Swann spat, sputtering. “Finally! What took you men so damn long? I demand to be taken to Councilor Terayan at once.”
One of the slavers brought a key.
Channon unlocked the manacles and yanked him roughly to his feet. “We’ll be giving the orders,” he said, pushing Swann out onto the deck.
Roxen had evidently instructed Rayna and Mina to approach him with their hands against their heads. They stood still.
The crewmen formed a semi-circle of scimitars as Roxen pretended to examine the women.
“It could be them,” Roxen allowed. “The scars, the coloring, and the attitudes certainly match.”
“Of course it’s them!” Swann shouted. “Are you blind, or trying to rob me of my reward?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Channon heard the smile in Roxen’s words. “Restrain these fugitives, but do not harm them. They are for the Council.”
At Roxen’s command, the crew descended on Rayna and Mina.
It took all of Channon’s will to not interfere as the men shackled Rayna’s hands behind her back. When they were done, one of the men handed Channon the key.
“Good.” Roxen gestured for Channon to approach. “We will escort you and your prisoners to the Upper City, Master…?”
“Lord Swann.” He smoothed the front of his wrinkled robes. “I demand to take two of my men with us. And don't take your eyes off these women. They broke out of irons moments ago. They're like to try again.”
Roxen nodded. “Very well. Choose your men.” He gripped Mina.
She grimaced and struggled with convincing venom.
Swann pointed out his two burliest crewmen.
One of the remaining men still held Rayna fast.
Channon cleared his throat and the man reluctantly pushed Rayna over to him. Channon hoped no one noticed how his hands shook as he pulled her toward him.
Rayna fell against him, as if weakened by exhaustion.
Channon cursed the armored disguise that prevented him from feeling her touch.
“Katrine,” she whispered in his ear as she pretended to struggle against him.
He steadied her with affected roughness. “What’s that you say? There’s another?” He looked to Swann, praying his less-convincing accent would not give them away. “What is she babbling about, Lord Swann?”
He shrugged. “I picked up another wolfkind when I captured these two. The Council has no interest in her though; she is for the markets.”
“Do not presume the Council’s interests!” Roxen said. “Bring the other as well.”
Swann’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded to one of his men. “Do as he says.”
“Tell me,” Swann said after his man had disappeared below deck. “What path are we taking to the Upper City?”
“Is that your concern?” Roxen said gruffly.
“Yes. I want to ensure we reach the Council as swiftly as possible. Describe the route you plan on taking.”
Channon swallowed. Had they not donned these disguises, Channon might have been able to fight his way through Swann’s men. But they had wanted to avoid attracting attention. In an alley nearby, Cassian waited with the true wolves. The plan was to separate the women and Swann from the other enemies, before ambushing Swann. Daveed had returned to the trading ship to ready it to depart as soon as they returned. But all of that rested on Swann not discovering their true identities too early.
“We’ll be going through the amber gate, if you must know,” said Roxen.
Mina thrashed in his arms, her curls whipping violently.
Channon guessed she must have whispered something only Roxen could hear.
Swann nodded, but his gaze did not lose its scrutiny. “I see.”
The crewman returned with Katrine.
A bruise darkened her chin and tears wet her large brown eyes, but otherwise she looked all right. She did not recognize Channon or Roxen at first—either that or she was too talented an actress to let a glimmer of recognition cross her expression.
“No!” Rayna called suddenly from Channon’s arms. “Don’t take her to the Council, please!”
Rayna’s pain distracted Swann. He grinned. “Sorry, my dear, but we all must follow orders.”
Roxen hauled Mina off the ship.
Channon hurried after him.
Rayna put up a more drawn-out fight, trying to reach Katrine.
By the time Channon had taken her off the Cygnet, Channon’s arms were exhausted. Guilt throbbed in his chest. It was all an act, of course, but Channon had come after Rayna to force her to return with him. The act was too close to his intended reality for comfort.
Swann came next, pulling Katrine along by a tether. His bushy-bearded, muscular men took up the rear as they all came to the dock.
