“Why did you stop me?” Alana snapped at the elf lounging on her bed.

“Because your next words to her should not be spoken lightly.” Kierra shifted onto her side, holding her head in a palm as she closed her eyes. Despite the lingering tension, the older woman looked unbothered. Alana didn’t know if she was really unaffected or if she was just a phenomenal actor who didn’t want to show her distress. Alana didn’t have any hope of hiding how she felt. Her heart was in distress and it felt like someone was tying her stomach in knots.

Her whole life, the James family meant everything to her. As a child, she admired them, like every other child of Victory. As a young girl, once she was old enough to do the thankless work of a servant, her admiration turned to sour longing as her mother whispered of her suspect parentage. As a young adult, her sour longing turned to bitter determination, all her strength and focus turned to carving out a place for herself amongst the titans of the north.

Even being dismissed to the Grand Hall served the purpose of proving herself to her family. She saw it as a single step on her journey of conquering the Peaks. Every spell she learned, every contact she made, all of it was meant for her glorious future as a knight of Victory.

What had drawn her to Lou was the noblewoman’s freedom. Her absolute abhorrence to constraints of any kind, rather they be for good or ill. She’d reject the crown itself to escape any responsibility to the kingdom and its people.

At the beginning, Alana found it annoying. It was frustrating to see someone flutter about without a single concern in her head, committing one thoughtless action after another without repercussions. Even more frustrating to watch the same woman grow in power with the voracity of a well-nourished weed.

Yet, Alana couldn’t leave her alone. Not when Lou seemed so…unprepared for the trials of life. She was married to an elf with a pure affinity, a resource that could be levied to win her a duchy if she cared to play the games of nobles, and yet she panicked when a little noble started to cause problems and nearly fainted under the attention of a prince. She was strong, physically stronger than anyone Alana knew, with enough talent to shame the next Harvest Hero, but also weak in many ways. Unassumingly competent yet harmfully unambitious. Incredibly bold and incredibly cautious.

Lou stoked Alana’s protective nature and satisfied her inner princess that wanted a dashing hero, though Lou didn’t quite fit that role, to save her. That didn’t mention that Lou was attractive. Very attractive. And the sex. That was…

That alone would have been enough for Alana. Enough, maybe, to make her forget about Victory and the seemingly impossible task of winning her father’s approval. She had thought of it many times before. Dreamed of leaving behind the cold and expectations.

But then Lou had offered to make her dreams reality. To help her not only claw her way into her family but to destroy their attitudes toward her. To grind the whole of Victory under her heel under the same suffocating pressure she’d toiled under for years. The idea was intoxicating.

She could think of nothing else. She’d thrown away her reservations and her caution, done things she could never imagine doing before. Because she believed in Lou. Believed her when she said that she would give her everything.

With her eyes so focused on Victory, she’d lost sight of the one giving her her dreams. She’d forgotten Lou. No, she’d never forgotten her but she had put her considerations to the side. Blatantly ignored them. Taken for granted her selflessness when it came to the women she loved.

She’d never considered the Lou who gave so freely could be hurt. No, that sounded ridiculous when she thought it. Of course she could be hurt. But Alana hadn’t cared as long as she finally won. An empty victory. All the joy of embarrassing her brother had been ripped away and replaced with ice when Lou stormed out of the room.

“I have to go after her.” She couldn’t let Lou think she didn’t care. She cared. So much, she’d refused to admit how she felt for months because her feelings had surprised her. As if she’d do half the things they’d gotten up to with someone she didn’t love. Someone she didn’t trust implicitly, at least with herself.

Victory would always be there. The Bleak Peaks, the Lords of Winter. They’d be waiting whenever Alana decided she wanted to walk the same path as a hundred James before her. But there was only one Lou.

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She wasn’t very experienced in love but she didn’t need to be to know that what she had was special. Lou was special. It might sound shallow or naive but she felt there would never be another like the noblewoman. No one who made her feel the same way, that could offer what she offered. Saints, Geneva’s cooking alone was a hurdle Alana couldn’t imagine any other overcoming.

The thought that Lou may be thinking of ending their relationship made Alana anxious enough that she could barely hold herself back from tearing the door to her room off its hinges in her haste to find her. Her feet shuffled with the desire to move. What kept her still was Kierra’s warning. “You…you think I’m going to say something wrong?”

