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Just the thought of what happened back at the hall had me stumbling on my own feet. I couldn’t believe he had said all those things. And they were both the best and worst things he could say. The good part: he promised me an army any general would be proud to lead. The bad part: he also promised he would never be able to love me.
The urge to cry and laugh was almost uncontrollable and I took several deep breaths, trying to control my hysteria.
Going through the inn’s back doors, I called out, “Father?” It was completely dark outside, which was strange. There was a beautiful garden here, one that was usually ablaze with lights because the owners of the inn were extremely proud of it. Taking a step onto the stone path, I moved forward and called out again. “Father?”
No one answered, not even a single cricket cricking, and that was when it struck me. It was too silent here. Too silent. The whole place smacked of danger that had gone past, danger that didn’t make me have a dark fit because it was not directed at...me. It was directed at someone else.
Oh God, no. All thoughts of Alejandro fled and all I could think about was Venetto. My heart racing in fear, I called out again, “Father?”
In the darkness, something caught my eye, a glint of metal.
A sword.
Heart in my throat, I ran towards the spark, my mind blank with terror. Please let it not be him, please let it not be him, please let it not be him. The stone path curved to the left, and there, I saw it, an upright sword—-
“Noooooooooo!”
Tears of disbelief streaked down my cheeks as I rushed towards where my father lay unmoving on the ground, his own sword protruding from his bloodstained chest.
Crashing down on my knees, I reached for his shoulders with shaking hands. “Father?” Please God, please make him open my eyes. Please. But his eyelids remained closed. Clasping the hilt of his sword with both hands, I pulled it carefully out of his body—-
Behind me, someone gasped.
My head twisted around, and I found two men halted in their tracks at the sight of Venetto’s dead body on the ground, my hands on the sword that killed him.
“Dear Lord.” The whisper came from Benito, the head of the Panthera’s face turning a sickly shade of white.
The second man was Raoul. “What have you done, Calys?” His voice was filled with hurt incredulity, but in his eyes was the truth – the real feelings he felt, and they were nothing but triumph.
And I knew. I cried. And when I looked at him, I was no longer myself.
Chapter Five
ALEJANDRO
The first inkling he had of the trouble brewing around him was something that couldn’t be explained. It was more than feeling someone had just walked over Alejandro’s grave. Rather, someone had jumped on it, over and over, each footfall harder than the last. Pay attention, the person over his grave seemed to scream. Pay attention before Calys dies—-
The mug he held in his hand crashed to the floor, and the people around him became silent and wary, their warrior bodies going taut as they waited for their prince to explain his actions.
Seated next to him at the head of the table, Domenico Moretti asked calmly, “What happened?” The noise in the bar was reduced to nothing when he spoke, all the shifters inside on the alert. They, too, had started to sense the same thing that was making Alejandro restless.
And then they all heard it—-
Nooooooooooo.
It was Calys, screaming like someone had just taken her life.
Alejandro broke into a run, and so did Domenico and the rest of their pack. Chairs crashed to the floor in their wake as they burst out of the bar, none of them bothering to hide their shifter speed. The air about them was raw with violence, telling them there was no second to lose.
Over and over, he heard the sound of Calys screaming, and it made Alejandro run harder and faster, feeling all the while he wasn’t running hard or fast enough. His sense of smell showed him the way, and they all headed towards the back of the inn. He smelled death, and it made him bristle with fear and aggression.
When they reached the back of the inn, everyone was fighting. Adelardi panthers against each other, and other panthers against Souris, their wings tensely drawn against their backs, just a second away from spreading open to give them an aerial advantage over their opponents.
His gaze searched the battle scene wildly, and he found her a moment later.
Calys. She was alive. Thank the fuck she was alive.
Relief crashed into him as he stared at her, and that was when he realized she was not quite herself. She was having one of her dark fits, and it was extremely clear that she was hell-bent on killing Raoul. The younger man was on the ground, fighting for his life. He shifted into his panther form the next second, but it made no difference. Calys was relentless in her attack, every swing of her father’s sword deadly in its precision. Metal clashed against claws, wounding both skin and fur.
