Lane wished it had been a longer night as they arrived at the palace. They had left for work late, and she had still barely caught a couple of hours of rest. Not that she looked like it. She was dressed up, even if it was a more conservative, prim and proper cut rather than something fashionable. Her hair was done up, too.

At least one of the journalists waiting outside the palace gates whistled as David opened the carriage doors for her and offered her his hand.

It was better than throwing rotten fruit. Not that the protestors filling the yard dared that. Not even when Greg turned his back on them. She still saw him flinch when someone yelled “monster!” at him.

David turned to glare at the crowd, but that was all he could do. He escorted Lane to her new office where he introduced her to his two secretaries, handed her the letter naming her his successor, and then went off to Fort Brunich, where the training for him and the werewolves had been moved.

Lane smiled wryly after him. Greg rolled his eyes.

“I hope you’re ready to get to work,” he said, “cause David didn’t exactly clear his desk before running off. Or the schedules, for that matter.”

Lane winked at him. “He did warn me,” she said, pulling up her gloves. “I believe he would usually start at the cells? And then he told me there’s a press interview scheduled?”

“We can cancel that, Milady,” Mr. Grooch promptly offered. “I heard a rumour that it’s been a short night?”

“No need. But I’ll postpone the visit to the prisoners,” Lane said. “Is there an official version of what happened yesterday? Do we at least have a name?”

“Only rumours so far, Lady deLande. May I ask what happened?”

“Greg can tell you in a moment,” Lane said. “He witnessed the whole thing. Send a runner to the dukes first; I intend to join them for lunch, if they’ll have me.”

“I bet that’s going to be fun,” Greg muttered.

“I do think I’m going to enjoy myself, yes.” Lane had to admit that she was already having fun. It would be hard. There was a lot to do. But it was an important job, and she thought she might have a slightly easier time of it than David.

“Before the interview this morning, I’d like to start by seeing the books and hear more about how your day usually goes,” Lane went on. “If we get the report from last night, I’ll want that right away, too. In the afternoon, I’m going to pay a visit to the cells, but I need to keep this dress clean until then. As for tomorrow, I would like to talk to some of the nobility David hasn’t yet approached.”

“That’s most of the aristocracy,” Mr. Howell said, then ducked his head. “Begging your pardon, madame.”

“No, do speak your mind, Mr. Howell. Politics aren’t David’s game. That’s why I want to start right there. Perhaps, we could contact some of the more—conservative nobles first. I need to get in touch with the instigators behind those protests, see if there’s a way to reach an agreement.”

“Do you think someone like that would speak to you?” Greg asked. “I mean, you are technically unmarried.”

“Surely, having my future brother-in-law in the room will preserve my honour? And theirs?” Lane smiled at him over her fan, batting her eyes.

“That would mean we need to find someone who would sit down with a werewolf in the room,” Greg said slowly. “But it’s an interesting experiment. At least it would be hard to argue that me being in the room is unnecessary.”

“How about Count Levier?” Mr. Grooch asked.

“If you want conservative, there’s also Lady de Byres,” Greg added. “Not exactly powerful, though, and she might not allow me to be in the room, either.”

The mother of his best friend, wasn’t she? It couldn’t hurt to demonstrate how profitable it was to be friends with Gregory Feleke. First though, they needed to make connections to more powerful nobles.

“Count Levier seems like a good man to start with,” Lane said. “And we’ll add Lady de Byres to the list, but below Lord Mire. I would like to meet with a different noble every day. I believe we need to push for a broader understanding and support amongst the nobility, especially here at the palace.”

“Quite so, milady,” Grooch said. He finally smiled. “We shall assemble a list while you talk to the reporter. Am I correct in assuming you will also want to meet with Commander Bacrot? Possibly the professors in charge at the University?”

“It can’t hurt to meet Professor Audenne in a more official capacity,” Lane said slowly. “Yes, do add him to the list. Perhaps the more influential editors and publishers. Could you introduce me to Mr. Higgins senior, Greg? We should also throw some dinner parties, now that the army is kindly freeing up our budget.”

She closed her fan abruptly. “But let’s start by looking at the numbers.”

***

George Louis sighed as Lane joined him for lunch and said: “He really couldn’t wait to get away, could he?”

“I believe he thought he could be more useful at Fort Brunich.”

“Of course he did.”

Lane thought George Louis would say more on the matter, but then Duke Desmarais arrived with his wife. They both greeted Lane warmly and congratulated her on taking over for David. Young Lord Rover stumbled over the address and blushed bright red as he sat down. Only Marquess Picot looked surprised at her presence and noted: “Countess deLande, you must be very sure your fiance will make it back from the frontline.”

