“He’s awake and asking for you.” Heather wipes water from her eyes, and I'm unsure if it's from her trip under the waterfall or tears.

My heart jumps in my chest. I'm on my feet before the words finish escaping her lips. My bowl of soup clatters to the side, and I barely even realize I dumped half the contents on myself.

I’m already striding to the waterfall, feeling Heather’s smile on my back and lifting my soul.

It’s been two days. Two days since Barry awakened last.

Two days of hair-pulling tension as we awaited the fate of my brother. My brooding—as Heather called it—about wearing a hole in Flash’s tent until he kicked me out, saying I was stomping so hard he couldn’t hear himself think.

That’s rich, coming from him.

I still can’t hear myself think because of his chattering about his little red-headed fireball.

Morgana opens the door before I knock, and the first thing I see is bright blue eyes crinkling in a smile before he toddles towards me on unsteady legs. I drop to my knees, catching and cocooning him in my arms.

I will forever deny the tears on my cheeks.

“You found me,” he whispers into my tunic, sobs quaking his little shoulders.

“Nothing could keep me away,” I respond.

He looks up at me, a smile on his quivering lips. “Even dragons?”

I grin, feeling my eyes light up with humor. “About that…” I hedge.

He wiggles in excitement. “You killed a dragon? I bet you did it with your bare hands, too! Didn’t ya? Huh? I’m right, right?”

I chuckle, the little chatter box not even giving me a moment to speak. “Slow down, little man. Healer Morgana would kill me if I excited you too much.”

“Too late,” Morgana mumbles into her tea. The black circles beneath her eyes and the slump of her shoulders tell of her fight to keep my brother alive, and for that I’m eternally grateful.

Barry leans closer to me. “She scares me,” he confides in a whisper with a slight lisp… a very loud whisper.

I chuckle, my heart alive with a joy it can hardly contain. “I’ll tell you a secret, but you can’t tell anyone, ok?”

He nods eagerly.

“She scares me, too,” I whisper into his ear, making him giggle.

“Heard that,” Morgana hisses, but the light in her eyes tells me she shares the joy of my brother's recovery.

The little guy trembles a little in my arms, and I see pain flash across his face.

“Let’s get you back in bed. Soon I’ll take you on an adventure, alright?” I lift him like I would a babe and gently get him settled on his stomach.

He yawns. “Will there be dragons and damsels in distwess?”

I smile at the little tike, thankful his time in captivity didn’t damper his spirits as much as I feared. He reminds me of my blood brother, Alec, who was always happy and easy-going to the point of obliviousness. A blessing and a curse all at once.

And something I sometimes wish I had.

“Many exciting things, little kinko. I have so much to show you. Get all healed up and we’ll go, deal?”

He nods, but a tear leaks out of his closed eye. “Ma and Jed?” he whispers so softly even my wolven hearing has trouble picking it up.

I exchange a glance with Morgana, and the softening of her eyes makes me realize she heard.

My heart clenches, then hardens with resolve.

“I’ll return for them. I’ll free them over my dead body.”

He blindly grasps for my hand, hitting a soft, sensitive, unmentionable spot that makes me grunt in pain before I grab the flailing appendage and kneel beside his bed.

“Will you stay with me?” The tremble of his lip and tears leaking past his eyes makes my heart clench.

I choke up. “Absolutely. Sleep, little kinko.”

He nods and it’s not long before his snores encapsulate the room.

“I did'na realize you had such a soft spot in that cold, hard heart,” Morgana whispers.

I look up and catch Morgana watching me with eyes focused like a raptor.

I shrug, looking back at my brother. “There are those who are special...”

She grunts, and when I glance back up she’s staring into her tea.

“Go get some rest,” I tell her.

She nods, shuffling a few things around and stifling a yawn behind her hand.

“Morgana?” I ask before she gets out the door. She pauses with her hand on the door, pursing her lips as she looks back, making her face pucker like a prune. “Thank you.”

She smiles at me, lighting up her wrinkles and turning them into smile marks.

