“Aw, don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.” Riley patted Khalon’s cheek. “Where was I?”

  “You’d been wounded after so valiantly sacrificing your life for our king,” Rayner pitched in helpfully, earning himself an uninspired expression and headshake from Khalon.

  “Right. So there I was in Khalon’s arms, and before my last breath, I accepted my title as Soldati prince.” He threw a hand out to Rayner. “I was dead for the next part. Take it away, Rayner.”

  Rayner opened his mouth, but Khalon quickly interjected. “The priestess appeared, she asked what price I would pay to have Riley returned to me, I said anything, the price she set was for me to live my life as a mortal man every full moon. Riley was returned to me, we mated, I love him, we lived happily ever after. The end.”

  Riley shook his head. “Wow. That was… I don’t even have words to describe it. You guys should not do theater.”

  Khalon leaned in and kissed Riley, a short but passionate kiss that made the prince melt against him. “The point is, this is the price I paid for my love.” Riley grumbled something under his breath, and Khalon gave him a pointed look. “A price I’d gladly pay over and over, no matter how stubborn my prince is.”

  “And this year the full moon has landed on the festival.” Segreti cursed under his breath.

  Khalon stood and turned to Rayner. “We must be prepared. I want our best Soldati around the council at all times. We don’t know who else is in danger.”

  “You don’t think that’s going to alert the bad guys that we’re onto them?” Riley asked.

  “Our warriors will remain hidden. Either Rayner, Adira, or I will be with you wherever you go.” Khalon turned to face Segreti. “The Orso are arriving as we speak. Will you greet your brethren and perhaps gather some information? We must know if any among them are plotting against us.” Khalon balled his hands into fists, anger filling his eyes.

  “If someone plots against you, my king, I’ll find them.”

  Riley held up a hand. “Um, won’t whoever’s planning all this know that we know? I mean”—he pointed to himself—“Saugur.”

  “Which means we must be extra vigilant,” Rayner said. “If you had a vision, it means they still intend to carry out their plans.” He brought Toka into his arms. “I don’t suppose I could get you to stay safe and indoors?” Toka arched an eyebrow at Rayner, making him chuckle. “Merely checking. Please stay with our prince.”

  With a sweet kiss to Rayner’s lips, Toka left his mate and went to his prince’s bedside.

  “Your Majesty?” Ezra stepped forward, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion. “I fear there is one crucial question we have yet to address.”

  “What is it?” Khalon asked.

  “We understand the why of Riley’s vision. There’s a plot afoot to kill you, and in your weakened state, the traitor manages to succeed. What we don’t know is how? How does this traitor know they will be successful?”

  Segreti frowned. “Ezra is right. We know whoever plans to kill Khalon is smart and has been plotting since Pavoni’s demise. They’re not going to risk exposing themselves and their cohorts by simply hoping to catch Khalon off guard. Everyone knows of the Soldati Saugur and the Eye. Surely they know if they so much as think of a way in which to kill Khalon, they will be seen by either the prince or Ezra.”

  “Which means they know Khalon is vulnerable. Perhaps not the exact details, but enough to know he can be killed,” Rayner said, leaning against the fireplace.

  Khalon sighed. “Until we know more, we’re in the dark.” He turned to Ezra. “I need you to join the festivities, keep the Eye close, and stay as near to Segreti as you can without arousing suspicion. Perhaps the Eye will glean additional knowledge should it be exposed to any possible traitors. We have two days until the full moon.”

  Segreti bowed and left the room, Ezra on his heels. They walked in companionable silence, but soon the silence became too great. Spotting a shadowed alcove ahead, he took hold of Ezra’s hand and stepped into it. He turned Ezra so as to block his view of anyone who might be curious enough to investigate. His Orso vision helped him see enough of Ezra’s features and the concern in his eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Ezra asked quietly.

  Cupping Ezra’s cheek, Segreti brushed his thumb against Ezra’s soft skin. “Are you?”

  “Well, it’s all quite unsettling, knowing there’s a traitor in our midst.”

  “Agreed. However, I was referring to you and how you were feeling after our intimate time together.”

