The Black Thorn members took their time searching and looting the once comforting dwelling. No one stirred or had any temptation to speak. They simply sat, and waited. Waited for the men to search the bedrooms, both floors, and the attic. Waited for some to steal food and valuables while the others searched the stables. Waited for the shock and pain to leave as they did after their fruitless tirade.

"It's probably safe now," Aidan said, unhanding Syra and scooting to the trap door. "We should leave before word gets out."

Cassius helped him pry the door open from under the layer of boots and bags, and pulled Syra and Petra out and onto their feet.

Syra nearly lost that footing at the full sight of the limp bodies tossed onto the floor. She couldn't help it--she didn't care to. The tears came and she stumbled over to Radstrom, and then to Tilly, her voice but a whimper.

"We did this..." she said, her hands scared to touch Tilly's body that still gave off heat, "I did this."

"No," Aidan rejected, "You did not do this. Don't you think for a second that--"

"If I hadn't gone to them...if I hadn't insisted that we stop to help, they wouldn't have helped us in return."

"You couldn't have known," Cassius said, looking up from the stunned Petra and Leon who sat by Tilly with blank stares.

"Aidan knew," Syra said, inciting a look of, 'excuse me?' from him. "He knew it was a trap. But did I listen? No. No, I just kept on going. I spoke first, drew my sword first...they were after us, not them."

"They," Aidan said, getting in her face, "protected us. That was their mission, to aid and protect travelers on the road. Was it not?"

Syra nodded.

"Just like it's our mission to protect everyone from what will come should Marrak get those stones. So if we don't do that, if we don't hold up our end of the deal...then this was for nothing."

The party fell silent a moment, and Syra clutched Tilly's hand, which was dainty yet calloused from work.

"Then let's get them back," came a low, firm growl from Petra.

The others looked on confused.

"Aidan said he knew people who could stop them, permanently. After we take down Marrak, we'll take them down, too."

"I thought you didn't like humans," snarked Aidan.

"I don't!" Petra spat back, "just this one." She patted Tilly softly on the head.

***

Sheets were thrown over the bodies and the remaining food was packed. To their surprise, the cart was still camped inside the barn. Larson's men had taken the potions, salves, and the prettier weapons, anything they knew would bring a high return. Aidan was relieved to see they had not taken his horse.

"There, there, Leif," he hushed the stallion, stroking its long muzzle, "We're leaving right now."

He hitched Leif to the cart and they bid farewell to the house and their fallen friends.

"We should stay off the main roads," said Aidan to Leon, "we need to avoid anymore run-ins like that".

Leon agreed and led them onto a backroad that wound around fenced pastures and crop fields, and over a stream who's bridge was in need of repair. While the trip took twice as long, they met only livestock before arriving at the main stretch of town.

"We should get more supplies," Aidan said, being the first to speak since their departure, "Two canteens won't be enough for all of us."

Petra and Srya took off towards the well in the center of town, "We'll go fill these up."

Aidan nodded and clicked his tongue to lead Leif after them.

"How far are we from Edgewood?" Petra asked Leon, cranking the handle and pulling the bucket from the stone well.

"Hmm, it's a day's ride, so we better plan for at least two," he said, rubbing his tiny hairless chin.

"Meaning we'll have to stay the night here," Syra said with concern. After this morning, she wasn't fond of the idea of staying near the city.

"There are plenty of inns to choose from, and guards posted on almost every corner," said Aidan, "We'll be fine."

Neither Syra nor Petra seemed convinced.

"Hope you're right," Petra said under her breath as she filled their canteens.

"Excuse me, miss?" A man of dark hair and beard said as he approached Petra, "Can I ask where you got that ribbon?"

Petra was taken aback briefly, but he kept his distance and had a gentle look about him.

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry. That must have come off quite odd." The man apologized and thumped a thinking finger against his own canteen, "I was waiting my turn here, you see, and I couldn't help but notice that ribbon in your hair, and how similar it looks to one I once had." He smiled and pointed to the green-and-gold ribbon Tilly had tied in Petra's hair.

"You once had?" Petra questioned, running a critical eye over his short mop of hair.

"Yes! You see I gave it to a lady friend of mine who lives not too far from here. A courting gift, I guess you could say. Anyways, I have yet to see another quite like it 'round here and thought it a tad curious."

Syra tugged lightly on Petra's arms, a warning to watch what she said. But Petra continued to study the man, especially his eyes as they were clear and did not waver under her hard gaze.

"A courting gift, you say?" Petra asked.

"Hehe, why yes," he said flushing, "I frequent the little inn she and her father run during my trips--I'm a merchant, you see--and I seem to have fallen quite hard for her." He laughed at himself and Syra looked away.

"You mean, Tilly?" Petra blinked any sign of sorrow away.

"Yes, yes! You know her? Isn't she wonderful?"

