Chapter Fourteen

Ariadne—Healer, Diplomat

Trust Angus to try to take advantage of the situation.

Before either Lyla or Ariadne could move, Angus ordered his men to seize them. Both women now stood with gleaming swords held to their necks.

“A bit overkill, don’t you think?” Lyla muttered.

“Silence,” the village chief snarled. “I have you all now, you and that murderer.”

But even as he spoke, she thought she caught a flicker of confusion in his eyes. He was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that Tristan wasn’t the murderous wolf he’d been chasing this whole time. Even Lyla found herself wondering if she’d been seeing double.

Tristan is innocent .

The thought filled her mind, almost like a dream. If he wasn’t responsible for the deaths of Angus’s children, then who was?

The answer to her question came a second later.

“Lord Denning,” one of Angus’s men said, pointing.

She followed his finger and couldn’t help but gasp. It was Tristan, back in human form, trudging up the hill. He was completely naked, his skin bared to the cold wind. But it was the figure he was carrying that caught her eye. A slender young man with long, dark hair and with not a stitch on him.

Who on Earth…?

“Is that…Lewis?” Ariadne croaked.

“Lewis?” Lyla repeated. “Your nephew?”

She’d never laid eyes on the boy before, but she figured he must be the one. The berserk wolf that had tried to end her life twice now lay unconscious in Tristan’s arms, a harmless sight.

Angus’s eyebrows were threatening to achieve liftoff. His eyes bulged out of his skull. “What is…but I…this cannot…impossible,” he spluttered.

“Tristan’s innocent,” Lyla said. “He’s not the one who murdered your sons. He just saved all of us.”

The man’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “Indeed, he is innocent.” Suddenly, he drew his sword. “But the one responsible for my pain must die.”

With that, he rushed downhill toward Tristan, who instantly dropped Lewis onto the snow and stepped out in front of him, arms spread wide.

“Get out of my way,” Angus barked. “I have a score to settle.”

“Angus, no.” Tristan shook his head. “You can’t do this.”

The village chief burst into a mirthless chuckle. “Of course, you’d defend the man who killed my sons. I haven’t forgotten how you attacked me and my men. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t strike you both down right now.”

Tristan’s gaze flickered from Angus to Lyla and back. “You know about the curse. You know how it works. Lewis had no intention of murdering your sons. He’s just a young man.”

“So were my sons,” Angus countered. “Their bodies are yet to be buried back in Elron. You must understand, Tristan, that this young man remains a threat to everyone around him. More people will die. As long as your nephew lives, a blood debt exists, and I’m here to collect.”

Lyla gazed at the unconscious form lying in the snow. She’d known the man for barely five minutes, but it was still gutting to think he was about to meet his demise. She met Tristan’s gaze again and was oddly certain their hearts were pounding in sync.

Thump, thump, thump.

“Angus,” Tristan said, “please.”

“Your pleas mean nothing to me,” the other man spat.

“Then perhaps you’ll listen to reason.”

It was Ariadne. The sword at her throat twitched as she took a step forward, and she cut a sideways look at the man holding it. He stepped away from her without a word.

“I can guarantee that Lewis will no longer remain a threat to us,” she said. “There is a potion that keeps the curse from manifesting. As long as Lewis drinks it, there will be no more transformations. I’ll work on a permanent solution to the curse. In the meantime…no more deaths.”

Angus scoffed, but Lyla saw his expression soften a little. Despite his bloodthirst, he clearly had enough presence of mind to understand Ariadne’s reasoning. “And what about those already dead? Should this murderer go unpunished?”

Thump, thump, thump.

***

“All’s well that ends well,” she muttered, watching Angus and his men as they marched out of sight.

“But it’s not over yet,” Tristan told her.

She flicked her gaze toward the still-unconscious man in the snow. “You’re right about that.”

She still could hardly believe Angus and his men had left them all unscathed. Just minutes ago, the village chief had been ready to drive his sword through Lewis and every other Harrison in sight. But Ariadne seemed to have gotten through to him. Lyla hadn’t figured the woman for a diplomat. She wondered what other talents the healer had hidden up her sleeve.

Angus had agreed, albeit grudgingly, to spare Lewis’s life. The condition? Ariadne had a little less than a year to come up with a permanent solution to her nephew’s problem, or Lewis just might lose his head. It was not exactly an inspiring arrangement, but Lyla had a feeling Ariadne would figure something out. Lewis was still to face punishment, regardless of the pardon. What his punishment would be, Angus had yet to decide.

I’ll be back , the chief had said. Soon.

For now, they could only be grateful Lewis’s head was still attached to his shoulders.

Tristan, covering his nakedness with a coat from one of Angus’s men, took his nephew into his arms, led the way back to Ariadne’s cabin, and set him down in front of the fire. Lewis stirred but didn’t wake.

“He will be okay,” Ariadne said, touching her fingers to his neck. “By the time he wakes, I’ll have a potion ready for him to drink. Then I’ll begin to work on the cure.”

“Thank you,” Tristan told her.

She fixed him with a cold stare, and for a moment, Lyla thought she might say something scathing. To her surprise, the woman’s expression softened.

“I should be thanking you, Tristan,” she said. “You saved our lives. We wouldn’t be here if not for you. I suppose…” She bit her lip. “I suppose we should talk later—about Jason.”

A heavy blanket of silence descended over the room.

“I’d like that,” he replied.

Ariadne’s lips twitched. Without another word, she turned and exited the living room, leaving Tristan and Lyla standing by one of the chairs.

“So,” she said, breaking the awkward silence, “it’s finally over.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Everything. No more running. No more fighting. It’s all over.”

He nodded, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “You could say that.”

More silence passed between them. The fire crackled, spitting tiny tongues of flame onto the stone floor.

“I’m guessing this is it for us, then?” she said, her voice low.

He lifted a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You and me.” She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “We’re over, aren’t we?”

In response, he stepped closer, and before she could react, he’d covered her mouth with his in a kiss that threatened to draw the breath from her lungs. By the time he released her, she was weak in the knees.

“How can we be over when we’ve only just begun?” he asked. “You’re not going anywhere. Also…”

Just then, there was a familiar click! And Lyla felt something cold and metal close around her wrists. She glanced down just in time to see Tristan slap the other handcuff bracelet onto his wrist.

“What are you doing?” she hissed at him. “Those are my handcuffs!”

“You’re stuck with me now.” His eyes twinkled. “And I’ve got a few ideas about what we can do with each other while we’re shackled together.”

She managed to smirk. “ Handcuffed , Tristan. Not shackled. ”

He groaned. “This is going to be a long Christmas.”