Page 25 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

I paused writing, and I looked at the top of Rolfe’s head, where chocolate curls gleamed in the candlelight. “So Rolfe lives in the maze to escape the war?”

“He’s the son of his clan’s alpha,” Keir said. “But Rolfe is unskilled in battle, and he takes too long to shift. He wouldn’t survive long out in the world. His family would probably kill him before the rival clan could. So Prince Einar invited him to stay at Draithmere, where he can live in the maze.”

My gut clenched. “His own family would kill him?”

Beside me, Goliath nodded. “Bears are very single-minded. Honor in battle is everything. Most bears believe that life without victory isn’t a life worth living. Rolfe is different, but that doesn’t make him any less of a bear. Not to us.”

Leander thumped his fist on the stump. “That’s right.” The others murmured their agreement.

I looked around the table. “And the rest of you?” I asked. “Why do you live in the maze?”

Goliath gave me a level look. “My situation is similar to Rolfe’s. I’ve never been able to shift into my beast form. Among my people, that kind of failure is unforgivable. Without the maze and Prince Einar, I would be hunted and killed.”

I touched his hand. “I’m so sorry, Goliath.”

“Don’t be.” He smiled around the table, the green tattoos on his face catching the light. “I have friends here.”

A comfortable silence descended. The twilight had deepened, and the fireflies continued to bob among the trees that surrounded the clearing.

Keir cleared his throat. “I also came to the maze out of necessity. I’m a vampire, turned four centuries ago this week, actually.”

“Ah!” Leander exclaimed, his smile bright in his beard. “Happy birthday. You don’t look a day over three hundred.”

“Thank you,” Keir said, giving Leander a regal nod. “I try to take care of myself.”

Hiding a smile, I bent my head and continued writing.

Keir waited until I paused, then offered a rueful expression. “As you might expect, I survive on blood. Unfortunately, I faint every time I see it.” He tapped the side of his tumbler. “My friends are kind enough to donate and then place their blood in closed containers. But it hasn’t always been that way. Europe during the Industrial Revolution was a tough place to live for a vampire who can’t stand the sight of blood.”

I rested my elbows on the table. “So what did you do?”

“Kept to myself as much as possible.” Keir ducked his head. “And spent a lot of time passed out and nearly being incinerated by the sun.” He looked up. “When telegraph lines first started stretching across England, I got word of a lycan prince who offered protection to supernaturals with…unique challenges. I wired Prince Einar, and he invited me to visit Draithmere. I’ve been here ever since.”

An odd feeling spread through my chest. If Keir and the others were telling the truth, Draithmere wasn’t a prison. It was a haven for supernaturals. And Einar wasn’t a jailer. He was more of a…hero.

“I also came from Europe,” Leander said. “I can’t control my fire, so traditional employment options are out of the question. My kind are always trying to land jobs with wizards or philosophers. But I’ve always liked doing hair. I have a salon here in the maze.”

Adina sat back in her chair. “I’m here because it’s the only way I can stay out of prison.”

Leander reached over and patted her hand. “The coven was jealous of your skills, Adina love.” He looked at me. “Bog witches are the best potion masters in the world. Their products are highly sought after. But like any business, they’re protective when it comes to their brand.”

“They lack imagination,” Adina said, her tone sour. “I’ve always liked experimenting. Corporate started sending threatening letters when I was in my teens. They didn’t want me trying out new ingredients. But how are we supposed to stay competitive if we never branch out?”

“Are there other types of witches?” I asked. “Rivals who make potions?”

“Oh, yes.” She counted off on her fingers. “Night crones, garden hags, the Baba Yagas. For a while, the harridans were really giving us a run for our money. Not that the general public can really tell the difference. Our products are basically the same.”

“Like Coke and Pepsi,” Leander told me.

“But the bog witches have had an edge for centuries,” Adina said. “However, that doesn’t mean you stop innovating.”

I rested the end of my pen on my notebook. “So, you were innovating? And management didn’t like it?”

“Exactly. I mean, there were a few mishaps in Florida, but?—”

“What kind of mishaps?”

Adina waved a hand. “Just some potion work gone a little haywire. It’s not like those men were trapped in manatee form forever.”

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