The elevator lurched to a halt. The doors shifted open with a mechanical whir, and Asra tensed, her mind flashing back to the attack in Ciaran’s Windemere apartment.

Asra’s vision filled with plush furs and stiff evening coats. Ciaran brushed these aside, poking his head out to glance around the room. After a moment, he turned and nodded to Asra, and the three of them stepped out from the wardrobe that concealed the elevator.

The wooden floors creaked as Asra stepped out of the way for Ciaran to close the wardrobe doors. The room was smaller than Asra had expected, far less luxurious and modern than his penthouse, but still undeniably Ciaran’s.

The wall to their left was dominated by a large window, its warbled glass panes segmented by intricate cast iron. It was adorned by stiff velvet curtains, dark blue and adorned with shimmering gold embroidery of ridgeback dogs—the royal crest. The walls were filled with thumbtacked pages containing a child’s bright crayon scribbles. The subjects were mostly crudely drawn stick dogs, though some were of two boys with their mother, or the two boys together.

The only furniture in the room was a bed, neatly made, with simple pillows and a thick blue blanket. The wall above had shelves with numerous trophies and ribbons and a set of hooks holding a variety of different styles of collars and leashes. A pair of dog bowls rested on the floor at the foot of the bed, and Bane made a beeline to inspect these.

“No treats for you today, I’m afraid,” Ciaran said to his dog. “And you’ve already had breakfast.”

“He can’t come with us,” Asra said. “He’ll give us away. And he could get hurt.”

Ciaran watched his dog lick fruitlessly at the ceramic bowls for a moment longer, then sighed. “You’re right. I’ll lock him in the room here. We can let him out when we get back.”

Asra watched Ciaran as he nearly tiptoed to the door to prevent the floors from squeaking. He locked the door, and Asra sighed.

“But what if we don’t come back?” she asked.

Ciaran’s eyes met hers, pain clouding his face. He looked for a moment as if he might argue, or deliver some chipper platitude about making it back no matter what.

But eventually he sighed and turned from her. This was one thing Asra could rely on Ciaran to be realistic about. He would do anything to ensure his dog’s safety.

Ciaran unlocked the door and cracked it open, then retrieved a thin leather leash from one of the hooks above the bed and attached it to Bane’s collar. He tied the other end to one of the bed posts.

Ciaran didn’t look at Asra when he spoke.

“He’ll chew through this eventually,” he said, tousling one of Bane’s ears, “and he knows how to let himself out through the door in the larder.”

Ciaran’s face crumpled. He pulled Bane toward him and buried his face in his neck. Asra turned away to give them privacy, but her keen hearing still detected every word.

“I love you, boy,” Ciaran whispered into the ridgeback’s fur. “I’ll do everything I can to make it back to you. I swear it.”

Bane’s tail wagged low, and he craned his neck to the side to lick the back of Ciaran’s head. Asra wondered just how much the dog understood of the situation. Would he recognize the goodbye for what it was?

For the first time, Asra felt a pang of guilt for having dragged Ciaran and Bane into her mess.

She shook herself mentally. Ciaran had tracked her down. He would never be able to escape Nolan’s paranoia without her help. She was assisting him just as much as he was assisting her.

But Bane was innocent. He hadn’t asked to be dragged into any of this.

Asra approached Bane and patted his head. Ciaran looked up at her, eyes wide.

“Don’t let them catch you,” Asra said to the dog. “Show them how fast you can run. And if they do catch you, show them how deep you can bite.”

Bane licked her hand.

Ciaran turned back to his dog, stroked his ears for a moment longer. Then he planted a kiss on the dog’s head and stood. He turned away from Bane with a shuddering breath and said, “Let’s get this over with.”

Asra nodded.

As Ciaran led her to the window, Asra tossed her bag onto the bed. There was no sense in bringing it; it would only slow her down in a fight, and if, by some small miracle, they did survive the encounter, she could always pick it up before she left.

