Mated to the Warg (Wargs of the Outland, #1)

Bloodthirsty Bog Lilies

"The fool must've been asleep to give the golrag such an opening." This from Barthac, his face merciless as he scratched his chin.

With the bond locked, Rowan understood wargish better than she could speak it, but Barthac's contempt transcended even the language barrier.

Merritt stiffened. "What's he saying?" He glared at Barthac through red and swollen eyes, still seeping tears.

"I said," Barthac switched to Wrasian, "you're all fools."

Merritt looked horrified. "How dare you! My men have died!"

"Fools often do..."

"You monster!"

Rowan set her teeth and hushed Merritt. "Careful, Lord Marwort, you're not in West Gate. You have no power here."

"He shouldn't be here at all," said Thrax, grinding his teeth.

"Captain Morse," said Merritt, his face wan. "Was the only other experience outman and he was taken by a ferocious, bloody orchid."

Barthac turned away, his lips twitching. The bastard was trying not to laugh.

Rowan frowned at him. She wanted to chastise him, but she had to admit Merritt wasn't making it easy for the wargs to take him seriously. 'Deadly mowrath' sounded far grimmer than 'ferocious bloody orchid' did.

When Barthac turned around again, his face was schooled and devoid of the humor Rowan had glimpsed. "You camped near a mowrath grove, what do you expect?"

Thrax was watching Rowan. "We found what was left of Marwort's men east of Kolg, heading in the wrong direction."

Barthac shook his head at Merritt. "I thought you humans knew better than to cross that bridge of yours into our world. What possible reason could've lured you out?"

Merritt's underlip quivered with indignations. "It was for my lady."

Barthac seemed genuinely confused. "I did not take Elgret for a fool."

It was Thrax who answered, his glare never leaving Rowan. "Lord Marwort isn't talking about his High Lady." He ignored his brother's questioning glance, though. He shot Rowan and Merritt thunderous looks and then stalked out of the lodge. But just in case the boy suffered under any misunderstandings, he growled a peremptory, "Outside, Marwort. We three will speak alone."

Her stomach clenched as she watched him leave. Shoulders squared, she gave Merritt a nod, and then followed Thrax from the public house. Merritt trailed close behind. When his men began to file out, too, she stayed them with a firm shake of her head. "You must rest here," she said to them. "I will have beer and broth brought to you all. For now, let our healer see to your wounds." She nodded at Ugla before hurrying away.

Outside, night had fallen. She stalked away from the torches, sucking in a cooling breath. She was glad to escape the stifling hall, large as it was she'd felt confined. With a frown, she turned to see that Merritt was tripping in the dark like a newborn fawn. It reminded her of what she herself had been not so long ago—blind and frail. So very human. She stood staring at him a moment, wondering if the other wargs had ever thought her this...feeble and inept. Thrax certainly had. To her warg eyes, the night was bright and full of color. But to Merritt, who could see nothing of the uneven boards and the waiting water below, the night must seem a ravenous insidious thing.

"Whatever you do, don't trip." She glanced down at the long undulating shadow beneath the water, gliding slowly alongside them. "You don't want to go swimming in this lake, believe me."

"I'll...I'll do my best." He was panting hard, every breath a panicked wheeze. His hands were grappling with the bridge ropes.

Gods, why was he so loud? That he and his men had lasted even an hour outside the Iron Girdle spoke of his incredible luck. She muttered in wargish, hating how impatient she felt. It struck her then—how the roles were reversed! She was just like Thrax now, and Merritt was so like the girl she'd been not so long ago. But she found no humor in the realization, remembering his cold manner and the way he always seemed to resent her weakness. Just as she was doing with Merritt now.