I stared at the familiar necklaces. The Warlord also realized they were now around his neck, and he yanked them off, dragging them over his head. His body was instantly covered in an orange shimmer with flecks of green. My heart dropped at the familiar sight, but even as I took a step back, a deep growl made me freeze.

The blonde werewolf shook its head. It – no, he – staggered a few steps before finding his balance on his hind feet. The Warlord paused when he noticed his fur-covered arms, and he twisted them this way and that. His lips pulled back in a delighted grin, exposing sharp teeth.

Narrowing his eyes in thought, he put the necklaces back on, heralding another shimmer of lights before he once more stood in his human form. His booming laugh made my blood run cold.

But the necklace was now around his neck. Not Shane's.

"Shane!"

His eyes met mine, and he threw himself against the chains as green lightning danced across his skin. With the grating of rock gravel, the anchor holding the chains came free. A flash of pure green blurred Shane's form for a mere heartbeat before a brown werewolf bared his teeth in a silent snarl. The chains had vanished.

Having seen the chains break free, the Warlord had already pulled the necklaces off. The two werewolves bared their teeth at each other. Shane dropped to all fours and advanced steadily toward us.

His foe stumbled, not accustomed to his new balance, and likewise dropped to four feet. I carefully edged away from the blonde werewolf, hoping he was sufficiently distracted with his new body and the adversary at hand. I quickly glanced at the watchdogs, who still blocked the only exit. They were wisely staying back as the powerful werewolves faced off against one another.

Shane's thundering snarl and charge reclaimed my attention in time to see the Warlord snatch his sword from the floor and point it at me. Shane slid to a stop, his claws carving furrows in the carpet that exposed the stone below. His ears were pinned flat against his head as every hair stood completely on end as he glared at the Warlord in a murderous rage.

The tent fabric glowed softly as the morning sun hit it.

"The sun will rise again," I murmured, hoping beyond hope that I knew what was coming.

Guttural growls and huffs came from the blonde wolf, who then growled in frustration.

I kept staring at the tent wall and ignored the nearby sword, knowing deep down the Warlord wouldn't kill the only thing keeping the more experienced werewolf at bay.

Realizing the same thing and knowing what I was waiting for, Shane taunted the Warlord to buy us time. "What? Wolf got your tongue?"

A snarl was his first reply. More garbled growls followed as the Warlord tried to make his demands. Shane backed up a reluctant step, possibly erring on the side of caution, but also keeping an eye on the glow advancing along the fabric.

Still pointing the sword at me, the Warlord stood on his hind feet. In doing so, his ears touched the faint sunbeam shining through the tent wall.

With a strangled cry, the Warlord went into convulsions I instantly recognized. I hastily shuffled back as Shane leapt forward, shoulder-checking the thrashing werewolf away from me. The sword dropped harmlessly to the ground with a resounding clang.

Standing between us, Shane backed up, pushing me away from the shrinking ball of orange lightning. It slowly stilled, and the lightning cleared. The mummified wolf laying on the ground was identical to the one I'd carried in my backpack, except that the fur tufts were blonde, and two necklaces hung inside the ribcage.

Then I realized Shane was still in werewolf form despite the motes of light dancing across his shoulders. I didn't have time to think about this latest surprise before motion by the tent flap had him spinning to face the two watchdogs with a low snarl.

The movement had been them going down to one knee with bowed heads.

"Our most profound apologies, Sorceress," my primary watchdog said. "We didn't recognize you for what you were. With our previous employer incapacitated, we offer you our services to atone for our mistake and actions."

I narrowed my eyes as I thought quickly. It was a huge case of mistaken identity – or perhaps just a bid at survival in the face of powerful magic – but I doubted they were joking. Not when a single shout would have had the entire war camp up in arms. And after having a hand in my capture, if I had been an irate sorceress whose cover was blown, they'd be wise to redeem themselves and avoid a curse.

My trader upbringing was quick to capitalize on the chance to escape. With one hand on Shane's side to keep him from attacking them or pushing me back, I walked up beside him.

"I need a mount and enough supplies to get over the mountains, and I'd rather not have any more spells flying around. As it is, the Warlord won't be going anywhere anytime soon, and if anyone can reassemble those chains, they're more skilled than I am." My voice took on the slight cadence of the nobles who'd been in my etiquette classes, pretending my earlier voice had been just as much of a ruse as theirs had been.

Both men lifted their heads, and after a brief glance at the dried-out mummified wolf and pile of disconnected chain links, they stood up.

"We brought your mule along in case she was needed. We'll bring her here. If your companion is willing to return to his human shape, we can disguise him as a soldier. Not many will question us."

