Chapter One: Roel

A fuzzy caterpillar crawled along the edge of Roel’s sword. It was bright red, and its sharp, tiny mandibles were black. What it was doing here was a mystery: in winter, its kind burrowed into the rotting flesh of plagued corpses, bursting forth as crimson butterflies weeks later to mark the arrival of spring.

“You’re early,” Roel sighed and shifted in his seat, careful to keep the sword level so the tiny creature wouldn’t fall off. “And lost.”

He rose from his armchair and stepped off the wood patio into his garden. There, he squatted near a flowerbed growing strawberries and gently picked the caterpillar up, placing it on the earth under a particularly lush cluster of leaves. He watched it for a while until it disappeared among the green, then stared off where it had vanished for another few minutes.

That had been a bloodmouth butterfly. Despite its apparent early arrival, those were a good omen, if one believed the superstitions.

Roel didn’t. He’d outgrown such things some fifty years ago. But any enemy of the remnant was a friend to him, no matter how small.

Quick steps came down the garden path. The gait belonged to Lex, Roel’s distant cousin. Roel stood up to meet him and turned around just in time to see Lex appear from behind an overgrown trellis.

“There you are!” he exclaimed. “Roendel’s ship has arrived. He’s waiting for you.”
“Great,” Roel muttered.

He walked past Lex, pointedly ignoring the other’s curious gaze. They both returned the way Lex had come, in silence at first, though Roel could almost sense the questions burning in Lex’s mind.

“No, I still don’t know why Del has asked to speak to me, and no, I don’t know if he’ll let you join.”

“Actually, I was going to ask why you seem so displeased to meet him. You two are close, aren’t you?” Lex wondered.

Roel glanced over his shoulder, though not at Lex. Instead, he caught the last glimpses of his garden before stepping inside, quiet longing stinging in his chest. Whatever the reason for Del’s visit, Roel hoped it wouldn’t take him away from home for too long. He still had most of the summer to enjoy the break between remnant assaults.

“We are. Or were,” he conceded as they made their way through the vast and quiet halls of Duath-Naelas. “But he has a kingdom to run, a wife to entertain, and a child on the way. And I have my own duties. We can’t be bound to each other as we were before.”

“Sure, but that means you should be happier to see him, no?” Lex pressed.

“If this was a simple family visit, he wouldn’t have been so cryptic in his messages.”

“You think he brings bad news?”

“Or something he knows I won’t like. Something bad enough that he has to tell me in person.”

Lex didn’t press him again. Roel was grateful for it, as it let him ruminate in peace.

He hoped — and feared — that his brother had news of Ariel. It had been more than thirty years since their sister disappeared after a particularly explosive argument with their father. The king had died only a few years after Ari’s disappearance, but she still hadn’t returned home. With Del busy at the throne and Ava busy with her priesthood, Roel wondered if perhaps Ari would have kept him company, if she were around. She hadn’t even been a proper adult when she left.

What if she was dead? Or, more likely, she simply didn’t want to return to them.

He didn’t blame her. Whatever left of Father’s rage that Del couldn’t handle would usually fall on her and Roel. But Roel had stayed, despite everything. Why did Ariel leave, and why hadn’t she come back? Was it possible she didn’t know?

Lelann stood waiting at the entrance to the landing tower, fidgeting with her jewelry. Her pale eyes lit up when she spotted Roel and he took a quiet, arming breath as he approached.

“The king is here, Roel,” she said, hand darting out to smooth down her light brown hair.

“I know,” he replied curtly. He wouldn’t be making for the landing tower otherwise.

Her use of his short name always made his ears curl. He knew she had the right, given what they almost were, but it grated nonetheless.

She nodded at Lex, and waited for them both to pass before joining the impromptu entourage.

Roel wasn’t sure why either of them bothered to tail him; the king had only asked for his brother to come. Well, Lex probably wanted to meet Del. They were cousins, too. Lelann, though? What was her excuse?

Roel trudged on, two steps at a time, absently admiring the view through the curved stained glass windows of the tower. For all the grimness of his city, its place in the eternal war and the weight with which people spoke its name, nothing could beat that vast, mountainous vistas that surrounded it.

