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Jamil and Shang-Da stood together to one side of the throne, not too close, but not too far either. Shang-Da was back in his usual monochrome black business dress: black slacks, black shirt, black suit jacket, and the polished black shoes. He always looked very GQ, even in the woods.

Jamil could dress up with the best of them, but he tried to be appropriate to the situation. He had on jeans that looked freshly pressed and a red muscle tank top that looked splendid against the darkness of his skin. He’d changed the beads in his waist-length cornrowed hair to red and black. The beads gleamed softly in the torchlight, as if they might be made of semiprecious stones.

Jamil caught my glance. He didn’t exactly nod, but he acknowledged me with his eyes. Shang-Da avoided my gaze, searching the crowd, but never quite looking at me. I think if Richard would have allowed it the two of them would have done whatever was necessary to secure his throne. But they were ham-strung by Richard, and the best they could do was work within his honorable trap.

Sylvie and I stared at each other for a few heartbeats. I’d seen her collection of bones of her enemies. She got them out periodically and handled them. She said it was comforting to run her hands over them. I personally liked a good stuffed toy and some really fine coffee, but, hey, whatever makes you feel better. Sylvie would do whatever needed doing, if Richard would only let her.

And if I’d still been lupa, hell, we had enough ruthless people to get the job done, if Richard would just get out of our way. We were so close, and at the same time we weren’t even in the ballpark. It was more than frustrating. It was like watching a train race towards Richard, and we were all yelling, “Get off the tracks, get off the tracks!” Hell, we were trying to drag him off the tracks, and he was fighting us.

If Jacob was the train, then I could kill him and Richard would be safe. But Rafael was right. If it wasn’t Jacob, it’d be someone else. Jacob wasn’t the train hurtling to destroy Richard. Richard was.

His voice filled the clearing. “We gather here tonight to say good-bye to our lupa and to choose another.”

There was a rash of howls and applause from about half of the pack. But dozens of the werewolves stood silent, watching. It didn’t mean they were on my side. Maybe they were neutral, but it was good to notice who wasn’t a rousing supporter of my being kicked out of the pack.

“We are here to stand in final judgment for one who has wronged our pack by taking our lupa from us.”

There was less applause, fewer howls. It looked like the vote to condemn Gregory had been a close one. That made me feel better, not much, but a little. Though if Gregory died, I guess it really didn’t matter.

“We are also here to give the leopards’ Nimir-Ra a last chance to win back her cat.”

The howls and applause stayed at about fifty–fifty, but the general atmosphere was definitely cooler. The pack wasn’t lost, and it certainly wasn’t wholeheartedly on Jacob’s side. I said a little prayer for guidance, because this was more a political problem, and that wasn’t one of my best things.

“It is business between the lukoi and the pard. Why are the rodere here, Rafael?” Richard asked. He talked like he didn’t know us, very political, very distant.

“The Nimir-Ra saved my life once. The rodere owe her a great debt.”

“Does this mean that your treaty with us is null and void?”

“I formed a treaty with you, Richard, and I will hold to that, because I know you are a man that honors his obligations and remembers his duty to his allies, but I owe Anita a personal debt, and I am honor-bound to uphold that as well.”

“If it comes to fighting, who will you fight with, us or the leopards?”

“I hope most sincerely that it does not come to that, but I came with the leopards, and we will go with them, under whatever circumstances that leave-taking will be.”

“You have destroyed your people,” Jacob said.

Richard turned