Witches in Red

Chapter Ten

Somehow, Amelie drew her hand away. She couldn’t watch any more of the events that led up to the state of Mercedes and Mariah’s current life. While doing readings, her targets were not normally actively involved, but this one had been different. She’d felt Mercedes with her, almost speaking to her, all along.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I couldn’t watch anymore.”

Mercedes just sat there with bleak eyes, and Amelie realized what it must have cost her to relive all that.

“So . . . ,” Amelie said, “not long after that, the first attack happened? The soldiers started turning into wolves?”

Mercedes nodded slightly. “Mikolai was killed the first time it happened, and Captain Keegan threatened to make his father complete his contract . . . if we wanted the wages. Uncle Landrien’s joints are too painful to work in those mines, so Marcus signed on to take over for Mikolai, which is exactly what Keegan expected to happen.” She sighed. “But then the attacks continued . . . and this last one that occurred inside the mines proved too much. Even desperate men will refuse to work if they fear something more than starvation.”

“You left those mushrooms for Keegan, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.”

“Why now? If Keegan has been at Mariah for months, what made you decide to try to kill him now?”

“Your sister,” Mercedes answered quietly. “She woke something inside of me. Right after she left me last night, I went out and picked the mushrooms and ran them to the cook. He was just finishing the stew, and he knows the captain likes mushrooms fried in butter. But I made sure that neither you nor Céline would be sitting at the captain’s table last night. I’d never do anything to hurt one of my own people.”

“What about Quinn? Or Jaromir? Did you ask about them?”

“I don’t care what happens to them. I just want Keegan dead.”

Though Amelie didn’t blame her for hating Keegan, she could not condone Mercedes’s callous disregard for Jaromir or Quinn.

“Listen to me,” she said. “I’ll do something about Keegan. I’ll make sure he leaves Mariah alone and that you’re both allowed to remain with your family. But you need to promise me you won’t try anything else. You have to trust me.”

“You won’t give me away? You won’t tell your lieutenant?”

“No. I won’t tell anyone but Céline. She and I don’t keep secrets. Do you swear to stop, to let me handle this?”

Mercedes nodded again.

Amelie stood up. “I need to get back.”

Though she had established who’d poisoned Keegan, she was no closer to resolving the true reason she and Céline had come here—to find out why these soldiers were turning into mad wolves one by one. But she didn’t believe Mercedes had anything to do with it or knew anything about how it was being done.

Still, there was much to consider.

After heading out the door, Amelie walked through the miners’ camp back toward the path leading into the trees, and a single word from Mercedes’s story rose in her mind. Several times Mercedes had referred to Marcus as a “shifter.” He’d always before been mentioned as a hunter, but this designation as a shifter seemed to give him importance. The word was vaguely familiar, and Amelie thought she’d heard it somewhere before.

Could it be a Móndyalítko reference to one born with a special ability for hunting? Or did it mean something more?

Stopping, she turned and looked at Mercedes’s wagon, wondering if she should go back and ask. But . . . she’d already put Mercedes through too much today and thought it best to just find out on her own.

Jaromir remained sitting at Keegan’s bedside, by himself, well into midafternoon. He’d told Quinn to leave, instructing him to get some rest. The captain groaned and rolled a few times in his sleep, but Jaromir took that to be a good sign, suggesting that Keegan had not fallen into deep unconsciousness.

Footsteps sounded from the front section of the wagon, and he looked over in annoyance, prepared to order Quinn to bed if necessary, but the visitor was not Quinn. Instead, Céline came into view from around a hanging tapestry.

Her hair was damp and hanging loose down her back. She wore her red cloak, but he could see a shade of dark pink beneath the opening in the front.

Smiling tiredly, she lifted the hem of her cloak a few inches to let him see the skirt of her evening gown.

“I feel ridiculous walking around camp in pink silk, but my tan wool is spattered with everything the captain ate yesterday, and it smells terrible. I took it off and washed my hair, and I had nothing else to put on.”

He couldn’t help smiling back.

She looked around. “Is Amelie not with you? I thought to find her here.”

“She’s not in your tent?”

“No, I woke up alone . . . and I can’t believe I slept out so much of the day. But I’m sure she’s not far. Perhaps she’s gone to the provisions tent. I’ll take a look at the captain and then check there.”

However, she didn’t move. Instead her mouth opened once and closed again.

