“I don’t like that we don’t know who we’re negotiating with,” said Frances.

The humans were sitting at a large rectangular table, with one side of it, the Alavari side, being empty. Not every person in the delegation sat at the table, some, like Frances, were sitting one row behind.

“I don’t like it either, but to be honest, they don’t know who they’re negotiating with either,” said Edana. She glanced at her daughter. “Do you think it will be Prince Timur?”

Frances sighed as the trogre’s handsome features resurfaced in her memory.

“I hope it’s Timur, but I don’t think his father would trust him with something like this, especially given our suspicions about why the Alavari have asked us to come.”

Edana nodded, just as the sound of trumpets blared from outside the tent. The flaps on the other side open and in strode the Alavari delegation.

The Alavari that entered took Frances aback because he looked exactly like Timur but years older. He had the same long hair, his strong cheek, and lion-like tail. He had black eyes that while crinkled at the edges, were large and observant. The shape of his face, his nose, and even his cheekbones seemed like an aged replica of the Alavari she still had feelings for. His hair had once been maroon, and distinguished grey streaks ran through it.

She found him handsome, extremely so. He didn’t just have a handsome face, he was tall, and powerfully built. Yet, unlike Timur, he had an ostentatious golden crown on his head, bedecked with jewels and carvings. He had four, not six fingers, and finally as it dawned on her who he was, she found that his face had none of the kindness she’d seen on the man’s son.

Frances felt her breath catch in her throat, and dread pool in her stomach, as Ivy’s Sting screamed with horror.

Master! It’s him! It’s him!

King Thorgoth of Alavaria, the “Demon King” himself, chose the seat in front of Edana and sat down, resting his elbows on the table.

Behind him, practically unnoticed, Titania and Timur, both wearing much smaller crowns, entered and stiffly took seats beside their father.

“Your Majesty, King Thorgoth, it is an honor to finally meet you,” said Edana, finding her voice. She sounded calm, but Frances could see how stiff her mother’s shoulders were, and how tightly she was holding onto Poker.

Thorgoth smiled. “The pleasure is mine, Lady Firehand. And greetings to you, Princess Clawdia, Prince Sebastian and Sir Orcas. I believe this is the first time we’ve all met.”

The king’s voice boomed throughout the tent. The best way that Frances could describe his tone was that it sounded like he was commanding the people around him.

It also was causing Ivy’s Sting to completely break down, sending waves of panic and fear up Frances’s arm, where she’d hidden her wand in advance. After all, if Titania could recognize Ivy’s Sting, Thorgoth could too.

Don’t let him see me. Don’t let him see me.

“I won’t,” Frances stuck her hands into her sleeves to touch her wand and send her thoughts to Ivy, letting a little of the anger that gripped her flow to her wand. “We will hurt him if he dares to try anything. Ivy, you are not alone anymore. We can fight him.”

As Frances comforted her wand, she barely paid attention to the other greetings that were made between the highest level of delegates.

That is until she heard her name.

“And this must be your adoptive daughter, Frances Stormcaller, the Otherworlder. What a pleasure.”

Frances looked up and found herself staring right into Thorgoth’s gaze. They were like black spotlights, fixing her in place, and suddenly she felt like she wanted to run.

This was the Alavari who abused Timur, who tortured Ivy’s Sting, who beat Titania, who murdered Renia’s husband, who started the war that cost so many lives.

Anger flared in her heart, forcing Frances to take a quick breath. Swallowing to clear her throat, she said, “Your Majesty.”

Thorgoth chuckled. “A little shy are you? Then again, I suppose your mission is to end my life. This must be rather awkward.”

Something about the king’s laugh just grated on Frances’s psyche. It was friendly, too friendly. She wasn’t sure if it was just her, but the laugh seemed to speak to how Thorgoth didn’t care about the bloodshed he’d caused or the pain he’d inflicted on those around him.

“Not at all awkward, Your Majesty. I am exactly where I want to be. Keeping humans and Alavari safe.”

She gave Thorgoth her most practiced smile. The fake one she’d given to her parents and those around her when she was aching inside. Only, this one was not to hide her pain but to hide the urge to pound the monster in front of her into the ground.

