The fact that Bane had transformed at all meant Zion had whisked Nola somewhere beyond his range.

Tension stole through Bane. Before his imprisonment, he’d hunted Zion to no avail.

If I cannot find Nola, perhaps she’ll find me. Like Aveline, she could teleport. She could also heal him with a command. His eyes widened. That’s right. She’d commanded him to heal, and he had. He’d healed faster than ever before, almost as if her authority had more reach than Aveline’s, a full-blooded queen. Impossible!

For beasts like Bane, a royal’s word equaled law. His body would always obey her demands...unless something was powerful enough to supersede her will. Like Valor’s sword. Until she became queen, she wouldn’t be strong enough to heal his shoulder. Proof: she’d said, Heal. So, all of him should have healed. Yet, that one injury remained as deep and painful as ever.

The sword! If someone had stolen the weapon during Bane’s years of captivity...

His hands curled into fists. He considered opening a portal to his lair to check on the sword and his goggles, only to discard the idea. Someone might be hiding nearby, waiting to catch a glimpse of his hideout.

He’d search the cavern. If empty, he would portal to his lair, then turn his sights to Nola.

Want her now! The lust resurged, overtaking him in a heated rush. Not for her. For closure.

With a curse, Bane leaped to his feet. His new ankle held steady. Good. He filched a pair of pants and boots from the largest of the beast’s victims. Too small, and too tight. He must look ridiculous, but at least his range of motion wasn’t limited, so he’d deal. The boots were too big for the corpse, but a perfect fit for Bane, as if tailor-made for him. A simple coincidence? Seemed unlikely, but stranger things had occurred.

He only made it a step before a familiar vibration rocked his hand. He scowled. His communication ring. Only one person had access to it. Aveline the Great and Terrible, who could not speak inside his head while they were worlds apart.

He ground his molars. Muted light burst from the ring’s center, a holographic image of Aveline appearing.

Rage seared his chest, every muscle in his body knotting. The lust he’d experienced only moments ago? Gone. His body had some standards.

“You live,” she said, her voice flat.

The Adwaewethian queen had changed little. Still golden from head to toe. Still deceptively fragile. Still evil as hell.

While the beast quieted, he didn’t go silent. Proof that the link between queen and warrior had already weakened. Do not grin.