Greg’s efforts bought mother and son ten minutes at best. He hoped they made the most of the time. Standing under the pavilion's gas lamps, he heard people coming for them before he saw them. Shoes crunching on the gravel and voices in the dark. Duke George Louis was snarling: “So Mithras help me, if you’re running me in circles, David, I will have you stand in front of a wall.”

David’s voice followed promptly. “I’m not running you in circles. Also, I can see Greg, so I reckon we’ve found them.”

The steps quickened, and Greg felt the wave of cold hit him like an avalanche as the coward approached. It made his teeth ache and his heart beat faster. The wolf growled in the back of his head and he sensed Annabelle’s frustration in answer.

“I’ll remember the bit about the wall, though,” David added, and then Greg could see the two of them, stepping out of the shadows into the halo of light around the pavilion. David was walking in front, raising his hand in a brief greeting, the duke following on his heel. George Louis’s face was thrown into stark relief by the lamplight, twisted further by the snarl on his lips.

Just what had David ever seen in that jerk?

George Louis kept marching forwards, pointing an accusatory finger at him. For a second, Greg wondered if the duke would be brave enough to hit him. And what he’d do if that happened.

“You!” Duke Stuard snapped at him, stopping abruptly. “Werewolf! Are they in there?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” His hands clenched into fists as he fought not to growl the title at him.

“You left my son alone with her? I swear, if she so much as upset him—”

“Her? Upset him?” Greg wasn’t sure if it was just his own fury coursing through his veins, or Annabelle’s, too. For once, he didn’t care. The duke had treated him like an animal long enough, had gone over too many bodies to accuse them—

“After you lied to him for years?” Greg snapped. “Told him she was dead? I would be worried about him if he wasn’t upset after that, Your Highness.”

“And what would you know about raising a child?” the duke hissed. “A human child at that?”

“I was a human child, until a couple of years ago,” Greg replied. In the back of his mind the monster roared. “And it seems I remember it better than you do. No child enjoys being left in the dark about their own family. Let alone being lied to about their mother’s fate.”

Maybe he sensed it, or maybe the anger was written so clearly onto his face. In any case, David stepped between them, interrupting them:

“And no father enjoys being lectured on how to raise his son, Greg. George Louis, I need to get back to the party, so let’s get this over with. Unless you want to talk to them without me.”

The duke shuddered, which Greg thought was rather ironic, given the cold radiance that still burned on his whole body.

“I wouldn’t count on Annabelle talking at all,” he warned. “I can barely stand to be this close to so much silver, and she’s likely to be more sensitive.”

George Louis ignored that, pushing past him for the door. Greg made no move to stop him.

For a brief moment, he saw them sitting side by side on one of the benches, staring out through the windows into the darkness of the park. The boy was leaning into Annabelle’s side and she had wrapped an arm around him. As George Louis stormed inside, his son jumped up and hugged his father, but the smile on his narrow face was tense when he dragged him over to the bench.

“Can she come home with us?” he asked, just as Annabelle struggled to put as much distance between herself and her erstwhile husband as possible.

“No, George. She’ll return to Windish with the other werewolves.”

The duke’s voice didn’t really allow for an argument, but the boy tried anyway. “Then can we stay here a bit longer?”

“No, George,” George Louis repeated, sharper. “We need to go back to the party.”

“But I don’t, do I? And there’re so many werewolves! Nobody will notice if one is missing!”

“It’s not safe for you to stay here, all on your own,” George Louis said. “You know that. And we can’t let your guards find out about this, remember? And Lord Feleke will have to return with me.”

“What about him?” Prince George pointed at Greg.

“He can’t guard you,” George Louis snapped.

“Why not? Werewolves are dangerous, you said so! Surely, only a hunter could get past a werewolf on guard? And all the hunters are at the party, too.”

“No, George,” the duke said again. The prince pushed his lower jaw out. Greg expected a comment about how werewolves couldn’t be trusted, but the duke changed tactics. “He organised the whole event, George, of course he’ll need to be in attendance.”

The prince’s face fell. “What about another werewolf? ”

“I’m sorry, George, it’s not that simple.”

It surprised Greg how unwilling the duke was to just come out and straight up say he didn’t trust them.

The prince seemed to think similarly. “Why not?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of his narrow chest. “Because they’re monsters?”

Instead of giving an answer, George Louis glared at Greg, and then Annabelle. Finally, he turned to David, clearly expecting him to take his side.

And after a few seconds, David let his head fall forward. He straightened again with a sigh.

“It is not just your safety that is at stake here, my prince,” he said. “We still do not know who has been harbouring unsanctioned hunters. I would prefer not to take a gamble tonight. If these insurgents manage to hurt you or a werewolf, here, on the palace grounds—or worse, manage to make it look like a werewolf hurt you—well, I’m sure you can imagine the ramifications. However, with your father’s permission, I would be happy to escort you to Windish, or organise another meeting at my family’s home here in Deva.”

