The Imperial laid out his thoughts. Not bad. I would bet my pants (currently the only clothing in my possession—I doubt Flash wants them back) he had already thought of this and was one step ahead of me before I even woke.

He offered me an army to defeat my cousin and put me on the throne. Amid that, he would protect the small town I came to cherish in the short time I was there.

Most important of all, he wished for an alliance with me. He has nothing to lose, plus he seems to think I will win back the throne.

He wishes to throw his lot in with me... and should I win? I would be indebted. Not a good place to be. Weres are notorious for cashing out debts. But what choice do I have? It makes sense: an army, a kingdom, plus another impossible task. Why not?

Except... I never wished to be king. I wish to be free. I would be chaining myself to a life of servitude. But if I leave my father's pack in the hands of my cousin... could I live with myself?

I well know the answer to that. It's the same reason I couldn't leave children to die or a village undefended. It's just not who I am.

Not who we are, the voice agrees.

This is true. I pull a letter out, re-reading it. The letter that ratted me out to Flash. How that kid actually got enough from the coded letters to realize its intended recipient... he's not just a smiling face. I have a feeling there is a cunning behind him that will serve him well as future Imperial.

Back to the letter. It is from the mage I hoped would be of help, as well as some information from my contacts as to the general state of this world. A few of my contacts are indeed deceased, but the mage is on the way from her hiatus, and the others still alive confirmed the information I had already suspected.

My cousin is in league with the Empire, and both are bound and determined to not only wage war against the mage kingdom of Vralar, but also the Werecat nation of Jrakkan.

The Empire's jingoist army is currently at the southern border, pressuring Vralar with the help of my cousin and his Shifter army.

This is both a blessing and a curse. It means we have time before the Empire comes for small fry like Videlia. But it also means the Empire is much stronger than it once was, and could be growing stronger by the day, should they gain a foothold of magic in Vralar.

It seems they have already routed the Werecats, a few pockets of resistance the only parts left of a once large and vibrant nation.

I have seen this here, in the village of refugees. The eyes of the folk are weary, a broken and apprehensive air about them. But they fight. They live, and so they fight. I can both admire and respect their stubbornness, even if I wish to wash my hands of them as soon as possible. But with my luck, I'll be stuck with these cats for life.

I need to rescue my family and get them far, far away from the coming wars my idiotic cousin is lending a hand in beginning.

I toss on the bed in the healer's shack, too many thoughts chasing each other through my head to rest.

The covers come off and I grab a tunic left by the door. Seems the healers finally know I need a shirt, since I tend to show up most places without one.

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The outside air welcomes me, the crisp scent of night meeting my nose along with the mouth-watering aromas emanating from over a fire of cherry wood. The sweet sap lends its scent to the air and gives the roasting meat a slightly honey-like smokey flavour.

Sounds fill the air as cats yowl and someone beats on a drum in a surprisingly harmonious beat.

Seems I've come in time to see the Werecat celebration of the end of fall and the beginning of winter.

Tomorrow is the full Harvest Moon, and my wolf beats against the edges of my subconscious, begging to run.

Tonight, I can push him back far enough to remain human... mostly. My ears shiver into points and my fingers may be longer than usual with my nails ending at a sharper point.

Tomorrow, there won't be a choice in the full moon. There will be a wolf among cats. I wonder how the Were will welcome me then?

I skirt the edges of the harvest celebration, hidden in the dark of night as the crickets add their own songs to the night air and the bramble beetles buzz around to find a nightly home, carrying their stink with them.

I nod to two flaming eyes up a tree. The black panther nods back, then shifts his eyes back to the woods. I feel confident I could’ve snuck by the scout—but at the moment, it would be too much work.

I lean against a tree, watching as the people of this village laugh and dance in wild abandon. My heart gives a pang of longing as I watch the children dance in the flickering light.

The adults have painted their faces to resemble different animal kinds, some even going so far as to wear antlers or fangs. Some look downright hideous.

Especially the lion whose mane is of straw. The yellow paint that smells of sweet yarrow peels from the man’s face, making him look like a scarecrow. But he smiles as he chases his young daughter with fake roars, making her laugh and giggle. He catches her and lifts her onto his shoulders. She’s painted as a little tiger with her hair in little blonde braids.

Together they chase the other children, who scatter to roars and giggles.

Tongues of flame lick the meat staked above the fire as women prepare dishes of carrots and cabbage and pea soups, along with specialty dishes I cannot name. My lungs expand with the wondrous mouth-watering aromas, my stomach gurgling in anticipation.

Groups of young cats gather, the boys on one side and the girls on the other. Some girls look over as the guys flex their muscles or get in bouts of arm wrestling. I chuckle as the boys pretend to ignore the girls, but secretly cast glances over when they think no one’s watching. A few brave lads mingle closer to the ladies.

Many around my age gather as couples, holding hands or exchanging starry eyed smiles.

Much laughter can be heard over the entire field as my heart hurts painfully in my chest at what could have been. Could me and my brother have been a part of this? If I could have stayed, would my father have chased me around to tickle me or teach me how to control my wolf? Would he have taught me what it meant to be a Shifter? A king?

“Thinking that hard can get your brow in a wad,” the Imperial says from where I heard him walk up behind me. His scent of wild ginger and honey pierces the night scents of soft loamy soul and pine.

I stare at the scene before me, soaking in the joy and preparing myself for what is to come. “Perhaps. But only with using one’s mind can one hope to make a better life for oneself and others.”

“Wise words for one so young. Wise words, indeed.” He walks up until we stand shoulder to shoulder in the shadows.

Heather meets my eyes from where she sits beside Morgana. She nods at me with a small smile, and I nod back. Morgana says something to her, and she breaks off our gaze to respond.

Another pair catches my attention.

“Flash seems to be quite smitten.” I incline my head to where Flash tries to talk to a pretty little red-headed woman. She nods to him and says a few short words in return, then walks over to the fire as he follows like a lovesick puppy.

The Imperial chuckles. “That boy has had a crush on Alexandria ever since he caught sight of her red hair. He pulled her pigtails as a boy, brought her rabbits as a teen, and now is trying his blessed heart out just to get her to speak a word. She’s a firecracker, but a fine warrior and even kinder woman. A little challenge does a man good.”

I almost laugh as she turns and slaps Flash solid enough to turn his head. He watches her walk away with a slack jaw and wide eyes as his hand comes to rest on his burning cheek. Even so, his gaze is tinted with admiration.

A chuckle rumbles in my chest. “He’s got his work cut out on that one.”

The Imperial nods but says nothing. We stand in companionable silence before I decide to break it.

I take a breath and the Imperium turns to give me his full attention. “I have given thought to your offer.”