Page 39

Isabella studied the map. In the center was a temple. This was the moment her family had been waiting for— the discovery of the ancient temple they had been seeking for centuries.

“The fabled kingdom of King Or’Ang the Great,” she murmured.

She ran her finger over the ancient ruin before sliding it down along the page. Turning it over, she studied the illustration on the back. King Or’Ang sat on his throne. Next to him were humans.

“Where is it?” she demanded.

Theodore motioned to the paper in her hand. “There’s an inscription above the throne. I had just deciphered it when you entered. The legend states King Or’Ang had grown disillusioned during the war between humans and shifters. He was partial to humans and wanted to protect them. When the war broke out, it is said he took those in his kingdom through a veil to another world where they would be safe. He ordered a dozen members of his elite knights to search for the few humans who might have survived. The legend says his knights were to guide the humans through the veil to the new kingdom where they would be safe.”

Isabella slammed the end of her cane against the rich, cultured marble and glared at her brother. Theodore blanched at his sister’s anger. She lifted the paper and shook it at him.

“I know the legend. I want to know what the inscription said. I want to know where King Or’Ang’s lost city is!” she hissed.

“The humans hold the key,” Theodore mumbled. “The inscription says that the humans hold the key.” He paused to look at her with unfocused eyes. “Isabella, you must find me a human. They may know the location of the kingdom.”

The rains continued for the next four days. Van and Peterson had given up trying to navigate the forest in their two-legged forms and had shifted into their wolves. Van shook his body as his wet fur weighed on him.

They had taken to the ground in what they hoped was the right direction. All they had to go by was the limited information Rigo shared before having to retreat because of the storm. Rigo’s eagle-eye spotted a sunken canoe in the shallow clear waters of the lake.

They had come ashore directly out from it. Realizing the weather was only going to get worse, they had instructed Beau to return to the boat dock. They had discovered Jayden’s scent just as the rains began. In minutes, their hopes—along with any scent or tracks that Jayden may have left—faded. They would be going in blind and have to hope Jayden left behind obvious clues of where she was heading.

Three hours later, drenched to the skin, and warily watching the impressive light show illuminating the skies, Van reached out and gripped Peterson’s arm.

“We’re never going to find her in this. At least, not in this form,” he shouted above the booming thunder.

“I’m all for shifting,” Peterson responded.

They both shucked their clothing before shifting into their wolves. Their clothing would have to be left behind since there was no way to carry them. Now, four days later, they were no closer to finding Jayden than they had been on the first. Van’s black wolf jerked to the side, crouching when a brilliant flash danced across the sky above them, a loud rumble of thunder following almost immediately.

They had split up to cover more ground. And they had covered it—to no avail. Van had covered a fifty-plus mile range with nothing to show but muddy, matted fur and sore paws. It was as if Jayden had vanished off the face of the damn planet!

Van trotted to the spot where he and Peterson had left their clothes. His wolf sniffed the air before sneezing. The rain had stopped an hour ago, but the wind hadn’t. The scent of burning wood was his first clue that either Peterson had already returned or?—

“You owe me fifty,” Beau said as he rose.

“Peterson isn’t back. The bet was one or the other would find her,” Grayson replied, tossing a piece of damp wood onto the glowing bed of coals before he rose.

Van trotted over to the two men. Grayson waved a hand toward one of two tents that had been erected nearby. Van headed for the family-size tent and slipped through the unzipped door. Two cots were set up. Neatly folded warm, dry clothes were piled at the foot of each one along with a towel.

He shifted into his two-legged form. A glance through the opening showed that Grayson and Beau had returned to the camp chairs under an anchored canopy where they had been waiting for the two searchers to return. He grabbed the towel and dried off. Goosebumps rose along his flesh as he briskly rubbed the dampness from his skin and hair.

The grumble of his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in days. He pulled on the boxers and a pair of thick wool socks before he pulled on a pair of insulated hiking pants, a t-shirt, followed by a thick sweater, and a black puffy jacket. Shoving his foot into his boot, he bent and tied it before doing the same to his other foot.

Each movement held restrained anger born from fear. If he was this hungry, this cold, this tired, how must Jayden be feeling? It had been a long time, if ever, that he could remember being so miserable.

He was just finishing up when Grayson and Beau called out a second greeting. He finished tying his boot, straightened, and stepped to the opening. The familiar red-coat of Peterson’s wolf limped past the two men.

He stepped out as Peterson shifted. Peterson grimaced with pain. He stood to the side as the red wolf stepped into the tent.

“You alright?” he asked.

Peterson grabbed the towel off the end of the cot with his clothes piled on it and began drying before he nodded. Van motioned to the bruising along Peterson’s ribcage.

“What happened?”

Peterson started to wrap the towel around his waist before he winced and tossed it onto the cot. Instead, he grabbed the pair of boxers on the top of the pile and pulled them on.

“I hit a tree. I was climbing when the soil gave out. I slid about a hundred feet into a tree. Thankfully, it was there or I wouldn’t be here now. I take it you didn’t have any luck either?” Peterson asked in a quiet voice.