“Hey! They’re back!”

“Roland? Hey! There he is!”

“Give me back that auger roll, dumb stick, before I bite your face off!”

“Mmm, no.”

“Batrachomyomachy!”

“What be happening to myrmosopholous?”

“I learned it was about ants.”

“And whatever this be is better?”

“Much. It’s about battle.”

“Ahhh.”

“Yes.”

Henry helps me down, and immediately Jace’s arms are around me, and... is he crying? I smell something burnt and see a gash that has been cauterized on his shoulder. I wince in sympathy. That hurt.

“Never thought you’d come back,” he says, his voice tight.

I awkwardly pat his back, trying not to hurt him more. How’d I end up with so many hug-loving friends?

It’s only natural. You are so averse to physical affection you attract it like a magnet.

I give an internal snort.

Externally, I clear my throat and continue to pat his back. “It’s alright.” That comes out more a question than a statement.

Jace pulls Tim off me, only to get me in a headlock. My head and neck protest, but somehow... I find I don’t mind.

“You be coming back only to save our hides from certain death once more," Tim says fondly. Then he whispers, "Don't mind Jace. He be hopped up on Morgana's tea."

Ahhh, that makes more sense.

Tim ruffles my hair, then pulls me up and offers a half-eaten drumstick that smells of sweet fat and spicy pepper.

“Here, wanna bite?”

I shake my head, a wry grin pulling at my lips.

They haven’t changed a bit. I wonder if they still take unwitting strangers to see Old Lady McBeth? If so, I have a candidate. Flash helps a human from the back of Henry. He sees me watching and sends me a mock two-fingered salute. Oh, yes. McBeth needs to help him with his red-head.

Tim runs a hand over his bald head, his tattoos gleaming in the afternoon sun and his white teeth a stark juxtaposition to his dark skin. He leans heavily on one leg, but it's a balm to know both of my friends survived the dragon's attack.

Jace stands beside him, watching the meat roll with envy. He crosses his arms with a huff.

David emerges from the gate to Videlia, his walk steady and sure, but something in his demeanor hints of something I don’t like.

A defeat weighs on him like a ton of bricks.

He's a bit singed and his arm is wrapped in a bandage that's already soaked through, but he seems alright otherwise.

When he gets closer, he grins, eyes crinkling in relief. “Roland! It’s good to see you,” he says, shaking my forearm with his good hand. “And once more, you arrive just in the nick of time.”

“It’s good to be back, sir. How does the city fare?”

He looks back at his walls and the soldiers scurrying like ants on its three-story palisade. But that will be nothing to the dragons and hardly anything to the siege weapons. Which is why I have other plans in mind to whittle them down before they arrive.

"The men are putting out the fires and counting the casualties as we speak. It is not so bad as I feared, but not as good as I hoped. The dragons were scouts to test us. The army coming—” he cuts off, running a hand along a ring on his left hand.

"There is always hope, sir," I say. But while my words say one thing... my tone says another.

Flash and Zephora join us, flanking me. I'm grateful for the distraction. Morgana takes one glance at us and heads into town with a clacking of her cane, muttering about idiotic youngsters and wounded folk who need her.

“Sir, this is Flash and Zephora, both here to help. David, Jace, and Tim,” I gesture to the three welcoming us to the village.

David shakes their forearms. “Welcome and thank you both for coming. I’ve heard much of you from Heather.”

Flash raises his eyebrows and Zephora glances at Heather.

“All good things. Promise!” she says, coming over from a Berserk, holding up hands filled with supplies as if to fend off an attack.

“Of course it is good things. What other things would there be to impart?” Flash says, smiling innocently... but then he rubs the back of his neck and sends Heather an impish smile when David looks away.

Zephora jabs him with an elbow. He hisses out a breath.

“How’s the evacuation?” I ask.

David grips his sword until his knuckles bleach. “Most refused to leave. After seeing the dragons... I fear we may have a stampede of folk attempting to escape the trap of the Empire before it snaps.”

I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. It's true. I hear the wails from within and the screams as those caught in rubble are extracted. The villagers will know fear and it will cause them to act in ways that are less than wise. I will have to trust David to handle them, for all I can do is buy them time to escape to the mountain. “How go preparations?”

This time, his grin holds a hint of a snarl. “They won’t know what hit them.”

