Magic Rises

percent certainty that if all of us ganged up on him, he could handle it.
    Curran had a feral edge. You sensed instinctively that he was never too far from violence. It simmered under his skin, and when he wanted to intimidate you, he looked at you like you were prey. But Hugh was steady as a rock. He would laugh, in a good-natured easy way, and lop your head off.
    “I’m fine,” Desandra said. “Thank you for asking.”
    “Let me know if the ride gets too rough. One word and I’ll turn this parade around.” He winked at her.
    Desandra giggled.
    What are you planning, Hugh? What’s the deal?
    “I’m very sorry about yesterday,” Hugh said. “My people are investigating the matter. We will find whoever sent that sonovabitch.”
    “I’m sure you will.” Desandra smiled.
    I’m sure he won’t.
    “We’ll do our best to guarantee your safety.”
    I think I just threw up a little in my mouth. “According to the pack contract, we are the ones guaranteeing her safety. You are”— dragging —“encouraging her to exert herself on this hunt.”
    “I love hunts,” Desandra squeezed through her teeth, and gave me a pointed look.
    “There is very little risk,” Hugh said. “Nobody would try anything with all of us out here.”
    “She’s eight months pregnant.” What the hell was the rationale behind pulling her out of the castle anyway?
    Hugh grinned at me, displaying even, white teeth. “You have to stop measuring a shapeshifter by human standards.”
    “I’m perfectly fine,” Desandra said.
    Oh, you idiot. “If the mare throws you . . .”
    “That’s why you’ve brought a medmage,” Hugh said, nodding toward the back, where Doolittle rode on a chestnut. “He seems very capable.”
    Curran turned and was looking at us with that stonewall Beast Lord expression of his.
    “Well, I shall leave you to the skilled hands of your guards,” Hugh said. “Someone has to lead this expedition, or we may end up in some wilderness and have to steal sheep for dinner.”
    Desandra giggled again.
    Hugh clicked his tongue, and the stallion smoothly carried him to the front of our parade.
    “What’s your problem?” Desandra stared at me.
    I leaned to her and kept my voice quiet. “That man is dangerous.” And if someone had asked me six months ago what would happen if the two of us met, I would’ve said that Hugh would attack me on sight. Instead we were now riding on a hunt, exchanging barbed pleasantries.
    “He’s a human,” Desandra sneered. “I can rip out his throat with one bite.”
    And we were back to ripping throats. I thought of telling her that I was a human and in a throat-ripping contest between us, she’d come in dead last, but people were listening to us. Besides, threatening the body you were guarding was never a good idea. She would resent me, and without her cooperation keeping her breathing would be much harder.
    “Not all humans are the same,” Andrea said.
    If Desandra thought she could fight off the preceptor of the Iron Dogs, she would be in for a rude awakening. Hugh would end her with one cut, carve his way through all of her relatives and husbands, and then celebrate with a nice bottle of local wine.
    * * *
    The road climbed higher and higher until we finally came to a clearing lined with huge slabs of gray stone. Tucked against the sheer cliff of a mountain, the clearing fanned out in a rough trapezoid shape, with the narrow side facing the mountain. A corral built with rough timbers was set directly against the mountain. Below us woods stretched, green and lush, climbing up and down mountain curves as far as we could see.
    Three stone thrones stood at the edge of the clearing, chiseled from rock with rough strokes smoothed by centuries of rains. The middle throne towered, huge, as if made for a giant, and the other two were smaller. They felt ancient, just like the stone slabs under our feet. This was an old place, permeated with age. Centuries ago some kind of king must’ve sat here, on the stone throne, surveying the mountains.
    Hibla’s djigits dismounted and came for our horses. They led them to the enclosure by the mountain and tethered their feet.
    Hugh sat on the throne. Oh, spare me . . .
    “Ladies and gentlemen. The forests you see before you are rich with game. They’re teeming with red deer, tur—the king of mountain antelopes—gazelles, mouflon or wild sheep, and wild goats.”
    He clearly had experience with public speaking. His voice