She shrugged. “The possibility is there. I can’t explain why, but I’ve just got this feeling about it.”
Tossing his knife from hand to hand, Barto sniffed. “Well, I’ve never been one to question any woman’s ‘feelings.’” He examined the blade’s sharp edge.
“I’m always up for some danger, though.” Twirling the dagger on nimble fingers, he flipped it over and dropped it back into its sheath at his hip. “Count me in.”
Ilyssa grinned. She looked at Kristof again, eyeing him. “Well?” she prompted. “Can we count on you, too? Or would you like to discuss it with Lenora, first?”
She heard Barto snicker and glanced back in his direction. “Hey, he’s the one with the family. His life isn’t his own – he shares it with his wife and children. Routine highway raids are one thing; with this, we have no idea what we’re going into. Lenora should have a say.”
“Yeah, I know,” Barto said.
He reached over and pinched one of Kristof’s beefy arms, grinning when the huntsman batted him away as he would an annoying insect.
“And he knows I can never resist teasing him about it.”
“I’m inclined to agree with Ilyssa,” Alaric said, which got everyone’s attention. “She neglected to mention that at least one of the people we’ll be meeting with is also Werewolf. More than likely, there will be others, each one possessing strength and agility ten times greater than the most powerfully-built Human.”
He nodded to Kristof for emphasis. “When my kind attacks, it’s almost always in pack formation. If they saw you as a threat, they would set upon you and tear you apart in a matter of moments. Quite frankly, I would spare you and your family that horror.”
Barto let out honk of bemused laughter. “I believe he’s telling you to sit this one out, my friend.” He rubbed his chin, thoughtful. “I hate to admit it, but I think he’s right.”
Kristof glowered at the tracker. “I can hold my own in a fight against a Werewolf,” he muttered.
He grabbed the hem of his tunic and lifted it high enough to show five long, white scars cutting across his midsection. “Or have you forgotten that I once held the title of Champion?” He yanked his shirt down again. “I walked into that arena every day, willingly, knowing I might never walk out again. And I’m still here.”
“Again,” Ilyssa said, “that was before you came here and met Lenora.” She gazed up at Kristof. “I don’t doubt you could still take on a Werewolf, but I’m also going to side with Alaric on this one. I don’t want to be the one who has to come back and tell Lenora and your kids that you didn’t make it.”
Kristof’s eyes narrowed. Wordlessly, he brushed past Ilyssa as he stormed to the door.
“You were wrong when he said he used no dark magic.” He turned a baleful glare on Alaric. “With just a few words, he’s conjured a wall between us.”
With that, he ducked out of the hut, the wooden door rattling as it banged open and then swung shut again in his wake.
“Damn,” Ilyssa muttered. She thought about going after her friend, even started to take a step, but Alaric caught her arm.
“There isn’t time,” he said softly. Ilyssa looked up into his eyes and his lips thinned into a grim line. “We have to go.”
“I’ll go see if I can round up a few others to join us,” Barto said, immediately stepping up to take the position of Ilyssa’s second in command.
Before he had joined the tribe, he had served as a guardsman in one of the northern kingdoms; he could be a joker but when it came to missions, he acted with precision.
“We can follow behind by several paces, fanned out, and find positions downwind where we can watch and be ready for your signal if we’re needed.”
Ilyssa nodded. “The horse and cart you were supposed to retrieve from Lobishome – did you get it? Alaric and I will use it to ride in ahead. You, Marten, and the rest can ride in back until we’re almost there, then you can proceed the rest of the way on foot.”
“Right.” Barto tapped Marten and jerked his head in the direction of the door.
He looked at Ilyssa again. “Don’t let Kristof get to you. He’s angry right now, but he’ll come around. He forgets how many times he’s had to give the order to stand down.” The tracker gave her a wide, toothy grin. “He’ll be fine by the time we get back.”
“I know.” Ilyssa sucked in a deep breath and let it out again in a sigh. “All right – let’s get moving.”
