet. It¡¯s this way.¡±

    The words felt thick in his mouth, but he definitely said them all clearly, and he set off in what was definitely a straight line.

    <hr>

    Asra smelled the pluff mud about thirty minutes before Ciaran did, but the distinct sulfur smell apparently did nothing to prevent her walking straight into a deep patch of it.

    ¡°Damn it,¡± Asra growled, trying to wrench her feet free.

    ¡°Stop trying to pull out of it,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°Wiggle your legs back and forth to make a hole in the mud, then you can pull out of it.

    Asra worked her way out, the mud clinging to her skin.

    ¡°Why does this shit smell so bad?¡± she grumbled as she wiped it off. ¡°I¡¯ve eaten garbage that smelled better than this.¡±

    Ciaran chose not to comment on this as he extended a hand to help her out of the mud patch. She brushed him aside and cleared the patch with one long stride.

    They arrived at the river a couple hours later. The sky was a vibrant orange now with the sun at its most potent. The dense cover of tree branches draped in hanging moss had shielded them from most of the rays as they walked, though the humidity still left them sweaty.

    The river was around sixty feet wide, the tree line running right up to its edges. In front of them was a rustic wood log bridge, short logs parallel to the river tied on top of a layer of long split trunks running perpendicular to the water. The water itself was flowing lazy and undisturbed. That was a good sign.

    ¡°Is there a way to go around this thing?¡± Asra asked.

    ¡°Not unless you want to add another week to our travel time.¡±

    ¡°Well is there at least somewhere more shallow or narrow to cross?¡± She craned her neck to look into the middle of the river, presumably wondering how far down the bottom was. Ciaran decided not to tell her just how deep it was.

    ¡°Are you afraid of water, Asra?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said, but the defensiveness in her tone said otherwise. ¡°Just not a strong swimmer. Not a whole lot of water in the desert.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re in luck because you can¡¯t touch it, anyway. There¡¯s a herd of water horses that live in the river.¡±

    Her head snapped to him. ¡°A herd of what?¡±

    ¡°Water horses. You know, half horse, half fish? They don¡¯t let people in the water. But we¡¯ll be fine as long as we stay on the bridge.¡±

    ¡°What happens if we fall off the bridge?¡±

    ¡°Best not to find out.¡±

    Asra approached the bridge and tested her footing on the first log. It was slick with river water and humidity, and her shoe slid right off.

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have at least built a better bridge?¡± she said.

    ¡°We¡¯ve tried. The water horses destroy it every time. They¡¯re tough, and they¡¯re magic. They control the water. They drown construction crews before they can even finish. We¡¯ve tried killing them but nothing works. Guns don¡¯t do any good because they can use the water to slow the bullets. We tried poisoning the water but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I got it, thanks.¡±

    Ciaran rubbed the back of his head. ¡°Right, sorry. I tend to ramble when I¡¯ve been ¡­

    ah ¡­¡±

    Asra¡¯s eyes narrowed at him.

    ¡°Yes, let¡¯s get going,¡± he said, heading towards the bridge, but Asra put a hand on his chest to stop him.

    ¡°Ciaran, you can barely walk in a straight line. There¡¯s no way you¡¯ll make it across.¡±

    ¡°Relax, Asra. I¡¯ve crossed this bridge a million times before. It¡¯s not as dangerous as it looks.¡±

    He tried to take a step forward again, but Asra¡¯s arm was rigid as a board.

    ¡°You¡¯re drunk. You¡¯ll get us both killed.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be dramatic,¡± Ciaran said, shoving Asra¡¯s arm away from him. ¡°I¡¯m not drunk. All you¡¯ve done since we met is bitch about how we can¡¯t afford to wait around.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t afford to die, either!¡±

    Ciaran groaned and pushed past her. She lost her balance on the log and stepped back to solid ground to regain her footing. By the time she had, Ciaran was already well onto the bridge.

    After a moment, he heard claws scrabbling for purchase on the logs behind him. A giant muzzle with bared teeth appeared next to him and said, ¡°If we make it to the other side, I¡¯ll kill you.¡±

    ¡°Good luck making it back home without me.¡±

    They were halfway across the bridge when Asra said, ¡°Is that one of them?¡±

    Ciaran looked down into the water where Asra had her eyes fixed. There, just beneath the surface, an equine face watched them, bright green sigils emblazoned across the silver scales that covered its body. Its snout lacked the large nostrils of a regular horse and a large fin replaced its mane. Its front legs¡ªif they could be called that¡ªwere held curled tightly to its chest, like a praying mantis. The legs ended in two smooth, bony clubs. Ciaran had seen those bust a hole into the side of a boat with ease.

    The movement of the water over the creature¡¯s face made Ciaran dizzy, and he swayed on his feet. Just as he began to lose his balance, Asra grabbed the straps of his rucksack with her teeth to steady him. She said nothing; the low, rumbling growl she gave him was warning enough.

    He focused his attention forward again, concentrating on nothing but placing one foot firmly in front of the other. He hadn¡¯t remembered the bridge being this uneven last time he crossed it ¡­ Right foot, left foot ¡­ right foot, left¡ª

    He miscalculated the next step. The next log was thinner, lower down. His foot came down too hard, slipped, and he fell backwards, arms flailing, towards the water.

    He heard Asra shout his name, felt her grab the strap of his rucksack again, felt it snap and pull free ¡­

    Then he was fully submerged in the water, and eye-to-eye with the water horse. He tried to swim to the surface, but a force pulled him back under. The horse was again over him, its strange legs held up above him, poised and ready to strike down the solid clubs at the ends of its legs with freakish speed. Ciaran closed his eyes and prepared himself.

    But the blow never came, and when he opened his eyes, scarlet blood filled the water. Asra was on top of the animal, her jaws clamped on the back of its neck at the base of its skull. Its tail flailed, but after a moment it went limp. Asra paddled over to Ciaran, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and kicked her way to the surface. They both gasped for air, and Ciaran felt the spray from Asra¡¯s nose on the back of his head. She swam towards the edge and had almost made it when the current pulled them back under.

    Two more horses were closing in on them at an impossible speed. Asra kicked with her long back feet and caught one in the face, scratching its eye and polluting the water with fresh blood. The second horse raised its raptorial limbs above Asra¡¯s ribcage and brought them down so fast that Ciaran didn¡¯t see them move. There was a loud crack, and Asra yelped. The attack left the horse¡¯s throat exposed and close to Asra¡¯s jaws, and she didn¡¯t miss the opportunity. She reached out and chomped, and the animal¡¯s struggle only quickened its death.

    Asra let go and grabbed Ciaran, once again striking out for the shore. He watched the third horse, apparently too wary to get any closer. It reared its head back, and Ciaran knew what it was about to do.

    As their heads broke the surface, Ciaran tried to warn Asra between gulps of air, but it was too late. A sudden current swept them back under the water and down the river at extreme speed, sending them careening down the waterway. The final horse was going to drown them with its magic.

    Each time Asra managed to bring them above water, they only managed a few breaths before being dragged back under. They must have traveled for miles like this, the river becoming more and more shallow. Ciaran saw a flash of black mud on the edges of the riverbank.

    ¡°Asra!¡± he gasped. ¡°The mud!¡±

    Asra growled in response, apparently catching Ciaran¡¯s meaning.

    She waited until they came to a sharp turn, then kicked into the bank. Her paws sank into the thick deposit of pluff mud. The suction held her in place, and she slowly ripped her feet out of the mud one after the other, until they reached the surface.

    But there was no time to rest when she set foot on land. A wave of water rose up behind them, and Asra raced into the woods. The wave rose higher and higher, and Asra ran faster and faster. The wave crashed down just behind Asra¡¯s hocks as she ran a few dozen feet more, then collapsed into a heap on the ground.

    They both trembled. Ciaran was battered from rocks and debris on every inch of his body. They sucked as much air into their lungs as they could, but it was several minutes until their breathing started to normalize.

    Ciaran pushed himself upright. There was blood on Asra¡¯s side, and the three visible ribs there were clearly broken. Her ear twitched at the sound of his movement, and a huge amber eye swiveled to lock onto him. Ciaran pushed himself back a few inches.

    Snarling, Asra dragged herself to her feet. She whimpered as she jostled her ribcage, but the sight of Ciaran brought on another snarl. She pinned him down with a huge paw.

    ¡°What did I fucking tell you?¡± Her nose was inches from his face. ¡°I told you you were too drunk! Did you think I was too stupid to know you were hiding booze? You smell like a distillery. I could sniff you out in the middle of a landfill. If I find you drunk in the middle of the day again¡ª¡± Her loud yelp cut her off. ¡°Well, you better hope I don¡¯t!¡±

    She dragged herself off to a clearing a few dozen feet away from Ciaran and lay on her uninjured side, panting.

    Ciaran sat up again, shaking in rage just as much as he was from nerves. He wasn¡¯t going to let her boss him around. She couldn¡¯t control him. He was just going to need to be more careful from now on.

 Nine: The Dog

    They were moving way too slow. At this rate they wouldn¡¯t make it back to the capital by the end of winter.

    Their trip down the river had knocked them way off course. Fortunately, they¡¯d landed on the opposite side, but they were at least a dozen miles south of where they¡¯d started. The closest town was another five miles south. Most of the fresh supplies Asra purchased the day before were lost to the waters inside Ciaran¡¯s bag, so they had no choice but to replenish at this town. It would take them two days to get back on track.

    Asra counted the days in her head. It had been a full week since the parade, and she was still thousands of miles away from Nolan. She growled, causing Ciaran to shoot her a dirty look. She growled louder in response until he looked away.

    They were at each other¡¯s throats worse than ever before. The sweltering heat did nothing to ease either of their bad tempers. Asra¡¯s fur was drenched in sweat, and her tongue was spread out as flat as possible as she panted, but neither did much to help. She felt like she was trapped in a sauna.

    Asra spent all day breathing down Ciaran¡¯s neck to ensure he wasn¡¯t sneaking any more booze. She sniffed every time he took a drink. Fortunately, Asra¡¯s rucksack had remained intact, all the goods safely secured inside, though still thoroughly damp even now, so they still had a couple bottles of water¡ªactual water. Asra wondered if she should have dumped the two remaining bottles of moonshine, but the alcohol could prove useful for cleaning a wound in a pinch, and she couldn¡¯t bring herself to waste it. So she instead kept her vigilance over Ciaran¡¯s water consumption.

    Ciaran, a man used to always getting his way and answering to no one but his brother, chafed under the strict surveillance. They could manage about thirty minutes of silence, the tension festering between them like a bad wound. Then the loud crunch of Ciaran stomping on a branch or the tapping sound of Asra licking her nose would inevitably annoy the other, until they were snapping at each other once again.

    If her people worshiped gods, she would have thanked them that her ribs had healed properly last night. She wasn¡¯t sure if she could stomach having to reset them. She was still sore and stiff, and by the looks of Ciaran¡¯s subtle limp, so was he. Good¡ªhe deserved it.

    As they neared the town, a scent caught Asra¡¯s attention. Recognition flickered at the back of her mind, but she couldn¡¯t quite place it. It was earthy and natural, yet perfumey and artificial at the same time. She mulled over the smell until Ciaran¡¯s voice brought her back to reality.

    ¡°Are you even listening to me?¡± he said.

    ¡°What?¡± Asra snapped.

    ¡°We¡¯re getting close to town. Someone¡¯s going to see you like ¡­ that.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I got it.¡±

    She changed out of her fur and rummaged through her bag for clothes. The scent was right on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn¡¯t grasp it. As she dressed, she realized the perfume smell reminded her of Ciaran¡¯s apartment. Perhaps the scented candles used there? And the earthy smell was very canine. A dog? A dog from the city, maybe?

    Asra¡¯s heel slipped into her shoe as the light bulb in her head finally went off.

    ¡°There¡¯s no way,¡± she said, standing.

    ¡°What?¡± Ciaran said, but Asra was already running to the edge of the trees just ahead.

    A sign by the road welcomed newcomers to the small city. And next to the sign sat a dog, waiting as though he¡¯d been told to wait there. A rich brown coat, with dark ears and amber eyes.

    It was Bane.

    Ciaran knocked Asra to the side as he sprinted to the ridgeback. Asra followed on his heels. At the sight of his owner, Bane stood and wagged his tail low.

    Bane took a step forward to greet Ciaran, but collapsed under his own weight. Ciaran caught him just before he hit the ground. He held the dog tight, frantically murmuring soothing words and rocking the dog as Bane managed a few weak licks on Ciaran¡¯s arm. Asra looked away, shuffling her feet and focusing on a spot on the ground rather than the emotional reunion.

    But her attention was brought back when Ciaran looked up at her, tear tracks cutting through the grime on his face.

    ¡°He¡¯s hurt. Can you help him?¡± His voice quivered. ¡°He¡¯s hurt. He¡¯s hurt and I ¡­ I can¡¯t lose him again. Please, will you help him? I¡¯ll do anything.¡±

    Asra was even more startled by Ciaran¡¯s whiplash change in mood than she was by Bane''s sudden reappearance. She nodded and bent down to examine the dog.

    From a distance he¡¯d looked weak, but up close he looked like he was on death¡¯s door. A long, angry gash stretched from his chest to the right side of his ribcage. The skin around it was slick with purulent drainage. His pelvis and spine jutted out from under his skin, and his coat lacked the luster it had a week ago.

    She shifted his lips to reveal cherry-red gums that were sticky to the touch: signs of heat stroke. She pinched the skin on the back of his neck and pulled it straight up. It took a full four seconds to return to its normal position: severe dehydration.

    Asra considered how fast he would have had to travel to get here in such a short time. There was no way a common dog could have made that trek alive in that amount of time, especially factoring in the dangers of the landscape and the dog¡¯s significant injuries. She placed a hand on his shoulder and reached out with her magic, and felt the dog¡¯s magic answer in return.

    Bane was not a normal dog.

    Asra glanced up and down the road. No horses or pedestrians right now. In this situation, a well-meaning passerby could be just as dangerous as an outright enemy. They couldn¡¯t risk anyone recognizing them.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get him back into the woods,¡± Asra said, putting her arms under Bane¡¯s chest and nodding towards Ciaran to indicate to him to lift Bane¡¯s rear.

    When Asra was confident they were hidden from view of the road, she and Ciaran lowered Bane onto the soggy ground. She would need to get him cooled down and get some water into his body before she could address the wound. She dug through her bag and took out a few rags and all the food that was in there, as well as a bottle of water and a small metal cup.

    She poured water into the cup and offered it to the dog. He drank readily. That was a good sign. As he lapped the water, she took out a piece of beef jerky. The salt was less than ideal for his dehydration, but she needed to know if he would eat.

    ¡°Is he going to be all right?¡± Ciaran asked.

    Asra tossed him the rags. ¡°Go wet these in the pond.¡±

    Ciaran snatched the rags up and raced to the edge of the water. The dog sniffed at the small piece of jerky, then slowly chewed and swallowed. Another good sign. Asra grabbed the bag of dried fruit and dropped a few apple and banana slices into the bottom of the cup and filled it with water once more.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Ciaran said, the water from the rags in his arms soaking through his shirt and dripping onto the ground. ¡°Make sure there¡¯s no raisins!¡±

    ¡°Already have,¡± Asra said, offering Bane the water.

    ¡°And don¡¯t feed him too much at once! It¡¯s not good for¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ciaran!¡± Asra said, her head snapping to lock eyes with him. ¡°Believe it or not, I do know a thing or two about taking care of dogs. Quit running your mouth and get those rags on his belly.¡±

    Ciaran clamped his mouth shut into a tight line and dropped to his knees, rubbing Bane¡¯s stomach and sides with the sopping rags as Bane lapped up the water from the cup and ate the rehydrated fruit at the bottom. Slowly but surely, the dog¡¯s panting subsided and his skin cooled. Asra put a hand on his head and reached out with her magic. No signs of swelling in the brain. She lifted his lips to reveal pink gums.

    Confident that they had avoided the worst complications of heat stroke, Asra turned her attention to the gaping wound in Bane¡¯s side. She used her magic to numb the area, then pinched the edge to ensure she¡¯d done it correctly. She opened one of the bottles of moonshine and carefully washed the gash out as best she could. She hoped it would be enough. Proper bacteria-killers would be hard to come by so far away from a major hospital, and they would be unlikely to afford them even if they could find them.

    She laid her hand on the start of the wound, just under his neck. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and focused her magic on sealing the gash. When the skin and muscle closed under her hand, she moved it to the next section of the wound and repeated. As it slowly healed, section by section, Bane became more and more alert. By the time Asra reached the end, Ciaran had to hold the dog down to keep him from leaping to his paws.

    The instant Asra lifted her hand from his fur and said, ¡°All finished,¡± Bane threw himself into Ciaran¡¯s arms, coating his owner¡¯s face in a fine sheen of dog spit. Ciaran gripped him in a bear hug so tight that Asra worried he¡¯d snap the dog¡¯s spine. He buried his face in Bane¡¯s fur, and the ridgeback craned his neck to lick the back of Ciaran¡¯s head, his whole body wiggling as his tail swung back and forth so fast it became a blur.

    ¡°Hey, hang on,¡± Asra began, concerned that Bane may reopen a spot in the wound with less-than-perfect healing, but the redness in Ciaran¡¯s cheeks and the tears streaming from his eyes made her clamp her mouth shut. She stood and said, ¡°I¡¯m gonna lay down. You¡¯ve got first watch tonight.¡±

    <hr>

    Asra woke to a purple twilight sky. She sat up slowly, every muscle in her body protesting the movement. Healing Bane had drained her, and she felt like she could sleep for three days straight.

    But there was no time for that. They needed to be moving before morning, and Ciaran still needed to sleep at some point. She spotted him leaning against a large fallen log not too far away, Bane sprawled across his lap. She sat next to him. Ciaran tipped back a bottle to his lips, and the scent of alcohol burned Asra¡¯s nose.

    ¡°Hey, what the hell did I tell you about¡ª¡±

    ¡°Aw, come on, Asra,¡± Ciaran said, giving her a plaintive smile. ¡°This is worth celebrating. I¡¯ll be sober by morning. I promise.¡±

    There was a warmth that radiated from him, and Asra didn¡¯t have the strength to tell him no. She sighed.

    ¡°How is he?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Acting like nothing even happened.¡± When Ciaran looked at her, the moonlight flashed off the tears that rimmed his eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t ever thank you enough for what you¡¯ve done. I know I don¡¯t deserve it, not after the way I¡¯ve treated you, and especially after my behavior yesterday¡ª¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t do it for you. I did it for him.¡±

    Ciaran nodded as he stroked Bane¡¯s ear. The dog¡¯s paws twitched in his sleep.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me he had the gift?¡± Asra said.

    ¡°The what?¡±

    ¡°The gift!¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s brow furrowed, then a disbelieving smile spread across his face. ¡°Asra, don¡¯t be ridiculous. My dog is not magic.¡±

    ¡°I felt the magic in him when I was healing him. And think about it. What common dog could have possibly made it all the way here in a week while injured like that? How did he know we would be here? We weren¡¯t even supposed to come to this town.¡±

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°All of my dogs are extraordinary. I wouldn¡¯t have bred them if they weren¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, because they probably all had the gift. It¡¯s hereditary.¡±

    Or at least that was what she¡¯d heard. The truth was, her people didn¡¯t know much about the gift these days.

    Ciaran laughed and shook his head. ¡°Asra, that¡¯s absurd. He¡¯s my protection dog. Most of my dogs were protection dogs, or royal guard dogs. Many of them have bitten people before and none of them have turned people into giant killer dogs. Hell, I¡¯ve had dogs come up the leash on me.¡±

    Asra growled. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know exactly how it works. I don¡¯t think a bite is a guarantee that it¡¯ll happen, and I think most people don¡¯t survive the process, anyway. But I know I felt his magic.¡±

    Ciaran sighed and leaned his head back on the log. ¡°Well, I suppose you¡¯re the expert here. I guess I¡¯ll have to take your word for it.¡±

    Ciaran started to take another swig from the bottle, then looked at it as if he¡¯d never seen it before.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I didn¡¯t even ask if you wanted some.¡±

    He held the bottle out to her, an earnest smile on his face. His demeanor was so different from anything Asra had seen from him. It was no wonder he was able to charm all of those simpering nobles in the capital city. For a moment, she almost agreed.

    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°One of us needs to be sober enough to keep us alive.¡±

    She¡¯d meant it to sound caustic, but judging by Ciaran¡¯s grin, he¡¯d interpreted it as a friendly jab.

    ¡°Fair enough. I¡¯ll toast to you, then.¡± He raised the bottle above his head. ¡°To Asra, the kingdom¡¯s best damn veterinarian!¡± As he pressed the bottle to his lips again he added, just loud enough for Asra to hear, ¡°Even if she is an utter bitch.¡±

    Asra leaned back on her hands. ¡°Why do you humans use that word like an insult? I¡¯m literally a bitch.¡±

    Ciaran coughed, gulped the liquor in his mouth, then sputtered a laugh. Asra raised an eyebrow at him.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°I just can never tell when you¡¯re joking.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m never joking.¡±

    He made a face that was halfway between a smile and a grimace. ¡°Then you¡¯ve really eaten rubbish?¡±

    Asra¡¯s jaw dropped in indignation before she said, ¡°That was one time!¡±

    Ciaran laughed again. ¡°Please tell me you didn¡¯t just eat it straight out of the bin?¡±

    Asra puckered her lips to hold back her embarrassed smile, hoping to appear disgruntled, but Ciaran clearly wasn¡¯t buying it. His laughter shook his whole body, open and genuine, enough to rouse Bane from his sleep. Asra turned her head to hide her grin.

    ¡°Oh, Asra, that¡¯s vile!¡±

    ¡°I was running from your dogs, asshole!¡± Asra said, trying to regain her composure. ¡°They¡¯d been after me all day and all night, and I hadn¡¯t eaten in forever. There was a chicken carcass on the top of a trash can in an alley and I just ¡­ grabbed it as I passed.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s smile faltered. ¡°I don¡¯t like the idea of my dogs chasing you like a criminal, or an enemy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m both of those things, according to your laws.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Ciaran said, his smile fading completely. ¡°Of course.¡±

    Silence enveloped them as the reality of their situation fell onto them both. Crickets¡¯ chirps and owls¡¯ hoots filled Asra¡¯s ears, barely audible over the ringing of her tinnitus. She opened her mouth to tell Ciaran to get to sleep, but he spoke before she could.

    ¡°Bane is all I have left.¡±

    The heaviness of his tone weighed Asra down where she sat. She held back a sigh and cursed herself for not speaking a second sooner.

    ¡°My family¡¯s been breeding these dogs for generations. Long before we were even royalty. My mother was so proud when I started helping her in the kennels.¡± He smiled. ¡°Nolan never had the knack for it.¡±

    Asra snorted. She couldn¡¯t imagine Nolan having a knack for caring for anyone besides himself.

    ¡°Bane¡¯s dam, Trigger, was one of the pups from the last litter I whelped with my mother. When my mother was ¡­ ¡± He paused. ¡°When she passed, I had to learn how to do it all myself. I was only six at the time. We had kennel hands and trainers that would work the dogs and clean them out, and obviously the guards had their dogs to take care of. But I did all the feeding and grooming. I helped muck the kennels as much as I could. I mentored under other breeders who had known my mother well, and I learned everything I could.¡±

    He smiled again, apparently lost in some memory.

    ¡°It took me forever to find a good dog to match with Trigger. Ordinarily I wouldn¡¯t breed a bitch so old, but I wanted the sire to be just right. There were eleven pups in her litter, including Bane. They were perfect.

    ¡°When they were seven weeks, they all contracted distemper.¡±

    Asra¡¯s heart lurched. She remembered the boy in her class her first year of school who died of distemper. Shapechangers¡¯ bodies were phenomenal at healing wounds, but diseases were trickier, and distemper was a ruthless disease.

    Ciaran continued, ¡°We had private veterinarians at the palace kennels. The puppies received the utmost care, around the clock. I lost four.¡± His face was grim as he stroked Bane¡¯s head. ¡°Three more survived, but had complications so severe that I chose to cull them. The others eventually recovered, but Bane was weak for a long time after they had returned to normal. I kept him in my room with me, so I could personally attend to him throughout the night.

    ¡°One night there was a fire. We¡¯d had a terrible drought that summer. It caught so quickly that by the time the guards noticed, it was ¡­ ¡± He swallowed. ¡°My bedroom window overlooked the kennels. The light woke me up. Then I heard the dogs screaming. I raced to the kennels as fast as I could. It was an inferno. There was smoke everywhere. I couldn¡¯t get inside. One by one, the dogs stopped screaming.¡±

    His voice was thick and raspy, as though the smoke still filled his throat and lungs.

    ¡°The firefighters did everything they could, but the fire was so strong. The only dog left alive when they finally put it out was Trigger, and she ¡­ ¡± His throat caught. ¡°She¡¯d inhaled too much smoke. I don¡¯t know how she made it as long as she did. It was like she was waiting for me. Like she knew I would come, and she wanted to hold on until she could ¡­ say goodbye. I held her as she took her last breath.¡±

    Asra thought of her siblings¡¯ broken bodies on the floor of her childhood home, the wall they¡¯d been standing next to obliterated from the explosion. She felt her father¡¯s hand gripping her tiny wrist, felt the way her throat burned through the smoke and flame as she begged him to let her go, to run to her siblings.

    We can¡¯t save them now, he¡¯d said to her. But there are others we can save. We have to protect the commune, no matter what we¡¯re feeling. Do you understand? Tears had streamed down his face. She¡¯d never seen him cry before.

    Ciaran sniffed, paused, then said with force, ¡°All of my dogs were gone. Everything my family worked to build. Everything I helped my mother with. All I had left was Bane, and a pile of ash.¡±

    He swung his head to lock eyes with Asra, red eyes brimming with tears. ¡°And then I thought I lost Bane, too. And it was too much. I¡¯m sorry for how I¡¯ve behaved the last few days, but ¡­ He¡¯s not just my dog. He¡¯s all I have left of the other dogs, and of ¡­ ¡± He swallowed.

    ¡°He¡¯s all you have left of your mother,¡± Asra finished for him. His eyes widened, seemingly surprised that she understood, and he nodded.

    Asra thought of her father¡¯s massive fang resting in the quarantine cabin in the woods several miles outside of the capital city. It was the only piece of him that was still whole when she found his body beneath the rubble. It was all she had left of him.

    She heard the guilt in Ciaran¡¯s voice, even if he never mentioned it. She knew all the ways he must have blamed himself for what happened, all the ways he wished he could have stopped it from happening. She recognized it because she¡¯d done the same for the last eighteen years.

    His eyes hadn¡¯t left hers. He looked so weak, so vulnerable. He was nothing like the man she¡¯d met in the capital city. He was waiting for her to say something, do something. She reached her hand out to ¡­ what? Pat him on the back? Comfort him? At the end of the day, they were still enemies, regardless of their current situation. She diverted her hand to instead scratch the back of her head as she said, ¡°You should probably get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.¡±

    Ciaran at least had the social grace not to comment on her obvious cover-up.

    <hr>

    By the next morning, Bane was almost completely back to normal. He had enough appetite to scarf down a squirrel Asra caught for him, and he was hydrated enough to urinate on every third tree they passed on their way back into town. The only signs that he had ever been on death¡¯s door were his bony hips and ribs and a couple faint scars on his chest. Asra was confident these would be a distant memory within a few weeks.

    Ciaran was in the best mood Asra had ever seen him in. His smile seemed to be a permanent feature of his face, and he was pleasant and conversational towards Asra, as if they were old colleagues or schoolmates. She could almost believe he was a normal person and not a spoiled prince.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I got you hurt the other day,¡± he said for what must have been the fiftieth time that day.

    ¡°It¡¯s all right. It¡¯s over now.¡±

    ¡°Your healing abilities are incredible. I¡¯ve never heard of anyone walking away from a water horse attack in one piece, and today you¡¯re just ¡­ fine.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not perfect,¡± Asra said. ¡°It¡¯s got its issues, too.¡±

    ¡°In what way?¡±

    Asra deliberated how much she wanted to tell him before she spoke again. ¡°Well ¡­ we get a lot of cancers. I think it has to do with the way our cells repair themselves so quickly.¡±

    ¡°Do you get other illnesses often?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but ¡­ I don¡¯t think that has to do with our healing abilities.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Asra chewed her bottom lip as she considered her next words. ¡°We isolate ourselves really strictly. From other kinds of shapechangers, I mean. I think our bodies are losing the ability to fight off diseases. I got sick all the time the first year I was in the city. I got an infection in my paw once and I thought it might fall off.¡±

    Ciaran looked like he had more questions, but thankfully the first buildings of the next town appeared through the trees.

    When they arrived in town, they sold off a few more pieces of Ciaran¡¯s jewelry and replenished the supplies they¡¯d lost in the river two days before. As they left the pawnbroker, Asra¡¯s stomach rumbled, and they agreed to grab some hot sandwiches from the nearby pub first.

    She was so reluctant to cause tension between them again that she didn¡¯t say anything when Ciaran ordered a gin and tonic. Bane tucked himself neatly under Ciaran¡¯s barstool and closed his eyes.

    They ordered food, then Ciaran leaned over to Asra. ¡°We should get a horse while we¡¯re here. It will speed things up.¡±

    ¡°Can we afford to buy one?¡±

    ¡°No, but we could rent one. There¡¯s rental stables at most of the major towns and cities. We can swap out horses when we stop to buy new supplies.¡±

    Asra grunted. The idea of traveling with one of those brutes was not appealing, but they definitely needed to pick up their pace.

    They were halfway through eating when Ciaran suddenly gripped her hand. Her head shot up to look at him, then she followed his wide-eyed gaze to a newspaper held by another patron at the bar. Front and center of the first page was a blurry photograph of Asra and Ciaran in the resort in New Port, the headline PRINCE CIARAN ABDUCTED in a rather dramatic bold print above it.

    ¡°That son of a bitch,¡± Ciaran hissed. ¡°He¡¯s trying to make it look like you kidnapped me. He¡¯s trying to cover his arse after his mercenaries didn¡¯t kill us.¡±

    Asra grumbled to herself. It was already tricky enough to avoid detection when the entire kingdom wasn¡¯t actively looking for them. They would need to be even more careful now.

    Asra flexed her hand, still firmly in Ciaran¡¯s grasp, and said, ¡°You wanna let go?¡±

    He snatched his hand away and mumbled, ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t realize.¡±

    Asra looked him up and down. She felt less confident in her disguise for him now. His common clothes, rapidly-growing stubble, and unstyled hair may prevent commoners from recognizing him as the well-groomed prince at a glance, but anyone in the royal guard or nobility would recognize him with no trouble.

    Asra could get away with her glasses and a hat. People weren¡¯t used to seeing her face plastered on every newspaper and paper bill in the kingdom. But Ciaran was a different story.

    ¡°We should get going,¡± she said to him.

    As Ciaran counted out money and dropped the bills on the bar, Asra again pondered how they could better disguise themselves. It was fortunate that humans didn¡¯t have Asra¡¯s strong nose; that would make it easier to avoid detection. The thought brought her mind to the parade a week ago.

    ¡°That thing you did, to disguise those people on the parade float as you and Nolan,¡± Asra whispered to Ciaran. ¡°That was magic, wasn¡¯t it? A spell?¡±

    Ciaran nodded.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose that¡¯s one of the tricks you picked up from Vincent?¡±

 Ten: The Spell

    The spell apothecary was small and cramped. The white shelves filling the walls were yellowing and peeling from age, but were neatly organized and well stocked.

    There was only room for two other people in the tiny shop. One was a short woman wearing a leather duster and enough piercings and jewelry to make Ciaran envious. The other was the shopkeeper, crammed behind a shallow checkout stand, who shouted in Coastal that no dogs were allowed the instant they stepped inside. Ciaran balked, and for a split second considered refusing, but at Asra¡¯s glare he realized drawing attention was not a good idea. He took Bane outside and put him in a sit-stay, then returned inside.

    Ciaran picked two small lodestones and the ingredients needed for the disguising spell. He hoped he remembered everything; he admittedly hadn¡¯t paid attention to much of Vincent¡¯s rambling about his spells.

    Asra picked out small jars full of substances Ciaran couldn¡¯t name, sometimes thoughtfully analyzing them before passing them to him to hold. She warned him to be careful with them, and he nodded. His eyes wandered around the store before resting on the other woman.

    She was short and fair-skinned with black eyes. The sides of her jet black hair were shaved short. As she turned to smile at Ciaran, the light from the storefront windows glinted against an impressively large ring hanging from her nose.

    ¡°Nice dog,¡± she said.

    Ciaran was always happy to talk about his dog. ¡°Yes he is, thank you. He¡¯s saved my neck more times than I can count.¡±

    ¡°You ain¡¯t worried someone¡¯s gonna run off with him?¡± She spoke in Royal, but had a thick accent common to some of the cities to the north, most apparent in the way she said dawg and awff.

    Ciaran laughed. ¡°I¡¯d be more worried about the thief. They¡¯d lose an arm before I lost a dog. He¡¯s a trained protection dog.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? Where do you get one of them?¡±

    Asra gave him a pointed glare as she dropped a couple more jars in his arms.

    ¡°He was a gift,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°From a good friend back home.¡±

    Asra dragged him by the arm to the shopkeeper. The man rang the items up as the other woman continued, ¡°Is your home out west, near the capital? You got that fancy accent from around there.¡±

    Ciaran nodded, and Asra gripped his upper arm in warning, where the woman couldn¡¯t see the gesture. ¡°We¡¯re headed back now.¡±

    ¡°That explains why you¡¯re buying half the store,¡± the woman said as Ciaran passed a small stack of royals to the cashier. ¡°So are you two together or ¡­ ?¡±

    ¡°None of your business,¡± Asra snapped.

    Ciaran looked back at Asra in surprise. He hadn¡¯t expected her to have a jealous streak.

    ¡°Down, girl,¡± the woman said, grinning. Ciaran was amazed Asra managed not to snarl at her. ¡°I was just wondering if you were traveling alone. It¡¯s not safe to go out in the badlands without protection. I¡¯d be happy to offer my services.¡±

    ¡°We have protection,¡± Asra said.

    ¡°I see,¡± the woman said. She nodded her head towards the silver band on Asra¡¯s wrist. ¡°I like your bracelet. Silver¡¯s very pretty. Shame my ears are too sensitive for it.¡±

    She reached up to flick one of her own earrings¡ªtitanium, most likely. It had become a popular choice for jewelry in the last few years. She had to have had at least a dozen piercings in each ear, in addition to the ones on her nose, each of varying size and shape and color. The sight made Ciaran feel even more naked without his own jewelry.

    Asra snatched the change from the shopkeeper''s outstretched hand and said, ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°I apologize,¡± Ciaran said, turning to extend his hand to the woman. ¡°We¡¯re in a bit of a rush. It was a pleasure to meet you.¡±

    The woman accepted his handshake, firm and confident, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. ¡°At least one of you has manners.¡±

    As Ciaran turned to help Asra load the bottles into a bag, he knocked a glass vial of fine blue powder onto the floor, and it rolled behind his feet. Asra groaned and bent down to pick it up. Ciaran tried to step out of her way, but instead stepped directly on the fragile glass, sending a puff of blue dust straight into Asra¡¯s face. She yelped, then sneezed six times in quick succession. Ciaran hoisted her up by the arm as she started another sneezing fit. She started shoving the remaining jars into the bag.

    ¡°Get them¡ª¡± She sneezed again. ¡°Get them in the bag and let¡¯s go!¡±

    Ciaran scooped up the last few jars and dumped them in the bag as Asra darted out of the store. Ciaran turned to apologize to the other patron, but she was backed into the corner, covering her nose with her sleeve. She waved to him with her other hand. Unsure of how to gracefully exit the situation, Ciaran waved back and apologized to the shopkeeper in Coastal.

    He raced out, calling Bane to follow as he passed him. Asra was already out of sight, but it wasn¡¯t difficult to follow the sounds of rapid sneezing. He finally caught up to her a couple blocks down in a short alley. She grabbed him by the arm and pushed him against the wall.

    ¡°I told you to be careful with those!¡± She turned as another round of sneezes racked her body. Bane sniffed at the blue powder that dusted Ciaran¡¯s pant leg, then let out a large sneeze himself.

    ¡°Keep him away from that!¡± Asra said, kicking at the dog. ¡°Get it off your pants.¡±

    ¡°What is this stuff?¡± Ciaran asked, stepping away from the two of them and brushing the substance off his legs.

    ¡°Hound¡¯s woe! It fucks with dogs¡¯ sense of smell. You might as well have told that woman that I¡¯m a shapechanger!¡± She sneezed again, then pulled out a cloth and a bottle of water from her bag. She dampened the cloth and wiped off her face and neck. ¡°I told you to be careful, but you were too busy flirting to pay attention.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t flirting,¡± Ciaran said, straightening himself. ¡°I was making polite conversation. I realize you¡¯re unfamiliar with the concept.¡±

    His cheeks warmed. Of course Asra hadn¡¯t been jealous of the woman¡ªshe¡¯d been suspicious. He was foolish for ever thinking otherwise.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need you being a smart ass right now,¡± Asra said. Her eyes were red and puffy, her nostrils swollen. ¡°That woman is gonna rat us out for the bounty and guards are gonna be on us any second. And we still have to get your damn horse.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re being paranoid. She was just chatting.¡± He helped her put her rucksack on, then took the cloth from her and wiped off Bane¡¯s nose, just to be safe.

    ¡°Well, I guess we¡¯ll see, won¡¯t we?¡±

    <hr>

    Ciaran spent the next few days trying to reconcile the image he¡¯d had of Asra for his whole life with the woman he¡¯d gotten to know over the past couple weeks.

    The sun was now low on the horizon, the sky a blazing yellow-orange. The buzz of summer insects had been replaced with the ruckus of evening frogs and toads, something that seemed to greatly perturb Asra.

    He craned his neck back to look at her. She walked a fair way behind and to the side of the mare Ciaran rode, whom she surveilled with intense distrust. Her coat glowed orange in the sun¡¯s dying rays, which glinted off her fangs each time she flashed them at the horse for a perceived slight. These slights included breathing too loudly, or shaking her mane too vigorously.

    Bane trotted between the two of them, and any time Asra growled at the mare, Bane would dance on his hind legs, stretching up to lick Asra¡¯s chin, his ears pinned back and tail wagging low. It seemed he did not like the tension between the shapechanger and the horse, and he was politely asking them to be friends.

    Ciaran turned forward again before Asra caught him smiling. The idea that the nightmare that had haunted him since he was a little boy could be frightened by such common things as water and horses seemed preposterous.

    Nolan had once told him shapechangers were agents of chaos intent on sowing discontent amongst the commoners. They sought an idealistic alternative to the monarchy, ignorant of the actual pressures and responsibilities of ruling a kingdom. There¡¯s always someone who thinks they can lead better than you can, he¡¯d told Ciaran. And after everything he¡¯d experienced with Asra over the last couple weeks, that seemed believable. She clearly had no respect for the crown or its laws.

    Ciaran had also grown more understanding of Nolan¡¯s increasing paranoia since Asra began her slaughter a decade ago. Anyone would go mad with her looming over them, not knowing where she was or when she would strike again. The blame for Nolan¡¯s descent into madness could be placed solely on her shoulders, and he couldn¡¯t help but hate her for it.

    Which led him to a problem: What would he do with Asra when they¡¯d accomplished their goal? He didn¡¯t expect her to peacefully return home with how deep-set her hatred was towards the monarchy and Ciaran¡¯s family. But after everything she¡¯d done to save Bane, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to have her executed, and the thought of imprisoning her for the rest of her life made him queasy for numerous reasons ¡­

    ¡°What are you looking at?¡±

    Ciaran hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been staring at Asra again. He whipped his head back around and said, ¡°Nothing,¡± but it was too late.

    She trotted up to walk in line with the horse, though she kept a considerable distance from the steed. Asra was almost the same height as the mare at the withers, but Ciaran¡¯s head still sat several inches above Asra¡¯s. He appreciated even this slight sense of authority.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been staring at me all afternoon,¡± Asra said. ¡°You got something you want to say?¡±

    Ciaran was not about to reveal to her what he¡¯d been pondering¡ªthat would be a death sentence. He cast out in his mind for any safer topic.

    Unfortunately, the first thing that popped into his thoughts was, ¡°What happened to your ear?¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I meant ¡­ ¡± Ciaran swallowed. Out of all the things to ask her, why was that what his mind had landed on? ¡°That first night we met, in the palace, when we were children ¡­ both of your ears were drop ears. So for it to stand up like that it would need to be cropped and posted. But it doesn¡¯t look like it was intentionally cropped. It looks like it was shredded. So I was just wondering how ¡­ ¡±

    Ciaran hoped Asra didn¡¯t secretly have the ability to shoot flames from her eyes. He cleared his throat and said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that was a rather insensitive thing to ask.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, no fucking kidding.¡±

    Asra darted forward to put distance between herself and the others. Ciaran sighed and nudged his horse into a canter, calling for Bane to follow. He couldn¡¯t allow himself to get too soft on Asra. There would very likely come a time when he would have to choose between her life and his own.

    Nolan had always joked that Ciaran¡¯s downfall would come in the form of a beautiful woman or a dangerous dog, and Asra managed to be both.

    <hr>

    They made camp late that night, after over an hour of Ciaran asking to stop. He finally put his foot down when the horse was too exhausted to continue. He slowed the mare to a halt, dismounted, and unsaddled her, ignoring all of Asra¡¯s protests.

    ¡°We¡¯re miles away from the closest town,¡± Ciaran said as he removed the horse¡¯s bit. His hands shook so much it took a couple tries to hang the bridle over a low-hanging branch. ¡°And no one is following us.¡±

    ¡°You have no idea if that¡¯s true,¡± Asra said, looming over Ciaran with her fangs bared. ¡°And we¡¯re not moving fast enough in the first place. We¡¯ll never make it back at this rate.¡±

    ¡°And we¡¯ll go even more slowly if the horse keels over and dies from exhaustion,¡± Ciaran said as he dumped some grain mix into a bucket for the mare. ¡°Even if that woman does know who you are, what does it matter?¡±

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what you said about Vincent!¡±

    Ciaran shrugged. His exhaustion and hunger were getting to his nerves, and he didn¡¯t trust himself to speak. He dumped some of the grains onto the ground for Bane, along with some beef jerky from his bag, all of which Bane inhaled.

    Asra groaned and changed back into her human form. She fished clothes out of her bag and dressed, then pulled out some of the spell ingredients.

    Ciaran shoved a handful of dried fruit in his mouth as he watched her drop several lodestones, each roughly the size of an apple, onto the ground. Asra sprinkled the contents of some of the jars from the apothecary over them. She dug shallow holes in a circle with a roughly ten foot diameter around Ciaran, Bane, and the horse, then placed a lodestone in each of these holes. Then, she grabbed the bottle of powdered hound¡¯s woe and thrust it into Ciaran¡¯s hand.

    ¡°I thought this stuff makes you violently sick?¡± he said as he took it. ¡°Why are we keeping it around?¡±

    ¡°I need it for the spell,¡± Asra said. Her voice was thin and tight. She pointed to the holes in the ground. ¡°You need to put a tiny amount on each lodestone. A tiny amount.¡±

    Ciaran didn¡¯t have the energy to protest. He shoved another fistful of fruit into his mouth and tapped a dusting of the powder onto each orb. Asra followed behind him, covering each hole with dirt, then pressing a single piece of potpourri into the damp earth.

    ¡°What¡¯s that for?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°The hound¡¯s woe keeps me from being able to smell the lodestones. I need a way to sniff them out.¡±

    Ciaran examined the bottle more closely. He¡¯d never seen it in a powdered form before. In the capital city, hound¡¯s woe was a restricted substance. Smugglers often used it to hide illicit goods¡ªmostly drugs¡ªfrom the royal dogs. Regulations must have become lax in the years since his dogs had passed.

    The delicate, floral scent of the potpourri caught his attention. ¡°It smells amazing. Where did you get it?¡±

    ¡°I made it myself. From some flowers I grow at home.¡±

    Ciaran furrowed his brow. He pictured Asra in a summer dress, tending to a flower garden in the countryside, and almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

    As Asra pressed the last piece of potpourri into the final patch of soil, she glanced around, counting the other lodestones. She took a deep breath and pulled a knife from her pocket.

    ¡°What are you¡ª?¡± Ciaran began.

    He cut off the rest of his own question as he turned and winced at the sight of Asra running the blade across her upper arm. Blood dripped from the wound. She swiped her fingers across the gash, then headed to Bane. She applied the blood into an intricate shape on his shoulder, then repeated the gesture to the horse¡¯s flank.

    By the time Asra approached Ciaran, the shallow cut on her arm had already healed. She pulled the knife back out of her pocket, and before Ciaran could protest, made another slice into her arm.

    Asra grabbed Ciaran¡¯s wrist in a grip so tight he didn¡¯t dare try to pull away from her. Her eyes locked with his, and he swallowed. The intensity of her glare sent gooseflesh up his arms.

    ¡°If you ever try to harm my people,¡± she said, her voice as low as a predator¡¯s snarl, ¡°I will hunt you down, just like your brother. I will not rest until you are dead. Do you understand me?¡±

    ¡°Asra, what is this¡ª¡±

    She squeezed his wrist so hard that his words died off with a yelp.

    ¡°Do you understand me?¡± she repeated.

    ¡°Yes, of course!¡±

    She relaxed her grip on him enough for the pain to recede, and he resisted the urge to yank his hand away from her. Her amber eyes flicked back and forth between Ciaran¡¯s for a moment more before she finally sighed and looked down.

    She swiped the fingers of her free hand across the stream of blood on her arm, then brought her blood-slick fingers to his bicep. She traced the same odd shape onto his skin that she¡¯d drawn onto the horse¡¯s and Bane¡¯s fur, and before he could discern what it was, it vanished in a flash of light.

    In the same instant, he was lifted by a wave of weightlessness, like the sensation he had on an amusement ride as it crested a hill. The feeling vanished as quickly as it came over him.

    ¡°What was that?¡± he asked.

    ¡°It was the spell activating.¡± Asra paused, and a nauseated expression overtook her face, as though she were deliberating whether she should confess to a crime. ¡°It¡¯s ¡­ a concealment spell.¡±

    ¡°How effective is it?¡±

    Asra stood and folded her arms. Her eyes scanned the perimeter of the invisible circle as she said, ¡°Not as good as others back home can make it. But hopefully good enough.¡± She rubbed the spot where she¡¯d cut, fully healed once more. ¡°Theoretically it should make us completely undetectable. As in, people could walk through us and not know we¡¯re here. But ¡­ I wouldn¡¯t count on that.¡± She sighed. ¡°Hopefully it¡¯s better than nothing.¡±

    Ciaran sat and pulled a jar of peanuts out of his bag, then popped a handful into his mouth. He passed the jar to Asra as she sat next to him, and he hoped she didn¡¯t notice how much his hands still shook.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have any spell like this,¡± he said. Vincent would froth at the mouth if he could get his hands on a spell this powerful. ¡°How does it work?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s better if you don¡¯t know.¡±

    Ciaran laughed and said, ¡°What, is it a ¡®if I told you, I¡¯d have to kill you¡¯ sort of thing?¡±

    Asra¡¯s silence chilled his blood.