“Ain’t that the truth! You’re a right devious one, Roland,” Jace says, spitting out pieces of meat and gesturing to me with the meat stick. He must've swiped the food back from Tim while I wasn't looking.

Tim watches his friend in disgust, and a small smile alights on my face. It reminds me of before, of when I was training beside these men before the Werecats kidnapped me.

Those were happy times.

“Uncle Ro!” Shasta barrels out of the town gate, coming full tilt. I thought she would already be high in the mountains, far from the battle.

I crouch and she stops an inch from my face.

“Why’d you not come back sooner?” she asks, her face strangely serious.

“I had some things to do. People who needed me.”

She nods with all the maturity of a sage in a four-year-old body. “More need you now. Less need you now. Everyone needs you now. Why’d you leave when they needed you?”

Her words threaten the box I’ve shoved down. Zephora's words were similar after I defeated the dragon and both times it's struck something touchy deep in my soul. “Because I am needed here,” I growl, and she jumps back, her blue eyes growing wide and her little lip trembling. She pales further, almost going as white as her hair.

I shake my head, trying to reign in the anger and frustration at the choices I’ve had to make. “I’m sorry,” I say softly, catching the disapproving glare of David.

Shasta steps forward again, her eyes growing more curious than fearful. She places a tiny hand on my cheek. “Good things follow you. Good things are coming. Good things talk to you. You need to listen.” She looks up and smiles at something behind me.

I go still. Those don’t sound like the words of a child. “Need to listen to what?”

“To the Phoenix. He follows you. Don’t you see him?” She tilts her head, her wide blue eyes and parting lips showing surprise.

I shake my head mutely, trying to wrap my mind around what she’s saying.

Her brows scrunch up in confusion. “Huh? Why not? He’s right there.” She cocks her head, as if listening. She shoves her white hair back from her face when it falls in front of her eyes. “He says you need to wait.”

I growl. Heather pulls Shasta back as fur races up and down my arms and I feel my fangs grow past my lips. “Wait for what? All I’ve done is wait and listen. I fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. I do everything asked of me, asking nothing in return. And still he takes from me!” I clench my fist around a rock, squeezing until it bursts with a pop. “What more does he want? I’ve nothing left to give,” I whisper, my frustration mounting.

Shasta looks behind me with a smile. “Ok!” she says and then wraps her arms around my neck.

David gives a strangled grunt and steps forward as if to pull Shasta from me, but my wolf retreats at little Shasta’s embrace, leaving pale skin in place of the fur and flat teeth instead of fangs. David steps back, but keeps a hand on his sword.

“He said you needed a hug,” Shasta whispers in my ear.

I huff out a laugh that’s almost a sob, then shove down all the emotion and reinforce the numbness within to hold.

I ease back and stand, making sure to put some distance between me and Shasta and keeping my hands far from my blades to ensure they don’t think I’m a threat to her. I would never attack… but they watch me as if expecting me to break. And I just might. Just not in the way they expect.

A numb detachment washes over me. It softens the emotion, makes me forget. Shoves all I am to the far reaches of my mind.

I become who I once was. An assassin. A killer. One who can reach the goal without pesky emotion poking its head from the depths of the soul.

I let the numbness come. I welcome it with open arms.

David watches me with concern wrinkling his brow, as if he is seeing a stranger where a friend once stood.

Jace and Tim step forward, I’m not sure if it’s to hug me again or merely to stand between me and Shasta.

Flash has understanding in his eyes that would make me highly uncomfortable should I be able to feel. Zephora merely crosses her arms and scowls, which is no different than usual.

Heather… Heather watches me, her eyes openly studying me with a tenderness I don't deserve after scaring her and her daughter. “Remember who you are, Roland,” she says softly.

I shake my head. I try to open my mouth to say I’m sorry, but it won’t come past something blocking my windpipe. I turn away from them and walk into the city, feeling their eyes like brands on my back.

Footsteps move to follow me, but I hear a hand brushing fabric as someone holds him back.

"Not yet. Give him space," Flash says, his voice low and serious.

“How can we just let him walk away? He needs us!” Jace says, voice trembling.

"He will need you, but first he needs to find himself," Zephora says, her voice devoid of emotion.

I enter the walls and leave their voices behind.

The scent of perfume on the lady leaning a bit too far into my space makes me grimace. I pull a knife, laying it on her throat.