“What is it?” he asked.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you, and we’ve had no time. It could be nothing.”

Growing annoyed again, he half turned in his chair. “Tell me.”

“Yesterday afternoon, when I was coming back from having tended to the miners, I ran into Corporal Quinn, and we had a rather . . . frank conversation about Captain Keegan.”

Jaromir sat straight, at full attention now.

“Apparently, Prince Lieven had trouble getting any of his officers to take up a position as commander here. The last captain died, and the prince could find no one willing to replace him. Quinn told me that Keegan ran into difficulties over a gambling debt and was coerced into volunteering as a result.” She walked closer, looking down at the sleeping captain. “Quinn’s exact words were, ‘He views this assignment as an insult and a punishment, and he feels he’s paid his dues.’”

“What are you suggesting?” Jaromir asked, but he already knew . . . He’d already had his own doubts about Keegan.

“Quinn says that he’s requested a replacement several times, but no action has been taken.”

Jaromir put his hand to his chin, thinking. Keegan had also staunchly refused to allow either Céline or Amelie to read any of his soldiers, and as he appeared to care little for his men, perhaps this reticence was due to the fact that he was hiding something.

“Do you want to read him?” Jaromir asked.

“I’d like Amelie to read him first. Whatever he’s protecting, I think we’ll think find it in his past.”

A groan sounded from the bed. Keegan rolled and opened his eyes. He looked up at Jaromir blankly for a few seconds, and then moved his gaze up to Céline.

“Water,” he croaked through dried lips.

“Of course,” Céline said, hurrying toward a basin and filling a mug.

“Give that to me,” Jaromir said, standing up. “I’ll take care of him. You go and find Amelie.”

Céline checked the provisions tent first, and upon not finding her sister, she headed back to their own tent, thinking perhaps Amelie had already returned there. As Céline walked up, she saw her dark-haired sister coming toward her from the direction of the miners’ camp—wearing a pensive expression.

“Are you all right?” Céline asked.

“Let’s go inside.”

“Jaromir sent me to get you. He has a task for you.”

“Soon enough. I need to tell you something.”

Concerned and curious, Céline passed through the flap into their tent, and Amelie followed.

“Mercedes poisoned Keegan,” Amelie said as soon as they were inside and alone.

“What?” Céline gasped.

“It’s true. Listen. She let me read her.”

And with that, Amelie began to spill out a story of hardship that became increasingly difficult to hear, the story of what brought Mercedes and her family not only to live here, but to end up trapped here. Putting off Jaromir for now, Céline didn’t interrupt or rush her sister. She listened to everything Amelie had to say.

“And after Keegan threatened to banish Mercedes and Mariah,” Amelie finished, “Mariah sold herself to him. That’s why they’ve been allowed to stay.”

“He’s a monster.” Céline furrowed her brow. “And so Mercedes just tried to poison Keegan now?”

“She says you woke her up.”

Thinking back to her last conversation with Mercedes, Céline felt an unexpected wave of guilt. Had she induced Mercedes to try to murder Captain Keegan?

“You can’t tell anyone,” Amelie said. “I made a promise that I wouldn’t tell anyone but you, not even Jaromir—especially not Jaromir—and that I’d think of something to help Mariah. Mercedes says she won’t try it again, and in the end, not too much harm was done. Will you help protect her?”

“You know I will.”

“There’s something else,” Amelie continued, her eyes growing more thoughtful. “Mercedes referred to Marcus several times as a ‘shifter.’ I know I’ve heard that word before, but I can’t remember where.”

“It was Helga.” Céline remembered the speech. “Inside our guest room at Castle Sèone when she was telling us about our heritage. She said that Móndyalítko don’t have wealth or power in the same sense as the princes and lords. She said, ‘But they have their own bloodlines of power, the shape-shifters, the Mist-Torn, and the like.’”

Amelie’s body tensed. “I remember that now. Shape-shifters? Do you think Marcus has some natural-born power like ours but that lets him change his shape?”

Céline sank into a chair. “Oh, Amelie . . . I forgot to tell you something. I swear I wasn’t keeping it a secret. With all that’s happened since, I . . . forgot.”

“What?”

“Our first night here, Marcus was standing outside the tent. I was so tired, it almost didn’t seem real, more like a dream, but he let me read him, just for a moment, and I felt the strangest sensation. Instead of observing, I seemed to be inside another body, and I was running swiftly through the forest . . . on all fours.”

