arms and pinned them behind my back, holding me against his chest. Then I understood why Alex panicked.
From behind the throne, the Mistress appeared, smiling her icy smile, her long black hair trailing behind her. Other werewolves emerged from behind corners, stone pillars, surrounding us. Suddenly I realized the purpose of the magic I’d constantly felt. It protected the werewolves from us; Alex’s ability to smell them and my ability to feel out any magic the Mistress might be performing, including the use of the collars. The Sentries around us shifted slightly, keeping their weapons on us, but their faces revealed their fear and revulsion of what was happening around them.
“These werewolves are under my control,” Dunstan said, tilting his head back in a superior way. “Why should I hunt down something so useful to me? Werewolves are the way they are by choice. They can still think, can they not? And if they aren’t interested in curing their present condition, who am I to stop them? Besides,” he reached out and lifted my chin with his finger, “that girl has no true power here. So she’s descended from the Red line; they haven’t ruled here in years, why should they take back their power now?”
From behind the Mistress, Wolf appeared. The moment he saw me, his eyes went gold. He frowned. For a brief second, my blood ran cold. Then it switched to blazing hot. I jerked my head away from Dunstan’s fingers.
“Because Red has always ruled here. Your house came in and usurped it by deception and murder. Your rule here is fake. You never deserved to sit in these halls!”
I had no idea how much of that was actually true, but I was too angry to care. I struggled against Martock. Then another thought struck me. I craned my head to look up at him.
“Why are you following him? He’s crazy and you know it! Your men know this is suicide. What makes him think he can control them? They want to lock Marianne away and make this land one for werewolves—all humans be damned!”
“Shut up!”
Dunstan swung his arm back and struck me across the face. Alex’s bellow echoed through the hall, his hooves striking and scraping at the stone floor. Dark little stars danced in my eyes. He grabbed my face with one hand, forcing me to look at him.
“These creatures are nothing but beasts,” he growled, “feed them the right motivation, and they’ll do anything.”
“You’re wrong,” I mumbled. My focus slid past him, settling on Wolf. His eyes burned red. I tried not to shout when pain lanced through my heart. Hold, dream bonds, hold, I prayed fervently.
The Steward sneered at me. “I wouldn’t expect the Guardian to understand. Now where is she?”
“She won’t tell you,” the Mistress said, coming down from the throne platform, Wolf right behind her.
He took a step back, a half smile appearing on his face. “Pity. Though I suppose I can find other uses for her.”
His hands roved over my body, lingering appreciatively on my breasts. I kicked out, but missed, causing him to laugh.
“You’ll do no such thing. We have to lock her up just as we have to lock up the child,” the Mistress said levelly.
Dunstan fixed her with an ugly look. “You have to find the Red girl first. That will allow me plenty of time with this one.”
She sighed as if this whole exchange were incredibly dull. “Wolf, will you please bring him to me?”
A savage growl escaped Wolf as he stalked toward Dunstan.
“What? What are you doing?” he stuttered, his eyes going wide in surprise and fear.
Wolf grabbed him by the neck, his eyes redder than I’d ever seen, and flung him over to the Mistress. He crashed into the ground, and the Sentries around us erupted in protest. But they quickly fell silent as the werewolves surrounding them snarled and howled, baring their teeth and claws in challenge. Dunstan scrambled to his feet, his face red with indignation. He adjusted his fur cape.
“What is the meaning of this you insolent bitch?” he yelled.
She rolled her eyes, bored. “This.”
Her hand flashed over his neck and chest and a spray of blood arched over her. Dunstan’s eyes went wide as he gurgled in shock, his hands flying to his open veins in a desperate attempt to staunch the flow of blood. The Mistress held up her hand, a grotesque mix of gray flesh and sharp claws. A werewolf paw. She grinned as she watched him fall