Full moon sucked, but that wasn’t anything new. The three large boxes in the cellar, hardwood reinforced with steel, were. One was currently filled with crates of apples, and Morgulon hunkered down in the other. The last one was for Greg. It even had some blankets, and a pillow to sit on, though both were unlikely to survive the night. For once it was Imani who locked the door on him and accepted his clothes through a hatch. David was at Windish, to look after the werewolves there.

Greg slept through most of the day after. He woke up in time for dinner and watched as Morgulon awkwardly climbed the steep steps into the cellar again. He should have gone out, should have found some entertainment: when Morgulon howled at the moonrise, he almost lost his shape, too. The cubs wailed and fell all over each other. Imani sat with them, wearing riding gloves and sturdy clothes. In a few months, the little ones would have to be locked up, too.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, Greg played tug-of-war with them, holding pieces of rawhide for them to pull on. He toppled them over gently, and watched them struggle to their feet again and again. They pushed at his hands if he stopped, begging to play more.

Oh, they bit him, even drew blood if he wasn’t careful. They chewed on Imani’s gloves, too. Thoko had to keep her hands out of reach while two of them attacked her boots.

But it didn’t look like the mindless rage Greg had seen from older werewolves. Perhaps they were too young.

“They are different from yesterday,” Imani said, when he pointed it out. “Yesterday, well, we kept them in wooden crates. They didn’t play, just tore everything they could reach apart."

“Weird,” Greg muttered.

He probably should inform Prof. Audenne, but he didn’t want the researcher all over his family. The scrutiny wasn’t exactly comfortable.

Still, there was much to learn. Morgulon was, as usually, less than forthcoming.

Full moon is different, was all she said when he asked her after lunch the next day.

“You don’t say.”

In all honesty, he was a little bit bored. He had slept in late, eaten lunch, tried to talk to Morgulon... In a few short hours, the sun would set, but until then—what was he supposed to do with himself?

“Well, what did you use to do?” Thoko asked back, when he tried to explain the feeling.

Greg looked at her blankly. He probably would have read a book? Studied? But it was hard to concentrate with full moon barely over. The same went for chess or other games he might have played. Thoko would wipe the board with him if he tried that, and it was no fun when he could feel how badly he was playing. Nathan had gone for a ride, Bram and Andrew had gone to the palace, and Imani was visiting with some other lady. Thoko was halfway through getting her hair done: Yamikani had started the work yesterday, framing Thoko’s face with strands of colourful silk, weaved into the finest braids Greg had ever seen.

“You could take a walk,” Thoko suggested when he didn’t say anything. “Or play with the cubs.”

But he was too restless for that. “I think—yeah, I think I might go for a walk.”

He might have taken Dolly outside of the city, except he wasn’t sure how he’d get back in without anyone to vouch for him. He really wanted to talk to David and find out what was going to happen next to him and the pack.

Tonight. He’d ask him tonight.

For now he just walked. People on the street greeted him, and that was nice. They didn’t recognize him or possibly confused him for one of his brothers. Who expected a werewolf in the middle of Deva? Nobody.

Greg didn’t think about where his feet were carrying him until he stood in front of the deBire’s estate. It probably shouldn’t surprise him—it was a route he had walked often and it wasn’t far. Here he was, though.

Should he knock? Just walk on? Would Gustave even be home? Surely, he was continuing his education somewhere? But now he was here, and they hadn’t really talked two nights ago. Not about what had happened. To both of them. He might as well knock.

The door was opened by the same somewhat grouchy servant they had met two nights ago. She glared at him but went to get Gustave. He poked his head out of the door a minute later. They stared at each other until Greg sighed.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

Gustave’s whole face wrinkled in annoyance. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Really.”

“I’m afraid of the thought of going for a walk with a werewolf. There’s a difference.”

Gustave’s tone was rather acerbic on the last word. He straightened, and Greg was sure he saw him shudder.

“I see.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Gustave added, somewhat calmer. “Anyway, let’s go, before I change my mind. Say, have you ever bitten anyone?”

“Would you even believe me if I said no?”

His friend hesitated and stared at Greg, who tried to look guileless. But then Gustave shrugged, muttering to himself as he stepped outside: “I guess. All right. Let’s do this.”

He shuddered again and didn’t move until Greg took a step back. He didn’t turn his back on him while closing the door, either, but then they were finally walking.

“So, uh, how was full moon?”

Greg laughed despite the awkwardness of it all. “Full moon sucks. Seriously. Can’t really concentrate on anything. It’s like—imagine you haven’t eaten all day. And you’ve had way too much coffee. And you’re angry for no reason. And it hurts. Changing shape, I mean. Fenn compared it to having your fingernails pulled out, only all over.”

“And you can’t stop it?”

“Not on full moon, no.”

“But I heard some werewolves were able to turn into wolves on new moon?”

“Not me. Not for, oh, another ten years. And then I’ll still need help.”

Wait, was he even allowed to say that?

Too late now. And he wanted Gustave to understand.

“So let me get this straight: because we kept killing them, the werewolves living in Loegrion never got old enough to deal with the Rot. So your brother sent you into the mountains—twice—to find older werewolves who can.”

“Yes.”

“Your brother. Who’s famous for being the one who actually does the killing of all those werewolves.”

“Yes.”

“And you really found people? Werewolves, I mean?”

“Well, David stopped hunting. The rest of my family, too. I think it helps, even. That they used to be hunters. It’s like—I’m the living proof that they stopped. And that means it’s not just academic—not some mad idea the duke cooked up. It’s got support, even amongst professional hunters.”