“On all fours?”

“Keep your voice down. Someone outside could hear.”

“Céline, if Marcus can change himself into something that runs on all fours, he just made it to the top of our list of people to investigate. He hates these soldiers, and he certainly has a motive to get rid of them.”

“So what are you saying?” Céline asked. “That he’s somehow infecting them with his own natural ability—if he even has one? We’re only guessing here. Do you think you or I could pass our gift to someone else and then twist it so the person goes mad?”

Amelie frowned. “I just think we need to pursue this.”

“Agreed. And we will. But right now, Captain Keegan has moved to the top of Jaromir’s list.”

“Keegan?”

“Yes. Come with me. I’ll tell you on the way.”

As Amelie walked into Keegan’s tent, the afternoon sun was already sinking, and she was disturbed by how much part of her wanted this corrupt captain to turn out to be guilty of the crimes here. She was hoping to do a reading and expose him as a false leader who was somehow destroying his own men in order to get himself relieved of an unwanted command.

While she didn’t view herself as a vindictive person, she wanted to see him punished. Thankfully, the better part of her fought against such instincts. She needed to keep her mind clear to be able to focus on the reading, on seeing the critical scenes of his past.

As she and Céline approached the bed, she looked down, and a different part of her wavered briefly. Corrupt or not, the man looked so . . . ill.

Worse, Jaromir stood there with his arms crossed, and she still couldn’t manage to meet his eyes. During the crisis last night, he and she had worked well together, but they hadn’t looked at each other, not after what she’d said to him in the tent. How could she have said such a thing? Why did such terrible things come out of her mouth every time he made her feel backed against a wall?

Captain Keegan’s bloodshot eyes were focused on Céline. “I’m told I have you to thank for my life,” he said hoarsely.

“I’d have done the same for anyone,” she answered. “But you’ll be in bed for weeks, possibly longer. Mushroom poisoning takes a toll.”

He didn’t argue. Perhaps he felt as bad as he looked.

“I’ve assumed temporary command,” Jaromir said, “in the absence of another officer.”

Keegan’s eyes rolled toward him. “Have you sent a messenger with a request for a replacement for me? Surely you can’t remain until I’m fit again. Your own prince must need you.”

“I will remain as long as I’m needed here and until I complete the mission for which I was sent,” Jaromir answered coldly. “In that regard, I’ve authorized this lady to do a reading of you.” He motioned toward Amelie.

Keegan’s eyes widened. “No. I refuse.” He tried sitting up and failed.

“You have no choice,” Jaromir went on, “and unless you allow her to touch you, I’ll hold you down.”

The captain’s greenish skin went pale. “Where’s Quinn?”

Jaromir ignored the question and closed the short distance between himself and the bed. Without any hesitation, he leaned over and pinned Keegan’s arms. “Amelie?”

“You can’t do this!” Keegan cried weakly. “I order you to stop.”

Amelie hated doing readings like this. Jaromir had once ordered Corporal Pavel to hold down a traitorous court physician at Castle Sèone and then told her to read the man in order to gain evidence to prove his guilt. It had been . . . uncomfortable.

But she wasn’t about to turn back now. Kneeling by the bed, she tried to shut out Keegan’s weak protests. Touching the back of his hand, she closed her eyes and reached out for the spark of his spirit. On the walk over here, Céline had related that Jaromir wanted to know Keegan’s secrets, his reasons for having volunteered to take this command—something more specific than gossip about a gambling debt.

A simple gambling debt wouldn’t be enough to coerce a man like Keegan into overseeing what he would consider a pack of shabby miners. It had to be more. And if so, how far would he go to be relieved of this unwanted position?

With her eyes closed, she cleared her mind and continued focusing on Keegan’s spirit, reaching back in time to whatever had brought him here to Ryazan. The first jolt hit, and she braced herself. The second jolt hit, and the tent around her vanished. She was swept backward through the white-and-gray mists. This time, she kept herself carefully separated from Keegan. She needed to view only as an observer, to see what was happening to him and around him—not to mention she was sickened by the thought of being inside his head and seeing through his eyes.

The mists kept rushing as she was drawn backward, and when they cleared, she found herself standing in what felt like an underground chamber lit by a few lanterns. There were no windows and the walls were made from stone. A man in a long tunic with a heavy blue gem hanging around his neck stood behind a long table. He was counting money into a bag.

