We started walking in relative silence, not headed anywhere in particular, but soon the woods loomed ahead and then surrounded us. Half a mile in, with no destination in mind, I was finally beginning to relax. It was blacker than pitch, the moon a useless pale sliver, but my wolf's senses refined my sight enough to walk without stumbling. The real difficulty was to keep moving through such a tranquil, still place.

"What's that?" Alex suddenly. He sank into a slight crouch, every muscle alert, I noted. "I smell wolves."

"There are lots here tonight," Eira said carelessly.

"No. Some of our pack is here, true. But I know their scents..."

As yet unconcerned, I took a sniff of the blowing wind. There was a definite tang of Anglesey in the wind — granite and heather and salt spray. But it almost impossible to tell how many of the islanders had chased us.

I shook my sister like a trapped rat through the link, while outwardly trying to smile. "It's probably just rogues passing through — don't sweat."

An owl hooted overhead, calling a warning of our passing. Its mate echoed an instant later, far off to the right. I wondered with growing unease whether that would draw the islanders to us like a beacon. I fumbled for a rock and tossed it high, aiming to scare rather than hit. Disgruntled flapping of wings. It occurred to me, too late, that the owls had been terrifying the other birds into silence.

"I warned you, didn't I?" I asked Eira wearily once Alex had nodded his agreement. "They're coming for the armour."

For the first time in a long while, I felt uncertainty in Eira. Easy to forget she was barely nineteen and sheltered. She hadn't believed that Gwen would notice, let alone care enough to retrieve it. I knew differently. That armour had belonged to our grandparents before they founded the colony on Anglesey. Not to mention that it was invaluable and perhaps the last of its kind.

"What are we supposed to do? Kill them?" she said desperately.

No. I wouldn't kill them, not for doing their job. But neither could we let them sniff around here, attracting attention and getting so close to our father. So a warning, then, and a demonstration to prove to Gwen that our allegiances had changed. The sooner she understood we weren't coming back, the better.

I shared a single command before sealing the link. "Not yet. Keep your mouth shut and your knife out."

Untouchable. We thought we were untouchable. Four young werewolves with a talent for finding trouble. Armed with teeth and claws and a shifter's strength, it was difficult to imagine that we could get hurt. I think, in those days, even an army wouldn't have concerned me. There is an ingrained complacency in those who have never lost a fight, a complacency which defies fear.

Then Evie caught my eye. She was standing too straight, too tall, too stiffly. A realisation unsettled me enough to ask, "How much training have you had?"

It was the right question. Any other might have rankled her pride. But such an indirect route let Evie answer without shame. "Well...none. Alex wanted to, but it's forbidden in our pack."

"Forbidden to learn to fight?" Eira asked hotly.

"Forbidden for females."

Suddenly the islanders were the least of our troubles. My sister and I turned to face the pack wolves with a furious incredulity. We demanded in unison, "What?"

Alex answered before his mate could open her mouth, which I considered fortunate until I realised his words held even more venom than hers. "They think it goes against the natural order, that only males can defend themselves. My birth pack was bad too —they wouldn't let females join the fighters— but at least they were trained."

"Soon as I have a free afternoon," Eira growled, "I'm going to teach you a few things. Including castration. And then we're going to pay your Alpha a visit."

Maybe I would help.

The wind changed and my eyes lifted to the trees. The perfect time for our stalkers to make their approach. Then a shadow moved behind Eira. I let my gaze sweep straight past it, but marked the spot. So they were trying to be sneaky, were they? Only one reason for that; Gwen was obviously not pulling punches. She was pissed off and she was a queen. Not a great combination. But it was my fault, I supposed.

Eira must have heard a muffled breath or a breaking branch. She sank onto her haunches, leaving her back entirely exposed. And with an annoying revelation that my sister was very like me, I listened for the partner. There would be at least two, probably far more.

Troublingly, none of them were in a hurry to take the bait. Even though they thought they had a major advantage, no one broke cover. The issue, I realised, was our numbers. The Anglesey shifters must have their brains switched on to have decided it would be better to wait until Eira and I were alone.

So. There was only one sure way to lure them out.

I mind-linked Alex, "Start an argument."

"What?"

"Now. About anything — it doesn't matter. And then take a swing at me, just like earlier."

Lazy suspicion, as if I was lulling him into a trap. "Why can't you do it?"

"It can't be me or Ei— shit, Filipa. They know us too well."

All of those thoughts took just seconds to convey, and I was astonished at how easily his mind fitted with mine. That kind of natural compatibility was rare even among blood relatives, let alone total strangers. We would fight well together, I decided, if we tried.

