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“I understand.”

Granier might have supplied me with a doting lady’s maid, beautiful accommodations and gorgeous dresses, but Fenrick was making a much better impression just by being polite and genuine. And still I had no desire to stay here or become his wife. As far as I was concerned, I was fated to only one man, and he was no prince, just an unforgettable Valian warrior.

A loud clanging sound woke me from a deep sleep. I glanced around at my strange surroundings for a moment before pulling out of the drowsy fog. I was in my room in Prince Fenrick’s castle.

The ale had affected me more than I realized. We’d finished our meal, and then Fenrick made his apologies and left for a meeting or some sort of official business. I returned to my room, undressed and dropped right into bed. The fire had gone out in the room, but there were enough downy quilts on the bed to burrow under for warmth. A sliver of a moon hung outside the window. The clouds had parted just enough to allow it to shine through. After Fenrick’s story of the origin of his people, I was relieved to see only a sliver.

Another clanging sound was followed by loud male laughter. I sat up in bed and pressed fingers to my throbbing temple. I was not a drinker, and the ale had really given me a wallop. My mouth was dry and sticky. My lady’s maid was far less helpful in this royal residence. Rowen hadn’t even supplied me with a glass of water or a robe and slippers. I got up and pulled on my breeches, my boots and wrapped myself in my cloak. I headed out into the hallway assuming the kitchen was somewhere downstairs.

The laughter and conversations grew louder as I made my way down the twisted staircase. I reached the bottom and lifted my nose to follow the lingering scent of food. It had to be coming from the kitchen area. I scurried along the mostly dark passages toward the aroma and found myself at two doors that looked too tall to lead to a kitchen. I had, however, found the source of the noise that woke me.

I pushed the door open a crack and peered inside the room. It was dimly lit with candles and a glow from the hearth. Two men in tattered leather tunics and black breeches were playing with swords. The metal blades clanged again and again as they swung them around. Each swordsman was holding a tankard of ale in his free hand, and the liquid sloshed over the rim with each lunge. A few scantily clad women sat on a couch with several more men. There was plenty of public groping and moaning going on. The rest of the room was filled with similarly dressed men in the same state of loud inebriation, though most weren’t swinging swords haphazardly around.

I peeked around but didn’t dare stay long. It seemed I’d entered a men-only, after-hours party. I caught sight of Fenrick. He stood nearest to the door with three others. I could just make out their conversation, which caught my attention when I heard the name Greyhart get tossed out. I turned my ear their direction hoping to pick up more of their words through the general clamor in the room.

“What are you going to do about Greyhart always looming around her?” The question caught my attention, but it was the sound of the snarly, deep voice that made me gasp. I poked my head in farther and gasped again. It was Gunnar, the man who grabbed me in the orange grove. I shivered thinking about his grimy hands holding me captive. The answer to his question caused another gasp. It was Fenrick speaking.

“Well, if you hadn’t let him get away the first time, none of this would be happening. The girl would be dead, and I’d be free to do as I like without the threat of losing my title. Those fucking sorcerers. Never did like those grizzled old bastards. Still, she’s quite delicious to look at. I won’t mind having to bed her for an heir.”

I pulled my head back, shut the door quietly and hurried back to the safety of my room. Tears pricked my eyes as I ran aimlessly through the cold, dingy hallway and up the impossibly steep stairs. Fenrick had almost seemed decent. Princess Jonier had made the idea of me being with Prince Granier all but impossible. Fenrick had presented himself as decent, polite and not at all the drunken feral man both Revel and Austri had described. But they’d been right, and my judgment and intuition had been wrong, very wrong. I was no more than a tick stuck in Fenrick’s leg; one that had to be pulled out and killed so that he could get on with his debauched lifestyle, free from having to marry the woman who was obviously not of his dreams. I had news for both princes—neither of them was the man of my dreams or Prince Charming or my happily-ever-after guy. As far as I was concerned, they could both lose their titles. I just wanted to go back to Norvale—where I belonged.

I shut the door to the bedroom and leaned against it to catch my breath. It wasn’t from climbing stairs. The wind rushed out of me as the true weight of my fate sank down. I was doomed in every possible way. My throat tightened. I was alone, so I let the tears flow freely. Or I thought I was alone. Something moved past the window. I wiped hastily at the tears and headed across the room. Omni sat perched on the window ledge, a concerned look in his black beady eyes.