Captain Keegan, Corporal Quinn, and a handsome man with thick hair stood on the other side of the table. Amelie studied the third man for a moment. His expression struck her as . . . fragile, as if he could be easily hurt. He looked out of place in his dark brown tabard and armor.

“All right,” said the man in the long tunic as he finished counting. “That’s it.” He held out the bag and pushed a piece of paper across the table. “Captain Keegan and Lieutenant Sullian, please sign at the bottom to verify that you’ve accepted this season’s pay for your men.”

“We’ve done this before,” Keegan answered in an unfriendly tone, as if he didn’t care for the man, who was probably Prince Lieven’s treasurer.

Amelie realized the third soldier was Lieutenant Sullian, who had transformed into a wolf and been killed before her arrival in Ryazan.

Both Keegan and Sullian signed. Keegan hefted the bag of coins, and all three men walked toward the door. Amelie stepped aside even though she knew they couldn’t see her. She wasn’t actually there. She was simply witnessing an echo in time.

But why was she watching Keegan receive the payroll for his men?

The room vanished, and she found herself standing outside in the open air, in the courtyard of a castle. Soldiers in armor and brown tabards milled around, and she spotted four of them crouched down and playing a game of dice.

New voices drew her attention, and she turned to see Keegan, Sullian, and Quinn all walking into the open courtyard. Keegan was still carrying the bag of money with his men’s wages inside.

He stopped at the sight of the dice game, and Lieutenant Sullian’s face took on an anxious expression.

“Sir,” Sullian said, “we need to see the horse trader from Miltaná about those new geldings.”

But Keegan ignored him and continued watching the game. Amelie observed Quinn and Sullian glance at each other in alarm.

A moment later, Keegan took a number of coins from the bag he carried. “This is my own wage.” Handing the bag off to Sullian, he walked over to the game. “Room for one more?”

“Of course, sir.”

The soldiers made room, and Amelie moved closer. She never played dice—as the games all seemed to depend on luck as opposed to skill—but she knew the one being played. It was simple, called Thrice Thrown. One of the soldiers functioned as the counter, and he didn’t take part in the game. The players all agreed on the amount of the bet first, and everyone gave him their money. Then each of the players took three rolls and whoever ended up with the highest count of their three rolls won all the money.

Amelie found it foolish, but she knew many soldiers who enjoyed the random simplicity. It took no thought and passed the time. Sometimes instead of money, they bet extra chores or night watch duty.

“Shall we say two silver pennies?” Keegan suggested.

The other players hesitated. That was a large bet for normal guardsmen, but one of them shrugged. “Why not? Tomorrow is payday.”

“Sir?” Quinn asked.

Keegan gave him a hard look. “Yes?”

“Nothing.”

All the players took their turns, and Keegan lost. He did have the second-highest total for his rolls, but it was a winner-take-all game. A few other soldiers noticed Keegan playing, and they wandered over. On the next round a few more joined in.

Keegan won the next two rounds, and his eyes glinted.

Then he began losing.

Two of the initial guardsmen dropped out when the newcomers began playing for higher stakes.

Lieutenant Sullian’s appearance of anxiety was increasing. Walking over, he touched his captain’s arm. “Sir, the horse trader? He’s waiting.”

“In a moment,” Keegan answered. “I just need to win my money back.”

Amelie had seen men like Keegan before. Once they started, they couldn’t seem to stop. They always believed they would win the next round of dice or the next hand of cards.

The courtyard vanished, and she found herself in the mists again, moving forward, just a little. The mists cleared, and this time, she was standing inside a stable. Keegan was leaning forward with his hands on knees, as if he was about to be ill.

“What can I do?” he said. “Master Terlone is coming tomorrow. He said if I don’t settle my account, he’ll go to Prince Lieven.”

Both Sullian and Quinn looked on in concern.

Sullian was still carrying the bag with the soldiers’ payroll. “Could you not give some of your purchases back to him? The pewter goblets?”

“He won’t take them!” Keegan snapped. “And I cannot give a season’s worth of wine back. It’s already been drunk.” He stood and ran his hands over his face. “The prince cannot find out how much I owe. I’ll be ruined.”

“You know I’d give you my wage,” Quinn said. “But I send almost everything I earn home to my parents.”

“And I owe for my own wine bill and that new saddle I purchased,” Sullian said. “Sir . . . if you’d only come away when I asked you. You wouldn’t have lost everything.”

