Wolf’s Cub

Chapter 20

Part 2

Author's note: This final chapter, and indeed, all of Wolf’s Cub, is dedicated to Thyme, with love and thanks, for all her help and support, without which this story would not have been completed.

***********

Dominic felt warm and drowsy as he leaned against Lycan’s broad chest and watched the celebration Metamorphs called a Bonding Party.  It was quite the wild revelry as his father had anticipated.  He rejoiced to see his father and brother join in wholeheartedly, even if he was content to watch from the comfort of his mate’s arms.  He did participate for awhile, sharing in the drinking and dancing, although he danced only with Lycan – but he passed on the wrestling. He watched wide-eyed as Metamorphs of all types, as well as the Telepath men, took part in the sport, fighting fiercely then drinking toasts to the winners and losers with equal humor. Michael did not fight, but Rafe did, and his skill both surprised and amazed the Metamorphs, who cheered him vigorously after their shock wore off.

Nic did not have Michael’s and Rafe’s capacity for mead but he suspected they were both testing their limits at this celebration when he saw the abandon with which they joined in the festivities. He was glad to see that Bran was keeping watch over Rafe – even with much mead, Michael never lost control but Rafe could use protection – Nic was not worried about him getting hurt in a fight but that he might hurt one of his opponents if he were to get inebriated. Nic was feeling too sleepy to keep watch over his twin who was behaving in an unusually wild manner, and Michael was also getting into the spirit of the full moon, perhaps reminded of Kelway nights. Too bad Colin wasn’t there to provide a cooler head as it was not a role Nic was used to.

“Rest, Cub,” Lycan's deep voice whispered, “we will watch over your brother, and your Sire needs no one to watch over him, though be sure that I would never let harm come to either of your kin.”

Nic smiled in relief and moved deeper into his mate’s embrace, the happy faces of the revelers filling his mind. “Thank you, Wolf. Just lay me down under a tree on a soft fur if you decide to join in the fun and break a few heads.” Nic enjoyed the deep rumble of Lycan’s laughter in his ear – sweeter music than any other.

Suddenly, his mind was filled with very different images. He found himself in a room of sorrow and pain; he would have tried to force his mind away, had one of the women in it, the one suffering the most, not borne a strong resemblance to what he now considered the “Emory” look, at least, Michael’s version of it.

Nic’s empathic senses, more powerful ever since his bonding and Fen’s awakening power, were at their strongest in this dream; he could feel the helplessness of the older women in the room as they stood by a bed on which lay a young woman, crying out in pain. Her cries were growing weaker and he knew there was little their midwife skills could do for her. She was dying. One of the women made the sign of the moon while another fell to her knees and prayed earnestly for the goddess not to forsake the young Queen, not as she had been forsaken by the cruel King who had cast her off. Nic wondered which King it was.

“This babe will not come into the world safely,” the oldest of the midwives spoke. She could not bear to watch the young Queen suffer any longer –why should two die if one might still be saved? The other two women looked at her fearfully and waited to see if she would speak the words many a midwife thought but dared not say aloud.

“We should take the child from her – it is the only way to save her life.

The youngest of the women gasped while the other, the one on her knees looked up and protested weakly. “It is for the goddess to decide who lives and who dies. We are but women, we cannot take action to control the outcome at births, even such as these.”

The woman who had spoken first made an impatient gesture and reached for a knife that rested on a side table, already cleaned in anticipation of cutting the cord after the birth of a healthy  baby. She was no druid but she knew what they did in cases such as this – they sacrificed one life for the other, though usually it was the mother who was dispensable. She loved the young Queen who was bleeding her life’s blood away for this child who would not come – she was not going to let that happen. She did not intend to make the choice the druids did – to save the heir at the expense of a royal wife who could always be replaced.

Before the midwife could act, her hand was stayed, indeed, even the laboring woman on the bed seemed to freeze in mid-gasp. Two darkly clad men entered through the window. Nic moved over to look – the room was on an upper floor, at least three levels up from the ground, but the two men stepped in as though they were...cats.  Or mages.

Nic studied their features and almost gasped. The one had to be Pelien, the Cat Master – but much, much younger. The other looked familiar though he was not sure why. They walked with a similar lithe grace over to the bed and stared at the young woman, their faces bearing similar expressions of sorrow blended with anger.

“She will not recover – the woman’s plan to sacrifice the child to save her, while I can sympathize with it, comes too late, the child is ripping her apart, may the goddess have mercy on them both,” the man who was not Pelien said, his nonchalant tone belied by the pain in his eyes.

“Can you not do something?” Pelien’s voice had none of the cool detachment Nic associated with the Cat Master. He grabbed the other man by the arm in what looked like a painful grip. “Use your dance magic – turn back time, undo the evil that has been done to her – remove that foul bastard’s child from her womb even, anything to save her, I love her, I cannot stand by and watch her die! She is my sister, but I know you love her too, you must do something!”

“Yes I love her, every bit as much as a man can love a woman,” the Dance Master answered calmly, though his knuckles were white where they grasped the table next to the bed. “But I cannot misuse my power that way. There are rules – and we break them to our peril. Those rules, set down by the goddess in ages past dictate when we may dance certain dances. To use the power of the dance to bring a life back that she has chosen for death – it is the gravest of abuses.”

Pelien must have seen something in his friend’s eyes because he said, relief in his voice, “But you will try, for Michelina?”

The Dance Master sighed, then gestured toward the women. “Remove them from the room.”

Nic feared for a moment that the Cat Master’s method of removing the women would be to kill them, but instead he carried their frozen forms to an adjoining sleep chamber. He then stood guard while the Dance Master went to work. The vision blurred – even in a dream, his artistry was kept a mystery – and when Nic could see clearly again, the woman was resting quietly on the bed and the Dance Master was holding a child.

“Behold, the new heir to the Emory throne,” he told Pelien dryly.

“We will discuss that. But for now, let us take Michelina with us. She is not wanted here. We can come up with some explanation, a fire, to explain the missing body ....”

The Dance Master held up a hand. His expression was sad. “Michelina will not go with you. Not now. You will have to wait your time. It will come, Pelien.  This child might be allowed to stay but it will not be long before his Metamorph nature will reveal itself – and then she will be forced to leave – without her son that she risked her life to bear.  Her death is only postponed, not denied, and you must be grateful for the time the goddess has granted.  A new Queen will take her place eventually and seek to replace this child, in any way possible. We will not permit that to happen of course, but we must allow destiny to play out.”

“No,” Pelien said, looking coldly at the doorway, almost as though he could see the King standing there. Nic shuddered at the death he saw there. “The King will not live to take another wife.”

“Destiny has a long arm, my friend. Emorys are powerful Telepaths. I know you have your own skills, as this is not the first time your people have bonded with Telepaths, but the days are coming when your people will need to find peace with each other. Michelina’s destiny is here for a reason and we should not change it...only seek to give her some happiness in her painful choice.”

“Her son, must he suffer for her choice?”

“And the sons that will now follow, until she finds rest,” the Dance Master agreed sadly. He reached out to brush back the dark curly hair that clung to the pale forehead of the lovely woman in the bed. She had her half-brother’s green eyes – eyes that would now come to be known as Emory green, he thought, briefly amused by that thought.  Nic could read his thought – and wished he could know more. How did this come to be? Which Emory King did this? Pelien was old he knew, but how old? He needed more information!

The Cat Master laughed harshly. “How annoyed proud Emory would be if he had your gift of foresight and could know that his weakness for a beautiful half-Metamorph would forever change the line of Emorys? And yet, in so many ways, it will be changing them for the better.”

“Certainly it will make them better looking,” the Dance Master mused.

A loud noise in the hall disturbed the men as they stood contemplating the future – and the foolish love that had so changed the destiny of the young woman they both loved – and the throne of a Kingdom.

The Dance Master frowned. “Perhaps the King will do what you have been convinced not to try – and interfere a bit with destiny – as it seems he has decided to check on the birth after all. I suspect his druid has told him his heir was born alive after all.  I can alter the memories of the women – but do we flee with them both or fight? I confess, I wished to see them both stronger before he came upon them. The child might transform before she is strong enough to protect him.”

Pelien took the baby and looked down at his half-sister. “I will take this child – let us leave her to her husband. I will send her a message that the babe is safe with me as soon as I safely can, and instruct her to contact me next time before her time to deliver is near. We will ensure a safer lying in for her. This child who is so much Metamorph – he will never be safe in this Court.”

The Dance Master nodded. In the blink of an eye, he was gone and then back again. When he returned it was with the tiny body of a male infant – a dark haired, green-eyed infant – who was stillborn. Pelien looked at the small body but forbore to ask how the Dance Master had found it. By the time the King and his men arrived in the room, he found his weak Queen weeping quietly over the small form and the awakened, slightly confused midwives trying to comfort her.

All the gruff King could say to the poor grieving mother was, “Well, it appears that he came too soon but was otherwise fine – we will try again as soon as you are recovered.”

Leaving the sobbing women, the King said to his druid in disgust, “You were wrong! The babe was fine. No sign of the taint. I never should have turned her away – maybe she would have delivered a live baby if I had kept her with me in the Palace. It is time for you to return to your monastery. Too much staring in globes in that Tower has made you foolish.”

Watching from the window ledge, the Dance Master wished he could slay the stupid man who had won a treasure and not valued it – but he knew he had to honor destiny. His path along it was a long and twisted one.

He hoped Pelien proved a good surrogate father to the boy he had taken to raise. Two Emory lines would live side by side, though one would not know of the other.

“Until the goddess wills it.” Turning gracefully, the Dance Master looked directly at Dominic, and beckoned to him. “Come, young Emory. It is with much difficulty that I have traveled through the years to show you this vision.  We must not tarry with weeping women if I am to tell you all that you must know before I must return to my rest.”

Never one to refuse an adventure, Nic moved forward to take the Dance Master’s hand and found himself spinning away through mist and shadow.

***********

Colin opened the door to his Tower room with a thought, indicating with a wave of his hand that Melli should go in ahead of him. He wished the goddess had included a bit more empathy among his gifts. He could try to put himself in the other person’s place, using his intellect to reason out how a person might react in any given situation, but he did not have the ability to feel their emotions as his own. Michael had a touch of the gift, and  Nic had it to a greater degree. He used to believe Melli was a true Empath until Fen developed the gift – what she had was more like a blend of the Telepath’s empathic sense and his own skill at observing people and making deductions from those. She used it to good effect, maximizing it, but it was not the same as a true Empath.

And that is part of what is troubling her, but not all. Fen’s voice could be heard in Colin’s mind. His telepathic skills had grown with his empathic skills, but he still only used it when his message was something he deemed important, which tended to make his messages get special attention.

As now.  Colin’s own thoughts stilled, as he asked of his quietest foster son, Can you give me more guidance, Fen?

