Michael listened as his Master recited the words of his lesson. It was important that he learn it all by heart, he knew, so that it could never be taken away from him. It was difficult for him to imagine that there could ever be a time where books and scrolls would not be as plentiful as they were now, but he knew better than to argue with his Master.

 

Many ages ago, before the time of the first druids, the goddess wandered Terrafyn freely, enjoying the antics of animals and their brothers, the metamorphs, humans tilled the land for their food and no blood was shed in all her green lands.

 

Life was good, and the goddess blessed her peoples, metamorphs, animals and man. But there came a time when the men grew jealous of the metamorphs. They saw how their women looked at their fine bodies, and they could not help but notice that the span of their years was longer and they cried out to the goddess, who grew impatient with their childish ways. Some men sought knowledge to please the goddess – finding ways to turn the magic that moved around the air and ground to their own ends, almost making gods of themselves.

 

Others thought to mate with the metamorphs, thinking that they could make their children stronger by blending their kinds.

 

Still others, less honorable, thought that they could make themselves stronger by consuming the meat of the animals – as though by defeating their brothers they could win something for themselves.  They plotted against their brothers the animals, and the metamorphs, their protectors, and sought to hide their devious hearts from the goddess herself, not realizing that there was nowhere that her all seeing eyes could not find them.

 

So death came to Terrafyn, but it did not bring to the humans the strength that they’d desired. Having seen blood brought to her beautiful land, the goddess’ heart was hardened against the humans and she brought illness and death to the children she once loved as much as her other children. She awakened in the hearts of some of her animals a taste for human flesh; she allowed them to steal away the children of the human men, and she let the metamorphs wage war on them in revenge for their brothers, the animals.

 

And she wept when she saw the blood that soaked the green grass of her world, but they were not the weak tears of a woman; they were the angry tears of a goddess.  Seeing the turmoil that wracked her world, she prepared to show the peoples what true destruction was, and she stood upon a high cliff, her arms outstretched as she gathered her power for a deathstrike.

 

It was the dancer who stayed her hand.

 

He was not a large man, barely a man at all. He was slender, less than average height, but lithe, his muscles hard. His hair was fair, like the sands he moved upon so lightly. The goddess lowered her arms as his actions intrigued her; her tears dried and her anger cooled as she stood watching him.

 

The dancer was...dancing…dancing while Terrafyn stood on the brink of oblivion. It was a mourning dance, she realized in surprise, and she was surprised at her own surprise, because she was surprised by very little. He was pouring out his grief to the stars, to the moon, and yes, to her. She had begun to think that no human remained who still cared about her, who remembered to care about her – they were all so swept up in their own reactions, their own feelings, their own petty jealousies and fights that they had forgotten who had created this beautiful world and everything in it.

 

Except for this one human, this dancer.

 

She watched him dance his dance of grief and sorrow, and yes, repentance, and she saw in it a chance for redemption for all the world.  If this man, with no special powers, was capable of such beauty and emotion, what could others be capable of? Perhaps all was not lost?

 

Had he saved her from a grave mistake?  Should she learn more about this man? 

 

The goddess left her cliff and moved down to the sand to where the young man danced alone, in order to join him in his dance.

 

And that is how the first Dance Master was born.

 

************

 

Michael lay awake next to Colin and thought back over his dream of listening to his Master. He had not had a dream like that in years, and never one so clear. Awake now, he reviewed more of what he could recall of that time with his Master. He had followed his Master into the forest. They had been studying for several weeks, fitting lessons in whenever they could, as Michael’s duties to his royal bride often clashed. Not as often as one would have expected, however, as the Dance Master had a way of getting Michael out of the more onerous obligations.

 

“How do you do that?” Michael had asked as he trotted after his Master.

 

The Master never pretended not to know what Michael meant – he always knew what Michael was thinking, sometimes before Michael did. It certainly made lessons progress smoothly, Michael had to concede, much more smoothly than they ever had back home with his druid tutors. Which, when one considered that the druids deliberately tried reading his thoughts at times, and the Dance Master never laid claim to any specific telepathic power, it really was remarkable.

 

“Especially when one considers how your mind tends to wander – you must not forget to factor that in when giving me my due,” the Dance Master had suggested, the humor in his voice taking away the sting from his words.

 

Michael begged pardon anyway. Then he had to ask, “Are you a Telepath, Master?”

 

“Am I a Telepath Master? Hmm, that would be quite a title to claim,” the Dance Master teased. “Which question do you wish me to answer first? Though I suppose they might be one and the same.”

 

Before Michael could clarify his question, a large beast came crashing through the forest toward them. Michael had swiftly pulled out his sword and jumped between the animal and his Master, though his heart beat rapidly – he’d never seen such a large creature in the woods near his First Kingdom home. It was neither wolf nor cat, but seemed almost to be a combination of both, and larger than either. He’d lifted his chin as he’d raised his sword.

 

“Steady, young Emory – we Dancers do not need to kill to defend ourselves or others – not as a first resort. The goddess has given us other tools in our arsenal. Watch and learn – though your courage does you and your Master honor.”

 

With that, the Dance Master had waved his cloak at the large snarling beast, and begun a slow, tantalizing dance, one that the beast had followed with his eyes and then its head. It sat down on its haunches, its large head tilted quizzically, as the human moved slowly closer, calming it with his twirling cloak. In truth, Michael had thought the beast was more charmed than calmed – its face had an almost bemused expression, if one could say that an animal could have such an expression.