    His smile faltered. He thought of how long Nolan spent searching for the shapechangers before Asra was brought to the palace as a girl, and the way the shapechangers seemed to vanish into thin air after the attack.

    ¡°This is the spell your people use to hide your town, isn¡¯t it?¡± he asked.

    Asra stopped chewing for a moment, then resumed without a word to Ciaran.

    ¡°You told Nolan how the spell works, didn¡¯t you?¡± he asked. ¡°That night in the palace. That¡¯s how he found your town to launch the attack.¡± He mentally ran through Asra¡¯s actions as she¡¯d performed the spell. ¡°You need the correct symbol and ¡­ blood?¡± His brow furrowed. ¡°Blood from someone who has access to the circle already. Is that right?¡±

    Asra stood, pulled a sleeping sack out of her rucksack, and tucked herself in as far away from Ciaran as the spell circle would allow. He sighed, taking that as his cue that he had first watch tonight, then set to tidying up as much as he could.

    He was halfway finished packing up the spell ingredients when he realized he still had the hound¡¯s woe.

    He examined the delicate jar. A powder that could make anything undetectable to Asra¡¯s nose would be useful. He would need to test it to see just how potent it was. What could he test it on?

    As he put the rest of the mess away, the remaining bottle of moonshine caught his eye. He froze. The thirst and the nausea were settling in, and his hands¡¯ quivering was only growing more pronounced. It wouldn¡¯t be long before he was in a sorry state.

    He bit his lip. Hound¡¯s woe was safe to consume, surely? He prayed to the gods that it was, then poured the gin into his canteen and tapped a small amount of hound¡¯s woe in after it.

    <hr>

    The next several days passed uneventfully. Ciaran felt they were making good distance, but Asra never agreed. She pushed them far beyond what anyone but she was capable of, and they ended each day cranky and exhausted. There were several times Ciaran tried to strike up conversation, just to break the monotony, but Asra never took the bait.

    They were still at least three days out from the next town when the thunderstorm hit.

    At first, Ciaran thought it was Bane¡¯s whimpering to be let outside that had awoken him¡ªdark clouds had threatened rain the previous evening, so they¡¯d pitched a tent. But as the next boom of thunder struck, he knew the storm was responsible for his early rising. He rubbed his eyes and turned to Asra, hoping Bane hadn¡¯t woken her, but her sleeping bag was empty.

    He rose and peeked his head out the front of the tent. Asra lay there in her gazehound form, her clothes in shreds around her. Relief washed over his sleep-fogged mind, and he exited the tent, yawning as he said, ¡°We don¡¯t have to take turns sleeping anymore, Asra. Wasn¡¯t that the whole point of the concealment spell?¡±

    Asra didn¡¯t respond. Ciaran rubbed his eyes and stepped closer. As he did so, he noticed the trembling that racked Asra¡¯s entire canine body. He stepped around to see her face. Drool pooled around her muzzle, and her eyes were open but unfocused. Her claws gripped into the earth, leaving long grooves in the dirt.

    Ciaran¡¯s stomach lurched. He¡¯d seen her nervous and uneasy before, but this abject terror before him was something entirely different. He reached out to stroke her shoulder, but before he could even register what happened, a snarl as loud as the thunder boomed in his face, scissor-like fangs gnashing mere centimeters away from his nose. He threw himself backwards and shielded his face with his arm.

    But the next strike never came. When Ciaran opened his eyes again, Asra stood there, wide-eyed, tail tucked between her legs.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she mumbled.

    Then she turned and stumbled away to the opposite side of the spell circle. She dropped to the ground, curling up into a tight ball, her trembling even more pronounced than before.

    It took Ciaran a few moments to catch his breath. He only managed to do so when he felt Bane¡¯s snout push underneath his hand. As he stroked the dog¡¯s ears, his heart rate eased back to normal.

    He spent enough time around dogs to know Asra had not intended to bite him. That had been an air snap¡ª¨Ca common warning in canine-speak. Dogs were incredibly precise and controlled with their jaws, and if she had meant to bite him, she would have. But the amount of terror she must have been experiencing to have such an animalistic reaction had to have been overwhelming.

    Ciaran tried to pass it off as just another odd fear of hers. Noise phobias were relatively common in dogs, after all. But he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he¡¯d just witnessed something much deeper.

    <hr>

    The next morning, Asra looked considerably like Ciaran felt after a long night of catering to nobles during a large ball. She stumbled across relatively flat terrain like she had four left feet, and several times Ciaran caught her dozing off as she walked.

    She must not have had any sleep at all the night before. The storm had passed about an hour before they broke camp and headed off again, but Asra¡¯s canine hearing would be able to hear the thunder long after Ciaran could.

    ¡°You know, we can stop for a rest whenever you would like,¡± Ciaran said as gently as possible.

    It didn¡¯t take years of social etiquette training to understand that Asra was embarrassed by her outburst last night, and definitely didn¡¯t want to discuss it. She glared up at him from beneath drooping eyelids.

    A moment later, Asra halted in her tracks, eyes wide.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Ciaran said, bringing the horse to a stop.

    ¡°Do you hear that?¡±

    Ciaran listened for a moment, but heard nothing but chirping birds. ¡°No.¡±

    Bane and Asra¡¯s ears perked in the same direction at the same time, and Bane let out a soft uff.

    ¡°Something¡¯s following us,¡± Asra said.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but we need to get going.¡±

    Ciaran pulled out his map to double check their route. ¡°We¡¯ll have to take the tunnel.¡±

    ¡°The what?¡± Asra said, her head snapping around to look at Ciaran.

    He held the paper down for Asra to see. ¡°This one here, see? Cuts through the Weldstones.¡± He pointed to the mountain range on the map, then the winding tunnel that snaked through it.

    Asra¡¯s eyes were still wide. ¡°What about that valley there? That looks shorter.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a dragon nest there, and it¡¯s the start of mating season.¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s jaw went slack for a moment. ¡°So? You¡¯re practically the walking dead right now, and I¡¯m certainly not capable of fighting dragons. We¡¯ll need to take the tunnel.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have time to waste in that tunnel, and we¡¯d be sitting ducks when whoever or whatever is following us catches up.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t get any sleep last night. You won¡¯t stand a chance against a dragon. You¡¯d be lucky to survive even in top shape.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know anything about me.¡±

    Ciaran groaned. ¡°Hellhounds take you, why are you so stubborn? Isn¡¯t this exactly why you were upset with me about the river incident? You¡¯re overestimating your abilities and underestimating your exhaustion. It¡¯s not worth saving a day of travel if we die.¡±

    But Asra took off in the direction of the valley without a word. Ciaran swore and called Bane up into the saddle. He nudged his horse to follow her, doubtful he would even be able to keep up.

    What had gotten into her? She¡¯d always been irritatingly stubborn and headstrong, but she wasn¡¯t stupid. She had to know rushing into a den of dragons was suicide.

    After a few minutes, Asra slowed to a steady trot, and Ciaran slowed his horse to match. The poor mare¡¯s sides heaved with her labored breathing, but Ciaran didn¡¯t expect Asra to stop for her.

    As they traversed further and further into dragon territory, Ciaran became more and more hopeful that the beasts hadn¡¯t returned to mate yet. There were no tracks in the dirt, no broken treetops from a clumsy landing.

    Asra stopped so abruptly that Ciaran¡¯s horse nearly ran into her. He pulled the reins to guide the horse around the giant gazehound, who sniffed the air, spraying a mist of nose sweat with each exhale.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Ciaran asked. Then he smelled it, too¡ªsmoke and burning wood.

    They crested the hill, and felt the heat of the blazing forest fire beneath them before they saw it. The dragons had returned, and they were clearing out their new nesting space.

    ¡°We need to go back,¡± Ciaran said, wheeling the horse around. ¡°The tunnel entrance isn¡¯t far.¡±

    But before he could even nudge the horse forward, there was a massive gust of wind, then the ground shook like an earthquake. The mare reared up in a panic. Ciaran gripped the saddle horn, but Bane had no way to hold on. The dog scrambled for a hold and knocked both himself and Ciaran to the ground. The mare took off, and Ciaran twisted around to find Asra.

    She faced away from him, the fur along her spine standing straight up. Her snarl reverberated through the ground, and the beast in front of her was unmistakable.

    Smoke billowed from its nostrils, its silver scales glinting with a mirror-like shine in the light of the inferno below. Bright green sigils twisted their way all over its body. The dragon unfurled its leathery wings, bony horns prominent over its head as it reared back for its attack.

 Eleven: The Dragon

    The worst thing about the dragon was that it proved Ciaran right.

    Asra was in no shape to be fighting anything, let alone a dragon. Sleep deprivation made her sluggish and weak. Her limbs were as heavy as anchors, and there was a delay between when she thought about moving and when her body obeyed.

    The second worst thing about the dragon was definitely the fire. A blast erupted out of the beast¡¯s mouth. Asra turned and grabbed Bane by the scruff and butted her shoulder into Ciaran to knock him out of the path of the blaze. She dropped Bane onto his lap and said, ¡°Keep him out of the way.¡±

    She turned again and launched herself at the dragon. Her jaws closed onto its throat, but the metallic scales provided no hold, and her teeth slipped as if she¡¯d grabbed onto an icicle. She slammed onto her back, the air rushing out of her lungs. She wheezed and sputtered as the dragon¡¯s claws descended on her, and she only just managed to roll out of the way before its paw slammed into the ground.

    Asra gasped, trying to draw as much air back into her lungs as she could. For a moment she considered taking a page out of the horse¡¯s book and making a break for it, but even if she could maintain her normal speeds, there was no outrunning something that could fly. And how would Bane and Ciaran get away? She had no choice but to fight.

    In the split second it took her to consider this, the dragon issued another wave of fire at her. She lunged to the side, but her tail singed in the blazing stream. Although the adrenals kept her from feeling much, she knew it was badly burned.

    A brown blur caught her eye¡ªBane had wriggled himself free of Ciaran¡¯s grasp and rushed toward the dragon. The monster opened its jaws, ready to snap the dog up whole. Asra snagged the ridgeback just in time. She dodged the dragon¡¯s razor teeth and dropped Bane back into Ciaran¡¯s lap.

    ¡°I told you to keep him away!¡± she barked.

    ¡°Behind you!¡±

    Asra turned just in time to see a flash of claws. The skin and flesh along her ribs tore open in long, ragged lines. She snarled and gritted her teeth against the searing pain. The dragon raised its head for another fire attack. Asra forced herself into the air, snapping her jaws near its throat, then darted away from Bane and Ciaran. She had to keep it away from them.

    The dragon let out a solid stream of flame, following Asra as she ran behind the creature, trying to stay out of its range. The dragon¡¯s tail swung around and caught her in the chest, sending her flying into a tree trunk. She scrambled to her feet, trying to blink away the fireworks in her eyes.

    Her head swam, and she knew she wouldn¡¯t last much longer. She needed to end this quickly. She needed to find a weak spot.

    No sooner had the thought crossed her mind when an arrow flew through the air, landing in the dragon¡¯s left eye with a squelch. The beast roared, pawing at its face. Asra turned to Ciaran, who had already nocked another arrow on his bow. Bane snarled and strained against the rope that attached him to a sturdy tree.

    ¡°Asra, the wings!¡± Ciaran shouted. ¡°Keep it from flying or it¡¯ll burn us from the sky!¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s next arrow pierced the dragon¡¯s sensitive wing membrane. The beast snarled and unfurled its wings, preparing for its ascent.

    Asra rushed the creature once more, springing up and grabbing the thin wing skin as high as she could. She shook her head and kicked with her claws as she fell back to the ground, shredding the thin skin. The dragon roared and shook itself, knocking Asra loose. But she anticipated the fall this time, and she twisted her body around to land squarely on her paws.

    The force of the landing sent shockwaves through her muscles and made her ligaments tingle, but nothing felt broken. The dragon launched itself into the air, but after only a couple of wing beats, it faltered and slammed into the ground below, sending several trees toppling down. The dragon righted itself and plodded toward Asra and Ciaran, blood and vitreous fluid dripping from its crushed eye.

    ¡°Any other ideas?¡± Asra asked as she moved in front of Bane and Ciaran to shield them.

    ¡°Snap its neck,¡± Ciaran said, pulling another arrow out of the quiver. ¡°Like you did that alligator.¡±

    ¡°How? I can¡¯t hold onto its scales.¡±

    Ciaran loosed the arrow, and it glinted off the beast¡¯s neck. The dragon lowered its head and swiped at Asra with its massive horns. She jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding being gored.

    ¡°There!¡± Ciaran shouted to her. ¡°The horns are just bone.¡± He ran to Bane and untied the rope from his collar. ¡°Bane will distract it. Finish it as quickly as you can.¡±

    He released Bane, and the dog rocketed toward the dragon. It turned its gaze onto him, swatting at him like a fly. Asra ran a wide arc around the beast until she was lined up directly to the side of its massive head.

    She skidded to a halt, then sprinted toward the dragon as fast as she could force her limbs to move. She leapt, grabbed the horn that was closest to her, and sighed a small breath of relief that her teeth held fast. She swung her hind legs forward as she catapulted underneath the dragon¡¯s neck, providing further momentum. The beast¡¯s head twisted at an unnatural angle, and as Asra¡¯s feet touched the ground on the other side, she felt a satisfying crunch and pop in its spine. The entire body went limp and dropped to the ground like a stone. Its feet twitched, its tongue lolled out, and then it was still.

    Bane barked at it for a few moments more, then crept toward the body, neck craning to get his nose as close as possible while maintaining distance with the rest of his body. Asra clamored over the neck and pressed her ear against the chest. No heartbeat.

    Ciaran stumbled toward the corpse and said, ¡°Is it ¡­ dead?¡±

    Asra nodded, then slumped to the ground. The adrenals were rapidly fading, and her exhaustion and pain hit her at full force.

    ¡°Asra, you¡¯re in horrible shape. We need to get you fixed up.¡±

    She looked down to examine her injuries. Huge chunks of fur on her tail had burned away, and some of the exposed skin had already sloughed off. It hurt like hell, but Asra was confident it would heal quickly.

    Her bigger concern was the gaping wounds on her side from the dragon¡¯s claws. There were four long, deep tears along her ribcage, the fur surrounding it soaked in blood.

    The wounds frightened her far more than the dragon itself. They were deep into the muscle. One of them even exposed bone. They would take forever to heal on their own, and it would be nearly impossible to keep them clean enough in that time to prevent infection. She could heal it just fine with magic, but changing out of her fur in this condition would be a death sentence.

    ¡°We need to get out of here,¡± she said, hauling herself to her feet, wincing against the pain. ¡°We don¡¯t know how close by any others might be.¡±

    Ciaran frowned, but after a moment he nodded and said, ¡°We¡¯ll have to go back to the tunnel. It¡¯s not too far.¡±

    Asra sighed and nodded. She had to admit she was grateful that he wasn¡¯t taking the opportunity to rub this whole mess in her face.

    Asra sniffed the air, then curled her lip and said, ¡°We¡¯ll have to grab that damn horse on the way out, too.¡±

    <hr>

    They reached the entrance to the tunnel early that evening. Asra¡¯s limbs trembled as she gazed up at the opening. It gaped like an angry maw, ready to devour its prey whole.

    Asra tried to ignore the way her heart rate spiked every time she thought of being stuck in that thing for days. She would never admit to Ciaran that that had been a large factor in her decision to push through the valley. It was bad enough she had to admit he was right about the dragons.

    It looked so much like the tunnel her comrades had used to escape Nolan¡¯s attack. Asra remembered the way the rough stone scraped her paw pads as she limped the dozens of miles to the exit on the other side of the mountain. The hushed whispers of the other survivors roared in her ears like a howling wind¡ªWhat if the humans break through and find us here? How did they find us in the first place? Who let them in? Asra had been as silent as the stone that encased them, dreading the moment the others would discover her guilt.

    ¡°We should get going, Asra,¡± Ciaran said from atop the horse.

    Asra startled at his voice. She hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d stopped, and couldn¡¯t tell how long she¡¯d stalled. She swallowed and nodded, too nauseated to speak.

    As they stepped inside, Asra became hyper aware of every sound that reverberated through the cave. The clicking of her claws on the stone. The clicking of Bane¡¯s claws, lighter and quicker than her own. The dripping of water from spiky ceiling outcroppings. The scurrying of rats on the ground and bats above them, hidden somewhere in the twists and bends of the long path. And the clomping of the damn horse''s hooves.

    Every vibration threatened to shake the entire mountain down on top of them. What was keeping this tiny hole from collapsing on them? Some human ingenuity and architecture? As clever as humans may be, they were no match for the forces of nature. Her father had proven that during the attack.

    The light of the entrance faded behind them. Soon the only light came from a poorly maintained spell along the tops of the cave walls, casting an eerie phosphorescent light. Asra¡¯s eyesight was better in the dark, and her nose could guide her through regardless, but she wished she could create a little fire nonetheless.

    When the outside light had vanished, Ciaran said, ¡°Hang on, Asra. We need to take care of your wounds.¡±

    Asra didn¡¯t stop. ¡°We need to keep going. We don¡¯t know how close whoever¡¯s following us might be.¡±

    ¡°We need to get you cleaned up.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll heal fine on my own. We wasted enough time in the valley.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say we.¡± Ciaran¡¯s tone was sharp enough to cut through the stone surrounding them. ¡°I tried to stop you from going into the valley to begin with. You didn¡¯t want to listen.¡±

    Asra whipped her head back to snarl at him. The last thing she needed now was an ¡°I told you so¡± from the prince. She had expected him to falter, to back down, maybe even to cower. But he sat steadfast, his brow and mouth set in tight lines.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Asra¡¯s breath caught in her chest. She had seen that exact expression on Nolan¡¯s face as Asra begged him to leave her home alone as a small girl. She¡¯d never considered just how much they looked alike.

    But unlike Nolan, there was a softness to Ciaran¡¯s eyes, and his voice was gentle when he spoke. ¡°Asra, you need help. Let me help you.¡±

    Asra growled and stalked off down the tunnel. Her tail smarted, but already new skin was forming, fresh fur replacing the singed fur. The gashes on her side pulsated with pain, and they weren¡¯t showing any signs of mending, but the bleeding had stopped and Asra was confident they would be healed by morning.

    The horse¡¯s hooves resumed their clomping, and the fur down Asra¡¯s spine stood on end.

    ¡°What about infection?¡± Ciaran called behind her. ¡°You said you don¡¯t handle infection well. We at least need to clean it out.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have enough water.¡± They only had the few bottles they¡¯d collected and filtered earlier that morning. If the tunnel collapsed on them, Asra and Bane might be able to get away with lapping at the small trickles of water running down the tunnel walls, but Ciaran¡¯s more sensitive human body would have to make do with the last clean water bottles they had left. There wasn¡¯t enough to wash out her wounds.

    Ciaran paused for a moment before he said, ¡°We could use the rest of that moonshine.¡±

    ¡°Hurry up, or I¡¯m leaving you behind,¡± she said.

    As they continued on, Asra tried her best to focus on the path in front of her. She made the mistake once of glancing up at the ceiling and was overcome with vertigo. Her stomach lurched and her head swam, and she tripped over Bane. She mumbled an apology to the dog who wagged his tail graciously at her.

    Then she heard the sound again. Her ears swiveled back and forth, but she couldn¡¯t pinpoint its location.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°You don¡¯t hear that?¡± Asra said.

    ¡°Hear what?¡±

    Asra stopped, flicking her head side to side, hoping she could nail it down.

    ¡°It¡¯s sort of ¡­ a booming noise,¡± she said. ¡°Or a roar?¡±

    ¡°Is it the same sound you heard before?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell.¡±

    Ciaran furrowed his brow and tilted his head, listening intently. ¡°I don¡¯t hear anything. Maybe it¡¯s another storm? Or the dragons?¡±

    Asra¡¯s nose curled. She shook her whole body out and listened again. She couldn¡¯t hear it anymore.

    ¡°It must be nearing midnight,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°I think you may just be tired. Should we stop for the night?¡±

    Asra debated for a moment, then said, ¡°For a couple of hours, for you and the horse to rest. Then we need to keep going.¡±

    Ciaran dismounted as he said, ¡°You need to rest, too. Are we setting up the concealment spell?¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t be able to put it together without hands.¡±

    ¡°Do you want me to help you? You could tell me what to use and how much, and I could ¡­ ¡±

    Asra snarled a warning. Her mind flicked back once more to his brother, Nolan¡¯s eyes wide with feigned wonder as he interrogated her about her home. She¡¯d thought Nolan had been interested in her people¡¯s concealment spell strictly on an academic level. More importantly, she thought he¡¯d been impressed by how clever and grown-up she was. If Asra could make such an impression on a king, surely her father would have to stop treating her like a child.

    ¡°I¡¯m only trying to help you, Asra.¡±

    Asra flopped to the ground with a huff, her back turned to Ciaran. As she examined her wounds, she heard him settling the horse and setting out his sleeping sack.

    The scratches on her side burned and throbbed with every heartbeat. She nosed at the closest one, hissing at the searing pain that shot through the wound. The flesh was puffy and hot on her damp nose.

    Asra couldn¡¯t handle Ciaran being right again. She set to licking out each gash, wincing against the pain and foul taste. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but this would at least get the dirt and grime out. As she worked, she listened for the sound from earlier, but it seemed to have stopped. She hoped it hadn¡¯t just been a figment of her imagination.

    When she finished cleaning her wounds, exhaustion and pain racked her body, and her limbs trembled from the exertion. The events of the day would have depleted her even on a good night¡¯s sleep, and she hadn¡¯t achieved any meaningful rest for almost forty-eight hours.

    She sniffed the air toward the entrance far behind them. She didn¡¯t smell anything. She didn¡¯t hear anything. She glanced at Bane, who was curled up next to Ciaran, snoring without a care in the world. Perhaps she could rest her eyes for a few minutes. Her injuries would probably be all better by the time she woke up, and the thought of sleeping through the pain of healing was tempting.

    Just until Ciaran wakes up, she told herself, and she rested her head between her paws and closed her eyes.

    <hr>

    ¡°Asra!¡±

    Asra¡¯s head shot up, her claws scrabbling on the damp rock beneath her. She swung her head back and forth, trying to locate the threat, but saw only the horse, Bane, and Ciaran, who stared aghast at Asra¡¯s side.

    ¡°Have you been licking at your wounds all night?¡± he said.

    Asra grumbled and said, ¡°I cleaned it out, like you wanted.¡± She tried to stand but was hit with a wave of fresh pain. Not only did it hurt even worse than it had before she¡¯d fallen asleep, but now it itched like hell on top of it. She bit back a yelp.

    ¡°You did a lot more than that!¡± Ciaran said.

    Asra glanced down. The fur around each gash had been licked away almost entirely, and the skin there was red and angry. The gashes themselves did not look any better than before she had cleaned them.

    ¡°You need to leave it alone,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°You¡¯re going to give yourself hot spots.¡±

    Asra wasn¡¯t in any mood to argue. ¡°Pack up. We need to get going.¡±

    As they continued their trek through the tunnel, Asra listened for the roaring sound from the night before. She couldn¡¯t hear it, but she swore she smelled the fire from the dragons on the outside. Sometimes she felt the vibrations in the ground as a mighty tree succumbed to the flames and slammed to the ground.

    Could the destruction outside lead to a cave-in? The thought of being buried alive dominated her mind. Her whole body grew so hot she wouldn¡¯t be surprised if she caught flame. Perhaps the heat was from her infected wounds. Or perhaps it was from the dragons¡¯ fire outside. Fire had stopped her from saving her father, moments before he was buried beneath the mountain. He had been so close, if she could have just found a way to get past the flames ¡­

    ¡°Asra, what¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Asra startled once more at Ciaran¡¯s voice. She panted in short staccatos, her legs quivering, and caught her breath just long enough to mumble, ¡°Nothing.¡±

    ¡°Well, all of your panting is stressing Bane out. Can you please stop?¡±

    She glanced down at the ridgeback. His hackles were raised, his body stiff and hyper-alert. He looked up at her and let out a soft whine.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she whispered to him. She shook herself out again, Bane following in kind, and resumed her brisk trot down the tunnel.

    However, she couldn¡¯t shake the sight of the flames from her mind. Her father had cast them there to block her path. He knew what he had to do to protect everyone else, and he didn¡¯t want her in the way. But if someone told him that everyone was safe, that the survivors were all in the tunnel, he could escape with them. Asra just had to climb over the flames, get him to listen ¡­

    A booming roar caught Asra¡¯s attention, snapping her out of her reverie. She froze, her ears twitching back and forth, trying to locate or identify the noise. It sounded like thunder. Like falling rocks.

    Then there was a crushing boom on the side of the mountain. The ground trembled, and small rocks shook loose from the ceiling and pelted Asra.

    The mountain was going to cave in.

    She hurtled herself toward the exit, barely registering Ciaran¡¯s shouts behind her. Her paw pads ripped as she skidded around bends on damp rock. She had to get out. She wouldn¡¯t be buried alive like her father.

    The exit to the tunnel appeared around the next bend. Asra barreled toward it, registering Ciaran¡¯s shout too late.

    She leapt out of the opening, but as her paws came down, there was no ground to meet them. Treetops replaced what she expected to be solid ground. She flailed, her jaws grasping for branches as she fell. Her teeth finally closed around one, but it snapped under her weight. She slammed into the ground. coughing and wheezing.

    Asra lay still for a moment, heart pounding, taking inventory of her new injuries. It was difficult to narrow down body parts through the whole-body pain. Her right front leg hurt. Possibly a sprained pastern. Her ribs ached. Bruised, most likely. They didn¡¯t feel broken, thank the gift. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to concentrate.

    The soft thud of nearing footsteps shot her eyes open. A man approached her. She righted herself, wincing against the pain, blinking to focus her eyes. The man was pale, with dark brown hair and broad shoulders.

    Nolan.

    Asra forced herself to her feet, snarling with her head low, readying herself for the attack. It must have been Nolan who had been following them the last several days. She wouldn¡¯t need to travel to him after all. He had come to her.

    She opened her jaws. Nolan threw his hands up beneath her, shouting words she couldn¡¯t make out. How satisfying that he would spend his final seconds alive begging for her mercy, the way she had begged him as a little girl.

    She reared her head back, but before she could strike, a chestnut blur launched itself toward her leg and bit down hard, shaking furiously.

    Asra turned her fangs to the new attacker, but a sudden wave of clarity washed over her. The pain in her body subsided. She blinked. It was Bane latched onto her leg, his growls reverberating up the limb. She glanced at the human and realized it was Ciaran, not Nolan. The horse stood a few dozen yards back, nervously stamping the ground.

    ¡°Bane, out! Out!¡±

    The dog obeyed Ciaran¡¯s command and promptly padded to his owner¡¯s side as the man pushed himself up off the ground.

    ¡°What the hell is wrong with you?¡± Ciaran shouted.

    Asra shifted her weight on her paws, unable to come up with a reasonable answer. Her head still reeled from the intoxicating promise of tearing out Nolan¡¯s throat, taken from her so abruptly.

    ¡°Why did you take off like that?¡± Ciaran said, brushing off the dirt from his trousers.

    Asra snarled. ¡°Because the whole tunnel was caving in!¡±

    Ciaran ran a hand through his hair, his mouth moving wordlessly for a moment before he said, ¡°What the hell are you talking about?¡±

    Asra growled and whipped her head up to the tunnel exit above her. Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened. The tunnel and all of the surrounding rock was still intact. There was no rubble. No smoke or debris billowing out of the exit. The tunnel hadn¡¯t caved in at all.

    Her heart pounded as she searched her mind for an explanation. She¡¯d seen the rocks tumbling around her, felt them striking her body ¡­ hadn¡¯t she?

    Asra took a step back, lowering her head and tucking her tail between her legs. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    Ciaran muttered to himself as he gripped his hair so tightly Asra thought he might rip his own scalp off. ¡°Are you all right?¡± he said after a moment.

    Asra looked herself over. The bruising in her ribs had healed, as had the bite on her leg. Asra¡¯s brow furrowed as the crunching pain flashed through her mind. Bane had bitten her down to the bone. Even for her this was unnaturally fast healing. She turned to her other side and grimaced¡ªthe gashes there didn¡¯t appear any better.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said. ¡°We should get going.¡±

    She ignored Ciaran¡¯s steady stream of curses as she headed into the forest. She tried not to think about the wound on her side. Even she couldn¡¯t deny that the wound was getting seriously infected. It was bad news if everything else was healing and that still festered.

    Asra pushed the concern aside. She just needed a couple good nights of sleep and the wounds would get better.

 Twelve: The Execution, Part One

    Asra¡¯s wounds did not get better.

    Ciaran¡¯s concern for her health grew with each passing day. She seemed to be in a great deal of pain, but refused all help he offered. Ciaran caught her fussing over her wounds often, and while he always told her off, she rarely paid him mind. There was a glassy, faraway look to her eyes now, and she was slow to react to anything around them. Ciaran wasn¡¯t even sure if she knew who he was half the time.

    He couldn¡¯t shake the image of her turning on him after she¡¯d fallen from the cliff. There had been nothing but fury in her eyes, and Ciaran was confident that if Bane had not been there to protect him, Asra would have ended him.

    But Asra had not been in her right mind. She hadn¡¯t even recognized Ciaran, and he had a strong feeling he knew who she saw that night. Ordinarily Ciaran didn¡¯t mind his striking resemblance to his older brother, but the hatred in Asra¡¯s face as she¡¯d bore down on him made his skin crawl.

    If what Ciaran had inferred about Asra giving Nolan the secret to her town¡¯s concealment spell was true, he certainly understood her vendetta. Would that vendetta extend across the family tree? Would she turn on him the instant Nolan was dead? He didn¡¯t ever want to face her like that again.

    Of course, these concerns would be moot if Asra died of infection in the middle of nowhere. He needed to get her help. More importantly, he needed to convince her she needed help.

    The town of Creekwater was a slight detour, but Ciaran knew of a good stable there. He could switch out horses¡ªthis poor beast deserved some rest¡ªand he may be able to find some sort of remedy or elixir for Asra¡¯s infection. He hoped human remedies would work on a six foot tall shapechanging dog-woman.

    As they approached the small town, Ciaran tried to find the most diplomatic way to inform Asra she wouldn¡¯t be joining him. There was a mossy spot on the ground beneath the shade of some leafy trees. That seemed a good place to tell her to wait.

    He took a deep breath. ¡°I need you to wait here while I head into town.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not going in there by yourself.¡±

    Ciaran sighed. He knew it was coming. ¡°I won¡¯t be by myself. I¡¯ll have Bane.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going with you.¡±

    ¡°Asra, look at yourself. Even if you wouldn¡¯t completely blow our cover, you¡¯re in no shape to be protecting anyone.¡±

    Asra straightened herself, growling as she did so, in what she likely thought was an intimidating posture. But the way she swayed on her paws made it clear that a stiff breeze would take her out.

    ¡°Bane and I can handle ourselves,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m going to the stables. You don¡¯t want to be around all those horses.¡±

    Asra maintained her stance for a few moments longer, clearly mulling the situation over in her head. Eventually she flopped to the ground with a grunt and laid her head between her paws.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back before you know it,¡± Ciaran said, and he called Bane to his side as he started towards town.

    <hr>

    An eerie feeling fell over Ciaran as he made his way through Creekwater, and it only grew worse the further toward the center he traversed. The usual hustle and bustle of the busy town had been replaced by a handful of stragglers who scurried to their destinations with their heads down. Most of the stores along Main Street had closed early, something Ciaran had never seen before.

    Thankfully the stables were still open. Ciaran tethered his mare to a post out front, then stroked her nose one last time.

    ¡°Thank you for your help,¡± he said to her. ¡°May the rest of your travels be dragon-free.¡± He hoped that his own travels would be equally dragon-free.

    ¡°You here to swap out?¡±

    Ciaran looked up at the stablemaster standing in the door of the main building. He was a heavyset man with a thick, graying beard. Ciaran nodded and twisted the gold stud in his left ear, the marble-sized lodestone heavy on the lobe. He hoped he remembered the proper enchantment for the disguising spell he¡¯d cast into the jewelry. He¡¯d tried to ask Asra if the change in his hair and eye color was convincing enough¡ªpale blonde for his hair and bright blue for his eyes¡ªbut she¡¯d only grunted at him.

    ¡°What are you looking for?¡± the stablemaster asked.

    ¡°Something fast and hardy, if you please.¡±

    The man turned to head back into the building, waving to Ciaran to follow. As Ciaran stepped inside, the floors creaked and whined under his feet and the door squealed behind him. The interior was cramped, barely wide enough for the desk in the center, strewn with papers and folders. Extravagant ribbons and photographs of horses leaping over hurdles were collaged onto the walls.

    ¡°Are all of those yours?¡± Ciaran asked, dipping his head toward a cluster of photos and rosettes.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Some of them,¡± the man replied, his voice as rough as gravel. ¡°Some of them are my daughter¡¯s. I don¡¯t ride much these days.¡±

    The man pulled out a rental agreement from a folder on the desk and slid it to Ciaran, indicating where he would need to sign. Ciaran caught himself before he put down his own signature and scribbled something that looked reasonably like a name, then passed him the agreed-upon amount of royals.

    ¡°You ever compete?¡± the stablemaster asked.

    ¡°Not in anything with horses. Dogs are my forte.¡±

    ¡°I noticed your ridgeback. You¡¯d have to be a fancy boy to have one of those, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±

    Ciaran smiled. ¡°Yes, I suppose.¡±

    He hadn¡¯t considered the fact that ridgebacks were illegal for commoners to own. He decided not to tell Asra this; she would ban Bane from entering any of the towns and cities with him.

    ¡°Your dog needs to be on a leash, you know. We have leash laws here.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t realize.¡± Ciaran had never been asked to put Bane on a lead before. ¡°Do you have one for sale?¡±

    The man grunted and said, ¡°I¡¯ll grab you one when I get your horse.¡± As he shuffled through some papers on the desk, the man mumbled something about ¡°damn out-of-towners.¡±

    Ciaran remembered his other task. ¡°Would you happen to have any remedies in stock? Something that could help infection in an animal?¡±

    ¡°¡¯Fraid not,¡± the stablemaster said. ¡°Shipments are all delayed with the execution tonight.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s heart sank, his mind on Asra¡¯s wounds. But as the rest of the stablemaster¡¯s words registered, his brow furrowed. ¡°Execution?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I said.¡± The stablemaster took the signed paper from Ciaran and stuffed it into a folder, then filed away the folder in a cabinet.

    Ciaran waited for the man to elaborate, and when he didn¡¯t, Ciaran said, ¡°I don¡¯t understand. A public execution?¡±

    The man eyed him with his lip curled so severely even Asra would envy his sneer. ¡°This your first day outside of your mommy and daddy¡¯s estate? Never seen an execution before?¡±

    Ciaran bristled at the stablemaster¡¯s condescension, but brushed it off. This old man had no clue he was the prince. If anything, it was a compliment to his disguising spell. ¡°But ¡­ who? Why?¡±

    The stablemaster shrugged. ¡°Some iron workers who striked too long. A couple army deserters. A royal guard who neglected his duty. King wants to make a spectacle of it.¡±

    Ciaran took a deep breath, unsure of which revelation to address first. He eventually landed on, ¡°Royal guard?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, the one who let the prince get kidnapped.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s stomach roiled. That had to be Thomson.

    ¡°King¡¯s been all out of sorts since his baby brother vanished,¡± the stablemaster continued. ¡°Been making life a lot harder for us little guys. Increased guards, increased taxes, more executions. Not that you care, rich boy. But it almost makes me wish for their daddy back. Alexander was a bastard, but at least he ignored us commoners. Let us get on with our day-to-day.¡±

    ¡°Alexander was a monster,¡± Ciaran said, his hands forming into fists at his side.

    ¡°Well they¡¯ve all been monsters, ain¡¯t they? All those damn royals and their simpering nobles. The rich folk are always gonna be up in their fancy estate houses fighting their power struggles, and us common folk will always be caught in the crosshairs while we do all the real work. Makes no difference who¡¯s in charge.¡±

    Ciaran stared at the stablemaster. He¡¯d never heard anyone speak so brazenly against the crown. Well, no one human at least. Asra would probably like this man.

    ¡°I ¡­ should get going,¡± Ciaran said.

    The stablemaster shrugged. ¡°You need anything else?¡±

    Ciaran took a deep breath, and as he did so, he took note of how much his hands shook. ¡°Do you have any liquor I could purchase from you? The stores are all closed.¡±

    <hr>

    They finished the paperwork, then the man led Ciaran to a bay gelding in the stables outside. Ciaran took the reins, thanked the man for his help, and headed back to Asra.

    It was twilight now. The flickering streetlamps shone against a purple sky as Ciaran, Bane, and the new horse navigated through the town. The horse¡¯s hooves echoed on the cobblestone in the empty streets. A warm glow came from Main Street, around the corner of the block, accompanied by a rumble of muffled shouts.

    Ciaran hadn¡¯t heard of a public execution in Windemere for many years, since before Nolan was crowned. Nowadays they were private events, viewed only by courtiers and the victim, or the victim¡¯s family in a murder case. It was one of the many reasons for the unification war¡ªto end the lawlessness and barbarism of the independent states. For Nolan himself to sanction one ¡­

    Bile rose in his throat as he thought of Thomson¡¯s body hanging limp from the gallows. The old guard had been one of the few people Ciaran could rely on in his twenty-six years of life. He couldn¡¯t leave him to die.

    Then his mind flicked to Asra. She would kill him if she found out he¡¯d done something to expose his true identity and jeopardize their mission, and she may not have to bother with the effort if the executioners and guards recognized him and delivered him to Nolan.

    He took a deep swig of the bourbon flask he¡¯d purchased from the stablemaster as he considered what Asra would do if she were in his shoes, then a new resolve flowed into him. Asra would protect her friends and family, consequences be damned.

    Ciaran took another sip of whiskey, then another, the burn in his throat hardening his nerves. He tethered the gelding to a hitching post in front of an empty general goods store and put Bane in a tight heel, the dog¡¯s shoulders brushing Ciaran¡¯s thigh as they headed to the square and traversed through the crowds.

 Twelve: The Execution, Part Two

    It didn¡¯t take long to reach the gallows in the center, the townspeople bustling around it like ocean waves preparing to crash upon a rocky shore. The wooden structure was rough and shoddy, clearly built up in haste.

    Seven people stood on the platform, a noose around each neck, hands bound behind them, a burlap sack obscuring their faces. But Ciaran would recognize the squat, friendly figure on the far left anywhere: Thomson.

    Ciaran¡¯s heart leapt into his throat. He still had time to save him.

    Though how he was going to do that, Ciaran wasn¡¯t quite sure. Guards stood around the perimeter of the gallows, keeping the fractious townspeople at bay, and the accused were accompanied on the platform by four armed guards, the executioner, and a crier, whose words rang out over the roars of protestors.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been gathered here to witness the execution of justice against these traitors against the crown, whose actions¡ª¡±

    The rest of the crier¡¯s words were drowned out in the waves of jeers and swears from the surrounding commoners. Ciaran pulled Bane¡¯s head against his thigh, terrified of the dog being dragged from him in the energy of the crowd.

    Commoners¡¯ discontent had only ever been something Ciaran had filtered down to him through his nanny or Vincent or¡ªrarely¡ªthrough Nolan himself. To be caught in the energy and power of the force itself was not something he¡¯d ever expected to experience in person. Nolan never would have allowed it.

    And yet, the sensation was not unwelcome. There was an odd sense of kinship thrumming through the crowds. Something told him Asra would love to be here right now, and that set him at ease, as though she were actually at his side.

    Ciaran wet his lips. He¡¯d never be able to take all these guards on his own, especially considering he¡¯d never killed anyone before. Perhaps he could provide enough of a distraction to slip Thomson away?

    He had his bow and arrows, but Bane would be his most potent weapon here. If he knew the best way to deploy him ¡­

    The executioner reached for the lever that would drop the trap door beneath the condemned.

    Ciaran kneeled down next to Bane, holding his arm out in a straight line toward the executioner, palm turned to the side. The ridgeback¡¯s gaze locked onto the target.

    ¡°Bane, get him!¡±

    The dog launched forward, forcing a path through the crowds. He catapulted onto the scaffold, then latched his jaws on the executioner¡¯s extended arm.

    The man screamed, and the chaos of the crowds paused for a split second. Then, Ciaran¡¯s arrow whistled through the air, lodging itself in the shoulder of the guard closest to Bane before he could grab the dog.

    And then the scene around him exploded. The townspeople rushed forward, overwhelming the paltry number of guards. Ciaran allowed the crowds to carry him up to the scaffolding, and he threw the noose and burlap sack over Thomson¡¯s neck.

    ¡±Bane, out!¡± Ciaran shouted.

    The dog released his hold on the executioner¡¯s bloodied arm and returned to Ciaran¡¯s side.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± Ciaran said, but when he tried to pull the man forward, Thomson resisted. ¡°Move, unless you want to die here!¡±

    Thomson finally acquiesced, and Ciaran led him down the stairs against the current of the mob. Gunfire cracked through the crowds, smoke casting a haze over the scene¡ªhaze that thankfully gave Ciaran and Thomson cover as they snaked through the riot.

    They finally broke through, darting into the shadows to the tethered gelding. Ciaran turned to Thomson, and the man stared wide-eyed at him.

    Thomson¡¯s voice warbled when he spoke. ¡°Who are you? What do you want with me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here to settle my debt for all those pastries you snuck me after supper,¡± Ciaran said as he untied the rope on Thomson¡¯s wrists.

    Ciaran didn¡¯t think the man¡¯s eyes could get any wider. ¡°Your Highness?¡±

    Ciaran held a finger to his lips and said, ¡°We need to go. Can you still ride a horse?¡±

    Thomson puffed out his chest. ¡°I¡¯m not that old!¡±

    Ciaran tossed the rope from Thomson¡¯s wrists aside, untethered the horse, and hauled himself up in the saddle. He pulled Thomson up into the saddle behind him, then tapped his heels into the gelding¡¯s sides.

    The four of them tore through the town, Ciaran opting for what he hoped were back streets too small for the guards¡¯ attention. The strategy worked until they found themselves at a dead end he had forgotten about. Guards shouted behind them, and Ciaran tucked the horse into a dark corner as best as he could manage.

    He held his breath as the footsteps of the guards neared, paused ¡­ then thankfully continued down a side street. He released his breath.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll come back this way,¡± Ciaran said. He fumbled in his coat pocket for the flask and took another swig. ¡°If we wait it out, we should be able to sneak away when things are quieter. But first we¡¯ll need to get you a disguise.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Your Highness,¡± Thomson said, slipping down from the saddle. ¡°You¡¯ve no idea what a relief it is to see you.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡± Ciaran asked, hopping down from the horse¡¯s back to help the man to his feet.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°Your brother found out I let you escape,¡± Thomson said. ¡°I tried to flee, but ¡­ well, you see how that¡¯s gone. If it¡¯s not too much trouble, Your Highness, perhaps you could speak with him? I don¡¯t expect my position back, but I would be grateful for my life.¡±

    Ciaran took a moment to absorb Thomson¡¯s words as he fished through the saddlebags for a ring inlaid with a small lodestone¡ªa failed attempt at his disguising spell. It wasn¡¯t significant enough to disguise his more recognizable face, but most likely enough to conceal Thomson, whose face was not as prominently displayed in newspapers and bank notes.

    ¡°You¡¯ve always been loyal to the crown and my family,¡± Ciaran said, twirling the ring in his fingers as he considered Thomsons¡¯ words. ¡°Nolan would never ¡­ ¡±

    Thomson¡¯s brows drew together. ¡°Perhaps you underestimate His Majesty¡¯s protectiveness over you. He hasn¡¯t been right since you were kidnapped. If His Majesty was paranoid before ¡­ it¡¯s nothing compared to now.¡±

    Guilt twisted Ciaran¡¯s stomach. It wasn¡¯t as if he wanted to murder his brother. But Nolan hadn¡¯t left him much choice.

    Ciaran rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Nolan ¡­ won¡¯t be a concern for much longer, Thomson. I¡¯ll be glad to give you your position back when I¡¯m king.¡±

    Thomson¡¯s brows drew together. ¡°When you¡¯re ¡­ ?¡±

    Someone shouted behind them. Thomsons¡¯s eyes widened and his jaw went slack. Ciaran followed his gaze and turned to see a guard at the end of the alley, revolver raised. Bane snarled and hurtled toward the woman, but he¡¯d never reach her before her bullet reached Thomson or Ciaran. Ciaran reached for his bow, but he¡¯d never aim and loose an arrow in time. Someone was going to die. His heart pounded. His blood went cold.

    Then there was a thunderous snarl, and the woman was lifted into the air by the jaws of a massive dog. Asra shook the guard rigorously, then dropped her body to the cobblestone below.

    ¡°Hellhound,¡± Thomson breathed.

    It was clear why Thomson would come to that conclusion. The wound on Asra¡¯s side oozed, her muscle and bone still exposed. Her skin, normally taught against her muscular frame, hung from her bony body like a corpse. The dim flames of the lamplight turned her amber eyes into an eerie red. She was the haunting image of a hellhound, summoned by the gods to drag mortals to the depths of the underworld.

    Asra took a shaky step forward and flicked her muzzle toward Thomson as she said, ¡°Do you need me to kill him?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Ciaran said firmly. ¡°Stay back. This is none of your business. You shouldn¡¯t even be here right now.¡±

    When Ciaran turned back, Thomson¡¯s brow furrowed once more.

    ¡°Not a hellhound,¡± he said. ¡°A shapechanger. Why are you ¡­ Why is she ¡­ ?¡± Horror dawned on his face. ¡°You weren¡¯t kidnapped at all. You went willingly. With her?¡±

    The betrayal in the old guard¡¯s eyes sent daggers through Ciaran¡¯s heart. It was evident where the man¡¯s thoughts lay; he¡¯d risked his life, betrayed his king and duty, so that Ciaran could betray his brother and take the crown for himself.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to kill your brother, aren¡¯t you?¡± Thomson asked. ¡°You want his throne.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Asra snarled. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill his brother.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not helping, Asra,¡± Ciaran snapped, wheeling around to point a finger at her. ¡°Stay out of this!¡±

    ¡°Your brother I expected to turn out the way he did,¡± Thomson said, ¡°but you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Watch your tone,¡± Ciaran said, rounding back on Thomson.

    ¡°I thought you would be the one to finally put an end to all of this nonsense,¡± Thomson continued. ¡°All of this scheming for power. Killing each other for the throne, as the rest of your family has. I thought you were better than that.¡±

    ¡°I told you to watch your tone!¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s heart hammered in his chest, his head swam, his breath was short. He shouldn¡¯t have drank as much as he did.

    And some part of him knew what Thomson¡¯s next words would be:

    ¡°What would your mother think?¡±

    Blindly, unthinking, Ciaran gripped the collar of Thomson¡¯s shabby prison tunic and slammed him against the brick wall of the alley.

    ¡°How dare you?¡± Ciaran growled. ¡°I am your prince! You will show respect!¡±

    Asra growled behind him, and Bane whimpered at his side. It took him a moment to push past the fog of alcohol and truly comprehend the scene around him.

