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It still amazed me, even all these months later. Gods below, I was lucky to have the love of such a female!

Now, as the veil began to shimmer, we prepared to leave our world for less than an hour, and the change of the babe from one pair of arms to another was nothing now. Cataline passed Edan to Rowena, who took him with a fond look and a promise to make certain he slept well in the children’s tent.

I wasn’t worried. It took most of an afternoon and a solemn vow to pry Edan from her arms the first time, but now she trusted us, trusted the clan.

Cataline wiped her hands against her skirts, as if she could shake off the hesitation in her chest, and turned to face the stones. I caught the scent of her worry and excitement mixed together and reached out to brush the back of my fingers against her arm.

My Mate sent me a shaky smile, but her gaze was drawn back to the stone circle, the faint mist coiling at its edges.

‘Twas almost time.

I felt the moments counting down like a stone in my gut. The veil held open one hour, and if we were not standing in it when it closed...we’d be on the baron’s land, under his law, for a month. And I’d be damned if I trusted the old man’s law to protect my family.

Cataline reached for my hand, her fingers threading between mine.

“The hour?”

“Aye,” I said, though she felt my worry already tracing through the Bond between us. The veil shimmered, shifting like a living thing.

‘Twas time.

We stepped through.

The veil spilled us out onto the far side of the stones where the scent of pine and damp earth thickened and the land had been cleared by greedy humans.

And there, atop a great black warhorse, sat Baron Godwin. His armor gleamed even in the pale moonlight, and behind him stood six mounted riders, silent and rigid, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.

My sword was in my hand before we had cleared the mist, the leather-wrapped hilt cold against my palm. I did not trust this meeting, not even with Cataline’s assurances that the old man had sought only a chance to see the grandson named for him.

Not when he could order those at his back to do any deadly thing he liked.

We could run, turn back into the mist at any point and pray he wouldn’t risk following us. But my Mate wanted to trust the baron, and I lived to make her happy. So I remained where I was, my grip firm on my sword, shifting to put my body between my family and the possible danger.

The baron’s horse took a step forward, then another. I braced, ready to move if any of his riders so much as twitched. Then he gave a command to his men, short and sharp and laced with a note that had every single rider snap to attention like they’d been struck by lightning. One word and they froze, their horses uneasy beneath them but discipline keeping them still.

Right. So the baron was a male who inspired instant obedience.

He dismounted with surprising grace for a male his age, his polished boots striking the earth with a soft thud as he handed up the reigns to one of his warriors.

Then he turned and strode forward, his heavy cloak swinging, leaving his men in their rigid lines. No sword. No threat. Just a male who moved with the certainty of someone who expected to be obeyed.

I wondered how he looked to Ewan.

The lad had gone still and silent at my side, but now he tilted his chin up, curiosity winning over his earlier intimidation. The baron noticed him—truly noticed him—for the first time. For a heartbeat, the two simply stared, the old man’s lined face softened by something like wonder.

“Richard’s boy,” he murmured.

Ewan, bold as ever, nodded. “Aye.”

Cataline’s fingers tightened around the boy’s, so I lent her some of my strength through our Bond while I kept my eyes on the old man.

The baron’s gaze flicked to me, taking in my size, the green of my skin, the sword clutched in my hand.

“I know you claimed orcs existed in your letters,” he said slowly to Cataline, his voice rich and measured. “I did not believe it until now.”

Cataline exhaled a small breath beside me. She had been honest with me of her fears of this meeting, but now, listening to the sorrow in the rich note of his voice, that fear began to ease. The space between us hummed with the Bond as her emotions gently shifted, and I knew I could lower my guard slightly. But only slightly.

Ewan took a small step forward, curious to see this powerful lord for himself. I allowed it. The boy studied the man’s face, his fancy traveling cloak, the fine embroidery along the edges. Mayhap the lad saw a grandfather. I still saw a rich male who had likely never had to wonder if his sons would go hungry.