Thorgoth only laughed, putting his hands over his belly as he did so. He did this for several seconds, long enough for people to start to squirm, and yet nobody interrupted him.

When he stopped, he fixed Frances with a nasty grin.

“And you have been doing a rather good job of it, Stormcaller,” the king drawled, showing to the tent that he was anything, but complimenting Frances for it.

Frances didn’t care. She wanted to zap the king. She could see it. Blue lightning arching across the table and frying Thorgoth to a crisp.

“And I am Prince Timur of Alavaria. A pleasure to meet you all,” said Timur suddenly. He smiled, charmingly. His gaze met Frances’s, and in that split second, she realized that something seemed different about the prince.

As Thorgoth glanced at him, Timur gestured to Titania. “And this is my sister, Crown Princess Titania of the Kingdom of Alavaria.”

“A pleasure and an honour.” Titania sneered right at Frances, who glared right back.

“If we’re done exchanging pleasantries, can we get down to business?” Edana asked, her tone just above a hiss.

“An excellent idea,” said Thorgoth, steepling his fingers. “To business.”

The Human Kingdoms and the Kingdom of Alavaria had very similar demands. Peace was at the forefront, and territories or compensation being the next. The clash came with who was giving what.

As much as Edana and Frances had feared that Thorgoth might demand more from Roranoak, he seemed content to just have peace with them. He was, however, insistent over Vertingen and annoyed at the demands for compensation.

Frances stayed quiet during the rest of the exchanges, watching the representatives argue, comforting Ivy’s Sting when she needed to.

The thing of course was that nobody was budging on the salient points: Vertingen and Erisdalian compensation. The discussion wound around and around the points, with Titania and Thorgoth leading the Alavari discussion and Edana and Sebastian countering.

Timur however, watched and occasionally interceded. As Frances examined him out of the corner of her eye, she realized that her earlier guess had been correct.

The prince was even quieter than before. The easy smile he had was gone. He looked as healthy as before, and yet his shoulder seemed slightly slumped.

And when their eyes met, he seemed to look regretful, before looking to somewhere else.

The talks wound on past lunch until it was finally dinnertime and it was time to adjourn. That was when the delegates all stood up, and as informed by their staff earlier, they all reached across to shake each other’s hands.

Sliding in next to her mother, Frances reached out to Timur. He glanced at her for a moment, before taking her hand gently, without a word or a smile.

Yet, as Frances pulled back, she felt something inside her palm aside from her skin.

The delegations were having dinner in their sections of the camp. There were going to be banquets hosting both parties, with one happening tomorrow, but it was agreed upon that tonight, both sides would retire to their areas.

This was when Frances showed her mother the note Timur had snuck into her hand.

“Erlenberg activity, Kwent location, Conthwaite time, signed T,” Edana whispered. She frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Timur wants me to meet at the west fortress on the Alavari side in the evening. It’s the only one with a fortified bridge and um, well we were on a date in Erlenberg,” said Frances. She grimaced and walked over to her chest. “I think I should meet him.”

Edana shook her head. “I don’t think you should. You don’t know if it’s Timur.”

This was a possibility Frances had considered, but as she re-read the note, she shook her head.

“Only he and I know the meaning of Erlenberg and Kwent in this context and I… I’m sure that he was the one who told me about the camp in Gestoch,” said Frances. She pursed her lips. “The writing is also similar.”

“I still don’t think you should go, even if it’s Timur who wrote this,” said Edana, crossing her arms.

The arch tone of her mother’s voice whipped Frances’s head to the side. “Wha—Mom? Why?”

Edana’s expression softened, but her posture didn’t. “Remember, Frances, we are fairly certain Thorgoth is not interested in peace and agreed to this conference to achieve something else. You don’t know if he’s being coerced by his father, doing this on his behalf. It could very easily be an elaborate trap.”

“But mom, what if he’s being genuine?” Frances asked.

“It could also be a trap by Thorgoth. He could be watching Timur,” said Edana. She stepped closer to her daughter, bending down to meet her eye. “And even if it isn’t a trap, if you are caught in the Alavari section of the camp, you will fall under significant suspicion. There will be consequences that I can’t protect you from.”