    He loosened his grip on Thomson¡¯s shirt, taking a shaky step back. ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ sorry. I don¡¯t know what came over me.¡±

    Thomson straightened, brushed the masonry dust from his trousers, rubbed the back of his head, cast a few furtive glances at Ciaran¡ªprobably gauging his mood, likely a habitual movement from the days of his father¡¯s rule.

    ¡°You should leave,¡± Ciaran said. He fished into his pocket for a wad of paper royals. He placed the disguising ring on top and handed them to Thomson. ¡°Don¡¯t let anyone find you.¡±

    ¡°I assure you,¡± Thomson said, taking the stack from Ciaran, ¡°none of you will ever see me again.¡±

    Ciaran winced at the words. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t hold it against you,¡± Thomson said. ¡°I suppose it''s just in your blood. Like father, like son. You and your brother both.¡±

    The words hit Ciaran like a sucker punch, but before he could say anything, Thomson shuffled out of the alley and around the corner.

    Asra left him alone with his thoughts for far too long before she said, ¡°We should get going.¡±

    The gunfire behind them grew louder. Asra swayed on her paws, her breathing shaky and heavy. She was right; they needed to get out before anyone saw her. The gunpowder smoke would at least provide cover.

    ¡°Right,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°Of course.¡±

    Asra took a deep, steadying breath and snorted it out through her nose, as if bracing herself for the exertion of their escape. Ciaran hoisted himself onto the horse and nudged him into a gallop. Bane followed closely behind, Asra limping just behind him. He hoped the sound of the horse¡¯s hooves wouldn¡¯t draw attention to them.

    They raced through the empty streets, the sounds of gunfire and screams rapidly vanishing behind them. Eventually they reached the edge of town and darted into the forest, leaving the events of the evening behind them.

 Twelve: The Execution, Part Three

    Asra collapsed to the ground. Ciaran pulled back on the reins and signaled his dog to stop.

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± he asked Asra as he hopped down from the saddle. His muscles were tight and tense and his heart still pounded. Bane sprawled out on the cool dirt, his tongue lolling out from his mouth.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Asra wheezed. Sweat glistened on her coat, and Ciaran was momentarily distracted by the fact that she could still sweat in her dog form.

    ¡°What the hell were you doing in town, anyway?¡± he asked between gasps of breath.

    ¡°I heard gunfire and got worried.¡±

    It took Ciaran a moment to process her words.

    ¡°You were worried about me?¡± Perhaps Asra¡¯s fever and delirium were worse than he thought.

    ¡°I was worried you did something stupid,¡± she said.

    Ah. There was Asra.

    ¡°What did you do to cause all that trouble?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Why do you assume it was my fault?¡± Ciaran grumbled. He removed his earring and dropped it into a small pocket in his rucksack. Then he said, ¡°There was ¡­ an execution. In the square.¡±

    Asra¡¯s head flicked to him, and she watched him as he shuffled to a grassy spot and flopped down. ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°And¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°My friend in the royal guard. The one I told you was protecting me? He was set to be executed.¡±

    If Asra had any reaction to this, she showed no sign of it. Ciaran plucked a blade of grass from the ground and began tearing it into short pieces.

    ¡°So you went to save him.¡± She said it so matter-of-factly, as if she were commenting on the weather.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Ciaran sprinkled the pieces of grass back onto the ground.

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°I sent Bane to hold the executioner. Then I shot a guard.¡± It took a moment for his words to truly register, then his stomach dropped. ¡°Gods around us, I shot a guard.¡±

    Asra¡¯s canine brows raised, and Ciaran swore her tail twitched in the slightest hint of a wag. ¡°And then?¡±

    ¡°And then ¡­ it was madness. The crowds rushed the gallows, they overwhelmed the guards, I slipped Thomson out in the chaos ¡­ ¡±

    Asra snickered.

    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°You,¡± she said, flashing him a razor-sharp grin. ¡°I never expected you of all people to incite a riot.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t! I mean ¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to.¡±

    ¡°But you did. How ironic would it be that I¡¯ve spent all this time trying to kill Nolan only for you to crumble the monarchy from the inside?¡± Her snickers broke out into all-out laughter.

    ¡°Keep laughing,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°You won¡¯t be when I take the throne. I will be on my best behavior then, I assure you.¡±

    Asra¡¯s laughter ceased. She laid her head between her paws and made a sound that was halfway between a growl and a sigh.

    The resulting silence brought back memories of Thomson¡¯s horrified face. Ciaran¡¯s stomach twisted. He flicked away the shreds of grass and pulled his flask from his coat.

    He glanced at Asra¡¯s form lying on the ground as the whiskey warmed his chest. Her nose hadn¡¯t seemed to detect the liquor, though he wasn¡¯t sure if that was a result of the hound¡¯s woe or if her condition had affected her sense of smell. Perhaps she knew but simply didn¡¯t have the energy to argue.

    A shiver rippled down her back, then spread to her limbs. Fevers had come and gone from her frequently the last several days. Perhaps it was the guilt of hiding the liquor from her, but he wanted to ease her suffering somehow. A blanket might bring her some comfort, but she¡¯d never accept sympathy or help from him. He¡¯d have to reframe it.

    ¡°It¡¯s going to get cold tonight,¡± he said, pulling their blankets out of the saddlebags. ¡°Probably not a good idea to start a fire, and Bane hates the cold. Would you mind if we slept next to you?¡±

    She said nothing for a long moment, then:

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    Ciaran breathed a small sigh of relief, then called Bane to him. He threw one of the blankets over Asra¡¯s neck and back, careful to keep it off of her wound, which would need air to prevent the infections from worsening. He then sat down and leaned back against her shoulder as Bane curled up into his lap. He threw the other blanket over both of them.

    Ciaran rested his head against her bony shoulder, watching the stars glitter through the treetops as he stroked Bane¡¯s head. The stars were what he missed most about his hunting trips outside of the city.

    He turned his head to look at Asra, his ear resting against her side. Her heartbeat thrummed, slow but still strong. Her breath rattled as it rushed to fill her lungs.

    Ciaran leaned his head back against her shoulder and closed his eyes. He¡¯d almost drifted off to sleep when Asra spoke again.

    ¡°Ciaran.¡±

    Her deep voice reverberated through her chest into his skull. He waited for her to continue for a moment, then he prompted, ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    He opened his eyes and looked at her. ¡°For?¡±

    ¡°For the blanket.¡± She swallowed as though she were swallowing down bile. ¡°And for not rubbing it in. That you were ¡­ right. About the valley. And the dragons.¡± She forced each word out like secrets were forced out during torture.

    Ciaran smiled and said, ¡°I think the mortal injuries are ¡®I told you so¡¯ enough, don¡¯t you? I didn¡¯t really want to rub salt in the wounds. Literal wounds.¡±

    Asra¡¯s mouth twitched in the shadow of a smile. ¡°You¡¯re not what I expected you to be.¡±

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°What did you expect me to be?¡±

    ¡°Cold. Selfish. Like your brother.¡±

    A pang shot through Ciaran¡¯s chest. He¡¯d spent most of his life being chastised for not being more like his brother, mostly from his exasperated nanny. Nolan had always been responsible, level-headed, and mature for his age, everything Ciaran had not. The fact that he was nothing like his brother had been a source of deep shame for him.

    ¡°Did I really ruin your chances of keeping the throne just by throwing a glass at some rich prick?¡± Asra said.

    It took Ciaran a moment to realize Asra was referring to the confrontation in the resort in New Port. He laughed at the vast oversimplification of Duke Lambert¡¯s role in the kingdom.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t just some ¡®rich prick,¡¯ Asra,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°That was the Duke of Akenstead.¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°¡®So?¡¯¡± Ciaran laughed again. ¡°He controls almost as much territory as Windemere. He¡¯s practically royalty himself.¡±

    ¡°Is that why he hates you so much?¡± Asra asked. ¡°He resents your authority?¡±

    ¡°Hmm, probably a little.¡± Ciaran shifted Bane in his lap. ¡°But I think it¡¯s mostly that Duke Lambert has never viewed me as a good candidate for next-in-line to the throne. He doesn¡¯t think I¡¯m strong enough to command a kingdom, and he worries that I¡¯m too friendly with commoners. Too soft on them. So when I¡¯ve brought on a new assistant¡ªa commoner who I can¡¯t control ¡­ Well, that proves his concerns about my ability to govern, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°That whole system sounds so ¡­ fragile. Why would you want to be in control of something that could turn on you for just a minor insult?¡±

    Ciaran sighed. ¡°Truthfully ¡­ I don¡¯t. I¡¯ve never wanted to be king. I¡¯ve always been happy to let Nolan keep that responsibility.¡±

    Asra cocked her head to the side like a curious pup. ¡°Then why did you ask me to kill Nolan for you?¡±

    Ciaran traced Bane¡¯s ridge from his rump up to the whorls at his shoulder blades and back, over and over, searching for the words before he spoke.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I have a choice, Asra,¡± Ciaran whispered. ¡°I think Nolan¡¯s going to kill me. Like our father killed our mother, and our grandmother killed her sister. Thomson was right. I think it¡¯s just ¡­ in our blood.¡±

    His heart raced at the admission. Speaking the words aloud made the nightmare real. His brother was going to kill him, unless Ciaran killed him first.

    Asra stared at him for a moment. She laid her head back between her paws as she said, ¡°You don¡¯t have to be king, you know. When this is all over. You could leave.¡±

    Ciaran laughed. ¡°And do what, Asra?¡±

    ¡°Whatever you want,¡± she said, her words slurred by the beginnings of sleep. ¡°You¡¯re worth more than a stupid throne.¡±

    ¡°I think all these fevers are addling your mind, Asra,¡± Ciaran said with a smile. ¡°You¡¯re being nice to me, and I don¡¯t even think you realize it.¡±

    When Asra said nothing, Ciaran turned to her. She slumbered lightly, her breath rumbling and rattling in her lungs.

    Ciaran leaned his head back and closed his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s nice to hear, anyway.¡±

    <hr>

    The next several days did not fare much better than the preceding days.

    The night of the execution in Creekwater was the last time Asra was lucid enough to hold a conversation. The next city was still almost a week away, and each day left Ciaran more skeptical that Asra would last that long.

    Their progress was slowed by the massive gazehound¡¯s ambling pace. Ciaran frequently had to stop and wait for her, or guide her back into the proper direction. There were times when she just leered at him, as though she was trying to remember who he was, and refused to budge an inch. Ciaran had taken to sleeping a good distance away from her, unsure if he could trust her fever-addled mind to not turn on him and eat him in his sleep.

    Fortunately, Ciaran¡¯s hunting skills remained intact. He rose early each morning to catch herbivores rousing from their sleep to munch on dew-slick vegetation. He had been fortunate enough to dispatch a few rabbits and even a deer. Ciaran and Bane ate the jerky and dried fruits from their packs and gave all of the fresh meat to Asra, who snapped it up greedily each time. He hoped her appetite was a good sign that she still had some fight left in her.

    As Ciaran tracked an elk one evening, his mind lingered on Asra. He hoped she was leaving her wounds alone. She¡¯d been licking and chewing at them worse than ever the last few days and was starting to create nasty hot spots. The last thing she needed was more infection.

    An odd noise drifted on the wind. It was a sort of booming sound, soft and muted in the distance. Ciaran couldn¡¯t identify the culprit, but if he¡¯d heard it, Asra certainly would have, too. He thought of the noise she¡¯d heard in the tunnel, how it had driven her to paranoia. He needed to get back to her before she spooked and ran off.

    Abandoning the elk¡¯s trail, Cairan hoisted himself up on the gelding and called Bane to follow. He kept the horse in a steady trot through the forest, his heart rate picking up pace the closer they got back to their designated campsite for the night. He spotted the large oak that marked the spot, and directed the horse around the large rock he¡¯d left Asra next to, and ¡­

    There was no Asra. Ciaran glanced around, double checking the notable landmarks to make sure he had the right spot. This was definitely it.

    ¡°Shit,¡± he hissed as he hopped down from the horse and checked for any indication of where she may have gone. He found some dug up moss and a giant paw print in the mud heading northwest. He directed Bane to the paw print, and said, ¡°Find it.¡±

    Bane set his nose to the ground, zig-zagging through the forest as he followed Asra¡¯s trail. Ciaran mounted the horse once more and followed, carefully scanning the ground for any visual cues Bane might have missed.

    He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he pictured a hundred horrible scenarios of what might be happening to her right now. What if she¡¯d run into another dragon? What if she¡¯d succumbed to the infection? What if she¡¯d been found by the royal guard or a troop of soldiers? He shook his head rigorously, as if he could shake the thoughts out of his brain.

    The moon was high in the sky now, illuminating the forest with a pale glow. Ciaran¡¯s eyes were heavy, but he forced them open. How far could Asra have run? Much further than Ciaran was comfortable with.

    The sound came again. It almost sounded like a short roar. He swallowed. Dragons were not uncommon this far west, and without Asra he wouldn¡¯t stand a chance if a dragon found him.

    ¡°Come on, buddy,¡± he said to Bane. ¡°You¡¯ve got to find her.¡±

    The sound came again, in three short bursts. A bark, maybe? Was that Asra¡¯s bark? He realized he¡¯d never heard her bark before. Did she bark at all? That felt like the sort of thing he should know.

    The sound drifted from the direction of Asra¡¯s trail. Either the sound was Asra, or it was something hunting her. If he abandoned the scent trail and followed the sound, he could get to her faster. Or he could miss her entirely.

    He nudged the horse into a canter, hoping that abandoning the trail wasn¡¯t a foolish choice. Bane followed behind. They tore through underbrush and leapt over fallen trees. The sound grew louder and louder. Ciaran prayed he could make it to her in time.

    They halted in a clearing, surrounded on three sides by tall rock. Asra stood in the center on tall, wobbly legs. Drool dripped from her fangs in long lines, and her eyes were half open. Ciaran breathed a sigh of relief that turned into horror as he trotted the horse around to her side.

    The wound was oozing and red, the skin surrounding it bruised and bleeding. Nearly all of her fur had been scratched or licked away. It was the most putrid hot spot he¡¯d ever seen. That combined with the rapidly spreading infection from the dragon wound had clearly put Asra in critical condition. He dismounted the horse and crept toward her.

    ¡°Asra? Are you all right?¡±

    Asra made no acknowledgement that she¡¯d heard him, or even that she knew he was there. Bane whimpered behind him.

    ¡°Asra?¡± Ciaran said, taking a few more tentative steps toward her. ¡°Can you hear me?¡±

    He was almost close enough to touch her now. He extended a hand toward her muzzle, his palm raised up, hoping that she might catch his scent and recognize him. Her eyes looked empty, her face gaunt. He took two more cautious steps. His hand almost brushed her nose now.

    Her nares flared as she breathed in his smell. Recognition flickered in her eyes for a split second.

    Then there was another roaring sound. Asra¡¯s whole demeanor changed in an instant. She straightened up, pulling her lips back so that every one of her teeth shone in the moonlight. A thunderous snarl erupted from her. Ciaran threw himself back just in time to avoid being snapped in half by her huge jaws.

    ¡°Asra, it¡¯s me! It¡¯s Ciaran!¡±

    Bane¡¯s paws thudded toward them. Ciaran turned and grabbed the dog, holding him back from attacking Asra again. He didn¡¯t think the ridgeback would survive the encounter this time with as far gone as Asra was now. Bane snarled and snapped, but Ciaran held him firmly as he tried to drag the dog back to the horse. The horse probably wouldn¡¯t be able to outrun Asra, but it was the only chance he had.

    Asra crouched down, readying her muscles to lunge at Ciaran and Bane. Ciaran shut his eyes, bracing himself for the attack. The sound of the roar-bark, so close now that it made his teeth rattle, forced his eyes open again.

    A figure emerged from the trees to their right. It was massive, covered in thick orange fur. Its fangs shone starkly against its jet-black muzzle. The black and orange were segmented by angular blue sigils. The beast looked like someone took a fox and stretched its legs out to comical lengths.

    Starlight glinted off of the bull ring dangling from its canine nose, as well as the dozens of piercings in its ears. Ciaran¡¯s jaw dropped.

 Thirteen: The Courier

    Asra shouldn¡¯t have been so surprised to find out that Nolan was recruiting monsters to aid him now.

    At first Asra believed it might have been a shapechanger. She didn¡¯t know of any other giant canids running around. But then she saw the silver ring in its nose, and the silver piercings lining the ears that were too big for its head. It couldn¡¯t have all of this silver on it and still be in fur if it was a shapechanger.

    This was an enemy.

    The beast advanced toward Asra on impossibly tall legs, its fur raising into a thick black crest along its back. It was here to stop her from killing Nolan, but Asra wouldn¡¯t let it. She threw herself at it, her jaws poised to tear its throat, but at the last second a black paw nearly the size of her head smacked her aside. She slid to a halt, her claws creating deep grooves in the earth, then launched forward again, this time aiming for a front leg. The monster dodged to the side and Asra careened into a tree.

    Her head swam and her legs quivered, but she forced herself up and shot towards the beast once more. Asra aimed for its throat, but it lowered its head, and Asra instead caught its ear. She wrenched her head upward and felt cartilage shatter and tear. The beast roared and pawed at its torn ear, and Asra took the opportunity to latch onto the back of its neck. Fresh blood poured into her mouth, coppery and warm, and she shook her head, hoping to snap its neck. The monster rose up onto its hind legs and threw itself backward onto the ground, on top of Asra.

    The pain that flooded her as she slammed onto her wounded side was all consuming, and she lay there dazed and gasping for air, forcing herself to stay conscious through the agony. Before Asra could gather herself, the animal was on her, pressing its paw down on her trachea. She struggled to breathe. She kicked and snapped her jaws, but she was too weak to do any damage. Her vision blurred, her head swam, and the world faded from view.

    <hr>

    The cot Asra awoke on was stiff and rickety, but it was a nice change of pace from sleeping on the ground the last few weeks. She kept her eyes closed for a few moments, relishing in the small comfort before she¡¯d have to face reality again. The pleasant scent of herbs, the warm air, how soft the sheets were against her bare skin ¡­

    Her eyes shot open. Why wasn¡¯t she still in her fur? Heart pounding, she ripped the linens away to examine her side. It ached like she¡¯d been beaten with a club, but the wounds had healed, leaving only delicate scars in their wake. She breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn¡¯t been torn in half.

    She racked her mind for the last thing that happened to her. There was the dragon, the tunnel, Ciaran telling her to stay put while he went into town ¡­ It got fuzzy after that. She¡¯d heard that odd roar and tried to find someplace safer to rest, then she¡¯d been cornered by Nolan, and then ¡­

    Asra cursed herself. Of course that hadn¡¯t been Nolan. That was Ciaran. How much of her memories had been real? And where were Ciaran and Bane now? She chewed her lip. Had she hurt either of them in her frenzy?

    She took a deep breath. First things first: she needed to figure out where she was.

    Asra glanced around the small tent. Her cot was on one end, a bucket of water next to a portable wash basin and a sleeping sack on the other end. A worn wooden chest lay at the head of the sleeping sack. Sunlight filtered through the cloth and warmed Asra¡¯s skin. Whoever brought her here must have been an ally¡ªthis was a far cry from a prison or jail.

    Light flooded in as the entrance flap opened. A short, pale woman entered and said, ¡°Well, rise and shine, hellhound. Glad to see you back with the living.¡±

    Asra narrowed her eyes as she tried to determine where she knew this woman from. Black hair that was shorter on the sides, ears and face full of piercings, dressed in a leather duster and plain trousers and blouse ¡­

    It was the woman from the spell apothecary.

    ¡°So it was you who was following us,¡± Asra said.

    The woman grinned, a carefree gesture that would have put Asra at ease in any other situation. ¡°Sure was. You guys are fast. Couldn¡¯t catch up with you in between deliveries.¡±

    ¡°Who are you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Margot. Margot Kobayashi.¡±

    She extended a hand, but Asra didn¡¯t take it. It was a human name, and handshakes were a human custom. The woman shrugged and headed to the wash basin to clean her hands, removing her rings on the way.

    ¡°What happened to that monster?¡± Asra asked.

    The woman grimaced as she poured water into the basin. ¡°Monster? That¡¯s a bit harsh. ¡¯Specially coming from you.¡±

    Asra furrowed her brow. What was she missing?

    She pictured the beast in her head. Stilt-like black legs, a rusty orange body, a black crest of fur on the neck, ears comically large for its head. As the woman dried her hands on a towel, Asra saw the flash of blue sigils emblazoned against her pale skin, no longer hidden by the spell in one of her rings.

    Asra¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You have fur.¡±

    ¡°Of course I do.¡±

    ¡°Maned wolf.¡±

    ¡°Obviously.¡±

    ¡°But you have a human name.¡±

    Margot shrugged. ¡°We don¡¯t have any fancy naming conventions like the rest of you. We spend too much time around humans. It¡¯s easier to have a name that blends in.¡±

    Asra ran through the events again, trying to find any excuse for how stupid of a mistake she¡¯d made. ¡°But you had silver piercings in. You couldn¡¯t have been in your fur.¡±

    Margot gave her a pitying look, as though it was sad she had to explain something so obvious. ¡°Hun ¡­ they¡¯re not silver. They¡¯re titanium.¡±

    Asra blinked. Swallowed. Blinked again. Then:

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    The woman sighed and said, ¡°I had a few less piercings after dealing with you. Took forever to get this hole to heal back up nicely.¡± She pointed to the large hoop on her right ear. There was a bumpy scar there that indicated it had been ripped out.

    ¡°Took me forever to get you healed up, too,¡± Margot continued. ¡°Infection had nearly spread to your bloodstream. Drove you nuts, apparently. Good thing I got there when I did. That dumbass out there was trying to reason with you when I finally caught up with you.¡±

    The tension in Asra¡¯s shoulders eased. At least Ciaran was alive and seemingly unharmed.

    ¡°Had to keep you sedated while I fixed you up,¡± Margot continued. ¡°Once the infection was under control, I was able to get you fixed up. Hope you don¡¯t mind the silver.¡± She nodded her head to the bracelet on Asra¡¯s wrist. ¡°Wasn¡¯t sure what kind of mood you¡¯d be in when you woke up. Didn¡¯t want you going for my throat again.¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Asra mumbled.

    Margot smiled. ¡°I¡¯m just lucky you were half dead. You would have kicked my ass. I¡¯ve heard you hounds are tough but I¡¯ve never fought one of you before.¡± She flopped down onto the sleeping sack on the opposite side of the tent. ¡°I also gave you a rabies vaccine. Not sure if you¡¯ve got them in your neck of the woods yet, so just so you know, you¡¯ll need another one in about a year.¡± She nodded her head toward the wash basin. ¡°And I gave you a flea bath.¡±

    Asra grimaced. She hoped she hadn¡¯t brought fleas into this poor woman¡¯s home.

    ¡°Anyway, you¡¯re Asra, right?¡± the woman said, leaning forward to extend her hand once again.

    This time, Asra took it and said, ¡°Yeah. Asra Taj-Sylvia.¡±

    The woman¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Taj and Sylvia¡¯s kid? No wonder you fight like a hellhound.¡±

    Asra¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°You¡¯ve met them?¡±

    ¡°One of the first contracts I had was with your town. The old one, of course. New one¡¯s too far for me.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Asra said. ¡°You¡¯re a courier.¡±

    ¡°Sure am. Most of us with maned wolf fur are. We don¡¯t like being tied down to one place.¡±

    That would explain why she was in a human city. Asra thought of the old book a courier had brought along with a shipment to her town when she was a little girl¡ªan action-packed story about a lone bounty hunter tracking down criminals in Windemere City. It was one of the biggest reasons she¡¯d become enamored with visiting the city in the first place.

    Margot paused for a moment, then said, ¡°Sorry for what happened to your dad. He was a nice man.¡±

    Asra nodded, unable to meet Margot¡¯s gaze. She¡¯d never considered how far news of her town¡¯s destruction would have spread.

    Margot sighed and pushed herself to her feet as she said, ¡°Well, your little lovebird outside will be glad to know you¡¯re alive.¡±

    Asra growled. ¡°He¡¯s not my lovebird.¡±

    Margot snorted. ¡°Well he¡¯s awfully worried about you for someone who¡¯s just an acquaintance. Couldn¡¯t go five minutes without pestering me to tell him how you¡¯re doing.¡±

    Asra¡¯s stomach twisted. She¡¯d tried to kill him in her delirium¡ªif she remembered correctly, more than once. Why was he worried about her?

    Asra pushed herself to the edge of the cot, which creaked under the shifting weight. ¡°He¡¯s just worried about having to make it back home without his bodyguard.¡±

    There was an irritating smile on Margot¡¯s face. She fished something out of her pocket and held it out to Asra.

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to tell me Sophie¡¯s just an acquaintance, too,¡± Margot said.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Asra¡¯s stomach dropped to the floor. Margot held her half of the lodestone that connected hers and Sophie¡¯s speaking mirrors. Asra¡¯s hands shook as she took the rough, divoted stone from Margot.

    ¡°You talked to her?¡± Asra asked.

    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind me intruding,¡± Margot said. ¡°Damn thing wouldn¡¯t stop squealing. Figured it was someone who cared about you. I couldn¡¯t leave them worrying like that.¡± She headed to the storage chest and pulled out a thin leather case, then turned and handed it to Asra. ¡°You can borrow my mirror and talk to her yourself if you¡¯d like. I¡¯ll need the mirror back when you¡¯re done, though. Even us couriers have a hard time finding these things these days.¡±

    Asra swallowed the lump in her throat as she clutched the soft suede case to her chest. ¡°Thank you. For everything.¡±

    Margot waved at her and said, ¡°If you really want to thank me, tell Sophie and the human that you¡¯re all right. I can¡¯t take either one of them nagging me about you any more.¡±

    Asra nodded as Margot left the tent. The opening flap rustled into place, and then a heavy silence settled into the cramped area, interrupted only by the ringing of Asra¡¯s tinnitus. She bit her lip as she stared at the mirror case in her hands, imagining the barrage of questions she¡¯d have to field from Sophie:

    Where are you? What are you doing out there? How did a courier find you? Are you sure you¡¯re all right? You¡¯re not traveling alone, are you?

    Asra sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. As desperate as she was to hear Sophie¡¯s voice, that conversation would be a little too much to handle right now, and she knew it wouldn¡¯t be quick. She¡¯d already wasted enough time being half dead, and she needed to save energy to deal with Ciaran.

    Asra heaved herself off the cot and made her way out of the tent. The mid-afternoon forest was alive with birdsong and the buzzing of cicadas. The frogs and toads seemed to have been left far behind¡ªone small pittance, at least.

    Multicolored leaves painted the ground, dappled by the dense tree branches above. A second tent stood next to Margot¡¯s, and between them was a small fire pit, outlined by river rocks. The air was cooler than Asra had remembered before she was injured. Summer was quickly coming to a close, and the chill that went up her spine had nothing to do with the impending winter¡ªthey were running out of time.

    She headed around the corner of the tent to search for Ciaran and bumped right into him. He yelped, clutching the bundle of branches in his arms. His eyes widened as he focused on Asra¡¯s face.

    ¡°Gods, Asra!¡± He threw down the sticks and pulled Asra into a bear hug. Her body tensed against his embrace, and she kept her arms clamped firmly at her side. It didn¡¯t take long for Ciaran to sense her discomfort, and he pushed himself away and threw his hands up.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I just ¡­ I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re awake. I honestly didn¡¯t think you were going to make it.¡±

    Asra scrunched her nose. ¡°Gee, thanks.¡±

    ¡°Well don¡¯t take it personally,¡± Ciaran said as he gathered the fallen branches off the ground. ¡°You didn¡¯t see what you looked like. I could see your ribs. And I mean the actual bones, not the way I can normally see your ribs when you¡¯re a dog.¡±

    The relief that poured off of him was almost tangible. A memory flashed through Asra¡¯s mind¡ªCiaran looking up at her in horror, barely able to contain Bane. The dog¡¯s teeth gnashing as he struggled against Ciaran¡¯s restraint, ready to defend his owner to the death. If Margot hadn¡¯t stepped in, Asra would have killed them. Guilt twisted her stomach again, but she forced it away.

    ¡°What do you care?¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve been getting me injured over and over since this whole mess started.¡±

    Ciaran scoffed. ¡°Obviously I cared enough to hang around here waiting for you to get better.¡±

    ¡°Well, we wouldn¡¯t even have been in this situation if you hadn¡¯t pissed your lover boy off.¡±

    Ciaran straightened, his mouth agape. ¡°Are you seriously trying to blame me for this? I told you the dragons were dangerous. I told you your wounds needed looking after. I understand you¡¯re embarrassed, Asra, but there¡¯s no shame in admitting that you were wrong. Or apologizing.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡±Asra said, curling her lip. ¡°I was wrong. I was wrong to trust you with any of this. I was doing just fine on my own before you butted in.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, you were doing wonderfully on your own,¡± Ciaran said, stooping low to snatch the last few branches off the ground. ¡°That¡¯s why my brother is dead now. I¡¯m sure that¡¯s his ghost sitting on the throne.¡±

    ¡°Listen, you little smart ass¡ª¡±

    An unseen force pushed the two of them away, sliding them across the ground so that they stood about ten feet away from each other. Asra turned to see Margot storming up between them.

    ¡°Both of yas knock it off,¡± she said. She pointed at Ciaran and said, ¡°You¡ªgo get those sticks in the fire pit. You¡ª¡± She swung around to point at Asra. ¡°Go get that fire lit. I¡¯m going to go get us some dinner.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll get my own dinner,¡± Asra mumbled as she turned away, but Margot¡¯s magic gripped her in place once again.

    ¡°No the fuck you won¡¯t,¡± Margot said. ¡°I didn¡¯t spend a week patching you up just so you could go get yourself killed again. Now get your ass over there and play nice.¡±

    The two of them approached the fire pit in silence. As Ciaran fumbled with setting the branches suitably in the pit, Asra folded her arms and glared.

    ¡°You could help, you know,¡± Ciaran said.

    Asra shrugged. ¡°I know.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s head shot up to throw her a dirty look, and Asra¡¯s stomach lurched once more. Even with as sick as she¡¯d been, she didn¡¯t know how she ever could have confused Ciaran for his older brother. Sure, they had the same chestnut brown hair and the same brown eyes. But Ciaran was finer boned. Softer. Gentler. Even with as furious as he was right now, there was no sign of the cruelty and ruthlessness that Nolan harbored.

    Asra felt the warmth of the blanket he¡¯d thrown over her when she had fever chills, the comforting weight of his body against her shoulder. She couldn¡¯t hold his gaze any longer, and brushed off imaginary dirt from her blouse to give an excuse to look away.

    ¡°Come on, Asra,¡± Ciaran said with a heavy sigh, settling the last branch in place. ¡°Let¡¯s not act like children.¡±

    Asra turned her palm to the bundle of wood and let out a swift current of flame that leapt up just shy of Ciaran¡¯s face. He threw himself back, rubbing his singed eyebrows.

    Ciaran scrambled back to his feet as he snapped, ¡°Gods around us, would it kill you to not be a bitch for five seconds?¡±

    ¡°I thought I told you kids to play nice?¡±

    Asra turned to see Margot approaching the camp with three fat, dead rabbits in her hands. The scent of the animals made Asra¡¯s mouth water. She realized she¡¯d not had a solid meal for over a week.

    Margot tossed two of the rabbits to Asra and said, ¡°I saw what you did with that fire. You can skin and cook one for the human as an apology.¡±

    Asra scowled and grabbed her rucksack out of Margot¡¯s tent. When she returned, she flopped down on one of the logs arranged around the fire pit and pulled out the skinning knife inside the bag. As she separated the skin from the muscle of the rabbit, Asra looked to Ciaran on the other side of the fire, hoping to shoot him a glare, but Ciaran had already stepped away from the fire pit with Bane.

    The prince gave the dog short commands¡ªheel, front, finish, transport¡ªand at each one, Bane would instantly change his position in relation to Ciaran. After several position changes, Ciaran would reward him with a quick game of tug, then they would begin the repetition again.

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re not too proud of your training,¡± Asra called to him. ¡°The legends say that dogs with the gift are almost as smart as people. That they can understand speech. I¡¯ll bet you didn¡¯t even need to train him.¡±

    Ciaran cocked a smile at her. ¡°You just made that up.¡±

    ¡°Did not.¡±

    Asra wanted him to argue with her, to fight against her. She¡¯d nearly killed him; why was he so damn happy to see her? He should be furious.

    But Ciaran only flashed her another smile as he swung the rope side to side, Bane gripping the other end. ¡°Even if that were true, I bred him. If the gift is hereditary as you claim, his good behavior would still be my doing.¡±

    ¡°Leave him be, hellhound,¡± Margot said with a smirk. ¡°It¡¯s not like he has much else to do with his life, holed up in his fancy prison.¡±

    ¡°Some of us like having a stationary home,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make it a prison.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t referring to the building.¡±

    Ciaran dropped the rope and sat down on the log on the opposite side of the fire from Asra. Bane trotted over, head held high and rope swinging from his mouth, and pushed the toy into Ciaran¡¯s lap. Ciaran obliged the dog for another game of tug.

    ¡°You¡¯ve really never lived in one place before?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Why do you think the answer¡¯s changed since the last time you asked me that?¡± Margot said.

    Asra watched Margot as she chowed down on the raw rabbit. Blood smeared on her cheeks as she crunched through bone. It had been a long time since Asra had eaten with another shapechanger.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you never realized your dog had the gift,¡± Margot said around a mouthful of meat and fur.

    Ciaran dropped the rope again with a shrug, and Bane carried his prize to a particularly dusty patch of dirt near Margot, swinging the toy back and forth. ¡°I guess we don¡¯t know much about shapechangers these days. There¡¯s not a whole lot of you around to talk to, and it¡¯s difficult to separate fact from myth.¡±

    Asra¡¯s eyes lingered on Margot. Her long, thick lashes reminded her so much of Sophie¡¯s it made Asra¡¯s heart ache. Her bright brown eyes were framed by beautifully arched eyebrows, which pointed down towards her delicately upturned nose, leading down again to full lips¡­

    ¡°Watch where you¡¯re looking, hellhound,¡± Margot said with a knowing smile. ¡°I¡¯ve already got a girl. I don¡¯t want anyone else.¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Asra said, turning back to the rabbit in her hands, heat creeping up her neck to her ears and cheeks.

    ¡°No harm done,¡± Margot said. ¡°I just know how you dogs are.¡±

    As Asra worked her way over the rabbit to the neck, she realized the rabbit had been killed by a clean cut to the throat, not by claws or fangs or a quick shake to break its spine.

    ¡°Did you catch this in your skin?¡± Asra asked. She would be a bit jealous if so. Her furred body was built for coursing and hare hunting, but even she couldn¡¯t catch a rabbit with her bare hands.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Margot said. ¡°The human trapped them.¡±

    Asra turned to Ciaran, brow furrowed. ¡°You know how to trap?¡±

    ¡°I raise hunting dogs, Asra,¡± Ciaran said with a shrug. ¡°I know a thing or two about hunting.¡±

    ¡°You raise show dogs,¡± Asra corrected.

    ¡°They can be both, you know,¡± Ciaran said with a sigh. ¡°In fact, I think they should be. What¡¯s the point of a flashy dog if it can¡¯t do the job it was created for? You can talk until you¡¯re blue in the face about a nice shoulder layback increasing reach or a good turn of stifle increasing drive, but if the dog can¡¯t catch a rabbit or bay a hog, what¡¯s the point? I¡¯ve seen dogs with straight fronts who¡ª¡±

    ¡°Nobody knows what you¡¯re rambling about,¡± Asra said as she sliced through the last piece of connective tissue between the skin and muscle.

    ¡°Well it¡¯s obvious you make nice dogs,¡± Margot said, scratching Bane¡¯s ear. ¡°You¡¯d think you¡¯d be a little more grateful for his dog obsession, hellhound.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± Asra said as she tossed the skinned rabbit onto a grate over the fire. The flesh sizzled and the fat popped, filling the air with a tantalizing aroma. She reached for her own rabbit and took a bite.

    Margot laughed. ¡°Oh yes you do.¡±

    ¡°I actually don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± Ciaran said as he watched the rabbit sear.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t put two and two together yet, your highness?¡±

    Asra noted the way she said ¡°your highness.¡± It was a nickname, not an honorific. A solitary nomad like her had no reason to acknowledge the titles of monarchs. It gave Asra an instant feeling of comradery.

    ¡°Your dogs have the gift,¡± Margot said. ¡°Your dogs gave the gift to Asra¡¯s ancestors. There¡¯s a lot of ridgeback blood in the desert commune hounds.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s jaw dropped. Asra bit down on a foot and tore it from the rabbit¡¯s body. She crunched through the bone as she glared at Ciaran.

    ¡°Your dad had a lot of ridgeback traits himself, didn¡¯t he, hellhound?¡± Margot said.

    Asra leapt to her feet, ready to snap at her to mind her own business, but she stopped herself. It wasn¡¯t Margot¡¯s fault her father was dead. It wasn¡¯t Ciaran¡¯s, either, as much as she might like to blame him. They didn¡¯t deserve her anger. It wasn¡¯t them she was angry with.

    She took a steadying breath and wiped the fur from her lips. ¡°Excuse me. I need to let my friends know I¡¯m all right,¡± she said, and she snatched the mirror from the log and headed into the woods.

 Fourteen: The Wolf, Part One

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have mentioned her dad.¡±

    Ciaran watched Asra disappear behind the trees. The smell of the cooking rabbit brought his senses back to the campfire, then to Margot¡¯s words.

    ¡°Why?¡± Ciaran asked.

    Margot gave him a sneer that was so reminiscent of Asra that he wondered if it came naturally to shapechangers. ¡°You¡¯d think with all your fancy schooling you¡¯d be a little smarter. At least about people¡¯s feelings. Aren¡¯t you supposed to be a diplomat or something?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about Asra¡¯s family,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°That would require her to actually speak to me in something that¡¯s not a grunt or an insult. I¡¯m assuming he died in ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°In the massacre your brother ordered, yeah.¡±

    Ciaran had grown used to Margot¡¯s bluntness over the last several days. He¡¯d never truly considered how much his position affected how others spoke to him. Even in his worst rows with Vincent, he had never truly let loose on Ciaran. He¡¯d always been aware of his place in the pecking order.

    It wasn¡¯t much different from how Ciaran deferred to Nolan. He thought of the last time he¡¯d seen his older brother, in the palace on his birthday. As furious as Ciaran had been with the guards for trying to hurt Bane, he hadn¡¯t dared to say anything disrespectful to Nolan. He¡¯d even bowed before he left.

    Margot didn¡¯t have any care for titles or ranks. She roamed freely, skirting the laws and carving her own life for herself. She had no reason to watch her tongue or tiptoe around him. As unappealing as her nomadic lifestyle was to him, he couldn¡¯t help but envy her freedom.

    But that didn¡¯t make her abrasiveness any less irritating at times.

    ¡°I think ¡®massacre¡¯ is a bit of an exaggeration,¡± Ciaran said.

    Margot scoffed as she poked at the sizzling rabbit with a stick. ¡°Of course you would.¡±

    ¡°The shapechangers wiped out nearly an entire brigade,¡± Ciaran said, bristling. ¡°They were hardly defenseless. And it wasn¡¯t as if it was unprovoked. They¡¯d been causing trouble around the city for years. They had to know eventually there would be retaliation.¡±

    Margot fixed Ciaran with a sharp glare. ¡°You really believe everything your brother tells you, don¡¯t you? You should talk to the hellhound. Get her side of things.¡±

    ¡°And what good would that do?¡±

    Margot rolled her eyes. ¡°Other than make you a smarter, better informed ruler, you mean?¡±

    ¡°In what way?¡± Ciaran said with a shrug. ¡°I¡¯ve no more interest in ruling over you shapechangers than you have interest in being ruled over.¡±

    Margot shook her head. ¡°Look, prince. I think you¡¯re a nice person. But I still have to live in the world that you and your family create. I¡¯d like to live in a world where there could be some peace and understanding between us.¡±

    Ciaran watched in silence as Margot lifted the rabbit off the cooking grate by the toes of a hind leg and laid it on a cool stone at the edge of the fire pit.

    ¡°If that ain¡¯t enough of a reason for you,¡± Margot continued, ¡°then saving your own skin should be. You two will never make it out of here alive if you¡¯re arguing like schoolchildren all the time.¡±

    ¡°That ¡­ is a fair point.¡±

    She stretched her arms over her head. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m tired and would like to actually sleep in my own bed tonight. And I still gotta get the dog smell out of the linens.¡±

    Ciaran pondered Margot¡¯s words as he watched her disappear inside her tent. She was right, of course. About everything. He couldn¡¯t just ignore the shapechangers as king, especially now that Nolan had done so much to provoke their ire. He¡¯d need to learn more about them¡ªensure he stayed on their peaceful side.

    Ciaran grumbled as he tested the temperature of the charred rabbit with his finger tips. This was exactly why Ciaran had never wanted the throne in the first place. He wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d ever be able to keep track of all of the moving cogs in the machine that kept the monarchy functioning.

    He pulled a bit of meat from the rabbit¡¯s leg, then tossed it to Bane, who snapped it out of the air.

    The first step was to bury the hatchet with Asra. And that, he feared, was exactly where this plan went to hell.

    <hr>

    Asra emerged from the trees about an hour later, looking lighter and happier than Ciaran had ever seen her. He¡¯d never asked her about her friends or family¡ªit seemed a painfully obvious thing to ask now that Margot had pointed it out. They must be truly special, for her to have spent as long as she had facing certain death to protect them.

    However, her airy smile faded the instant she saw Ciaran.

    ¡°What are you still doing up?¡± she asked. ¡°You should get some sleep.¡±

    ¡°So should you.¡±

    Asra snorted. ¡°I¡¯ve had enough sleep over the last week to last me until I¡¯m dead.¡±

    She eyed the rabbit skin she¡¯d left on by the fire. She grabbed her rucksack resting against the log, then pulled out a canister of salt and a vial of tanning solution.

    ¡°You know how to tan?¡± Ciaran asked, watching Asra sprinkle coarse salt over the tiny skin.

    ¡°Yep. We use a lot of leather back home.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t that take days to tan?¡± Ciaran asked as Asra worked the salt into the skin.

    ¡°Not for me.¡±

    She soaked the skin in the tanning solution, then moved methodically down the fleshy side, the same way he¡¯d seen her do when healing injuries. The skin tanned rapidly, like his flesh had healed under her touch.

    Ciaran watched, enraptured, the silence between them broken only by the crackling of the fire. If he was going to speak with her, now was the time.

    ¡°Asra, can we speak for a moment?¡±

    Asra opened her mouth to respond with what would definitely be an ¡°absolutely not,¡± but seemed to reconsider after a moment. She sighed and set down the freshly-tanned rabbit skin. ¡°About?¡±

    Ciaran took a deep breath. ¡°I wanted to propose a truce.¡±

    Asra raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°It¡¯s obvious we¡¯re not going to get along,¡± Ciaran continued. ¡°But it¡¯s also obvious that being at each other¡¯s throats constantly is slowing us down, or worse, putting us in constant danger. Most of our little disasters could have been avoided by just communicating better.¡±

    Asra pursed her lips, then, to Ciaran¡¯s surprise, nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯m not saying we need to be friends,¡± Ciaran continued, ¡°but we have a common goal. We should be allies, at least until we¡¯ve accomplished our task. After that ¡­ I suppose we¡¯ll cross that bridge when we come to it.¡±

    He bit his lip. He hoped that bridge would be easier to cross than the last bridge they¡¯d crossed together.

    Ciaran leaned forward and extended his right hand to her. Asra¡¯s eyes flicked from his outstretched palm to his face, then back again. She sighed and gripped his hand with her own.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°At least until Nolan is dead.¡±

    A weight lifted off Ciaran¡¯s shoulders. He smiled and said, ¡°That¡¯s all that I¡¯m asking for.¡±

    Asra stood and started to walk away, but Ciaran pulled a flask out of his pocket and said, ¡°Wait. Shouldn¡¯t we make a toast to our new peace treaty?¡±

    Asra paused and scrunched her nose up at the vessel. ¡°Where did you even get that?¡±

    ¡°Margot.¡±

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m starting to think you have a problem.¡±

    Ciaran smiled and said, ¡°And I think you¡¯re a lightweight, and you¡¯re afraid I¡¯ll drink you under the table. You¡¯re afraid I¡¯ll be better at something than you are.¡±

    Asra glared at him as she sat back on the log. ¡°That was cheap.¡±

    ¡°And yet, it worked,¡± Ciaran said.

    He grabbed their cups from dinner and poured a measure into each one, then passed Asra¡¯s to her. They tapped the cups together and drank the contents.

    ¡°All right,¡± Asra said, extending her cup back to him. ¡°Let¡¯s see how well your human liver holds up.¡±

    ¡°What did Margot mean earlier?¡± Ciaran asked as he poured more whisky. ¡°About knowing how you dogs are?¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Asra said, smiling wistfully as she took her cup back from Ciaran. ¡°I guess her culture is monogamous.¡±

    ¡°And yours isn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°Not usually, no. Some people only have one partner, but it¡¯s not the norm. My mom never had any partner other than my dad, even after he died.¡±

    She threw back the next measure, and Ciaran followed in kind. Questions about her father burned inside him, but he didn¡¯t want to spook her and have her clam up again.

    ¡°Well that certainly explains a lot of your attitude toward me,¡± he said.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    Asra snorted. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you were only interested in women,¡± Ciaran said with a shrug.

    Asra furrowed her brow. ¡°I¡¯m not. I¡¯ve been intimate with other people, too.¡± A smirk crept across her face. ¡°Oh, I get it. You think because I¡¯m not drooling over you that means I¡¯m not attracted to men at all?¡±

    Ciaran puffed his chest and some of his typical swagger returned. ¡°Come on, Asra. I¡¯m the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom.¡±

    Asra snickered and said, ¡°Aren¡¯t you only a bachelor because your lover boy threw you to the curb?¡±

    ¡°That was cheap.¡±

    Asra laughed. The sound made Ciaran smile, even if it was at his own expense.

    He took a deep breath as he considered his next words. ¡°So is Liam one of your ¡­ ?¡±

    Asra barked a laugh. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t ever tell him you said that. He¡¯d be so grossed out.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Liam and I were practically raised together. He was a convert in Windemere City. My dad found him and brought him home when we were both five. We¡¯ve been friends ever since.¡±

    Ciaran nodded slowly. ¡°And Sophie?¡±

    Asra sighed and smiled sadly. ¡°Sophie is ¡­ ¡±

    She shook her head and held her cup out for Ciaran to refill. He did so, and then his own, and they both drank them.

    ¡°Sophie deserves someone better,¡± Asra said after a moment.

    Ciaran nodded, deciding not to prod further at what was an obvious sore spot. He reached up to scratch his arm and hissed in pain.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± Asra said.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said, shrugging it off. ¡°Just a little sunburn.¡±

    ¡°Still not used to having to actually work out in the sun, prince?¡± She considered him for a moment. ¡°Do you want me to fix it?¡±

    Ciaran smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll probably whine about it if you don¡¯t.¡±

    Asra sighed and walked over to him. She sat on the log behind him and pushed the sleeves up on his collared shirt. The simple, rustic clothing still felt a little foreign to him. The fabric was looser, the collar shorter and more relaxed. He missed his tailored coats. And his jewelry.

