Chapter 26

"This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever done," Tavion hissed, crawling on his stomach across the muddy, rocky ground. "I don't know why I agreed to your bullshite idea, Raziel."

"Because hiding here is the most logical choice. The last place the Oracle would ever look for us is right under her nose. Trust me, this has worked for us before. Remember that time in Greyshire when we…"

"At least you're not doing this naked," Tristan interrupted with a groan. "I should have stayed a wyvern. My fucking balls are cut up from these godsdamned rocks and it's so fucking cold my?—"

"Stop right there. I have no desire to hear another word about your balls. It's not our fault you lose your clothes when you shift," Tavion hissed. "Stop whining."

"Oh, like you keep yours? Be glad I didn't drop your pompous arse when I carried you back here like a sack of fucking potatoes, you judgmental prick."

"Shut up. By the gods, are you idiots trying to get us killed? Another hundred feet and we'll be inside the stables where you can bicker to your heart's content. I'll come back out and do some reconnaissance. See if I can locate Anaria. The Oracle had better not have touched a fucking hair on her head."

"If she did, she's dead," Tavion hissed.

"Deader than dead," I grunted in agreement, reaching up to open the stable door, warmth wafting out over us along with the strong smell of horse. The pack mule studied us with liquid brown eyes, chewing slowly as if he were looking at the most pathetic group he'd ever seen.

"Forgot all about you," I muttered as we slipped inside, out of the cutting wind and the damp. "Here." I found a blanket folded over a stall door, tossing it to Tristan slumped against the wall. "Get yourself warmed up; they can hear your teeth chattering all the way in Tempeste."

"Fuck you," Tristan groaned, his color white as paper, hair plastered to his face and shoulders in dark, sopping ringlets. "Go make sure Anaria is still alive. One word from you and I'll transform and rip the Oracle apart with my bare claws."

"You wouldn't even get close," I rasped, my voice raw from the cold. "None of us would. This is the best way to help her, by staying close, trusting she can handle the situation, and not giving the Oracle an opportunity to use us as leverage."

I blew out a breath, willing my shivering to stop, for some brilliant plan to come to mind, but right now I had nothing.

Even with my magic, even with two powerful shifters, we couldn't take the oracle on and hope to survive.

But right now, Anaria was alone with that monster, and while she'd ordered us to run, as it turned out, none of us were able to go far. Somehow, I had to keep my word to Anaria yet bend my promise enough to satisfy the male in me.

I cleaned the dirt off a windowpane and squinted through the mist left by the storm.

There was no way to see directly into that cantilevered room—if they were even still there—other than to have Tristan fly there. No doubt, the Oracle would spot an enormous wyvern hovering outside. But from the front, there might be a clear view through the palace.

"When I can feel my feet again, I'll go out there and retrieve the knife. We can't just leave it here." Tristan tipped his head back against the wall. "Then we go to Blackcastle and unite the two pieces and Anaria can kill both those fucks. After that…" His head lolled against the wall, mouth going slack.

Tavion bent down and checked his pulse.

"He's out. Exhausted from the shift and the cold and whatever the fuck happened in Mysthaven today. Chances are he'll sleep for hours." Tavion peered through the dirty windows toward the palace. "I'll take the back; you take the front?"

"Sounds like a plan to me." I shook off my own exhaustion, focusing on the only thing that mattered. Anaria's safety.

"If it looks like Anaria is in trouble, I'm going in," Tavion said quietly, shrugging out of his cloak before hanging it from a nail pounded into the beam overhead. "Whether it's in this form or my wolf depends on what I see." He began unbuttoning his jacket, his face growing more lupine by the minute.

"Doesn't matter what form you're in, the Oracle will kick your arse if you attack."

His answering grin was nothing but fangs. "Maybe, but not before I rip out my pound of flesh."

I caught him by the arm. "We keep a low profile until we're needed. Anaria ordered us to leave. Truth be told, I'm more afraid of pissing her off than the Oracle."

One second Tavion Montgomery, High Lord of Nightcairn stood in front of me.

The next moment an enormous white wolf filled the stable, the mule stumbling back into the far corner of its stall, snorting nervously.

"Fine, then. You take the back and don't get caught. If you do, I'm not saving your sorry, hairy arse. From the Oracle or your wife. You're on your own, wolf, and I don't envy you one bit."