That made Frances pause. Her mother had given strong reasons and there was an urgency in her tone. A few years ago, she would have been cowed and agreed with her mother. She would have been too scared of the possibility of getting sent back home.

But she wasn’t the Frances of a few years ago, and there was far more at stake than simply her life.

“Mom, Timur would not have asked me to meet with him unless it was important. He took great risks in passing me this message and in giving me the information that helped us raid Gestoch. It’s only right to meet him.”

“And you’ll be putting your life in extreme danger.”

Frances’s eyes widened. In all of her years in Durannon, she’d disagreed with her mother once or twice, but usually, they either agreed to seek more information or acceded to the other side. This wasn’t a situation she’d ever found herself in, at least, not with her mother.

“Mom, I’ve done this before.”

“But not alone. Not without your friends.”

“I did something similar at Vertingen.”

“Which I never wanted you at. Can’t you ask Timur to meet us?”

Frances spluttered but managed to get her thoughts together. “I could, but it’d be just as dangerous because of his father.”

“You’re right. It’d be more dangerous for him, but less for you,” Edana said without flinching.

Blinking, Frances could not believe what she was seeing. Her mother’s face wore a melancholic expression, but her eyes were cold.

“You’d rather put him in danger instead of me?” Frances whispered.

“Yes. You’re my daughter and you come first.”

“Mom, this… I need to do this,” Frances replied.

Edana exhaled slowly and sat down on one of the chairs in the tent. “Why?”

“Because I think he wants to help us. And because I think he needs our help,” said Frances.

“And you’re not simply doing it because you have feelings for him?” Edana asked.

“No! I mean, I do, but that’s not the point. Besides, he saved my life!” Frances took a deep breath to try to calm her racing heart. “Mom, this…what’s going on? Ever since Vertingen, you’ve never tried to stop me from helping people before. Or from taking on dangerous missions.”

Edana swallowed, and Frances could see her mother close her eyes in a vain attempt to stop the tears filling them.

“Yes, and I’ve begun to regret that.”

Her mouth open, eyes wide, Frances stared at her mother in disbelief.

“I don’t understand.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Edana looked down at the ground. “That’s not important. Not right now.”

“Mom!” Frances cried.

Her shoulders sagging, Edana sighed and met Frances’s eyes. “Just go. With my love. But please… be careful.”

Frances stared at her mother, who looked away. Unable to stay, the young mage tore her gaze away and ran out of the tent.

If there was a weak subject that Frances had, it was using magic to create a glamour. A good glamour needed a mage to have a very strong imagination and to have very fine control over their magic. Ophelia Voidsailor from Erlenberg was fantastic at it. Ayax was very good, particularly at spells mimicking the shape and feel of clothing.

Frances had a good imagination, but she had far too much power to be able to do most intricate illusions well. Often, the illusions she created would shred themselves apart unless she made them large.

This is why when she snuck into the Alavari camp disguised as a troll, she relied a little less on magic and more on practical effects, bolstered by magic.

When they had done their raid into the internment camp in Gestoch, Ginger and Ayax had worked together to come up with several disguises that would help them infiltrate the camp. Frances was using one of these, a false troll tail that she animated with magic so it would move like a real troll tail. It was easier than creating a troll tail out of nothing and the effect was just as good.

To make fake ears, Frances used ones of cloth and leather that Ginger and Martin had made and adhered them to her ear with a spell. A quick colour spell disguised them enough so that Alavari won’t give a second glance.

Frances still wore her white robes, but she’d used a spell to dye them a plain brown. To change her face, she applied cream from her bag to darken her face.

The trickiest bit was the fingers. Frances had enough power to turn her pinkie invisible, but she had to be careful not to make it look like it’d been cut off. She succeeded on her third attempt at the spell.

Now, as she walked through the camp, her wand hidden in her sleeve, nobody gave her a second look. There wasn’t any dividing barrier between the two camps just a separation that she’d crossed without too much trouble. That did mean of course that Alavari could do the same, but then again, the human staff had layered multiple privacy spells on their tents.