    He¡¯d been so distracted by his newly-found nostalgia that it took him a moment to realize how quickly Asra worked her magic on his burns. Her fingers flitted across his skin with speed borne of dedicated practice.

    ¡°Do you have a lot of experience healing sunburns?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yeah, with Sophie,¡± Asra said. ¡°She doesn¡¯t like to be in her fur much, and she¡¯s really pale. She burns faster than she can naturally heal, so I help her out sometimes. Well ¡­ when we actually get to see each other.¡±

    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t she like to be in her fur?¡±

    ¡°She likes using her magic. And her fur is really long.¡± Asra laughed. ¡°I think it annoys her.¡±

    ¡°How long has it been since you¡¯ve seen each other?¡±

    ¡°About a year. I live in the quarantine cabin my dad used to use when he found converts. They come out and visit every once in a while.¡±

    Ciaran nodded. ¡°I see. Is that where you have your flower garden?¡±

    Asra¡¯s hands paused. ¡°My flower garden? When did I tell you about that?¡±

    ¡°The first night you set up the concealment spell. You told me the potpourri came from your flower garden back home, remember?¡±

    Asra¡¯s hands resumed their work, much more slowly this time. ¡°You remembered that?¡±

    ¡°I remember a lot of things,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°I¡¯m not as stupid as you think I am.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re stupid. Just seems like a weird thing to remember. Especially since sometimes you can¡¯t even remember what you had for breakfast.¡± She paused for a moment, then continued, ¡°Yeah. Sophie helped me set it up. It kinda takes care of itself now.¡±

    Asra¡¯s fingers moved up and down Ciaran¡¯s arms softly enough to send shivers up his spine. He tried to picture Asra in a quiet cabin in the forest, tending to a variety of delicate flowers. He couldn¡¯t wrap his mind around it. Sophie must have put a lot of work into that garden.

    ¡°How long has it been since you¡¯ve been home?¡± he asked. ¡°I mean ¡­ your actual home?¡±

    ¡°Almost ten years.¡±

    Ciaran felt a pang of sympathy. He¡¯d only been away from home for a few weeks and was already homesick. He couldn¡¯t imagine being gone for a decade.

    ¡°Do you miss it?¡± he asked.

    Asra heaved a sigh, and her breath on his skin sent goosebumps down his arms. ¡°Yes and no. The new town we built was never the same as the old one. It never really felt like home. But ¡­ I miss being around everyone. Being part of a community. I miss going out on hunts and celebrating Feast Day and ¡­ ¡± She shook her head. ¡°Yeah, I miss it.¡±

    She clapped his shoulder, and to Ciaran¡¯s relief, it didn¡¯t sting.

    ¡°There,¡± she said. ¡°Now you don¡¯t have any reason to whine.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure I can find a different reason.¡±

    Asra sat back down on the other log, and Ciaran reached over to fill her cup again.

    ¡°So ¡­ ¡± he began as he reached for his own cup, ¡°you¡¯re afraid of admitting your feelings to Sophie, in addition to being afraid of water and horses.¡±

    ¡°I never said that,¡± Asra said sharply.

    Ciaran raised his eyebrows as he poured into his cup.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Asra said. ¡°I¡¯m not a good swimmer, and I don¡¯t like the idea of drowning. And horses are twitchy little cowards who kick first and ask questions never. You ever been kicked by a horse before?¡±

    ¡°I have, actually,¡± Ciaran said, smiling. ¡°When I was thirteen. Nolan nearly banned me from riding. You¡¯re also afraid of thunder.¡±

    A thrill of fear shot across Asra¡¯s face.

    ¡°And tunnels,¡± Ciaran said.

    Asra picked at a piece of bark on the log she sat on and said nothing.

    ¡°You could have just told me you were afraid of tunnels,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°We might have been able to go over the mountains instead. I didn¡¯t know it would be such an issue for you.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t ¡­ ¡± She didn¡¯t meet his gaze.

    Ciaran gave her a moment to speak, and when she didn¡¯t, he sighed and said, ¡°I used to have nightmares of you, you know.¡±

    Asra met his eyes now, and gave him a curious smile, as though she didn¡¯t believe him.

    ¡°Remember when you were escaping the palace? When we were both kids?¡± Ciaran said. ¡°And the alarms had been set off? I was frightened, and ran to go find Nolan. I had to escape the nanny first.¡±

    He smiled at the memory of his old nanny. Poor woman. She didn¡¯t deserve having to put up with him.

    ¡°We ran into each other in one of the corridors, remember?¡± Ciaran said. ¡°You were huge, and had blood all over your muzzle, and I knew it was a person¡¯s blood.¡±

    One of his royal guards¡¯ blood, specifically. A chill ran down his spine. Asra eyed him with an expression that he might think was sympathy, if it had been on anyone else¡¯s face.

    ¡°I refused to sleep by myself for weeks after that,¡± Ciaran continued. ¡°I insisted on sleeping in Nolan¡¯s room. He had to hire a psychoanalyst to come speak with me. The doctor gave me a stuffed bear and told me it was magic. She said that as long as I had it in bed with me, monsters couldn¡¯t get in.¡± He grinned. ¡°Took me way too long to realize it was just a regular stuffed bear, and didn¡¯t have any magic at all. It was all in my head.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s pretty sad,¡± Asra said, raising her cup.

    ¡°Pathetic, really,¡± Ciaran agreed, and they threw back their drinks.

    There was a brief moment of silence, then Ciaran said, ¡°So ¡­ tunnels ¡­ ¡±

    Asra stared at a patch of grass by her feet for a long while. Bane perked his head up from his resting place by Ciaran¡¯s feet, then trotted over to Asra and placed his head on her lap. She stroked his broad head for a moment before she spoke.

    ¡°My dad was special.¡±

    Ciaran glanced up to study her face in the dim fire light. That wasn¡¯t the way he was expecting this story to start.

    ¡°You know how I said some of us could use magic in our fur? Well, he could. And he could make himself giant. Like, as tall as a building. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.¡±

    A wistful smile spread across her face.

    ¡°I wanted to help him look for converts in the city. But he never let me. Said it was too dangerous, that he¡¯d take me when I was older. But I wanted to prove to him I was strong enough to do it, like he was.¡± She shook her head. ¡°You know how that went.¡±

    Ciaran nodded.

    ¡°During the attack, he ¡­ We had an escape route, through the tunnels in the mines. My dad stood outside, at the entrance, and kept any of the soldiers from getting in. When we had all the survivors inside, I tried to go get him. Let him know we were all safe.

    ¡°But he cast this giant wall of fire in front of me, so I couldn¡¯t get to him. I tried to climb the rocks, see if I could get down that way. And then big chunks of the mountain started flying up into the air. He was ripping the top of the mountain up with his magic. He lifted it all above the smoke, where the army couldn¡¯t see it. And then he dropped it on top of everyone there, including himself. There wasn¡¯t anything I could do to stop it. And the rocks just kept falling and falling, and I ¡­ I just stood there and watched.¡±

    Ciaran envisioned the scene, trying to imagine the rumbling of the landslide. All he could hear in his head was the sound of rolling thunder. He remembered her all-out panic the night of the storm, and his heart sank.

    ¡°It¡¯s my fault,¡± Asra said. ¡°They told me not to go to the city, and I didn¡¯t listen. They told me it was dangerous, and I didn¡¯t listen. Dad came to the palace to rescue me. If he had stayed home, he could have stopped the attack. He should have left me there. I deserved it.¡±

    She scratched at her cheek, but Ciaran saw the tear that flashed on her fingertips before she swiped it away. She looked out into the dark woods with a shuddering sigh, a bitter smile on her face.

    ¡°This is why I don¡¯t like to drink,¡± she said.

    Guilt prickled at Ciaran¡¯s mind through the fog of alcohol. Perhaps this had been a bad idea.

    ¡°We¡¯ll call it a draw,¡± he said, and he dropped his cup onto the ground.

    Asra nodded. She stood and said, ¡°I should probably get some sleep.¡±

    Ciaran nodded and stood, swaying. He tried to take a step, but stumbled. Asra¡¯s firm grip on his arm kept him from tumbling to the ground. She held him steady there for a moment, and their eyes met, their faces so close together their noses almost touched. Her grip was iron, and he felt the power of every one of her rippling muscles in it. Her proximity set his heart racing.

    The corner of her mouth twitched as she whispered, ¡°If you can¡¯t even stand up, I¡¯m pretty sure I won.¡±

    Ciaran heaved a dramatic sigh. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll have to concede.¡±

    They stood there for a moment, Ciaran¡¯s pulse pounding in his ears so loudly he feared Asra might hear it. As she turned to leave, Ciaran said, ¡°Wait,¡± and caught her hand as it slipped past.

    He half expected her to wrench her hand away from him, but she just stood there, watching him, waiting for him to speak. Their gazes lingered on each other, the light of the dying fire dancing in Asra¡¯s eyes, and Ciaran was distracted enough that he almost forgot what he wanted to tell her.

    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m sorry for what my brother did to you. For the attack on your people. I can¡¯t imagine ¡­ ¡±

    Asra tensed, every muscle readying itself to flee, but she didn¡¯t retreat. Ciaran thought of their first meeting as children. It was no wonder she was so closed off with him. She¡¯d shared stories of her people with Nolan and in return he¡¯d destroyed them. What assurance had he given her that he wouldn¡¯t do the same when Nolan was gone?

    ¡°Thank you for sharing that with me,¡± Ciaran said.

    Asra¡¯s brows drew together. She looked for a moment as if she might say something, but she only nodded once, then headed to the tent.

    She paused at the entrance and said, ¡°Sorry for almost eating you.¡±

    Then she disappeared inside.

 Fourteen: The Wolf, Part Two

    They broke camp early the next morning. Asra and Margot were both eager to get back on the road and make up for lost time. Even Bane seemed keen on heading back home.

    Home. Ciaran tried to avoid thinking of a situation in which he and Asra would fail, and he would no longer be welcome home.

    The two shapechangers went out for a quick hunt together while Ciaran tacked up his and Margot¡¯s horses¡ªthe least he could do for all her help the last several days. Bane watched Asra leave, his tail wagging sadly as he realized he wouldn¡¯t be going with her. Ciaran wasn¡¯t sure when the dog had become so attached to the shapechanger, and he forced himself not to dwell on the fact that they may have to say goodbye forever very soon.

    The women returned to camp about thirty minutes later, both in their canid forms, Margot¡¯s maned wolf towering over Asra¡¯s gazehound. Ciaran caught their conversation as they approached him.

    ¡°You sure I can¡¯t convince you to come?¡± Asra asked her. ¡°I¡¯ve got dibs on ripping off his head, but you could rip off an arm or something.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s stomach lurched.

    ¡°Nah, some of us have jobs,¡± Margot said. ¡°I was able to make a few deliveries while you were knocked out, but I¡¯m already a week behind on some of these shipments. I¡¯ll be lucky if I have any contracts left. Especially since I have to go up to wolf territory next. Impatient pricks.¡± She scratched in the dirt with one of her front paws. ¡°Speaking of which ¡­ ¡±

    Ciaran glanced up at her at her sudden shift in tone. Her brow was worried, her ears pinned back.

    ¡°What is it?¡± he asked.

    Margot ran her tongue over her teeth as she considered her next words. ¡°I¡¯ll probably lose all of my contracts for telling you this, but ¡­ ¡± She looked to Asra, her expression hard. ¡°Well, there¡¯s a reason I¡¯ve been tailing you two for weeks. Two reasons, I guess. First, there¡¯s a fox city not too far from Windemere City. You¡¯ll probably walk right past it on your way there.¡±

    Asra¡¯s eyes widened. Ciaran bit back his questions.

    ¡°I got a friend there,¡± Margot continued. ¡°Good friend. But I ain¡¯t heard from them in weeks. It¡¯s not like them to go so long without talking.¡± She sighed and shook her head. ¡°It could be nothing. But I can¡¯t shake the feeling something¡¯s wrong. Raises my hackles just thinking about it. I want to go check on them myself, but I have to get this stuff where it needs to go. I can¡¯t take any more detours.¡±

    Asra nodded, her face solemn. ¡°We can¡¯t take any detours, either. But if we happen to pass by ¡­ ¡±

    Margot¡¯s easygoing smile returned to her muzzle. ¡°Thanks, hellhound. I¡¯d say I owe you one, but all things considered, I¡¯ll just say we¡¯re even now.¡±

    ¡°And the second thing?¡± Ciaran reminded.

    ¡°Oh, of course. Wanted to warn yas that there¡¯s been a lot more wolf activity in the area. Could be nothing, but ¡­ well, you know how wolves are.¡±

    Asra growled, and Ciaran took that cue to assume how wolves were.

    ¡°Thanks, Margot,¡± Asra said. ¡°Take care of yourself.¡±

    ¡°You, too, hellhound. Don¡¯t pick any more fights with dragons.¡± She turned to Ciaran and said, ¡°Be a better king than your brother, will ya?¡±

    Ciaran smiled and said, ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡±

    Margot curled her lip as she said, ¡°Do better than that,¡± and Ciaran¡¯s smile faded.

    With a flick of her ear, Margot turned and headed towards her covered carriage. As she approached the wagon seat, she changed into her human form, fully clothed. She hopped up, then slapped the horses¡¯ reins, and the carriage creaked forward and down the road.

    ¡°How come you can¡¯t do that?¡± Ciaran asked as the wagon rumbled through the trees.

    ¡°Do what?¡±

    ¡°Change back into a human with all your clothes on?¡±

    ¡°Who says I can¡¯t?¡± Asra said, flicking her ear. ¡°Maybe I can and I just don¡¯t want to.¡±

    Ciaran raised an eyebrow at her, and she growled.

    ¡°Come on,¡± she said. ¡°We have a long way to go still.¡±

    <hr>

    The next couple weeks were the easiest days they¡¯d had so far. It turned out Asra was rather pleasant company when she wasn¡¯t constantly trying to rip Ciaran¡¯s head off. They chatted briefly about the area, the weather, and any other small talk subject he could think of.

    As the temperature dipped each night, Asra offered to let Ciaran and Bane sleep next to her, her fur providing the three of them with warmth. Finding a comfortable spot in the crooks of her prominent ribs and shoulders was always a challenge, but the heat she radiated was worth it.

    Ciaran tried his best to keep his chatter to a minimum throughout their journey, and when he did speak, he kept the topics as neutral as possible. But as he ran out of neutral topics to discuss, he decided to take a risk on more dangerous topics.

    ¡°Is it all right if I ask you some questions about your people?¡± he asked one afternoon.

    Asra¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Depends on what you¡¯re asking.¡±

    Ciaran deliberated for a moment, his heart racing.

    ¡°Do you have a double suspension run?¡± he blurted.

    Asra wrinkled her snout. ¡°A what?¡±

    Ciaran took a deep breath. ¡°When you run, do all four feet lift off the ground twice in a single stride?¡±

    Ciaran thought of the series of photographs released a few years back of a greyhound at the racetrack, each taking a sequential still image of its stride as it ran. Put together, they showed that the dog had two separate times when all four paws were completely off the ground¡ªwhen its legs were tucked under the body and again when they were fully extended. It showed one of the ways that gazehounds were faster than other dogs.

    Asra glanced upward as she pondered the question, then said, ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°How fast can you run?¡±

    ¡°I dunno. Around eighty to ninety miles an hour? I¡¯m not a sprinter. Other people in my town can go faster, but not for as long as I can.¡±

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°Are you colorblind?¡±

    Asra shook her head. ¡°No, but I think your eyesight is a lot better. Why do you humans write everything so small?¡±

    ¡°Could you just change a specific body part? As in ¡­ give yourself a tail when human or something?¡±

    Asra growled. ¡°I told you, I¡¯m never human. But no, it¡¯s ¡­ like a sneeze. You either change or you don¡¯t. There¡¯s no in-between.¡±

    ¡°Does it hurt when you change?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°Would it be offensive for me to ask what breeds are in your family history? Your body structure looks a lot like a valley hound, especially considering the fact that your muscling is much drier than, say, a greyhound or whippet, but the feathering on your ears and tail would suggest saluki, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is this really what you want to know about us?¡± She looked up at him incredulously. ¡°You really are obsessed with dogs, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Ciaran smiled sheepishly and said, ¡°Sorry, I get carried away sometimes. I used to embarrass the hell out of Nolan when I was little. He says I wanted to be a dog when I grew up. I would get pulled into the receiving hall when important guests arrived at the palace, so that I could learn court etiquette. And there I¡¯d be, on all fours, barking at the dignitaries like a puppy.¡±

    Ciaran glanced at Asra, who smiled deviously. He cleared his throat and continued, ¡°Anyway, Nolan never understood my obsession. I tried to explain to him that even if he didn¡¯t like dogs, the ridgebacks were part of our family history, and a symbol of our kingdom. If nothing else, it was a connection to our mother. But it didn¡¯t matter to him. Apparently, licking whipped potatoes out of a bowl on the floor in front of a duchess one time will get you banned from fancy dinners until you¡¯re ten.¡± He sighed and said, ¡°Just be glad you don¡¯t have any siblings to deal with.¡±

    Asra said nothing, and after a moment, Ciaran glanced over to see her expression. But she wasn¡¯t next to him anymore. He twisted in the saddle to look behind him and saw Asra standing stock still several yards behind him. Her eyes were open, but unseeing, as if she were in a different world entirely.

    Oh. Idiot.

    He winced and brought the horse to a halt. ¡°Asra, I¡¯m so sorry. That was incredibly stupid of me to say. I wasn¡¯t thinking.¡±

    ¡°¡¯S all right.¡±

    She slowly padded towards him, and when she was in line with the horse, Ciaran urged the mare forward.

    ¡°Was it ¡­ a brother?¡± he asked. ¡°Sister?¡±

    ¡°A brother and a sister.¡±

    His stomach twisted. How had he never known? Why had he never inquired?

    ¡°Were they older?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Both younger. My sister had just started school. Brother was a year younger.¡±

    ¡°I assume they both passed in the ¡­ ¡±

    Massacre was the first word that came to his mind. He pushed it aside.

    ¡°Attack?¡± he finished.

    Asra nodded, though she didn¡¯t seem to be fully present in the conversation. Ciaran¡¯s stomach churned.

    The horse froze. She nickered and pawed at the ground nervously. Asra¡¯s ears twitched and she raised her muzzle to the sky to sniff, Bane following suit.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°Smells like a boar,¡± Asra said. ¡°I smell magic, too.¡±

    ¡°Probably a mountain boar. They¡¯re relatively common in this area.¡± The image of a massive boar the size of a carriage, coat etched with magic sigils, sprung into Ciaran¡¯s mind. He scanned the forest vista, and his eyes landed on a small shrine. ¡°Yes, there. There¡¯s a god protecting this forest.¡±

    He tugged the reins to direct the horse to the shrine, and Asra followed him. It was a crude structure, river stones hobbled together to make a small cave. Inside were offerings to the boar¡ªcarrots, potatoes, and other roots and tubers¡ªand the outside was adorned with spears and arrows, a ritual showing that the visitors to this forest meant no harm to its protector by throwing down their weapons.

    Asra glared at the shrine as Ciaran bowed his head.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t take you for the religious type,¡± Asra said.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not a zealot,¡± Ciaran said, straightening in the saddle. ¡°But it¡¯s always a good idea to stay on the gods¡¯ good side.¡± He glanced at her and took note of her irreverent expression. ¡°Your people have no love for the gods, I¡¯m assuming?¡±

    Asra shrugged her canine shoulders. ¡°Of course not. No such thing as gods. They¡¯re just dumb animals.¡±

    ¡°We used to worship your kind, you know,¡± Ciaran said with a smirk.

    Asra snorted. ¡°I know. And it proves how stupid your worship is. Plenty of us are just dumb animals, too.¡±

    A wistful look came across Asra¡¯s face as she analyzed the crude carving of a boar in the stone at the top of the shrine.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Ciaran said.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Asra said, shaking her head. ¡°It¡¯s just ¡­ My dad always talked about taking trips to hunt mountain boar. Never got a chance to actually do it with him.¡±

    The homesickness in her voice pulled at Ciaran¡¯s heart. In this case, he understood the feeling perfectly. He sighed and said, ¡°I haven¡¯t gone hog hunting much since the kennels burned down. It¡¯s so hard to find people with good dogs who¡ªwhat? Why are you looking at me like that?¡±

    Asra snorted. She gave him a withering smile and said, ¡°There is no way you hunt hogs.¡±

    ¡°Again, what do you think my dogs are for? Bane is a phenomenal bay dog.¡±

    ¡°You hate blood. You¡¯re way too squeamish. You couldn¡¯t even handle bandaging a paper cut, much less bleeding out a pig.¡±

    ¡°Animal blood is different from people blood.¡± Asra¡¯s snorts evolved into laughter and Ciaran said, ¡°I¡¯ll prove it to you.¡±

    Asra choked and said, ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go hunt this boar.¡±

    ¡°Fuck no. Even if I believed you could take down a hog, I don¡¯t have any plate or gear. I¡¯m not spending another week laid up somewhere because I had to protect you from another magical beast.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re just going to insult me and then not give me a chance to defend my honor?¡±

    Asra¡¯s expression was resigned.

    Ciaran sighed. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re no fun.¡±

    They walked in silence for a few moments, then Asra¡¯s nose twitched and her hackles raised.

    ¡°What kind of wild dogs live around here?¡± Asra asked.

    Ciaran considered for a moment. ¡°None, other than maybe stray dogs and the odd red fox. We¡¯re too far south for wolves and too far east for coyotes.¡± His eyes widened. ¡°How many of your people live around here?¡±

    ¡°No idea,¡± Asra said. ¡°I told you we stay hidden from each other.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Asra shushed Ciaran, her ears twitching to and fro. He glanced down at his dog, who was similarly on alert.

    Before he could ask any questions, Asra had disappeared in the trees, and Ciaran kept his gaze fixed forward, knowing at this point that this meant Asra was changing back into her skin and dressing. His assumption was confirmed when she reappeared fully dressed.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Asra said. ¡°Stay close.¡±

    Ciaran bit back his questions as they crested a hill, but he couldn¡¯t help his gasp as the valley beneath was revealed.

    A white wolf¡ªfar larger than any natural wolf¡ªstrained against the bear trap that held her hind leg. She snarled and tore at it with her jaws, but it was futile. Without hands, she¡¯d never escape its grasp.

    The pale lavender sigils swirling across the giant wolf¡¯s coat confirmed that this was not a normal wolf¡ªshe was another shapechanger.

 Fourteen: The Wolf, Part Three

    Asra grunted beside him. ¡°We¡¯re upwind. Let¡¯s go before she smells us.¡±

    Ciaran balked as Asra turned from the scene. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®what¡¯?¡± Asra said as she walked away. ¡°Wolves are trouble. We¡¯re lucky she hasn¡¯t noticed us.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t just leave her to die!¡±

    ¡°Yes we can,¡± Asra said. ¡°Watch.¡±

    Ciaran glanced back to the helpless wolf below. Blood marred the snow white fur on her trapped hind leg. She panted and heaved with the effort of twisting her body to try to push down the levers of the foothold trap. If the boar found her, she¡¯d be doomed, and her death would not be quick. He wouldn¡¯t leave a wild animal to that fate, much less a sentient person.

    Ciaran growled and tugged the mare¡¯s reins, bringing the horse to a stop in front of Asra. The beast stood solid in Asra¡¯s path, and she glared up at Ciaran.

    ¡°You¡¯re always going on about how we need to help people,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine a better situation of someone needing our help.¡±

    Asra folded her arms. ¡°Some people don¡¯t deserve our help. Wolves are at the top of that list.¡±

    ¡°Along with nobles? Princes, especially?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ¡­ different.¡± She shook her head, as if shooing away a fly. ¡°You have no idea what you¡¯re talking about here. You have no idea what wolves are capable of.¡±

    The wolf howled behind them, and Bane snarled again.

    ¡°See?¡± Asra said. ¡°Even your dog agrees. And now she¡¯s going to call more.¡±

    Ciaran glanced down at Bane. He was a hunting dog; of course he would growl at what he perceived as prey. Once he found out the wolf was also a woman, he would control himself.

    ¡°You can choose to help or not,¡± Ciaran said, directing the mare around Asra toward the wolf. ¡°But I¡¯m not leaving her to die.¡±

    Asra groaned behind him as he dismounted and tied the horse¡¯s reins to a sturdy tree trunk. He headed into the woods, calling Bane to his side. As he traversed down the hill, he worried that Asra might not follow him after all.

    But just before he reached the edge of the clearing at the bottom of the hill, Asra appeared beside him and said, ¡°You have no sense of self-preservation. How have you survived this long?¡±

    Ciaran smiled. ¡°My charm and good looks? Or perhaps the retinue of guards protecting me around the clock.¡±

    ¡°Hello?¡± the wolf called. ¡°Is someone there?¡±

    Asra growled. ¡°If we die, it¡¯s your fault.¡±

    ¡°Noted,¡± Ciaran said, and he stepped out into the clearing.

    When the wolf spotted them, she stood, her hind leg pulling against the trap. Her mane of fur bristled as she growled at them.

    ¡°Easy,¡± Ciaran said, holding his hands up in a calming gesture. ¡°We¡¯re here to help you.¡±

    ¡°She won¡¯t attack,¡± Asra said, sneering up at the shapechanger. ¡°Wolves are cowards. Won¡¯t attack anything unless they outnumber it twenty to one.¡±

    The wolf regarded Asra with a shrewd glare, analyzing her with pale yellow eyes. ¡°I suppose I don¡¯t need to ask what kind of fur you have, wolf-killer.¡±

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Bane rumbled another growl. Ciaran gripped his collar and muttered to him, ¡°Mind your manners.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve killed a lot of things,¡± Asra said. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t mind adding wolves to that list. Sure would make my ancestors proud.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re on a bit of a time crunch, aren¡¯t we, Asra?¡± Ciaran asked, hoping to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand and away from death at the jaws of a giant wolf. He turned back to the captive and said, ¡°We¡¯ll just release you and we can all be on our way.¡±

    The wolf flopped to the ground with a huff. ¡°Oh, Moon Mother, cast your light on me. Having to be rescued by a human and his pet.¡±

    Ciaran headed toward the trap. It was nearly three feet in width, ample enough for the massive magic hogs in the area. The teeth of the trap¡¯s jaws lacerated the wolf¡¯s leg below the hock. Blood saturated her fur and dampened the rusty iron. Ciaran swallowed back his nausea and grabbed hold of the levers on either side of the jaws that would release the trap.

    ¡°Why not have your precious packmates help you?¡± Asra asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have packmates,¡± the wolf said. ¡°Just my bird, who seems to have found something more interesting than helping me.¡±

    Asra scoffed. ¡°Wolves don¡¯t travel alone.¡±

    ¡°My, you certainly do know a lot of my kind,¡± the wolf said with a tight smile. ¡°Perhaps you would be willing to teach me a thing or two.¡±

    The rust made the levers stiff, and the blood made the surface slick. Ciaran pushed down with his body weight, and just as he thought he had the leverage to force the levers open, his hands slipped. The trap twisted, and the wolf spun on him with a snarl.

    Asra stepped between Ciaran and the wolf, and Bane leapt to Asra¡¯s side, snarling and snapping. The wolf kept her fangs bared, but laid back down without further protest.

    ¡°It¡¯s all right, you two,¡± Ciaran said as he gripped the levers once more. ¡°My mistake.¡±

    ¡°If you must know,¡± the wolf said with a huff, ¡°I¡¯m a courier.¡±

    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Asra said. ¡°No one would trust a wolf to be a courier.¡±

    ¡°Not everyone is as prejudiced as you pets, apparently.¡±

    Asra held her arms out to the empty clearing. ¡°Then where¡¯s all your goods?¡±

    ¡°About half a mile south. I heard there was a powerful boar in the area. One that the humans regard as a god. Such a beast would surely provide an anchor or two.¡±

    ¡°A what?¡± Ciaran asked, looking up from his task, but Asra cut him off.

    ¡°I¡¯m not letting you put hand or paw on an anchor,¡± she said with a snarl.

    ¡°Well, you won¡¯t have to worry about it,¡± the wolf sighed. ¡°All I¡¯ve been able to find are these damn traps. I¡¯ve wasted too much time trapped here to hunt it any further. I must move on to my deliveries.¡±

    Ciaran gave one good push downward, and the trap jaws finally swung open. The wolf pulled her paw free and hauled herself to her feet. She shook herself out and winced when her paw made contact with the ground.

    ¡°Do you need help healing your foot?¡± Ciaran asked, straightening himself.

    ¡°She¡¯ll heal just fine on her own,¡± Asra said.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the wolf said with another cold smile. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to impose on you any longer.¡±

    She turned to leave, but Asra said, ¡°No, you¡¯re not leaving yet.¡±

    The wolf turned back, glaring at Asra with bared teeth.

    ¡°You need to tell the human thank you,¡± Asra said. ¡°He¡¯s the only reason you¡¯re not still stuck in that trap. If it were up to me, I¡¯d have left you for dead.¡±

    The wolf growled under her breath, but eventually sighed and smiled. ¡°Of course. How rude of me.¡± She dipped her head to Ciaran and said, ¡°Thank you, human.¡±

    Ciaran dipped his head in return. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    As the wolf turned and limped to the edge of the trees, she called back, ¡°Good luck to you both. I¡¯ll carry this to my grave.¡±

    When she had vanished in the thick forest, Asra turned to Ciaran.

    ¡°All right,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s go hunt this boar.¡±

 Fourteen: The Wolf, Part Four

    Asra headed into the woods in the opposite direction of the wolf, and it took Ciaran¡¯s mind a moment to catch up with her words.

    ¡°What?¡± he said.

    ¡°You said you could hunt this boar, didn¡¯t you?¡± Asra said, heading back to the horse. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Ciaran rubbed the back of his head as he followed her up the wooded hill. ¡°Why the sudden change in heart?¡±

    ¡°Because I don¡¯t believe a word that wolf said,¡± she said. ¡°Where there¡¯s one wolf, there¡¯s twenty more. I¡¯m not letting a single one of those limp-tailed fleabags get a hold of an anchor.¡±

    They crested the hill where the mare stood waiting, placid. Ciaran untied the reins from the tree.

    ¡°So,¡± Asra said, watching Ciaran pull himself up into the saddle. ¡°How do you kill a giant magic hog, O wise hunter?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s only one surefire way to kill a hog,¡± Ciaran said as he directed the mare toward the shrine. ¡°Stab it in the heart.¡±

    When they reached the shrine, Ciaran bent over in the saddle to swipe one of the spears discarded there. He tested the sharpness of the head with a fingertip. It would be sufficient.

    ¡°Boar have a thick layer of fat protecting the shoulders, which is difficult to penetrate with arrows,¡± Ciaran continued. ¡°I¡¯ll need to slide the spear through the boar¡¯s ribs, from just behind its front leg. Done properly, it¡¯ll puncture the heart, causing it to bleed out and die almost instantly. Quick and relatively painless.¡±

    ¡°So what do you need me to do?¡± Asra asked.

    ¡°Bane will keep the hog at bay. Prevent it from escaping. I need you to be the catch dog. You¡¯ll need to hold onto it so I can stick it. Most catch dogs opt for the ear, just at the base. Helps to keep the head still so it can¡¯t gore anyone with its tusks.¡±

    ¡°All right,¡± Asra said. ¡°Let me change into my fur and we can get going.¡±

    <hr>

    The afternoon passed in what Ciaran could confidently describe as ¡°companionable silence.¡±

    He¡¯d sent Bane ahead to track the boar down, leaving him and Asra in solitude. He stole glances at Asra as they traversed through the forest. If she felt his eyes on her, she never commented on it. He wanted to erase the images in his mind of her sick and dying. The sight of her bleeding out and maddened by pain and infection had haunted him for the days that Asra was unconscious.

    He¡¯d been so worried about her¡ªfar more worried than he felt he should be. The thought of her dying after she¡¯d saved Bane, and after she¡¯d saved all of them from the dragon, without Ciaran being able to return the favor in any way made his stomach roil. She¡¯d even defended him to a lesser degree with the wolf in the clearing.

    ¡°That was considerate of you, by the way,¡± Ciaran said.

    Asra¡¯s nose twitched as she scented the air, her ears swiveling forward and back. Without turning to look at him, she said, ¡°What was?¡±

    ¡°Reminding that wolf of her manners.¡±

    Asra sniffed. ¡°You did a good thing, even if it was wasted on her. The least she could do is thank you.¡±

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    ¡°Careful,¡± Ciaran said with a grin. ¡°I might start to think you don¡¯t utterly despise me.¡±

    Asra cocked a toothy smile up at him and opened her mouth to surely spit some prickly jab at him. But before she could say anything, she was cut off by a deep rumble in the earth, followed by a series of sharp, staccato barks.

    ¡°He found it,¡± Asra said, her drop ear fully forward and her torn ear standing straight above her head.

    ¡°I know. I hear him, too.¡±

    Another tremor shook the ground, and the horse flicked her tail and pawed the ground anxiously. Asra started after Bane, but stopped and swung back around to glance at Ciaran.

    ¡°Go!¡± Ciaran shouted as he tried to bring the horse back into line. ¡°I¡¯ll catch up!¡±

    Asra rocketed forward and vanished into the trees, leaving a wake of crushed leaves and snapped branches behind her. Ciaran ran his hands up and down the horse¡¯s neck, comforting her until she returned to a neutral position. He then nudged her into a canter as he followed Asra¡¯s trail. Bane¡¯s barks became louder, the tremors more severe. The horse snorted at each one, but did not balk. Ciaran hoped his steed could keep her composure.

    They finally broke through to the clearing where the boar stood, dominating the scene. It was taller than Asra, and far more broad. Its coarse gray coat was emblazoned with crimson sigils. Bane barked furiously at it, pressuring the boar into a corner of a rocky outcropping.

    Asra circled it, searching for an opening to grab one of its ears without being gored by a tusk. There were three on each side; one giant cuspid jutting above its snout at an upward angle, and two smaller horizontal tusks resting behind the cuspid. The boar swung its head back and forth, clearly knowing how to wield the weapons on its face.

    The horse finally lost her nerve. She reared back, and Ciaran gripped the saddle as hard as he could to keep from slipping. As soon as the horse¡¯s hooves touched the ground again, he leapt off of her. She pivoted and galloped back into the forest.

    The commotion caught the attention of the boar. It fixed its red eyes on Ciaran, snorted, and stomped its feet. The earth rippled and ruptured in a straight line towards Ciaran. Asra dashed in front, grabbing him by his shirt collar and darting out of the path of the earthquake.

    Bane was instantly back on the boar, barking and harassing it back into its corner. Asra raced back to it as Ciaran clambered for his spear and followed her. The boar swung its head towards Asra, who nimbly sprung above the tusks. The swing left the hog¡¯s ear vulnerable, and she grabbed hold of it with her jaws as she landed firmly on her feet. She yanked her head downward, and the momentum knocked the boar off balance. It stumbled for a moment, then toppled over. It flailed its short legs, struggling to get up, but Asra held tight to its ear and pushed down on its side with her paw. Her claws dug into the flesh until blood seeped from its shoulder. The boar squealed and flailed harder.

    ¡°Ciaran!¡± Asra shouted, her voice muffled by the boar¡¯s ear. ¡°I¡¯ve got it!¡±

    Ciaran took a firm grip of the spear and circled the boar until he stood by its stomach, between its front and hind feet. The boar¡¯s chest heaved, and its side glistened with blood nearly the same color as its sigils. Ciaran pushed the upper front leg aside and placed the point of the spear just behind the elbow.

    He glanced over the top of the boar to Asra. Her eyes were locked onto him, blazing with an animalistic glee he¡¯d never seen from her. Her whole body wiggled, and Ciaran realized her damn tail was wagging, whipping back and forth against her hindquarters.

    He grabbed the spear with both hands, and heaved it into the hog¡¯s chest. It slipped between its huge ribs and landed firmly into its heart. It gave one last screech and fell silent.

    Ciaran was in the process of pulling the weapon out of the boar when he felt Asra, now back in her human shape, pull him into a crushing embrace.

    ¡°Shit, you really did it!¡± she shouted, a bit too loudly for how close she was to his ear. Thankfully she pulled away from the embrace, her hands still firmly gripping Ciaran¡¯s shoulders. ¡°That was such a clean kill. You actually do know how to get your hands dirty. This thing is huge. I can¡¯t wait to see the looks on everyone¡¯s faces when we bring it back home.¡±

    Her beaming smile faltered. She seemed to take inventory of her appearance at the same time Ciaran did: blood smeared on her face and hands. And naked.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she mumbled as she wrung her hands. ¡°For a second I thought I was ¡­ ¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°I should get cleaned up. And ¡­ dressed.¡±

    Ciaran didn¡¯t mind the blood stains on his shoulders.

 Quick update about upcoming release schedule

    Hello everyone,

    This past weekend one of my dogs slipped her leash and was hit by a car. The ER was unfortunately not able to save her.

    If you''ve read my story, I''m sure it''s obvious just how important my dogs are to me. There are no words to convey my heartbreak and devastation.

    In addition to this, my partner and I are closing on a new house today, so we are in the middle of packing and moving, and I am also looking for a new job. Basically, I''m just not going to have the energy or headspace to focus on RR for at least a couple weeks.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    I have moved the next chapter release to August 23rd and my goal is to stick to that date, but it may change depending on where I am mentally.

    Thank you so much for your understanding, and I hope you''ll be back on the 23rd.

    --K.E.

 Fifteen: The Boar

    Asra couldn¡¯t keep her eyes off Ciaran for the rest of the afternoon, and she couldn¡¯t figure out why.

    Her eyes lingered on him now as he worked. She¡¯d set Ciaran on fleshing the boar pelt, an early part of the leather tanning process that separated the fat and soft tissue from the skin with a blade. She¡¯d thrown the skin over a large stone, fur side down, and shown him how to carefully scrape the skin with her fleshing knife, a long blade with wooden handles on either end. The afternoon sun poured down through the dense canopy of deciduous trees.

    The wolf had been correct: the boar¡¯s tusks housed a considerable amount of magic and were undoubtedly anchors. Since it would take several hours for the jaw bones to boil long enough to remove the tusks, anyway, they¡¯d decided to carve and skin the rest of the animal as well. The meat would feed them for several weeks, and the skin could be sold for the things they couldn¡¯t make themselves.

    Perhaps Asra¡¯s odd fixation with Ciaran that afternoon was because she¡¯d underestimated the usefulness of his physique. When she¡¯d first met him, she¡¯d written off his muscles as pure vanity: good for peacocking to his simpering nobles and nothing else. But vanity muscles alone couldn¡¯t have provided the strength he needed to lodge that spear in the boar¡¯s chest.

    Ciaran¡¯s muscles and tendons flexed as he methodically worked his way up and down the flesh, and Asra realized she¡¯d never seen him working before.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    She startled at the sound of his voice, and immediately hated herself for it. She shook her head and waved him off as she returned to her own task of preparing a spot to tan the hide.

    Maybe that was why she kept staring at him¡ªshe hadn¡¯t thought the man was capable of doing any kind of meaningful work. She had an image in her head of the prince as a pampered socialite, leeching off the wealth of his people and contributing nothing useful to society. He couldn¡¯t go more than two weeks without landing in the newspapers with some frivolous scandal.

    And while that was still mostly true, he had proven he had practical skills of some kind. Bane was clearly a wonderful hunting dog, and Ciaran a practiced hunter himself. He had hunted for them when Asra was delirious from her infection, and he¡¯d been eager to help her with tanning the boar hide, even after she¡¯d given him the nastiest, most tedious part to work on. Perhaps he had the potential to¡ª

    ¡°What? Am I doing something wrong?¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s voice snapped Asra back to reality once more. She tried to play it off as best she could¡ªat least he¡¯d given her a good excuse this time.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she said as she stood and approached him. ¡°Your strokes are too short and choppy. You¡¯ll gouge the skin that way.¡±

    She held her hand out for the knife and ignored the way his fingers brushed her palm as he gave it to her. She shooed him out of the way and demonstrated the correct motion with the blade.

    ¡°See? Long, smooth strokes. And go in rows, left to right. Like this. When you reach the end of a row, move the skin up and start another row. Do you get it?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I think so. Thank you.¡±

    He gave her an open, genuine smile that made her chest light. It wasn¡¯t that Asra had never noticed that the prince was attractive¡ªanyone with eyesight could see that. He had a strong jaw, a straight nose, and eyes that were slightly downturned, giving him a gentle, boyish charm. She¡¯d simply never cared that he was attractive.

    She certainly wasn¡¯t going to start caring now.

    ¡°Could I have the blade back, please?¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s hand was extended to her, palm up, and a bemused smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Asra slapped one of the handles of the blade into his hand and shuffled out of the way. As Ciaran went back to work, Asra leaned over his shoulder to check his technique.

    She took a deep, steadying breath, quiet enough so that Ciaran wouldn¡¯t hear. It was probably just the adrenals that had her like this. She and Ciaran just went through a very high-stress, physically intensive ordeal. It made sense that she might be a bit ¡­ easily excited. Ciaran¡¯s own excitement was just as potent in the sweat that glistened on his shoulders in the setting sunlight. The scent was not unwelcome.

    ¡°Asra, if I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d say you were watching me more than you¡¯re watching what I¡¯m doing.¡±

    Asra affixed a scowl on her face before she spoke. ¡°Good thing you know better, then.¡±

    As Asra stalked away, Ciaran chuckled to himself behind her. She took another deep breath to clear her head as she spread out the oilskin tarpaulin they used to keep rain off the tent, then busied herself finding several heavy stones to place around the edges to keep it in place.

    Just as she dropped the last stone in place, Ciaran called, ¡°I think I¡¯m finished.¡±

    Asra walked back over to him to examine his handiwork. There were a few chunks of fat and muscle still clinging to the skin here and there, but for the most part it was clean.

    ¡°So? How¡¯d I do?¡± He put his fists on his hips and beamed at Asra expectantly.

    ¡°Not too bad, for a first try,¡± she said with a shrug. She¡¯d intended it to be a bit backhanded, but his smile only grew brighter.

    ¡°That¡¯s high praise coming from you,¡± he said.

    Asra grunted and said to Ciaran, ¡°Help me get this thing over to the tarp.¡±

    They carefully rolled the skin up¡ªin this stage the hide was very fragile and prone to tearing¡ªand carried it over to the tarpaulin on the ground, then spread it back out again. Asra was so distracted by Ciaran as he worked that she nearly crushed her own fingers beneath one of the stones as she adjusted its position.

    Perhaps Asra was just a bit too much of her father¡¯s daughter. It was an accusation she¡¯d heard many times before, though for different reasons.

    She could still hear the hushed bickering of her parents late at night, the allegations her mother hurled at her father that he only took so many humanitarian trips to the Windemere City so that he could gallivant around with easily-seduced humans. Looking back on it, Sylvia had probably viewed that as the ultimate insult: to be partnered with one of the strongest hounds in the town only to be passed over for mundane humans.

    Now that Asra had spent ample time around humans, she didn¡¯t understand her father¡¯s fascination with them. She hated every moment she had to spend in their towns and cities. They were selfish and destructive, far too willing to step on each other to get ahead of everyone else.

    She hadn¡¯t found sex with them to be much different than with other shapechangers, either, other than the fact that she had to be far more careful not to accidentally hurt humans. They were so fragile and slow to heal.

    Was that the appeal? Was her father drawn to a protector role? Was it some kind of ancient, doggy need to be near humans and protect them from danger? What if it was genetic, like the canine shapes they took? What if¡ª

    ¡°I could put my shirt back on if it would make you more comfortable.¡±

    Asra blinked. Ciaran smirked back at her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± Her ears grew hot. She stood and stomped off to grab her tanning solution out of her bag.

    ¡°Yes you do.¡± She could hear the wide smile in his voice from behind her. ¡°You¡¯ve been ogling me all afternoon.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t flatter yourself.¡± Her bag rested on a waist-high boulder with a flattened top, alongside their water bottles. She took a deep drink from her bottle, hoping it would help cool her sizzling skin, then rummaged in her bag for the tanning solution.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to,¡± Ciaran said, and Asra felt his approaching footsteps in her bones. ¡°You¡¯ve flattered me plenty enough already.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re out of your fucking mind. I¡¯m not one of your sniveling courtiers. I¡¯ve got no reason to flatter you.¡±

    Ciaran stood behind her now, and she swore the tension between them became tangible, as if she could reach behind her and grab the friction that crackled between them. She was grateful he was human so that he couldn¡¯t hear the pulse pounding in her throat, smell the adrenals in the sweat on her neck.

    She turned to face him just as she would face any other threat, but was caught off guard by the gentleness in his brown eyes. She remembered those eyes lit up with excitement when they were children in the palace, as he bombarded her with questions about her life¡ªinnocent questions of a young boy enamored by the first shapechanger he¡¯d ever met, not the underhanded reconnaissance Nolan had extracted from her.

    She remembered the indignation that took over Ciaran¡¯s expression when she¡¯d referred to his dogs as servants. ¡°They¡¯re not my servants! They¡¯re my friends!¡±

    When had that silly boy grown into a man?

    Ciaran leaned forward, and Asra¡¯s breath hitched, her heart battering against her rib cage. Ciaran¡¯s lips parted, and Asra knew if he kissed her, she wouldn¡¯t be able to stop him. Not because she was physically incapable¡ªthey both knew damn well Ciaran was no match for her strength¡ªbut because she wouldn¡¯t want to stop him. What the hell was wrong with her?

    When Ciaran spoke, his whisper was warm on her lips.

    ¡°Could you step aside, please? I¡¯d like my drink.¡±

    Asra scoffed, pushing him aside as she stepped away from the stone behind her. She ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath, then turned to confront him.

    But he¡¯d already snatched his canteen up and was walking away from her, chugging at the vessel. Even when drinking he looked smug. Confident. He knew exactly what he was doing. He¡¯d played her like a damn fiddle.

    Asra growled as she snatched the bottle of tannins from her bag and returned to the tarpaulin to pour it over the hide. She worked the liquid into the skin in silence, fuming over how easily he¡¯d read her. She was behaving like a libidinous adolescent, and she needed to get control over herself.

    It didn¡¯t help that she was exhausted. She still hadn¡¯t fully recovered from her illness, and fighting the boar had taken a lot out of her, not to mention the effort she¡¯d put into the skinning and meat carving process. Sbe took a deep breath, gathering herself before she worked more tanning solution into the hide.

    ¡°Asra.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s voice was so neutral that it caught Asra off guard. She glanced up at him. He sat on a rock, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped as if he were about to make a business proposal. Asra¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°I was just thinking, we¡¯re both adults ¡­ ¡±

    Asra¡¯s pulse quickened.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been on the road for quite a while now,¡± Ciaran mused. ¡°We¡¯ve had a lot of near-death encounters, and I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll have several more.¡± The thought seemed to harrow him for a moment, then he continued, ¡°It¡¯s not healthy for either of us to be under so much constant stress for so long, and I think it would be beneficial for both of us to let off a little steam, if you understand my¡ª¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not.¡±

    Asra said it more to herself than to Ciaran. Her base instincts were winning out over her reason, and she had to put a stop to it. She wouldn¡¯t allow herself any distractions from her goal.

