Wolf’s Cub

Chapter 19

Nic was daydreaming on the beach, a favorite pastime. He and Rafe had to leave soon for the Mainland but he was content to leave the plans and packing for their trip in the capable hands of his brother and Fen. Let the two of them fret and bother over the details. He was saving mana.

“Not a care in Terrafyn, I see,” Michael’s voice hovered between irritated and amused. Nic debated jumping up and trying to look industrious, but decided it was too late for that; better to place all of his coconuts on the amusement.

“Cares will always find you, I’ve discovered that they are rather like tutors in that respect,” Nic answered his father, keeping his voice pitched at just the right tone between respectful and playful. “It is carefree afternoons like this that you must keep a close watch out for, so you do not miss them when they happen by. In that, they are rather like private moments with a busy father – especially when you are blessed to be part of a multiple birth.”

Nic gave his father an impish smile, but the wryly true comment did the trick. Michael dropped cross-legged onto the sand and held out his hands in a disarming...and disarmed... gesture.

“I am all yours, clever son of mine. Especially since I sense no slyness in you but a sincere desire to share company.” 

Michael had intended to chastise Dominic for wasting time on the beach when he should be preparing for his mission that night – Colin had determined that there was another Telepath in need of rescue, a young boy in Breslin – but something made him take Nic’s words to heart. His young sons were growing up, heading off on missions on their own, and yet it seemed like only yesterday he was waiting impatiently for Suzanne to give birth. Where had the time gone? In truth, the idyllic days had been many, yet he had allowed them to pass by too often without taking the time to sit and enjoy them as Nic was wont to do.

If he had the time to do over....

“Were you happy here? On the island, I mean,” Michael’s tone was intense for such a lovely afternoon.

Nic ignored the intensity, and his joyous laugh rang out infectiously, bringing a smile to Michael, relaxing him...for the most part.  Nic turned and looked into his father’s eyes, his amethyst colored eyes deepened to a dark violet. “I cannot imagine a better place to have grown up. I have learned from Colin what would have been expected of a Royal Prince on the Mainland and I shudder to think of how hard it would have been for someone of my temperament.  If we had stayed, I think I would have been tempted to beg you to allow me to abdicate in favor of Rafe, because he is much more suited to be a certain kind of King.”  Nic digressed for a moment, saying, “Melli would have liked that I think.”

He grinned and then continued, appreciating his father’s patience, he knew it did not come easily. “But I think, nay, I have seen, in my dreams, which are not quite visions, that I have traits that will be needed; even my daydreams will have some use in this land we will rejoin. Rafe is very good, but he can be inflexible, and the Kingdoms we will be returning to will require flexibility.  I will not be a King like your father, nor even like your kind and wise brother Adam, but I hope to be the sort of King the goddess wants me to be.  The King, you and Colin want me to be.”

“I have no doubts about that, Dominic, nor that you are the King that Destiny has provided for this time.  A daydreamer King, who can dream large dreams that his stern brother will help him achieve.  I am very proud of both of my sons. But I did not ask that question, political son of mine.”

Michael looked keenly at Nic, trying to see if he had avoided answering on purpose. Nic laughed again and shifted so that he could hug his startled father, wrapping his strong arms around Michael tightly.

“Happy? What an odd question for the Assassin to ask! I daresay it is the first time an Emory father has ever asked it of his sons, and I love you dearly that you are the one to care enough to ask. And how we both break the mold that I can say those words aloud, I know. It is a fey afternoon! But I will answer your question as it deserves answering since you asked it, strange Emory father that you are,” Nic teased – Michael almost blushed. Nic saw so much that was never said. But indeed, Michael’s own father was a cold, distant man who never showed affection to his sons and rarely expressed approval, much less pride and certainly never said he loved his sons.  Thank the goddess for Adam, or Michael’s early life would have been barren of affection.  Ben had even less.  Always sensitive to others’ moods, Nic hugged his father again, then answered his question, his bright laughter ringing out once more to lift his father’s spirits.

“I have had the happiest of lives, Father. If it were up to me I would never leave our island! Even the joys of Kelway have trouble tempting me away!  Do you think....”  As quickly as his laughter had sprung up, sorrow now filled Dominic’s expressive face.

Michael touched his chin and raised his face up. “What is it, son? What have you seen in your non-vision dreams that worries you so?”

Nic’s smile was crooked. “I do not dream dreams so much as stories, pictures. And they tell me that I am no longer in the story of this island, not after this night’s story is over. Not really. Not for more than a day or two.  Don’t tell the others, please. It may disturb Colin’s own scrying, and it may affect Rafe’s decisions for tonight if he were to try second-guessing....”

Michael looked worried. “But, if you see danger to yourself, no mission is worth your life, Nic, we must.....”

“No!” Nic’s protest was swift and hard. “This mission must go on. It is crucial. I am sure Colin has said as much.” Michael looked self-conscious. Nic nodded. “I sense no danger to myself. Indeed, I am excited, something big is going to happen. My destiny hovers. But, my destiny has never been to sit on this beach that I love so much, has it? Still, I ask myself, am I ready? How can I be when such a large part of my heart wishes to stay here for a while longer and watch the waves, play in the sand, and tease the younger ones...just for a while longer.” 

Nic’s expression was more adult than Michael had ever seen it, even as he longed for his childhood. Suddenly, he felt like the young one, and he wanted more than anything to summon Colin. He was not ready for this moment, and yet, he had to be the father and comfort his son. He wasn’t ready!  Goddess help him.

Help them both.

Michael reached out and clasped Dominic’s hand. Together, they sat on the sand, minds in tune, watching the waves. Then, with a tug on his hand, Michael pulled Nic out into the water and they played in the waves like they had when Nic was small, until Fen came to fetch them for dinner.

Rafe grumbled good-naturedly at Nic for not helping, though in truth, it was easier to get ready without Nic’s interference.  Colin suggested that perhaps, if he were not working on preparations for the mission, Nic’s time would have been better spent resting instead of playing so hard in the surf. Michael and Nic just smiled and nodded. They knew that they’d spent the afternoon in the best possible way. Finding their freedom from care.

Nic sat down next to Fen, and smiled brilliantly at the others around the table. The men were eating alone, at Colin’s suggestion,  in order to concentrate their mana. Melli was in the Tower keeping watch on the scrying stone to be sure that there were no changes in Breslin that needed the mission team’s attention. Other than a large trading group being in town, there was no unusual activity to concern them. Magda was helping Fianne Adajeune serve the meal; if Rafe were to receive the choicest cuts of meat, the best pastries, no one but Nic would comment and even he kept his teasing to a minimum these days. He loved Magda dearly and wished she had loved more wisely – or that his brother had chosen differently. Melli was a wonderful sister but he couldn’t understand wanting her as a mate!

“Is everything ready?”

“Yes, no thanks to you, Twin,” Rafe said mildly, reaching for a piece of bread. A raised eyebrow from Michael was unnecessary; Fen had already nudged Rafe in the ribs to remind him that Colin had not yet given the blessing.  Their Advisor was sitting with bowed head, his brow creased in thought.  Rafe quickly withdrew his hand. Nic coughed lightly to hide his laugh.

“Colin...I have the greatest respect for you and reverence for the goddess but if you do not ask for the blessing soon, I fear that the mission team may leave without the nourishment they need to succeed,” Michael said solemnly; only the twinkle in his green eyes revealed that his amusement matched his elder son’s.

Colin looked up, distracted. “Oh, I beg your forgiveness.” He paused again, and then looked around the table. “This is not right.”

“Do we need more food? I can go fetch some for you if you don’t...”

“Please sit, Fen,” Colin smiled at the young man, always so eager to help. He looked around at his bewildered companions. “I again beg your forgiveness. I know you are hungry but ask for just another moment. It strikes me most strongly that we should be sharing our meal today with all our family. Tonight we hope to add to our family. Dominic, Rafael and Fen are about to leave on yet another mission to add another brother to our group and as I began to ask for the goddess’ blessing, I knew that we should all be joining in the prayer – Melli and Magda, as well as the younger ones. So let us grab our plates and cups and move to the porch. Boys, will you bring the trays, I know you can easily carry them with your telepathic skills and I will invite Melli and Magda, as well as let our good Fianne know of our changed plans, and yes, invite her and Niall to join us, while Michael, may I ask you to summon our younger family members?”

Nodding his agreement, Michael stood up. It was unlike Colin to be so...what had been Nic’s word that afternoon? Flexible? He liked it. He saw that Rafe and Fen looked slightly bewildered, although pleased by the change – both of them liked having the girls around. Nic was grinning. Anything that added informality and chaos had his approval, Michael thought.

And chaos it was, as the younger children added a whole element of excitement to the meal, which even Niall and Fianne’s best efforts could not quite quell, not that they tried too hard. The island couple joined in the fun. There was a festive air, as the twins led the rest in games and revelry.

After the meal was over and the younger people were playing, Colin came over to sit by Michael in their usual rocking chairs, a good vantage point for watching the games and the setting sun – it would soon be time for the twins and Fen to depart for the Mainland.

“I hope the boys are not too tired from all of this to accomplish their mission,” Michael commented, trying to sound stern.

“I’m sure they will not be,” Colin said calmly. “I’ve yet to see them run out of energy, have you?”

Michael laughed. “Only when it is something they do not wish to do.  Very shrewd of Magda to hold back seconds on dessert until their return. Nic is sure to rush back. He is very fond of her pineapple cake.”

“He is in high spirits today. He enjoyed his afternoon with you,” Colin commented. “I am glad you took the time to be with him. With Rafe and Melli growing closer, Nic has been alone more than before.”

