Chapter 46 - Where the Freaks All Come Around

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A Short Tale of Promptings, the Nature of Honor, Insults, Confrontation, Service, Judgment, Colors, and Crests

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Dylan hadn't meant to actually "wander off" or whatever. But as they'd been watching the jet-eyed Elf boy juggling the brightly colored cloth balls, a trickle of ice had dripped down her spine. A warning. Look to your left. She'd cut her eyes in that direction and seen something off. Not sure what. Nothing strange or out of place. Just a young ewah play-stalking through the crowd, small back slightly arched in an invitation to play, her cat ears swiveling this way and that to catch any sounds. Nothing so bad about that. It was actually kind of cute.

But then Dylan had noticed the trio of older teenagers - or at least they'd looked like teenagers - following after the cougar-like humanoid faerie child. And the cold trickle had turned into an icy flood down her back. Follow them. Go now, the Spirit had commanded. So she'd gone. When the Lord commanded, she obeyed.

Now she stood with her feet spread, body braced for pain and combat. The ewah girl cowered behind her, hissing like an angry cat through the tears streaming down her golden cheeks. Two male ewah - maybe ten and sixteen years old, at least in appearance - stood with the mortal woman and the girl. The boy growled menacingly from behind Dylan. The youth stood in front of the human, yowling a warning. He sounded just like an angry tom cat trying to scare off an intruder, but with just a hint of big-cat snarl under the yowl. His claws were unsheathed and the tawny pelt that began as hair before melding into fur down his neck and bare back bristled with suppressed hostility. Normally erect ears were flattened against his skull. Dark amber blood stained his ripped blue jeans.

Blood was also soaking into Dylan's sleeve. She tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore the searing, nauseating pain screaming through her arm. She kept that arm pressed tightly to her side while shielding the young ewah girl with her good arm - and the dirk her prince had made for her. She knew how to use a knife, at least well enough to land a blow or three before some ravenous fae decided to rip out her heart and eat it. Which was why the Elven silver was smeared with black blood.

But Nuada was going to be so ticked that she'd ruined his shirt. He really seemed to like this tunic. And that was after he made his displeasure known over the fact that she'd gone off without telling him. But the Spirit had said to go right then, so she'd gone. Oh, well.

Two of the trio of teenagers that had been stalking the little girl snarled at the mortal and the three ewah that surrounded her. Both the growlers were rougarou, wolf shifters. Both were tall, broad-shouldered. Instead of hair, they sported coarse, shaggy dark fur. They bared massive teeth capable of crushing a human's thigh bone with a single bite. The claws that glinted razor sharp had ripped open Dylan's arm from elbow to wrist. Those claws were red with her blood.

As she eyed the rougarou warily, the wolf-shifter on the right raised those bloodstained claws and licked at the crimson. Blue eyes noted with grim satisfaction the place where she'd sliced his arm open with her dirk. Another slice across the wolf's chest would've made Dylan smirk if she hadn't known any expression of smugness would've gotten her killed a lot faster. Right now the shapeshifters seemed content to play with her and the ewah arrayed behind and in front of her. Or maybe they were worried about the cougar-shifter who stood in front of her. His own claws glistened wetly with black rougarou blood. If the wolf had been a bit slower, Dylan was fairly sure the cougar kid would have taken a hefty chomp out of the other shifter.

The faerie girl with the two wolves was devastatingly beautiful. Her cap of hair was white as ivory and feathery as swan down. Her skin was incredibly pale, even paler than Nuada's. Almost like a pearl. It even possessed the same luminous sheen. She was tall, slender and wiry as a ballerina. A soft swirl of golden color marked the bridge of her aquiline nose. Solid black eyes without sclera, iris, or pupil stared into Dylan's own blue gaze. Anger burned in those black eyes. Anger and snobbish affrontery.

Dylan matched the swanmane's gaze and didn't flinch from it. Her own anger burned when she saw a handful of scarlet droplets spattering the swanmane's white mini-dress. Amber blood also stained the swan girl's death-white cheek. The little girl huddled behind Dylan and the youth in front of her were both bleeding. A bruise was swiftly darkening the ewah girl's eye. The boy acting as a partial shield to the cougar-like faerie girl had a busted lip. The sight and smell of that pain infuriated Dylan.

"You stupid human bitch," the left-hand rougarou snarled through bared teeth. "Get out of our way. They're ours."

