Cora commented to Gabriel, watching Isabel and James in a far corner of the table, "Well, it looks like you and I are the only bachelors left." Thankfully, their romance was less blatant than her sister's with Sinclair; one might have been shocked had the couple not realized they had an audience. Isabel and James, however, had been snuggled together for nearly an hour, close but not touching. Their proximity wasn't what gave them away; it was their laser focus on each other, speaking to no one and looking at no one else. They were completely absorbed in one another.

A pang of jealousy struck Cora, and she immediately pushed it away, embarrassed by the emotion. Instead, she focused on her conversation with the king. "Excuse me, but I happen to be dating a very handsome wolf named Thomas," she said. Gabriel replied, showing no annoyance at her assumption.

"Oh," Cora frowned, clearly disappointed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed," she sincerely apologized, though questions filled her mind. When had he become so sentimental that the sight of a happy couple evoked such longing? What about learning of another couple's happiness could make her so envious?

"Okay," Gabriel assured her. "It's intentional. I prefer people to keep guessing about my love life."

Cora managed a sympathetic sneer. "Yeah, I'd imagine there are a hundred too many opinions on that subject."

"You can say that again," Gabriel chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. A mischievous smile played on his lips, as if he were about to confess something. "It's going well, though. Someday soon, I hope to make it official."

Cora forced a smile. "Congratulations!" To make a relationship official in the shapeshifter world meant a formal claim: another mating ceremony. She tried to hide the sudden, inexplicable pain that gripped her, silently wondering if she was freaking out or perhaps about to start her period. She was unusually moody, and couldn't understand it.

"Thank you, but if it happens, it will be after the war," Gabriel replied, tempering her hopes with realistic expectations.

"Are you sure?" Cora asked, nodding at James and Isabel. "Maybe they have the right idea—bond while you can."

It was their last night in Vanara before traveling to Altaran to find Ella's mother, or returning to the mainland with Sinclair to face Damon. Either way, they would be separated by tomorrow—and goodbyes during wartime were the worst. Cora knew there were no guarantees in life, and she knew the cost of fighting at home. Suddenly, a vivid image flashed in her mind: a bloody operating room, a resistance fighter they had failed to save. Roger's lifeless face replaced that of the stranger.

"Cora, are you okay?" Gabriel asked, worried as tears welled in her eyes.

"I'm fine," she assured him with a unconvincing smile. "I just need a moment. Some fresh air." She pushed back her chair. She met Ella's concerned gaze and shook her head to prevent her sister from following. Unfortunately, she couldn't stop Roger.

Cora moved stiffly toward the balcony doors and stepped onto the terrace. The gardens were still decorated from the previous night, though much quieter now. Courtiers and delegations, all refugees willing and able to fight, were home preparing for war. Those who weren't were back in the dining room, savoring their remaining time together. Cora wandered among the plants, gasping for air as the scene cruelly played out in her mind. "Tonight, they'll all go to their rooms, hold each other close, and make love, and I'll be here… staring at a leaf."

Cora grimaced and shook herself. "Enough!" she scolded herself. "You're being a brat. It's not their fault they're happy."

"Talking to yourself, little human?" A deep, familiar voice sounded behind her.

Cora jumped, turning to see Roger. "Where I come from, it's rude to stalk lonely women in the dark and listen to their private conversations."

Roger frowned. "No, no, we come from the same place, and I don't remember any such rule. Also, is it a conversation if you're having it with yourself?"

"It's the most private type of conversation," she answered haughtily. "So do us both a favor and leave before you make things even more awkward."

Roger shoved his hands in his pockets and approached. "Well, since things are already awkward, I might as well ask why you're crying… and why you're upset that someone is happy." Cora crossed her arms, wishing she could kill him with her eyes—then snorted when the wolf chuckled. "Come on," he encouraged, moving closer. "I can be a very good listener."

Cora doubted Roger's impartiality extended to her feelings for him—not that she had any, of course. "Actually, I'm going to bed," she lied quickly. "But in case we don't see each other tomorrow, I want to thank you for supporting me, for helping me escape Moon Valley. You saved my life." She held out her hand. "I hope we meet again."

Cora was counting down the minutes until her and Ella's departure, dreading it. She most wanted this goodbye to be over.

"Oh, I see," Roger's lips curled into a devilish smile. "I wondered why you didn't mention it. Dominic didn't tell you."

"Tell me what?" Cora snapped, disliking his predatory grin.

"Since the killer told Damon the Alpha is dead, his next targets are Ella and the baby," Roger explained vaguely. "Kieran was approached by Damon, so we arranged additional security for their journey. My brother prioritizes his mate and son above all else—he'll spare no resource for Ella and Rafe."

"What are you saying?" Ella demanded, though she sensed the answer.

"You don't have to worry about separation or anything happening to you while you're on Altara," Roger clarified, still smiling as he pushed Cora against the wall.

"Why not?" Cora swallowed, instinctively backing away. Roger bared his fangs. "Because I'm going with you," he stated, his voice sending shivers down her spine. "I'll be with you every step of the way—day and night, for the next few weeks…on a chain of deserted islands…with nothing to do but watch over your sister with a dozen other guards." Ella purred, and Cora's lashes drooped, wondering if he was about to kiss her—and then if she would stop him.

He didn't. "I don't know about you," Roger concluded, his dark eyes boring into hers as she nervously licked her lips. His gaze followed her tongue, and he suddenly seemed uncomfortable. "But I'm going to work hard to think of ways to entertain ourselves during those long hours on the boat and in the temple."

Cora's heart pounded; her thighs clenched. "Surely a temple dedicated to the Goddess is a holy and sacred place," she suggested, her voice quavering. "We'll have to be quiet and respectful."

Roger laughed, an ominous roar. "Sweet Cora, is that really what you expect, knowing our kind?"

Suddenly, she remembered the holidays and traditions she'd shared with Ella—the Solstice, with its bonfires and moon baths. She thought of the raw sensuality of those nights, the ancient magic and base instincts. She pictured herself alone with Roger in a place of mystery and power, her senses heightened.

She understood Roger's pleasure. He expected her to be unable to resist once they left. He planned to make her his, and the scariest part? Cora had a feeling he would succeed.