    Ciaran put his hands up and smiled with the grace of a man who had spent a lifetime training to handle delicate social interactions. ¡°It was only a suggestion. I thought we could both use a release. It¡¯s been a while for me. Considering your opinion of humans, I¡¯m assuming it¡¯s been even longer for you.¡±

    ¡°You think I¡¯ve never been intimate with humans before? Again, just because I¡¯m not drooling over you doesn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±

    ¡°Asra, you¡¯re drooling more than Bane right now.¡±

    Ciaran flicked his head over to the ridgeback, who happily gnawed at a piece of boar rib Asra had broken off for him, his slobber dripping down the bone and pooling at the ground. Asra huffed and returned to rubbing the tanning solution into the hide.

    ¡°You¡¯ve truly lain with humans before?¡± Ciaran said. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect that.¡±

    ¡°Were you hoping to be the first?¡± She raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°You¡¯d be sorely disappointed.¡±

    ¡°I would never be disappointed to ¡­ ¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°I just assumed that you wouldn¡¯t want to be intimate with humans. Have you never ¡­ ?¡± He pursed his lips, apparently searching for the right words. ¡°Have you only lain with humans?¡±

    ¡°No. There was one shapechanger.¡± Asra stood and wiped her hands off on a towel. ¡°We grew up together. After the attack ¡­ the other kids didn¡¯t really have any interest in being around me. And Jasper has always been an asshole. No one really liked him, either. So we sort of ¡­ gravitated to each other.¡±

    Ciaran regarded her with worried brows. She turned away from him. She didn¡¯t need his pity.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± Asra continued, ¡°I sometimes make things for the rest of the commune. Leather and smoked meats and such. He comes out to the cabin to take it back home, and drop off things from home for me. And sometimes we just ¡­ get it out of our systems.¡±

    ¡°So you were never in love with him?¡±

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    Asra scoffed. ¡°No. We never even really liked each other.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound particularly healthy.¡±

    ¡°I never said it was.¡± She ran her hands down the hide, using her healing magic to speed up the tanning process. ¡°At least none of my former lovers have kidnapped and tried to kill us.¡±

    Ciaran laughed, an honest, unfettered sound that made Asra laugh, too. ¡°That¡¯s true. I suppose it¡¯s a good sign you turned me down. I apparently don¡¯t have very good taste in lovers.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯d you do to piss him off so much, anyway?¡±

    Ciaran heaved a sigh, leaning down to scratch dirt off an unremarkable pebble embedded in the ground. After a moment, Asra thought he wouldn¡¯t answer, but his head finally popped back up and he said, ¡°Is there anything else I can help with?¡±

    Asra threw her thumb back towards the pot boiling over the fire. ¡°You can check on the tusks.¡±

    Ciaran busied himself with removing the portions of jaw from the pot with a pair of metal tongs Asra used to harvest cactus pads back home. ¡°What¡¯s so special about these tusks, exactly?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re anchors. Don¡¯t want that wolf getting her mangy paws on them.¡±

    ¡°And an anchor is ¡­ ?¡±

    Asra poured more tanning solution over the pelt as she considered her next words. ¡°Sometimes, very powerful beasts¡ªthe ones you would probably refer to as gods¡ªleave behind their magic in, say, a bone, or a claw. We call that an anchor.¡±

    ¡°But your people don''t believe in gods?¡±

    Asra snorted. ¡°Absolutely not.¡±

    ¡°Then where do your people think we go when we die?¡±

    ¡°Nowhere, I guess,¡± Asra said with a shrug. ¡°We¡¯re not really the religious type.¡±

    ¡°That sounds ¡­ bleak.¡±

    Asra shrugged again. ¡°I guess if you look at it that way. The thought of living forever sounds exhausting to me.¡± She wiped sweat off her brow. ¡°Of course, some of us linger on, here, in this world. People with magic powerful enough to leave behind an anchor. It¡¯s incredibly rare, though.¡±

    ¡°Linger on? As in, their bodies? Like the walking dead?¡± Ciaran¡¯s face was even paler than usual.

    ¡°Oh, no,¡± Asra said quickly. ¡°Just their magic. More like ¡­ what are those things you humans put in your scary campfire stories? Ghosts.¡±

    ¡°Do you know anyone who¡¯s done that?¡± Ciaran said, but Asra could detect the deflection in his eager tone.

    Asra raised her brows at him. ¡°Why are you avoiding my question?¡±

    Ciaran smiled and shook his head. ¡°I suppose you would know all about when someone¡¯s avoiding a question, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± He sighed. ¡°The issues with me and Vincent are a lot of political bullshit. Mostly.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡± Asra was uninterested in asking him to elaborate. She didn¡¯t care much for human politics. She didn¡¯t care much for shapechanger politics, either, but at least those made sense to her.

    Asra¡¯s disinterest didn¡¯t seem to phase Ciaran, however.

    ¡°We¡¯ve been friends since we were boys,¡± he said. ¡°He¡¯s always been an insufferable prick. Uptight. I don¡¯t think he ever even had a housekeeper, because they could never take care of things the way he wanted them done.¡±

    Ciaran hissed as he tried to grab onto a bone fragment with his fingers. He grabbed the tongs again as he continued, ¡°He was just as irritating when we courted. He wanted a classic, ¡®respectable¡¯ royal family. A powerful reputation. Plenty of heirs. Not the dogs, though. He hated my dogs. They were too dirty. Too loud. Too ¡­ ¡± His voice caught as he searched for the right word, and when he was unable to find it, he ended the sentence with an annoyed groan.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never wanted any of that,¡± he continued as he waved a piece of boar jaw in the air with the tongs, trying to cool it faster. ¡°I¡¯ve never wanted to be tied down to one person. I¡¯ve never wanted children. I just want a whole palace full of dogs and for people to not breathe down my neck about being an embarrassment to the family.¡±

    Asra winced at his last words. She knew what it was like to be an embarrassment to the family.

    ¡°Why waste your time with him, then?¡± Asra asked. ¡°There¡¯s plenty of other people interested in you. Aren¡¯t you tied up with that duchess?¡±

    Asra had never seen anyone flush such a deep shade of red so quickly.

    ¡°How do you know about Ophelia?¡± Ciaran said with an awkward laugh.

    ¡°It¡¯s not by choice, I assure you,¡± Asra grumbled. ¡°When you spend as much time as I have stalking a king, you learn a lot about the people surrounding him.¡±

    ¡°Good things, I hope.¡±

    Asra grunted. No sense in hurting his feelings.

    Ciaran laughed. ¡°Well, you shouldn¡¯t listen to idle court gossip. Ophelia and I are good friends. Ah, intimate friends, but nothing more.¡± Ciaran sighed. ¡°At any rate, it doesn¡¯t matter. She¡¯s betrothed to the Duke of Westbrook.¡±

    Asra cocked her head sideways. ¡°So you two were ¡­ ¡± She ran her tongue over her teeth as she searched for the term the humans used. ¡° ¡­ having an affair?¡±

    ¡°No, no,¡± Ciaran said quickly. ¡°Nothing like that. They¡¯ve been betrothed since they were infants. She¡¯s free to pursue whatever romantic or sexual encounters she desires until they¡¯re married.¡±

    Asra sighed. The human concepts of lineage and inheritance were so bizarre.

    Ciaran sighed and dropped the tongs on the ground. ¡°Anyway, this isn''t the first time Vincent and I have ended the courtship, but this time he said he was serious. He said he wanted to get all of his things out of my properties.¡± Ciaran scratched the back of his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t handle it well. I told Nolan to ship him off to New Port. I¡¯m surprised Nolan actually did it, with how much Vincent has been kissing his arse lately.¡±

    Asra¡¯s mind drifted back to her encounter with Vincent in Ciaran¡¯s apartment. ¡°I thought you said your brother doesn¡¯t like Vincent?¡±

    Ciaran laughed. ¡°Oh, he doesn¡¯t. He¡¯s always hated him. Vincent is common-born, you see. Nolan wanted me to marry a noble from one of the bigger territories, to help strengthen our reign there. And believed Vincent was the one influencing me to be a problem child. Always blamed him when I got into trouble.

    ¡°But Vincent is ... special,¡± Ciaran continued. ¡°He can¡¯t wield magic the same way you shapechangers can, but I swear he¡¯ll find a way someday. He¡¯s brilliant with magic. Nolan wants to keep him close. Vincent knows this and probably wants to use it to his advantage. The only reason he got sent off to New Port is because I asked for him to, and I¡¯m sure Vincent knows that. It was an insult towards him. I intended it to be.¡± He frowned.

    ¡°So you decided it was a good idea to piss off one of the most powerful people in the kingdom?¡± Asra asked.

    Ciaran shrugged. ¡°Well Nolan pissed you off, didn¡¯t he? I suppose it runs in the family.¡±

    Asra wondered what else ran in the family. Ciaran¡¯s father had launched the campaign to conquer the independent states, and Nolan had taken it up with no hesitation when he died. Would Ciaran do the same after Nolan?

    ¡°Sometimes I can¡¯t help but feel like Vincent was just using me to further his own goals,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°Marrying me would have been as close as he could get to being king.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t marrying you make him king? After Nolan died?¡±

    ¡°No, not technically. He would have been king-consort, not a true king.¡±

    Asra shook her head as she worked her way down the hide. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any damn sense.¡±

    Ciaran folded his arms. ¡°You know, you¡¯ve done a lot of criticizing my government, but you¡¯ve never told me anything about yours. That doesn¡¯t seem fair.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a government. Not a formal one, anyway.¡±

    Ciaran flashed her a disbelieving smile. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have a government.¡±

    ¡°How do you run everything? How do you control currency?¡±

    Asra shrugged. ¡°We don¡¯t use money.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Ciaran said with a laugh. ¡°How do you keep everything from falling into chaos?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s called working together. And sharing. You humans should try it sometime.¡±

    Ciaran resumed fishing the pieces of jaw from the boiling pot of water. ¡°So ¡­ when you were brought into the palace for shoplifting ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know I was committing a crime. I didn¡¯t even know what money was.¡±

    ¡°But ¡­ didn¡¯t you tell Nolan it was just a misunderstanding?¡±

    Asra¡¯s eyes snapped up to fix Ciaran with a sharp glare. When he turned to look at her, he startled.

    ¡°He spent the entire night interrogating me about my people,¡± Asra said, her voice low. ¡°He knew everything about our culture by the end. He knew I didn¡¯t mean any harm. He was looking for us. Looking for someone gullible enough to give him the information he needed. I begged him to leave my town alone. Begged him to just kill me instead. My best guess? He wanted the lodestones and precious metals from our mines, and he didn¡¯t care how many of us he had to slaughter to get to them.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s brow furrowed. Their teasing throughout the afternoon seemed to have made both of them forget about the wall between them. Now the reality of their situation stood firm and solid between them once more.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said.

    There was sadness in Ciaran¡¯s face, like this wasn¡¯t the way he wanted their conversation to go. But this was exactly what Asra needed to remind herself of. They could flirt and joke all they wanted, but it wouldn¡¯t change the fact that once arrived at Nolan''s fortress, she might have to choose between Ciaran¡¯s life and the safety of her home. She couldn¡¯t let herself forget which came first.

    Asra nodded and said, ¡°Let me show you how to get the tusks out of the jawbone.¡±

    <hr>

    They broke camp a couple hours later. The tanned hide was rolled into a bundle on the horse¡¯s back, the cured meat packed away as neatly as they could manage.

    Ciaran glanced at the skinned and hacked-up boar carcass and said, ¡°It¡¯s a shame so much of it is going to go to waste.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t go to waste,¡± Asra said, pointing upwards. ¡°Look. Wolf birds.¡±

    Ciaran followed the direction of her finger to the treetops above them, where a dozen or so medium-sized birds with long beaks and sleek black feathers waited patiently.

    ¡°You mean the ravens?¡± Ciaran asked.

    She shrugged and said, ¡°If that¡¯s what you call them. We call them wolf birds because the wolves¡ªthe wolf shapechangers, I mean¡ªkeep them as pets. They¡¯re a good luck symbol to them.¡± She shrugged again. ¡°At least that¡¯s what we were taught in school. I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve never met anyone with wolf fur before that fleabag today.¡±

    ¡°Ravens and wolves have a sort of symbiotic relationship, so that makes sense,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°Ravens will lead wolf packs to intact carcasses so the wolves can open them up, then the ravens eat the leftovers. The wolves and the ravens both get food that way.¡± He smiled up at the birds. ¡°They¡¯re smart as hell, too. I bet they make fun pets.¡±

    Asra¡¯s eyes flicked down to the rapidly setting sun. ¡°We should get moving. We¡¯ve wasted a lot of time today.¡±

    She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and was thrown off by its momentum. She tried to steady herself, but her exhaustion sent her teetering backward into Ciaran¡¯s chest.

    ¡°Whoa, hey!¡± he said as he caught her by the arms.

    Asra looked back at him, expecting him to be annoyed, but there was only concern in his eyes.

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± Ciaran asked as he helped steady her. His hands lingered on her arms for a moment, stable and reassuring.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Asra said, brushing him off. ¡°We need to get moving.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve pushed yourself too hard today.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    She headed toward the next town. It took Ciaran a moment to speak, but when he did, his voice was strong and firm.

    ¡°I think you need to stay here. I¡¯ll take the goods into town.¡±

    There was such a finality to his tone that it caught Asra off guard. She wheeled around and snapped, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re exhausted. You¡¯re no good to either of us if you run yourself into the ground.¡± His voice softened as he said, ¡°We found that out for ourselves, didn¡¯t we?¡±

    Asra sighed. He was right, damn him. They couldn¡¯t afford for her to be out of commission for weeks again, and she wasn¡¯t reliable when she was tired.

    But doubt still nagged at her mind.

    ¡°You can¡¯t go into town by yourself,¡± Asra said. ¡°What if something happens?¡±

    Ciaran smiled and said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll have Bane with me.¡± A dark look flashed across his face and vanished just as quickly. ¡°I know this town well. It¡¯s small and quiet. Bane will let me know if something¡¯s wrong.¡±

    Asra chewed her lip as she debated. Ciaran placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up and their eyes locked for a moment. His brows were drawn together in worry.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you set up camp while I¡¯m gone?¡± he said. ¡°We can stay here tonight and leave in the morning. You can get some extra rest without wasting any more time. Plus the horse can move faster without all that extra weight.¡±

    Asra sighed. His plan made the most sense.

    ¡°All right.¡±

    Ciaran smiled and patted her shoulder before walking past her to unload the camping equipment from the horse. He then pulled himself into the saddle and waved back at her as he called Bane to follow him.

    Asra set up the tent to keep herself from watching them leave. She planted the concealment spell, filtered out some more water from the nearby pond into their drinking pitcher, and settled into her sleeping sack.

    After nearly half an hour, she admitted defeat on falling asleep early. She took off her clothes and changed into her fur, then snapped a rib off the boar carcass and carried it back under the concealment charm. As she gnawed at it, she watched the wolf birds descend on the carcass in a swarm of black feathers and raucous croaks. She gnawed at the bone for another half hour, but didn¡¯t feel any more inclined to sleep than she had before.

    After the ravens had eaten their fill, they retreated back amongst the tree branches. A disquieting stillness settled in around Asra, despite the pleasant birdsong in the air and the soft rustling of the breeze through the trees and grass. The high-pitched keening of her tinnitus rang in her ears, louder than it had in weeks. What had distracted her from it for so long?

    She cast her mind out, searching for an answer, and found the muffled stomping of the horse¡¯s hooves in the dirt, Ciaran¡¯s constant chattering throughout the day, and Bane¡¯s panting and pawsteps as he padded along behind them. Thoughts of Bane led her mind to the jeweled leather collar of Bane¡¯s mother back at Ciaran¡¯s apartment, expertly crafted and lovingly cared for over many years. She then thought of Bane¡¯s naked neck.

    Asra needed something to distract herself. She wouldn¡¯t be able to inlay jewels, but she might still be able to craft a collar worthy of Bane.

    She changed back into her skin and dressed; it didn¡¯t matter much that she was nude all the way out in these secluded woods, but she¡¯d grown so used to clothing that it felt more comfortable for her now.

    Asra retrieved the rabbit skin that Ciaran had trapped the last night they spent with Margot. It was soft and supple, and Asra was grateful she¡¯d decided to tan it. She found a tree that was roughly the width of Bane¡¯s neck and wrapped the skin around it. There should be just enough material to work with.

    She grabbed her leather crafting tools from her bag and set up on the flattened stone they¡¯d kept their water bottles on earlier that day. The memory of Ciaran approaching her from behind crept into her mind, sending a wave of heat up her spine. She pushed the thought aside.

    Asra cut a long strip out of the leather, then rounded each end and beveled the edges. She punched out the holes from the strap and attached a metal buckle to the other end with rivets.

    She pondered what to tool into the leather. His name might be nice. If she had time, she could stain the letters orange, on a smokey blue background. It would look nice against his coat.

    The collar was much longer than his short name, however. Perhaps she could tool some kind of picture onto either side to fill the space. She wasn¡¯t much of an artist, but she could manage a silhouette of a wolf bird, encircled by boar tusks, on either side of Bane¡¯s name. It seemed a fitting reminder of their first hunt together.

    Their first hunt. As if there might be more. As if they might both survive Nolan¡¯s assassination. As if they may have any sort of future together.

    She pushed these thoughts aside, too, and tried to lose herself in her craft. It came easy to her as she chiseled away at the leather.

    Asra thought of Sophie and Liam back home helping to reupholster the theater seats with fresh leather from the buffalo migration a few months ago. She hated that she wasn¡¯t there to help them. She hated even more that she¡¯d missed the hunt. Most of all, she hated that she still couldn¡¯t return home.

    Asra realized then why she couldn¡¯t keep her eyes off Ciaran all afternoon. Hunting with him had given her the same sense of camaraderie she felt when she was hunting with Sophie and Liam, or when she had gone hunting with her father. He¡¯d teased her the same way Liam would, and advocated for her wellbeing the same way Sophie would.

    At the culmination of the hunt that afternoon, for one exhilarating moment, he¡¯d made her feel like she was home.

    And when Bane returned later that evening without Ciaran, Asra felt the same panic she¡¯d felt for her home when it burned.

 Sixteen: The Jailhouse

    Ciaran was awake long before he opened his eyes. Opening his eyes would probably help his nausea and stop his head from spinning, but it would make his searing headache much worse. He decided to push that off for as long as possible.

    He took this time to piece together what happened. He remembered selling the boar hide and swapping out horses. He¡¯d been on his way back to Asra when he heard Bane growl, and then everything went dark.

    Why hadn¡¯t Bane alerted him sooner? He groaned as he understood: hound¡¯s woe. This was the second time his personal protection dog failed to protect his person. He hoped Bane wasn¡¯t losing his edge. Even more, he hoped his dog made it out unscathed.

    Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll have Bane with me was becoming as ominous of a phrase to say as What could possibly go wrong?

    The wooden chair he sat on creaked as he took inventory of his injuries. Dried blood cracked on the back of his neck as he turned his head side to side. He rolled his shoulders and found the movement inhibited by tight, rough ropes encircling his arms and chest. The same rope scratched his wrists as his hands trembled uncontrollably, and kept his ankles firmly in place at the front chair legs.

    Ciaran finally worked up the nerve to open an eye. The bright light in front of him bore into his skull, but he forced the other eye open as well. He blinked as he took in his surroundings.

    A small, cramped space. Walls, floor, and ceiling made of rough-hewn wood. There was a door at the front right side of the building, a short barred window to the left of it. A messy desk strewn with papers and knicknacks stood before him, two shoddy cells behind him. Shadows lingered in the corners and edges of the room where the sunlight couldn¡¯t reach.

    A jailhouse. Ciaran wracked his brain for jails near where he was attacked, and the most logical answer was Cradlestone. That wasn¡¯t too far from where he was abducted.

    Would Asra be able to find him here? How long would it take her to figure out something was wrong? He¡¯d told her to get some extra sleep¡ªwhat if she slept all through the night, and by the time she figured out he¡¯d been taken, it would be too late? He took a deep breath to quell the panic rising in his chest.

    The door creaked open, and Ciaran squinted his eyes to see who entered the building through the blazing light. He didn¡¯t need to make out the finer details of the stranger¡¯s face to discern who it was: the figure was instantly recognizable by the confidence in his movements as he hung his duster on the coat rack by the door, and by the air of superiority that filled the space around him as he leaned casually against the desk.

    Vincent.

    Ciaran¡¯s head filled with profanities he wanted to throw at the man, threats he wanted to cow him with, but the first words that sprung from Ciaran¡¯s mouth were, ¡°Where¡¯s my dog?¡±

    ¡°I was going to ask you the same thing.¡±

    Ciaran let out a long breath, and a weight lifted from his shoulders. If Vincent didn¡¯t know where Bane was, that meant the dog escaped unharmed. Bane must have known this new encounter with Vincent¡¯s men would have ended the same as their first encounter in the penthouse. Rather than fight a losing battle, he must have run to find Asra. Clever bastard.

    The thought of Asra made Ciaran realize he and Vincent were talking about two different dogs.

    ¡°Jealousy is unbecoming of you, Vincent.¡± The words felt strange in his mouth. He realized he had slipped into his proper accent when addressing Vincent, then he realized he couldn¡¯t remember when he¡¯d dropped it.

    ¡°Jealousy?¡± Vincent¡¯s brow wrinkled for a moment, then he smiled and shook his head. ¡°Your arrogance truly knows no bounds. Do you really think that¡¯s what this is about? You can¡¯t imagine a world in which I¡¯m not pining after you like some lovesick adolescent, can you?¡±

    Ciaran set his mouth in a hard line. The version of their relationship he¡¯d told Asra left out most of the incriminating details. He preferred not to think about all the groveling he¡¯d done to keep Vincent from walking away over and over again.

    He wished his hands would stop shaking.

    ¡°Where is the shapechanger, Ciaran?¡±

    That depended on what time and what day it was, and how far away Ciaran was from the camp where he¡¯d left Asra. He hoped she was close.

    ¡°Even if I knew,¡± Ciaran said, ¡°why would I tell you?¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s hands quivered so badly that it caused the uneven chair legs to rattle against the floor. He clenched his fists to subdue the tremors, but it did not escape Vincent¡¯s notice.

    ¡°When was the last time you had a drink?¡± Vincent said, and Ciaran wasn¡¯t sure if he imagined the concern in Vincent¡¯s voice.

    ¡°That¡¯s none of your business,¡± Ciaran snapped.

    ¡°Yes it is,¡± Vincent said as he pulled a silver flask out of his waistcoat pocket. ¡°I need you lucid.¡±

    ¡°Since when do you carry a flask around?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t. I assumed you would need it.¡± If there had been any concern in Vincent¡¯s voice before, it was gone now. Ciaran¡¯s ears grew hot, but he refused to drop his gaze.

    Vincent held the flask up to Ciaran¡¯s lips, and for a moment he considered refusing. But his head was pounding, and the promise of relief was too tempting. He downed nearly half the flask before Vincent pulled it away and placed it on the desk behind him.

    Vincent smoothed his waistcoat, straightened his tie, and pushed up the cotton sleeves of his undershirt past his elbows. The bright beams of sunlight from the barred window glinted off his golden hair and the silver thread in the embroidery on his riding boots. He leaned back against the desk and folded his arms, his blue eyes as icy as his expression. How did the insufferable bastard always manage to look so effortlessly handsome?

    They stared at each other for a moment before Vincent said, ¡°You look like shit.¡±

    ¡°You just had me assaulted and kidnapped!¡± Ciaran winced. Shouting made his head throb. More quietly he added, ¡°For the second time. How did you even find me?¡±

    Vincent reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a closed fist. He opened it over a steel tray on the desk and Ciaran winced again as small metallic objects bounced off the surface with a clamor. Each ting felt like a bullet through his skull. When he opened his eyes, he saw it was the jewelry he and Asra had pawned off along their journey.

    ¡°You¡¯re not very good at hiding your trail,¡± Vincent said. ¡°Not to mention constantly announcing your location by walking around with a breed of dog that only nobles are allowed to own. I was worried when I couldn¡¯t find any trace of you over the last few weeks. I was afraid you¡¯d wisened up and were being more diligent about covering your tracks. But you¡¯ll never change, will you?¡±

    Ciaran closed his eyes and leaned his head back. ¡°Not until the day I die.¡±

    Ciaran focused on the flavors that still lingered in his mouth to distract himself from his nausea as he waited for the alcohol to hit his blood and the inevitable relief to flow through him. The whiskey had been far sweeter and less peaty than what Ciaran preferred, but smooth and satisfying nonetheless. Despite his humble origins, Vincent had developed an expensive taste in the time that Ciaran had known him. His own doing, no doubt.

    Vincent rustled through his clothing again, shortly followed by a metallic tapping sound. When Ciaran lifted his head and opened his eyes, Vincent was spinning the open chamber of a revolver, its pearl handle shimmering in the sunbeams.

    Ciaran¡¯s heart pounded against his chest like a caged beast. He didn¡¯t think Vincent would have the stomach to shoot him in cold blood, but he also never would have thought Vincent would have the stomach to have him kidnapped and murdered, either. Ciaran¡¯s mind raced as he tried to think of a way to stall for time. A feeling of horror that Asra might never show up fell over him when he heard a scuffle outside the door.

    Vincent looked up and said, ¡°Sounds like she¡¯s here.¡±

    He closed the chamber and aimed the revolver at the door. A few seconds later, the door burst open, bouncing off the wall behind it. Asra shouldered her way past into the room. The two guards who had been posted outside groaned on the ground behind her. Bane¡¯s claws clicked somewhere in the small building, obscured in the shadows, and Ciaran praised the gods that he was safe.

    ¡°Stay where you are,¡± Vincent said, his tone cool and even.

    Asra blinked. She looked to Vincent, then to Ciaran, then back to Vincent again. If she didn¡¯t recognize Vincent¡¯s face, she surely recognized his scent.

    Asra¡¯s voice rang out strong in the small room. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t think that thing is enough to kill me.¡±

    Ciaran recognized it as both a statement of fact and a bluff. The small pistol may not be enough to kill her outright, but it would seriously wound her and significantly reduce their chances of escaping.

    Vincent smiled gently, and swung his arm around to point the gun at Ciaran¡¯s temple.

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± Asra shouted, and the edge of panic in the way her voice rose was unmistakable. Ciaran kept his eyes fixed on Asra, worried that if he looked at how close the barrel of the gun was to his skull he would lose what little nerve he had left.

    Asra would get them out of this. She had done so many times before.

    ¡°Close the door behind you, please.¡± Ciaran could hear the cordial smile in Vincent¡¯s voice. Even in this situation he was poised and in control.

    Asra kicked the door behind her and it slammed so loudly that Ciaran jumped. Vincent didn¡¯t even flinch.

    ¡°Why is a shapechanger so interested in a prince?¡± Vincent asked. ¡°What could you possibly want with a human throne?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have any interest in the throne.¡± She spat the word like it was poison in her mouth. ¡°I just want Nolan dead.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯re on the same side.¡±

    Ciaran strained his eyes to look up at Vincent. He should have known his ambition wouldn¡¯t be satisfied with a few fancy titles.

    When Asra said nothing, Vincent continued, ¡°You should go home, Asra. Let me handle Nolan.¡±

    ¡°Over my dead body!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯d like to avoid. Do you really think you¡¯ll survive another assassination attempt? You¡¯ve no idea what weapons he has at his disposal.¡±

    Ciaran licked his dry lips. Did Vincent know what Nolan had planned for his next invasion attempt?

    Asra¡¯s eyes were wide with fury. ¡°So I should let you take over those weapons instead?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve no interest in attacking your people. You have my word they would be safe, for whatever that¡¯s worth to you.¡±

    Asra snorted in a way that made it clear his word was less than worthless to her.

    ¡°And what about Ciaran?¡± she said.

    ¡°He¡¯ll stay here, safe and sound and well looked after. He was kidnapped by a werewolf, and it¡¯s a dangerous world. No one will question that he disappeared.¡±

    Asra folded her arms. ¡°And what do you get out of that?¡±

    ¡°Nolan¡¯s a bit of an overprotective bastard where Ciaran¡¯s concerned.¡± There was venom in Vincent¡¯s voice. Ciaran thought of all the arguments he had with Nolan about Vincent. It infuriated him that his brother had been right about him all along. ¡°He¡¯s been beside himself since this all started. If I tell Nolan I have his baby brother, he¡¯ll come running.¡±

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Vincent pressed the barrel of the revolver into Ciaran¡¯s temple. Ciaran¡¯s breath hitched, but he forced himself to keep his composure. He wouldn¡¯t show any weakness in front of Vincent. He tried to keep his thoughts away from his mother, but he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if this is what she felt like just before she was murdered.

    Asra unfolded her arms, her whole body tensing.

    ¡°And it looks like you have that same soft spot,¡± Vincent said. ¡°I need something to ensure you won¡¯t hunt me down like Nolan. Two birds with one stone.¡±

    Asra¡¯s eyes flicked to Ciaran, then back to Vincent. ¡°I just need him to get me to Nolan.¡±

    ¡°You should go home, Asra,¡± Vincent said. ¡°I know your people are dying. I don¡¯t want to do anything to speed up the death of an entire culture.¡±

    Ciaran searched Asra¡¯s face for some sort of expression. He expected rage, fear, maybe even pain, but she remained impassive.

    She snorted and said, ¡°Nolan was a lot better at this than you are.¡±

    Ciaran heard Vincent¡¯s amused hmph and felt a breeze as he moved the gun to point down at Ciaran¡¯s foot. There was a soft click as Vincent cocked the gun. Ciaran squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head as far away as he possibly could.

    And then there was a guttural snarl, a scream, and the sound of the gun clattering to the ground. Ciaran opened his eyes and saw Asra in front of him, fishing a knife out of her pocket and sawing through the ropes that bound him.

    He glanced down and saw Vincent writhing on the floor, fighting against Bane¡¯s grip on his arm to no avail. Blood seeped through his sleeve and splattered on his perfectly groomed face. Bile rose in Ciaran¡¯s throat and he looked away.

    The final rope fell from Ciaran¡¯s ankle and Asra sprung to her feet and helped Ciaran to his.

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± she said. ¡°Can you walk?¡±

    ¡°I ¡­ I think so.¡± He was woozy and unsteady, but they needed to get out of there. They started towards the door, but Ciaran froze and said, ¡°Wait! Give me your bag!¡±

    Asra followed his gaze to the jewelry on the desk. She held her bag open at the edge of the desktop as Ciaran slid everything into the opening with one swipe of his arm. Asra threw the bag back over her shoulder and they ran to the door.

    Ciaran slid to a halt and shouted, ¡°Bane, out! Let¡¯s go!¡±

    Bane dropped Vincent¡¯s arm at Ciaran¡¯s command and raced towards him, his claws scrabbling against the rough floors.

    Ciaran only just exited the door when he stopped. He held his arm up over his face to block the blazing light, then looked back at Vincent crumpled on the ground in agony, gripping his bleeding arm to his chest. The cotton sleeve was eviscerated, all layers of his skin torn away to reveal bare muscle.

    ¡°Asra, wait!¡±

    She stopped and turned on a dime. Ciaran stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to ask of her, or if it was fair for him to even ask it.

    ¡°He¡¯s hurt,¡± he said finally.

    Asra¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious!¡± Then her eyes widened. ¡°Oh, shit.¡±

    Ciaran turned and raced back inside, Asra¡¯s footsteps on his heels. She pointed to the gun on the floor as she ran to Vincent and said, ¡°Unload that thing!¡±

    Ciaran hastened to obey. He snatched it off the floor and opened the chamber, shaking the bullets out into his hand and stuffing them into his pockets. Asra dragged Vincent over to the desk so that his back was up against one of the legs, then tied his arms behind his back around it. She cut the sleeve off his injured arm with her pocket knife.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need your help,¡± Vincent sputtered.

    ¡°And I don¡¯t want to give it to you, but here we are.¡± She ran her hand up and down his arm, then placed it palm-down over the eviscerated skin and muscle. She closed her eyes, and in a gentle glow of light and a slight scraping of bone, the wound slowly closed.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Asra said as she stood. She grabbed Ciaran by the arm and pulled him to the door, Bane following along behind them.

    ¡°Where do we get another horse?¡± Asra asked as they stepped into the sunlight.

    ¡°I don¡¯t ¡­ ¡± Ciaran searched the landscape, but he wasn¡¯t as familiar with Cradlestone as other towns in the area. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    The guards beneath them were coming to, and one of them reached for his pistol on the jailhouse porch. Asra kicked it, and it flew into the bushes.

    ¡°No time,¡± Asra said. She then flung her backpack into Ciaran¡¯s arms, who gripped it between his arms out of pure instinct.

    ¡°What are you¡ª¡±

    Asra stripped naked in record time, then crammed her clothes and shoes into the bag. She snatched it back from him and threw it back over her shoulders.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna have to hold on tight to my bag,¡± she said as she tightened the straps around her chest and stomach. ¡°Keep low over my back. Don¡¯t let go.¡±

    Before Ciaran could comment on anything, Asra changed into her gazehound shape. She bent down to help him onto her back just as a bullet whizzed past Ciaran¡¯s head. He leapt up and held onto her bag for dear life as she darted forward at breakneck speeds, Bane following behind.

    The sounds of gunfire and shouting rapidly disappeared behind them, but Ciaran didn¡¯t dare look up until he felt Asra slow to a stop. His fingers and limbs felt frozen in place. He kept his eyes closed, running through the events of the day in his mind.

    ¡°You can get down now,¡± Asra said, and when Ciaran made no moves to do so, she sat and he slid down her bony back.

    Before he could even register what happened, Asra¡¯s human hands were on his shoulders.

    ¡°Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?¡± She looked down at her naked body. ¡°Shit. Sorry, hang on.¡±

    She threw the bag off her shoulders and rummaged through for her shawl, then ripped it over head.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Asra said more firmly. ¡°Where are you hurt?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Nowhere, I think. No, wait.¡± He remembered the dried blood on the back of his neck. ¡°The back of my head, maybe. Down towards the neck.¡± His whole body shook, though this time he was confident the culprit was adrenals.

    Asra slid her right hand over Ciaran¡¯s shoulder and up the back of his neck to the base of his skull. The sensation sent chills down his spine and eased his racing heart. She closed her eyes and he felt the familiar heat of her healing magic.

    His mind drifted back to the first time she¡¯d healed his head like this, when they stood in his penthouse. That was nearly two months ago now. Just like the first time, Ciaran took the opportunity to study her face. His eyes followed the contour of the curled magic sigils under her eyes, up to her half-missing ear. The shaved areas of this side of her head had begun to grow in and were now fuzzy, but the ear was still prominent.

    Nolan had done this to her. Whether directly or indirectly, he had caused her pain that could never be taken away. His chest burned at the thought.

    ¡°Eyes to yourself, prince.¡± Asra¡¯s tone was light, almost playful. She had apparently recognized the similarity of their first meeting, too.

    Ciaran smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Just admiring your sigils.¡±

    To his surprise she returned the smile. It brightened her dazzlingly yellow eyes, the same color as her sigils, vivid against her warm brown skin. His breath caught in his chest.

    ¡°You came for me,¡± Ciaran whispered.

    ¡°I was ¡­ worried,¡± Asra whispered back.

    Ciaran smirked. ¡°Worried I¡¯d done something stupid?¡±

    ¡°No. Worried about you.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s eyes widened. Those three simple words were somehow more terrifying than anything that happened that day.

    He then became acutely aware that Asra still had her hands on him.

    ¡°Am I all better now?¡± he said.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°You should probably let go, then.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    But she didn¡¯t move. Neither of them moved. They were so close that electricity prickled across Ciaran¡¯s arms. If he leaned forward just a few inches, his lips would brush hers. He wondered what she tasted like. If he could just ¡­

    Bane erupted into a frenzy of barking. Ciaran practically leapt out of his skin as he wheeled around to see what the dog was getting into. He spotted Bane standing at the stripped boar carcass, chasing the ravens away from his prized item. Ciaran whipped his head back around. Perhaps the moment wasn¡¯t entirely ruined.

    ¡°Oh, shit!¡± Asra¡¯s eyes were wide as she ripped out the contents of her bag, strewing them on the ground. ¡°I have to get the concealment spell set up again. Get over here and help.¡±

    Ciaran bit back a groan as he assisted Asra with digging holes for the lodestones, muttering to himself the whole time about getting Bane back onto a serious training schedule when they got back home.

    <hr>

    Ciaran couldn¡¯t sleep at all that night. The few hours he did manage were plagued by nightmares. The first involved Vincent holding a gun to Ciaran¡¯s head as he lay motionless, unable to move. Vincent would pull the trigger, laugh when it turned out the round was empty, then cycle the chamber to the next round.

    The next started off as a pleasant pub crawl, until Asra appeared and shook Ciaran hard, screaming at him so loud that her jaw unhinged and he was swallowed by the darkness.

    He had just woken from a third nightmare. Ciaran had vague recollections of trying to chase after Asra as she ran from him, but drunkenly stumbling every time he tried to run.

    His hands were shaking again, and the headache had returned with a vengeance. He didn¡¯t need a psychoanalyst to explain tonight¡¯s specific flavor of bad dreams, but he desperately needed sleep, and he knew a little alcohol could get him there.

    Vincent¡¯s flask had been swiped along with the other things lying on the desk the day before, and Ciaran had quietly tucked it into his pocket while he helped Asra set the concealment spell. He pulled it out and stared at it for a moment. The metal was warm from his body heat, as though it had stolen some of his vitality while he slept. He swallowed and tried to twist the top off, a simple task made difficult by his trembling hands.

    Asra stirred in her sleep, and Ciaran froze. The whiskey¡¯s scent was potent, possibly potent enough to wake Asra from her sleep. She would certainly be able to smell it on his breath the next morning. The image of Nightmare Asra screaming until her mouth enveloped him popped into his mind. He would need to mix in some hound¡¯s woe before he drank it.

    He swallowed. He¡¯d watched Asra put the hound¡¯s woe at the bottom of her bag. He would have to dig through it without waking her.

    This wasn¡¯t the lowest he¡¯d gone in search of a drink, but in the moment it certainly felt like it. His face burned as he thought of the way Vincent had come prepared with alcohol, knowing that he would be in a bad state. He thought of Asra¡¯s threat weeks before, after Ciaran¡¯s drunkenness caused him to slip into the river and almost get them both killed.

    If I ever catch you drinking again ¡­

    Back then, he may have worried about her killing him. Now he was just concerned with disappointing her, or pushing her away. He¡¯d somehow decided that was a fate worse than death. What would she do if they kissed, and all she tasted was alcohol?

    Something in the bag jingled. Ciaran froze as Asra stirred again, then waited for her to settle back into sleep. He grabbed the object and slowly pulled it out to set it aside and avoid making noise again.

    It was a long leather strap with a metal buckle at one end, but too short to be a belt. Puzzled, Ciaran angled it so he could see it better in the moonlight.

    It was a dog collar. Shadows caught in the grooves of tooled designs, and Ciaran squinted to make them out. There was a bird, encircled by ¡­ fangs? No, tusks of some kind. Ciaran slid the collar down his hand to examine the middle, and his eyes widened at the word that was tooled there.

    Bane.

    She was making a collar for Bane. Guilt raked over Ciaran¡¯s chest like claws. He ran his fingers over the carvings, taking in every detail. It was rough, obviously unfinished, but still expertly crafted. As he traced the outline of the bird, he realized it was a raven.

    He thought of their earlier conversation, of the symbiotic relationship between wolves and ravens. He felt more like a parasite. What had he provided on this journey, besides being a glorified tour guide and translator? Asra had risked her life time and time again, put her neck out to protect Ciaran. It was his fault she was out here in the first place.

    Vincent¡¯s words rang in his mind: You¡¯ll never change, will you?

    Margot¡¯s words followed: Be a better king than your brother, will ya?

    His thoughts turned again to his mother. She¡¯d defended him, too, protected him from his father¡¯s wrath, though he¡¯d been too young to understand that at the time. This wasn¡¯t the life she would have wanted for him, as bound to alcohol as a horse was to its master.

    Hands still trembling, he stepped just outside the concealment spell and poured the flask out onto the ground, then tossed it into the woods. He then took his water bottle and rinsed it out under the fresh water bucket, then filled it to the brim.

    He would need to be well hydrated tonight.

 Seventeen: The City, Part One

    Something was definitely wrong with Ciaran.

    He was in the worst mood Asra had seen from him in weeks. His scowl seemed to be a permanent feature of his face, and even the most politely worded questions were answered with a nasty attitude.

    It must be a result of the stress of yesterday¡¯s events. Facing down the barrel of a gun had become routine in Asra¡¯s life, but it was still something very new for him¡ªnot to mention significantly more fatal. Asra¡¯s fur bristled at the image of Ciaran, bound and defenseless, Vincent¡¯s gun pressed against his head.

    He may not know it, but Vincent had secured his place on Asra¡¯s list of people whose throats she would gladly tear out.

    It was late morning now, dew still clinging to the needles and branches of the pine trees surrounding them. The sunlight was bright, but not yet hot enough to chase away the chill of the night before. Birdsong flowed in the crisp air, and squirrels chittered down at them from their safe perches high in the branches.

    As peaceful as their surroundings may be, it did nothing to assuage the unease Asra felt over Ciaran. She knew it would be beneficial for him to talk about what happened yesterday, but she had no idea how to approach the subject. Talking about feelings was not exactly her strong suit.

    She had a hunch he was dealing with the trauma in a far less healthy way. Not too long after they set off, he started to sway and stumble. He had a difficult time maintaining balance even when just standing, and he had a look on his face that showed he was constantly holding back vomit.

    Asra didn¡¯t smell any alcohol on him, but she couldn¡¯t help but think of her mysteriously dwindling hound¡¯s woe supply. It was far lower than it should have been for the number of times she used it over the last few weeks, and Ciaran certainly was committed to keeping his canteen pressed to his lips as often as possible. She tried to come up with a tactful way to broach the subject.

    ¡°You sure are drinking a lot today.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just water.¡± His words were quick and defensive.

    Asra narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°I never said it wasn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s hot out. I¡¯m allowed to drink water when I¡¯m hot!¡±

    ¡°I never said you couldn¡¯t!¡± It wasn¡¯t even hot out, the damn sneaky liar. She took a deep breath to keep her temper in check, then tried again. ¡°Are you feeling all right? You seem ¡­ really off today.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Just didn¡¯t sleep well last night.¡± His speech was thick, somewhat slurred.

    ¡°Were you having nightmares?¡±

    He nodded, or at least she thought he did. It was difficult to tell with the way his head drooped.

    ¡°Do you ¡­ ¡± Asra swallowed. ¡°Do you wanna talk about it?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Asra frowned. Ciaran not wanting to talk was definitely not a good sign. With the amount of energy he devoted to running his mouth, Asra wouldn¡¯t be shocked if it was somehow linked to his pulse.

    Ciaran stumbled again, and Asra lifted her front leg out in front of him to keep him from spilling on the ground. He steadied himself, then shoved Asra¡¯s paw out of his way. She stifled a growl.

    Asra contemplated for a moment, then heaved a sigh, hoping that no one back home would ever find out about her next question. ¡°Do you want a ride? You know, on my back?¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°Well it¡¯s just that you¡¯re really slowing us down, and we need to get moving.¡± She didn¡¯t bother hiding the annoyance in her voice this time. The drunkard was costing them precious time, and he didn¡¯t even have the decency to be honest with her about it.

    Ciaran stumbled on without another word. Asra groaned, reminding herself that he was dealing with some significant trauma, and reminding herself that she also was not the best at regulating her own emotions.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Trying to keep Ciaran¡¯s snail pace with her giant gazehound legs was mind-numbingly tedious, so she changed back into her skin. At least on two legs it would feel like they were making more progress than they were.

    She took her time dressing¡ªit wasn''t like Ciaran was going anywhere¡ªand as she pulled her shirt over her head, her eyes landed on the silver-lined pouch that held her half of the communication lodestone. Her heart sank at the thought of her smashed mirror.

    Sophie and Liam would know how to handle this situation, though she had no idea how she¡¯d broach the subject with them even if her mirror were in working condition. She¡¯d done her best to make sure they had no idea who she was traveling with in their brief conversation at Margot¡¯s campsite. They worried about her too much as it was.

    There was a loud thud, and when she looked up Ciaran was sprawled out on the ground. Bane sniffed at him, whining and pacing around his human.

    ¡°All right, that¡¯s enough of this shit,¡± Asra said as she stomped over to him. ¡°I¡¯m not stupid. I know you¡¯ve been drinking.¡±

    She shooed Bane out of the way and flipped Ciaran onto his back. His hair was damp, and a bead of sweat dripped off the tip of his nose. He pushed her away with trembling hands and struggled onto his hands and knees just in time to vomit all over the ground in front of him.

    Asra scoffed and snatched the water bottle he¡¯d dropped. She twisted off the top and took a deep sniff of the contents, expecting to smell nothing, proving her theory of hound¡¯s woe covering the scent of liquor.

    Instead, she smelled water. Perplexed, she took a small sip.

    It was water.

    She ran through her interactions with him over the last several weeks. She thought of his mood swings. Looking back on it now, she could directly correlate his foul tempers with how long it had been since he¡¯d drank last. She thought of the moonshine disguised as water in his personal suite in New Port. She thought of his frequent memory lapses, apparently commonplace enough that even Vincent had commented on it: I suppose I shouldn¡¯t be surprised you¡¯ve forgotten something yet again.

    Asra¡¯s eyes widened, and her heart plummeted into her stomach.

    Ciaran wasn¡¯t drunk. He was going through withdrawals.

    She leapt to her feet and grabbed him from under his arms, just in time to prevent him from falling face-first into the stomach bile beneath him. She reached her hand around his chest to check his pulse. His heart was racing far faster than it should be for his sluggish movement. He reeked of sweat. Bane whimpered again.

    ¡°Fuck, why would you decide to do this right now?¡±

    Ciaran forced himself to stand on jelly-like legs and tried to push her out of the way.

    ¡°Quit screaming at me,¡± he said, pressing the heels of his palms into his closed eyes as he wobbled. ¡°I told you I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°No the hell you¡¯re not!¡± Asra ran her hands through her hair. ¡°Damn it, Ciaran, this is serious!¡± Alcohol withdrawal could be lethal. The idiot probably hadn¡¯t even realized that.

    She gripped fistfuls of her hair, pacing a short distance. She ran through what little knowledge she had of healing for withdrawals. She hadn¡¯t had a healing lesson in thirteen years, and she¡¯d only eavesdropped on one university class about addiction and withdrawal. She took a deep breath.

    ¡°When was the last time you drank?¡± she said. When he didn¡¯t respond, Asra gripped him by the shoulders and repeated the question.

    ¡°Yesterday,¡± he mumbled. ¡°Vincent.¡±

    Asra pursed her lips. She vaguely remembered the steel flask he¡¯d swiped off the table into her bag. Of course Vincent would have known about Ciaran¡¯s drinking problem.

    She sat Ciaran down in the grass and checked the sun¡¯s location in the sky. It was still before noon, but not by much. That would put his last drink at sometime in the last ten to fifteen hours. His symptoms were only going to get worse from here, and she had no idea how to handle it. She needed to find help.