"They're children," Dylan snapped back. Oh, jeez, her arm hurt. She tightened her grip on the silver knife. Did wolf-shifters have silver allergies, the way werewolves did? "She's just a little girl. You outweigh this kid," she added, gesturing to the braced youth with the arm not hollering bloody murder, "by at least a hundred pounds. Where is the honor in fighting them? I thought the fae were all about honor."

The swanmane's pale lip curled. "What would a grotesque mortal cow know about honor?"

"I'm not a cow."

Now the rougarou whose claws were stained with her blood sneered. "Indeed? Would you prefer 'bitch?'" The swanmane and the other rougarou snickered. "Or maybe 'whore?' That's really all humans are to the- glk!" The wolf-shifter's words were cut off by a bronze fist slamming hard into his chest. The blow sent him flying back into one of the stone edifices that maintained the boundaries of the Troll Market. Then Dylan heard one of the most wonderful sounds to ever grace mortal or immortal ears - the sweet singing of Elven silver slicing through the air.

"Perhaps I am mistaken," said a familiar and all too chilling voice, like a knife of jagged ice, "but I thought you called my lady a whore." And Crown Prince Nuada Silverlance stepped out of the crowd that had gathered round the group and stepped in front of Dylan, keeping the ewah youth on his right and Wink on his left. The prince's lance twirled almost idly in a one-handed grip. Nuada was grimly pleased to see the remaining wolf-shifter pale. The swanmane looked as if she might faint at any moment. Tension hung over the crowd like a poisonous miasma.

"And if I'm not mistaken, Sire," Wink added in a carefully bland voice, "they also called her a bitch and a cow." He turned to regard the lassling, who looked furious. Good for her. She had real spine if she was willing to stand up to two nearly full-grown rougarou and a swanmane. The swan-shifter could've easily broken the mortal's legs with a single blow if Dylan had gotten too close. As experienced as the mortal was with the Hidden People, she probably knew it, too. Knew it, and hadn't cared.

A child's voice piped up, quavery with nerves. "And they called her grotesque, Your Highness!" Nuada glanced briefly over his shoulder at the young ewah boy who was trying his best to shield what the prince was fairly certain was the boy's younger sister.

"Did they?" Nuada asked far too softly. His eyes were bronze ice when they sliced back to his enemies. "Did they indeed?"

The tension took on a barbed razor's edge.

"Y-Y-Your lady? We didn't know that, Your Highness!" The swanmane's jet gaze raked across the crowd, desperately seeking some sort of support. "We did not know who she was, we swear!" Trembling hands raked through the white feathers that served the swan-shifter for hair. "She came between my friends and these disgusting little thieving urchins who dared to try and steal from honest people-"

"That's not true!" The boy beside Dylan cried, an undercurrent of yowl to the words. His short cap of tawny fur bristled and the usually-erect ears flattened against the boy's skull as he bared his teeth. "We don't steal from people! She's lying! Those stupid wolves attacked 'Sa'ti-"

"A'du'la'di'," the youth snarled in a warning tone, and the boy, A'du'la'di', fell silent.

"Well," Nuada drawled lazily, though there was nothing lazy in his posture or bearing. The eerie rushlights of the Troll Market glinted strangely on the silver blade of the prince's lance. "It seems we're at an impasse. What do you suggest I do, my lady? One party lays guilt and the other claims innocence."

Mutters and whispers hissed through the assembled fae. Ask a human its opinion regarding the placing of blame in a fae matter? Even if she was the prince's lady, surely this was not the best way. But a single slashing glance from the prince silenced the mutters and gave Lady Dylan the chance to speak. The crowd noted with approval that the prince's lady did not shrink or try to hide behind anyone. In fact, despite the Silver Lance's presence, his lady continued to shield the two ewah children from danger, though she did clean the blade of her dirk on her leather jacket before sheathing it. And when she spoke her voice held no fear.

"At least one crime has been committed, Your Highness," Dylan murmured, trying to keep the scorching pain of her ripped-up arm out of her voice. She was fairly certain Nuada didn't know she was hurt yet. If he'd known, he wouldn't have sounded so calm. He would have still maintained his princely dignity, but Dylan knew him well enough to know that if the Elven warrior had seen or scented the blood seeping from her shredded arm, the one whose claws glistened darkly with that blood would probably have been dead. Or at least maimed. "I don't know whether these children tried to steal anything. What I do know is that these three," and she gestured with her good arm to the rougarou and the swanmane, "attacked this girl." She put her arm around the ewah maiden's narrow shoulders. "Three nearly full-grown fae attacked a little girl with claws and blows. If the swan maiden speaks the truth - and I am well aware that some fae, like the shifters, can speak falsehoods - that is still no excuse for such cowardice."

