Page 107 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

I was vibrating in my seat as the hover vehicle approached the Suleantran Monastery.

An officer sat next to me, wearing the sternest expression on his face.

During the flight, he’d repeatedly warned me not to leave the shuttle until they’d secured a surrender from the Suleantran guard.

No fighting for me, I was to wait for their signal before I could search for Lo.

I’d agreed because, at this point, I’d say anything as long as they took me where I needed to go.

But I doubted I’d be able to stay aboard this vessel for long, even if fighting broke out, maybe especially then.

Nothing mattered but getting to Lo. She’d been locked up in this place for months, and I’d only had two weeks with her.

There was this horrible fear that she wouldn’t even remember me or would think I’d forgotten about her.

When the Sune police officers disembarked the hover vehicle, it sounded like everything was calm and quiet outside. No rifle fire, no whining lasers, or explosions. That was good enough for me. I headed for the exit hatch and stuck my head out of the opening, then my breath stalled in my lungs.

The whole order had gathered in the courtyard where the landing pad was.

Row after row of monks sat on the gravel in their plainest robes, presenting a completely passive front.

The heads of the order, normally seven, but now only six because of Purveyn’s arrest, were spearheading this show.

At their center sat the supposed leader of the order, a true shifter called Dyantos, but if Kitan’s story—and mine—were true, he was just an enslaved figurehead.

With the busy traffic of hundreds of drones in the air above the courtyard, it was obvious that everything was being filmed, and I knew at once that this was their play.

They were going to try to put a spin on this crazy news and do damage control.

They were going to make it look like Purvyen was a rogue agent and Dyantos truly was the revered leader.

For the longest moment, I stared at the situation, taking in the confused, uncertain officers of the Sune Police and the commander who had been tasked with leading this force.

None of them wanted to make the first move; this would have to involve the emperor himself—or, at the very least, some clever diplomat and a task force of impartial investigators.

I stepped out of the vehicle and onto the gravel in my neat dress shoes.

I hadn’t had a chance—nor wanted to take the time—to change my clothes for this venture.

The collar of my black suit was still stained with a few drops of blood from my earlier struggles.

The golden hair sticks that pinned my topknot in place were still slightly askew from my mother’s attempt to fix them.

I wasn’t dressed for a fight, nor was I dressed like a diplomat, but all eyes went to me anyway.

“I’m just here for my daughter,” I said, in a voice pitched to carry.

I didn’t care about anything else right now, even though this situation was so explosive that I wouldn’t be shocked if a civil war broke out because of it.

“Where is Lo?” I demanded, ignoring the handful of police officers who tried to close ranks around me.

They didn’t count on how fast I could run when I wanted to, and I was in front of Dyantos in a flash.

“Please, tell me where she is so I can save her,” I pleaded with the old, gray-haired male.

His eyes were wet and luminous when they met mine, his body far frailer than I’d ever seen it, trembling on the gravel beneath his robe.

I felt sorry for the male, who had lived his entire life in captivity, forced into breeding contracts in the hopes of securing more true shifters for the monastery, but never allowed to see any of his offspring—unless they were like him and enslaved here, too.

What had they done to him? What had happened in the time it had taken police forces to gather and mount Lo’s rescue?

My eyes lifted from the silent male to the even quieter crowd of monks behind him, searching every face for even the barest hint of where they might be keeping my little girl.

Nothing. Not a single sign, just glares or placid expressions.

A soft scuffing noise brought my attention back to Dyantos, and for the first time in any of the many times I’d seen him, something broke across his placid, calm expression.

I’d seen hundreds of broadcasted rituals and ceremonies led by him; never had he broken script.

But now, his body started shaking even more, and then, with an anguished shout, he rose to his feet.

“They killed him!” he roared across the courtyard.

My heart stopped for one long, agonizing moment as static filled my brain.

Killed. For that long second, I thought he was talking about Lo, but then it sank in that he was talking about a him—a male.

“Sit down, Dyantos. You instructed us to show a united front. Lead us by example!” one of the other high priests hissed quietly, a last attempt to get him back in line, but there was no mistaking the fear in his voice.

“No! No more!” Dyantos ranted. “I did everything you wanted of me, all those years! But no more! You killed him, so what have I got left to protect?” Dyantos paced in front of the priests, the police officers and drones watching—along with all of Sune.

When the high priests started rising to their feet to try to control the situation, Dyantos shifted—as only a true shifter could.

In a way only a shifter as experienced and skilled as Dyantos could manage.

One second he was just a frail old male in drab brown robes; the next, he was rearing back on a set of muscled hind legs while kicking his front legs into the air.

A Fantreal, majestic, silver, and bigger than any I’d ever seen before.

The long tufted tail lashed the air behind it, while its four mobile ears sharply pointed forward at the offending priests.

Shifting in full motion as he had—into a creature other than our true nature—was magnificent and wondrous to see, even in this dire situation.

Then it danced around on its cloven hooves and faced me, tossing back its head and snorting sharply into the air.

He was pointing his beautiful, velvety nose at one of the monastery towers, and that was all the information I needed.

“Thank you, Dyantos,” I said, and bowed.

Then I was off like a shot, crossing the distance between myself and the tower entrance in great strides.

Behind me, Dyantos whinnied loudly, and then I heard his booming voice once more.

“You killed my son, Ga’tera. You killed the only son that returned to me.

You killed a good man just to control me!

” On and on, his words echoed across the courtyard, and nobody said anything; the high priests knew they had lost.