Michael was silent. He had not planned to spend that time with Nic; he was glad now that it had happened but wished he had thought to plan for it.  Adam used to make time for him, and he had been just a younger brother, while Adam had been heir to the King, with so many duties of the First Kingdom resting on his shoulders.

Colin squeezed Michael’s forearm – it did not take telepathic powers to read his thoughts.

“You have been a wonderful father, Michael. To all of the children, but especially to our three. Never doubt that. Despite the terrible traumas of their childhoods, they have grown into strong, amazing young people. You accomplished that.”

Michael smiled his beautiful smile at Colin, literally taking the druid’s breath away. Colin had to lower his head to compose himself, as Michael replied, placing his hand over Colin’s. “I think I had some help, but thank you, dear druid. As always, you know just how to cheer me. I am grateful the goddess did not ask me to raise them alone.”

Seeking to lighten the moment, Colin said dryly, “Even the goddess has limits on what she will ask of us.”

Colin was pleased to hear Michael’s laugh ring out.  Being almost as volatile as Nic, though, it wasn’t long before Michael grew serious again.  

“Do you foresee any problems tonight? What of this boy Keir? I wish we knew more of him.” Michael had wanted to go himself but had let Colin convince him to let the twins handle this mission, with Fen along as backup.

“I sense portent in the air but no specific danger, friend. I have told you that already. I see more trouble if the boys do not go.  I believe this Keir must be rescued, not to do so would be a fatal mistake, though I cannot say why; whether the risk lies in the boy himself or in other events that would happen if he is not saved, I cannot tell you. He is of the Second Kingdom, clearly. Perhaps even kin to your Suzanne.”

Michael frowned. “Nic senses....” He bit back the words. Colin looked at him and waited. Michael finally said only, “Nic feels something of the same. He is eager to go, no doubt the excitement you see.”

“Is that all?”

“Does Nic ever need more?”

It wasn’t an answer, not a full one, but Colin did not feel comfortable pressing for more when Michael did not offer it freely.  They were close, he and Michael, but they did not share everything with each other.  He watched his friend as Michael looked out over the grass at the laughing young ones. He longed to tell Michael everything that was in his heart but feared to do so.  Michael meant so much to him – to lose his friendship, to see the warmth in those green eyes turn to pity if he knew of the love that Colin cherished for his friend? No, that was something he could not bear. Nic tried to get him to speak, but it was too risky. Surely if Michael felt something, he would have spoken, he who was so experienced in the ways of ...well...the ways of expressing love?

But was he, a small voice questioned?  Michael was celebrated as the sex god by the islanders, but he was a very private man in most respects. He kept his emotions close, even his great love for his sons was seldom expressed aloud. Perhaps it was difficult for him to say how he felt about the things he felt most strongly? Colin knew that was true, yet still he could not be the one to speak first of his own feelings for his friend. Not while so much depended on them being able to work together for the good of the children.

But perhaps...some day....

The time having come for the boys to depart on their mission, Colin called the three young men to him.  Michael stayed behind with the others while Colin walked Nic, Rafe and Fen to the standing stones. Giving them his blessing, he sent them on their mission to rescue the boy he had seen in his scrying stone, the Telepath named Keir, who would be hunted down by the Authority’s Guards that night and killed if they did not rescue him.

It was a simple mission really. Fen would accompany the boy to safety while Rafe and Nic led the Guards away; then the twins would escape back to the pre-arranged meeting place and all four teleport home to the island once they shook the guards’ pursuit. It was a plan they’d carried out successfully a half dozen times already.

On this night, however, the guards were waiting for them at the meeting place.  It did not make their mission a failure, it just made it more challenging, as Nic later said to Rafe.  They managed to get Fen off safely with the small Telepath Keir by creating a diversion, but they had run themselves to exhaustion trying to get away from the damned persistent squad of guards themselves, who’d kept chasing them through the city, never giving them a chance to pause long enough to teleport safely, without fear of being tracked.

“Look, over there, across the street, that pub,” Rafe gasped. “Let’s get inside and find a way to blend in; you try to attract the attention of a patron, one of those large traders. I’ll put on a glamor and disguise myself. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on you. Get going.”

The moment Nic saw the tall golden man leaning lazily against the wall on the other side of the room, he knew he’d found his destiny. Now, how to get his attention....

A devilish grin crossed his face. Rafe would kill him but it would be so worth it, Nic thought, and then he put his brother out of his mind.  All of his concentration was on the large golden man.

Destiny.

********

Lycan and Nic walked up the stairs of the Council House, Lycan taking the lead in case any dangers lurked in the shadows ahead. The smell of demon and death was strong but he did not sense the current presence of evil, and told Nic as much. Nic grinned.

“I can see that you are a useful mate! Colin’s scrying is not anywhere near as reliable as your nose.”  Lycan swatted at his Cub’s backside, only half in jest – what would it take to get his mate to take life seriously? But as soon as the thought occurred, he remembered the more somber Nic of recent days and was pleased that Nic felt safe enough with him to be irreverent. Still, as he did with his younger Pack members, he cuffed him lightly for form’s sake. Nic’s wider grin showed him that the gesture was appreciated.

“I suppose we had better get directly to work. It will take a good deal of scrubbing – with both magic and the manual kind, to make this place cheerful. I believe that Colin was overly optimistic in thinking it could be done in a night.”

Lycan was of the same belief. Entering, they found more evidence of foul practices by the former inhabitants of the House. Going into the Great Hall, Nic moved swiftly to the prior throne platform, where now stood a long marble table, several plush chairs behind it – the Council’s meeting table, no doubt, Nic thought scornfully, wondering if the Council actually believed it had any real power or if it knew it was a mere puppet government for the druids who worked for the mysterious hooded men.

Behind the table, hanging on the wall like grotesque trophies, were the pelts of the Metamorphs who had been slaughtered. Lycan felt the bile rise in his throat as he recognized Beren’s kin, friends of his, men in their prime who had been cut down like animals.

Metamorphs were animals, less than animals, to the Telepaths and humans who had done this.

He didn’t even realize he was howling, a long keening cry to the goddess, until he felt Nic’s arms around him, and heard his voice in his mind, calling him by name in this moment when he needed to know that his mate knew that he was a man.

I am here with you, Lycan, and share in your pain, I pray to the goddess to bless the souls of these men and that she honor them in her heaven, removed from all pain, renewed and whole. Help me take their bodies down from this place of dishonor and restore them to a peaceful rest.

Lycan was soothed by feeling that Nic did feel his pain, but he also felt peace in his Cub’s touch. He knew that Nic could have used his magic to take the bodies down from the wall; he sensed that some form of telepathic magic had been used to hold them there and preserve their appearance, but Nic chose to take them down the more difficult way, as though to show that he was not afraid to touch them. More, he was showing them honor in handling their bodies himself – the King was performing this most intimate and final service, usually reserved for family, close family. With Beren injured, Nic was claiming kinship in doing this and he knew it.

“We need water. And soap. Blankets.” Nic was speaking softly, almost to himself. At least, that was what Lycan thought. But then he sensed the others moving quietly through the room. The women.

Do not take any notice of them. They are terrified of you...but they mean us no harm. They wish to help.

Nic’s words came into his mind just in time to stop him from demanding names and intentions from the women who were moving quietly through the dark room. With great difficulty, Lycan forced himself to remain still by Nic’s side as he accepted the silently offered supplies from one of the women with a solemn nod of his head.

First, Nic examined the bodies. He searched his memory for the spell he needed, relieved to find it without having to send a telepathic message to Colin. He wanted to be able to do this on his own – for his people, for Lycan. Reviewing it in his mind to be sure he knew what he was doing, he stood back and cast, removing the spell that had held the three men in their Metamorph animal forms. They had been fearsome trophies in their bear forms – now revealed in their man forms, the wounds where they’d been dealt the killing blows stood out, in gut and chest and back, the blood long since drained, but the grisly, excruciating nature of the wounds still evident. The women made the sign of the goddess as they saw the men’s forms; tears ran down the faces of some as they looked upon the forms of men whom they’d known as big friendly men who sought only to sell their furs and drink in the taverns.

Candone had known terrible times and these women had watched it all in silence, praying to the goddess to send the King back to save them, if only from themselves. They did not expect to see him share their grief, and they had feared his vengeance when word had come that he approached with an army of Metamorphs, because they knew what their men had done, at the hooded men’s orders, to the Metamorphs. But seeing how this King came quietly in the night to clean with his mate, of whom the bards already were composing tales. The large golden man, who they said was a Wolf Metamorph, had taken on the large Hell Beast, defending his mate.

Defending their King.

All of the Metamorphs had fought hard against the demons that had been unleashed against the City, and it had not escaped the women’s notice that they could have left the humans to their fate. But the King and his allies no sooner subdued the guards, most of them foolish men, too young to know better, and really, what other choice did they have, when those evil hell hounds appeared and began to slaughter everyone in sight. If it were not for the brave Metamorphs and those courageous young Mindtwisters, the women doubted anyone who have survived to tell the tale of the King’s return.

But, the Metamorphs and Mindtwisters had fought for the City – and saved it – until miracle of all miracles, they say the Dance Master himself appeared. He not only defeated the huge Hell Hound, but he removed most of the bodies of the lesser hell hounds.

Still, being women, those acts of wonder and courage did not win their hearts as completely as the sight of the beautiful young King kneeling on the marble floor, as he tenderly washed the bodies of men he had never known in life, yet whom he mourned as family. Quietly, thoroughly, he prepared their bodies for burial in accordance with the ways of their kind, as Lycan quietly instructed him, tears falling down his cheeks the entire time.

They wept with him.

