The bell jingles above the homey little store that smells of honey and pine. Purple violets bloom on either end of Madame Nika’s countertop.

Madame Nika glances up. Her lips curl up in a grin that seems both warm and frightening. I feel partially rooted to the spot at the gleaming in her eyes, but a moment later, it’s gone and my feet will move once more. She finishes up with a male customer who gulps as the store owner leans her bosom on the honey-beige counter, which changes color every other month. Last time I was in here, it was blue.

The man jerks his eyes up when she says something, handing over a large sum of coin—was that a crown?—before grabbing his package and retreating with humped shoulders out the door. His bald head gleams with sweat, even as he glances back one last time before the door smacks him on the rear and he jolts forward.

I shake my head. “How badly did you rip him off?” I ask, leaning my forearm against the counter but still watching the man’s bald head bobble through the brightly colored crowds and around pristine carriages pulled by beautiful, elegant horses ranging from black to palomino to cremello. The shops along the cobblestone street display a wide range of wares through their glass windows, a commodity only the richest stores can afford.

Her laughter rings through the store, carried to one other customer in the back corner. “Not so badly as I did you all those years.”

I roll my eyes, puffing out my cheeks. “Did you give me anywhere near going price for the bloodroot mushroom?” I still kinda feel bad about selling the mushroom the Eldertrees gave me, but we needed the money.

Her pursed lips and laughing eyes are all the answer I need. “I shoulda stolen more than your dress,” I grumble.

She grins, pushing her dark braid over her shoulder. “That exquisite thing? I miss it every single day.”

I snort, unable to contain a small smile. That dress was downright ugly, but it was the only thing on her laundry string I wanted. The rest showed way too much in way too many areas for me to want. “You haven’t even thought about it ‘til now.”

She shrugs, a wry smile on her lips. “What do you want to overpay me for today?”

A sigh stops in my throat. “Devil’s snare.”

She purses her lips, then slaps her hand on the table. I pick up the packet. “Now, why don’t you request what you really came to my humble abode for.”

I raise a brow. “Devil’s snare not enough of a challenge for ya?”

Her lips almost disappear as she smashes them together in her displeasure.

“Fine,” I say. I lean against her counter. “It’s been days. You haven’t gotten an audience yet?”

Her eyes light with understanding. “Impatience killed the cat. Suspicion is not a good thing to rouse in our trade.”

I screw up my lips as if I’d tasted bad keifier. “Don’t lump us together. I’m not like you.”

Her smile grows sharp edges and her eyes glimmer with something I don’t like. “So high and mighty.” She leans forward, eyes drilling into my own. “Stealing, killing, fighting, protecting, saving—they all come from the same place. Sans the few bad apples, most fight for what they believe in or what will protect them and their families. Is what you’ve done so very different than a child stealing a loaf of bread for her starving, sickly younger sibling? Is it so much different than a father stealing a watch so he may provide for his family when the rest of the city kicked him out? You may kill, destroy, and make, but you are the oh so great Guardian. Because you’re on the right side of the Honour Knights, you think you’re so much better.” She leans in closer, and I can smell the peppermint and clove tea on her breath. “But look deep at what you’ve done, Guardian, and you’ll realize we’re not so different after all.”

She leans back, putting on her bright smile like taking off a hat and putting on another. Gone was the scary, sharp-edged woman. In her place was a beautiful woman with curves and an inviting grace.

Heck, she’s terrifying.

“I’ll send you a note when the time comes, now run along, and be good now.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

She levels me with a look. “I’ve known you for years. I can patronize who I wish when I wish. Now get.”

I stare at her evenly for some time, trying to get a read on her, but nearly wince when my Gift sends a shooting sensation up my spine and I feel tingles all the way out my hands and legs, the same feeling you get when you ram your funny bone. And it wasn’t exactly painful, but not pleasant, either.

Before she can read anything else on my face, I dart out the door and head home. Maybe I could round up Jack, Jill, and my squire for an impromptu training session.

Just the thing to get my mind off Madame Nika.

I open my hand and look at the tiny pouch of devil’s snare there and grin.

