Elara paced back and forth. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meat filled the great hall in front of her. Long wooden tables covered with white cloths had been set out to form a horseshoe with breaks between them for the guests and staff to walk through. In the center of the horseshoe stood a massive wooden barrel into which the staff of Honeymead Brewery busily poured beer out of large metal casks.

Rufus Fortner, the head of the Lexington Red Guard, was due in less than an hour. The original plan was for him to bring a couple of his “fellahs” with him. As of the last phone call, a couple ballooned to fifteen, including Rufus. It didn’t seem like much, but she had seen what Hugh could do with twenty Iron Dogs. The Red Guard was the best in private security. Five guardsmen felt like guests. Fifteen felt like a raid. It could be just that Fortner wanted to show off Roland’s Warlord. It could be something else. Either way, when he got here, they had to offer him the kind of feast he would remember.

Hugh’s Dogs were hanging weapons and banners on the walls. The place looked like some Viking hall or the chamber of some medieval king.

She turned to Hugh, who was standing next to her. “Is that a good idea?”

He glanced at her. His eyes were very blue and clear this evening. They hadn’t spoken for the last three days after the dream. It wasn’t that she made a conscious effort to avoid him. It was that she’d been busy with offering protection to the nearby towns and processing the harvested roots of Lady’s Seal, while he was supervising deliveries of the volcanic ash for the mortar to line the moat’s bottom. Both of them had limited success. Of the five settlements they reached so far, only one took them up on their offer of wards. They’d saved Aberdine for last, since it was the closest. The party they had sent was due back any minute.

On the flip side, Hugh’s sample mortar refused to set, and nobody knew why. Elara’d been going over the budget requests and she’d seen him through the window down in the trench, mixing the mortar over and over. She’d had breakfast, then lunch, then dinner, and he was still there. Hugh had finally come in, chased indoors by darkness. He’d spent sixteen hours in that trench, then went out with the salvage party first thing in the morning. The Iron Dogs had been raiding the forest ruins, dragging in every scrap of valuable salvage they could find to offset the costs of the moat and the new siege engines they assembled on the towers.

They’d both had their hands full and had no reason to interact. Until now.

“The weapons and the beer,” she explained. “Is that a good idea to have both available to Rufus’s people?”

“The weapons are welded together,” Hugh told her. “If they manage to pry them from the wall, it won’t do them any good. I’m not about to arm drunken idiots.”

Well, at least he was sensible.

Five women walked into the hall and lined up in front of them, all young and pretty, with flowers in their hair, and wearing floral print wrap dresses that hinted at cleavage and revealed just enough leg without suggesting anything. Kelly and Irene’s tattoos were showing, a skull with arcane script above Kelly’s left breast and a wolf ripping apart a human heart on Irene’s right shoulder, but there was no help for that.

“What are these?” Hugh asked.

“Serving wenches. For your beer.”

Hugh squinted. “Irene? Serana?”

The Iron Dogs snapped to attention. “Preceptor!”

“You stole my hand-to-hand experts,” Hugh said.

“Borrowed.”

He eyed the other women. “What do the rest of you do?”

Kelly pointed at herself then at the other two women in turn. “Witch, witch, pagan with a shichidan in judo. That’s a …”

“Seventh dan black belt,” Hugh said. “Okay, you will do.”

“Remember, we need their money,” Elara said. “Don’t maim anyone if you can help it.”

The serving wenches took positions around the barrel.

“Where are you putting Fortner?” Hugh asked.

“You and I are going to sit in the middle of the head table, with me on your left. He will sit across from us with his people. I’m keeping Dugas and Johanna on my side. The rest is up to you.”

He nodded. “I’ll put the centurions on my right.”

“Do you want Fortner’s people all at our table so it would be easier for the marksmen to shoot them? I don’t think we can fit all of them in.”

He considered it. “No, let’s split them between the three tables.”

Elara surveyed the hall. It was almost done. The beer barrel was full, the places set, the food was nearly cooked. Everything had to go smoothly. If they lost Rufus, they’d lose the chance at business contacts in Lexington. They needed the contacts, the money and their influence.

“Food, decorations, beer,” she rubbed her forehead. “What am I forgetting?”

“Herbal samples,” he said.

“We have them ready in the Florida room. I don’t think he’ll be looking at them until tomorrow anyway. Did you double the patrols?”

“Yes. And I put extra marksmen on the balcony.”

She glanced up to where a narrow balcony ran along one wall of the room. Nice. Fortner would be sitting with his back to them. If anything went wrong…

If anything went wrong, they were as ready as they were going to be.

A commotion broke out at the doors. Johanna walked in, flanked by three Iron Dogs and Sam. A line of blood stretched from Sam’s scalp, running down his temple into his hair.

Hugh and Elara moved at the same time.

“What happened?” Elara asked.

