The woman of Alfread’s dreams shimmered with a radiant glow; her aura was reminiscent of the halo atop the Angel of Hope in Matron Mabel’s stories. Her wavy hair fell in golden strands like starlight, cascading from her head to her hips. Short by Leverian standards—at least a foot shorter than Alfread—her soft, slender frame was perfectly proportioned. She was no ancient crone.

Wayn shielded his eyes. “Blast it, Asa! Turn off that light—Brighten is next span!”

The witch, Asa, smirked at Zander and Alfread before setting her sights on Wayn. “Apologies, Archlord” she said with a devilish grin.

Wayn’s laughter echoed through the hall as he pulled her into a bear hug. After a moment, he released her and guided her to a seat beside Whelan. “See, Whelan? She knows how to have fun.”

Zander noticed the glance exchanged between the witch and the heir, hinting that Alfread’s dream woman might not be as pure as he. Before he could dwell on it, Wayn’s fist slammed against the table. “Stop staring and sit!”

Zander nudged Alfread into the seat across from Asa before Percival could slip into it.

“These men have a tale for us,” Wayn announced, pointing. “The big one is Alfread son of Evan. The enormous one is Zander of Mirrevar.”

Asa smiled, first at Alfread, then quickly averting her eyes at Zander. “Enchanted,” she said, her grin charming enough to put any tavern maid to shame.

Alfread cleared his throat, meeting her gaze. “Radiant,” he managed. Her aura glowed fierce, causing everyone to avert their eyes. Alfread gulped from his flagon, his unnaturally steady hands tremoring for the first time in years.

Wayn snorted. “That divinedamned light never shuts off. Imagine having to sleep beside that, eh boys?”

Alfread kept his gaze fixed on his flagon, and Whelan looked as far from the witch as he could.

Asa twirled a wand between her fingers. “So, who’s the storyteller?”

Alfread took a deep breath, then began. “We killed the wolves in the north.” He paused, taking another breath, meeting Asa’s gaze, his voice shaky. “But they were corrupt.”

Asa leaned forward. “Corrupt? How?” She ran her hand along her staff, a pearly white stone thing with a pair of angel wings atop it.

Alfread explained the situation, gaining composure as he detailed the oddities. When he finished, Wayn pounded on the table. “I’d kill ‘em all again!”

Asa tilted her head back, deep in thought. “Were they traveling with an ape?” she asked.

“No dotar,” Alfread replied.

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. She smiled at Alfread. “Were they near a water source?”

Alfread nodded, his excitement rising. “Yes, a pond!”

Asa leaned in, her emerald-green eyes on Zander. “Was the water yellow? Did it smell acrid?”

Alfread shook his head. “No, just murky and full of leeches.” He smirked at Zander.

Zander coughed. “Water didn’t give me the runs.”

“Oh, you were running, my friend,” Alfread said.

Wayn cracked a smile, before pounding on the table. “Get on with it! Tell me who I’ve gotta bloody break!”

“Not a dotar and not Rubi’s Perniciam,” Asa said, her aura dimming. “After they died, did the wolves remain unchanged?”

“They weren’t Kavovan metamorphs,” Alfread said.

“Or Atmana wildshapers,” Asa mused, studying Alfread closely before slumping in her chair, head in her hands, her glow dimmed.

Wayn’s voice cut through the silence. “What is it, Asa?”

“It can’t be,” she muttered.

Alfread reached across the table toward her. “The wolves were tamed, weren’t they?”

Asa’s eyes hovered over Alfread’s hand, but Wayn’s impatient demand interrupted her. “Asa, you have to tell us! Who’s behind these attacks?”

“Norali shade us from these dark shadows,” Asa mumbled. She inhaled deeply. “The people responsible for the end of my foremothers’ homeland.” Asa clenched her jaw, rage coloring her sandy-brown complexion. “The descendants of the Celegan Hollows in Vesarra. They can project their consciousness into the minds of beasts—or people—from incredible distances, controlling them.”

Wayn’s fist crashed into the table again, fury popping the veins on his neck. “We’ll find these Sell Agains and feed them to the bears!”

