“Except,” Syd says, “if Femke backs you and you can prove he and his people are also humans bitten and turned, he will have to accept you.”
There is that. “We need to take back the throne,” I say. “And there’s only one way to do it.”
“Two,” Sage says, voice soft. “We can convince the werenation—as Caine did to Oleksander—he is unfit for the throne.”
I still can’t believe he succeeded. “No,” I say, pulling away from Femke, from all of them, my wolf chuffing her angry agreement in my head. “In order to remove Caine from the throne, he must be challenged and defeated by the one who would rule after him.”
I guess if this works, I’m going to be werequeen after all.
Someone knocks on the door, startling the group of us. All but Max who turns his big head, diamond eyes catching the light and making me think of the opulent palace I’m about to storm by force. When Femke walks over to answer it, I already know who is on the other side from the feel of their magic, and their scent coming through the cracks around the door.
Isabelle and Maksym look relieved to see me, the slim, honey haired vampire waiting for the hulking werewolf who is her boyfriend to hug me before taking her turn. Maks eyes Sage, though when my love offers his hand, the wereguard takes it firmly in his own without a hint of hesitation.
The slumped-shouldered were behind them won’t meet my eyes, but his desperation seems to be gone as Raoul salutes Femke.
“I was unable to free Oleksander from his prison,” my father says without preamble, voice dull and tired. “But there are enough of the werenation unhappy with how things have turned to pursue an assault on the palace.”
“Why,” I growl at him, “if they were so against Caine taking the throne and deposing my grandfather, are they having this sudden change of heart?” Traitors, the lot of them. How am I to rule those who would stab me in the back at the least provocation? Or trust them to uphold my challenge when I make it?
I need to have more empathy for my people. They have been through so much, taught to mistrust and be suspicious, beaten down for centuries. A handful of years of freedom haven’t been enough to change their way of thinking.
Still, my grandfather has been beloved by my people all along. Why would they do this to him?
My father ducks his head in shame. “Because he had no family to support him.”
I’m supposed to feel my own regret, I suppose, and guilt over my defection in favor of Sage. But all I can do is simmer in anger at my father.
“When Caine speaks,” Raoul says, “the werenation listens.” A frown creases Syd’s face, and Femke’s. “Even the most staunch supporters of the Moreau family turned against my father.” Tears trickle through new lines around Raoul’s eyes, the deep frown grooves that pull at his mouth, aged beyond his years. “Even I doubted Oleksander when I came to hear Caine speak.” He shakes his head. “Unthinkable.”
“No,” Syd says. “There’s another word for it.” She swears softly. “Coercion.”
Femke nods, grim and angry. “He’s using magic against them.”
“You’re really surprised?” Syd begins to pace, past Max who watches her back and forth with glittering eyes. “They’ve been so honest and forthright all along, haven’t they?” Her sarcasm cuts deep. “This revelation is hardly a shocker.”
Maybe not, but it feeds my own fury. “If it can be done,” I say, “it can be undone.”
Syd stops her pacing. “Sounds like it’s only a temporary influence?” She focuses on Raoul who nods, swallowing his grief as he visibly seems to realize what they are talking about.
“They made us believe?” My father’s wolf emerges as his snout elongates then goes back to human shape, a sure sign of his rising rage. “They forced us to turn against our own?”
Femke nods, sighs heavily. “I’m afraid so.” Her magic sparkles around her hand as she reaches for my father. He stands there, eyes wide, staring at her like a terrified animal, as her power gently settles around him a moment before dropping away. “Just traces left,” she says. “It must be a close-contact coercion.”
Syd’s scowl makes her look like her mother. “He can’t have the power he needs to make it permanent for so many people,” she says.
“Of course,” Femke says. “It must be a field of some kind, localized. That way, when the werewolves are in the presence of Caine or Rupe, they don’t argue.”
“And,” I say with a sad sigh, knowing my people very well, “even once free of it, they would not argue with their change of heart without good reason.” All that ingrained obedience has led us astray yet again.