I do not like to share what I have leaned from feelings that my family cannot hide from me, feelings they would not want to share, Fen reminded him hesitantly. He then continued, But in this case, I believe you must know in order to help her...and she needs your help as her actions may lead Michael and my brothers to a wrong conclusion. She is...frightened. It makes her forget her training and react like the young girl she so dislikes being treated as rather than the Seeress and Queen-in-Waiting we are all used to her being.

Colin was startled. Frightened? Of what? Being bonded? He sensed Fen’s amusement and thought that he must have guessed wrong, but actually, it was his surprise that was the cause of the wry amusement he was reading in Fen’s thoughts.

You forget how differently she was raised. Even the other girls, Magda, Cena and Cera...they had more...exposure... to the ...earthier... side of life. They also had each other to discuss it with. Melli spent most of her free time with the twins, but that was one area she did not share with them, their trips to Kelway.  

Colin was struck by the truth of that observation. Melli spent a great deal of her time with him, studying, and until recently, he was the most chaste of companions, which was proper, of course, but not conducive to a young girl learning how to explore her own sexuality. He flopped down on a chair in dismay. Michael had been smart enough to ensure that the twins’ education in that area had been taken care of at Kelway but he had left Melli to Colin – and Colin had gently rebuffed any suggestion by Michael that Melli be permitted to go to the island and at least participate in its tamer entertainment. She was a Queen in waiting, Colin had stiffly reminded Michael; she had to be kept to a higher standard.

As a consequence, she was ill-prepared for bonded life, he feared. Of course, so were most young royal women, but they had older ladies to talk to, their mothers, sisters, ladies in waiting...Melli had only Magda, who was younger, for all that she was often more practical. There was Fianne, but Colin had taught Melli to keep a distance between herself and the islanders, which unfortunately included even motherly women who watched over the children and would have been happy to prepare her for her wedding night.

Colin looked at the sad-faced girl he loved more than any daughter of his body could have been loved, and told her, “I have failed you terribly, Mellisande. Can you ever forgive me?”

Her own thoughts of mistreatment forgotten at the sight of Colin’s distress, she rushed over to hug him. “Of course you haven’t failed me! You have been the best of fathers to me, dearest Colin! And so has Michael, though he infuriates me so often!” She hugged him tightly. “I beg your forgiveness! I will ask for Michael’s also. Although I hate it when he teases me, I know that I much prefer it to having him be disappointed in me. Please tell me why I was so wrong tonight. Why would you all not want to know if Rafe were the real King?”

Seeing that she was genuinely sorry – and genuinely perplexed – Colin gently urged her to take a seat and poured them both a glass of wine. He looked out the window for a moment, gathering his thoughts, trying to decide where to begin. The view outside his round Tower room gave him inspiration.

“Melli, this room, if you were to see it in a vision and had never seen it before – would you have any trouble knowing whose it was, assuming you knew it was in this new Palace of ours, that is?”

She smiled. This was familiar territory – Colin’s lessons often started out like this and she always got his questions right. The ritual was comforting on a night that had been so confusing.

She looked around the room. “This room is easy – it is rounded and the view outside shows that we are up high so it is a tower room – like a druid prefers. It would be a room for you – or possibly me. Since the colors of the chair and floor coverings are in your favorite shades, I would guess it was yours – and the carvings around the mantle tell me that Michael made the creation of a beautiful room as well as a functional one a priority of his when constructing it. He loves you so much,” she said wistfully.

“He loves all of us but I am very blessed to share a special bond with him now – we have waited many years for our destiny to bring us to this point,” Colin said gently. “Michael is a special man with a great deal of love to share, love that he has not always felt able to show, hence the appearance of coldness. I hope you know better than to think that the coldness is the real man, my dear. He loves you like the daughter that was taken from him and he would willingly give his life for you.”

“I know that,” she said in a small voice “It is whether he is as willing to give his son to me that I question.”

“Rafael is not Michael’s to give – but what he has given to both of you is the freedom to make your own choices,” Colin told her, his voice a shade sterner. He wished he could make her understand what a gift the freedom of choice was! He and Michael had not known it when they were Mellisande’s age. “Michael and I grew up in a different world, where young Royals did not have the privilege of choosing their companions, much less their bondmates. Do not take it for granted. Neither of us gives you and Rafael this freedom lightly or without ... concern. Michael is more comfortable with the decision than I am, in truth.”

Melli was surprised by that confession but she was smart enough not to question it. The last thing she wanted was for Colin to talk Nic into delaying the bonding even longer! As King, he had that right. Which brought her back to the night’s big mistake – Nic was the King. Colin seemed to read her mind, because he brought the conversation back to the same point – which had been his purpose in having this conversation in the first place.

“Just as you can tell by certain signs who a room belongs to when you first see it – an observational skill Michael taught you, incidentally – what signs did you observe about the infant twins in your vision when you first saw them – mere babes in a shared cradle?”

Melli flushed. “I see where you are going with this.”

“Humor me then and let us discuss it please.”

She bit her lip. “The baby Nic seemed more...mischievous. Well, that is what my adult mind called it. But he took the lead in taking off his clothes. Baby Rafe tried putting the nightgown back on Nic – which was very...very...like Rafe. Baby Nic laughed out loud more, while baby Rafe smiled more. Nic was more...squirmy while Rafe was more attentive to details.”

“Very good. That is how I remember them as babies also, although I was just getting to know them at that time. We had not been with them many weeks when that episode occurred. You already seemed to be able to tell them apart, young as you were. Michael always knew which twin was which, as did Adam, and no, I don’t recall it being because of their different clothes because Adam would greet them by name as soon as they were brought into a room, before he knew which outfit his heir was in that day. They looked as alike as two of the pearls the men from Kelway would string together on a necklace, but their personalities were always as different as ice and fire. How did you think such a mistake – once the Kingmark were known to have been made – would have taken place? Think for a moment. It could only have been done with Michael’s and my complicity, Mellisande. We knew the twin with the marked foot was Dominic – how would the twin with the marked foot start being called Rafael, by us!”

Colin’s voice rose – an unusual occurrence but in truth, he was more than a little perturbed by the interpretation Melli had leapt to upon seeing her vision and was very close to losing his temper the more he thought about it.

Perhaps you should be examining why you are angry later...and look now to why she had such a vision instead? Remember what I told you – fear led her to her wrong conclusion, but what would have been the right one?

Once again, Fen’s quiet voice came into his mind. It was very unlike Fen to be so persistent – but then again, as the family’s strongest Empath, Nic had charged him with just this type of task, Colin realized, chagrined. He had agreed it was a good idea that Fen monitor their interactions and intercede when disputes seemed to be getting out of hand with such counsel as he could offer, or to summon another if stronger intervention were needed.  Colin just never thought he would need such help himself! And with Melli of all people!

Thank you, Fen, Colin humbly replied. I will try to do better...and follow your advice.

Melli was quiet. Colin wondered if Fen were offering her counsel as well.

He began again, “Melli, do you feel cheated that Rafael is not to be a King in his own right?” Colin watched her closely, seeking to judge her answer not only by her words but by her reaction to the question. She did not respond at once. When she did, she seemed to choose her words carefully.

“I thought...that is, I always understood that Rafe was to lead the Second Kingdom...once everything was settled. So that is not an issue, is it?”

Oh dear, this may well be a problem, Colin thought. He chose his words just as carefully. “Does your desire to bond with Rafael depend on his being the ruler of his own kingdom?”

Melli jumped up, her eyes flashing. “How could you suggest such a thing? I love Rafe! He is my destiny, my soulmate! I would love him if he were a stableboy! It matters not to me if he is a King. It would be better if he were not, as then we would not have the concerns of two Kingdoms to weigh us down – it is worry enough that he has Nic to look after in addition to helping me. But for you to think so poorly of me as to think first that I want Nic’s throne for Rafe, and now that I would not want Rafe if he were not to have his mother’s throne in the Second Kingdom....”

Colin noted the way Melli alluded to the Second Kingdom as Suzanne’s and not Nic’s – troubling. To Melli, he only answered, “At least I asked you if your feelings would be affected by a change in Rafe’s status. You reached a conclusion about Michael and me that was most damning in our view and you have yet to explain it – perhaps even to yourself. Why would we switch the boys’ identities, as you must concede it could not have been done accidentally!”

Melli stood before him, her mouth open as she finally considered what he was saying. Of course the boys could not have been switched. What had she been thinking? And why hadn’t she stopped to consider the meaning of the dream, instead of rushing around, running into bedrooms.

Her cheeks flamed. “I have been an idiot. I do not deserve Rafe as my husband nor Nic as a brother. Will anyone forgive me?” She began to cry silently, large tears falling from those beautiful blue eyes. Colin opened his arms and she fell against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap, recalling long-gone days when a much smaller Melli cried over simpler problems. He made the same soothing noises that had seemed to comfort her then but felt just as helpless as he had felt the first time she came to him with a broken heart. He recalled it had been a fallen bird that time. He had helped her fix its wing and heal it. He wished all broken hearts were so easily solved.

“No one needs to forgive you because no one was angry in the first place,” he told her. “Rafe’s feelings were hurt, but I believe you can reassure him on that score. As best I can tell, he got the impression you did not find his naked body attractive and if that is indeed the case, we may have a deeper problem to discuss. I can assure you, my dear, male bodies do not come much more attractive than your intended’s.....”

Melli giggled through her tears. “I have noticed...but should you have?”

“I have made a scientific study of the subject of male beauty in general for many years,” Colin told her, glad to hear the giggle, and happy to garner another by saying, “and I assure you, we Allyms have chosen most wisely by selecting Emorys to bond with. It occurs to me though that I have perhaps neglected that part of your bridal preparation and....”

Melli sat up abruptly. “Do not worry, dearest Colin! Nic has, in his way, sought to remedy that. I was not completely happy with him over the delayed wedding but I admit, he did solve that worry of mine over perhaps not being as ready to be a wife as I would wish.”

“What do you mean?” Colin was bewildered, how in the world did Nic solve this – surely he did not instruct Melli about the bridal night! Rafe would kill him!

Melli blushed. “He asked some of the Metamorph women what they did when a motherless woman was to wed. They were really very kind. They threw what they called a bonding party for me. I did not mention it to you because it was really quite bawdy, but Rena and Leife were there, along with some of the other female leaders or leader’s female mates or betas, I am never sure of the exact titles, but it was really very nice. They gave me gifts as well as a good deal of ....special advice.”

Melli did not think there was any need to tell her foster father that the advice was mainly on how to pleasure a man – and much talk about male parts in general! Magda had been invited since she was her bridesmaid, but she was glad that Fianne had decreed that Cera and Cena were too young — some of the discussion had been frank indeed! And then a very handsome man from Kelway had arrived and danced a special dance – which they told her was a tradition to bring good luck. She wasn’t sure about the luck but it certainly brought good dreams!

