As I lowered to the ground beside her, it began to rain. I rested my head upon hers—it was a request for forgiveness and the only apology I could muster given the time I had and what was to come.

A chorus of howls erupted around me, growing louder and louder. They were mourning, but also welcoming me as part of their pack.

I was now their queen.

Twenty-Seven

Isolde

My army was within sight of the border of Lara when I found them. I had heard them first, or more accurately, I’d heard the rain beating down upon their armor first, but now I saw them, assembled in perfect rows, armed and ready for the coming battle.

Even in this form, I felt dread.

The howls of my pack drew their attention, and many of them stiffened at the sound, raising arms, but as they turned toward me, I shifted, and an audible gasp left the crowd as I walked naked down the center of their ranks, straight to Adrian who had turned to watch me approach. His eyes glittered darkly, and when I was near enough, he dragged me to him, kissing me with a desperation I felt in my soul.

When he pulled away, he dragged a set of clothes from his saddle, and I dressed quickly.

“My blades?” I asked.

He arched a brow. “Can you carry those when you shift?”

In truth, I had no idea.

“Keep them, then,” I said, knowing the priority for me would be to remain in my aufhocker form. As I turned to face the kingdom of Lara and the dark curtain of trees in which soldiers hid, I felt a mix of emotions. What Killian had said was true—it did not seem real that we were marching against my homeland.

I cast a glance to my left and right—the front line included Daroc, Killian, Miha, Isac, and Solaris.

“Their bows are ready,” Adrian said. “And shadows move between the trees.”

As he spoke, a row of infantry soldiers stepped from beneath the canopy. I could not tell how many, but they crowded together, their shields aligned to create a long, metal wall. Once they were in place, everything went silent, save for the sound of rain as it fell in lashing sheets upon metal.

We waited in the quiet, and then it happened—a single arrow cut through the air, straight for my heart.

I caught it, the tip barely touching my skin—just like in my dream.

I nodded toward the centerline.

“The field will erupt in fire,” I said.

I felt Adrian’s gaze upon me, but he said nothing.

There was another stretch of silence, and I broke from the ranks, walking to the middle distance.

“I am Isolde Vasiliev, queen of Revekka,” I yelled. “I am of the House of Lara, daughter of Elvira of Nalani, sister of witches, and I have come to reclaim my crown.”