In what seemed like no time at all, she was at the northern fortified bridge. It was essentially a four-story gatehouse with a defensive ditch filled with stakes. The gates were open, but Frances felt a shiver run up her spine as she walked towards it and the two guards, a goblin and an orc, standing outside of the gate.

“Halt, who goes there?” yelled the orc.

“Fern Horn, just going for a walk,” said Frances, using her alias from the Gestoch raid. Horn was a very common surname in Alavaria.

“Hey Fern, would you like some company?” drawled the goblin, the leer on his face telling Frances exactly what he was interested in doing.

Frances couldn’t help it. It wasn’t the first time she’d been approached. With fame, came a lot of propositions. However, those gazes and offers always sent a shiver up her skin.

“Not interested, um, I’m meeting someone anyway. Sorry, I didn’t mention earlier, didn’t think it was relevant,” Frances stammered, crossing her arms.

“Aw come on, I bet they wouldn’t mind you having some fun first?” the goblin asked, sauntering up to Frances.

“Not interested,” said Frances, taking a step back.

“Harold, seriously, quit it,” said the orc,

“Aw come on, James. Let me give it my best shot,” whined the goblin.

A familiar voice burst out from behind Frances. “Oh for the love of—Harold, don't make me demote you again!”

It was not, however, Timur’s voice.

Titania stormed past Frances, hands on her hips. The two guards were already bowing.

“My apologies Your Highness,” squeaked the goblin.

“Apologize to her,” hissed Titania, pointing to Frances. The princess wasn’t looking at her, which was a good thing, because Frances was not sure if her disguise would stand up to her sight.

“Sorry,” stammered Harold.

“Good, now, where were you headed—” Titania’s voice trailed off as she met Frances’s eye. The two stared at one another. Frances tensed, ready to grab her wand at a moment’s notice.

Which was when Titania did something rather unexpected.

“Oh Fern! I was wondering where you got to dearie.”

The princess swaggered over to Frances, batting her eyelashes. Frozen, completely taken aback, Frances just stared at the approaching princess.

“Wh—”

Titania was too fast. She’d closed the distance in a moment and was now holding Frances’s shoulders. And now she was kissing Frances.

“MMMPH!?!?!?”

She tried to wrestle Titania off, but the trorc’s grip was iron. She was helpless, unable to protect herself from foreign lips pressed against hers, touching her where she didn’t want to be touched. She wanted to scream, but Titania had grabbed onto her hair, pressing her mouth into hers, completely overpowering her. With no other option left, Frances went for her dagger.

“Follow my lead and I’ll take you to my brother,” Titania whispered.

Frances flinched, but as Titania parted, smiling lustfully, the shaking mage forced a smile on her face.

It could be a trap, but she didn’t have a choice. At least Titania wasn’t yelling out her identity in the middle of the camp. Even as her stomach churned, and shivers ran down her spine, Frances forced herself to stay calm.

Chuckling to herself, the trorc princess, hand on Frances’s waist, steered her towards the gatehouse, away from the embarrassed-looking guards. Passing the gate, Titania led Frances to a heavy-looking door, which she opened and led inside.

The moment the door shut, Frances whipped her wand out and had it at Titania’s chin.

“Don’t scream!” she hissed as the princess’s eyes widened. “What the hell was that for?”

“What, don’t tell me you didn’t like that—”

“You forced yourself on me!” Frances wiped her lips with her free hand, hating how she was shaking. This had been a mistake. Her mother was right, but she wasn’t here to hold onto her.

Oh no. She could see the memories again. Her lips were stinging, like the crack of the cane. Her mother was dragging her out of her closet by her hair. Her stepfather was grabbing her by the cheeks as he hit her.

She was on the ground now, her knees against the carpet. Titania was going to hurt her again. She needed to get away, but how… how was she so weak?

Voices filtered through like a haze, Frances closed her eyes, and suddenly could hear Ivy’s voice.

Master! You’re safe! Your parents aren’t here! And Timur’s here! You’re going to be fine! You’re going to be fine.

“Ivy? What… I’m still in Durannon?”

Yes. You’re having a panic attack, open your eyes.

Frances opened her eyes and suddenly, the haze of voices that she didn’t realize she was hearing cleared up. Timur was beside her, not touching her.