Well, wasn’t that charming.

“I have all the faith in the world in David,” Lane replied. “And for the duration of his absence, I am quite capable of defending my own honour.”

She considered adding that she didn’t want to ever be with another man, anyway, but then decided that might be laying it on too thick.

When the lunch was over, she hung back, wondering if George Louis would want to speak to her in private about last night. Surely, he had gotten a report already?

Indeed, he did call after her, just as she reached the door. “Countess de Lande. A word, if you please?”

Lane rolled her eyes. As if he would hold his tongue if she said No. “How can I serve, Your Highness?”

“I am simply curious,” he claimed. “Lord Feleke's—entanglement—with the werewolves, I understand. But what about you? What changed your mind about them?”

It wasn’t what she had expected, but it was a common question. Even if the humans didn’t know that the werewolves used to call her “the Mad Butcher” they still knew that she had used to hunt werewolves with holy passion. She gave him the same answer she gave everyone else.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I saw the Rot die, Your Highness. I saw the scourge of this country cower before a single, injured werewolf. Just as your own court did, when d’Evier raised it here in the palace.”

George Louis raised his eyebrows rather suggestively. “So it had nothing to do with the werewolf who is soon to be your sister-in-law? I hear she is quite striking in her human body.”

Lane had to fight the urge to hide her face behind her fan. Instead, she clasped it with both hands behind her back. “What are you saying, Your Highness?”

“I was simply wondering if you would consider a deal regarding the monsters, Countess deLande.”

Lane pressed her lips together. She didn’t want whatever he had to offer.

“David has become—fixated—on this idea that humans and werewolves can peacefully coexist,” George Louis already went on. “And I will admit that his brother is—unusual. The same may apply to the Morgulon. But in light of what happened at Lord Nathan’s latest hunt, they are clearly the exception. We cannot have riots in the city and fight a war at the same time, Lady deLande.”

He looked at Lane, as if waiting for a reaction, but she knew better than to dispute the point. One murderous werewolf out of hundreds didn’t prove anything, but if he wanted to view the situation that way, she would hardly sway him.

Moreover, her silence appeared to unsettle him.

“In any case,” he said, “here’s my offer: I will protect both Greg and Morgulon—and their children. Possibly a few other, hand-picked ones. But I need some concessions in return. From his office as a whole.”

“And how would we oblige you?” Lane asked when he fell silent.

“First of all, the criminals bitten—they remain criminals. Their sentence may be postponed, but that doesn’t change the fact that they have been sentenced to death. Nor does it undo the crimes they committed.

You have to understand, this is not purely my concern,” the duke added. “A lot of people are worried—even upset—about this situation.”

Lane bit the inside of his cheek. David would never, ever agree to this. Alvin would be one of those whose sentence was merely “postponed.”

“Secondly, in the same vein: while I agree we need the elders, I want them better controlled. I understand that Nathan Feleke himself has agreed to train more hunters, and I, for one, am glad about it. The people of Loegrion won’t accept a king who lets monsters run rampant, and they shouldn’t.”

When she still didn’t say anything, he added: “Those are my demands. Again. I hope we can come to an agreement here.”

Lane nodded slowly. “I understand your point, Your Highness. But it’s not feasible. David will never agree to your first demand nor forgive me if I do so. And if you force me to choose between him and you, that’s an easy choice.”

The duke pursed his lips. “I see. So you will not even consider what I have to offer?”

“If it comes down to getting rid of most of the werewolves after the war, then no, Your Highness. I have no interest in considering your offer.”

“Well, it was worth a try. I truly expected you to be too smart to simply continue David’s mad agenda.”

Lane rolled her eyes. “Oh, I fully intend to be smarter about it than David. You will profit, too, Your Highness.”

“Really. And how are you going to pull that off?”

“Quite simply, Your Highness. Let me make you a counter-offer: To address your first concern, we can simply stop offering the choice to prisoners. David already spoke to the high command, who are pushing to allow more war wounded veterans to volunteer. Surely, it will be easier to sell the public on patriots so eager to defend their land they return to battle even after losing an arm or leg? We can take pictures for proof.”

“That doesn’t solve the issue of the criminals we already have. Nor will it appease the people terrified of the werewolves in our cities.”

“No, Your Highness. But the war might. All you have to do is agree to David’s demand to pay them in full, and I have no doubt most of them will join the new regiment. Train them at Fort Brunich, and you will remove them from the city, too.”

George Louis rubbed his beard. “They either return as war heroes or not at all? I suppose that might—help.”