Colin was able to glean much of what she wasn’t telling him from the expressions on her face and the thoughts which she was projecting more than she realized – and he could feel his own face grow red.

“Well,” he said briskly. “I’m glad the ladies were so kind. And I believe that many of my old lessons about rank and decorum are not suitable for our new world, Melli, so I am pleased that you are making new friends. I hope this continues. The Metamorphs are brave, generous people – and we owe our lives to them. We cannot forget that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Colin looked at her keenly. He knew that tone – she did not agree completely – but he hoped she would think about what he said. It was not that Melli disliked the Metamorphs, but rather that her belief in the superiority of the Telepaths, and especially the Royal Families and those of the Third Kingdom especially – went deep. He bore a large part of the blame for that.

He sighed. He could not undo the attitudes of a lifetime in one evening. Taking her hands, he asked her gently, “Do you believe the vision was a true one, and if so, we must examine it. Why did the goddess send it to you now?”

“Well,” Melli spoke slowly. “You said you remembered the incident, correct?”

Colin nodded, and held his breath, almost afraid to hear what would come out next, but praying to the goddess that the true-hearted girl he raised would make the right decision.

“So I think...now that I am thinking...that the goddess wanted me to see that vision so I would know that a King is more than the mark on a baby’s foot. A King can be royal even when he is sitting on a floor, kissing a baby’s belly. And a Queen can be a foolish woman who thinks that she must harm a child in order to know her own grandson.  Queen Alicia would have been wiser to have gotten to know the boys like King Adam had gotten to know the twins in the short time he had with them.” The blue eyes were filled with a different kind of tears as Melli was no longer crying for herself but for losses suffered long ago. Colin rubbed her back comfortingly even as he was comforted by the wiser words she was now speaking.

“But then, maybe that was part of her reason. She knew she would not have that time to get to know them. I think that this vision shows that Nic was marked as the King from his birth – in blood and pain – two potent symbols – though Michael may not have realized it at the time.  I will have to research it. There is something more at work here, some older magic than we know, but the Second Kingdom excelled in the older magics, you have told me. Nic is more fey than Rafe, more in touch with the earth – and I suspect that Queen Alicia was bonding him as King to her Kingdom with that scarring to that she would always know the true heir even if the boys were taken far away.”

Colin nodded in surprise. That was a good analysis – he would have to discuss it with Michael. He agreed that they should look into it. He and Michael had both simply written it off as a barbaric custom but now that Melli analyzed it, it made sense that there was more to it. Melli was not done.

“I also think that both Lycan and I needed to know the significance of this ‘Kingmark’ as we ready ourselves for Nic’s coronation and the eventual taking of the Second Kingdom,” she said. “Lore will no doubt make mention of this mark – and the fact that Rafe has one also may someday come in handy. We should keep his duplicate scar hidden. Just in case.”

Colin raised an eyebrow. It was a novel idea but it felt right. Melli was looking at him anxiously – he smiled at her.

The Advisor was pleased...as was the father. Melli burst into tears again, but this time they were tears of relief. Colin called for Fen telepathically, only to be told that he was at some type of party. At this hour?

I can come if you really need me, the young man offered.

No, I only thought you might keep Melli company for a short while until she fell asleep, but I will walk her back to her room. Colin repressed a sigh. So much for rejoining Michael any time soon. He wondered what sort of party Fen was at...and sought his partner with his mind.

Ah, that sort of party. And Michael was there too! He wondered if it would be wrong to give Melli a sleeping draught as they used to when she was small.

She surprised him, however, when she bid him goodnight at the door to her bedchamber, insisting that she was sleepy and did not need company. He would have been more surprised had he seen her hurry to Magda’s bed as soon as the door closed behind her.

“Magda! Quick, wake up! There is some type of revelry going on down by the beach. Let us sneak down and see what the men are up to – I think it is that Bonding Party the Metamorph women told us about.”

Magda was awake at once. “The one with the challenges and naked wrestling?”

Melli nodded.

“Let me get our cloaks – it can get cold at night, down there by the water. Though the sight of that Jax wrestling naked would warm me up quickly enough!”

The girls giggled and quickly dressed for warmth and stealth, in breeches and dark shirts, clothes that Nic had given to them for just this type of adventure, though they hadn’t worn them in a long while. Magda smiled to see petite Melli in the boyish outfit.

“Rafe would be furious to see us heading out like this,” she commented, grinning.

Melli smiled back at her friend. “We’ll blame it on Nic.”

Magda laughed and agreed, “That always works. Let’s go.”

***********

The noise of the men shouting woke Nic – it took him a few seconds to realize where he was. His strange dream was mingled in his mind with the images of the earlier part of the evening – Rafe coming into his bedchamber and interrupting his and Lycan’s lovemaking, going to find Melli in Michael and Colin’s room and the troubling discussion there....the Bonding Party.

That was it. He was at the Bonding Party. And now, thanks to his dream, he knew that his earlier sense that the wedding needed to be delayed was right, but he was wrong about why. His brother and Melli were indeed destined to bond and mate, in order to produce a special child – though that child’s conception needed to take place at the change of season.

Nic was so caught up in his thoughts it took him a moment to realize that his name was being called, and that Lycan had relaxed his embrace in order to sit up straighter.

“It’s King Nic I want to see! We’ve seen Lord Rafael fight and he is powerful indeed, but you heard me, what I’m asking is, why isn’t the one who is supposed to be leading us showing us he can fight? I’ll challenge him if none of the rest of you are man enough to do it!”

Bran howled and started over toward the challenger, waving back several of Lycan’s men, as well as Lycan himself, who growled low, but Nic jumped up.  A good fight was just what he needed to clear his head.

“Who is it who wishes to see me fight?”

Rafe shook his head warningly at Lycan while Michael just laughed. Lycan and Bran were not sure how to interpret their responses, so they continued with their own judgment, which meant that Bran kept heading toward the challenger, a large Dog Metamorph, who was from a Southern Pack. Lycan held onto Nic.

“He is not known to us, Nic. You have not watched the fighting...it is not...civilized.”

Nic rolled his eyes. “Has my brother been doing it?”

Lycan grinned. “Yes, and surprisingly well. But....”

Nic raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting, Wolf, that Rafe is a better fighter than I am?”

Lycan paused. How to answer that question honestly and yet not offend?  As he understood it, Rafe had been trained to protect Nic, the King, so, yes, he assumed that Rafe, who had proved to be an excellent fighter, was better than his sweet-natured mate. He paused too long.

“That settles it,” Nic declared. He pulled off his tunic as he called out in his clearest, most carrying voice, “I accept your challenge. Prepare for pain, upstart from the South.”

The gathered men laughed at the King’s words, and immediately started placing bets. Nic was popular, but the challenger had already wrestled several times that night and had established himself as both skilled and ruthless. These matches were very freeform – to call them wrestling matches was to give them a formality that they did not deserve, Colin thought. He had joined the gathering about a half hour earlier and had been watching quietly from the edge of the crowd, not wishing to disturb Michael at play – yet. In truth, he hoped Michael intended to engage in one of the matches and show them all what true skill was, though he doubted anyone present neared his mate in skill or strength, although possibly Lycan could give him a challenge. He suspected Michael joined him in hoping for the chance for the two of them to fight. Michael combined skill and strength with a ruthlessness that gave him an advantage against opponents who did not know him.

The only other fighter who came close to Michael’s ruthlessness was Nic – but no one outside their family knew that.

Yet.

Ran, the Raven Master, watched from the opposite side of the large central fire. He moved closer to the Dance Master, who was grinning in anticipation of the match to come. Michael shifted to make room for the smaller man, and to Ran’s pleasure, offered him some tobacco.

“You do not seem concerned about your boy,” Ran commented before spitting, careful to send the juice into the flame as Michael had taught him. Together they watched the sparks shoot up, much as the noise of the crowd rose when Nic stepped confidently into the center of the fighting circle.  He had paused to cast a spell that braided his long hair tightly against his head – the last spell he would be casting until the bout was over. Michael murmured his approval of the choice. Rafe had left his hair styled in a long tail and more than one of his opponents had tried pulling it until he had taken to doing some hair pulling in retaliation. That tactic would not be effective against a Dog Metamorph; they were hairy men but they tended to keep the hair on their heads short.

Michael knew that Nic’s taut muscular form was a surprise to many of the watching men who somehow expected  him to be smaller than his brother. The twins had been identical before Nic’s bonding but the months since then had made Nic’s musculature, always wiry, more impressively defined.  The more experienced fighting men evaluating the two contestants, which included the man sitting next to Michael, knew that smaller did not mean weaker. Nic was like tempered steel, and while Michael had done his best to train both of his sons to be the best fighters they could possibly be, only Nic was capable of a cold ruthlessness equal to Michael’s own when it came to fighting.  He was viewed as the gentler, more sensitive twin, and in many ways he was... but not when in a fight.

Once Nic decided to fight, he fought to win. It was the only way he knew.  Rafe used to be able to beat him on occasion, but Michael suspected that in recent years those times happened only because Nic let his twin win. Most recently, only Michael could defeat Nic when he was determined to win.

The Dog Metamorph did not know it, but he did not stand a chance in hand to hand combat against his King.

“No magic,” Ren warned, stepping forward to act as referee. “If you get into trouble, you tap out, your Highness. You cannot use your powers to escape the fight.”

Beren, who was acting as the other referee, cried out, “Shame, Ren! Our Nic is no coward, he would not cheat!”

“Just making sure he knows the rules,” Ren said innocently. “He was dozing over there; he may not have realized how we play.”

“That’s true, Nic was sleeping,” Hildebran, the peacemaker, called over cheerfully. “Lycan proved too comfortable a bed for even a Bonding Party’s noise to keep Nic awake!”

The laughter that followed relieved the tension of the moment.

Nic looked over toward Hildebran, amused. “You are quite right. But now I am well rested, Ren, and avoiding magic will not be a problem. I only used it to speed the braiding of my hair, Lycan assured me that was not a rule violation. But tell me, Hildebran, if I should be so lucky as to win against this fine Challenger, am I correct in thinking that I get to make my own challenge?”

Beren answered him. “You beat Curren here and you can fight anyone you want, Nic, but maybe you should worry about one battle at a time?”

Curren looked to be feeling a bit sorry that he had agreed to do this now that the King was not only being such a good sport about it, but was looking a bit tougher than he had expected. Michael had been watching closely and he was fairly certain that it had been Ren’s whispered suggestion in the big Dog Metamorph’s ear that made him make such an outrageous challenge.  He was looking very uncomfortable, though Ren seemed to be giving him a pep talk as Beren stood with Nic and gave him some final instructions on the rules – until someone called out and reminded the fatherly bear that there were no rules.