“Not wrong, little star,” the elf mumbled, clearly distracted. “What you say next is important and cannot be taken back. So, you should be sure of what you want to say.”

“I know what I want to say.”

“Do you? Then, are you sure what you are prepared to do? What if our Lou demands you leave Victory tonight and never return? What if she demands your family’s heads on pikes? Will you acquiesce? Or will you hesitate? I should tell you, hesitation will be taken as its own answer. If you do not want unspoken words to make a decision for you, you should know exactly what you want to say before you seek her out.”

Alana frowned deeply. It should’ve been easy. She loved Lou. She might not be able to say it without getting embarrassed and looking away but they both knew it.

She wanted Lou much more than she wanted the cold and unforgiving Victory. But when she thought about abandoning her home, despite knowing on one level there was no contest between her two choices, there was unmistakable reluctance there. It was annoying. Since when was she so indecisive? “Do you know what you want to say?’

“No. That is why I am here thinking rather than running after her.”

Hoping for answers to her own doubts, she asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“I am thinking about my conqueror. I am thinking about what she has shown and what she has hidden. What she has said and what she hasn’t. The differences between my kind and humans…and our similarities. I am thinking about our future.”

“Are you…are you thinking about leaving?”

The elf’s eyes snapped open, narrowed in a glare. “No.”

The word was hissed with a fierceness that made Alana flinch. “I was—I didn’t—"

“Just because we are a little different does not mean I do not love her.”

“Of course—"

“We are unified. Till death. I made an oath. She is mine. Do you think one disagreement is enough to destroy everything we are? If so, you underestimate me, her, and what it means to love.”

Alana bobbed her head and nearly held up her hands in surrender. Kierra wasn’t nearly as unaffected by Lou’s outburst as her placid features would suggest. “Okay. I didn’t mean to suggest…” She trailed off, letting out a deep breath.

“Perhaps it is your own fears you speak of.”

Alana flinched again. “I…”

“She will not leave over a single argument. Lou is loyal. Like a hound. It is amusing she made the same comparison. Perhaps she is more self-aware than I thought. Or maybe this mess has been a cause for reflection.” Eyes more green than gold speared Alana. “Perhaps you also need time for reflection.”

Alana hesitated until Kierra tapped the bed beside her. She laid down as Kierra turned, putting them face to face. “Can’t you just tell me how to handle this?” she grumbled. “You’re the oldest and it sounds like you have experience. How old are you anyway?”

“Does it matter?”

“You’re avoiding the question. Guess some things transcend race.”

“What things?”

“A woman being uncomfortable about her age.” It had been one of the few things that annoyed Eleanor. Not that Alana was brave enough to annoy her on a frequent basis.

“Hm. I suppose I am…conscience of my age but not in the way you think. In the provinces, the older a fighter, the greater their assumed strength. Rather than being too old, I do not like speaking my age because I am too young.”

“How young is too young?”

“You are focusing on unimportant things.”

“It’s helping.”

Kierra huffed. “Eighty-seven years.”

Alana gaped at her. She’d always known that the elf was older than them but she’d always imagined it was by a few years. A decade maybe but no more than two. Kierra was several decades older than them. She was older than her father. It was difficult to imagine. She didn’t quite know what it meant, if it meant anything, and she certainly didn’t know how to respond to the revelation, or if she should respond. So she settled for, “Oh.”

“I am rather young. My kind naturally live longer than humans. Without any rejuvenation, we can live for two centuries before our bodies begin to show signs of decline. The strong are treasured. The talented are rejuvenated, their lifespans extended far longer. There are many in Dusk who fought and lived through your Great War.”

“Wow.” That was something to think about. “Guess you would feel young compared to them.”

“What do you want, little sun?”

It seemed the time for distractions had passed. “Lou.”

“Just Lou?”

“Well, no. Uh, you too.” She cleared her throat, face flushed. “Our house, or clan. Our future. All the things she’s promised.” And a few things Alana had yet to speak on, too embarrassed.

“Do you want it more than you want Victory?”

Alana swallowed. “Yes.”

“What are you willing to sacrifice for it?”

That was the question. In place of an answer, she asked, “What are you?”