“So apart from the near-disaster at dinner last night, how do you think we stand with the Erlenbergians, Timur? Antigones asked.

From on the couch she was lying on, Titania shot a dirty scowl at her brother. Timur had rejoined the pair the next morning after apparently talking with Frances until late into the night.

“Thankfully, I think we are in a good place. We actually know exactly what they want and they don’t know what we can give up. The complication is the matter of Helias,” said Timur. He narrowed his eyes at Titania. “What I want to know is… what were you thinking, Titania? You could have jeopardised the negotiations!”

“You should have told us about your relationship with Frances first!” Titania hissed.

Several emotions flickered across Timur’s face. “It’s not—it’s—it wasn’t like that!”

“Stop this at once. Titania, you did nearly jeopardize the negotiations! I won’t repeat what I told you last night, but I’m asking you to calm down, please,” said Antigones.

Timur grinned smugly as Titania sighed and nodded, only to find himself fixed by Antigones’s glare.

“Timur, what your sister did last night was wrong, but she is right that you should have told us from the start. I understand that it must be an awkward situation, but we cannot proceed if you hold things back from us,” said Antigones.

“I understand.” Timur swallowed, “But if you thought she was wrong, why didn’t you stop her?”

“Titania’s my wife, and I’m her husband. We do not contradict or disagree with each other in public. We only do so in private and I have made my objections clear to her.” Antigones crossed his arms. “Now, moving onto Helias. I cannot imagine he’d be happy about giving his head up, but that might be our best solution.”

“Sir? Are you sure? He’s one of our most capable commanders,” Timur said.

“Capable? Brother, he almost got his entire army wiped out!” Titania exclaimed.

Timur frowned. “He had an impeccable string of victories while in Roranoak and while he was hindered by the Erisdalian Expeditionary Force, he kept them pinned.”

“Oh yes, I’m aware, Timur, but his tactics are escalating the war. We’d honestly be better off without his child-murdering and massacring ways.” Antigones narrowed his eyes. “You are aware that he’s committed numerous massacres that shame our proud kingdom.”

“To be honest, I have only learnt that recently.” Timur clasped his hands, biting back the bile coming up in his throat. Frances had been all too happy to tell him about Helias and what his soldiers had done when he’d asked. “I personally would be happy to be rid of him, but I am pretty sure that Helias and my father would be unhappy with just handing him over to the Erlenbergians.”

“No, but he has made a major mistake and right now the Erlenbergians are happy to let the army go with just his death,” said Antigones, shrugging. “I’d say that it’s a rather appropriate punishment given the extent of his failure.”

“Dad on the other hand might not care about the failure. Helias is one of his favorites,” said Titania.

“He just didn’t want the humans to have killed one of his commanders,” Timur retorted.

“Alright, but what if Helias gave himself up?” Antigones asked.

Brother and sister glanced at Antigones, blinking in disbelief. If they looked at each other, they would have realized they wore the same expression.

“Dear, he’s an asshole, he wouldn’t,” said Titania.

“From what I’ve heard there’s no way he would do that,” said Timur.

“Is your father angry at Helias?” Antigones asked.

“I have no idea. He just ordered me to get to you as soon as I could and extricate your army. He said I could offer a rather staggering amount of financial compensation. It would be enough to ransom your entire army.” Timur ran a hand through his hair. “He clearly wanted me to pay them off, and get everyone out.”

Antigones stroked his beard. “Hmm, Timur, try offering more money to the Erlenbergians first. Titania and I will talk to Helias.”

Timur stared at the general. “You’re going to try to convince him to kill himself?”

“I’m trying to convince him to do his duty and reap what he sowed.” The general took in Timur’s widening eyes. “Your Highness, he utterly failed at his job, which was to defeat the enemy. He got ten thousand good Alavari wounded or killed. In fact, I would bet money that his massacre of civilians convinced the Erlenbergians to take the offensive against him. If we had no other option, and it doesn’t look like we do, he should die instead of the seventeen thousand Alavari left and his princess.”

Titania rolled her eyes. “Dear, I could get out here.”

“I know you’re lying, Titania. You wouldn’t leave me and I would stay if this went south,” said Antigones. He didn’t even need to look at his wife. He knew she was grumbling mutinously. “Timur, how much money did your father authorize exactly?”

The prince took out a letter from his pocket and handed it to Antigones. “Our bottom line is ten thousand pounds of gold, about a fifth of our kingdom’s annual budget in wartime.”

