ALMOST THE TROPHY WIFE she had considered Princess Ashueli might become. Narrow escape from a not entirely terrible fate. Sigh. Today, this trifling scrap of a Scintillant Fae found herself travelling with two lovey-dovey Felidragons, a volatile Elven royal, fifty Fae warriors and one professional hero in tow. Not that she was leading anyone. No. Never that. However, she could not stop them from following her either, it appeared. Potentially awkward as this situation had become, somehow it all threatened to work out just fine -to her everlasting amazement.

Allory had not realised that the traumatic memory of the Fae pogroms remained so embedded here. Harzune’s friends had promised to spread the word among no less than eleven known Fae colonies in the region. It would take days as they were widely spread out. She marvelled after hearing her own peoples’ awful stories and Yaarah’s too, that so many Fae could have survived. These Fae had hidden themselves right in the heart of the dangerous Giant territories, protected by the titans who charged about, hunting and tending their enormous reptilian herds. The Scintillants had fled into the lethal Russet Jungles and founded deeply hidden colonies there. Yet someone or something had winkled them out.

Terrifying.

Smoke seeped into her nostrils. The screams of Faelings fleeing an inhuman assault played faintly about the edges of her memory, brief as a blink, transitory as a passing wind. Unconsciously, she stroked the soul locket. Keep them safe. Keep it locked away. Hidden.

Everything must remain hidden.

A fearful power trapped within, the boneyard’s song undeniable …

Once again, a perturbation rippled through her soul, but this time she became aware of the change. A fragment of awareness stirred, capturing the ephemeral sense, mulling over it. What did it mean that all within her was as preternaturally calm as a still jungle cenote, yet to gaze deep into that pool through the bluest of portals was to apprehend an inconceivable tempest deeper within, trapped somehow behind a barrier … she was the barrier? Her life?

Allory found herself blinking once more, stroking her antennae repeatedly as she always did when she was most afraid. Why did these memorials keep lacerating her soul, yet she sensed no lasting damage? It made no sense. Was her very existence fractured; one part chaos, turmoil and undeath, the other part … here?

Here, where she had fifty extra sets of eyes.

Fifty people who, she suspected, would have frustrated the fur right off of Sabline’s back if they had not, the instant the group exited the colony not long after midnight the following day, suddenly dropped all the rambunctious silliness and turned into a team of hard-nosed, hardworking professional warriors. They had swapped their simple crimson shorts-and-sleeveless-shirts combination for practical, red-stained leather armour that covered them from the neck down to the upper thighs but left the arms and legs bare. Each warrior bore a variety of weapons and a travel pack.

Under Harzune’s leadership, the Chameleons proved themselves devoted to every aspect of her safety and comfort. Alright. Any practical girlfae should surely appreciate unfailing honour, attentiveness and commitment in a manfae and not be comparing his attitude to the subtle coils of a boa constrictor.

Allory’s little finger says … go left. Charge!

Allory’s tiny antennae say go right – and they’re off!

She gave herself a mental clip over the earhole. Enough of that already. Although, her miniscule ego could certainly stand a pick-me-up or two, it had to be said.

When they paused for the usual midday break from travel, Harzune outlined the challenges ahead. “From this region, travel over to the Gasheni Road is possible but dangerous,” he said. “However, we first need to cross a wide area which is largely devoid of cover.”

“Large?” Ashueli inquired mildly.

“About eighteen leagues wide,” he clarified.

Allory piped up, “Sorry, I’m not familiar with leagues as a unit of measure.”

“Sixty miles,” everyone said at once.

Suggids. She hung her head. And the prize for ignorance goes to the little one.

“The conversion is different for oceanic navigation, mrrr-frrrt,” Yaarah clarified, stroking his whiskers fastidiously. “For historical reasons, one multiplies leagues by a factor of 3.542, I believe, to convert to miles – hrrr-nrrr, my apologies. Please do carry on.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Thank you, Scholar Yaarah,” Allory said formally, giving him a fond scratch behind the ear with her left big toe. Fifty pairs of yellow eyes widened noticeably. “I – um – so, tell me, what’s so dangerous about this crossing?”

Less dangerous than tickling a Dragon’s ear in public, perhaps?

Or, considering their expressions, maybe not.

“You’ve no doubt become familiar with the Giant hunts, Allory Fae,” Harzune said, sketching on a kind of black slate tablet the Chameleons used for tactical briefings, she had been informed. “This area – these twenty leagues – are a kind of migratory path for animals travelling across the canyonlands, which includes our not-so-friendly Giants. The major routes from four directions all join together in the region ahead of us, due to the topography and the location of territories claimed by hunters such as the Fire Raptors. That makes it surprisingly congested. Every type of ‘saur’ you can imagine is out there, flying, burrowing and running. Huge herds. Predators flocking thick enough to darken the skies. Usually, we Chameleons hitch a ride and cross that way. Once we hit the Gasheni Road, all we’d need to worry about is the Giant patrols. Then it’s the Bridge of Dreams up to the Gate. Perfect breeze.”

