“Must we bring her?” Madame Nika, AKA the Red Mistress and leader of the Thieves’ Guild, says, looking at me.

That’s rich coming from you, I scoff. “Are you sure you want to ask that? You betrayed me, as you can’t seem to recall.” When I asked for her help, she turned on me and nearly got both me and Ran killed.

And nope. On no planet have I yet forgiven her for turning us over to the Witch.

“And now you can easily put a knife in my back.” Nika plays with a knife in her hand, eyeing me as if I were evil.

“You have your guard dog. I have mine,” I reply. Hans blanches, his eyes darting to the plain grey-haired man with emotionless black eyes and no weapons I can make out. His face is a bit round, and I would almost consider him portly, but that’s just his baggy clothes speaking. I have it on good authority—More like first-hand experience, Ran grumbles. I shove her back and finish my thought—that his body is pure muscle. “We have a common enemy. After this is done, we don’t have to see each other again.”

“I don’t think I can take the Assassin’s Guild’s Master,” Hans’ whispers in my ear, something akin to reverence in his eyes even as he rubs a thumb down his mustache.

I shake my head. “You aren’t my guard dog,” I reply, giving a pointed look at Silver, who’s currently coaching Honour Knights, thieves, crooks, assassins, the king’s mages, and me through what’s, hopefully, gonna happen.

But I’ve made enough plans to be very careful of shoulds and hopefullys.

“We flush them out here, here, and here. The cavalry are waiting with ballistae in this clearing, here—” Silver points to a clearing about a mile outside the city. “We will take this in bite-sized pieces, no heroics—” Silver glances at me, and I give him an innocent smile and tiny wave. “The orbs will provide shields. Stay together and stay alive. Questions?” So far, we have agreed to call the fairies orbs with magical powers instead of fairies. We’ll see how long that lasts.

A silver haired officer with runes along his hands salutes Prince Arin, in his regal and commanding demeanor, and asks, “Sir, if this is a mage problem, should not those with the means to handle it go alone?”

The man eyes my cloak with the dove and Timber Wolf emblem and the mask pulled up over my face and red hood. His eyes go to Nika, who gives him a sultry smile and blows him a kiss.

A scar like white lightning goes from his top lip to his chin, nearly cutting his lips in half. Those lips twist in disgust, glancing away from Nika.

I shake my head, trying not to laugh. At least I’m not the only one she has that effect on. An officer beside the white-haired man is looking at Nika with appreciation until the man on the other side elbows him. The looker coughs into his hands, cheeks tinged pink.

“They are necessary. Any further questions?” Arin says, something in his voice hinting at there better be no further question while remaining cordial and even nice. That guy’s talented. I’d be stabbing someone by now.

“Necessary how? We are trained from youth to work as a well-oiled cog. They are criminals,” a red-eyed man says, the last word spit from his mouth as vile as any curse.

Arin’s face doesn’t change, but something about him seems to grow. He nearly looms above the one who asked, a dark-haired man with red eyes and a tendency to soak things in water wherever he sits his hand. The red-eyed man looks away first.

“They are necessary,” Silver repeats, distinct and crisp.

“Yes, sir,” Red-Eyes replies with a salute, water dripping from his hands.

“Did the king give leave for this mission?” another person asks.

Arin blinks, coming back down from his Silver persona. “No,” he says simply.

I wince. I hoped that wouldn’t get asked. A few of the men shift their feet, looking uncertain. The king is the only one who can call the mages to order… and he would not give Arin the time of day to ask for assistance. He was busy planning the upcoming ball, and so Arin was forced to act alone. Which is much of why I've seen little of Arin in the previous weeks.

Arin sits his hands on the rough-hewn table. “If anyone wishes to leave, now is the time.” Arin’s blue eyes dart from person to person, meeting as many gazes as possible. “But before you do, I ask you listen to the Guardian.”

That was in no way, form, or fashion an ask.

Arin turns to look at me, gesturing me forward.

THIS WAS NOT PLANNED! I try to kill him with my eyes. It doesn’t work. He smirks, as if this is fun. Imma kill him. But first, I’m gonna put pepper in all his delectable princely foods and then rip all his precious silk shirts… and I’ll go for the kill by replacing one of his blades with a blade so similar to his own that it seems it’s the same blade but he’ll go crazy because it doesn’t have the same feel.

I wanna run and hide and never come out again as every eye in the building, some forty people, turn to stare at me, those in front of me parting like the onyx sea.

