It's Thanksgiving in Canada, and to express how thankful I am to have you along on this journey, here's a bonus chapter!

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I stared at the man I thought I'd never see again, then noticed a small spot of red staining his pantleg. "Are you okay?"

He glanced at his leg and shrugged. "It'll heal soon enough."

I pursed my lips, still unsure how fast he healed or if he was referring to his forced daytime wolf shift. I had a feeling this group wouldn't react well to that kind of shift. Sunrise was at least several hours away, but that was another worry on top of our other ones.

"Why did you come back?" I quietly asked. "You were freed from your contract."

He blinked slowly, eventually replying, "I told you I don't take my escort jobs lightly, especially not when you promised a gold coin for safe passage."

Apparently, he had been close enough to hear that conversation and was playing along. At least both of our stories would line up when they questioned us. Not that it would help much.

"Besides, you dropped this in the creek." As he lifted his hand, a necklace shimmered into existence. The familiar teardrop pendant and green gem glimmered softly in the lantern light.

The magic trick had all three crossbows pointed in his direction. I met Shane's gaze and reached out to take it from his hand, hoping they wouldn't shoot either of us.

"Thank you." I placed the necklace over my head, the metal slightly warm as it usually was. The soldiers held their fire, but remained tense, ready to shoot at a moment's notice.

"You're welcome." His eyes hardened as he cast a glare at the soldiers up front, whose fingers rested on the triggers, practically daring him to try something. "And unless I'm greatly mistaken, I'm pretty sure it's me this group was after. I wasn't expecting a pitfall trap that close to their camp."

"They think we killed the Warlord's son," I murmured, deciding this was the best opening to warn him exactly how much trouble we were in.

"You mean that klutz in shining armor was the Warlord's son?" Shane shook his head with a derisive snort. "I wondered if he broke his neck when his horse tossed him, but considering our current escort, I'll take that as a yes."

I wasn't sure how to reply to that and kept quiet, fiddling with the chain on my lap. The silent watchdog slowly lowered his crossbow, although both of them watched us closely. The other two soldiers kept their weapons trained on Shane, who didn't seem to care.

The silence stretched out. Anything we might say didn't leave our lips on account of our audience.

"That was what you threw in the stream?" my primary watchdog asked, his voice far more relaxed and conversational than his intent gaze. "The soldiers searched, but didn't find anything."

I nodded absently, fiddling with a few links of the chain. "I consider its value to be more than just the weight of the silver. I was hoping he'd find it, but it never occurred to me that he'd return it."

With an edge in his voice, Shane asked, "Why are you talking with them?"

I shrugged guiltily. "Sorry. It's habit."

My primary watchdog cast an unimpressed look upon Shane for discouraging his dig for information. Then his gaze moved between us, lingering on the obviously-related necklaces. His eyes narrowed slightly in thought, although I had no idea what might be going through his head.

An uncomfortable silence descended, broken only by the squeaking of wagon wheels and the clopping of many horse hooves trotting. I fretted over what was to come, trying to find some way out of our predicament.

A small wave of heat emanated from the necklace, followed by a metallic clunk by my feet. I stared down at the manacles lying on the floor. The chain was still in my fingers, but the cuffs had come undone. Both of them. At the same time.

The primary watchdog rose to his feet, frowning at me. I released the chain and raised my palms hands up, my heart picking up speed.

"I didn't touch the cuffs," I quietly said, trying to divert any fallout over the odd occurrence.

As he walked closer, hunched over due to the low ceiling, Shane bristled. The two soldiers and other watchdog pointed their crossbows at him. The man ignored Shane and crouched down to pick up a manacle, turning it over as he examined the thin metal.

Still frowning, he clasped it around my wrist, then secured the other one as well. He lightly tugged on them, testing the lock and the fit. He gave me a long look before returning to his seat without a word, continuing to watch me with an almost unblinking gaze. Pushing the chain off my knees so I couldn't fiddle with it again, I folded my hands in my lap and pretended I was in my etiquette classes.

Shane's eyes bored into me, silently asking how the manacles had come undone. I shrugged to express my confusion, although my mind kept going back to the flash of heat from the necklace, and I began to suspect Shane had never been chained up before.

This necklace had already proven to be an escape artist, but that feat might extend to other aspects, like helping me escape. It could have been very useful, if there hadn't been four soldiers guarding us.

I contemplated several ways of trying to give the necklace back to Shane, but in the end, it would look very suspicious to our audience, and there was no point in having his chains randomly fall off with soldiers present. After the time we'd spent together, I also knew he'd refuse the offer unless he learned of this new trick, and there was no way to tell him.

My eyes trailed to my watchdogs. "How far away are we?"

My primary watchdog once more humored me with a reply. "Less than half an hour."

Knowing the answer was both better and worse. Better, because I now had solid information, but worse because I knew those minutes were going to seem impossibly long and filled with dread.

I frowned at my shoes, still unable to think of any way for either of us to survive what was to come. My odds of leaving these mountains alive were next to zero, and if they thought Shane was responsible – even indirectly – his fate was one of torture and a slow, agonizing death.

The wagon continued to rattle over the rough road as the horses trotted onward.