 

To Michael’s astonishment, the beast had even allowed his Master to place his hand upon its large head and scratch behind its ears! 

 

“Will you show my student your other form now? You are quite fearsome as this beast but I am willing to bet you are even more impressive as a man,” the Dance Master had suggested.

 

Michael had looked up at his tutor, even more startled, and by doing so, he’d missed the opportunity to see the even more remarkable transformation that took place next, for when he’d next looked back at the creature, a very different sight greeted his gaze – a large, well‑formed man crouched on the ground by his Master’s feet.

 

“What in the name of the goddess is this?” Michael had whispered, moving back a step.

 

The Dance Master had laughed lightly. “Do not tell me that my brave boy who drew a sword before a ravening beast is afraid of a mere man? Well, not a mere man, but rather, a Metamorph – and a rare one indeed. A mountain lion Metamorph of the high mountains. He is lost, I suspect.  And very hungry. Let us see if we can help this man get back to his home.”

 

Michael was trained not to question his Master but this suggestion had tested that obedience. He’d bit his bottom lip...hard...and tried to think of some way to get his Tutor alone to discuss this plan.  Meanwhile, he welcomed the task he was given to collect firewood – it gave him the chance to get away from the large, strange man who was every bit as intimidating as a man, if not more, than he had been as an animal.

 

A Metamorph? He knew that there were such creatures and had seen some from afar but most of them stayed far away from the Royal grounds. What would Queen Alicia say if she knew that the Dance Master was conversing with one as though he was, well, a person?

 

“He is a person, boy.”  The Dance Master’s reprimand had been delivered in a mild tone, but it was clearly a reprimand. “Michael, before you build up the fire, you will introduce yourself to Laenin, Leader of the Northern Pride of the Second Kingdom.”

 

Michael looked at his Master blankly. He wanted him to introduce himself to the Lion? The unusually stern expression on the Dance Master’s face told him that he was not jesting – and that Michael had better exercise his best court manners.

 

How did one address a Lion who was also a Man? Was there a title? This had not been covered when Michael had been raised at court, but Michael was adaptable.

 

Holding out his arms, and trusting that they would not be snapped by those jaws that still looked formidable even on the man, Michael looked the man in the face – ignoring the fact that he was not wearing a stitch of clothing – and spoke clearly and loudly,

 

“Well met, Laenin. I am Michael, of the House of Emory, third son of King Jerad, of the First Kingdom, and Apprentice to the Dance Master. May the goddess be with you.”

 

Standing up, the Metamorph towered over Michael. But he clasped his forearms in a friendly manner, for all that he seemed very tired.

 

“And you and yours.”

 

For all that Michael had offered a standard greeting, he had not expected to receive the standard one back from one whom he had met as a snarling beast and he could not help showing his surprise. Laenin had shared a wry look with the Dance Master.

 

“The First Kingdom’s youngsters do not meet many of our kind?” Laenin had asked.

 

“No, and those who wander there are careful to stay away from the Royals,” the Dance Master had replied cryptically. “Michael, please see if you can find us some rabbits to go with our lunch that the Royal Kitchen packed. Take your time, use the skills I taught you yesterday.”

 

Michael might not have been well versed in Metamorphs but as a younger son he’d known a dismissal when he heard one. He’d judged that an hour or so would be sufficient time for him to take to find enough meat for their large guest – it would not take him that long to hunt, even with practicing the dance illusions to mesmerize his prey as he’d been taught, so he’d utilized the extra time to examine the surrounding area and search for signs of other Metamorphs. Where had this one come from and where could he be going?  There was talk of a pride – did that mean there were more in the area? What was the meaning to the Kingdom? Were these Lion Men a threat to the Royals of the Second Kingdom?

 

Michael had prepared the food, which was one of his duties as an apprentice, leaving the rabbits cleaned but raw for Laenin, as requested, careful not to reveal any opinion of that request, and then he’d sat quietly by as the older men continued to talk while they ate. Their talk was all of happenings in the First Kingdom and the plains between the two Kingdoms – talk of peoples and places Michael had never heard of. A Feris was mentioned several times, and Michael got the impression that while his Master had never met this man Laenin before, they knew of and trusted each other.

 

Laenin clearly admired his Master and the feeling seemed to be mutual. At some point, Michael had grown drowsy and his head had drooped. He’d put it down on his knees and rested for awhile, only wakening when he’d heard himself referenced.

 

“What of the boy – will he be an ally?”

 

There had been a silence, and then Michael had heard words that brought wonder to his heart.

 

“There will never be an ally to your people to equal this boy...until his son leads both Telepaths and Metamorphs in a fight for freedom.”

 

“A fight against what?”

 

“A fight against the gathering darkness, Laenin.”

 

Michael was not sure if he’d felt frightened, or excited, by his Master’s words. Strange that such an important event could have been forgotten by him for so many years, he mused. More than strange — very unlike him. Something unnatural was at work, and he must get to the bottom of it, for the safety of his family. His Pack, as Lycan would say.