Roel pulled open the door at the top of the landing tower and squinted in the midday sun. Del had taken a smaller, faster skyship here. This wasn’t an “official” visit, so no need for other dignitaries or extra guards — that was the only thing soothing Roel at the moment, that this meeting couldn’t have been all that important. The ship perched on the stone landing pad glimmered in the sunlight, its sails folded neatly like the wings of a dragonfly. Del stood on the deck, and even at a distance, Roel could tell he wore his usual satisfied grin.

A couple of guards lowered the ramp, wood striking stone just moments before Roel stepped aboard. He couldn’t stand ceremony.

Lelann remained on the landing pad, but Lex powered on without a care in the world.

“Good day, my sweet prince,” said Del to Roel, half-teasing and half-sincere, as usual. “And you, Lexis. Still as eager as ever, I see.”

“Get on with it,” Roel interjected before Lex could reply.

Del sighed, closing his eyes in exaggerated disappointment. Then he nodded solemnly and gestured toward the slim door leading to the lower decks. His guards remained still, watching them leave. Lex remained as well; he wasn’t that eager.

Roel watched his brother’s back as Del led him to his on-ship quarters. He hadn’t changed a bit since they last saw each other. How long ago was it, now? Almost a year. It wouldn’t have made sense for Del to change in such a short amount of time anyway, but Del had always been more adventurous. Roel had at least expected him to do something new with his long hair. Though perhaps Del had to ask for permission to alter his hairstyle now that his wife’s lock was braided into it. The red silk band was the only indication that Del was married; the queen’s hair was just as black as his own.

Del stopped at a door at the end of the cramped corridor running the length of the ship.

“After you,” he smarmed as he opened it.

Roel responded with an annoyed glare and stepped inside. It was a small room, with a double bed tucked into a corner and a writing desk under the window. There were some documents on it, and as Roel stepped closer to look, it took him a moment to recognize the script.

“’Eberia: Customs and Traditions?’” he read out in the Eberian tongue before turning to stare quizzically at his brother.

“Had to dig those up from the old archives, before Father’s time,” Del replied casually as he locked the door. “I imagine they’re quite out of date now, given how quickly the humans, er, develop, but it’s better than nothing!”

“Why are you reading human documents?” Roel asked.

“It’s been thirty years since Father’s” — Del rolled his eyes — “unfortunate demise. There is a new king on the Eberian throne, one I hope will be amenable to softer relations with our kingdom.”

Roel heard it, that telltale lilt in his brother’s voice that heralded a proposition. He bit back a hasty assumption and sat heavily down on the only other chair in the room, waiting for his brother to explain himself.

Del smiled and smoothed out his robes before sitting behind his desk and plaiting his well-manicured fingers. He wore a slimy little smile that Roel knew others found appealing and comforting — one he could see for the blatant attempt at appeasement it truly was.

“I have made contact with the Eberian royal family. Their king is open to discussions of an alliance. The diplomats are arranging a time and location.”

Roel did not respond. That wasn’t why Del had come here. It was something he could have told him through a message, something that had nothing to do with Roel and would likely have little to no impact on his life. No, if Del was here to discuss this in person, then he had plans to involve Roel somehow.

Roel gripped the chair’s armrests tightly and forced himself to think of the bloodmouth caterpillar. It was a good omen. A good omen.

“You have excellent instincts, little prince, I’ll give you that,” Del sighed. “But it needn’t be such a bad thing.”

The king looked through the documents on his desk, shifting them around in a manner that suggested less searching and more uncovering something he’d hidden before Roel arrived. He found whatever it was, and brushed his fingers gently over the aged parchment.

“I was doing research to see how the old human kingdoms sealed alliances between each other. For inspiration, you see. Before Father’s time, the elves and humans had a sort of live-and-let-live approach to our international politics. But after a war that great and a quiet thirty-year truce, I figured it’s time to clear establish true, lasting peace.

“There was little in terms of diplomacy on our side to set a precedent, especially after the fire that destroyed the Living Library, so I wanted to know how the humans did it among themselves.”

Roel did not comment, even when Del met his gaze for a reaction.

Del’s confidence wavered at that. He looked down on the parchment again, frowning, reconsidering. For a moment, something akin to regret passed over his face. Then he sighed and put the parchment down.

Roel wanted to give Del some time, but was also running out of patience.

“Well?” he said.

Del’s smile returned, a little sadder this time. Roel noticed tiny, barely visible wrinkles around his eyes. The king would soon turn two-hundred. Still early in his prime, and yet, he was already showing signs of age.