The contemplation brought Asra’s mind to a harrowing thought. In an hour’s time, Ciaran would be dead, or he would be king. The latter horrified Asra almost as much as the former.

She took a steadying breath. Ciaran would make his decisions, and Asra would make hers. Her home came first, no matter what. She had to focus on that.

Ciaran peeked through the curtains, then after a moment pulled one side open enough for Asra to look through.

“Do you see these pergolas?” Ciaran asked, pointing to the wooden structures covered in delicate vining flowers. They provided a canopy over the numerous winding cobblestone paths. “That one right there leads to a gazebo near the center of the courtyard. That’s usually where Nolan goes in the mornings. If you stay low, you can climb above those all the way to the gazebo. I can walk below and give you a warning if there’s any guards.”

Asra nodded once, swallowing down her nausea. “How are you going to get down?”

Ciaran pointed to a sturdy trellis filled with more flowering vines along the exterior wall of the manor. “There.”

Asra glanced to him, one eyebrow raised. He shrugged and gave her an apologetic smile.

“Used to sneak out at night when I was a boy to play with the dogs in the kennels,” he said.

The corner of Asra’s mouth quirked. She almost laughed, but she forced it away. Her father’s words rang in her ears.

We have to protect the commune, no matter what we’re feeling. Do you understand?

Ciaran cleared his throat, then pushed a pane of glass outward. He clambered out and climbed down the trellis. When he reached the ground, he looked up to Asra and nodded.

Asra climbed out the window and down the trellis until she reached the top of the pergola. She crawled across, keeping as low as possible to keep out of view of any passersby. It was difficult to keep track of Ciaran beneath her through the tight maze of vines meandering through the wooden grid of the pergola.

The gardens were beautiful. The lawn was bright green and neatly manicured. Cobblestone paths were lined by flowering bushes of deep purple, blush pink, and stark white. A weeping willow spilled over the mirror surface of a pond, and a mist rose up from the water as a thick morning fog descended from the clouds. It was a perfect place for meditation and reflection.

And yet their purpose there made the whole scene feel sour. It was too pretty, too serene. It wouldn’t be long before the green grass was stained with blood, and Asra couldn’t be sure if it would be Nolan’s or her own.

Ciaran halted at the end of the path, just at the edge of the grass next to the gazebo in the center of the courtyard. Asra froze, and took a deep breath.

The gentle floral scents of the flowers surrounding her eased her nerves a little. The vines were full of lavender flowers the size of her hand, their spiky centers a pale yellow. Asra had seen these flowers before, but she couldn’t put a name to them.

Sophie would know what these flowers were. The thought hardened Asra’s resolve.

Something in the air tickled her throat, and she coughed.

Ciaran glanced up to Asra, and she just barely made out the movement through the tangle of vines. “He’ll be here soon,” he whispered.

Or at least she thought that was what he said. His voice was quieter, almost muffled. Her tinnitus must be louder than usual.

Asra nodded, though she wasn’t sure if Ciaran could see the gesture. She forced her breathing to remain steady. Every muscle in her body screamed to fight or flee. Freezing defied every survival instinct at this moment.

Asra heard Nolan before she saw him. The fog grew thicker and thicker, enough that the pond was nearly indiscernible. With each crush of grass beneath his foot, Asra’s heart rate soared. She couldn’t smell anyone with him, but she knew not to let her guard down. He would have some kind of trick up his sleeve. Ciaran might believe he could be reasoned with, but Asra knew better.

Nolan emerged from the fog like a phantom. His short gray overcoat was simple and unassuming, covering a matching gray vest over a white cotton shirt. His shoes were immaculately polished, his dark brown hair neat and tidy.

There was no denying his blood relation to Ciaran. They had the same brown hair, the same pale skin and dark eyes. But the features looked wrong on Nolan. Twisted.

She could make out more of his details as he approached. There were deep grooves in his forehead and permanent lines drooping beneath his dark eyes. He looked exhausted. She hoped she was personally responsible for some of those wrinkles.