Titania blinked. “Holy shit. But… that does make sense. It would take thirty thousand to completely reequip and retrain the troops we would lose in a battle and not to mention the time we would have lost.”

Timur nodded, looking contemplative. “By the way, how did Erlenberg manage to train up their army? From what I heard they did have a navy, but only a small army. Yet they managed to hold us off for months.”

Antigones grimaced. “Winning at Aijin fields might have backfired on us a bit. It allowed us to destroy a significant portion of their trained troops and prepared equipment. However, it also highlighted to the Erlenbergians that their troops’ training was inadequate and their army’s commander incompetent.” The general pinched the bridge of his nose. “There were other problems as well. After Aijin, we attempted to besiege the city, but the road was cut by the Lightning Battalion, which Frances Windwhistler was a part of. We couldn’t catch them as Erlenbergian naval support managed to get them back and that delayed our siege preparations for days. Days in which the new commander, Alexander Windwhistler, a former mercenary captain, and his co-commander Elowise used to turn the city into a fortress.”

“Elowise… you mean Baroness Elowise who almost killed Erisdale’s Crown Princess Janize and betrayed us?” Timur asked.

“Yes. So you see why we had such trouble. By the time we started besieging the city the Erlenbergians had set up enough defenses to train up their soldiers. They lost a lot, but they bought time and we provided the crucible to weed out any incompetent commanders they had.” Antigones stroked his beard. “It was a damned close thing, but thanks to their assault on Helias’s army, they managed to turn the tables on us.”

“I see.” Timur stood up. “I’ll get to work trying to talk Eleanor around.” Bowing to Antigones, the prince made for the doorway.

“Brother, not so fast,” Titania said cheerfully.

Timur, a very fake smile on his face, turned around. “Yes?”

“You still haven’t told us what your relationship with Frances is like and how you even know her.” Titania smirked as her brother’s smile all but vanished and his tail stiffened. “So come on. She is an enemy that probably needs to be killed some time soon.”

“Killed?” Timur choked out.

“She was integral to the attack on Helias’s camp and has a huge body count.” Titania pursed her lips and pretended to be thinking. “You know, since you’re so close, why don’t you plant some poison in her drink—”

Timur turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

“Titania, can you please stop trying to piss your brother off?” Antigones asked.

The princess glanced at her husband and found him scowling at her, “Dear?”

In a hushed voice, he hissed, “We are going to need allies when we turn. Unlike Thorgoth, Timur’s heart is in the right place.”

“He loves dad too much, and the fact he won’t tell us about Frances is a danger. Why does he trust her over you? We need to know what he is hiding,” said Titania.

The general grimaced. “Alright, that’s a good point, but we shouldn’t try to kill Frances so quickly. Not only is she a powerful mage, she has the ear of many powerful people. If we can get her to support us, then we might be able to keep the humans and Erlenbergians neutral when we do take out Thorgoth.”

“And how do you propose we get her to support us? I’ve tried to kill her twice!” Titania asked.

Antigones pointed at the door, “If Timur’s close to Frances… then maybe if we can get his support, we can get her to support us.”

“What—Oh.” Titania’s face twisted in an unpleasant expression, before she groaned. “That’s a pretty great point, dear.”

“I aim to please,” said Antigones, smiling mirthlessly.

Frances was waiting for Timur when he exited the city council chambers. The trogre was frowning a bit, but he smiled when he saw her.

“Sorry, you saw it didn’t go so well for me today,” he said, walking down the corridor.

“Well, I told you that Erlenberg would accept nothing but Helias,” said Frances, following beside him.

“I didn’t think she would turn down ten thousand pounds of gold and the need not to fight a costly battle. I mean…” Timur hesitated, “... aren’t you afraid of fighting a battle? It’ll be a near even match.”

Frances looked away from Timur, but didn’t slow down. “I don’t want to kill more Alavari, but we have been fighting you Alavari for the months the siege has taken. The prospect of fighting the Alavari isn’t something we are afraid of, especially if it means getting justice for those that were killed by him.”

“Damn. Well that complicates things,” said Timur. He let out a breath. “But enough about the negotiations. Where do you want to go tonight before dinner?”

Frances swallowed and stopped so quickly Timur almost zipped right past her. The prince blinked, looking down at the girl who nervously crossed her arms.

