Thank goodness the weather didn’t last and the fog dissipated as soon as the sun rose. By the time David climbed into Antonio’s carriage, stifling a yawn, the smell had mostly vanished, too. It was a little later than he would have usually gotten to work, but he thought he had earned it. Greg was still asleep after patrolling both shores of the inner city until the morning hours.

David thought it had helped to have the river guards meet Greg, even if they'd have to do it again some night when he could safely transform.

But merciful sun, he was tired. His legs were heavy, his hands stiff, and his head felt as if the fog hadn’t dissipated in the sun but instead wormed into his brain. A few years ago, David wouldn’t have batted an eye on pulling an all-nighter and then getting up after three hours of sleep for another day. He could still do it, but he hated the feeling.

With full moon over, he had some hopes that today would be quiet. Greg would be staying in, introducing Gustave to his daughters sometimes in the afternoon, and the rest of the werewolves were settling in, too. Maybe he’d even get in an hour of sword practice without being interrupted.

He did a quick round of the cells, checking on the newest group of werewolves, distributing newspapers and some stationary. Grooch had a stack of orders for him to sign and a bunch of complaints about the issue of the werewolves in the city to ignore. He fielded one interview and General Clairmont dropped by for a chat, but all in all, it was a quiet day.

So of course that meant that George Louis walked up to his office just as he left with his sword. The duke had an entourage, so David couldn’t even get uppity at him. Two male and a female courtier followed him, and pressed to his father’s side, Prince George.

He really should stop getting his hopes up.

“Your Highness,” David greeted with a sweeping bow. “My prince. How can I be of service?”

At least the duke didn’t pretend that he was here merely by accident.

“George and I were hoping to join you at the fencing hall,” George Louis said.

At those words, the lady following him gasped dramatically. “Will we see another display of His Lordships skills?”

“Unlikely” George Louis replied. “Lord Feleke has been teaching my son in Eoforwic. I was simply hoping he would be willing to continue the lessons.”

David smoothly stepped aside. “Lead the way, Your Highness.”

He should have specified where George Louis should lead the way to. The bachelors in the main fencing hall glared at him while the ladies batted their fans at the duke’s entrance excitedly. Some of them likely still had hopes that the duke might choose them as his queen.

David pretended not to notice the excitement all around him. He was getting good at that. Prince George appeared to have some practice, too.

“Do you think I have mastered the basics by now?” he asked while warming up, as if it was just the two of them.

“We shall see,” David replied.

He tried to remember what they had worked on during their few lessons in Eoforwic. It seemed like it had been ages ago, but it was less than a year.

Before Oldstone Castle.

George was still a pale and rather thin boy. Small for his age, too. His arms looked like they would barely be able to lift the foil, but he was deceptively quick. Undeniably, he had worked hard since they had trained together in Eoforwic. He was also eager to impress with his improvement, and visibly preened when David complimented his progress.

David really wished he hadn’t been as tired. He strained to keep one ear out to try and figure out what George Louis’s game was here, but all he heard was a lady enviously telling her friend how lucky Countess deLande was to snatch a man who wouldn’t need to rely on tutors to educate his own son.

Maybe he and Lane would adopt.

And where in the five frozen hells had that thought come from?

As if to remind him that he wasn’t on top of his game, Prince George scored a hit against his arm and asked: “Have you been out hunting werewolves again, Lord Feleke?”

David rubbed his wrist. “Quite the contrary, Your Highness, I was up all night patrolling the shores of the Savre with my brother, the werewolf.”

The prince drooped his head. “I still haven’t met a real one,” he grumbled.

“I’m sure it won’t be much longer now,” David sighed. “Greg will come into the palace soon, I’m sure.”

He remembered too late that the boy had probably been told “soon” a lot in the past year.

“Father should marry again,” the prince grumbled darkly. “It’s no fun, being the only heir. Everyone is always so damn careful.”

“I am fairly certain that your father would be careful with your life if you had siblings, too.”

“Your father wasn’t.”

Someone in the audience gasped, and someone else sniffed “how rude.”

“Even if it’s true,” another voice opined. David didn’t bother looking around to see who it was.

The prince ducked his head and quickly muttered: “I apologise. I shouldn’t have said that, Your Lordship.”

“It’s quite alright, Your Highness,” David said aloud. “It’s a common mistake at court. My father did not want me to go hunting on my own, much less did he force me to. It was simply a necessity at the time. In fact, the first time I went, I ran away, stealing my father's crossbow.”

Let them add that to the rumours about him. At least this bit was true.

They spent over an hour at the training hall, until George Louis had accomplished whatever he had dragged them here for, or at least had decided that they had kept up the ruse long enough. Or maybe he had really wanted the prince to have some lessons with him?

But surely, there were more experts at the palace? People who had made it their life’s work to teach young hopefuls? As much pride as he had in his skills, he wasn’t a teacher.

“I was hoping to ask you for a favour,” George Louis said as soon as they were as alone as one could hope to be in the palace.

David yawned. “Colour me surprised.”