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Asra was as tall as Nolan was now, but looking at him still made her feel like a frightened, naïve little girl.

“Nolan?” Ciaran called out.

Nolan froze, his jaw slack. His voice was thin when he spoke.

“Ciaran?”

“Yes,” Ciaran said. “It’s me. I’m home.”

Nolan stood frozen for a few moments more, and a thrill of fear shot through Asra’s heart. Had he seen through their ploy? Would he call the guards?

But eventually, Nolan stepped forward, and he and Ciaran closed the distance between themselves. Nolan pulled Ciaran into a solid hug, clapping his back. Asra’s chest burned, and she stifled a growl.

Ciaran and Nolan were brothers. They’d known each other for far longer than Asra had known both of them combined, yet the sight of Nolan’s hands on Ciaran still made Asra’s blood boil.

The brothers pulled away from each other, and Ciaran rubbed his eyes on the back of his arm. Two guards appeared from the fog behind Nolan, and Asra crouched lower against the trellis.

“Gods around us,” Nolan said, “how did you make it here? Are you all right?”

“Can we speak alone for a moment?” Ciaran said, and Asra could tell he struggled to keep his voice even. “It’s a matter of security. I’m not sure who we can trust.”

Nolan hesitated for a moment, then looked to the guards behind him and nodded. They all stepped past the brothers, underneath Asra, and entered the manor.

“It’s Vincent,” Ciaran said breathlessly. “He hired the werewolf to kidnap me. He wanted my death to look like an accident. He’ll come after you next, when the time is right.”

Nolan stiffened. His brow creased. The fog was so thick Asra could barely make out the expression. She struggled to stifle another cough.

“Is that so?” Nolan said.

“I’m sorry I defended him for so long,” Ciaran said, and his voice sounded entirely authentic this time. “You were right. He’s nothing but trouble.”

Nolan’s gaze fell on the manor, and he examined it as if seeing it for the first time.

“I … I have proof of his treachery,” Ciaran said. “If you could just follow me to—”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Ciaran?”

His smile was tight. Forced. Asra stiffened.

“Of course not,” Ciaran said with an awkward laugh. “We’ve already agreed you got all of Mother’s brains, remember?”

Nolan shook his head. “I figured it was only a matter of time before you planned something like this.”

There it was—the first sign something was going to go wrong.

Asra pushed the thought aside. She wouldn’t let this attempt end like the others. Nolan would die today.

“I thought you were going to be honest with me,” Nolan said, his voice breathy with exasperation. “I thought this whole nightmare would knock some sense into you!”

“I … I don’t follow.”

A chill crept up Asra’s spine. Something was wrong. She tested the air with her nose. She couldn’t smell anything or anyone. She couldn’t hear anything, either. Nolan was completely alone. But something was wrong.

“Come on out, Asra,” Nolan called, his eyes sweeping the courtyard. “Your game is finished.”

Asra froze, not daring to even breathe. Should she strike now? Wait for Ciaran’s signal?

In the split second it took her to consider this, Nolan pulled a revolver from inside his coat and aimed it at Ciaran.

“Nolan, what the hell are you doing?” Ciaran snapped.

“That wasn’t a request,” Nolan said. “Show yourself. Now.”

Asra dropped from the pergola behind Nolan, her heart in her throat. “Don’t you dare. I’ll tear your throat out.”

Nolan turned and gave her a tight-lipped smile, the muzzle of his revolver still trained on Ciaran’s head. “That was already your plan, wasn’t it? I might as well take something from you first.”

“You’ve already taken everything from me!”

“No, I haven’t. Not yet. But I will, I promise you that.”

He took a step toward Ciaran, who threw his hands up shoulder-height.

“I will burn your home to the ground,” Nolan said. “I will track down every elder, adult, and child. I will destroy everything.”

“That’s enough, Nolan!” Ciaran stepped in between Asra and Nolan, his palms held out toward both of them, as if he could physically force them apart. “I didn’t bring her here to kill you.”

