The villages became abandoned collections of smouldering ruins. Galel insisted on burying the odd corpses they found amongst the rubble. Nameless aided him, frowning every time. Ai-leesha remained in the carriage with her mother, spared the horrors of the charred corpses. Ammon’s hold on him lingered still.

No, not Ammon, the Lion Clan, he thought to himself.

They made camp beyond the borders of another village, thankfully a well-lit one. They rode through many sights of ruin, and his hands smelled like corpses still, after countless washes in fresh-water streams.

It was quiet in the village ahead. There were voices, torch bearing watchers even, aware of the raids spreading across the Dhaar. Galel eyed the villagers patrolling the borders, while others were hard at work digging the earth and hammering stakes into the soil.

“Come help me with the fire,” Nameless tapped his shoulder and dragged him away.

Ai-leesha yawned after dumping the last of the firewood she gathered. She turned towards him and fed him a wide, toothy grin. Then her mother called her towards the carriage when the baby wailed.

Isa carried a pair of skinned hares towards their kindling, along with a cast-iron pot. She rushed back to the carriage and returned with an assortment of dried vegetables.

“That’s an interesting method,” Nameless said after Galel sparked the beginnings of their fire with two rocks. “Never seen that before. Who taught you that?”

“My mother, it’s about finding the right stones.”

“Who is your mother, Galel?” Isa asked him with a mischievous tone.

It seemed a smart idea to conceal his true identity again, after Ammon. Despite their good nature, the lack of an ulterior motive and masked stink. He doubted a family of Tamers were agents of the Bannerless. Yet, Nameless was a Wolf, and what he knew of them, it warranted caution.

“Hmm?” Isa asked again, after Nameless returned with water to fill the pot.

“I… uh… well,” Galel stuttered.

“Don’t push the poor boy,” Nameless grunted with a hint of amusement.

“No, it’s not too much. She’s a Master Tamer, should have been on the Tamer’s Council, but well,” Galel shrugged. “She was an orphan in the streets of Bil’Faridh.”

Nameless and Isa shared a look tinged with more mischief before muttering their interest in his brief story. Galel thought better than to continue, and they didn’t push.

The campfire blazed, just in time for winter blew a bitter breeze into their camp. Not even the stones and ringing darkwoods saved them from the chill.

“Ma, I think he’s hungry,” Ai-leesha shouted from the carriage.

“Come finish up here,” Isa rushed back while Ai-leesha joined the campfire.

“Don’t worry about it, girl, you get warm,” Nameless rushed for the vegetables, washing them and peeling before adding them with the hare meat into the bubbling pot.

Ai-leesha sat beside Galel before the blazing fire, edging closer with her hands raised towards the flames like himself. Her wide grin returned, jumping between her father and him.

“So, Galel,” Ai-leesha sucked her teeth. “How have you found our company?”

“Pleasant, mightily pleasant.”

“It couldn’t have been an enjoyable one until you met us,” Nameless said. “If you don’t mind me saying, you were washing a lot of blood off of yourself.”

He grunted. His hand rose to the soiled silk covering his ruby left eye, and he found comfort in its presence. It needed changing, but he never had the chance without revealing his eye. There was a faint odour, but nothing noticeable, at least nothing horrid enough to warrant complaints from Nameless and his family. Perhaps they were too polite to complain.

“Forgive me. You didn't want to relive it.”

Ai-leesha wrapped an arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder. It was difficult to avoid Nameless’ glare, a passing one, but still unavoidable. The girl was forward, incredibly sincere, but forward. Her father said nothing, but he wasn’t happy about it. He muttered whenever he deemed her to be going too far, but now, nothing.

“Food’s ready!”

Isa emerged from the carriage as if Nameless’ announcement summoned her. She arrived with loaves of bread and wooden bowls and spoons.

The food was warm and filling. After many days of dried fruit and meat, this hare and vegetable stew was a feast worth appreciating. Galel drained his stew after soaking the last of his bread. Ai-leesha was quick to snatch his empty bowl before he could return it. He muttered his thanks and watched as Nameless and Isa returned to the carriage.