Amelie began to understand why she was here now. It seemed Keegan had lost an entire season’s worth of wages in that dice game, and he owed a merchant for wine and other luxury items he’d bought on credit.

“Don’t mother me!” Keegan half shouted. “I have to do something. The prince cannot hear of this.” His voice was desperate.

“Wait . . . ,” Sullian began. He hesitated and then said, “Quinn, what about that game of Hard Tens you promised to deal tonight? Could you get the captain in? He’s better with cards, and he could win his wages back.”

Keegan stood straight, his eyes filling with hope. “Hard Tens?”

Sullian nodded. “With Prince Damek here on a visit, a few of his officers asked Lieutenant Tanner to put a game together, and Tanner asked Quinn to deal.”

“Can you get me in?” Keegan asked Quinn.

“No,” Quinn answered. “We’d have to stake you, and what if you lose?”

“I won’t lose!” Keegan’s features twisted into what looked like an expression of pain. “Please . . . please. I promise that if you help me this time, it won’t ever happen again.”

Quinn glanced away, as if he couldn’t bring himself to even look at his captain. “All right. I’ll speak to Lieutenant Tanner.”

The scene in the stable vanished, and Amelie saw only a blink of the mists before they cleared and she found herself in another small, windowless room. This one contained a round table, with six men sitting around it. There were goblets and pitchers of wine on the table. Candle lanterns burned from small square tables in the corners.

Right away, Amelie noted Captain Keegan and Corporal Quinn. In addition, there were three officers wearing the black tabards of Damek’s guards and a middle-aged man in a brown tabard. She assumed he must be Lieutenant Tanner. Sullian wasn’t there.

Quickly, Amelie realized she’d not come in time to observe the beginning of the game. From the state of the table and the men, she guessed they’d been playing cards for a while. One of Damek’s officers and Lieutenant Tanner had the largest piles of coins sitting in front of them. There were almost none in front of Keegan.

Quinn was dealing.

Again, although Amelie had rarely played Hard Tens, she knew the rules. It was another simple game, though this one involved some strategy. Before play, all the kings, queens, and jacks were removed from the deck, leaving only forty cards.

The dealer dealt every player two cards, one faceup and once facedown. The players could glance at their facedown card and then make bets. After that, a player could stand with what he had or ask for another card . . . and more if he wished.

The goal was to come as close to a total of twenty in any combination, with two tens as the best possible hand. Any player with two tens won, and in the rare—but possible—event that two players were dealt two tens, they split the pot of winnings.

The dealer’s job was simply to deal. He didn’t take part in the game otherwise.

Amelie could tell from the strained expression on Quinn’s face and the look of desperation on Keegan’s—along with his small pile of coins—that Keegan had not been lucky tonight.

A new hand was dealt.

Amelie walked up behind Keegan. He had a two of clubs showing. She leaned down as he peeked at his hole card: a ten of diamonds.

Men began placing bets, and by the time they were finished, Keegan had put in almost every coin he had left.

One of Damek’s officers raised an eyebrow. “Looks like a do-or-die hand for you, Captain,” he said dryly.

Keegan didn’t answer and nodded to Quinn that he wanted another card.

Quinn dealt him the ten of hearts. Keegan closed his eyes. He’d gone over.

As the hand finished and the men turned over their hole cards, Lieutenant Tanner won with a combination of nineteen. Gathering his winnings, he shrugged. “Hard luck, Keegan, but it looks like you’re out.”

Keegan’s forehead was perspiring. “No . . . wait. Just give me a moment, and I’ll be right back.”

Quinn looked up in alarm as Keegan fled the room, and a few of the visiting soldiers shifted uncomfortably.

“I do so pity a fellow who doesn’t know when to stop,” one of them said.

But not long after, Keegan came hurrying back . . . carrying the bag with his men’s payroll. He was going to bet with his men’s wages? In spite of her low opinion of Keegan, Amelie had not thought even him capable of that.

Quinn was staring at him as he sat down.

But Keegan glared across the table. “Deal the cards, Corporal.”

The small, dim room vanished, and Amelie was rushing forward on the mists again.

When they cleared, she was in a great hall with walls of stone and a hearth large enough to stand in.

Captain Keegan was down on one knee, on the floor with head bowed.

Amelie looked to see a muscular man with graying hair and a proud bearing sitting in a chair on a dais up above the captain. He wore a loose red jerkin accented by gold thread. Three jeweled rings on each hand adorned his fingers.

