But he wasn’t a simple soldier.
And she wasn’t a simple girl. She was Prince Anton’s seer.
And Jaromir needed to get a handle on himself damn quick.
If . . . if he could only stop thinking about the fierce manner with which she’d grasped the sleeve of his shirt and kissed him back. He’d kissed more women in his life than he could remember, and he’d never felt anything like that.
Fighting to focus on the task at hand, he squinted through the bundles of hay to gauge Graham’s breathing by the rise and fall of his chest. The young man appeared to have fallen asleep. That was probably a mercy. Still, Jaromir desperately hoped this night would yield something, some piece of information that he or Céline or Amelie could explore.
A soft scratching sound caught his attention, and he looked up and to his left. There . . . high in a window, a dark form was crawling over the sill. Jaromir held his position, just watching, uncertain what he was seeing yet.
With a fluid grace, the form leaped from the windowsill, landing lightly on the floor. Jaromir kept still as illumination from the lantern exposed the newcomer.
It was a black wolf.
It looked nothing like the creatures these soldiers had been transforming into. Lean and long legged, this animal appeared to be a normal wolf with glittering amber eyes. Slowly, it walked nearer to Graham, and Jaromir picked up the cudgel he’d brought along in case of nonlethal fighting with any of the camp soldiers. Though his sword was in its sheath on his hip, he left it there for now, as he crouched and prepared to rush.
But he didn’t rush.
The wolf wasn’t growling or even poised in a hunting stance. It simply approached Graham, lowered its head, and took a long sniff. At the sound, Graham’s eyes opened, and he sat up, backing against the wall in confused terror.
Jaromir expected him to cry out, but he didn’t. Instead, the fear faded from his face, and the wolf stepped closer, smelling him again, from his feet to his face.
Graham sat there and let it.
Locked in the spell of the bizarre sight before him, at first Jaromir didn’t move either, though his mind was racing. What was happening here? Was this how the soldiers were being turned? Was this black wolf coming to them and . . . and what?
That final thought moved him to action. He wanted to solve this mystery so badly he could taste it, but not at the expense of Graham’s life. If this creature was about to do something to him, it must be stopped.
Without a sound, Jaromir gripped the cudgel and rushed, hoping he could reach the wolf and bash its head before it saw him coming.
Unfortunately, it half spun, saw him, and dashed away, jumping out of reach. Then it leaped to the top of a stall and made a seemingly impossible jump from the top of the stall to the window.
In a flash, it was gone.
Jaromir ran to the stall, thinking he might leap up and jump to the window himself, and then he realized what a foolish notion that was, so he made a dash for the front doors, slowing only long enough to call to Graham.
“I’ll be right back!”
Céline walked alone past several tents; then she stopped beside one with a view of the barn.
Why had she come out here?
She didn’t know, and she stood there for a few moments watching the side of the barn. Then . . . a dark form appeared in a high window, and it leaped all the way to the ground, landing on all fours. It darted away into the trees, as if it was fleeing from something.
Céline followed where it had vanished, quickly passing into the trees.
Running through the barn, Jaromir cursed whoever had built it without a back door. Racing out the front doors, he ran around the side of the barn where the wolf had jumped.
The creature was gone. The ground below the window was empty.
He cursed again, fighting the urge to run into the forest and start hunting. He couldn’t just leave. Graham was tied to a stake inside, and Jaromir had vowed to watch over him for more than one reason.
Turning, he remained outside but closed the doors to the barn—for the moment—as if they’d never been opened, and he called out, “Guardsman?” knowing someone would hear him.
“Sir?”
A moment later, a guard carrying a spear emerged from around the side of the tent.
“Are you on night watch?” Jaromir asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m making my rounds, but I haven’t seen Corporal Quinn. If you know where he is, send word to him that I spotted a wolf inside the camp.” The guardsman stiffened, and Jaromir hurried on, “No, not one of those beasts, just a wolf with a black coat. It ran off when it saw me, but we’ll want the men to keep aware. Wolves don’t normally come into a large camp like this unless they’re hungry.”
The guardsman relaxed and nodded. “Oh, yes, sir. I’ll pass the word.”
The man headed back the way he’d come. Once he was out of sight, Jaromir slipped back inside the barn. He had a feeling that black wolf had come for more than food, but . . . it was just a wolf, and for now, sending an alert was the best he could do.
Without letting herself think, Céline continued walking into the dark forest. She hadn’t gone far when two strong hands grabbed her, whipped her body around, and pressed her back up against a tree.
“What are you doing out here alone?” he hissed, pinning her in place.
It was Marcus. But she’d already known that or she never would have come out here. However, along this entire journey, she was becoming rather tired of men pinning her up against trees. That would have to stop.
“What were you doing in the barn?” she countered.
She wasn’t afraid of him. She fully believed him capable of destroying these Pählen soldiers. But she was in no danger. Something about him was familiar, a connection she couldn’t explain, as if she’d known him for a thousand years. He’d die before he’d hurt her. He’d kill before he’d let anyone else hurt her.
Of this, she was certain.
“What are you?” she asked softly.
“Another side of you. You’d know that if you lived among your own people.”
“I’ll not stand here and mince words. Did Jaromir chase you out of that barn? What were you planning to do to Graham?”
“Do?” Though he took his hands from her arms, he kept his face close to hers. “You don’t think I have anything to do with the horrors taking place here?”
“I don’t know. Why did you go to the barn in your . . . other form?”
“To see what I could learn. I’d heard that you named him as the next man to turn, and I wanted to smell him, to sense him, to see if I could understand why this is happening.”
“Did you? Did you learning anything.”
“No. I only saw, smelled, sensed a filthy, frightened Pählen soldier. But you can rest assured that whatever is happening, it’s nothing to do with me. One of those things killed my brother.”
Studying his dark eyes, Céline badly wanted to believe him, but she wasn’t sure. In her life, she’d met some very good actors—she’d even been one. His brother’s death could have been a tragic unplanned accident.
His mouth curved up in a slight smile. “You still don’t believe me?”
“I don’t know you, and I don’t know what to believe.”
“You know me.” Slowly, he leaned even farther forward, giving her every chance to move to one side or the other and pull away.
She didn’t.
He pressed his forehead against hers, and again, the action felt familiar, comfortable. “When you saw Graham’s future, did you see him change?” he whispered.
“Yes. It was awful.”