Page 126 of A Lady’s Guide to Werewolves

“And what crimes are those, pray tell?” Sorcha shot back. “Common decency? Empathy?”

“If you like. You interfered with our amusements, Lady Sorcha. You cost us all coin in lost wagers. You stole my fighters.”

“I released your prisoners.”

The crowd shifted uncomfortably, murmuring. The thrill of a night chasing illicit amusements was somewhat dampened when reality set in. Good.

“But no more,” Amelia said. “Now we claim our ground, and our entertainment.” What was left of the rotting roof had been pulled away entirely. The moon, full and bright on the equinox night, poured into the tower. She smiled. “It’s time.”

There was a howl from beyond the courtyard, but it sounded wrong. Pained.

A wolf whine pierced the din. And another. A snarl, a growl.

Something was happening outside the tower.

And it was not good.

Sorcha reached out with her magic, searching for a sparrow, a crow, an owl. Someone to show her the courtyard and the hills beyond. She could not risk sending Elderberry. She whistled once, twice.

Finally, a crow answered.

The glint of eyes and teeth, moonlight on fur, men writhing in the grass as they fought the transformation.

More men in the darkness. Not men, Amelia’s guards, on horseback with bewitched silver chains, herding them closer.

She saw Agnes fall, then Gretel. She searched for Aidan in the flashes but could not see him.

Because he was right there with her.

Aidan strode through the crowd, imposing, furious.

“Welcome, Lord Coventry.”

“All right, songbird?” His voice was hoarse, dark. A comfort. She could see the wolf still rippling under his skin. The blood he had wiped from his nose.

“I’m fine,” Sorcha assured him. “It’s a trap.”

“Aye.” He didn’t turn away from Sorcha. “Let her go,” he growled.

“So soon? I think not. No, no. It’s not nearly time for that yet.”

“The wolves are at your door, Collector.”

“I do hope so, after all the effort I put into bringing them here. Now step into the ring, Lord Coventry.”

“No.” Aidan’s voice lashed out.

“You’ll fight her, dog. And show the world who you really are.”

“Never.”

Amelia went white with rage even if she still spoke as though this were a dinner party. “I think you’ll find I always get my way. And I did tell you, Lady Sorcha, that I am the more clever of us.”

She pointed to one of the guards. Two pistols and a crossbow were aimed at Sorcha.

“If he does not get inside the ring, shoot her.”