Page 78 of Wolf's Prize

Lance looked worried. “You turned her? And had her out here, beyond the keep walls so soon?”

Godfrey blew out an incredulous breath. “You have been a wolf a mere three years yourself. What were you thinking?”

Aimon clenched his hands at his side. Did Godfrey and Lance think so little of him? Did they truly believe he would attempt something as risky as a turning without the sanction of the pack?

He squared his shoulders and faced down their rebuke. “I did not turn her.”

Aubert grunted. “Somebody did.”

The men eyed each other before turning back to him.

“Aimon?” queried Lance. “Do you know how Kathryn came to be one of us?”

Aimon stared at each of them, paying particular attention to Lance and Godfrey, watching for any sign—a twitch of an eyebrow, a lip curling in a snarl. Nothing.

“Kathryn was attacked.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed. “Attacked? When?”

“The same day, the same place and by the same wolf who killed Elise d’Louncrais.”

The men drew back, as though struck.

“A wolf killed Elise? One of us? Impossible,” said Godfrey.

Lance spun away before turning back to face them. “Who of us would do that? And Kathryn would not have been much more than a child. That one of us would have attacked a child…” He rubbed his hand over his face and stared at the ground.

Edmond tapped his finger against his chin and looked at his twin. “What are the chances of having two rogue wolves in the same century?”

“Not good,” said Aubert.

“Then…if my calculations are correct, Godfrey was right. Ulrik is not the one who has betrayed us. Neither is Aimon. But whoever did is standing right here in this clearing.”

Godfrey snarled. “I resent your accusation, Edmond. Pray tell us how you came to this conclusion.”

Edmond crossed his big arms across his chest. “When Elise died, Ulrik was in Bretaigne, sent there by his parents. He could not have been responsible for her death. Or for the attack on Kathryn. Aimon was not yet one of us, and we all know Gaharet would never have killed his own mother.”

“Another pack?” suggested Lance.

“Have you ever, in all these years, caught the scent of a werewolf not belonging to our pack?” asked Edmond. “I have not.”

Aubert shook his head.

“No. It is not another pack. One of us would have encountered some sign of their presence years ago,” agreed Lance as he paced the clearing. “What about D’Artagnon, Gaharet’s brother?”

Aubert frowned. “He died in battle years ago.”

“Did he though? We never found his body.”

Edmond shook his head. “Several of us saw him crawling from the battleground with heinous injuries. And I cannot accept D’Artagnon killing his mother any more than I believe Gaharet did. Her death devastated them both.”

“We are forgetting we have a witness.” Godfrey turned to Aimon. “Kathryn.”

All eyes turned to him again, and Aimon met their gazes. He had to choose his words with care, or they would scent a lie.

“Kathryn remembers very little about the attack. She was able to tell us the color of the wolf, though.”

“And?”

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