  “Oh.”

  Segreti might not be able to see the blush on Ezra’s cheeks, but it was there. Unable to help himself, he brushed his lips over Ezra’s. “You seem to be all I can think about lately,” he confessed. “My thoughts are filled with the taste of your lips, the feel of your warm skin, and the delicious sounds you made at my touch.”

  “Segreti,” Ezra said through a gasp, his fingers digging into Segreti’s biceps. “I… I confess I struggle to think of anything else. I would have liked to continue what we started in the cottage.”

  The words thrilled Segreti. “I’m glad to hear it. Perhaps once this mess is over with, you might allow me to spend some time with you?”

  “I would welcome it.”

  Segreti pressed his lips to Ezra’s, a small groan escaping him when Ezra parted his lips, his tongue poking out to meet Segreti’s. He wrapped Ezra in his arms and kissed him thoroughly, needing to bask in his taste and scent in the hopes it would stay with him until their next encounter. Ezra seemed content to remain enveloped in Segreti’s arms, a dreamy sigh escaping him when they came up for air.

  “We should go,” Ezra said, his tone laced with reluctance.

  “Be safe, my sweet Ezra. Should you need me for anything at all, simply call for me.” Segreti kissed the back of his hand before stepping out of the shadows and forcing himself to leave Ezra’s side. The quicker he found this traitor, the quicker he could return to Ezra.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  So many questions.

  Ezra had left Segreti with much reluctance. Although he chided himself for his growing attachment, he seemed incapable of reason and found himself longing to be near Segreti, to feel his strong arms wrapped around him, to taste his kisses and feel his desire. Heat filled Ezra’s cheeks, and he quickened his pace on the way to his cottage. Segreti would be like the others. They all relished the idea of being with him until the reality of what Ezra was became too great.

  Segreti’s words echoed in his head. I’m here. I have you. Where others had balked or run, Segreti had rushed to his side, ready to catch him should he fall. Perhaps Segreti was different. And yet Ezra had sensed fear in him when the Eye had spoken. Ezra opened the door and entered his cottage as the Eye spoke to him in his mind.

  “Segreti’s fear was for you, not of you.”

  Ezra stilled. It was rare for the Eye to commune with him rather than through him, so when it did, Ezra listened. He turned to the Eye hovering over its velvet pillow.

  “For me?”

  “Like many, he fears the power of the Eye, but unlike most, he does not fear its wielder.”

  Was it possible? Ezra waved a hand in dismissal. “That’s neither here nor there. We have greater concerns.”

  “Indeed. The murder of the Soldati king, destruction of the Soldati realm, and annihilation of the human world must take precedence over your lingering chasteness.”

  Ezra crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the Eye. “What manner of company are you keeping these days? I’m not certain I approve.” The Eye remained silent. How very convenient. Ezra paced as he thought. Someone was going to kill Khalon in two days if they didn’t do something. If the traitors were here, they must be found. He stilled and turned to the Eye. “Come. We must hunt.”

  Opening the door, Ezra waited for the Eye to exit before closing the door behind him. His hand froze on the doorknob, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He was being watched.

  “I think another visit to the herb tent is in order,” he said to no one in particular. Speaking to himself or the Eye was a common occurrence, and no one would think anything of it. He headed through the garden toward the festival grounds, eyes still on him. “A visit to the book tent is also in order. Perhaps I’ll start there.” He greeted villagers along the way, all the while aware of the presence following him. Stopping at a flower stand, he smiled at the foxling family and complimented them on their beautiful arrangements. He made the usual agreement of purchasing any flowers left once the festival had ended. He always had use for flowers.

  Inhaling the wonderful scent of lavender from a lovely bouquet, he discreetly glanced around him. Nothing. With a smile and a bow of his head, he left the flower stand and headed for the book tent, confident his shadow wouldn’t be so foolish as to follow him inside. The tent was busy, and Ezra was well versed in concealing himself. The Soldati weren’t warriors in name alone.

