Ciaran washed quickly in the water, trying to keep his mind from dwelling on any of the moment’s many horrors. When he finished, he stepped out of the springs, grabbing his bathrobe on the way up. He slid it on, the delicate cashmere brushing against his skin in a comfort he’d almost forgotten about.

The embroidery on the breast caught his attention in the corner of his eye. It was his family crest, a ridgeback dog rampant in sparkling golden thread, encircled by two sprigs of rhododendron. The symbol had always made him feel proud of his legacy and kinship. Now it felt sour.

Ciaran headed to the cabin. From the sound of it, Asra was still in the shower. He pushed the door open and wandered inside. His eyes landed on a framed photograph on the bedside table.

Ciaran picked it up. He was only six in this picture, sat on his mother’s lap, struggling to keep the young puppy on his own tiny lap from spilling over and sliding off. Nolan stood next to their mother, a protective hand on Ciaran’s shoulder. Their mother’s smile lit up the whole room, despite the exhaustion etched into her face. She’d fought so hard to protect and care for her sons.

Ciaran loved this picture. He loved them. How would his mother feel knowing one of her sons murdered the other?

He knew then the fact that he’d been avoiding for the past two months—he couldn’t kill Nolan. He had to find a way to reason with him. Maybe he could get him to step down peacefully, or to make a truce with the shapechangers. Would that be enough to appease Asra?

Asra appeared next to him wrapped in a towel. Ciaran had been so swept up in his ruminations that he hadn’t heard the water turn off. He placed the picture back on the bedside table.

He opened his mouth to argue his case about sparing Nolan, but decided against it. They needed this last night of peace.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course,” Ciaran said hesitantly. “But we could share the bed tonight. If not, I’m sure I could find—”

“I want to sleep in my fur tonight.” Asra removed the towel and rubbed her dripping hair with it. She dropped it to the floor, and in a past life Ciaran would have chastised her for it. “There’s not enough room for me in the bed.”

Ciaran nodded. He had expected her to decline, but that didn’t keep him from being disappointed.

He followed her outside, where she then changed into her canine form. She circled a spot in the grass and flopped down into a ball, the way he’d seen Bane do many, many times.

“Well,” he said, retying the belt on his robe to occupy his shaking hands. “Good night, then.”

The thought of sleeping in a completely separate building from her felt unnatural, as if he were sleeping without a limb. He was almost to the cabin door when he heard her voice, thin and anxious.

“Ciaran.”

He turned to look at her.

“Will you stay out here tonight? With me?”

Relief flowed through him. He smiled and nodded.

Ciaran grabbed a pillow and a blanket off the bed inside the cabin, then returned outside and found a comfortable spot to nestle in the crook of Asra’s front leg. She took the edge of the blanket between her teeth and pulled it over both of them, and Bane curled up on top of it.

Ciaran drifted off to sleep trying to decide what the strangest part of his current situation was.

----------------------------------------

Asra apparently had the annoying internal clock innate to dogs, because she managed to wake Ciaran up exactly one hour before the crack of dawn. It took him a few moments to return to reality. When he did, his stomach did several somersaults.

“You said he’s always in the courtyard at dawn, right?” Asra said as she stood and shook herself off, her ears flapping against the sides of her head. “Then we need to get moving. How do we get into your bedroom?”

Ciaran rubbed the sleep from his eyes, desperately wishing for even an hour more. He followed her into the cabin as he said, “There’s a hole behind an azalea bush in the cave here. It leads to a lift that opens into a false door at the back of my wardrobe.”

“And you’re sure no one knows about it?” She changed back into her human shape and rummaged through her bag for clothes.

“Well it’s not like I went around telling my brother where all of my secret exits were.” He would need to have it destroyed and blocked off when he became king. If he became king. He swallowed. He had to convince Asra to spare Nolan now, or it would be too late.

He approached her, biting his lip. “Asra.”

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“What are you doing?” she asked as she pulled a pair of leather trousers on. “You need to get dressed.”

“Asra … ”

“Put something dirty on,” she continued, her voice muffled as she pulled her shirt over her head. “It won’t be believable you’ve been on the run if you’re clean.”

“Asra, I need to speak with you.”

“What?” she snapped as she threw discarded clothes back into her bag. “We need to get ready.”

