When Frances arrived with Edana at the pre-conference meeting between the human ambassadors, she was thinking that her dance with Timur might be mentioned. Her mother had warned her that the human diplomats had been surprised. However, neither of them thought that a dance by itself would provoke a reaction.

Only when they arrived at the meeting, they found themselves faced with an oppressive silence.

It wasn’t a united front of antagonism, though. Sebastian and Orcas were eyeing Frances but their quirked lips were more indicative of curiosity rather than hostility.

Most of the antagonism was coming from, and perhaps unsurprisingly, from Clawdia.

“Lady Stormcaller, explain why you were consorting with an Alavari prince?” the Roranoakian princess half-hissed, half-shrieked.

Frances really did not have enough shits to give the princess, especially since she apparently was deciding to blow a dance out of proportion. Besides, Frances knew how bad it looked, she didn’t need someone questioning who she liked.

“Your highness, Prince Timur is an acquaintance. My relationship with him has no bearing on the negotiations,” Frances explained.

“If you two are merely acquaintances then I am blind. He’s the enemy. He’s Thorgoth’s son. You want us to fight Thorgoth and you’re sleeping with his son?” Clawdia hissed.

Frances was so completely done with the princess that she couldn’t muster the anger to bite back. She stood up and crossed her arm over her chest. “I swear that my relationship with Timur, if it even could be called that, will not interfere with my duties to the Human Kingdoms.”

“You are in love with the enemy, how would that not interfere with your duties?” Clawdia demanded.

Frances tried to comprehend just why the princess and everybody else in the room was questioning her loyalty. Had she not killed how many Alavari in service of the Human Kingdoms? Why were they worried, now just because she had feelings for someone and hadn’t even had the time to actually spend time with him?

“Mom, may I leave?” Frances asked.

“Please do, dear,” said Edana.

Clawdia spluttered, “You can’t do that—”

“Watch me!” Frances snapped back. She stormed out of the tent, trying not to cry.

Edana didn’t hesitate and ran after her daughter.

She found Frances in her tent sitting on her bed, arms wrapped around her knees. In one hand, she held her hand mirror, in the other, Ivy’s Sting.

“Dear?” Edana whispered, standing at the tent flap.

Her daughter looked up from the mirror. “Mom? You… don’t you have the diplomats to attend to?”

“You’re my first priority, Frances. Clawdia should learn that her actions have consequences.” Sitting next to her daughter, Edana hesitantly wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“Yeah, but it looks bad, doesn’t it?” Frances whispered.

“Yes it does.” Edana shut her eyes. “Frances, it might be best if you leave the conference.”

Her daughter stiffened, head whipping up to stare at her. “Mom? What are you saying?”

“Frances, Thorgoth knows about you and Timur. If he wants to hurt you, or his son, he can target either of you as you’re right in his reach.” Edana didn’t flinch as Frances spluttered, her shock and confusion deepening. “You can contact him anyway with your mirror now, and I’m alright if you talk to him. But I don’t want you here.”

“Mom, but you’ll be left with Thorgoth. I’m not leaving you in such danger,” said Frances.

“I’ll ask other Otherworlders to come,” said Edana.

“You know that none are as powerful as I am, especially since now I don’t have to provide magic to Timur.” Frances slipped her mother’s arm and rose to her feet. “Mom, what’s this all about? I’ve gone through far more dangerous situations. I’ve survived Vertingen, Erlenberg, and even Gestoch. I know you’re looking out for me, but you and I know that things are too dangerous now for me to just sit things out.”

Edana avoided meeting her daughter’s amber eyes. She knew the answer to her daughter’s question, but she didn’t want to answer it. It wasn’t that she couldn’t tell Frances, but…

“Mom, can you at least say why you can’t tell me?” Frances begged.

Edana closed her eyes, trying to let the silence go on, but it felt like it was bearing down on her as well, like a giant wave crashing down.

“I’m ashamed, Frances. That’s why I don’t want to tell you,” Edana said, in a quiet voice.

Frances stared at her mother. “Mom, you saved my life, I owe you everything. There’s nothing that you could tell me that would change that.”

Edana blinked at her daughter, feeling her heart tear into two at the love that was in those amber eyes.