  Slipping out the back of the tent, he shifted in the blink of an eye and darted into a thicket of nearby shrubs, his great tiger mass swallowed by the shadows. The Eye remained near his flank, its golden sheen dimmed so as not to give away their position. With sharp feline eyes, he scanned the festival grounds. There were many Orso scattered among the crowd; some were villagers from the Orso realm, others warriors. Ezra crouched low to the ground, his body still. He flattened his ears against his head, his razor-sharp claws extending as he sensed a menacing presence.

  “Can you see anything?” he asked the Eye with his mind.

  The Eye remained silent.

  Slowly Ezra stalked the festival grounds, using the trees and shrubbery, as well as the many tents, barrels, boxes, and wagons to conceal himself. The scent of his fellow Soldati warriors filled the air, along with the distinct heady mix belonging to the many foxlings. Ezra’s keen sense of smell caught a whiff of an Orso, and he swiftly set off on the hunt. His muscles tensed as he stopped behind a small area sectioned off for archery. Several Orso and Soldati tested their skills, each side teasing and laughing boisterously.

  “Anything?” Ezra asked hopefully. Still no response. With a quiet huff, Ezra retreated. He no longer felt eyes on him. The traitors had to be here somewhere. A chill swept through Ezra as the Eye pulsed.

  “Seek out Segreti.”

  The urgency in the Eye’s voice had Ezra darting through the trees, nose to the air and mouth open as he searched out Segreti’s scent. Was Segreti in danger? If anyone so much as laid a claw on him, Ezra would tear them limb from limb! He skidded to a halt at his unexpected thoughts. What in the name of the Goddess was the matter with him? His ferocity wasn’t a surprise. He’d defend his king, his prince, and his kingdom with all the power he possessed, but when had Segreti become his to defend?

  “Find Segreti. Now.”

  With a huff, he took off in search of Segreti, refusing to think about how he was coming to see the Orso general as his.

  What a beautiful day. The sounds of the festival’s commencement filled the air and an ocean of guests flooded the field, their excited voices carrying in the summer breeze. In the distance near the archery games, Segreti spotted several Orso warriors, a small group of which huddled together. The thought that his former Orso warriors might be traitors both pained him and angered him. When Pavoni had come to power, his army had been filled with uncertainty. The more time that passed under Pavoni’s rule, the more their army’s loyalty diverted to Segreti, leaving only a few to embrace Pavoni’s tyranny. Most of Pavoni’s supporters had left after his demise, but a select few remained in their kingdom, hidden, plotting. Rogue Orso warriors weren’t his only concern. For months now he suspected someone in Queen Verity’s court was helping the traitors. They seemed to always be one step ahead of Queen Verity’s Orso, a feat only achieved with help from within the court.

  Segreti neared the group, grinning when a friendly face shouted boisterously at his approach. Fausti was a noble warrior who had often been found at Segreti’s side. A young Orso, eager to learn, always honorable.

  “General!” Fausti threw his arms out as he approached Segreti, his seemingly boundless energy never failing to bring a smile to Segreti.

  “Retired general,” Segreti reminded him, laughing when Fausti drew him into a fierce embrace. Fausti might be young, but he was nearly as big as Segreti. After his retirement, Segreti remained close to Fausti, keeping an eye on him, offering council, and most importantly, attempting to keep him out of trouble. A futile endeavor.

  “Speaking of retirement, I heard the Soldati have welcomed you into their realm. Is it true the king invited you to live in his kingdom?” Vestri asked, smiling wide as he greeted Segreti. Gori and Lazzari followed with hearty embraces of their own while Coiro and Basso merely nodded in greeting. They were good warriors but had always been reserved, keeping to themselves.

  “He has,” Segreti replied. He’d been as surprised as the rest of them when Khalon offered him a place in his kingdom where he could peacefully live out the rest of his immortal life. It was given freely, but not given to many.

  Lazzari whistled. “That’s quite the honor. Few have been extended such an invitation.”

  “Is anyone truly surprised?” Fausti asked, bowing regally at a passing foxling. “What ruler wouldn’t want General Segreti residing in their realm? The Soldati have always been very clever.”