“Aberdine does not want our help,” Johanna reported.

“They met us on the road,” an older female Iron Dog reported. “They made a road block.”

“Cops?” Hugh asked.

“Civilians,” Sam said. “They said Aberdine is a good Christian town and they didn’t need any help from devil worshippers.”

Of all the idiotic… “What happened to your head?” Elara demanded.

“Someone threw a rock.” Sam shrugged.

“We withdrew,” the female Iron Dog said. “It was that or kill the lot.”

Hugh looked at Sam. “You’ll live. Next time someone throws a rock, duck.” He raised his hands and signed. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Sam took my rock. He moved in front of me, so it hit him instead,” Johanna signed.

Anger boiled in Elara. “Marcus!”

Marcus turned to her. “Yes?”

“Stop all shipments to Aberdine.”

“Okay,” Marcus said.

She turned to Sam. “Don’t you worry. Nobody does this to our people. They’ll come crawling back to us in a week.”

“I doubt they’ll run out of cough tea in a week,” Hugh said.

“They’ll have plenty of tea,” she told him. “But we supply all of their wine and most of their beer. As of today, Aberdine is a dry town. They’ll be back with their hats in hand. Just wait.”

Nicole ran into the hall. “The guests are coming!”

Hugh turned to her and grinned. “It’s show time.”

“And then!” Stoyan waved his cup, pretending to be drunker than he was. “Then the Preceptor says, ‘To hell with it, we’ll burn it.’”

The table broke into thunderous laughter.

Hugh cracked a smile. Elara smiled, too, watching Rufus Fortner. He was a big bear of a man, a couple of inches over six feet and at least two hundred and fifty pounds. He was in his fifties, but time didn’t soften him, it just made him grizzled. His shoulders barely fit through the door. Caucasian, with skin tanned by sun and weather, Rufus had one of those masculine faces that looked overly exaggerated: square, jutting chin; massive jaw; short, broad nose; prominent eyebrows; narrow blue eyes. His mustache, which he kept trimmed, was still red, but his hair and beard had gone gray.

He was into his fifth beer and he appeared to be enjoying himself.

Rufus raised his mug. “Beer me!”

Make that sixth.

Irene dipped a pitcher into the barrel of beer, glided over, and refilled the mug.

“Thanks, sweetness.”

Irene moved out of his way.

Elara glanced around the table. The six guardsmen Fortner had sat at their table were a mixed lot. Five men and only one woman. They were drinking, and eating, relaxed.

“It’s a nice place you’ve got here,” Rufus said.

Something tugged at Elara’s consciousness.

“Can’t complain,” Hugh said.

“We’ve worked a castle once. In Cincinnati,” one of the guardsmen offered.

“Ah, yes, the Cus.. Ces… What the hell was that fellah’s name?” Rufus wrinkled his forehead.

“Cousteau,” the lone female guard supplied.

“That’s right.”

Here it was again, a faint tug.

“Excuse me.” Elara rose from the table.

Hugh caught her hand. “Where are you going, pumpkin?”

To cast a death spell that will sear your eyes from their sockets. “Somewhere you can’t come with me.” She winked. “To the room down the hallway with the word LADIES on the door.”

He let go. “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.”

Elara walked away. Behind her, Rufus said in what he probably thought was his confidential voice, “You’re a lucky man, Preceptor. No offense.”

“Oh I am,” Hugh said. “I am.”

She was one hundred percent sure he was watching her backside as she was walking away. Elara put an extra wiggle into it. Eat your heart out.

In the hallway, she turned left, walked through a door, and ran up the flight of stone stairs to the hidden balcony. Savannah stood in the shadows, watching the room. From the floor this area was practically invisible.

“What is it?” Savannah asked.

“I don’t know. Something… I need a minute.”

Below Hugh clapped Rufus’s shoulder and laughed.

“D’Ambray plays his role well, doesn’t he?” Savannah observed.

“Yes. He’s a chameleon. He’ll be whatever the circumstances require him to be.” It’s finding the real man that was the problem.

“The two of you have been avoiding each other.”

Hiding things from Savannah was impossible. “I walked through his dreams. He caught me.”

“Elara!”

“I know, I know.”

Dreams were woven from emotions, from the most basic wants, the strongest desires, the sharpest fears. Logic and reason didn’t exist there, except as twisted shadows of themselves. Walking through them was dangerous. She’d stepped into Hugh’s inner world. Elara had trespassed, and he knew it. He would make her pay one way or another.

“Why?” Savannah shook her head. “Expending your power? Letting him see you?”

“You weren’t on the wall when he fought the vampires. I was. He used a spell, Savannah. It wasn’t like his normal magic. He pulled it to him and then he altered it, shaping it into something else. He said two words. He was clear across the field by the trees and I felt it all the way on the wall. It wasn’t just powerful, it was precise. He pulled the undead out into the open, but he’d already had his people in the woods and they weren’t affected.”