“Frances, you shouldn’t think like that. I… I helped you but you don’t owe me anything,” Edana whispered.

“When I was a broken, traumatized girl who hated herself, you taught me magic, you taught me everything I know and loved me despite my faults. Despite the fact I couldn’t give you anything.” Frances grabbed her mother’s hands. “Mom, please, tell me what’s bothering you. You’re not acting like you usually do.”

Edana buried her face in her hands and did her best not to cry.

“Frances, have you not realized everything I’ve done has just put you in greater danger?”

Her daughter blinked. She didn’t understand. Of course Frances wouldn’t understand what Edana meant.

“I did train you, I did teach you, and I helped you to become the most powerful mage amongst the Otherworlders. All that’s done is put a massive target on your back.” Edana sniffled, squeezing her daughter’s hands. “Not only are your talents now indispensable, and are sought after for all the most dangerous of missions, you have drawn King Thorgoth’s ire. I… I’m supposed to protect you, but I can’t. Because of what I’ve done, you’re closer than ever to being sent home.”

Frances was reeling, her mind whirling with what her mother was saying. It was so much that she almost sat back down on the bed.

“But… I asked you to train me, to teach me. You needed to so that I can protect my home—our home,” Frances stammered.

“And in doing that, I put you in even greater danger, Frances. Don’t you see that? If you weren’t so talented, so powerful, you’d been safe,” Edana cried.

“And if you didn’t, I would have been unable to protect myself, our family, and my friends against Alavaria,” Frances pleaded, giving her mom a handkerchief. “Mom, I… I know you’re worried but this is my home as well.”

Edana sniffled, and accepted the handkerchief. She blew into it, holding onto Frances’s hand as she did so. After a moment, she hugged her daughter.

“I’m sorry. I know, I just… just please stay safe. Don’t think you need to sacrifice yourself to save me or anybody else. Promise me that, please,” Edana sobbed.

Frances hugged her mother tightly. “I’ll do my best, mom.”

Except, Frances felt a twinge in her heart as she made that promise.

Master, you weren’t telling Edana everything. I could sense it.

Sitting alone in the tent, with Edana having left for the conference, Frances shook her head.

“No, I wasn’t,” she whispered to her wand.

The lash of dismay from Ivy’s Sting was enough to make Frances wince. Why? She’s your mother. Why did you lie to her?

“Because my mother would sacrifice her life to protect mine, no matter if she had a baby to go home to! That’s not fair to Igraine, or her baby.” Frances wiped her eyes. “If I get killed here, I will return home, and I would hate that to happen, but… I’d still be alive and if I was forced to return home because I protected her, and my friends, I’m… I’d be fine with that.”

And what about me? What about Ayax,Martin, Ginger, Timur and all those you’d leave behind!

“Ivy, I don’t want to go back to Earth! I don’t want to be thirteen, sick, broken and frightened of my parents!” She sniffled, sharing her thoughts and emotions with her wand and dear friend. “But I… I couldn’t live with myself if you fell back into Thorgoth’s hands, or if we lost this war. I… I survived them once. I can survive them again.”

Aren’t you scared of being hurt by them? You told me you’re still hurting from them. Ivy wailed.

“It’d be better that way then. I’m… I’m never going to recover from what happened. But you and everybody else aren’t so badly off.” Frances paused and holstered Ivy’s Sting. “And even if I never recovered from what happened, I still survived it. I can survive it a second time.”

Frances, you can’t think like that—

“But it’s true, Ivy.” Frances took a deep breath. “Ivy, I’m not going to try to put myself in danger, and I will do my best not to die here, but please understand.”

Her wand flashed through both frustration, grief and panic, before finally resting on acceptance. Each successive wave flicking through Frances’s mind like waves hitting a beach.

I understand, but I won’t let you sacrifice yourself. You hear me? If we ever confront Thorgoth, you will use all the other spells I’ve gathered throughout the ages. Do you understand?

“I do.” Frances touched her wand. “Thank you, Ivy.”

Her wand, sadly murmured, You’re welcome, its displeasure and melancholy at its master’s decision clear.

Edana and Frances had agreed that the latter should avoid Clawdia as much as she could, and so she wasn’t attending the conference. However, Frances couldn’t sit in her tent the entire day.