"How dare you!" The rougarou that had flown back from Wink's blow had managed to stagger to his feet. "Call me coward, will you? Human bitch!"

Dylan blinked, and Nuada was no longer in front of her. She blinked again as Elven silver sliced through the air. There was a yelp of pain. Another blink, and Nuada was back in front of her, his spear held at the ready. Thick black blood smeared the blade. The rougarou clamped a hand to the side of his neck. That same dark blood seeped slowly through his clawed fingers.

"Conri," the other wolf-shifter snapped. "She is the Silver Lance's lady!" To Nuada, the shifter knelt and bowed his head. "Our humblest apologies, Your Highness, both for our unfortunate trespasses against your lady and for my friend's boorish behavior. We can only claim ignorance as our defense."

"And the children?" The Elf prince asked conversationally. "What of them?"

The rougarou offered a lazy shrug. "They are nothing but street urchins and thieves, Highness." Dylan narrowed her eyes as something cool curled in the pit of her stomach. The pain throbbing through her arm was shooting wicked spikes towards her shoulder now. The wolf-shifter added, "They stole from our lady. They had to be-"

"Nuada, he's lying." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. The shifter stiffened. Dylan swallowed, focusing on the comforting heat suddenly burning in her chest, and added, "Shapeshifters can lie. I know that from experience. There is falsehood in his words."

She waited. Prayed, Heavenly Father, I need more information. Are these children thieves? Did they steal? Am I making a mistake by defending them? A fresh wave of warmth stole over her, easing some of the vicious burning in her arm. Dylan sifted through the impressions she was getting, then spoke.

"These children are thieves, Your Highness. But they didn't steal from these three."

Feral eyes looked to the youth at Nuada's side. Eyes as cold as pale stones met Nuada's amber gaze. The Elf prince demanded, "Is this true? Are you and these two children thieves?"

The youth nodded once. "We steal to feed ourselves, Your Highness. Some of the merchants here are kind enough to leave out the previous day's leftovers. They're saved the trouble of throwing things out, and my little brother and sister do not starve. I suppose you could call that stealing, but if we are caught, the merchants do not punish us."

"They just scold us a little," the ewah girl murmured from the safety of Dylan's sheltering arm. "And if A'du'la'di' or I get caught, some of the bread merchants give us a sweet roll." Several of the assembled fae were the merchants in question, and offered mumbled agreement to the child's words.

"These two are rougarou, wolves." The youth shrugged. His smoky turquoise eyes didn't leave the wolf-shifter that was still on his feet. "We are ewah, cougar. Our people are rivals for resources, for territory. When one of us sees another infringing on that territory and we have the greater strength, one of us usually makes a challenge. These wolves steal for their swan lady, for coin-"

"He lies, Highness!" The rougarou bared jagged teeth. "We do not..." He trailed off when the merchants began to mutter angrily. The swanmane had gone ashen.

"Everyone knows that swan maidens require gifts in order to secure their affections," the youth said calmly. "Two wolves, snarling over the same ivory pen..." He shrugged as if it didn't matter one bit to him. "Cuan challenged me, thinking we snitched coin and goods to fence. We told them we only scrounge for food, and leftover scraps at that, but they told us to hunt elsewhere anyway." Now there was a pleading note beneath the teenager's calm words as he slid an eye to the Elf prince. "We have made connections here, and the merchants know me and my brother and sister. They offer A'du'la'di' and I work when there are odd jobs to do and sometimes let my family stay with them for a night or two when it's really cold. We can't afford to find new hunting grounds right now, Your Highness. Especially not with winter coming so hard."

Sunlit amber met moonlit sapphire for a brief moment. Dylan nodded. Nuada inclined his head toward his mortal lady. Whispers went up again as scarred mortal lips curved into a wan smile. Then the prince turned back to the wolf-shifters and the swanmane.

"We trust Our lady's judgment," the crown prince said in a regal voice that carried through the Troll Market. "You three attacked a lone child. With or without provocation, the Lady Dylan is correct - this is unacceptable. Therefore, you will await Our judgment at the Black Manticore." When the three fae tried to protest, Nuada said coldly, "This is Our will. Who will ensure that Our will is done?"

