This time, I’ll be... Aria.

It’s strange. It’s seemed as if I’ve always been the Guardian when I’m on adventures, and more recently, Sir Ri.

Each persona I’ve put on... they’ve been more confident. It’s as if in taking a new name, I could put shy, confused, trying-to-protect-her-family Aria behind.

And now?

Now I’m going into the dragon's din without a hint of the protection that comes from my other personas.

Passing through the curtain door of The Dragon’s Din Tavern and Dining Establishment... I'm almost fidgety. It doesn’t help I’ve fought half the folks in this place in my other life.

The fires in six hearths and along the walls in torches make the place almost unbearably warm on even this chilly night. Doesn't help that warmth enhances the... smells. Body odor and vinegary ale are predominant, along with vomit, urine, and a hint of something lemony mixed with the overly spiced stew of the evening.

I shove down my gag reflex, tugging my black coat I borrowed from Jenny tighter around me, as if it could protect me from this filthy place. The jacket is layered over a plain wool dress I specifically asked Jenny for. I needed to look... different. And that meant no trousers. Boo.

Sweat beads on my forehead, and I take a deep breath I regret when it brings the fine scents of this place with it.

As I dodge past tables and people, a man sticks his hand out, grasping my wrist and tugging.

His cracked tooth and crooked nose jogs my memory. I almost let Ran eat him one time when I caught him harassing a young girl and her grandmother. I haven't found him robbing poor old ladies since that one time, so I've not sicced Ran on him.

With a twist of my wrist and a small pressure point in the crook of his thumb, I jerk my hand away and neatly sidestep any further advances.

I scrunch my shoulders to my ears and second guess stopping Ran when she wanted to eat him. At the time she said he'd taste like weasel. But... my bonded sister likes weasel. Hence why I had to stop her from eating the guy.

The innkeeper watches me, as if knowing I don’t belong. He whispers to a buxom lady who looks like she could take on Wolfsbane. Alone.

She threads her way through the rickety tables and reeking threshing on the floor with ease—similar to the way I step through the forest or back alleys, knowing every inch because I’d traveled the path a thousand times before.

She intercepts me before I make it to Wolfsbane, and I want to growl, but bite my tongue and morph my mouth into a confident, serene smile.

Her frown says it probably isn’t as confident as I wish. This is why I like my hood. No need to worry about misinterpreted facial expressions.

“Girly, this ain’t no place for a young beaut as you. Why don’t we find you a nice little inn closer to the center of town, eh?” Her voice is gruff and scratchy, her face just as weathered as her voice.

This tavern is right beside the river that separates Mid from Lower... and it has more in common with Lower than Mid.

“Thank ya for the help, miss, but I’m fine. Give me five turns and I’ll leave.” She looks uncertain, so I pass her a small coin. “Please,” I whisper.

She nods reluctantly, turning to fill a tankard an old man holds out. His teeth are yellow and gaped when he smiles at me, almost tipping out of his seat.

I take a deep breath. It’s time to meet Wolfsbane. My body thrums with adrenaline and the Spark grows slightly warm in my chest. I hope it doesn't act up.

Wolfsbane leans back in his chair, the thing balanced precariously on the two back legs. It creaks, threatening to give.

But he leans forward as I sit, and the chair holds his bulk, even as it crashes against the wooden floor covered in grime.

“Aria. Or should I say Sir Ri?” he mocks, spreading his hands as if welcoming me to a fine dining experience.

“What do you want?”

He grins, and it’s more wolfish than human. I should know, I live with a Wolf.

“I want you to suffer. I want you humiliated before the masses. But first? You’ll get a good dose of running around, picking up specks of information for those paying me for such things. What do you know?”

I quaver in my seat, and it’s not totally derived. “I-I don’t know much. Sir Hans is tight-lipped about the Guardian. I tried asking discretely... but he wouldn't even mention a name.”

“And his Wolf?” he spits the word as a curse.