Roxen moved purposefully—as if he had walked the streets of Halmstead all his life. Their feet went from wooden boards to cobblestones as they reached dry land. A few traders and sailors milled about, but they all stayed well away from Roxen, Channon, and the twin ravens roosting on their breastplates.
Roxen turned right.
“I thought you said we were going via the Amber Gate?” Swann said. He yanked Katrine closer. His free hand rested next to the sword he'd returned to his weapons’ belt.
“We are,” Roxen said. “First we must rejoin the rest of our men. Our leader had not expected your claims to be true, so sent only us ahead.”
“Speaking of, where is Geryn?” Swann asked.
“Geryn?”
Channon flinched, though thankfully his visor masked the expression.
“My man I sent ahead with the message. Tall lad, yellow hair?”
“Oh yes—”
Swann drew his sword and held it against Katrine's throat.
Channon jumped back, bringing Rayna with him. He unlocked her shackles and they separated.
Swann’s men drew their own weapons, flanking him, as Roxen and Mina came to Rayna and Channon’s side.
Channon freed Mina and the shackles clattered to the ground.
Any passersby ran indoors or fled in the opposite direction.
“Geryn is short, fat, and bald,” Swann spat. “Who are you?” He pressed the blade against Katrine’s skin, above the Monil.
Channon and Roxen threw off their helmets.
Sweat dripped down Channon’s neck. He wore a stolen sword and dagger, but he was no weapons-master. Shifting in non-Fenearen clothing was difficult enough—often leading to limbs tangled in fabric—but shifting in armor? It was not possible.
“Fenearens. Of course.” Channon did not like Swann’s calm tone of voice. “Drop your weapons or she dies.”
Roxen threw his sword and Coer's knife onto the cobblestones.
Rayna turned to Channon and he surrendered his as well.
“If it isn’t the third wanted fugitive.” Swann’s gaze drank Channon’s appearance in hungrily. “The whole set. I wonder if they’ll give me a bonus.”
As Swann smiled at his own joke, Katrine acted.
Channon’s heart drummed as for a moment he thought she’d cut her own throat against the sword.
Instead, the sound of metal against metal rang as she knocked the blade away with the Monil. She rolled, avoiding Swann’s grasp, and picking up Roxen’s dropped sword.
Channon needed no further invitation. He tore off his gauntlets, exposing extended claws as Rayna took up the sword he'd dropped.
Swann’s men rushed them.
Channon dodged his opponent’s scimitar, ramming his claws into the man’s neck.
He toppled, spurting blood.
Rayna sparred with the other.
Before Channon could assist, Mina cut the man's throat with Coer's knife.
With his allies dead, Swann faced Katrine, Roxen, Mina, Rayna, and Channon alone. He tossed his own sword aside without prompting.
“What do we do with him?” Channon asked. He itched to dig his bloodied claws into Swann’s skin.
“We have to get out of sig
ht,” Roxen grabbed Swann’s hands, and hurried toward the alley where they’d intended the ambush to occur.
Katrine and Mina chased after him.
Channon turned to Rayna. He wanted to embrace her and never let go. But their circumstances cooled his instincts.
Rayna reached up, stroking his cheek.
Her expression communicated it all in the space of a heartbeat—her relief, her worry, and forgiveness.
Channon took her hand and touched his forehead to hers. All the anger he had held dissipated with the feel of her skin against his.
Rayna was here. She was alive, and he forgave her everything.
Together, they followed the others toward the alley.
Chapter Eighteen
Terayan glanced at his pocket watch beneath the table. He was not certain how much longer he could withstand the tedious Council meeting. Rayna was close—he felt her presence. Soon, all the artifice he'd been forced to maintain would come crashing down.
But for now, he still had to pretend.
As Caere and Amollo bickered over some inane detail, a furious knocking came from the Council chambers’ door.
“What’s this?” Darien blustered. “We aren’t to be interrupted unless it’s an emergency!”