Alex didn't waste time by asking how I knew our stalkers. He just made no effort to hide his reluctance from our link as he demanded aloud and convincingly, "Are you looking at my mate?"

I made sure to snap my eyes up. "Huh? What? No, of course not."

Evie made a sound of total disgust. If she was acting, I couldn't tell — there was no way to determine whether Alex had bothered to share his plan. I assumed not when she closed the distance between us and made an impressive effort to slam her knee between my legs.

Not again. Really, once was enough for one day. I tried to immobilise her as gently as I could, but her mate shoved me backwards, and he wasn't at all gentle about it. "She's taken, asshole."

Eira, never the bystander, pushed her way into the thick of it, though whether to defend or attack me I wouldn't ever discover. Because I hooked my leg around hers and yanked. She fell, ending up somewhere beneath our feet.

Yet I knew she wouldn't begrudge the trampling, not when it was the only way to convince the islanders that their intervention was needed. Yes, I could have let Alex get the better of me, but I very much doubted that our stalkers would care. Whereas every member of the guard worshipped my little sister; they wouldn't let her get hurt.

It was only seconds before I was proved right. A stranger flung his weight into Alex, sending him crashing on top of Eira. I could only imagine his confusion when the girl he had been defending began throwing punches at him.

Another man crashed through the undergrowth, too loud. He was aiming for Evie (because she was still doing her dammed best to kick me). Instead, he got me, thanks to a timely interception. I took a moment to make sure Evie was safely out of the way of our wrestling, but the time cost me. I was shunted onto the defensive, while my opponent — whom I recognised as Peyton from my sister's patrol — swung hit after hit before he understood he was fighting the wrong person.

He recognised me, too, as I passed through a moonbeam. I watched him go very, very still for a second. Watched his horrified expression mirrored on the face of Eira's opponent. Far, far too late, they had seen the trap. And its jaws had already closed around them.

"Ric, you sly bastard," Eira linked. "Only two?"

"Unlikely," I admitted. But any others hadn't been fooled, and they could be halfway back to the island by now.

My fight wasn't taking up much of my attention — Peyton wasn't doing any harm. Until he tried to gouge out my eyes. And that annoyed me, just a little, so I stopped softening my punches. I think Peyton realised his mistake then because he suddenly started scuttling away. Rather fast, actually.

Somehow, in the confusion, Eira and I crossed each other, and I suddenly found myself fighting her opponent instead. He was from her patrol too, but bulkier and broader at the shoulders. And obviously used to brawling, I thought dryly when one of his punches knocked the air from my lungs. But so was I.

I utterly ignored my inability to breathe; so it was easy to trap his ankle while he expected me to double over. He overbalanced, and I saw the opening I had been waiting for. My fingers found the artery in his neck, and that was enough. Light outs. His eyes had rolled back into his head before he hit the ground. Only then did I force air back into my bruised lungs.

Alex and Eira had pinned Peyton between them and seemed to be working together. Good. I didn't want either of them getting hurt over this. Especially not by a slime ball like him. Even as I watched, Eira's knife tapped his throat in a silent, lethal threat. Peyton stopped moving and starting glowering instead.

The last one was clever. He must have waited until I was engaged before breaking cover; although, unfortunately, he was far too honourable to swing at my exposed back. No, the shifter barrelled into me sidelong and we tumbled over and over in a tangle of limbs. I found his throat before he found mine, and consequently managed to end up on top. Only when the male was pinned to the forest floor, his hands scrabbling futilely at mine, did I recognise him by his head of dark hair and huge, innocent eyes.

Quinten Davengard. Oh, Gwen was more ruthless than I gave her credit for — risking her own fiancé. Even as I thought that, Eira tugged the link open once more. "Let up, Ric. If he dies, you die."

His face was already white, so I figured he would be placid enough to free. I released his throat in exchange for the collar of his jacket, and dragged him bodily back towards the others. Too busy breathing to fight back, Quin could only look at me in that hurt way of his. I finally dumped him facedown beside Peyton and planted a knee between his shoulder blades to keep him there.

And suddenly, there was total calm.

I knew what would come next. And Alex and Evie shouldn't be around to witness it. I tried to convey that through the link without directly asking them to leave, because that would only wake their curiosity. Instead, I tried to impress the danger of getting involved with these people.

Alex's cough broke the silence. "We should go. I'm running patrol tomorrow — early start, blah, blah blah."

"What?" Evie demanded. "No!"

Firmly, "Come on."