More tears fell as I stroked the raven’s smooth black feathers. “Thank you for always watching over me.” I meant it for both the bird and the man behind it.

Twenty-Seven

I used the headache excuse to stay in bed late, and by the time I pulled myself out of bed, and down to the dining room, I was told that Prince Fenrick had gone out hunting. The word hunting sent a chill through me as my imagination drew up all kinds of meanings behind the word in this region.

The cook was nice enough to send out a sandwich and glass of water since I’d missed breakfast. I devoured it and headed straight back to my room. Rowen was nowhere to be seen. Austri would be on his way, and my heart ached to see a friendly face. My plan was to dress, walk to the gates and ask to be let out. I’d start walking to meet Austri on the trail.

I washed in the basin, ran my fingers through my tangled hair and got dressed in the same clothes I arrived in. As I pulled on my boots, I heard a commotion downstairs. Voices sounded agitated and distressed. It was the last thing I wanted before my escape. I’d hoped to creep through a mostly empty, quiet house, but it seemed people had arrived.

I finished tying my boots, pulled on my cloak and hurried to the stairs. I walked halfway down and stopped to listen to the conversations. “When will he return?” a man asked. “It’s important we let him know that we have a visitor. A dangerous visitor,” he added in an ominous tone.

I shuddered to think who a group of shapeshifters would consider dangerous, but it seemed I was leaving at either a good time or a very bad time. The dangerous visitor would have everyone scampering about, focused on the impending problem, and I could just leave. On the other hand, I had no idea where this dangerous visitor was in relation to the gate. What if I walked right out and into the claws of some kind of monster? I thought about it for all of five seconds.

“I’ll take my chances with the monster,” I muttered and hurried down the rest of the stairs. The urgent conversation was taking place in a room down the hallway. The doors were open, so I could hear them clearly. At the same time, I had a wide-open path to the front doors.

“Maybe we should just send her out,” one of the men said. The conversation was so patchy and cryptic I had no idea what they were talking about and, frankly, I didn’t care. I wanted out of Regnamoor.

The door was heavy and cumbersome, but I managed to open one side enough to slip through to the outside. It was a gray, dingy day with a cold drizzle. The town below seemed to be bustling along as usual, but then maybe they hadn’t been told about the dangerous visitor because Fenrick’s men didn’t want to stir up panic.

I spotted the sharp black finials of the gate in the distance and moved along back roads in that direction. I kept my cloak hood up and my face down while passing people. Very few people paid attention to the small figure in the oversized cloak. I reached the gate. There was as much chaos there as in the house. It seemed there really was a monster outside the city walls. With any luck, I could pass by everyone and their unwanted visitor unnoticed, just as I had through town. One thing seemed to be working in my favor—the big gate was ajar, and no one seemed to be minding it.

“Gunnar has gone out to find Fenrick,” one of the men was telling the other as I dashed through a few dark shadows and headed for the opening.

I was just through it when one of them yelled. “Hey, you there! No one is allowed out this morning!”

Up until then, I’d kept my head down, but I needed to see where I was going. I took off at a run and pushed back my cloak. I came to a fast stop as a wall of Fenrick’s men stood in front of me focused on something ahead of them. The monster, I presumed.

I pulled the cloak forward and tiptoed to the right to make a wide berth around whatever was happening. I moved quickly, but once again came to a cold stop when I heard a familiar voice.

“Told you hyenas, you’re overreacting. Not here to start trouble. Just send the woman out, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Revel.” His name fell off my lips. I pushed back my cloak and lifted my face. Revel was in the center of an army of Fenrick’s men and draped in a heavy cloak. His long hair ruffled in the breeze flowing down off the cliffs. Only two of the Regnas were in snarling wolf form, but the rest were armed with swords and knives. Revel had placed his axe on the ground near his feet to show he wasn’t there for a battle.

“What’s going on here?” A deep voice rolled over their heads. Prince Fenrick moved into the circle, carrying a bow and arrow. His brow lowered sternly. “Greyhart, what are you doing here?”