Wearing a hooded cloak, her pistols tucked into the back of her belt, Alyssa soon found herself sitting on the hard bench of a rickety merchant’s wagon, holding the reins to a young but spirited draft horse. Barto, Marten, along with Gareth, Simm, and Velerie – the three Barto had recruited – rode in the back. Heavily armed and dressed in dark clothing, they had also masked their Human scents with a liberal application of horse dung. Ilyssa saw Alaric, seated beside her, press a finger under his nose more than once over the course of the ride. She grinned.
“They’re a bit ripe,” she said, tipping her head to indicate the group in back.
“That,” the prince said, “is a gross understatement.” He glanced over his shoulder; Barto smiled and waved at him. Turning back around, Alaric grimaced.
“One whiff and they’re going to think we didn’t come with a single horse but an entire stable.”
Ilyssa laughed.
When they had come within a quarter mile of their destination, Barto and his team jumped down from the still-moving cart and vanished into the woods on either side of the road. The wagon continued to bounce along the pitted but well-traveled highway, wheels squeaking.
“There,” Alaric said, pointing to a dim light just before a bridge leading across a river.
Ilyssa squinted, able to make out at least six shapes in the glow. She pulled up on the reins and brought the cart to a stop. Alaric jumped down first and reached up to offer her his hand. Ilyssa arched an eyebrow at him and he smiled.
“The curse of good manners,” he explained. “A gentleman always helps a lady down from a coach.”
Normally, Ilyssa would respond with a quick quip about the ridiculousness of chivalry and being treated like a delicate flower based on her sex, but this time she decided to let it pass. I’ll have to educate him later, she thought, and for a moment she imagined him on his back beneath her while she demonstrated how very un-ladylike she could be.
A tall, willowy figure in a long cloak stepped forward. Long, pale hands reached up and lifted the hood to reveal a woman with a narrow face and hair that gleamed silver in the lantern’s light. Her eyes glowed a bright green.
“Prince Alaric?” Her voice had a low but refined timbre. “I am Karolyn of Emberi.”
“Lady Karolyn,” Alaric said, and bowed. “It is good to meet you at long last. I cannot begin to tell you how long I’ve anticipated this night.”
“As have I,” she replied, one corner of her mouth twitching upward but the rest of her face remaining smooth and still as alabaster. “When you told me of the prophecy, I knew right away something must be done.”
“You said you had something in your possession which would rally your kingdom,” Alaric said. “Do you have it with you?”
“I do, indeed.” Karolyn twisted gracefully, motioning to one of her companions.
Ilyssa stood by, tense but curious. She could tell Werewolf from Human by their eyes, as the former’s tended to give off that strange luminescence in low light. Right now, she counted three Humans and three Werewolves, including the woman.
One of the Humans stepped forward and presented a box made of dark wood. Karolyn opened the lid. Ilyssa gasped when she saw what lay inside on a bed of blue silk.
“The Diadem of Akara!”
Up until that moment, Karolyn had not spared Ilyssa more than an imperious glance. Now, her head snapped around and her eyes burned like green fire.
“Yes,” she said.
She closed the box and turned fluidly, cloak brushing the ground as she moved t
oward Ilyssa.
“Interesting. How does one who keeps company with a prince of Lobishome recognize one of Emberi’s most ancient relics, which has been kept locked away for many centuries?”
Karolyn canted her head. Ilyssa watched her nostrils flare as she inhaled, no doubt picking up on Alaric’s scent…and then she stopped. A crease formed between her brows and her eyes widened.
“You,” she breathed.
Before Ilyssa could blink twice, Karolyn had pulled a dagger from beneath her cloak. The female Werewolf lunged at Ilyssa with a growl. Combat reflexes kicked in and Ilyssa dodged, going for her pistols even as she rolled away.
She heard Alaric shout, and the next thing she knew Barto and his team came charging out of the forest, brandishing their weapons. As the Werewolves morphed into their bipedal lupine forms, Barto hurled his knives and caught one of their human companions in the throat.
Ilyssa saw the two male Werewolves go straight for Alaric; as she watched, his features transformed from man to beast before he rushed forward to meet them head-on. She caught sight of Gareth with a sack of mandrake dust, ready to lob it at them.
“Gareth, stop!” Ilyssa shouted.
