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the beginning of the woodland surrounding the castle. She straightened her feathers and waddled toward the woods, carefully leaving the ooze-covered wing stretched away from the rest of her body.
    A black form erupted from the shadows, its ivory fangs catching the light of the moon as it halted directly in Aralorn’s path. The goose squawked and dodged backward, resuming a human form just in time for Aralorn to fall on her rump rather than her tail.
    Her own rump, too. She was back in her own skin: short, brown-haired, and plain-faced. Her anger fueled the speed of her transformation.
    “Allyn’s blessed toadflax!” she sputtered, using her father’s favorite oath. There had been no need for drama, and she’d been scared enough for ten lifetimes in the past few days. “Wolf, what are you trying to do to me?” Mindful of the proximity of the castle, she lowered her voice to a soft tone that didn’t carry but did not lack for force either. But anger faded into sheer relief, and the abrupt transition left her giddy.
    “I could have died of shock”—she put her hand theatrically over her heart—“then what would you have done? Why didn’t you warn me you were here?”
    The wolf stood over her, fey and feral, with the stillness of a wild thing. The snarl had disappeared at her furious whispers, and he waited for a moment after she finished, as if he wanted to make certain she was done.
    His macabre voice, dry and hoarse, was passionless when he spoke—he didn’t answer her question. “You should have told me that you intended to spy on the ae’Magi—if I had known that you were contemplating suicide, I would have killed you myself. At least it would be a cleaner death than any he would bestow.” Fathomless golden eyes gazed at her coolly.
    A green mage could speak in animal form—though it required practice and a great deal of uncomfortable effort. Wolf wasn’t a green mage, though, not as far as she could figure him out. And those few human mages who could transform themselves to animals were lucky if they remembered to transform themselves back again. Wolf was an endlessly fascinating puzzle who didn’t fit into any category she could find for him.
    A reassuring puzzle, though.
    She watched him for a moment.
    “Do you know,” she said, after weighing his words, “that is the first time I have ever heard anyone say anything against him? I even asked why I was being sent to spy there—and none of it struck me as strange at all.”
    She nodded at the dark shape of the castle where it stood on the top of the mountain, its silhouette almost blacking out the sky to the east. “The Mouse said that there were rumors of an assassination plot, and I was to investigate it and warn the ae’Magi if necessary.” Her customary grin restored itself, and if it felt a little stiff, that was all right.
    Safe. She was out, Wolf was with her, and she was safe. “If there is such a plot, I can only wish them luck in their endeavors.”
    “It has always amazed me how well he can blind people, even when he is not using magic to do it,” replied the wolf. He glanced at the castle, then away. His yellow eyes glistened, glowing with a light that might not all have been a reflection of the moon. He looked back again, as if he could not resist the impulse. A growl rose low in his throat, and the hair on his neck and back stiffened.
    Aralorn cautiously set a hand on his fur, smoothing it down. In all the time she’d known him, he’d always been slow to warm from his customary reserve, and though she’d seen him kill several times, she’d never seen him quite this upset. “What’s wrong?”
    The wolf quieted and lowered his head for a moment. Then he shook himself, and said softly, “Nothing. Perhaps it is the moon. I find that it sometimes has this effect on me.”
    “The moon.” She nodded solemnly. “That must be it.” She caught his gaze and raised one eyebrow. The wolf stared back at her. Aralorn gave up the