Clean cloths were brought, in which to wrap the bodies after they had been cleaned, and sweet smelling herbs appeared in accordance with the custom of the Metamorphs. Once again, Nic marveled at how much the peoples knew of each others kinds – he was aided by Lycan’s shared thoughts but the women already knew what he needed in the way that women knew these things. On the island, sudden deaths occurred, boating accidents, rockslides and the like, and it was always the women of the island who handled the details of death. Nic was struck with a strong feeling of universality between his island upbringing and the Mainland experience his family had left behind, and Lycan’s mountain world of the Metamorphs.

Did all the power and adventure seeking of men lead to no more than women silently preparing broken bodies for burial, he wondered? And if so, perhaps there would be less war if more men took part in this practice, see for themselves how sad even the most powerful bodies looked in death.

Nic’s hands shook at the thought of ever having to do this task for his father or brother, or goddess forbid, Lycan.

What troubles you, Cub.

Do not dare to ever die, Wolf!

Bossy Cub, Lycan replied, touching his hand lightly to Nic’s head. I dare not do so and leave you unprotected.

Good.

And then the women rolled up their sleeves and helped clean the former Palace, working through the night. Some brought food from the kitchen, which Lycan tested first. Nic smiled at that but did not stop him nor did any of the women take offense at his caution. They were glad that he was there, so big and strong, taking care of their King.

After a while, Nic became troubled by the women’s silence. He could understand if they were shy about talking to Lycan – he was an intimidating person to a human, especially a female – and perhaps his own status, which they seemed to know despite his rough garb, made them timid about speaking to him, but why were they not chattering to each other? He never knew the island women, or his foster sisters for that matter, to go more than ten minutes, without talking!

Wolf?

I wondered if you would go back to that, Lycan teased. He was glad – he was man but he was Wolf also, and he was glad his Cub saw and accepted both parts of him. A wave of love was sent to him that warmed him – and made him wish the women were gone.

Why do these women not talk? Do you frighten city women that much?

They cannot talk, Lycan told him matter of factly.

Startled, Nic just stared at his mate, waiting for an explanation. Lycan beckoned one of the older women over, knowing she would be less embarrassed to do anything for her King than a younger one.

“The King is troubled by the silence of his subjects,” Lycan said, his deep voice softened to its gentlest tone. “He has no knowledge of how the Authority commanded secrecy from its female workers. Would you be willing to show him?”

The woman was old, but her bone structure revealed that she had been a beauty in her youth. Gray hair was pulled back under a black net, and she wore a simple back gown, and even in her old age, she had a certain dignity and elegance. Nic thought that she must have been lovely indeed when a girl, and was surprised that she was of the servant class – she had the look of the upper class, nobility even, in her high cheek bones and sky blue eyes that age had not faded.

And then she opened her mouth, and showed him the rough stump where her tongue had been severed at the root.  Nic felt his own tongue recoil and almost gagged – only years of training enabled him to show no reaction except sorrow as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Bless you, daughter of the goddess, and all your sisters for the suffering that was visited upon you. The evil that stole your voices will be punished and driven from this land, I promise you.”

The woman raised her eyes to him and then, in an extraordinary moment, placed his hands on her head, and seemed to beg him, with her eyes, to read her thoughts.

Nic looked at Lycan. What should I do? I cannot invade someone’s thoughts without permission.

I think she is giving you permission, the only way she can. But, ask her, if you are not sure. She clearly has something to say.

Feeling foolish for not thinking of the obvious, Nic asked, “You know I can read thoughts? You wish for me to try to read yours?”

Kicking himself for asking two questions at once, but seeing her eager nods, Nic saw there was no doubt as to her intent. It took him a few minutes, her thoughts being strange to him, and so many others in the room wanted his attention now that they saw what was happening that he had to concentrate on keeping their thoughts away, but soon enough, he was able to read some of the many thoughts she was trying to send him.

And he felt a bit of what Fen must have been feeling earlier. This poor women, Elianor, was actually not much older than Michael and Colin, but she had been in the service of the Hooded Men for fifteen years, first as a maid, then as a cook, and finally as a charwoman, cleaning out the cells below.

She had been raped, beaten, often starved. But that was not the worst of it, in her own mind. The worst was witnessing what they did to others, and made to clean up afterward, but not allowed to give help of any kind. Though she did whenever she could, which led to more beatings.

There was still a prisoner below. That was the most important message. He was believed to be dead but she knew he was not. He was a bear man and could sleep for long times at a stretch without food.

Nic looked at Lycan.

“Elianor says there is still a Bear Metamorph alive! We must go to him!”

Lycan was shocked. He had not sensed any Metamorph life. He looked closely at the woman.

“Are you sure she is telling the truth?”

If she is lying to me, she is a far more powerful Telepath than even Michael to be able to trick me. Does she appear to be such?

Lycan was not eager to trust anyone. But if a Metamorph had survived this place for so long that his disappearance had been forgotten, his death assumed, they could not waste another moment. Though he would prefer that Nic’s Sire were present, just in case they found another Hell Hound waiting for them in the lower reaches of this place, he grumbled to himself.

“When is your Sire arriving?”

Nic grinned. Raising Elianor to her feet, he blessed her and thanked her. Raising his voice, he told the other women that he and his partner needed to check for prisoners in the cells below. 

“I will make time tomorrow and in the days ahead to ‘speak’ with each of you who have served here in this hell, and I thank you for helping me to restore it to what it was intended to be – I thought to come in secret and ready it for the return of your King as you should see him, ready to serve and protect you. Instead, we have worked together, haven’t we? Perhaps that is the way it really should be. A King and his people working together for the good of all, so that no one is left unprotected against evil, or foul betrayers?”

There were murmurs of assent and approval. Some of the women clapped their hands while others stomped their feet. Feeling bolder now, many of them reached out to touch Nic as he passed by, just brushing their fingers against his tunic, others tapped a boot or the leg of his breeches. Lycan wanted to brush them back but Nic bade him to allow it.

I sense no harm.  Father and Rafe would tease me that I am allowing the King thing to go to my head but it is not – these women have lived for years in terrible drudgery and pain. Their only hope was that the King would one day come and rescue them. Now, the King is here. He needs to be larger than life and instead, they got me. If they need to put me on a pedestal that I am ill fitted for, I need to find some way to help them adjust to a smaller pedestal at the very least.

Lycan thought it was much more likely that Nic was fitting their ideal of a King perfectly but did not argue. Nic had the advantage when their ‘talking’ was done in this mind speech of his!  Besides, Lycan wanted to focus his attention on where Elianor was leading them. They instructed the other women to continue working while they followed Elianor to the cell where the prisoner was kept.

Lycan broke open the locks on the first set of doors they came to, leading to the lower level. It took Nic’s magic to get them past the second set. Nic raised an eyebrow.

“They certainly guarded their prisoners well. Or at least protected themselves from their prisoners well, one or the other. I guess they did not think to provide for the eventuality of none of them being left to open the prison if they were all gone.”

“I am sure that was not a concern of theirs,” Lycan said dryly.

The second set of doors led them to dim stairs, which were lit only by torches mounted on brackets on the walls. After Elianor lit the first one using a long stick, Nic lit all of the rest of them, all the way down the long flight, with just the wave of his hand. Lycan had to smile at the servant woman’s amazement. Nic took for granted how his little tricks affected ordinary people. In the old days, the Royals were careful not to do magic in front of their subjects. Perhaps if they had revealed their true power, their subjects would have been more faithful! He wondered what Michael and Colin had taught Nic about their power – were they to hide it or be themselves? He could not quite see Nic being anything but himself, and in truth, the people always suspected the Royals of hiding something, and the fact that they hid something so important, made the gossip all the more malicious. People suspected magic, and since it was kept secret, the rumor spread that it was black magic.

Once they arrived at the lower level, Lycan could smell the magic that was in place to hide the presence of the prisoner. Nic looked over at him.

“Now you can tell, can’t you?”

“Yes,” Lycan said shortly. He was on edge. He didn’t like being in the bowels of this place – it felt like a burial place. He could too easily imagine what it had been like for Metamorphs to be imprisoned here, locked away from sun and moon, wind and water – death would have been far preferable, though none of their kind would take his own life. Suicide was a human weakness. Only if driven mad with thirst and hunger would a Metamorph act with a rashness akin to suicide. But even then, they would never intentionally give up their lives; to do so was too great an insult to the goddess and would bring disaster to the entire pack and no Metamorph was that selfish. At most, one would act with such reckless disregard that others had trouble believing he intended any other result but his own death and they would talk of his craziness. 

Looking at the dank, cramped cells beneath the Council House, Lycan could believe that the Metamorphs whose bodies rested above, who had been hung for display in the Great Hall, had reason to be grateful for their relatively quick deaths.

Distracted by the horror of the cells, Lycan did not notice the dismay on the woman Elianor’s face as she approached a cell near the end of the long line of grim enclosures. As it was, she was already turning toward Nic, wringing her hands, placing herself between Lycan and his mate, when the large figure jumped out from the shadows. Nic moved forward, thinking to protect Elianor, but it was not the woman who was the target of the attack. Nic was.

A split second too late, Lycan howled, trying to get to Nic but the woman was in his way and slowed him. The bear had Nic by the throat in a flash, before Lycan could do anything, before Nic could draw his sword, before the woman could do more than moan in shock.

Still.