His expression was unreadable.

“I don’t know what to say, my prince,” Keegan said. “The act is unforgivable.”

Amelie’s eyes flew back up to the dais. She was looking at Anton’s father, Prince Lieven. He looked nothing like Anton, who was slender, with soft dark hair and narrow features.

“It is unforgivable,” Prince Lieven said, and his voice echoed through the hall. “In all my years, I’ve never heard of a captain gambling away his men’s wages. You’ve broken a sacred trust. How will any of them send money to their families? Once this news is out, you will lose your office, and no man will ever serve under you again.”

Keegan’s body flinched, as if he’d been struck, but he didn’t raise his eyes from the floor.

Prince Lieven was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, “Though the act is unforgivable, it is not beyond repair. Would you be willing to do a small service for me? If so, I would replace your men’s wages, and no one need know.”

Keegan’s head snapped up. “A service?” he breathed.

“Yes, I require an officer to go north and oversee the silver-mining operation in Ryazan. If you would be good enough to take on the command, I will see that your men are paid.”

Keegan’s jaw twitched, and he went pale.

Amelie realized he must have known something of Ryazan, of the desolate place he was being sent.

“Of course, if you would rather not . . . ,” the prince said casually, as if it didn’t matter one way or the other.

“I’ll go, my prince,” Keegan said quickly. “With gratitude.”

He had no choice, and even he was wise enough to see that.

The prince nodded. “Good. The flow of silver is important to the welfare of our province here. You and Lieutenant Sullian may take a few days to prepare, and you will leave at the end of the week.”

Keegan’s eyes were hollow, almost as if he’d been given a death sentence, but it was still better than public humiliation and being stripped of rank.

“Yes, my prince,” he managed to say.

The great hall vanished, and Amelie was swept forward on the mists again, with a mix of thoughts churning in her mind. She expected to leave the visions behind now and find herself back inside Keegan’s tent, sitting next to Jaromir.

But instead, when the mist cleared, she was standing out in the open of the soldiers’ encampment in Ryazan, still an observer. What could she need to see here? Dusk was nearing, and looking around, she could see Captain Keegan’s large, new tent had been set up, but other elements of the camp were different, and several of the smaller tents were missing, as if Keegan’s men were still getting situated and settled.

Keegan and Sullian both came striding through the camp toward her as evening campfires were being lit. She could hear them talking.

“It’s not so bad, Captain,” Sullian was saying. “We’ve only been here three weeks, and I’ve already managed to sign on new miners. Production is up, and the prince will be pleased.”

Keegan grunted. “There’s no need to try to put a good face on this. We’ve been banished, and it’s my fault. But we won’t be here long. I’ll find a way to get us back to Castle Pählen.”

Sullian paused and lowered his voice. “Sir . . . some of the men seem to know why we were assigned here. I don’t know how they learned of it. Neither Quinn nor I would breathe a word, but I fear it may undermine your authority.”

“You let me worry about that. I can handle the men.”

He seemed about to say more when Amelie heard a choking sound. Both Keegan and Sullian turned their heads at the same time she did. A young soldier who’d been building a campfire suddenly began retching with force, struggling to draw in air at the same time.

“Guardsman!” Sullian called, hurrying over to help.

But the soldier collapsed, his mouth contorting in pain. His chest began to expand, and his hands began to change. Fur sprouted from his skin as his clothing began to split, and his fingers were turning into claws.

His face was elongating.

“Sullian!” Keegan shouted, grabbing his friend and pulling him away.

As he did so, Amelie looked at Keegan’s face. Somehow, she knew she’d come to this place in time to watch him and not the soldier who was transforming.

Savage snarls exploded from her right, but she kept her eyes on Keegan.

“What is that?” someone cried.

Staring, Keegan was stunned, absolutely shocked by the scene before him. He had no idea what was happening.

“Get the spears!” Sullian ordered.

“Sir!” another soldier shouted. “It’s running toward the miners’ camp!”

“After it!”

The scene vanished, and Amelie was in the mists, rushing forward. When they cleared, she was back in the captain’s tent, looking down at his green-tinged face. Jaromir sat on one side of her, still holding Keegan down, and Céline stood on her other side toward the end of the bed.

The first emotion to hit her was anger as she realized what her last vision had meant.

