Sabine by Moira Rogers Page A

me, whether we’re human or wolf.”
    It was magic the likes of which she’d never seen. Then again, wouldn’t the lions be shocked to hear that a person’s existence could be utterly erased through a trick of magic?
    Of all the silly things to think about at a time like this. Sabine shook herself and lifted her voice in a shout, just in case. “Farran!”
    One side of the huge wooden gates swung open, revealing a tall, dangerous-looking man with a scruffy beard and wild eyes. Farran, as changed by the years as Ciar had been, and even more untamed than she remembered.
    His gaze fell on Ciar for a moment before shifting to Sabine. “I didn’t believe it was true, not until I demanded that Ciar’s mother tell me what she’d done to you. She truly has no recollection at all.”
    â€œNo one does, not—” Her voice failed. “Not even my own mother.”
    Farran reached out a hand. Ciar lunged, snapping at his friend’s fingers with teeth vicious enough to shred skin.
    Sabine stepped back, her heart in her throat. “The witch. Does the same one still serve here?”
    â€œYes.” Farran’s gaze strayed to the wolf again. “Settle yourself, Ciar. I have no intention of touching your mate.”
    Ciar backed up until his side was pressed firmly against Sabine’s leg, protective anger in every line of his strong form, and only one thing would soothe him.
    Sabine spoke quickly. “You’re the only person who remembers me, Farran. I don’t have the authority to make demands here at the palace, and if Ciar shifts back…”
    â€œI understand.” His jaw tightened a little, anger or unease in his eyes. “The witch sits in his mother’s suite most days, along with the other ladies of the court. The quickest way to have done with it is to go there now.”
    Sabine took a deep breath, and Ciar nudged her impatiently through the heavy gate. He’d been a wolf for two days now, longer than most people remained in their other forms, and the strain was beginning to show.
    No matter the outcome, it had to end today.

Chapter Six
    Ciar’s mother, Maris, was just as imperious as Sabine remembered, though she smiled politely when they entered. No doubt she assumed Sabine had accompanied Farran, not the anxious wolf who followed them into the High Lady’s chamber.
    The witch smiled too, though she seemed troubled. Confused. Her eyes narrowed, carving deep creases between her eyebrows as she stared at Sabine, as if she was a puzzle that needed solving.
    It made Ciar snarl again. He angled his body in front of Sabine, and Farran spoke into the tense silence. “My Lady, your son and his mate are here.”
    Gasps and whispers rippled through the room. Ciar’s mother’s vague smile faltered. “Impossible, Farran. My son has yet to choose a mate.”
    Farran didn’t move, but something slithered through the room. Magic, or power—something so feral, so threatening that the whispers hushed. Even the High Lady herself paled and glanced at Ciar. “Surely you can stand on two feet and speak to me yourself.”
    Ciar growled.
    Farran shifted his weight, as if preparing for a fight, and looked to Sabine.
    For a moment, fear and memories held her rooted to the spot. This was where it had happened, where the High Lady had invited her up to talk. Sabine had been excited, so moved by the gesture that she hadn’t stopped to consider that the woman might be plotting against her.
    And this, this was where Maris and her witch had looked on her with no recollection of her. Where she’d been banished from the castle for her shrieking nonsense, not once but dozens of times. Day after day, until her throat had grown raw from the screaming.
    For a moment, she couldn’t speak. And then Ciar brushed against her, butting his head under her hand. “You’re my mate now. No one can throw you from this