While it might have helped to stun the enemy, it would have also incapacitated Alaric. She targeted one of the Werewolves but before she could fire off a shot, a white-furred hand knocked the pistol from her grip.
Ilyssa turned to see Karolyn, lips pulled back to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth.
“You should have stayed hidden,” the Werewolf snarled. “And your precious Prince Alaric is a fool if he thinks there will ever be peace between the races – as long as I have the diadem, it will never happen!”
Grabbing Ilyssa by the throat, Karolyn lifted her off her feet and flung her toward the wagon.
Ilyssa landed hard. Spooked by the gunshot, growls, and the clang of steel, the draft horse let out a shriek and reared up, causing the cart to shift. Ilyssa managed to roll out of the way before she could be crushed under a wheel. She scrambled up and found herself right behind Alaric, now down to just one opponent and covered in blood.
Ilyssa looked around for Karolyn and found her just as she plunged her knife into Simm’s chest. Oh, no, Ilyssa thought, not Simm!
The Werewolf then set her sights on Velerie and Marten, currently trading blows with the two Emberi Humans. Determined, Ilyssa leapt in front of her.
“I don’t know how you came by that diadem,” she said, “but it doesn’t matter because you’re never going to get the chance to use it!”
Ilyssa raised her second pistol and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck Karolyn’s shoulder. The Werewolf let out an enraged howl but it did not stop her. Ilyssa knew she had no time to reload. Flinging down her gun, she drew her dagger and prepared to fight.
The whistle of an arrow cut through the night, followed by the thud of impact as it met its intended target. Ilyssa saw Karolyn stop. She heard a second arrow, and Karolyn jerked. The Werewolf staggered, blinked, and then dropped to the ground. Two crossbow bolts protruded from her back. Surprised, Ilyssa looked up – and beheld a familiar face smiling at her from a few feet away.
“Kristof!” She smirked. “Does Lenora know you’re here?”
“Who do you think sent me?”
An anguished yelp caught Ilyssa’s attention. She spun around to see Alaric on his knees, struggling against the furred arm locked around his neck from behind.
He needs help! Spying Simm’s sword lying beside his body, Ilyssa snatched up the weapon, let out a roar, and charged. She drove the blade into the enemy Werewolf’s side and gave a twist for good measure. That did the trick. He released his hold on Alaric and fell over, dead before he hit the ground.
“Alaric?” Ilyssa knelt beside him. Reaching out, she ran her fingers through the blood-soaked fur on his cheek. He was panting and coughing, one clawed hand rubbing at his throat. His lupine features receded and he became a man again.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He looked up at her and offered a weak smile. “I’ve been better,” he croaked. “Don’t worry – my people heal quickly.”
He managed to get to his feet and she steadied him. Scanning the area, he took in the aftermath of the fight.
“Mother Goddess,” he muttered, taken aback, “what are they doing?”
Ilyssa turned to see Barto, Gareth and Velerie searching the corpses and removing anything of value – jewelry, coins – that they could find.
“We do what we have to do, in order to survive. We sell off what we can or use it to barter for goods, food and other necessities.”
“But, scavenging the dead…”
“Yes, they’re dead. Which means they’re not going to need those things anymore.”
Ilyssa looked at Alaric again. “Don’t judge.”
Despite having three Werewolves on their side, all the delegates from Emberi now lay dead. Kristof tended to Marten, who had sustained a bad injury but would recover. They loaded him onto the wagon next to Simm’s body in preparation to return to camp, and then tossed their slain enemies into the river and let the strong current carry them away.
Ilyssa found the box containing the diadem. She opened it, staring at the gleaming gold crown etched with symbols from a time long forgotten. A pale stone set in front shimmered in the darkness.
“White moonstone,” she said, brushing her fingertips over the jewel with great reverence.
“It’s said that when a person born of Emberi wears the Diadem of Akara, regardless of bloodline they’re granted instant control over the entire kingdom.” She shook her head. “Total power and unquestioned command…even over the king, himself. That’s why they keep it locked away, you know.”
