“Imperial, how is everyone faring?” I yawn, the late night testing the bounds of my endurance.

I refused to intrude upon my brother's peace until Barry allows it, so I had to find another place to rest. It ended up being in a creaking tree where I could see my dragon and the little village made of many multicolored tents in a semi-circle around the bubbling lake, a prime spot high enough to make sure everyone was safe.

Most of my rest was mere meditation, but it will get me through. A slight chill still sneaks through the air as the sun barely crests the edges of the mountain to burn away the lingering morning fog.

The big burly man looks down at me with a smile parting his bushy beard. “Doing well, Roland. Also, meant to tell you, I am glad to see you made it back in one piece.” Mischief dances in his eyes. He coughs into his hand. “Not *cough* half-dead *cough*.”

I raise my brows. My eyes beg to roll. This Were is how old? “The Shifters. How are they settling?”

“About as well as can be expected.” His eyes lose some of the sparkle I associate with him, and his shoulders hunch, just enough for me to notice. But the big tell is his eyebrows. They remain still. That is quite unusual for this Were. His biggest tell are those eyebrows, and right now, he is trying to trick me into complacency by being stone-faced.

I rub my eyes. It’s too early for this. “What happened?” He hesitates. “I’ll find Flash,” I warn. We both know Flash can't keep his mouth shut even if his life depended on it. Thank goodness he has an Oath to keep my secret.

He huffs an amused breath, cutting his eyes to look at me, and I see the pupils are slit. “One of them tussled with my brother. Your Sir Rey about took their heads off. Got it under control before I could get there.”

“And just why did no one see fit to get me?” I almost growl. He hesitates again. “I won’t be coddled, Imperial. I brought them here. As such, they are my responsibility.”

“Your Highness, you’ve got enough on your plate. Don’t you think it best to delegate some of your tasks?”

“Sir, with all due respect, I can’t do what needs to be done if I have those beside me I cannot trust.” The Imperial hangs his head, and I realize what I said. “I didn’t—“ I begin, trying to explain.

“No, you are correct.” He sighs, and it’s a fairly dainty thing considering the burly man it came from. “Walk with me.”

We walk side by side through the tents, and most of the Shifters give me grins or nods as we walk through. Some of the Were copy them, and give their own gesture of respect by resting their hand to their heart.

A child gives me a bird missing its head, the wings flopping lifelessly as the bird is still warm from life and the little girl has a red speck of blood on her nose. I try to grin as the little girl's eyes slit in happiness and she darts off, running back to her mother who graces me with a grin of happiness.

I solute them with the bird, feeling immediately foolish even though they beam at me.

I turn, walking on, thankful that's over, but once again unsure what to do with my... gift. Sticky blood dribbles from the stump where the neck was and coats my fingers.

With a grimace, I try to wipe it off, only to smear it.

I sigh, raising a brow when I see the Imperial grinning.

"Not keen on my people's idea of respect, eh?"

I shake my head, my lips quirking. "I am merely... unused to such lovely gifts," I reply evasively.

He chuckles and we continue on in companionable silence.

Were and Shifter are mostly separate and glance across the divide at each other with ill-concealed suspicion, even while giving me gestures of respect. My land, when will this divide end?

And then I see something that fills me with hope.

A few cross that invisible string, mainly the younger ones who haven’t known recent war between our races.

The younger children, around between Essie's and Jonas' age, gather for a game I started.

My heart lifts as young Jonas, the one who found me in that tree near Whitecastle. seeks out others and pounces with a roar.

He covers a giggling Were with water, leaving her soaked and laughing so hard she almost can’t breathe. Her breath comes in short, wheezing gasps. I realize she’s Bridget’s younger sister, and my heart stills. Barry and Jed chase after Essie, Zephora's daughter, in cat form, laughing in delight as one shifter drenches Essie who in turn leaps on the Shifter and wails in his ear, knocking him over. Barry and Jed pile on, laughing so hard they can barely breathe, being in that single instant innocent kids without the rigors and stress of war that made them grow up much too soon.