“That Curren looks like he just remembered how much his Pack relies on the Wolf Pack for added protection,” Ran commented in his low voice. “But, a challenge is a challenge and honor demands that he not allow himself to be defeated by such a small opponent, King or no King. Care to wager on your lad, Dance Master?”

Michael laughed low. “It would be stealing your money, Raven Master. But I will wager tobacco, a bag of your best against a bag of mine if you have any doubts that Nic will win. I do not think Nic will let it rest with just one bout, though. Michael watched his son closely. Nic was stalling the beginning of the fight with more light-hearted teasing but all the while, he was watching Ren with narrowed eyes. No, Ren would not get off free after causing this trouble. Michael wondered if he should discourage his son...or look forward to a more interesting battle.

Curren must have reached the same conclusion as Nic – why should he, or worse, his Pack, be the only ones to suffer, win or lose, from Ren’s mischief making?

“Ren might be a good place to start, he was so eager to see you fight,” Curren suggested to Nic as they clasped arms and bowed, the customary preface to the match.

Nic grinned wolfishly. “My thought exactly. May the best fighter win, friend,”

Bran came over to Lycan’s side. His Alpha was tense as his mate began to fight...but the tension lasted for all of ten heartbeats. It was soon clear that Nic would be fine. The winner of the match was evident within the first few minutes. Indeed, Rafe and Michael could have told Lycan that Nic made it appear more of a contest than it really was simply to preserve Curren’s pride. The Metamorph did not present any challenge at all for the King.    

Michael watched his son fight with a critical eye but found no real fault other than that he could have ended the fight sooner than he did, and Michael understood Nic’s reasons for letting it last longer than it needed to. In reality, Nic was warming up but he was doing so in the manner Michael had taught him. Curren was a good fighter, big and strong, but without any of the technique Michael had taught his sons from their boyhood so he was at Nic’s mercy. Nic easily escaped every hold he tried and repeatedly threw the big man to the ground – painfully.

Soon enough Nic had Curren pinned in an excruciating hold; he was declared the winner after Curren tapped out. Nic sprang up cheerfully, accepted the cheers from the gathered men and waved off a proffered mug of mead from Beren. Instead of drinking himself, he helped Curren up and told Beren to give Curren the mug. He then turned toward Ren, who was moving back into the crowd.

“Stay, Ren – Raven Master’s son! Let us fight face to face, hand to hand – no more sly whispers or getting others to fight for you. That is...if you feel up to it.”

Nic smiled coldly. Ren had been slipping into the shadows but he whipped around at Nic’s words.

“Well, this throws the cat among the starlings...or ravens,” a new voice commented softly. A dark clad figure appeared in the shadows behind Ran and Michael. 

Michael stiffened. He had not even noticed the strange Metamorph’s approach. He knew who the man was from Nic’s description of his meeting with the Cat Master – but what was Pelien doing here? The comment, and the Elder Leader’s appearance at his son’s Bonding Party was ... disturbing, to say the least. He reached for Colin with his mind.

Colin “spoke” to him before he said a word. I see...be cautious, but cordial. If it is acceptable to you I will observe from a distance...for now at least. I do not believe he is aware of me so I would prefer to watch and see if I can glean anything by watching without being seen.

Good idea. His power is...strong, though strange to me. Even then, I believe he is masking it, or trying to. Careful, he is a Telepath of some type but I am having trouble getting a read on exactly the nature of his telepathic power. It is a different type of power than ours. More like Lycan’s rougher style but in an enhanced form.

Ran had turned to greet the Cat Master and Michael was impressed that the Raven Master nodded respectfully but did not lose his trademark calm.

“Pelien, good to see you. Have you met Lord Michael, Sire to King Dominic, younger brother to King Adam?”

Michael turned gracefully and waited to see how the Cat Master greeted him. To his surprise, Pelien bowed – an almost unheard of gesture for Metamorphs generally and especially for a Leader. Pelien smiled at the surprise his gesture caused in Ran and offered an explanation.

“You rarely err in matters of etiquette, Raven Master, but in this instance, you have omitted your friend’s greatest title – he is the Dance Master and there is none who stands higher in the Three Kingdoms than he. Although I concede that he has much to be proud of in his siring of the King and his brother, they are fine young men, the Dance Master is without equal in this Kingdom on his own merit. I welcome this introduction, Michael Emory. I knew your predecessor and counted it an honor to call him friend. Though we are only just met, I hope the day may come when you and I may come to be friends as well.”

Michael inclined his head slightly at this gracious greeting and offered his arms for the Cat Master to clasp – his high rank was not one he had ever acknowledged, and indeed, Metamorphs accorded it far more respect than the Royals ever had. Although he had been taught its true significance by his Mentor, it was something that had faded into the recesses of his mind over the years. The goddess gave him other tasks to accomplish and bade him wait to take up his role of Dance Master again. The roles of Assassin and then Father and Protector came before that of Dance Master, though he had been able to perform it in a small way while on the island. He sometimes felt as though he were living a dual life – that of Michael, father to his sons, and that of the Dance Master, the otherworldly creature who had no ties to mere mortals.

He forced himself to focus on the moment at hand.

“May the goddess protect you,” Michael said, the polite response coming automatically to his lips as his thoughts whirled.

“And you and yours,” Pelien replied. “Let us postpone further talk until after we watch this next fight – I must hope we see more of a testament to your tutelage than the last bout. I know that Ran has also raised a good fighter in his son so this should be interesting. And please Ran, refrain from expectorating – it makes my hair crawl.”

Michael smiled faintly at Ran’s expression. The Raven Master could be crotchety but even he would not go against an Elder Leader such as Pelien. Colin’s keen eyes had noticed the Cat Leader’s presence but the man’s dark clothing, and what Michael suspected was a form of glamour, was keeping others from noticing his presence. He tried to determine if Pelien had cast any other spells, but could not detect anything other than his clever use of the shadows and the fact that the wind was in the right direction to keep his scent away from such Metamorphs as Lycan who might have come over to see what he wanted.

Lycan also would have come over to protect Michael...not that he needed anyone else’s protection, the Dance Master thought to himself, even as he was conscious of his mate’s worried gaze. He sent a reassuring thought to Colin.

Do not worry so – he seems to be here in friendship – and curiosity. He claims a friendship with my old Master. He is possibly the only one besides the Horse Master who would still remember him.

And you, Colin reminded him.

Ah, make me feel old. Is this fight ever going to start?

Ren was stalling. Nic was bouncing on his heels, waiting patiently. Rafe had walked over to him. The two of them made quite a sight. They had chosen to keep short loose breeches on, more from the cold than modesty, their relative hairlessness making a revelry on the beach in early winter less comfortable for them than the Metamorphs. But half dressed as they were, their torsos gleaming in the firelight, their faces alight with health and good spirits.

Michael was filled with pride and contentment. This is good, Colin. Forget intrigue – come over here and watch by my side as our boy whips some respect into that thorn in his side. I cannot leave these two leaders – or so you would no doubt tell me, so you will have to come to me.

Colin had to smile even as he shook his head. So much for political intrigue. And in fact, he had been wishing he could be with Michael, sharing some wine. He had spied the two girls, dressed as boys, crouched low behind some bushes on the edge of the scene and had been about to send them away to bed, but Michael’s contentment made him stop. Maybe this was a good scene for Melli to watch – and how much trouble could she get into with her male protectors all around and Magda right by her side?

Coming, he told Michael.

Meanwhile, Ran was speaking to Michael in his low melodic voice. “I would take it as a personal favor if your son did not seriously maim my son – he is physically healed from his captivity, due in no small part to the efforts of your good druid, Lord Colin. But he is far from recovered in his mind. My flocks already are aligned with your House, but it will be a personal debt from the Raven Master to your son and your family, if Nic does not cripple him. Please convey that message to him in the way your people can.”

Pelien put his hand on Ran’s shoulder. “You have suffered much from the Telepath trouble, Raven Master.”

Ran flushed. “I do not blame Telepaths. We all suffer hardships. But indeed, Ren cannot help it if his long captivity has made him a fool. How can any of us know how we would react to a captivity, no matter who is the captor?”

Michael felt a shiver run over him. He knew how he felt when it was his son held captive – and knowing it was a Telepath who had done it, one of his own people did not make it any easier. He told Ran, “I will send Nic the message but as one father to another – let me tell you – it is not necessary. Nic would not cripple Ren. He would hurt him, yes, because he feels he must show your son he is strong. But he would not do anything we cannot heal. Ren has been hurt psychically and if I am reading Nic’s intentions correctly, he feels that Ren needs to be disciplined and this gives him a venue in which to do it. He already loves you, Ran, you have his allegiance in every way possible. But Nic cannot be swayed from what he thinks is the best path, not even by his father. If you wish the fight stopped, I will have to do so by stronger means.”

“You could stop this fight,” Pelien suggested sharply.

“By fighting Nic myself...no other way,” Michael told them. “But if you still wish it, Ran, I will give the message. And yes, as a father who knows what it is like to have his son held captive, and who cannot imagine what it would be like to have such a captivity last for years – I will intervene even to the point of challenging Nic. It would be quite a fight, I can assure you,” Michael’s lips quirked up. “But is that the best thing for your son?”

Ran frowned, then said, “No, Ren would never forgive me. I will trust to your judgment that your son will not do serious damage to Ren. And I will trust that the King knows what he is doing. He is young to be that sure of himself.”

“Yes, he is,” was all that Michael replied. He welcomed Colin with an arm clasping him close to his side. Since the two fighters were finally moving into position opposite each other, the introductions between Pelien and Colin were brief – and telepathic. Pelien did not pretend not to “hear” it and cordially responded, proving his ability to communicate easily to more than one Telepath at a time. Colin was not sure they could be confident their “private” conversations were secure from this Metamorph who was so skilled in Telepath ways.

Michael saw that Lycan had moved very close to the fighters, as had Rafe and Hildebran, who were acting as the referees, in addition to Beren and Everun. It was unusual to have such close kinsfolk serve, Pelien explained to Colin, sensing the Druid’s interest, but due to the clear animosity between the two combatants, it was not uncommon for a “second” to stand ready to step in, should the fighter be unable to proceed.

Ran was pale with worry. Michael took his eyes off Nic and Ren to ask the Raven Master, “Do you not accept my word? Nic will not seriously harm your son.” Michael’s tone was sharp.

“I am not concerned just for my son being hurt,” Ran replied tensely. “I do not want Ren to do anything...foolish.”

And indeed, it was clear that this bout was not going to be a friendly test of skill. Ren was a skilled fighter – and what Michael would have called a dirty one. He feigned a fall in order to get Nic to pull back. Nic’s intention was to allow Ren time to recover his balance. Instead, the Raven Metamorph slashed at the back of Nic’s knee, aiming for the tendon with his long nails that were much like claws when extended even in his man form. Fortunately Nic had very quick reflexes and was able to jump over the slashing arm, countering with a round kick to keep Ren down.