“Mari suggested something to me that was quite intriguing. You see, before the unification of the human clans, their various chieftains would secure alliances between each other by marriage. Nowadays, the same thing applies to their noble houses, where children of nobility enter political unions for the sake of monetary gain or in order to increase their status.”

Roel pursed his lips. This had bad implications, as did many other things suggested by Queen Damaris. “Elves don’t do this,” he simply said.

“Of course not. But …”

Del trailed off. Instead of speaking, he shifted his gaze from Roel’s eyes to his head. Or, more accurately, his hair.

Roel wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t uncommon for a male blood elf to shear his hair. It was done to signal their commitment to solitude — or their acceptance of it.

“If you do not want to marry a fellow elf, then would it matter if you married a human?”

“Do you hear yourself?” Roel spat. “Repeat those words and tell me how they sound.”

“If you are committed to a solitary life, if you won’t marry an elf and contribute to the population, then you might as well make yourself useful in another way, no?”

“And a half-elven child isn’t contributing to the population? Are you suggesting we hand it over to the humans once it is born?”

“What? No, of course not—“

“Besides, I make myself useful by fighting the remnant. I already give everything I have every fall and winter.”

Del sighed, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to use such arguments on you, little prince. Let me try something else.”

“By all means,” Roel scoffed.

“The political marriages among humans are just that, political. They facilitate the exchange of titles, land, influence, or keep these things in the control of the families involved. It is rare that the spouses actually want each other. Most of the time, they have a legal spouse and a lover. And in this case, the marriage would be purely symbolic, something to strengthen the existing alliance, if the humans agree to one.”

Roel crossed his arms, “Meaning?”

“Meaning that I wouldn’t demand or even expect that you and your human wife, you know” — Del gestured vaguely — “consummate the marriage. Should you change your mind, you could still keep an elven lover. And humans only live for less than a hundred years. The commitment wouldn’t be that long for you. You’d be in perfect marriage age by the time your human wife passes on. So, no losses there, right?”

Roel realized now that he wasn’t in the company of Del, his brother, but of Roendel Caentei, King of the Elves, who had held the elven people together when the previous king’s behavior almost tore it apart. Who, in the end, had his father’s throat cut to protect his family and kingdom from more bloodshed. And who married the woman holding the knife.

It was surprising that Damaris would suggest such a diplomatic approach. What wasn’t surprising was Del’s eagerness to go along with the idea. Del was a cutthroat and a schemer. Roel wasn’t sure if he could be anything else. Of course he would consider foisting some hapless human woman upon Roel as the best path to political gain. It made perfect sense.

“I doubt the humans will see it that way. They’ll probably want an heir, to make sure both kingdoms are equally invested in the alliance.”

“Who cares what they want?” Del retorted. “I won’t force my precious little brother to sleep with a human if he doesn’t want to. And it’s not as if they’ll be standing in the bedroom, watching whatever happens. Or doesn’t happen, as it were.”

Roel wasn’t convinced.

Was Del really asking him this? Sure, it would be temporary for him, but that was still, what, fifty to seventy years spent with a human? Even if he didn’t love her, or sleep with her, he’d still have to tolerate her presence in his home. Take her on meetings with generals and officials. And what would happen during winters? Would he bring her to the border, or leave her behind to remain alone for months on end until he came back to be a standoffish and cold husband? No matter which way he twisted it, no matter how much quiet disgust he held for humans, he couldn’t deny that it would be cruel to treat a woman like that. To use her for … what, exactly? Del had mentioned that human marriages were exchanges.

“What are you hoping to gain with this alliance? So far I’ve only heard what I’ll be losing, and not what we’ll be winning.”

Del’s self-satisfied grin returned in full force. “I am hoping to exchange the human princess for the Winland Peninsula.”

Roel wrinkled his nose. The elves had conquered that land during the war. It was still human territory in every sense but the literal, given that it held naught but abandoned mines and factories, and few elves wanted to live there. But land was land.

“Again, our loss.”

“Ah, but see, I also intend to ask them for military support.”

That made Roel pause. The elven military had suffered great losses during the war, so much so that even the blood elves had to be drawn away from the border to fight humans instead of remnant — they had lost miles of land since. He wasn’t sure if the humans would be willing to send their own soldiers to an old enemy. What would they be fighting?

