I find myself walking towards Nova after exiting the tent where yells of outrage and slaps of hands on the table still tell of an animated discussion as they decide who to kidnap.

Nova croons, and as I touch her cheek, I realize she somehow knows. Animals are much more attuned to a person’s emotions than perhaps even the humans wish to admit.

I should know. I am both. Yet I seem to hide emotion better than either... at times.

A thrum begins deep in her chest and she draws me gently under her wing as if she were a mother bird consoling her young.

I can’t help but chuckle as she prods me until I am cocooned in her gentle embrace, feeling the purr-like vibrations throughout my entire being. I’m feeling mothered in a way that I never want Flash to know about. Ever.

And never would I admit it actually feels... good.

“How am I supposed to do this?” I whisper for her ears alone.

She pokes her head under her wing, and her gaze both wise and sad... with a hint of reproval.

“I'm not alone, I know,” I sigh, taking in the expanse of the sky peeking just above her head in a small area between her horns and wing. “Before, I had a clear-cut path ahead. And in some ways, this is just as clear... only... this seems unreachable. Become Alpha Imperium? Try to survive? Save Videlia? And before that, bring the Shifters here, who may not wish to come. And if they do not, can I live with more blood on these hands?” I hold my hands out before me, seeing them coated in red and dripping with the blood of innocents. But a peace comes over me, and I feel Someone else set his hands in mine, and... and I feel his lifeblood come and cover the blood on my hands, washing them clean.

I open my eyes, seeing the outline of a glimmering figure before me. Then it's gone.

I smile as one salty tear as it drops from my chin. “Thank you, Father,” I whisper.

I feel his gentle love wash over me with a peace beyond anything I’ve felt outside of his presence.

He knows what’s coming. And he’s set me on this path for a reason.

I just need to trust. And how can I not after everything he’s led me through... every single instance of folk I need being at the right place at the right time?

Coincidence has ceased to be coincidence to me.

Now I see it as the Hand of the Allfather.

“So, about your past...” I begin, speaking to Cynic, as Nova's breathing evens out and she closes her eyes with me cocooned in her wing.

Not this, he grumbles, but I grab hold of him before he can slip into the depths of my subconscious.

Hang on. I’ve had to deal with your snark for much too long. It’s time you repaid me.

How’d I get lucky enough to end up with you? he says, still trying to squirm his way past me and into my subconscious like a slippery water dragon.

I squeeze tighter, and he eventually stills with a forlorn sigh. Alright, fine. But be quick. You have three questions.

That makes me pause, and I release him. Does this... is it painful for you?

He snorts. Is talking about your past painful for you?

I wince. Touché.

That was your first question. Make the rest count.

I pause, thinking. Is there anything you can tell me about your body?

He sinks, but not so far as to go beneath where I can feel him. I was banished from it, my soul linked to three objects. The first is the Chain of Woe about your neck your mother Gifted you. The second is the Dagger of Grayce on your waist. The third is the Crown of Glory. Whoever finds all three is said to become king.

My mind goes blank. “King?”

High King. King of the continent. King.

You know I don't wish for this.

Your highest highness, it's likely unavoidable.

I rub at my forehead. Is there anyway to pass off my so-called Gifts?

That's four, but I'll give you a free one. Your mother bonded us at the beginning of your life. She could’ve bonded with me had she wished and become Queen. Until someone kills you? No one else can remove the Shackle of Woe from about your neck nor take the Dagger of Grayce from your body.

Ahhh. So that’s how the jingoist didn’t find the dagger. I wondered about that when I should’ve been stripped of all weapons.

And if someone found out about all this?

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He snorts. Great question, idiot. Quit wasting my breath.

You have no breath, I reply tartly, but yes, I know what would be. Everyone and everything within Avidon would seek my head.

The headache grows sharp behind my eyes.

Great. Just great.

But what about your body?

A pause. If you find my body... you can reunite me with it. But no king has been able to do this since I was imprisoned. I doubt it'll be you. Greater Kings have come before.

I'm tempted to roll my eyes. Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. Why were you imprisoned?

Sharp pain flares from my middle, and I feel it as both guilt and sorrow.

I did something I should not have done, and I paid the price. Q and A is done for the day, kiddy. Find someone else to torment.

With that, he sinks into the depths of either my soul or my mind, and the sharp pain recedes with him.

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

I put the last pack on Nova, specifically designed from skins one of the Were women gifted me designed for my dragon, and she croons to the dragonlings as they lament her leaving.

I feel for them, as I look over at Barry and Jed, Jed’s eyes shifting from me to Barry and back while Barry glares.

What I wouldn’t give for one of his gap-toothed grins.

Flash bounds up the incline, his face set in a grim line.

It makes my heart pound faster within my chest. I’ve never seen him without a smile... except when something is wrong. It seems my plans are about to change.

“It’s the village. They believe they’ve been betrayed,” he holds up a letter.

I read it. My jaw clenches. “A human scout? Did he say who he was?”

