I pinned her against the ground and held her still.
Feyra!
Her roars echoed around my skull. Her howls of rage. But I kept communicating with her in our wolf sense.
Feyra! Calm down. You must calm down or you’ll hurt yourself.
She roared in my face, gnashing up at my muzzle. I batted her aside.
Feyra!
She kept roaring and defying my command. She had gone feral.
I swelled all of my power, all of my surge and put it in the depths of my lungs… I roared as loud as my wolf had ever screamed. The pitch echoed into the valley and raced across the plains. The horses were screaming, trying to break away from Roman, who held them stoutly. The small form of Agatha stood petrified.
But my eyes were only for Feyra.
It’s okay,I said.It’s okay.
All the breath went out of her wolf. She went slack, exhaling like a wounded beast. And then, slowly, she began turning back to her human form. Her features shrank, her claws receded back into hands. Her arms lost their fur. Soon she was without a muzzle and whiskers, back to the beautiful woman that was tearing my insides apart.
She was no mere commoner.
She was a queen.
And I was only more intrigued by her.
I leaned down, having returned to my human form, and picked her up. I carried her gently in my arms back to the gnarled tree. The horses were still petrified, but Roman had calmed them slightly. Agatha watched in awe, her lips fluttering and begging to say something, anything, but no words came.
I lay Feyra down in the tatters of her clothes. Then I went to the horses, I patted them until they were calm, speaking softly. I opened the saddlebag on the pack horse that hadn’t been touched yet. It held a change of clothes.
“In the dawn the woman of scarred heart would show her true form,” Roman said, nodding as he spoke. He was gripped with foresight, staring into a forbidden horizon.
“Yes,” I uttered.
I took the clothes and lay them beside Feyra.
“You knew?” Agatha said. “You knew she was a shifter?”
“I knew she had the blood,” I said. “But I didn’t know she was of the royal bloodline.”
“But–but she’s meant to be dormant,” Agatha said, collapsing to her knees at her friend’s side. “She’s not meant to be able to do this.” She covered her friend up with the clothes.
I turned away, giving her privacy. She sounded afraid. Surprised. The smell of fear had never left her.
“She’s meant to be dormant,” she repeated. More to herself than me. “What happened?”
I turned back, staring at Feyra for a long time. She was strong. Like I’d said, of the royal line. But even then, for royal blood she was incredibly strong. She was…
She was the female equivalent of me.
Powerful and strong, but untamed.
Dangerous.
“What happened?” Agatha pleaded.
I ignored her though. We had to keep her calm. She had to remain controlled. If she awoke in a rage, or in fear, she may shift again. She was in a delicate time now. And with a wolf like hers? Excited to finally have freedom? She might hurt more than help.
