An hour later, their carriage stopped at the deBires’ place. Greg stared out of the window, but didn’t move until Nathan nudged him with the wooden end of his walking spear—mostly, it was the movement of the silver end that made Greg jump. Slowly, he climbed down onto the street and looked up at the house he had visited so many times.

One of the windows was boarded up and there was no light visible in the others. All the curtains were drawn closed.

“Mr. Higgins, are you sure they are here?” Greg asked, looking over his shoulder. The house didn’t look lived in.

Nathan just strolled past him and knocked on the door with his spear. At the sound of wood on wood, a group of pigeons took off. Greg almost chased after them, but Nathan grabbed his sleeve.

“Steady, little brother. Let’s not scare the good folks.”

Greg shook himself, freeing his arm in the same motion. It was a mild spring night, and there were a lot of people out and about, for all this was a residential street.

The door in front of them creaked open a little, and a servant peaked at them. Not the footman Greg was used to, but an older woman, with a grim face.

“The lady of the house is not receiving visitors,” she informed them sternly.

“How about Gustave?” Nathan asked, unperturbed. “Please let him know that Gregory Feleke is here to see him.”

The woman eyed them up and down. “Wait here,” she said, and then closed the door in their faces.

“Huh,” Nathan muttered. “I wonder what happened here.”

Greg didn’t really care. His heart was beating painfully fast. What was he supposed to say if Gustave did—the door opened again, just an inch wide. Gustave was peering at them. Greg saw him blanch. The door jerked, but didn’t quite close. Then it opened another inch.

“No way,” Gustave hissed. “How’d you get into the city? I thought they test for—and it’s almost full moon, too!”

“You hadn’t heard?” Nathan asked. “David is in charge of it all. Duke Desmerais himself gave his permission.”

“To let werewolves into the city?”

“Sixteen of them, yes,” Nathan replied. “Okay, five are just babies. But anyway. We’re going to the theatre. Want to come?”

The question surprised Gustave so much he pushed the door open to gape at Nathan. He stared even more when Mr. Higgins leaned out of the coach.

“Gustave, there you are,” the teacher said. “Are you with us? We’re going to catch a play at the Royal, the new one by Dogalla. I assure you it’s quite safe.”

“Mr. Higgins?”

Greg almost smiled at seeing Gustave so gobsmacked. Except that this was his best friend. Too terrified to stop outside and greet him.

If Greg had come here alone, Gustave would have smashed the door in his face, no doubt about it. But now he wavered, staring at their mismatched group with wide eyes.

“Hello, Gustave,” Greg said softly, wishing he knew what to say. “I won’t bite” probably wouldn’t help.

He hated the way Gustave stared at him, hated the way his friend’s hands clutched the door.

And no wonder Gustave was scared. They should have done this on new moon. Greg could barely think straight.

“Hello, Greg,” Gustave replied weakly. Then he stared at Mr. Higgins again. At Nathan, armed with silver. Finally at Thoko and Andrew, half hidden behind the teacher in the door, but peering out of the coach, curious.

“All right,” he finally said. “Give me a few minutes, I need to let my mother know.”

The door closed again. The horses in front danced a little, but the driver seemed perfectly calm, even though he must have heard the whole conversation. Greg walked a few steps away, staring up at him.

“Skittish, that fellow, huh?”

Greg looked away, a bit embarrassed at having been caught staring. Still, he asked: “Why aren’t you scared?”

It sounded snippish, accusatory, even in his own ears, but the driver was unperturbed. “I trust in Lord David. Your brother, if I’m not mistaken. Been driving him for months now. A fine lord. Knows what’s what when it comes to werewolves.”

He rearranged the reins in his hands and bowed down to Greg. “Antonio’s the name.”

“Greg Feleke.”

“I heard. Heard you saved that railway camp at the Savre last month, too.”

“I—well, I brought the werewolves that did.”

“Killed a Rot queen. Your brother explained about those. Gives a man hope for the war. I wouldn’t want to imagine what the Valoise would do with Loegrion, if it wasn’t for your kind.”

Your kind. There it was. A different kind, not human. That was him today. He was used to looking different, to stand out a bit, even in Deva, and sometimes people would stare at him. But now the difference was more than skin deep. People were scared.

And he hated it.

But before he could say anything more, or possibly decide to cancel the whole outing, the door opened again. Gustve stepped outside, a small step, then he paused again to stare at Greg, Mr. Higgins, Nathan. Then another step. The silence was heavy. Greg had no idea what to say, and Gustave obviously felt the same.

Nathan never worried about such things. “Well, hurry up. All aboard, please. It would be a tragedy if we missed the show, I’m sure. Of course, we could just go to the pub straight away.”

“No, Nathan,” Andrew sighed. Greg heard the smile in his voice, but didn’t look at his brother’s face. He was watching Gustave as he climbed into the coach. Nathan followed, and Greg was last, squeezing in between Thoko and the wall. The wolf growled at the tight fit. Greg pushed it back, managed a smile.

Gustave was still staring at him. “How long have you been in the city?”

“We just arrived today,” Greg said.

“I see. Will we be meeting the other werewolves you mentioned?” Gustave didn’t quite manage to sound as if there was just idle curiosity behind the question.

