“What are we going to do about them?” Ronin asked.
“The Teles Chrysos will make sure they’re cared for,” Layla answered. “Many will likely wish to return to the colonies, return to the families they were taken from. We’ll take care of the guests, too. Hoping a few of them might even want to join us after everything they’ve learned here. And we’ll strip the estate of anything we don’t want the Empire to get their hands on.”
Mireille tensed in Ronin’s lap. “There’s a leather ledger, hidden in the desk in Otto’s office. It’s full of family trees, Fae with human heritage. The Empire could use that information to hunt them down. Make sure you destroy it.”
Layla nodded, then pulled the opal flute out of her torn, bejeweled bodice. “What about this?”
“What about it?” Ronin asked.
Layla’s lips thinned. “Nyctima was not the only emissary that Adelphinae left in this world. There are others. Larger, more powerful monsters, if the legends are to be believed. The Teles Chrysos may need this flute to summon them in the battles to come. Will you be returning it to the Empire?”
“No,” Mireille said softly, cupping Ronin’s cheek. “We’re done with the Empire. We won’t be returning to Kheimos. At least, not for long.”
Ronin laid his hand over hers, whispering, “What do you mean?”
“Your wolf isfree, Ronin. There’s no need to go back.” Her expression turned fierce. “We don’t have to let them use us ever again.”
“What about the information they promised you? About your father?”
“He told me his name. Gareth Fortin.” Her eyes dampened. “He was…kind.Brave. And he” —her voice broke— “he loved me. Exactly as I am. That’s all I need to know.”
Ronin leaned down to kiss away her tears.
“If you won’t be returning to Kheimos…” Layla cleared her throat. “Perhaps you’d consider joining us? The Teles Chrysos could certainly use two members like you.”
Mireille didn’t look to Layla, her gaze glued firmly to Ronin’s own. “We’re looking forward to some well-earned time off.”
Layla stepped away to give them privacy, then headed for the fence, where she pushed an arm through the bars. The ward had vanished now that Otto had finally met True Death.
Ronin huffed a laugh, then kissed Mireille’s palm. “Should we celebrate first?”
“How?”
“A run through the woods?”
Mireille’s excited smile stirred something in his chest.
“Just give me my shirt back before you shift,” he said with a grin. “It’s one of my favorites and I don’t want you to burn it.”
Mireille pulled at the black fabric as she stepped away from him. “What, this shirt? I think it’s only fair, Matakos…” She burst into her wolf form, his shirt disintegrating, and bounded toward the edge of the forest.
“Guess I deserved that,” Ronin laughed, then stood, his ribs barking, but fuck if he was going to let a little pain stop him.
Mireille turned back, her flames hissing in the swirling snow.
A majestic wolf of pure fire.
Ronin’s heart had never felt so full.
As he began his own shift, he growled out, “I’ll give you a head-start, little she-wolf.
“Run fast before I catch you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Chirping birdsong filled Mireille’s ears as footsteps crunched through the pine needles behind her. Hazy mid-afternoon sunlight banded through the trees, illuminating the cabin’s rotted door and broken windows.
“It looks smaller than I expected.” Ronin's hand skated across her lower back.
