Nothing stirred in the sparse underbrush.

It must have been a hare. Arlen settled carefully into place and peered through some leaves at the scene in the clearing. It is strange that none of the fae have spotted our approach, she noted with some relief.

Lord Calder and a few vampire soldiers were secured to tree stumps. The fae's vigorous interrogation left the men in bad shape. Two dead vampires attested to the seriousness of the situation and their lack of time.

"Where is Lord Darren?" a tall male fae demanded of the prisoners.

None of the captives answered.

He nodded at a behemoth of a man, who grinned in anticipation as he approached the first vampire in line.

Arlene's muscles tightened as sharp, meaty thuds found their mark and did damage. Despite the initial friction with Commander Calder, he was still an ally, and the fae were their enemies. She did not like having to witness the abuse they were suffering.

Those blows carry an unnatural force, even for a supernatural creature.

The thought bothered her.

The sharp crack of bones reached her ears.

Meghan's instinctive urge to help Calder almost propelled her forward, but a warm hand clamped around her arm, preventing her from moving. Shock struck ice through her insides as she thought she had been discovered, only to find herself face-to-face with the lycan—their noses almost touching—and relief flooded her.

I was careless and so focused on Calder that the werewolf snuck up on me without me picking up on anything. What if Devon had been an enemy? she wondered.

The warning in those cerulean eyes snapped her from her overwhelming anger at their attackers.

Devon pulled her back into the shadows, and she did not resist.

Lord Darren would have gone after me if she had not stopped me from rushing headlong into that clearing. My act of stupidity would have given the fae what they wanted by delivering him into their hands. Having no more use for the rest of us when they had what they came for, they would kill all of us. Horror churned through her abdomen. These are not vampires, and this is not a fair fight; they have no rules of engagement and possess no scruples. Who knows what kinds of fae are out there and what they are capable of doing to their enemies?

Devon did not let go, leading her away, and left with no choice, she followed.

They moved through the undergrowth to where Lord Darren and Arlene sat on their haunches, discussing something. He drew in the dirt with a twig while the elf listened with intense concentration, and intelligence shone in that calm, inhuman gaze.

Devon let go of her arm and took her place on Lord Darren's other side. Meghan took her seat and closed the circle. Lord Darren evaluated each in turn before speaking just within the range of their hearing.

This conversation is more for my benefit than theirs, Meghan realized. My brother does not need to use words with them.

"Arlene says one of the fae guards is a caster that can detect and deflect magic," he whispered.

"That means no more elven tricks," Meghan deduced, and the approval in her brother's eyes warmed her heart.

"There are also two turned vampires, and they are not as weak as the one we took down in the clearing," Arlene added.

"The leader is something Arlene has not encountered before, and the others are lesser fae soldiers, but the bulky one . . ." Lord Darren hesitated briefly, "he is some kind of underfae. For years, my father and his people have been fighting the dark fae. They could have told us what we were about to face. Do you know?"

Meghan slowly shook her head. "No, my father kept out of this war for as long as he dared. Our lands provide food, and our forges make weapons. He thought that was enough of a service to our king. But my eldest brother disappeared last month, and the younger died. King Duncan conscripted my father and thus me. The king wanted him to send someone he trusted, and that is why I am here. It also took me far away from the actual fighting without defying your father." She grinned ruefully.

The others smirked back.

"Lord Bertram's ploy was unsuccessful, I would say," Arlene commented, and Meghan shrugged.

This is the life I chose, and I finally get to live it for however long I survive, she thought. If I do come out of this in one piece, I will face a less pleasant fate upon my return—marriage. Father will not lose the last of his offspring . . . even if I am a child born of his shameful conduct.

"In an ideal world, I would wait until dark, but I doubt Calder has that much time." Lord Darren hesitated as if considering some unpleasant thought.

"Despite us having been so close to them, none of them picked up on our scent, heartbeats, or presence. That means we can ambush them, but they outnumber us, and we don't know what they are," Devon murmured.

Lord Darren nodded thoughtfully. "There is only one way we can successfully ambush them. We stand a chance if we barge in from the least defended side and eliminate the guards."

"We have no time for fancy plans and can only hope we don't run into something we can't handle," Arlene suggested.

Lord Darren stopped toying with the stick as he quickly outlined what he had discussed earlier with Arlene.

Their plan is a risky gamble, but Calder and his men will die if we do nothing, Meghan realized.

"Are you with us?" Lord Darren asked her.

Her gaze wandered over their little group. They were bloodied and weary, but determination glinted in their eyes.

