Page 22 of Court of Wolves

Isak’s stomach tangled, bile burning his throat. He hadn’t noticed, but her description fit what had happened the nightthe saints came through for the first time. The whole world had paused, silent as if it was holding still in the presence of a predator. He’d heard stories of the same thing happening in Lisille, Calvo, and the other villages the dark saints had sacked. In their search for him, he’d presumed.

Correctly,Viskae input.They know we’re out here and we pose a serious threat. Even more of a threat now they have your mate captive. A beastkind male will go to the ends of the earth to save his mate and eviscerate anyone who threatens her. Everyone knows that.

“Can’t say I’ve noticed,” he said, affecting a levity he didn’t feel. A noose closed around his throat, cutting off his air, creating a huge pressure in his chest. It was bad enough that he’d have to talk his way through a gate—and there were now only two people ahead of them—without the saints’ darkness spreading further through the Saintlands. He thought of that red wave across the map printed in the paper, and wondered if darkness had fallen over every city, town, and village under it.

“There’s rumours that the darkness falls from the sky in funnels like a storm,” Anzhelika said with a shudder she couldn’t repress. “It’s said to… do things to people caught in them.”

“Do things,” Isak echoed, his heart drumming now that only one person stood between them and the gate. A tremor ran across the back of his neck. “It makes monsters, you mean.”

“So they say. It’s probably nothing.”

But even with the scorn and dismissal in her voice, Isak knew she didn’t believe that. So, a dark wave was spreading, and anyone caught in its twisted magic was made into one of those dark, scaledthings.Isak sucked down a deep breath of tingling Sainsan air and told himself that dark wave wouldn’t reach him beyond the gleaming crystal walls of Saintsgarde.

“Papers,” the guard grunted. He’d clearly been handsome in his youth and still had some charm and suaveness to him, notdimmed at all by the gold-buttoned white uniform. Enhanced by it, actually. Isak hoped he’d be as devilishly handsome as the guard at his age, hoped he’d—

Stop stalling,Viskae barked.You’re a new saint, so use some of that saintly magic and make the man think you have the documentation you need to enter the capital.

Can I even do that?Isak demanded as the guard looked over Anzhelika’s papers and waved her through. She paused just on the other side to wait for him, as if she really meant her vow of help. She wouldn’t have been so sympathetic if she knew he laid on his belly in the dirt while Maia was taken.

We’re about to find out.

“Papers,” the guard barked, giving Isak a passing glance and waiting.

“About that, my handsome fellow—”

“No papers, no entry,” the guard said with a threaded growl in his voice. Isak’s own beast rose in challenge. He hoped his eyes didn’t darken; that was the last thing he needed.

He reached for the place inside him where Viskae sat, grumpy and judging and annoying inside him, and surrounded himself in the buzz of magic he sensed every now and then. “I have an urgent message for the Nysavion family.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “It’s from Princess Maia Nysavion. She fled Vassal with information about how to defeat the darkness—and the Vassalian army.”

The guard scoffed, grabbing the collar of Isak’s grimy coat. Isak had been thrown out of enough pubs—and through enough windows—to recognise the stance of a man about to toss him on his arse.

“The darkness took her,” he whispered urgently, grabbing the man in return. “The whole fucking fate of the Saintlands rests on getting her back, and the only way that’s going tohappen is if you let me inside so I cansave her.Your princess is the captive of saints.”

The guard scoffed and gave Isak a shove. “Fucking lunatic.”

“I’m serious. Maia—”

“So where is she then?”

“I just told you!” His voice was rising now, panic’s noose tightening until his breathing wheezed. “The saints took her, and my brother, and everyone else who matters to the delicate fate of this whole fucking world—”

By this point the second guard had noticed he was being refused entry, and she muscled over, as broad and brawny as any warrior he’d seen in the army. She’d snap him like a twig, even if he was faster, sharper, and more adept. They always did.

“Isak,” Anzhelika shouted from the other side of the crystal gate. Her eyes locked with his, intense and pointed. “The opal star.”

“What in the chasm…?” he muttered.

“Trust me,” she yelled. “The opal star.”

He might have responded but the second guard grabbed him from the first, picked him up like he weighed nothing, and threw him so soundly into the grass beyond the gate that his wrist snapped.

He landed on his bad leg with a growl so deep and bestial that the small crowd from the omnibus backed off with gasps, cries, or answering snarls.

He fuckingknewthat guard would snap him like a twig.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Kheir had shovelled horse shit in his early days in the V’haivan army, starting at the bottom of the ranks because even a Sin Rizian wasn’t allowed special treatment. He’d been in shitholes and trenches and rescued kidnapped women from caves that stank of foul, decomposing animals. He’d been locked in the dank prison of the Delakore Palace, only liberated by his mate. And he’d rather go back to shovelling shit and wading through muck than stay inthisplace.

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