The crowd roared its approval of the maneuvers – though a few, some of the highly honorable Elks and a few of the Wolves, made their disapproval of the sneaky attack known. The younger Telepaths who were there, Eamon and Fen, were quiet, not wanting to distract Nic. Colin glanced over at Melli and Magda and saw that they were watching wide-eyed, their hands clasped together. Melli’s eyes were darting back and forth worriedly between Rafe and Nic. Not only would she be concerned for Nic, but she no doubt realized that Rafe would be stepping in to fight Ren if Nic went down. And she would understand the political ramifications if either man were to seriously hurt the other.

Nic was using tactics that kept him away from Ren’s claws as much as possible. He was able to land a flying kick into Ren’s mid-section that sent him reeling, but the Raven Metamorph recovered quickly, his face looking all the more determined. Nic had been right, Michael thought, this battle was good for Ren, in that he was getting out his anger and frustration, directly at the one he seemed to see as the focal point of his dissatisfaction. But this was not a big, slow moving fighter who relied on his strength like Curren had been, Michael noted, concerned that Nic was not taking Ren seriously enough as an opponent. Ren was fast – very fast. And while he was not as strong as Nic, those claws of his gave him a decided advantage – it was like having eight knives attached to the ends of his arms.

Nic delivered two hard blows – but should have realized that Ren did not even try to avoid them. He allowed Nic to get that close so he could use his claws to slash again, this time at Nic’s bare chest. Nic avoided the second slash but the first one laid open four long cuts across his chest which bled freely.

“Damn fool,” Ran muttered. He spit, forgetting Pelien’s request in his nervousness. No one said anything as the flame of the fire flared. Michael and Colin were busy judging how long Nic could bleed like that without being healed, before his fighting would be impaired.

“Ready to quit, King Nic?” Ren mocked. His words were light but Michael heard fear that the Raven had not intended.

“It’s going to take more than a few cuts to stop me – though a foolish leader might fail to see how weak he can become from such small cuts, made over time, and find himself in real trouble,” Nic gasped back. “Bran, you’d better hold my mate back – and assure him he will get to lick my chest clean as soon as I’m done here. I am not a foolish leader or a foolish fighter and I know when to put a stop to such tactics. It is time to clip your claws...and sorry to say it, but your wings for a bit as well.”

Ren gasped at the implication and moved to incapacitate Nic. Michael smiled grimly, and left his spot to aid Bran in restraining his bondson, who was roaring his displeasure at the serious damage Ren was trying to inflict. Lycan was failing to see what was very clear to Michael and Ran. Nic was about to end the fight with the exhausted Metamorph. Ignoring the blood that was pouring from his chest, Nic moved in close to Ren again, and when Ren swung to slash, Nic caught his opponent’s right arm and twisted it expertly. The crack of the breaking limb was audible over the sudden hush of the large crowd.

Ren screamed...then, courageously, or foolishly, depending on one’s point of view, he fought fiercely to twist enough to get at Nic with his other arm; he slashed at Nic’s face, barely missing his eye. Nic clamped one arm over Ren’s chest and broken arm, holding him still, and then slowly, deliberately, grabbed his other arm and twisted it until it too broke. He then tossed Ren down onto the sand and knelt next to him – the blood dripped down from Nic’s cut cheek to splatter on Ren’s chest. He spoke to him in a low voice but Michael’s keen hearing picked up the words.

“If you try to slash at me again, or do anything other than concede defeat with that hand, I swear I will break every one of your fingers. Now, is this fight done?”

At Ren’s weak nod, Nic got up, staggering slightly. “I believe you can declare a winner, Everun, Beren... Rafe, please get Colin and start healing his arms. Lycan, I could use some help, please.”

Lycan was by his side in a flash, catching Nic before he fell from loss of blood. The crowd of men cheered the battle – the violent end did not dismay the Metamorphs at all.  Rafe and Hildebran helped Ren outside of the fighting area to a quiet place where Colin met him and offered healing. 

Ran looked toward them and then at Nic, who had been brought by Lycan to Michael, who had begun to close the wounds on his chest. The Raven Master was torn – to go to his son or to deal with the political fall-out from this troubling fight. A Leader before a father, he dealt with the politics, but used his status as father.

“I am not sure you were quite correct in your judgment, Dance Master,” Ran said, speaking slowly. Michael stopped what he was doing to turn and look at him as he continued. “You told me your son would not seriously hurt mine, yet I see my son with two broken arms. Do you have any idea what broken arms mean to a Bird Metamorph? He may....”

“Never fly again,” Nic said, his voice cold. He stood to answer Ran, deeming this discussion more appropriately addressed to him rather than his father. “And I also know that Colin can heal him partially but he will need my help or that of my father to heal him completely – which Colin will tell him. Will your son be wise enough to accept it? It will be offered as soon as my injuries are healed, which had to be done soon and necessitated a harsh step in the fight because he was close to causing me to bleed to death – which he knew and intended. He was aiming for arteries. He hit my chest because he missed. Mind you, I was not trying to read his mind nor did I block his thoughts when he was projecting them so clearly. Your son wanted me dead during that fight, Raven Master – I had hoped to lance the hate from him by giving him an opportunity to act on it as fully as possible, and yes, I was using pain to shock him from whatever trance has held him in its sway. It is my judgment that he has not been himself since he was freed from the Tower. I took a risk in this battle to free him from the prison of his own mind this way because he will not trust us to try any other way.”

Ran’s black eyes met Nic’s look with his own hard stare – then his whole body slumped. “I did not think there could be anything worse than his never returning. But now it seems that he has returned – and yet not come back to us.”

Michael felt that chill again – and he caught Pelien’s knowing green eyes on him from the shadows. He forced the sense of premonition away – the goddess would take care of the future. For now, a distraction was needed.  He spoke briskly.

“Nic, rest for now. I have stanched your cuts, they will not scar so your mate will have no complaints with your beauty being marred. But I believe Ran has a valid complaint – breaking Ren’s arms breaks my word to him. I feel the need to avenge his house and since you are not up to any more fighting, I will have to take my...umbrage out on your mate. Ren’s arms can wait for our healing, it will not do him any harm as long as Colin has begun the healing process. And there is a young lad over there in the crowd who can be called over to lend assistance. I believe I must attend first to vengeance.”

Nic laughed. Ran tilted his head quizzically. “What are you talking about?” 

“My father is challenging me to a fight, in his own roundabout way,” Nic explained. “And also noting that my sisters have been spying on the fighting – I will send them a message to go aid Colin and Rafe. But Assassin, I do not believe I am quite up to fighting you. Will you accept a substitute if I can find a Champion willing to fight for me?”

Lycan, who had been silent through all of this exchange, but listening closely, was at first appalled at the idea that Michael wanted to defend Ren’s honor, but now saw that his Bondsire simply wanted an excuse to fight – and who it was he wanted to fight! Realizing that he would not be suggesting such a bout unless Nic were truly out of any danger, Lycan grinned broadly – he too welcomed a chance to work off some stress.

“I will stand Champion for my mate and my King, now and always! Let us show these men what a real fight looks like – though I trust that you will not be trying to kill me as I will not be trying to kill you – simply defeating you will be my goal.”

Michael and Dominic both laughed, joyous laughs that rang out and drew the attention of the noisy crowd and lifted the spirits of everyone who heard – even Ren, in his pain, could not help but smile slightly. What he next heard made him smile in surprise and look questioningly at Rafe for an explanation.

“You may find that is not so simple,” Nic told his mate, grinning. Then, with Lycan’s help, he got to his feet and called out in a ringing voice to the gathered men whose attention was already directed toward him. “The Dance Master has issued a challenge on behalf of the Raven Master’s son Ren – deeming the injury to his arms, and hence, his wings, worthy of championing. Since I am, by virtue of Ren’s fierce battle skills not in the condition to accept the challenge, my Champion, Wolf Leader Lycan has accepted the Challenge for me, and....”

Nic’s words were drowned out as the crowd erupted into a raucous cheer. Lycan was known to be the best fighter among the Metamorphs, so much so that he rarely fought anymore because no one gave him a challenge. The Dance Master, aka, Assassin, was legendary, but no one had seen him fight without magic – and they very much wanted the chance. Nic appreciated that his father had suggested the very thing to make everyone forget any ugliness in his bout with Ren – though he hoped they did not also forget the lesson he had worked to impart!

Michael and Lycan stripped to face off. Colin glanced up from working on Ren’s arms and just as he was admiring the beautiful male forms the two men presented, he heard a gasp from behind him.

“Melli! Magda! What are you two doing here?” Rafe’s shock was nothing compared to the shock Colin could sense coming from the two girls as they witnessed their foster father and foster-brother’s mate’s nude forms.

Michael – would you conjure something for you and Lycan to fight in that will cover your...genitals? I told you Melli and Magda were here. Colin sent an urgent message to his mate.

His mate was not sympathetic. I will not fight encumbered nor ask Lycan to do so. They have inappropriately been watching naked strangers for some time this evening – let them explain that to Rafe and you. I do not like it but since they chose to do it, let them suffer their embarrassment. I have nothing to be ashamed of – do I?

Colin sent an admiring thought to his partner. You know the answer to that. Do well, love. I will deal with the girls.

One is on the eve of her bonding; she really should be past such skittishness.  And I am sure Magda will just look away, as a good daughter, or consider the body as nothing to be ashamed of. In this context it is not sexual, it is...athletic.

Colin thought for a moment and realized that he agreed. He still had so much to learn from Michael. He turned toward Melli and Magda, repressing a smile at their boyish garb. “Good, you are here to help heal Ren I suppose. I could use your skills. Melli, would you help Rafe with his right arm while Magda, I could use your help with his left. Ren, do you know both of my daughters? I must apologize for their sneaking into the bonding party, which is a male only tradition, I believe.”

Ren smiled through his pain. “Nay, many Metamorph warrior women do what is called ‘crashing’ the bonding party, and even in mixed partnerships, between Metamorphs and other peoples, the bride is encouraged by the Metamorph women to witness the bonding party if she dares. It is viewed as good luck to see her intended mate’s strength. I hope, Lady Mellisande, that you had the chance to witness how strong and skilled Lord Rafael is – you are blessed by the goddess in your partner.”

After making Melli blush with that gracious speech, Ren turned to Magda and smiled weakly. “I am honored to meet another beautiful daughter of Lord Colin’s, Lady Magda, and would much appreciate your help – if you can bear to tear your attention away from the fight that is beginning. Indeed, I think I would understand if all of you pause in your healing efforts – this promises to be quite a battle and since it is supposedly fought in my honor, however spurious that excuse might be, it behooves me to pay attention also.”