Out of the still-gathering crowd stepped a familiar woman in white canvas tunic and trews, the cloth stark against the ebony of her skin. Rushlight glinted off the obsidian hourglass pendant around her throat and the necklace of copper beads and kishi fangs. Aso the Weaver strode forward. With her came the Nyame juggling boy, Laigdech the goblin, and the crimson-eyed dökkálfr Erik Ashkeson. Aso carried a thin copper dagger etched with the mark of the Anansi just beneath the crossguard. Laigdech and the boy carried nothing. Erik carried a heavy blacksmith's hammer.

"We hear the words of Prins Nuada Silverlance, and obey with glad hearts," Erik said softly. He hefted the hammer. To the three, he snapped, "Get moving." Ignoring their protests, the four fae herded the three disgraced ones towards the tavern known as the Black Manticore. Brünnhilde and Yang came forward out of the crowd. They stopped several feet from the angered prince.

"See to the children," Nuada commanded the two women. To Wink he added, "See to the boy."

Before the youth could protest, the troll had him by the shoulder and was leading him toward the ljósálfr and the shōjō, who had coaxed A'du'la'di' and 'Sa'ti away from Dylan's side and were checking them for injury. The ewah boy and girl were understandably reluctant to leave the safety of the human woman that had inexplicably stood between them and danger, but at Dylan's encouraging nod, they followed the sea sprite and Elf woman.

The prince looked at the assembled crowd and said only, "Disperse." Perhaps it was the ice in the prince's voice, or the fury in his eyes. Either way, the fae obeyed.

Then he turned on Dylan. The smile that had begun forming on her face slipped away like a dream when she saw the anger in his eyes. No one else, except perhaps Wink, would have realized that the emotion in the prince's expression was anger and not just sternness, but Dylan knew him.

He didn't say anything, however. Only held out his arm to her in a formal escort's gesture. When she brushed her fingers against his palm before taking his arm, Nuada felt the jolt of pain hissing through their link. Fury pulsed hot in his blood. He beat it back and walked with his mortal lady toward the Black Manticore, the burly cave troll prowling behind them like the guard he truly was. Laigdech stopped Nuada at the entryway to the tavern.

"Do Mhórgacht," the Bethmoora goblin murmured. Nuada paused at the door. When Dylan stopped, the Elf prince silently ordered her to go inside and see to herself and the ewah children. At Nuada's glance, Wink followed after her.

The prince turned to the goblin.

"Those children... they mean no harm. It is said their parents were killed by human hunters a long time ago, though I do not know if this is true or not. The lad will not speak of it and the children do not seem to remember. That boy does his best to take care of his family. It is hard for one so young to find enough work to be able to afford food and lodging for three people. Many of the kinder merchants here do our best to help, but we are not so prosperous that we can afford to provide for more than our families on a regular basis. He is a good lad, though. They are all good children."

"What is the youth's name?"

"His brother and sister call him Tsu's'di, though I do not know if this is all or part of his true name or merely a pet name. I do not know the names of the little ones. What will you do with them, Sire?"

In truth, Nuada did not know. Killed by human hunters. It was a common enough cause for orphaning among the shapeshifting fae. Too common. Cursed vermin that humans were. More than likely it was a true enough story. And if Laigdech vouched for the boy's honor and integrity...

An idea began forming in the back of Nuada's mind. A solution to a problem. But before he could put it into practice, he needed to test these three children.

And he needed to see to his lady.

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Dylan allowed the teenager, Tsu's'di, to help her out of her coat because, with her arm shrieking at her that it hurt and she needed to make it stop hurting right now, she couldn't get her now ruined jacket off by herself. The little boy - who'd said in bright voice with a smile, "Just call me A'du," which had made his brother give the kid a very sharp look - laid her coat on the table and helped her with her gloves because her fingers kept twitching from the pain searing through her arm.

When Wink saw the rips in her arm, he'd called in the tavern owner, mumbled something in Troll. A few bieresal came in shortly after with several cloths, two large basins of steaming water - one soapy, one clear - and medical supplies.

A'du helped roll up the human woman's sleeve so it wouldn't get wet. Then the child winced in obvious sympathy when Dylan carefully lowered her arm into the basin of soapy water. Swirls of red turned the water faintly pink. The little girl, 'Sa'ti, covered her mouth with both hands and made an "eek" sound.