 

************

 

Michael stretched gingerly – he could not remember the last time his body hurt this much or he’d been this tired. He knew there must have been times in his past when he’d drained his strength and mana this much but he could not think when. Every muscle in his body was screaming with the exertion of the fight with the cats, though he suspected all the teleporting also had something to do with it. He really hated that mode of travel.

 

Colin was meditating on the other side of the bed. They had not spoken much before falling asleep early that morning in the healing room. Michael had come back to their room late in the day, well after Colin had awoken for the second time, made his rounds of the court, checked on all the rest of the injured, seen to the troops, spent some time at his scrying glass and attended to another thousand tasks before retiring to their room for the night. As far as he knew, Michael had kept watch over his brother Ben…not that Colin begrudged it, the Advisor told himself…not much.

 

In actuality, Michael didn’t just spend his time with his brother, as he tried to gently tell his lover, telepathically, sensing the disapproval emanating from the normally calm and accepting druid. Or rather, Michael thought, not his brother. What was Ben to him? A cousin? It seemed strange to change the thoughts of a lifetime now, and to try to think of him as something other than a brother. Nic certainly seemed to disregard the fact that Ben was not really a son of King Jerad, and in his thoughts, called Ben his Uncle, when he referred to the dark man, and disregarded the knowledge that Ben was in fact the son of Jerad’s older brother. A good part of Michael’s time that day had been spent simply resting in the healing room, and sharing thoughts with Dominic, who was similarly engaged in doing the same — as little as possible — and yet both of them were exhausted by just thinking, possibly because their thoughts were so heavy, Nic suggested telepathically.

 

What then did they do with the knowledge that Ben had been one of the Hooded Men who plotted against them for so long, and indeed, one of those who led the attacks against Michael’s true brother, King Adam, and Michael’s wife, the mother of his sons, Queen Suzanne?

 

Colin’s meditations had ended while Michael contemplated these points. His gray eyes were watching Michael thoughtfully as his partner sat uncharacteristically still. It was Michael’s practice to jump out of bed in the morning and either head for the water to swim or do his morning exercises. It was strange to see him just sitting on their bed, eyes closed, chin resting on his hands, which were resting on his knees that were drawn up to his chest.

 

Colin had been irritated with his mate for staying so long with a man whom he viewed as an enemy, yet seeing Michael looking so pensive, he felt his heart soften. He unfolded his long legs and silently got up and walked over to the bed.

 

“Can I help?” he asked quietly, startling his mate with his proximity. If nothing else, that fact alone, that he had taken Michael unawares, told him how troubled his love was – he would have said that it was impossible to surprise Michael.

 

Michael’s green eyes were shadowed with fatigue, and to his dismay, Colin saw tears in them. Quickly, he moved onto the bed, close enough to fold his arms around the man he loved.

 

“Michael! I am so sorry for being distant! I was not thinking! Forgive me please, by the goddess I am so sorry!”

 

Michael accepted the hug, and returned it with a tight one, crushing Colin to him with his strong arms, his weariness forgotten in the pleasure of holding his soulmate close. But his lips quirked up humorously as he sensed Colin’s distress telepathically – it was far out of proportion to the situation though he was enjoying the effort his mate was putting into comforting him! He toyed with the idea of telepathically suggesting that a sensual massage would be in order, as his muscles really were causing him distress.

 

Colin was watching Michael’s face closely, however, and the upward tilt of his mouth did not get missed by the druid’s keen eyes. Just as Michael was sending a subtle suggestion to his mate, said mate held him at arm’s length.

 

“Michael, are you or are you not distraught?”

 

Michael tilted his head slightly. “Which answer will get me a massage of my sore muscles soonest?”

 

Colin shook his head, then shook Michael slightly. “I thought you were crying! You had me worried. I cannot believe that you feigned such distress.”

 

Michael looked away for a moment and Colin paused. “Wait...were you feigning tears? You were, were you not?”

 

When Michael did not answer, Colin took a deep breath and suggested in his more normal manner, “Why do I not summon some food for you, and then we shall talk and eat, and after that I shall massage your muscles? And then, we shall check on our various charges and see how they are faring after the long day before we settle in for the night. Though I fear those who slept through the day today might be in for an even longer night.”

 

“I am sorry that I stayed away from you all day but indeed, my thoughts kept me awake and I did not wish to keep you from getting anything useful done – though I sensed that you were with the female Metamorph for a good part of your day, and I wished that she had stayed with us in the healing room as I would have wanted some time with her. We need to talk about that situation, I believe.”

 

Colin nodded, the worry plain on his face.  “It is true. The Metamorph woman is expecting a child, or rather, children. I could hear more than one heartbeat. She is badly injured. I would like you and Nic to take a look at Lydia when you are both stronger....”

 

Michael placed his hands on Colin’s. “I would not wish to wait much longer, dear Colin. Those were not tears of sorrow that you saw in my eyes, but tears of happiness. I was feeling doubly blessed this evening, nay, triply blessed. Dominic is returned to us, and that is a reason to dance a dance of joy to the goddess – as soon as I can move these weary limbs of mine. And my brother...for I shall always consider Ben my brother...is returned from the dark place to which he was taken as a boy. Dominic brought him back to the light of the goddess and that too is reason to celebrate and we must give thanks. I see the doubt in your eyes but when you hear the whole story you will also give thanks.”

