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  He nodded.

  “Goodnight,” she said.

  This time I did hug her neck. “Goodnight.”

  Rory echoed my “Goodnight”, though not the hug.

  With a slight toss of her head, Melinda walked away. The soft clip-clop of her hooves faded as she disappeared around the corner of the guard unit’s quarters.

  “Rory?”

  He looked down at me attentively.

  “Can we talk privately?”

  “In the family room.”

  I jumped because the response came from Istvan, not Rory. Spinning around, I found Istvan watching from just outside the kitchen doorway, and Nora with him. I glanced sideways at Rory.

  He nodded, and I barely suppressed a groan. I hadn’t known the two griffins were there, but Rory had, and by his nod, they’d been present to hear Melinda’s gentle reproof regarding Nora’s current behavior.

  Melinda had been facing the kitchen. She’d known they were there. Her words had been for Nora as much as for me.

  Judging by the golden griffin’s drooping posture, she’d taken the chastisement to heart.

  I didn’t think she’d done anything particularly wrong. I mightn’t like her obsessive observation of me or the fact that she was studying me, at all, but it was her job. The fact that other Faerene disagreed or, in the case of Peggy’s family, protected me from her scrutiny, made me wonder what I’d missed.

  So I allowed Rory to act as a moving barrier between Nora and me as we re-entered the kitchen.

  “Soup.” He paused in the kitchen long enough to ladle a thick vegetable and barley soup into two huge mugs, add spoons, and pass one to me. Peggy and the kitchen staff had gone home or to join the street party, leaving the soup in a pot to the side of the stovetop to stay hot.

  The family room was empty and the fireplace cold. Rather than light a fire, Rory chose a sofa by a window. His silence let me choose when to talk and what to say.

  “We’ve known each other less than a fortnight,” I began awkwardly.

  He ate some soup.

  I merely stirred the spoon around in mine. “When we met at the trials, Pericles, one of the other candidates, said you flirted with me to prove that Faerene were ordinary people whom we should trust. Just a girl and a boy, and you do look like the boy-next-door. Likeable, trustworthy.”

  “I am.”

  “I know.”

  We both ate some soup.

  “I feel safe when you’re around.”

  He considered that statement, maybe wondering why my tone lacked enthusiasm. “Do you feel safe with Istvan?”

  I looked up from my soup in shock. “Yes.”

  His expression relaxed a fraction, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Lots of people feel safe with me. It’s kind of what a pack leader does. Is.”

  “A protector. I get that…but sometimes I think you’re interested in me, romantically.” It was the stupid hot soup that was making me flush. The soup, not embarrassment.

  “I am.”

  My spoon rattled against my soup mug. I’d guessed, but still… “Seriously?”

  “Very seriously.” All trace of a smile had vanished from his gray eyes. “Werewolf culture allows for casual relationships, but when we find the one who calls to our heart, not just to our senses, that is the person we woo. Berre and Yana feel blessed to have found one another, even with all the trouble their packs gave them.”

  He took my empty mug away.

  Nervous eating. I hadn’t even realized I’d been gulping soup.

  With our hands free, he held mine. His were warm and strong, rough from work and training. “I came through the Rift to fight the Kstvm. Staying safe on Elysium and letting them consume Earth was not an option, not for me. I served with the Elysium Guards. The Kstvm were an even greater challenge. I didn’t mind that migrating to Earth would mean living a homespun life for a few decades. I believe that when we use our talents we find our purpose. I’m a mage and a warrior.

  “When I first saw you I liked how you looked, how you moved and spoke, the way you smell.” He grinned at my expression. “People have a personal scent that’s truly theirs no matter the soap or other perfumes they smother themselves in. Your scent is like a field of wheat ready for harvest. Sunshine and promise.”

  “You smell of the woods. Of pine needles and grass.”