So Frances had wandered across Delbarria island to where it split the river. This part of the island was rocky, likely a subterranean slab of rock that had been exposed by the current, and yet couldn’t be eroded so easily. It was very uncomfortable, the craggy rocks making it difficult to stand or sit, and so few people went there.

Only, as Frances clambered up the rocks, and past a boulder, she suddenly realized she wasn’t alone.

“Timur?” she gasped.

The trogre sprang to his feet. “Frances?”

“What are you doing here?” the both exclaimed.

“Practicing magic,” replied Timur.

“Trying to be alone,” stammered Frances. She waved her hands frantically. “Please, you don’t have to go. I… I…”

Timur shrugged. “It’s alright, Frances, I can go.”

“No! I want you to stay.” Frances clamped her hands to her mouth and glanced behind her. There was nobody there, but… just in case, Frances raised Ivy’s Sting and cast a spell that would alert her if anybody approached the rocks. Once done, she turned to face Timur, who was looking at her with a worried expression.

“Frances, how can I help?” the prince asked.

“You can’t. I…” the words wanted to spill out but Frances forced her lips close. Timur had to be facing a similar backlash from the Alavari. That was why he was here practicing magic instead of at the conference. She daren’t not burden him with what she was experiencing. “It’s nothing.”

“Then why are you here instead of the peace conference?” Timur asked.

“It’s none—” Frances shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She could see him grimace slightly, but he nodded. “Okay, can I ask you a question, Frances?”

“Sure.”

Timur took a deep breath. “What are we now?”

Frances froze. She knew what she wanted to say, and she also knew what the risks of that were.

“I… I don’t know.” Her drum that was her heart pounded in her chest, sounding the trepidation that was taking over her every thought and emotion.

Timur stepped forward and took Frances’s hands. With anybody, she’d have to somewhat consciously stop herself from flinching. Yet, with the trogre, she found herself squeezing his fingers.

“I think I want to be with you, and I think you want to be with me as well,” said Timur.

“But how? Our countries—our species are at war,” she whispered. “I… I mean, we can’t hide our feelings for each other anymore, but we don’t know if we can even spend time together.”

“But we are on the same side now.” Timur swallowed. “Frances, I… after being told for so long what I should be doing, what a good Alavari is, I want to make my own decision for once, without caring what I should do. And I don’t want to wait to court you, not any longer. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

Frances blinked back her tears. “I’m not good enough for you.”

“I know I’m not good enough for you either, but why should that stop us?” Timur asked.

Why indeed? When the world already knew and disapproved, why should she restrain herself?

Because you’ll hurt Timur, you moron. Thorgoth hates you enough.

She flinched at her thoughts because she knew she was right.

Master, stop this at once. Thorgoth would hurt Timur even if you didn’t act on your feelings. What are you waiting for? Ivy’s Sting demanded.

“Ivy?” she whispered.

Well? What are you waiting for? You love him and he loves you.

What was she waiting for? Frances blinked, looking up at Timur’s pleading expression, yearning for her acceptance.

“Okay, Timur. I… let’s date.” She squeezed his hands as the brightest smile of joy and relief burst across her prince’s features, so alike and yet completely dissimilar to his father. His smile was so sincere, so full of happiness that she found herself mirroring it.

He was so close now, in fact, he was gently tugging her closer to him. Her heart pounded as he wrapped her arms around her and she did the same. Her prince’s lips were so close, and they were drawing closer.

She raised her chin, her eyes wide. Her heart yearning for him to lean down and press his lips onto hers, like in the storybooks she’d read as a lonely, hurting child. It was going to be perfect.

That’s when Timur’s fingers clasped the back of her head, nudging her lips to his.

Frances acted before she actually felt her desire and love snapping into cold fear and panic. She gasped, turning her head, somehow getting her arms between her and the trogre. Before she realized it, she’d broken out of his embrace and was stepping away from Timur, her hands shaking.

“Frances what… Huh?” Timur stamered.

Frances took in the hurt on Timur’s face with horror and a sharp, biting shame that shot through her chest.

“Timur, I’m sorry! I… it’s my fault. I… I did want to kiss you. I really really wanted to, I… I’m sorry I’m so messed up.”