His warriors all chuckled, the Elf joining the chorus.

“We’ll get you across safely, do not fear,” he added, exuding his usual excess of confidence. Allory thought Harzune was about to spout another of his archaic sayings, but he did not. Instead, he said, “What can you Felidragons and you, Elf, do about disguising your scent?”

Sabline narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying I smell, mrrr-ssst?”

“I’m sure you smell wonderful – to another Felidragon,” Ashueli informed her, and was promptly threatened with being ‘kneecapped.’ A Fae could only imagine what that meant. Carnivores!

Yaarah nodded. “We Felidragons boast scent-masking magical capabilities, friend Harzune. It should not be a problem.”

“Less easily masked is the stench of daddy’s royal daughter,” the Sable Sabrefang sneered.

“I am not Durc’s daughter!”

“Is that what your contract said?” Sabline pressed.

“Not in that way.” Ashueli twined her arms across her chest, visibly infuriated. “She’s right, however. Elven scent is not easy to disguise as it is conveyed by both physical and magical vectors, according to the – suggids! The secret lore, which is no longer so secret since I just blabbed it. Ancestors!”

Sabline had the grace to snort in surprise. Several of the Chameleon Fae edged away from the smoke curling from her nostrils. Allory would not have been surprised to see smoke pouring from Ash’s nostrils too, given her self-disgusted expression.

Naturally, Yaarah produced a purr that suggested he, the knowledgeable one, had suspected as much all along. Never short on the scholarly ego.

Harzune placed his hand upon the Princess’ knee. “We shall receive your secrets into the very sap of our lives, carrying them to the grave and beyond if needs be.”

“Thanks,” Ash smiled ruefully.

“Perhaps if some Chameleons could demonstrate your scent-magic for me,” Allory suggested, “I could try to work out a way of transferring it to the Elf while she’s on your back, Sabline? If she keeps close, I mean. That way, you’ll both stink the same. Less! I meant, less. Suggids …”

Sabline flicked out five talons of her right forepaw and pretended to examine them for defects. “We all know what you meant, murrr-harrr-harrr.”

Shocked pause.

How to break this awkwardness?

With a fake howl that startled a few of the Chameleon warriors and made Yaarah’s fur stand on end, she dived beneath his neck ruff, crying, “Yaarah, Yaarah, save me from the wicked Dragoness! She’s planning to carve all the cheekiness right out of my entrails.”

“About time someone did, mrrr-frrrt,” he purred, championing her cause with aplomb. Ashueli vented an undignified chuckle. “However, I fear I am hardly the Dragon to stand up to that wicked huntress. She’s fierce!”

Allory peeked out. “You won’t?”

“Too messy by far, hrrr-prrr.”

Fine. Take life into hands, and … Allory charged over to Sabline. The black tail stood bolt upright, the only sign of her shock as a miniature Faerie dived beneath her neck. “Sabline, Sabine, save me from the wicked scholar! He’s trying to fill my poor little head with … with thoughts! Intelligent ones!”

The Dragoness made a nonplussed half-growl. “What are you doing?”

Shaking her dark tresses in disapproval, Ashueli stage-whispered, “Your turn to say something silly.”

“Mrrr?”

Clearly, sable huntresses did not do silly.

The Princess supplied, “Oh no, not the thoughts! What wickedness is this?”

Sabline blinked in consternation. “Oh no, not the … thoughts?” she spluttered. Ashueli nodded eagerly. Not too awful. “This is wicked-nerrrss, beyond compare?”

Everyone cheered and hooted, making the Sabrefang gnash her fangs in a not entirely fake rage. Under cover of the group breaking up now to scout, check for Giant sign and to prepare defences in case predators should attack their resting place during the afternoon, she lowered her head and curved her muzzle back toward Allory, who had neglected to escape while she still had all of her hide and all eight wings left intact. Bad move.

Sabline hissed, “How did you know?”

“Eep – know what?”

“Gnarr! You are such a meddler!” Allory began to squeak a protest, but the Dragoness surged up to her paws, knocking her over. At once, a black paw reached out as if to right her, but then Sabline snarled, “Sorry! Doubly sorry with mouldy fur on top! I’m just such a – I never know how to do nice, mrrr-GNARR! This stinks!”

She leaped into the air and shot upward with a series of powerful wingbeats, disappearing into the foliage overhanging the cosy dell.

Right, that was weird. Dusting off her elbows and knees, Allory glanced uncertainly at Yaarah and Ashueli, communicating that she had no clue what she had done wrong this time.

Ash merely shrugged.

The Felidragon growled, “Give her space. I’ll track her down later.”

“Time for training,” the Elf added, drawing her blades with a bright zing of metal.

“Oh, come on – watch out!”