 

Michael stood up and spun, his gracefulness a thing of beauty despite his weariness. He laughed and lifted his arms to the sky. “Praise the goddess, Colin! Dominic was stolen from us and from the darkness of his captivity the goddess has blessed us with new life! Was ever a King so favored?”

 

“That is certainly one way to look at this development,” Colin said, his dry tone enough to cause Michael to pause in his praise dance. He lowered his arms, though he was careful to bring the movement to a graceful close – never offend the goddess, his Master had taught him. With a bow to the West and the setting sun, visible through the open sided wall of their bedroom, he ended his dance and turned to his lover, a serious look on his face.

 

“I take it that you see this blessing another way? Perhaps before we end this day, and drink wine to celebrate and give thanks for our many blessings, we should have this discussion? You are unhappy. Tell me all the reasons why, Advisor, so that I may consider their merit.”

 

Colin felt a frisson of fear. The joy had dropped away from Michael in a heartbeat and with it, the persona of the Dance Master. It was not his lover, nor the father of the children he had raised with this man who stood before him now, but the deadly Emory Assassin, who demanded answers from him as a High Druid of the Court of King Dominic.

 

Colin drew himself to his full height – he knew his role as well as Michael.

 

“There is much at play here that we do not yet see fully and it troubles me that the advent of new heirs to the throne was not foreseen by any of us, especially multiple heirs, when Dominic was so desperate to protect the Emory line through the conception of Rafael’s child with Melli that he allowed himself to be captured....”

 

“Are you sure that it is that line that destiny sought to protect through his capture?” Michael’s voice was soft – but his implication was clear as ice and Colin shivered with the shock of it.

 

What if it was Nic’s meeting with Lydia that was the crucial meeting, and he had to suffer such hardships not so the legitimate heir of two royals could be safely conceived, but so that a part Metamorph, part Telepath litter could be bred?

 

“I cannot believe you just had that thought...and having had it, I wish you had the decency to keep it to yourself,” Michael said, his voice cold. “My grandchildren are not part of a litter, even if they are part Metamorph. There is a difference between Metamorphs and the animals they resemble, a truth I thought you well understood.”

 

Colin looked at him, stricken. He didn’t realize that his thought had projected to his mate, and indeed, he was shocked that his mind had gone down that path. He sighed heavily.

 

“I would apologize but can any of us help what takes place in our minds, Michael? I was raised to have certain beliefs and much as I strive to be better, and I hope that I am not as bad as Benra, I did not have the benefit of the tutelage you did, as early as you did. Metamorphs were strange, mythic creatures to me, intellectually I found them worthy of study, and I would not deny them rights, but I would not....”

 

“Want your daughter or sister to mate with one,” Nic said cheerfully, entering the room, Lycan close behind.

 

“This is a private conversation, son.”

 

“I think not, Father. I do not like to pull rank but in this case, I will do so and only leave if you demand it as a matter of life and death. Now, is it that? And if so, whose?” Nic made free of the bed, lying back against the headboard. Michael looked as though he was about to argue but a second glance at his elder son showed him that despite his light words, Nic was not interrupting them lightly. He was too weak still to have left his own bed unless his purpose was serious.

 

“What is it, Dominic?” Michael moved to his son’s side. Lycan was already on his other side, quietly lending Nic his strength.

 

“Lydia is very weak. She also is determined to leave here. I cannot have you two fighting over what the deeper meanings of her carrying my children might be – and no, I was not trying to listen to your ‘discussion’ but I find I am having trouble blocking out telepathic conversations. I am having a bit of Fen’s problem right now. And it is weakening me. I feel...heightened...Colin, after having had my senses blunted for months and it is about to drive me insane. I will need your help...both of you...and it would be a good start if you would stop fighting.”

 

Nic looked at his fathers – his expression stern. “Colin, Michael was right to be joyful. After all the death we have seen, these children are a wonderful blessing and all the more because they will represent a union between our peoples in a most tangible way. And Michael, you must understand that Colin is simply showing the kind of caution that you have instilled in all of us when he mistrusts Lydia and Ben.  You and me, Rafe and Melli, we are the most important things in the world to him and he will not let anything harm us. Especially after Benra, he is mistrustful of someone new, and this wild card development, I too am not sure of how to react to it, not fully. Would it help you, Colin, if I tell you that I have seen my children in visions?”

 

“You have?” All three of the men in the room spoke in unison, their voices blending in a chorus that had Nic grinning his old insouciant grin.

 

“Are you just saying that to make us feel better?” Colin asked, suspicious.

 

“No, Nic would not do that,” Lycan said with assurance, recalling the words that Nic had spoken the night before, of the three children he had seen in his visions. Colin still looked uncertain, while Michael was impossible to read. Nic rolled his eyes.

 

“Father, please look into my memory,” he invited. Michael did not hesitate; despite his own fatigue, he touched his hands to Nic’s curls, and closed his eyes, the better to concentrate on the memory his son focused on sharing with him.

 

He showed him the dream, where Colin and he watched over the playing children near a mountainside. He could feel his father’s amusement at Colin in breeches...and his chagrin at the trace of gray in his black hair. But those emotions were fleeting, most of his father’s attention was captured by the quartet of children gamboling on the grassy hillside, and his bright curiosity at the three who changed into wolf cubs before his eyes and went tumbling over each other while the fourth child ran after them, laughing joyously.