Nameless’ silver furred Tamed Bavamso padded around their camp, stretching and baring its fangs, eyeing the village and the surrounding landscape. It peered at him from time to time, sniffing the trunks every so often.

He met a beast other than a Feline south of the Mahn’Parvat. It was one thing to read about them, another to be in their presence. It sniffed often and appeared restless at the best of times. When it wasn’t pulling the carriage, the beast trotted around, stretching its legs and darting around. Sometimes vanishing for hours, before returning to lie at the campfire.

Ai-leesha returned and crossed her legs when she sat beside him, bearing a thick wool blanket and a worn furred coat. She offered the overgrown blanket as they sat together, watching the fire crackle and spit embers into the darkness.

Nameless returned from the carriage, fiddling with his braid before joining them at the fire. His black steels axes remained on his waist as he sat down, the silver edges catching the fiery light and glittering.

“You must forgive Isa. Our boy requires her full attention at the moment, so she cannot join us.”

“There is nothing to forgive, nothing to forgive at all,” Galel said. Nameless nodded and forced a smile, but he couldn’t hide the concern in those blue eyes.

“I met another Galel during the early years of meeting Isa,” Nameless began. Galel did his best to fight the warmth sprouting in his chest. Every time they spoke his stolen name, it tightened his chest. Especially now that he trusted them more each day. To continue this lie, it didn’t sit well with him.

He blurted it out during a lull after he bathed in that spring. They offered him the opportunity to travel with them, but he thought little of it until they waited for him. The panic started when it seemed too good to be true. With Ammon’s claws strangling his heart greater than ever, he blurted it out without them asking. No deceitful scent, but every day, with each time they spoke it, he believed they knew the truth.

“A cousin of Isa’s, though she had no connection to him, her words. Taking advantage of the times, for I was bringing gifts to her father for her hand in marriage.”

“Gifts?” Galel asked, before cursing himself.

“Ah, my apologies. Her father was a Cheetah, I wasn’t claiming it to be a Lion custom. For the longest time, I thought her father was teasing me, no matter how many times she explained it to me.”

Ai-leesha snorted beside him.

“How old is he, your son, I mean?”

“Nearly three months. Thank the Beast for his health. His birth wasn’t easy on him, still isn’t.”

“Why not wait, I mean… where was he born?”

“In Jagu’Ghaatee, and a pup cannot wait. The Seers must see him, name him, and bless his growth.”

“I see.”

He didn't know what it meant.

Nameless rose to his feet, hands clutching his axes and eyes glistening with the emotion he didn’t wish to show.

“Do not stay too long. Once sleep comes for you, find me. I will take first watch.”

He watched him stomp back towards the carriage before disappearing within it.

Ai-leesha sighed and edged closer to him beneath their blanket, resting her thighs on his. Then her head on his shoulder. The urge to confess hit him, and his chest filled with air often, but he refused to move his lips.

There’s no need. If they ask, perhaps I will. Yes, yes, if they ask, I will.

Galel kept his eyes fixed on the fire, enjoying the warmth from both the thick blanket and the flames ahead.

The morning was frantic and didn’t allow any moments of calm. The only words spoken were requests from Nameless and Isa, mostly to Ai-leesha, though Galel heeded them all the same. Camp broke, and they kicked away the dead embers. They packed what they owned into the many drawers and cabinets on the outside of the carriage, while Nameless strapped his Tamed to the front. In no time they were rumbling along, edging west to avoid the village waking up in the early hours of the morning.

Nameless guided the carriage slowly along the lush grass, avoiding the lumps to spare Isa and her babe within. Galel yawned into his glove as he trudged beside Ai-leesha. Their boots squelched on the damp grass below. It was gloomy above, but there was no rain at the moment. He missed the rain during the night.

It was slow going at first, and the village’s border stretched further west than they realised. They picked up the pace once they arrived at a gravel road and rolled along it at a better speed.

Spittle spattered down from the sky. Not enough to dampen them, slow enough to sidestep, however. Soon the skies cleared, clouds parted, but there wasn’t much brightness to follow. In fact, it remained grey, without the clouds, and with an inadequate sun.

Darkwoods were commonplace, and instead of hot springs, there were more streams filled with smooth pebbles. Galel sipped his water and enjoyed the freshwater when forced to refill. Morning departed without event. They were far from any of the main roads, much to Galel’s relief.

