We meet our Silver Eyes back at that building that is all parts beauty and all parts strength wrapped into one. The Honour Knight’s base. It feels like a lifetime since I saw it last time, right after Sir Hans’ son had almost been kidnapped… and I was in the right place right time to stop it. Ahhh, that takes me back... to the beginning, where all this started.

It wasn't all that long ago in the span of time, but it feels like I have aged years since then. The moon shines from above and the ground still glistens with the rains of earlier, shining down on the fountain that still bubbles in the center, the slots in the rock still have arrows poking from them... but this time I make it inside.

And boy, it’s both gorgeous and terrifying. Knights in blue and gold finery line the gilded stone entryway. Two matching sets of stairs circle from the floor like wings, and along the balcony circling the entire first floor, more knights stand. It’s an army. In one place. And I would bet my last pair of clothes that these are the premier forces of our country. They aren’t called the best of the best for nothing. Nor have they been dubbed the Dragon Knights for nothing.

I hated when they were the ones to chase me before Hans became my ally. They were the worst to lose and the hardest ones to fight, even with my tricks and drugs.

We ascend the right stairs, and I am at a loss for words. This place is amazing! Up at the top, near a painting of a lion, lays an opening. Almost inconspicuous, but I’ve learned about them. The way they can dump things on unsuspecting enemies. Right from a hidden panel at the top of the stairs that works on pulleys and hidden levers. I’m dying to know if it’s what I think it is. But I hold my lips shut, even as Sir Hans gives me a long sideways glance and runs a hand over his beard to hide a smile.

We go up another set of stairs, pass more knights along the way, and end up in front of an understated thick oaken door that would take a battering ram to smash down. Two knights in stark silver and bronze armor stand at attention on either side. This place is a fortress made to look like a palace.

They both salute Sir Hans, then of all things me, before opening the door. I give them a sloppy salute back. It feels just as awkward as the last time, and swear I hear one of them chuckle. Then we’re in.

Silver Eyes—erm, Areece?—is waiting for us, his eyes darting up from the map at the desk when we enter.

I nod at him, not at all sure how to react. The last time I saw him.. it wasn't a good day and he flirted with me. And I kinda flirted back. And I'm not at all sure how I'm supposed to treat him. I don't want to give him the wrong impression.

Do I treat him like a friend? I sure ain't looking for more than that. So... yeah, friendly. Be friendly.

I salute him awkwardly with one of his glistening black knives.

He chuckles, giving me a gentle smile, and I relax just the slightest bit. That chuckle reminds me of when I used to come home covered in mud and daddy would laugh before enveloping me in his arms, getting dirty himself and throwing us both in the river for a bath. Momma would click her tongue and act angry, but we could all see the warmth in her eyes, and the laughter waiting around her pursed lips.

I shake myself from the memories and realize he is looking at me strangely. “You alright?”

“Never better.”

“You seem to say that when you’re the only thing but.” He looks me over with a critical eye. “You shouldn’t be doing this. Not yet.”

I place both hands on my hips, giving him the glare I perfected for criminals and rapists. “I dare you to try and stop me.” I growl. “If this was your family, wouldn't you do anything to save them?”

I see in his gaze that he wants to deny the truth of my words, but can’t. It proves my point. This is my family, my responsibility. And I’m going to protect them if it’s the last thing I do.

The jerk turns to Sir Hans. “Sir, I respect both you and her dearly, but she needs to recover before something of this nature. Let me take her place. We have hardly any idea what we’re getting into. She is too emotionally involved, and won’t be impartial.”

“Impartial?” I whisper. Hans takes a step back, even though I haven't moved. The assassin just watches me with his arms crossed over his chest. “You have no right to tell me I must be impartial when my family is on the line.”

He looks at me with compassion in his silver eyes. The brown toupee flops to one side as he tilts his head to consider me. He has more black paneled armor coating his body than he did last time, and it looks good on him. But his annoying, overbearing personality is driving me up a wall.

“I only wish to protect you until you can heal.”

I keep my outward expression carefully composed.

I cross my arms and look him dead in his serious silver eyes. I’ve had enough of this, whether his heart is in the right place or not. “I understand, but I can't have you taking this on for me." What I don't say is because I don't trust him enough to take this.