So the prince turned back to his father. “Promise?” he asked.

“We can discuss that at a later time,” George Louis said.

The prince stomped his foot. “Promise!”

The duke once again glared at Greg, as if this was in any way his fault. When Greg glared back, George Louis turned to Annabelle, who was busy shrugging out of her clothes.

“Are you turning my son against me now?” he accused her.

“No.”

With that word, she gave up on the underdress, and just turned wolf in a cloud of shredding fabric. Prince George watched, looking excited. Right until it dawned on him that there was no more talking to her now. She padded over to the door. Greg felt compelled to open it for her.

He didn’t resist.

Annabelle ducked outside and quickly vanished in the shadows beyond the building. Greg took a deep breath of the fresh evening air. He didn’t notice that the prince had followed to stare after her, too, until he turned around. There were tears running down the boy’s face but he made no sound at all.

Greg had no idea what to say. Was it even his place to say anything? But it didn’t look like George Louis was going to, either.

The prince ran a sleeve over his face. There was no way to do that surreptitiously, but his father still didn’t react. Annabelle was the one to move first, whining softly in the dark.

Greg looked up. “She didn’t go far,” he relayed. “She’s asking if you’d like a ride back to the party, my prince.”

“What?” hissed the duke.

Prince George already skipped away, pulling Greg with him.

Annabelle was pacing up and down the path, just outside the halo of light from the lamps. When she saw the prince, she lowered herself almost down to her stomach.

“Absolutely not,” George Louis bellowed.

“It’s fine,” David sighed. “And it’s a great cover, too, if anyone wonders where we went.”

“Have you ever done this, David?”

“No, but Greg carried Thoko all the way to the Argentum Formation. Morgulon has carried Lane like this, too. It’s no big deal. He’s had riding lessons, hasn’t he?”

“Of course he’s had—”

“Well then,” David said.

The prince carefully stroked Annabelle’s flank, hesitating. Less because of his father’s refusal, Greg thought, more because Annabelle was quite different from a pony, whatever David had said. He offered the boy a hand, lifting him up onto his mother’s back.

“You can hold on here,” he said, “grip the fur tightly, it won’t hurt her.”

Annabelle waited until he had dug his fingers into the mane on her back before she straightened. George Louis jumped forwards, then froze as if he’d walked into a wall. David strolled past him.

“You’re good up there, my prince?” he asked. “Let’s go, then.”

When Annabelle trotted ahead, David lengthened his stride, keeping level with her. “Hold on with your knees, too, my prince. Just like a horse.”

“Don’t want to hurt her,” the boy muttered.

“I’m sure she’ll let us know,” David assured him. “Or Greg will.”

Annabelle snorted.

“She’s fine,” Greg translated. “Just hang on tight.”

George Louis didn’t say anything, but Greg could hear him breathing unevenly, labouredly. Greg thought the duke almost choked when the princes asked: “Can we go faster?”

“A little bit,” David said. “Keep level with me, Annabelle. I’m not Nathan, but we can give them a bit of a show.”

“David—” George Louis started, but Annabelle already trotted ahead, David jogging along.

“Mithras damn you all,” George Louis cursed, then took off after them. Greg grinned and walked more sedately back towards the party. It didn’t take him long to catch up with the duke, who had run off too fast and was holding his sides now.

The prince’s laughter echoed between the hedges.

“If anything happens to him, I swear…” George Louis trailed off, rubbing his ribs.

Greg walked past him, annoyed, not slowing down. “Sounds to me like he’s having fun. Such a dangerous thing for a child.”

When Greg returned to the party, the burn of silver right behind him, there was polite applause as Annabelle walked in a circle around David, the prince waving graciously from her back.

Pierre was annoyed at the display, but Greg thought the other werewolves didn’t mind too much. Morgulon certainly didn’t.

“I wouldn’t play donkey for a grown man,” Greg heard Rémy say to some noble. “But a little boy or girl, sure. Kids should get to have fun.”

Daisy ran around Annabelle, tail wagging excitedly, as if to prove his point.

“Not that many children are as brave as his young Highness.”

George Louis harrumphed, but as the nobles joined in on praising the prince, he accepted it gracefully, never showing how worried he had been just a moment ago. He still glared at Greg as if this was all his fault when the prince refused to come down from Annabelle’s back.

Greg wished he could take credit for this. Nothing he had done all evening made the assembled werewolves look more harmless than Annabelle prancing like a good circus pony around David, the child laughing on her back.

Of course, most of the other nobles thought this was due to David’s mystic powers over the monsters, or some bullshit like that. Still, it was a good start.

Or a start, in any case.