The road they trundled along widened, winning other travellers. Sun darkened farmers and well-dressed Tigers, keeping to themselves with their heads low, traveling to distant manors and villages. With every stranger’s approach, Galel tightened and bowed his own head. Clenching his entire being, turning his face away from each stranger.

“It must have been a tough journey before us, Galel, eh?”

“Hmm?”

“Forgive me, I noticed… what I mean is that you seem tense amongst strangers,” Nameless said. “I don’t mean to resurface your pain.”

“No… uh, not at all.” Galel hid his fidgeting fingers as Mazin did his best to make a return. Along with the flashes of his handiwork that bloodied him.

“What sort of bandits attack an escorted Tamer headed for his bonding in Bana’Parvat?” Ai-leesha asked, gripping his arm to soften whatever blow she expected.

“I can think of one group, but I did not know they travelled south from the Parvat.”

“Travelled south?” Mazin trembled.

“Aye, the Bannerless have been raging amongst the Wolves, then they simply left, but their scars remain. I have never seen the Packs so disorganised, so fragmented. Now they are here?”

Mazin squeezed his thigh with his free hand. Ai-leesha’s comfort was tender and calming itself, the flow of her hand up and down his arm.

“It was a slow attack,” The prince shuddered. Ai-leesha squeezed his arm, but everyone was silent. Even the carriage somehow. “I was a fool, taking on some stray wanderer. He had a stink that was so overpowering I never thought otherwise. I… he broke me down, whittled away my defences until I walked willingly into his trap.”

It all came pouring out from his mouth, while the flashes of blood and dismembered corpses danced in his mind. The cage around his heart rusted away. No one said anything, and Mazin appreciated it. They continued along the road until wailing resumed within the carriage.

“Rag… Can we stop somewhere with water?” Isa shouted over her son’s crying.

Nameless took them off the road towards the sound of flowing water nearby. It wasn’t a hot spring, unfortunately, flowing down from a raised pond, where chilled water poured down into a wide stream. Down south, into the west.

Isa stepped out and appeared like she hadn’t slept for a week. Her quiet son in her arms. The scent from the wrapped infant was the answer he needed.

“Let me warm the water.” Nameless whipped off his gloves and rushed for the pond.

Ai-leesha lingered beside him, and ceased her comforting. Cut short of his need to release what refused to let go of him.

A burst of warmth emanated from Nameless and then it dissipated, and the fiery-haired Wolf returned. Mazin watched Isa grin and dance around the baby before easing the boy into the water. He giggled, then squealed, threatening more tears before calming again.

Prince Mazin twitched, unable to keep his nervous energy in check. He paced as the urge returned, far beyond an itch. An explosion of encouragement to confess. Isa hummed while she bathed the baby.

“Nameless, Ai-leesha, I… I have,” Mazin began, having long shed Galel from himself. He fumbled around while Nameless and Ai-leesha’s eyes lingered on him.

Isa pulled her son out, mumbling a tune while she dried her baby.

“I haven’t been completely honest with,” Mazin fumbled with the soiled silk strap over his left ruby eye. Isa approached within earshot when the prince whipped it off.

“My name is not Galel, I am Prince Mazin Atum Ra.” The shred of silk was never thick enough to hamper his vision, yet his eye behaved as if he saw anew after ages of weakness.

Other than the odd frown from Nameless, the lingering surprise from Isa, the family seldom reacted. Ai-leesha smiled. Then her mother followed suit until Nameless completed it all with a hint of mischief about.

“You knew?” Mazin asked.

“It was the blade that began it, the general wealth about you, despite the wear on your clothes,” Nameless said.

“Every Lion, even a half one like me, has heard of the twin princes born to the pharaohs nearly two decades ago. Princes with the eyes of Beasts,” Isa chimed in.

“What remained was which one you were until now.” Ai-leesha shrugged. “The shred of silk over your eye didn’t help you, either.”

Ai-leesha and Isa bowed sincerely, doing away with the mischief, while Nameless nodded. Mazin felt worse.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Isa reassured from the window of the carriage. They returned to the gravel road. Mazin spent much of the resumption apologising. “We didn’t wish to scare you away. You were so tired that first night you slept right through our discussion.”