“I know the blood elves are weakened,” Del said solemnly. “I know the situation is difficult at the border, Roel. And I figured … The humans have machines. They have their rifles, cannons, all of it. And though they are susceptible to the remnant themselves, their military prowess, their metal toys, and their sheer numbers should still prove useful to our people, no?”

Even though Del was a sky elf, he spoke of blood elves as though they were his, as well. Roel couldn’t help but appreciate that, in some half-dead part of his soul that still remembered their father’s hatred.

“And you think the humans will give their weapons and people to an old enemy in exchange for a piece of land and a marriage alliance that won’t produce heirs?”

“We won’t tell them it won’t produce heirs, silly. And don’t dismiss Winland. They had mines there, quarries, factories that even our greatest engineers weren’t able to figure out. They want that stuff back. That’s where they produced a large bulk of said weapons, you know. Why do you think Father threw so many soldiers at it back in the day?”

“So you’re giving back their weapon factories and then asking for the weapons they make there?”

“Pretty much.”

Del was practically preening, now. But there was something else, a playful glint in his eyes that was tempered by … Was that embarrassment? Not Del, surely.

“What!” Roel demanded.

“There’s another thing. Something I thought of during the trip.”
Interesting. This was something not even Damaris knew of yet. Must’ve been something truly unhinged if Del was the sole mastermind.

“Wars have grim consequences for everyone involved, but while the humans are quick to recover, we elves are ironically more fragile despite our longer lives.” Del drew a heavy sigh. He was clearly stalling, telling Roel the obvious like this. “The war has had a rather devastating effect on our population. We have plenty of women left, but few men, especially at the southern border where they’re most needed.”

Roel’s ears flared up, “You’re not suggesting …”

“I am. Human soldiers would help restore the border.”

The revulsion was so sudden and intense that Roel stood up and started pacing in front of the window, unable to face his brother.

Roel was no elf supremacist, but this … Was Del truly suggesting bringing in human men to intentionally have children with elven women? Instead of the few elven men left in the country? No, not instead, alongside, but that didn’t make Roel feel much better.

He took a deep breath and pressed his forehead against the window, staring out across the mountains without seeing. “Of course you would suggest something like this.”

“What, because I married a half-human?” Del replied behind him, a slight challenge in his voice. “You can’t tell me I’m wrong, my dear prince. The border is thinning. We can’t afford to let the remnant encroach on our lands more than we already have. And when humans have children with blood elves …”

“… the children are always blood elves.” Roel pinched the bridge of his nose.

That was the reason Queen Damaris had been accepted as Roel’s spouse. Mostly accepted, anyway. Her being a blood elf was still a subject for many debates and general unrest in the kingdom, but if people knew her father had been human? There would be riots. There could be riots if Roel married a human, too, though being fourth in line and already much disliked by the nobility, he suspected people wouldn’t perceive it as too much of a threat to the throne.

“But these things are only the beginning,” Del said. “Trade, resources, services, labor, diplomacy. All of it would benefit us. There’s a reason Father failed to invade Eberia.”

“He was stabbed,” Roel retorted. “In his sleep, no less.”

“Sure. But not before giving the invasion his best shot. My point is that the humans were a formidable enemy, even with their short lives. That means they’ll be powerful allies, too. And they know that if we were to fall to the remnant, they would be next. Helping us is in their best interest.”

The glass had warmed under Roel’s skin and no longer provided a cool respite. He stood straight, then turned to face his brother.

“This is madness.”

“This is politics, dear.”

“And you really believe that my marrying a human will help?”

“I do. Wholeheartedly.”

Roel looked away again, unable to meet Del’s earnest gaze.

He knew Del wanted what was best for the land. He knew his king was doing everything to make sure no elf would have to endure another war. And he knew that if Del said he wanted peace with the humans, he meant it. Which in turn meant Roel had no right to stand in the way of such a grand goal.

But why him? No, he knew why. Avanel was second in line, marrying her to a human would be alarming to many. And she was … fragile. She always had been. He wouldn’t trust a human man to take good care of her, and he suspected Del held the same opinion. Ariel would’ve been a good candidate, but only the gods knew where she even was. Roel was the only one left, and as a soldier, a blood elf, he was expendable. Not in line of any throne, far away from courtly intrigues that could question the marriage. And yes, he wasn’t looking for an elven partner anyway. So he might as well.

“Fine.”

Del’s eyes lit up. “You’ll do it?”

