Venators: Promises Forged. Devri Walls

one that I know of,” Tate said. “Unless Silen’s pack returned to report, but I don’t expect—”

      A voice roared from around the side of the castle. “Where are they?”

      “It’s Silen,” Tate said. “Turn off your markings. Now.”

      Grey slowed his breathing to access the mental switch. It was faster this time, but his markings had barely changed as the wolf turned the corner. Silen approached with his hulking frame bent slightly forward, like a linebacker midgame.

      Scurrying behind him on stubby legs was the gray-skinned, bat-eared creature from the woods, Danchee.

      Tate took one sharp step toward the creature. One hand slid beneath the edge of his trench. Then he froze, rigid.

      If Grey had never spent any time with Tate, he might have written off the brief rush of aggressiveness. But he was familiar with Tate’s body language—during a stare down with death himself, the man could almost be considered lackadaisical. So why did the sight of Danchee get him so worked up? Whatever the reason, Danchee knew. The moment he saw Tate, the creature’s ears drooped down his back, and those saucer-sized blue eyes of his got even larger.

      Danchee stutter-stepped and looked back the way they’d come, wringing his thin hands in despair. Grey was sure he was going to flee. But Danchee made a different decision and hurried forward to keep pace with the furious werewolf.

      “Weapons down,” Silen ordered.

      Grey and Rune both held their hands up, indicating they were free of weapons.

      Silen slammed his palms flat on the table. The knives and adilats jangled and bounced loudly. He leaned forward, closing the small bit of distance between himself and the Venators, and roared, “What did you do!”

      The verbal assault jolted them both, but Rune reacted more violently. Her spine rolled forward, and her hands balled into fists so tight that corded muscles mapped her forearms. Grey didn’t have to see the expression on her face to know that the inner Venator had just reared its head. Silen noticed too. His shoulders tensed and pulled together like a wolf’s hackles rising.

      Rune was going to need a moment, before she said or did something they would all regret. There was no choice but to step up.

      Grey donned his new Grey the Venator robes—sewn with confidence and cockiness and trimmed with a heavy dash of indifference. “What did we do?” He repeated Cashel’s question and stepped closer to Rune, hoping to draw Silen’s attention. “We killed Cashel, as Dimitri requested. Or are you referring to something else?”

      Grey’s new attitude caught Silen off guard. He tilted his head to the side and looked him up and down through narrowed, calculating eyes. “Yes,” he said through clenched teeth. “You killed Cashel. The beheading was a particularly strong statement. Well done.” Silen leaned farther across the table. Grey could smell the odor of meat on his breath and see the first signs of silver in his red mane of hair. “Right up to the point where you left Beorn alive.”

      Luckily, Tashara had already warned Grey about this. He forced himself not to take an uncomfortable gulp or look away, but he had a bad feeling about where this conversation was heading.

      “We weren’t on orders to kill Beorn,” Grey said. “Why would we overstep what Dimitri sent us to do?”

      “Why indeed?” Silen offered a thin smile and slowly pulled back. “Dimitri assured us that Venators could act as the ultimate warriors for the council.” His gaze snapped abruptly to Rune. “Would you consider yourself a warrior?”

      Grey’s brain yelled, Trap!

      Rune answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

      Silen straightened to his full height and tugged at the hem of his shirt so it sat crisply across his barrel chest. “Orders are given under the assumption that a warrior knows the reach of those orders.” His voice rose. “And any warrior would know that an heir is never to be left alive. You are weak, the both of you. Children who—”

      Rune interrupted, her chin held high, as if she deserved to be on equal footing with Silen. After how she’d handled Dimitri, Grey wasn’t surprised.

      “We are warriors. As evidenced by how quickly we were able to eliminate Cashel. Dimitri sent us out on what he believed to be a suicide mission.” At Silen’s subtly raised brow, she added, “We knew what it was. Not only did we go anyway, we eliminated a very dangerous werewolf and survived a dragon. We are anything but weak.” She paused for a single beat. “But we aren’t from here.”

      “Exactly,” Grey said. “If you want us to understand the rules and customs of the wolves, you need to teach us.” Asking for a lesson from Silen felt like an admission of weakness, and he quickly amended, “Or I need books.”

      “Books,” Silen repeated, wrapping his mouth around the syllable as if he’d never pronounced it before.

      “I can teach myself, but I need material.”

      “And,” Rune added, “we can take care of Beorn as easily as we took care of Cashel.”

      Grey’s stomach rippled with a deep foreboding, and he wanted to grab Rune and shake her. He ached to say something, anything, that would take her words back. But he couldn’t undermine Rune in front of Silen.

      Silen had the backing of the council. Rune and Grey had only each other. They needed to appear as a united front. But at the moment, he wanted to strangle her.

      “Can you, now?” Silen chuckled, and the glint in his eye said this response was what he’d been hoping to elicit all along. “Then by all means, Venator, do so.”

      Yes, Rune. Let’s go on another werewolf hunt. Because the last one went so well.

      “Silen,” Tate said. “We have orders to train here until they are more prepared.”

      “If Dimitri can set down orders for the Venators to eliminate Cashel—who is a wolf and therefore under my jurisdiction—then I will order the job finished. Kill Beorn.” Silen leaned in again, bathing them in his breath. “And all those who follow him.”

      Grey’s stomach stopped flipping and sunk into his toes, where it congealed into a sick mass of dread.

      Rune swallowed. “All of them?”

      “All of them.” Silen held out one arm and motioned with two fingers. “Danchee, repeat Cass’s report,” he said. “Our warriors here will need to know where to start.”

      Danchee stepped forward, ears still flat down his back. He opened his mouth, but what came out was not timid stuttering but a throaty male voice. “‘The remainder of Beorn’s pack has been elusive, but we’ve found several decimated villages. The houses have been burned to the ground, all occupants murdered or missing. We believe it’s the pack’s work. It appears they took hostages. I’ve sent three wolves ahead to intercept at known slave-trading locations. We did capture two pack members who appeared to be heading toward the Blues. Unfortunately, both decided to visit an early grave rather than betray their alpha.’”

      Danchee coughed and cleared his throat, signifying the report was at an end. “That’s is all I’s has, Silen. Me’s should be going. Me’s supposed to be back tonight for a new report. Me’s wouldn’t want to be late, or—”

      “Go.” Silen waved him away but then spun, jabbing a finger. “Stop. Don’t even think about tunneling until you’re off council land and back in the forest, you little miscreant.”

      “Of course, sirs.” Danchee backed up, one foot carefully placed behind the other. “I’s would never be doing anything likes that. Me’s know how the council feels about their grounds.” He turned and waddled away as fast as his little legs could manage.

      Tate took a quick step to the side, moving around Grey.

      “Where