I wince, my heart jumping in my chest and my mind debating. It's unlikely I could kill each individual left in this room before my legs give out on me. Besides, it's not like I want to kill them. They have treated me with courtesy so far.

But if they act in fear, they could be a danger.

There is also the matter of Jeryld and what he knows, and who he may tell.

The small healer's dagger finds its way into my hands from the table and Shefa Bridge gasps as I put the point to her neck. She is the closest and least likely to react.

The metal of the knife is cold in my hand even as it remains at the healer's neck. I shift so two walls protect my back. This corner is beneath the redwood forest on the opposite end of the dragon and closer to a door leading into another room.

The sharp confines of this hut are going to make it hard to escape without leverage.

Bloodfang... I wished to leave that name far behind in my past, but it seems it to follow me wherever I run.

"Easy. Easy, boy." The Imperial says softly, his hand moving away from his blade as he puts his hands up in supplication. "No one's going to attack you. Not here."

Morgana just taps her cane against the floor. "Roland, put tha blade down before ya hurt yourself. I know ya ain't gonna hurt Bridget."

I pause, my heart beating and my legs shaking with the adrenaline flushing through my system and easing the aches and pains better than any herb.

Shefa Bridge stares at me, her purple eyes wide with fear and her pupils dilating into a snake-like slit. My shaking hand makes me accidentally part the skin at the hollow of her neck. She gasps in pain.

A bird chirps from the mop of hair on her head. Its head peeps out at me through a hole in her blonde hair.

"Wha—?" the knife almost drops from my hand. I have seen many things in my life, but never a bird's nest in someone's hair.

The bird twists its deep red head around to look at me, and I swear the little bird glares at me before ducking its head back into the mop of hair with another twitter.

Flash chooses that moment to pull the back of the healer's soft blue robe, jerking her out of my reach. She lets out a small mewl as the robe chokes her, and the Imperial catches the lady before she can trip over the chair by the bed. The bird cheeps again, but doesn't make a reappearance. The rest act as if this is a completely normal occurrence.

Flash now stands in front of me with placating hands raised.

"Easy." He says, watching me with a blue gaze brimming with serene confidence.

"Did you not see—?"

"A bird?" Flash's eyes question my sanity and his eyebrows raise like his father's. For the first time, I see a family resemblance.

"Put the blade down. Now!" Morgana barks, and I wince, my ears ringing from her shout.

I ease the blade down, allowing it to rest at my side. "I'm an ex-assassin, Morgana. I'd think you'd all be more..."

"Excitable? Nervous? Engagin' in a murderous fit o' rage?" Morgana fills in for me.

I watch her in bemusement. "That, and more. I'm not exactly someone a person should invite into their home."

"Pish, posh, lad. The past is the past. Let's leave it where it belongs, shall we?" she says, coming closer with the tip-tap of her cane and gently easing the blade from my hand without a lick of fear in her scent.

Then again, she's seen me at my absolute worst, and I don't believe I inspire much fear when I can barely stand.

We all breathe a sigh of relief when the blade is gone from my hand.

Morgana throws it out the window, and a man yelps after a thud.

She looks out, then shrugs. "No blood. He's fine."

Flash still stands in front of me, his black hair sweeping his eyes as he watches me with both wariness and awe.

I really don't like the awe. It's annoying.

The curious cat gives me the letter when I glare at him and gesture with my hand.

I watch him with a blank gaze, assessing him. He meets me head on with no remorse at reading my letter, but also, strangely, I feel hardly any challenge from him.

If he figured out who I am through a coded and jumbled letter... I want him as a friend and not an enemy.

We just attacked part of his pride.

I almost wince. Yeah, that's the second time we've gotten off on the wrong foot.

Wrong paw, you mean. The inner voice cackles.

That wasn't funny.

It was punny.

I glance at Shefa Bridge, who is currently sitting in the chair she almost fell over when Flash jerked her away from me, a hand holding a bandage to her neck that is almost the same pale off-white as her angular face.

"Forgive me, Shefa Bridge." I say, chagrined. I bow towards her, and that almost sends me to the floor.

She watches me with fear still in her purple eyes, but nods in acceptance. Her pale face is drawn in dismay, and the rapid fluttering of her heart attests to the adrenaline still rushing through her system. The bird chitters deeper and longer.

I think it's cursing us.

“This Shifter that fell into our lap is both an infamous assassin and the Missing Prince.” The Imperium comments off-handedly, drawing my gaze from the healer to the big Were kneeling at her side.

I figured they’d all be a bit more afraid, like Shefa Bridge. But perhaps I look so horrible they don’t think I can kill a kitten, much less a full-grown cat.

I'm not sure how to take the broad man as he scratches at his beard. His other hand is around the handle of his dagger again, now that Shefa Bridge is out of my grasp.

Morgana follows my gaze to the Imperial's hand around the dagger and scowls at him. Her eyes narrow, making her dark eyes almost disappear beneath the wrinkles. She's heads shorter than the Imperial, but he heeds her unspoken warning. I'm thankful not to be the only one terrified of the little old healer.

The man sheepishly puts the inch of exposed metal back in the sheath and removes his hand.

"Take note, Grendalsam of the Land Lakes. I speak for him. Don't ya harm the kid. Understood?"

"I wasn't going to, Mora." He defends, his cheeks reddening around his beard as he glances at the floor.

My eyes dart to the window. I can make my escape now that no one is intent on watching me.

As if she can hear my thoughts, Morgana whirls around. I back up as she advances, and my head rebounds off a shelf, making the glass bottles on it rattle.

Morgana wags a finger in my face. "You. No assassin stuff. No running off on your own. And don't you dare get hurt again. I'm gettin' tired of patching ya up. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." I quickly get out, afraid she's going to clobber me over the head with her cane. It wouldn't be the first time.