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On the parapet, Lady Winthrop brought a hand to her brow and fluttered her eyes. “Oh goodness. I’m beginning to feel faint.”
One moment, she was wobbling in place. The next, she was toppling down the stairs.
“Lady Winthrop!” Marian screamed, genuinely afraid.
I gaped. Lady Winthrop made it look good, but that was definitely an expert fall, because fainting didn’t make you cartwheel all the way down the stairs. As kids, my brothers and I had staged all kinds of dramatic fights, and we’d milked the falling down the stairs gag for all it was worth.
My poor mother. She’d fallen for it every time.
A little like the crowd in the square now — and most importantly, the soldier holding a knife to young Tom’s throat. Lady Winthrop careened past Tom and right into the soldier, knocking him clear off the stairs.
“Go! Go!” I shoved John.
“Oh dear.” Lady Winthrop picked herself up off the groaning soldier. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”
Ha. I’d seen her elbow him in the groin after he’d cushioned her fall.
Not that I had time to admire her work. Our plan had just been launched, and I had work to do.
Soldiers rushed forward, but John and I bounded up the stairs, knocking them out of the way. The moment we were hidden behind the front face of the parapet, we dropped to all fours and shifted.
Usually, the process took a few painful seconds, with skin giving way to fur, bones finding a new configuration, and teeth extending into fangs. And usually, I would pause to give my mane a good shake. But there was no time for any of that now. In the space of one breath, I went from running upright to sprinting on all fours, trailed by a long, tufted tail.
While I raced left toward Lady Thornton, John, in bear form, rushed along the wall in the opposite direction, heading for the archers. The first two turned their bows on him, but their shots went wide. A heartbeat later, cries erupted as John mowed them down.
So, whew. That eliminated one layer of Prince John’s backup plans.
I ran on, cursing every inch that separated me from Marian on that too-distant, too-high balcony. I cursed the guards too — the ones who jumped out of the shadows and grabbed her when she pulled a knife on Prince John.
“Marian!” I roared — literally.
But the prince yelled at the same time. “Archers! Prepare!”
Three men appeared atop the castle’s tallest tower and aimed at Robynne. Yet another backup plan?
Willa! John bellowed.
His mate had leaped to the gallows and shoved the executioner aside. Then she produced a knife and started sawing at Robynne’s bonds.
All according to plan, except the archers were supposed to be eliminated by then. Now, both women were totally exposed to the archers atop the tower.
“No!” someone in the crowd cried, spotting the new danger.
Other bystanders pointed to the archers, while a handful tackled the executioner before he could return to his post.
“Shoot! Kill them both!” the prince yelled, indicating Robynne and Willa.
John started sprinting in their direction, but there was no way a bear could outrace an arrow.
A dragon, however…
The sheriff jumped to the edge of the parapet and raised his arms. The crowd broke out in confused murmurs, then screams when his arms stretched and transformed to wings. His face stretched too, extending until human features gave way to the muzzle of a dragon.
A very angry, very dangerous dragon who took to the air with powerful wingbeats.
I wasn’t sure whether to cheer or despair. Revealing our shifter sides was a last-ditch measure. But things could hardly get more last-ditch than now.
The crowd screamed and ducked. A few ran, but most were transfixed by the sight of a mighty dragon swooping over their heads. Hats flew, cloaks whipped, and hair was blasted by every powerful wingbeat.