Magda laughed and lightly touched Ren’s shoulder since he was unable to offer his arms in greeting. She spoke in her friendly way, breaking the silence since Melli and Rafe were clearly having silent speech between each other – much needed in her opinion. “May the goddess bless you and yours, Ren, if I may call you that, but I am not a Lady, just Magda is fine. I am good at blocking pain, so if you do not mind my doing that for you while we watch the fight, we can continue the healing when it is over. I think that it might be a good idea to let Rafe and Melli get over their distractions of a different sort, do you not agree, Colin?”

Colin did agree. He suggested to them that if they did not need to watch the fight – a good idea for Melli to miss it in his opinion. Better that Rafe take her behind some  convenient bushes and kiss away their earlier misunderstandings. Not that he made his suggestion that blatant but close enough. Rafe looked shocked but then eager. After making sure that Ren was comfortable, and chastising an unapologetic Magda for bringing Melli to the beach, he did exactly that.

Well, there’s two problems solved – the unhappy groom to be and the shocked bride to be, about to see two naked men whom she was not ready to see, commented an irreverent Nic to Colin.

Very funny, Colin replied dryly. I could continue work on you if you need it. Do you want to come here or should I come to you? I could leave Ren with Magda; he has been quite charming to her.

He has that ability, Nic noted thoughtfully. No, I will stay here with Ran as a sign of unity. Plus, there is Pelien here still, hidden from the eyes of the crowd. I wish to keep watch on him.

As you wish. Take it easy. You lost a great deal of blood, and that is not something we can fix easily.

I know, believe, I would not have broken his wings had I seen another way to end the fight quickly – short of breaking his neck.

Like everyone else, Nic and Colin turned their attention then to the two men now circling each other in the fighting area. Lycan was far bigger than Michael, a good foot taller and possibly twice his weight, Colin judged, for all that Lycan had no fat on him. He was very densely muscled, and while he was lean in his waist and hips, he had a broad chest and shoulders. His arms were thickly muscled as were his thighs.  Michael looked small standing across from him – but his body was ...perfection.

If I were a sculptor, Colin thought, Michael’s body is what I would use as a model of the perfect male body. Lycan was not as proportioned as Michael. He had thick legs and arms from running since he used all four limbs in his wolf form, and his torso was long and lean – like a wolf, but with a wolf’s thicker shoulders. It was a handsome body, but not as artistically pleasing as Michael’s nor was it as maneuverable in his human form, Colin suspected. Michael must have had the same thought as they surveyed each other because he made a surprising offer.

“Do you want to fight in your man or wolf form? Either is acceptable to me, I will not use magic, of any type, either way,” he told his bond son casually. “Though I must tell you, there is a certain overlap between my skill as a fighter and my dancing, and you will have to take my word for it that I am not calling upon any dance magic.”

Lycan grinned, “If you can be confident enough in your skill to offer to fight the Wolf, I can trust you not to use your magic, Bondsire, though I will stay in this form. The Wolf can get carried away in a fight and while you can control not using your magic, I cannot say the same with the animal. Shall we get started? Who are our referees?”

They looked around, realizing that everyone was so eager to watch, no one had stepped forward to referee. It occurred to the watching men that none of them might be able to step in on the Dance Master, and there was a palpable pause...until a man in black stepped forward.

“I will referee this bout, if you will have me.”

It was Pelien. To most there he was a creature of legend, the equal of the Dance Master himself – until seen, no one quite believed he still existed! But they knew what he looked like, Nic noted to himself. How was that if not by some type of mental telepathy? Did the Metamorphs have books, or share pictures in some way? He would have to ask Lycan later. For now, Fen was stepping forward to join the Cat Elder.

“I will join as the second Referee, if that is acceptable,” Fen quietly offered. Lycan smiled at him and nodded his head toward Pelien..

“I find both of you excellent Referees, Bear Cub, welcome, Cat Master and thank you for the honor of serving in our friendly bout!”

Michael thanked both of them also and then gestured for the fight to begin. He was eager to start. Nic had to smile – it might be the Referees’ duty to decide when the fight started – and as the elder, that honor fell to Pelien, but Michael automatically took control of every situation. As Nic had noted before, Michael was a natural born leader, and whether he claimed the title of King or not, he was one. Nic resolved to learn as much as he could about this “Dance Master” legend and what about it would make a person forgo a kingdom – and conversely – what had his father given up in order to keep his brother and him safe.

Michael relished this chance to really fight – for the fun of it and not, as in the battle against the Hell Hound, when lives were at stake. He had no choice then but to call upon his strongest magic. In truth, he depleted his offensive magical powers for some time on that day – and in saving Donal, he may have offended the goddess, but he did not regret his choice. He danced dances of penitence and gratitude each night – not that any of the others knew, although Colin suspected. Still, he welcomed this chance to “howl at the moon.” He missed the island and especially the free-spirited Kelway people, and the Metamorphs were a people after his own heart. It was rather ironic, really, that it was a solemn Druid who had captured him, when his own spirit was so much more like a Metamorph, he mused as he considered Lycan, and the best way to fight him

Lycan was not your typical big man, he knew – and his first blows allayed any concern he had that his Bondson might not put forth his best effort against him. When the Wolf Leader hit you, it hurt.

Best not to let his blows land then, came the amused thought from his elder son.

I hope he bests you regularly, Michael responded, before he became busy doing just as Nic advised, avoiding those large fists. These wrestling matches were more of a mixed martial arts – wrestling plus boxing, plus whatever the fighter could do to bring down his opponent. Michael excelled at it actually, having honed his palace taught skills in the streets of the cities, hiding out with gangs of toughs to learn their ways, with fists and knives. He traveled to other lands once Colin taught him to teleport – much as he hated it – and also learned the islanders' tricks. He also used his dance moves, though without adding the magic.  So his fighting style was a strange and unpredictable combination of jumps, leaps, rolls, kicks and punches, all delivered at lightning fast pace.

To a brick wall in this case, that moved at a similarly fast speed. It was exhilarating. One of Lycan’s blows sent Michael flying backward but he rolled upon landing and spun back, landing a kick that sent Lycan staggering, but not down, as it would have any other man. Michael swore cheerfully.

“Do you have no weak spot?” he asked his Bondson.

Lycan grinned. “I would be a fool indeed to tell you, now wouldn’t I?”

Beren called out, “I can answer that, Dance Master! Lycan’s weak spot has dark curly hair, purple eyes and....” Bran tackled the Bear Leader to shut him up but it was too late, the crowd’s laughter drowned out any answer Lycan or Michael made from being overheard.

This was to Michael’s liking anyway as he said in a low voice, “That is not a weak spot I will ever hold against you.”

“Nor is it one I will ever be ashamed of.”

Lycan had gleaned much watching Rafe and Nic fighting, using the techniques they’d learned from his opponent. But there was no fighter like Michael Emory in any of the three kingdoms. Michael reveled in the chance to practice his skills against an opponent strong enough to take his attacks without being seriously hurt, and who challenged him to his utmost with his counter-attacks. Unlike most big men, Lycan did not just rely on his strength, he used his brains. He anticipated many of the holds and attacks that Michael used at the outset, recognizng them from Rafe’s and Nic’s fights, and was ready with effective counters – forcing Michael to up his game.

Which Michael happily did. Soon the two men were moving so quickly their audience was hard pressed to keep track of the moves. Michael leapt and rolled while Lycan dodged and lunged, but it was all done at hyperfast speeds, to the point that even Nic questioned whether both men were honoring the promise to avoid magic.

Michael can do this without magic? he asked Colin, wonder in his tone.

I sense none, even if I were to doubt his honor, which is beyond doubt, as is Lycan’s – though I believe, based on Ren’s performance, that their human forms retain some of their animal’s characteristics even without their transforming. Speed is one of them I would guess. We know that enhanced scent and hearing are among them as well.

Good points. And long nails seem to be a bird trait, Nic added ruefully, looking down at his still tender chest. Michael would need to do more work if he were to avoid scars – and he would not like to see what his face looked like. He barely avoided losing his eye to what felt like a talon scraping along his cheek.

If it is a comfort, I am sensing a less angry, more thoughtful man sitting with me than was the case with the Raven Master’s son before. Your risky gambit may have worked.

I hope so. If it did not, I will have to ask for him to be sent away and I would hate to lose such a valuable ally as Ran. For all that he says he would stay with me, Ren is very dear to him, and rightly so. His son is a victim of this war and cannot help what happened to him – but I cannot keep an assassin in my midst.

Let us hope he can be healed, in body and mind. May the goddess help us, Colin prayed. Nic added his own prayer, before returning his attention to the fight.

Lycan had Michael pinned. Nic whistled. He knew that move, and it was a mistake on Lycan’s part. Michael had led him to it deliberately – Nic really wanted to send a warning to his mate before it was too late....

Do and I really will fight you next...or worse, leave that scar on your face...

The thought was from his father – and it made Nic grin. How could his father spare the attention to chastise his son? Not to mention invade his thoughts, though Nic may have been projecting a bit – although unintentionally. Truly.

Sorry. Won’t do it again, he assured his father, humor in his tone.

Good, and believe me this has been a refreshingly difficult bout. You have a strong fighter as a mate, Michael told him making him ridiculously pleased. It made him more forgiving of his father as he watched, wincing, as Michael spun out of the pinned position and into the dominant position, rolling Lycan down into the sand, taking his supporting arm and leg with him so that the big man had no way of getting out from under him without breaking his own arm and leg. The cleverness of this move was that it used Lycan’s own strength against him – it was all a matter of leverage, Michael had once explained to a very young Nic and Rafe when he demonstrated the maneuver to them against a very large island man. It was a foolproof way of escaping a large strong man, but you had to get him to pin you in a certain way.

Lycan fell for it. He never would again, now that he saw that he was trapped and had no way out.

Laughingly, Lycan conceded, saying, “I cannot risk a broken leg and a broken arm, and I am not sure you have it in you to heal me also tonight, so I will swallow my pride and do what I have never done – I concede. But I take some comfort in knowing that I am doing so to a matchless opponent.”

Michael released the hold and helped Lycan up, laughing. Many of those watching were not quite sure why Lycan could not get out of the hold, which was just as well, Michael later told the family – he hated having his favorite secret shown to so many. But he had been getting tired, he confessed, which Lycan said was a balm to his bruised ego.

Rafael and Melli were alerted by the cheers that the end of the fight had come – they had harbored no doubts as to who would win it, they told Michael and Lycan sheepishly, so saw no reason for Melli to be embarrassed by watching her male family members in their unclad state.

“You did not seem to have that same trouble watching Jax and Bran and....” Lycan would have continued teasing Melli but Nic kissed him into silence.  Rafe did the same to prevent any rebuttal that Melli might have considered.

