Chapter 46: France

The forest is dark and quiet, the mountain cold. It's grown colder still since the sun went down, a fact I barely noticed on the motorcycle ride, thanks to adrenaline giving me extra heat, and the press of Sage's overheated body against mine. Now my breath puffs in patches of mist before me as Sage and I creep through the Austrian night away from Castle Wilhelm and the searching witches ordered to bring us in.

The Enforcers will have set up a ward around the castle property by now. I'll need to find a way through it if we are to escape. The moment we touch it, try to breach it, they will be on us. If they don't spot us before then. A blue glowing shape drifts overhead, the trees keeping us safe for now. But I have no illusions. They don't need ordinary vision to find us.

I have to keep my magic contained. Which means we have only our feet and our wits to carry us away from here.

A black tunnel appears just beyond the next copse of trees, triggering a wave of blue light. I grimace, but am grateful for the warning. Whoever made that tunnel just found the wards for me.

Piers emerges, cursing, waving us forward. Sage doesn't resist, running with me as flares of blue fire appear in the air overhead, joining the first. I feel witch magic brush over us, deflected for the moment by my shields, but they will break through them when they pinpoint us. We have to escape, and the only way to do that, at the moment, is with Piers.

We dive for the tunnel, Piers behind us, at the exact moment the Enforcer's power locks on me. The black absorbs the magic the Enforcers throw at us, propelling us forward with great speed.

I tumble out the other end, feeling warmer, the air not so crisp, into soft grass. Sage looks up at Piers as I roll out of my crouch and face my sorcerer friend. He seems panicked, hands shaking.

"Run," he says, desperation in his voice. "I've taken you as far as I can. But they'll be coming. I'm sorry. She's betrayed me to them, and I can't help you." I watch him vanish into fresh blackness, knowing he speaks of his own mother.

No time to think about it, to worry about him, only enough to let my heart swell in gratitude a moment while I gather myself for action. I turn and flee as he bid me, Sage at my side, now seemingly fully recovered from what Sebastian's attempt to turn him did. The landscape has changed, the temperature not the only difference and as we run past a storefront in what feels like a city, the sign in French.

"France," Sage says at the same time. "He got us farther."

"As long as the Enforcers don't know it," I say. "We have to go."

We hurry along the street, my eyes scanning for a vehicle we can steal easily and quietly. Sage keeps pace, head down, though I feel his emotions churning.

I finally force us to pause out of the touch of a streetlight, in darkness. There's been no hint of the Enforcers though easily a half hour has passed. Could Piers have figured out a way to keep them from finding us? I can only hope. Maybe he still has our things in his possession. I send him a mental thank you for taking the heat for me.

A little park beckons. I just need a moment to sit and catch my breath, to think things through. Sage sits next to me on a bench of stone under a smiling angel statue with her welcoming arms outspread. The night air is lovely, the clear sky full of stars.

"You love him." Sage's statement comes from nowhere, though when I turn to him, to the hard lines his face has settled into, I realize he's been thinking about this for a long time.

"No," I say. "I don't." I take Sage's hand. "I love you."

He doesn't look at me. "He loves you, though."

I sigh. "Piers is in love with the idea of love." I squeeze Sage's hand. "And my grandfather once thought he would be a good match for me. To save me from having to mate with a werewolf."

"Are they so bad?" Sage's flat tone hurts me.

"No," I say. "But my race isn't known for its cleverness, its kindness. My family is a rarity and even we have our rough edges. And with the pressures of being a princess, of creating a healthy and powerful offspring to be my heir...the last thing I want is a heavy-handed and duty-bound weremate who only has heart for the throne."

Sage is quiet a moment, the stiffness leaving him. "So Piers was your other option."

I nod. "I thought so," I say. "At least he's funny and handsome. I think I could have learned to love him, maybe. Given time. But that's off the table now." It feels odd to have this conversation with him, though he's no longer angry.

"Your grandfather will make you marry a werewolf," Sage says.

"How wise you are." I force a smile. "Yes, exactly. This mess will ensure I am bound to a were, to dispel my dishonor and return dignity to the name Moreau."

Sage looks up at the stars, sad. "I came to find you because I couldn't bear to let you go." He shivers in the faint breeze, though it's not cold here in the south. "I thought I could find a way to convince you. To make you love me enough."

"That was never the question," I say, my own sorrow making its way forward.

"I know that now." He smiles at me as he turns to meet my eyes. "But, I don't regret a thing, Charlotte. Not a bit of it. I'd have spent my life wondering, wishing, pining for you, if I'd let you just walk out of my life like that. The best thing that ever happened to me, and you up and left." He chuckles, shakes his head, dark hair glossy in the streetlight. "I thought I knew the worst that could happen. I figured it would be you saying 'no'."

There's not much I can say to that.

"Does Piers know it's over between you?" He speaks so carefully, his ego wanting to know. It makes me sigh, but not unhappily.

"Don't worry about Piers," I say. "This kind of thing isn't new to him. He used to want Syd, too, you know."

Sage relaxes a little. "She'd eat him for breakfast."

I laugh. It feels good. "And me?"

Sage grins, weak and shaking. "He wouldn't even make it to the orange juice."

I kiss his cheek, laying my head on his right shoulder. Sage slips his arm around me, the scent of him even more wolf than ever, though he remains clean, beautiful, like a fresh morning, not a hint of revenant stench about him.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to be cruel to him. It's this thing inside me." He pats his chest with his left hand, wincing. "It wants to protect you even though you don't need it."

"I might not need it," I say, "but it's nice to know you care."

"I love you, too," he says, fierce in that moment, intense and powerful. "And I won't let anyone hurt you ever again, Charlotte."

If only he had that power. "We have to go." I lean away, only to have my face captured in his hand, my lips covered in his mouth. I lean into his kiss, the fire there burning between us. Sage is my life. This is all worth it.

But when I open my eyes and see the fear in his, I want to cry. I hug him, careful of his damaged shoulder, tears prickling, throat thick. "This is all my fault," I whisper into his hair. "I should never have allowed us to be. I knew the risks, that you could find out what I am, that you would be exposed to infection if I ever bit you as a werewolf."

"You never would," he says.

"Not on purpose." I lean back, wiping my nose on the cuff of my jacket. "But it's part of the reason we rarely mate with normals, Sage. It's just too risky." I pat his leg. "This is my responsibility and I have to take care of it." I meet his eyes, expecting more fear, but seeing only love. "I'm sorry I got you into this."

Sage kisses me again, soft and kind. "Charlotte," he whispers into my mouth. "I wouldn't change a thing, even if it means I have to die."

I do sob then, unable to stop. And when he hugs me, I let him hold me as the moon sets on the third day.



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