“Um, actually, I talked to Grandma Eleanor. We can’t eat outside the Windwhistler mansion, but she said she was happy to have dinner prepared and served for us. The two of us, in a private room. Just given how, um, hostile your sister was to you last night and all.””

Frances held her breath as Timur blinked, his black eyes studying her. Then he leant forward, a slow grin spreading across his handsome features.

“Frances Windwhistler, did you just ask me out on a date?”

“Yes!” She looked up at him as he stepped in closer. Not uncomfortable close, and he didn’t touch her. Just close enough for her to realize that there was not a button out of place on his maroon jacket.

“Because I accept, milady,” he said, winking roguishly. Bowing, Timur extended his hand to take hers, but before he could touch her, he stopped.

Frances, beet red, wondered what was the prince waiting for, when she suddenly realized he was waiting for her consent to be touched. Blinking back the moistness that arose from ehr eyes, she put her hand in hers.

“Oh my god you did it!” screamed Elizabeth grabbing Frances’s arms and jumping up and down like a mad rabbit. Frances was somewhat deafened, but well, she was squealing too, and jumping along with her friend. They didn’t synchronize their jumping however and a mistimed leap by Elizabeth sent them shooting toward a wall.

Martin and Ayax caught the pair and set them back down on their feet.

“Congratulations cuz,” said Ayax, grinning.

“It was about damn time,” said Martin.

Ginger, chortling from the back, rubbed her hands. “Finally! I get to get some payback. We’re going to make you the bell of the ball kid.”

Frances, a bundle of nerves, joy and sheer happiness, nodded. As her friends began to discuss clothing choices, part of her nagged that she and Timur were still on opposing sides.

She shoved that part into a chest at the back of her mind and locked. For this night was going to be her night and she wasn’t going to let anything ruin it.

There was going to be a lot of work to do, however, and she was almost as nervous as going into a battle. But she had her friends and that would get her through it.

Would Timur be as nervous as she was right now? Frances shook her head at the thought and giggled to herself. There was no way.

An army was more than a general and their soldiers. There was a veritable army of administrative and support staff needed to keep the army running.

Olgakaren Silverclaw was one of these staff. Her formal title was Chief Staff Officer, though, when she was showing off, she’d call herself the general in chief of the army’s support staff.

This was all the more impressive since she didn’t have hands. She was a harpy, and so had to rely on a dictation quill, a magical item that wrote out the words she spoke.

“In summary, we have enough supplies to feed the army for a month. Recommend we extricate ourselves from this position—”

“Olgakaren! I did it!”

“Damnit, Timur I’m working!” the harpy hissed, her yellow-gold eyes glaring at the trogre prince. Her scowl faded though when she saw he was wide-eyed with surprise. Whistling a note to deactivate her dictation quill, she stood up. “Timur, sorry, but you nearly made me jump out of my feathers. So what happened?”

“Oh, Frances asked me out and I need your help. I mean I know I could do a good job getting ready myself, but you’re really good at—”

“Timur, take a deep breath. You know she likes you, she asked you out. You just have to flash your charming smile and be your caring self, and she will love it.” The harpy smirked. “Just do what you did with me.”

The prince snorted, “It didn’t work with you, though, Olga.”

“Eh, worked enough to get me to sleep with you,” said the harpy, shrugging as she did so. “How did you get her to forget that we had a thing? Unless you didn’t tell her.” Olgakaren narrowed her eyes. “You did tell her, right?”

Timur grimaced. “Yes I did, though, the timing wasn’t the one I chose.” He arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me she saved your life.”

“Wasn’t relevant. How did she react?” Olgakaren asked.

“Not great, but… well, she liked me. I’m not sure how but she did and said she wanted to try things anyway, even if we’re not sure they’re going to work.” The prince stopped scratching his head. “I’m not sure why, honestly.”

The harpy groaned. “Timur, you’re a good guy. I mean, you do goof up, but contrary to the reputation of harpies, I don’t just trust anybody with my body.”

Timur arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t I spill wine over you when we first met?”

Olgakaren laughed, “And ruined my dress, but you also apologized profusely and later you taught me how to do staff work for Antigones.” The harpy licked her lips. “That and you are such a gentleman in and out of your clothes.”

The prince blushed. “Eh, well, I just gave you a few tips and we—”

“Dude, take the compliment already!” the harpy exclaimed, flicking the tip of her wing at the prince, who brushed off the feather, laughing.