“Then it must be one.” Amblin waved his hand, opening the door to the chambers.
Captain Garrison bowed as he entered. His gray hair was disheveled. “My Lords, excuse my interruption.”
“What is it, Gabriel?” Amollo used given names for everyone.
Terayan thought it an annoying habit.
“There’s been a disturbance down at the docks, near Amollon harbor.”
Amollo’s cheerful facade faded at the mention of his family's harbor. Much of his wealth came from trade. “What sort of disturbance?”
“Three foreign traders were killed in broad daylight—”
“Killed? How?” Amollo either cared about these men or pretended to.
Terayan could not decide which option irritated him more.
“Their throats were ripped out. Witnesses reported seeing two members of the Council Guard, but none of my men were stationed in that area.” Garrison’s gaze fell to Terayan. “These imposters were reportedly escorting three female prisoners—including a buxom woman with curly hair, and a tall redhead wearing a Monil.”
“Rayna Myana, The Wolf Witch.” Caere shook his head. “Of course, the object of your obsession returns, Terayan.”
Terayan stiffened. “I have no obsession. We were allied with Rhael Demetrian and she betrayed him. I merely sought to maintain positive relations with Rhael Demetrian.”
Caere laughed. “An alliance I vehemently opposed. It was a waste of our resources.”
“Gentlemen, now is not the time to rehash old arguments.” Amollo turned back to Garrison. “Who were these men impersonating your soldiers?”
“We were able to search the arrival records and found an illegal Maenoren trading vessel that had bribed their way into the harbor.”
“Hardly an uncommon occurrence,” Darien interrupted.
“No, but when we interrogated the crew, they admitted to smuggling in two Maenoren spies, two Fenearen men, and a pair of wolves.”
“There are renegade Fenearens and wolves in our city?” Amollo stood. “The people must be warned!”
“Calm yourself, Amollo.” Caere spoke. “Best not to incite panic.”
“Councilor Caere speaks the truth,” Terayan said. “These Fenearens must have a reason for infiltrating our city. If we discover this reason, we can act a step ahead of the savages.” Terayan, of course, already knew what Rayna and the others were doing in Halmstead. He had been luring her for months. He had not expected her to bring so many allies, but it was better she had. It meant he had more people to use against her.
“The Sylrians.” Amblin spoke as though he'd made a sudden realization, but of course he, too, had expected this.
“Sylrians?” Caere stood, crossing his burly arms over his chest. “You think they mean to rescue Kellan Kemar and what few Sylrians we’ve yet to sell, or execute?”
Terayan nodded. He spoke slowly, as if thinking. “Rayna Myana and that traitorous whore Mignonette Tsanclar owe their lives to Kemar’s tribe. Perhaps they mean to repay that debt.”
“If that’s true, we must be ready!” Amollo said. “We need to double—triple—the guard at Krymammer. We should move Kemar and the others to the Palace cells.”
“Or,” Amblin suggested, “we set a trap.”
“What did you have in mind, Councilor?” Caere asked. Despite his personal dislike for Amblin and Terayan, his tactical mind would not let him ignore the opportunity to capture an enemy.
“We allow the prison guards to behave as normal—we don’t want our prey to sense that we’re expecting them. But we should quietly fortify the defenses, and ensure we have agents in place. When Myana and her conspirators attempt to enter the prison, they will be trapped within its walls.”
“I will personally supervise the operation,” Terayan announced. “Garrison, you will ready yourself and your best men to enter Krymammer via the tunnels. If anyone questions your presence, call it a surprise inspection.”
“Are you certain you wish to supervise this, Tallis?” Caere eyed him. “After all, the girl has escaped both you and Captain Garrison before.”
“Then this shall be our redemption.” He forced a smile. “Any advice you can offer would of course be welcomed, Councilor.”
“Very well.” Caere strode to the door. “Let’s get started.”
Rayna held Channon's hand as he pulled them into an alley between two tall, ramshackle buildings. Blood slicked his hold, but she did not care. He was there.
