Hugh’s face was grim. His cloak was black. His armor was black, too. Clearly he had a theme going. The armor didn’t look like either modern tactical gear or medieval plate. It looked woven, as if tiny metal threads had been somehow made pliant, painstakingly crafted together into a fabric, and molded to Hugh’s muscular frame. The fabric thickened into dense plates, mimicking the large muscles on his chest, stomach, and arms, and flowing over limbs and midway up Hugh’s thick neck. Part of my aunt’s blood armor looked like that, except hers was red. It looked like something my father would make, which meant claws, fangs, and blades wouldn’t cut through it.

I unsheathed Sarrat. It fit perfectly into my hands.

Where to strike? Back of the arm, covered. Inner thigh, covered. Midsection, covered. His face was about the only thing not protected, but he wasn’t going to just stand there and let me take a shot at it. I wasn’t at a hundred percent either. I had a hard time standing.

Hugh’s eyes promised death, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking to the right of me. At Curran.

Curran snarled. His irises went gold. All rational thought fled from his face. His expression turned savage. He grinned, baring his teeth.

Holy shit. Apparently they were happy to see each other.

Hugh reached behind his back and pulled out two short black axes. He pointed one at Curran and roared, “Lennart!”

It was the kind of roar that would cut straight through the chaotic noise of battle. It bounced off Mishmar behind us, and far above the giant birds screeched in alarm.

“Come on!” Hugh screamed.

“Curran?” I asked.

Curran didn’t even hear me. He had already started forward, pulling off his jacket as he moved. The jacket fell on the bridge. Muscles on his back and shoulders bulged under the dark shirt. He broke into a run. Curran was gone. Only the Beast Lord remained.

Hugh gripped his axes. He must’ve decided swords couldn’t do enough damage to Curran, so he went for something that could cleave a limb off in one blow.

“Why isn’t the Beast Lord shifting?” Nasrin murmured next to me.

“No point,” I told her. Curran had fought my aunt with me. He would remember the armor. “Claws won’t penetrate that armor.”

“Shoot anyone who interferes!” Hugh roared and charged.

They tore toward each other. There wasn’t a force on the planet that could stop them from colliding. Here’s hoping the world didn’t end when they hit each other.