“Power words,” Savannah said. “They call Roland the Builder of Towers. Maybe there is a reason for that.”

“You think this is the language of the Tower of Babylon?”

“That’s what rumors say. It’s supposed to command the magic itself.”

“It did. I went into his dreams. I had no choice. I wanted to know what else he was capable of.”

Elara fell silent. Below Hugh laughed, flashing white teeth.

“What did you find out?” Savannah asked.

“He’s a monster. Like me.”

“We’ve had this talk,” the older witch said quietly.

“I am what I am. You, of all people, know that.” Elara hugged her shoulders. “You should’ve heard him speak about Roland.”

“What did he say?”

“That he was his king, his god, his life. He thinks that everything he is comes from Roland.”

“And since there is no Roland now,” Savannah said, “there is no Hugh.”

“The exile should’ve broken him. I don’t understand how he survived, but he did. He’s extremely dangerous, Savannah. There are things I saw in his past...”

“Things?” Savannah asked.

“Killing is second nature to him. It’s like breathing. Once Hugh decides someone has to die, he does it. There is no doubt.”

“We’ve dealt with killers before,” Savannah said.

“Not like this.” She wasn’t explaining it well, three fourths of her attention on trying to narrow down the feeling that brought her here. “Hugh has more magic than he lets on and he is very skilled. He’s trained beyond anything I’ve seen.”

Savannah raised one eyebrow at her.

“He threw me out of his dreams.”

Elara had glimpsed something in those dreams. A twisted maelstrom inside Hugh, made of guilt, shame, and pain. He’d torn it open for her to show her his memories.

Savannah startled. “We shouldn’t have made this alliance.”

“We had no choice. It doesn’t matter now. The die is cast. Now we just have to make sure he remains on our side. We—"

Elara, glorious one, shining one, have mercy on me in my hour of need.

An influx of power flowed into Elara. She jerked as if burned.

“What is it?” Savannah thrust herself into Elara’s view.

I’m dying. Hear my plea. Hear my prayer.

“Elara?”

She jerked her hand up, silencing Savannah.

She’d forbade it, but here it was, a prayer, stretching to her like a barely existing lifeline.

Please save us. Please. I’ll do anything.

She reached along that lifeline. It led her into the woods into the dark night, where a desperate man ran for his life.

I beg you, shining one. Please help. Please don’t let them get us.

Alex. Alex Tong. He was running through the woods, from the north. She saw him, a gently glowing shape, so weak. He was bleeding. He didn’t have long.

They killed all of us. Everyone is dead.

A vision hit her, hot and raging. Rows of bodies laid out in the street, nightmarish creatures scuttling, and soldiers in scale armor looking over it all. A hundred people slaughtered. The scent of blood and fear, stark blinding terror that twisted her insides. She jerked away from it before it dragged her under.

Please help me. I’m scared. They’re coming, and I don’t want to die.

Alex Tong lived in Redhill, one of the settlements that rejected their offer of wards. Her people had just come from it the day before yesterday.

Elara snapped back to reality, holding on to the fragile thread of magic with her mind.

“Redhill was attacked.”

“When? Who?”

She shook her head and ran down the stairs. They had very little time. If she went after Alex, she would reach him, but he wouldn’t survive. She had to get Hugh and she had to extract him out of that damn dinner without raising any alarms. They didn’t know what was chasing Alex, although she could make a pretty good guess, and being attacked now would sever their relations with Rufus.

Elara took a deep breath and forced herself to walk slowly into the hall. The dinner was winding down. She wove her way around the table, came up behind Hugh, and draped herself over him, making sure to mash her breasts against his shoulder.

“Hi.” Hugh glanced up at her and grinned. It was the kind of grin that would make a professional escort blush.

She leaned closer and brushed a kiss on his mouth. His lips were hot and dry. His hand reached into her hair. She pulled away slightly. “Do you think I can borrow you for a few minutes?”

He caught a strand of her hair between his fingers. “I think we can work something out.”

She smiled at Rufus and the guardsmen. “Excuse us, gentlemen.”

Hugh winked at Rufus and let her lead him out of the hall by hand. Behind them the Red Guard leader chuckled. “Newlyweds.”

Elara drew him into the hallway. As soon as they were out of sight, he spun her around. “Who died?”

“Dying. Redhill was attacked.”

Hugh’s eyes turned dark. “The scale mail pricks?”

“Yes. They massacred it. One man escaped. A boy. He used to be Radion’s apprentice, but he liked a girl in Redhill and left with her.”

Hugh’s eyes turned darker. “Where is he?”

“Running through the woods toward us. I can find him, but I can’t heal him. He’s barely hanging on. If we wait any longer, he won’t make it.”

