It was the opening Jonmarc needed. His sword lay beyond the lantern light, at the edge of the shadows. Jonmarc dived for his sword, wheeling on his opponent and sinking the blade deep into the attacker's belly. For an instant, the dark eyes behind the mask met his, and Jonmarc saw a hint of amusement. Run through, the attacker began to laugh, and flew backward, freeing itself from Jonmarc's blade and disappearing into the shadows.

Jonmarc heard a deep growl and a huge wolf sprang from the shadows, leaping past him and landing where his attacker had been just an instant before. Jonmarc recognized the gray-streaked fur of Yestin, and struggled for breath. "You're too late. I think it's gone." He looked at his sword. The blade was dark with an ichor that was not blood. His sword-stroke should have been a mortal wound, but the sawdust on the floor showed no blood at all.

The wolf-Yestin slowly circled the barn, growling as it peered into the shadows. The horses now sensed no threat, and watched the wolf curiously or went back to their feed. At the edge of the shadows, the wolf's outline blurred. The space where the wolf stood rippled and folded on itself, growing larger. Yestin straightened and stood. "It's a bit cold out here," he said. "Don't have any clothes hidden about. And I don't fancy frostbite!" Jonmarc tossed a horse blanket to him.

"Thanks for coming. But your timing's off."

"What happened?"

Yestin's frown grew deeper as Jonmarc recounted the attack. "I'm certain he was vayash moru," Jonmarc finished. "What I can't figure out is, why? He had the opportunity to kill me if that's what he wanted. But I had the sense that he was testing me. As if he wanted to know how I'd react, what I'd do in a fight."

"And how did you do?"

"The practice with Laisren is paying off. I'm faster than I've ever been. Couldn't get a clean shot to put my blade through his heart, but I ran him through."

"So there was a possibility that whoever attacked you might have been destroyed," Yestin mused. "Everyone knows you're good with a sword. Whether skill or luck, you might have taken off his head or run him through the heart. So your attacker is a gambler. Uri?"

Jonmarc shook his head, sheathing his blade. He threw a blanket over his horse and checked its feed and water. "Wrong build. Too tall. Too thin. The mask and hood covered both face and hair. I don't have any idea who it could have been."

Outside, the bells chimed the seventh hour. "Come on," Yestin said. "You've got official duties tonight. "We'll figure out what was behind this. I'll walk you in, and then we'll find Gabriel. He'll want to know what happened."

"Odd that all the grooms were gone. The stable's never empty."

Yestin raised an eyebrow. "It's early enough that the grooms would have been humans, not vayash moru. Want to bet they all felt some urgent 'need' to go somewhere right before you were attacked?"

They headed out of the stable together. Outside, the courtyard bustled with humans and vayash moru hurrying toward the night's festivities. "Whoever did this isn't worried about breaking the truce," Jonmarc said.

"Or he considers it already broken. A very bad sign indeed."

Jonmarc and Yestin headed for Gabriel's rooms in the lower level of the manor. They found Gabriel already awake, dressed for the evening's events. Jonmarc recounted for both men what he had seen in the village that morning, and what had transpired in the stable. From the set of Gabriel's jaw, Jonmarc knew that he was furious.

"Whoever did this—and I have to believe it's tied to Uri—intends to provoke a war. If this were anywhere but Dark Haven, war would be upon us."

"Convene the Blood Council. They've got to rein in Uri," Jonmarc urged.

"They'll be here within two candlemarks. It's customary for them to attend this feast day. Whether Uri will come or not remains to be seen." Gabriel frowned. "This is aggressive for Uri, out of character. It may be that his brood has gone farther than he intended."

"Even Uri has to see the danger," Yestin said.

"For years, Uri has argued for our kind to take the upper hand. Nothing like this happened. Either something has changed within his brood, or someone else has a stake in beginning this war. Either way, if war comes, we all lose."

Carina opened the door from the sitting room almost immediately after Jonmarc entered his rooms.

"I thought I heard you in the hallway." She stopped and took in his dirt-streaked great coat, and the bruise from the fight beginning to darken on his cheek. "What happened?"

"Someone ambushed me in the stable. No idea who it was—but he wasn't mortal."

Carina moved to stand beside him, reaching up to heal the bruise on his cheek. Her touch was warm and her healing magic sent a calmness through him. When the bruise was gone, she let her hand stroke down his cheek and rest on his chest. "Anything else I should know about?"

"My back is probably already black and blue after how hard I hit the post in the stable," Jonmarc confessed, wincing as she helped him slip his shirt off. He sat on a couch with his back to her so that she could ease the stiffness and mend the scraped skin. As Carina worked, Jonmarc told her about the attack on the herders, only to discover word had reached the manor by midday.,

"Lisette is beside herself she's so angry," Carina said. "I could feel the difference in the mood today—the people who came for healing were afraid. Lisette told me that the vayash moru servants are afraid, too."

"Something else is bothering you."

Carina withdrew a letter from one of the pouches at her belt. "It's a letter from Cam."

"Rough life guarding Donelan?"

Carina handed him the letter. Jonmarc scanned the paper, making out Cam's cramped handwriting as best he could. "I don't get it. He sounds like Isencroft's on the brink of uprising."

"It's because of Kiara—and Tris. Kiara's the only direct heir to the Isencroft throne, remember? When Donelan dies, the thrones of Isencroft and Margolan will be joined until heirs can be born for both. That's not going over well in Isencroft." She shook her head. "There was an incident in Isencroft before Kiara left for the wedding—some crazy divi-sionist tried to kill her. I'm afraid, Jonmarc—for Cam and Donelan and Kiara."

"I figured whoever sent that magicked beast at the wedding was after Tris."

"So did I. Maybe we were wrong."

"Cam's pretty good at taking care of himself. Donelan's got an army to protect him. Kiara has Mikhail and Harrtuck, as if she needed any help in a fight."

"She's pregnant, Jonmarc. She won't be able to fight like she did on the road for long. Tris is gone to war. If something happens to Kiara, the kingdoms won't be joined. Jared's loyalists have their own reasons to want the heir out of the way. She's so far away, and I can't help her."

"You're the one who's always telling me to trust the Lady."

Carina leaned against him, letting him hold her close. "No other choices, are there? For any of us."

A candlemark later, the Blood Council met in Gabriel's rooms. Tonight, Jonmarc found that his anger burned hot enough to overcome any fear at being the only mortal in the room. All of the Council was present, even Uri. Jonmarc watched their faces as Gabriel recounted the attack.

"You say you control your own. Prove it." Jonmarc met Rafe's eyes.

"This is none of our doing. Surely you know that?" Rafe countered.

"There were a dozen men gutted like deer out on that hillside, and a boy who saw masked creatures hunt the men for sport before tearing them and their herd apart."

"The hill country is dangerous at this time of year," Uri said. "Perhaps a wolf—"

Yestin started forward from where he stood behind Gabriel. "It wasn't wolves."