"Quite." She nodded with a wry smile. "She bandaged me up when I was hurt, and then gave me this." She pointed to her stubby ponytail. "Don't know why, exactly, but I kind of like it."

"Haha! That's Tilly for you. Giving herself even if you might not deserve it. Do tell me, how is she nowadays?"

Petra flinched. Her words clung to her chest despite his prying eyes. At this point, she had to look away.

The man's cheery disposition fell as he saw the long faces of all four comrades, "Is she alright? What happened?"

No one spoke.

"Please," he begged, forcing himself to remain composed, "Please, I need to know. Can I be of any help? Where is she now?"

"Dead," Petra said, "She's dead. Both her and Radstrom."

"What?" The man's voice broke.

"Just this morning," Cassius added, "A group of men came and..."

"A group of men--who?! Who were these men?!" The man's face grew red.

"The Black Thorn," Aidan said, making the man's mouth shut. "That's what Tilly said before they barged in."

"And what of you four? Did they hurt you? Did you fight?"

"We wanted to," Syra spoke up softly.

"Wanted to?"

"Tilly made us hide. Under the floorboards. Until they left. We...we saw everything."

The man's rage ebbed when he saw the scaring hid behind their straight faces, "And the bodies?"

"Covered," Aidan said. "We feared being seen if we took the time to bury them. I'm sorry."

"I see," said the man, running a hand hard through his ruffled hair. "Well, we'll need to send people to take care of them properly--I mean I will need to. You've dealt with enough."

He sighed and bit his quivering lip, then cleared his throat, "Where are you headed?"

"Pardon?" Cassius asked, catching on late.

"If you were staying with Tilly, I assume you're travelling."

"Oh, yes. We're going to Edgewood."

"In that case, you'll need a place to stay." He thought for a moment, then groaned, "Oh, why not? It's what Tilly would've done."

"What is?" Petra asked.

"Come with me," the man said, "You can stay at my place. I'll have to leave to...take care of things, but feel free to relax until I get back."

The man took up his canteen and hopped up on his horse, "Just follow me."

Petra caught hold of his pant leg before he went off, and he looked down surprised.

"Thank you," she said before letting him go.

The man said nothing, only smiled then trotted off, waiting for them to follow.

***

"The name's Ros," the man said when they arrived at the storefront, "Living quarters are upstairs."

The store was a decent size, enough to tell that Ros certainly knew his business. Behind the building was a small stable where Ros stored his own horse and Leif.

"You merchants, as well?" Ros asked, noticing the cart.

"No," Aidan said, unhitching it, "just returning it."

"Returning it?"

"We found it," Syra explained, "The note said it was from Edgewood, and since we were heading there anyway, we figured we'd bring it with us."

"Huh," Ros stood in slight awe, "maybe I wasn't wrong to trust you." He chuckled, "Well, entrance is this way. Mind your step."

Ros held the door open as Syra, Petra, and Cassius ascended the stairs into the living area, but stopped Aidan at the door.

"You said it was the Black Thorn that killed Tilly?" he asked, serious.

"Yes, they all wore bronze coins."

"I see," Ros paused to think.

"Are they common around here?"

Ros nodded with a grieved face, "And growing. Mostly in the poorer areas, but I've heard they're getting a stronger hold even in Renguard now. Many of my friends and merchant buddies are getting scared they're getting too large."

"Isn't the city guard taking care of it? That's what they're trained for."

"You'd think that, but it's like they're not even aware of it. Or just plain ignoring it. What I don't understand is, why hasn't Altaira done anything about it? With their army the Black Thorn wouldn't stand a chance."

Aidan cursed to himself, angry that it had taken him so long to discover them, "Maybe they just don't know."

"Don't know, my ass! They're the capital. They're supposed to support us smaller cities. What else are my taxes for?"

Aidan thought on this a moment, then winced at a sudden realization, "There is always the possibility of traitors; officials who side with the Black Thorn and alter, or ignore, any information coming from those smaller cities."

"Well, that's just lovely," Ros said, shaking his head. "What's going to become of this place if we start fighting and killing each other?"

"It seems we've already started."

"Well then," Ros said with a huff, "I'm going to go talk to those friends and buddies of mine and see if we're not the only ones completely put out by these...renegades. If the guards won't do anything, then we'll just have to do it ourselves."

"Careful, now," Aidan warned, "Tilly said that's just how they started."

Ros gripped him tight on the shoulder, "Aye, you're right. Thank you, son. Now, get your scrawny ass up there and rest. You leave early tomorrow."

***

That night, after they had eaten, Ros still hadn't return.

"Perhaps he had to travel a ways," Cassius said when Syra voiced her concern.

"The meeting probably just went long," said Aidan, enjoying the plushness of Ros' sofa. "I've known very few that didn't. Plus," he closed his book, the words beginning to blur as sleep creeped in, "they had to bury Tilly and Radstrom."