Hugh was already moving to the exit.

Elara anchored her magic and pulled herself forward, tracing the faint line of Alex’s prayer. He was still whispering to her under his breath, begging, his voice fading. The tree trunks flew at her.

Behind her Bucky charged through the forest along a narrow trail. The giant horse shouldn’t have been able to run in the woods in the dark, but Bucky pushed on like he was part deer. A weak radiance sheathed his flanks. He almost glowed silver.

She paused, waiting for them to catch up. Expending magic that quickly would cost her, but for now only Alex mattered.

Hugh caught up. She stepped again, then again, moving trunk to trunk.

The line of the prayer anchoring her to the man faded. She stepped again, fast and desperate, in the direction it had come from. Bushes, rhododendron, thick trunks, forest floor, all steeped in shadow.

Where was he? He had to be somewhere around here. Before he fell silent, she was almost on top of him.

“Alex,” she whispered, sending her voice in a wide pulse. It flew through the woods. “I’m here. I’ve heard you. Speak to me…”

Nothing. Bucky burst out of the bushes next to her and Hugh brought him up short. The big horse turned in a circle, as Hugh surveyed the forest.

“Speak to me…”

…

“…shining one…”

He was right in front of her. She dove through the patch of rhododendron, forcing her way through the brush, and burst out on the other side. Oaks thrust from the forest floor, too thick to wrap her arms around. The moon shone above and the air between the trees glowed slightly with a bluish haze.

Alex lay slumped by the roots of the nearest tree. He was always thin, with a slight build, but now he seemed barely a boy, fourteen instead of his eighteen. He didn’t move. His eyes were closed, his head drooped to the side. She dropped to her knees. Blood drenched his clothes, the fabric a solid mass of red.

Where was the wound? She could barely see him, let alone the injury.

Hugh knelt by her. A blue glow sheathed him. She’d seen glimpses of it before in the fight, but now it was obvious, a dense, rich blue, almost turquoise, the magic within it alive and strong, like a river. Hugh’s eyes glowed with the same electric blue.

The glow stretched from Hugh’s hand, sheathing Alex’s body.

She felt movement and looked up. Shadows moved through the blue haze between the trees. Humanoid shadows.

They’d massacred Redhill. They’d killed everyone there, men, women, children. Now they were coming after one of hers.

No.

“You got it?” Hugh asked.

“Yeah,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’ve got it.”

She rose and walked through the forest toward the advancing shapes, making no effort to hide. Creatures slipped through the brush on both sides of her.

A warrior stepped out of the haze twenty-five yards away. As tall as Hugh, he wore scale armor and a helmet that left his face bare. Tattoos marked his cheek. His long red hair spilled in a horse tail through an opening in his helmet and fell down his back.

He was a distraction. Bait. Elara stared at him, waiting. If he had a bow and fired, she could avoid the arrows. But a crossbow bolt travelled a lot faster and would prove to be a problem.

A creature darted from the right, impossibly fast. She locked her hand on its throat. It hung in her hand, limp. It used to be human, but now the corruption suffused it, twisting its very essence. It wasn’t the fetid stench of a vampire, reanimated after death. This was a living alteration and it left this beast with a shred of humanity hidden deep inside. Elara locked on the hot spark of magic within its body and swallowed it. It tasted delicious as only a human did. The lifeless sack of bone and muscle fell to the ground.

There were three warriors now. Same armor, same helmets, same swords in the scabbards on their hips. All three big men, the shortest only three inches or so under Hugh’s height. They watched her, mute. No bows then. All the better.

Elara smiled, showing them her teeth.

The creatures burst from the bushes all at once, clawed hands out, ready to rip her apart. The forest came alive with shadows. She dropped the mask she wore and let her magic out. A brush of her fingers, and a creature collapsed. A claw on her shoulder, and its owner crashed to the ground. She ripped the magic from them and fed.

The ring of bodies around her grew and still they kept coming.

The final beast collapsed at her feet.

The three warriors still looked at her.

Apparently, they were just going to stand there. No worries. She would come to them. Elara picked up her dress, carefully stepped on the corpse of the creature in front of her and walked across two bodies toward the three.

The magic died. One moment it was there, and the next it vanished like the flame of a candle snuffed out by a breath. Her power vanished, a weak coal smoldering deep inside her instead of a raging fire.

The three armored men moved forward as one, unsheathing their swords.

She backed away, circling the bodies.

The first warrior bore down on her, his pale eyes locked on her with the unblinking focus of a predator.

A hand landed on her shoulder and jerked her back. Hugh thrust himself into the space she’d occupied half a second ago and drove his sword into the man. The blade sank into the warrior with a screech of metal against metal just under the breastbone.

The warrior gasped.

Hugh freed his sword with a brutal jerk, twisting the blade as it came out, and spun out of the way as another tall warrior closed in from the left.

