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 But what would a shewolf be doing creeping around the halls? It had to be a guard, or— Or something worse. Someone sent to find me.

I swallowed, my feet pinned to the floor. “Can I help you?” I asked primly, the steadiness in my voice hopefully concealing some of my fear. But I didn’t doubt the wolf could sense the anxiety radiating off me. It crept up the stairs until it was on the balcony with me, its paws silent on the stone floor.

Internally, my own wolf raised her hackles.

“What do you want?” I asked, low.

What did I expect? For the wolf to shift back into human form and explain itself? Of course it didn’t—it just pulled its lip back from its teeth in a snarl as a growl began to build.

The yellow eyes fixed on me with the bloodthirsty gaze of a predator.

This wolf wasn’t here to scare me.

This wolf was here to kill me.

11

barely had time to acknowledge that truth before the wolf launched off its back feet with teeth bared. I scrambled backward, and my foot caught on the hem of my loose pants; with a curse I crashed to the floor. Fear lanced through me as the wolf sprang again, its yellow eyes gleaming

like it was pleased. It surged toward me, jaws open and teeth bared, so close I could feel its hot, humid breath rolling over my skin. I slammed my elbow into its snout, knocking it out of the way at the last moment.

The wolf yelped. I followed my elbow with a fierce donkey kick to its chest, and the wolf staggered back a step.

My own wolf snarled and snapped her teeth internally. I could feel her beating against my ribs like a physical presence, telling me to shift, shift, shift, defend yourself. If I were a lesser wolf, like a wild beast of Nightfall, my wolf would’ve forced me to shift. But I had more control than that.

Even with the other wolf snarling at me, its saliva frothing white between its teeth and at the corner of its jaws, I wasn’t going to shift. Not in the Nightfall manor—not to fight—not when I was so heightened.

I realized, staring down this wolf with my blood icy in my veins, that part of me feared I wouldn’t be able to shift back.

I shoved that fear down. I didn’t need my wolf to beat this one. I was just as strong in my human form, just as agile, just as smart. I bared my teeth at the beast and scrambled to my feet, dropping into a low fighting stance, and wrenched the small silver knife from my waistband.

“Come on,” I hissed at the wolf. “Try me.”

The wolf snapped its jaws again and surged forward. This time I met its attack with a swift kick to the side of the head, snapping it sideways; I barely hopped out of the way fast enough to avoid its jaws closing around my shin. My defense knocked the wolf to the side as its bulk crashed into the shelf of maps, sending the leather tubes tumbling from the shelf and all over the floor. A few bounced off the wolf’s body. It growled louder in frustration and shook its body like it was dispelling water droplets.

With its teeth bared, it charged me, eyes blazing, and it was only years of training with Barion that gave me the reflexive ability to stay alive. Instinctively, I leaped as high as I could, so the wolf barreled beneath me. It couldn’t keep its footing easily on the stone floor, and attempted to skid to a stop, but its weight and speed had it sliding. I ran after it.

This was my opening. I’d only get one. Be aggressive or be dead.

I launched myself forward off the balls of my feet, not too unlike the wolf itself, and drove my knife hard into its shoulder. I wrenched down, creating a deep gash in the muscle. The wolf howled in agony and thrashed under my hold, but I wrapped my fingers in its rough fur and held on, staying safely behind it as it struggled to throw me off. The gash poured thick, hot blood which steamed in the drafty library, the coppery smell flooding my senses. The gore covered my hand, and as the wolf thrashed, it sprayed flecks onto my face and fine clothes. It wasn’t a killing wound, but it was deep enough to hurt, and the howling and gnashing of teeth made it clear I had hurt this wolf badly.

All I had to do was get away now. If I withdrew the knife, kicked off, I could jump over the railing of the balcony before the wolf could get to its feet. My hands were drenched in its blood, and my grip began to slip on the fur as it thrashed.

Then, a commotion sounded behind me. Before I could turn around, strong arms wrapped tightly around my arms and torso, dragging me bodily off the wolf with a grunt. I swore and thrashed—what the fuck was happening? And only then after I took a breath did I recognize the now-familiar scent of the king behind me. His breath washed over the side of my face as he hauled me back, my knife still in my hand.

Beside us, two immense Nightfall guards shifted into their wolves and rushed toward my attacker. Their bodies shielded the staggered wolf from view, but the thick smell of blood still permeated the atmosphere.

“By the fucking gods,” the king growled. The low tone of his voice sent a shiver down my spine.

“There’s always trouble when you’re in the library, isn’t there?”

My chest heaved with exertion, and I struggled in his hold, fruitlessly. He carried me like I weighed nothing, down the stairs and to the back door of the library, into a narrow torch-lit hallway. Outside an unobtrusive door, he finally set me down onto my feet. My knees quivered; he gripped my upper arm hard to hold me up. It wasn’t painful, though, it was steadying.

I didn’t know what I expected when he pushed across the threshold—torture devices? But it certainly wasn’t more shelves of books and maps, scattered carelessly on large, unfinished tables with hard-backed chairs.