Tynan grinned. “And each Cosantir hopes to lure new shifters into his area?”
“Shay says Cosantirs are as greedy as flower fairies in a rose garden,” Bree said.
“Have they decided where this festival will be held?” Donal asked.
“Someplace between the North Cascades Territory and Rainier Territory. Still in the God’s forest but not claimed by a Cosantir.”
Margery bit her lip, her shoulders hunching forward. “Are we required to go to the festival?”
“No.” Bree gave her a sympathetic look. “Although it sounds like fun. Some crafts people will bring their stuff. Apparently, bards love festivals, so they’ll come. Singing, dancing. And howling. They want it to last a couple of nights to make it worth the drive.”
Why would the little banfasa be reluctant? She loved people. Donal tilted his head, puzzling it out. Ah, could she be worried she’d run into the Rainier shifters? Probably.
Damned if he’d let her fall into the trap of being afraid to leave Cold Creek. He took her hand. “Calum will probably request that we attend the festival.”
His reminder that she was needed seemed to do the job, pulling her away from thoughts of Rainier where she’d been treated so badly. Her gaze cleared.
“Why would the Cosantir request Margery if she doesn’t want to go?” Oliver asked, frowning.
“Because she’s our banfasa.” Tynan gave her a smile. “No matter how effective the Cosantirs and cahirs are, brawling and accidents will occur.”
A clatter outside drew everyone’s attention.
“Someone ignoring the sundown curfew?” Oliver asked.
Tynan rose. “I’ll check. If it’s a shifter, I’ll stuff them back into their cabin.”
“We have a couple of humans renting cabins,” Bree stood, as well. “It’s probably them.”
Donal patted Margery’s shoulder. “Back in a bit, wolflet.” If there was trouble, he needed to be at his brother’s side.
The noise turned out to have come from a drunk human in one of the cabins. That was a relief. Since the scent of Daonain was all over the area—and hellhounds preferred Daonain blood—the humans were safe enough after dark.
Shifters weren’t safe at all on the dark of the moon. As they re-entered the lodge, Donal was bloody pleased to close the heavy door behind them.
Bree glanced at him and Tynan. “I’m going to swing by the kitchen and get drinks and snacks. Any requests?”
“Whatever you have is great.” Tynan patted his stomach. “I haven’t found anything you make that I don’t love.”
Tynan’s compliment put a bounce in her step.
“Very clever, wolf.” Donal punched his brother’s arm. “Don’t think your smooth-talking will get you extra cookies.”
At the sound of shouting from the library room, Tynan’s smug grin faded. “What in the Hunter’s forests…?”
That was the shifter-soldier’s shouting. “You come here to be all comfortable—and left the town with no one who knows scat about healing. My brother almost died, you lazy fucking bitch.”
“I’m sorry your brother was hurt.” Margery’s voice was calm—but Donal could hear the tremor of fear.
Rushing into the library after Tynan, Donal felt fury well up inside.
The big shifter-soldier loomed over Margery, one meaty hand on each shoulder, punctuating each word with a shake.
“Silas, you’re getting carried away.” Offering an ineffective protest, Oliver was just beginning to stand.
Growling, Tynan grabbed Silas and threw him across the room. He hit the wall hard and dropped to his knees.
Not enough. Not nearly enough. Donal slammed his fist into his palm and glanced at Tynan.
Tynan nodded, then pointed to himself.
No way the wolf would deal out all the punishment. Donal pointed one finger to himself, held up the second finger and pointed to Tynan. One punch each.
After a narrow-eyed stare, Tynan nodded.
As Silas regained his feet, Donal walked over and punched him in the gut so hard he folded in half.
Gasping, the boggart spat out, “What the fuck!”
“No decent shifter pushes females around. I know you shifter-soldiers missed out on some of our traditions, but this is one you should take to heart,” Donal told him.
Silas slowly straightened, his face purple. “You stinking—”
Tynan’s short jab to the ribs slammed Silas back into the wall. There he stayed. His breathing sounded like sobs.
Worried, Donal took a step forward.
“Nothing’s busted, healer.” Tynan grabbed Silas’s shirt front and yanked him forward. “The pain in your ribs will remind you to be polite to females. Now get your tail out of here.”
Hand on his side, Silas stomped out of the room. A second later, the lodge’s front door slammed hard enough to shake the pictures on the wall.
Instead of going upstairs to his room, the weasel-tempered asshole had gone outside…on a dark of the moon night.
Shaking his head at the idiocy, Donal turned to Margery. She was standing, spine straight, hands in fists. Tough little female, but so pale. This was the last thing she needed, more violence from males.
Scowling, Tynan turned to Oliver. “You let someone put their hands on your sister?”
“He was just upset—wasn’t hurting her.” Oliver flushed. “His littermate managed to survive the Scythe and then almost died because he busted his leg and there was no one—”
“That’s not Margery’s fault,” Donal snapped.
Oliver swallowed. His voice cracked as he said, “I know how it feels to lose my brother.”
The Scythe had killed Margery’s other littermate. Donal’s own heart ached at the thought.
“Wasn’t hurting her?” Tynan repeated Oliver’s words, then shoved the male in Donal’s direction. “Does it feel good when someone bigger pushes you around?”
“She spent years being beaten up by the Scythe. And you let another big man treat her like that?” Donal pushed Oliver away, hard. The male staggered.
How much had he had to drink?
“A brother gifted with a sister should do his utmost to protect her,” Tynan snapped, and the scorn in his expression made Oliver turn dark red.
Oliver pulled in a breath, scrubbed his hands over his face, then faced his sister. “They’re right. I’m sorry, sis.”
Without waiting for her response, he fled like a coyote caught stealing a cougar’s kill. His footsteps sounded, going up the stairs.
Donal shook his head, feeling soiled. “That male is—”
“Is my littermate.”
Margery’s fist in Donal’s gut sent a blast of pain through him.
Then she swung at Tynan who didn’t try to dodge and took the punch on his jaw. “You had no right to—”
“You didn’t run after your brother to comfort him,” Donal pointed out softly.
“And embarrass him further?” Her bottom lip quivered. “How could you? After all he’s lived through.”
Tynan frowned. “Lass, you lived through worse. He should have stood up for you. Protected you.”
She took a step back. “I… Oliver isn’t one to get into a fight. Orson and I always protected him.”