    But where could she possibly take him? She tore through her bag for their map, and when she unfurled it she noticed the marker Margot had left.

    The fox city.

    It was only a couple hours¡¯ walk from here. Asra could possibly make it in forty-five minutes in her fur. She bit her lip. The foxes were known to be reclusive and distrustful. Going there might be a death sentence, but she couldn¡¯t think of a better solution. Ciaran needed help fast. The sooner he got help, the less chance he had of progressing into the stages of withdrawal that could kill him. She quickly undressed and tightened her bag around her, then changed back into her fur.

    She laid down with her back right next to Ciaran and said, ¡°You need to climb on. Don¡¯t argue with me.¡±

    Ciaran had opened his mouth to protest again. He promptly closed it.

    He clambered onto her back, clumsily hauling himself in between the two pouches of her bag and gripping the straps over her back. Asra rolled her shoulders and stretched each of her legs.

    ¡°You need to hold on tight. And give me a warning if you¡¯re gonna barf.¡±

 Seventeen: The City, Part Two

    It was difficult enough to navigate the dense maze of trees without the thick fog that settled in more and more the closer they got to the city. Asra had to slow to a trot to keep from crashing straight into a trunk.

    She wondered why the foxes would choose such a thick forest to level and develop into a city, but then thought of the tactical advantage the trees could offer. She¡¯d always heard that foxes were mistrustful of outsiders, like the wolves were, but for very different reasons. The wolves hid in their mountains because they thought they were above everyone else. The foxes hid because they were afraid they were beneath everyone else.

    Of course that was only what she¡¯d heard other gazehounds say. She didn¡¯t know anyone who had ever met a fox or wolf, other than the couriers who delivered to her town, and they weren¡¯t the chatty type.

    Asra raised her nose to the sky, sniffing for the musk of fox or any scent of civilization. Margot¡¯s blood emblem should grant her, Ciaran, and Bane access to this city, but she couldn¡¯t smell any signs of foxes. The air was strangely sterile and thick, reminiscent of the stagnant air of the swamp, but cleaner, as if someone had sprayed bleach in it.

    Bane sneezed beneath her. He looked up at her and whined softly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know how to track down a hidden city of people who can turn into giant foxes?¡± she asked the dog. He only whined again in response.

    She had hoped he might help, but she didn¡¯t know how to direct him onto a path that he didn¡¯t know how to smell. Ciaran would know how to best utilize his dog, but his condition was rapidly deteriorating. He was barely even conscious now.

    Asra moved her nose to the ground. She smelled damp dirt, fresh ferns, the ammonia of rat urine, the musk of a deer, and the fishy scent of a mountain lion carrying a trout, but no fox.

    Finally, she spotted a large paw print, far larger than even a mountain lion, stamped into a freshly dug pile of earth. She sniffed, but smelled nothing. Hound¡¯s woe, perhaps? Were they trying to cover their trails?

    She followed the direction of the paw print until she saw the familiar flicker of the boundary of a concealment spell. Buildings shimmered in and out of focus beyond it, proving that Margot¡¯s blood emblem would indeed let them pass through.

    Asra¡¯s back ached from Ciaran¡¯s weight. ¡°Can you walk?¡± she asked him, and he nodded against her fur.

    She sat and eased him off her back, and he leaned against her shoulder as they stepped towards the boundary of the barrier.

    Asra braced herself. What waited for them on the other side? How would the foxes greet them? With weapons? Magic? Bared fangs?

    But as they stepped through the threshold, they were greeted by no one. Asra¡¯s eyes flicked side to side, searching for any signs of people. Towering buildings of at least twenty stories¡ªskyscrapers, as the humans called them¡ªloomed over them, silent as the smokey fog that permeated the landscape. There were no lights on in the windows, no smoke billowing from any of the restaurant chimneys. The tapping of Asra¡¯s claws on the cobblestones echoed through the cavernous streets.

    ¡°Hello?¡± she called into the void, her voice weak and impotent under the shadows of the buildings all around her. The fur along her back rose straight up, and she let out a nervous growl.

    Bane whimpered, and when Asra turned to look at him, he was licking Ciaran¡¯s hand as the man wobbled on his legs. The prince looked utterly exhausted.

    ¡°Stay here,¡± Asra said gently, and she eased away from him. He swayed without her support, but remained upright. Asra took a few steps forward and called into the streets again.

    ¡°My friend needs a doctor. Can anyone help us?¡±

    She rounded the corner to see several more empty blocks. The thick fog cast everything in a dreary gray glow. She couldn¡¯t smell anyone here. The sterile scent in the air was overpowering, and she coughed.

    ¡°He needs help. He won¡¯t make it without help.¡± Asra swallowed the panic rising in her throat.

    Bane¡¯s whimpering became frantic. He yelped a couple times, and Asra turned just in time to see Ciaran go stiff as a board and collapse to the ground.

    Asra changed into her skin as she rushed to his aid, ignoring the skin that scraped from her knees as she skidded to a halt next to him. She turned him onto his back and placed a hand on his sternum. His heart still beat, but he was not breathing, and his face was already an alarming shade of blue.

    She screamed for help, and when no one answered she screamed again, and again, until she thought her throat would bleed. Bane circled them, tail between his legs, unsure of how to help his human. A drizzle painted black dots on the gray cobblestone around them. Ciaran¡¯s face went purple.

    Asra pressed both palms to his chest, willing her magic to make him breathe again. Her limbs were heavy and sluggish, and the magic that came was too weak to loosen the constricted muscles in his diaphragm. Her eyes burned with tears, but she blinked them away. Ciaran¡¯s fingers turned blue as well.

    Ciaran was going to die, and Asra was helpless to do anything but watch. She¡¯d watched too many people die. She couldn¡¯t lose him, too.

    She screamed for help again, but nothing answered her except the wind and the falling rain.

    Something rasped beneath her, and Ciaran¡¯s lungs expanded for two rattling breaths. His face turned red, and then his limbs shook.

    A seizure.

    Asra almost cried with relief, but crying would have zapped what little strength she had left, and Ciaran still needed her help. She tried to run through the list of what to do to assist someone in a seizure, but she could only remember what not to do. Don¡¯t hold him down. Don¡¯t put anything in his mouth. She had to turn him on his side to keep him from swallowing his tongue, right? Or was that just a myth, too?

    She took the chance and turned him onto his side, and to her horror, his head began to bounce off the rough stones. She lifted his head and called Bane as she pointed to the ground beneath it. Bane rushed to lay down there, and when Asra released Ciaran¡¯s head, the dog¡¯s ribs protected it from injury.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    The seizure couldn¡¯t have lasted for more than a minute, but it felt like an eternity. Asra started to wonder if he was going to die here after all. But the convulsions eventually ceased, and Ciaran began to snore. Bane craned his neck to lick every square inch of his human¡¯s face.

    Asra sighed. Her muscles quivered from the adrenals, but the danger was far from over yet. She forced herself to her feet and smelled the air for hospital scents. It was difficult with how unnaturally clean the city smelled.

    She finally caught the sweet scents of ether and morphine, no more than a quarter mile away. She scooped Ciaran up in her arms and started towards it.

    Her exhaustion became even more apparent as she struggled to carry him. He seemed to get heavier with each step, and by the time she stepped into the hospital lobby she was panting.

    She hoped there may have been some sign of people in the hospital, but it was just as eerily empty as the rest of the city. Client files lay open on the receptionists¡¯ desks next to moldy half-eaten lunch boxes. An unfinished drink sat on an end table next to an open newspaper in the waiting area. Asra turned and walked around a corner to the patient rooms. The first bed was unmade, a sun hat left on the side table. She stepped into the second room and found it pristine and untouched.

    She dropped Ciaran onto the bed as gently as her aching muscles could manage and stripped his vomit-encrusted shirt. She pulled the covers up over him and tried to prioritize what he needed.

    The first thing was to get his vomiting under control and keep him from becoming any more dehydrated than he doubtless already was. She wasn¡¯t sure where foxes lay on the magic-to-medicine spectrum as far as their healing techniques went, but she was confident they would at least have antiemetics and normal saline. Managing dehydration was crucial for distemper treatment.

    She invited Bane onto the bed and told him, ¡°Don¡¯t let him leave that bed.¡±

    Bane promptly jumped up and laid gently across Ciaran¡¯s legs. Ciaran still hadn¡¯t woken up; Asra hoped that wasn¡¯t a bad sign.

    She smelled saline in a locked cabinet near the door. The lock had a stale, metallic scent that she followed to a set of keys on the receptionists¡¯ desk. She grabbed a white doctor¡¯s coat from a set of hooks on her way back, hastily buttoning it at the waist. Ciaran was beginning to rouse when she slid back into the room.

    ¡°Hey, take it easy,¡± Asra said as she unlocked the medicine cabinet and browsed the contents for the saline vials. She was relieved to find a small vial of ginger extract as well.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Ciaran rasped.

    ¡°You had a seizure.¡± She scavenged a drinking glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the faucet, then added a small amount of ginger extract. She held it to his lips and said, ¡°Can you drink some of this for me?¡±

    Ciaran creased his brow as he took a few sips.

    ¡°What happened?¡± he repeated.

    ¡°You had a seizure.¡± She drew some of the saline solution from the vial into a syringe and wondered if he understood what a seizure was in his half-conscious state.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Ciaran asked again, and this time the frustration in his voice was apparent.

    ¡°Ciaran, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re asking me. I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s going to take some time for your mind to return to normal.¡± She pulled Ciaran¡¯s arm toward her. His veins were a bright blue against his deathly pale skin. ¡°Quick pinch, okay?¡±

    He seemed to snap back to reality somewhat as the needle pierced his skin. His eyes searched frantically around him, but he wasn¡¯t coordinated enough to lift his head yet.

    ¡°Where¡¯s my dog?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s right here, on your legs.¡±

    Bane took that as an invitation to lick Ciaran¡¯s hands. Ciaran stroked the dog¡¯s brown head and eased back into the pillow.

    Asra pulled a chair up next to his bed. She covered her mouth for a short coughing fit, then she slouched down into the chair. Her eyes drooped, but she fought to keep them open.

    The saline and ginger extract would help, but they would need to be administered continually throughout his withdrawals, and she wasn¡¯t sure if they would be enough. Seizures were already a serious complication of alcohol withdrawal, and it could still go downhill further from there.

    At least he hadn¡¯t had any hallucinations, as far as Asra knew. It had been bad enough experiencing them herself. She didn¡¯t want to watch Ciaran go through them, too. Thank the gift Margot had been there to help for her own medical ordeal.

    Margot!

    Her eyes shot open. Margot might know how to help, and she would want to know about the state of the city regardless. Margot had given her half of a communication lodestone, and a hospital would surely have a speaking mirror somewhere.

    She darted out of the room, sniffing for the acrid scent of magic. Her nose led her to a cubby beneath the receptionists¡¯ desk. She pulled the mirror out of the leather case and slammed her lodestone into the slot.

    As she waited for Margot¡¯s face to appear in the mirror, Asra considered her long list of questions and concerns: Ciaran¡¯s dying. From alcohol withdrawals. I didn¡¯t even realize he was an alcoholic. I mean, it¡¯s obvious in hindsight. Probably should have figured it out sooner. I guess you knew, huh? I mean, you gave him that booze at your camp. Not that I¡¯m blaming you or anything. Also, the city¡¯s empty. No clue where anyone is. So, uh, what should I do about Ciaran?

    She took a deep breath. She couldn¡¯t assault Margot with that barrage of questions right off the rip. But how would she start that conversation? She certainly couldn¡¯t start it with idle small talk. Ciaran was dying.

    She chewed her lip, waiting for Margot¡¯s face to materialize in the mirror and for her worries to vanish. Her heart pounded as she carried the mirror back to Ciaran¡¯s room and sank back into the chair by his bed.

    Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute. Five minutes. Her eyelids grew heavy. She glanced up at Ciaran. He and Bane had fallen asleep, the dog snoring across his human¡¯s legs. Maybe she could close her eyes for just five minutes ¡­

    The sound of Bane¡¯s panicked whimpering woke Asra from her dead sleep. He stood over Ciaran, licking his hand like it was made of peanut butter. He looked to Asra and let out a desperate, high-pitched bark.

    Asra scrambled to her feet, terrified that Ciaran¡¯s heart had stopped. She placed a hand on his bare chest. His pulse was still strong, perhaps even too strong. She would need to check his blood pressure. As she ran to grab the sphygmomanometer, Ciaran exhaled sharply, and she turned to see him rigid and pale¡ªthe start of another seizure.

    His breathing returned much more quickly this time. Asra turned him onto his side and placed a comforting hand on his arm as the convulsions eventually ceased and he slowly came to. When she heard him snoring again, Asra headed back to her chair, slumping down and hanging her head over the back.

    It was a good thing Bane woke her up, or she may not even have realized Ciaran was having another seizure.

    Her head shot up. She looked at Bane, who circled the foot of the bed for a comfortable sleeping position, and said, ¡°You clever little shit. You can tell when he¡¯s about to have another one, can¡¯t you?¡±

    Bane flopped down with a heavy sigh, his hind legs and tail tucked up to his nose.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you could teach me how to do that?¡±

    Bane¡¯s tail flopped a few times, and then the dog closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

 Seventeen: The City, Part Three

    Bane alerted to two more seizures over the next fifteen hours. Asra did her best to keep injecting Ciaran with saline and to get him to consume small amounts of applesauce and ginger-water as often as she could. She debated many times injecting him with morphine as well, as she¡¯d heard it used as a treatment for withdrawals, but she¡¯d also heard of its own addictive properties. She didn¡¯t want to replace one addiction with another.

    On the morning of their fourth day in the fox city, Ciaran almost seemed like his usual self.

    When Asra returned from raiding the cafeteria¡¯s stocks of bland, mushy food, Ciaran sat upright in the bed, stroking Bane¡¯s ear as the dog snoozed on his lap. His hands still quivered, and he had lost a noticeable amount of weight over the last few days, but he seemed alert and aware of his surroundings for the first time since they¡¯d arrived. He flashed her a smile when he noticed her standing in the doorway, and Asra¡¯s heart lifted.

    ¡°Is that mush for me?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°Well, it was, but if you¡¯re feeling better I should make you go get your own.¡±

    He chuckled, then winced and held his side. ¡°Oh, please don¡¯t make jokes. Everything is so sore. Anyway, I¡¯d be happy to get out of bed, but I¡¯m afraid I¡¯d get lost. I don¡¯t even know where we are.¡±

    ¡°The fox city that Margot told us about.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Where is everybody?¡±

    Asra shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. There¡¯s no sign of them anywhere. I tried looking for clues last night but I couldn¡¯t find anything. It¡¯s like everyone just vanished.¡±

    Bane yawned and flopped his head onto Ciaran¡¯s chest, and Ciaran switched to stroking his head instead of his ears.

    ¡°You don¡¯t think Nolan has something to do with it, do you?¡± he asked.

    Asra frowned. That was an unpleasant thought.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°There¡¯s no hospital staff? Did you take care of me all by yourself?¡±

    Asra nodded.

    ¡°Are you ¡­ a doctor?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Asra said. ¡°Well, not legally. But ¡­¡± She pursed her lips, then continued, ¡°Well, the last few years I¡¯ve had a lot of free time in between trying to kill Nolan. And I didn¡¯t want that time to go to waste. So I started sitting outside of the medical university in Windemere City and eavesdropping on the lectures. It¡¯s a lot easier when you have my sense of hearing, especially in the summer when they keep the windows open. I also went to the library to read the assigned texts and ¡­¡±

    She scratched her neck. It sounded a bit silly out loud.

    Ciaran regarded her with a horrified expression, then leaned his head back on the pillows with a sigh. ¡°Just when I think you can¡¯t get any more terrifying, I find out you read medical textbooks for fun.¡±

    Asra tossed the prepackaged applesauce onto Ciaran¡¯s lap and slouched back in the chair.

    ¡°Well, lucky for you I¡¯m so terrifying, huh?¡± she said. ¡°Otherwise you¡¯d be dead now. Anyway, Bane helped. He let me know before you were going to have a seizure.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s face grew dark. ¡°How many did I have?¡±

    ¡°Four, altogether.¡±

    Ciaran sighed again. ¡°Gods, I¡¯m sorry. It was never this bad any of the other times.¡±

    ¡°Other times?¡± Asra said, lifting her head off the chair.

    He smiled bitterly. ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve tried to quit drinking. The previous attempts were nasty, but ¡­ it¡¯s never caused seizures before.¡±

    ¡°It gets worse every time you go through withdrawals. Next time could kill you.¡±

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯d deserve that.¡±

    He screwed up his face the instant the words were out of his mouth, regret lined in every wrinkle.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean that. I just ¡­ Gods, that sounded ungrateful, didn¡¯t it?¡±

    He scratched Bane¡¯s chest, then took a deep breath and continued.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been struggling with this for a very long time. Since I was fourteen. I ¡­ Well now I¡¯m curious, since you¡¯ve admitted to spying on my family. What have you heard of my parents¡¯ deaths?¡±

    Asra shrugged. ¡°Your dad shot your mom then himself, right?¡±

    Ciaran snorted before he said, ¡°You don¡¯t know how to sugar coat anything, do you? But I suppose Nolan would be happy that the official story is the most prominent.¡±

    He sighed and took a moment before continuing, ¡°I was there when my father killed my mother. He ¡­ hurt my mother a lot. And Nolan. Nolan did his best to hide it from me, to make sure I never saw. But even as a little boy I knew something was wrong. My very first memory is of Nolan playing with me in the garden while our mother screamed and begged my father for ¡­¡±

    His voice caught, and Asra could hear his heart pounding in his chest. Ciaran took a few deep breaths before he continued.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve discussed this while sober.¡±

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Asra thought of her parents¡¯ bickering behind closed doors, when they thought she couldn¡¯t hear them. That had been troubling enough, and they¡¯d never hurt each other, or her or her siblings. And even if they had, the rest of the town would have sorted them out.

    Ciaran¡¯s father was king. There wasn¡¯t anything that anyone else could have done to stop him. Yet another reason to despise the monarchy.

    ¡°There were so many times Nolan would have bruises that he couldn¡¯t explain when I asked,¡± Ciaran continued. ¡°I think ¡­ I think he took a lot of the brunt of attacks that were intended for me, too. If I did something to upset Father, Nolan would take credit for it, or do something to draw his ire instead.¡±

    Asra felt a momentary pang of sympathy for Nolan, then forced it away.

    ¡°One night,¡± Ciaran said, ¡°it got uglier than usual, and my father shot my mother. Nolan and I were playing in the next room. We ran in and tried to help her, but it was too late. Father aimed the gun at me and ¡­ I think he always saw me as too weak. Too much like Mother. Nolan and Father fought over the gun, and eventually Nolan shot him. And I ¡­ couldn¡¯t do anything but watch.¡±

    Bane shifted in his sleep, and Ciaran scratched the dog behind the ear.

    ¡°I had horrible nightmares all the time,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°Nolan tried to be there for me as much as he could, but he had a kingdom to run. I was fourteen the first time I snuck some cooking brandy out of the kitchens. Just enough to help me sleep. And then as I got older, it became just at parties, then just with friends, then just in the evenings and on weekends. Most of my arguments with Vincent revolved around my drinking. I tried to dry out a few times¡ªusually as a desperate bid to get Vincent to come back¡ªbut it never stuck.¡±

    He took a deep breath. ¡°And then the kennels burned, and I couldn¡¯t stand life sober.¡±

    Asra watched him quietly. She pictured a life in which she may have turned to alcohol to escape her nightmares all too easily. There had been many lonely nights she¡¯d drunk herself numb, especially in her first year in the city. The only reason she kept it under control was because tracking down and killing her targets required sobriety.

    ¡°That¡¯s not your fault,¡± Asra said. ¡°You were sick. Mentally. You can¡¯t blame yourself for that.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ¡­¡± Ciaran laughed. ¡°That¡¯s shockingly kind of you to say. Most people don¡¯t see it that way. It¡¯s a moral failing to them. A weakness.¡± He paused for a moment before continuing, ¡°Asra, I ¡­ I never hurt you, did I? There¡¯s so much of my life that I can¡¯t remember now.¡±

    Asra picked at a smudge of dirt on her blouse for a moment, considering her next words carefully. ¡°No, but ¡­ I think you hurt that man in the alley. During the riot. Maybe not physically, but ¡­¡± She shrugged.

    ¡°Gods, poor Thomson,¡± Ciaran said, rubbing his face with one hand. ¡°I don¡¯t know what came over me. I mean, I do. I was drunk.¡± He inhaled sharply. ¡°Damn it, what if he¡¯s right about me, Asra? What if I am just like my father? What if it¡¯s really in my blood, and there¡¯s nothing I can do to stop it?¡±

    Asra furrowed her brow. ¡°You¡¯re not.¡±

    Ciaran laughed bitterly. ¡°How do you know?¡±

    ¡°Because bad people don¡¯t waste time worrying about whether they¡¯re bad or not.¡±

    Ciaran stared at her for a moment, then he smiled and looked down at Bane, stroking the dog¡¯s head.

    ¡°You must be right,¡± he said. ¡°I can¡¯t be all bad if I¡¯ve convinced you to like me.¡±

    ¡°I never said I liked you.¡±

    ¡°I know. You never say what you¡¯re really thinking out loud. Not about this sort of thing, anyway.¡±

    Asra only responded with a scoff, then changed the subject. ¡°No offense, but ¡­ if you¡¯ve never been able to quit before, what makes this time different?¡±

    Ciaran looked at her with a determination she¡¯d never seen from him. ¡°Because I¡¯m tired of it ruling my life. Because I want to be a good leader, and a good king. Because this time I¡¯m not doing it for Vincent, or Nolan. I¡¯m doing it for myself.¡±

    Asra nodded, and Ciaran looked back to Bane as he stroked the dog¡¯s head, suddenly much more subdued than before.

    ¡°Ciaran, are you sure you¡¯re ready? To be king? To kill Nolan?¡±

    He plastered a carefree smile on his face, but Asra saw through it. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡±

    Asra focused on Bane¡¯s chest slowly rising and falling. ¡°Every time you talk about Nolan, you ¡­ ¡± She shook her head. ¡°You sound like you love him.¡±

    Ciaran shrugged, still forcing an air of nonchalance. ¡°He¡¯s my brother. Of course I love him.¡±

    ¡°Ciaran, I ¡­ ¡± She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. ¡°I need you to understand. My home comes before everything else. I will do whatever it takes to protect it, no matter who or what gets in the way.¡±

    Ciaran watched her for a moment, his eyes searching her own. Asra thought of the little boy she¡¯d first met in the palace eighteen years ago. When she left that night, she thought she¡¯d never see him again. Now she didn¡¯t know how she was going to bring herself to say goodbye to him.

    ¡°I understand,¡± he said finally.

    They fell into silence. As usual, Ciaran was the first to break it.

    ¡°Thank you for everything you¡¯ve done for me,¡± he said. ¡°For saving Bane. For saving me.¡± He smiled. ¡°Hell, you even saved Vincent for me.¡±

    Asra scrunched up her brow. ¡°What are you talking about? I wasn¡¯t saving Vincent. I just didn¡¯t want to risk Bane¡¯s bite making him a convert.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. ¡°Oh, shit.¡±

    ¡°You mean ¡­ you didn¡¯t realize that? That¡¯s not why you asked me to heal him?¡± Asra leaned her head back and groaned. ¡°You¡¯re too damn soft for your own good.¡±

    Ciaran laughed. ¡°Well, that¡¯s why I keep you around, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re strong enough for both of us.¡±

    Asra lifted her head to meet his gaze. There was a gentle sincerity in his expression, and she thought she saw a little color return to his cheeks.

    He was wrong about that. Asra hadn¡¯t been strong enough for both of them at several points during the journey. Ciaran had picked up her slack there in ways she never would have expected from the prince.

    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you killed a dragon,¡± Ciaran said, his smile wide. ¡°And those water horses!¡±

    Asra shrugged, unable to hide her smile completely. ¡°We never would have made it out if you hadn¡¯t pointed out the mud on the side of the river. I¡¯m still impressed with how you dispatched that boar.¡±

    ¡°Impressed? Really?¡±

    Asra shrugged again, trying to look blas¨¦ to temper the compliment. ¡°Well, you know. For a spoiled prince it wasn¡¯t that bad.¡±

    ¡°You should have seen yourself during that hunt,¡± he said with a wicked grin. ¡°Your tail was wagging. It was adorable.¡±

    Asra scoffed. ¡°I should have let the dragon eat you.¡±

    Ciaran laughed, then he reached out and took her hand and said, ¡°Turns out we make a pretty good team, don¡¯t we?¡±

    Asra felt heat rise to her cheeks. Images of their near kiss in the woods flashed through her mind, and she promptly forced them away. Regardless of either of their feelings, eliminating Nolan and protecting her home came first.

    She didn¡¯t want to think about why her thoughts of home now included Ciaran.

 Eighteen: The Hideout, Part One

    A loud blast of thunder woke Ciaran from the first decent sleep he¡¯d had in weeks.

    His thoughts immediately turned to Asra. He slid Bane off his chest and glanced around the room for her. The chair she¡¯d taken to sleeping in was pushed to the other side of the room. He looked down beside his bed and saw her there in her gazehound shape, trembling.

    On instinct, he reached out a hand to stroke the soft fur between her shoulder blades, which rested only a few inches below the top of his mattress. He ran his hand over the mountains of her shoulders and between the valleys of each rigid vertebra. As his eyes drooped, Asra¡¯s breathing slowed down to normal and felt her heart rate easing.

    He was awakened the next morning by two giant yellow eyes hovering right in front of his face.

    He shouted and pushed himself backward, kicking Bane awake with a startled bark in the process. Asra jumped, her canine head slamming into a ceiling made for far shorter canids.

    ¡°What the hell was that for?¡± she snapped, shaking herself off.

    ¡°I could ask you the same thing!¡±

    ¡°I was just waiting for you to wake up.¡±

    Ciaran groaned as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. She could have found a less menacing way to do that.

    ¡°Well I¡¯m up now,¡± he said. ¡°What was so pressing that you had to give me a heart attack like that?¡±

    Asra licked her nose a couple times before she spoke. ¡°You¡¯re doing a lot better now, and we haven¡¯t discussed our plan in a while. You know, to kill Nolan. We don¡¯t have much time.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s stomach twisted. This was not what he wanted to talk about first thing in the morning. He felt truly rested for the first time since they¡¯d been abducted, and he wanted to relish in the feeling for a bit longer before he had to return to reality.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about what Vincent said,¡± Asra said, her claws clicking on the polished floor as she paced up and down the short length of the room. ¡°About Nolan having a soft spot for you. He¡¯s already been spreading around that I¡¯m the one who kidnapped you. What if I pretended to hold you hostage?¡±

    ¡°Not a particularly pleasant thought,¡± Ciaran grumbled.

    ¡°We could tell him to meet us in a secluded place, no guards. You know, ¡®if you ever want to see him alive again,¡¯ or something.¡± She stopped pacing and fixed him with a keen gaze. ¡°Do you think that would work?¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯d like some breakfast before we continue this conversation.¡±

    Asra pointed to the tray of food on the bedside table with her muzzle as she said, ¡°I already got you some.¡±

    Ciaran groaned. He should know by now that he needed to be more blunt with Asra.

    ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t want to discuss this right now,¡± he said, running a hand through his hair. ¡°I¡¯m still not feeling well and I just woke up.¡±

    He expected her to argue, to remind him how short on time they were, but she remained silent. She licked her nose several times and shifted her weight back and forth on her front paws. Ciaran could see the words trying to fight their way out of her mouth. Asra was a woman of action, and being cooped up in this hospital room for the last week must have been hell for her.

    ¡°Do you want to go for a walk?¡± she blurted, her ears perking up.

    Bane¡¯s ears followed suit. He leapt to his feet, tail wagging hopefully.

    Ciaran nodded. He¡¯d walked to the bathroom several times a day, but otherwise had been confined to this bed. He was as eager to stretch his legs as the other two. He rubbed his chin, and the stubble there scratched his palm.

    ¡°Could I shave first?¡± Ciaran asked.

    Asra cocked her head sideways. ¡°Why? There¡¯s no one else here to see you.¡±

    He gestured toward the door. Asra sighed and trotted out, Bane hot on her hocks.

    Ciaran shook his head as he peeled himself from the bed and hauled himself to his feet. He shuffled to the pile of laundry on the bed on the opposite end of the room. This one was far larger, presumably for shapechangers who were sick or injured in their fox form and unable to utilize the much shorter, narrower bed Ciaran had been living in for the last week.

    As he fished out his own clothes from the pile and dressed, Ciaran considered how much work Asra had done keeping him alive, plus herself and Bane, in addition to trying to figure out where the foxes went and doing chores like laundry. Though, admittedly, Ciaran had no idea how much effort was involved in doing laundry¡ªhe¡¯d never done it himself before.

    After he dressed, he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth and shave. It was a task made far more tedious by the fact that he had to use a scalpel, since, as he¡¯d learned from Asra, shaving was not a common habit among shapechangers. ¡°We spend a good portion of our lives covered in fur, anyway,¡± she¡¯d said when he asked her. ¡°What¡¯s the point in shaving while in our skin?¡±

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    When Ciaran finally finished, he studied his face in the bathroom mirror. It was gaunt, and dark circles hung from his eyes, but he felt more alive than ever before. He hoped he and Asra made it to the other side of their little coup. It would be a shame to spend all this time and effort turning his life around just for it to end in a few days.

    Ciaran headed outside, closing his eyes against the sunlight as he pushed through the entrance doors. The sun was bright and pleasantly warm as it beamed through the morning mist, but it was the first time Ciaran had been exposed to it for several days, and he couldn¡¯t help but wince against it.

    After having spent so much of his life in Windemere City, the ambience of a large city should have been comforting, but the desolate cityscape only unnerved him. The air smelled stale, notably absent of the scent of food or cigarette smoke or other smells typical of a large city.

    Asra clearly felt the same way Ciaran did, judging by how high her hackles were raised. He shuffled his feet a little as he approached her to keep from startling her.

    ¡°Everyone really is gone, aren¡¯t they?¡± he said.

    Asra exhaled through her nose, a cloud of mist spraying from her nostrils. ¡°I can¡¯t find any sign of anyone. I even ran the perimeter of the border. I only found a few foot and paw prints. I think they¡¯re covering their tracks with hound¡¯s woe.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s brow knitted together. ¡°You think they ran from something?¡±

    Asra opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a cough.

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve just had a cough the last few days. I think my body is still recovering from my infection.¡±

    ¡°That was weeks ago now. Does it take that long for you to heal from an illness?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve never been that sick before.¡±

    Ciaran followed her as she headed down the wide road in front of the hospital entrance.

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a normal occurrence?¡± he said. ¡°Do foxes have some kind of religious pilgrimage or something?¡±

    ¡°Even if they did, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what happened here. Look.¡±

    She pointed with her muzzle to the wide window of a restaurant. The tables were still covered in dirty dishes and half-drank glasses of wine and water with an unpleasant film. He thought of the messy hospital rooms he¡¯d passed on his way out. The city¡¯s inhabitants had left in a hurry. This was no planned event.

    ¡°There¡¯s a type of bison that we hunt back home every year,¡± Asra continued as she resumed her walk down the street. ¡°They migrate through this area to our desert. But Sophie and Liam said they came early this year. I think they normally get hunted by the foxes here. And if there weren¡¯t any foxes, they could have passed on without any resistance.¡±

    ¡°How long ago was the migration?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°Not too long before we met. So, what, two months ago?¡±

    That would explain the thick layer of dust on every indoor surface they encountered.

    ¡°Why would they all just leave?¡± Ciaran asked.

    Asra shook her head as though she were trying to shoo a fly with her ears. ¡°I don¡¯t know. That¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to figure out. I thought maybe a distemper outbreak, but there¡¯s no signs of a quarantine, and they still have a full stock of fluids and antiemetics. They would have tried to contain the outbreak here, rather than go out in the forest and risk having to deal with it with no medicine.¡±

    Ciaran supposed he shouldn¡¯t have been so surprised to hear the shapechangers were susceptible to canine viruses. He thought of how dangerous distemper could be to human-owned dogs, of his own puppies that deteriorated and died in a matter of days despite the best veterinary care in the kingdom. It was scary enough when it just affected pets or working dogs who could be easily quarantined. A disease like that that affected people would be devastating.

    ¡°Vincent said your people were dying,¡± Ciaran said gently.

    ¡°Yeah, he wasn¡¯t making that up. We¡¯re not doing great.¡±

    ¡°Is that why you hide yourselves away? To reduce distemper outbreaks?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Asra said, sitting down to scratch her neck with her hind foot. ¡°And distemper¡¯s not the only reason we¡¯re dying. We fought with each other for a long time.¡± She stood and shook herself off, then added darkly, ¡°Or rather the wolves went around slaughtering anyone weaker than them and those of us who were able tried to fight them off.¡±

    ¡°Why would they do that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Why does anyone with power do the things they do? To get more power, probably.¡± She continued down the road and said, ¡°Anyway, that was when we invented concealment spells. Kept ourselves hidden away from each other. And on top of that, canids with the gift are becoming harder and harder to find. Like they¡¯re all dying out, too.¡±

    The fur along her back stood on end. ¡°I don¡¯t know how Vincent knows that, though. I never even told Nolan we were dying.¡±

    ¡°I mean ¡­ I¡¯m sure you¡¯re not the only shapechanger hiding around humans. The couriers are around us all the time, aren¡¯t they? Someone¡¯s bound to let something slip.¡±

    ¡°Couriers would never reveal anyone¡¯s secrets. It¡¯s the only reason we all trust them enough to let them inside our towns. They would die first.¡±

    ¡°Margot told us about this place.¡±

    ¡°Obviously Margot had reason to.¡± She sighed. ¡°I still haven¡¯t heard from her.¡±

    Ciaran placed a hand on her furry shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯s fine. Maybe she met up with her wife and they¡¯re having a nice holiday together.¡±

    They stopped in front of a small square with a fountain in the center. The sun glinted off the windows of the surrounding skyscrapers, casting prisms of light onto the water feature. A ring of stone foxes sat in a circle on their hind legs at the bottom of the fountain. Above each fox¡¯s head was a symbol, different for each fox, and at the top of the ring of symbols was a single fox cub. Ciaran wished there was someone around to explain its meaning.

    He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Nolan had something to do with this, but he couldn¡¯t for the life of him figure out what it could be. He obviously didn¡¯t want the land, if it had sat here for at least two months untouched. Ciaran wasn¡¯t aware of any prime resources in the area, either. He turned to Asra and assumed by the pensive expression on her face, she was going through the same thoughts.

    A raven perched on top of the fountain. It ruffled its feathers, let out a single croak, then flew off again. Ciaran imagined there probably wasn¡¯t much garbage left for it to scavenge here.

    ¡°Well, I think I¡¯ve had enough of the creepy abandoned city,¡± he said, rubbing a knot out of his shoulder. ¡°Are you ready to get going?¡±

    Asra turned to him, alarmed. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re healthy enough?¡±

    Ciaran nodded. ¡°I¡¯m mostly just shaky now. We¡¯ll probably have to go slow, but going slow is better than not going at all.¡±

    She tilted her head to one side as she regarded him. ¡°Are you actually feeling well, or are you just saying that for my sake?¡±

    Ciaran smiled. The woman was surprisingly astute sometimes.

    ¡°No,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°I am truly feeling well enough to move on now.¡±

    Asra eyed him for a moment, then said, ¡°All right, let¡¯s get everything packed up.¡±

 Quick update

    Hello!

    I am so sorry for the impromptu hiatus. My life has been a bit of a mess and it''s taken me longer than I expected to finish the rest of this book.

    The plan right now is to release the next chapter on December 30th, then release 1-2 chapters a day every day until they''re all released. I have all of the remaining chapters outlined, and about 70% of them written.

    I want to say again how incredibly grateful I am for everyone who has read, and especially followed, favorited, and reviewed! I''m far from a big fish here on RR, but every single comment and follow and review has given me huge motivation to finish this story. These characters and this story are so near and dear to my heart. I''ve been working on this story for close to a decade now, and the idea that even a few people want to know what happens next is honestly the most incredible feeling in my life.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Also, meet my new writing buddy <3

    (She''s like 90% of the reason I haven''t had time to write)

 Eighteen: The Hideout, Part Two

    Ciaran had never been so conflicted to see his family vacation house.

    He was torn between wishing the whole journey had been as easy as the final stretch, and wishing the final stretch had been as complicated as the rest of the journey, to delay their attack as long as possible. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that each step brought them closer to their doom.

    The manor rested in a shallow valley beneath them. The building was a beautiful mishmash of round and rectangular windows, curved towers, and sharp roofs with intricately carved gable trims. In the center was a courtyard. A wrought iron fence surrounded the sprawling green grounds, patrolled by guards in far more casual uniforms than what was expected in the royal palace. From here, Ciaran could just make out his bedroom window overlooking the courtyard.

    His hands were trembling again. Asra placed her own hand on his shoulder.

    ¡°Will we be safe to camp here tonight?¡± she said. ¡°Or should we head back into the woods a bit?¡±

    He folded his arms to quell the trembling. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think we¡¯d be safe here. But I do know somewhere that would be, and it¡¯ll give us an entrance to the manor that Nolan doesn¡¯t know about.¡±

    ¡°How could there possibly be an entrance Nolan doesn¡¯t know about?¡± Asra said, wrinkling her brow.

    ¡°I had it built in secret, and it¡¯s protected by magic. I¡¯m the only one with a key.¡±

    Asra pursed her lips. ¡°What about Vincent?¡±

    Ciaran looked away from her. ¡°No, I very specifically hid it from him, too. I needed it for ¡­ ¡± His face burned, and he couldn¡¯t bring himself to say it. ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡±

    Asra raised a brow at him, but true to her nature, she did not ask any further questions. It was a trait that had frustrated him to no end when they¡¯d first met, but that he¡¯d grown to appreciate¡ªjust one of the many ways he¡¯d come to appreciate her over the last couple months.

    Ciaran led the trio down the hill along the bottom of a steep cliff. When he was confident he was close, he looked to Bane and said, ¡°Where is it, boy?¡±

    The dog lowered his head to the ground and sniffed, following the trail to a patch of dirt. He sat next to it and stared up at Ciaran.

    ¡°Good boy,¡± Ciaran said as he dug through the damp earth until his fingers landed on a metal box. He lifted it from the dirt and pulled out a marble-sized lodestone inside.

    ¡°Not as strong as your concealment spells,¡± Ciaran said to Asra with a wink as he lifted the lodestone to a spot on the cliffside. ¡°But good enough to avoid detection by us puny humans.¡±

    Magic snapped from the lodestone, and a large door materialized where previously there was only stone. Ciaran turned the knob and held his arm out to the open door.

    ¡°Clever,¡± Asra said.

    ¡°I told you I picked up a few things from Vincent. Same concept as the disguising spell we¡¯ve used.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not ¡­ ?¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°How far does this tunnel go?¡±

    ¡°Not far, don¡¯t worry.¡±

    Asra hesitated for just a moment, then stepped past the door, Ciaran following behind. He closed the door behind them, then held the lodestone up to a spot inside that would reinstate the spell outside.

    The short stone hallway led into a small alcove in the cave system. Cliffs surrounded them on all sides, and high-reaching canopies of pines and spruce covered the sky, only barely allowing the light of the full moon to filter through them. To the right, steam rose from hot springs. To the left stood a small wood cabin¡ªa shack in comparison to the manor it led to. Ciaran led them toward it, but when they reached the front, his hand froze on the doorknob.

    After a moment, Asra said, ¡°Are we going inside or what?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± Ciaran said, and he pushed the door open and flicked on the light switch to his right.

    There was a small bed in the far right corner, unmade. A shower only large enough for one person stood in the opposite corner, towels and soaps piled next to it in a clumsy heap. Adjacent to a small dining table was a cold box, the lodestone inside whirring¡ªno doubt it would be out of magic soon.

    Ciaran finally forced his eyes to the center of the cabin, to the feature he dreaded most¡ªand which dominated the small building: A series of tall shelves, each filled with liquor bottles, some full, some half-empty, many completely drained. Empty bottles were piled next to an overflowing rubbish bin.

    Asra inhaled sharply when she stepped inside, her eyes sweeping over the scene in front of her. Her mouth moved wordlessly for a moment before she spoke, and Ciaran could tell she was trying her damnedest to find a tactful remark. Heat crept up his neck.

    ¡°Well,¡± Asra said finally. ¡°I see why you needed to keep this secret from anyone else.¡±

    Ciaran took a deep breath. He couldn¡¯t meet Asra¡¯s gaze. ¡°I would have cleaned some of this up, but ¡­ well, I never expected anyone else to ever see it.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Asra said. ¡°We won¡¯t ever need to come back after tonight.¡±

    Ciaran almost laughed in relief. Asra¡¯s pragmatism and stoicism were sometimes things he could learn from. Not everything was worth wallowing over.

    Ciaran stepped toward the tower of booze in front of him. His hands had been shaking all afternoon. Even now he had to stuff them into his pockets to try to hide it from Asra. Would he even be of any use tomorrow if he couldn¡¯t get it under control? It would only be a few sips and he¡¯d be back to normal, at least as normal as he ever was.

    ¡°Do you need me to keep an eye on you?¡± Asra asked. Her voice was gentle: It was an offer, not a threat.

    ¡°No,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it.¡±

    He took hold of the shelf and heaved it downward. The unit swayed, then toppled down, bottles of liquor shattering and pooling beneath the ruined furniture, like blood from slaughtered livestock.

    Asra paused for a moment, then laughed and shook her head. ¡°Well, that¡¯s one way to handle it.¡±

    Ciaran took a shuddering breath, and his stomach grumbled. ¡°Do we have anything to eat still?¡±

    ¡°You just ate less than an hour ago.¡±

    ¡°I know, and I¡¯m still famished.¡± He sighed. ¡°I think it has to do with the alcohol. Or lack thereof. The last few times I stopped, I was starving for days afterward.¡±

    Asra narrowed her eyes at him, in an expression reminiscent of the open contempt she showed him when they first met.

    ¡°What?¡± Ciaran said.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t starving,¡± Asra said. ¡°You don¡¯t know the concept of starving.¡±

    Ciaran laughed nervously. ¡°It¡¯s just a turn of phrase.¡±

    ¡°An ignorant one. Your people are starving. You¡¯ve never gone without food in your life.¡±

    Ciaran sighed. ¡°I acknowledge the disparity, Asra. That¡¯s something I hope to address as king.¡±

    ¡°You really think that¡¯s how this works?¡± Asra said, rounding on him with her arms folded. ¡°You put someone good on the throne and then all the problems with the monarchy just vanish?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°I¡ª¡± Ciaran ran a trembling hand through his hair. ¡°Is this really how you want to spend what may be our last night alive? Arguing about politics?¡±

    Asra looked for a moment as though that was exactly how she¡¯d like to spend her last night. Ciaran wondered if the woman knew how to exist without fighting over something. What would she do when this was all over and she didn¡¯t need to fight anymore?

    Eventually she sighed and said, ¡°No.¡±

    She tossed him her bag, and Ciaran pulled out their leather pouch of boar jerky and some dried fruits. He brushed the dust off the dining table and tucked in.

    ¡°We need to finalize our plan to kill Nolan,¡± Asra said.

    Ciaran sighed and nodded as he tore a piece of jerky. He¡¯d pushed that conversation off for as long as possible, and now it was time to face it head-on.

    ¡°What¡¯s this secret entrance you have?¡± Asra asked.

    ¡°There¡¯s a tunnel here that leads straight to my bedroom. Hidden like the entrance here.¡±

    He shifted in his seat as he ran through the excuses for his disappearances from the vacation manor over the last decade. ¡°Oh, I was hunting in the woods with Bane. The butler didn¡¯t inform you? I made sure to tell him before I left ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Okay, so we have a way in,¡± Asra said, tapping her fist against her lips thoughtfully. ¡°How do we get to Nolan once we¡¯re there?¡±

    Ciaran envisioned the inside of the manor¡ªa sprawling maze of hallways and rooms, swarming with guards and gods-only-knew what kind of spells. He then thought of the outside, of the courtyard beneath his bedroom window.

    ¡°There¡¯s a courtyard,¡± Ciaran said slowly as the pieces fit together in his head. ¡°Right outside my bedroom. Nolan goes there in the mornings to meditate.¡±

    That was one of the few things he could be sure of regarding Nolan¡¯s habits in the vacation manor. He never missed his morning meditations, no matter where he was.

    ¡°Not alone, I¡¯m presuming,¡± Asra said.

    ¡°No, but far fewer guards than usual. If you¡¯re quiet, you could sneak up behind them and ¡­ ¡± His voice trailed off. These were likely people he knew.

    ¡°Pick them off?¡± Asra finished for him.

    He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. ¡°Yes. In a non-lethal manner, perhaps?¡±

    Asra¡¯s silence was all the answer he needed.

    ¡°Or perhaps I could convince Nolan to send them inside?¡± Ciaran said quickly. ¡°That way we could, ah, reduce the bloodshed ¡­ ?¡±

    ¡°The less time we allow Nolan to talk, the better. We don¡¯t know what he might have up his sleeve.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s stomach lurched. He¡¯d never considered that he wouldn¡¯t be able to say goodbye to his brother. Admittedly, he hadn¡¯t given much thought to how the deed would actually be done. He had vaguely envisioned some sort of fair trial, where nobles and courtiers could determine who should rightfully sit on the throne.

    But Nolan was firstborn, groomed from a young age to rule, and granted the crown through natural succession¡ªand he¡¯d been a strong leader since then. There was no jury in the kingdom that would believe Ciaran should hold the crown over his older brother.

    ¡°I¡¯ll need to distract him at least while you deal with the guards,¡± Ciaran suggested.

    ¡°No,¡± Asra snapped. ¡°He can¡¯t know we¡¯re there. We have to take him completely by surprise. You said yourself, you haven¡¯t been there in years and you don¡¯t know what defensive measures he may have. We can¡¯t give him any warning.¡±

    Ciaran ran a hand through his hair and decided changing the subject was the best course of action at the moment.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to take a soak in the springs,¡± he said. ¡°Would you care to join me? I think it will help us rest and recover before tomorrow.¡±

    Asra narrowed her eyes at him¡ªno doubt she saw through his attempt to escape this conversation¡ªbut eventually nodded.

    She followed him out of the small cabin to the edge of the springs. Ciaran stripped his shoes and clothing, but paused at his smallclothes.

    ¡°Would you mind if I undressed all the way?¡± Ciaran asked.

    ¡°You humans are the ones who have a problem with nudity,¡± Asra said. ¡°I couldn¡¯t care less.¡±

    And perhaps to emphasize her point, she ripped all her clothing off and tossed them to the ground. She tested the water¡¯s temperature with her toes, then sank into the spring with a heavy sigh.

    Ciaran laughed, then removed his final garment. As he eased himself into the water, every muscle and joint sang in relief.

    He stole a look at Asra. Her arms were sprawled along the rim of the springs, her head leaned back against the stone behind her. Ciaran couldn¡¯t help but smile at the scene. As much as Asra would hate to hear him say it, she deserved a little luxury.

