The sun was rising by the time David, Nathan and Bram returned to the house. Empty handed, again. Nathan cursed softly while climbing out of the saddle, and David wholeheartedly agreed. Another damn failure.

He should have been there. Should have stayed. It shouldn’t have been Morgulon—and Thoko of all people—who defended the house. Not that she hadn’t done a good job at it. But she shouldn’t have had to. Hell, at the very least, she should have had a proper weapon to do it.

He shouldn’t have been such an idiot. Again.

All they had found were the attackers’ horses, some train tickets. Neither of them had been considerate enough to carry a letter from whoever was behind this on them.

The bastards had taken the train from Deva, and David hated that more than anything else, because he knew a few of them. He had given their names and descriptions to Desmarais, back when he’d started rounding up potential dissenters. They had been on the lists of hunters the guards at the city gates were supposed to look out for, they shouldn’t have been able to just walk into Deva Central Station and board a train to Brines of all places…

But they had.

And he had no idea what else he could do to prevent something like this from happening again, asides from locking all the werewolves up someplace like First Camp, under the guard of people he could trust.

There were so very few people he could trust, and one of them had just gotten hurt, defending Morgulon and her cubs with a damn logging axe. He’d have to teach Thoko how to shoot a pistol, possibly use a sword, too. If she was going to jump into fights like a swashbuckler, she needed to be armed like one, too.

And he needed to change the schedule again. There was no way Morgulon would be fit to travel to Deva tomorrow.

How long could he stay absent from the capital? Grooch was capable, but he would still need his input. Even if that just meant that David signed stuff. George Louis would want him back, too. And who knew what the palace rumour mill would come up with in his absence. Especially since he seemed incapable of keeping the werewolves safe from harm. He didn’t need Lane’s lessons in politics to realise that this would look bad once word got around.

Perhaps that was the whole point of these attacks. Scaring the werewolves and showing him up at the same time. Prove, beyond doubt, that the duke’s right hand man was badly chosen, unworthy of the responsibility placed on him. Who would trust a king who named his advisors so badly?

They didn’t even have to kill an elder for it to work, did they? Enough near misses, and the werewolves were bound to lose faith that he was even trying to protect them.

“Go to sleep, David,” Bram pulled him out of his thoughts.”You need to get some rest.”

“Can’t do that.”

“And what do you plan to do instead?”

“That’s what I need to figure out before I go to sleep. Unless you have an idea?”

David pushed past his father, not really expecting an answer, to see how Morgulon and Thoko were doing. But Bram tagged along, rubbing his beard.

“I might have,” he said. “If Thoko is up for it.”

David stopped to turn and look at his father, surprised that Bram would offer a suggestion. It sometimes felt like he hadn’t done anything since Greg had gotten bitten.

He wasn’t angry at his father, he wasn’t! It wasn’t like he didn’t understand, at least in part. But it was still a surprise, to hear him say this, now.

“And if she is? What would you have her do?”

“We call in the press,” Bram said. “Have them take pictures of the dead. Especially the ones that weren’t killed by Morgulon. Put Thoko in the most demure dress we can find and let her tell the journalists how even with the element of surprise on their side, seven Valoisian men weren’t enough to get past her and her axe. You know how these people think about women. Make these bastards into a joke. Hell, let’s downplay her age, make it a girl who killed them.”

“I’m in!”

Thoko’s voice was a bit raspy, but she was clearly awake enough to have heard them. When David walked into the drawing room, she was sitting up, Greg leaning against her shoulder. He seemed to be asleep.

“If you think it’ll do some good, I’m in,” Thoko repeated as soon as she saw David. He looked to his mother, whose expression was stark. She didn’t smile until she realised that David was watching her. So she wasn’t particularly impressed with her husband’s idea.

“It should buy us some time,” Imani said. “But did you find out where these men came from?”

“Deva,” David sighed. “I recognize three of them, hunters we worked with in the past. They were on several wanted lists, I had them put there myself. I have no idea how they made it into the city and onto the train without anyone stopping them.”

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“Someone might have sheltered them in Deva all along,” Imani pointed out. “It’s clear that there’s a traitor at the palace, considering what’s been going on.”

“Well, they didn’t leave a calling card,” David replied sullenly.

“It does appear Deva is the place to be,” Imani went on. “I will accompany Morgulon once she is fit to travel. In the meantime, Bram is not wrong—it would certainly help if we can control the narrative of what happened here.”

So they contacted Greg’s new friends from the Eoforwic Tribunal, who were already up and just too happy to bring a camera out to the house. Thoko talked to them in the salon. Imani sat at her side with one of the girls from the kitchen: a sweet face framed by blonde curls, in a prim white apron, to recall the tale of how the brutes from Valoir had invaded the house, before Thoko told them how she had repelled them. Morgulon was barely mentioned at all, and the journalists didn’t ask. Apparently, a story about plucky Loegrian girls dealing a blow to the Empire would sell better than another werewolf tale.