"I'm not shifting," Shane growled, reminding me about the chains binding his human form.

The man pursed his lips, then told his companion, "Bring the wagon as well. We'll pretend the werewolf got loose, and we're taking the lady to the bridge in an attempt to lure him into the pitfall traps there. It won't occur to them to check inside the wagon." He turned back to us. "That's the best we can do on short notice."

"Very well," I said. The phrase was one I'd heard far too often from highborn ladies at my trading booth, and it rolled off my tongue in perfect mimicry. A growl rumbled from Shane's chest, but he didn't object to the new plan or my acceptance of it. Perhaps he knew it was our only current option if he wanted to remain in his current form.

The silent watchdog slipped out the tent flap while the talkative one remained. He kept a watchful eye on the large werewolf by my side as he walked over to the pile of chain links and scuffed his foot through it, sending links rolling in several directions.

When he turned his attention to the mummified wolf, I quietly said, "I advise against touching him. He's likely unaware, but that's not a guarantee."

Fur moved under my hand as Shane stepped forward, glaring at the mummy. "I ought to crush his head."

There was just something about the way the necklaces glimmered inside the rib cage that made me uneasy. They were magic – cursed magic – and they had somehow appeared around the Warlord's neck.

A deep growl rumbled through Shane's chest as he shook his head hard. "As much as I'd love shattering his bones, the curse is partially tied to those necklaces, and I'm not about to meddle with that sort of magic."

"You're going to leave the necklaces?" I murmured in confusion, hoping my words were too soft for the watchdog.

He gave the silver jewelry a long look. "Yes."

My immediate reaction was to protest – Shane needed his necklace to shift back to his human form, and I simply couldn't see him giving them up. We'd probably never get another chance to reclaim them. As hard as it was to keep my silence, I took a deep breath and decided to trust him.

Shane shook his fur out and told the watchdog, "I advise you or someone else to burn that thing. Fire will keep the magic from jumping. Then use sticks to move the necklaces from the ashes and bury them. Preferably in a place where they won't be found."

The watchdog's gaze moved to me, as if doublechecking my agreement with the instructions. As tempting as it was to burn the Warlord now and eliminate the person who wanted us dead, there was a chance the smoke would attract unwelcome attention when our top priority was simply getting out of this camp. Even a deranged werewolf Warlord wouldn't pick a fight with the southern kings, so we simply had to get over the last few mountains.

Leaning into my sorceress act, I added, "The necklaces have been the focal points of too many spells, and they were starting to act rather... unpredictably. You saw how the chain release spell kept going off without the proper trigger."

He frowned at that reminder. "Indeed... Do you plan to keep us with you once you're out of the mountains or send us back?"

"As soon as we're past the soldiers, you can do whatever you like as long as you don't follow us. I appreciate the offer, but I prefer to avoid large escorts."

"Then we will return to maintain our cover. We shall ensure the... corpse is taken care of in the proper manner." He moved over to a wooden chest and opened it, pulling out a set of manacles. "It would be best if you rode with me like before. It will raise the least suspicion. I don't know where the keys are, but if you pull your sleeves down and tuck the cuffs inside, the soldiers will assume you're chained."

With Shane shadowing me, I walked over and took one of the cuffs from him. "Sheesh. Did these things come out of the town gallows?" I shook my head. "Don't answer that. Will we be riding beside the wagon?"

"Yes."

With a heavy sigh, I closed the cuff around my wrist, holding out my hand for the other one. "Someone is bound to notice if we just pretend."

A hint of surprise – and wariness – crossed his expression as he handed over the second cuff, which I secured around my other wrist. A growl rumbled through the air as Shane glared daggers at the manacles, probably rehearsing a scathing lecture for when we were alone.

"How long until your friend returns?" I asked.

"It may take some time for him to arrange things without rousing suspicion."

I nodded and crossed my arms as best I could with the shackles around my wrists. My gaze trailed back to the mummified wolf that snarled silently at the tent ceiling.

"Shall we stick him in the chest so others don't stumble across him accidentally?" I suggested.

The man promptly went to the table of torture tools and grabbed a large pair of tongs. He frowned at the mummy as he picked it up with the iron tool and dropped it into the chest, immediately closing the lid.

"It's best to burn it before sunset, lest the curse grow more unstable," I told him quietly.

He nodded slowly. "This chest is known to contain tools for torture. The portable forge is in the camp to the north, so it will not be hard to claim that we were instructed to take it there and make specific alterations to some."

My eyes strayed to the table that I refused to go closer to. Shane glared at the iron implements. He took two steps to the side, coincidentally blocking my view of the items.