Raoul’s hands fist at his sides. “I felt nothing,” he says. “I blamed myself for my weakness and that of the werewolves around me. I had no idea.”
“If Charlotte is right,” Syd says, “which she likely is, that was probably the plan.” Syd meets my eyes. “Doubt they wanted it to be public knowledge. So a field like that, something with influence but not permanent, would serve them well.”
“It would make our detection outside the werenation palace all the harder,” Femke says, “and keep their secret. Which it has.”
Until now. I shake my head, mind churning, searching my power for such an ability. But the wolf in me growls her anger at such a thought, that we would be capable of forcing others to believe. Wolves don’t need such power. “It couldn’t have been Caine,” I say. Sage grunts agreement, wincing. “We just aren’t capable of such an act.” Even he. I can’t bring myself to believe his wolf could be so corrupt.
“So their sorcerer handler has to be in on the action,” Syd says, with an evil gleam of glee in her eyes. “Which means I get to have a little chat with Rupe after all this time.” She’s more a wolf at times than I am, I think.
“We will gather our army of werewolves loyal to the true king outside the palace grounds,” Raoul says, voice vibrating with passion. “I will tell them of this deception, that they have been lied to and coerced. Our people will rebel when they know they are being controlled. And we will unseat this pretender and return Oleksander to his throne.”
Femke flinches, covers her ears with her hands and hums off tune. When Raoul falls silent, she shrugs. “You didn’t say that out loud in front of me,” she says. “If the leader of the European Council heard of plans to usurp the duly chosen king of the werenation from his throne, I would have to act to stop you.” She takes a step to the door, pulls it open. “If you’ll excuse me,” she says, “I’ll be powdering my nose in the ladies.”
Syd snorts as Femke leaves. “Now that,” she says, jabbing at the door, “is a Council Leader.”
I nod slowly, wishing there was more Femke could do, but grateful to her for her willingness to let us act.
“How soon can we move?” I turn to my father who even still barely meets my eyes.
“I’ll need a day,” he says. “To do recon and make sure we have an extraction plan for your grandfather in place.” His hands clench at his sides. “Your sorcerer friends are already working something out.”
I remember then Ethpeal and Demetrius went with him and feel better instantly.
“I’ll give you an extraction plan,” Syd says. “Tell me where he is and I’ll go get him right now.”
I could hug her.
“Let’s hold off,” Maks says. “We don’t want to tip off Caine what we’re planning.”
“He has to know we’re up to something,” I say. “Roman and Viveca would have reported in by now.” Likely, they had their own transportation, perhaps with Rupe himself or another sorcerer he worked with. Even if they had to use more conventional means, a simple phone call would have given Caine the advanced warning he needs to prepare for us. Because he has to know I’m coming for him.
If he doesn’t, he’s a fool and about to find out what it’s like to cross a Moreau.
Still, I nod to Maks. “One day,” I say. “We attack at this time tomorrow.” Probably a good idea, anyway. I need sleep, so does
Sage. And food. And a shower. Time to rest and prepare my mind. I turn to Syd who nods, stepping back to Max’s side as the pair begin to glow with diamond light.
“All right,” she says. “We’ll see you shortly.” Her mind touches mine as the veil opens and she and Max turn to enter the gap. I’ll save Oleksander, she sends. I promise you that.
If he’s still alive when we reach him, I send, letting her feel my practical acceptance. Thank you.
She doesn’t answer, just leaves with the big drach leader, and I let her go. Suddenly tired, I watch Maks and Isabelle leave, Raoul pausing behind them, half-turning to me as though wanting to say something. But he, too, files out, Femke slipping in after him, gesturing to Sage and me.
“I have quarters for you both,” she says. “If you’ll follow Daniel, he’ll show you the way.” A slim page with too-long brown hair and an impish grin bounces on his toes outside the door. Sage goes with him, but Femke holds me back when I try to follow.