Lycan froze. The word in his mind was a command; more than that, it was a compulsion, stopping him from morphing into his wolf form, which had been his instinct, to transform into his stronger form to rip the woman from his path, to fight the bear, to protect his mate. But holding still, analyzing the scene, he saw that the worst thing he could do would be to rush the creature, who held Nic above the ground by the neck. Somehow, probably with his telepathic power, Nic was keeping the Metamorph from breaking his neck but it was undoubtedly a close thing, as his body was dangling several feet above the ground, without his being able to get any purchase against the Bear’s shoulders or torso with his arms or legs due to the long reach of his attacker’s thick arms. Both large hands were clasped around Nic’s neck, and if Lycan were to attempt anything, the fragile balance Nic had achieved might well be snapped – along with his neck. 

Talk to him.

Nic’s ‘voice’ was faint, gasping even, as though he could barely get the thought out. He must be focusing most of his power in maintaining whatever shield he had around his neck, Lycan realized. Gathering his concentration, he forced himself to stay calm and really look at the snarling Metamorph holding his mate as he tried to think of some way to distract him enough to give Nic the opening he needed. The nasty scar above the Metamorph’s right eye caught his attention.

“I know you,” Lycan said, surprised. “You are Brae, Beren’s litter mate! Look at me! I am Lycan, of the Wolf Metamorphs. Your brother and you saved my Pack from starvation many seasons ago.”

The Bear cocked his head. 

Talk...more.

“You taught me to fish, Brae. You were always better at it than Beren. You got that nasty scar in a fight with the mountain cats – you took on five of them at once. You finally jumped in the lake to get rid of them. They hate water, don’t they?  There you were, fighting them like they were a swarm of bees, swatting at them like the nuisances they are, and Beren just stood on the shore laughing his head off like the idiot he is at times. I was no more than a cub but I was terrified, wanting to help, but Beren told me to stay back. I was sure that you lost your eye that day.”

Lycan knew he was rambling like his Cub had a way of doing but he sensed that Nic approved, and indeed, the aura of hostility that had been coming from Brae in waves had died down. As he tried to think of something else to say, Lycan saw with relief the familiar signs of the change beginning; within moments, the fearsome Bear had morphed into a large, but emaciated man, who slowly lowered Nic to the ground and released him.

Turning to Lycan, but keeping a wary eye on Nic, who moved out of reach and over to Lycan slowly, Brae asked, in a raspy voice, “Why are you with one of these?”  He jerked his head toward Nic, his voice dripping with contempt. Weakly, his aggression spent, he leaned against the stone wall. Nic quietly cast a warming spell. Rather than thank him, the Metamorph growled at the show of magic.

Lycan started to answer but Nic placed his hand on his arm. “Let me answer your friend if I may, Lycan. I am not who you believe me to be, Brae, brother of Beren. I would prefer to attend to your needs, but allaying your mistrust seems to be the paramount need, over caring for your wounds and ending your hunger and thirst. Brae, look at my eyes.”

Brae laughed harshly. “I may only be a dumb Metamorph but I know better than to look into the eyes of a Mindtwister. Is that how you tricked clever Lycan? Or was it with other lures?” He leered.

Lycan growled. Nic sighed. It had been a long night and his neck hurt. Why did Metamorphs have to be so difficult? “I can see why Beren let you fight a pack of cats all your own – you have a certain stubbornness that needs to learn things the hard way,” he grumbled, half to himself. Brae blinked at the comment.

“You are not one of them, they have no sense of humor,” he said, almost accusingly. “Who is he?” he asked Lycan.

“The King,” Lycan told him, “and you almost killed him when he was trying to save you. If I needed any proof it really is you, Brae, that would have been enough. Goddess be praised, you’re alive!”

Lycan moved forward then to clasp the larger man close – shocked to find that he really was little more than skin and bones – the darkness of the cellar and his hair hid his condition to some degree.

He is ill, Cub.

I know, I could tell even as he held me up. Let us get him upstairs. He needs food and water...and a bath.

“Let us continue introductions upstairs,” Nic suggested gently, “but I believe you owe a debt to Elianor. We might not have explored these cellars had she not found a way to communicate to us. All others forgot about you. Are any others alive down here?”

“Elianor...is that your name, woman?” Brae’s words were harsh but he put a wealth of gratitude and something else in his tone as he looked down at her. Nic could see that there was something more between the two, Metamorph prisoner and human servant – he wondered if he would learn the story – but for now they really did need to get back to the others. He had been scanning the area for more signs of life and all he found was death. Only Brae’s Metamorph ability to hibernate as a bear and mimic death in a fashion had enabled him to survive a long time without food or water. With the cell so far below ground, he may have slumbered long, but then had little besides small rodents and dripping rainwater to survive on.

And the hope for vengeance against an unwary jailer. Nic was thankful for his quick reflexes and his father’s insistence on all sorts of training. Traps of all sorts had been set on their obstacle courses – an angry bear intent on breaking one’s neck had never been one of them though. He’d have to suggest it to Michael to try – how would Rafe succeed, he wondered with a grin. He could afford to be cheerful now that his own danger was past.

Though he would not soon forget the look in Brae’s eyes as he fought to break through Nic’s telepathic shield, a scant quarter-inch around his neck, nor the terror in Lycan’s eyes when he realized that he couldn’t reach Nic in time. As to that....

You saved me with your words and quick wit, and not your brawn that time, Wolf. Well done.

He was amused to find out that Lycan had learned to growl at him telepathically.

They left Brae to Elianor to feed and clothe, once Nic dressed the worst of his injuries. He refused to allow him to use magic to heal him in any way. Nic didn’t press the issue. Other than problems due to malnutrition and old wounds from beatings administered long ago, which had healed badly, Brae’s condition was due to lack of food, water and sun. Nic wasn’t sure how well he would heal, but he knew that Metamorphs had remarkable recuperative powers. It was his mind that was the troubling part, and the woman Elianor might be the key to that. The clear bond between the two might well be the saving grace for the long imprisoned Metamorph.

What Nic wished to discuss with Michael and the others as soon as he could was the fact that this was the second of his allies' close kin who had been found to have been held in a long imprisonment – not killed – and turned against the Emory family he sensed. Brae had a strong reaction against Nic personally, and against “Mindtwisters” generally. Rafe had reported that Ran’s son Ren had a negative feeling against the Royals as well, though he expressed a willingness to be convinced.

Nic sensed that this was not just random, but part of a deliberate effort on the part of the hooded men, who had plotted long and well, with layers upon layers to their plans.  He needed to insist that they hold a council of their own and discuss all that had happened as soon as possible, he decided.

But first, they needed a place to do it, so this assignment needed to finish.

Side by side, Lycan and he worked their way through the Council House, the silent army of women workers growing ever larger as the night wound to an end. By the time Michael joined them, an hour before dawn, the building sparkled as it had in the days when Michael’s father reigned.

Michael stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at the building that he’d known as just another one of many palace homes when he’d been very small. He lost track of time staring at those stairs, identical in structure to the site of so many of his nightmares.  Shadows filled his mind and he could not force himself to take the first step.

“Michael!”

The sight of Nic, looking well, with strong Lycan by his side, was enough to banish the ghosts of his past.

“Come, join us, you will be amazed at how much has been accomplished!”

Nic ran lightly down the stairs so that Michael did not have to walk up them alone – Fen was not the only one with empathic ability. Bowing low to his father, he knelt on one knee, though Michael quickly drew him up and kissed his forehead.

“You do not bow to anyone now, son. You are King, and soon shall take your throne,” Michael gently reminded him, though he was touched by the gesture.

Nic smiled and shook his head. “I will always bow to you, Father. Lycan is right – you are my Sire and my Lord, and while you have refused the throne, I will always acknowledge your right to it, although from the events of this week, I suspect you have finally stepped into a role of yours that is greater than that of mere King, one that I still wait to learn more about. But let us enter your old home and I will show you what has been accomplished while you tell me how Fen fares. Then we shall return to the others so that we can make a grand return here in style, as planned.”

Before they could do that, Michael noticed the marks on Nic’s neck, that his shield did not prevent. Michael’s eyes went to Lycan, looking for an explanation, but he was shocked by the look of remembered pain he saw there.

“What happened?”

Quietly, briefly, Nic told his father, emphasizing the horror of the conditions beneath the Council House and that he had kept control over the situation, while Lycan had soon reminded the Metamorph Brae, close kin to their ally Beren, of who he was, and even more importantly, of who he was, as living like a Bear, he had no doubt forgotten his man identity.

Michael focused on the most important part – to a father. And, as an Emory, he lost his temper.

“Your neck could have been snapped before either of you took a breath! What were you thinking, to go into an unknown situation on only the word, no, not the word, the thought, of a servant! Do you not know who betrayed our family in your infancy!”

Still.

It worked again. Nic thought he might become very fond of this spell as he saw his father literally bite his tongue. Not too hard, he hoped. He hugged Michael tightly, taking the opportunity to whisper in his ear. “These women see me as King, Michael, stop chastising me as the naughty twin who never does anything right! On the front step of the palace of all places too! What would Colin say?”

Lycan did not quite catch what Nic whispered – he’d been expecting a telepathic ‘whisper’ so had been listening that way, but wished he had as it made his Cub’s sire flush bright red. Michael returned Nic’s hug fiercely and said, “You are very right and I can imagine quite well what Colin would say – and he too would be right. You both did very well. Lycan, well done.”

Lycan shook his hair back in surprise. “You must be tired, Michael! I agree with your first words! We should never....”

Michael was holding up his hand. “You both did very well and let us now go inside with the King. Before I find myself without the power to speak at all.”  There was a twinkle in the green eyes now, but a warning glance was given to the King, along with the telepathic message.

Don’t even think about it.

