Page 85 of Wolf's Redemption

Ulrik’s blood chilled. “Faucher? The priest who hunts for witches and demons?”

“The very one. He arrived a sennight ago, and Renaud was none too pleased with his arrival. Yesterday, he had a change of heart. He gave Faucher a name. Whose name?” Edmond shrugged a muscled shoulder. “We do not know, but Renaud told Faucher he had been working with a chevalier who claimed to be a werewolf.”

Lance stiffened. “I have known Godfrey longer than any of you. I find it difficult to believe he was so desperate for power he would murder so many of us.”

“Then who did? You?” Aubert pointed his finger at the older chevalier. “Or Edmond?” He tapped his chest. “Or maybe you think I did. ThatpriestFaucher,” he spat, “is a curse. To us, to everyone. He hunts for those suspected of entertaining the evil arts. He has tortured women accused of witchcraft—their only true crime being herbalists, outcasts, or being the brunt of someone’s jealousy or gossip. Renaud gave Faucher a name. Now Godfrey has not responded to a summons from Lothair.” A mountain of a man, few would not cower from, Aubert stared Lance down. “Or perhaps you are accusing us of lying.”

Ulrik had never heard Aubert utter so many words at once. He usually let his twin speak for him. He had never doubted his intelligence, but Ulrik—all of them, judging by the astonished looks on everyone’s faces—now had a new insight into the silentdepths that were Aubert. Though, Ulrik noted, neither his twin, nor Gaharet, looked at all surprised. Gaharet truly was the best man to be alpha.

“Let us not rush to any conclusions. Godfrey’s whereabouts is unknown. Given what Aubert and Edmond have learned, it is suspicious, but let us do due diligence first.” Gaharet turned to Lance. “Go to the Lagarde estate. See if you can find any trace, any word of him. Perhaps his servants may have some information. Aubert and Edmond—find Faucher. Follow him, spy on him, but be discreet. The last thing we need is for him to discover there is more than one werewolf in Langeais.”

“What about Renaud?” asked Edmond.

Ulrik sniggered. “Renaud lost his head over recent events.”

Gaharet rolled his eyes.

Ulrik sighed. “Gaharet let me bite him,” he explained. “We chained him in silver and let him suffer through the turning, but then…” He shared a glance with Gaharet. “He snapped the chains and part shifteddespitethe silver.”

“What?”

“That cannot be.”

They all stared, blinking at him owlishly.

Lance gasped. “He part shifted? How is that possible? Bound in silver, he should not have been able to shift at all.”

Before tonight, Ulrik would have agreed. “I would not have believed it either, had I not seen it with my own eyes.”

“Could you shift, Ulrik, when you were bound?” queried Lance.

“No. I could not feel my wolf at all.” Other than when he had first learned of his family’s fate, he had never felt more empty. “It is a sight I never wish to see again. He was so strong he snapped his chains. I had no choice but to lop off his head.”

Lance shrugged. “I, for one, will not mourn Renaud’s passing.”

“Nor I,” agreed Edmond. “We have suffered enough at his hand. It is only fitting one of us brought him down.”

Aubert grunted his agreement. It seemed he had used up his quota of words for now.

“Perhaps,” said Gaharet, tugging on his beard, “it is the power of the turning. Aimon broke free of his restraints during his transition. It took both Ulrik and me to bring him down.” Gaharet turned to Lance. “When you go to the Lagarde estate, see if you can find anything in Godfrey’s library. His father kept a good collection of tomes. I will search mine and see if we can find any answers.” He gathered his reins. “We will meet here again in a sennight. Lothair has ordered we re-affirm our vows.”

Aubert grumbled something unintelligible, its meaning muffled and lost in his beard.

Lance grimaced, then shrugged. “It is not unexpected.” He turned his horse toward the Lagarde estate.

“Stay safe, Lance. All of you.” Gaharet placed his hand on his chest. “Remember, I have the binding stone back. If you need to, use the amulet.”

Ulrik sat on his horse, Aimon on one side of him, Gaharet on the other, watching as Lance and the twins rode off. “Why did you not tell them the traitor killed your father, Gaharet? And D’Artagnon?”

Gaharet stared after the men. “For the same reason I did not tell them we never suspected the twins.”

Ulrik’s eyebrows shot up. “You do not believe Godfrey is the traitor? You still suspect Lance?”

Gaharet rested his hands on the pommel of his saddle and chewed on his bottom lip. After a long pause, he said, “Given what the twins have learned about Renaud and Faucher, Godfrey’s disappearance implies he is the traitor, but I will not condemn a man so quickly. Lance has proven he will hide the truth when it suits him. He is not above suspicion.” Gaharetgathered his reins. “Come. We have a long ride to the keep, and your mate is weary and in need of care.”

Ulrik nudged his horse forward, and Rebekah leaned into him, nestling her head against his chest. He had saved her from Lothair and survived the experience, but where did they go from here? Would she accept him as her mate? Would she choose to stay in his century as Erin had? And if she did, after all she had seen in that dank chamber beneath Langeais Keep, would he be able to convince her to undertake the turning? To become one of them?

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