He looks at me with an emotion I can’t decipher, then it turns to apathy. A mask. Huh. Interesting. I’m tempted to ask the Spark to give me back my ability to read emotions for a moment just in order to read his. But then I think of all the emotions that would bombard me and decide against it with a shiver.

“Sir, what if this absentmindedness happens more tonight, putting her in greater danger? I should demand this, but I respect you too much for that.”

I snort. “Demand? Who are you, the king?” The strange man and Sir Hans exchange a glance. I stifle a laugh. “Don’t tell me the king suddenly lost two hundred pounds and took up spying as a hobby?”

The assassin's eyes grow a lighter shade of silver, almost as white as a cloud, making his appearance all the more otherworldly. “If I’m the king, that creature you took down the other night was the crown prince.” Sir Hans actually raises both brows at the assassin, a rare show of extreme surprise.

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“Puh-lease. The crown prince is way better looking than that thing. Smells better, too.” I almost smack my forehead. No flirting. I need to stay impartial and focused. I have no time for an infatuation.

His eyes darken and he takes a step towards me, inches from touching me. “You find the crown prince handsome,” he says, more a statement than a question.

I think about it, then poke him in the cheek. “He’s much better looking than you.” I challenge him with my eyes.

Sir Hans dissolves into a coughing fit. The assassin glares at him. Well, it's more a straight stare, but I'd call it a glare.

I cut a hand through the air and accidentally brush my hand against one of his knives. And if that knife accidentally finds its way into my hand as I step back, well, that's its prerogative.

“Enough. You’ve distracted me. My family is out there dealing with only The King knows what. I have fought tooth and nail to survive against nightmares beyond your imagination to be here. You.” I poke him with his own knife in the chest, making him take a step back with each word as I advance. “Will. Not. Stop. Me.”

He grasps my wrist, and suddenly the knife is in his hand instead of mine.

“You aren’t thinking straight, mea tigris. You took on a creature of nightmares by yourself. You climbed on its back and stabbed it in the eye.” He shakes his head, as if dislodging a memory. He grabs my shoulders with warm hands, making my heart rate speed up and sending thrills through my veins. traitorous body. He's just a friend. Only a friend. Besides, we don't like him right now, so stop it! “While impressive, you weren’t careful. You were reckless and almost got yourself killed. If you go into this like that—you could get yourself and others killed."

That hurt worse than being stabbed in the heart. Trust me. I should know. “I know I went in half-cocked because I needed a fight. I know because of me, a good man was killed.” His eyes grow dark with remorse and his lips turn down. I hold up a hand when opens his mouth to protest. “No. Don’t. I know it wasn't entirely my fault, and yet, I can't help but wonder if we had coordinated—“ I shake my head. “But there’s no use rehashing the past nor wondering what if. Now we must move forward, using the lessons of the past. Besides, Ran will be an asset.”

He opens his mouth, raises both eyebrows, closes his mouth, and looks very much like a confused fish. He jumps when Sir Hans claps his hand on the assassin’s toned shoulder.

“You get used to it, boy.”

“Used to what, exactly?” Areece asks suspiciously.

Hans grins as I watch him warily. “She’s a bit—shall we say, wonky.” He even has the gall to wink at me while calling me crazy, the jerk. “Ran is the name of a certain Timber Wolf.”

The tough assassin spy man's eyes bulge and a tick appears at the corner of his mouth. "A Timber Wolf, the Timber Wolf of Risia, is named—Ran,” he deadpans.

“Yes,” Sir Hans answers simply. He tugs on his mustache.

“Ran," Silver repeats.

“It’s short for Grandmother,” Hans adds, helpfully.

“Grandmother. The country loves a famous wolf named Grandmother.”

I’m famous? Ran purrs from the back of my mind. A little emotion leaks through of frustration from Silver Eyes and amusement from Hans, but the Spark... erm, Rose... has been getting better about letting Ran in while keeping other things out. And I am grateful.

Apparently. Haven’t you been listening?

Naw, they put me with a battle crazy lead mare. She suspected something, so I had to disabuse her of the notion that she could lead me.