Nic’s smile was beatific. Never able to resist his elder son, and relieved that he was unharmed...for the most part...Michael used mana, despite his fatigue, to heal Nic’s throat, winning a genuinely grateful smile. Then, the three of them walked ahead, the building’s past completely forgotten as they went to forge a new beginning, together.

*********

“I wish to see the leader of this gang,” the tall regal looking woman announced. “And then I wish to see my father.”

Mellisande looked up in dismay. Colin and Rafe were nowhere to be found and she was ankle deep in mud, having gone to the river with Cera and Cena to fetch water. She saw that the woman, a strange Metamorph, was accompanied by some two dozen others, of both genders though mainly men, who appeared intimidating for all that they also looked quite old. They had long white beards and flowing white hair that streamed down their backs – it struck her suddenly who these people were – the Elk Metamorphs, come to claim Elkind’s body.

Why did she have to be the one they found, she wondered nervously, looking at the warrior woman’s long spear.

Before she could think of how to answer, that spear was pointed at her throat.

“Take me to Elkind.”

Cena and Cera cried out as they were grabbed roughly by two of the Elk Metamorphs. Melli sent them a message to stay calm and take no offensive action...yet...while she alerted the others to the arrival of these newcomers. She knew that Colin had foreseen a confrontation but they had arrived earlier than expected. 

“You are Leife, Elkind’s heir,” Melli stated, ignoring the spear and acting as though they were meeting in the Throne Room of a King, or Queen. Colin had trained her well. Her cool blue eyes met angry brown ones and she saw the pain behind the anger.

“You are a Mindtwister, you know who I am. Are you a Leader then of this ragtag army?”

“This army defeated a legion of hell hounds yesterday,” Melli said mildly, refusing to allow this woman to spark her anger. “And took back the city for the rightful King. Your father was a major part of that, it being his decision as Leader of the Elk and Deer Metamorphs to pledge allegiance to King Dominic. He sent word of that to you, did he not?”

Leife looked self-conscious, and lowered her eyes, though not the spear. She answered Melli with another accusation, “My father would have sent word of the battle – I was traveling to reach him – but still word would have reached me. There has been nothing. That tells me news that I would not wish to hear. He is either too hurt to send word or....”

The brown eyes filled with tears, tears the proud woman despised and would not let her perceived enemy see. She turned to hide them. Melli used the moment to bend the spear’s sharp edge – it was pricking her skin painfully –and she curved it back to a harmless circle.

Cena and Cera had no shame in allowing their tears to fall, and they wept openly, causing their captors to release their rough hold. The men looked sheepishly at each other as the two lovely sisters clung to each other in their grief. Melli shook off the blunted spear impatiently and went to the younger girls, pulling them into a comforting hug.

She looked at Leife, who was confused as to how to proceed.

“Please, come with us to our campsite. I have summoned the King and his advisors, as well as the Metamorph Leaders. I am Mellisande, sister to the King and I would have wished to welcome you with better news, but this is a time of both sadness and war...and also victory, in which your father played a great part. We should not mar his heroism with tears, but remember him with songs of praise and honor, as such a warrior deserves.”

Mellisande spoke as an equal to a Warrior, and Leife responded well to the tone. She was tired of being treated as a victim. While she did not know that Melli was a Queen in her own right, as a Leader’s daughter, she knew royal bearing when she saw it. Metamorphs did not always pass on leadership to the next of kin, but among the Elk and Deer herds, it generally worked out that way, bloodlines being true for the qualities of leadership. Elkind not having had a son, Leife had been expected to lead – until her capture by the human men. That had left her leadership in doubt by many, as she had been slow to recover, and the decimation of the herds had made it worse. Everun was not a Leader, he was a great Warrior, but it had looked like Elkind would have no choice, which had grieved both him and Leife greatly. Her for disappointing him and Elkind for worrying his only child.

Now, she wanted only to exact vengeance on those who stole from her the chance to show her father that she was healed, the goddess be both praised and damned. To be so cruel as to give her strength back and take her father away before she could see the light in his eyes again!

Leife nodded at Melli and gestured for her to lead the way. Melli held onto Cena and Cera, marveling to herself how much they could have passed for younger sisters of the tall woman behind them. Nic had told Rafe and her that Elkind had died saving the sisters, whom he had protected throughout the battle, along with fighting fiercely. He had been taken with them from the moment he first saw them, objecting to any of the young Telepaths playing a part in the fighting but especially the two sisters.

Melli did not anticipate how it would look, the three of them being led into the medical area by a group of armed Metamorph strangers. The Bird lookouts sent warnings and the Wolves sprang into attack postures, Jax at the forefront. Fortunately, Rafe and Colin ran up in time to prevent a full-scale skirmish, which would have no doubt led to bloodshed, and likely killed Leife, if not Cera and Cena, who were feeling too guilty to protect themselves, although Melli would have disarmed as many of the Elks as she could.

Colin shook his head at her and she shrugged.

I’m tired, was her only explanation. And assumed the guards would know all was well if I was with them.

The near attack undid much of the good that had been achieved with Leife so far. She glared at Rafe and Colin.

“Which of you is the King I have heard about? I want to see my father’s remains. Why was I not sent for and informed of his death at once?”

Colin wished Dominic had returned. Nic had such a good way with people, especially women. Dealing with a grieving daughter, especially one who was armed to the teeth, was going to be tricky. But it was his job as Advisor to give it his best shot. He moved forward.

“I am sorry, Leife of the Elk Metamorphs. King Dominic and Lord Michael, as well as Lycan of the Wolf Metamorphs will....”

“I did not ask for a list of who is not here,” she interrupted him rudely. “Who are you?”

Colin drew himself up. “I am Colin Allym, of the House of Dyad, Advisor to the House of Emory and to the House of Dyad. Please accept my apologies. This is Lord Rafael, brother to King Dominic, Protector to Queen Mellisande.” Colin extended his palms – she did not accept them.

Rafael nodded but did not bother extending his palms to the woman. She nodded her head at him.

“Let me call Master Ran,” Rafe suggested.

“I want to see my Father.”

“No, you do not,” Rafe told her bluntly. “Not yet.”

“Why not?” Leife raised her chin. Rafe was not as tall as Colin, who was a tall man; this woman was taller than both of them. He thought she might be as tall as Lycan, or close to it.

“He was brutally killed by a hell hound. My father and brother have been working on preparing his body for burial. They have not finished,” Rafe told her, sparing no words.

“Rafe!” Colin remonstrated him. This woman had been through a great deal, Colin sensed, and was putting on a brave front to hide her grief at the loss of her beloved father. She did not need to know the horrific details of his death. Cena and Cera, who had seen the results first hand, broke into fresh tears at the reminder. They’d known Elkind such a short time, but they’d loved the gentle Leader like a father. They could not bear to think of the pain his true daughter must be feeling.

Cera broke away from her sister and threw herself at Leife’s booted feet.

“Take your vengeance on me, not Nic. It is my fault. I should have been more careful! Brave Elkind died saving us!”

Cena joined her, their tears dampening the leather of the Elk Warrioress’ boots.

“No! It was me! I was distracted with what I was doing and did not keep watch on the whole field of battle! I deserve to pay the cost of your loss, not that my life is worth the life of the great Elkind. He should never have given his life for ours but he was noble and brave. For young Keir to die too, all because we were tired and stupid and did not do as we should have. Please, take our lives.”

“Will that help, Leife? Do you accept their sacrifice? Take their lives that your father died to save?”

Dominic had returned to camp. He stood across the campfire, the dawn at his back, flanked by Michael and Lycan, and Rafe was proud of him. He showed no deference to this Elk Warrior, which is how she wanted it, Rafe believed, but more than that, it was what was due Nic and the others who had fought in this week’s battles. Who was she to come marching in and treat them this way?

Elkind deserved better.

Nic marched forward and lifted Cena and Cera up. Leife started to speak but he waved at her, silencing her. He smiled at Michael, acknowledging a private joke, which he shared only with his brother.

I become too fond of this spell. I must resolve not to use it. It is very difficult to get the trick of it with Metamorphs though, so once I did, I could not resist practicing.

By all outward appearances, the King was devoid of levity as he addressed his full attention to Cena and Cera, the fuming, silent Elk Mistress ignored for the moment.

“Little sisters, you do disservice to the brave Elkind you wish to honor when you ask for death. He would want you to have long, joyful lives, blessed with many children. So live, be happy, and rejoice in the gift he gave you. Let Elkind and Keir both look down from the goddess’ heaven at smiling faces, who remember them with happiness, blessing their memories.”

Kissing their foreheads, Nic gently urged them toward Melli and Colin. He then turned his attention to Leife, looking her over carefully.

“You look like your father,” he said finally. “I would like to welcome you to Candone, and to the First Kingdom, but I must ask you first – do you come as friend or as enemy? Your father was my friend, but he did not put a spear to the throat of my family members. I found him to be a cautious man, who considered all aspects of a situation before reaching a decision. Elkind was wise, and will be sorely missed, as Leader and as friend.”

Tears sprang to the brown eyes again but anger won out over sorrow. Leife shouted at Nic, “He was not so wise if he followed you!  You are a mere boy! How did you trick him into going into battle against hell hounds and the Authority’s guards, with only these children as your army? How many of our people died in your cause?”

Nic told her. Then he told her how many hell hounds had been unleashed, how many guards died, how many surrendered – all of the statistics of the battle. At Colin’s command, chairs were brought. Ran and Everun joined them, as did several of the other Leaders, with Nic repeating many of the numbers he had started with. Keir’s death was lamented, as was Elkind’s, but Ran pointed out that with only the one Leader's death, and the one Telepath death, they had done much better than they reasonably could have expected.