George Louis ignored his comment. “I was hoping you would allow my son and I to accompany you to Windish on your next visit. Or perhaps even bring the lady werewolf here into the palace.”

“Morgulon’s here in the city,” David replied, before his brain caught up with what George Louis was saying. He rubbed his forehead. “You mean the other lady werewolf?”

“I mean the other lady werewolf.”

“If you think that’s a good idea, sure. I’ve been introducing Greg to the city guard last night. I’ll be glad to bring a werewolf or two into the palace. Are you certain you want word to get out about what happened, though?”

“I was given to understand by Duke Desmarais that she spends most of her time in her wolf-shape.”

“That she does. And I can ask her to appear like that, but she might have her own opinion on the matter.”

Not that he did think it likely that Annabelle would want to enter the palace looking human. Still. She might want to talk to her son.

“Perhaps it would help if you talked to her in private first,” David went on. “Clear the air, as it were. I will be going to Windish tomorrow, and the day after, or perhaps on half moon, we can bring a delegation here into the palace.”

“I—will defer to your expertise on the matter.” George Louis visibly shuddered. “When will you be leaving for Windish tomorrow?”

***

Since the poisoning of Count Rover, George Louis never went anywhere outside the palace without an entourage. David hadn't quite appreciated how annoying this was until he spotted the dozen guards surrounding the duke at the railway station the next morning.

“She won’t speak to you like this,” he warned.

“I’ll be trusting in your skills when it comes to the werewolves,” George Louis replied. “But better to take precautions.”

Taking precautions meant that they had a whole waggon of their own, too. Their compartment was the middle one, with the guards filling the two adjacent ones. It left them free to talk in a resemblance of privacy, but not so private that George Louis tried more than a couple of double entendres which David pretended not to notice.

He was getting good at that, too.

At Windish, they had to greet Duke Desmarais’s family and make nice for a bit. The princess insisted they stay long enough for a cup of tea—to David's disappointment, even the viceroy’s family had either no coffee left or wasn’t serving it for such a minor occasion.

At least they left the guards behind as they left the manor. George Louis apparently felt safe enough on Desmarais’s lands with only David at his side.

To get to the house where the werewolves had been put up, they had to cross the whole estates, past the stables and workshops and farmhouses, the pastures and fields, up the hill above the little stream that made the lands fertile. As soon as they passed the last house, David could spot the werewolves. First one, then three, then the whole pack was flanking the path. They stayed far enough away that it wouldn’t have been an easy shot, but they watched with interest.

It was probably a relief for them to have distraction, even if that distraction was him. What else was there for the werewolves to do out here? At best, they patrolled the area, but that was hardly interesting. Since they were in the middle of the heartlands, their radius of movement was limited to the lands Desmarais’s guards secured against unlicensed hunters.

David clearly had better eyes than George Louis. They were halfway up the hill to the house when the duke's head snapped around and he stopped dead in his tracks. "Are they—is the whole pack watching us?"

“Relax,” David said quietly. “It’ll be fine.”

“I wish I shared your optimism. Didn’t you say it’s dangerous to deal with multiple werewolves on your own? Shouldn’t you have a team of hunters on stand-by, in case the pack changes their minds about helping us?”

David looked around at the wide-open country-side, rubbing his neck. “You sure picked a great moment to panic about this.”

He wondered if the wolves had heard the duke. Would it help to remind them that they were as scary for most humans as he was to them?

“Funny," George Louis growled. "Have you ever seen a werewolf jump out of the forest and rip someone you know out of the saddle in front of your very eyes?”

“Really, George?” David frowned, but the question had apparently been a serious one. “Yes, I have. More than a dozen times. I lost a good friend at the hunt when Greg got bitten.”

“Then how? How do you face them, knowing what they are? What they do? How do you talk to them like they’re real people?”

David thought he saw the werewolves bristle. “The same way they talk to me,” he said quietly. “Between my fourteenth birthday and the day we realised that Greg had been turned, I’ve been involved in killing a werewolf twice every three months. More, if you count those hunters who got bitten in front of my eyes, who begged me to let them go. For fifteen years, nearly any werewolf I came across was a dead werewolf. You’ve seen one attack once. They’ve seen me kill a hundred times. Of the two of us, you have far less to fear from them.”

George Louis stared down at his feet. “You must think I’m such a coward.”

What a weird thing to take away from his words.

“By that standard, everyone would be a coward,” David pointed out. “I was scared, too, when I went after the two who attacked the railway, before Oldstone Castle.”

“You hid that well.”

David shrugged. “We all have to play our role, don’t we?”

George Louis looked up at him, then nodded slowly. “Right.” He rubbed his hands nervously. “Right. Do you think they’ve seen us?”

David looked back towards the pack, still watching them from the distance. “I’d reckon they did.”

“Then we probably shouldn’t keep them waiting,” George Louis said, but still didn’t move.

David nodded and walked ahead. The werewolves jogged ahead towards their home. After a couple of steps, he heard the duke move, too.