Page 93 of His Realm

Keres, using her thumb and middle finger, sliced the faces of the two guards holding her so she could join me on the floor. She was helping me sit up as Cirillo easily got the guards off him and Carice, then rushed to my side as well.

“How did you cut them?” I asked Keres.

She looked at me oddly, and it was probably a weird time to be asking her, but she showed me the razor-sharp finger knives I hadn’t even noticed.

Carice screamed as Ødger came running back, hovering somewhere between man and beast, certainly more animal than anything else.

I saw Sorin rush to intercept him, speaking calming words as he ran, thinking, I could only guess, that as Ødger was not yet fully transformed, the man inside would know Sorin and value him as his loyal servant. Already, though, he was too far gone. I knew from experience that once any part of the change had begun, the man was no more. And in that metamorphosed state, the wolf only recognized their mate. The bond had to be that strong, and Sorin did not share that with Ødger, or the sight and scent of my blood would not have forced the transmutation. In the last moment, when Sorin realized his mistake, seeing no slowing in Ødger’s advance, only rage, in that instant he tried to flee, only to have his lord lift his right hand and sever Sorin’s head from his shoulders in a gush of arterial spray.

Carice swooned and fainted, and Cirillo had to scramble to catch her. I was glad she missed the spectacle of people swarming Sorin’s corpse, slurping his blood from the floor, others drinking what was still running from his ruined neck.

Keres pressed her face on my shoulder, as if girding herself for the coming assault as Ødger charged us.

“See your consort’s power, lady,” Cirillo told her.

Ødger slammed into my barrier, and this time, he was thrown even farther back. The guards rushed forward, hit the barrier as well, and flew through the air as though they’d struck an electrified fence.

“Look out,” Cirillo said, putting Carice down in Keres’s arms, stepping in front of the three of us as the guards began, shrewdly, to throw things at us—knives, handheld axes, and one even hurling the spear he carried. It made sense to check if it was only their bodies that the barrier repelled. Another tried to lead with his spatha, charging in. The spatha came through, but the moment the top of his hand touched the barrier, he screamed, dropped the spatha, and was thrown back.

Cirillo was impressive. He caught the knives easily, plucked them from midair, the axes and spear as well. Once he had the spatha, he used it to bat everything else down in a blur of motion.

“You are handy to have around,” I praised him.

“Thank you, my consort,” he said with a wicked grin. “I think I will keep this spatha. It’s sharper than the one we left with Vidar to protect his family.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Good plan.”

Ødger started roaring, in a complete frenzy, and his courtiers, all the nobles, started running. Those who’d been drinking Sorin’s blood abandoned the spreading pool, everyone trying to get out before, I was guessing, Ødger completely shifted and the rampage began. The fact that it had to happen often enough for them to know what was coming was terrifying.

“To your quarters!” Balon was yelling. “Barricade yourselves in! Guards, lock all the doors. He cannot be allowed to leave the castle!”

It was like someone yelled fire, and I watched as people tried to get away before Ødger froze, then started his shift.

I had never actually seen Varic “slip his skin” as he called it and become the wolf. What I did know, having been in a room with him twice, the second time recently when he got home, was that it was seamless and fast. One moment a man, the next not.

It was physically painful to watch Ødger crumple forward, tear at his own clothing, and then hear the snapping of bones, see his skin split, and watch muscle and tissue reform. The putrefying smell was alarming. Ichor dripped off his thin, cadaverous frame and dropped to the floor, and the wolf that emerged from the ruined, ravaged flesh was something out of a nightmare. Because yes, it was larger than the man, but it was hairless, and had puckered skin that was wet and oozing blood and pus that sloughed off when he moved forward.

Carice, who had woken, had her face down in a silk handkerchief, and I smelled lavender. Keres held up a vial for me and, unscrewing the lid, I was hit with the welcome scent as well. I rubbed some of the oil under my nose. Cirillo was retching, so I had him crouch down beside me so I could rub the oil under his nose as well.

“Thank you,” I said, passing the lavender oil back to Keres. “I really didn’t want to vomit.”

“Of course not. Now, if you would please allow me to look at the cuts on your neck.”

Sitting next to her on the floor, I lifted my head.

“They’re not deep enough to need a needle. Do you heal fast with all the prince’s blood in you, my consort?”

“Not as fast as you would, but not as slow as a human.”

“Until we can get to water,” she said, and pulled from her skirt a tiny jar, “this will have to suffice.” When she opened it, I caught a familiar smell.

“Honey?”

She nodded, stuck her finger in, then smeared honey over my wounds. Once she closed the jar, I noted she had a line of oil under her nose as well.

“You have a lot of pockets in that skirt,” I said, smiling at her.

She smiled wanly back, then winced when Ødger rammed into the barrier, only to be hurled across the floor, leaving behind smears of blood on the stone.