I stole from the Thief Queen.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

~~~

That night, I spar with Jack and my squire and the other knights. It’s productive, until Jack decides he wants to train in mud to recreate my match with Xonier. I let him have that. I’ve had enough fighting in terrible conditions for the rest of my life.

Not that it’s a bad idea. In fact, I approve. Training in rough conditions saved my hide more time than I can count. It’s highly unlikely all fights are gonna be on even ground with great weather. Nope. As I’ve found in the past, most are across rooftops, in tight corners, and in slick footing.

But right now, I don’t wish to eat mud.

And I need to practice, so there’s that. Momma helps me with throwing knives until I am… better. A step back further than I think helps the knife complete the rotation. I can hit within inches of where I want, but hitting hilt first is still so ingrained I do it nearly half the time.

“Patience, hon. There’s only so much you can unlearn in a day,” Momma says, watching me throw with more anger than finesse.

I huff out a breath. “But now I know the problem.”

“Knowing the problem is the beginning of knowledge. Fixing the problem is the beginning of wisdom. Overcoming the problem is the beginning of living," says a deep voice from behind us.

A grin crosses my lips at the deep tone. “Hans!” I say, turning to see him enter the make-shift training yard we’ve set up. There’s a set of hay bales next to the plain brown shed that masquerades as a barn. The wall rises about two horse-lengths high back here and evergreen trees reach their green branches to the sky, providing some privacy for training between this house and the next.

Jack and Sir Rowen still spar but pause upon seeing Hans. Sir Rowen bows to Hans, and when Hans nods, he goes back to sparring.

“Hey, little minx. It’s good to see you up and about,” he says, ruffling my short hair.

“How’s Jenny?” I ask, a frown marring my lips when I don’t see her.

He rubs a hand down his beard. “She’s not feeling well.”

Momma walks closer, shaking Hans forearm. “Good to see you, sir.”

“None of that. We’re family now.”

Momma nods, pushing back her hair when the wind blows the gray streaked locks into her face. “Would she be opposed to me offering some advice?” Momma asks. I smile. She was an amazing midwife before she had to stay home with Jill. If anyone can help, it's her.

Hans’ eyebrow rises. He looks away, blowing out a breath, nearly fidgeting. Then he nods. “We would welcome another opinion. Thank you.”

“Can I...?”

Momma brings me in for a hug. “I know you love her, darling, but you have other things you need to do. I can see it in your eyes. And it’s nearly dark.”

For Jenny, I nearly put off my plans.

Momma takes my cheeks in her palms and forces me to face her. “I will look out for her, hon. Now go. Do what I know you need to.”

I give her a hug. “Thanks, Momma. You’re the best,” I whisper.

She pulls back, kissing my forehead, smacking me on the behind. “Get out of here, child of mine,” she says, understanding and love in her gaze.

I could put this off, but I’ve put it off long enough.

~~~

I go out into the city as Ri, learning my lesson and not going out as the Guardian. At least not tonight.

The lake is quiet tonight. Her placid waters gently laps at the sand along the shore. I’m visiting the place near Mid, where a noble made a tea house and bought enough land around it to create a beautiful garden in the midst of a bustling city.

I wait for some time, unsure exactly how to do this. I still haven’t recovered fully from my… sickness. My body is achy, wanting to lie down and take a nap after the sparring and throwing I put it through. But the weakness and gaping hole in my soul is gone, so there’s that.

When nothing happens, I reach down and touch the water with a finger, jerking back as if expecting the dragon to leap out.

When nothing happens, I breathe a sigh of relief and turn to go. I’ll just come back another night after I check on Jenny.

Little prey leaving so soon?

I nearly jump out of my skin. I gulp. “N-no. Just—”

Leaving.

I wince.

A bubble rises from the depths. And then something pokes up, and my stomach does somersaults and I stand on the balls of my feet, ready to move if he thinks about coming on land and eating me.

Relax, little prey. You are too stringy for my tastes. There's laughter hiding in that deep and wild voice.

Have you been fed today? I gulp, knowing I couldn't speak aloud even if I wished it. Nerves strangle my voice and make my limbs jittery.

An eye, larger than I am tall, blinks open, watching me. Yes. I have been fed. I find I prefer fish and live prey, but the squishy muscles and bones of the land dwellers are... crunchy.

Is that… good?

A rumble trembles the surface of the water and I’m five steps further up the sandy bank before I realize I’m feeling amusement from him. I force my feet to still and I turn back to the… dragon.

Yes, it is good. I am full and shall sleep on a full stomach for the next week. No need to feed me until the moon is full.

I blink in surprise. Is there anything else you need?

He swishes his tail in the water. I would like to see the mountains, but the pass leading up is too small.

He turns his snout to look into the distance where white-topped mountains rise way in the distance, where the river he resides in begins.

Why does he not just fly?

Another rumble and my cheeks grow red. I hope I didn’t just give him any ideas. The humans in Risia would die at the thought of a dragon in their river. They’re a suspicious lot. And dragons are tied to war. Not that dragons bring war, but in olden times, dragon warriors were called to either start or end wars. That was many years ago, and now dragons are considered curses or harbingers of war.

Not that dragons were to blame for the wars. People do that good enough on their own. They were merely fearsome creatures and could begin and end a war nearly by themselves, making them feared unto extinction, sadly.

Worry not, little one. I shall not fly over the city. My wings cease to function. Nor do I seek to unveil myself to the two-legs.

Interesting that he has the same name for humans as Ran.

But his wings… I gasp when he shows me his side... and the way his wing joints are slack. They’re broken? Horror flushes through my veins.

“Darshius?” I growl, my voice low and growly until I don’t even recognize it.

It is in the past, little one. I am content.

I’m not. He needs to pay.

Revenge is not the way.

I crack a smile, looking away from his black eye and ridg-ey forehead with seaweed and other plants growing on it. You sound like my bond.

Already bonded? I am impressed. With what creature?

A flash of a white wolf with saber teeth comes to mind.

A kilisnet. —a what?— Fitting for a wolf heart. Were I younger, I would challenge her for you. But I am too old for such foolery.

Erm… thanks?

His laugh rumbles the water as he swishes around as he turns to go deeper into the lake. I will rest. You have kept your promise, little one, and I will do the same. Connect a thread to me if you have need of more power than your little wolf has.

And with that, the massive presence recedes and I fall to my knees, breathing heavily. That was worse than an all out fight with a Bamshee.

Heck. I hope I don’t have to do that again anytime soon.