Asa’s frown deepened. “Their bodies may not even be in Urzport Hold. They could be far away, across the sea even.”

Tacitus spoke up, his tone somber. “Historically, the Celegans stayed out of Leverian affairs. They spent a millennium subjugated and battling for their freedom from the Gidiite Empire until Gurgaldai ezen Celegan finished the last of the Sunset Kings. Then, in the last fifty years, they claimed all of Vesarra: Gidiite, Heiyan, Atmana, Isihla, all fallen. We never thought they’d cross the seas.”

Alfread, his voice grave, added “They leave nothing of the conquered society’s culture behind.”

Asa nodded grimly. “They massacre the men, defile the women, and enslave their own children. The Chimaera are upon us.”

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Wayn’s fists crashed into the table, splintering the wood. “Zamael’s Hells!” A jug of mead tipped over, but Alfread caught it in time. “Tacitus, send word to Adameon. Now!” Wayn burst from his chair and paced the room.

Tacitus swallowed nervously. “What should I say?”

“Whatever you need to! Just get it done! Adameon needs to prepare!” Wayn’s fist hammered into an armoire.

“Are you sure about this, Asa?” Hanalei asked.

Asa met her gaze, shaking her head. “Celegan taming is the only possibility.” Her voice softened. “That said, this could be the work of renegades, or even just a scouting mission.” She forced a smile. “Alfread and Zander may have scared them off for good.”

Hope flickered in the room.

“We can’t take that risk,” Whelan said. “Let the scholars and stewards in Rubinia puzzle over this.”

Wayn grunted. “Tacitus! Make sure Serapheena gets a copy of the report. Tell the flaming genius I expect her to figure this out.”

Tacitus hurried out of the chamber with Percival on his heels. Wayn looked out the window grumbling about how the foreigners would feel his wrath for what they’d already done to his people.

Zander admired Wayn’s intense passion. He’d always believed that the archlords just let shite roll downhill without a care for who gets smeared by it. Wayn was a man of action, trying to shield his folk from the shite that was coming at them. That, more than his informality, convinced Zander that he swore his service to the worthiest lord in the realm.

“Blackened Zamael, I almost forgot,” Wayn said. “Asa, these men will escort you to Mirrevar tomorrow. Cerzein and Shaela are dead, killed by imps. Mirrevar needs a wizard and a witch, and I’ve only got the witch to send.”

“I’ve always wanted to see Mirrevar,” Asa said, glancing at Zander and Alfread. “I’ll meet you at first light.”

“What about Alexia?” Zander asked.

Wayn turned to Asa. “You want an apprentice?”

Asa leaned back. “Depends.”

“She’s a Ferrickton lass like you, and Zander’s life’s mate. You can use another hand.”

Asa raised her hands. “Here I thought I already had two.” Her smile faded along with Wayn’s snort. “She’d be better served at the University. The first years after awakening require intensive training and constant supervision.”

Whelan shot his father a triumphant glare, but Wayn ignored him. “Just give her an introduction. I’ll send her to Rubinia with Zander once Mirrevar is sorted.”

Asa shrugged. “Send her to me, but you may invoke Emmalyn’s wrath.”

Wayn snorted. “That old bat doesn’t scare me.” He turned to Zander. “I’ll put together an escort for her after Meladon’s day. She’ll join you in the Love Queen’s land soon.”

“Thank you,” Zander said, his hand instinctively reaching for the locket before he realized it was where it belonged.

Wayn ordered Whelan to escort Zander and Alfread to their guest room. As they departed, Wayn extended his hand to Zander again. This time, Zander gripped it firmly, locking eyes with the archlord in a silent battle of grip supremacy. “Keep her safe,” Wayn said sternly. “She’s the best witch in this kingdom, and one of my own. I like you, but if she’s harmed, I’ll hunt you down.”

Zander seized the dominant grip. “I will guard her with my life.”

Zander released, only for Wayn to dig back in and mercilessly crush his fingers. “See that you keep that oath, Zander of Mirrevar.”

Turning to Alfread, Wayn added, “You too, Miri’s son.”