    There was something both terrifying and mesmerizing about the way she lounged in what had previously only been his private reprieve. It was like gazing upon a wolf resting in a paddock of lambs. He focused on her hands as they trailed back and forth through the water to avoid his gaze resting on her nudity. She didn¡¯t seem to care, but it still felt crass to look without invitation.

    Although the action didn¡¯t keep his thoughts so innocent. He thought of the warmth of her hands as she healed him many times over, the pulse in her wrist when he¡¯d held her hand by Margot¡¯s campfire, and again in the fox hospital. The thought of her skin on his was one of the few things that had pushed him through the agony of his withdrawals as he wavered on the edge of life and death.

    ¡°What?¡± Asra said.

    Ciaran had no desire for her to learn what he¡¯d just been thinking of and found a safer topic instead.

    ¡°You said something to Vincent,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°About Nolan. About him being better at something?¡±

    She furrowed her brow. ¡°Vincent had a spell set up in the jail. A tracking spell. You didn¡¯t see it?¡±

    He thought of the dark edges of the room. Dogs could supposedly see better than humans in the dark. It made sense that Asra would have seen the lodestones where he couldn¡¯t. He shook his head.

    ¡°He was trying to get me to show him where my town is,¡± Asra said.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Asra shrugged. ¡°The usual reasons nobility have, probably. To get an edge over the king. Nolan was a lot more subtle about trying to get information out of me. He treated me like a friend. An equal. I wanted to be treated like a grown-up so bad, and he knew that.¡±

    Ciaran couldn¡¯t help the pang of jealousy, as odd and unfounded of a feeling as it was. Nolan had never treated Ciaran like anything but a child.

    Asra looked to the cabin beside them, her brows furrowed.

    ¡°What?¡± Ciaran asked.

    Asra looked back to him. ¡°You offered me your last bottle of moonshine.¡±

    ¡°Did I?¡± Ciaran asked, rubbing his temple. ¡°When was that?¡±

    ¡°In the tunnel, after the dragons. You offered it to clean my wounds.¡±

    ¡°Oh. I suppose I did.¡±

    Asra¡¯s brows knotted further. ¡°Ciaran, you would have died without it.¡±

    He barked a laugh. ¡°To be fair, I had no idea this withdrawal would be so bad. Let¡¯s not give me too much credit here.¡±

    They fell into a comfortable silence. Ciaran relished in what may be his last few moments of comfort, watching Asra swirl her hand in the water. The longer side of her bobbed brunette hair brushed her shoulder. Ciaran¡¯s gaze followed the curves of the spirals of her sigils, around her arms, up her neck and face, to where they framed her eyes. He¡¯d thought her yellow eyes made her look like a predator when they first met, but he knew now how soft they could be when she wanted them to.

    He was so distracted by studying every detail that it took him a moment to realize that her hand had stilled and she stared absently at the water¡¯s surface.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Ciaran asked.

    Asra smiled sadly and leaned back against the rock behind her. He thought he saw a glint of tears in her eyes. ¡°Trying to decide if I should say goodbye to Liam and Sophie. Like I do every time.¡±

    The luster left her body, and suddenly she looked lonely and tired and broken. Just two months away from home had left Ciaran desperately homesick. He couldn¡¯t imagine ten years. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he wasn¡¯t sure if she would accept it.

    He opened his mouth to speak, but Asra beat him to it.

    ¡°Ciaran, I¡¯ve been thinking ¡­ ¡± she began, her voice quiet and wavering.

    ¡°About?¡±

    ¡°About ¡­¡± She twirled a finger in the water. ¡°The conversation we had that afternoon. In the clearing. After the boar.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± He hoped he kept the eagerness out of his voice. He¡¯d thought of that conversation many times since that afternoon, but he¡¯d never found an opportunity to mention it again.

    ¡°I think a little stress relief would do us both some good,¡± Asra said. ¡°While we still can.¡±

    Ciaran smirked and said, ¡°What, one last night of fun before we both die tomorrow?¡±

    He laughed, but the joke clearly fell flat. There was no humor in Asra¡¯s face, just the weight of ten years of fighting and surviving. The bags under her eyes seemed to pull down her very soul.

    There was no fight left in her. She had resigned herself to death. The thought chilled him to the bone, despite the heat of the water. Asra¡¯s obstinate defiance of death was the only thing that got them to this point.

    He had to convince her that there was a reason to make it through tomorrow alive.

    He nodded and said, ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡±

 Eighteen: The Hideout, Part Three

    Asra put her hands palms-down on the edge of the stone behind her and hoisted herself up to sit on the ledge. Water dripped off her breasts, down the curves of her waist and hips and into a puddle beneath her. Her eyes met his, and Ciaran froze.

    Was this real? He¡¯d pictured this moment very differently in his mind. He¡¯d pictured it as the culmination of a lengthy and¡ªfrankly¡ªtedious courtship, mandated by the expectations of someone of his status.

    But Asra would never have stood for such frivolity. This moment definitely fit her pragmatism.

    He stood and walked to her, the weight of the water causing him to stumble and nearly fall on top of her. He cursed himself for managing to find the least dignified way to get to her, but his insecurities vanished the instant their eyes locked. Tears gathered in the corners of her yellow eyes, and one slid down her cheek. He tasted it on her lips as they kissed.

    He was drawn into her like iron to a magnet. They¡¯d touched each other before, but none of those moments ever compared to this¡ªthe difference between a few sips of ale or half a handle of whiskey.

    Asra put her hands on either side of his face and pulled him into her. Her kiss was fervent, desperate, and Ciaran felt every ounce of her need in it. She could pretend not to have emotions as much as she wanted, but Ciaran had seen and felt her vulnerabilities. Deep down, she was just as lost and terrified as he was.

    She traced her fingers up his arms, over his shoulders, then down his chest and stomach to his hips, then¡ª

    Ciaran¡¯s heart lurched. He caught her hands by the wrists and broke away from her kiss. Asra¡¯s eyes flickered open, and she stared up at him with a furrowed brow.

    Ciaran cleared his throat. ¡°You, ah ¡­ never did tell me if we¡¯re able to ¡­ you know. Procreate. I have no interest in producing heirs.¡±

    Asra took a second to catch her breath, then said, ¡°Oh. You ¡­ don¡¯t have to worry about that from me. I¡¯ve been¡ªwhat do you humans call it? Spayed.¡±

    Ciaran leaned back. ¡°You¡ªwhat? Gods, where did you find someone willing to do that?¡±

    Asra shrugged. ¡°Medical student. Not too long after I left home. He caught me eavesdropping outside the window of the university, and I wasn¡¯t as good at hiding what I am back then. He figured it out pretty quick, so I figured I¡¯d take advantage of the situation. It¡¯s still a very experimental surgery, even on animals. It¡¯s almost unheard of on people. Wasn¡¯t sure if I¡¯d ever get another chance.¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°Can we move on now?¡±

    Ciaran blinked, then said, ¡°Yes, of course. Though perhaps we should move somewhere more comfortable?¡±

    Asra nodded, and Ciaran pulled himself out of the spring, concentrating on each movement so as not to make a fool of himself again. He turned and bowed to her, one hand behind his back and the other extended to help her up, like a gentleman helping a lady out of a carriage. Asra scoffed at him, but she nevertheless took his hand and allowed his help up. He led her to the cabin, careful not to slip on the slick stone.

    When he opened the door, his eyes landed on the dusty linens on the bed.

    ¡°Ah,¡± he said. ¡°Give me a moment to shake those out.¡±

    He pulled the comforter off the bed, shook it as best he could, remembering the motions his housekeeper Susan made when she did the same thing. But the blankets always seemed to snap so satisfyingly when she did it. They only flopped hopelessly under Ciaran¡¯s hands. He clutched the comforter to his chest, brushing the dust out with rapid, anxious strokes.

    He¡¯d never been embarrassed by his lack of domestic skills before, but here, in front of Asra¡ª

    He felt Asra¡¯s hand on his arm, and he turned to her.

    ¡°Relax,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve seen you in far worse situations.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Ciaran said with a nervous laugh. ¡°It¡¯s just ¡­ I wanted this moment to be perfect. That¡¯s how I¡¯ve always envisioned when we would ¡­ ¡±

    His mind caught up with his mouth too late. Had he revealed too much? Had that been too intense?

    She said nothing. Her face was as impassive as ever as her eyes searched his own, her breathing quick and ragged.

    But her hand remained on his shoulder. Ciaran decided to push forward.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    ¡°I¡¯ve thought about this moment often,¡± he said. ¡°For quite some time.¡±

    Perhaps for longer than he should have. He tried to pinpoint the exact moment he¡¯d fallen for her. The morning she¡¯d healed Bane after he reappeared was the obvious choice, but he also thought of the way she¡¯d healed his wounds that morning in the swamp, of the light in her eyes as she¡¯d described her home to Nolan when they were small children.

    As much as she¡¯d terrified him, he¡¯d always been drawn to her.

    Asra was silent for a moment longer, her breathing short and shallow. Ciaran opened his mouth to recant his admission, to blame his boldness on a little too much whiskey that night, only to remember with dread that he no longer had that excuse. There was no running from this.

    ¡°I¡¯ve thought about it, too,¡± Asra said at last.

    Ciaran nearly laughed in relief. ¡°Oh. Good. I-I mean, that¡¯s more than good. That¡¯s wonderful. But not¡ª¡± He laughed nervously. ¡°Sorry, I suppose I ramble when I haven¡¯t been drinking as well.¡±

    The corner of Asra¡¯s mouth twitched in a smile, and Ciaran reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her forehead, then tucked it behind her ear. Her skin was just as soft as he¡¯d always imagined. He stared at her for a moment, taking every inch of her in, then Asra¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    ¡°What?¡± she said suspiciously.

    He shook his head, and slid his hand from her cheek to her arm. ¡°Nothing. You¡¯re just so damn beautiful.¡±

    Asra lifted her brows. ¡°You¡¯re just now noticing that?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. I noticed it the first second I saw you. I just knew you¡¯d eat me if I told you.¡±

    She cocked a half-smile. ¡°You know me well, prince.¡±

    He felt like he barely knew her at all. He wanted to know everything about her, and he wanted a lifetime to spend discovering every detail. The chances that either of them had a lifetime to spend doing anything at all seemed harrowingly slim.

    He thought of the other people he¡¯d taken to bed. Vincent, of course. That courtship had been a disaster from the start.

    Ophelia. They¡¯d had fun together, but with her betrothal, they both understood there was a time limit to their relationship. They cared for each other, but they¡¯d never been in love.

    There had been a few others, but no one he had ever expected to stay past a single night.

    Despite his reputation, Ciaran realized he was woefully inexperienced with romance. Should he tell her now how he felt? Just ¡­ blurt it out? He wasn¡¯t used to being so lost in a social situation.

    ¡°Asra, I ¡­ I want to¡ª¡±

    She rolled her eyes and groaned as she reached up and pulled his face into hers, smothering the rest of his words with her kiss. He ran his hands down from her waist to her hips and brought them to his. He was grateful that, for the first time in years, he didn¡¯t have to worry about alcohol interfering with his ability to perform. He¡¯d never left any of his previous partners unsatisfied, but something about not being able to perform with Asra was especially terrifying.

    Asra gripped his shoulders and pushed him backward to the bed. When his calves found resistance on the edge, he sat, and Asra pushed him down onto the bed. Her breasts brushed his chest as she crawled on top of him, and he reached up to pull her face down to his. As they kissed, his hands roved up her arms to her shoulders, then back down to cup her breasts.

    Her skin was so warm, like fire flowed through her veins. He moved one hand over her heart and felt it beating, strong and fast. The thought that it might never beat again after tomorrow brought panic to his chest.

    He moved his hands to embrace her face and pulled her gently away from him. She stared at him, panting, her eyelids heavy and her brow drawn together. He had to tell her how he felt now, before it was too late.

    ¡°Asra, I ¡­ I need to talk to you about something.¡±

    She groaned. She grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the bed on either side of his head. He reflexively fought against her hold, but found she was immovable. It sent a thrill through him that was not unwelcome.

    ¡°Do you ever stop talking?¡± she said.

    Ciaran couldn¡¯t help but laugh as she released his wrists. Perhaps now wasn¡¯t the right time. Perhaps a sense of unfinished business would give him the drive necessary to survive their ordeal tomorrow, regardless of the odds.

    He would tell her afterward. He would make sure of it.

    Ciaran didn¡¯t have time to ponder it anymore as Asra positioned herself over him. He grabbed her hips to guide her, and as she sank down to ease him into her, she moved their hands up to the bed beside Ciaran¡¯s head to intertwine their fingers.

    Asra¡¯s hips moved quickly and efficiently. As usual, she didn¡¯t seem interested in wasting time. But Ciaran savored every moment like the last meal of an inmate on death row. If this was truly the last night he would ever see, there was nowhere else he¡¯d rather be than here with her.

    She reached down between her thighs to pleasure herself, and not long after she moaned her release. Ciaran wasn¡¯t far behind her, and afterwards they stayed there for a moment, foreheads pressed together, sweat glistening on their skin in the low lamplight, silent aside from their labored breathing. He watched her, searching her face for any emotion, praying that she would say something, tell him what she was feeling.

    He reached to touch her cheek, but she rolled off of him and stepped silently toward the shower. The water turned on, and he sighed and pushed himself from the bed. He supposed he shouldn¡¯t have expected pillow talk from Asra.

    He grabbed his bathrobe and a bar of soap from the pile next to the shower, avoiding looking at Asra as much as he could, then headed out of the cabin to the springs.

 Eighteen: The Hideout, Part Four

    Ciaran washed quickly in the water, trying to keep his mind from dwelling on any of the moment¡¯s many horrors. When he finished, he stepped out of the springs, grabbing his bathrobe on the way up. He slid it on, the delicate cashmere brushing against his skin in a comfort he¡¯d almost forgotten about.

    The embroidery on the breast caught his attention in the corner of his eye. It was his family crest, a ridgeback dog rampant in sparkling golden thread, encircled by two sprigs of rhododendron. The symbol had always made him feel proud of his legacy and kinship. Now it felt sour.

    Ciaran headed to the cabin. From the sound of it, Asra was still in the shower. He pushed the door open and wandered inside. His eyes landed on a framed photograph on the bedside table.

    Ciaran picked it up. He was only six in this picture, sat on his mother¡¯s lap, struggling to keep the young puppy on his own tiny lap from spilling over and sliding off. Nolan stood next to their mother, a protective hand on Ciaran¡¯s shoulder. Their mother¡¯s smile lit up the whole room, despite the exhaustion etched into her face. She¡¯d fought so hard to protect and care for her sons.

    Ciaran loved this picture. He loved them. How would his mother feel knowing one of her sons murdered the other?

    He knew then the fact that he¡¯d been avoiding for the past two months¡ªhe couldn¡¯t kill Nolan. He had to find a way to reason with him. Maybe he could get him to step down peacefully, or to make a truce with the shapechangers. Would that be enough to appease Asra?

    Asra appeared next to him wrapped in a towel. Ciaran had been so swept up in his ruminations that he hadn¡¯t heard the water turn off. He placed the picture back on the bedside table.

    He opened his mouth to argue his case about sparing Nolan, but decided against it. They needed this last night of peace.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to if you don¡¯t want to, of course,¡± Ciaran said hesitantly. ¡°But we could share the bed tonight. If not, I¡¯m sure I could find¡ª¡±

    ¡°I want to sleep in my fur tonight.¡± Asra removed the towel and rubbed her dripping hair with it. She dropped it to the floor, and in a past life Ciaran would have chastised her for it. ¡°There¡¯s not enough room for me in the bed.¡±

    Ciaran nodded. He had expected her to decline, but that didn¡¯t keep him from being disappointed.

    He followed her outside, where she then changed into her canine form. She circled a spot in the grass and flopped down into a ball, the way he¡¯d seen Bane do many, many times.

    ¡°Well,¡± he said, retying the belt on his robe to occupy his shaking hands. ¡°Good night, then.¡±

    The thought of sleeping in a completely separate building from her felt unnatural, as if he were sleeping without a limb. He was almost to the cabin door when he heard her voice, thin and anxious.

    ¡°Ciaran.¡±

    He turned to look at her.

    ¡°Will you stay out here tonight? With me?¡±

    Relief flowed through him. He smiled and nodded.

    Ciaran grabbed a pillow and a blanket off the bed inside the cabin, then returned outside and found a comfortable spot to nestle in the crook of Asra¡¯s front leg. She took the edge of the blanket between her teeth and pulled it over both of them, and Bane curled up on top of it.

    Ciaran drifted off to sleep trying to decide what the strangest part of his current situation was.

    <hr>

    Asra apparently had the annoying internal clock innate to dogs, because she managed to wake Ciaran up exactly one hour before the crack of dawn. It took him a few moments to return to reality. When he did, his stomach did several somersaults.

    ¡°You said he¡¯s always in the courtyard at dawn, right?¡± Asra said as she stood and shook herself off, her ears flapping against the sides of her head. ¡°Then we need to get moving. How do we get into your bedroom?¡±

    Ciaran rubbed the sleep from his eyes, desperately wishing for even an hour more. He followed her into the cabin as he said, ¡°There¡¯s a hole behind an azalea bush in the cave here. It leads to a lift that opens into a false door at the back of my wardrobe.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re sure no one knows about it?¡± She changed back into her human shape and rummaged through her bag for clothes.

    ¡°Well it¡¯s not like I went around telling my brother where all of my secret exits were.¡± He would need to have it destroyed and blocked off when he became king. If he became king. He swallowed. He had to convince Asra to spare Nolan now, or it would be too late.

    He approached her, biting his lip. ¡°Asra.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± she asked as she pulled a pair of leather trousers on. ¡°You need to get dressed.¡±

    ¡°Asra ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Put something dirty on,¡± she continued, her voice muffled as she pulled her shirt over her head. ¡°It won¡¯t be believable you¡¯ve been on the run if you¡¯re clean.¡±

    ¡°Asra, I need to speak with you.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± she snapped as she threw discarded clothes back into her bag. ¡°We need to get ready.¡±

    His throat went dry, and he shoved his hands in his pockets to quell their trembling.

    ¡°Asra, I don¡¯t want to kill Nolan.¡±

    She whirled around to face him, her eyes blazing. ¡°What?¡±

    He threw his hands up as he stammered, ¡°Just hear me out.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not listening to shit,¡± she spat as she rounded on him. ¡°It¡¯s too late to have a change of heart now. I warned you about this!¡±

    ¡°I just want to talk to him!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not giving him any chances to get away. There are lives at stake here, Ciaran. You can say your goodbyes at his damn funeral.¡±

    Bane pushed himself in between their legs, whimpering and licking Asra¡¯s hand. She tried to push him away, but he grabbed her hand in his mouth and let out a soft warning growl. She whipped her hand back and stormed back to pack up the rest of her bag.

    Ciaran¡¯s heart pounded in his chest. He had to make her understand.

    ¡°Asra, if I kill him, how does that make me any better than my father?¡±

    ¡°Your ¡®father¡¯ is exactly why you should understand why he needs to die! You said Nolan wants to kill you! He¡¯s too dangerous to be allowed to live.¡±

    ¡°I was ¡­ ¡± Shame burned in his chest. ¡°Asra, I was drunk the last time we saw each other. What if I misremembered what happened? What if this is all a misunderstanding? I can barely remember anything these days. What if I¡¯m going to kill my brother over my drunkenness?¡±

    Asra growled and turned from him, hoisting her bag over her back and fussing at the straps.

    Ciaran swallowed, knowing his next words could destroy everything between them, but he had to make her understand.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you do anything to save your siblings?¡± he said.

    ¡°How dare you?¡± Asra snarled, whirling on him. ¡°Your brother is the whole reason they¡¯re dead!¡±

    ¡°I know!¡± Ciaran said, throwing his hands up. ¡°I know. And I¡¯m not saying he shouldn¡¯t be punished. But you can¡¯t ask me to kill him, or to stand by and watch as someone else kills him. He deserves a fair trial, an opportunity to¡ª¡±

    ¡°And who would force him to stand that trial? You?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course! I would be king at that point. I could¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ciaran, you¡¯re not capable of being king!¡±

    Ciaran felt as though she¡¯d slapped him.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have the guts,¡± Asra continued. ¡°You don¡¯t have the brutality to wage war or conquer nations. You can¡¯t just throw Nolan in a jail cell. There¡¯s powerful people that are loyal to Nolan because he keeps them in power. He knows how to do that. It won¡¯t be long until they say, ¡®Gee, things were better under Nolan. We should put him back in charge.¡¯ And then you¡¯ll have a coup on your hands and I won¡¯t be there to protect you.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Why won¡¯t you be?¡±

    She scrunched up her face in pure bewilderment. ¡°Did you think I would stay here? That I would be happy wasting my life away pretending to be human? Is that what you thought?¡±

    ¡°No! I thought ¡­ ¡±

    Had he misinterpreted her feelings towards him? He hadn¡¯t expected her to stay here permanently, but surely they could come up with some arrangement. Did she feel nothing? Had it just been his ego this whole time?

    He¡¯d thought the night before had changed something between them. The fact that he may have just been the only warm body available to her made his stomach churn.

    Ciaran shook his head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what I thought.¡±

    Silence passed between them. Seconds felt like hours. Asra¡¯s voice was hoarse when she spoke.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you say goodbye,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll let you get whatever closure you need. But Nolan dies today, or we do.¡±

    Ciaran nodded. It was the best he would get from her.

    ¡°Go get dressed,¡± Asra said.

    Ciaran stumbled to his bag, fishing out some old clothes from a few days ago. As he rummaged through, his hand brushed against a familiar tiny bottle: the hound¡¯s woe.

    The thought of using the substance against Asra directly nauseated him. It had already been guilt-wrenching enough to use it against her indirectly. But he had to protect his brother.

    He dressed quickly, then pushed the vial of hound¡¯s woe into his pocket.

    When he stepped out of the cabin, Asra already had her bag packed and strapped up. Ciaran called Bane to his side, then directed the trio to the false wall in the cliffside. He led them down the short tunnel to the lift entrance. He took a deep breath as he pressed the button that would call it down to them.

    As they stepped inside, silence imposed itself on them like an unwanted guest. Asra stood stockstill next to him, eyes locked firmly forward. Bane sat dutifully at his other side, occasionally emitting a nervous whine. Ciaran stroked the dog¡¯s head to calm his shaking hand, but the other hand remained awkwardly at his side.

    He glanced at Asra from the corner of his eye. He wanted to reach out and take her hand. Wanted to feel the pulse in her wrist and the warmth in her skin.

    He put his hand in his pocket instead.

 Nineteen: The Standoff, Part One

    The elevator lurched to a halt. The doors shifted open with a mechanical whir, and Asra tensed, her mind flashing back to the attack in Ciaran¡¯s Windemere apartment.

    Asra¡¯s vision filled with plush furs and stiff evening coats. Ciaran brushed these aside, poking his head out to glance around the room. After a moment, he turned and nodded to Asra, and the three of them stepped out from the wardrobe that concealed the elevator.

    The wooden floors creaked as Asra stepped out of the way for Ciaran to close the wardrobe doors. The room was smaller than Asra had expected, far less luxurious and modern than his penthouse, but still undeniably Ciaran¡¯s.

    The wall to their left was dominated by a large window, its warbled glass panes segmented by intricate cast iron. It was adorned by stiff velvet curtains, dark blue and adorned with shimmering gold embroidery of ridgeback dogs¡ªthe royal crest. The walls were filled with thumbtacked pages containing a child¡¯s bright crayon scribbles. The subjects were mostly crudely drawn stick dogs, though some were of two boys with their mother, or the two boys together.

    The only furniture in the room was a bed, neatly made, with simple pillows and a thick blue blanket. The wall above had shelves with numerous trophies and ribbons and a set of hooks holding a variety of different styles of collars and leashes. A pair of dog bowls rested on the floor at the foot of the bed, and Bane made a beeline to inspect these.

    ¡°No treats for you today, I¡¯m afraid,¡± Ciaran said to his dog. ¡°And you¡¯ve already had breakfast.¡±

    ¡°He can¡¯t come with us,¡± Asra said. ¡°He¡¯ll give us away. And he could get hurt.¡±

    Ciaran watched his dog lick fruitlessly at the ceramic bowls for a moment longer, then sighed. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯ll lock him in the room here. We can let him out when we get back.¡±

    Asra watched Ciaran as he nearly tiptoed to the door to prevent the floors from squeaking. He locked the door, and Asra sighed.

    ¡°But what if we don¡¯t come back?¡± she asked.

    Ciaran¡¯s eyes met hers, pain clouding his face. He looked for a moment as if he might argue, or deliver some chipper platitude about making it back no matter what.

    But eventually he sighed and turned from her. This was one thing Asra could rely on Ciaran to be realistic about. He would do anything to ensure his dog¡¯s safety.

    Ciaran unlocked the door and cracked it open, then retrieved a thin leather leash from one of the hooks above the bed and attached it to Bane¡¯s collar. He tied the other end to one of the bed posts.

    Ciaran didn¡¯t look at Asra when he spoke.

    ¡°He¡¯ll chew through this eventually,¡± he said, tousling one of Bane¡¯s ears, ¡°and he knows how to let himself out through the door in the larder.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s face crumpled. He pulled Bane toward him and buried his face in his neck. Asra turned away to give them privacy, but her keen hearing still detected every word.

    ¡°I love you, boy,¡± Ciaran whispered into the ridgeback¡¯s fur. ¡°I¡¯ll do everything I can to make it back to you. I swear it.¡±

    Bane¡¯s tail wagged low, and he craned his neck to the side to lick the back of Ciaran¡¯s head. Asra wondered just how much the dog understood of the situation. Would he recognize the goodbye for what it was?

    For the first time, Asra felt a pang of guilt for having dragged Ciaran and Bane into her mess.

    She shook herself mentally. Ciaran had tracked her down. He would never be able to escape Nolan¡¯s paranoia without her help. She was assisting him just as much as he was assisting her.

    But Bane was innocent. He hadn¡¯t asked to be dragged into any of this.

    Asra approached Bane and patted his head. Ciaran looked up at her, eyes wide.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let them catch you,¡± Asra said to the dog. ¡°Show them how fast you can run. And if they do catch you, show them how deep you can bite.¡±

    Bane licked her hand.

    Ciaran turned back to his dog, stroked his ears for a moment longer. Then he planted a kiss on the dog¡¯s head and stood. He turned away from Bane with a shuddering breath and said, ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±

    Asra nodded.

    As Ciaran led her to the window, Asra tossed her bag onto the bed. There was no sense in bringing it; it would only slow her down in a fight, and if, by some small miracle, they did survive the encounter, she could always pick it up before she left.

    The contemplation brought Asra¡¯s mind to a harrowing thought. In an hour¡¯s time, Ciaran would be dead, or he would be king. The latter horrified Asra almost as much as the former.

    She took a steadying breath. Ciaran would make his decisions, and Asra would make hers. Her home came first, no matter what. She had to focus on that.

    Ciaran peeked through the curtains, then after a moment pulled one side open enough for Asra to look through.

    ¡°Do you see these pergolas?¡± Ciaran asked, pointing to the wooden structures covered in delicate vining flowers. They provided a canopy over the numerous winding cobblestone paths. ¡°That one right there leads to a gazebo near the center of the courtyard. That¡¯s usually where Nolan goes in the mornings. If you stay low, you can climb above those all the way to the gazebo. I can walk below and give you a warning if there¡¯s any guards.¡±

    Asra nodded once, swallowing down her nausea. ¡°How are you going to get down?¡±

    Ciaran pointed to a sturdy trellis filled with more flowering vines along the exterior wall of the manor. ¡°There.¡±

    Asra glanced to him, one eyebrow raised. He shrugged and gave her an apologetic smile.

    ¡°Used to sneak out at night when I was a boy to play with the dogs in the kennels,¡± he said.

    The corner of Asra¡¯s mouth quirked. She almost laughed, but she forced it away. Her father¡¯s words rang in her ears.

    We have to protect the commune, no matter what we¡¯re feeling. Do you understand?

    Ciaran cleared his throat, then pushed a pane of glass outward. He clambered out and climbed down the trellis. When he reached the ground, he looked up to Asra and nodded.

    Asra climbed out the window and down the trellis until she reached the top of the pergola. She crawled across, keeping as low as possible to keep out of view of any passersby. It was difficult to keep track of Ciaran beneath her through the tight maze of vines meandering through the wooden grid of the pergola.

    The gardens were beautiful. The lawn was bright green and neatly manicured. Cobblestone paths were lined by flowering bushes of deep purple, blush pink, and stark white. A weeping willow spilled over the mirror surface of a pond, and a mist rose up from the water as a thick morning fog descended from the clouds. It was a perfect place for meditation and reflection.

    And yet their purpose there made the whole scene feel sour. It was too pretty, too serene. It wouldn¡¯t be long before the green grass was stained with blood, and Asra couldn¡¯t be sure if it would be Nolan¡¯s or her own.

    Ciaran halted at the end of the path, just at the edge of the grass next to the gazebo in the center of the courtyard. Asra froze, and took a deep breath.

    The gentle floral scents of the flowers surrounding her eased her nerves a little. The vines were full of lavender flowers the size of her hand, their spiky centers a pale yellow. Asra had seen these flowers before, but she couldn¡¯t put a name to them.

    Sophie would know what these flowers were. The thought hardened Asra¡¯s resolve.

    Something in the air tickled her throat, and she coughed.

    Ciaran glanced up to Asra, and she just barely made out the movement through the tangle of vines. ¡°He¡¯ll be here soon,¡± he whispered.

    Or at least she thought that was what he said. His voice was quieter, almost muffled. Her tinnitus must be louder than usual.

    Asra nodded, though she wasn¡¯t sure if Ciaran could see the gesture. She forced her breathing to remain steady. Every muscle in her body screamed to fight or flee. Freezing defied every survival instinct at this moment.

    Asra heard Nolan before she saw him. The fog grew thicker and thicker, enough that the pond was nearly indiscernible. With each crush of grass beneath his foot, Asra¡¯s heart rate soared. She couldn¡¯t smell anyone with him, but she knew not to let her guard down. He would have some kind of trick up his sleeve. Ciaran might believe he could be reasoned with, but Asra knew better.

    Nolan emerged from the fog like a phantom. His short gray overcoat was simple and unassuming, covering a matching gray vest over a white cotton shirt. His shoes were immaculately polished, his dark brown hair neat and tidy.

    There was no denying his blood relation to Ciaran. They had the same brown hair, the same pale skin and dark eyes. But the features looked wrong on Nolan. Twisted.

    She could make out more of his details as he approached. There were deep grooves in his forehead and permanent lines drooping beneath his dark eyes. He looked exhausted. She hoped she was personally responsible for some of those wrinkles.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Asra was as tall as Nolan was now, but looking at him still made her feel like a frightened, na?ve little girl.

    ¡°Nolan?¡± Ciaran called out.

    Nolan froze, his jaw slack. His voice was thin when he spoke.

    ¡°Ciaran?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°It¡¯s me. I¡¯m home.¡±

    Nolan stood frozen for a few moments more, and a thrill of fear shot through Asra¡¯s heart. Had he seen through their ploy? Would he call the guards?

    But eventually, Nolan stepped forward, and he and Ciaran closed the distance between themselves. Nolan pulled Ciaran into a solid hug, clapping his back. Asra¡¯s chest burned, and she stifled a growl.

    Ciaran and Nolan were brothers. They¡¯d known each other for far longer than Asra had known both of them combined, yet the sight of Nolan¡¯s hands on Ciaran still made Asra¡¯s blood boil.

    The brothers pulled away from each other, and Ciaran rubbed his eyes on the back of his arm. Two guards appeared from the fog behind Nolan, and Asra crouched lower against the trellis.

    ¡°Gods around us,¡± Nolan said, ¡°how did you make it here? Are you all right?¡±

    ¡°Can we speak alone for a moment?¡± Ciaran said, and Asra could tell he struggled to keep his voice even. ¡°It¡¯s a matter of security. I¡¯m not sure who we can trust.¡±

    Nolan hesitated for a moment, then looked to the guards behind him and nodded. They all turned stepped past the brothers, underneath Asra, and entered the manor.

    ¡°It¡¯s Vincent,¡± Ciaran said breathlessly. ¡°He hired the werewolf to kidnap me. He wanted my death to look like an accident. He¡¯ll come after you next, when the time is right.¡±

    Nolan stiffened. His brow creased. The fog was so thick Asra could barely make out the expression. She struggled to stifle another cough.

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Nolan said.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I defended him for so long,¡± Ciaran said, and his voice sounded entirely authentic this time. ¡°You were right. He¡¯s nothing but trouble.¡±

    Nolan¡¯s gaze fell on the manor, and he examined it as if seeing it for the first time.

    ¡°I ¡­ I have proof of his treachery,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°If you could just follow me to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m stupid, Ciaran?¡±

    His smile was tight. Forced. Asra stiffened.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Ciaran said with an awkward laugh. ¡°We¡¯ve already agreed you got all of Mother¡¯s brains, remember?¡±

    Nolan shook his head. ¡°I figured it was only a matter of time before you planned something like this.¡±

    There it was¡ªthe first sign something was going to go wrong.

    Asra pushed the thought aside. She wouldn¡¯t let this attempt end like the others. Nolan would die today.

    ¡°I thought you were going to be honest with me,¡± Nolan said, his voice breathy with exasperation. ¡°I thought this whole nightmare would knock some sense into you!¡±

    ¡°I ¡­ I don¡¯t follow.¡±

    A chill crept up Asra¡¯s spine. Something was wrong. She tested the air with her nose. She couldn¡¯t smell anything or anyone. She couldn¡¯t hear anything, either. Nolan was completely alone. But something was wrong.

    ¡°Come on out, Asra,¡± Nolan called, his eyes sweeping the courtyard. ¡°Your game is finished.¡±

    Asra froze, not daring to even breathe. Should she strike now? Wait for Ciaran¡¯s signal?

    In the split second it took her to consider this, Nolan pulled a revolver from inside his coat and aimed it at Ciaran.

    ¡°Nolan, what the hell are you doing?¡± Ciaran snapped.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a request,¡± Nolan said. ¡°Show yourself. Now.¡±

    Asra dropped from the pergola behind Nolan, her heart in her throat. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare. I¡¯ll tear your throat out.¡±

    Nolan turned and gave her a tight-lipped smile, the muzzle of his revolver still trained on Ciaran¡¯s head. ¡°That was already your plan, wasn¡¯t it? I might as well take something from you first.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve already taken everything from me!¡±

    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t. Not yet. But I will, I promise you that.¡±

    He took a step toward Ciaran, who threw his hands up shoulder-height.

    ¡°I will burn your home to the ground,¡± Nolan said. ¡°I will track down every elder, adult, and child. I will destroy everything.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Nolan!¡± Ciaran stepped in between Asra and Nolan, his palms held out toward both of them, as if he could physically force them apart. ¡°I didn¡¯t bring her here to kill you.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not leaving here alive!¡± Asra said.

    ¡°Asra, enough!¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s words were so final, so authoritative, that Asra took a step back on reflex.

    ¡°I am trying to get all three of us out of this encounter alive.¡± Ciaran turned to his brother. ¡°You know that gun won¡¯t stop her before she kills you.¡± He turned to Asra. ¡°And you know we won¡¯t make it out of here alive if the guards hear a commotion.¡±

    Asra said nothing. Her only goal was Nolan¡¯s death. What happened afterward did not matter to her. The only thing holding her back now was the fact that she¡¯d promised Ciaran he could say goodbye.

    ¡°Something you¡¯d like to get off your chest, little brother?¡± Nolan asked, sneering at Asra past Ciaran¡¯s shoulders. Asra reflexively bared her teeth at him.

    ¡°You need to step down,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°From the throne.¡±

    ¡°You want me to abdicate?¡± Nolan said, turning his attention back to Ciaran with a disbelieving laugh. ¡°To you?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the only way all three of us walk out of this alive.¡±

    The humor left Nolan¡¯s face. ¡°You would side with her over your own brother? Your king?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°Because she has opened my eyes to the harm you¡¯ve caused. The shapechangers weren¡¯t a threat to us until you antagonized them. They can¡¯t change humans.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware of how new shapechangers are made, Ciaran.¡±

    ¡°Then why¡ª¡±

    The pieces snapped together in Asra¡¯s mind. The kennel fire.

    Ciaran seemed to come to the same conclusion. His legs gave out underneath him, and Asra leapt forward to catch him before his knees hit the ground.

    ¡°You killed my dogs,¡± he gasped as Asra set him upright. ¡°You set the kennels on fire!¡±

    ¡°I did what I had to do. I had hoped you would never find out.¡± There was a resigned determination in Nolan¡¯s voice. It masked the sympathy and regret, two things she thought he was incapable of feeling.

    Apparently Vincent was right about Nolan having a soft spot for his brother.

    ¡°Your dogs are the whole reason this started,¡± Nolan said. ¡°Her father had been skulking around, trying to find a way into the palace grounds. I didn¡¯t understand why at first, but when I found out ¡­ ¡±

    Nolan¡¯s words rang through Asra¡¯s head. Your father and I are good friends, you know ¡­

    ¡°I tried not to eliminate them,¡± Nolan continued. ¡°Truly, I did. I had hoped to harness that power for myself. For the kingdom. But that magic is ¡­ wild. Unpredictable.¡± You¡¯ve seen how much damage just one of their kind can do. Imagine if the commoners ever found out they could gain that kind of power. Our society would collapse.¡±

    ¡°Mother and Grandfather worked so hard on that bloodline,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°That was our family¡¯s legacy!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t lecture me about our family¡¯s legacy!¡± Nolan snapped, jabbing the revolver toward Ciaran. ¡°What would you even know of it? You¡¯re more interested in the drink than you are the kingdom!¡±

    ¡°You think Mother would be proud of what you¡¯ve done with this kingdom?¡± Ciaran said. ¡°What about the children and civilians you¡¯ve slaughtered?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t speak of non-violence to me. You¡¯re the one who brought that monster here to kill me.¡± His voice was low and dangerous. ¡°You¡¯re no different than Father.¡±

    Ciaran fell silent. The fog was settling in thicker and thicker. Soon Asra wouldn¡¯t even be able to see Nolan. She choked back another cough. Her throat burned.

    ¡°Get out of the way, Ciaran,¡± Asra said. ¡°I¡¯ve let him bark long enough. It¡¯s time to end this.¡±

    ¡°That woman won¡¯t hesitate to kill you to get to me,¡± Nolan said. ¡°If you think otherwise, you¡¯re delusional.¡±

    Asra felt Ciaran¡¯s eyes on her, but she didn¡¯t return his gaze. She would do what she had to do. She¡¯d warned him.

    We have to protect the commune, no matter what we¡¯re feeling. Do you understand?

    ¡°Why are you stalling, Nolan?¡± she called to him.

    He smiled at her, the same smile he¡¯d given her eighteen years ago when he knew she¡¯d seen through his charade.

    What¡¯s my dad¡¯s name? she¡¯d asked him as a little girl. If you¡¯re such good friends ¡­ what¡¯s his name?

    ¡°Anyone would stall in the face of certain death, wouldn¡¯t they?¡± Nolan said.

    He dropped his weapon to the ground, and the alarm bells rang in Asra¡¯s head yet again.

    ¡°As you say,¡± Nolan said, ¡°it¡¯s time to end this.¡±

 Nineteen: The Standoff, Part Two

    Asra shoved Ciaran aside. He shouted, ¡°No!¡± but Asra had already launched into the air. She waited for the change to take her, waited for the familiar ripple of muscle and bone as she changed into her fur.

    But it never came.

    She slammed hard into the grass on her chest, her teeth knocking together and her chin splitting open on the unforgiving ground. She forced her eyes open and was horrified to see hands and fingers and bare skin.

    Why did she have fingernails? She should have claws. She should have fangs. She should have fur.

    Asra scrambled to her hands and knees. She didn¡¯t need her fur to kill him. She threw her hand out in front of her, expecting to throw a torrent of flames at him.

    But the flames never came, either.

    What was wrong with her?

    Nolan picked the revolver up off the ground, stepped casually toward Asra, aimed the weapon at her head.

    Asra¡¯s eyes burned, and tears threatened to overflow. She was just as she had been as a little girl, on her hands and knees begging him to leave her home alone.

    She blinked the tears away. She would never beg him for anything again.

    ¡°Nolan, wait,¡± Ciaran said. ¡°Please don¡¯t hurt her. I¡¯ll do anything.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve nothing left to bargain with, little brother,¡± Nolan snapped. ¡°You¡¯re a traitor. As much of a threat to this kingdom as she is.¡±

    There was a gush of wind so sudden that it nearly knocked Asra over. She gripped the grass, bracing against the force, and the fog was swept away to a central source.

    A figure stood at the center of this force, his hand raised high, a canteen embedded with a plum-sized lodestone in his grip. The man stepped forward, and as the last remnants of fog vanished into the vessel, his visage was unmistakable:

    Vincent.

    ¡°You son of a bitch!¡± came Ciaran¡¯s voice from behind Asra. ¡°You ratted us out!¡±

    ¡°I reported a threat to His Majesty¡¯s safety.¡± Vincent¡¯s tone was as cool and even as ever.

    Asra¡¯s lungs itched and burned, and her body was racked by another coughing fit. It was the same dry cough she¡¯d had in the fox city, only much worse.

    Ice-cold dread ran through her veins. There had been fog in the fox city, too, though much less dense. She¡¯d started having trouble with her magic not long after they¡¯d arrived. She¡¯d blamed it on stress and exhaustion, but now she understood:

    It was a silver-based spell, a weapon capable of incapacitating an entire city of shapechangers at once.

    A guard wrenched her hands behind her back to place her in handcuffs, then another hauled her to her feet. One of them pressed a gun barrel to her spine, urging her forward, and she complied. There was no point in resisting now; she would need to bide her time and hope for an opening.

    ¡°Are you stupid?¡± Ciaran said to his brother as they all headed into the manor. ¡°Vincent is after your throne, too. He¡¯s the one who kidnapped us.¡±

    ¡°I have done nothing except what His Majesty has asked of me,¡± Vincent said.

    ¡°Then ¡­ ¡± Ciaran looked to his older brother again. ¡°You had us kidnapped?¡±

    ¡°As I said, I had hoped it might scare some sense into you,¡± Nolan said. ¡°And if not ¡­ It¡¯s my responsibility to keep the kingdom safe and intact, regardless of my personal emotions.¡±

    ¡°So I would learn to tow the line or I would die in the process?¡± Ciaran said, his contempt warbling his voice.

    They marched up an intricate staircase to the west side of the manor, then through hallway after hallway. Asra tried to keep track of which directions they turned in, in case she did manage to find an opening to escape, but she feared it would be impossible without her nose.

    They finally arrived in a high-ceilinged room, far more plain than the hallways they¡¯d been dragged through. The wooden floors were finely polished, the lime-washed walls barren aside from rows of shelves holding vials of black liquid, encased by panes of glass. A magnificent lodestone, the size of a cantaloupe at least, was embedded in the wall in the center of the shelves, a maze of copper pipes extending from it throughout the fixture. Condensation pooled on the inside of the glass.

    But what drew Asra¡¯s attention was the lone chair at the center of the room¡ªutilitarian and rough, comprised of sharp-edged wood with leather restraints on the arms and legs. Asra recognized this chair. It was the same one she¡¯d been forced into as a little girl, before her blood was taken from her.

    Animal instinct kicked in. If she was put in that chair, there would be no way for her to escape it. She wasn¡¯t stupid enough to give Nolan her blood emblem this time, but she couldn¡¯t allow herself to die before Nolan did. She dug her heels in, tried to throw her weight back, but in her weakened state she was no match for the multiple armed guards that held her.

    They removed her handcuffs and forced her into the chair, a guard holding each arm down while a third tightened the leather straps. Ciaran came into view, held by a guard on either side, hands cuffed behind his back. Nolan and Vincent appeared behind him, and when Asra was fully secured in the chair, the king ordered the guards to leave.

    Asra swallowed, tried to rein in her racing heart. Her eyes flicked around the room. There were two doors on opposite ends, no windows. She tested the strength of her restraints. Without the effects of the spell, she may have been able to break them, but there was no chance in her current state.

    She glanced at the vials of strange liquid on the walls, desperate for any key to her escape. With her full focus on them, she noticed there were two different substances in the glass tubes: at the bottom, a liquid so dark red it was nearly black, and at the top, a translucent yellow fluid.

    Her stomach lurched. Blood.

    Asra¡¯s gaze finally landed on Ciaran. He stared at her with wide, terrified eyes, a sheen of sweat already beginning to drip from his brow. He had no idea why they were here.

    The door behind her clicked open, and the sharp tapping of high-heeled boots followed. Asra tried to crane her neck to see who was approaching behind her, but the restraints held her tight. She looked back to Ciaran, whose eyes had widened.

    ¡°Oh, shit.¡±

    The newcomer finally appeared in front of Asra¡ªa woman with stark white hair, mottled with streaks of caramel brown and dark gray, though she looked to be in only her late forties. She wore a blue silk robe hemmed with white rabbit fur, tied tight at the waist. The neckline plunged beneath her ample breasts, and the exposed pale skin bore lavender sigils that appeared to span her entire body. Her eyes were a yellow so pale they were nearly white. The wolf bird perched on her shoulder ruffled its feathers and let out an ominous croak.

    It was the wolf they¡¯d rescued from the bear trap.

    ¡°This is the one who¡¯s been causing you so much trouble?¡± the woman with wolf fur said. Her voice was strong and clear. She traced her long fingers along the contours of the sigils on Asra¡¯s arm, and Asra had to force down her growl. ¡°She¡¯s not so tough.¡±

    ¡°I knew we should have left you for dead,¡± Asra snarled.

    The woman smiled sweetly. ¡°You should have told your human that. But you dogs are always so obedient.¡±

    The wolf fished a pocket knife from the folds of her robe and sliced a shallow cut into Asra¡¯s upper arm, drawing out a stream of warm blood. Asra clenched her jaw to stifle a pained gasp and forced herself to maintain eye contact with the woman. She would not show weakness in front of anyone in this room.

    The shapechanger grabbed Asra¡¯s arm, just below the gash, and squeezed. Fresh blood oozed out. The woman¡¯s hand grew hotter and hotter, until Asra couldn¡¯t choke back a yelp any longer.

    ¡°Knock it off!¡± Ciaran¡¯s voice was hoarse. He took a step forward, but Vincent put a firm hand on his chest.

    Asra shot Ciaran a stern look, hoping he understood it to mean she was fine. She didn¡¯t need him doing anything stupid.

    The woman looked at him, then back to Asra, a bemused smile on her face. ¡°So you are his pet.¡± She removed her hand from Asra¡¯s arm, leaving behind a nasty burn. ¡°We¡¯ve always referred to you dogs as pets. I always thought it was just a cruel name, but you seem to wear that badge so proudly.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± Asra said, forcing her voice to remain even. ¡°What are you, Nolan¡¯s lapdog? His servant?¡±

    ¡°I serve no one but my pack.¡±

    She placed her hand over the gash on Asra¡¯s arm once again, smearing the blood into a fine sheen across her skin. The woman¡¯s hand heated again, though not as hot as before. When she pulled her hand away, most of the blood had been burned away, leaving only a sickeningly familiar shape on Asra¡¯s skin.

