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thing remotely fae about her is her long eyelashes and the faint swirls marking her arms. The one on his left tosses her sandy-colored hair and glares at Kenna with shining, emerald eyes. Then she turns her attention to me.

She pads softly closer, licking her lips then the hum of an eerily enchanting song begins. It’s much like the one Kenna sang to me earlier. I try to keep my focus on my surroundings, keep my head above water.

“Kenna, how delightful to meet you finally,” Melchior says over the tune. “Your mate, Corbin, hasn’t properly introduced us. I started to think he was hiding you from me.” His tone is cunning.

She glares in reply.

“Meet Jana, dear sister of Isa. And this is Visalia,” Melchior says, gesturing to the fae with the stringy hair.

“Visalia?” I ask. “You were Logan’s mate.” She must’ve used glamour to conceal her true appearance.

She trembles with a cold laugh then grimaces at me with pure hatred. “I learned your weaknesses, Corbin. Amanda proved useful. And my taste for revenge is still strong.”

Melchior smiles thinly. “Ah, Visalia, there’s nothing worse than losing a mate, even for a werewolf.”

“You were a werewolf then?” I ask, shocked.

“Logan helped me resist the curse. He tried to cure me. We almost had it figured out. When you killed your so-called best friend, there was nothing left for me.”

“And you’ve been hunting our lands on the full moon.”

She exhales a shrug. “My nature cannot be helped.”

“Tell your fae to stop singing,” I order.

Wolves can resist the alluring tune, but our physical form is close enough to being human that it’s harder to do. Melchior knows full well that I’ll shift if she doesn’t shut up.

Historically, wolves were deadly enemies of fae. The Accords helped tame the wild inside, but if the spell is lifting, I can’t promise that I won’t attack.

The fae that was singing goes quiet as if by a silent command from her king. Instead, she says, “Kenna, you look so much like her.”

“The resemblance is uncanny,” Melchior says. “You belong with us, fair maiden Kenna.”

Vampire power radiates off Kenna. She’s not listening with fae or wolf ears. She bares her teeth.

“Clove thought it would be best that you return to us and just in time. I see the Accords don’t work to control your inner vampire. But you don’t need blood and vampires vices. We can teach you the ways of the fae. Help you understand the full extent of your power.” He steps closer to her, undaunted by her desire to bite.

“Back off,” she snarls.

My wolf growls. I’m on the edge of shifting. I envision myself tearing the fae king’s head off. But curiosity pricks me too. Is he implying he’d let her live among the fae rather than destroy her in agreement with the Articles of Accord?

As the last of the sun dips away, the scepter flashes.

Clove steps forward and magic drips from his fingers as he extends his hand. “I brought you her. Now, in exchange—”

A terrible smell of decay and rot fills the forest as the milky light of the moon emerges from behind the clouds.

Visalia’s eyes turn wild, pained as she contorts, screams, and then shifts into a werewolf.

At the same time, Greyson appears with a second scepter in his hand. Its sharp prongs aim at the cursed wolf. Greyson’s eyes are as frigid as the air. His silver-white spectral appearance doesn’t look like it could blow away in the wind. Rather, he appears formidable. King-like.

The werewolf, undaunted, doesn’t flinch.

“I think we’ve met. I’m Greyson Slade, and I’d like to put you out of your misery.” He strikes the wolf with the scepter.

The ground shakes and the wind blows.

She howls and then drops back.

For a moment, it’s like the forest holds its breath. All is still. All is silent.

Without my betas here, I don’t even think I could stand up to a centuries-old werewolf.

“Melchior, we meet at least.” Greyson’s voice bellows, despite his ethereal form.

The fae king snorts. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment. I see you traded your life for that of a hollow ghost.” Without hesitating, he shoots a blast of fae magic from his fingers. Where I expect it to move through Greyson, it crackles up and down his body like a live wire.

He shakes and then pressing the prongs of the scepter to his skin, he draws it out and then fires it back at Melchior.

The fae king lunges out of the way at the same time as the werewolf leaps at me, knocking me into the ground.

Chapter 23

Kenna

“Leave him alone,” I call. My voice sounds as big as the sky and as dark as the night.

Locked in battle, I charge at the werewolf and at my wolf, Corbin. The dry leaves toss and the air churns. I didn’t summon the vampire, but it took over within me.

I surge with strength and power as I thrust the werewolf off Corbin, throwing her into a tree. Like with Clove before, she strikes it with a sickening crack.

My father closes in on Melchior as he blocks the fae king’s magic with the scepter. The female fae with green eyes remains in the chariot, watching with an amused smile on her lips. She must be unseelie.

Corbin gets to his paws and steps beside me, lowering his head at a menacing angle. He snarls as Clove throws a bolt of magic in the direction of our father and the fae king. It illuminates Melchior’s bearded face, revealing a sinister expression. I can’t help but feel like we’re all pawns in a game he’s playing—Clove included.

“I see you have something that belongs to me,” Melchior says to Greyson.

“What? This?” He tosses the scepter

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