I leave my hand where it is. “I’m really sorry.” I feel pathetic saying something so banal, but I mean it. He’s been through shit I can’t even imagine. And though I resent his manacles and the metal collar pinching my neck, I feel sympathy for him.

“Thank you,” he says, swallowing as he meets my eyes. And for a moment, we’re just two men sharing an understanding.

Then he says, “I will need to chain you when we go to the testing room.”

I snatch my hand back. “What the hell for?”

“Lady Belanger has seen her grandson, and she’s demanding you be taken to the labs for lockdown and study. She insists on witnessing your test. I denied her permission, but she’s attempting to pull rank. The Belangers are an old and respected Shifter bloodline. I need to show her I have you under control.”

My stomach twists. A cold tendril of fear penetrates my chest. “The fucking labs? I’m not a rat, Flanagan.”

“I know that.”

“How likely is it she’ll get her way?”

He reaches to touch my shoulder, but I step back.

“How likely?”

“I promise I will do everything in my power to prevent it. But I cannot guarantee the Council won’t override my authority.”

For crying out loud. This situation just gets better and better.

Chapter 17

17

After changing into his hard leather vest, Flanagan fastens a chain between my wrist manacles, leaving my ankle manacles free. As he guides me to his door with a hand resting just below my collar, I can’t help feeling like a dog on a leash.

The look I level him could crumble concrete, but I keep my words in check.

Best-behavior plan, Blakeley. Best-behavior plan.

We leave his room and follow a long corridor with plush red carpet and fancy paintings—more portraits and battle scenes. Outside the windows, at the far end of the mansion, the Old Keep stands like a turreted castle, dominating the cultivated lawns beneath its towers.

Beyond the garden rises the tangled trees of the Border Woods. The warped branches of the dark impenetrable mass reach out across the lawn like gnarled fingers. The Flame flares through my limbs, wanting to tug me closer. I shudder.

As we pass through a set of double doors, shouts and the ring of metal on metal cut through from outside. The gardens change from rosebushes and topiary to a row of dirt-laid rectangular enclosures. Within them plays a scene from a kung fu movie. Groups of soldiers in the tight Guardian leathers clash in practice pairs while a trainer bellows instructions from the sideline. Others practice with swords and knives.