“Right.” Gustave stretched the word. “And what happens next? You guys helped build the railway, okay. But most of the country still isn’t really safe from the Rot, right? So what are you doing here, rather than, at the rivers’ wells?”

“David decides what happens next,” Greg shrugged. “There’s a war coming, and people keep trying to kill us, so I think he wants us someplace close and safe.

How about you? Mr. Higgins said you left the city for a while?”

Gustave grimaced. “My father and grandparents dragged the whole household south before d’Evier even fled the city. Soon as word got around about what happened to Bishop Boyen at Eoforwic. Kept talking about how everyone who didn’t take a stand was doomed to hell by association. When mother and I still made plans to go back, they put guards on us, threatened us. Said we’d be homeless paupers, living on the streets. I told mother I’d find a job and we pretended to change our minds, so father would stop watching our every move. One day we just ran for it.”

“But you still have the house.”

“Yeah.” Gustave buried his hands in his pockets. “We got back here just in time, basically. There’s a new law that disowns all the loyalists. Rumour has it all that land will go to the crown of Loegrion, once Duke George Louis resurrects it. Mother petitioned the palace to get the house and our holdings back. Well, we got the house. Everything else stays under royal stewardship ‘until we prove our loyalty.’”

He glanced at Greg from the side. “Say, think your brother could speak to the duke for us?”

“Maybe? No wait, have your mother write to mine. She’s in contact with the viceroy’s wife, I think it’ll be more effective that way. David—doesn’t really do politics.”

Gustave’s eyebrow climbed almost all the way to his hairline. “Hell of a job he got himself into for someone who doesn’t do politics.”

“Honestly? I think he hates it. He just can’t get out of it right now.”

They lengthened their strides as they reached the main road, waving mostly in silence through the dense traffic, towards the inner city.

“That girl who was with you at the theatre,” Gustave asked suddenly. “Who is she?”

“Thoko? I told you, she worked at the railway with me. She’s a friend.”

“So you’re friends with a witch now?”

“Sorry, what?” Greg laughed. “No! There never was a witch on the railway. We only said that so people wouldn’t suspect a werewolf.”

“Really. What about that newspaper article about her? After your family got attacked?”

“What about it?”

“Oh, come on. I don’t like the Valoise either, but one against seven? Or was that all made up?”

“Oh, that.” Greg scratched the back of his head. “It was mostly true, I guess. Except, you know, we left out that Morgulon killed four of them.”

Gustave chewed that over. “So that girl—”

“Thoko.”

“Fine, Thoko. You’re saying she killed three men. Armed killers. With her bare hands? And no magic at all?”

“She didn’t use her bare hands, she had an axe.”

“One girl with an axe against three men with pistols and rapiers, of course. That’s so much more believable.”

Greg rolled his eyes. “One girl who’s worked on the railway felling trees with, yes, an axe for almost two years.”

Gustave stopped. “You don’t think that’s weird? Weirdly lucky, I mean?”

“No, I don’t think it’s weird,” Greg sighed. “I don’t turn into a giant wolf once a month because the laws of physics like me so much, Gustave, and I can’t suddenly down a full pint of brandy in one go because I have such a great personal pharmacist. So yeah, there was magic involved, okay? A lot of magic. It just wasn’t Thoko’s magic. She’s not a witch. Trust me, I’d know.”

“She got into your bed?”

“Excuse me?” Greg let the wolf’s growl colour his own voice.

Gustave ducked his head. “Well, when you say it like that, you sound like you know her, you know, intimately.”

“I do know her really well. And I can sense magic, too.”

He started walking again, hoping that the matter was closed with that.

“So you could like, sense a seduction?”

“Oh, for flame’s sake, Gustave.” Greg threw up his hands. “Seriously? Yes, I could! And it wouldn’t work, in any case!”

He was pretty sure, at least.

Gustave closed up to him. “How do you mean?”

Greg buried his hands in his jacket pockets to stop himself from decking Gustave. “It’s harder to make magic stick on us, is all,” he grumbled, voice lowered. “Healing too, for example. And that’s pretty much why the Rot doesn’t get us. Two Rot-queens together weren’t strong enough to ensnare Morgulon, a human magician would never stand a chance of fooling her. She’d let me know if anyone would try.”

Gustave trailed after him in silence for a block.

“Maybe you should’ve mentioned that somewhere,” he finally said. “Lots of people remembered the rumours about unsanctioned magic when they saw those articles.”

“Like who?”

Gustave waved his hands. “No one you’d know. Other students from the club. Dining club, from Deva University,” he clarified.

“So you did enroll.”

“Oh, yes, sure. Soon as we came back.” Gustave paused, and glanced over, as if he sensed how jealous Greg was about that. “Hey, want to meet them? Our club meets just on the other side of the river. Think you can get us across safely?”

Greg paused. “Safe from what?”

“The Rot, genius.”

“Why would that even be an issue?”

Gustave looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “Because I’m not a werewolf? What, you don’t even know… But the river was going bad before you left, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but I thought it got better? That’s why David sent Fenn after all.”

“Nah. I mean, the werewolf stopped it from getting worse. But it didn’t go back to how it was before. Mother’s going to throw a fit if she hears I cross over so late, but you can keep us safe, right?” He grimaced, and admitted: “Can’t really afford decent protection right now.”

Greg hadn’t even realised how low the sun stood above the roofs all around. How bad could it be, with Morgulon here in the city, and Pierre just a few miles outside?

“Yeah, sure, I can get us over the river.”