I am a fool.

“I would have done the same in your shoes,” Nameless muttered, but again it all sounded too polite. “Luck was against you, to run into a Lion so far north.”

Failure at each challenge, it seemed never-ending on this journey north. What would Zaki say? He would have berated him for making the same mistake again. Mazin appreciated their attempts to soften the disappointment, but he needed to suffer shame. A feeling never to be repeated.

The prince lowered his hood further and raised his mask, shivering against the chill, but wanting to hide his face from them. He spared himself the silk eye mask; he left it behind. Abandoned in the grass by the pond. His ruby eye deserved some respite.

Mazin scratched around his eye as the raw flesh felt freedom. The last words of encouragement dissipated. He was grateful their words ended, appreciated their attempts, of course, but the silence was better. Wallowing in his failure was a twisted comfort. It kept his attention away from the landscape swarmed by mounds.

There was the odd villager who passed their procession, with a curious eye at their strange company, and the beast that pulled the carriage. Mazin was deep in his thoughts, his hood low and mask raised, warring with his dampening heart. Mourning became the weather, but the gloom turned into bright midday. His mood stagnated and remained so even as Ai-leesha wrapped herself around his arm again.

Stomping along the gravel roads, winding around the various mounds, was slow. The gravel was bumpy, and despite the soft strides of Nameless’ Tamed, the carriage bounced on the road. Isa moaned a few times. Her baby was far less appreciative. They stopped often off the road. Nameless entered the carriage while Ai-leesha and Mazin stepped away, avoiding their hushed conversations.

They watched the eastern horizon together, a mixture of rubble and crumbling shanties amongst the beautiful lushness of the Dhaar Province. The most beautiful province had scars. He hadn't seen the others, but there was little chance they could surpass this. Even the Gaur.

What failings was he witnessing in the Dhaar Province, the failings of their supposedly mad emperor? If Nameless’ words were true, and his scent didn’t suggest otherwise, the Bannerless found strength again north of the Mahn’Parvat. Then travelled down to feast on the only clan that offered its unprotected belly to them.

Ammon and his plan to capture him. It might have been a coincidence, spotting the richness of his cloth on the road. Yet if Isa noticed it, surely the wanderer could. Though his mind refused to leave it at that. Those brigands spoke as if it was all coming together until it didn’t. Mazin resisted the chill.

He hadn’t even thought of his guiding dark Bagha, whether it had found more trouble while he stumbled into fortunate security.

I didn’t offer my thanks.

“What troubles you so?” Ai-leesha asked. Without her usual energetic curiosity.

Mazin forgot she clung to his arm, waiting for her father to resume their journey.

“You don’t have to answer,” she added. “I delve too greedily.”

“No, my mind travelled.”

Ai-leesha leant on him once again. He wanted to forget it. The derelict northeast, despite the obvious beauty overpowering the rubble, failed so far.

“Where is your home?”

“Bana’Parvat, but I don’t think we will spend much time there. My brother needs to see the Seers, and my bonding as well.”

“Bonding?”

Her eyes widened at his surprise, then glittered with amusement. She snorted at him and the prince shut his mouth before he could offend further.

“Do I not look ready for it?”

The girl didn’t appear older than fifteen. She might have been tall. One look at Nameless was reason enough, and Isa wasn’t short.

“How old do you think I am?”

“I wouldn't dare to guess.”

Ai-leesha snatched her comforting grip away, her expression mingled between amusement and hurt.

“Now I feel older than I should. I’m barely younger than you.”

“How old am I?”

“Lee-lee!” Nameless grunted while he exited the carriage. “We travel west. Come along now.”

Her father’s timing brought grumbles to her throat, and Mazin resisted the urge to laugh. Though she pinched him and wrapped an arm around him again.

Nameless mentioned traveling west, but Mazin didn’t expect them to traverse along the lush grass. Their already slow pace continued as it forced them to weave their own paths around the mounds, barring their way. The grass was moist and slippery beneath their boots, yet the carriage rolled along as if it floated on a cloud. The Wolf held his breath once they departed the road, but after a few strides, he sighed with the relief shared from within the carriage.