“Amelie,” Jaromir said, as he let go of Keegan. “What did you see?”

Jaromir had never seen Amelie come out of a reading so angry.

“It’s not him!” she spat. “Whoever is doing this to the soldiers, it isn’t him.”

Keegan was staring up at her with wide, bloodshot eyes, as if he feared what she was about to say.

“He gambled away his men’s payroll,” she rushed on, “and that’s how he ended up here.”

“Gambled away . . . ?” Jaromir had never heard of such a thing.

“But the final memory I saw was of the first soldier who turned . . . at least I think it was the first soldier.” She jammed a finger in the air toward Keegan. “He was stunned, confused. He didn’t have any idea what was happening.” Her chin dropped. “It’s not him.”

“Of course it’s not me,” Keegan croaked. “You thought it was?”

Jaromir fought to absorb everything Amelie was saying, but her agitation and clear disappointment bothered him the most. Did she want Keegan to be guilty?

Céline stepped closer, putting her hand on Amelie’s shoulder.

“Let’s go someplace and talk alone,” Céline said quietly.

Amelie didn’t rise. She leaned forward, putting her face directly into Keegan’s. “I know who poisoned you,” she bit off.

“What?” Jaromir cut in, unable to escape the feeling that he was rapidly being left behind in this exchange.

Amelie ignored him and continued speaking directly to Keegan. “It’s someone who cares for Mariah, but it could be anyone. It could be one of the Móndyalítko. It could be one of your soldiers or a miner who’s fallen in love with her. It could be anyone. I’ve stopped them for now, by promising I’d speak to you and tell you to leave Mariah alone. Keep your distance, and you’ll be fine. But if you ever, ever touch her again or you threaten to banish her and her sister, you won’t live through the night. Do you understand?”

Keegan’s eyes were locked on her face, and his breaths were shallow.

Without waiting for an answer, Amelie stood up and walked out of the tent. Céline and Jaromir looked at each other for a second or two, and then Céline turned to run after her sister.

“No,” Jaromir ordered, rising to his feet. “You stay here with him. I’ll go.”

Céline’s brow wrinkled uncertainly. “Lieutenant?”

He raised one palm in the air. “I’ll be patient, but I need to talk to her. You stay here.”

Turning, he strode out of the tent after Amelie. Upon emerging, he looked both ways, just in time to see her disappearing into the forest around the encampment. He followed and caught up quickly, finding her leaning over with one hand against a tree. He’d known she disliked Captain Keegan, but he’d had no idea how much. It would not do for her to want any specific person to be guilty. They were here to learn the truth.

“Amelie,” he said softly.

She whirled at the sound of his voice and seemed genuinely surprised to see him standing there. Did she think he was just going to let this go?

“Who poisoned Keegan?” he asked.

It had occurred to him for an instant that she’d been bluffing back in the tent, telling Keegan a lie to keep him away from Mariah. But then Jaromir realized Amelie wasn’t capable of that level of deception—Céline, yes, but not Amelie.

She watched him approach.

“Who?” he repeated.

“I can’t tell you.”

Despite his promise to Céline, he felt his temper rising. “Amelie! I’m in charge of both protecting you and solving this situation for Prince Anton. If there’s a poisoner in the camp, I need to know who it is.”

“It’s not my secret to tell. And it has nothing to do with these soldiers turning into wolves. I can swear on that. It’s over, and it won’t happen again.”

His eyes searched her face. In all his life, though he’d seen women more beautiful than Amelie, he’d never known anyone so pretty. Her sweet, pale face, silky black hair, and lavender eyes pulled at him every time he looked at her. She might be prickly on the outside, but he knew this was a shell she’d created for her own protection.

In addition, she made him think of home, of Castle Sèone. He missed it, and she was the only thing here that felt familiar.

Leaning in close enough that he could see flecks of yellow in her irises, he said, “Tell me who it is. I’m asking you.” Given his gentle manner and that he’d asked instead of ordered, he fully expected her to give him a name.

She shook her head.

For a second, he couldn’t speak, and his anger rose again. “This isn’t a game! You tell me who it is right now, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” she demanded. “What do you think you’re going to do, Jaromir?”

Her eyes flashed and she was breathing hard, and without thinking, he grabbed the back of her head and pressed his mouth over hers. He expected her to shove him away, but to his endless wonder, one of her hands gripped his sleeve, and then she was kissing him.