The Imperial watches me, his eyes wise with years I cannot grasp. “You see.”

And I do. This hasn’t been since the time of my great-grandfather. Not of Were and Shifter and Human playing without animosity.

“You are starting something. And only the Allfather knows where it’s going. You are the Harbinger of change.”

“Is that a good thing?” I whisper, eyes still on the playing kids and the joy permeating the entire clearing in a warm balm that smells like a ray of sunshine feels. Even the mothers who watch on with concern and hints of overprotectiveness are giving grudging smiles as they watch their children play.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“That’s to be seen. But I like to think of it as good. Most change is fairly neutral. It takes a catalyst to knock it to one side or the other.”

“Catalyst?”

“Catalysts can take many forms. But most are those who no one sees and will never know who gave everything for those they believed in. There have been bad catalysts of change, such as your cousin, and to right a wrong is much harder than to have a right in the first place.”

I nod, and he claps me on the back with enough force to knock over a bear. He leaves me to my tumultuous thoughts.

~~~

“We’re going to be leaving tomorrow.” The Imperial has gathered the most trusted of our members together. Alyssa, Flash, Sir Rey, The Imperial’s brother Brendan, another Shifter named Big Ben, and a few Werecats I have seen around but not been introduced to, stand before a table in the midst of the largest tent in the valley. I recognize one as a fellow who fought beside us in the battle against Nova’s ex-mate.

Clouds cover the moon outside the tent, making the night darker than usual and hiding the stars, which puts me in an already bad mood on top of the responsibilities weighing my shoulders.

“I have a few things I need to share. With your permission, Roland?” The Imperial defers to me, and I sense no small amount of surprise that their leader would show such respect.

We are equals in station and most of the Were respect me for what I have done... and yet, this goes beyond that. This is the Imperial deferring to me. I smell hints of burnished curiosity and hints of suspicion, but none who outright wish ill-will on any of gathered.

I nod in response to the Imperial's question.

“Thank you. Roland is not a normal Shifter, as you all should have gathered by now.” The others smile or grunt in agreement. “He is going to be rescuing his people from the Usurper. I would not bet against this wolf who defeated a dragon. I have offered our services.”

The two Were I don’t know look at their Imperial with shock and a hint of outrage plastered on their features. One narrows his eyes and his pupils slit. His blond hair is pulled back in a warrior's queue and has on a leather vest that leaves his chest bare. White scars, jagged and straight and punctured, line his skin. One scar splits his eyebrow in half and continues half-way down his cheek. I don’t see how his eye survived that one. “That is not wise, Sir. With all due respect, we owe him for what he did, sure, but this is too much.”

The Imperial chuffs low in his throat, and the warrior backs up a step. “Don’t question what I have already promised, Grey.”

Grey nods his head, but his nose flares. I haven’t seen the end of that. But I wasn’t expecting easy.

“Now, we all know the reason I needed through the pass. Brey has been taken by clan Jukuthan, and they have agreed to ransom him for one of their own. We are trading Zephora back to them.”

I… did not know this. Why did the Imperial keep this from me? And why would he trade his daughter?

I can feel my face becoming hard and my emotions locking down to prevent me from being read as the Imperial hardens his own face, his eyes flinty.

“Zeph? She’s one of us. They have no right to demand her back after what they did,” says a Were I do not know. He was not a part of the fight with the male dragon, so he must’ve been a part of the warriors from this valley. He has short orange hair that sticks up in cowlicks despite his efforts to pat it down.

“I know. I know. But she has agreed.”

“You know what will happen. Even if her mother was a Jukuthan, it is unlikely they will accept her mixed blood,” the same Were replies, slicking back his orange hair when the cowlicks won’t be tamed.