A second later, Timur composed himself, his expression thoughtful, “Why aren’t you stopping me, Olgakaren? As in, stopping me from dating Frances?”

“Why do you think I should?” the harpy asked, folding her silver-grey wings over her shapely figure.

“I mean… I’m thinking about dating one of the kingdom of Alavaria’s greatest enemies and you’re fine with that?” Timur asked.

Olgakaren took a deep breath. “No I’m not.”

“Eh-what?”

The harpy’s smile faded slightly. “I’m not happy you’re dating Frances. Don’t get me wrong, I know she’s a nice girl, but she is still on the opposite side of a war that we’re fighting.”

The prince blinked, several times, and resorted to shaking his head to clear it. “Then… why aren’t you stopping me, or telling me not to do it?”

Sighing, Olgakaren touched Timur’s shoulder with a wing. “Because you far too often let people decide what you think and do. You need to make your own decisions, and the mistakes that come with them.” The harpy grinned. “Besides, it’s just a relationship, what’s the worst that could happen? I know you wouldn’t reveal anything about our national security situation.”

Timur frowned. “You’re the…actually, I’m beginning to lose count of the people telling me to think for myself.”

“You should listen to those other people,” said Olgakaren. She hopped over to her chest. “Now, let’s get you ready for your date!” The harpy blinked as Timur wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

“Olgakaren, thank you,” he said.

The harpy snorted, “Don’t you forget it. Now let go of me you beanpole!”

“Beanpole?” Timur squawked.

“Have you seen how tall and thin you are! Come on let’s get you into some better clothing!”

To Frances, her silk green dress, light and gentle against her skin, felt a little like armor. It wasn’t heavy like her brigandine and it didn’t stick to her skin like her gambeson. The function it would perform for her on this occasion however would be remarkably similar. Under that she wore a corset that hugged her waist a little tighter, providing what she thought was a rather attractive slender curve to her frame.

As always, Ivy’s Sting was with her, though its holster hung from a thinner gold-gilded leather belt. The dress itself had full sleeves, and intricately embroidered silver lace along its edges. Frances had debated with herself about this dress, mostly because its neckline dropped just under her collarbone, but with all of her friends’ insistence, she decided to pick it.

For the room, Eleanor had been rather obsessed with providing both security and comfort and so she’d chosen a small greenhouse deep in the Windwhistler mansion’s grounds. Normally used to grown medicinal herbs and flowers, the green house did have a gazebo with a table for intimate gatherings.

Settling herself in her seat at the table, Frances waited with bated breath, checking herself in her hand mirror. Martin was truly amazing with makeup and had given her cheeks a light blush. Her hair was very short, but there were a lot of things you could do to smoothen it and make it shine. For the first time, she was wearing perfume and had chosen one with a lavender scent.

Frances knew that when she’d looked at herself in the mirror she felt pretty. However, she could only hope that Timur would agree.

She heard him close the greenhouse door behind him and she stood up to get a better look.

Frances gasped, the trogre prince wasn’t wearing his customary maroon. Rather, Timur was wearing a long royal purple jacket over a black waistcoat and white shirt. His red hair was still wild, but it’d been tamed, the curls combed back so it was less frizzy mane and more like a waterfall. Tight white pants under knee-high black boots, and black gloves completed his outfit.

As he approached the gazebo, the trogre prince froze, his black eyes wide.

“Frances, wow. You look amazing.”

Frances, feeling her cheeks warm, stammered with no small amount of relief, “Thank you. You… you look really handsome.”

Looking inordinately pleased, Timur sat down across the table from Frances, resting his elbows on the polished wood. “Thank you, Frances. This is a really nice place.”

“Grandma Eleanor arranged it. Um, the food and drink will be coming in a moment, but I was thinking that aside from dinner, we could just talk a bit more.” Frances touched her brow, checking if a hair was out of place. “I thought about a more elaborate date, but well, we still have a lot to catch up about and learn about each other.”

“I’d like that,” said Timur. “Where would you like to start? We left off about your new family last time.”

“Yes.” Frances smiled. “I was wondering a little more about yours, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Timur paused as the servants arrived with the wine. “Just a question, before I start, what’s for dinner by the way?”

“Oh, um, a light seafood chowder for appetizer and then grilled Erlenberg bar mackerel with side dishes,” said Frances. She swallowed, “I made the desert. It… it’s something from my world that I managed to replicate here with magic. It’ll be a surprise.”