Amelie almost couldn’t believe what Jaromir’s mouth felt like as it moved against hers. She’d never kissed a man before, and whatever she’d expected, this wasn’t it. She could feel power flowing from him, from the strength in his jaw and the strength in his arms, but he wasn’t hurting her. The kiss felt . . . good. She gripped his sleeve, lost in the moment, and moved her mouth against his, drinking him in.

Pressing her against the tree, he slipped his tongue between her teeth, and she almost gasped. He pulled away slightly.

“Amelie,” he whispered.

Then he was kissing her again, and she didn’t want him to stop. She’d never felt anything like this. She put her other hand against his chest, and he moved one hand to her waist as he kissed her more deeply.

And then . . . without warning, a flash appeared in her mind of his last mistress, a lovely, haughty, wealthy young woman named Bridgette. Amelie had learned through the other soldiers that Bridgette was never allowed to visit Jaromir’s apartments until she was sent for—which was always the arrangement with Jaromir’s mistresses. For about six months, Bridgette had slept in his bed whenever he sent for her, and when he got tired of her, he’d cast her aside like baggage and never once looked back.

For the span of another breath, Amelie clung to the sleeve of his shirt and kissed him with force. But she knew she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t become another one of his obedient mistresses until he got bored.

Putting the flat of her hand on his chest, she pushed. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

“No,” she said raggedly.

At first she couldn’t move his body, and she pushed harder, slipping out of his grip and backing away. “No,” she repeated.

His expression was lost, and he took a stumbling step after her. “Amelie?”

Turning, she ran.

Sitting by Keegan’s beside, Céline couldn’t help feeling relieved when the captain fell back to sleep. They’d not spoken after Amelie and Jaromir left, but she’d fed him water and sponged his face, and finally he’d closed his eyes, giving her time to think.

She was curious to learn more about what Amelie had seen in his memories, but she had greater worries at the moment. They were no closer to solving the situation here than they’d been on the day they’d arrived, and Jaromir and Amelie appeared to be losing their ability to work together.

Céline felt guilty for having allowed Jaromir to be the one to go after Amelie . . . but those two did need to talk to each other. They needed to close the growing gap between them. Getting to the bottom of the horrors taking place in this camp was going require cooperation and collaboration among the three of them.

Sitting there by Keegan’s bed, Céline hoped Jaromir would not be so proud, and Amelie would not let her temper get the best of her . . . and that a few moments alone might give them both a chance to reach out to the other.

Footsteps sounded from behind her, and she turned her head just in time to see Jaromir coming around a hanging tapestry. Right away, at the sight of his face, her hopes were dashed.

“What happened?” she asked.

She didn’t think she’d ever seen him fighting so hard to keep control of himself, but he ignored her question and was clearly struggling to keep his voice steady.

“I’ve taken command of the camp,” he said, “and now I’m giving the orders.” His voice broke slightly. “Céline . . . we have to solve this. We need to end this and go home.”

She wondered if he’d ever forgive her for having seen him in this moment of weakness.

“What do you want to do?” she asked quietly.

“Exactly what we did back in Sèone. I’ll organize the soldiers, and you start reading. Get me the name of the next victim, and I’ll take it from there.”

She closed her eyes briefly, thankful that she and Amelie were about to be given a free hand.

“You wish me to look for the next victim?” she asked. “Might it not be better to have Amelie start reading pasts and see if she can’t find out who’s doing this?”

“How many people can you or she read at a stretch before you tire?”

“Six, maybe seven. Then we need to rest.”

“Anyone here could be guilty. There are roughly forty soldiers and over two hundred people in the mining camp. Since only the soldiers are transforming, you can peg the next victim more quickly by reading only them. Once you give me a name, I have a few ideas.” He was beginning to sound more like himself now. “Besides, the men are on edge, and you’re much better at easing that, and you have just as much chance of hitting on something important while reading a future as Amelie does a past.”

Céline hoped Jaromir was not trying to avoid working with Amelie. She glanced down at Keegan’s sleeping form. “The captain may have been right about one thing. If I name a soldier, I’ll be putting him in danger from the others. We’ll have to keep it very quiet.”

Shaking his head, Jaromir said. “No, as soon as you read the next victim, I want you to speak up—loud enough that everybody knows who it is.”

She wavered, wondering what he had in mind. “But do you promise that you won’t use anyone I name as bait . . . like you did the last time?”

“Trust me.”