“Yes. I’ll marry a human woman for you.”

Del’s grin widened even more somehow, making him look oily enough to slip between the floorboards. He gathered the documents on the desk and smugly arranged them in a neat stack.

“Don’t worry, little prince,” he said. “It won’t just be any human woman. You’ll be getting a proper princess. Nothing less for my dear Roel.”

Chapter Two: Teddy

The mask was starting to get swampy. Teddy kept her breathing even, knowing there was no way she’d lose even with a disadvantage, but it wouldn’t be very triumphant to win while feeling like a molting lizard.

George swung, right hook, aimed straight at her. She blocked it, smoothly leaning into the movement and ducking as he responded with a left hook, anticipating her block. He struck out again, right hook, and this time she dodged it and aimed a kick at his exposed ribs. The attack connected and George grunted, losing his balance and nearly toppling to the side. His pale eyes widened, though it was hard to spot in the dim light.

She’d fought him half a dozen times. Surely the surprise would’ve worn off by now?

George the Giant wasn’t a great fighter, but he was massive and bald and looked like a criminal, the type of combatant people pictured when imagining an underground fighting ring. They loved to watch him beat smaller opponents. Better yet was to watch a smaller opponent beat him. George was superior to Teddy in both height and girth. Unfortunately for him, she was superior in every other aspect.

It was difficult to be proud of her accomplishments, though. It wasn’t as if she’d earned her strength, nor was this a good use of it.

But she didn’t have any other outlet — no other way to feel the power surging through her limbs.

She corrected her mask as George recovered and took a step back, walking a careful circle around him in the sweat-soaked sand of the ring. The audience — made up of loud and eager working class folk at the very front, masked and mysterious nobles at the dingy back — shouted for her to finish him.

Teddy always felt bad for finishing him. They’d have him fight others, climb his way up the ranks, then pit her against him and watch him crumble. She’d bested many champions like this. She was their greatest challenge, their insurmountable odds. And she was the ace up the owner’s sleeve for whenever the money dried up and people started getting bored. When the regular fighters weren’t scratching people’s itch.

She’d been coming here for years, appearing as the mysterious warrior once every few months, and disappearing without a trace. It kept people intrigued, and her somewhat satisfied. But it was only a matter of time before people got bored of her, too. Even the mightiest hero had to fall someday. She wondered who would come to dethrone her, and whether she’d be able to act the defeated part well enough to convince anyone.

George screamed a war cry and charged her. She allowed his massive arms to lock around her waist as he pushed against her, attempting to topple her to the ground. Teddy’s feet skidded painfully through the sand, but she didn’t fall, didn’t buckle. Instead, she wrapped her arms around George’s torso and heaved, throwing him with nary a grunt over her head and backward into the sand.

The crowd went wild. An average-sized woman had just tossed a man called George the Giant over her head like a sack of potatoes. As they howled, she positioned herself behind the struggling George and wrapped her arm around his throat, bracing it with the other. She had to be careful not to snap his neck while choking him — or rip his head clean off. Poor George had had enough troubles for the day.

The referee stumbled into the ring, counting by slamming his palm into the sand: one, two …

A bell rang out. Most people cheered, some groaned, and Teddy released George from her grip. He gasped for air and crawled away, the anger of defeat mitigated by shock and disbelief. His large face glistened in the dim light, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

Teddy put her hand on her chest in lieu of a proper apology. She couldn’t speak, in case anyone recognized her voice. Not that there were many high society bigwigs attending underground fighting rings, but better safe than sorry.

“And so the Masked Warrior wins again! What a performance, what audacity! What incredible strength and technique!”

Teddy bit her lip, which was rather difficult under the mask. She hadn’t considered that it was quite the feat for a woman of her stature to throw a man that big.

Hopefully people would chalk it up to adrenaline or the aforementioned “technique” rather than anything supernatural. She didn’t want to lose her only outlet because someone busted her for cheating.

“Here’s your pay.”

Bradshaw, the man in charge of the venue and its book keeper, dropped a tattered leather folder on the table in front of Teddy. She picked it up and thumbed through the old bills inside. He’d skimmed twenty percent off the top. Either it was getting more expensive to run these events, or he was getting greedier. She assumed the second, because the venue was still as grotty as ever.

