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And at the snarl in his voice, the order, the wolves in the crowd straightened. Not with anger or fear, but …

“What did you do?” Perry said, staggering forward a step. “Ithan, you’re—”

“There is another Fendyr,” Ithan said, plowing ahead, bracing himself.

The crowd stirred. Perry gaped at him. “What do you mean?” she asked. He couldn’t stand the confusion and hope in her voice, her bright eyes.

“Her name is Sigrid,” Ithan said, throat tightening painfully. “She … she’s the daughter of Sabine’s late brother. And she—”

“That is enough,” Amelie spat, shoving forward at last. “This insane rambling stops now.”

Ithan growled, low and deep, and even Amelie halted, one foot on the step.

He held her gaze, let her see everything in it.

“Why is this traitor still alive?” Sabine’s voice slithered over the courtyard.

Ithan pivoted, carefully keeping Amelie in his sights as he surveyed the approaching Prime Apparent.

A step behind her, emerging from the shadows, strode Sigrid and the Astronomer.

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“Reaper,” Perry breathed, falling back. Not to run, but to protect a young wolf a few steps behind her, who shook in pure terror at the acid-green eyes of the Reaper in their midst.

Judging by Sigrid’s fairly normal gait, she was still in the middle of her transition. But there was an oddness to her movements already. The beginnings of that unnaturally smooth glide that only Reapers could effect.

And she’d left on her wrecked, bloodied clothes. As proof, he realized—because his blood was also on them. And the wolves would know that with one sniff.

Struggling for the right words as he pointed at Sigrid, Ithan said, “It’s—she’s no threat to you all.”

“That is a Reaper!” someone shouted at him from the back.

The Astronomer was grinning at Ithan. How had the old bastard managed to get her away from the Under-King? He’d somehow orchestrated this, right down to bringing his former mystic to Sabine. All for vengeance on Ithan.

“Whatever story Holstrom is spinning for you,” Sabine said loudly, “don’t listen to a word of it.” The crowd was recoiling, desperate to get away from the Reaper at Sabine’s side. “Ithan Holstrom is a liar,” Sabine declared, “and a traitor to all we stand for.”

“That’s not true,” Ithan growled.

“Isn’t it?” Sabine pointed to where Sigrid stood beside her, gazing out at the crowd with an impassive face. “Look at what you did to my dear niece.”

The word hit the crowd like a rogue wave. He practically felt them piecing it together—that the Reaper before them was the same Fendyr heir he’d been telling them about moments ago.

Niece, people whispered. Is it possible that—

The Astronomer folded his withered hands before him, the portrait of serene old age. “It is true,” he announced. “Twenty years ago, Lars Fendyr sought me out and sold his eldest pup into my service.” He motioned to Sigrid. “She was my faithful companion, as dear to me as my own daughter.” His dark eyes slid to Ithan, sharp with hate. “Until that boy kidnapped her and turned her into that.”

The crowd shifted away, all their focus now on Ithan, their eyes distrusting, damning—

“My brother’s daughter,” Sabine said, raising her voice to be heard over the murmuring, shifting crowd. “Killed in cold blood by that male.” She pointed to Ithan. “Just as he and his Fae friends tried to kill me.”

“That’s—” Ithan started, noting how pale Perry had become.

“It’s the truth,” Sabine sneered. “I have the video footage of it, courtesy of the Viper Queen. I’d be happy to show everyone how brutally you executed a defenseless young wolf.”

Horror stole any words from Ithan’s throat.

It had always been a long game for the Viper Queen. Not only to amuse herself, but to use the knowledge of what he’d done to her advantage. Her relationship with Sabine was strained—so why not sweeten it with a little peace offering?