She stares into my eyes for a long moment before sighing heavily and releasing her grip on my arm.
“I told you once before, you can trust me,” she says. “I feel like I’ve failed you, Charlotte.”
I move to shake my head, to deny her words, but she stops me with a small, sad smile. “You needed me—you needed us—and we followed the rules. Left you out in the cold, on your own. You amaze me, do you know that?” I simply stare at her, speechless. I admire her and her strength so much, it’s a bit of a shock to realize the feeling is mutual. “I want you to know, no matter what or how bad things look, I will never abandon you for the stupid rules ever again.” Her fierceness wakes my wolf. “Witches are stubborn creatures, hidebound and frustrating. And I’ve struggled to lead my covens into more forward thinking. But I won’t permit a friend to fall when she’s in the right, even if it means stepping down from leadership.”
I could never allow her to do that. But I appreciate the sentiment and her loyalty. I kiss her cheek gently, let her feel the calm and determination of my wolf.
“Anything, anytime, for you, Femke,” I say. And leave her there, tears on her cheeks, following after Sage while my heart warms and heals.
What have I done to deserve such friends?
***
Chapter Fourteen
Sage isn’t in our room. I follow the scent of him down the hall and to the partially open door. A peek inside tells me what I already know. The bed is empty, the bathroom dark and quiet. The little page is long gone, as well. I pace around the room for a moment before returning to the hall and pursuing Sage, the deliciousness of him leading me to a stairwell at the end of the corridor.
He went up and I retrace his steps, emerging on the roof. It’s dark again, night-time Oxford stretched out before me, the lip of the edge artfully crafted like the parapet of a castle. Sage is easy to spot, leaning against the stone ledge, looking out over the campus. I cross to him, my shoes grinding stone together under foot. He turns as I join him, arm slipping around my waist, snuggling me tight against his hip. I lean my head on his shoulder, feeling my body fully relax for the first time since this all began.
We’re safe, with friends who love and trust us. And tomorrow I rescue my grandfather and restore him to his throne.
“I visited Oxford once before,” Sage says. “I thought I might like to go to school here.”
“You still could,” I say. “I’m sure Femke would welcome you into the magic classes.” Might be a good idea for both of us to get some real training, though I’m more comfortable with my power now than I’ve ever been.
Sage chuckles in my hair, lips grazing my forehead. “That,” he says, “would be amazing.”
I hug him tight, turning to curve my body against his, arms around his chest, lips pressing to his throat. “Sage,” I whisper, voice choking off as I try to speak. “I never got to tell you how much I regret rejecting you in California.”
His hands slide into my hair. “It’s okay.”
“No,” I say, magic embracing him as I look up into his eyes. “It’s not. We’ve come so far and I’ve learned so much about who I am. Who my people are. All because of you.” I laugh, genuinely amused. “Imagine it took you and the attack to shake the last of the chains from my people.” I kiss him, his nose cold on my cheek. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”
He laughs over my mouth. “You’re welcome,” he says.
I jab him gently in the ribs and he bends, still laughing, ticklish spot turning him into a giggling boy.
“No matter what happens,” I say, thinking of Femke and her promise to me, “I will never let you go.”
He stills, stares down at me. “Charlie,” he says. “You’re going to be queen someday.”
“And you,” I tell him in my firmest tone, wolf growling her agreement, “will be at my side.”
Sage shakes his head, sad smile curving his beautiful mouth, green eyes endlessly deep as the ocean. “I can’t ask that of you or your people.”
“Our people.” He’s one of us, now. Sage starts, eyes widening. “You’re a werewolf, Sage America.”
He bends and kisses me again, softly at first, then with bite and passion that leaves me breathless. The need to have him when I was in wolf shape rises again, and I wonder how I ever considered letting him go.
“I never want to hurt you.” He hugs me, cradling me against him. “I know you’ve been through a lot, though you won’t tell me what.”
“Do you really want to know?” It’s quiet up here, the wind soft on us despite the elevation, the night serene. It feels like perfect timing and sacrilege to the lovely night all at once.