Teddy nodded and walked out of the makeshift office. She glanced over the railing as she walked along the metal pathway, looking for familiar faces among the lingering remains of the crowd. An argument had broken out between two wealthy-looking masked gentlemen, but it wasn’t violent, so none of the guards had stepped in yet.

She continued into the poorly lit back corridors of the old slaughterhouse, caked with ancient blood and grime, and stalked past other fighters and thugs who were all waiting for their payouts. They kept their distance from Teddy, though, letting her pass them and leave the premises in silence. Usually.

“Nice job out there, Warrior. You really showed old Georgie, here,” said Harry the Slip, who was thin and wiry and liked to oil himself up before fights. He was always one of the first to be knocked out in tournaments, but his style and unpleasant personality were enough to keep people watching and rooting for him to get beat up time and time again.

Teddy stopped, cursing herself quietly as soon as she did. She had to keep her innate politeness in check whenever she was around these people, mainly because interacting with them more would risk revealing her true identity. But poor George looked so defeated, his pale, bald head glistening in the naked electric lights above, that Teddy couldn’t help but stop and try to console him.

She couldn’t console him, though. She couldn’t tell him anything.

Putting her fist over her chest, Teddy lowered her head slightly while holding George’s gaze, hoping the gesture would be interpreted as the apology it was. He looked away for a moment, then turned back.

“Aw, see? The mighty warrior feels bad for kicking your ass!” Harry laughed, slapping George on the back a little too roughly.

George paid him no mind. “Could you … teach me? How to fight like you do?”

Teddy held his gaze sadly, then shook her head. George nodded. He didn’t seem surprised at her reply.

Harry opened his mouth to speak again, but Teddy waved goodbye and hurried further down the hall.

She came to a stop at the old metal gate that separated the cart roadway from the garden where the animals used to be kept. The gate itself had rusted shut ages ago, but there was a small window just above it. Magic coursed through her limbs and she took a running leap straight at the door. One, two, three steps, fingertips on the bricks and up she heaved, pulling herself through the small opening. Fresh air filled her lungs as she let go, landing on the struggling grass in the old garden.

Before she’d found this window, she would trek all the way to the waste disposal section and crawl through the old sewage system, emerging on the edge of town.

This was much more pleasant, but also more risky. Though there were no windows on this side of the building, people leaving the premises would sometimes mill about, particularly working class folk who lived in the industrial district.

Teddy was less worried about them, as they weren’t likely to recognize her. Still, she sneaked over to the spot in the wall that looked patched-up on the outside, but was actually a collection of old metal scrap she could nudge out of the way and then carefully put back in place. Listening in, Teddy knew there were about half a dozen people outside the abattoir, but none were on this side of the building. She took a deep breath and drew on her powers once more.

Several presences lit up in the imagined map in her mind, shining a beacon on every person in the vicinity. Most were gathered near the entrance, others lingered around the eastern corner, discussing the outcome of the fights and sharing cigarettes.

One singular presence was right outside the hole in the garden wall. It stood there, patiently, turned squarely toward Teddy’s spot — waiting for her.

She sighed. He shouldn’t be doing this. If he got caught, all her efforts would be for nothing.

Teddy yanked off her mask, then knelt beside a hole in the building’s foundation where she kept the bag containing her other disguise. She put on the nondescript shirt, the worn plaid waistcoat and matching jacket, the drab knickerbockers and scuffed brogues, and stuffed her hair into the newsie cap until every lock was put away. Once she was done, she shoved her fighting clothes into the bag and hefted it over her shoulder, before hurrying back to the hole in the wall and quietly lifting the metal sheets to slip through to the other side.

“You shouldn’t be here!” she hissed to her brother as she let the metal block the hole behind her. “What if someone recognized you?”

“I wore a mask!” Efra whined, pointing to the alleged mask. It was the kind that only covered the area around his eyes. If anyone who regularly enjoyed the newspaper took a proper look at him, they could very well clock him as the second in line for the throne. “Besides, can’t I take a risk to watch baby Ted beat men with her bare fists? Look at you, such a spry young lad!”

Teddy stomped off in the direction of the closest omnibus station, quickly enough to remove herself from the slaughterhouse but not so fast that she’d draw attention.

“Do you know what you’re risking, you menace?” she huffed as Efra appeared by her side. “How’d you even find me?”

“Oh, please. Don’t ask me that, or I’ll tell you,.”

Teddy grumbled to herself.