"I'm going to sleep," Petra announced, refusing to wait any longer.

"Good idea," said Cassius, following Petra down the hallway to the guest rooms, and leaving Aidan to watch Syra stare out the window.

"Are we ever going to talk about it?" Syra asked after some silence.

"About what?" Aidan asked from the arm of the couch, avoiding the subject.

"Us," she said, staring directly at him.

He sighed, "There is no 'us'. I told you that already."

"I know that, but what I still don't understand is, why?"

"And what I still don't understand is, how you can expect me to trust you like nothing happened?" He looked up from the floor and met her gaze head-on.

"What's not to trust?"

He blinked in astonishment, "You lied to me, Syra."

"Not outrightly."

"No, you just failed to mention that you're a bloody dragon." He clawed at the lining of the sofa. "My brother was killed by one of you. You can't blame me for being wary. I saw him burnt, and blistered...like his skin wasn't skin anymore. And then he...just died. Right there, in front of me."

I know. I was there, too.

She pushed the smell of charred skin from her nose, only to recall the face that scorched it.

"Not all of us are bad, Aidan. We're fighting the same enemy."

"You still lied," he said, standing to confront her. "You lied the whole time."

"I'm still the same person--"

"You're not a person."

"Whatever, same being." She stood upright and puffed her chest a little, "You know that dragon that saved you when you were boy? When Marrak attacked and you were running from that ogre? That was me."

Aidan's eyes grew wide. He had had his suspicions, but questioned everything he thought nowadays.

"That 'beast' is the same little girl who became your best friend, who let you cheat off her when you didn't study, who cried when she didn't get the last slice of pie."

"You had two."

"And you still snuck into the kitchen to get me another one! That girl is still here."

"No!" Aidan stopped to lower his voice, "No, she's not. What's here is a giant...lizard disguised as her. A reflection, a mirage. Literally, you glow when you shift! It's a lie. How am I supposed to know if anything you say, or feel, is true?"

"Then why did you come? If you hate me so much--"

"I don't hate you."

"If I'm so untrustworthy, why bother helping? This is my mission, after all."

"Because Valen asked me to."

Her shoulders drooped, "Why? Does he not trust me either?"

"He was worried about you...and us. Said that trust can be 'regrown', which I am trying desperately to believe! But, also because this rebellion would impact the entire kingdom, and as a leader it is my duty to protect it."

"Yeah, that sounds like him."

"Anyway, Syra, what do you want from me? To forget that we're not even the same species? 'Cause that's a lot to get over and, honestly, a bit unfair to ask at the moment."

"What do I want?" Syra throttle a scream. "I want to go home. To crawl back in bed and sleep for a week. I want Nelly to pat my head and tell me everything's alright, and to eat graduation cake with Ricca and Rimmel." Her eyes darted to the guest room door. "I want my brother and sister to think I'm more than just a liability, and..." her eyes beseeched him, "I want the man I fell in love with to remember who I really am."

"You're not even human! How does this even work?" He asked, pointing back and forth between them.

"You know exactly how this works," She sneered, mimicking him, "So, now the question becomes, what do you want, Aidan?"

"I want...time," Aidan said, shoulders sagging, "Time to think. Without the constant pleading of your eyes on me. This is our mission, and I promise to help anyway I can. But I cannot think straight, let alone sort out my emotions, with you moping around me."

"Do I look like I'm moping?" Syra said with an indignant turn of her head.

"You radiate mopiness. Even with a smile, you do. I know you."

"I thought you said you didn't."

Aidan let out a long sigh, "Look, I just need time. Can you give me that?"

Syra let her anger fade and then curtsied, "As you wish, my prince."

He groaned, "Really? How old are you?"

Syra didn't listen and headed off to bed, leaving Aidan exasperated.

He rested the back of his head against the window pane and Leon fluttered over to his shoulder.

"Hey, Bati..."

"Not now, Leon."

"You know--"

"I said, not now, Leon."

The pixie ignored him, "I was just curious about one thing."

Aidan sighed, "What?"

"You're engaged?"

"Was."

Leon left his shoulder and hovered in his face, "Meaning you did love her at some point?"

"Aye."

"And now you're letting her go because she looks different?"

"It's more complicated than that."

"You know looks aren't permanent."

"Obviously."

"You know I'm not letting this go."

"Go to sleep, Leon," Aidan left the Fae by the window and ducked into the hallway.

"I'm watching you!" Leon called after him, pointing a tiny finger.

In the shadow of the hall, Aidan put a hand to his chest and gripped at the ring hanging under his shirt. He didn't want to hang on to it, to cling to it like a lost puppy, but he didn't want to give up either.

"...and I don't need any more for you!" Syra's voice rang from a bedroom.