Magda spoke up, “Well, I think it was a splendid party. Melli’s was very nice, the one the ladies threw her, but I enjoyed this one even more.”

That unblushing comment caused all of the men, except Colin, to laugh. The poor Druid covered his eyes and shook his head. Michael pulled him close.

“They are growing up, love. You cannot expect to keep them children forever. And I think Magda has the right of it – this was a splendid party! We are all very much in the mood for a Bonding now! Thank you, Lycan, and thank your people, for this splendid night.”

With that, Michael winked at his Bondson and the two of them looked up and howled at the moon, just beginning to fade as dawn’s light was breaking.

Bran joined them. One by one, the other Metamorphs added their voices.

Nic walked over to his brother, who was standing with Melli. Ren and his father were nearby.

“Let us join in the howling brother...and friends?”  His look encompassed Ran and Ren.

Nic put his arm around Rafe on one side, and then reached out for Ren on the other. Magda stood in front of Nic, but beckoned to Ren as well, while Melli stood in front of Rafe. Seeing what he was doing, Rafe reached for Colin with his mind, and slowly, as Ren and Ran joined with the twins, the other Telepaths linked up with howling Metamorphs, until they formed a circle of unity. Once they were all linked in a large circle around the central fire, with even Pelien joining hands, Michael stepped inside it and danced – a dance of strength, healing and unity, seeking blessing from the goddess and also giving thanks. The howling turned to chanting as the moon gave way to a brilliant dawn.

Michael finished his dance and gestured for Nic to step forward. Nic, his face and chest healed, a circlet of silver appeared binding his long hair back, as he addressed the gathered crowd: “The bonding of Queen Mellisande and Lord Rafael, my Heir, will take place at noon, in three days. All are invited to join in the celebration. My formal coronation as King of the First Kingdom will take place at dawn of the same day. The goddess has given me her sign and her blessing.” 

The cheers were deafening as the crowd welcomed the long awaited news. If the King’s closest family, aside from the Dance Master, were taken by surprise by the sudden announcement – and the proximity of the date – they knew better than to show it. Though Donal was heard to ask Fen, “Where did that circlet come from?”

Smiling to himself, Pelien slipped away, telling Dominic telepathically that he would return, in three days time to lend his support to both events.

***********

Two Days Later

“I wish Nic had given me a little more notice – after delaying everything for over two months you would think....” Melli’s complaining to Magda, Cera and Cena while Fianne tried to fit her wedding gown to the temperamental Queen’s satisfaction, was cut off by Nic’s entrance with Michael and Colin. Rafe was under strict orders not to enter Melli’s presence for the next twenty-four hours because it would be bad luck, Fianne assured him.

“...that you would have had plenty of time to finish your gown during these past two months,” Colin suggested mildly, seeing how hurt and guilty Nic looked, and knowing how ready Michael was to throttle Melli.  He and Michael both sensed that something loomed, but neither was able to break through Nic’s guard – and Colin knew that Michael was worried to the point of panic. He was reminded strongly of the eve of the twin’s mission to retrieve Keir – when all of this adventure had begun. But for Melli and Rafe’s sake, they were trying to hide their fear. And indeed, Nic was behaving as though there was nothing but joy ahead of them – on the surface. He walked up to his sister, who was swathed in white silk.

“I am sorry that I could not give you more warning, Melli, but surely you of all people understand how these things work? Do you not trust me and understand that I want only the best possible wedding for you, most beloved of sisters, and the brother who is the other half of me? Tomorrow is the day the goddess has decreed for your bonding. I know this like I know that you are the intended mate for my twin and the mother of my heir.”

Colin’s attention was caught by that slip of the tongue, which no one else seemed to have noticed, except Nic, who bit his lip but hurried into teasing chatter with Fianne over the dress and what the other girls would be wearing – all of which details had in fact been in the works for weeks.

Michael, did you....

Yes. I noticed but all it may mean is that he anticipates the conception of their child tomorrow. He asked me to perform a fertility dance tonight to ensure it, in fact. I asked him why and he said only that he wants to be sure that there would be less incentive for Rafael to be a target if the next generation of Emorys was known to be on their way. It is wise, actually. His timing is not so mystical – Mellisande would be fertile tomorrow, Fianne tells me.

You asked her? Colin could feel his cheeks redden. For all that Druids were men of science as well as spiritual, he was often shocked by his mate’s earthy side. Michael smiled at him and sent a wave of affection his way.

I was curious. And yes, I did ask.  It is often planned among islanders to ensure fertility and to avoid the newly wed couple having to bother with the bride’s monthly cycle, so I assure you that Fianne did not find it a strange question from the Dance Master. Nic’s bonding day is a perfect day for conceiving his heir’s heir.  Since he and Lycan have not made any plans for Nic to father a child, it is practical for him to take an interest in ensuring that Rafael be a father as soon as possible – though I doubt that Nic has looked at it quite so analytically. He once told me his visions are more dreamlike than the clear guidance you and Melli lay claim to.

Colin shook his head faintly. I begin to think that it is Nic who receives much clearer guidance than either of us ‘seers’ can claim.  I pray that he sees a long, healthy reign for himself.

Michael joined in that prayer.

Once the women of the family were settled, the men left to check on Rafe. They found him busily employed with Lycan, Eamon, Beren, and others, reinforcing the western defenses.

“Is this how you relax before your bonding?” Nic teased. “Getting your hands roughened by lifting heavy stones and your muscles tired out by hard labor? Shouldn’t you be relaxing in the hot springs and getting your nails buffed and....”

“Enough, Cub!” Lycan walked over and picked Nic up, much to Rafe’s relief and the amusement of the others. “Your brother does not need your advice on how to get ready for his wedding night. He will do quite well in pleasing his lady. Why don’t you concentrate on pleasing your mate if you have so much energy to spare?”

“You have complaints?” Nic asked, pretending to be hurt as he struggled to get down from Lycan’s strong hold – not that he was struggling all that hard.

“I do – and it is time for you to hear them,” Lycan told him. Waving to the others, he walked off, Nic sputtering his indignation...for all of thirty seconds, which was about the time it took the long-legged, fast walking Lycan to reach privacy.

Moving Nic to a more comfortable position, Lycan kissed him, thoroughly. He had not been used to this kissing habit before meeting his Cub, but was now addicted to it, and thirsted for the feel of his Cub’s lips beneath his, the taste of his mouth, his tongue, the sound of his moans....

“Take off my clothes and take my member into your mouth,” Nic begged.

“A very good plan,” Lycan approved. He laid Nic down on the grass and slowly undressed him, taking his time. So often their mating was rushed – pleasurable indeed – but fit in between the next task, or before sleep claimed them after a too full day. As he took off Nic’s tunic, he paused to appreciate the beauty of his tanned skin, unmarred thanks to the healing skill of his Sire. He ran first his hand over the taut muscles and then his tongue. He slid his tongue slowly around the small brown peak of a nipple while he undid breeches and braes, his movements getting more impatient as his lust rose. He kissed his way down Nic’s lean body, laughing warmly as his Cub’s eagerness had him writhing with eagerness, thrusting his member toward Lycan’s mouth.

“I think you are teasing me to death, Wolf! Enough kissing and licking, I want....”

“What do you want, Cub?” Lycan’s low rumbling voice was enough to make him lose control in a way he had not since he had first gone to Kelway, Nic thought, then lost all ability for thought when that delicious mouth finally closed around his hard member and Lycan’s rough tongue stroked him down the shaft and even covered his balls. He clutched his mate’s long golden hair and shouted his approval as Lycan moved his head up and down, his hands kneading Nic’s back and ass.

Nic shouted his release to the skies. Now fill me up, Wolf, he told Lycan telepathically, wrapping his limbs around his lover. Lycan pulled off the loose breeches, which were all he wore as a rule, and rolled over, pulling Nic on top of him.

Ride me, Cub.

You arouse me again already – and I love it when you speak to me in our minds.

Nic straddled his Wolf, then cast the spell to prepare himself before lowering himself upon his Wolf’s large member. Goddess, but it felt good. No, it felt like the moon and stars were his. He grabbed onto Lycan’s broad shoulders and smiled into his golden eyes.

Before moving, holding still, with his body connected in the most intimate way with his mate, their eyes locked, Nic “spoke” to his mate telepathically. No matter what happens, I will remember this day, and the love we share, and it will strengthen me, and I will feel connected to you, my Wolf. We will be together, I promise you, and we will have long years together, even if there are trials ahead of us – the goddess will see us through them. Be strong for me and for my brother and father.  But most of all, be strong for our people. Now love me.

Lycan would have asked Nic questions if he had not started moving then, moving his body while chanting a spell that enhanced their senses. Lycan felt flames of intense pleasure shooting through his body. He grabbed Nic around the waist but more to anchor himself than to control his movements as he felt lost in the blur of sensation, with his climax building to a crescendo that carried him into white oblivion.

The cool air of dusk – and the rumbling of his empty stomach woke him. Nic was curled up in his arms, a conjured blanket over both of them. He gently shook his mate awake, smiling at the frowning face Nic turned inward toward his shoulder.

“I know you are still tired but we will miss the last meal of the day with your family – and your last meal before your crowning as King. I believe Eamon said something about the younger ones looking forward to seeing you without your big crown, as ‘just Nic’ one last time.”

That woke him up. The lavender eyes looked at Lycan frowningly. “I will still be Nic tomorrow. What do they think? I will turn into a stranger?”

Lycan ruffled the curly hair, which was already fairly rumpled. “I think they do not know what to expect, which is why it is good for you to be with them and reassure them. A Metamorph Leader is not the same as your King, but we experience something of the same type of difference when we take our position. As much as you do not expect your role to be different after tomorrow, it will be, Cub. You will be a King in the eyes of all. There is a reason your people have a formal procedure for it. Have you not noticed the different way you are treated since you started wearing that circlet?”

Nic sat up and began dressing. He nodded thoughtfully. “Father did that when he felt the goddess’ blessing but he had already crafted it – he told me that his brother had worn a circlet like this most of the time and saved the crown for formal occasions. I am glad I don’t have to wear that heavy thing all the time. This is so much better – and I like that it has symbols for the three peoples of the kingdoms on it – Telepaths, Metamorphs and Humans, though the Metamorphs are much more artistic.”

“Wolves do make more attractive symbols,” Lycan agreed cheerfully, touching Nic’s pendant lightly. He stood up and stepped into his breeches. “Come, let us head back to the palace. I am surprised your family has not sent you messages yet.”