“You know the most of anyone, Guardian. Please, step forward.” Again, not an ask, as it so seems.

King help me, he’s gonna make me do this. I step forward with lead-weighted feet, trying to look composed when my composure is frazzling worse than a thread on fire.

Arin gently grasps my arm, giving it an encouraging squeeze while I feel close to hyperventilating. I glare up at him, but his smile doesn’t fade, merely grows to make his eyes twinkle.

“Speak truth with your heart, Alpha of Timber Wolves and Empath of the High King,” Arin whispers in my ear, sending a traitorous tingle down my spine that makes me shiver. I step forward where Arin vacated, meeting eyes of steel and judgement and feeling as if they weigh me… and find me wanting. Doesn’t help I’m smaller than every single person here, including a man built like a dwarf of old.

“I am the Guardian of Risia, Chosen of the High King, and translator of the fairies.” My voice cracks. Whispers break out at the last word, the men scoffing and watching me as if I am speaking tall tales.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

It’s time to make these men pee their pants.

Natasha?

She plops into existence over my head, her wings held high for all to see and a shimmering orb of protection around her. My Gift cries out a warning a split moment before a knife leaves a hand, and I reach up and grab the blade from the air, twisting it in my hands and tossing it back to the man who threw it. It clocks him in the chest, hilt-first, falling to the hard ground with a ringing clatter of blade on rock.

Thank you, Mother, for those long hours practicing throwing hilt-first.

“Try to harm another one of mine and the next blade will be in your heart,” I hiss. Natasha lands on my shoulder, sitting primly and looking for all the worlds as if nothing happened. Her wings flutter and she has the bearing of royalty. No one would second guess her being the daughter of a queen. A hint of a smile crosses my lips. She is a far cry from the broken creature I saved so long ago in my first home. “This is Nat. She will help us tonight. Fairies are not tales told to scare children, they are real beings who have hidden because humans deemed them too powerful. They could wipe us out, should they wish it, but instead, they choose to hide in plain sight, helping our crops, sealing our buildings, and protecting our children. You would be wise to speak of this night to no one, lest you find yourself missing a tongue,” I warn.

“We’ve seen no reason to help you other than warnings of pain and death,” the grizzled old white haired warrior says, crossing his arms. But his eyes aren’t staring at me in disgust. Instead… there’s something there that reminds me of Hans when he’s giving me a hard time.

“I am beyond caring, sir. I have fought for you and your people tooth and nail and nearly died more times than I can count in a war no one can see. Well, now it’s spreading. More murders from Bamshee. More knights fighting monsters who we thought mere fairy tales. Many of you have seen this disease with your own two eyes,” I meet Sir Robin and Xonier’s gaze. I had been avoiding them… but right now, I want them to know. Xonier’s grin grows broad, showing jagged top and bottom teeth that are whiter than anything I’ve ever seen. Robin’s eyes nearly pop from his head. He mouths “Sir Ri?”

“I am fighting a battle which will either save Risia or destroy it. And without your help, I will fight. I’ll fight until the last drop of blood leaves my veins and my skin falls from my muscle,” I pause, lowering my voice and bowing my head. I feel them leaning forward to catch my words, “But without you—winning is a dream. A fantasy. A miracle.” I look up, meeting their eyes, putting all the hope, all the determination, and all the stubborn idiocy that has gotten me here into my eyes. “But with you?” I whisper. “With you? With you we stand a chance. A chance to rise above. A chance to fight a losing battle and win. A chance to tell those bastards where they can shove it.”

A few nods follow my words. “This world has tried to take my family, my Bond, my city, my people, and the lives of my people I have spilt blood, sweat, and tears to protect. I won’t allow them to take anything more. No more innocent lives. No more suffering. No more deaths. We sacrifice our lives if need be to make sure the people depending on us never have to know how great a danger they were under. They want our lives? I dare them to try. They want our freedom? I say come, pry it from my cold, dead hands. They want those I love? I say they must go through my cold corpse first.” My voice is layered with the pain, the hate, and the sorrow I have faced, making it cold and darker than anything I thought myself capable of. “Are you with me? Will you help me guard and protect those we love? Will you fight? Let’s show them who this city belongs to, why it is ours, and why they picked the wrong world to mess with!” my voice ends with a jagged cry, my vocal chords strained from yelling.