Michael slipped away – there was healing to be done and two Metamorph brothers to reunite – that pleasure was to be his. He told Colin he would return as soon as he could. He trusted Colin to help Nic to the fullest of his power – which was considerable. He did not mention it but he also planned on visiting Fen. With the brush of minds, as intimate as a kiss, Michael bid his lover to call him if he was needed.

Colin sighed. He felt that Michael was always needed, by him certainly, and by the others in their own ways, but he acceded to his wishes. Nic spared him a sympathetic smile.

Make him give you time later – I’ll teach you a spell for satin ties if you like.

I don’t even want to know how you know such a spell, Colin told him testily, now pay attention.

It’s easy, Nic assured him, no sign on his face of the thoughts he was sending his Druid tutor. Rafe was looking at Colin oddly, so something must have been broadcasting, Colin realized, resolving to get even with Nic later. If he’d seen the grin on Lycan’s face, he would have been mortified, as in fact, both of them were privy to the exchange. Rafe was wondering why Colin was not stopping Nic more forcefully and Lycan was wondering how to get Nic to show him the spell.

Finally, Rafe hissed to all three of them, Pay attention!

Lycan got Bran to change the subject, loudly. Mental conversations took place so quickly that the pauses were rarely noticed by others.

“And was that Brae I saw your Sire leading over to the Medical tent, Nic?” Bran asked. He was well enough to sit behind Lycan, back in his usual place as Beta. Rena grinned at him from her spot behind Ran as his Lieutenant. The return of her son and Beren’s brother seemed like miracles that she was willing to give the King credit for. Him or the Dance Master. Or both.

Nic smiled, his especially winning smile. Rafe saw that only Leife seemed unaffected. He resolved to keep an eye on her. “Brae was found, a bit the worse for wear, but alive and with the constitution of his kind, I am sure he will soon be wrestling Beren for the best fish and smokes soon enough.” Nic's face sobered. “We will move to the former Council House today – it has been readied and once again will serve the people. Our peoples. We can make our injured much more comfortable in the rooms there, which have been scrubbed clean of any taint of demon or hooded men. There was much done there that was evil. I will not make that my Court. We will build a new palace in Candone.”

He told the assembled group of Michael’s plan for a tribute to the fallen. It was soundly approved. He turned to Leife, who had been silent, taking in all that was said.

“I will take you to see your father – when this meeting is over if you wish. Before the work of restoring his body is completed although I can tell you, I was privileged to know the heart of your father in the ways that a Telepath, what you call a Mindtwister, can know the heart of another, and I can tell you with confidence that Elkind would not want you to see what that beast did to his body. The sisters Cena and Cera have that vision in their minds and cannot rid themselves of it. Why deliberately seek it out? But it is your choice. First, however, I ask that you do something for me. Listen to the rest of the tales of the battle. Those of Lycan, Bran, Beren and Ran – and Michael and Colin too. The others gathered here. Many died. Too many. I thought there would be too many to count but there were not. There was one who counted all of the bodies. My foster brother Fen.”

Nic looked at Ran. “That brings me to another issue for our Alliance. Yesterday, I was like Leife, eager for vengeance because I believed that my brother had been harmed by one of your people – I believed that I had enough information to make a decision as to the right of the matter. And the wrong. But just as Elkind would wait to make a decision based on all facts, because he was a wise Leader, I can no longer rush to judgment as a brother would to protect his younger brother. I am a Leader now and must think of all my people. Lycan reminded me of this – he too is a wise Leader.” Nic smiled at his Mate, causing the others to laugh charitably. Leife was confused – she was just beginning to realize that there was a connection between the King and the Metamorphs. So her assumption that he would use them as arrow fodder was not correct? He had fondness for Metamorphs? And did they say that a Mindtwister died trying to save her Father?

Leife resolved to keep listening. And to question her uncle closely after this council session was done. She had feared that her father had come to the Mindtwister King seeking help for their people – she had known his concern for their people and whether they would survive the winter without more men to hunt. She had envisioned him going to the Mindtwisters as a beggar, seeking their help, and instead they had made him fight in their impossible battle against the Authority. It had been a bitter image.

And a false one, as it turned out.

Ran, the legendary Master of all the birds, was speaking now. She listened to his voice, so unexpected from such a dark, thin figure of a man.

“I received your message and am glad to hear you speak more like a rational man today.” Relieved was his actual emotion, but Ran did not see any reason to reveal that. Nic fixed Ran with an unblinking gaze – Lycan was impressed with how well Nic had picked up on the traits of each kind. Rafe could have told him that mimicry had been a skill Nic had since infancy. Colin and Michael knew that it went beyond mere mimicry –  Nic knew how to get into the skin of other people, other kinds of creatures. It made the difference between being a good leader and a brilliant one. He had more than empathy – more than understanding. He could become one with his people when he chose.

Ran looked at the other leaders.

“May I ask for your indulgence, men, and women, as what I have to discuss with our King is a private matter between our...families. We have a...bonding to arrange.”

Rafe bristled. Nic looked at him and sent a calming thought. Leife saw the exchange and spoke up.

“It would appear that there are secrets in this Alliance. Are the other Leaders content to be kept in the dark? Does the Raven Master make secret deals with the King? Private alliances, perhaps with the Lady Mellisande and one of Master Ran’s kin?”

Nic choked on his wine. Colin was not sure if he were genuinely coughing or laughing but the pounding his twin was giving him would take care of either condition.

“Mistress Leife, I assure you, no bonding is planned between the Lady Mellisande and anyone but my brother, who is so thoughtfully massaging my back for me.” Nic maintained a level voice but it was not easy. Bran walked over and whispered in Rafe’s ear. Rafe glowered at Lycan but stopped his pounding. It was not fair that his brother had multiple protectors nor did he think that Lycan should interfere between the two of them. Lycan gave him a sympathetic smile – but did not rescind the warning. Nic was his, just as Melli was Rafe’s. The thought appeared in Rafe’s mind, not as clear as a telepathic message but it did almost seem as though Lycan had sent the message to him.

Had he?

It was worth considering in any event, he decided. How would Melli behave if she saw Nic pounding on him?

He shuddered.

Nic was still trying to win over the difficult Elk Mistress. Rafe tried to figure out what her problem was. Melli had told him how she ambushed her and the girls down by the river. He was angry. The Metamorphs were important allies but he felt that too many concessions were being given to them. They would not have been able to win the City without the Telepaths – indeed, Colin and Michael did most of the work, along with the children. Colin and Melli were doing a large part of the healing, with his help, as well as Michael...and Nic, of course.

He flushed. He was ignoring all that Nic had been doing, seeming to be everywhere, taking care of everyone’s needs. He loved his brother, but it had grown into a habit to find fault with him. This new, mature Nic who sat as an equal among leaders – no, who sat as their Leader – was new to him. He was unsure what his place was, now that Lycan had taken over his former role and by agreement, they were not having Melli take her place as Queen yet. They did not want her to assume her full title formally until she was wed.

Which was to be after Nic was on his throne. Soon after, by decree of Colin. Rafe was eager to be bonded but he wished he had more control over that also. Then he remembered Michael speaking to Lycan and essentially pledging Nic to the huge Metamorph before Nic had even been consulted, not that Nic’s wishes were difficult to discern. Yet...maybe he would have liked to be the one to whom Lycan made his pledge?

He made his pledge to me quite satisfactorily, brother, but I hear you, and I promise, you will have the chance to speak your bonding words to Mellisande yourself – if that is truly your heart’s desire and not just the wish of our Advisor. I bonded for love as well as political gain and I wish the same for the brother I love with all my heart.

Rafe felt the heat rise in his cheeks and leaned forward toward the fire. Nic’s increased power continued to surprise him in both the strong and subtle changes in his power. This ability to carry on multiple tasks at one time was something he always excelled at but now he carried it to a higher level. Rafe vaguely sensed that Nic was “discussing” the meeting with the other three, Lycan, Colin and Michael, and possibly even Melli, while talking aloud with the group. Rafe could do no more than two things at once, and even then it took all his concentration not to reveal that he was doing so!

All the more reason to bond as soon as possible, Nic teased.

Get out of my private thoughts, Rafe ordered, but without heat. In truth, he had missed this, the casual presence of his twin in his mind. Thinking of the days they’d been separated, he added, I love you too.

A wave of pure affection washed over him, filling him with happiness and contentment. He wished he could do that. You do, Nic assured him, though you more often send courage, which is what you project to the rest of us, lending us your ample supply.

Yes, Nic had something far more than empathy.

Right now, he was demonstrating a sterner side to Ran, who had thought to overwhelm the young leader into accepting an easy answer to an unpleasant situation.

“If you insist on airing this before everyone,” Ran sighed.

Nic raised an eyebrow. “We promised no secrets, so in that respect, Mistress Leife is correct. It would be wrong to settle a grievance privately, whether by my act of violence or your act of appeasing the grievance.” 

“So now I am right in questing the mighty King," Leife stated. "So are we going to learn what grievance you have against the Metamorphs who fought your war for you?”

Everun spoke sharply to his niece, in a low tone. The words could not be distinguished but their import was clear. He was not happy with her behavior but had put up with it thus far and stood behind her as her Lieutenant, as his brother would have wished – though she should not have come. She was not yet recovered, as her emotional behavior revealed. Their people did not believe in acting this way in front of others. It was his wild behavior that made him unfit to lead – he accepted that about himself; it did not make him accept it in his niece, who had been a quiet, well-behaved doe before her attack. When did she decide she was a Warrior? Still, he would not shame her in front of these others unless he had no choice.

She was doing a fine enough job of that on her own, Everun thought, refraining from rolling his eyes with difficulty. He was much younger than his brother had been, but still felt far too old for this nonsense from his niece. Perhaps he should have looked for a mate.