The injured man dropped to one knee. Blood poured from his mouth.

The tall warrior charged Hugh, feigning left, but Hugh dodged, spinning, batted aside the third warrior’s sword and backed up, facing her, drawing them away. The two warriors followed him, the taller on Hugh’s right and the shorter on his left.

She needed a weapon.

The injured fighter in front of her drew a hoarse breath. Elara grabbed at the sword in his hand. She might as well have tried to pry it from solid stone. He clenched it tighter and swiped at her with his left hand. She jumped out of the way, almost tripping on a rock. Perfect. Elara crouched and wrenched the chunk of sandstone out of the forest floor.

Behind the injured warrior, Hugh backed away another step. The right fighter thrust with bewildering speed. High blocked the blade and hammered a punch into the man’s face with his left hand. Cartilage crunched just as the other swordsman thrust at Hugh’s ribs. The Preceptor twisted out of the way, but not fast enough. The blade sliced through the leather and came out bloody.

Hugh didn’t seem surprised. He must’ve known the man would cut him. He’d calculated the whole thing and decided that taking a cut was worth it. She had to help him.

Elara clenched the rock and smashed it into the injured fighter’s face. He cried out. Blood splattered. She struck his face again and a third time, turning his features into bloody mush. His helmet came off. He dropped the sword. She let go of the rock and swiped the blade from the ground. It was wet with hot human blood. Elara raised it and brought it down on the fighter’s slumped back. The blade glanced off the metal collar of his armor and bit into his neck. It didn’t cut all the way through, but he collapsed.

Elara gripped the sword and pulled it free.

Hugh was on her right, the two fighters on her left. The one closest to her bled from his nose, his eyes swelling into slits. Hugh charged the fighter with the broken nose. Broken Nose cut at him in a fast, wild slash. Hugh leaned back, and Broken Nose’s sword sliced air. Before he could recover, Hugh cut at the fighter’s extended arm. The man let out a short guttural howl. His sword fell to the ground. His right arm hung limp, useless. The warrior grabbed his wounded arm with his left hand and stumbled back. The other fighter slashed at Hugh’s back. The blade connected. Hugh spun about, parrying the next strike, and attacked, driving the shorter man back.

Elara ran three steps forward and thrust the sword into Broken Nose’s armored back.

It didn’t penetrate.

The fighter turned around, swinging his blade. Elara rammed him, throwing all of her weight into him and his bleeding arm. He tripped and sprawled on the ground. She thrust her sword straight down into his chest and threw herself onto it.

The blade sank a couple of inches, screeching against the armor. The fighter screamed and clawed at the skirt of her dress with his remaining hand. Elara strained, digging her feet into the ground. She wished she still had the rock, so she could hammer the sword into his body.

The man screamed, staring straight at her. Blood poured from his mouth in a thick red gush. The metallic stench hit her. She had to finish it. Elara strained, summoning every last reserve she had. Something cracked in the man’s chest and the blade slid in. He jerked one last time and lay still.

Elara straightened. Blood dripped from her hands.

Hugh and the other man danced between the trees, their swords a blur. Steel clanged. She could barely see the blades. How in the world was Hugh even parrying that?

The weapons clashed, the two men throwing all their strength and speed into their strikes. The magic was down, but Hugh moved with insane precision: fast, flexible, strong, anticipating his opponent’s movements.

The warrior attacked him in an elaborate slash. Hugh parried and charged, raining blows on his opponent. The shorter warrior backed up. His blade danced, blocking, but his hand shook every time he countered a blow. Hugh was beating on him with methodical savagery. There was something almost business-like about it. Killing was a job, something that had to be done, and Hugh was an expert in it. He would get it done. The other man wouldn’t last long.

The warrior must’ve realized it. He launched a counterattack, bringing his sword in a wide arc from the left, blindingly fast. Hugh parried before the sword could bite into his side. The warrior reversed the swing and cut at him from the right. Hugh stepped into it, blocking the swing, his sword pointing down. The warrior lunged at him, closing the distance. The two men struggled, locked, face to face, Hugh’s sword on top of the warrior’s, both pushing, blades immobile.

Hugh planted his feet and shoved.

The warrior stumbled back.

Hugh sliced his opponent’s arm from left to right. The warrior jerked back and clamped his left hand over his shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers. He passed the sword into his left hand and gave it a light swing, his eyes fixed on Hugh.

A furry shape tore out of the bushes. The warrior tried to turn toward it, but it was too late. One hundred and twenty pounds of hound hit him in the chest. Canine teeth flashed and bit down. The warrior toppled over, Cedric on top of him, snarling and biting.

“Damn it,” Hugh swore.

Blood wet the dog’s mouth. He bit the man again, ripping chunks of flesh from the ruined throat.

“Enough,” Hugh ordered.