Sage stills, nods against me. “I really do.”
I tell him, a little, about Andre and my childhood. Of his sons and their depraved father. About rape and pain and endless torture, of having my soul crushed only to rise again and refuse to break. I’m detached, clinical, feeling myself leave as the words leave me, the old protections of evasion and hiding still keeping me safe.
I barely remember what I say to him, but I don’t tell him everything. It’s enough that his body tenses and he struggles to contain his temper as his power flares against mine, bringing me back to the moment with a shuddering sigh.
“The next time I see Andre Dumont,” he whispers into my hair, “I’m going to kill him and make his kids watch.”
I hug Sage tighter, wondering at my reaction to his. I’ve always had to look out for myself and though I know Syd and Femke and my other friends are there for me, this is the first time I’ve felt as though another truly understands and has the need to punish the ones who hurt me. Not because it’s the right thing to do, or will save the Universe, but because I matter.
And I rather like it.
“I may not get the chance,” Sage says. “Won’t that Erica person act against Andre if it comes out he’s working with bad guys?”
I grunt my disagreement into his shirt. “Doubt it,” I say. “I can’t imagine Erica doing anything to rock the boat, or put herself in a position to look bad.” Probably part of the reason she’s so pissed off Sage and I had the run of her territory for so long.
“I always hated politics,” Sage says. “I guess I better get used to them, huh?”
“I guess,” I say. “Since you’re going to be part of the werenation royal family.”
He chuckles. “I love the sound of that.”
I look up at him, my whole world his smile, his eyes, allow him feel how I feel for him.
Sage groans softly and bends over me, lips pressing tightly, tongue exploring my mouth with a demanding heat I answer. I leap, wrapping my legs around his hips, feeling him turn, pressing me against the ledge. He is hard and wanting, my body responding to the pulse of his heartbeat between us. I pant as I try to pull him closer, always closer.
Sage stiffens as I slip my hand under his shirt, down the front of his jeans. I pull away, boiling inside, needing him so much, only to watch his face slacken, his eyes roll up into the back o
f his head. He collapses to the ground. I grasp at him, terror replacing my burning desire, hand brushing over a cold metal cylinder embedded in the back of his neck.
I look up, too late, as a second dart whistles out of the darkness and buries itself in my throat. The anesthesia acts quickly, a trickle of magic in it subtle, but activating the drug instantly. I know not even the Enforcers patrolling the campus will feel it.
My wolf pants as I fight to stay awake, pulling in my power even as I fumble and fall on my side. I can’t focus enough to counter the effects, can only lie there and watch as Kristophe and Jean Marc slink out of the dark on the other side of the roof. The elder holds a rifle in his hands, dark smile so familiar I manage a reflex twitch before the black comes to swallow me.
“Father is very disappointed in you,” Kristophe’s whisper in my ear is the last thing I hear, cut apart by the wail of the little girl I was as I am lost in the dark.
***
I wake, kicking and screaming, knowing something is wrong. It takes a long moment for me to remember what. A boot impacts the side of my head, sending me sprawling, stars bursting to life behind my eyes. I groan, roll over, tasting blood, reaching for my power as the floor beneath me leaps and I’m airborne a heartbeat.
I’m in a van, the back, hands tied behind me, feet, too. I make out the well-known scents of the Dumont brothers, the nasty stench of gasoline, sweat and dirt. The van hits another bump at speed and I’m tossed into the air before coming down hard. It’s hard not to groan, winning me another kick, this time in my stomach.
I have to fight them. My magic will be more than enough to free me. And when I’m loose, I will punish them both for thinking they can hurt me, control me.
The moment I try to touch my wolf, I feel it, and despair like I’ve never known devours my soul.
Sorcery. Blocking me. Owning me.
My wolf howls her grief in my head as the truth sinks in and tears pool in the corners of my eyes to spill, without care, down my cheek and into my hair.
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