Jasper waited until he could no longer smell the lavender and rosemary scent of the Star Court fey before slipping both arms under the fey's body, lifting them. He would carry the body to the Standing Stones--they weren't far from the meadow--and then return home to the Shadow Court.

Although...perhaps he wouldn't need to. A faint morning breeze wafted through the meadow, carrying not only the fresh, clean scent of dew and dawn, but the smell of moss and lilies. She was here.

He turned, his ears swiveling to pinpoint the sound of footsteps, and saw the flicker of soft, tea-rose-colored hair an instant before the Shadow Queen stepped out from the woods, one hand on the hilt of her sword.

"I thought I asked you to stay at the Court, my Queen," Jasper said, letting amusement color his voice.

Desma pressed a hand to the trunk of an oak tree, her blue eyes sparkling in the rising light of the sun and a sardonic smile curving one side of her lips. "You really thought I'd do that?"

Jasper chuckled. Of course not. Desma was a fighter--there was no way she'd be content with sitting around waiting for a report.

Desma's eyes fell to the body in his arms, and her mood sobered. "Is it one of theirs?"

Jasper shook his head. "I didn't recognize them either. But…" He hesitated, then said reluctantly, "Whoever they are, they're a wolf."

Desma frowned, but didn't leave the shelter of her trees. She gestured, and he stepped closer, shifting the body so Desma could see the face of the dead fey. She raised a hand, as if to trail her fingers along the sleek jawline, then shook her head and dropped her hand back to her side. "I don't see it."

"It's not something you see, my queen, it's..." Jasper frowned. How to explain the sense he got when seeing another werewolf? The urge to raise his hackles and snarl at the offender for trespassing on his territory. The sense of never wanting to turn his back or show his throat, in case the other took those as a sign of weakness. The smell-sense was probably easiest to explain--the sharp musk that lingered, even in death. "I can smell them."

Desma nodded. "I did arrive in time to hear the final bits of your conversation with Kestrel."

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Hey now, don't go talkin' about my bits," Jasper said,

Desma tipped her chin towards her chest, raising both eyebrows and giving him a long glare.

Jasper flattened his ears to the sides of his head. "I'm sorry, my queen."

Desma waved away the apology. "Why do you think we need to meet with the other Court? A few deaths--it sounds callous to say it, but you know that's not unusual for us. There's always someone who has upset a wildling, or who has trespassed into the territory of a wild animal or a nature spirit."

"Because no wild animal could tear out throats like that," Jasper said. "And I don't think another fey did it either. That was done by something that was vicious, but more conniving than any animal. If there's a rampaging nature spirit near the Courts, we must know about it."

Desma raised her eyebrows. "And?"

"Kestrel told me they've had unusual deaths like this one too."

Desma stared at him, a stony expression on her face.

"Please, my queen," Jasper said. “I don't pretend to understand the whole history behind your quarrel with the Star Court, or with Queen Seren, but surely you must see that to remain isolated like we have been is doing us no favors. Sharing information, perhaps even fighting side by side--"

"You forget yourself, Jasper," Desma said coldly, turning away from him, the hem of her navy velvet dress sweeping the dried leaves across the forest floor, like the rustle of uncooked rice being poured into a bowl.

Jasper's throat tightened, and he bowed his head, his forehead brushing the hair of the dead fey in his arms.

"Meeting them is one thing," Desma continued. "And I suppose you are right--it won't hurt to exchange information, to see if we can discover the meaning behind these attacks."

Jasper glanced up at her, not daring to show his surprise on his face.

"However, I would not expect help from the Star Court in the event of a battle. We have always been the buffer between the Star Court and the Deepwoods, and the one time they promised their aid, they fled in the middle of battle, leaving my soldiers to die. The Star Queen may as well have stabbed us in the back." Desma's fists clenched by her side, almost unconsciously. "I will not allow that to happen again."

Jasper eyed her cautiously, wondering if it was his queen, Desma, who was speaking, or if it was the Shadow Queen--Desma and her ancestors, all bound together in the same role and the long scroll of memories handed down by the magic of the Court.

Desma blinked heavily, then gave him a sharp glance. Jasper swallowed. It was not a comfortable place to be, pinned beneath the Shadow Queen's gaze. He'd been her Knight for nearly a decade, but there was still the feeling of perilousness around her…as if he was a moth fluttering too close to a candle flame.

She gave him a nod of dismissal, then turned away. "Bury the fey by the Standing Stones, as you suggested to the Star Knight. Make sure the place is prepared for a meeting tomorrow."

"As you will, my queen."