“Oh, thank Galena. Frances, you’re safe. You’re going to be fine.”

Relief flooded through Frances. “Hey Timur, sorry. I… I just need a minute.”

“Do you need a blanket? How can I help you?” Timur asked.

Frances held out her hand and Timur, gingerly taking it, helped her to stand up.

“I just need some space” She looked around the room. “Is there anybody else here?”

“No. We made sure of that. If you’d like, there’s a little guard bedroom here. It’s not much but it’s private,” said Timur.

Frances swallowed. She didn’t want to look so weak, but… she felt like she’d been casting magic for hours. It’d been so long since she had a panic attack, she had in some ways forgotten how bad they could be.

“That would be lovely, but… how long do we have to meet?” Frances asked.

“The whole evening,” said Timur kindly.

“Okay. Thank you, Timur,” Frances stammered, giving Timur a weak, grateful smile. He smiled back, and Frances felt her heart ache. She missed this. She truly did. As much as she tried not to think about the prince, moments like these reminded her of why she felt so strongly about him.

Once the bedroom door was closed, Timur turned to his sister, who’d been following them, a little ways off.

“What happened?”

“Why do you think it has to do with me?” Titania squawked.

Timur narrowed his eyes. “She stuck her wand at you the moment you left and then collapsed—”

The princess winced. “Alright, Timur, I did do something, but it was a joke! One of the guards was approaching her and to distract them and draw them off I kissed her.”

Timur’s jaw dropped open for a second, as the image passed through his brain. Shaking his head, he stammered, “Wait, like, you both pretended to be lovers and you kissed?”

“Well I sort of just grabbed her, held her there, and kissed her like she was my woman,” said Titania. She smacked her lips. “She has nice lips by the way.”

The princess expected her brother to grumble or snap “Titania!” Instead, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“You forced yourself on her?” Timur stammered.

“That makes it sound like I attacked her. I was just having a little fun—”

“Titania, you grabbed Frances and pushed your lips onto hers, without even asking her!”

Normally, when her brother got emotional, Titania generally brushed it off as him whining, but there was an alarm in his voice that grabbed her attention.

“I mean I had to draw their attention away,” she stammered.

“You could have told them to back off, said you needed to talk to Frances about a task, anything!” Timur exclaimed.

“It was a joke. I just wanted to mess with her a bit,” Titania whispered, only, it was starting to dawn on her that the joke was not as trivial as she thought it would be.

“You thought it was a joke to restrain a person who was abused by their parents and then kiss them against their will?” Timur demanded.

Titania staggered, as horror filled her.

“I… oh no.”

“Yeah oh no. You’re going to apologize,” said Timur, crossing his arms.

Titania buried her head in her hands. “Would she even want to see me? After what I did?”

“We’ll see, but you need to apologize all the same.” Timur bit back the scowl on his face and sighed. “Sis, you’re not a monster.”

Titania flinched, staring at her brother again. “What—how—”

“I’m a slow learner, but I learn and we’ve been working together for a year. I’ve noticed things.” The prince groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Okay? You’re not a monster. You just need help.”

The princess nodded and exhaled, slowly, feeling a shred of her old confidence return. “Thanks, Timur.”

Timur smiled briefly. “You’re welcome.”

Frances sat heavily on the bed and holstered her wand, her hands shaking. She fumbled with her flask at her belt and managed to unstopper it. Fighting not to cry, she choked down several gulps of the sweet herbal concoction.

“Master, if you want, we can just leave. You don’t owe them anything, not after what Titania did to you.”

“But Timur. He’s…”

“You can contact each other using one of the spare listening devices you have right? Just give him one. You were planning to do so anyway.”

That was a perfectly good solution, and yet Frances hesitated. “I just need a moment, Ivy.”

“Master… you’ve just had a panic attack. You need to take care of yourself first.”

“I’ve been trying! All this time! Protecting myself, my friends, and out of nowhere she kisses me and I just fall apart!” Frances wailed. She slammed the cork back into her flask. “I thought I was fine! I mean, you know I’m not like… completely happy but what more could I ask for?”

“I still think you should talk to Renia about it,” Ivy said softly.