“Frances, take a deep breath.” She did, inhaling and exhaling, and again, but more slowly. “What happened?”

“I… I don’t know. It’s just… the moment you touched the back of my head I just… I panicked. It reminded me of—” Frances blinked and crossed her arms as the memory flooded back. Of Titania’s lips scouring hers, of her arms holding her head and body in place. Of her fingers grabbing her hair and clothing.

“Of what?” Timur demanded.

“Of your sister kissing me,” Frances whispered.

Timur stared at Frances, his eyes wide and for the first time, he suddenly resembled his father. The prince’s black eyes were narrowed, his breath hoarse, and his fists clenched.

Frances, crying now, and hating that she was in tears again, spluttered, “I’m sorry. Please, don’t be angry at her. I know I messed up—”

“Frances you’re not responsible, Titania is,” Timur hissed. He buried his face in his hands for a moment, before letting go. The anger was still there, but it seemed to have been banked and reduced. “It’s not your fault. Hey, come here,” he said, dropping his arms to his side.

Hesitantly, Frances approached and her hands still shaking, wrapped her arms around him. He was so warm, and it was just… so comforting to have someone holding her with such gentleness.

Rocking her gently, Timur said, “I know it’s not your fault. You’re doing your best. And please, if there’s anything you aren’t comfortable with, tell me.”

“But… but I know you wanted to kiss me and then I suddenly changed my mind,” she whimpered.

“Frances, you know I want you to be happy. If you don’t feel comfortable suddenly, then that’s fine. You don’t have to force yourself if you don’t feel comfortable, you know that, right?” Timur asked.

“I… I don’t?” Frances whispered.

“Yes. You don’t.” Timur smiled, “You really have never been in a relationship, have you?” he said, gently brushing back a lock of her hair.

“No. I… I guess that’s something you definitely know more than I do,” Frances croaked, somehow managing to smile, despite… just everything that she was feeling. That probably had to do with the Alavari holding her, like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Why had she nearly given this up? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she held onto Timur as tightly as she could, resting her cheek against his chest.

They somehow managed to find a seat on the rocks where they just sat next to each other and talked, which was when Frances managed to ask a question that had been bugging her.

“Um, so Timur, I’m here instead of at the conference because the Princess of Roranoak severely disapproves of my relationship with you and I’m trying to avoid her. But… why are you here?”

Timur sighed. “Titania says that I got father really angry, and told me to leave him for the day.”

“You got him angry by doing exactly what he demanded?” Frances asked, frowning.

“According to Titania, it was a challenge. He wanted to embarrass you and he didn’t expect me to step up.” The prince closed his eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

“You love your father, Timur. I… I get that. I sometimes still wish my parents wanted me.” She pursed her lips. “I still don’t get why Princess Clawdia has been so hostile to me and my mother. She’s contributed nothing to the human negotiating table, or the negotiations. She’s actively tried to annoy or anger us both. But… she doesn’t seem to have anything for Sebastian, which is odd. I thought Roranoak and Lapanteria are neighbours and before the war, rivals.”

“Princess Clawdia…” Timur blinked and stiffened. “Crap, Frances, I just remembered. Don’t trust her, or the Lapanterian diplomats. I… I think one of the human kingdoms might be sending its own diplomats to negotiate directly with my father.”

Frances’s blood ran cold. “What!”

“I can’t be sure. I and some of the guards Titania and I brought saw some humans going toward the area of the camp where my father resides. Titania and I weren’t sure whether to bring this up because we couldn’t be sure who, but now that you mention Clawdia’s behaviour… it’s possible she might be trying to tie up the human negotiators to assist my father.”

Frances swallowed, “Timur, that’s assuming your father wants peace. I’ve never thought for a moment he was interested in that. If Roranoak… and I think it has to be them, is working with Alavaria… then we are in deep trouble.”

“Is there any way to find out if it’s them?” Timur asked.

She pursed her lips. “There may be… I remember you told me you’re very good at illusion magic.”

“Fairly good. What are you thinking of?” Timur asked.

In Alavaria, Everglenia (Ayax’s old village)...