Alfread solemnly swore, “By the Divine Thirteen, I’ll protect her with all my might. I will do whatever it takes to shield her light.”

Wayn slapped him on the back. “Good. When the Celegans come, I’ll wield Urzbane and lead the Peacewatch into battle myself. These bloody shits might control beasts, but Wayn Bearbreakers have been breaking beasts for over a thousand years.”

They bade farewell to the archlord who would not be called archlord. Asa nodded to them as they left but stayed engaged in conversation with Lady Hanalei.

Whelan guided them briskly through Urz’s End. Just outside of Wayn’s rooms, they encountered a stocky, hairy man lecturing a young boy. The child, short-haired and sullen, looked utterly defeated. The man stopped when he saw Whelan, giving him a thin smile. His greeting was as cold as a winter wind. “Nephew.”

Whelan inclined his head. “Sir Werner.”

Zander recognized the name—Werner, commander of the Peacewatch, known as Iceheart.

“She thinks she’ll be a knight,” Iceheart growled, gesturing to the girl Zander previously thought was a boy.

Alfread spoke up. “Elen of Qorath killed King Maleon Sapphire and his heir in two-on-one combat. Princess Serapheena trains with the Crimsonblades and is a prodigy with both the blade and bow. Her great-grandmother Queen Kaidaxus was the greatest fighter in Leveria while she lived. The greatest warrior of the last two centuries was either Zyryxa of Loxzua or Tuya of the Hollows. Bearbreakers make the best knights in the realm and being a woman doesn’t disqualify one from being a great warrior. All should be free to choose their path in life.”

Iceheart’s eyes flashed with anger. “Next time I need parenting advice, I’ll be sure to consult you.” His voice dropped, cold and dangerous. “Question me again and you’ll regret it.”

Werner turned back to the girl. “Bearbreaker women don’t play at war. They become ladies and marry knights or archlords. If I catch you with another stick, Winnifer, I’ll tan your hide with it.”

Winnifer Bearbreaker frowned at her feet, trying to hide her sobs. One look at her was enough to know that she’d never be prized as a highborn lady. As a warrior, she might find a place where she belonged. Zander pondered on the situation until they arrived at their room, reaching the conclusion that Alfread’s defense of her dreams was an act of honor.

Their guest room was modest and unadorned, defying what Zander thought a castle bedroom ought to be. “One bed?” Zander noted.

Whelan shrugged. “It’s all my father allotted. Honestly, you shouldn’t even have this. Peacewatch squires belong in the barracks.”

“Your father is a good man and respectable archlord,” Alfread said, pointedly leaving much unsaid.

Whelan bristled. “My father’s a fighter, not an archlord. Master Tacitus runs things, and Sir Werner commands the Peacewatch. Without them, my father would be lost.”

Zander wanted to cut into this spoiled lordling. He had no idea what Zander, or the thousands of orphans in Leveria, would have given to be raised by a father like Wayn. “Your father’s worth ten Icehearts.”

Whelan’s grin confirmed everything Zander believed about the arrogance of most lordlings. “I’m going to demand father assign knights to Asa’s escort. The Peacewatch has hundreds of those, but Leveria only has one of her.”

“No harm will come to Asa while I still draw breath,” Alfread said, glaring at Whelan. The lordling sneered in return, shaking his head.

Zander needed to get Whelan out of the room before he, or Alfread, started throwing fists. He strained to retain as much chivalry as he could. “It was my honor to meet you, Sir Whelan.”

“Oh?” Whelan said, raising a brow. “Time will tell us what your honor is worth, Zander.”

“Your honor’s worth more than his,” Alfread said after the lordling took his leave. “Divinedamned lordling.”

Zander couldn’t agree more. His jaw and fists unclenched, he settled in for the night, trying to be grateful for a bed, even shared with Alfread.

He and Alfread spent another angle talking, fawning over their prospective life’s mates. But as Zander lay awake, his mind filled with grim images—men turning into beasts, murdering, raping, and enslaving He clutched his chest, trying to focus on thoughts of Alexia and dreams of love, but every time, she was stolen away by the shaded man on the earthen throne.