I hide a jolt by uneasily shifting. He thinks the Guardian is a he? No wonder he didn’t connect me and the vigilante. But... it makes me wonder what it will take for Wolfsbane to connect the dots. I’m walking on thin ice—with a tundra dragon underneath, waiting to devour me at the first wrong move.

It makes me wonder... did no one betray me? Or is there someone who told Wolfsbane where I live? Or did he follow me? If he followed me... then how does he not know who I am?

My head spins with the unknowns circling up there.

So many questions, so few answers. And I need them. And now I've taken too long to answer and realize my mouth is still parted in surprise.

“Said to be living in the mountains, having gone into hiding,” I reply quickly, shrugging a shoulder.

He slaps his hands on the table, sending a tankard of ale rolling into the floor and making the entire table, and me, jump. The puddles spilt on the table still drip onto the floor, each splash grating against my already tightly strung nerves.

The folk around barely even glance at us... except for the old man with the gaped teeth. He seems interested in us until I look him in the eye and he glances away, but not before I see a hint of silver in his eyes.

“Not good enough. Do you want your family to suffer? I’m not one to cause undue harm to innocents, but if I don’t come back with more, they won’t be kind.”

My mind has trouble catching up. I wouldn’t call his words a threat... exactly. “Are they safe?”

His eyes grow slightly softer, and it's almost scary. He's not nice, and I don't like this side of him. “For now, yes. I have no quarrel with your family. I only want you.”

I don’t know why I believe him. Perhaps because he has no reason to lie. No reason to ease my pain. If he really wanted me to suffer... then he should've said the opposite.

“Then release my family and tell the world Sir Ri is a girl.”

He taps a finger against the table, considering. But then shakes his head, his scarred lip twisting in distaste. “No. I’d be dead, runt. Better give me something better.”

I pick my words carefully. “The Guardian frequents Miss Nika's apothecary. That is where he gets supplies.” I almost tripped up and called myself a she. My land, all this swapping is going to give me a headache and a conniption.

Wolfsbane looks away. “I didn’t know they’d come for your family, runt.”

I jolt in surprise. That’s as close to an apology as I can expect. But anger thrums through me until my voice comes out trembling with hidden emotion as I bunch my hands into fists beneath the table. “You should’ve thought of that before throwing in your lot with monsters, Wolfsbane. You’re worse than the Timber Wolves you hunt.”

His eyes grow cold, but I’m done with this.

I get up, and not even the rotten man who tried to grab me earlier dares try anything when I glare, lifting my lips in a snarl I learned from Ran. Anger radiates from me in physical waves you don't have to be an Empath to sense.

“Same time, same place next week, Aria,” Wolfsbane says, his voice cold.

I give him a jerky nod, watching him lean his chair back again, tilting it on the back two legs. The wood moans a protest.

I wish to see it fall. I want to see Wolfsbane crash to the ground, and then... there pops up a bright speck of light and the Spark grows nearly hot in my chest.

The speck of light grows, molds into a saw, and begins cutting through the leg.

No, no, no. I didn’t mean that!

The saw pauses, and I almost see a question in the way it sits, as if wondering why I’m changing my mind now. But then I think about it... and just how fun it would be to see him fall. This man who is responsible for taking my family from me... I want to see him burned to the ground.

Rider, don’t! Ran’s voice is panicked, insistent.

And Natasha’s warning about not using the Spark for personal gain runs through my brain.

With a hiss, I again still the saw, and... it takes more concentration than I think it should to make the saw puff into pinpricks of light and then disappear entirely. Changing my mind to not want something it really wants is like trying to keep Ran from eating rabbits.

I puff out my lips like a bullfrog, catching the old man with the gaped teeth rubbing his eyes and gaping. He rubs his eyes again, then points and squeals.

The rest of the thirty men and women in the tavern ignore the fellow, but I high-tail it out of there before someone connects me to the weird happenings of this town.

Honestly, I didn't think Natasha's warning about using the thing inside for selfish stuff would be much of an issue. I mean, what would I use it for? But now? I see it's going to be much harder to get my wishes and my brain in line. This takes self-control to a whole new level.

What would happen if I used the Spark for selfish means?