His throat went dry, and he shoved his hands in his pockets to quell their trembling.

“Asra, I don’t want to kill Nolan.”

She whirled around to face him, her eyes blazing. “What?”

He threw his hands up as he stammered, “Just hear me out.”

“I’m not listening to shit,” she spat as she rounded on him. “It’s too late to have a change of heart now. I warned you about this!”

“I just want to talk to him!”

“I’m not giving him any chances to get away. There are lives at stake here, Ciaran. You can say your goodbyes at his damn funeral.”

Bane pushed himself in between their legs, whimpering and licking Asra’s hand. She tried to push him away, but he grabbed her hand in his mouth and let out a soft warning growl. She whipped her hand back and stormed back to pack up the rest of her bag.

Ciaran’s heart pounded in his chest. He had to make her understand.

“Asra, if I kill him, how does that make me any better than my father?”

“Your ‘father’ is exactly why you should understand why he needs to die! You said Nolan wants to kill you! He’s too dangerous to be allowed to live.”

“I was … ” Shame burned in his chest. “Asra, I was drunk the last time we saw each other. What if I misremembered what happened? What if this is all a misunderstanding? I can barely remember anything these days. What if I’m going to kill my brother over my drunkenness?”

Asra growled and turned from him, hoisting her bag over her back and fussing at the straps.

Ciaran swallowed, knowing his next words could destroy everything between them, but he had to make her understand.

“Wouldn’t you do anything to save your siblings?” he said.

“How dare you?” Asra snarled, whirling on him. “Your brother is the whole reason they’re dead!”

“I know!” Ciaran said, throwing his hands up. “I know. And I’m not saying he shouldn’t be punished. But you can’t ask me to kill him, or to stand by and watch as someone else kills him. He deserves a fair trial, an opportunity to—”

“And who would force him to stand that trial? You?”

“Yes, of course! I would be king at that point. I could—”

“Ciaran, you’re not capable of being king!”

Ciaran felt as though she’d slapped him.

“You don’t have the guts,” Asra continued. “You don’t have the brutality to wage war or conquer nations. You can’t just throw Nolan in a jail cell. There’s powerful people that are loyal to Nolan because he keeps them in power. He knows how to do that. It won’t be long until they say, ‘Gee, things were better under Nolan. We should put him back in charge.’ And then you’ll have a coup on your hands and I won’t be there to protect you.”

Ciaran’s brow furrowed. “Why won’t you be?”

She scrunched up her face in pure bewilderment. “Did you think I would stay here? That I would be happy wasting my life away pretending to be human? Is that what you thought?”

“No! I thought … ”

Had he misinterpreted her feelings towards him? He hadn’t expected her to stay here permanently, but surely they could come up with some arrangement. Did she feel nothing? Had it just been his ego this whole time?

He’d thought the night before had changed something between them. The fact that he may have just been the only warm body available to her made his stomach churn.

Ciaran shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”

Silence passed between them. Seconds felt like hours. Asra’s voice was hoarse when she spoke.

“I’ll let you say goodbye,” she said. “I’ll let you get whatever closure you need. But Nolan dies today, or we do.”

Ciaran nodded. It was the best he would get from her.

“Go get dressed,” Asra said.

Ciaran stumbled to his bag, fishing out some old clothes from a few days ago. As he rummaged through, his hand brushed against a familiar tiny bottle: the hound’s woe.

The thought of using the substance against Asra directly nauseated him. It had already been guilt-wrenching enough to use it against her indirectly. But he had to protect his brother.

He dressed quickly, then pushed the vial of hound’s woe into his pocket.

When he stepped out of the cabin, Asra already had her bag packed and strapped up. Ciaran called Bane to his side, then directed the trio to the false wall in the cliffside. He led them down the short tunnel to the lift entrance. He took a deep breath as he pressed the button that would call it down to them.

As they stepped inside, silence imposed itself on them like an unwanted guest. Asra stood stockstill next to him, eyes locked firmly forward. Bane sat dutifully at his other side, occasionally emitting a nervous whine. Ciaran stroked the dog’s head to calm his shaking hand, but the other hand remained awkwardly at his side.

He glanced at Asra from the corner of his eye. He wanted to reach out and take her hand. Wanted to feel the pulse in her wrist and the warmth in her skin.

He put his hand in his pocket instead.