 

The majestic wolf standing watch trotted along after the children, permitting the Telepaths to follow at a more leisurely pace.

 

At a mental nudge from his father, Nic played the memory again, this time going slowly so that his father could analyze the vision, looking for indications that it was a true vision and not just a dream.  Finally, Michael moved back, opening his eyes and looking around the room.

 

“Well?” Colin asked, feeling as though he had been holding his breath and not quite sure which answer he was hoping for.

 

Michael looked at him, his face carefully expressionless; he was not sure which answer Colin wanted either, though he heard Nic’s encouraging voice in his mind, telling him, trust in the goddess, and in the man you know Colin to be, father. He will be happy...did you not see him wearing breeches so that he could better play with his grandchildren? Grandchildren who will have claws!

 

What is wrong with claws? They are useful for the hunt, was Lycan’s contribution to the conversation.

 

Michael was amazed at Lycan’s increasing skill at telepathy – he was not only to the point of being able to “speak” to more than one of them at a time, but he could also choose to exclude one of them when he chose, which was much more difficult. He wondered if it was connected to Nic’s increased power. They had much to discuss, but for now....

 

“Colin,” Michael turned to his mate. “I am convinced that Nic did in fact have a true vision of the children he is to have with Lydia, though I can understand why he did not take the vision seriously. Nic’s visions were never treated all that seriously by us; we were accustomed to viewing Mellisande as our only seer, and because he never presented as a traditional seer, nor is it a skill that is known in the Emory line...well...we perhaps missed out on valuable information. And indeed....” Michael paused, wondering if he should reveal his own dream of the grandchildren he had seen, but then decided to wait. Sometimes, as he had often heard Colin tell Melli, a dream was just a dream. Still, he felt his happiness bubbling up within him. A new dancer was on her way…he knew it in his heart and it meant the goddess had not forsaken him. He felt like leaping for joy.

 

Colin was busy focusing on what he saw as his failure to recognize Nic’s gift. He shook his head sadly. “That his talent was missed is much more my fault that anyone else's, and I deeply regret that once more I have failed you and him, Michael.”

 

“Nonsense,” Nic said, while Michael exclaimed, “What ridiculous idea have you got in your head?”

 

Lycan growled, causing both Emorys to pause and look at him.

 

“Cease this! Colin, you have done nothing wrong – neither the Pack Sire nor my Mate are blaming you so why blame yourself? We came to your room to stop your fighting, not add to it. We need your help to prevent my sister from leaving here as she will do so if she is not stopped, and there will be no grandchildren for us to play with as my Cub foresaw, if we cannot convince her to stay where she is safe until her time comes.”

 

Michael frowned. “Why does she wish to leave?”

 

“We have not yet spoken to her – she is too weak to stay awake for long – but I can tell you that as soon as she is strong enough she will try to leave because she hates me and she will be distressed by my presence here. She has told the little sister of her plans and she is the one who has told Nic. We must stop her!” Lycan’s pet name for Melli always threw Colin — the barely civil manner she adopted toward him was at such odds with the endearment, but Michael reminded him that he was used to female Wolf Metamorphs, who were not known for their sweet natures, so Melli’s tart treatment of him probably made him feel loved. He wasn’t far from the truth. And indeed, Melli had grown very fond of Lycan, she just liked to act like he annoyed her.

 

“What do you suggest we do?” Colin asked.

 

“Well, you could send me away,” Lycan said slowly.

 

“I do not think that is a good idea,” Nic protested.

 

“It was only the first suggestion,” Lycan said, grinning.

 

“Come up with a second one,” Nic grumbled.

 

“You are the wise Druid,” Lycan said, looking at Colin. “I would expect you to be able to tell her the reasons why she should stay.”

 

“Are you not her Pack Leader?” Colin asked, thinking out loud. “Can you not just tell her to stay because it is her duty?”

 

Nic and Lycan looked askance at Colin while Michael grinned. “He grew up in a monastery, and has spent little time with grown females,” he reminded them.

 

“That explains much,” Lycan agreed. “One does not order females as a general rule, and breeding females? One cannot tell them what to do...ever,” he said fervently.

 

“But that is nonsense, a female who is carrying a child is in need of protection even more than a ....”

 

“Do you want to reconsider that statement, dearest Colin?” Melli entered the room, with Rafe right behind her. Michael considered complaining about the lack of privacy afforded to him and his mate but seeing his family together once again, for the first time in many months, he decided that privacy was much over‑rated.

 

He looked at Colin and smiled. “It almost feels like old times, does it not?”

 

Colin returned the smile. “All we need is food.”

 

“I asked Magda to bring some to us...if you do not mind my using telepathy to make the request, dearest Michael,” Melli said.

 

Michael smiled at her fondly. “I believe I can take care of that for you dear.” He walked over to her and kissed her in greeting, placing his hand gently on the mound of her swollen belly to send a greeting to his grandchild.

 

“He kicks every time you ‘talk’ to him,” Melli complained teasingly.

 

“He is going to be a dancer,” Michael told her, with a grin, “so he is practicing now.”

 

“Let us hope you mean that in an ordinary grandfather way,” Rafael said, settling down in a chair tiredly. “I believe one Dance Master per family is sufficient.”

