“If I run down there now and dramatically thrust myself between him and Hugh, it will destroy Hugh’s credibility and make me look like an idiot.”

“Yes,” Dugas said.

Elara plastered a smile on her face. “Then I will slowly walk. Here is hoping they don’t kill each other.” She crossed her fingers and walked down the steps.

The boy got there first.

Hugh finished his swing, wiped the sword with a cloth, thrust it into the weapon rack, and picked up a bucket.

“Fancy meeting you here,” the boy said.

“Hello,” Elara said. “I take it you’re Ascanio Ferara. I see you know my husband.”

“Yes, I do. The last time we met, he tortured me,” Ascanio said.

He what? Could this get any worse?

“You’re still alive,” Hugh said. “Clearly my heart wasn’t in it.” He raised the bucket and poured water over his head.

“He tortured you?” she asked.

“He was trying to get a friend of mine to come out of a cage, so he could take her to her father,” Ascanio said. “So he would heal me, then break me, then heal me again. I don’t remember it, but I heard such wonderful stories about it. Your husband is a man of many accomplishments.”

Oh, there was no doubt of that.

“Let’s see, his people killed the alpha of my clan, he broke the Beast Lord’s legs, he kidnapped the Beast Lord’s mate, dumped her into a shaft filled with water inside her father’s prison, and almost starved her to death. These are just the highlights.” He laughed, an eerie crazy cackle.

A bouda, Elara realized. A werehyena. They were notoriously quick-tempered and crazy. And Hugh didn’t mention kidnapping Daniels. He’d kept that to himself.

She couldn’t believe it actually bothered her.

This had gone far enough, Elara reminded herself. Pulling his feelings out of him was about understanding your enemy, not fueling insecurities.

Hugh regarded the shapeshifter, his face slightly bored. “Do you want to do something about it?”

“Mmmm, let me think…” Ascanio leaned forward, his agile face taking on a pondering expression. “I attack you, you kill me, I start a war, shame the Bouda Clan, and my mother will never get to hear the end of it as long as she lives. Not to mention she would be sad. Tempting, but no. I’m here to retrieve the two families and that’s exactly what I will do. The question is, are you going to do something about it?”

She caught her breath.

“No,” Hugh said. “Are they ready to go, Elara?”

“Yes, they are.”

Hugh looked back at Ascanio. “They were treated well. If more come, they will be treated the same. We’ll keep them safe until you pick them up.”

The bouda squinted at Hugh. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Hugh turned his back to Ascanio.

She felt like sitting down. Instead she smiled at Ascanio. “Do you need any provisions for the road?”

Hugh stretched his shoulders. The small shapeshifter group was about two-thirds of the way to the tree line. They were moving at a crawl, the possessions of the two families loaded into two large carts. They were planning to catch the leyline by Aberdine. At the ley point, they would transfer the furniture and clothes to the shipping platform, board, and let the magic drag them east. Once they got close enough to Atlanta, they’d likely load the possessions into trucks, but the carts were a prudent move for the road that snaked its way through the forest. Any truck that ran on enchanted water would’ve made enough noise to wake the dead, and Ferara clearly wanted to do this quietly. They had barely twelve miles to go, and on this occasion slow and quiet would win the race.

A woman from the town had come to get Elara fifteen minutes ago. Something about a child. His cantankerous wife finally decided that he wasn’t going to do anything and left.

The wagons crept on, slower than molasses. The shapeshifters were sitting ducks out there.

Perfect.

Hugh swung into Bucky’s saddle and rode up to the gates. The twenty-five Dogs on horseback formed up into a column behind him.

Dugas strode up to him. “Interesting kid.”

“He’ll be the next bouda alpha.”

And they would all be worse for it. He remembered the files on Raphael and Andrea Medrano, who ran the clan now. At Ferara’s age and under similar circumstances, Raphael would’ve charged Hugh the moment he saw him. Boudas lost a lot of children to loupism, especially males. They spoiled the surviving boys beyond reason. That Ferara had the presence of mind to set aside pride and personal history to preserve the alliance was nothing short of a miracle. Shrewd.

It would be prudent to kill him now, before he matured.

Dugas stepped closer to him. “What do you think you’re doing? Running him down now, after he thinks he’s in the clear?”

Hugh turned and held the old man’s stare. “Step back.”

Dugas blinked and backed away.

“They’re fifty yards from the trees,” Liz called from the wall.

Far enough.

He pulled the magic to him and leaned forward in the saddle. “Charge.”

Bucky shot through the gates. Behind them the Iron Dogs spilled out of Baile, breaking into a canter.

A horn bellowed from the castle walls, a harsh declaration of war.

Ascanio spun his horse around. Hugh couldn’t hear the words from this distance, but it didn’t take a genius to read the kid’s expression. Ascanio shouted.

They’d either break for the trees on foot, scattering, every shapeshifter for themselves, or they’d make a stand. Either way Hugh would get what he wanted, but the stand would make them easier to contain.

Bucky sped up into a full gallop. Hugh had forgotten this, forgotten the rush of a full charge, but it was coming back. He used to live for this.

The shapeshifters threw the kids into the wagons. Lennart’s tactics. Stand together and live or die together.

Hugh raised his hand. Behind him the column of riders fanned out into a line.

The shapeshifters turned as one, fur and claws and snarling mouths filled with fangs.

The horn screamed from the walls.

Hugh pulled magic to him. He hadn’t tried to do this since he’d been exiled. This wasn’t his native magic; he’d learned it as a child from Roland. He had no idea if the power was still there. He began whispering the incantation, paving the way for the release.

Ascanio raised two curved foot-long knives, his face a meld of hyena and human, eyes blazing. His people crowded around the wagons, shielding the four children inside.

Twenty-five yards to the wagons.

Twenty.

Fifteen.

He angled Bucky. His force split in half, flowing around the wagons like a river. Ferara’s face flashed past him, fanged mouth hanging open in surprise. The trees loomed ahead.

Now. He reached for the smudges of foul magic.

“Ranar kair!”

Power poured out of Hugh, channeled through words of power so old, they shaped the very nature of the magic.

Come before me.

Agony tore through him, so sharp it felt like death, and for a moment Hugh felt a spark of hope that it would kill him. The world wavered and snapped back into focus instead.

The aftershock of the power words tore through the trees. The woods quaked and spat eight undead.

Predictable, Nez. So predictable.

The vampires spun, turning back to the trees, away from the cavalry charge.

Fifty Iron Dogs charged out of the trees, moving in a line, trapping the vampires between the two forces.

The first bloodsucker loomed in front of Hugh, still dazed from the impact of the power words. Hugh tore past, swinging his sword. The undead’s head rolled off its shoulders. The two forces closed in on the vampires like scissors coming together. An eerie cackle rolled through the battlefield – the shapeshifters joining the fight.

Hugh brought Bucky in a wide circle and leapt off his back. Fighting the undead on horseback would only get the stallion killed.

“All teams!” a male voice snapped from among the undead line. “Engage the enemy. Pursue at will. I repeat, pursue at will. Alpha Two, Alpha Three, on me. Contain the Preceptor.”

Three undead broke off and charged him.