Before Swann’s betrayal, Rayna had dreaded Channon coming after them, and the fight she'd been sure was to follow. But now, such petty disagreements shrank beneath her relief. They were not safe, but they were together.
For now, that was enough.
The others were in the alley already, along with Cassian Libera and a familiar pair of true wolves.
Rayna tried to greet Gar and Pike in Wolven, but found her human vocal cords could not quite form the necessary tones.
Rayna! Gar barked as he rushed toward her. What's wrong?
She touched the Monil. They had to remove them somehow. She recalled what Violette, a Sylrian healer, had told her months before. Monils could only be removed if you knew the unlocking rune—or by the person that put them on.
“Swann!”
Roxen still held the Maenoren traitor. Roxen’s extended claws hovered beside his jugular, keeping him quiet.
“What do you want?” Swann whispered.
“Did you put these things on us?” They had been asleep when the Monils had been placed.
Understanding broke over his hate-filled face. “Aye.” He smiled. “Which means, if you want them off, you need me alive.”
“We’ll worry about those later,” Cassian said, his dark eyes scanning the street. “We have to return to our ship, and get out of this city while we still can. The harbor guards and the real Council guard will be swarming these streets soon.”
“We can’t leave!” Mina said. “We’ve already come so far.”
“The Regent gave us orders, Mina.” Cassian’s tone was apologetic, but firm.
“I don’t give a rat’s—”
“Mina,” Rayna broke in, “we should go to their ship. We have to get somewhere safe, to decide what happens next.”
The sound of hurried boot-steps interrupted Mina’s response. They all turned toward the street, ready to fight.
A dark figure slipped into the alley, breathing heavily. Rayna recognized Daveed Junian's shaved head.
“Daveed!” Cassian clasped his shoulder. “What’s going on?”
Daveed straightened. Sweat lined his brow. “It’s not good, Cassian.” He shook his head. “When I went back to the ship, it was swarming with Council Guard. I don’t know how they found out, b
ut somehow they must know we weren’t really coming here to trade.”
“What of the crew?” Roxen asked.
Daveed shook his head. “I saw them being hauled off when I arrived. I barely managed to escape myself. They’ve all been arrested. There was nothing I could do.”
Cassian cursed.
“That settles it,” said Mina. “We can’t go to your ship. That leaves my plan. I know where we can lie low.”
Rayna remembered the tavern Mina had mentioned on Swann's boat—the Peddler's Toe. She silently prayed this old haunt of Mina's would prove safer than the Stag and Arrow. Mina had assured Rayna that her old boss, Rita, could be trusted, but she’d said something similar about Joss of the Stag and Arrow. Still, it was the only option they had.
“Fine,” Roxen relented, “but we need to act quickly.”
“What about him?” Channon pointed to Swann. “He’s a liability.”
Rayna considered their options. Swann was right. They needed him alive to remove the Monils, but Channon was right, too. Every moment Swann remained with them, they took a risk.
She turned her voice to steel, striding to Swann. “Take the Monils off and we’ll let you live. Refuse, and I’ll kill you where you stand.”
“You won’t let me live. I’ll only go to the Council Guard, as you well know.”
“I said I’d let you live. Take these off me and Katrine, and I’ll knock you out. By the time you wake, we’ll be long gone and you’re free to tell the Council how you lost us.”
“What an offer: A favor for a head wound.”
Rayna raised her sword to his throat. “It’s the best you’ll get.”
Swann gulped, eyeing the blade. “Do you swear you'll let me live?”
“Yes,” Rayna said.
“Not good enough. Swear on something that matters, she-wolf.”
Rayna stared into Swann's charcoal-lined eyes. How had she ever seen warmth in them? All she saw now was cowardice. But Swann knew the Fenearen code. He knew if Rayna gave her word, she would keep it.
“I swear on the soul of my uncle, Alpha Bayne Aruthult, if you do as we ask, I'll let you live.” It had been Bayne that had taught her the ways of Fenearen honor. She could think of no one whose name she took more seriously.
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