It was night. A quiet, silent night as Mora rode on horseback to the nearest tavern alongside other shifters. It was a group job—delivering a man who had betrayed and robbed the noble Lord Sharper. Shifters took on almost any work they could; otherwise, they'd starve.

Hooves thudded against mud left by the day's rain. The scent of fresh grass hung in the air, though Mora paid it no mind. Riding beside her were Amira, a wolf shifter, and Garton, another wolf shifter. Keeping pace with the horses was Pudlin, a bear shifter who preferred staying in his animal form for jobs. She was sweaty and covered in dust. She just wanted this day to be over. Once again, she had learned nothing about her mistress. It angered her. It upset her. She couldn't understand what she was missing. Mora had searched everywhere, asked everyone she met, anyone who might talk. Early in her search, she had been lied to often—lied to by those who claimed to know something. Back then, she wasn't part of an alliance and took jobs in exchange for information, only for her informants to vanish afterward. She hated it. She hated how helpless she was.

The Twenty Stars Tavern came into view. While Mora tied up the horses, Amira clapped Pudlin on the back and turned to her. "Garton and I will keep an eye on Pudlin."

Shift. Few taverns allowed shifters to remain in their animal forms, especially predators. This wasn't one of them. It was a human tavern. Mora nodded patiently and deftly caught the pouch of coins Garton tossed her.

She stepped inside, the warm glow of candles illuminating her dust-streaked face. Somewhere in the room, toothless villagers were playing cards. She spotted a waitress—a shifter—who looked utterly exhausted despite swaying her hips and smiling at every patron who groped her. Alone on shift? Trying to scrape together as much coin as possible.

Mora took a seat at the bar and slid the bartender a gold coin. As usual, she scanned every patron in the room. Safety first. She needed to know who was at her back. And then—she saw her. A figure in a black cloak. Her. Mora's eyes widened. Her.

She turned away softly. It was her. One hundred percent her. She'd recognize her even after twenty years.

What is she doing here? A meeting? Is she safe? Is she with someone? Mora glanced over her shoulder again—just as a heavy hand landed on her back. Pudlin, damn him. She nearly jumped.

"Staring at the girl, deer? Not bad-looking. Your type?"

Mora kept watching her as Amira and Garton sat down beside her, Pudlin looming behind them.

"Does she look like she's safe?" Mora asked abruptly.

Both wolf shifters glanced at the girl, then shrugged. Mora kept observing her from the corner of her eye. After five minutes of watching, she realized she couldn't waste another second. Her lady was here. What did it matter who she was with? Mora could ensure her safety with her bare hands.

"Go back without me."

She strode toward the table where she sat, drinking in the familiar—yet older—features. One step. Two. And then she stood before her. Mora didn't know what to say. Didn't know whether to drop to her knees. Instead, she bowed her head, eyes fixed on the floor.

"My lady... you're here."