“I can’t….”

“The Council might kill you, Kyra, if they knew the truth.” There was real fear in his eyes, enough to scare her into reconsidering. But she was tired of reacting, of running from every new threat. If she really could do so much, if so many people wanted her skills, why was she at everyone’s mercy?

“Tell me,” she asked. “How much is James worth to the Council?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if I don’t give them James until they’ve agreed to my pardon?”

He turned a wary eye to her. “That’s a dangerous plan.”

“So is fleeing the city, or meekly turning myself in. I’ll get my pardon, and then I’ll lay low in the city. Wait and see how things play out with James.” She gave a resigned smile. “And if they really decide to come after me, I in’t exactly defenseless.”

Tristam shook his head, again looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. “I still can’t believe that you’re…” He trailed off.

Kyra didn’t answer. She glimpsed shapes moving through the trees, moving on padded paws. Amber eyes blinked in and out of the darkness. And though she could see them clearly and even found them distracting, Kyra could tell from the way Tristam stared into the darkness that he saw nothing. She thought again of how it’d felt to melt into that shape, to dissolve into lean muscle and sleek fur. Kyra felt the rush of raw instinct and bloodlust, so strong that she cried out and jerked away from Tristam, convinced that it was happening again. But moments went by and she stayed in her skin. Slowly, slowly, her heartbeat slowed to normal.

“Kyra?” One of Tristam’s hands was raised hesitantly toward her.

Kyra collapsed into herself and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes. “It’s so strong,” she whispered.

“It’s all right, Kyra.” Slowly, Tristam peeled Kyra’s hands from her face and held them between his own. “It’s all right.”

She let him hold her like that, taking comfort in the solidity of his touch. They sat there, heads bowed and not speaking, until the sun set.

Pashla met them the next morning, accompanied by three Demon Riders who would escort them to the city. Kyra had never seen Makvani shift for travel before, and she watched as closely as she could without staring. In the forest, the Makvani left their clothes where they shifted to retrieve later, or carried them in their mouths. This time, though, the Demon Riders folded their clothing carefully and tucked it into pouches with long straps. After they changed form, they threw the pouches over their necks with a flick of a paw and a well-practiced duck. Meanwhile, Kyra and Tristam readied James’s horse. The other two horses, and presumably their riders, had been killed.