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The man’s laughter was bleak. “I’m not from this land. I didn’t even know there was a colony close by.”
“Hmm. The townsfolk believe a werewolf has been attacking the citizens. They’re claiming the peace treaty has been fractured.”
“Treaties are unbreakable and bound by the magic of the gods. Have the shifters done anything to breach the terms?”
“I just arrived in Scoria a few days ago myself. But there have been a few attacks… A child got killed.”
“Scoria… in Obsidian?” The man seemed to ponder the name, but Gavin couldn’t read his expressions from this far away. Not when whatever wasn’t covered by a beard was dirty. “If a shifter killed a child, our laws would deal with the issue. Have they got any proof?”
“No, because it wasn’t a werewolf who did it, even though they want to blame one for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“That the town saw a wolf-like creature attacking these children, and the simple answer was that a shifter did it. I helped a family whose daughter had been attacked. She was cursed and dying.”
The deep rumble of his neighbor’s voice sounded almost amused. “A werewolf’s bite doesn’t curse.”
Gavin let out a heavy sigh. “I know.”
“So, a Sídhe is hunting in this town, and the commander brought me to what—put the blame on me? Why capture a shifter from all the way in the Iron City for that?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. But if people are growing angry and are demanding that they capture the werewolf doing this, but that shifter doesn’t exist… Well. The governor might grow anxious. I doubt this small town has the manpower to declare a war against the shifter’s village…”
“Ah yes. A rogue outsider is the perfect scapegoat.” The other man grunted, and Gavin heard the distinct thump of what could be his head hitting the wall. Once. Twice. Thrice.
Was this man a lone wolf, then? Gavin didn’t know or understand much about the shifter world and their lifestyles. Usually, they kept to themselves. But what the man said made sense. Being alone made him the perfect target for a scumbag like his commander.
“If they kill me without allowing me to speak, the governor of this place can deny his people’s demands to seek retribution by a more official route.” His gravelly laughter boomed around the place. “I guess it could be a temporary solution to avoid a war, as the Sídhe will continue on and more will die.”
“Yes.” Gavin rested his head on his knees, and Myna’s drawn face flashed through his mind. This was a stopgap that would only appease people for a few weeks. Until the fae hunted again.
Seemed like both him and his companion would die soon. They were fucked… but at least Violet was safe.
It was hard to tell the time inside this place. But if it was past sunset, Violet might be near the shifter village by now. Or camping in the forest.
“Why are you here?” the shifter asked.
“The bastard that took you is—was—my commander. Let’s just say we disagree on what we think is right and what’s wrong.”
“But you weren’t with him and his assembly that day at the bar…”
“That’s because he wasn’t there under the command of our King. The men that are with him are paid mercenaries, and I believe they wear our uniforms so people don’t question what they’re doing.” Gavin cleared his throat, but the emotion clawed at his chest.
“Like drug a shifter in a bar on the outskirts of town?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Gavin couldn’t ignore how much Julius’ betrayal hurt. If he looked back at all the interactions between his commander and other people in the past, everything became tainted. All the times he’d sent Gavin away when things grew tense. All the women that had joined the Valdors and then mysteriously deserted only months later. He wondered if they were still alive, and had actually ran away?
He was a fool. If he’d been more aware, he could have helped so many people. His blind faith in Julius’ better nature had been nothing short of naïve.
But Gavin wasn’t going to cover for him any longer.
“He came to kill my wife here in Scoria,” he elaborated. “I opposed him, and here I am.”
“Did she escape?”
“Yes.” He sighed and held onto the memory of the taste of her lips. Her words, warm in their goodbye, had planted a seed of hope that perhaps his feelings weren’t one-sided after all. That she’d wanted him to kiss her just as much as he had.