 

Michael smiled. “I believe you can leave that to the goddess – and this child is destined to be King anyway.”

 

“So a Dance Master cannot be King?” Nic asked, curious on that point.

 

Michael looked over at his elder son. “Actually...no. Did I not ever tell you that?”

 

“No, but I guessed that might be the case.”

 

Michael frowned faintly but didn’t say anything. Instead, he changed the subject. “I would like to visit Lydia on my own, while the rest of you dine. I hope you do not mind if I do not join you.”

 

Colin was disturbed by this change in plans. “Do you think that is wise? She does not know you and is bound to feel threatened by ....”

 

“She will not feel threatened by the Dance Master,” Lycan interrupted. “Our people honor only the goddess above him. It was her honor to fight by his side.”

 

“Which was why I must not neglect her any longer,” Michael said. “I owe her my thanks, and attention.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I will rejoin you soon. Enjoy your meal.”

 

To his mate, he sent a private message. Colin, forgive me...and if you can, join me after you have seen to everyone here – I know we need to talk and it seems that I am not addressing needs in the right order, but I find that the events of the past two days have awoken memories that were long buried – memories that are confusing me. I am working on instinct now as I try to find a part of myself I thought lost long ago.

 

Colin felt ashamed of his churlish behavior, even as he still worried about the risks they were exposing themselves to by allowing these strangers within their innermost rooms.

 

Of course I would forgive you – if you had need of forgiveness, he assured Michael. I believe I am the one who should be begging your forgiveness. I should not have forgotten all we owed Lydia for saving both you and Nic. She should have been a priority of mine, even if she were not carrying Nic’s children. I have been grievously remiss.

 

You had many patients to heal yesterday, Michael reminded him. And much else to consider, as you were the only one of us managing to keep a cool head. I am not criticizing. I only wish to say that I now feel that I must not delay any longer in seeing her. Nic has a difficult balance to strike – he cannot lead her to believe that she can come before Lycan in his heart, and yet he must also let her know that she can rely on him. Somehow I think that if anyone can find that balance, it will be our Nic. But I too owe this young female a great debt – as Nic’s father, and as a man whose life was saved by her courage. I am the Dance Master, and I am the goddess’ servant on Terrafyn.

 

Colin did not quite know how to respond to that. As a Druid, he was a servant of the goddess also but he was sensing that Michael was speaking of a much more personal and immediate service – one that required far more of him than even the all‑encompassing service of the most stringent orders of Druids.

 

He was not sure if he was impressed or intimidated. As he watched his mate leave their bedroom, he felt Dominic’s eyes on him.

 

This was always part of him, did you not sense it before? he heard Nic’s voice ask, his tone curious.

 

Colin was not sure how to answer. Michael always had his moments, it was true, when he seemed “more” than the everyday Michael of the island – but at such times, Colin attributed it to the fact that his friend was the son of a King – though of course, it was more than that, since Colin also was the younger son of a King. Until Lycan came along, and there was reference to this “Dance Master” as an entity, Colin had only the vaguest sense of Michael having been trained by a special Dancer. He knew that there were legends about a Dancer favored by the goddess, but it was not a tale the Druids of the Third Kingdom paid much attention to – it was too ancient.

 

And yet....Metamorphs were ancient too.  The old tales held much truth in them, he had learned many years ago, when he had first gone to the monastery. It was a lesson he should not have forgotten.

 

Forgotten. Memory seemed to play a role here somehow, and Colin’s act of freeing Michael’s memory from the barrier that had been placed on it so long ago seemed to have triggered some resurgence of memories and possibly something more. Colin was not sure what, but he hoped they would be ready for whatever it proved to be.

 

I hope you will rejoin us soon, he told Michael, and I look forward to getting to know the lady Lydia.

 

Feelings of warmth came back to him from Michael, though they were tinged by his fatigue, and Colin wished he had found the time to massage his mate’s muscles before they had been interrupted by their family, as much as they loved seeing them. To Nic, he said, You are right, of course, there has always been so much more to Michael than he usually lets us see, and that is why it is easy to take his power for granted. He is continually surprising me...much as you do, raiser of a Druid Circle. Let us eat and then I shall go check on the mother of your babes...and that is something that is yet another surprise, though a blessed one.

 

Colin felt the pleased embarrassment emanating from Nic, and it spurred him to encourage the younger people to move toward the table where the arriving Magda had placed laden trays of food with Fen’s assistance.

 

“Let us go to the table and eat our evening meal, and give thanks that we are together again, with Dominic safely returned to us – and also thanking the goddess for all the many blessings of family returned to us against all expectations and the family to come...” At this point Colin paused, and Nic laughed, and pulled Colin close in a hug.

 

“Come Colin, let us give a general thanks and commence eating and talking. If we wait for you to try untangling all the grounds for giving thanks, we will never be able to eat before it is time to break our fast at sunrise again!”

 

************

 

Michael found Lydia awake in a small room near Melli and Rafe’s. Bran showed him the way to where she had been taken but agreed to let him go in alone – although not without a short staring contest. Michael did not take offense at the Metamorph’s protectiveness; on the contrary, he found it reassuring that someone was looking out for the young female. The more he thought about it, the more troubled he was that no one had placed her needs first upon their return from the Standing Stones at Tumeric. Bran had brought her to the large healing room when they’d all gathered in the early morning, but then Melli had decided that she needed the privacy and quiet of a private healing room, and she’d been taken back to where she had been before. Michael wondered it that had been a wise idea. A private room might be what Melli would want, but Metamorphs liked being around the Pack.

