"Yes.” Hawke nods. “My brother has cut all communication since marrying Vencia and leaving Vandimoor. Larkspur also. Messengers are turned away—or fired upon at the gates to both Sigilford and Lunaris."
The muscles in my forearm knot as claws threaten to emerge. I press my palms flat against my thighs, focusing on the rough texture of my breeches. "Darkwood and Larkspur make a play to control the Fae outside the crown."
"It has not been said in so many words," Hawke admits. "But the silence speaks volumes. A civil war within my own people feels very possible."
"We need to see her," I say quietly. “And the table.”
As if responding to his words, the castle shudders violently.
My body reacts before my mind can—muscles tensing, senses sharpening, the wolf surging forward in primal response to danger. I'm on my feet in an instant, stance widened for balance, hands outstretched as if I could physically hold the walls in place. The rumbling sensation travels up through my boots, vibrating in my bones.
"Fucking perfect timing," I growl, eyes tracking the new hairline cracks spreading across the nearest wall.
"Let’s go," Wraith says, jumping to his feet beside me.
None of us argue.
Sahsa hurries off through the same private door her children went through, but Jarlath follows us through the main door and and back out into a main castle corridor. "Where is Ares?" he asks, looking between us. "Why isn't he here for the meeting?"
I laugh out loud. If a rule exists, that man would find a way to break it.
"Ask his stubborn ass yourself next time you see him," Boaz mutters, pulling off his gloves to reveal hands now more stone than flesh. The grey has crept past his wrists, advancing up his forearms in jagged patterns.
Jarlath’s eyes widen. He stares at Boaz’s hands. “Is it painful?”
Boaz nods. “Very.”
Hawke turns to me. "You've been quiet about your wolf."
I consider lying, but what's the point? "My wolf was calmer near her," I admit reluctantly. "Near Astrid. Even when she had a gun pointed at me."
"Hawke told me you found the one with your soul shard?" Jarlath asks. “Why isn’t she here?”
Because she might kill me instead of come with me. But I don’t say that out loud.
"She’s a GUIDE agent," I say with a bitter sigh. "I’m quite sure it’s not going to be as easy with her as Hawke had it with Melinda."
"She will come around," Hawke says quietly. "She needs you, too."
The memory of Astrid's eyes finding mine across her mother's yard flashes through my mind. The shock, the recognition, something beyond fear in her gaze. Hawke is right. I know he is. I have to believe he is. It’s the only thing keeping me going.
Another tremor interrupts my thoughts. A crack races across one wall, spider-webbing out from floor to ceiling. It makes me want to walk faster, even run, but I don’t.
When the shaking subsides, Hawke's expression is grim. "We need to see what's happening. Now."
"The queen can’t possibly know I’ve found my mate," I say, as we travel down another hallway and take a right toward the tower. I’ve been through this part of the castle many times before.
I catch Hawke's arm. "How is she really? Melinda?"
His eyes soften slightly. "Sick as a dog. Barely keeps broth down. And furious that I wouldn't let her come." A small smile touches his lips. "She's worried the Council might try something while I'm here at Camelot."
“Tell her we wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
He chuckles. “I will. Perhaps that will soothe her slightly.”
"You can tell her my mate wants to kill me," I say, the ache in my chest throbbing like an open wound.
"I’ll have to prepare her for it. GUIDE killed her mother and hunted her as well," he replies. “One problem at a time, though. First you must win over your mate. Then we worry about Melinda.”