“He’s not leaving here alive!” Asra said.

“Asra, enough!”

Ciaran’s words were so final, so authoritative, that Asra took a step back on reflex.

“I am trying to get all three of us out of this encounter alive.” Ciaran turned to his brother. “You know that gun won’t stop her before she kills you.” He turned to Asra. “And you know we won’t make it out of here alive if the guards hear a commotion.”

Asra said nothing. Her only goal was Nolan’s death. What happened afterward did not matter to her. The only thing holding her back now was the fact that she’d promised Ciaran he could say goodbye.

“Something you’d like to get off your chest, little brother?” Nolan asked, sneering at Asra past Ciaran’s shoulders. Asra reflexively bared her teeth at him.

“You need to step down,” Ciaran said. “From the throne.”

“You want me to abdicate?” Nolan said, turning his attention back to Ciaran with a disbelieving laugh. “To you?”

“It’s the only way all three of us walk out of this alive.”

The humor left Nolan’s face. “You would side with her over your own brother? Your king?”

“Yes,” Ciaran said. “Because she has opened my eyes to the harm you’ve caused. The shapechangers weren’t a threat to us until you antagonized them. They can’t change humans.”

“I’m aware of how new shapechangers are made, Ciaran.”

“Then why—”

The pieces snapped together in Asra’s mind. The kennel fire.

Ciaran seemed to come to the same conclusion. His legs gave out underneath him, and Asra leapt forward to catch him before his knees hit the ground.

“You killed my dogs,” he gasped as Asra set him upright. “You set the kennels on fire!”

“I did what I had to do. I had hoped you would never find out.” There was a resigned determination in Nolan’s voice. It masked the sympathy and regret, two things she thought he was incapable of feeling.

Apparently Vincent was right about Nolan having a soft spot for his brother.

“Your dogs are the whole reason this started,” Nolan said. “Her father had been skulking around, trying to find a way into the palace grounds. I didn’t understand why at first, but when I found out … ”

Nolan’s words rang through Asra’s head. Your father and I are good friends, you know …

“I tried not to eliminate them,” Nolan continued. “Truly, I did. I had hoped to harness that power for myself. For the kingdom. But that magic is … wild. Unpredictable. You’ve seen how much damage just one of their kind can do. Imagine if the commoners ever found out they could gain that kind of power. Our society would collapse.”

“Mother and Grandfather worked so hard on that bloodline,” Ciaran said. “That was our family’s legacy!”

“Don’t lecture me about our family’s legacy!” Nolan snapped, jabbing the revolver toward Ciaran. “What would you even know of it? You’re more interested in the drink than you are the kingdom!”

“You think Mother would be proud of what you’ve done with this kingdom?” Ciaran said. “What about the children and civilians you’ve slaughtered?”

“Don’t speak of non-violence to me. You’re the one who brought that monster here to kill me.” His voice was low and dangerous. “You’re no different than Father.”

Ciaran fell silent. The fog was settling in thicker and thicker. Soon Asra wouldn’t even be able to see Nolan. She choked back another cough. Her throat burned.

“Get out of the way, Ciaran,” Asra said. “I’ve let him bark long enough. It’s time to end this.”

“That woman won’t hesitate to kill you to get to me,” Nolan said. “If you think otherwise, you’re delusional.”

Asra felt Ciaran’s eyes on her, but she didn’t return his gaze. She would do what she had to do. She’d warned him.

We have to protect the commune, no matter what we’re feeling. Do you understand?

“Why are you stalling, Nolan?” she called to him.

He smiled at her, the same smile he’d given her eighteen years ago when he knew she’d seen through his charade.

What’s my dad’s name? she’d asked him as a little girl. If you’re such good friends … what’s his name?

“Anyone would stall in the face of certain death, wouldn’t they?” Nolan said.

He dropped his weapon to the ground, and the alarm bells rang in Asra’s head yet again.

“As you say,” Nolan said, “it’s time to end this.”