Mazin lowered his hood and mask despite the lingering gloom above. The midday sun pierced through with its weak fire, but did little to brighten the Dhaar. It wasn’t long until the sun descended into the west, adding more colours onto the grey canvas. Moisture caressed his lips. He tasted the approach of rain, but nothing beyond rare droplets fell from the sky.

Nameless dug into a cabinet of the carriage and produced a sweet-smelling box, moistening Mazin’s tongue further. Sugared plums, Ai-leesha whispered, and his jaws tingled with the surprising sourness. He managed two after the girl’s incessant teasing at the faces he made. It was indeed sweet, but each bite shocked him every time.

Ai-leesha and Mazin caught up with Nameless after lagging for a few strides. The carriage found some pace and led them around the endless mounds through paths of lush grass. Mazin’s eyes lingered on the blacksteel axes on Nameless’ hips. They suited his wine-red cloak, with dark dyed fur on the hems. The silver in the script and the edges glittered under the growing light of the setting sun.

Nameless was a grand man, broad and stout, though his words made it easy to forget that. A soft-spoken man at the best of times. Yet he was a dual wielder, though not in the wise and calm manner that reminded him of Kumkani Lihle. The prince wasn’t naïve enough to fall for the facade of the Wolf’s verbal caress. There must be a great monstrous warrior hidden away to earn the rank.

“Those axes, they’re well made,” Mazin said as he walked beside the Wolf.

“I would guess they share the same maker as your khopesh,” Nameless grinned.

“How can you tell?”

“I spent plenty of time admiring Roole’s work, back when he was still plying his trade in Jagu’Ghaatee.”

“It couldn’t have been too long ago. I remember Master Roole arriving not long after I began training with steel.”

“Master Roole?” Nameless chuckled. “Years too late, but I’m glad to hear it. I will show you mine if you offer me yours?”

Mazin drew his khopesh the moment Nameless gripped the vinewood hilt of one of his axes. His encumbered hand jolted, and he flinched when Ammon’s stink haunted his nose for a flash. He hesitated when his mismatched eyes imagined dark dry blotches of blood on the pristine, script strengthened blade.

He shook himself and offered the khopesh ruby pommel first, then clasped the rich leather wrapping around the vinewood handle of Nameless’ axe. Mazin gave himself a wide berth from the others, testing the axe against the chilly air. Light but top heavy, Mazin was used to axes, Ma ensured he tried as many weapons as she could wield herself. Yet this one was still odd enough to throw off his swing.

“Ah yes, he has improved, if such a thing were possible,” Nameless remarked, still studying Master Roole’s handiwork, caressing the sparkling gold and strengthening script along the blade.

It appeared as freshly forged as the first time he received it, much like Nameless’ axe. Hardly a scratch on it, but the weapon looked plain to his eyes, especially one of a pair belonging to a regal Wolf, at the very least a wealthy Wolf.

Mazin strangled the strengthened vinewood beyond the rich leather, which was the only clue to the axe’s age. Down from the knob up to the shoulder, before hacking at the breeze again, much to Ai-leesha’s amusement.

“This is a fine blade, for a fine warrior in the making,” Nameless smiled when he handed the blade back.

“May I?” Ai-leesha asked and snatched it before Mazin finished his nod.

She glided with his khopesh, testing it with either hand. Dancing forward and to the side without breaking her stride, switching hands and grips after a moment’s thought. A natural with his own weapon, flicking away her jumping braid with her shoulders, keeping it glued to her back.

“You have some skill with the blade?”

“Some?” Ai-leesha teased.

“Sorry, plenty of skill.”

“When we make camp, I will prove it to you.”

“With your fists? I don’t recall you having any weapons?” Nameless yawned.

“You have two axes, Father,” Ai-leesha

“And I earned them. When you earn your own weapons, you may use them as you please.”

She huffed, but said nothing more. Ai-leesha directed a few faces towards her father’s back before pulling her tongue at Mazin when she returned his khopesh.

“Your loss,” the girl whispered.