 

Considering the request for permission to enter, Bran looked into Michael’s eyes, and after a long moment, nodded.

 

“I will bring you and Lydia some food, Pack Sire. Will your usual be satisfactory?”

 

“More than satisfactory, Bran. Thank you. Please join us when you do...but give me a little time to speak with young Lydia first?”

 

He nodded. 

 

Michael hesitated before entered. “Will you ask her if I may visit?”

 

Bran looked surprised. “Of course you may visit – you are the Dance Master – and the Pack Sire! But if you wish it, I can let her know that you are here.”

 

Michael nodded, relieved. “Please do so.”

 

He might be both those things but he knew better than to enter the bedchamber of a pregnant female – sometimes he had to wonder if he was the only male in the royal household who did. Melli was frequently heard complaining about the lack of courtesy exhibited by Rafe and Colin – and Lycan had a poor sense of boundaries at the best of times. It was no wonder she assumed Lydia would want privacy; she longed for it. Michael wondered how Nic would be in this respect — would he be an overly hovering expectant father?

 

Lydia was lying in bed, looking far better than she had when Michael has last seen her, but clearly still far weaker than she was happy with being. She was propped up against several pillows and she was pale beneath her tanned complexion – Michael suspected she had lost a great deal of blood. Her tawny hair lay limp on her forehead and her skin looked moist with sweat.

 

“How are you?” Michael asked, then he smiled, and corrected himself. “I am sorry, I should have first introduced myself and offered my gratitude to you. I am Michael, and I am deeply in your debt. All that I have is yours to command, M’Lady.”

 

Michael kneeled at Lydia’s bedside and touched his forehead to her hand, in a gesture of subservience.

 

“Please accept the service of the Dance Master as yours to command, Lydia of the Wolf Metamorphs,” Michael concluded, in case the depth of his gratitude was not clear to the female, who was silent up to that point. But as he remained on his knees, she finally broke out of her trance, and tugged on his arm to pull him up, a rosy tinge suffusing her pale cheeks as she begged him to get up.

 

“No! You must not bow to me, please, please get up, Dance Master. I am just Lydia, not a Lady or anything like that!”

 

Michael moved to a crouching position, and then summoned a chair, his muscles still too sore for what would customarily be an easy position in which to feel comfortable. Sitting next to the bed, but holding onto Lydia’s hands, he smiled again, winning her over had he but known it with his resemblance to his son.

 

“Well, if you prefer, we could be Michael and Lydia – since we are to be family? That would please me very much if you would agree to that...the other choice being father and even my sons rarely use that to tell you the truth.”

 

Lydia laughed, a low musical sound. “I can see why – you are much too young to make a believable father to Nikon.” Then she clamped her hand over her mouth in dismay. “I am sorry – it is a flaw of mine to speak without thinking, Dance Master, forgive me my rude speech, I was not....”

 

Michael laughed, his eyes twinkling. “Do not apologize for saying words that flatter. I saw a vision of myself with gray in my hair this morning – and I suspect those gray hairs are going to be due in no small part because of the cubs you carry, so please! Remind me that I am far too young to be a grandfather! Though I am thrilled beyond measure that both of my sons will be fathers before the new year is very far along. I hope we can talk about it together – the goddess has blessed you, Lydia, are you happy about the babes you carry?”

 

Michael’s quick change of subject caught Lydia by surprise but she was one who appreciated plain speech, and really, how could she not be pleased by the obvious joy of this man...this legend? She could not help holding her hand over her belly protectively, and started slightly when he moved his hand over hers.

 

“Lydia, I pledge myself as Protector for your children,” Michael told her, his voice solemn. She looked him in the eyes – and knew that his words were more than just talk, he was making a vow. “You are worried about what it will mean for your children to be born to the King, that he is already bonded, and that the King’s bondmate is a man you do not trust. I swear to you that although I believe that Lycan is a man to be trusted above all men, I will pledge myself to you as your protector directly so that you will always feel safe, and so that you will know that your children will be safe. I will place your children first above all others because of the great courage you showed in protecting my son and in protecting me, and because they are my grandchildren. And not only these children but any children born to you will have my protection from this day forward, Lydia of the Wolf Metamorphs. Neither you nor any child of yours shall ever want, and you and yours will always have a home with me for so long as you want one – I promise this before the goddess.”

 

Tears fell from Lydia’s eyes. “Thank you, Michael. You have greatly relieved my mind.”

 

Michael smiled once more. “I thought I might. Understand, Nic...and your brother...are likely to make the same offer but I wanted to get in first with mine. This way you know you have options. Let us now turn our attention to healing you so that you can concentrate on growing strong and growing those cubs. How long will it take? Will we have time to get to know you better before you will be spending all your time on the children? What are Metamorph children like? I have no idea and I doubt Nic will be much help. Very few of the females are with the camp here. Bran will be the most help but if you....”