Cedric ignored him, tearing into the body like he was rabid.

“I said enough!” Hugh grabbed the hound by the collar and hauled him back. Cedric strained, snarling, bloody foam dripping from his jaws. She’d never seen the dog that upset.

Cedric gave up on snarling and howled.

Hugh jerked him upright, stared into his eyes, and said calmly, “Shut up.”

The massive dog struggled a moment longer, then closed his mouth and sat back.

The three corpses lay on the forest floor in their identical armor.

“You were right,” she said. “There is an army out there.”

And they had just killed three of their soldiers. Someone would come looking.

They moved at the same time. Hugh ducked behind the tree where they’d left Alex and picked him up like he weighed nothing and whistled. Bucky pushed through the brush.

Elara grabbed the fallen man’s sword. The man’s neck looked like raw hamburger. Acid shot into her throat. She swallowed it back down and stepped over to the first corpse. Elara brought the sword down in a sharp chop. The blade severed the thin shred of muscle and skin that attached the head to the body. It fell with a thump. She picked it up, helmet and all. If the army came to retrieve the bodies, at least they would have something. You could do a lot with flesh and a little magic.

Hugh threw Alex over the saddle.

A stray thought came to her. Elara froze.

“What?” Hugh asked.

“Us. When he…” Prayed to me. “He said save us.”

Hugh turned, studying the woods. Bushes trembled to the right. He snapped toward it. She put her hand onto his forearm and stepped forward.

“It’s alright,” she said softly. “We’ll protect you. We’ll keep you safe. You don’t want to stay here in the dark all alone.”

The bushes lay still.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It will all be okay.”

Something moved within the bushes.

Elara stepped forward and gently parted the branches. A child. Seven or eight, covered in mud and blood. She reached in and scooped the child up. He or she, it was too hard to say, hung limp in her arms. Wide eyes stared at her, unblinking. Like a baby rabbit shocked into playing dead.

Hugh took the child from her arms. The girl – she guessed it was a girl – clung to him on pure instinct. He was huge and scary and covered with blood, and she needed a protector. Hugh held her for a long moment and slid her into Bucky’s saddle. “Hold on to Alex.”

The child just stared.

“Hold him,” Hugh said, his voice calm and reassuring. “So he doesn’t fall.”

The girl reached out and clenched Alex’s shirt.

They hurried from the clearing, Cedric in the lead.

“Will he live?” she asked under her breath.

“Yes.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t die on me, Preceptor.”

“I’m touched you care.”

“I don’t,” she told him. “I’m worried your Dogs will riot if you don’t come home.”

“Then you better take good care of me. We’re going to run now. You got it?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“Good. You get tired, tell me.”

They broke into a run.

Elara stumbled out of the woods into grass. Baile rose before them, backlit by moonlight, its main tower tall and reassuring. She bent over. Fire drenched her lungs, red-hot spikes of pain shot through her right side, and her stomach was trying to empty itself, convinced she’d been poisoned. A dozen small cuts covered her legs. If she never saw the inside of the woods again, it would be too soon.

A warm hand rested on her back. “Almost there,” Hugh said. “One more push and we’re there. You have it in you.”

She straightened and bit a groan in half.

The child was still holding on to Alex, her knuckles white even under the layer of blood and grime. If she could hold it together, Elara had to do the same.

They ran through the grassy field to the road and up the hill. She never realized before just how far it was from the castle walls to the first tree trunks.

The castle gates opened in front of them and a dozen Iron Dogs poured out, Stoyan and Felix in the lead, followed by, Savannah, Dugas, Beth, and half a dozen of her people. Relief rolled through Elara in a cooling rush. They made it.

Savannah ran up and took the child out of the saddle. “Micah, Rodney, take the boy from the horse. Beth, get Malcom.” The witch turned to her. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

Savannah’s eyes blazed. “I’ll deal with you later.” She turned and hurried toward the keep. Micah followed her, carrying Alex over his shoulder.

“What happened?” Stoyan asked under his breath.

Hugh jerked the saddlebag off Bucky’s saddle and marched across the yard. She struggled to keep up. Everyone followed, looking at them, waiting for answers.

“Redhill has fallen,” Hugh said. “We may be next.”

Stoyan nodded, as if Hugh had told him they were having bologna sandwiches for lunch.

“How are our guests?” Elara asked.

“Sleeping in the left wing,” Dugas said. “We put several guards around it. They’re not doing anything without us knowing.”

“Good,” Hugh said.

They reached the kennel. He pushed the door open. A long hallway stretched before them with dog stalls on each side. The hounds looked back at him. He tossed the bag onto the floor. The warrior’s head rolled out.

The dogs bared their teeth in unison. Vicious snarls rose. The hounds lunged at the stalls, biting the air.

