Everyone except these extremists. Considering what had happened to him when he had tried to stay wolf more than human, he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of madness drove them.
Their bombs killed and maimed, accomplishing nothing but death and destruction, but still they persevered. The royal family of Teslinko had taken precautions to prevent this from ever happening again, but evidently those hadn’t been enough.
More death. More destruction. Senseless.
Shoving his thoughts to the back of his mind, Ruben summoned his last reserves of strength and began checking on his people. Now that they were out of the ballroom and safe, minor injuries could be attended to. Water was found and distributed and Ruben accepted a bottle gratefully, draining it in several gulps. He wished it did more to soothe his raw throat, but this would have to heal with time.
As he made his way through the throngs of people, Willow remained silently at his side, patching up the wounded, providing a slender shoulder when needed. Though she was covered in soot, her beautiful gown ruined, she worked tirelessly, selflessly, earning his gratitude and his admiration.
Finally, he thought everyone had been helped. As far as he could tell, they might have saved them all. With no casualties—at least that he knew of. All of the ones who’d been knocked out were all right.
He had yet to find his parents. Wearily, he pushed himself up off the grass. Willow looked at him quizzically, her exhaustion evident by the dark circles under her eyes. They had to be safe, he thought, seeing numerous members of the King’s personal guard milling about. If something had happened to either the king or queen, no matter how minor, there would have been an outcry and someone would have been sent to fetch him.
Finally, he found one of their assistants who, wide-eyed from shock, stuttered as he assured Ruben that the royal couple was fine. Apparently they’d been in another part of the palace when the explosion had occurred. They were now ministering to the servants and the most gravely injured.
Another part of the palace. Hearing this had brought a slight smile to his face, the first since the explosion. Even after all these years spent together, his parents were still deeply in love and were known to sneak off in the middle of a gala to grab some together time. He—along with all his sisters—used to find that mortifying. Lately, he’d viewed their amorous behavior more tolerantly, even finding it amusing.
This time he breathed a sigh of relief, believing this proclivity to sneak away to spend private time with each other might have saved their lives.
Relieved, he returned to his place on the grass by Willow and watched as a team of firefighters from the village worked frantically, attempting to put out the flames. Still, part of the ballroom continued to burn, the flames flickering, roaring hungrily and sending billows of thick smoke into the night sky.
Finally, the fire was extinguished. One last dousing of water had been sprayed. The remains of the ballroom were coated in watery soot and the sour odor of smoke still curdled the air.
Shoulders rounded with exhaustion, the firefighters silently put away their equipment and prepared to return to the village.
As he pushed again to his feet, Ruben realized he was exhausted. Even his wolf had slunk back deep inside him. He glanced at Willow to find she also stood at his side, clearly equally done in, yet uncomplaining.
When he turned to face her, she stumbled, nearly going to her knees. Easily he caught her, relishing the feel of her against him before setting her on her feet.
“I think we’re done.” Hand at her elbow, where soot made the material a dirty grayish black, he steadied her and smoothed her smoky, ash-covered hair back from her face. “Thank you so much for your help. We did a lot of good tonight. There was no loss of life.”
Appearing distracted, she nodded, biting her lip, almost as though she was on the verge of tears. Swaying, she glanced at all the people huddled together in various groups. Then, lifting her hand in a gesture that seemed a halfhearted wave, she staggered away. She weaved slightly and headed down a winding, cobbled path that led only toward an old stone bench which sat alone in a secluded arbor.
This bench had once been one of his sister Alisa’s favorite places. She’d gone there when she’d needed solitude in order to think. No one had