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I limp forward and see the falling ash gathering on the clear outline of a mystical shield, sparing the handful of people inside. I lift my hand, pressing against it, looking at the survivors within. They are still unconscious from the force of whatever attacked us, but the shield had saved their lives. My brows furrow as I look over my shoulder, assessing the scene.

I STRUTTED FROM THE DRESSINGroom, satisfaction humming. The ease with which he took my powers in stride during sexual activities made me even more comfortable with the idea of sleeping with him, of staying with him.

PossibleRule No. 6: Never leave Lucien’s side. Rules 1-5 are now obsolete.

I smiled brightly, almost floating to the sparring room, unsurprised to see Erik and the wolves waiting there. Erik stood in the center of the room, his blonde hair sweeping over the side of his partially shaved head. He wore only black joggers and a t-shirt, the three scars on the side of his face flashing under the light. I caught myself staring, and I blushed, murmuring, “Lucien will be right along.”

The other four wolves lingered on the benches next to the mirrors, all of them in various stages of relaxation. Leif and Viggo elbowed each other, and I noticed money swapping hands. I refused to look any of them in the eye as I sat on the bench next to the most stoic wolf, Gunnar. His jaw was like granite, his face barely moved, but his eyeswatched. I could feel him cataloging every breath each of us took, each microscopic twitch of our expressions. The other three were fun-loving, carefree, and wild. They were everything I’d heard about lycans, but Gunnar was different.

When Lucien arrived, his hair was slightly out of place, a smug smirk pasted on his face. He stretched his arms from side to side, wiggled his jaw, and twisted his long body. Erik just growled and threw a sword at Lucien. He caught it easily, barely glancing at it. The first sword hit released a wave of energy throughout the room, making my hair stand on end. Gunnar had tensed at Lucien’s arrival, and he hadn’t relaxed.

“You don’t trust him, do you?” I asked, taking my eyes off of the fight and tilting my head to stare at Gunnar.

Gunnar paused, his jaw tightening and relaxing. “I regretfully did not for a long time, not until just before we arrived here.”

“Regretfully? So, something has changed your mind?” What could change a distrust that likely spanned centuries?

“Understand,völva.I watched him,” he said, gesturing to Lucien, who still battled Erik, “kill our last king. For a long time, I thought he was just biding his time to do so again.” Gunnar must be at least a thousand years old himself if he’d been present when Erik’s father was killed.

“Why bother to install Erik as king if he was planning on killing him?” I queried. I didn’t understand what motive Lucien could have to replace the Lycan King, to let him grow in strength and age if he only planned on killing him later.

“You sound like Erik. I warned him you could never be sure they weren’t just waiting for a moment to strike.”

Lucien knocked the sword easily from Erik’s hand, but the wolf dodged the next swing, jumping to swipe a mace from the wall.

“But you still didn’t trust Lucien?” I asked.

Gunnar shook his head. “No, I did not.”

“What changed?”

“Erik finally told us everything about the war,” Gunnar answered.

Erik struck a hard blow to Lucien’s side. He went down but merely rolled from the impact, picking up Erik’s discarded sword as he rose, twirling them both.

“What do you mean?” I asked, though my focus was back on the two kings. They clashed against each other, neither gaining ground.

“We didn’t know the truth about Erik’s father, our last king. Erik finally explained before we came here.” Like a blur, Lucien twisted with the two swords, keeping Erik at bay. Erik dropped the heavy mace and grabbed a loaded crossbow, shooting a bolt without seeming to aim. Lucien dodged before it could meet its mark.

“Why did Erik wait until you were coming here to explain?” Erik reached for a broadsword and wielded the massive piece of metal with two hands, catching Lucien’s next strike against it.

“Because of you,” Gunnar replied. I turned my head toward him in surprise.

“Me?”

“He wanted to make sure that none of us would think about using you against Lucien. That you were to be protected as if you were our own queen.” Gunnar’s eyes tracked the fight, but besides the clanging of steel, my focus was on the wolf next to me.

“What was it?”

The wolf sighed, taking his own eyes from the fight to glance at me. “Lycurgus, Erik’s father, was not a good man or king, but we lycans are loyal to a fault. During the last battle between our two species, we thought Lucien mercilessly took his head only to subjugate the werewolves. Erik told us the truth, and it was a harsh truth.” Gunnar gulped, shuddering to recall it. “Lycurgus was planning to sacrifice his youngest child, Alaric, to the gods. He believed the babe’s death would ensure his victory. Lucien stopped the blade before it struck and took Lycurgus’s head in a rage.”

I inhaled sharply. “Why did they keep it a secret?”

Gunnar sighed. “Lucien knew if anyone realized what had almost happened, Erik would have to fight for his right to rule for the rest of his immortal days.”

I glanced back at the fight. Lucien had lost both his swords and was now using a bo staff against Erik’s broadsword.

“Because of what his father almost did?”