Dimity and Sophronia curtsied, careful not to show any neck, as custom demanded. “My lord,” they said in unison.

Sidheag said, lip curled, not looking at the great man, “He says there is nothing even he can do to change this outcome and I must stay out of it.”

The dewan sighed the sigh of an older gentleman dealing with a hysterical young girl. “Lord Maccon has made his bed and must lie in it. That bed is Woolsey. Frankly, with Vulkasin the way he was, it is not so terrible an outcome. Politically, Lord Maccon will be good to have closer to town. I’ll give him plenty to do, keep him out of trouble.”

Sidheag wailed, “But he has left Scotland forever! I must be allowed to attend my pack!”

“Admirable sentiments, as I have said before, young lady. But they aren’t your pack, you are not a werewolf, and this is not your concern. Allow Captain Niall and me to manage Kingair, and me to deal with their punishment for attempted treason. Exile, I think, for a decade or two. Now that we have delivered you back to the safe bosom of your friends, we must be on our way. Captain, shall we?”

Captain Niall stood, unhappy, and cleared his throat. He said to the assembled young ladies, “I do not blame Lord Maccon for his choices. For an Alpha werewolf to be betrayed by his Beta—there is no worse pain. It cuts through the heart and mind, but also what is left of the soul. It tears at the bonds of pack, the instinct that holds us as one unshakable group. Lord Maccon could never unify Kingair again after this, nor would he want to. But he is still strong enough to hold a pack. Woolsey will do well for him. Please, take care of your friend, and keep this in mind? Try to get her to understand?”

Sidheag looked betrayed and unreasonably angered by his statement. She jumped to her feet, hands fisted at her sides. “I dinna give two tail shakes about Gramps! He has abandoned the others. What are they to do? What are we to do? How will my pack survive without an Alpha? Who will look after my uncles? Who will plead for a lesser punishment?”

Captain Niall shook his head sadly. “Please, give us time, Lady Kingair. This is not your concern.”

Sidheag said, softly, looking to Sophronia for understanding, “I asked Gramps to bite me.”

Sophronia gasped.

Dimity let out a squeak of alarm.

Bumbersnoot trundled in a shocked circle, as if he actually understood what was happening.

“Oh, Sidheag. You didn’t.” Sophronia tried to be gentle. Sidheag was suffering so much, but such a request was plain stupid.

Sidheag growled, sounding rather werewolf-like. “He refused that, too! Too young, he said. Last of the Maccon line, he said. Not ready, he said.”

“Female!” cried Dimity in frustration.

Sidheag shook her head as if tossing aside the very fact of how unbelievably risky such a request was. Maybe one in a thousand men survived the bite and managed metamorphosis into a supernatural. And for women… well, Sophronia knew of only three female werewolves in all history.

Sidheag looked to Captain Niall. “So, what are we going to do?”

The werewolf said, not unkindly, “We are going to do nothing. You three are going to return to school, like good girls. I’ve written a note explaining Lady Kingair’s extended absence.”

The dewan had grown increasingly impatient. “Niall, we really do not have the time to humor children further, not even Lady Kingair. As it is, we will lose a night’s travel tomorrow. It’s full moon, after all. We shouldn’t have come here. We should have tried for Kingair before the moon.”

“We’d never have made it,” said the captain. Then, like a good loner, he acquiesced meekly to the dewan’s insistence, saying politely to the ladies, “I will take my leave of you now. Best wishes for safe travels back.”

Sidheag looked for a long moment at the werewolf captain. It was almost one of those longing looks Lady Linette made them practice. Only this one, Sophronia thought, had a modicum of sincerity to it that she herself had yet to master. She felt guilty watching Sidheag expose her emotions in such a way—intrusive.

So Sophronia turned to make her farewell to the dewan. “You will not stay to meet my mother? She’ll be sorry to have missed you, as Lord Slaughter, of course. I do not believe my parents play in the same political arena as the dewan.”

He looked at her, concentrated on her as a person for the first time, and not an inconvenient schoolgirl. “And you will not tell them of your lessons at finishing school? Or of this conversation?”

“Absolutely not.”

The great man nodded. “Lady Linette does good work.”

Dimity said nervously, “It was kind of you to escort Sidheag here.”

“I should not have done so but for Captain Niall’s insistence. And he is necessary. Speaking of which, Captain? Now, please.” It was not a request.

With the barest of courtesy, the two werewolves strode from the room.

When Sophronia and Dimity turned back, Sidheag was trying to pull herself together, eyes glassy.

“I can’t believe you rode through the night from London on wolf-back!” said Sophronia, gently applying admiration.

“I can’t believe you requested the bite,” said Dimity, more accusatory.

“I can’t believe my own Gramps turned me down,” huffed Sidheag, a little color returning to her cheeks.

“Thank goodness for small mercies,” said Sophronia.

“You called, Ria my love?” said Lord Mersey, letting himself into the room.