“As for your second request, Your Highness: You cannot have it both ways. The elders know how to read, and Pierre is politically savvy. You can’t paint them as monsters with one brush, and expect them to still help.”

“So we just let them run around. Even the murderous ones.”

“No, Your Lordship. Any werewolf who attacks a human, we hunt down. But we’re already doing that, to the best of our current ability. We have never stopped doing that. The werewolves are aware that we are doing that. This is simply a matter of communicating what the office does to the public.”

Lane took a deep breath. “And to address your concerns, Your Highness: We’ve only seen one murderous werewolf so far, out of hundreds. That makes them more peaceful than humans by far.”

He grunted.

“They can be useful to you, too,” Lane went on, as if he hadn’t made a sound. “Why don’t you pick a town—or a couple of towns—and let people see their power for themselves. The Stour valley is far away, but you might send a pack to Mannin on the railway and let the people there witness with their own eyes how the Rot retreats. As the city guards of Deva can testify, not a single Rot creature has landed in the city since Morgulon took residence here.”

The duke raised his eyebrows. “Not a single one? What about the bad fogs we had?”

“Nothing, Your Highness. As I’m sure Commander Bacrot will testify.”

Lane smiled at his doubt and opened her fan. “You could, likewise, reward your most loyal servants with this. I suggest housing them at the lands of nobles most loyal to you—like Courtenay—or most troubled by the Rot.”

“Like Wardshire?”

“That would be a waste,” Lane said calmly. “Morgulon already cleared the old battleground that threatened my lands. My steward tells me the fields are prospering ever since. No, as I said, I was thinking you could give this out as a reward. Surely, you can think of someone who would deserve to have their lands protected? It need not be a noble’s, either. Mayhaps there’s a free city outstanding in raising volunteer regiments?”

George Louis glared at her. “I’ll admit, it has a certain appeal. Why only two packs, though? If we have so many werewolves?”

“Security, Your Highness. Morgulon was vulnerable because she was alone, so I intend to keep the groups large. No less than eight werewolves. The number alone should deter any professional hunters to come after them, and it will make it harder for fanatics and martyrs, too. I trust, of course, that you would pick those rewarded with a pack carefully to ensure they don’t move against the werewolves themselves.”

She smiled at him as sweetly as she could and added, “That is my offer, Your Highness.”

“You think you can get Lord Feleke on board with sending the werewolves out?”

She hid a smile behind her fan. “I am positive I can make him see things my way, yes.”

She was particularly confident because they had discussed the issue after he had asked her to take over, and David had agreed that they needed to make an offer. Still, she batted her eyelashes at George Louis over the edge of her fan, as if she were trying to flirt with him.

“Stop that,” he hissed, face darkening. “You know that won’t work on him.”

“He’s far beyond such simple tricks, yes,” Lane said, with all the fake pride she could muster. In silence, she wondered if it worked on the duke. Or if he was just that jealous. If so, he was a fool. She considered taunting Stuard some more, but then folded her fan with a sigh.

David still cared for him. Might even still love him, if the man wasn’t such a damn fool. Maybe it was time to switch strategies.

“Your Highness, I need you to understand something,” Lane said more softly. “Lord Feleke feels intense guilt over his involvement with the slaughter of the werewolves. All this may have started with his brother, but it goes far beyond Gregory these days. David killed hundreds of them over his career, possibly as many as a thousand. And he doesn’t know how many of them might have turned out like Greg, or Lee, or Ragna. It’s eating away at him. There is nothing you might offer that would make him abandon his course now. They do not call him the Relentless for nothing. He has chosen his path, and come hell or high water, he will stick to it.”

She looked down at the fan, running a finger over the folds. “That’s what won me over, Your Highness, since you asked. He doesn’t waver or dither. When he commits, he does it with all his heart. Why even try and work against that? You can condemn him, but you cannot change him. He does not fear death. He would be your most loyal vassal, if you let him be who he is. Are the werewolves worth more than that? Are they worth losing a man who will face the Rot, the Inquisition and any army the Valoise might command against you?”

She glanced over, wondering if George Louis understood what she was really trying to say. From the way the duke stood frozen on the spot, she thought he might.

“He is conflicted regarding you, Your Highness,” she went on. “But I know it would not take much for him to commit himself to you just as he did to the werewolves. All he needs from you is a sign that you won’t ask him to forsake them.”

She wanted to grab him, really, to grab him by the shoulder and shake some sense into him. Do you understand?, she wanted to ask him. Do you understand that he might love you still?

But she just left him standing there, mulling over her words.