“That sounds delicious, and I can’t wait for the surprise,” said Timur. He took a deep breath. “Um, so you kinda know my dad, or heard of him. Because… well.”

Frances clenched her fists, swallowing down her anger. She could hear Titania screaming at her, and hear Ivy’s Sting’s words. No, that wasn’t a memory, she could feel her wand shiver.

Thorgoth the “Demon King” was an abuser and if she was worried about Timur’s loyalty to his father before, she was horrified after what she’d learned. She hadn’t been sure about telling Timur. There was a good chance he wouldn’t believe her if she did, but…

Master, you have to tell him. He has to know. He… he may be being hurt by his father and he may not know that.

“But … but right now?” Frances thought to her wand, cringing at how Timur might react.

Her wand hesitated. Maybe not right now, but you have to before the negotiations are over.

“I… okay, you’re right. I promise I will. Thanks, Ivy.”

You’re welcome, Master.

Frances took a deep breath. “Yeah, um, maybe let’s not talk about him just yet? There’s… there’s something I want to tell you about your father that… it just isn’t for right now.”

Timur was intrigued by what his date said, but he mostly just felt relief that he didn’t have to discuss his father. His… complicated and hard to understand father. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he said, with no small amount of relief. “Let’s start with my oldest brother, Teutobal Greyhammer. Do you remember Morgan?”

“Your adorable harpy-troll niece?” Frances asked.

Timur nodded. “Yes. Teutobal was her father. He died before the war started.”

“Wait, what? How?” Frances asked, setting down her cup. “And… if he was your oldest brother, then wouldn’t that mean he was Alavaria’s heir? And doesn’t that mean Morgan is the heir to the kingdom?”

Timur blinked, “Uhh, so to answer your questions, Teutobal was on a diplomatic trip to Erisdale, sailing off the southern coast. However, his boat was lost in a storm with all hands, including Morgan’s mother. As to why Morgan’s not Alavaria’s heir, Morgan’s mother was a harpy commoner called Neria and he had her out of wedlock. They were talking to my father about getting married and legitimising Morgan, but well, he died.” The prince scowled. “Now the heir to the throne is Titania, who you’ve met.”

Frances giggled wrly, “Oh yes. We’ve tried to kill each other several times.”

The prince froze for a second, before putting his cup down. “She did what?”

Frances blinked, wondering why Timur’s hair was beginning to stand on end and his tail stiffening. “Timur, it was war.”

“No I… I get that, but…” Timur forced herself to take a sip of his cup. “How did you survive?”

“Good luck and a lot of desperation,” said Frances dryly. Wanting to take the conversation away from the subject of war, Frances decided to ask a question she’d been wondering about. “By the way Timur, you’re half-ogre, and Titania’s half-orc, are you only half-siblings?”

“Yes. It’s traditional for the king or queen of Alavaria to bear children from every one of its races, though, for practicality purposes, this isn’t always done.” Timur dipped his hand into his pockets and pulled out a small notebook. Flipping it open, Frances noticed a number of drawings in the book before the trogre finally flipped to a blank page, produced a pencil from what seemed like thin air, and began to draw.

“So every Alavari king or queen has consorts from all the other races in Alavaria, with one as the chief consort and would be called a Queen-consort or King-consort. Some choose to live in the palace, like Teutobal’s mother, Queen-consort Ulania who died long before from sickness. Others, like my mother is Goldilora, an ogre from House Shatterstone choose to just have the king’s child and leave.”

Frances studied the trogre’s expression, noting how melancholic he looked. “So you haven’t met her?”

Timur took a deep breath. “We’ve met, but well… I don’t think she wants anything to do with me. She just seems to want to live her own life.”

A spark of disgust and anger almost made Frances want to say something rather rude about Goldilora. Only the forlorn look on Timur’s face held her back. Her anger wasn’t something he needed.

“That’s her loss.” Frances reached across the table to squeeze Timur’s arm. He looked at her, before shutting his eyes and wiping them.

“Thanks, Frances. Um, yeah my family’s a bit of a mess. Not compared to yours of course, but it has some quirks. I do get along with my younger half-siblings. There are the “twins” Tula and Terisa, who are not really twins. Tula’s half-centaur and Terisa is half-goblin. Their mothers are just really good friends. Finally there’s the youngest, Terroria, the current Queen-Consort Berengaria’s daughter and Olgakaren’s half-sister.”