“I’m not even sure what I’m unhappy about, Ivy. I have an amazing mom, even if she seems to be acting a bit odd lately. I have the odd nightmare, but it’s not even that bad. Sometimes I don’t even remember it. I have great friends and we’re saving the world, bit by bit.” Frances tried to lean back onto her wrists, but to her frustration, her hands were still shaking. She grabbed onto them, trying to still them, to no avail.

Tears filling her eyes, Frances buried her face in her hands. “Ivy, what’s wrong with me? My life’s been better than it’s ever been. I’m Frances Windwhistler, Frances Stormcaller, Otherworlder Heroine, celebrated by my friends, my family, my peers. I should be happy.”

Ivy didn’t respond at first. Instead, Frances could feel the ancient wand was deep in contemplation.

“Perhaps instead of thinking what you should feel, you should think about what you do feel, Frances,” Ivy suggested.

Frances froze and her thoughts came to a crashing halt. The panic, the fear, was coming back. She forced it down, clapping her hands against her cheeks.

“Master?”

“I don’t want to think about it!” Frances struggled to her feet. “Ivy… I can’t. Too many people are relying on me right now. If Thorgoth finds out we’ve been meeting, if he finds out about you, or if mom finds out I got hurt—”

“You mean you aren’t going to tell Edana about tonight?” Ivy’s Sting said with incredulity.

“Would she ever let me visit Titania and Timur if I did? This isn’t going to be our first and only meeting. We could communicate by magic, but there are going to be meetings where we’ll need to meet in person,” Frances wailed.

“No she wouldn’t want to, but you could make her understand how important it is. She’s only doing this because she loves you.” Frances cringed as she felt the sincerity her wand conveyed. “She would never hurt you if you told her what you’re feeling. I… I can’t tell what you’re thinking, but I think it’s something that you need to as you say: “get off your chest.”

Sitting in silence, Frances took another sip from her flask.

“Ivy, I’ll tell you a little, but I’m not telling my mother. At least not until I figure out why she’s been acting so strange lately.” She closed her eyes. “I’ve been feeling unhappy with myself.”

“At what part of yourself, master?” Ivy asked in a curious tone.

“Everything. I’m Frances Stormcaller, Frances Windwhistler. I’m loved, admired, I do live a dangerous life, but it’s a great one. Except, while I can blast Alavari and win every battle I’ve been in, I can’t fix myself!” Frances growled while Ivy's Sting remained quiet. The wand continued to stay silent as her master continued her diatribe.

“I’ve tried to move on from Timur, but I’m still interested in him. Yes, I figured out the magical phone, but I can’t seem to come up with any better offensive or defensive spells other than my lightning spell. I’ve been fighting all I can but I’m still no closer to stopping Thorgoth and there’s still the possibility of an Erisdalian civil war. I have so many great friends, but I still feel lonely. And no matter what I do, I can’t forget everything that my parents did to me!”

As Frances hissed the last part of those words, she slammed one fist into the bed.

“I hate that I can’t move on from them. It’s been five years! Five years of love and affection from my friends and I still can’t forget what my bastard parents have done to me!”

Ivy took in Frances’s feelings in silence, without judgement or criticism. As Frances panted, trying to gather her thoughts, she could feel her wand reflecting back love and understanding.

“Master, your mom did mention that what they did might stay with you. That doesn’t mean you can’t be happy.”

Frances groaned, “I know, but it sucks! I hate that part of myself! That stupid broken part of me that keeps dragging me down!”

“I… I see.” Ivy’s Sting paused. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Frances. I… I just don’t know how to help, though. I mean, I understand what you’re feeling. I mean, I feel the same way about my memories of Thorgoth.”

Feeling the fear and the sorrow in her wand, Frances blinked and extended as much as her comfort and love as possible. “You’re not to blame. He did horrible, horrible things to you.”

“I know. I… I know I might have to face him someday, though. Soon perhaps. I don’t think this peace conference is going to go well. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”

“Nobody does,” said Frances in a dry tone. She caressed her wand. “No matter what, I’ll be with you when we do face him.”

“I know. And… I’ll be with you, no matter how bad you feel about yourself,” said Ivy’s Sting.

Frances smiled. “Thank you, Ivy.”