The Imperial hangs his head, his eyes shining with a sheen of tears he won’t allow himself to shed. He braces himself against the table. “Then what do you suggest?” he bites out, his voice bitter with self-loathing. “We need my brother, now more than ever. He has no heir. Without him, the pride will revert to sides over his council members and I cannot in good conscience allow such a thing to happen while we are so weakened from losing our kingdom. He is the Superimaus Imperilatus, and at such time as this, we need him now more than ever. We cannot leave him.”

“And what of your daughter? You can let that happen in good conscience?”

The Imperial slaps both hands down on the table, making one of the legs crack. It doesn’t fall, but tilts ominously. I slip my dagger back into its sheath before anyone notices how close I came to stabbing the Were leader. That would’ve gone poorly.

Cynic chuckles and my eye twitches. This is no time for humor.

The Imperial rubs both hands down his face, a trill in the back of his throat attesting to the bitter sorrow wafting from him in waves. “What do you wish me to say? I have no good options before me.”

“Catch another of their members,” Alyssa says softly.

All eyes turn to her where she and I am half hidden in the shadows of the fire from the far wall.

Interesting idea. “Catch a more important Juthan to trade. That could work,” I say, looking to the map of these mountains. Alyssa smiles gently at me, something in her eye I cannot name.

Nods come from the others.

“Who is of such import?” Grey asks.

“Any of their nobles. Most have enough clout to get the Superimaus released,” a Were replies, warming to the idea.

“But which would be most likely to get us what we need?” another asks.

The next few minutes they argue over which will be easiest to kidnap. It finally comes down to two, a cousin to the current ruler who also holds a position in the council, or a bookkeeper. I wouldn’t envy any who tried going after the ruler's cousin. He took out half a dozen of my fellow assassins who tried to kill his son.

All that I have on my hands and what I must do in the following weeks presses against my shoulders like a physical weight.

I slip around the shadows. The only ones who notice my departure are the Imperial, Sir Rey, and Alyssa.

The rest… they’re too embroiled in an argument over whom to send to kidnap the bookkeeper. Apparently, the Keeper has more damaging information that the Queen wouldn’t want out. The Juthan are unlikely to just hand him over. The Imperial has given me leave to take Nova and go for the Shifters while they plan how best to get his brother back. It will take a few weeks for them to set the kidnapping and hope all goes to plan, so the few days I should be gone should be fine.

All the shoulds worry me.

Videlia is alright for now. The Imperial has been keeping close tabs on the situation and the jingoist have been so busy with the mages to the south that they haven’t gone for the town yet. But I fear what the Emperor will do once he finally decides to level the place to ashes for daring to stand against him. Man, woman, child… they will die. But the headache the mages are making themselves to the Emperor leaves us time to prepare.

The Imperial is stocking up for the refugees, as we all know how unlikely it is for us to hold the town. This little haven in the mountains is a prime place to bring them… but again, what the Imperial said about the mountain valley being able to support so many is correct. Without outside trading and with the people coming with only the bags on their back… we won’t have roofs for their heads, much less food for their mouths.

And Barry has yet to talk to me without a scowl on his face hiding his deepest pain, and it breaks off pieces of my heart every time I speak with him. Jed is helpless, and I know he’s tried his darnedest to speak to his little brother.

I trail my fingers over the hard bark of a tree. Within the bark is an imprint, and I put my fist to it with a little smile curling my lips.

The poor tree took the brunt of my anger when everything was becoming too much once upon a time. I lean my forehead against the cool bark, listening to the gentle breeze wafting through the trees and the cool night air that is rich with the scents of life. Wolfs howl as they trail through the trees, hunting for tomorrow's breakfast.

One way or another, we’ll have to make this place work for those who need this haven, even if I must take Nova to a far-off city to buy provisions and use up my fortune of fine wine while I'm at it.

Perhaps Videlia will stand despite the entire Empire against it.

Yet, somehow, I doubt it.