“Double the patrols,” Hugh ordered to Stoyan. “Here and in town. Bring the dogs.”

Stoyan took off at a run.

“Felix, take a small force and get the bodies,” Hugh said. “Bring wolfsbane and whatever else you’ve got that would throw off the scent. Stay safe. If you spot a force coming back, draw them back to the castle. We’ll deal with them here. Corpses aren’t worth dying over.”

Felix nodded.

“It’s just north of Squirrel Hollow,” Elara told Dugas. “Go with them, please.”

He nodded, and he and Felix left. Hugh scooped up the head, tossed it into the bag, and offered it to her. She thrust it at Johanna. The blond witch nodded and ran out.

Hugh turned.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Elara asked him. “You’re bleeding.”

“I have things to do.”

“No. There is nothing more you can do right now. You asked me to run, I ran. Now you will come with me and get patched up.”

For once Hugh didn’t argue.

The water ran from Elara’s body, first red, then pale pink, then finally clear. Elara turned off the shower, stepped out, and wrapped herself in a white towel. She’d scrubbed the blood and forest off her skin. Her legs had been cut in a dozen places, nothing more than scratches, the pain more annoying than sharp, and now they burned. Her whole body ached, sore. Every time she closed her eyes in the shower, she saw the three men stalking through the woods to her. In her memories, their eyes glowed with blue light, unblinking.

They would’ve killed her tonight. Elara wasn’t sure how she knew, but she felt it with absolute surety. Thinking about it raised the hair on the back of her neck. She had training both with guns and with bladed weapons. She had brought neither.

Elara reached for the underwear she’d laid out, put it on, and slipped into a dark-blue gown. She ran a brush through her hair on autopilot.

They’d almost killed her.

That’s how fragile it all was. One moment she brimmed with power. The next the tech crashed into her and all her powers were gone. She had grown too complacent. There was a time when she never would’ve left the safety of her people without a gun.

It was the call. It had muddled her thinking.

Elara opened the door and walked into her bedroom.

Hugh sat on a chair, naked to the waist. A four-inch gash ran down his side, curving toward his spine. Another cut, about three inches long, carved its way down his back, over his shoulder blade. Nadia and Beth had already washed his wounds. Now Beth sat next to him. She saw Elara, picked up the needle holder, and plucked the surgical needle from the plastic holder.

Beth’s hands shook. She was a gentle person. She would run at a monster and kill it with her sword, but when it came to humans, Beth could barely defend herself and D’Ambray scared her. Elara never witnessed him being mean to Beth, but there was something about him that deeply unsettled the young woman.

“Thank you, Beth.” Elara stepped out, wiped her hands on a towel, and took the needle holder from her. “Please check on the child and Alex for me.”

Beth retreated into the hallway and took off.

Hugh’s cuts weren’t too bad. She’d had a lot of practice in suturing wounds. This time wasn’t any different.

Nadia slipped through the door, carrying a platter with a glass of greenish liquid on it. She offered the glass to Hugh.

“Drink,” Elara said.

Hugh studied the glass. “What’s in it?”

“All-purpose antidote.”

“There is no such thing.”

“You’ve been stabbed, and we have no idea what was on that sword. This will help fight off several common poisons.”

He squinted at the glass.

“I realize that you can cure all your ills when the magic hits, but we don’t know when that will be, so drink. I have to keep you alive until the magic wave comes.”

He tasted the liquid. “It’s foul.”

Her voice was cold and detached. “Don’t be a baby, Preceptor.”

Hugh drained the glass.

“Any news on Alex?” Elara asked.

“He’s still sleeping. Malcom says he’s stable.”

Nadia took the empty glass and left the room. They were alone.

“Arms,” Elara said. They had already tried to get him to lay down on the table and he refused. The look in his eyes told her there was no intelligent life there.

Hugh raised his arms, locking them on the back of his head. His big biceps flexed. The carved, defined muscle on his chest stood out under tan skin. His dark blue eyes grew warm and inviting. He was thinking about sex and watched her like she was naked. It was distracting as hell and he knew it, which was exactly why he was doing it.

Elara sat on a low footstool, gently lifted the edge of the wound with sterilized forceps, punctured the edge with the needle, and rotated her hand to neatly slide the needle through the skin and muscle.

He didn’t move. No grunting, no indication at all that something painful was happening. She concentrated on making even knots.

“Had a hard time stabbing that guy through the armor?” Hugh asked.

Elara didn’t answer.

“Happens to the best of us.”

She was almost done.

“The next time aim for the back of the neck or the inside of the thighs.”

“I managed.”

“Yes,” he said, a smile waiting on his lips. “Yes, you did.”

“What?”

Hugh just looked at her.

“What’s so funny?”

“You and your murderous spree. Do your people know that you’re bloodthirsty?”