“Berengaria? As in the harpy general Berengaria?” Frances asked, recalling the mention of the name from Vertingen and Westfall Pass.

“Yes. She’s a rather formidable woman and very smart,” said Timur. The pair paused as the servants brought in the appetizers and thanked them before they left.

Timur then made a fist with one hand and put his hand on it, and whispered a blessing to Galena. Frances in contrast, put her hands together and prayed to Amura and Rathon. The pair smiled at one another and began to eat.

“Woah, this is really good,” said Timur, taking another spoonful of the chowder.

“That’s a relief.” Frances averted her gaze, knowing that she was blushing. “I really wasn’t sure if you would like it, but the cooks said they were sure that any Alavari would like this.”

“Trolls generally like fish and other food. Most trolls live near rivers or close to the water. Ogres do generally prefer more heavily forested terrain, but hey, I’m half-troll,” said Timur, shrugging.

“Is there anything you can’t eat that humans can eat?” Frances asked.

“Not really, but we don’t generally like beans or nuts as much. We’re happy with green vegetables or fruits. Beans and nuts just taste weird to us,” said Timur.

“Hmm, for humans we each have our own tastes. Elizabeth doesn’t like herbal teas and Martin hates boiled meat,” said Frances.

“And what about you?” Timur asked.

Frances swallowed her spoonful of soup, and tried her best not to make a face. “I’m… a little more complicated. My biological mother and father… you know they abused me. They also starved me and made me cook for them. The only way I could survive… was...was…” Frances turned away. She didn’t know why, but her throat was choking up. Her friends knew what had happened. They didn’t shame her and yet she felt ashamed.

“Frances, whatever you did, you did it to survive. I think you know that,” said Timur softly.

“I know. I… it’s just that… I rummaged through garbage bins and ate food scraps,” she stammered and didn’t stop. If she stopped, she might not be able to say more. “So I… I think my taste buds got warped somehow. I can enjoy any food. Anything I’ve eaten in Durannon tastes better than what I ate there and I found… I found that some of the rotten food I ate tasted pretty good.”

Frances blinked, and stared at Timur, horrified. She hadn’t meant to say so much. What would he think? Would he think that she was disgusting?

Except, Timur was staring at Frances with a mix of open-mouthed admiration and sympathy.

“Frances, you were trying to survive, and you did.” Reaching out across the table, he gently touched her hand. “And maybe you were just so hungry you found that any nourishment you could get tasted good. I mean, what did your parents feed you?”

Frances closed her eyes, and cringed at the memory. “I… I think that with my food, they were trying to hurt me without killing me to try to make it clear how inferior I was to them. Normally, I’d get some slices of bread or a bun, some vegetables like a carrot or two, and if I was lucky, a package of instant noodles if I was really lucky. Um, instant noodles are pre-made noodles that you just need to boil.”

“Was this for a meal?” Timur asked.

Frances shook her head, “That was usually for a day.”

The prince’s grip on her hand suddenly tightened and Frances blinked as she saw the color drain from the trogre’s face.

“It wasn’t that bad. If I looked really sick they’d give me a bit more. They always gave me food that had gone a bit bad like milk, or fruit…” Her voice trailed off as Timur’s eyes seemed to widen. “Timur I survived that, I’m safe now.”

The prince took a deep breath and his hold on her hand softened. “Yeah, it’s just… I didn’t realize how bad your parents were. I mean, I knew, but it… and you were beaten too, every day right?”

“Yes. I mean… the memories aren’t so bad now. I get the occasional nightmares still, but I’ve gotten used to it.” Letting out a sigh, Frances met Timur’s eyes. “It’s the emotions… I can’t… it’s better now, but sometimes, when I’m alone, I still feel worthless. I still worry about how people see me. And I… I struggle with my temper.”

“Temper?” Timur asked. “But you’re like the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

Frances smiled sadly, “I think you might be exaggerating a bit.”

“You literally saved my life the first time we met and are continuing to do so,” said Timur. He was serious, but there was a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice.

Frances opened her mouth to rebut. However, as she tried to come up with the words, Timur’s eyebrows rose and his smirk only grew until it looked so comical she had to stifle her urge to giggle.

“Alright, alright just stop making that face please!” she laughed.

