“How in the hell did you get past the border patrols?”

“I didn’t even smell him.”

“Or hear him.”

“What is this?”

These were just some of the questions and comments being hurled out by everyone present. Russel had gotten up off the stool he’d been sitting on. Lola nearly jumped out of her skin with fear. Roland and Raylan were mid-transformation, as were most of the other werewolves. Even Sir Thomas looked rattled. The only one who had no reaction at all to King Finley’s sudden and dramatic appearance was Hank. It was evident to the others that the Harvenk monarch’s appearance had been planned with the human envoy well in advance.

“Please, please. All of this incessant questioning is doing little good and you are all talking over one another anyway.” Hank’s voice cut through all the commotion and craziness. One by one, they stopped and stared at the man, anger burning in their eyes.

Lola was having a lot of trouble taming both the anger and her sudden, vicious fear. The King of Harvenk looked innocuous enough, even sort of pleasant-seeming, but one of his sons had slaughtered all of her family and friends and sent her life careening onto a whole new path. A dangerous and frightening path. What was he about to do? Why did he come alone into Oclan territory? He was either insanely stupid or he was extremely confident in Hank’s power to protect him from harm. He didn’t look like a stupid man so she assumed it was the latter.

“You came alone?” Lola asked.

Russel stared down the enemy king and stood protectively in front of Lola. His skin and muscles were starting to shift and move, the features of his face becoming more wolfish. His eyes began glowing with that blue alpha light. Almost immediately, Finley reacted. He started to growl and his own eyes flashed with the same blue light as Russel, marking him as an alpha as well. He looked like he wanted to lunge at Russel for a few seconds, but then he stopped himself, took a deep breath, and let the color fade from his eyes.

“Apologies, King Russel,” he said. “And congratulations as well on the victory over your father. I had always hoped you would be his successor.”

“And why is that?” Russel snapped.

“I’ve heard you were more…level-headed than most of your kin,” Finley remarked.

“That doesn’t make me fool enough to trust a Harvenk,” Russel shot back. “Especially not their king. What are you doing on my lands? Just by stepping foot here you are risking war.”

“Don’t worry, I come here on a mission of peace. And let's not forget, you were well on your way to crossing into my territory, were you not?” Finley shot him a look of amusement. “Believe me, if I wished any of you harm, I would have let you proceed with your original plan and come to me. It would have been far safer for me as well. But instead, I came to you, alone, unarmed, and without any of my guard or soldiers to protect me. I figured you, Russel, would have been reasonable enough to see that.”

“Your wolves are a scourge on the entire world, Finley. They kill and slaughter indiscriminately. I’d be a fool to trust your word. You could have them waiting in the darkness, out of sight, for all we know,” Russel said.

“Let’s kill him right here,” Ray said through a mouthful of fangs.

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Roland added.

“This grows tiresome,” Hank announced. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers before addressing them again. “It looks as if I, once again, must be the voice of reason.” He looked at Russel and the other werewolves. “Killing King Finley is not an option. I have agreed to be the mediator between you two and have guaranteed him safety.”

Hank’s face dropped all pretense of amusement, smugness, or anything else. Instead, it went cold and icy, like a glacier.

“An act of violence against each other will be dealt with harshly. My king has given me authority to respond in kind and trust me, I will not hesitate to do so. You remember the demonstration back in Oclan, do you not King Russel?” Hank’s voice was deadly serious.

Russel, his brothers, and the other werewolves did not look like they wanted to stand down but the threat of Hank’s guns was potent.

“Fine,” Russel said, finally relaxing a little bit. “But he doesn’t come near Lola. If I see him so much as glance her way, the parlay will be over and he will be fair game.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, no?” Hank responded. “I mean, he can look at her right? It’s not like he can blast some kind of heat beam out of his eyes.”

He stopped and then looked at King Finley.

“You can’t shoot beams out of your eyes, can you? I’ve never actually asked before. Imagine how it would look if I was wrong about that,” he said.

King Finley didn't seem bothered by Hank’s eccentricities. He simply held out both hands in a gesture of peace.

“No, of course not,” he said. “And despite the centuries-old hatred between our two countries, I have not come here for a fight.”

He looked past Russel and locked eyes with Lola.

“But I did come here for you, Lola,” he said.

Russel started to move toward Finley, his anger quick to flare right back up again. Ays and Maks, however, caught hold of him and held him back.

“You see?” Russel shouted, looking directly at Hank. “You can’t trust Harvenk scum like him! You heard it right from his mouth.”

“Wait,” Lola suddenly said. She laid a hand on Russel’s shoulder.

He was still struggling against the others, fighting to break free. They were having a hell of a time managing it but after Raylan and Kurt jumped in to help, they were finally able to keep him away from Finley, barely. When he felt Lola’s touch on him, however, he almost immediately calmed down. It was soft, soothing even. She wasn’t scared or angry.

Lola felt Russel ease up a little and was happy about that. She had been so scared, angry, and terrified once she realized King Finley was there. All sorts of horrible things started to run through her mind, most of them ending with Finley standing over her shredded corpse. But the more she looked at him, and the way he stared at her, the less afraid she became. He didn’t stare at her the way Drake had stared at her, all loathing and rage. He stared at her with eyes full of care, worry, and even, she thought, love. Not romantic love, though.

It was a different kind of love.

The love she’d only ever seen in the eyes of…

She stopped that thought from fully forming. She didn’t want to assume anything. King Finley needed to be the one to tell her first. A look in someone’s eyes was hardly conclusive evidence to back up her sudden suspicion. Plus, she knew if what she thought was true, it would have some serious ramifications not only for herself but for Russel as well. That wasn’t something she wanted to even risk, especially when there was a pretty good chance she was wrong anyway.

“It’s okay,” she said, looking at Russel. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

“What?” Russel asked. “Why? What could he possibly say that would be—”

“Just trust me,” she said, cutting him off. “Okay? I want to hear what he has to say and why he came out here, risking his life to meet with us.”

Russel looked at her with shock, his eyes wide with disbelief. But she was looking at him so earnestly. So insistently. She looked confident in what she was doing and what she was asking him to do. He wanted to argue with her more, to tell her no. He didn’t want Finley anywhere near her. Didn’t want him talking to her. Didn’t want him doing anything to her. But she wasn’t backing down. Eventually, he forced himself to relax and nodded his head.

“Okay,” he told her. “I don’t trust him but I do trust you. I’ll stand down.”

She smiled and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. Then she moved around so that she could stand in front of the group of Oclan wolves. Faintly, she heard rumbling growls from most of them but she ignored that. She looked at Finley, still seeing that look in his eyes.

“So,” she started to say, “tell us all, why did you come here to see me?”

“Because…”

King Finley suddenly looked nervous, which spooked Russel a little. The Harvenk monarch was a lot of things but prone to fits of nervousness was not one of them. Finley took a steadying breath.

“Because you’re my daughter, Lola.”