  “Do I?” His hands tightened for a second. “You appeal to all my senses, but I wouldn’t have sought you out at the trials or joined you and Istvan if there wasn’t more to it. I like you, Amy. I respect your courage and compassion. I can’t tell you what it is in particular that means you call to my heart, but you do. The fact that you treat all the different and strange-to-you Faerene as people and not as scary monsters is admirable.”

  “Not really. You are people.”

  He pulled me to my feet and into a loose hug. “I want to woo you, Amy. I want you as my mate to love and be loved by, to have children with, of our blood and by adoption, and to build a future with you in this new world.”

  He continued before I could speak. “But you are dealing with too much already. It’s been an overwhelming fortnight for you and things haven’t settled yet. So although I will flirt with you and I might try to steal a kiss or a thousand, I won’t take it further than that. And I won’t do even that much if you’d rather end the possibility of us here and now.” He released me and took a step back. “I can serve as the Guard Master, be professional and distant, and leave you free to build a different life.”

  “Or we could take things slowly?” I queried softly.

  He smiled. “Just as slow as you like, sweetling.”

  “And if I find that I’m attracted to you because you’re strong and kind, but that needing you temporarily isn’t the same as loving you?” This was the hard question that I’d wanted to ask him when I’d requested that we speak privately.

  “I respect your unflinching courage.” His eyes showed that respect. He seemed fiercely proud of me. “You don’t need to know your heart, yet, Amy. I’m wooing you so that you can learn it. If the lesson is that you want someone else, then so be it. No courtship comes with a guarantee. Nor is there a deadline.”

  I was still troubled. “It doesn’t seem fair. You’re making promises, but I’m not.”

  His laughter was a rumble in his chest. “You’re promising a lot. To let me woo you. To be honest in your emotions. I’m happy, Amy, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

  I nodded, then shook my head. Then shrugged. My emotional confusion embarrassed me. “You touch me easily. Can I touch you? I mean are there rules, conventions, for when and how people touch?”

  “I like how you blush. You’re naturally confident, but every now and then, I get you flustered.”

  I glared at him, meaning the scowl a little bit. “It is only you who manages that.”

  “I’ll take the compliment. And, sweetling, you can touch me anywhere, anytime. For werewolves in the early stages of wooing, hugs are readily exchanged and kisses are slightly more private. Unless you object, I’ll try and cuddle you at any excuse.”

  “Like you do now?”

  His grin lit his eyes at my snarky comment. “Yes.”

  I hugged him, and felt the deep breath he drew. For all his seeming confidence, he had been nervous. I hugged him hard.

  We stood like that for minutes. The apocalypse had taught me that in life there were no guarantees. Rory and I hadn’t settled anything. I had so many questions about my new role as a familiar, some of which no one could answer, but just for the moment it was enough that I’d warned him not to have expectations of me. Even I couldn’t tell how much I liked him as a cute guy and how much of his appeal was that of a security blanket.

  In the morning, Istvan and I left Rory and the others behind at the hall and stepped through Istvan’s portal to the road outside Fort Farm. I held one silver mirror enchanted for communication. The other was on a hook on the wall in the kitchen.

  Apfall
Hill hadn’t changed. There was no reason it should have in just a few days, but my sense of reality had been challenged by the speed with which the town of Justice had gone up.

  Istvan paused on the road.

  I guess with cars gone, that was a safer place than it had been to wait. Nonetheless, I clutched some of the fur on his nearest shoulder and tugged him forward with me. There was smoke rising up from the kitchen chimney, but also from the barn chimney. Istvan consented to stroll down the middle of the driveway. I certainly couldn’t have moved him if he’d stuck to his position of waiting to be acknowledged and invited.

  “Holy devil’s britches.” One of Mike’s military veteran friends and a member of the town’s guard came striding out of the barn and got his first sight of Istvan, the massive black griffin.

  Craig dashed out at the guy’s exclamation, and rocked to a halt.

  “Hi, Craig, Zach.”

  Zach kind of wilted against the side of the barn, but Craig strode forward.

  “Morning, Amy. Good morning, Istvan.”