"No, please, there's drama," she whined piteously.

But there was no leeway in Alex's stance as he walked towards her, flicking his eyes at me before taking his mate's hand, a look which all too clearly said, you owe me for this and you'll explain everything later. Well. He was welcome to think that if it made him move faster.

Evie didn't go quietly. She only conceded when her mate threatened to physically carry her from the forest, and even then, it was grudging. I watched her drag her feet for a good minute before I was sure they were out of earshot. Then I turned back to our captives and easily slipped into the role I would need to play to secure my freedom.

"Just three of you? How insulting," I said mildly. Peyton flushed a wine red. "And look — you're embarrassed. See? No one's happy."

"We didn't come to start a fight," he admitted. As if to contradict him, Quinten Davengard writhed beneath my knee. Of them all, my sister's consort had the best balance of guts and sense, unsurprisingly. I loosed my full weight onto his back and had the satisfaction of hearing a pain-wracked gasp.

"No," I agreed, "that's my privilege."

And I would have to start one, if I wanted any peace.

My knee-rest panted, "Rhodric, I can't" —he choked and spluttered some more— "breathe."

"Oh, good. I must be doing this right."

Without enough air left to speak aloud, he tried a clumsy mind-link, "Please, Rhodric."

So like Quin to swallow his pride for the sake of resolution. He was mature beyond his years in that way. It woke a flicker of shame in me, that I couldn't find the will to do the same. And I couldn't help but remember the time not so long when we had been children together, crabbing off the weir and racing in the fields. Even as I shoved away his link with unnecessary force, my weight on his back lessened. Ever so slightly. And this time, he didn't try moving.

"Don't make me regret this," I warned him wearily before pulling my knee away. Quin rolled over, just panting until he had caught his breath. I offered him a hand and he took it, his skin cold against mine. Then, effortlessly, I hauled him back onto his feet.

Somewhere to my left, I felt Peyton's anger simmering into confusion. And while Eira wasn't unaware of what had passed between us, she stayed silent. Watching me with those mirror hazel eyes, waiting for any indication of what we would do next.

He tried to smile. Failed. Tried again. "Thanks. Thank you. Really."

I just folded my arms and raised an eyebrow, entirely unimpressed. An outburst from Peyton, "He's not doing you any favours, Quinten. If anything, he should be the one apologising, for attacking people who came a long way to help him."

"My sister sent you." Not a question. Those would come later.

"Our queen sent us ... when her entire family disappeared without a trace. What was she supposed to think? You could have been dead for all she knew. Now it's clear that you're just running away — what a shame."

There was an accusation in his voice, one that I rose to, having failed to leash my temper. "We don't answer to you, cub. So don't waste your breath on questions."

"We're here on the queen's behalf. And you answer to her," Peyton pointed out.

I cocked my head to the side, crouched down very close beside him, even though it meant showing Quin my back, and smiled until he didn't dare meet my eyes. "Not anymore."

Silence and confusion, until I began to wonder if he was a halfwit. Then he ploughed on as if he hadn't heard me. "When you come back—"

My little sister's lackey, this one — had been for years. I didn't doubt that he was crushing on her, and she had done nothing to dispel the illusion that she might one day return the feelings. Eira had always been utterly oblivious to the males in her wake; now she was leaving them behind altogether. I knew now that he would bullheadedly pretend otherwise until doomsday.

"We're not," I interrupted shortly. At the very least, it succeeded in shutting him up while he mulled it over.

Quin blinked. "Rhodric... What aren't you telling us? Did someone threaten you?"

Not me. Gwen. His question hit too close to the truth for comfort. I felt a cold feeling spread across first my chest, then into my mind, numbing even my thoughts. Enough of this. Just...enough.

"You up for some play acting?" I asked my sister through the link.

She chewed her tongue as she considered it. The answer, when it came, wasn't accompanied by a single emotion. "Yes."

"Then make it convincing. Let's get this over with."

A smirk spread across Eira's face, her mouth thin and cruel. I took that for acquiescence and I told Quinten harshly, "If I were you, I'd worry about myself."

He started giving me that puzzled, hurt look again, and it was effort to keep my sneer while my gut was twinging. That bloody boy with his bloody big eyes. I let him see my back for a second time, to crouch down and search the belt of the unconscious man. He had more weapons than I thought practical, so it took a moment to find the standard issue cuffs on his belt. A single tug of the link had Eira doing the same to Peyton.

