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Within his beast, the world was separate. Something he viewed, rather than experienced. But there was a moment as his beast got closer to the basin, that Tarkyn was pushed closer to the surface.

His beast had caught another scent. Similar to the one they’d caught at the lagoon when they first arrived. Something odd—animalistic, and yet human. Something different. Not Anima. Not a Chimeran shifter.

Harth thought the scent they’d caught at the lagoon was one of the Creatures—those poor souls whose bodies were stuck somewhere halfway between a human and an animal. She said some of them had come through the same gateway as the rest of the Chimera, including Harth. But they hadn’t seen any of them, so Tarkyn wasn’t sure.

But when he crossed the trail of… something and his instincts alarmed, he shifted back to his human form for just a moment.

Whatever it was, the thing had weight. Its scent put Tarkyn in mind of cattle—though not the same as those they raised for beef. He turned to make certain he was facing the wind and inhaled deeply, but the scent carried little other information.

Whatever it was, it was stressed, but not injured. There was a tang of adrenaline on its scent. And when he found a leaf it had brushed against, the pungent stench of sweat.

Whatever the thing was, it was either moving quickly, or under extreme stress.

But it was alone, and therefore—Tarkyn hoped—not a serious threat.

.....

He wondered briefly if the Anima patrols had come across any of these things. He hadn’t heard anything from the ranks before they’d left. But it was possible the more inexperienced soldiers would just assume it was Chimeran scent and not look deeper—treat it as a possible alarm for the enemy, rather than some other creature altogether.

But whatever it was, he didn’t have time to find out now. His mate was waiting for him back at the lagoon, and Tarkyn ached for her.

‘Are you well, my love?’ he sent lightly as he prepared to shift back to his lion form.

‘Yes, Tarkyn. Just… come back quickly.’ There was something oddly distant about her—as if she was holding herself back from the bond. Tarkyn paused. Something about her tone didn’t sit well, but he figured that, like him, she was probably just anxious to be reunited. Like him, she didn’t like these hours when he was in his beast and they were forced to be completely apart.

‘I’ll see you as soon as I can,’ he vowed, then leaped back into his lion and returned to the most direct route back to her.

An hour after he’d last spoken to Harth, Tarkyn shifted back from his lion to reach out with his mind—but was suddenly overwhelmed with such a jumble of anger and fear that it stole his breath.

‘Harth! What’s wrong?’

‘I didn’t want to worry you, but you need to know… We have visitors,’ she responded simply. Wearily. And then his mind was flooded with an image from Harth’s eyes—Gar standing near, frowning and dark, looking intimidating, but also a little broken. And Elreth next to him, but turned away, her back to both of them, her arms folded like a pouting child.

‘What the hell is going on?’

‘Your Queen has come for you, Tarkyn. Please hurry. Please.’

His blood chilled and he threw himself into a sprint. ‘Are you safe, Love?’

‘Yes. She’s not attacking me. At least, not yet.’

‘Not yet?!’

But his mate sighed through the bond. ‘Ignore me, I’m just tired and tense. She’s not hurting me, Tarkyn. She’s… being quite humble actually. I still don’t like her, though.’

‘And Gar?’

‘He seems… worried.’

Tarkyn wasn’t surprised. If they’d come together, something serious had happened. ‘I assume this means Zev’s gotten free?’

‘Yes. There’s a lot. How far away are you?’

‘Forty minutes,’ he said, praying he wasn’t lying. ‘Less if I can manage it.’

‘Don’t kill yourself,’ she said with a rush of concern. ‘But do hurry. I need you here, Tarkyn.’

Those words stabbed between his ribs like a thrust knife. ‘Harth, are you—’

‘Just get here. Please. As fast as you can.’

‘As fast as I can is in my beast.’

‘I know,’ she said with another sigh. ‘Just do it.’

Tarkyn nodded, his jaw clenched, and sent her an image of himself holding her hand, standing at her side. ‘I’ll be there the first second I can.’

‘Thank you. I love you, Tarkyn.’ She sounded like she was on the verge of tears!

‘Harth, what—’

‘Nothing, like I said. She wants you. She’s… making decisions. She needs our help. Just get here, please.’

He sent her one final, mental embrace, then leaped into his lion and galloped towards the basin.

*****

When he finally made it and caught sight of Harth standing on the shore of the lagoon, arms folded and shoulders tense, facing down both Elreth and Gar, even in his lion rage lit in his chest.

He shifted back, but continued at a run, snarling at Harth to get back, that he was there.

She looked over her shoulder, surprised—but his eyes were all on Elreth, glaring and sullen.

He slid to a halt just in front of his queen, yanking Harth behind him. “You don’t hold her accountable for my actions!” he snapped. “You let me answer for what you see as my crimes and—”

“For fuck’s sake, take a breath, Tark,” Gar said blandly. “El’s only stinking because she’s mad at me. And no one’s holding Harth accountable for crimes.”

Chest heaving with the running, body humming with adrenaline, it took him a minute to blink and realize that Elreth looked surprised—not angry—and Harth had groaned quietly when he’d pulled her back.

Gar didn’t look tense or aggressive. He looked weary.

“What’s going on?” Tarkyn asked in a low growl. “What are you doing here?”

They all looked at him uneasily and his stomach went cold. But Elreth stared like he’d appeared with a second head on his shoulders.

“What’s. Going. On?” he growled.