Of course Efra would know where to find her. He’d probably known for a while, but hadn’t bothered to meet her before because her sewer exit had been too unsavory for him.

“So you have people tailing me.”

“You’re our Teddybear, and nothing should happen to our Teddybear without me knowing.”

She grimaced at the old nickname and stomped on, “I can handle myself. Let your spies rest.”

“It’s not about your ability. And my people know what they’re doing and why. Besides, any assignment that involves you has been reason for plenty of infighting before, because they’re always a breeze.”

“Then why do you insist on sending people to shadow me if it’s such a nothing assignment?”

“Because I need to keep an eye on you.”

“Ugh.”

Teddy was just about to say something else when she spotted the automobile parked on the side of the street. Her heart dropped immediately.

“Efra! You brought your stupid car here!”

“I did.”

“Why? Are you insane? What if people see me getting into —“

“Oh, quit your complaining and get in before someone does.”

Teddy huffed but didn’t resist when Efra opened the door for her. She was then shocked for a third time this evening, as her oldest stepbrother, Eli, was sitting inside already.

He smiled fondly at her, making some of her frustration melt away. It’d been a while since she’d spent time with both her brothers without supervision. But if they had taken the time to see her like this, then something bad must’ve happened.

“Good evening, Teddy,” Eli said gently. “You look a proper Theodore in that getup.”

“Thanks,” Teddy replied curtly as she fastened her seatbelt. “Do you two have something important to share, or are you just here to annoy me?”

Efra climbed in and sat down beside Eli, taking the mask off. “A little of column A, a little of column B,” he said.

The car engine roared to a start, halting conversation until it calmed down. Teddy hated automobiles, preferring horse-drawn carriages, but the royal family used cars nowadays for any sufficiently important event. And, apparently, for any sufficiently annoying prince. They were the ultimate status symbol, even if they were loud and inefficient (perhaps those were the very reasons for their popularity). Teddy hoped they were just a fad, but fads tended to last less than the two years the cars had been around, so the hope was quickly dwindling.

As they left the industrial district, Teddy took off her cap and threw it on the empty seat beside her, letting her hair flow out over her shoulders. Then she sat back, watching her brothers expectantly.

“I assume you remember the elves arriving this week? Father has been more concerned with Edie’s ceremony than with the foreign royals coming to visit,” Efra said.

Teddy sighed quietly, “I couldn’t forget even if I wanted to.”

Princess Elladine had recently turned thirteen, and her Ceremony of Purpose was supposed to take place this year. The anticipation around the whole thing had been the main reason for why Teddy had sought out yet another fight.

She was bad at handling frustration, at least in the ways someone in her position was supposed to handle it.

Eli and Efra knew this, so why did they insist on making such an entrance only to bring it up now?

“His Majesty has a lot on his plate, and the gift ceremony of his youngest is undoubtedly important,” said Eli reasonably. “And you’re only excited because you want to see elves.”

“And you don’t?” Efra asked in disbelief.

“Elves aren’t cute little dogs, or exotic animals. They are a people, like us, but with pointed ears and incredibly long lives. I don’t see why it would be exciting to see them. Now, the political implications of the visit, however …”

“Everyone’s aware of the political implications, asshole. And reducing said people to just pointy ears seems counter to your argument. I want to see what they wear, how they speak, how they behave. It’s a meeting of cultures, finally!”

“Uh-huh. And the fact that every other elf is supposedly a dish has nothing to do with it?” Eli drawled.

“We have many reasons to celebrate this development,” Efra replied snootily, then turned to Teddy again. “Anyway, we came to speak to you about the ball the day after the elves arrive. You’ve been invited as a guest of the royal family.”

Teddy grunted in reply. The obvious exclusion stung, but it was made almost comical in its audacity.

A guest of the royal family. Not the queen’s daughter or anything. But having no direct blood relation to the throne would do that to a person, she supposed. She should be happy she’d been invited at all.

“We tried to convince Father to invite you as a member of the family …” Eli began.

“… and Her Majesty was deeply upset, threatening not to attend …” Efra added.

“… but Father was unfortunately adamant. And I imagine it wouldn’t make much of a difference to you, anyway,” Eli concluded.

Teddy shook her head half-heartedly. “Not really, no. I’m surprised he’s willing to go that far, though. People will talk.”

“No doubt. He’s starting to get a little too brazen in his pettiness,” Eli sighed.

