Changed
Devon leaped over a low tree stump, landing almost ten feet further, hemmed in only by the lack of clear ground between the trees.
It is almost as if I know precisely where Meghan is, she thought.
Something inside her homed in on Lord Darren’s connection to his half-sister, steering her toward the terrified vampire.
Earlier, after the flood subsided, they were finally able to cross the river. However, they were trapped on the other side for two days, and as the last rider reached safety, the sturdy wooden bridge suddenly collapsed.
Only as a tree fell and blocked our way did we realize it was an ambush. The seething river kept my sensitive werewolf hearing from picking up on the men hidden in the trees until it was too late.
Even before the two lead soldiers toppled from their horses with black, fletched arrows embedded through their armor, Devon suspected that they were being attacked by dark fae soldiers and assassins sent by the evil witch who was out to kill them.
She dismounted, landing beside Arlene, the elven healer who saved her after her failed execution. They were quickly joined by Lord Darren, the vampire to whom their lives belonged.
They made it to safety, hiding in the hollow of a tree as the soldiers meant to protect Lord Darren died on the road.
The elf used a strange blue-pigmented paint and magic to turn us invisible, and we escaped into the forest. She had to stop herself from rubbing at the elven rune on her forehead and undoing the magic. The odd, tickling, clammy sensation unsettled her.
Once they could safely consider their options, they realized they had to make their way to Lord Darren’s father—King Duncan—so he could take his place as heir to the throne. After all, it was the reason for this arduous journey and most likely why the witch wanted him dead.
She is probably somehow responsible for the passing of Lord Darren’s half-brother, Gerhard, as she was for the mischief that almost succeeded in ending with my execution. But she failed, as she did in using Verne, Arlene’s uncle, to kill the former elven princess.
Even as Devon rushed through the trees, everything around her seemed to move in slow motion. She knew where the fae that hunted them were—her senses picked them out, only from the sounds and smells surrounding her, but it was more than that.
Something inside me changed since Arlene used Lord Darren’s blood to give me a transfusion after they saved me.
The elves developed a strange technique that involved thin metal needles fashioned by magic, hollow reeds, glass bottles, and thread that allowed a healer to give a healthy person’s blood to another. Or some such nonsense. It wasn’t always possible, and only the magic that enabled her werewolf father to have a child with a vampire allowed her to survive the process. Despite her birth, she had always been a werewolf to the extent that she forgot her blood was not pure.
The vampire in me has surfaced in some way, but then again, it is more than that. She evaded a peculiar, tree-shaped fae, and the slice of metal through meat and bone told her she did not need to be concerned—one of her companions already dispatched her attacker.
We don’t have much time, she thought, unable to ignore the sense of urgency pounding through her veins.
She adjusted her direction at hearing the yipping sound the dark fae made when they converged on a target.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Lord Darren cannot lose Meghan now that he has finally told his half-sister the truth about her origins. She must live. The vampire lady is a part of him, and he is a part of her. What matters to him also matters to me, and she has become a member of our strange little family.
Another fae popped out of the ground in front of her, but before he was even fully upright, her blade sliced him in half.
“This way,” she called out.
The unexpected quiet in the small clearing disturbed Meghan.
Will I die next? she wondered as she stared at the dense undergrowth surrounding her. Her heart was pounding in her throat, and every little noise made her jump.
Strange words caused a momentary oppression in the air, almost startling her into running. Someone then appeared out of thin air beside her, causing her to nearly drop her sword.
Meghan stared at the elf—Arlene—her mouth dry as dust and her legs shaking so severely that they struggled to support her weight.
She had never been so relieved to see anyone.
If it had been some fae, I would be dead now.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, something landed heavily beside her, giving her another horrible fright. She recognized Lord Darren, her half-brother, as he settled lightly on his feet with finesse and commanding power.
Another shimmer of light turned into Devon, Lord Darren’s marked werewolf lover, who appeared just to the left of Arlene. The werewolf’s right hand glistened with red blood, and a fae heart contracted for the last time at her feet.
Strange, slightly luminous runes glowed on their foreheads.
Meghan recognized it as elven magic, and even having experienced it before, it still unsettled her almost as much as the fae stalking through the forest.
“Let’s go find the rest of your people?” Arlene, Lord Darren’s bonded elf and best friend, suggested dryly.
Meghan’s heart contracted with yearning and fear even now that her own life was in less danger. Is Calder still alive?
The possibility of a world without him seemed bleak and inhospitable. Even knowing they could never be together, she would be happy if he survived and she could see him again.
Arlene wordlessly handed the wolf a small, ornately decorated, cut glass vial filled with a luminous bright-blue fluid.
As Devon, High King Wolfgang Creed’s rogue daughter, approached Meghan, the power of this royal-born female intimidated her even though she was used to being around royals. Devon wiped her bloodied hand on her pants and dipped her forefinger in the paint.
“This elven magic makes us invisible,” she said. She hesitated a hair’s breadth from Meghan’s forehead.
Is she waiting for me to give her permission? Meghan mused, unused to royalty doing such things. Even knowing this werewolf princess is now nothing more than a slave doesn’t change who she is.
She nodded hesitantly. No matter what King Wolfgang says, he cannot take from Devon the power of her blood or what makes her a royal.
The former werewolf princess applied a little paint to Meghan’s forehead, and the cool liquid made the vampire uneasy.
“We must find Calder,” Meghan blurted out.
Did I spy pity in those intense blue eyes? she wondered, staring at Devon.
“That was our plan, dear sister,” her half-brother assured her. “But we thought we’d locate you first. I will not have some fae scum dishonoring my kin.” He flitted forward and waited for them to follow, but the bushes gave way under the weight of something crashing into the clearing.
It is another fae, Meghan realized, her heart almost jumping from her chest.
Arlene rushed to the strangely formed thing, which had leaves and vines growing out of a disturbingly human-like form. She lobbed off its head and continued forward without even waiting for the creature to fall, passing Lord Darren.
Meghan raised a brow as Devon adroitly sidestepped the spray of darkly colored—almost purple—arterial blood arching through the air as the body collapsed.
Lord Darren stole back the lead from the elf, at whom he grinned.
Only her vampire speed allowed Meghan to stay with them. As they rushed forward, her attention strayed to the woods, and she struggled to keep track of the vegetation passing her at such speed that she might miss some less-than-recognizable fae that might charade as a bush or a tree branch.
Yet, I will not be left behind. To survive this day, I must keep close to my half-brother and his bonded.