The sounds of clinking glasses and conversation from outside our little corner in this ritzy uptown bar takes me back. How many times did I meet this woman when I was Bloodfang? She always requested a meeting place such as this: satin, fluffy seats, a glass table with tiny shot glasses rimmed in gold, and wood-panelled walls for privacy. Red curtains are pulled across the doorway to prevent curious eyes. Her guard stands just outside, his even breathing and the way his boots squeak against the tile flooring reaching my ears.

She chuckles, leaning back from my blade. I sheathe it with a soft snick. “You haven’t changed, Fang. What did you call me to this little back town for? I promised a favor, not a lifetime of waiting in a ho-down dump.”

I growl. “You owe me much more than a simple favor, Alicial. But this will wipe the slate and leave you with a barrel of this, plus a tip should you do well.”

She plucks the tiny vial from my hands, uncorks it and sniffs. She gives a careless wave of her hand, tiny ice crystals trailing from her fingers like snow. “What need have I of exquisite alcohol? My tinctures cost far less when made of simple grain proof.”

“Still making your love potions?” I ask, leaning back and laying a furry arm over the back of the silken lounge.

Think Watchman’s gonna make you pay for cleaning? I doubt pets are allowed.

Amusement makes my lips twitch.

She scoffs. “Of course not. Now I’m brewing death potions. They sell for much more than a simple gimmick and they actually work. Love is overrated.”

“Would Fell agree with that?” I ask, trying not to smile.

“Fell is dead.”

I grow still. Her voice may be calm and her face as cold as ever, but I hear the tap of her boot against the floor and the sorrow wafting from her and coloring the air in a sickly sweet scent I mistook for perfume.

I bow my head, which is currently more wolf than man, and pay my respects to her husband.

“Fell was a killer worth his weight in gold and one of the few I feared.”

Her lips twitch and her brown eyes grow sightly hazy. “That would’ve meant the worlds to him. He respected you. You terrified him, of course, but he respected you.”

“So I did him. So I did him.” He was a bastard. But he was one of the few human assassins who had an honourable code I could get behind, and he made sure he lived by it. And he likely died by it.

“I came for a job, Fang. Did you bring me here to follow my beloved to the Sixth?”

“No, Alicial. I ask you to fight, but only until the battle turns. I suspect you have already scouted a way from the city?”

She laughs, a tinkling sound with a hard edge. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

I shrug. “There is need for your services. Find General Brackenridge in the morning. He will expect you. The Empire's army comes with mages, unknown magic. I need you to hold the wall until the city guard retreats. Are you strong enough?”

She stiffens slightly, her posture becoming rigid, just as I knew it would. “I will hold, Fang." I nod, and she slowly uncoils as I voice no further dissent. "No hope of winning, then?”

I grin, a show of fangs that has her paling. She pushes back in her chair, and I hear the snick of a sleeve knife. She has the small, needle-like blade in her hand a moment later, coated in ice.

“There is always hope. But reality is something else entirely. Of course, this little town won’t survive the might of the Empire. I merely wish to buy time for my assets to escape.” Let her believe what she wants about what those assets may be.

She puts the knife back up her bright red sleeve. The red dress sets off her pale complexion and hourglass figure while her big brown eyes seem innocent enough... but she is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Are you not trusting her with Videlia? What if she learns more than you wish her to know?

I am trusting her for a job. She knows not why I wish her to keep the walls upright, just that I do. But... let’s throw her off…

“Watchman still have his contacts in the Eastern Circle?” I ask, tapping a claw against the table.

She takes a bite of fruit from a tray on the glass table, licking the red juice from her fingers. “Should I ask why?” I stare at her. She scowls, but looks away. “It was an innocent question. But yes, he does.”

“There is a house of Rush on Sixth.”

“You want in on the trade?”

“They did something displeasing. I merely want them to know big brother wolf is watching.”

“A Rush Mob?”

“Do something a bit more… subtle.”

She leans forward, showing her assets. “And what do I get from it?”

“When both jobs are finished, you will have the knowledge you leave the world a better place and a dried Endeower Blossom.”

Her eyes light up, her red lips curving into the first smile of the night. “I shall need proof.”

“You’ll have it. Check your escape route. Your dried blossom will be placed there when both are done.” I stand to leave.

“And if I am killed on the wall?”

I glance back, a grin once again showing my fangs in a way I know frustrates the heck out of her because she can’t help but flinch. “Don’t be.”