Aidan caught Syra arguing with Petra as he passed their room.

Syra gave him a short, icy stare then turned with a huff, throwing up two glowing hands, lifting up the blankets, jumping in bed, then throwing them over herself.

Aidan went to respond, but Petra cut him off with a pointed finger, "I am having no part in this. Good night."

Aidan just stood there and looked to Cassius, who also stood speechless. They both sighed and Aidan closed their door, following Cassius into their room for the night.

***

Despite his earlier drowsing, Aidan found sleep an elusive ally. The fat moon shone bright into his window and his mind gave him no reprieve from its repetitions of his argument with Syra.

Clang!

The faint sound of metal falling roused him fully from bed. Outside the window, he could hear shuffling and muffled curses. Sliding out of bed, he saw Petra in the yard outside by the stable, sword in hand and swinging over and over.

"She's practicing," he mused to himself, surprised by her diligence.

As he watched from the window, he saw her toss the sword from one hand to the other. Both were equally nimble, but she had trouble keeping it steady. Its weight was wearing her down.

The chance for sleep was gone. Aidan tip-toed passed the slumbering Cassius and grabbed his cloak, boots, and sword, and padded down the stairs.

He left the door slightly ajar so to not cause noise, and approached Petra.

At the sound of footsteps, Petra spun around, tossing the sword to her left hand and pointing it to his throat.

"Can I help you?" She was still huffing and sweat beaded at her brow.

"It's too heavy." Aidan said, ignoring the blade.

"Excuse me?"

"The sword. It's made for two hands, not one."

Petra scoffed and resumed her practice, "Maybe for humans."

"You look pretty human."

"Tell that to Syra," Petra spat.

Aidan's words caught in his throat.

"I might look pathetic," Petra said in between swings, "but you know damn well I could still break your spine." Petra's breath came in shallow bursts.

Aidan chuckled and stepped forward, "Aye."

His approach warranted a second warning blow from her blade, this time an inch from his nose. A smirk cracked his face. The blade was quivering.

"You're strong, Petra."

"What does a human know of strength?" Petra continued to swing the unsteady blade.

"You're strong," Aidan repeated, "but you lack endurance."

"Oh really?" Petra let her blade drop to her side, her deltoids twitching, "Have you ever flown transcontinental? Have you?" She was curiously quiet.

"I don't know much about dragon culture or history, but I do know they're in a time of peace, correct?"

"Your point?"

"Natural strength can only get you so far. And you have had no need to practice."

Aidan trotted over to the cart, eyeing the left over weapons. Choosing one, he tossed her a sword with a twin hilt which she caught with ease. He motioned for a trade and she conceded with a sneer.

"Try it," he said backing away.

Her stroke was swift and nearly knocked her off balance. Aidan slapped a hand over his mouth to hold in his laugh.

"Shut up," she glowered.

A lunge and more strikes gained her control, her scowl ebbing with each swing.

"Ready for the best part?" Aidan asked, his hand asking for the blade back.

Petra met his outstretched hand with a raised eyebrow, but handed it over.

A quick toggle of the hilt unclasped the pair of twin blades, and the flick of his wrists brightened Petra's gold eyes that followed their precise and fluid movements.

"You've used these before?" Petra's bedazzlement was cut short by swift blades crossed at her neck, and Aidan's black eyes locked inches from hers.

"Once or twice." The smirk returned to his face and the blades returned to Petra, "Not many people are two-handed. Use them to your advantage."

Spurts of laughter bubbled from Petra as she spun and spun with the twins. A rare sight, Aidan figured, given her usual demeanor.

"Make sure to get some sleep, you hear? Or you won't like yourself in the morning."

Petra waved him off and he took his leave.

He returned to the loft, his eyes finally weary. The moonlight covering Syra's blanket caught his eye, and the image of a joyous Petra brought memories of Syra's first lesson. She was quick, and agile. Not strong like her sister, but a natural among her troop. It was then, perhaps, watching her lighthearted glee infect their entire patrol, that he had felt that spark; an ember that would kindle through training and missions and god-awful dinner parties. But that was then.

Aidan shoved the nostalgia back into their box and resigned himself to his bed and his blanket and the promise of sleep. But the sky was bright, his pulse still quick, and his eyes stubbornly wandered to the small bundle across the hall that snored so faintly, yet his ears couldn't help but hear.

Kim taf nav eth , ni vasi sum

Mi rumi kaaɦ, ni krimet dah sen

Gahl hal sah

Tükad ni türiin, mi rumi va rumah

Sang the bundle, its voice feint and thick with dreaming; a song Aidan had heard many times, but was too peaceful to stop. He grimaced and berated himself. The truth had been in front of him the whole time, yet he chose to ignore it.

With a heavy sigh, Aidan tore his eyes away, turned his back, and pulled his blanket over his head, "I'm not sorry."