he wasn’t himself.
He looked up into the night sky. “I’m sorry, Father. I wish I could be the kind of son you wanted, the kind of prince Elden needs. But I can’t. This is who I am.”
And he changed.
Pain flared through him, familiar even though it was only his third time making the transition. He gritted his teeth as flesh stretched and tore, tendons realigned and the ground grew suddenly closer to his eyes as his body reshaped itself into that of a huge wolf. A hunter. And today, if needs be, a killer. Because he would kill his own countrymen if that was what it took to keep his mate safe.
Rage and feral aggression flowed through him, calling to the beast within, and he threw back his head and howled.
Birds fled from nearby trees and several large creatures crashed in the brush, fleeing the predator that was suddenly among them. He didn’t pay any attention to them, though; he was wholly focused on the scents that suddenly flooded his system as he put his nose down and bolted along the trail.
In his father’s time, the smells of oiled leather, honed steel and grain-fed horses of a cavalry detachment would have been a relief. Now, though, the details coiled new fear inside him, chilling his blood and warning that she hadn’t been taken by thieves or outlaws, but by soldiers.
The sorcerer had her.
He hit the road and turned toward the lake, running with his head up now, both because the scent was so strong and because he knew where he was going—which was where he’d been going all along. Not home, but to a reckoning.
He flashed on his father’s memories of the castle’s fall—blood splattering the stones of the courtyard, ettins fighting their way up to the second level, where the families lived, the king and queen despairing. Only it wasn’t his parents he saw now; it was Reda standing alone, trying to fight her way free of the creatures that grasped and clawed at her.
In the waking dream, she looked straight at him. He didn’t hear her voice, though, and the bond had gone frighteningly dim. Hurry. He had to hurry! Ignoring the panicked scatters of the villagers, he blew through a town and then blasted along the edge of the lake, body flat to the ground, claws biting into the ground, legs eating up the distance to the heavily guarded causeway. He heard shouts up ahead, saw a ragged band of men assembling, hastily armed with broken pikes and ancient-looking swords.
He didn’t have time for this, didn’t want to hurt them, so he just put his head down and charged, bulling through their line and sending them flying. An arrow whizzed in from the side, but he snapped it out of the air and broke it in his jaws, the moves automatic, instinctual, as if he’d always lived in this body.
Shouts followed him onto the narrow causeway and a rasping horn blared an alarm. On either side of him blurred the polluted waters of Blood Lake; up ahead, the huge, scorpionlike creatures formed ranks, clashing their claws and whipping their tails as if to say, Bring it on!
Hatred hazed his vision red. He had seen them through his father’s eyes kill the soldiers who had been his friends, his comrades. The feral fighting instinct of an alpha male said to kill; the priorities of a mated man said to get the hell to the castle.
As he neared them, he gathered himself to leap over the huge creatures, saw their tails whip back and forth in expectation. Four strides. Three. Two. He coiled, faked a spring and ducked under the closest two, slashing at their legs on the way by.
The things screeched high, anguished screams, and the causeway behind him exploded to slashing, clacking chaos. He heard a couple of splashes, but didn’t look back. He was done with looking back.
He shouldered two bristling soldiers into the lake, and this time the splashes were followed by bloodcurdling screams. Then he was off the causeway, onto the island and charging toward the castle.
More shouts and another horn blast came, but they didn’t seem to be aimed at him. The castle was stirring with movement, as if he wasn’t the only unexpected arrival.
Dayn missed a step as he realized what that could mean.
It was happening, after all. He had returned in time, and unless he missed his guess, he wasn’t the only one. His heart surged and he accelerated toward the