“They’re at Windish,” Andrew explained. “To guard Desmarais’s daughert until the child is born.”

“And you’re here to do, what, exactly? I thought you were supposed to guard the coast and the railway?”

“The line to Mannin is nearly done, and they have all the werewolves they need. There are not enough men left to work on the other lines, so David wanted us here in case there’s an emergency somewhere.”

“But he didn’t send you to Windish.”

“Why would he?” Nathan asked before Greg could. “Greg came home with us. That’s all.”

Gustave visibly mulled that over. He didn’t ask about danger, or if it was safe to have Greg around. Nor did he point out the nepotism of the situation. Mr. Higgins directed the conversation back to the evening’s planned entertainment.

Soon, Andrew went to get tickets. When they took their seats, Greg leaned back in his, staring up at the curtain that was still closed. All around him, people were looking in a different direction, up at the private booth where Lane and David were just taking their places.

“Such a handsome lord,” a voice whispered in the row behind.

“Of course he is, how else do you think a baron’s son caught a countess’s fancy?”

“So romantic.”

Other people were less taken. “I hear they’ve been travelling together for months hunting werewolves. Sharing a tent!”

Greg grinned wider. He didn’t turn to look up or at the people whispering. But he was grateful. Glad to be back. Glad to feel the soft, slightly worn velvet of the seats and glad that nobody looked twice at him. Except for Gustave, two seats over, who was clearly still wary of him and kept glancing over.

“Who would have thought that David of all people would ever catch the attention of the masses,” Nathan muttered.

Greg nodded, but he thought that probably added to the allure. Because David was an outsider in a way that Greg or Andrew or their parents hadn’t been. David had chosen the wilderness over High Society, had stopped appearing at court or balls or the horse races where Loegrion’s rich, powerful and beautiful gathered when he had been nineteen. He had been gone for a full decade, cavorting with werewolves, the Rot and sun only knew what sort of other monsters, only to reappear at a debutantes ball and win the favour of one of the more noticeable bachelorettes in the country. Most recently, he had nearly killed one of the better-liked counts in a duel. Had a new scar to show for it, too.

Mr. Higgins was unimpressed. “One can only marvel at the priorities of our citizenship.”

“Ah, come on. It’s fun. You have to admit, David and Lane, that’s a good story.” Nathan crunched on some salted nuts and offered Greg the bag. “Everybody needs a night off. Can’t talk about war and politics all the time.”

“Or werewolves,” Thoko said softly.

“You don’t mind the invasion into your brother’s private life?” Mr. Higgins asked.

Nathan shrugged. “Why? David and Lane made the choice to announce their courtship publicly. They didn’t have to do it at the Flower Dance.”

“They sort of did have to,” Andrew pointed out. In the hubbub all around, Greg had to strain to hear him. “It would have been an even bigger scandal if they had tried to keep it quiet.”

Greg frowned. Wasn’t the whole courtship just for show, anyway?

But Mr. Higgins and Gustave nodded in agreement, and Greg realised that his brothers were just continuing the ruse. Andrew and Nathan argued quietly, until the lights dimmed. The monster in his head growled eagerly, but Greg pushed it back. He could still feel Gustave’s gaze on himself when the first actor stepped on stage, but as the play unfolded, he forgot about that.

It was a great story, for all that Mr. Higgins opined it pandered too much to Dukes Desmarais and Stuart. It followed the journey of a chivalrous Loegrian knight with a beautiful princess at his side, who set out to defeat a terrible dragon with the aid of a wild and reclusive “forest people.” Greg wondered if Mr. Higgins hadn’t missed something rather obvious—sure, the knight was said to be from Mannin, and his shield showed a white castle, like the home of Duke Desmarais. But the story itself? It might just as well be David and Lane.

He kept his mouth shut while they filed out of the big hall after standing ovations. It was hard enough not to take a bite from the idiots in front of him, who stopped to have a conversation in the middle of the overfill hallway. There was silver all around, making his skin crawl. The wolf was equally excited at and offended by the hapless sheep crowding him from all sides. His teeth itched and one pressed into his lips. It was hard to force it back into its human shape.

Greg did curse at Nathan for dragging them into the first pub across from the theatre.

“Should have walked further,” Andrew agreed.

“Just follow me,” Nathan replied, already pushing forwards through the bar, using his walking spear liberally to make room for himself. People took one look at the crossbow at his back and the spear and hurried to give him all the space he demanded. Even a table.

“See, no problem. Have a seat!”

Andrew sighed and both Gustave and Mr. Higgins looked uneasy. So Greg sat down. Having the wall behind his back made the voices all around easier to bear. The appearance of food calmed the monster further. Greg just listened in while Thoko, Andrew, and Mr. Higgins discussed the play. Nathan was sulking because Andrew had put his foot down and forbidden him from challenging the other patrons in Greg’s name to a drinking contest. Greg silently agreed that it probably wasn't a good idea to draw that kind of attention. Not here in Deva, not yet.

Gustave watched him still, weary. Maybe he thought it would be rude to comment on the rum Greg was putting away.

“Werewolf healing,” Greg explained when Nathan pushed a fresh glass in his direction.

Gustave nodded slowly. “You’ve changed,” he said. “But I suppose we all have. I think I’d like to see it if you ever do have that drinking contest.”