Then she’s gone, and I beseech the Allfather for my brother and my family.

~~~

Under the cover of darkness, I sneak out of our little camp, pulling the dark hood I took from Flash over my head.

"Where ya goin'?"

I falter in my steps, not quite startling, but it's a very near thing.

Morgana's flashing eyes watch me from beneath an overhang, the rock creating a craggy, small opening into a dark space nearly big enough for three men to fit inside... tightly.

It takes a moment for my heart to stop pounding.

"You know," I deadpan, knowing she knows where I'm going.

"Goin' to check and see if you can still save 'em, eh? I can save you a trip." She taps her cane against the hard ground, leaning back so she's propped up against the rock. Her eyes close and her lips twitch, as if speaking to someone or in a dreamscape.

I lean against a tree to wait. I have my suspicions as to what she is, but I have not confirmed it. Not yet.

Her eyes open, and she steps out of the darkness within the overhang. Her hand trembles slightly on the cane, and she leans on it more than usual.

"They are gone."

Somehow, the words feel like a punch to the gut, even if I knew it was highly likely.

I turn to look out over the cliff, watching the stars and feeling the call of the moon.

"Where?" I ask.

She follows my gaze, pointing to a distant point, where the castle of the Capitol sends itself in a spiral towards the sky, as if trying to reach the stars themselves.

"How long?"

"Too long for ya to catch them, if ya wonder. They left soon after we scurried from the battle with them scallawags. I'm sorry, hon. They'd be in the Capital before you ever caught up to them."

I nod, but even so, I will confirm it in the city itself.

The lady stops me with a trembling hand on my arm, the strength in her grip wan compared to times past. Her shoulders droop in exhaustion. It's likely whatever she did to find my family has taken a toll on her, not to mention saving my brother.

My eyes soften, and I place my hand over hers on my arm. She looks surprised.

"Don't make any foolish mistakes. They will be looking for ya there."

Indeed, many have been looking for me for a long while. They haven't caught me yet.

"I will do my best."

She puckers her lips as if she wants to protest. But with one last squeeze of my arm, she lets me go.

It doesn't take long to realize her words are true. A quick return to the underground stream through a water grate brings me to the dungeons.

Ma and Jed are no longer in that cell, the scent of wildflowers and ink almost entirely covered by the scents of other prisoners who yell at me to release them... prisoners I did not notice before.

I do no such thing, for I am not there for them. I could release a murderer or rapist for all I know.

"Please!" A small voice catches my ear, the pleading and brokenness in the word pulling me forward despite myself.

I turn, my ears twitching into points and swiveling to catch the sound.

"Please," it says again, fainter this time.

I stop in front of a cell, a pale and shrunken hand reaching out through the bars. Straggly hair covers the face, brown eyes peer out between the pale strands of limp hair. I can't tell if the person is male or female.

"Please."

"Please what?" The one inside the dark cell recoils from the harshness of my voice.

I tame the misdirected anger burning in my chest.

"What do you want of me?" I ask, softer this time.

"Please," the voice pauses, sucking in a whistling breath. "Please, take Hammy. He is innocent, but I am not. Take him. Please."

The hand again reaches out, a small black shape in the hand.

It uncurls, blinking up at me through wide brown eyes. A loud screech echoes down the tunnel from the little thing.

A Vrampic. It launches itself from the hand. Its bat-like wings unfurl as it aims for my neck.

I duck, the Vrampic smacking into the wall behind me with an angry chitter.

One bite from its fangs is highly venomous. The Master's enjoy training the things for their pleasure.

A chuckle sounds from the cell in front of me as I drive the lorascus blade into the chest of the Vrampic. It hisses at me, and I dodge a stream of acidic spit.

I've about had enough of this little thing. I twist the blade, and it finally goes limp.

"Soft. Always soft. You would never be a Master because of one simple fact."

I wipe the blade off on the limp leather wing, keeping my back to the cell and internally cursing. I should never have come back.

"You care. It was why you would never be more."

He's wrong. It's because I never wanted to be anything more—I never wished to be what They wanted; I wanted to be better.

"Nice to see you, too, Jaypic. Did Red finally let you loose from your leash?"

Good one, my internal voice cackles.

The voice was there. He knows as well as I that Jay has always hated his full name, and the man hates Master Red worse than his own family who sold him into the guild, despite Master Red being his Master in the Guild. Red trained him all he knows through the lesson of blood, yet Jay still loves and hates The Red in equal measure.

The Shifter inside the cell seethes, his eyes flashing golden. He shrugs off the wig, wipes off the feces he used to make his hands look gaunt, and turns a key in the lock.

"Master said to give his condolences on the loss of the boy." A lifetime of dealing with the barbs of my fellow assassin prevents the words from causing so much as a twitch from me.

But it tells me much.

"You have a month. We can infect another, or you can kill Princess Lyra. A life for a life. Your choice." He passes within a foot of me, heading towards the head of the tunnel.

I would twist his neck from his head, but the contingencies in place could be problematic. The silence of the other men in the cells, in other words. How many followed Jay here? Could I fight my way past twenty trained assassins? Unlikely.

"Oh, and I wouldn't leave your Pa unattended for much longer. Something may happen." He grins over his shoulder, showing straight white teeth as his eyes crinkle at the corners.

He watches me for a tell even as he walks away, but I let nothing show. The numbness of my previous life grants me its strength... for now.

"Tell them they can say so to my face."

He pauses in his steps, the grin faltering as he turns to face me from five feet away. "You have never known when to quit, have you? It was the same when you came, a bright-eyed boy of some noble stock. You always were the best of us. At one time, I was envious, until I realized just how far you would go for honour. I pity you now, being a plaything for the higher beings. That you would just release your blasted honour, you could've been the best of us. Most would have followed you onto death."

"And what are you, if not a plaything for the highest of beings?" I hardly recognize the cold voice. It has been so long since I've worn this mask. Years.

He shakes his head, actual sympathy in his eyes. "That you would learn. I am no plaything any longer. I am Master of the Yellow. The Masters did send one of their own to warn you. Come back. There is still time. Master Black would welcome you with open arms."

My blood runs cold. A harsh laugh barks from my lips. "Do you believe so? The Master who gave lessons with the Burning Whip? Who trained me in this very city?"

Jay's lips thin, his pale cheeks looking gaunt from the makeup used for such things. "It was for the betterment of us all. You should know by now it made us stronger. Better."

I shake my head. "It was torture of young pups."

He places a hand on the dagger in the waist of his dingy grey pants. A threadbare, loose tunic covers what I suspect is a baldric holding the poisoned darts he was always fond of.

"It was training. It was showing us a better way. But there is no reasoning with you, is there? There never has been."

My lips pull into a smile devoid of humor. "It seems we are at an impasse."

"No, we are at the beginning. Kill the princess. Buy the life."

"And who comes after the princess?"

"When the job is done, you will know. Tread carefully, old friend. We are watching."

He disappears down the tunnel, and I make no move to follow.

They poisoned my brother, not expecting him to survive.

And they will not know otherwise.