I glance around. They are still, silent, watching. I poured my heart and soul into that speech. My shoulders remain straight by sheer strength of will even though I want to fold into myself. It wasn’t enough.

And then one voice speaks. “I’m with you.” I glance up. Sir Robin stares at me, his eyes serious and face empty of the humor normally tracing it. For once, he looks his age… and a tiny bit terrifying. His eyes are certain, his stance sure. This is a man used to action and confident in his abilities.

I nod.

“Xonier always ready for a fight!” Xonier steps forward, slapping Robin’s back hard enough to bruise. Robin doesn’t even flinch, making me question everything I know about the man. Isn’t this the man who threw water on Xonier before the last trial and ate squid and nearly puked after?

A few more pledge, but most watch the leader with the scarred lips to see what he will do.

“Why do you do this?” Silver-Hair with the scar asks. “How do we know you speak true?”

I look at him, from the chain mail coating his chest to the shield strapped on his back and the broadsword at his side, and I smile. “You remind me of my father, sir. He was always prepared. A warrior down to his very bones. I thought him dead for fifteen years. Turns out, the ones infiltrating our city kept him for those years as little more than a pet,” I spit the last word with venom, and most of the men take a step back as I begin to glow and my new red cloak glows with me. I feel the weird tingling sensation around my eyes again. The man before me doesn’t flinch, but his eyes do widen and his mouth parts in surprise.

“I began this because my father taught me how to fight. I will end this because my Father hadn’t yet finished teaching me all I need to know.”

“You do all of this for him?”

I shake my head. “I do this for all the children who have lost a parent and all parents who have lost a child. I do this for all who’ve lost loved ones, who mourn because they were taken too soon. I do this so others may not feel the pain I have. If by my sacrifice others live, then let them stand on my shoulders and let my enemies burn at my feet.”

Hans steps up beside me, I glance over, and he bows, unwrapping an item which he held on his back.

“For your bravery toward Risia, you were awarded a silent token of Honour. Now it is time to unmask it for all to see,” he says, reverently holding the sword up for all to see.

The lorascus blade was different than my usual style with the daggers, so I left it with Hans for safe keeping after he gave it to me when we won the battle and freed my family.

He hands me the blade, getting down on one knee to present it. I grasp the handle, feeling the smooth yet tacky grip of manta ray leather, and raise it from his hands. I hold it up, allowing the lamplight to catch the different folds of metal.

Then Hans pulls something from behind his back, smirking up at me—my hands begin to sweat… Hans doesn’t smirk like a kid stealing the last hot cake—and hands me a small shield. The shield is almost more of a rounded bracer than actual shield. I marvel at the round item with pictures expertly painted into the different squadrons of the face. They depict small scenes of what I’ve done in the past, from fighting criminals with Ran to fighting assassins underground and laughing with fairies and battling against Bamshee and communing with Eldertrees. There is even a tiny one of a cloaked man holding a red-cloaked woman’s bleeding hand in his and peering up at her with a half-grin on his shadowed face.

I glance at Hans’ face, seeing his eyes sparkle with mischief and happiness. “Jenny has been working on it ever since you came, minx. There are places for your story to continue to be told,” he points out areas which have a plain white background.

I blink quickly, fighting back dratted tears at the most inopportune time. This is most definitely not the time nor the place for womanly emotions everyone would consider weak.

“Now everyone knows what you have done for us,” Hans whispers, saluting me with the Honour Guard sign of respect of hand to heart and bowing his head.

The looks I get are still filled with appraisal and some disgust mixed with disappointment, but I also see some looking at me with new eyes. A new hint of something deep within, as if they are unsure but will let me prove myself.

That is all I need.

The silver-haired man steps forward, holding out his hand. I grip his forearm. “It is a pleasure to go into battle with you, Guardian of Risia. I am General Verand of the Mage Troupe. It seems you’ve done much more than be a simple vigilante.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’m uncertain that was a complement,” he says.

“I still take it as such, sir,” I reply.

To that, his lips twitch and I nearly think I see a smile. “So you do, Guardian, so you do.”

After him, the rest in the room pledge. Five souls leave. The rest stay.

One battle is won.

I smile as I feel the warmth of the library, and a feeling settles on my soul. The feeling I had when I freed my father.

The feeling of belonging. Of being precisely where I need to be.

Of being me.

My heart pounds and I look into the dark tunnels where we will eradicate vermin who've infested our streets.