She frowned. “So what was a Werewolf doing with it? Even if she did have some kind of special connection to King Willem, I doubt he would ever trust someone of her kind with the diadem’s location.”
“Perhaps she knew Willem better than she let on,” Alaric said.
Ilyssa looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she never told me so herself, but all things considered…I’m now beginning to suspect that she may have been married to his son.”
The revelation took Ilyssa by surprise, and not in a good way. Word of Prince Selvin’s untimely passing had reached them last year, when a group from the tribe had returned from trading in Emberi. The news had come as a shock to everyone previously affiliated with that kingdom.
“I remember hearing about the wedding five years ago,” Ilyssa murmured. “I had no idea he had taken a Werewolf as a bride. I can’t imagine King Willem was particularly thrilled about that.”
A wistful smile tugged at her lips. “I know they had a child, too. A half-Werewolf granddaughter, heir to the Emberi throne.”
“Being the mother of said heir would explain why she remained a member of the royal family after her husband’s death,” Alaric pointed out. “That could also explain how she knew about the diadem.”
“It doesn’t explain why she was going to give it to you, though,” Ilyssa said. “It has to be worn by someone born of Emberi. That would have included her, if Emberi was her birthplace. She could have used the diadem to take control of Emberi, and then if you and she had married…”
“…By law, my father would have to abdicate the throne, thus giving me full reign over Lobishome,” Alaric finished.“And she and I would have issued a decree of peace.” He shook his head. “But none of that can happen, now.”
“No,” Ilyssa said. “As soon as he discovers the diadem is missing and that you have it, King Willem will send his armies to attack Lobishome and take it back. When he finds out we killed his daughter-in-law? Werewolf or not, she was still a member of the royal family, and for that we’ll all be put to death.” She looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Alaric. It looks like we’ve ruined any chance of seeing the prophecy come to fruition.”
She started to close the box. Alaric shot out a hand and stopped her.<
br />
“Actually,” he said, “there might be one more chance left. All we would have to do is find another person born of Emberi to wear the diadem.”
Removing the crown from its bed of silk, he placed it on Ilyssa’s head. “Well, look at that: a perfect fit.”
Ilyssa could have sworn her heart stopped beating the moment he set the diadem on her head. Surprise gave way to frustration.
“Are you insane?” she demanded. “I swear you’re turning out to be more trouble than you’re worth.”
Snatching off the crown, she stuffed it back into the box and snapped the lid shut.
“Since I met you, I’ve acted without consulting my tribe. I put my people at risk and wound up losing one. I killed a man. And now I’m an accomplice to the murder of a member of the royal family, whose body I sent floating downstream. And this was all supposed to be in the name of peace?” She gave a hollow laugh. “I’m sorry, Alaric, but it just feels like it’s all been one mistake after another, and I can’t allow it to go any further.”
“I noticed you didn’t include my marking you as one of those ‘mistakes,’” he said softly. “Do you regret that, as well?”
“Do you?” she fired back.
“This isn’t about how I feel,” he told her, keeping his voice low and level. He gazed down into her eyes. “But if it helps, I do share your regret for the loss of life. I also know that you were right about the ambush, and if I had come alone I would be dead.”
Ilyssa remembered what Karolyn had said to her about never seeing peace between their races as long as she had the diadem.
“She had always planned to kill you,” Ilyssa said. “She probably just wanted to show you the diadem and let you know she was going to use it to make sure the prophecy would never be realized.”
“But she had married a Human,” Alaric said. “Her child is both Human and Werewolf, the living embodiment of what we wanted to achieve.”
“What you wanted to achieve,” Ilyssa corrected. “It’s clear she didn’t share your passion.”
“But you do.” Alaric stepped in closer to her. “You left Emberi for that very reason. Now you have an opportunity to change your homeland, to make it more to your liking – a place of harmony, not hypocrisy. Your tribe could return with you and live there free of persecution for their beliefs – unless they prefer to stay in the forest, at which point you could offer them sanctuary in the woodlands of Emberi. They would never have to steal again, or worry if they’ll survive another winter.”
Sheltered by the Alpha Bear: Alpha Werebear BBW Interracial Shifter Paranormal Romance Page 15