Elara snipped the last bit of thread. “Don’t you think we have more pressing things to discuss? Like who are they? What do they want? Why are they killing people?”

“Those are good questions. In fact, I was going to get answers to those questions, except you killed the people who had them.”

Elara stopped. “I was trying to help you stay alive, you ungrateful ass.”

“Did I look like I needed help?”

She glared at him and moved onto his shoulder.

“What did you think they were going to do to me?”

Dickhead. “Remind me, which one of us is cut up?”

“Okay,” Hugh said, “I’ll give you the guy with the broken nose, his eyes swollen shut, and his right hand hanging by a thread. He still had one hand left. He might have pounded his remaining fist on my chest as I dragged him off. But why the guy with the cracked liver? He was on his knees hacking his blood out.”

The light dawned in her head.

“I set these guys up, so we could question them, and every time I left one breathing, you killed them.”

She did kill them. That was dumb. Wow, that was dumb. Not one of her brightest moments.

Hugh cocked an eyebrow at her. “What happened to my calculating ice bitch? Were you actually so worried about me, you couldn’t think straight?”

He was openly mocking her.

Elara stood up and leaned in close. With him sitting and her standing, she was slightly taller. “Yes. I was worried about you. I killed fourteen creatures. You only had to take care of three men, and I had to finish two of them for you and poor Cedric had to help you with the third. That fight didn’t go well for you, did it?”

“Really? This is what you’re going with?”

“If you died while you and I were alone in the woods, your people would assume I killed you. They don’t know that I don’t need a crude chunk of metal to take your life. If I wanted you dead, I would eat your soul. It would taste bitter and rotten, but sacrifices must be made.”

Hugh bared his teeth in a feral grin. “How about now? Take a little bite of my soul, just for fun.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and looked down, to the source of all life below. “Please give me strength to not kill this man. Please.”

“Why don’t you try?” Hugh offered. An inviting heat lit his eyes. “It might be fun.”

Oh, it would be fun. He looked so good in the light, every line of his torso strong, every muscle defined. She liked it all, his crazy blue eyes, the stubble on his square jaw, his broad shoulders, his chest, his flat stomach… She liked his size, the arrogant way he sprawled in her chair, the power in his body, but even more, the power in his eyes. Everything about him said strength and she needed strength tonight. She craved it, craved him, being wrapped in him.

Elara remembered the way he looked at her in the dream, with an almost feral need.

No. Not this man. Anybody but him. Not only was he too dangerous, but she could barely stand being in the room with him.

And she still felt stupid. That was okay. In a minute they would both feel stupid.

“Fine,” Elara ground out, finishing the last stitch. “I did kill them. But what about you? Did you forget how to talk?”

Quick steps approached, and Felix appeared in the doorway. Cedric slunk in behind him and sat in the doorway.

“In all of that dazzling display of swordsmanship, couldn’t you have found two seconds to manfully growl, ‘We need them alive?’ or ‘Don’t kill him?’ You’re supposed to lead your soldiers. Don’t you issue orders, or do you just telepathically broadcast your battle strategy?”

Hugh glared at her.

“Let’s ask Felix,” she said.

The big man startled.

“Felix, how do you know when Hugh wants you to do something?”

“He tells me,” Felix said.

“Ah!” She clapped her hands together. “He tells you. Imagine that. So you are able to communicate with actual words rather than grunts and snarls. What happened? Why didn’t you tell me you wanted them alive after I killed the first one? It took me like three minutes to slide the sword into that second guy. I had to lay on it.”

Hugh made a low noise in his throat. If humans could growl, it would sound just like that.

She gave him a sweet smile. Any sweeter and you could spread it on toast. “Use your words.”

“I didn’t tell you because it didn’t occur to me that you would be that dense.”

“So you expected me to think clearly after having killed fourteen mysterious monsters and have three men run at me with swords? Did it ever occur to you that I might have been too focused on killing them?”

“And,” Hugh continued, “because I still had the third guy.”

“That wasn’t me. That was your dog. I’m not responsible for the actions of your loyal hound.”

“He isn’t my dog.”

She pointed at Cedric. “Tell him that.”

Hugh turned his head. Cedric took it as a sign that it was okay to run into the room and stick his head into Hugh’s lap. Hugh looked like he wanted to kill something. Or someone. Preferably her.

“See, even Cedric decided you needed help.”

Hugh raised his hand and patted the dog. “Did you want something?” he asked Felix.

“We retrieved the bodies,” Felix said.

Hugh got up. “Would love to stay and play doctor, love, but duty calls.” He headed for the door.

Play doctor? “Jackass.”

“Harpy.”

“Thank you for saving me in the woods,” she said to his back. “And for healing Alex.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you downstairs in ten minutes.

He left.

A moment later Rook slipped into her room and held out his writing pad.

Hugh needed help?

“No,” Elara said. “He was terrifying.”