On the back of her horse, Ayax stared from the road they’d stopped on, aghast at the sight.

Elizabeth was already trying to comfort the troll, rubbing her back, trying to get her attention. It didn’t do anything to stop the troll from shaking her head.

For instead of being a fire-blasted ruin, the bones of old buildings standing quietly amidst the silence, there were Alavari. It looked like a mix of goblins and harpies had moved in.

Ayax couldn’t believe it. Her heart was breaking up inside. These people had desecrated what was left of her home. The tomb to the friends and neighbours she had buried.

All that was left was a house on the outskirts of the village, a three-story stone building, the largest house in the village with a vegetable garden. Her family’s house.

Antigones frowned. “They rebuilt the village? That’s odd. It was raided, the population scattered.”

“Not so much, father. The land was unclaimed since the raid. It makes sense why some would move in.”

Ayax couldn’t hear any longer. She urged her horse into a gallop. She could hear her girlfriend crying out, her companions tearing after her.

She thundered through the village marketplace, simply where the roads from all twenty houses all converged.

It looked similar, but the faces were all different. Yvonne the flower and herb seller wasn’t the one setting up in the middle of the market. It was a harpy and goblin couple with apples. Ulric the centaur, the blacksmith and farrier… his shop was still there, but there was an orc couple instead.

Blinking back the tears, not caring how many people she was nearly running over, Ayax didn’t stop until she was at the door to her house.

A house which had a new door, not the one that the humans had smashed in. Two children, a harpy and a goblin, sitting on the stone garden wall that her father had built with sorcery and the help of their neighbours Bernard and his husband Nicolas, stared up at her with wide eyes.

“Who… what…” Ayax wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and leapt off her horse. She landed with a thud, staff planted in the ground, making the children’s eyes widen. It took every ounce of control to bite back her anger and renewed grief and demand that these children get out of her house. That and the fear in the children’s eyes managed to douse her burning grief.

“Who owns this house?” she managed.

“Nobody, miss, because this is the village orphanage. That’s what Mister Sevatas says,” stammered the goblin child.

Ayax froze. “The… the village orphanage?”

“Mm hmm. Are you an orphan too miss?” the harpy asked.

Ayax’s fingers squeezed her staff so hard, she thought she was going to cut herself. “I was. I… I got adopted. This… this was my house.”

The two children’s eyes widened as they stared at Ayax, and then back to the house, and back at Ayax again.

“Gania, get Mister Sevastas,” stammered the goblin.

An elderly troll appeared at the doorway. “I’m here, what’s—” he blinked at Ayax’s appearance, and staff. “Miss? How can I help you?”

Ayax tried to form words, but her mind seemed to be going through molasses. She just stood there, staring, until she heard Elizabeth and the other dismounting behind her.

“Mister?” Antigones asked, stepping in beside Ayax.

The troll bowed, “Sevastas, my lord?”

“General Antigones, the general Antigones. May we talk inside?” the orc asked.

The room they met in had been the dining room for Ayax’s family, and now was the dining room for the orphanage. Sevastas sat on a stool, with Antigones and the others taking seats on what chairs were available, or in the case of Antigones’s guards, they stood at the ready, keeping the curious orphans, behind closed doors.

“So, you’re saying you need to look underneath this house regarding a matter of national security?” Sevastas asked, frowning.

“Yes. You… don’t know what we’re talking about?” Antigones asked, pursing his lips.

The troll shook his head. “No. This house… Well, apart from the smashed doors and broken furnishings, it was in remarkably good condition, but there was no basement we could find.”

“It’s hidden. I…” Ayax took a deep breath, squeezing Elizabeth’s hand as she did so. “This was my house, Mister Sevastas, before it and the village were destroyed in a raid. I don’t need the house back, I’m just interested in recovering some things that were my family’s.”

Sevastas gasped. “Oh, oh I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t realize anybody had survived that raid, Miss Ayax.”

“I didn’t expect anybody to settle here after it, but well… here we are.” Ayax swallowed. “Did… did you find the gravestones in the garden?”

Sevastas’s eyes widened, and he nodded. “Were they your par—”

Ayax nodded. “Yes. Sir… can you give me a moment?”

