A shadow fell across them. She looked up to see Gregori and Mikhail joining Fen and Dimitri, standing like guardians. For some reason the sight of the prince coming to pay tribute to Zev’s grandfather choked her up all over again. Tears burned behind her eyes and in her throat.

Hemming stroked his rough fingers over her palm. “You are saving me. Saving my heart and soul. I will go with honor.”

She nodded at him, afraid to speak.

“If I may,” Gregori said, crouching down beside Hemming’s head. “I cannot save your life, but I can help ease the pain.”

Hemming kept his eyes on Zev’s. Zev’s nod was almost imperceptible. Gregori placed both hands on either side of Hemming’s head and looked to Branislava.

She took a deep breath.

Chains of silver bedded within,

Chains of silver under tissue and skin,

Chains of silver connected to bone,

Chains of silver now may you be undone.

Her gaze jumped to Hemming’s face. His hand closed around hers, his grip like a vise. Tiny beads of blood seeped all around the chains. There was agony on his face. She started to sit back on her heels, sickened by what she’d done. Skyler had been right to refuse his request.

“No,” Hemming said, his voice hoarse. “Don’t stop.”

“The five of us can join to ease his pain,” Gregori said. “Push your power to me.”

The four women did so without hesitation and Gregori, his hands still on either side of Hemming’s head, bowed his own head.

I call to valerian to relax and release,

White willow I send you to embrace and ease,

That which is silver, toxic to bone,

I bid you to cease as goldenseal roams,

That which is natural and of earth’s healing core,

I bid you to ease that which is tattered and torn.

The agony in Hemming’s eyes receded. He smiled at his grandson. “They are handy friends to have—and keep.”

“It is so,” Zev agreed. Take them off of him, mon chaton féroce. I can’t stand to see him like this another moment.

Branislava took another deep breath and let it out. She knew if she succeeded in removing the chains, Hemming would only have a short period of time until he died. There was no way to repair the damage to bone and flesh and organs when the silver had eaten through him and become an operating part of his body.

I am with you, Branka, Zev assured her. Soul and spirit bound together. This is our decision to free him and send him to the woman who waits for him.

Grateful for Zev’s reassurance, she squeezed Hemming’s hand to warn him before she started.

Chain of silver buried deep within,

Chain of silver wrapped like a serpent’s skin.

Chain of silver that cuts to the bone,

I seek out your making so that you will now be known.

Hemming’s hand squeezed hers so tightly she nearly gasped aloud. When she looked closely at his face, he appeared serene, still staring into his grandson’s eyes, as if he found strength there. She knew what that was like, relying on Zev. He was a rock, always steady, no matter what was happening. There was something in Zev, something so strong, so deep, that she knew she could always count on. He was unswerving in his duties, his loyalty and his calm demeanor. He had the ability to lead under any circumstances—even when his heart was breaking.

I trace your pattern and follow your path,

Removing your roots as I seal and cast.

In each valley and burn I insert a balm,

So that your poison is ceased and can do no more harm.

The chains slackened. On the silver rings she could see blood and bits of flesh and bone. Branislava closed her eyes briefly and bit back a sob. She had known, of course, but seeing the evidence made his imminent death all too real.

Zev, Fen and Dimitri carefully pulled the chains up so they could be cut from Hemming’s body, and removed completely. Zev tossed them a distance away. Branislava found it difficult to look at the man who had once been like Zev—strong and muscular and reliable. His body was ravaged by pain, lack of food and exercise. His muscles were atrophied. Every inch of his body welled up with blood. His flesh had been eaten away by the silver in the chains, leaving a raw, bloody mess.

Gregori continued to hold his head, helping to ease the man’s suffering. Branislava held his hand, but it was Zev that Hemming looked to.

“I was born Lycan and I fell in love and mated with what I believed was another Lycan—your grandmother. She believed she was Lycan as well. Her parents found her on a battlefield, after the Sange rau had destroyed most of the pack.” Hemming coughed and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

Mikhail, Fen and Dimitri moved closer, almost protectively, although there was little any of them could do for the man.

“She was everything to me.” Hemming’s eyes lit up. “She was a thing of beauty on the battlefield and we were always together. Never apart. We had a beautiful daughter—Aubrey.” He looked as if he was seeing back into the past and the memories were pleasant. “Both of us we quite enamored with our little girl.”

He coughed again and more blood trickled down his chin. Zev wiped it away with his thumb. Branislava switched places with Gregori to cushion Hemming’s head in her lap so that his head was at a higher angle. She smoothed back his hair with trembling fingers.

“Your mate was from a very revered Carpathian lineage,” Mikhail said, his voice pitched low and soothing. Almost singsong. A voice that could easily usher a man gently into another realm. “She was the last remaining Dark Blood. Her parents must have been killed by the Sange rau when they tried to help defend the pack. They were traveling in that area and most likely stumbled across the battle.”

Hemming nodded. “She didn’t remember them. She was little more than an infant when her Lycan parents found her. None of us, least of all her, thought she was anything but Lycan. She began to have troubling dreams. Visions came to her of the future. Of a split between Lycan and Carpathian. She sent a message to the Carpathians of her visions, but she was murdered shortly after that and we didn’t know if it had gotten through or not. It was then that we realized she was more than Lycan—that she could have been Carpathian, and now, because of me, she was both. She had become the hated Sange rau.”

“Not the Sange rau,” Mikhail corrected in his gentle way. “She was Hän ku pesäk kaikak, which in our language, is ‘guardian of all.’ She was not rogue or vampire, Hemming, she was a great warrior.”