Night fell quicker than they realised, and Isa shared her concerns from within the carriage. Their slow crawl into the west brought frequent sounds of flowing water to his ears. Nameless led them towards the closest hot spring when gentle drizzle added its falling coolness to the swirling chill. Mazin wrapped himself with a borrowed cloak a few sizes too big.

He eased his grip once they entered the warm shelter of darkwoods. They came across a small group of strangers huddled around each other in the centre. Their rags barely earned their name, their sweaty fear wafted to his nose, with the addition of blood.

It was a mixed group, no elderly and children, but as frail as the two. Nameless paused, Ai-leesha and Mazin almost walked into him. They watched them struggle with their pitiful campfire, still frozen at the entrance. An itch ravaged his palm, and he held his breath, fearing the worst to follow.

Their eyes fell upon the Bavamso, silencing their frantic whispers. The rhythm of the drizzle was the only sound. One by one, the whites of their eyes popped. A few wailed before scrambling back to their feet. Scattered in all directions as long as it was away from them. In pairs or alone, it didn’t matter. They left the hot spring darkwood grove alone for them.

Nameless sighed and continued his slow approach towards the centre of the camp. His hands hovered over his axes while the Wolf’s frosty eyes jumped around the darkness. Mazin saw nothing, though he wasn’t anywhere near as vigilant as the Wolf.

All tension faded, and Isa was out of the carriage, substituting Ai-leesha into it. It was warm and dry within the grove, with the hot spring elevated, steaming on the western border.

Mazin knelt beside Nameless in the centre, watching him spark the piled kindling alight. There was another pile of crumbled stones to the side, and frustration brewed around his squashed lips.

“A useless skill,” Mazin chuckled at Nameless’ frustration, but the man smiled and abandoned his attempts.

“Easy for you to say,” Nameless offered the stones to Mazin.

The prince tried his best to keep his smugness away when the baby fire began its swift growth. Nameless grunted with a smirk and returned to dump a pile of firewood. He hesitated for a moment, glancing at the carriage despite the lack of sound from it. Nameless went back, detached his Tamed Bavamso from the front of the carriage, which seemingly annoyed his beast.

Ai-leesha emerged with her infant brother, with Isa following suit, fatigue weighing her down further. She offered a weak smile towards him before following her now unencumbered daughter towards the spring.

Nameless returned with his quiet son in his arms, and his Bavamso lounging beside the blazing fire the prince fed. He watched the Wolf sway, glancing down at the baby with a love that stirred a surprising bitterness within himself. Mazin turned away in a hurry, feeling shame take over.

The Wolf sat down and crossed his legs, eyes ever fixed on the bundle in his arms. Mazin adjusted himself, fiddling with the fire while he searched for peace within himself. Ai-leesha and Isa’s whispered chatter in the spring fought through the rhythmic drizzle drumming on the black leaves sheltering them.

He dared another glance at Nameless and his child, keeping his emotions in check, even if his heart warbled. The golden gaze of Nameless’ Tamed shining on him broke his focus, and the prince snapped back towards the flames.

Ai-leesha and Isa returned from the hot spring invigorated. Life returned to their tired faces, more so for Isa. They joined the campfire, carrying bread and fruit with them, sharing the food with Mazin and Nameless. The Prince offered the last of his soggy dried meat but they all declined, besides Ai-leesha, who took a stick and pulled a face of amused displeasure.

“I know it’s been slow going, but Kaal’Kamal isn’t too far from here. We should arrive by the morning.”

“Kaal’Kamal?”

“A town where we will resupply,” Nameless informed.

“With the way the Dhaar has appeared so far, the town would suffer as well,” Isa chimed in, still drying her neck length curls between bites.

Silence fell. Nameless remained fixed on his son while everyone nibbled before the crackling flames. Isa took the infant and Nameless’ adoring trance withered away for his untouched food.

“Why are you Nameless?” Mazin blurted out, and immediately regretted it after the collective surprise filled his nose. It seemed his bitterness had one last bite, but he drowned in his shame again. “Sorry, that was too forward.”

“No, no, we played games with your identity. The least I can do is reveal myself. I lost my name through arrogance and hot-headed anger. A Vivada long before I was ready to understand the consequences.”

“They provoked you,” Isa chimed in. “Would have done what any good man in your position would do.”

