“Angelina Prideaux.” Natalia’s voice cut through the yard. “I should’ve known.”
Bastien and I broke apart and found her standing at the entrance of the ruined training yard, blade drawn, the end of her braid dripping red. Behind her stood Bastien’s entire force. Sir Gavin. Destinee Gris. Men and women whose names I didn’t know but whose black and gold doublets marked them as ours.
These were my people. I was their duchess—mate to their lord—and yet I stood here unable to explain why my mother was at the center of this horror.
“I see that we arrived just in time for a prisoner execution.” I couldn’t tell if she meant Mama or me. Bastien stepped in front of me, and I knew we shared the same thought.
Natalia had distrusted me from the beginning. And now she had the proof.
Bastien snapped something at her in Sanguisi. I knew it wasn’t friendly, despite how beautiful it sounded. I silently committed tolearning this language that meant so much to his family.
“With all due respect, Uncle,” Natalia replied, switching deliberately into the Common Tongue so every soldier in the yard could hear her, “you left me in charge. And as their commander, I led the army to ensure the Duke and his wife were brought home safely.”
I stilled. She…what?
Natalia’s attention drifted to where my mother lay on the ground. “I know what it’s like to draw the disdain of your parents. I know what it’s like to be called a disgrace.”
The soldiers at her back banged their swords against their shields in support of her. I had expected suspicion. Judgment. Perhaps even an accusation. Instead, what I found in her expression was something far softer. Understanding.
She strode forward, but Bastien didn’t move until she sheathed her blade. Natalia stopped an arm’s length away and stared at me. Then, the woman who had never trusted me held out her hand. “I’ve always said your mother was a buffoon. Now I see she’s far more malicious than that.”
Heat rose behind my eyes before I could stop it. I had spent so long fearing this moment that I had never prepared for the possibility of being seen. I put my hand in hers, and we shook like equals.
“Don’t even think about embracing me,” she said.
For the benefit of her pride, I tried to hide my smile. “I wouldn’t dare.”
Natalia let go of my hand and glanced back at Bastien. “Where is Shayla?” She asked. All business once again. “Have you captured her?”
“Tyson and the wolves went after her,” Bastien said.
“Ah.” Natalia reached for her belt, unfastened a leather waterskin, and handed it tome. “You look half dead. Drink.”
I accepted it and drank deeply. The water burned as it slid down my throat. My neck felt as though it had been scraped from the inside out, but I forced myself to drink as much as I could stand.
The sound of hoofbeats broke the hush as Lady Okeri rode in with Tansy behind her on the same horse. The moment Tansy saw me, the color drained from her face.
“We need a healer!” she shouted over her shoulder. Not waiting for the horse to stop, she half-slid, half-fell from the saddle, boots sinking into the mud as she ran for me. “If you weren’t on your feet, I’d swear you were dead.” She wrapped her arms around me, holding me gently.
I didn’t tell her that I had died. That I’d seen the God of the Underworld. I didn’t tell her that Devlinn had given me a message for her. Not yet.
She stepped aside and made space for the healer to tend to the wounds around my neck. I winced when she peeled off the black lace, which was caked with blood. “I’m sorry, my lady, but the lace is ruined.” She dropped what was left of the necklace into my hands. It seemed so benign, so harmless. I stuffed it in my pocket, unable to leave it here.
The healer blotted an herbal tincture onto my torn skin, and I hissed in pain. Bastien knelt beside the healer and took the tincture from her. “I’ll handle this.” He bid me to lean back against his chest as he dripped the liquid onto my wounds, allowing it to wash the dirt and blood away. I couldn’t look away from his face as he let the liquid run over my neck, washing away dirt and blood.
“What have you discovered about these weres?” Natalia asked while Bastien worked.
“Angelina purchased them from Shayla,” I replied tightly. “She’d made some deal with Shayla.”
Natalia cursed, then barked, “Buffoon!” at my mother.
Across the yard, the surrendered weres were huddled together. Bastien’s soldiers were binding their hands with ropes, but I didn’t see enemies. I saw a group of lost people.
“Turn and face me,” Bastien said gently. I wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to do this. The healer who was holding the bandages was perfectly capable of assisting me. Or Tansy, who was worriedly hovering. But I knew he wouldn’t agree.
I shifted so that I was kneeling in front of him, and he accepted a small glass jar from the healer.
“They are villagers,” I explained, as Bastien began dabbing the thick, sticky salve over my wounds. It smelled of honey and lavender. “People who were lured in by Shayla’s promises. We need to help them.”