Timur smirked just a little longer, before relaxing into a more natural smile. “And don’t you forget it. Not that I don’t believe you, Frances, but I think your positive qualities significantly outweigh your negative ones.”

The warm feeling that blossomed in her chest rendered Frances speechless for a moment.

“Thank you, Timur. I do struggle with my anger, though. I feel very angry about what happened to me and if someone’s hurt in front of me, my anger just grows until I lash out and hurt someone. It’s why I’m seeing a courtesan—for counselling of course! Her name is Renia.”

“Well that’s good, and for what it’s worth, I think your anger is warranted,” said Timur.

Frances smiled. “Thank you, for understanding, Timur.”

“Thank you for confiding in me, Frances.” He let go of Frances’s hand to touch his chin. “Renia? Huh, sounds kinda familiar. Oh, nevermind, it just sounds similar to Neria Dawnfeather, Teutobal’s lover and Morgan’s mother.”

A chill ran up Frances’s back. No, it wasn’t just similar. Neria was an anagram of Renia. And their last names… Dawnfeather and Sunwing… the words were related.

But it couldn’t be. Neria had perished in the storm. It was just a coincidence.

Except, Neria was a harpy. She could fly.

“Frances?”

She shook her head. It was too crazy of an idea. “Sorry, I just thought the coincidence was just strange. I’m… I’m surprised your brother didn’t marry her, though.”

“From what I heard, Morgan was an unexpected child. She was a courtesan and I believe he got her out of a bad situation and she wanted to repay him.” Timur pursed his lip.s “They didn’t really fall in love until after they had her. I was a child at the time, but I remember Neria was exceptionally beautiful and Morgan’s inherited some of her looks, especially her chocolate-brown eyes and tawny-red plumage.”

Frances nodded slowly, but her mind was racing. To buy herself some time, she asked, “How is Morgan by the way?”

As Timur eagerly launched into telling how his niece was doing, Frances touched Ivy’s Sting, half-listening to Timur.

“Ivy… I think we need to talk to Renia,” she thought.

Yes. But we need to be gentle and careful. If she is Neria, which may not even be the case, then she has to have a reason why she’s pretending to be dead.

Frances struggled to keep her expression calm. “Okay. I just… This is too much of a coincidence. They even have the same description and Neria was even a courtesan.”

Perhaps not. Erlenberg is the only place where Alavari running from the kingdom can really go to and be accepted. That’s why Elowise defected here rather than going to the human kingdoms. If we think about it backwards, if Neria had a reason to hide from Alavaria and fake her death, then Erlenberg would be the only place to go to.

“You’re right. Thank you, Ivy. Should we tell anybody else?”

I don’t think so, and you should attend to your boyfriend, Frances. I’ll keep thinking about this more, Master. Enjoy your date.

“Right! Thank you.”

Frances shook her head and forced herself to smile. “Sorry Timur, can you repeat that. I heard that Morgan has magical talent?”

Timur smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, I started talking too quickly, but yes. She has magical talent. She’s a bit young at the moment, but when she gets to twelve, she’ll be ready to train as a mage. Maybe she’ll even enter the Academy.”

“The Academy?” Frances asked.

“Oh! It’s the premier institution for training Alavaria’s mages. While the human kingdoms of their mage orders, we have a centralized institution for training mages…”

Meanwhile...

Helias sat in the middle of his tent, eyes closed.

Antigones had delivered the news to him and it was all he could to try to process it. It didn’t look good at all. On one hand, he could refuse to give himself over, but… there were nineteen thousand Alavari trapped. The survivors of his army, and the personal troops he had were among them.

He had no idea what to do.

That was when he felt his hand mirror begin to vibrate. Helias, frowning, he pulled out the gold-encased object out and opened it.

“Your Majesty!” he gasped.

King Thorgoth Greyhammer of the Alavari, his face stoney, black eyes hard, leaned forward. His long, thin, clean-shaven face shadowed by the light on his desk. “Are you alone?”

Helias nodded. “Yes sir.”

Thorgoth narrowed his eyes. “Make sure of it.”

Grabbing his sword, he pointed at the tent and sealed the entrance, casting a deafening spell around him for insurance. Sitting back down, he picked the mirror back up.

“Helias, you’re going to do exactly what I say, so listen closely,” said Thorgoth.

The tauroll general nodded and listened. As his king explained, Helias’s eyes widened, but he didn’t dare say a word.