  I considered Zach. He didn’t seem to be in any state to notice the mirror I carried, but just in case, I tucked it into the back of my belt beneath my leather coat. The mirrors and the ability to talk across distance were family business.

  Mike ambled out of the barn. “Zach, head on out, back to town.” And when his friend gave him a disbelieving, no-way-in-heck-am-I-walking-past-a-griffin look, Mike added. “Take the path through the woods.” The order gave Zach an excuse to duck out of sight around the corner of the barn, which he did.

  “I’ll get the others.”

  Craig rounded everyone up, while Istvan and I joined Mike in the barn.

  My family had cleared a space inside large enough for Istvan to be at ease rather than squashed in.

  I refused Mike’s offer of a cup of yerba mate tea. “Just a short visit, today. Istvan’s really busy.”

  “Uh huh.” Mike observed my contortions as I retrieved the silver hand mirror from the back of my belt.

  “I’ll explain everything in a tick.” I passed him the mirror so that I had my hands free to hug everyone.

  Jarod hung back so that he was last in line for a hug and could remain with an arm around me. His face was thinner and his eyes tired.

  There was an air of expectation in the barn.

  “This is a quick visit,” I repeated what I’d said to Mike. “I’m learning that Istvan’s job as a magistrate is a twenty four hours a day thing, but he knows how important you are to me and, well, this mirror has a matching one back in Justice, the town that’s growing up around the magistrate hall. The hall is on the Mississippi River, just south of where the Ohio River joins it.” There was so much to tell them.

  I took the mirror back from Mike. The priority was to establish our means of communication. “The mirrors are like two-way radios but with vision. They only talk to each other. When you press the top button, that turns the mirror on to receive communications from the other one. When you press the second button, it sends to the other mirror whatever is happening in front of it, sound and images.”

  “Pressing the buttons a second time turns off the mirror’s functionality,” Istvan added.

  Everyone’s gaze went from the mirror in my hands, to him, and back to me.

  I leaned down, passing the mirror to Stella where she sat by the stove. “At Istvan’s suggestion our mirror back at the hall will hang in the kitchen during the day and in the clerks’ room at night. That means that someone will always hear when you call, then they’ll either get me or answer you themselves.”

  Istvan shifted his weight slightly, and it was sufficient to command everyone’s attention. “You can use the mirror for frivolous conversations as well as if there is urgent news.”

  I nodded. “And I’ll do the same. Peggy is the head chef. She runs the kitchen. She’s also the matriarch of her goblin family. She is blue like a blueberry and short.” I indicated chest height. “She’s friendly and chatty. You’ll like her Stella.” Peggy would be an excellent introduction to the Faerene of the magistrate hall. “I don’t know which of the night clerks might answer after Peggy’s gone home, but they’re all professional and trustworthy.” Mentioning that Emil was a vampire might be a step too far. Already my family had stiffened at the news of a goblin cook.

  But Stella was brave. She touched the silver frame of the mirror reverently. “I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”

  “You will,” Istvan said. “Most humans will have no contact with Faerene. It’s different for you, unless and until you choose otherwise. Amy lives in two worlds which have to gradually blend.”

  “And we’re part of the blending.” Jarod’s hands clenched and unclenched. The gesture was nervous, not threatening. He was fidgety by nature, and just now, he was obviously under strain.

  There were signs of that strain in the others, too. It wasn’t just Istvan’s arrival—or perhaps it was. How had the town responded to Istvan’s first visit to Fort Farm?

  Istvan was experienced in reading people, and I suspect he read human body language almost as well as he did Faerene behavior. “If you want to be,” he responded neutrally to Jarod’s challenge. “In future you will occasionally see a red dragon flying overhead. Her name is Cervene. Whilst the location of her nest is a secret, Apfall Hill falls within her sector. She is willing to make a courtesy visit to introduce herself.”

  I gawked at him.

  He acknowledged my surprise. “This is news to Amy, as well.”

  “I’ll say.”

  Digger rubbed his chin, watching Istvan closely, clearly suspicious of something.