~~~

It takes a week of travel to return to the Werecat village. A week of Barry's laughter filling my ears as I tell him about my adventures with the Werecats and how they constantly tried to have me followed.

He heals... it's slow, but he heals. Not in small part because of the anti-inflammatory arnica—and other tinctures—Morgana slips in his tea every couple hours.

Without Morgana and her healing... Barry would most assuredly be dead from poison. I would say Belladonna, or perhaps venom.

The brokenness of my shattered heart picks itself up and heals a few cracks, just by knowing my brother is safe.

For once, I am grateful to have a chatterbox like Flash along. When I grow exhausted from hearing my own voice, Flash takes Barry on his mount and regales the little man with tales of heroism and daring. If every tale is a dashing hero rescuing a red-headed maiden, I generously don't point it out.

When the village rise comes, I smile. The Imperial comes rushing to us, bowing to me and eyes cataloguing the losses we had. His eyes pinch at the corners, but his countenance is welcoming as he nods at his son.

"Why is he bowing to you?" Barry whispers from where he's sitting behind me in the saddle.

My mind draws a blank. "Erm..."

"Your brother is a king among kings, Barry," Flash whispers, slapping my shoulder from his horse. How he reached that far to hit me hard enough to leave a bruise... I'll never know.

I glare at the mischievous twinkle in the cat's eyes as I hear Barry gulp.

"A... k-k-king?" he stammers.

I sigh. "It doesn't mean much, little kinko. Just that I have people depending on me. A lot of people," I say the last in more of a grumble.

Flash snorts, but refrains from answering for once. Maybe he realizes I would indeed kill him later should he verbalize his thoughts... but that never stopped him before, so while I'm relieved, I'm also a bit terrified at what his mind might be cooking up when he's not talking.

A quiet Flash is a terrifying Flash.

I shrug it off, not sure what to do about it now.

"A king?" Barry asks again, a hint of his usual exuberance leaking back into his voice.

I nod, unsure what to take of his excitement. I was more afraid my secrets would come back to bite me and he'd hate me... no pun intended.

You sure no pun was intended? my smug subconscious says.

Shut up.

"A king? Like with armies and swords and battles and money and palaces and stuff?" Barry asks.

I chuckle. "Not quite. More like people look up to me and I have to keep them alive and happy... as much as I'm able. You see, being a good leader isn't about being served, it's about serving."

I can practically feel his little mind trying to work through that. "So, you don't have a palace?" His voice is low and despondent.

I wince, not wishing to take away the excitement of my brother, but unsure how to bring it back.

Flash huffs a chuckle. "You're awful at this, bro. Barry, don't listen to him. He's a ham."

I sputter in indignation, but Flash ignores me.

"Being a king is filled with armies and swords, fraught with peril, and made by the people. And everyone loves your brother. Except for his enemies. But they're mostly dead."

"FLASH! He's ten!" I hiss at the grown Were filling my brother's mind with gore.

"Naw, he's a man. You need to stop coddling him."

"I—I don't coddle him."

"Pshaw. Then tell him what happened when we met."