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“Go on, let me stroke it.”
“Whoa, hey, no.” I smack Iridiel, but it’s too late.
Yarinna moves closer and strokes her horn against his. Her nicker is positively pornographic, and I have to look away.
“Ahh, that’s it, faster now.”
“Can I just … I’m just going to go.” I throw a leg over Iridiel’s side, but he whinnies and backs away from the mare. “No. I’m not giving up those waterberries. You stay put.”
“I’m not going to sit here and watch you two do—well, whatever it is you’re doing.”
The battle intensifies, metal clanging and shouts hurtling through the trees. At least the two unicorns doing a hornjob was distracting, because now I’m turning into a nervous knot. Is Gareth all right? Is he hurt? Does he need help? I wish I had some sort of powers, a fae gift of healing or fighting. But I’m only a changeling.
“Let go of the mane, doll.”
I release Iridiel’s silky strands that I’d been clutching. “Sorry.”
At least he’s stopped “comforting” the mare. She’s calmer now, though she keeps close by.
“Maybe we should go check—”
“Shh.” Iridiel stills, his entire body going rigid.
The battle still rages, so I’m not sure what he’s hearing. I strain my ears to find it, though. He sniffs the air, opening his mouth to taste it, then eases closer to the wagon.
“What is it?” I whisper as I stare into the darkness.
“Someone’s here,” he says loud enough for the magic wielders around us to hear. “Be on your guard.”
He keeps moving us further inside the protective circle, and I lean down close to him, my senses searching for any hint of what’s to come. Before I can see a thing, one of the slaves flies into the darkness, his scream abruptly severed. Then, from the gloom, a huge white hand appears, its nails black and twisted, and the arm attached to it marked with scars.
“Troll!” The mare bolts.
But I’m no longer looking at the troll, I’m looking at the fae on its back as he orders it to destroy us all.
Lord Zatran.
13
Gareth
Troll blood runs down my face and coats the air with a foul stench as I slice through the biggest one. Fear ripples through the bond, and I turn, my feral racing to the surface as I leap through the bits of troll and run back to the caravan.
My mate’s scream is fire in my veins, her terror lighting my need to kill and maim any who would harm her. A troll rips one of the fighters defending the caravan in half as Zatran urges it on.
“You will die, and Lord Cenet will take the realms and crush them in his palm. I have seen his plan. It is perfection. And all will bow before him. But first, I want to see you filthy slaves bleed. You will never be free of me or those like me.” He bares his fangs and points at Beth. “Lord Cenet wants your head, and I will happily bring it—”
With a hard leap, I launch myself at the troll who threatens my mate. Though its hide is thick, it’s no match for my claws as I rip through its throat, its bulbous body falling back as I slice almost deeply enough to sever its head.
But it’s not my true target. It only got in the way. I claw over its shoulder and grab Zatran between my teeth, then slam him to the ground.
His surprised cry is cut off by my fangs in his throat. I clamp down with my powerful jaw and am about to rip his neck out when Chastain yells.
Zatran tries to strike me, his hands ineffectual as I claw his chest to shreds.
I don’t loosen my grip, but I look up, my night vision just short of perfect. Chastain rushes toward me, the stench of troll blood even stronger now.
“Wait.” He holds up a hand. “Wait. We need to question him.”
I growl and clamp down tighter, the rush of blood warm on my tongue. A voice tiptoes through my mind. One that raises my hackles.
“Gareth.” Chastain moves closer. “We need answers.”
“Kill him,” the voice whispers. “Tear him apart.”
I push the strange thought away, but it comes back louder. “Kill him. He’s your enemy.” It feels wrong at first, but then it feels like … the truth.
My jaw unclenches, and I back away from Zatran. The voice is right. Chastain—he’s the one who wants to hurt my mate. He’s the danger.
His silver eyes widen right as I leap. Slamming him to the ground, I rake my claws down his stomach and bare my fangs.
He gives me a confused look as he yells and tries to fight me off. “What are you—”
“Kill him, kill him, kill him.” The voice doesn’t stop. “He wants to steal your mate, to force himself on her, to claim her as his own.”
“Never!” I sink my fangs deep into Chastain’s chest.
“Gareth!” Beth rushes toward me, Iridiel at her back. “Let him go!”
I shake him as he flails, his golden dagger piercing my leg.
“Zatran,” Chastain gasps. “Can control beasts. It’s his magic.”
I blink. “Magic.”
“Kill him. Kill them all.” The voice is so strong, as if it’s my own, but there’s a darkness to it, a shadow.
Beth kneels beside me, her skin pale. “Zatran’s controlling you, Gareth! Fight it.” I don’t let go, but I stop shaking Chastain. “Please, Gareth.” She reaches out and touches my ear. “Let him go.”
“Kill the changeling slave, too,” the voice commands. I release Chastain, my mind a mush of darkness and bewilderment. What am I doing? I turn on Beth, my fangs bared, a low growl rumbling out of me.
“Rip her heart out.”
I advance on her, my leg aching from Chastain’s blade, but my need to destroy overcoming all else.
She doesn’t flinch. Instead, she reaches out and strokes my chest. “Fight it, my heart. You can beat him.”
My heart. That’s what my beloved calls me. The sweetest thing from her lips I’ve ever heard.
Zatran struggles to sit, his wounds knitting themselves back together as his strength returns. His gaze is on me, his voice in my head. “Kill her now.”
My growl deepens.
Beth drops her hand and takes a deep breath. “I trust you.” She stares into my eyes, not a hint of fear anywhere on her. My beloved. So perfect.
Whirling, I advance on Zatran.
He scrambles to his feet. “Back!”
The command stills me. But only for a moment. Then my forward motion returns, and with it, my will.
“I said stop!” He holds out his hand, the magical command forming a blue ember in his palm. It flows over me but fails to penetrate. He can’t control me.
With a leap, I’m on him again. He strikes me hard in my shoulder, the blow bursting with a painful spark. But then my fangs are in his throat, and this time I don’t stop. I bite until my teeth meet, his gristle and sinew caught between them, and then I rip. His scream dies in my mouth as I snap and rip again with so much force his head pulls free and bounces onto the leaf-strewn ground. It lands at Beth’s feet, and I return to her with pride, a purr in my heart as I sit beside her. She leans down and kisses my nose. “Good kitty. I knew you could do it, my heart.”
My purr grows louder, but Chastain coughs, a bloody bubble rolling onto his lips.
Parnon runs with heavy steps toward us, a troll—much the worse for wear given the blood covering its face—on his tail. The other fighters surround it and cut it down with ease.
“What happened?” He eyes Zatran’s severed head, then looks at Chastain. “No!”
I pad over to the high fae and lick his wounds. They seal rapidly, as if my healing magic is several times stronger in my feral form. That must be it. Chastain sits up and wipes the blood from his mouth, then runs a shaking hand down his chest.
I headbutt him in apology.
He lies back and groans. “That was close.”
“You’re fine.” Beth waves a hand as if we weren’t just teetering on life and death. “We’re all fine, thanks to Gareth.”
“Gareth almost killed him.” Parnon doesn’t seem convinced.
“But he beat Zatran.”
“Now we can’t question him.” Parnon frowns.
“We’re alive, okay?” Beth pets me, her tone defensive. I lean against her legs, my tail twitching along her back.
I have the pressing urge to prance around Zatran’s head. After all, it’s a gift from me to my mate. I paw it and look up at her.
“Oh, what a good kitty,” she says brightly, her extra verve appeasing me.