Flash shakes his head, black hair swishing on his forehead. “No. He hung himself before they could question him.”

I narrow my eyes at the letter as if I could get the answers from the dead man by staring at it hard enough.

The page crinkles in my fist before I physically convince my brain to release it.

If the Were are in danger, I won’t leave them to fight alone. Not after all they have done for me.

“What do you think, girl?”

Nova bends her head down, bumping her forehead against my chest.

I scratch beneath her chin.

“We’re in. When are you leaving?”

Flash hesitates. “Father said to let you know we do not expect you to postpone your trip for this.”

I stare at him. “You’re not serious?” He merely stares at me. “Flash, I will not leave while there is a threat to Jishal. I may be a Shifter, but you are my brother. I won’t let you go this alone.”

He looks down, trying to hide his smile. “I was hoping you’d say that, kino."

I shake my head, biting my tongue to keep from smiling. “Don't call me that," I say, more out of habit than true consternation. "It merely makes sense. The Shifters... they have survived fine without me. It is sensible to remain where there is the most pressing danger.”

Flash looks up. His lips curl in a mischievous grin. I grow wary, easing away from him when he gets such a gleam in his eye.

He pounces, snagging my neck in a headlock.

It's good I'm becoming used to friendly contact. Used to, that would've earned a knife in the kidney. I awkwardly pat his forearm, clearing my throat, even as he squeezes hard enough to break a normal human's neck.

I dig my finger into a pressure point between his thumb and forefinger when I've had enough.

He chuffs, releasing me. He pushes my shoulder.

“Thanks, brother,” he says, turning away, but not before I see a sheen in his eye.

I watch him walk away, shaking my head.

I never know how to take that cat.

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

I return with the Imperial, Jed, Barry, Flash, and most of the Shifters back to the Were village.

The ones who remained behind were those who were more needed or couldn’t be moved. The Imperial has been slowly transitioning his people to the warm and more forgiving valley. But the current problem? The Berserk. They hate the dragons and will not come within miles of the cavern.

Hence why we are riding mountain ponies instead. Those who stayed were the elderly and sickly, as well as carpenters and craftsmen who remained to continue building. Tanners continued working on tents. Others foraged for foods and prepared the soil to plant seeds.

I shiver as my mountain pony crosses the border from inside the warm cave to a biting wind.

The change from summer heat to winter air never ceases to amaze. Someday, I wish to find the history of this place. Perhaps it was an old stronghold for the mages before they split from the other races and were cursed to stay in their homeland or risk losing their powers.

Or perhaps it’s older than the mages. Perhaps the elves of old made the place.

They were said to be more powerful than can be imagined.

We were, Cynic says softly.

I almost tip off my mountain pony, and he stumbles in the snow. I pat his shoulder, grimacing when he snorts as if cursing me out for being a sack of potatoes on his back and throwing him off balance.

You are of the old Seelie?

I was, he says, emphasis on the was. Once. They were good days. We ruled with an iron fist, and there was peace.

Was there freedom?

Not as you would like. But one cannot rule as you hope to rule. Fear remains the only emotion to keep the masses complacent and compliant for any amount of time. Anything else changes with the seasons. They may see you as a hero one month, and then a villain the next for sealing a harbor against a leviathan. There is no trust within nations, there is only fear. One must leverage what one can for peace to remain.

Defiance threads through me, even as his words make a sense I would've agreed with mere months before. I had no hope for humans, no hope for this world. But now? I've seen all kinds come together to rally for children, to stand against evil. There is still good in the world.

Thinking of little Shasta and all those who came to help her brings a tiny smile to my face. Humans are capable of great evil. Disloyalty, murder, torture. Refusal to accept responsibility and improve. But then there are those who still bring joy and light into this world to combat the darkness, who never give up and refuse to give in. David, Heather's father, and his determination to have a better world for his granddaughter to grow into. Morgana, a crackity old witch who has something of a heart of gold. Jace and Jim, who are still the uggliest pair of krisours I've ever met with a sense of humor to match. So many I have met who restored my faith.

I refuse to give up hope, Cynic. I refuse to believe this.

Where he human, he would’ve shrugged. You are much too wise to believe a fantasy, Roland, he chides. It will be your funeral when you become king. But as he sinks back into whatever hole he stays in, something comes, something that sounds much like, But prove me wrong, idiot, and I'll eat Beast.

Something rumbles deep within, and I believe I hear a scream before it cuts off abruptly.

I smile, shaking my head as I take off Nova's pack. Beast didn't seem to take kindly to such threats.

Beast chows down on... something. I poke him back in his cage, and what I take to be Cynic slinks deeper within. Don't say a word, he whispers.

I didn't say a thing.

You were thinking it.

I can't stop thinking.

Try harder.

Try harder not to think your scream sounded like a girl? Oh, sure. I can do that.

Somehow, I feel his wince. That cat is a bad influence.

Flash? My lessons in ridicule came way before him.

Shut up, he says, disappearing once more.

I shake my head, my heart lighter despite being entirely unsure what's coming.