Did it work? Lead mares are sometimes hard to contend with.

She pauses, and I feel her hedging for an answer. Mostly.

Mmm? I ask, amused.

Don’t.

I snicker, then turn my mind back to the other two, who are staring at me again. “Ran is having a problem with the horses. We should go.”

Hans nods, but the other annoying man narrows his eyes at me. “She is alright with you calling her Ran?”

I shrug. “She’s very laid back.” A snort in the back of my mind almost makes my straight face crack.

“Laid back. Uh-huh. Sure.” He turns back to Sir Hans, the toupee jostling with the movement.

Ooohhh, look at the hair. Ran perks up, peeking thorough my eyes.

I know. Ain’t it awesome? It’s worse tonight. Think he was in a hurry and didn’t style it?

She chortles in the back of my mind and keeps watching.

“Sir, I know you trust her, but can’t you see she could be killed tonight? Please, let me go in her stead. It’ll be easier and safer for all involved.”

I hiss a breath through clenched teeth. Who does he think he is?

Oh, dear rider. I fancy he’s in love. Such things will do strange, wondrous things, Ran says in a fine imitation of Jenny.

I choke on my spit.

WHAT?

In love with his toupee, of course, she says smugly, attempting to lick her foot only to find a muddy hoof there.

“Idiotic, crazy, flea infested mammal,” I mumble.

Then I realize Silver Eyes is talking. Again.

He takes my hand, not realizing he’s courting fire being this close to me. “Please, mea tigris. You’re still hurt from battle. Broken ribs are nothing to scoff at. I promise we will get them back for you. I will protect them with my life. Please let me do this for you.”

I watch the bridge of his crooked nose and am so tempted to straighten it. With my fist. It’ll add character, ya know? Were it not for Hans' glowing recommendation on him being the best at what he does, he would be gone right now. He still may not last if he cannot respect my decisions.

I jerk my hand from his, but Ran’s voice stops me from doing anything stupid. Hoo boy. He spends so much time on that rat infested toupee he doesn’t know how to talk to the lady.

I choke and cough, loudly. This is not the time for laughter, Ran!

I’m not the one laughing. Comes her smug voice as she licks her paw. Well, I imagine she tries to, and finds a hoof there. She humphs, and the coughing fit hangs around a bit longer.

Thanks, beauty. I needed that. I suppose his nose doesn’t need a breaking.

His nose most assuredly needs a breaking. We just need to plan a better time to put our best assassin out of commission.

Mmmm. I like the way you think, beaut.

I turn back to the men who are now staring at me like I’m crazy. I wave them off. I’m definitely crazy. I almost cackle. It’s so close, but I shut that part of me down. It’s time to act like the vigilante I am.

I glare at the assassin once, then turn to Hans. “You know me. But if this jerk pulls enough strings to get me to stay behind, well, I can’t promise anything. But I won’t blame it on you. I know who the true idiot is here.” I don’t look at said idiot, although I feel his impartial eyes on me.

“Minx, you know I can’t ask you to stay away from those you love. You are a very competent and accomplished fighter and tactician. Not only will Ran be an asset, but you will, as well. Just promise me you will do your best not to get killed. We have come to like having you around.” He rustles my hood, but I see something shimmering in the depths of his eyes that keeps me from batting him away like I normally would.

Instead, I’m tempted to throw my arms around him. I refrain. Barely. I give him a shallow bow, but it’s more true than any bow I’ve given to anyone ever before.

I choke up, shove down the emotions threatening to break my tough girl image, then turn to the frustrated toupee man with raised eyebrows. Take that, you annoying, overbearing, somewhat sweet, always angry, assassin.

He growls. His eyes flash to a deep blue one time, then he nods to Sir Hans once, bows to me, then retreats out the door, his black cloak billowing behind him.

“What’s his problem?” I ask shortly.

“I imagine you and he are more alike than either of you will admit,” Sir Hans says.

I jerk towards him to find his eyes casually resting on the map of the city as he studies it.

“Hannnssss. What do you mean by that?”

He looks up at me with a blank face, but his eyes twinkle. “Nothing, minx. Nothing at all.”

“Hans!”