They’d have the frontpage in the midday edition and a longer article in the evening run, and Mr. Dawson assured David that the articles would be sold to other papers, too. So word was sure to spread, of the Valoir and their failure. That was—something.

David still couldn’t stop himself from pacing, tired as he was. Lane sat with Morgulon and Dr. Barnett, who had to change the bandages every few hours, Imani was writing ever more letters, as did Bram. There was nothing for David to do, and he resented that. Mainly because he still couldn’t find the calm to rest.

“Want to go for a ride?” Nathan stopped him the next time he came by the dining room. “Let’s go,” he added, before David could even make up his mind. Andrew got up, too, and the two of them dragged him outside, to the stables, ignoring his protest.

The fresh air helped. The spring sun was bright but not too warm yet, and the horses were running eagerly. The rush of the wind in his ears managed to quiet his circling thoughts. Nathan’s excited whooping helped, too.

When the horses slowed, David knew what he was going to do next. He turned to his younger brothers. “Will you be coming to Deva, too?”

“Sounds like the city's the place where it’s happening,” Nathan said. “Not exactly thrilled to go, but who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky and someone challenges me to a duel, too.”

David shuddered and rubbed the graze on his arm.

“Want to wait here until Morgulon gets better, or will you travel with me to Deva today?”

“You’re kidding,” Andrew growled.

David shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do here. Or Pierre, for that matter. All we’re doing is wasting time.”

“You think the pack will go with you?” Andrew asked. “After what just happened here?”

“I’ll find out, I guess.”

And if they didn’t? He’d still need to go himself. DeVale hadn’t been fit enough to visit before he had left for Brines, so that was a talk he still needed to have. And he wanted to check on Grooch, too. Make sure there had been no further attacks. Or attempts to steal his “seal.”

It was noon before they made it back, so David breached the topic to the werewolves at lunch. Annabelle agreed before he had even finished speaking. She was probably eager to see her son. Having her commit so quickly made it easier to convince the others, too.

It was a pain to rearrange the whole plan—he had meant to leave with the pack hours ago—but the railway company was helpful for once. So a couple of hours later, Pierre’s pack and four of the other five werewolves stood with David at the terminal in Eoforwic main station. Only Laurent, next oldest after Morgulon and Pierre, would stay at Brines in case there was another emergency at the railway. Nathan and Andrew had decided to stay and guard Morgulon, just in case, until she was fit for travel.

***

People in Eoforwic barely even stared at the werewolves' unusual eyes and hair colourations anymore. It had become just another sight to see on the northern railway lines. In Deva, on the other hand, the situation was very different. Almost nobody in the capital had ever seen a living, free werewolf. David had asked them to wear the uniforms they had been issued, in the hopes that people would recognize that they were “official” werewolves rather than “wild” ones. It only helped some: there was still a persistent, scandalised murmur following them across Deva Central Station, and a wave flowing around them—sometimes frothing—as people pressed in to have a closer look and others backed away in horror.

David glared around. They had been supposed to meet a squad of city guards right at the platform for exactly this reason. The men were only now making their way through the crowd, even though the train had been on time. One young man clutched his long halbert nervously as they took up the escort, glaring at the werewolves. David made a mental note to have him replaced. He’d asked for men seasoned in fighting the Rot at the White Torrent’s shores, in the hopes that they would have a better appreciation for the necessity of hiring the werewolves, and for the most part, it seemed to work.

They crossed the station and got onto a different train to the village of Windish. It was a prosperous place, had been so even before the railway, and belonged to the widespread viceroy’s estates. One of his married daughters resided at the manor house overlooking the village. It was there that David took the pack, to meet Duke Desmerais himself.

The werewolves seemed to appreciate the gesture, though there was a bit of disappointment that they wouldn’t stay at the manor, but rather one of the auxiliary buildings. An old farmhouse, repurposed to a sort of communal sleeping room. It had only one large room, with beds lined up against one wall, a table for eating, and a stove.

It wasn’t what David would have chosen, but at least it wasn’t a stable, either.

“Not as nice as Brines,” Remy noted promptly.

“Better than a prison cell,” Alister replied. “The roof doesn’t seem to leak, and you get your own bed. I bet you that’s nicer than what most labourers get in the big city.”

“Still not as nice as Brines,” Remy shrugged.

Alister growled at him, but Pierre shut them both up by lightly clapping his hands. “What Alister is trying to say, I think is: Don’t complain where the humans can hear you, Remy. Especially not poor humans.”

“Don’t see any of those around here,” Remy muttered, but he walked over to lay down on one of the beds, pat the pillows. “We going to stay here, then? Till there’s some fight somewhere?”

“I want to take you into the palace,” David replied. “Give soldiers and the watch a chance to talk to you. Some Lords and Ladies, too. So there’ll be some visits at the very least. If all goes well, you will be able to go into Deva alone, too. But I first need to figure out who was behind that attack on Morgulon, and make sure it’s safe.”