Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,73

Interrogator stared at the man before him, shaken to the depths of his soul by what he’d just seen. He had always believed that the Wolffan could change shapes, he had spoken of it as if it were a known fact, but to actually see it happen was a truly frightening thing.

And then the fear left him, replaced by an immense desire to know how such an incredible feat had been accomplished.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me the secret of changing.”

“There is no secret,” Hardane replied coldly.

“You lie! I will have the secret, or I will have your life.”

Slowly, Hardane shook his head. “There is no secret,” he repeated calmly. “If you wish to learn magic, seek a wizard.”

“A wizard! I have no desire to learn the art of illusion or sorcery. I want to know the secret of shape shifting.”

“Shape shifting is inherent in the Wolffan. It cannot be taught. It cannot be given away. It cannot be stolen.”

A wordless cry of frustration rose in the Interrogator’s throat. “We will see.” He hissed the words through clenched teeth. “Perhaps you will sing a different song when your lady is here.”

Hardane took a step forward, heedless of the pain that shot through his right leg. “What do you mean?”

“I mean to bring her here, my Lord of Argone.”

“Here? Why?”

“To put an end to the prophesy for now and all time.”

“You have only to kill me to do that. There’s no need to bring Kylene into this. She cannot fulfill the prophesy without me.”

“But I also wish to know the secret of the Wolffan.”

“There is no secret! Wolffan shape shifting is inbred into all who are seventh born. There’s no more to it than that.”

“But I think there is. And when she is here, you will tell me what I wish to know, or her life will be forfeit before your own.”

Hardane’s hands clenched the bars. “I warn you, Renick, harm her and even the flames of Gehenna will not keep me from ripping out your heart.”

The Interrogator took a step back, unable to mask his surprise. “You know my name.”

“Aye, Renick of Britha. I know who you are.”

With an effort, Renick wiped the surprise from his face. No one living knew his name. Born of a whore in the back alleys of Britha, he had never acknowledged the name his mother had bestowed upon him, or taken a new one. He was the Interrogator. It was his title and his rank. Men feared it, and him.

“How came you by this knowledge?”

Hardane shook his head. “Do you think I would reveal his name and thereby put his life in danger?”

“It matters not,” Renick said. “What matters now is Kylene. Whether she lives or dies depends on you. You might think of that while we await her arrival.”

“You’re a fool. Do you think my father will let her come here?”

A sly smile curved Renick’s thin lips. “Indeed, my lord wolf, indeed.”

Hardane stared after the Interrogator as he left the dungeon, the words “my lord wolf” echoing in his mind. How often had Kylene called him that, her voice low and husky with affection, with desire? Kylene. The thought of her in Renick’s clutches was more frightening than the thought of his own death, however painful that might be.

His hands tightened around the thick iron bars as he tried to convince himself he had nothing to fear. Kray would never allow Kylene to leave Argone. Knowing that Hardane had been captured, his mother and father would keep a careful watch over Kylene. The precautions that were taken in time of war would be followed. The castle gates would be locked and closely guarded. Strangers would not be allowed to enter the keep. The walls would be heavily manned at all times. Kylene would be safe. He had to believe that, or he’d go mad with worry.

With a groan, he sank down to the cold stone floor and rested his forehead against the bars. He was hungry and thirsty, weak from loss of blood. His leg ached as if all the fires of Gehenna had been kindled inside, and his cheek throbbed with a dull monotony. And he was weary, so utterly weary.

But, more than that, he ached with the need to see Kylene, to hold her, hear her voice, see her smile. The pain in his thigh was as nothing compared to the fierce pain in his heart when he thought of never seeing her again.

Closing his eyes, he summoned her image to

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