Antigones nodded as Ayax rose to her feet and made her way back to the garden. She knew Elizabeth was following her out, but didn’t say anything. She was glad that her girlfriend was coming after her.

Passing row after row of cabbages, brussel sprouts and herbs, Ayax slowly walked to the corner of the garden.

Two large, flat stones lay flat on the ground, emblazoned with words painstakingly carved by magic and by chisel and hammer by a grieving thirteen-year-old girl.

Allaniel the Valorous, beloved father, mage and husband.

Kinea “Theodora,” beautiful and caring mother and wife.

The graves had been well kept. Little flowers were planted on the ground in front of the stones and more lay on the stones themselves. Smooth and polished river stones of various colors had also been placed on the graves, an Alavari sign of respect for the dead.

Ayax froze, clasping her mouth as she fell to her knees. Any lingering regret and anger she had that her house was no longer hers vanished in an instant.

“They’re beautiful,” she whispered.

The harpy called Gania alighted a short distance away. “We knew they lived here, in this beautiful house. So we tried to honor them.”

“Dad and mom built it together with our neighbour, Mister Ulric,” Ayax stammered. She wiped her eyes. “I’m… I’m glad you like it.”

Gania smiled and after bobbing her head, she flew away, leaving Ayax with Elizabeth.

“Hey mom, dad. I’m back. I’m sorry I took so long to visit. I… I’m happier now. I have a girlfriend now. Her name’s Elizabeth. She’s here with me.” Ayax turned and reached out to Elizabeth, who, her eyes bright, stepped forward and knelt down beside her girlfriend.

“Hello Alaniel, hello Kinea,” Elizabeth whispered.

“I’m… I have new parents now. Two dads who really care about me, but I won’t forget you. I… I think you know that, but… well yeah.” Ayax, sobbing, had to lean on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I love you so much and I miss you. I wish you were here. I have so many good friends now. My cousin Frances, Elizabeth, Martin and Ginger. They’ve been taking such good care of me along with Dom and Alexander.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m… I’m going to help end this war, mom, dad. I know you want me to be safe, but I need to stop this, before more children lose their parents, and before more parents lose their children. So… wherever you are, please, I hope you watch over us.”

Her hands shaking, Ayax put her hands on the gravestones, the grief washing over her as she sobbed. Elizabeth held onto her girlfriend’s shoulder all the way, crying too.

When Ayax was ready, she stood up and wiped her tears. As she turned around, though, she found Antigones standing at a distance.

“Ayax, do you mind if I have a moment?” the orc general asked. He smiled. “You could stay if you’d like, though.”

“Of course, sir,” said Ayax. She stepped back a respectable distance, to join Antigones’s son Aralik. They watched as the general walked to the graves and sat down in front of them. Reaching into his shirt, he took out a corked bottle of wine and several small cups. He filled the cups with the bottle, a clear liquid with a pungent smell that all the onlookers got a good scent of.

“Hello, Allaniel. Here’s that drink I promised you.” Antigones sighed. “Oh Galena, I miss you old friend. You kept us laughing even when times were bad, even if that meant you dying me red.”

The orc fell silent, sitting quietly in front of the grave, back turned to the audience. Only his hoarse breathing giving a hint to the grief he was feeling.

“I am so tired, Allaniel. I should have retired years ago, but I can’t now. Alavaria needs me. Thorgoth has betrayed all we fought for, and is sacrificing our promising new generation for his goals. And I can’t abandon my young wife, Titania… oh she makes me laugh and cry, but mostly laugh. She needs me, though, and this old body of mine has enough for one last war. After that, maybe I’ll join you. I have a lot to apologize for. I… I should have visited you earlier. If I did… maybe this might not have happened. Maybe it would have. Oh… I am rambling am I?”

The general sighed and poured the two cups in front of the graves onto the soil, and finished the last one off. “Here’s to you, Allaniel, and Kinea. I wish I met you. You sound like an amazing mother, if Ayax here is anything to attest to. And I do hope you left us something useful, Allaniel. Knowing you, you probably did, but… well this war hasn’t been going so well.”

And with that, the general stood up, brushed off his uniform and turned to Ayax. He was smiling, while rivulets of tears ran down his weathered face.

“Alright, let’s go to your father’s study.”