“Leife is right,” Michael announced, joining the group. He reached for wine immediately. He had been healing Brae and was once again exhausted. He had checked on Fen also and was relieved to find him much improved. 

“I too would like to hear what grievance the King believes he has against our people,” Ren spoke up. As a leader of his own group, he had a place at the meeting, but with his father present, it was a breach of protocol for him to speak, Nic told the others in a quick message, based on what Lycan shared with him.

Colin could have figured out as much, based on Rena’s worried expression. Ran did not show by his countenance that he was angered but Colin saw him grip the edge of the rock he was sitting on – the Raven Master’s knuckles were white. He was angered, and not at Nic, who he respected for standing up to him. Indeed, after a pause, he turned to his son and spoke in his melodic voice.

“I am aware of the act that has given rise to trouble and it is my wish that it not be....”

Ren did the unthinkable – he interrupted the Raven Master! His mother paled and Colin would have steadied her if it would not have been viewed as an impropriety.

“Perhaps you do know but perhaps you just think you know. I have learned that with...telepaths...it is good to mistrust what you think you know.”

The others around the meeting fire murmured, some angrily, some thoughtfully. Nic looked around at them before returning his gaze to Ran.

“I believe I must speak to your son, who was held captive so long that it has made him forget his manners. Rafael told me that Ren had his doubts as to my right to lead – I did not address them with you because I have not had reason to forget what is due the Raven Master, but with your indulgence, I will speak to our two new Alliance Members – one being kin to one of our fallen heroes of the Battle of Candone, and thus due a great deal of leeway. And the other, a brave man who suffered in ways we cannot fully know. But know that you were not alone, Ren, nor were you forgotten. Your kin and the your father’s friends sought you without ceasing – brave Metamorphs lost their lives seeking you over the past five years, including Bear and Wolf Metamorphs, Dog and others. We come together now in an Alliance that seeks to aid each other, and to move ahead, not count grievances and hold grudges. We are different, and it is in those differences that we must find our strengths.”

Seeing Ran nod permission for him to continue, Nic did, knowing that Michael was projecting calm to the group but not overtly affecting their mood, which he appreciated. He did not want to unduly influence them, sensitive to Ren’s charge though he did not show it. He spoke coolly. 

“You were treated badly by Telepaths. So were my brother and sister. My brother aided you, and was willing to give his life to enable your escape; the Druid Benra did give his life. He was a Telepath, one who did much wrong in his life but in the end, he did a great service to both of our peoples. Many died at the slaughter by the hell hounds unleashed by the hooded men, but both telepaths and Metamorphs working together prevented many more deaths. You were in the Tower, you know what was raised there. Rafael, Lycan and I each fought the mother of all Hell Hounds that was raised – do you know that it was Lord Michael who vanquished it? Do you despise our Telepath strength that worked along with Lycan’s immense Metamorph power to keep it at bay? He is a very strong and brave Metamorph, I have yet to see his match, though I have seen very strong and powerful leaders among you, but he could not have lasted long alone against that creature. We each had to do our part, and even then, it took the Dance Master to save us all, a magic none of us had known we could count on, thank the goddess it was there.”

Ren was looking down. He had known that somehow the great Hell Hound was defeated; he had not been sure how. He had almost thought....

“You thought that we were working with the hooded men and that is how we were able to defeat the Hell Hound,” Michael said softly. “If you were not the Raven Master’s son, I would kill you now for that.”

A current of danger went through the group. Only the Assassin could get away with that comment, Colin thought. Whether as Dance Master or by the more long held title as Assassin, Michael was a rule unto himself.  Lycan saw several of the assembled Leaders make the sign of the moon, or the goddess, depending on how they were reacting to the presence of Nic’s Sire.

“But what is the grievance?” Leife pressed the point. She was shocked by what she was hearing, and more than a little intimidated by all that had gone on, but she was curious to know what could possibly have happened in the midst of these epic battles to raise a question of bondings.

“I wish to know this as well,” a deep voice joined in.

“Beren!” Nic jumped up, genuinely startled, but pleased as well. The big Bear Metamorph’s entrance to the area caused yet another commotion. Michael knew Beren had planned to join them as soon as he washed by the river. He did not tell the others because he wanted to see how far the discussion progressed with the interruptions of Elkind’s daughter and Ran’s obstructive son.

At least Beren’s brother was in no condition to join in the fray, he told Colin.

That is all we need, Colin agreed fervently. Thus far, this meeting has resembled a game of toss the coconut, adding another volatile player might well...

Turn it into a game of throw the coconut, Michael suggested amused by the image his mind formed of bears, wolves and elks throwing coconuts while birds chattered overhead.

Nic had a hard time keeping a serious expression as that image floated into his mind; Rafe had to feign a coughing spell this time, which Bran was happy to assist him with by pounding energetically on his back, until Lycan stayed his hand.

He rubbed his bondbrother’s back soothingly for a moment, smiling apologetically.

“He forgets our strength,” Lycan whispered, “and also believes you to be as strong, which is a compliment.”

Rafe decided that it was, if Bran thought he could take a pounding like that and not suffer for it. He had new respect for his brother, living among such men; thank the goddess Lycan seemed to understand the difference between their bodies!

Oh, he understands my body quite well.

Focus, boys.

Thank the goddess you have joined us, Michael, but I wish you luck in keeping Dominic focused. Though in all fairness, he seems to have the capacity to focus on many things at one time now, Colin interjected to the telepathic conversation.

Perhaps if you all stopped mind talking back to him he would not talk? 

That was Lycan’s voice, and they were all so shocked to hear it, projected to all of them at once, that they were silenced – all of them except Nic that was, whose laughter could be heard in their minds even as he was greeting Beren.

“It is a great joy to see you up on your feet again and looking so strong and well! This is a day to rejoice despite our sorrows.” Nic turned to the group. “Raise a glass with me, my friends. We drink a toast – to Beren and Bran’s recovery! The goddess be praised, as well as the strong constitutions of the Bear and the Wolf Metamorphs that no black poison of the hell hounds can defeat!”

Beren and Bran were popular and the assembled men and women were happy to have something they could all cheer about – Nic had read them well, Colin realized. Even Ren and Leife, whom he’d feared would dislike losing the spotlight, actually liked having their poor manners forgotten for the moment while the good news was celebrated. Nic was also giving Ran a moment to speak privately with his son, and Everun was taking this time to speak equally urgently with his niece. He trusted the words of their elders were being taken to heart.

Beren called for attention, his arm around Nic in a fatherly way. “I thank our Nic here. But let me tell you something you may not all know – he has done even more than you know. He brought...” Beren teared up, and the sight of the fearsome Bear Leader with tears in his eyes made more than one of the other Leaders look down, blinking, muttering about the wind kicking up dust. Nic murmured something to Beren, who laughed down at the much smaller man by his side.

“Nic tells me that I need a smoke to give me an excuse for teary eyes...and I see I am not the only one. It is good to see young Ren back at our meeting table. Too long boy, too long. And young Leife – your father died well girl – a hero, he was – the death of a warrior, like we all wish for. That it was this young man, not much more than a cub, who convinced us to take on the Authority who was killing us like old men in our lairs –thank the goddess he came to us. I have my brother back, but I have to live with the fact that he spent years...years...in that hell hole of a Council House. I never thought there was worse that they could do to one of us than hang our hodies for display on their walls. What we need to ask ourselves is, what are they doing in the other cities in the First Kingdom? Are there other brothers and sons being held as Ren and Brae were held, daughters who didn’t get rescued in time like Leife here, but maybe were being tormented while we sat and complained about how bad the Guards were, and we waited for someone else to tell us we could fight back?”

Beren looked around the group and then he asked, “But where’s my little buddy? Where’s that little bear, Fen? I need to thank him for taking care of my men when I was too hurt to do it.”

Silence fell upon the group. It would have been silent anyway, Colin thought, after Beren’s meaningful words. But asking for Fen as he did, Beren really dropped the hot brick on the ice. The good feeling just melted away, which in a way, revealed how much the gossip had already spread, he reflected.

The Metamorphs already knew what Sturn had done. He looked at Ren, and saw self-consciousness, as well as a certain amount of bravado. That one knows, he thought, and he is not sorry. Or at least, he is pretending he is not sorry.

Do you want to take it from here? Nic asked. I fear if I or Michael or Rafe does, we will lose control.

Colin nodded, not so sure of his own temper, but trusting to his ability to be clinical, and legalistic. He addressed Ran specifically, although he also directed his comments to the group, enough that Beren and the others would feel that their questions were satisfied.

“At King Dominic’s request, and as one of Fen’s Guardian’s, I will formally present the grievance. Fen is fifteen; and according to the ways of our people, is under the control of Lord Michael as his primary guardian. As a Telepath and a member of a Royal household, he is protected by the Laws of the First Kingdom and may not be used in a physical manner without the consent of his guardian until he reaches the age of eighteen, unless both parties are Telepaths, or the guardian has knowledge of the nature and extent of the sexual congress.”

Kelway, Nic and Rafe both had the same thought at the same time. Michael ignored them.

Such was Colin’s Tutor demeanor that no one interrupted him. Nic envied it. He wasn’t the only one. More than one Leader was taking notes. The older ones present had an idea of what he was about to say and were looking at Ran, appalled at what must have happened, worried about the repercussions such an act might have. Beren was looking more and more concerned. He had been out of touch with the gossip but he was beginning to understand that something must have happened to the Little Bear and it was only beginning to sink in what it was. Something like this had never happened in his lifetime but stories of it were told and it was not good.