She nodded.

To fight or die with them will be an honor. It was a thought she would not have appreciated a week earlier. Yet it doesn't change that Father and some court members will never alter their mindsets.

"My father is opposed to your becoming the future ruler of our kingdom, and he had a hand in this little farce with your bonded," Meghan admitted.

They measured each other with their eyes.

"They vowed that the bastard son of their king would not rule. And they don't see your choice of bonded as an accident of fate. They fear that you sought the aid of the offspring of Killian Amboise—the man who aimed to invade lycan territory—and Devon Elizabeth Creed, the traitor who was stupid enough to try and usurp Wolfgang's throne, to steal Duncan's seat of power. That makes you a viable threat to the royals who see it as their rightful legacy."

Meghan had his full attention. Even though Lord Darren was her brother, he still intimidated her.

"So, they do know who my bonded are," he muttered, his gaze calculating.

He reminds me too much of his father when he looks like that.

"The royals used to think you were beneath them, Lord Darren. Unfortunately, you changed their minds with this alliance," she warned, indicating the three of them.

I shall not die without telling my brother the truth, she vowed to herself.

"Do you realize you just betrayed your father?" he asked.

Meghan nodded.

If Father ever found out . . . he'd slit my throat himself, she realized.

"Sister, you made the right choice. When we return, we will pretend that this conversation never happened. If you go with us into this fight, you will have aligned yourself with me," he pointed out her options.

Meghan considered his words.

"Brother, I will do much more than ally myself with you this day. If we live, I am your servant. My father is a danger to this kingdom. Although I have suspected it for a while, you have opened my eyes," she confessed.

Lord Darren extended his hand to her in the manner men used when they swore fealty to each other.

She grasped his forearm as he did hers.

"My question, if I may be so bold, Master? King Duncan is hale and hearty and has ruled the vampire kingdom for a thousand years. Why are these people so concerned with his death?"

"Then we better save Lord Calder and get to our destination." He stood and disappeared into the undergrowth.

Meghan needed no invitation to follow him.

Calder's anger consumed him as he watched his men being beaten and tortured for knowledge they did not possess.

These fae cowards have ambushed us thrice and made me fail my mission. He was not the type of man who found failure acceptable. If Lord Darren perished, we would all be as good as dead regardless of the outcome of this battle. The king would punish us and sentence us to public execution for failure to fulfill our duty. It would be a justified decision, considering the magnitude of our incompetence.

A massive roar erupted from the other side of the clearing. The inhuman sound startled both captives and enemies. The hair on Lord Calder's neck stood on end, and a chill skittered down his spine.

Never have I heard anything like it, he admitted.

The powerful riptide of sound whiplashed across the clearing. Its endless fury and raw power shook the trees, and even the ground trembled beneath his feet. In its wake, the enemy scattered. Some ran toward the unseen assailant while others backed off in the opposite direction, bent on escaping. A few remained immovable, but all of their attention focused on the route of the perceived assault.

Their conduct lacks discipline, cohesion, experience, and leadership. Calder kept still, assessing the situation while pretending to be more injured than he was.

He smirked, realizing what would happen next before the enemy did.

The ones cowed by that commanding roar and the cowards closest to the forest fell soundlessly, victims to an attack obscured in the wake of a second deafening roar.

The assailants invaded halfway into the camp before the central mass of soldiers—those who had not moved—perceived the attack from behind. It left the fae unable to hear past the ringing in their ears and the weakness created by the commanding power of that sound.

I should be afraid of this unknown enemy, but if they slay these men and I die too, then so be it, he thought, preparing himself for his end.

A couple of the fae belatedly raised the alarm and prompted another unfortunate mistake: those who heard or saw the warning reacted to it. The rest remained oblivious, creating utter confusion as the fae charged in different directions again.

A muted scent caught Calder's attention as a woman stepped briefly into the dappled light shining in patches through the trees. She had smeared her face and armor with mud to conceal her scent, but he recognized the dapper soldier fighting two fae.

Meghan. His heart soared as he turned his head toward the other two attackers. Lord Darren and Arlene. Relief flooded him as hope came alive inside his chest. He glanced around, expecting to see the wolf, but saw nothing.

As a frown wrinkled his bloodied brow, his gaze returned to Meghan.

He fought his bonds to get to her side and help her but to no avail.

I cannot helplessly watch her die, he thought, redoubling his efforts. His heart twisted in his chest, and fury filled his veins as his gaze fixed on her.

No one else existed and he did not care whether they lived or died, even though he knew he should.