  Istvan continued his neutral message. “Nested dragons are very territorial. They seldom interfere, but they are aware of every major magical and physical happening. I very much doubt that Cervene will enter into any relationship with Apfall Hill, but she is willing to meet with your town’s leaders”

  I looked at Mike. He was one of the town’s leaders.

  He stuck his thumbs in his belt loops.

  “Having a relationship with Faerene has benefits and dangers,” Istvan warned us.

  The apocalypse had changed us all. Just hearing the word “dangers” had us tensing to respond to an attack.

  “No, not from the Faerene involved.” Istvan tilted his head to the side, considering his assurance. “Or at least, no more than ordinary chicanery as might happen in trading with humans. No, the danger is the attention you might attract from other humans, either of envy, anger or attempting to exploit you.”

  He eyed the mirror in Stella’s hands meaningly.

  “We’ll keep it in the house and not use it while anyone’s present. And we won’t tell anyone about it.” She looked around the circle, receiving nods of agreement. “I’ll keep it in the kitchen with me during the day and it can join us in the living room at night.”

  “Good,” Istvan said. “Tell your townsfolk that Cervene will be watching. If they wish to meet her, then they should light a bonfire in an open space in town on Wednesday morning. Cervene will take that as an invitation and land to talk with you. Based on Amy’s trust in you, I don’t anticipate any treachery from your neighbors, but warn them that a dragon defending herself could wipe out a town many times larger than Apfall Hill.”

  Mike grunted.

  “You have days to decide whether to meet her,” Istvan said.

  Digger rubbed the back of his neck. “Days in which to argue.”

  Craig added a humph of agreement.

  I’d guess that my previous visit with Istvan and Rory had generated lots of comment and debate.

  Jarod stared at the mirror in Stella’s hands before turning to me and gently bumping his head against mine. “We’ll talk.” He was calmer, fidgeting less.

  Niamh crossed the half-circle we stood—or in Stella’s case, sat—in, facing Istvan. Niamh gripped my hand. “Whatever happens, you’re not responsible for us.”

  Istvan’s head rose as he stiffened with inte
rest.

  Niamh kept her attention on me. “Your life is more complicated than ours, and we are fine.” Over her shoulder, Digger nodded emphatic agreement. “So you concentrate on you and on finding your place whether that’s with Istvan or maybe later back here or somewhere else altogether. Do what you need to do for you. You don’t have to save the world or us. Just keep yourself safe.”

  I gave her a swift hug. Istvan might or might not understand Niamh, but I knew her history as a charity worker overseas and, more recently, as a firefighter. We’d had discussions about the urge to be a hero. “I remember. Life’s a journey. Everyone walks their own path. Sometimes paths split. I won’t let that happen here, to us though.” I looked at Istvan because I’d need his help to make that true.

  Jarod pushed his way into our hug.

  “As long as you don’t try to carry us,” Niamh said. “Walk with us.”

  “Very wise.” Respect was clear in Istvan’s voice. “The mirror will help. Use it to talk to more than Amy.” With that oblique advice to my family to become comfortable with the Faerene, Istvan initiated goodbyes. In a minute he had a portal open outside the barn. We walked through it and home disappeared.

  Rather than portal us to the roof of the magistrate hall, Istvan had us walk through to the west side of Justice.

  Lajos was kneeling in the dirt burying bulbs. “Not everyone would appreciate you portaling onto their land,” he observed to Istvan without looking up.

  “There are rules against portaling onto streets.”

  The elf sat back on his heels. The thighs of his trousers were filthy from where he’d wiped his hands and his knees were caked with dirt. It was barely mid-morning, yet he’d evidently been at work for hours. The garden laid out around him showed that he’d been working hard for days. “Istvan, you have a perfectly good hall across the river. I was there for its grand opening. I noticed that Harold ran off as soon as he could.”

  “People expect too much of him,” Istvan said.

  Lajos looked across the river at the fast-growing town. “People aren’t asking for more than they give.”

  Istvan stretched his wings. “I’m going hunting.”