“Oh, you thought correctly, peach.” Though Claud still smiled, the air around us thickened with the scent of rot. Of decay. Poisonous toadstools split open at his feet. The loup garou nearest us swelled with rage, snarling as if possessed, and attacked with newfound savagery. “I am not intervening. Indeed, I am governing said realm as we speak.” His smile darkened at the last, and he turned to search the street. His eyes flashed catlike. “And defending it from trespass.”

I knew without asking for whom he searched.

And Morgane had called me a thief.

“How does she control them?” Reid yielded a step as the woman shoved him and fled up the street, still screaming hysterically. “The trees?”

“They loved her once too.”

With those forbidding words, Claud’s frame nearly doubled in size, and he transformed in full: enormous stag antlers burst from his head. Cloven hooves shredded his shoes. And the trees—they bowed to him as he advanced up the street as the Woodwose.

Their king.

Their god.

“Wait!”

He paused at my shout, arching a brow over his shoulder. The gesture seemed too human on his animalistic features now. “My mother,” I continued with both anticipation and dread. “What will you do to her?”

Those yellow eyes blinked. His voice rumbled deep, like that of a bear’s roar. “She has invaded my realm. My being. I will punish her.”

Punish her.

He turned and disappeared in the trees without another word. Too late, I realized I should follow. He’d left little doubt of his intention—he was a god, and she had exploited him. Though he’d warned her—though the Triple Goddess herself had stripped her of power—she hadn’t listened. She hadn’t surrendered. My battle had become their battle. Claud would lead me straight to Morgane, and together, we could—

Reid pulled me in the opposite direction, where the crowd flowed thickest. “We need to evacuate these people.”

“What? No!” I shook my head, but without Claud to protect us, the crush resumed. “No, we need to find Morgane—”

“Look around, Lou.” He didn’t dare let go of my hand, even as those nearest us fled a Dame Rouge who’d torn the beating heart from a man’s chest. Though they hammered against shop windows—pleading for entry—the merchants barred their doors. On both ends of the street, blood witches had cut open their arms. Where their blood spilled, black vines twisted skyward, forming a thick hedge. A barricade. “These people—they have nowhere to run. They’re innocent. You heard Morgane. She won’t stop until all of them are dead.”

“But I—”

“Claud is a god. If he intends to kill Morgane, he’ll kill her. We have to mitigate the casualties.”

My magic pulsed beneath my skin, urging me to listen. To go with him. He was right. Yes. Of course, he was right.