I made Quin sit down and cuffed him to the second guard, whose other wrist ended up cuffed to Peyton. The three of them formed an awkward and miserable line in the mud, back to front to dissuade any escape attempts. Then, at Eira's suggestion, we cut strips from their shirts for blindfolds, ignoring how Peyton cringed at the destruction of his uniform. No one would be eager to run blind.

After all of that it was just a matter of waiting for the guy to wake up. Wisely, he tried to hide his return to consciousness, but Eira knew him too well to be fooled. She kicked him the instant his eyelids first twitched and then tied the final blindfold around his skull.

"Who turned off the moon?" he asked blearily.

I kicked him, and not gently. "No talking. No mind-linking. I'm not naive enough to forbid escape attempts, but I'll tell you that if you walk nicely you'll get home in one piece far quicker than if you're difficult."

"And you expect us to believe that?" Peyton demanded, while his companions kept their mouths sensibly closed.

"No, not really," I sighed and kicked him too for consistency's sake. "Ach, who am I kidding? I'd enjoy a good escape attempt tonight. Go ahead — try your luck."

Funnily enough, he got strangely pliant after that. We dragged them onto their feet and began the long, long trek back to the island. It was easier on me, even after missing two nights' sleep, than for the prisoners: the unnamed guard, who swayed on his feet, wouldn't have been able to walk in a straight line if he hadn't been cuffed to the others; and Quin must have taken an injury in our initial scuffle because he heavily favoured his right leg. Only Peyton had escaped without a scratch, and somehow that failed to surprise me.

The forest, which had seemed so malevolent at first, sped our progress. There were no thickets or rivers in our path, just flat, open woodland. Branches whispered at our passing, spreading word of the intruders who stank of the sea. They knew we didn't belong, but now I felt the spite directed at the three newcomers, not Eira and me.

We made good time, in the end. It wasn't long before the sea breeze tickled my face, and Peyton spat curses at me every other step. He must have guessed what was going to happen by then. And the prospect of failing so spectacularly on a queen's errand was humiliating, to say the least.

As the night wore on, I felt myself wearing out, until we reached the first of the bridges — Britannia — and I released Quinten's arm. He swayed on his feet, clearly exhausted, muscles shaking and eyes dull, which proved almost enough to make me feel bad. First checkpoint. This bridge had to be disabled before I could move on.

"Eira, stay here?" I made sure to use the link for privacy and to phrase it as a question. Anything less would be met with utter contempt. "Gwen doesn't need to know that all of her missing eggs are in the same basket."

"Probably for the best," she admitted. No doubt she was happy to avoid a thrashing and happier still to watch from afar while I endured one.

I tugged her hood up; that never failed to annoy her, and as long as she was annoyed, she wasn't worrying. Eira swung lazily, I stepped back, and the blow missed my chin by a hair's breadth. We exchanged grins. "Enjoy yourself, but not too much."

My feet carried me away, though they felt heavy. The newly-awakened, primal part of my wolf didn't like separating from our only ally, let alone under these circumstances. But the human part of me played better alone, so splitting up won.

"Block the bridge?" she called after me.

"Block the bridge," I agreed without looking back. Quinten turned his head at the sound of my footsteps and took a tentative pace towards me. Such a cooperative prisoner.

We skirted the coastline, occasionally venturing onto the exposed shoreline as we made our way towards the Menai Bridge. If I had wanted my arrival to be subtle, I'd have stayed in the trees. Instead, I wanted the scouts to get plenty of warning — and enough time to fetch my sister.

Quin inevitably tripped and fell, headfirst, onto jagged rocks. His hands weren't free to break his fall, so he took a nasty cut on his chin. I didn't mind much; Gwen would think I'd done it. I watched patiently while he struggled his way onto his knees then hauled him the rest of the way.

I pulled down the blindfold — an escape attempt now would be beyond pointless — and tapped the cut and smirked. "That's going to leave a nasty scar."

He stared back. But this time, there was a new touch of defiance in the creasing of his eyes. He believed that I didn't care. The realisation relieved me almost as much as it stung.

As we approached the bridge, I let them walk ahead of me. No sense in giving the sentries a target. We clambered up the last muddy slope and emerged onto the bridge. Two nights ago, I had stood here in the rain waiting for Eira. It already felt like a lifetime away.

My hand brushed my jeans pocket, felt the lump within. If I did this, there wasn't any going back. There wasn't any middle ground when it came to burning bridges. There was a bundle tucked under my other arm: dry ash branches and a shopping bag full of kindling, everything from dried sap to honeysuckle bark, collected along the way.

I was buying my freedom with blood and fire. And I found that, for all my pretending, I didn't care much at all.