Braden led them to the massive carved doors of the Great Hall. He drew them open, and Cassidy saw what had become of the human inhabitants ofGreyburn.
They were lined up in even rows at one end of the Hall, men and women in their sober suits and uniforms, standing at attention like soldiers on parade. There were far more servants than Cassidy would have guessed, people she’d never so much as glimpsed, ranging in age from little more than children to white-haired elders. Not one of them made a sound.
Just across the room was placed a large hinged screen. Braden’s valet, Telford, stood beside it, his narrow face as blank as all the others’. On every side, the walls were hung with torches, making the banners and shields and swords push out in sharp relief. The carvings of wolves and men seemed to leap and battle in the flickering light.
Braden walked slowly into the Hall and came to stand beside Telford. Quentin and Rowena drew up behind him, Aynsley slipped into the Hall and went to join the first row of servants, his movements jerky as a puppet’s.
“We are gathered here,” Braden said, his voice a booming echo, “to renew the bonds and pledges that have protected Greyburn since the first of my people came to this land. Tonight, we accept the vows of two who would serve this house, and promise their safekeeping as long as they live among us.” He nodded to Telford, who gestured toward the foremost line of servants.
Two people stepped out of the line—a scared-looking young man and a girl Cassidy recognized as her maid in the London house. Braden went to meet them. The young man’s legs nearly buckled. The maids eyes were very wide. She glanced from side to side, as if seeking help—or escape.
“Stay where you are,” Quentin said when Cassidy started forward. “You can’t interfere now. Observe me and Rowena, and do exactly as we do.”
Braden’s voice rose over her whispered protest. “John Tobias Dodd and Kitty Wanless,” he said to the two new servants, “you have chosen to serve Greyburn. You have been told the purpose of this initiation, and what is required of you both. This is your last chance to withdraw.”
The young mans mouth opened and the maid closed her eyes, but neither of them spoke. Braden nodded. “Very well. You have made your choice. What you witness tonight you will never reveal to any outside these walls.”
He stepped back, untied the sash at his waist, and let the robe fall to the floor. Cassidy gasped.
Clad only in torchlight, Braden faced the servants. He left them look their fill, and then he flung back his head. And Changed.
It was like watching a cloud shift from one fluid shape to another through a grimy plate of glass. Dark mist wreathed Braden’s nakedness, blurring the angles and edges of his body until all form was gone. The mist roiled, gathered, solidified once again into a figure undeniably inhuman.
The little maid gasped but held her place. The young man showed no reaction at all. Braden-the-wolf stared at each of them, as long and intently as if he could see into their eyes, and then stalked forward. The maid held out one trembling hand. Braden opened his jaws and closed his teeth on the fragile fingers—gently, so gently, but even Cassidy realized what the gesture meant. Braden could crush the hand, and the girl, without any effort at all. He demonstrated his power—and the consequences of disloyalty.
He released the maid’s hand, unmarked, and turned to the young man. Swallowing hard, the man offered his hand. Braden repeated the ritual of dominance, and then let him go. One of the other servants had to catch the young man as he swayed and nearly fell.
Braden ignored him. He turned to his brother and sister. Quentin squeezed Cassidy’s arm and stepped behind the screen.
And Cassidy understood, with sudden clarity, what was about to happen.
The door to the Great Hall was open only a crack, but that small space was just enough. Isabelle rested her cheek on the doorjamb and spied on the ceremony she’d been forbidden to attend.