“They have – but of course, I’ve only heard them since I have been awake,” Nic said with his usual good humor. He put his hands on Lycan’s shoulders to pause him. “Wolf, thank you for this time together – we needed it. And thank you for your wise advice. I will give my younger brothers and sisters the reassurance they need that whether I am wearing this circlet or the heavier crown, I will always be the Nic they knew as brother on the island. You are right, I will need to be a different Nic at times, even to them, in public, so they will need to know that they will be able to gain my ear in private. We are fortunate, as Telepaths, that we do have a private way of speaking. But the truth is, I have to shut out the voices of many, and in doing that, I may be missing my young brothers and sisters, so I must be sure to plan for a way for their voices to get my attention.”

“The little Bear, Fen,” Lycan suggested promptly. “He always gets your attention, and he never misses the smallest need, not even that of a Metamorph or Human. He is the one you should always listen to. He filters out the ones you do not need to handle. He is your Beta.”

Nic smiled. “I don’t know what we would do without Fen. But in a family of Alphas, he is indeed a most singularly skilled Beta. Let us rejoin the family now and enjoy our last normal meal before the big day.

Their entrance into the dining area of the family section of the palace was greeted with much shouting as well as questions – the latter from the younger members who could not already guess where the two bonded men had been from their rumpled appearance. They had done a quick wash-up on their way through the kitchen but they still had that “just rolled in the grass look” as Bran, who, by virtue of his status as Lycan’s Beta, dined with the family, phrased it to Eamon, causing that solemn youth to blush bright red.

Jax and Kaden were the only other members of the Pack who ate regularly with the Telepaths. Since they shared guard duty over the family, Colin and Michael insisted they eat with them. The very youngest children usually ate earlier, but on this day before the wedding and coronation, Michael had agreed that everyone could eat together. It was partially a practice for the next day, to ensure that the youngest would use their best manners in front of the guests, but also a consolation to them as they would be sent to bed early in the celebration the following day, and not allowed to stay for long after the actual bonding ceremony and dinner. When the dancing and drinking was underway, Michael told Colin, he did not want children underfoot.

The youngsters were happy with their party tonight, now that Nic had finally arrived, and he played games with them and told stories until late into the evening, while the new servants kept the treats coming. Fianne was told that she was part of the family now, but Michael appreciated that she kept a watch over the servants, who were a mix of villagers and islanders, brought from their old home. Each had been carefully vetted by Michael before being allowed to serve in the new Palace, and employment had been dependent on accepting a full mental reading. Melli, Colin and Rafe had questioned the ethics of this requirement, but to the surprise of all, it was Nic who had insisted upon it, and the others had suspected that he would have pulled rank as King if it had been necessary.

It had not. Michael’s wishes, with Nic’s support, had been enough to end any objection. Rafe added his support to his brother and father, and Colin and Melli conceded that it was no doubt a wise precaution.

Lycan could not understand how it was even up to debate – everyone knew the history of how the Emory family was killed in their own palace – betrayed by a servant.

He was the one who insisted that his men stand guard over the family as they slept. He knew that Michael had trouble sleeping without a guard – and had trouble trusting human guards. He did not blame him. He shared the mistrust. Jax and Kaden were his best, after Bran and himself. Most of his pack was sent home to his winter grounds after the battle of Candone but he kept a core three dozen with him. Chase, fully healed, was in charge, along with another older Metamorph, Kar, of the main group. Due to Chase’s part Telepath nature, he was able, with Nic’s help, to keep in touch with him and know how the Pack was faring, which was a good thing during this long absence. Once the Coronation was accomplished and the Bonding was over, he hoped he and Nic could travel to the winter grounds and the rest of his Pack could finally meet his Mate.

Seeing Nic tussling with the young ones made him wish to see Nic with young Metamorphs – he could just imagine him wrestling with the cubs! The thought made him smile.

“You look content, Lycan.” Michael handed him a mug of ale as he settled next to him on the large couch where Lycan rested. “Happy thoughts?”

“I was looking forward to showing Nic our winter grounds...and the young ones of our kind. He would mingle well with them, I think.”

Michael laughed. “You call him a cub, I believe. Are you saying he would play well with the other cubs?”

Lycan grinned. “That is what I was imagining, yes.”

Michael lifted his mug and touched it to Lycan’s. “Let us drink to that coming true then.”

Both men drank deeply, their minds filled with the image of Nic playing with a trio of golden cubs.

***********

The next day dawned clear and cold. Nic stood on the sand as the sun’s rays broke over the water, and his people watched in awe as the Druid Colin spoke the words of blessing in the ancient language, calling for the goddess’ blessing upon his reign. Both wore robes of glimmering white. Then Michael walked forward with the crown of the First Kingdom, last worn by King Adam, brought by him from the palace when he fled with Dominic and Rafael almost seventeen years earlier. He handed it to Colin and stepped back, taking his place beside Rafael and Mellisande.

“Dominic, eldest son of Michael, and heir to King Adam of the First Kingdom, and eldest son of Queen Suzanne of the Second Kingdom, do you accept this crown of the First Kingdom, as a symbol of your Authority over both Kingdoms, and promise to reign in fidelity to all peoples, with honor, justice, and righteousness, in service to the goddess, all the days of your life?”

Dominic bowed his head and allowed Colin to place the crown on his head, then spoke out in his strong clear voice. “I accept this crown as a symbol of my Authority over the First Kingdom, and I promise to reign over it in fidelity to all peoples, with honor, justice and righteousness, in service to the goddess, all the days of my life. And I accept the stewardship of the Second Kingdom, for the Metamorph Peoples, to lead with their leaders, that land, and serve it and them in fidelity to all peoples, with honor, justice....”

The remaining words of Nic’s pledge were lost in the cheers of the Metamorphs, many of whom fell on their knees and began giving thanks to the goddess. Some, Evenrun and Beren among them, began to cry from the emotion of the moment as Nic’s words sunk in.

Melli gasped in surprise. She looked at Rafe. “Did you know?”

“Of course,” he told her quietly. “Nic asked me my feelings about it – and I told him I was very proud of his decision. Melli, look at them – they have been a people enslaved, hunted. And they now have a land of their own, but with a strong leader promising to protect them, not treat them as children, but as equals. The Second Kingdom was theirs before we Telepaths came along, it should be again.”

“Why did you not tell me before?”

Rafe looked down into her face. “To be honest, I wanted to see your reaction before you had a chance to hide it – I feared that part of you still hoped that you would be marrying a King today.”

Melli glanced around the jubilant crowd. There was no way she could escape with Rafe for a private moment. Lycan’s eyes were already on them, as were Michael’s. She smiled warmly and held onto Rafe’s arm as she continued their conversation telepathically.

It is my fault that you still have such doubts about me and I will spend my life trying to make it up to you – but please, let me assure you now – all I want is my brave true Rafael, the man who gave up his last spark of mana for me to escape our tower prison, and who gave me all his share of the food and water. Oh Rafe, how did I ever make you think so poorly of me?

I don’t Melli, I love you.

Not caring what the crowds thought – and deciding that it was his Bonding Day, he could do what he wanted, Rafe pulled Melli into his arms and kissed her until she was breathless.

Or at least until his brother interrupted him.

“Does this mean she doesn’t mind losing a Kingdom out of the family?” Nic teased.

“Go away,” Rafe told him.

“That should be, go away, your highness.”

“Never in this lifetime.”

Nic laughed, then pulled Melli away so he could kiss her. “Go get ready for your wedding, sister dear.”  He swatted her backside, making her yell.

She looked at the position of the sun in the sky and made another noise, this time in agreement, the brothers assumed. After kissing Rafe quickly and swatting at Nic, who laughed at her, Melli picked up her skirts and dashed for the palace, calling for Magda to come with her.

“Soon brother, that sweet-tempered girl will be all yours,” Nic teased.

“And she is all I want,” Rafe assured him.

“I know,” Nic said, his tone suddenly serious. “You will both be very happy, brother. I am glad for you.” He hugged Rafe tightly. “Thank you for being the best brother in the world.”

Rafe felt his eyes grow moist. “What is this, Nic? Wearing that crown is making you serious? Quick, take it off! I miss my light-hearted brother!”

Nic smiled a bit sadly. “The crown is a bit heavy. I believe it would fit your somber head much better. Hold onto it for me, will you?”

Rafe frowned. “Nic....”

Nic smiled his bright smile. “I like my circlet better. You will keep this safe for me, won’t you, serious brother of mine? I will promise to keep my circlet on to prove I am King.”

Rafe nodded, bemused. He walked slowly to the palace carrying the heavy crown – it really was a weighty burden. However was a man expected to wear such a thing day after day? He locked it away in his room and then forgot about it as he dressed for his wedding.

***********

Mellisande of the House of Dyad and Rafael of the House of Emory were married at the noon hour before their friends and family, and many representatives of the three peoples of the First Kingdom, and not a few of the Second Kingdom. Quite a stir was caused among the Metamorphs when the legendary Elder Cat Leader, Pelien, attended, bringing a beautiful carved chest of rosewood filled with spices and oils from the Mountain Kingdom as a wedding gift. Four strong Cat Metamorphs who accompanied him as an honor guard carried the gift into the palace and set it with the other gifts. They waited outside, politely refusing all offers of refreshment.

Pelien was not the only guest of note. Ferris, the Horse Master came. Michael went outside to greet him and escorted him inside from the stable when word of his arrival was received.

I think he must be over 100, Nic told Lycan, when he caught a glimpse of the venerable man.

Very likely, though 100 is not that old for a Metamorph, Cub, so I would say he is likely much older.

Nic’s eyes widened. How old would Lycan live to be, he wondered, as he went to greet the Metamorph whose aid in lending horses had been so instrumental in his father’s reaching Candone in time.

Eventually all the guests, notable, legendary, and everyday, were in place, and Mellisande was ready to descend the staircase on Michael’s arm. As they stood at the top, just out of view, he turned her toward him and kissed her on the forehead.

“You make a very beautiful bride, Mellisande. We have not always had an easy road, the two of us, but please know that I love you with a father’s love, and today I give you my blessing to marry my son. I wish you all the best and pray that the goddess grants you both a blessed, loving bonding, with happiness, long life together, and healthy children.” Michael hugged her close for a moment.

Melli blinked back tears. “Thank you...Father.”

Smiling at her, Michael took her arm and they started down the staircase that had been designed with this particular walk in mind.

The oohs and aahhs of the crowd assured Rafael even before his bride came into sight that she was indeed beautiful – and she took his breath away when she finally came into view where he stood with Nic before Colin at the front of the large ballroom. Nic sent him calming thoughts and Michael was sending him thoughts of fatherly love but all he felt was his overwhelming love for the girl he had loved his whole life.

His destiny, his soulmate. And now, his bondmate.

Melli and Rafael spoke their vows with joy and confidence before Colin, just as they always dreamed, with Michael and Nic by their sides, surrounded by their family and friends. And if Nic and Pelien heard the approaching sounds of battle – they kept it to themselves.

It was a beautiful day for a bonding.

The Story Continues in King’s Wolf....    

Return to Wolf's Cub