 

Michael and Lydia chattered on for about half an hour before Bran joined them, bringing food...and Colin. He paused at the doorway, holding it open for Lycan’s beta, who welcomed his help as he carried a large, heavily laden tray. His appetite was whetted by so much good news, and the return to the Pack of their Leader’s sister was very good news indeed in his view.

 

“Do you mind if I join you as you eat and check our guest’s recovery?” Colin asked softly – he directed his question to Michael, hesitant to interrupt his meeting with this new family member. He realized his mistake as soon as he saw the young Metamorph bristling despite her weakened state.

 

Michael placed one hand on her arm and reached his other out toward his bondmate.

 

“Colin, please join us – and Lydia, do not frown so, you will make Colin feel that he has treated you badly and we have had enough misunderstandings. Let us not start off with more in this family. Colin does not intend any offense, he is a Druid from the Third Kingdom but left it in his teens and until recently had little contact with your people. For that matter, I have not either, but I did have some contact when young. We had little contact with Metamorphs in the First Kingdom either, but much more than in the Third. My contact took place mainly in the Second – the favorable contact, that is.”

 

“I apologize, M’Lord. It is not for me to frown at the Dance Master’s bondmate, or at anyone who is a member of this Pack. I’ve never seen the First Kingdom,” Lydia said shyly, looking down at the plate of food Bran was placing near her. She raised her eyes to Colin, all traces of her frown gone. She spoke stiffly, but Colin judged her to be sincere, the stiffness due more to her shyness and discomfort with the circumstances and not an unwillingness to be friends.

 

He introduced himself formally, but then, in an equally stiff way that Michael at least recognized as due to a fear of rejection, asked if she would do him the honor of calling him Colin.

 

Try smiling, Michael urged, you’re not such a scary looking man when you are not looking like a Weather Mage who is about to call a storm down upon us all.

 

Colin’s startled look was so genuine...and boyish...it caused Bran and Lydia both to smile, which in turn caused his own more natural warmth to reveal itself in his expression. Relaxing, he extended his hands to Lydia.

 

“Welcome to our family, my child. Forgive me for being so stiff – these past two days have been...both wonderful and unsettling, and they have been the culmination of a year that left me not knowing if I am on my head or my toes. But it is a blessing indeed to have you here with us.”

 

Lydia touched her hands to Colin’s briefly, then inclined her head toward chairs that were a few feet away. “Bran, would you bring those chairs closer for my honored guests? It is well enough for an old wolf like you to sit on my bed – you used to teach me how to hunt rabbits when I was a cub – but I do believe entertaining three males in such a way would not be proper in my brother’s mate’s Court.”

 

Colin refrained from reacting to the tart comment, but Bran did not – he chastised the young woman even as he walked over for the chairs.

 

“Do not be like that, Lydia – you could not have spent time around Nic without realizing there is not a more natural and less pretentious man than our King! And your brother is a good man – and a fine Leader. You know my opinion on that – so do not try provoking me or these fine men. They know your brother and the kind of man he is too. You would also if you had not allowed your pride to make you stay away for too many years. You have been missed, girl, sorely missed. The goddess has brought you back to us and even you must see that it is by her will that you were brought back at this time – is that not right, Lord Colin?”

 

Colin was taken aback to be brought into this family dispute so abruptly – he knew of the fight between Lycan and his sister thanks to Michael having told him but they had not discussed it at length. Now he had the stormy amber eyes of Lycan’s sister focused on him as well as his bondmate’s deep green ones, and he was not ready with a theological answer – only that of a father.

 

“I think it is a good thing for brothers and sisters to lay aside their differences,” he said slowly, “when times are troubled, and when there is love, which Lycan has for his sister Lydia, and for his mate Dominic. From what I sensed coming from him earlier, he wants only happiness for both his mate and his sister – and for the children to come. As does Nic, for Lydia, for Lycan, and for the children to come. So, this brings us to Lydia – what does she want? We stand ready to be a family to her and her children with Dominic, and hope it is in our power to make her happy with us.”

 

Lydia was silent for a long moment, then spoke, also thoughtfully. “I am still not a Beta...and there is already an Alpha female in this Pack.”

 

Colin looked to Bran and Michael, confused. Who was the Alpha female?

 

Bran shrugged. Michael leaned forward, sensing that this was important to Lydia – very important.

 

“Who do you believe to be the Alpha female to Nic, Lydia? You do understand that Nic and Lycan are bonded...you would be the Alpha female in his household.”

 

But not his Court, Colin realized. Mellisande. She was concerned about Melli, and indeed, it was a valid question since Nic had already named Rafe’s child as his heir – but how would she even realize that? His thoughts spread to Michael without his realizing it...until Michael sent soothing thoughts back to him.

 

There is no need for panic. It will all work out. A surfeit of grandchildren is a worry we would have been thrilled to have had two months ago – and one we never thought we would have when Nic first started eying the Island boys when he was a small lad. Let us not fall into the trap my uncles did, and fear which among unborn children will wear the mantle of King one day. It is not the way of Metamorphs to do so, Colin. She is not concerned about that.

 

Then why is she asking about who will be Alpha female?

 

She does not want to be subservient to Melli – do you blame her?

 

Michael grinned at his mate even as he leaned back, a large portion of bread in his hand. “Lydia, you remember seeing Melli, the fair haired Telepath female who is also heavy with child?”