“To lie with a Telepath without consent, or knowledge of his or her guardian, under the old laws, is punishable by....”

“No!” Beren bellowed. “Tell me none of our kind hurt the Little Bear! I will kill them if they did!”

Beren morphed into his Bear form and roared menacingly. Others scrambled to move away from him as he lumbered toward Ren.

“Beren, calm down! Ren did not do anything to Fen!” Nic shouted over Beren’s roars of anger. To his credit, Ren did not fly away. Ran did not leave but he did not move closer to his son. He was still quite angry with him. Beren swatted at him, angered by Ren’s apparent lack of fear, possibly, but Nic and Michael put up a force field, preventing the blow from doing any harm.

Lycan, grunting with fatigue, walked over and grabbed his old friend in a bear hug. “Change back, you old fool. I’m too tired to wrestle you, I need to save some energy for my mate,” he complained.

Beren seemed to struggle with his temper a bit longer but finally did as requested.

Looking around, Nic quipped, “Well, you now have the smaller group that you wanted, Ran.”

Indeed, Beren’s outburst had caused many of the Leaders to leave; they decided that it was clearly a personal issue when sexual misconduct with Telepaths was being discussed and angry Bear Metamorphs started losing their temper. Nic asked Bran to alert those who had departed to ready their people to leave in two hours.

“Get Kadem to help you, and...” Nic stopped. He’d almost said Fen, but of course, Fen was still not able to help. But he was. He felt a touch on his shoulder.

“I will help,” a quiet, familiar voice told him.

It was Nic’s turn to cry, and nothing could keep the tears back, as he whirled around and found Fen standing behind him, looking tired but otherwise his usual self.

“Thank the goddess,” he whispered. 

Michael, Colin and Rafe rushed over, but they allowed Nic the first hugs. Only Lycan knew how much Nic had feared losing Fen, and when Nic finally moved aside so that the rest of the family could give the new Empath their hugs in greeting his return to wellness, Lycan wrapped his arms around his mate so that he could hide Nic’s trembling relief.

“Where do we stand now?” Ran asked Nic, coming up to where he stood with Lycan. His dark eyes tried to mask their worry but he could not quite hide it.

Nic reached out his hand and clasped Ran’s forearm, the gesture of an ally. “We are good. I will make it good with the others – but need you to deal with your son.”

“I will,” Ran said grimly. “He went through a lot, but that is no excuse.”

“It is an excuse,” Nic disagreed mildly. “But that is what it is. Does he want to be excused?  Or does he want to take part? He cannot have it both ways. Either he is for me or against me. I cannot have an enemy in my midst. I will be telling Mistress Leife the same. I loved her father and will honor my promise to him as far as food and medical aid to her people – for his sake. But she will not be a warrior by my side, if I have to worry about her spear in my back. The same is true for your son’s knife. I do not want to have to kill him because he is your son, but that does not mean I will let him kill me or mine out of love for you.”

Ran looked sharply at the cold words – and saw that Nic meant them. It was no playful boy who looked back at him, but a man who had looked death in the eye more than once and walked away to see another day. A valuable ally, but an implacable foe if one were so foolish as to lose his trust. Ran had watched the battle from the sky – landing only when he had to – and he’d been shocked to see how efficiently the pretty boy King killed. He had not expected it, thinking that the Telepath would hide behind his big Wolf Metamorph until the battle was won. But he was his father’s son through and through. His eyes might have his mother’s pigment, but they were the Assassin’s eyes when they looked at you and spoke coldly of killing.

Dominic Emory did not make idle threats.

“I will speak to Ren, and if he is a threat to you...you will not need to take action. I handle my own,” Ran promised. “I will also deal with Sturn. I take it a bonding with him is not welcome to your people.”

Nic smiled. “Fen prefers women. And Sturn is an ass. Though I would welcome a closer alliance with your people, and otherwise such a match would be welcome, say, with Hildebran, who, I fear, is fatally attracted to the worthless Sturn....I suspect I am too romantic for these matters and must leave them to my Advisor. But for this, no, I can say quite assuredly, Sturn is not for Fen and it was an ill-done thing on Sturn’s part all-around. I would like the chance to show him just how ill done it was, but I fear my temper, so will ask that you have him report to Colin for a discussion of his behavior – and perhaps a potion?”

Ran was surprised into laughter by the wicked look in Nic’s eyes. “It will not kill him though?”

“He may wish he were dead...or even think for a time that part of him is dead if you take my meaning....”

Ran laughed even harder. “A suitable punishment, if not as harsh as that practiced in the old days. I am very sorry for the harm done to the young man. He is much liked by everyone. He is going to be well?”

Nic looked over at Fen, who was suffering Beren’s rough affection, despite Bran and Rafe’s best efforts to protect him. He smiled gently. “Yes, he will, though it was close.”

“May I be so bold as to ask what was so terrible then, since your brother looks fine now?”

Ren had boldly joined them, yet another breach of protocol, given that Ran and Lycan were both leaders, having a private conversation with Nic, the acknowledged King. Son or not, Ran was ready to kill him himself. If only the young man’s mother were not his favorite!

Lycan lifted Ren up and looked at Ran. “Would you have any objection to my throwing your brat against a tree?”

Before Ran could answer, Nic spoke, speaking almost dreamily. “Imagine knowing how everyone around you feels – that Lycan is not really annoyed so much as tired and sore, every muscle aching from the battle a couple days ago, and getting up from his sickbed too soon to work all night, and getting too little rest for days. That Ran is worried about Ren, whom he wants nothing more for than to welcome back with open arms, but who holds him at a distance for allying with the very kind of people who held him prisoner and yet, also the kind of people who freed him. And also to know that Ren is not so much angry and frightened. To long for freedom and now to be afraid of it – too much has changed while he was gone and what is his role to be in this new world where Metamorphs and Telepaths join forces, and yet...can they trust each other? Is he seer or crazy man? He doesn’t know and he knows he is frightening his parents but he is frightening himself even more as he fears he lost himself in that prison. What strange world has little Hildebran playing hero and heroic Sturn reviled? And....”

“And what trick are you playing now?” Ren demanded, red-faced. He looked around to see if anyone else had heard.

“No trick," Nic answered quietly. “Don’t worry. I have placed a wall around us. No one else can see or hear us now. They see just the trees and grass. A Mindtwister trick, you would call it. But my comments, those were not a trick, that is what we call empathy – it is what resulted when Sturn seduced Fen. He awoke that skill in Fen. I have it to some degree, have had it since my childhood. Fen now has it to a large degree, so much so that he almost lost his mind. Can you imagine why?”

“To have such an ability awakened after a battle, when he was surrounded by death and grief,” Ran whispered.

“Exactly,” Nic said, his eyes on Ren. “He was literally surrounded by it. But do you know what was the worst in the first moments? I do, because I was there shortly after my father found him and I caught some of his feelings in the backwash of emotion he was unable to block. Fen was caught up in the maelstrom of emotions from those around him, yes, but he also was devastated by the lack of emotion from Sturn, the lover who had just taken his virginity as a man, penetrated him and then, in his thoughts, made it clear that Fen meant less than nothing to him. Fen was looking for caring, for connection, among the pain and grief and Sturn pretended he was giving him that, but when Fen’s empathic ability awoke, it was clear to Fen that it was all a pretense, and he had no protection against that lie. The only reality was the pain and grief.”

Nic’s voice shook. Lycan held him close. Ren closed his eyes. All too clearly, he could imagine such devastation. Three of the men did not realize that there was one more who heard Nic’s words; Nic did but chose to ignore her, thinking that perhaps she needed to hear what had happened to Fen also, but that this was the best way for her to hear it, in a way that her own reaction could be ignored. Leife had managed to step within the area created by Nic’s wall illusion. She too closed her eyes in pain; in her case, she was remembering the attack upon her, when men had done terrible things to her, things she knew she would never forget, never recover from.

They made her feel like less than nothing, but at least she had only her own thoughts to contend with. She had never thought there could be something worse. Word of her attack had spread, as Everun had taken vengeance on the men involved, with the help of other Metamorphs, and for that she’d been grateful, but the knowledge that others knew had been difficult to take. She had shunned gatherings, afraid that others were talking about her and what had been done to her.

The young man, Fen, he was now cursed with this thing called Empathy, he knew what others were feeling, and as a Telepath, he knew what others thought, didn’t he? Yet he was walking among them, accepting their rough hugs, their pitying looks, their smiles, with a stoic expressions, and even smiling faintly back at the cheerful ones.

Such courage.

Leife slipped out from behind Nic’s protective wall and walked close to Fen, wanting to get a better look at him. He looked up at her, sensing her admiration, which stood out from all the other emotions around him.

As did her great sorrow.  He moved away from the crowd and reached out his hands.

“You are Elkind’s daughter. It is a great honor to have you join us. I am Fen. May I get you some food, some wine?”

To the surprise of Colin, Rafe and Melli, whose greetings she had spurned, Leife reached out and clasped Fen’s arms, greeting him as an equal. He took the honor in stride, offering her his arm as he turned to lead her toward the food tent.

“We will be leaving for the City soon they tell me, but there is time to eat first. I know you are hungry.  Let me fix you something and then I will take you to where your father rests. We will discuss the plans for how he will be honored in the Great Throne Room, if that pleases you.”

Leife nodded. She was a good foot and a half taller than Fen, but bent to hear him as he spoke quietly to her. She thought that Empathy must be a difficult gift to bear, but this man bore it well.

King Dominic was lucky to have such a wise and kind brother.

{Wolf’s Cub will conclude in the Next Chapter–Chapter 20--Royal Bonding}   .   

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