"It's okay," Dylan murmured. "They just hurt a lot. They're not deep." She knew they weren't deep from experience. She bore claw scars on her stomach and one thigh from tangling with faeries that had wicked talons and knew how to use them. One of those old wounds - the one on her stomach - had punched through flesh, muscle, and raked fragments out of her ribcage when she'd been about twenty. These scratches were nothing compared to that.

"Thank you," Dylan added, looking first at the youth and then at the boy as she picked up a cloth and soaked it in the soapy water. Once she cleaned the blood off of her skin, she'd know just how bad the damage was. "Thank you for protecting me."

Tsu's'di shrugged as if embarrassed. His odd, smoky blue eyes stayed locked on the tavern room's hearth. But A'du grinned like a little boy who'd just had the world's greatest adventure. "No problem! You saved 'Sa'ti, so we had to save you. The honor of the ewah demands it! Right, Tsu's'di?"

The boy's brother didn't get a chance to respond. Their little sister climbed into the chair next to Dylan's and propped her chin in her hands. "Are you really Prince Nuada's a'ge'lv?"

"A'ge'lv?"

"His lady!"

"Yes, I really am." Just saying the words never failed to give her this little warm shiver down her back, or make her just a little sad.

"Is he nice? He looked kind of scary outside."

Dylan opened her mouth to reply, but A'du got there first. "That's because he's a mighty Elven warrior! And when you mess with a warrior's a'ge'lv, you're dead. He's the legendary Silverlance! He's one of the best Elven warriors there is in all of Faerie. The merchants talk about him all the time. So since Cuan and Conri hurt the lady, the prince had to fight them and make them pay for it. And you have to look scary doing that."

"He is nice, though," Dylan said, torn between wincing at the burning in her arm and smiling at A'du's enthuasiasm over Nuada's warrior skills. "To people he cares about, anyway. Sometimes I get on his nerves, but for the most part he's very gentlemanly and chivalrous."

"Did he give you this knife?" A'du pointed at the dirk in its belt-sheath at her waist. "You totally got Conri with it. Two whole times! Did you see her, Tsu's'di? I've never seen a human fighting with a knife before."

Now that her arm was momentarily clean of the blood, she could see that the four parallel ragged scratches were fairly deep. They would need stitches. Would probably scar. But they weren't down to the bone - not even close - and though it hurt to move her hand, she still had full mobility. No nerve damage, then. Good. Just a few more scars. She had so many, what were a few more?

To the cougar child, Dylan said, "I know how to use a knife, a little bit. My brother taught me a few basic moves when he was learning. But His Highness is going to teach me how to really fight with it. And yes, he made that dirk for me. It's a courtship blade."

Wide, tawny eyes met hers. "Wow! He gave you a knife as a courtship present? That is so neat."

"It's tradition," Dylan murmured absently. It felt like something was digging into the furrows in her arm. Poking and pricking like needles. "He's given me other things, though. Flowers. This ring." 'Sa'ti scootched over to get a better look, so Dylan briefly curled and lifted the fingers of her right hand to push the ring above the water, allowing the little girl to see the gold and ruby ring.

"How pretty! That's so romantical," the little girl cooed with a sigh.

"Pffft," A'du replied. "That's girly stuff."

"Ladies are girls," Tsu's'di reminded his little brother. While A'du'la'di was trying to process this, Nuada came in. And though the children didn't notice anything, it was obvious right off the bat to Dylan that the prince was not pleased.

Wink caught one look at Nuada's face and gently herded the two children - and their brother - over to the hearth across the room.

Nuada stalked to the table but didn't sit.

"Fifteen seconds," he snarled softly. Concern coiled in his belly like snakes when he saw how pale and shaken Dylan looked. Saw the vicious rending claw marks in her skin. The concern only served to fire his not-inconsiderable temper. "Fifteen blasted seconds. I look away for fifteen seconds and you manage to antagonize three Bright Ones that could easily rip you into little pieces."

"Don't yell at her!" A'du'la'di snapped, jumping up from beside Wink. The boy, who looked to be about nine or ten years old, would've actually marched up to Nuada and yelled at him instead if the massive cave troll hadn't snagged him by the scruff of the neck and lifted him a few inches off the ground. A'du automatically went limp as a kitten. That didn't stop him from growling low in his chest at the prince who'd dared to snarl at the woman who'd saved his sister.