  A pretty foxling carrying a stack of books almost as tall as he was raced toward them. He tripped on a tree branch, the books flying out of his hands as he stumbled forward.

  “I’ve got the books,” Basso and Coiro called out in unison.

  Fausti caught the foxling before he could hit the ground. “And I’ve caught this enchanting creature.”

  The foxling blinked up at him before narrowing his eyes. “You may put me down now.”

  Everyone snickered, and Fausti laughed as he helped the foxling to his feet. The foxling’s hands were white, fading into fair skin, his hair sandy, and his eyes big and dark. A fennec foxling. He was a tiny little thing, but by the looks of him, quite fierce.

  “If not your thanks, may I at least have your name?” Fausti asked cheerfully, earning himself a glower.

  “Sansone.”

  “And where are you off to in such a hurry, Sansone?”

  Sansone sniffed, his chin lifted high. “That is none of your concern, Orso.”

  Segreti held back a smile. It would seem young Sansone wasn’t a fan of the Orso. Segreti couldn’t blame him. Not after the pain Pavoni had brought to his home. Foxlings were very protective of their own, and once wronged, were not easy to appease. Earning their trust was quite the endeavor.

  “You’re right,” Fausti replied, his smile wide. “Forgive my boldness. I was simply struck by your beauty.”

  Sansone rolled his eyes. “I’m certain. Now, if you’ll give me my books, I’ll leave you all to your skulking. Or whatever it is Orso do.”

  “Ouch.” Fausti placed a hand to his heart. “You wound me.”

  Segreti chuckled at Sansone’s uninspired expression. The foxling was having none of Fausti’s charm. Basso and Coiro handed the foxling his stack of books.

  “May I at least help you with your books?”

  “No.” Sansone made to leave but turned to Segreti and nodded. “General.” Before he took off again.

  Fausti shook his head in amusement. “Such a captivating creature.”

  “At least he doesn’t hate Segreti,” Lazzari pointed out with a laugh.

  Fausti’s lopsided grin said he wasn’t offended by the foxling’s abrasive response. In fact, he seemed even more intrigued, following the foxling with his gaze until Sansone had disappeared into the crowd. “Visiting the Soldati realm is always such a feast for the senses. I particularly approve of all the lovely creatures.”

  “Come,” Vestri said. “Let’s find a table and enjoy some of this lovely Soldati hospitality. I hear Nestore has once again provided his famous fruit wine.”

  They headed for a table not far from one of the many food tents, but far enough away to provide a little privacy. Basso and Coiro went off to fetch them all wine as they took their seats at the round wooden table.

  “I hope you’ve all been keeping yourselves out of mischief.” Segreti gave Fausti a pointed look, making his friend laugh loudly.

  “Why do you always look at me? I’m not the only one who gets up to mischief. Just the other day, Lazzari was nearly knocked unconscious by one of Queen Verity’s ladies in waiting.”

  Segreti arched an eyebrow at Lazzari, who frowned and rubbed his head.

  “I still have a bump.”

  “What did you do?” Segreti narrowed his gaze. Lazzari had a certain reputation, one that involved being a little too forward.

  “All I did was comment on how lovely her gown looked.”

  Fausti snorted. “Yes, while staring at her ample bosom.”

  “I couldn’t help it. It was right there!”

  Segreti shook his head. “One of these days, your lechering will get you in over your head.” Segreti had warned Lazzari countless times over the centuries.

  “Especially now,” Gori said, shaking his head. “So many new rules. It’s hard to keep up with them.”

  Fausti bristled, his smile falling away for the first time. “You prefer to have a tyrant’s rules? Ones he’d make up at his whim when it suited him?”

  Gori held up his hands in surrender. “Forgive me, my friend. I meant no dishonor toward our queen. I’m not suggesting Pavoni—”

  Fausti spit on the grass at the mention of Pavoni’s name, and Segreti placed a reassuring hand on his friend’s arm. There had been no love lost between Fausti and Pavoni. He was yet another of the bastard’s victims. Fausti might not have had a choice in serving his king, but he’d despised Pavoni with every fiber of his being.