Page 10 of Wolf's Prize

Aubert nodded. “He betrayed us. He deserves nothing less.”

Aimon gritted his teeth but kept his silence.

“We have to free him first,” said Godfrey. “With silver, and possibly wolfsbane to contend with, that is no easy feat.” Godfrey rubbed his chin, frowning. “There is something I do not understand. Something bothers me about all this.”

Lance cocked his eyebrows. “Such as?”

Godfrey rubbed at the back of his neck. “Did any of you witness what took place in the rendezvous clearing? I saw two score of mounted men heading for it, so did not dare venture there.”

“They saturated our clearing in wolfsbane. I could barely make out who had been there. It completely addled my senses,” offered Edmond. “The closer I got, the more dulled my senses became, and I struggled to control my form. My body wanted to shift without me willing it.”

“Same for me,” said Aubert.

Lance nodded. “Archeveque Renaud and Comte Lothair were there for certain, but I could discern little else.”

“There were mercenaries. Hired by Renaud? They were all dead when I arrived.” Aimon chose his words with care, heedful not to tell a lie.

“What are you thinking, Godfrey?” asked Lance.

“Each of us saw something or caught the scent of wolfsbane and managed to avoid the trap. Yet, Ulrik did not. Ulrik is hot-headed and impulsive, but he is far from being a fool. If he told Renaud about wolfsbane, why would he have been careless enough to get caught by it?”

Lance leaned forward in his saddle. “What are you suggesting?”

Godfrey shook his head. “I am not sure. I cannot envision Ulrik allying with Lothair. Not after what happened to his family. Or with Renaud. Ulrik has his faults, but I would sooner believe Lothair gentle and kind than Ulrik would aid them.”

“Would you doubt, too, he killed Gaharet?” demanded Edmond.

Godfrey pursed his lips, and Aimon waited, tense. Ulrik and Gaharet’s deception could be for naught if Godfrey questioned it.

“No,” he said, after a long silence. “That I can believe. He challenged Gaharet for the pack once before and lost. Perhaps he saw an opportunity and took advantage of the situation, of Gaharet’s vulnerability with the woman.”

“And then got caught in Renaud’s trap?” Lance inclined his head. “It is a possibility?”

“Then who betrayed our weaknesses? How does Lothair know about the amulets?” asked Edmond.

Aimon studied the mounted men, his friends, his pack mates. Who could he trust, and who lied with every word that came from their traitorous mouth? The twins, Aubert and Edmond, were livid, their anger visible in every movement they made and every word they spoke, their sense of betrayal very real. Godfrey’s quiet, thoughtful words were not out of character and about Lance hung an air of defeat, as though news of Gaharet’s death had extinguished the fight in him.

None of them gave him cause to doubt their loyalty. And yet one of them was lying and telling them all what they expected to hear. How could he uncover the traitor when Gaharet, who had known these men all his life, could not?

“Are we certain Gaharet’s dead?” asked Godfrey.

Lance’s shoulders slumped. “Lothair has the binding amulet with the bloodstone. Gaharet would never relinquish it to Ulrik, not willingly. But you are right, Godfrey. We cannot presume Ulrik is responsible for everything. It is another reason we must free him. We need answers. And there is also the matter of Gaharet’s betrothed. We must ensure her safety. Gaharet would want that of us.”

Edmond tugged at his beard. “Gaharet would have kept her close. Perhaps Ulrik has taken her somewhere.”

“All the more reason to find her,” said Lance.

“Now Gaharet is gone, one of us should have her at least,” muttered Godfrey.

Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “You surprise me, Godfrey. I would not have expected such sentiments from you.”

Aimon glared at him, uncomfortable with where Godfrey’s thoughts had gone. “You are no better than Ulrik.”

“For all his faults, Ulrik was right. We are not in a position to be choosy. If she was willing to mate with Gaharet, she should be willing to mate with any of us.” Godfrey stared at Aimon. “How many women have you found who would accept what we are, what they would have to become?”

Aimon remained silent.

“None. Like the rest of us. They are few and are hard to find. Unlike you, we have waited years, some of us decades, to find a mate. Gaharet is dead, and if she is not with Ulrik… Why waste a resource?”

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