What did stop the growl was Tsu's'di pushing off the wall beside the fireplace and taking just enough steps that he was closer to Nuada but out of Wink's immediate reach. The Elven warrior would have had to be blind in order to miss the challenge in smoky turquoise eyes.

"Don't yell at her," Tsu's'di said quietly. "You have no right."

One knife-thin brow arched upward. "Oh?" Nuada said softly. "Don't I?"

"No, you-"

"Tsu's'di," Dylan said just as softly. The youth's mouth snapped shut. He glanced at the mortal, who almost imperceptibly shook her head. Tsu's'di studied her for a long moment, then stepped back against the wall again, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at the fire.

Nuada knew then that his idea had been a good one. The boy had already drawn a line and chosen which side of it he stood on. Squaring off against an Elven prince in defense of a mortal woman? To do so was not necessarily treason; the ewah were not native to Bethmoora and did not owe Nuada and his family fealty. Did not owe any of the Elven royal families their fealty. And while attacking a royal was a capital offense, defending against one was not. But challenging a fully grown fae warrior? The lad had guts, Nuada would give him that. And at least some brains, since he'd managed to stay alive on the streets while caring for two children. He would do.

But for now Nuada would deal with Dylan.

"The jacket saved me from too much damage," she whispered, brushing back a lock of her hair with a hand that shook a little. Pain? Or reaction? "I've cleaned them a little bit but I may have missed something; I was only trying to see how bad they were. Hurts like blue fire, but it's not so bad I'm going to faint or anything. I've had worse before."

He thought of the scars that covered her body. More scars than even he bore. She'd had worse before? How well he knew that.

The flesh of her right forearm was ripped and ragged, smeared again with blood since the wounds still bled freely. It made him sick to see those tears in her skin. Sick and furious. He'd been so wrapped up in everything that was happening that he hadn't really recognized the significance of the blood staining the one rougarou's vicious claws. Now the prince muttered obscene promises as he carefully cleaned out the brutal rents in Dylan's flesh and cleansed them with healing potion. She winced a couple of times at the burning sensation but didn't try to jerk away from him.

"These are going to need stitches, my lady," Nuada said softly as he gently cleaned away the fresh blood and excess cleansing brew.

Dylan huffed out an exasperated breath and dropped her face into her good hand, groaning, "I knew it. I knew it. Crud." After a moment she lifted her head again. In a voice so soft it was barely there, she said, "How much trouble are you going to be in because of this?"

The Elf prince shook his head. "None. If anything, my father should be pleased. I defended a human in a non-life-threatening situation against other fae." Shooting her a brief glance, he added, "This will be painful."

"What will- hn!" Dylan squeezed her eyes shut as Nuada used both hands to spread open one of the claw marks. Nimble fingers pulled out a piece of something hard, sharp, and nearly transparent. A shard of something. Whatever had been pricking her and making the wounds hurt so freaking badly. Through gritted teeth, Dylan demanded, "What the heck is that?"

"Rougarou shed pieces of their claws when they strike a victim. It increases the odds of infection and guarantees more pain."

He plucked out another piece. The breath escaped her in a long slow hiss. Then, with all the sarcasm she could currently muster, Dylan muttered, "Nifty."

"Your Highness?" Both adults glanced over to the ewah youth who now approached them. He stopped at a respectful distance and knelt. There was no challenge in him now. "I must offer my humblest apologies, to you and your lady, that I could not adequately protect her." The boy moved as if he meant to run his hand through the mane of tawny fur, but checked the movement. "I can only thank the a'ge'lv for defending my sister and brother."

Nuada went back to dealing with Dylan's arm. His voice was coolly detached when he asked, "What is your name?"

"Tsu's'di Ka'ta, Your Highness," the youth replied, keeping his eyes on the floor. "Or just Tsu's'di. Of the Ewah, the Children of the Cougar."

"And you attacked one of the Pobel Vean, one of your own people, in defense of a human?" The boy's head jerked up and smoky turquoise eyes went wide. He opened his mouth. Nuada cut him off. "You did not know this mortal was my lady. You had no idea that she was protected by another fae. She might have merely been Sight-blessed and arrogant." When Dylan shifted, moving as if she might protest, Nuada tightened his grip on her arm and continued extracting the long razored slivers from her wounds. "So what made you think it was acceptable to betray the fae in defense of a human?"

Eyes of cobalt ice locked with a glacial topaz stare. Held. Very slowly, Nuada blinked. Dylan frowned. Then her expression cleared and something kindled in her eyes, soft as candlelight and warm as sunshine. Nuada inclined his head almost imperceptibly.