Efra took this moment of contemplation to speak again, “Which is why I think you should use this check to its fullest extent. Get yourself something nice for the ball, to really upstage the other partygoers. Maybe even the elves!”

Teddy took the slip of paper her brother had handed her with a quirked brow.

She’d been given enough money to buy a dress of the latest fashions, as well as the necessary accessories, which somehow made her even angrier.

Eustace didn’t have the backbone to cut her off entirely. Instead, he invited her as a guest, but secretly gave her money so she wouldn’t embarrass him when she came.

She didn’t like people who couldn’t stick to their principles.

“I’m not one for dressing up, you know that,” she replied, but put the check into her bag.

She’d use her own money to buy a dress and give the check to her part-time maid. She hadn’t been working for two years just to rely on her almost-stepfather’s funds, but Miss Calloway would appreciate it.

“Come on! When was the last time you went to a ball?” Efra whined.

“Five months ago? On your twenty-fourth?”

“Oh, right.”

He fell quiet, tapping his fingertips against his knee.

Now Eli spoke, “Speaking of elves, you should polish up your Iveseli. It’s been a while since you graduated, so re-learning a few pleasantries won’t hurt.”

Teddy nodded. She didn’t expect to hold long conversations with the elven royals — in fact, she’d be surprised if His Majesty let her clap eyes on them as a mere guest — but it was better to be prepared.

“I think I remember most of what I learned back then, but I’ll take a trip to the library tomorrow after work and read up on the basics.”

“There’s probably no need for that. Didn’t you write a whole dissertation on elves? I bet you know more about their culture than we do,” Efra said.

It had been two years since Teddy submitted that paper, and it had been about the differences in magic among elves and humans, in terms of religious views, practice, and technique. Very little of it had been about the elven cultures and customs, and most importantly, it’d been based on limited first-hand and extensive second- and third hand sources. A historical account collecting available information, nothing more.

Besides, she had never been that taken with the subject. It’d only been the best option of a bunch that were foisted upon her as a child “in relation” to the royal family. Studying magic, even if it was just theory, had been her own little form of rebellion. She hadn’t been allowed to go into the army, like she’d wanted.

“Not really,” Teddy said nonchalantly. “It was mostly a deep-dive into the differences between human and elven magic.”

“Maybe you should practice your Iveseli, too, Efra,” Eli scolded. “Lest you make a bad impression.”

Efra glanced up with a suspicious squint, ”What’s that supposed to mean? Will I not be a delight, as usual?”

Eli’s expression was well-meaning yet mysterious.

“Of course. The elven king will love you.”

“Great! What’s the problem, then?”

“The prince will find you insufferable.”

Efra frowned. Teddy couldn’t help her confusion, either.

Someone resistant to Efra’s magic? How unusual.

“That’s … impressive,” Efra admitted, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a real challenge.”

“The prince’s approval isn’t vital,” Eli reassured him. “And, as far as I can gather, he doesn’t particularly like anyone.”

Teddy remembered Efra coming over to her apartment in the city a fortnight ago and sharing some of the information his spies had gathered on the elven royals. He had historical accounts from before and during the war, then the updated reports, which included summaries of diplomatic letters that had been sent to and from the elven court. He’d also shared rumors and gossip, which were his favorite, but he knew weren’t particularly reliable.

Teddy hadn’t retained most of it. Why would she have to, given she’d only meet them once, if at all? She only knew that the current elven king had ostensibly murdered his tyrant father with the help of a murderous, bloodsucking assassin he later married. It all sounded very theatrical.

Though maybe that was due to Efra’s delivery.

“So. What do the elves want?” Efra asked, his expression serious once more. “I have theories, but you must know.”

Eli frowned, then shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t know enough yet, and don’t want to worry you with speculation..”

“Worry us? That’s not good.”

Eli’s eyes darted up to meet Teddy’s for a split second before he looked away again.

“It’s nothing terrible. But I’d rather not say, for now.”

“But will the peace talks go well, at least?” Efra pressed.

Eli stayed silent for a little too long, rolling his lips. “Depends on your definition of ‘well’. But the alliance will be secured, with both parties satisfied.”

“That’s good news, then! What else could we wish for?”

While the younger prince celebrated, Teddy found her oldest brother watching her with concern. She gave him a curious look, but he only responded with a small smile before looking away.

This didn’t bode well.