“I have no regrets, my love, not then, and still not now. Though I wasn’t ready, especially against a man like my father.”

Mazin became further confused the more they spoke.

“Forgive me Prince, I come from an ancient line of Wolves, an ancient family with a name passed down from generation to generation. The Vivada was a punishment. I fought to keep my name, but lost and banished until such a time I can earn it again.”

“Punishment for?”

“Well… it was,”

“For marrying me,” Isa answered over her hesitating husband. Ai-leesha grumbled and rushed to her feet. She snatched her brother from her mother and stomped away towards the carriage.

“He is Ragnar Ragnarsson, descendent of the great Lodbrok, the first Ragnar to lead his people to Jaan’Khutt to survive. The Wolves don’t take kindly to outsiders, and the line of Ragnar must remain pure.”

“Isa,” Nameless warned.

“But Ragnar brought me to his family, anyway. He loved me, and he wouldn’t let them tell him what to do.” Her tone was strange, prideful, loving, yet also angry.

Nameless glanced at her a last time and the crackling spitting flames filled the silence. The drizzle died during their storytelling, but Mazin feared breaking the silence. Far from his place to push matters that stung even now. Even if his curiosity yearned for more.

“We should bathe, Prince.” Nameless cleared his throat and dusted himself off when he rose to his feet. “Come, while we still have time.”

Mazin oohed as he sank deep into the bubbling water. His tight muscles fought back against the tendrils of soothing warmth. He shook himself and sank further, dipping his head and knotted curls into the water. The prince emerged and watched the pale, muscled torso rise as well.

Nameless, or Ragnar now, revealed a cacophony of pale scars littering his body. He had an ugly gash along his back, almost as dark as a burn. There was a conventional wound, beginning between his left collarbone above his heart, shredding across his chest and curling below his right nipple.

“The cost of walking the path of a warrior,” Ragnar chuckled as he sank into the water. His fiery hair loosed from its long braid and splayed like blood on the clear bubbling water.

Mazin grunted, fearful of offending the Wolf, though he forgot he was staring.

“It’s this one, this fateful sword strike that forced me to yield and give in to my father’s terms.” Ragnar ran a finger along his chest. “Forgive me for cutting our story short back there. I don’t enjoy reliving it around Isa. It was a troubling time.”

“We don’t have to continue it,” Mazin muttered.

“Is that what you truly want?”

Mazin shook his head after avoiding the Wolf’s gaze.

“I don’t blame you, it’s some tale. Though I must ask you to not use my name. The terms might affect no one else but me, but that name has earned me nothing less than trouble.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Do you know of other Vivada?”

“I know my grand uncle was involved in a few during his life. There’s Cylla’s Bane, but the details are a mystery to me. I don’t know others beyond those, I suppose.”

“Really?”

Nameless’ surprise pricked the prince.

“What do you know of Cylla’s Bane?”

“That Queen Cylla was a tyrant, who hunted dark Tamers, tricked into a Vivada by her Bane. She lost, and they banished her line and supporters from Ko’Eri, forced north of the Mahn’Parvat, never to return. Thus, Bana’Parvat became a haven for the dark Tamers it once hunted.”

Nameless eyes focused on him as he rushed through all he knew, and Mazin’s shoulders tightened. The man’s blue gaze disquieted him.

“I see,” he finally said. “Well, as for mine, my first Vivada. The terms were simple. I give up my name, never claim it nor speak it while I remain with Isa. Banished from my ancestral home.”

“Are you not worried about your return with your son and Ai-leesha?”

“The Seers are not beholden to any family, nor Pack. Though there is always the chance that desperate eyes may relay my ambitions to my family once we cross the Parvat. Ah, don’t listen to me. These are the worries of a father.”

“If my duties allowed me to assist you, I would.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t believe adding another Lion, a prince no less, would aid us. As capable as you are.”

Nameless bathed, and Mazin lightened. The Wolf turned after organising his loose strands into a messy bun, revealing the ugly gash on his back.

“That one must have a magnificent story,” Mazin restarted.

“For another time, spending too long in this warmth won’t serve you well in this cold.”

Mazin watched the Wolf for a moment before rushing to catch up on himself.