The words are barely out of my mouth when the air over head explodes with blue fire. I look up as Femke and her Enforcers appear, holding my place as she plunges to the ground and runs to me headlong. Another enthusiastic embrace, another moment of tears as she hugs me tight, rocking me back and forth as she chokes her own sobs into my ear.
When we pull apart, she turns me slowly around, examining me, though all my physical hurts are now healed. Her sorrowful eyes tell me she’s aware I didn’t escape this entirely unscathed, but I shake my head at her, scattering the tears from my cheeks as I deny the questions she wants to ask.
“Andre was here,” she says. “I have Enforcers rounding him up. He’ll stand trial and be executed, if he harmed you in any way.”
I take her hand, pull her to me. “Let him go,” I whisper. “Send him home and ban him from your territory if you feel the need, but don’t harm him.”
She stares into my eyes. “Charlotte—”
“Please.” I wink at her, letting her see and feel my wolf. “He has a horrible end coming to him, Femke. I want him to enjoy every minute.” I then share with her the last touch of him I felt, the infection, the rot, and she shudders before nodding.
“As you wish,” she says, eyes bright with more tears.
Cursing, stumbling, the Dumont brothers and their father are herded from the dark by a pair of Enforcers. The moment they spot Femke, the three of them begin their protests, but the European Leader merely holds up her hand and they fall silent.
“You are culpable,” she says in an icy voice matching her Scandinavian beauty, “in the kidnapping of a free werewolf, communion and cooperation with a rouge sorcerer, and invading my territory without permission when you were asked to leave Europe.”
Andre’s lip curls, pulling against the wounds on his face. He has some arrogance left to him, it seems, though he refuses to look at me and his hands shake when he points at Femke.
“We had nothing to do with any of it,” he lies, bold as you please. “We were coerced.”
A typical and expected excuse. Femke’s anger doesn’t leave her, but she shrugs and gestures to the Enforcers guarding the Dumonts.
“I couldn't care less,” she says. “You’re not mine to deal with any longer. Your own Council Leader will have to ponder your fate. But hear me, Andre Dumont.” Blue fire crackles around her, an ice queen, as stunning as she is deadly. “If you set one foot in my territory ever again, I will have you killed on sight, without prejudice, and anyone who succeeds in ending your life will be rewarded by me personally.”
Andre twitches, old hate and anger simmering in his eyes. He turns from her with a sharp bark at his sons who slink off after their father. I wish Syd could see it. Their utter defeat almost makes everything worth it.
No, not quite. That will take much more than simple defeat.
Blue fire flares and the Dumonts are gone, back to America. I’ll pay Andre a visit when the time comes. For now, I have to find Sage. And rescue my grandfather. The timing is finally right. The trauma is over and Zoe was right—I survived it. Came out stronger on the other end, just like I always do.
I turn to Femke and hold out my hand. “Is the army still waiting?”
She nods. “And have been for days. Since you were taken.” Her face crumples, the stormy chill of her leader persona fading as the woman who cares about me returns. “Charlotte,” her voice is suddenly thick and heavy with regret, “I’m so sorry, this is my fault.”
“No,” I say. “It’s Rupe and Andre’s. But the latter will wait.” I rub my arms through the fabric of Piers’s coat. “Where is Sage?”
The Council Leader’s sadness is my answer. “We don’t know,” she says. “When we tracked Andre here, we assumed Sage would be with you.”
I reach out for my love, but can’t find a trace of him. The thrill of panic that follows I smother with focus. “And Oleksander?” I hold myself rigid against my fear of the inevitable. “Is my grandfather still alive?” I almost don’t want to ask.
Femke looks suddenly relieved as Ethpeal steps up and slips her arm around my shoulders.
“Safe, for now,” she says. “Demetrius and I are just waiting for the order to go in and get him.”
I nod. “If I’m right and Rupe is with the werewolves, he could be blocking your ability to travel there, too.”
She shrugs. “Then we’ll kick his ass until he begs us to stop.”
I grin at her. Hayles. I love them all.
***
I’m clean. It feels amazing and though I probably didn’t have time to shower, I couldn’t bear the feeling of myself any longer. I’ll take time for a more lengthy bathing after this is done, but for now, the five minutes of super-hot water and harsh scrub gloves with heavy-duty soap have made me feel alive again.
I devour a plate of steak and mashed potatoes, slathering on a healthy helping of gravy while my friends talk around me. My wolf chuffs her pleasure as the rare meat grinds between my teeth. I almost groan in pleasure at the first bite, barely taking time to breathe as I dig into the first meal I’ve eaten in days.