    Her blood emblem. The key to the magical front gate of her home.

    ¡°How did you do that?¡± she rasped.

    Panic set in. Her head swam. She hadn¡¯t expected to survive the encounter today, but she hadn¡¯t expected her death to put her home in danger, yet again. With her blood emblem, all they needed to gain access to her town¡¯s concealment spell was her blood, and when they drained her body, there would be enough to supply an army.

    They could then make good on Nolan¡¯s promise to destroy everything she held dear.

    The wolf pulled a pad of paper and a pencil from her robes and copied the emblem down. She was so engrossed in her task that as she turned from Asra, she bumped into Vincent. She looked up at him as if she¡¯d forgotten he was still there.

    ¡°You can leave now, human.¡±

    Vincent¡¯s eyes shot to Nolan, as if expecting him to intervene. The king remained stone-faced. Vincent bowed stiffly to him and left, sending a final sneer to the woman as he closed the door on the opposite side of the room.

    ¡°You call me a pet, but you side with him?¡± Asra spat, jerking her head in Nolan¡¯s direction. ¡°What do you get out of this?¡±

    The wolf smiled sweetly at her. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know?¡± She turned to Nolan. ¡°I¡¯m finished. Do what you need to.¡±

    Nolan turned to face Ciaran, his hands in his pockets and a hardened expression on his face. He nodded to the woman, who released Ciaran¡¯s cuffs with a wave of her hand. The metal clattered to the floor, and Ciaran rubbed at his wrists, staring wide-eyed at Nolan.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have to explain to you that what you¡¯ve done today is treason,¡± Nolan said. ¡°You know what the penalty is.¡±

    The two brothers stared at each other for a long moment, then Nolan pulled Ciaran into a tight embrace. Ciaran¡¯s eyes found Asra¡¯s over his brother¡¯s shoulder, apparently as bewildered as she was, and he wrapped his arms around Nolan, cautiously patting him on the back.

    Nolan broke away and guided Ciaran to stand directly in front of Asra. He opened the chamber of his revolver to show the single bullet inside, then handed it to his younger brother and stepped back.

    ¡°What am I meant to do with this?¡± Ciaran¡¯s voice was husky, though Asra was sure he knew the answer just as much as she did.

    ¡°I want you to prove that you¡¯re not a traitor,¡± Nolan said. ¡°You want to be king? Prove that you can put the kingdom above your own wants. I don¡¯t want to have to kill you. Give me a reason not to.¡±

    Asra stiffened. Ciaran turned to her, his brow tightly knotted, his eyes darting back and forth between Asra¡¯s.

    ¡°I could pretend that you brought her here to help me, not to kill me,¡± Nolan said. ¡°That you delivered an enemy of the kingdom to me. We could forget this ever happened. Everything could go back to the way it was.¡±

    ¡°We need her blood,¡± the wolf said.

    Without turning to look at her, Nolan replied, ¡°We¡¯ll have enough.¡±

    Ciaran glanced down to the gun, holding it at arm¡¯s length as if it were a snake poised to strike at any moment.

    ¡°Think of Mother,¡± Nolan said. ¡°Think of what she would want. I promised her that I would take care of you. Don¡¯t make me break that promise.¡±

    Asra¡¯s pulse pounded in her head so ferociously she thought her skull would explode from the pressure. She couldn¡¯t die yet. Nolan was still here, and this wolf posed an even greater threat. She swallowed.

    She swore she wouldn¡¯t beg. That she wouldn¡¯t show weakness.

    But Ciaran was different.

    ¡°Ciaran,¡± she whispered. ¡°Please.¡±

    Ciaran¡¯s face screwed up, and he turned from her. He cast his gaze on Nolan and said, ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±

    Asra released her breath, then gasped, a weight lifting from her shoulders.

    Until Ciaran continued, ¡°Not with this.¡± He threw the revolver to the floor. The gun slid across the polished wood and landed against the wall. ¡°Anything but this. Please, you must understand.¡±

    Nolan¡¯s expression softened, and he nodded his head to the wolf. She huffed and stomped toward Ciaran, her heels clicking against the floor. The bird flapped its wings to maintain its hold on her shoulder. She pulled the knife from her robe as she approached.

    Ciaran¡¯s hand slipped in and out of his pocket so quickly that Asra only caught a glint of glass and a flash of light blue in his fingers. When the woman was close enough, Ciaran slammed his open palm directly into her face.

    The glass vial shattered and the hound¡¯s woe exploded in a blue cloud all over the woman¡¯s face. She screamed, clawing at herself, her bird squawking and flapping away in a flurry of feathers. Ciaran wrenched the knife from her slack fingers and swung it toward her. She snatched his wrist before the blade reached her chest, and even through her violent wheezing and coughing, Ciaran was no match for the shapechanger¡¯s strength. They tumbled to the floor.

    The force of their landing caused Ciaran¡¯s grip to falter, and the knife dropped and skittered across the floor out of his reach. He scrambled to grab it, but the woman threw out her hand, and an unseen force sent Ciaran flying into the wall with a sickening crack. He barely had time to push himself to his hands and knees before the shapechanger hauled him up by the collar of his shirt, slamming him into the wall over and over until blood spurted from his mouth.

    Asra opened her mouth to scream, to plead, but Nolan shouted first.

    ¡°Enough!¡±

    Nolan¡¯s jaw was taut, his arms stiff at his side. The shapechanger dropped Ciaran, and he collapsed into a heap on the ground. Asra watched him, silently begging him to move.

    She told herself she wouldn¡¯t beg.

    But Ciaran was different.

    ¡°Do you not kill traitors in your kingdom?¡± the woman said, her voice dangerously low. Snot and tears streamed down her puffy face, and blood dripped from shards of glass embedded in her skin.

    ¡°His punishment is mine to carry out,¡± Nolan growled. ¡°Not yours. Get out.¡±

    The silence was broken only by the fluttering of the wolf bird¡¯s wings as it landed on its owner¡¯s shoulder. For a moment, Asra thought the woman would refuse, or she would turn her attack to Nolan. But she snorted, bloody snot spraying from her nose, and stalked out of the room.

    The door clicked shut, and then there was no sound aside from the ringing in Asra¡¯s ears. Nolan bent down to grab the knife from the floor. Ciaran still hadn¡¯t moved. Why hadn¡¯t he moved? He wasn¡¯t ¡­ He couldn¡¯t ¡­

    Nolan stared at his younger brother for a moment. He sighed, then he turned to Asra. Her breath was ragged and her pulse pounded in her throat, but she did not wither under his glare. His eyes held nothing but contempt for her, and she hoped she returned it tenfold.

    ¡°I have many regrets,¡± Nolan said, inspecting the blade. ¡°As king. As a son. As the eldest brother.¡±

    He turned to her, his stride as casual and effortlessly powerful as a puma on the prowl, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous room. He put the blade beneath her chin, tilting it upward so that her gaze was ripped from Ciaran and she was forced to look at Nolan.

    ¡°Out of everything,¡± Nolan continued, ¡°my biggest regret is allowing you to leave the palace alive eighteen years ago.¡±

    He knelt down so that they were eye-to-eye, then he slid the knife back to just beneath the point of her jawbone. The edge rested against her artery, the blade bouncing to the cadence of her pounding pulse.

    ¡°I won¡¯t make the same mistake again,¡± Nolan said.

    He wanted her to plead for her life, for her home, just as she¡¯d done as a little girl. She wouldn¡¯t give him the satisfaction. If she was going to die here today, she would do so with her head held high, like her father would have.

    Like her father did.

    Asra leaned forward, the blade just piercing her skin with a sharp pinch, warm blood beading at the puncture then trickling down her neck. Judging by the twitch in Nolan¡¯s jaw, he understood the challenge:

    Do it.

    Nolan shifted his grip on the blade. His jaw clenched again, and his breathing was labored.

    He was afraid.

    He stood on the precipice of only ever having killed in self-defense, about to plunge down into calculated murder. Asra knew the feeling. She remembered the first time she¡¯d consciously killed, when she¡¯d stumbled upon a small group of soldiers, laughing around a campfire. They reeked of her own blood, and she knew they¡¯d taken part in the invasion on her town.

    She could have turned away then, let them finish out their lives. But why should they live when so many of her comrades had not?

    Nolan had the blood of hundreds, maybe thousands, on his hands. But when confronted with an actual living, breathing face, he balked. Asra almost laughed at the irony.

    She bared her teeth at him.

    Do it.

    Something rattled, scraped against the floor. Perhaps some of Asra¡¯s sharp hearing had returned, or perhaps she was simply more used to listening than humans, but Nolan didn¡¯t seem to notice until Asra glanced down to see what had caused the noise. Her eyes flew wide, and Nolan¡¯s gaze followed hers.

    Ciaran had dragged himself to the revolver on the floor, a streak of red in his wake. He propped himself up on his elbows and aimed the gun toward the lodestone preserving the vials of blood, his hand shaking.

    ¡°Ciaran, no!¡± Nolan roared, but it was too late.

    The gun cracked. The glass shattered. The lodestone splintered. There was a flash of blinding light.

    And then Asra remembered no more.

 Nineteen: The Standoff, Part Three

    Flames licked Asra¡¯s skin. Her head pounded, and her ears rang so loudly that the crackling fire sounded distant, as if it were in another room and not actively threatening to consume her. Muffled screams and shouts drifted in from outside the walls.

    Asra knew what this was. This was the attack on her home, the aftermath of the explosion that claimed her siblings¡¯ lives. When she opened her eyes, she would see their bleeding, broken bodies, her brother¡¯s face locked in permanent horror, her sister¡¯s face obliterated beyond recognition. Asra could hear her mother screaming, feel her father dragging her from the innards of their ruined home.

    Was this what death was? Reliving your worst nightmares over and over? Asra had hoped that death would finally allow her some rest ¡­

    Something else licked at Asra¡¯s skin, warm and wet. It worked from her arm up to her face, and Asra finally mustered up the courage to open her eyes.

    Her vision was filled by brown fur, a wet nose, and two amber eyes.

    Bane.

    A short length of his leather leash hung from his collar, frayed at the end. Asra reached up to him, stroking his chin with a shaky hand¡ªthe only one that was available to her. Her other arm remained fastened to the wooden chair, now toppled on its side.

    ¡°Oh, you clever son of a bitch,¡± Asra whispered to the ridgeback, then admonished herself. She must have spent too much time with Ciaran if she was starting to use human swears.

    Ciaran.

    The image of him, bloody and battered, crawling to the gun snapped her back to reality. She twisted her neck to look for him. The entire room was engulfed in flame and rapidly filling with smoke. She needed to get them out now.

    She looked down. Three of the restraints held firm, but her left arm was free. She released the other buckles, the task impeded by her trembling fingers.

    Coughing, she pushed herself to her feet. She squinted against the harsh light of the raging fire, scanning for Ciaran.

    She spotted him slumped against the far wall, unconscious. One of his eyes had swollen shut. His breathing was ragged and shallow, and blood gurgled from his throat and out his mouth. He wouldn¡¯t last much longer.

    The sound of crunching glass from the other side of the room captured Asra¡¯s attention. Nolan stood there, blood streaming from his nose and temple. He was only feet away from the heavy metal door.

    Asra wrenched the broken arm from the wooden chair beneath her and advanced on him.

    Someone slammed the door from outside. The wolf, most likely. It wouldn¡¯t take her long to blast through the door, and when she did, Asra would be no match for her. She needed to kill Nolan now.

    Bane¡¯s whimpering keened and he paced frantically between Asra and Ciaran. As Asra moved towards Nolan, the dog¡¯s teeth snatched the wooden bludgeon in her hands, and he growled. She tried to shake him off, but the dog¡¯s grip was iron.

    Her eyes flicked to Ciaran. By the look of his injuries, he likely had a significant concussion and internal hemorrhaging. If there was any chance of saving him, he¡¯d need help now.

    A force thudded against the door again, and a dent appeared on the inside.

    She could kill Nolan or she could save Ciaran. There wasn¡¯t time for both.

    Bane whined beneath her. She swore and released the wood.

    Asra raced to Ciaran, pushing through the pain as the flames bit her skin. When she reached him, his rattling breath was even slower than before. She pressed her fingers to his throat.

    There was a pulse, but it was faint. She pulled his arm over her shoulders and hoisted him up, then she followed Bane down a narrow path through the flames.

    Asra flung the opposite door open just as the door behind her burst apart. She caught a glimpse of the shapechanger across the room through the flames as Asra slammed her door shut.

    She started to hobble down the hall, but Bane¡¯s bark stopped her. He pawed at an oddly colored brick in the wall. It depressed into the wall at Asra¡¯s touch, and a hidden door swung away from her, into a dark tunnel.

    ¡°Good job, buddy,¡± she said to the dog, and dragged Ciaran into the opening.

    As she pushed the false wall closed again, she heard the door to the burning room slam open against the wall. Asra froze, her ears straining for the sound of the woman¡¯s heels. The hound¡¯s woe would have eliminated the risk of her sniffing them out, but her ears would be as keen as ever. After what felt like an eternity, the woman¡¯s footsteps echoed down the hall.

    Asra sighed as she dragged Ciaran further into the passage. It was dark aside from the glow of a spell along the tops of the walls¡ªthe same spell that lined the tunnel through the mountains they¡¯d passed through several weeks before. She took a deep breath and forced her mind from the images of the ceiling collapsing in on them.

    Ciaran¡¯s ragged breathing was loud inside the deathly silent hallway. Asra set him down as gently as she could, leaning him against the rough brick wall.

    ¡°Watch out for trouble for us, will you?¡± Asra said to Bane, and he wagged his tail at her.

    She hoped the legends of dogs with the gift having near-human intelligence were true. She had no idea what the proper command for making him guard was. She wished she¡¯d paid more attention to Ciaran¡¯s rambling about his dogs and their training. There were a lot of things about Ciaran she wished she¡¯d paid more attention to.

    Asra roused him with a gentle stroke across his cheek. His skin was cold and clammy. His eyes slowly peeled open, and Asra breathed a sigh of relief.

    ¡°Asra?¡± he croaked. ¡°Is Nolan¡­ Did you¡­ get him?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    His brow creased. ¡°Then what are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Well, you know,¡± she mumbled as she felt gingerly around his head. ¡°You rub my belly, I rub yours.¡±

    He coughed, and droplets of blood sprayed from his mouth. Asra realized he was trying to laugh.

    ¡°I knew you had a sense of humor in there somewhere,¡± he said, his smile bright despite his gruesome appearance. ¡°Just really, really deep down.¡±

    ¡°Stop talking,¡± Asra said. ¡°You¡¯re gonna cough up what little blood you have left.¡±

    She tried to call her healing magic to her palms, but it never came. She swore under her breath. The spell must still have its hold over her. She was cut off from her magic and her fur. She took a deep breath, trying to push the panic away.

    Bane growled behind her, and a familiar voice cut through the air.

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed you made it this far.¡±

    Bane¡¯s nose curled and his growl progressed into a savage snarl. Footsteps echoed down the empty hallway, closer and closer, until Vincent appeared in the dim light.

    Asra threw herself over Ciaran, covering his body with hers as best she could, and snapped, ¡°Don¡¯t take another step!¡±

    Vincent glanced dramatically around the dark corridor, his hands held out at his sides. ¡°Or what?¡±

    Asra swallowed. There wasn¡¯t much she could do against him in her state.

    ¡°You can stop with the theatrics,¡± Vincent said, rolling his eyes. ¡°In case you couldn¡¯t tell, I¡¯m here to help you escape.¡±

    Asra¡¯s body did not relax as she asked, ¡°Why?¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Because it¡¯s not advantageous for either of us for you to die here.¡± He gave the growling dog beneath him a sidelong glance, then continued, ¡°You need to warn your people what¡¯s happening.¡±

    Asra eyed him for a moment, then moved her gaze to Bane. The dog¡¯s tail tucked beneath his legs, his ears pinned back and his brow worried as he continued to growl. He wasn¡¯t sure what to make of Vincent, either.

    ¡°It¡¯s your fault we¡¯re in this situation to begin with,¡± Asra said. ¡°Why the change of heart now?¡±

    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s no change of heart. I¡¯m not doing this for your sake.¡±

    Asra narrowed her eyes at him.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t lying when I said I was after the throne,¡± he said with a huff. ¡°And I wasn¡¯t lying when I said I planned to use Ciaran as leverage against you and Nolan both. I had rather hoped that plan would work.¡± He sighed. ¡°But obviously it didn¡¯t. And I won¡¯t be able to stop an army of shapechangers, or Nolan¡¯s weapons. They¡¯ll destroy everything. And with this wolf-woman helping him ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°Jealous you¡¯re not Nolan¡¯s favorite kiss-arse anymore?¡± Ciaran croaked.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this,¡± Vincent said, his words short and clipped. ¡°I¡¯m risking my life helping you, too. You can either leave with me now or stay here and rot.¡±

    Asra glanced at Bane again. He looked up at her and whined softly. She sighed and gave Vincent a single nod.

    ¡°Help me get him up,¡± Asra said as she stood.

    He grimaced at Ciaran. ¡°You look like shit.¡±

    ¡°You always say that.¡± He barely got the words out before he started coughing again. Asra glared at Vincent as she bent down to wipe more blood from his chin.

    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that look,¡± Vincent said. ¡°From what I understand, he did this to himself.¡±

    ¡°Get over here and help me carry him.¡±

    Vincent sighed and hoisted Ciaran¡¯s arm over his shoulders as Asra took the other.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to move quickly if we have any hope of leaving undetected,¡± he said as they dragged Ciaran forward.

    They hobbled through the dim passageway. Bane trotted tight circles around the trio, ears and nose alert for danger. Occasionally he looked back to Ciaran and wagged his tail to him encouragingly.

    ¡°You could have killed Nolan if you¡¯d attacked him as soon as he¡¯d shown up,¡± Vincent said. ¡°The spell takes time to set in. Why did you let Ciaran talk to him for so long?¡±

    ¡°I promised him he could say goodbye.¡±

    Vincent scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re as much of a sap as he is.¡±

    They reached the end, and Vincent cautiously pushed the false wall aside. They entered a bright hallway lined with paintings in ornate frames. Asra couldn¡¯t tell if their footsteps were actually as loud as she feared they were.

    ¡°If it weren¡¯t for him being a sap,¡± Asra whispered, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have gone back to heal you after Bane attacked you. You might have bled out.¡±

    He smirked. ¡°Or worse, become one of you.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t deserve the gift.¡±

    As they approached a wide open intersection where two halls met, Vincent stopped dead in his tracks and waved his free hand to Asra, indicating to her to step back. Heavy boots echoed down a parallel hall, and slowly disappeared. The four of them hurried across the opening.

    ¡°Who is that woman?¡± Asra asked. ¡°The wolf?¡±

    Vincent made a disgusted noise. ¡°Ekkrin Softstep. She calls herself Pack Mother.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s their leader.¡±

    ¡°I assume so, yes.¡±

    ¡°Why would they make a deal with each other?¡± Asra asked. ¡°Nolan hates shapechangers and wolves hate humans.¡±

    ¡°Lambert,¡± Ciaran rasped.

    ¡°Good to know you¡¯re still alive,¡± Vincent said, though his tone said it was anything but good. ¡°And yes. There are rumors Duke Lambert is planning to break away from Windemere. Violently, if he must. It would deeply fracture the kingdom. Nolan is desperate for any allies at the moment. And the wolf-woman ¡­ ¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s planning an invasion,¡± Asra said, her mind returning to the plethora of blood vials. ¡°She knows how to gain access to everyone¡¯s concealment spells, and she has the blood to equip an army.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Vincent said, ¡°she did. Fortunately, this fool destroyed her blood supply. It will take her time to replenish.¡±

    ¡°Where ¡­ ¡± Asra swallowed, not sure if she wanted to know the answer to her question before she asked it. ¡°Where did she get the blood?¡±

    Vincent paused before he spoke, as if he had to collect his thoughts before relaying them. ¡°Some were from those she killed, and some were from those she still has imprisoned. I pity the ones who are still imprisoned.¡±

    ¡°But ¡­ who?¡±

    ¡°Loners. Strays. Couriers, as she called some of them.¡±

    Asra¡¯s heart sank. Margot.

    Targeting couriers made sense. Each one had the blood emblem for multiple towns and cities, and it would be easy for a pack of wolves to overpower one or two travelers.

    ¡°She¡¯s quite frightened of you, you know,¡± Vincent said. ¡°Or of your kind at least. So is Nolan. You should hear how he¡¯s fretted over your whereabouts.¡±

    Asra¡¯s pride flared, but she quickly extinguished it. Vincent clearly intended this as some small olive branch. Asra wouldn¡¯t accept it.

    ¡°My people were some of the most powerful fighters against the wolves the last time they tried to kill us all,¡± she said. ¡°They couldn¡¯t get any foothold in the west because of us.¡±

    Vincent nodded. ¡°So I¡¯ve heard. She wants your kind out of the way before she launches her invasion proper.¡±

    Asra¡¯s stomach twisted. She¡¯d thought tracking down and killing all the soldiers who had access to her town¡¯s concealment spell would ensure her people¡¯s safety. Instead, it had only seemed to put a larger target on their backs.

    ¡°They¡¯ll turn on each other eventually,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not so sure of that,¡± Vincent said, eyebrows raised. ¡°They both have a vested interest in ensuring the other succeeds.¡±

    ¡°Why did you help Nolan in the first place, if you want him gone?¡± Asra asked.

    ¡°He knows how to hurt the people I care about. I¡¯m sure you understand that.¡± He paused for a moment. ¡°And ¡­ Well, Lala never would have let me hear the end of it if I¡¯d gotten her favorite volunteer killed, directly or indirectly.¡±

    Asra tensed. ¡°What did you tell her?¡±

    ¡°Nothing that would reveal your secret. Or get her into trouble.¡± He smiled. ¡°She¡¯s under the impression we¡¯re after the same man.¡±

    Asra scrunched her nose. ¡°Is that supposed to be funny?¡±

    ¡°Depends on which man we¡¯re talking about, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Why do you even care about her?¡±

    Vincent paused for a moment, his brow creased. Asra had never expected to find the noble dumbfounded for words. He blathered on just as much as Ciaran did.

    ¡°My mother and I would have starved to death without her help,¡± he said. ¡°I told you I was born a commoner. I owe that woman more than I could ever repay her. And believe me, I¡¯ve tried.¡±

    Vincent froze again, and they all scurried behind a corner. A group of guards stormed down the hall, too focused on their destination to notice the fugitives hiding in the shadows behind them.

    ¡°This would be a lot easier if I had my ears and nose,¡± Asra whispered when she was sure the guards were out of earshot.

    They hauled Ciaran up again, and hobbled through a door into a long foyer. This side entrance hall apparently doubled as a shed and flower cutting room. One wall was lined with a variety of gardening tools, from shovels to pruning shears, and vases of neatly organized cut flowers lined the tables on the other wall. Even without her usual senses, the fragrance of flowers and fresh cut grass permeated the air.

    ¡°Is there really no way to get rid of ¡­ ?¡± Unable to find the proper words, she gestured up and down to her whole body.

    Vincent frowned. ¡°Theoretically, a sufficiently powerful magical source may be able to flush it out. It would need to be something exceptionally strong, though. The wolf-woman¡¯s own healing magic hasn¡¯t been able to remove the affliction from anyone we¡¯ve tested it on.¡±

    Asra swallowed. Her thoughts shifted to Margot. The thought that she and the courier might be cut off from their fur forever nauseated her.

    ¡°I have a flask in my pocket for you,¡± Vincent said. ¡°For him. You don¡¯t want him going into withdrawals while he¡¯s trying to heal.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need it,¡± Asra said.

    Vincent¡¯s gaze snapped to her, analyzing, as if he didn¡¯t believe she understood the full severity of the situation. He glanced down to Ciaran, then back to her.

    ¡°I see,¡± he said, his voice clipped. ¡°Well. Don¡¯t expect it to last.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine why he¡¯s never been able to kick the habit,¡± Asra quipped. ¡°If I had to put up with you all the time, I¡¯d probably become a drunk, too.¡±

    Ciaran made a noise that sounded almost like a chuckle.

    ¡°Come on, we¡¯re almost there,¡± Vincent said. ¡°This leads out to the west gardens. I have a horse for you on the other side of the fence. And I have some supplies packed for you. I¡¯ll watch you from here to make sure no one¡ª¡±

    The path in front of them erupted into a wall of flame. Bane barked at something behind them. Before Asra could turn to see who or what it was, she was thrown off her feet by an invisible force.

    Reeling, she rushed to sit upright again. Bane stood in front of her, barking in his rhythmic warning bark, and Ciaran was sprawled on the ground to her left. She pulled herself over to him and checked for a pulse. He opened his eyes and grabbed her hand, and she sighed in relief.

    She craned her neck to look behind her. Ekkrin Softstep stood by the door at the opposite end of the room, leaning against the door frame with her arms folded.

 Fourteen: The Standoff, Part Four

    Vincent hauled himself to his feet, pulling something from his waistcoat pocket as he stood. He slipped on a leather glove, the palm glittering like the inside of a geode. Even as cut off from her own magic as she was, Asra could feel the power from the thousands of tiny lodestones embedded into the palm of the glove.

    Asra remembered Ciaran¡¯s words about Vincent eventually learning to wield magic as her people could.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you see in these humans, pet,¡± Ekkrin called to Asra. ¡°They¡¯re not very loyal. Won¡¯t be long before yours turns on you, too.¡±

    She moved away from the door frame, piercing Vincent with a glare.

    ¡°I would think you would have the sense to not anger your king, at least,¡± she said.

    Vincent waved his gloved hand to the fire behind them, and it vanished, leaving behind a haze of smoke.

    ¡°Get going,¡± he said.

    The shapechanger advanced towards them, her heels tapping on the tiled floors. Vincent swung his arm towards her and she flew sideways into the wall of gardening tools. The force of the impact rattled several of them off the wall with a clamor onto the floor, and Asra had to dodge a particularly lethal pair of long-handled hedge shears.

    Ekkrin swung her own arm as she righted herself, and Vincent was thrown into one of the tables full of vases. Glass shattered and splashed water all over the floor. Flowers tumbled from the tables. Ekkrin turned her attention to Asra and Ciaran.

    ¡°Go!¡± Vincent shouted.

    Asra lifted Ciaran by the shoulders and dragged him backwards as quickly as she could manage. Ekkrin stalked towards them, a murderous rage etched into the lines on her face. The water turned into slick ice at Vincent¡¯s motion, and the woman slipped and slammed onto the hard surface beneath her.

    Asra strained with Ciaran¡¯s weight. Her limbs felt like jelly, but she forced them to move. They were almost to the door.

    Bane rocketed forward before Asra had the wherewithal to stop him. He latched onto the woman¡¯s arm, shaking furiously, and she raised her other hand to propel him away with her magic. He slammed against the wall with a heart-crushing yelp.

    ¡°Bane!¡± Asra shrieked, desperately searching her mind for Ciaran¡¯s commands for his dog. ¡°Bane, let¡¯s go!¡±

    The dog struggled up, then limped toward her. Asra hoped Bane¡¯s assault would have at least temporarily debilitated the wolf, but the wound on her arm had already completely healed.

    Asra¡¯s stomach dropped. Were wolves even faster healers than her people?

    Ekkrin pushed herself to all fours, then her robe shredded as she shifted into her fur. The giant arctic wolf towered over them, her coat almost as white as the rows of teeth she bared at the escaping figures beneath her. Massive claws bore down into the ice and gave her the traction she needed to throw herself forward.

    Asra stumbled and fell backward. A sudden blast of fire in front of the wolf¡¯s snout made her yelp, and she turned to address Vincent. One swipe of her paw knocked him to the ground, then she stood on the arm that wore the magic glove.

    There were several loud cracks, and Asra wasn¡¯t sure which were from snapping rock and which were from snapping bone.

    Ekkrin turned back to Asra and Ciaran with a snarl. They wouldn¡¯t make it to the door in time. The wolf charged, and Asra cast out for anything to defend herself. Her fingers landed on the large hedge shears. She pulled them in front of her and yanked the blades open just as Ekkrin reached them.

    The wolf slammed into the shears, the blades lodging themselves deep into her sternum. Asra heaved the handles closed, severing bone and flesh alike. Ekkrin whimpered and yowled and flailed backward, desperately trying to dislodge the shears from her chest. Blood flowed like a stream, staining her white coat scarlet.

    Vincent hobbled over to them, his broken arm hanging limp at his side.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go! Now!¡±

    He helped lift Ciaran up with his good arm, and they stumbled out the door and across the lawn.

    ¡°Did you kill her?¡± Vincent asked, his voice strained from the pain in his arm and the exertion of hauling Ciaran.

    ¡°None of us are that lucky,¡± Asra grunted.

    ¡°The horse is there,¡± Vincent said, nodding to a placid gray horse on the other side of the fence. ¡°It won¡¯t be long until everyone has regrouped and they send out search parties, so get somewhere safe as quickly as you can.¡±

    ¡°What will you do?¡± Ciaran rasped.

    Vincent winced. ¡°Damage control.¡±

    ¡°You can come with us,¡± Ciaran said.

    ¡°No you can¡¯t,¡± Asra snapped.

    Vincent smiled sardonically. ¡°Your dogs never did enjoy my company.¡±

    Ciaran pushed himself forward to wrap Vincent in a tight hug. The noble seemed wholly caught off guard, but managed a few awkward pats on his back.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Ciaran whispered to him. ¡°For trying to help me, even when I didn¡¯t want it.¡±

    Vincent grimaced. ¡°You¡¯re getting blood all over my clothes.¡±

    Asra pulled Ciaran off of Vincent and led him to the gate. Vincent unlocked it with a lodestone key from his pocket and held it open for them.

    ¡°Try to keep him alive, will you?¡± Vincent said as Asra and Ciaran passed through the gate, Bane slipping through behind them. ¡°He¡¯s good at making enemies.¡±

    The horse swished its tail as they approached. Leather straps strained to contain the contents of the saddlebags, and Asra¡¯s rucksack was secured to the back of the saddle. She breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn¡¯t be forced to leave it behind.

    Asra fumbled her way up into the saddle¡ªhow did humans always manage to make that look so graceful and effortless?¡ªthen helped Vincent pull Ciaran up to sit behind her.

    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth,¡± Vincent said as he stepped back, ¡°I am sorry for my role in this.¡±

    Asra glared down at him. ¡°If I ever see you again, I¡¯ll kill you.¡±

    Vincent smiled. ¡°Then I hope we never meet again.¡±

    He turned and headed back through the gate, closing it with a firm clang and locking it with the lodestone once more.

    Asra hesitated for a moment, then sighed.

    ¡°Hey,¡± she said.

    Vincent turned to regard her with a raised eyebrow.

    ¡°Whoever it is that you¡¯re protecting ¡­ ¡± Asra began. She frowned. ¡°Protect them. Get them somewhere safe. Now. Nolan will come for them first.¡±

    For the first time since she¡¯d met the man, Asra saw pure, unbridled fear flash across Vincent¡¯s face. ¡°I know.¡±

    And then he turned and limped back to the manor without another word.

    Asra turned back and swallowed as she took hold of the reins. ¡°How do I make this thing move?¡±

    Ciaran grabbed hold of her waist and tapped his heels on the horse¡¯s sides, and Asra was nearly thrown back as the horse kicked forward and away from the palace.

    <hr>

    They were only about thirty minutes away from the manor when Ciaran lost consciousness.

    He slumped forward into Asra¡¯s shoulder, and she yanked the reins to stop the horse. It nickered indignantly, stamping and threatening to throw them from the saddle, and Asra mumbled an apology.

    As she tried to carefully pull Ciaran from the saddle and onto the ground, her head was on a constant swivel, paranoid that at any moment guards could emerge from between the thick trees of the forest.

    He was ice cold, and his heart rate was far too low. Asra placed her hands on his head and reached out for her magic. She felt it just out of reach, like a word on the tip of her tongue, but as hard as she tried, she couldn¡¯t bring anything to her fingertips.

    She fought back the tears that threatened to overflow. She had to keep it together. It wasn¡¯t too late. Ciaran wasn¡¯t dead yet.

    The thought entered her mind just as Bane pushed his head under her hand.

    Her eyes widened. That was one way to possibly keep him from dying.

    Her heart pounded in her chest. Was that her decision to make? What if he woke up and was furious that she changed him? She wasn¡¯t sure if she could even get Bane to bite him.

    But what if she got Bane to bite her instead? She thought of what Vincent mentioned, about a sufficiently powerful magical source possibly overriding the spell.

    She thought of when he¡¯d bitten her before, after she¡¯d escaped the tunnel through the mountains. It had healed her non-infected wounds with speed and efficiency beyond even her accelerated healing abilities.

    She thought of when he¡¯d bitten the wolf shapechanger, of how those wounds had healed equally as quickly. In the moment, she¡¯d feared that wolves were naturally more gifted healers, but Ekkrin had entered that room with her face still wounded from the shattered glass of hound¡¯s woe.

    Bane¡¯s bite must have some kind of magic transfer, even if it didn¡¯t convert the person he bit. Or perhaps it only worked with those who couldn¡¯t be converted.

    Either way, it might solve both of her issues.

    She chewed her lip, then stood.

    ¡°Sorry, buddy,¡± she said. ¡°I have to try.¡±

    Then she lifted her foot and slammed it down onto his paw, bearing down as hard as she could. Bones cracked and tendons popped beneath the force, and the dog instantly responded with a flurry of savage bites that went clean through her skin and muscle down to her bone.

    As she toppled backward, Asra threw her hands behind her to catch herself. She pulled her shirt over her head and tied it as tightly as she could just below her knee. Bane licked at her chin in apology, his wagging tail held low.

    ¡°You¡¯re a good boy,¡± she said as she finished the knot. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault.¡±

    Her pulse pounded as she stared at the gruesome wound on her leg. The bite had healed quickly last time Bane bit her.

    She flexed her fist open and closed, but she still didn¡¯t feel any magic.

    Finally, the shards of bone in her tibia snapped back into place, and the muscle and skin fused back together. Asra scrambled over to Ciaran and laid her palms on his forehead. She closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could, and finally she felt his skull and his brain underneath. She nearly sobbed in relief, but forced herself to keep focused.

    He had a significant concussion. Her hands moved down to his ribcage. A few ribs were bruised, luckily none broken.

    She trailed down to his abdomen. Something was bleeding internally. This was the most important issue to take care of. She wasn¡¯t sure how long she could count on this burst of magic from Bane.

    She sealed the leaking blood vessels in his abdomen, then moved to his concussion. This was trickier for her to fix, and she could feel the magic rapidly waning. By the time she healed everything in his head, she only barely had enough time to take care of the bruised ribs before she felt the magic flicker out. She used the last remnants to heal Bane¡¯s paw.

    She swayed on her hands and knees over Ciaran, utterly exhausted. She had to get him back on the horse and into the safety of the concealment spell ¡­ somewhere.

    Ciaran¡¯s eyes fluttered open just as she collapsed onto his chest.

 Twenty: The Cabin

    The force of Asra¡¯s body slamming into Ciaran¡¯s chest made him wheeze for air. He pushed her off as gently as he could and sat up, grabbing her wrist to check for a pulse. She was alive, just knocked out cold.

    The throbbing in his head was gone, and he could take a full breath without feeling like he was being stabbed in the ribs. She must have found a way to heal him and exhausted herself in the process.

    He looked around, searching for any sign of where they were. Dense trees towered all around them, the late morning light filtering through yellow leaves to cast everything in gold.

    There weren¡¯t any recognizable landmarks. How long had he been out, and how far had they traveled in that time?

    He brushed his fingers against Asra¡¯s cheek, and her eyes fluttered open.

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± Ciaran asked.

    Asra¡¯s face contorted into a number of different shapes, none of them happy. Finally she said, ¡°We need to keep moving.¡±

    ¡°Where should we go?¡±

    Asra took a shuddering breath, and Ciaran could tell she wouldn¡¯t be coherent for much longer.

    ¡°The quarantine cabin,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Cabin?¡± Ciaran asked, his brow furrowed. ¡°What cabin?¡±

    But Asra¡¯s eyes had already flickered closed.

    Ciaran wracked his mind for what she meant. Dimly, he remembered Asra mentioning staying in a quarantine cabin in between her attempts on Nolan¡¯s life. That must have been where she was taking them. But how would he find a house that he couldn¡¯t see or touch without the magic key?

    He thought of her terror when the wolf-woman revealed the symbol on her arm. Did she only have the one blood emblem? Was every concealment spell she placed revealed by this one emblem?

    His stomach churned at the thought. If she only had the one emblem, that meant she¡¯d given him the key to ¡­

    He shook his head.  There wasn¡¯t time to think about that now. He had to get them all to safety.

    His mind turned to the container of potpourri Asra used for her concealment spell, and he remembered Asra saying she¡¯d made it herself, from flowers back home. Bolstered by the clear path forward, he dug through her bag for the jar of potpourri. When he found it, he called for Bane and opened the jar in front of his nose.

    ¡°Find it,¡± he said.

    Bane sniffed the jar a few times and put his nose to the ground, heading eastward. Ciaran threw the last few things in the bag and tied it to the saddle, then lifted Asra on her back over the horse and followed after his dog.

    <hr>

    Bane slowed down nearly an hour later. He circled a few times, then sat next to a spot of dirt and looked expectantly up at Ciaran.

    ¡°Good boy,¡± Ciaran said as he stroked the dog¡¯s ears.

    Ciaran looked forward. The air in front of him warbled and twisted, as it did for the concealment spell Asra used to hide their campsites over the last couple months. Ciaran took a deep breath, then led Bane and the horse past the barrier.

    The spell fell away, revealing a quaint, single-room cottage in a clearing. The rough-hewn wooden structure was taller than it was wide or long, with a small covered porch on the front and a large, overgrown garden on the left side. Tall grass dotted with wildflowers swayed in the breeze, and a sweet scent wafted through the clearing.

    He eased Asra from the saddle, and as he approached the front door with her cradled in his arms, he prayed it wasn¡¯t locked. Thankfully, it swung open with a jiggle of the handle. The air inside was stale and musty, and there was a fine layer of dust on every horizontal surface.

    The area inside was almost a perfect square. Directly to his left was a small kitchen, equipped with a sink, a wood-burning stove, and a small dining table. Directly to his right was a tiny bathroom, with only enough room for a sink, toilet, and standing shower even more cramped than the one in his hideout by the manor. The far wall was dominated by a wide window that stretched almost the full length of the room. A square-shaped bed took up nearly the entire far right corner of the cabin, extending out halfway across the window, with two armchairs seated around an end table at the foot of the bed.

    He walked Asra over to the bed and laid her down. He brushed his fingers against her cheek, hoping it would rouse her again, but she remained oblivious to the world. His hand trailed along her chin, and dried blood flaked away at his touch.

    The memory of Asra throwing herself at Nolan and slamming fruitlessly onto the ground flashed into his mind. He took a deep breath, then headed to the kitchen to wet a dusty dishrag, then returned to wipe the crusted blood from her chin.

    There was some dried blood on her leg as well, surrounding what looked suspiciously like a scar from a dog bite. He shot a glare to Bane, who sat to his left, sniffing at the comforter.

    ¡°What the hell happened?¡± Ciaran asked the dog, but Bane paid him no mind.

    Ciaran sighed and wiped the blood off Asra¡¯s leg. He ran through the events of the day in his mind, trying to parse what had actually happened, but the whole ordeal felt dreamlike. One horrifying revelation after another sprung to his mind:

    Nolan had set the kennel fire and killed his dogs.

    He had done something to Asra to keep her from shapechanging.

    He had been working with a wolf¡ªthe same one that Asra had told Ciaran to leave to die, and Ciaran had insisted on saving.

    The feeling of his bones snapping against the solid wall in the manor, the blood filling his nose and mouth, sprang to Ciaran¡¯s mind. He swallowed back the bile in his throat, took a deep breath to slow his racing heart. His mind jumped to his mother¡¯s final moments, at the complete mercy of his father.

    Nolan had stood there and watched it happen. Ciaran had always viewed his older brother as a protector.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Ciaran had been willing to find a peaceful solution. Nolan obviously did not care to.

    Asra was right. He should have just let her kill the wolf when they first had the chance.

    He should have let her kill Nolan when they first had the chance.

    Furious, Ciaran flung the damp rag at the dusty wooden floor, and it hit the surface with a loud slap. Bane startled at the sound, then approached Ciaran with his head low and ears back. Ciaran scratched his dog¡¯s head and muttered an apology.

    Ciaran¡¯s thoughts turned to Bane¡¯s behavior in Nolan¡¯s office the last time they were in the palace. Those guards must have been wolves¡ªthe wolf-woman¡¯s people. No wonder Bane had been so hostile toward them.

    Maybe Ophelia was right. Maybe it would be advantageous for Bane to be capable of speech.

    Asra showed no signs of waking. Ciaran needed something else to do with his hands to keep his mind from dwelling on the day. He headed back outside.

    The gelding grazed in the clearing. Ciaran removed the horse¡¯s bridle and saddle and brushed him out as best he could. As his muscles fell into the pattern, his mind strayed to Asra. Vincent hadn¡¯t seemed particularly confident that she could recover her gazehound form completely.

    He swallowed as the image of her sitting beneath him, her fate at his complete mercy, flashed in front of him again.

    Ciaran. Please.

    The woman had never begged him for anything. Even now he couldn¡¯t be sure what she¡¯d wanted.

    ¡®Please don¡¯t kill me?¡¯

    ¡®Please do kill me?¡¯

    Regardless of what she meant, she hadn¡¯t trusted him with her fate, even after everything they¡¯d been through. It sickened him. He would do anything to make sure she never felt that way again.

    When the horse was settled and happily munching on grass once again, Ciaran grabbed their bags and headed back inside. He startled at the sight of Asra upright on the edge of the bed. There were a million things he wanted to ask her, but he wasn¡¯t sure which ones were fair of him to ask.

    He settled on, ¡°Are you ¡­ all right?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    She stood, wobbling as she did so. Ciaran moved to help her, but the glare she pierced him with kept him rooted to the spot.

    ¡°Is there some way I can help?¡± he asked, but Asra pushed past him on unsteady legs.

    He followed her out to the grassy clearing, keeping a good distance behind her. She stood there for a moment, hands in fists at her side, quivering. Ciaran approached her cautiously, and her ragged breathing was audible over the soft rustling of the grass in the breeze.

    ¡°I can¡¯t reach it,¡± she gasped. ¡°My magic. Or my fur. I can¡¯t ¡­ ¡±

    Her face crumpled and she fell to her knees, grasping fistfuls of dirt and grass. Her whole body racked with sobs. Tears streamed from her face, and she screamed into the ground beneath her.

    It was the most terrifying thing Ciaran had seen all day.

    ¡°He¡¯s going to take everything from me,¡± she choked out between sobs. ¡°He¡¯s already taken my home. My family. Now this!¡± She slammed a fist against the ground. ¡°I was so close. He was right there! I had him! He was right there!¡±

    She screamed again, and the sound rent Ciaran¡¯s heart in two. He knelt down beside her and brushed his hand across her shoulder. When she didn¡¯t rebuke him, he pulled her in, and she clutched at his arms as her chest heaved and her tears soaked his shirt. Bane whimpered softly, then curled up next to them.

    ¡°I can¡¯t do this,¡± Asra whispered. ¡°I¡¯m so tired. I just want it to be over. I don¡¯t want to be here anymore.¡±

    ¡°You can do this,¡± Ciaran said, tightening his arms around her. ¡°I¡¯ve seen what you¡¯re capable of. You can do damn near anything.¡±

    ` They sat like that as the sun disappeared behind the treeline and the moon appeared in a violet sky. Asra¡¯s sobs subsided into sniffles, and she pushed herself away from Ciaran.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, wiping snot from her puffy nose with the back of her arm.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry,¡± Ciaran said, taking her hands in his. Her red eyes narrowed at him in confusion.

    ¡°You were right,¡± Ciaran continued. ¡°We should have just killed him when we had the chance. And now look what¡¯s happened.¡±

    Asra sniffled again, and her voice was wary when she spoke. ¡°Why did you bring hound¡¯s woe with you?¡±

    Guilt forced him to drop his gaze. ¡°Because I didn¡¯t trust you. Because I thought ¡­ ¡± His voice caught in his throat, and he gathered himself before continuing. ¡°I thought my brother was the person most important to me, but I realized ¡­ ¡±

    Asra¡¯s eyes widened, and her heartbeat fluttered in her throat. Ciaran barreled on to prevent himself from losing his nerve.

    ¡°I love you, Asra. You don¡¯t have to say it back if you don¡¯t want to,¡± he added hurriedly, seeing the panic in her eyes. ¡°Gods, you don¡¯t even have to love me. But I spent all day today terrified that I would die, and I would never get a chance to tell you how I feel. That you would go your whole life not knowing how much you mean to me. I can¡¯t let that happen.¡±

    She looked into his eyes for a long moment, and he couldn¡¯t read the expression on her face. He wished she would say something, anything, to give him some insight to what she was thinking.

    ¡°I thought you were going to kill me,¡± Asra said finally.

    ¡°No,¡± Ciaran said immediately. ¡°Never. Asra, I would never.¡±

    ¡°I almost didn¡¯t save you,¡± she said. ¡°In the palace.¡±

    He smiled weakly. ¡°I¡¯m glad you did.¡±

    ¡°Me, too.¡±

    Ciaran took a deep breath. ¡°I would like to stay with you, if you¡¯ll let me. But I understand if you¡ª¡±

    The rest of his sentence was cut off by her lips on his. She pulled him into her, and he felt her heart pounding in her chest against his. He was so relieved he would have laughed, if his mouth hadn¡¯t already been preoccupied.

    This kiss was different from the ones they¡¯d shared in his hideaway outside the manor. It lacked the despair, the detachment. It assuaged all his fears that his affection for her was one-sided. She wanted him, and not just physically. He couldn¡¯t hold back his relieved laugh this time.

    She ran her hands from his cheeks down to his neck down to the collar of his shirt, which she gripped firmly and yanked open, causing buttons to rain over the grass.

    For the first time in his life, Ciaran thought about how much the shirt and the buttons cost. Luxury clothing would be a thing of his past now. He had expected it to make him sad or anxious, but the thought was almost freeing. He would gladly burn every possession he had from his old life for a life with Asra.

    She broke away and stood, holding her hand out to help him up, and led him inside. They both stripped their clothing, then Asra pulled him over to sit on the bed beside her. He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, and she reached up and took his hand in his own, drawing it to her lips and planting a gentle kiss on his palm.

    Ciaran¡¯s chest clenched, and he decided to lighten the mood, lest Asra remember her distaste for sentimentality.

    He let out an exaggerated sigh. ¡°I knew you wouldn¡¯t be able to resist my charm forever.¡±

    ¡°Watch yourself,¡± she said, her smirk belying her sharp tone. ¡°None of those nobles will want to associate with you anymore now that you¡¯re a criminal. If you piss me off you won''t have any options left.¡±

    Ciaran snorted. ¡°Shows how little you understand people. You should hear how nobles fantasize about being swept away by some suave, dangerous outlaw.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re the one who couldn¡¯t resist my charm, then.¡±

    Ciaran kissed her cheek.

    ¡°Guilty as charged.¡±