Three days, as it turns out. I refuse to think back, not yet. There might be time later to allow myself to curl into a ball and relive the moments of pain and horror with Andre. Maybe with Sage by my side to hold me and stroke my hair, whisper his love for me. But not now, not until he is restored, my people are safe, and my grandfather is free.
Isabelle and Maks sit across from me, the delicate vampire smiling softly, sadly, while Maks tries to steal a bite of my steak. I stab at him with my fork, growling as I hunch over my plate, and he grins at me as if it’s funny.
It kind of is.
“Caine and his pack aren’t sitting comfortably in the palace,” Maks says while I finish my dinner. “The coercion is wearing thin without the sorcerers to reinforce it.”
“Would Rupe have abandoned Caine to his fate?” Femke taps her fingernails against the side of her glass. “The Californians are Belaisle’s creations, are they not?”
I nod, swallow so I can speak. “He confirmed it,” I say. “He wants Sage. And I wouldn’t put it past him to drop Caine like a hot rock if he could have something more valuable in exchange.”
“But you still think Rupe is at the palace?” She doesn’t doubt me, I can tell that, but she has to ask.
I think about it, chewing more slowly before shrugging. “It’s the only thing I can think of,” I say. “We can check when we free Oleksander. And if he’s not there, then we go to California.” I know Femke has already alerted Tallah Hensley and her coven. I overheard her as I entered after my shower. So if Rupe does show up back on the west coast of America, we should have some warning.
“Sounds like a plan.” Femke nods, blonde hair swinging around her pale cheeks. “The werearmy is prepared to move?”
I don’t look at him as my father speaks. He won’t meet my eyes, either, so I give up trying. “We are,” he says, sounding more like himself than he has for years. More like he did when my mother was alive. Hopefully, his shift in attitude will last. I need him to lead the werewolves against Caine so I can sneak in and surprise him.
I set down my fork, finally full, as Isabelle speaks up. “The vampire families are both willing to offer assistance to the werenation.” She dimples at me. “My queen wanted me to assure you she’s one hundred percent in favor of returning the Moreau family to the throne and will act on your orders.”
That’s a huge offer. Centuries of animosity between vampires and werewolves technically ended when Syd freed us. The Black Soul’s sorcery had been the source of our mutual hatred, it turned out, but old habits die as hard as old wolves. There are still those among my people who hold unwarranted hatred for vampires, and vice-versa, I’m certain.
I nod to Isabelle, mentally sending love to Sunny for her generosity. It’s hard to accept, though. The pride of the werenation, hovers inside me yet. But I square my shoulders and embrace this new sense of partnership, knowing the more bodies I have for a frontal assault, the easier it will be for me to come in the back door.
“Please offer my thanks to Her Majesty and my acceptance of her offer as the heir of the werenation.” I’m not, officially. Caine has seen to that. But no one here seems to think it’s anything more than semantics.
I turn to Femke, knowing what she’ll have to tell me in answer, but wanting to ask anyway. Since offers are being made, and all.
“Council Leader Svennson,” I say, holding my trust for her in my heart as her blue eyes, unreadable, lock on mine. “I would ask for the help of the European Witch Council in official capacity as the heir to the throne of the werenation. My people need your help and I would request you intercede on our behalf.”
Femke holds my eyes a long moment. “Thank you for your belief in us,” she says. “Such a request is a huge step for the werewolf race, and an even bigger one for all the magic nations. It harkens a new dawn of cooperation and trust in each other.”
I sit, tense and wary, but hopeful as she pushes her glass away.
“Though it might require a meeting of the Council, I’m making an executive decision.” She stands and the rest of us join her as she circles the table and comes to my side. “The European Witches Council recognize you, Sharlotta Moreau, as the true heir to the throne of the werenation and declare Cicero Caine a usurper.” I bite my lips to keep from shouting my excitement, heart pounding as she goes on. “Because of the state of your nation, I and my people choose to support your efforts to reclaim your throne and liberate your race from said usurper.”
I reach for her hand, grasp it tight, as Femke’s mind touches mine.
You and Syd, she sends with a thrill of her own nervous excitement, are a terrible influence. And I love it.
You could be deposed from your leadership for this, I send.
They’ll never do it, she sends, smiling. I scare the crap out of them. Besides, I’m tired of politics. If this is the end of my career, so be it. I’m sure there’s a certain coven in North America that will take me in if I’m outcast.
I hug her. And a grateful werenation that will do the same.
Femke kisses my cheek and turns to the others. “A coalition of magical races.” She grins. “I’m speechless.”
***