Tsu's'di rose to his feet. Dylan was fairly sure he wanted to shove his hands in the pockets of his jeans in defiance but didn't quite dare after that initial challenge. All the kid said was, "Protected by royalty or not, Sight-blessed and arrogant or not, human or not, she stepped between 'Sa'ti and those cowards Cuan and Conri. She protected my little sister. A'du'la'di' got in the way, and she protected him, too. My honor demanded I protect her in turn." Then, realizing he'd basically backtalked to an Elf prince twice in less than ten minutes, he dropped down to kneel before Nuada again, eyes locked on the wooden floor.

Wink settled back against the wall to watch the drama that seemed about to unfold. This youth, Tsu's'di, had all the brash courage of a young male cougar. All the natural fight and warrior's grace of the ewah. So did the little rascal seated next to Wink, watching his older brother kneeling before the Elven warrior. With the proper training these two could become something to be reckoned with. And the little girl was perhaps in her third decade - which put her physically at about five or six years old by human reckoning - but she, too, had the potential to become something dangerous if allowed to grow up somewhere safe.

These two children (Wink would never consider Tsu's'di a child because the young cougar-shifter had already proven himself a man grown by what he'd done for his family) needed a place to stay. Needed to get off the streets. Small as ewah were, the troll still shouldn't have been able to see the little girl's ribs when her dirty, too-small shirt rode up to show her belly. The young boy's eyes shouldn't have been sunk deep into the skull and circled by shadows. And the youth with the hard eyes bore scars indicating an even harder life, even for a fae. Even for a shifter.

When Nuada sent a casual glance toward his vassal, all of that was written in Wink's one good eye.

The Elf prince's nod was barely perceptible.

"What of you?" Nuada asked the younger boy. A'du'la'di', who'd been sitting in Wink's shadow by the room's hearth, looked up. Looked frantically around, as if hoping the Silver Lance was speaking to someone besides him. He pointed at himself. Nuada nodded as if to say, Yes, you, and crooked his finger. The boy came to kneel at his brother's side. "Why did you get involved in the fight?"

"T-to protect my sister," A'du'la'di' stammered. His fur bristled with agitation but there was no aggression in his body language and no snarl in his voice. The usually erect ears were flat, but not laid back against his skull. Instead they stuck out a bit comically on either side of his head. Based on what Dylan knew of cats and the way they communicated with each other through body language, the kid was scared. Why? "And t-to p-protect the a'ge'lv."

"Are you sorry that you did so?" The prince asked tonelessly. "Knowing that fighting a fae in defense of a mortal is against our laws?"

Surprisingly, the boy didn't respond right away. He studied the prince with oddly grown-up eyes like feral aquamarines. Studied the human woman who tried to keep her face blank. A'du'la'di' opened his mouth. Not as if he wanted to say something, but with the same concentration hunters wore when studying tracks in the forest.

Then A'du'la'di' smiled. His ears perked up. The fur that had been bristling in fear smoothed flat again. "No, sir. It would be wrong to not try and protect her when she tried to help us first. Tsu's'di always says to help people who help us. And it's not against the law to protect a human if they didn't do anything wrong. At least," the boy added with a frown, "I don't think it is. And I like her; she's nice." A'du'la'di' sent Dylan a happy, almost adoring look. "I can tell from her smells."

Tsu's'di cuffed his little brother across the back of the head with just enough force to get the boy's attention. The youth was blushing furiously.

So was the prince's lady.

Wink made a sound that he discreetly disguised as a cough while Nuada's mouth twitched.

"Ow!" A'du'la'di' snarled, baring teeth. Fur bristling, spine arching, ears pressed flat, he growled at his older brother, "What was that for?"

"A gentleman doesn't talk about a lady's smells in mixed company," Tsu's'di snarled, baring his own teeth (which were a lot more impressive than A'du's). He raised a hand to bap his brother again. This time there was a tiny glint of claw. A'du'la'di' automatically shifted position to bare his throat, showing submission. "It's rude," his brother added. "Apologize."

Glancing at Dylan, the boy mumbled, "M'sorry, A'ge'lv."

The lady accepted. Her face was on fire, but she accepted graciously. When Nuada arched an almost provacative eyebrow at her, she glared. His fingertips brushed against her palm. Apparently you have nice smells. Her mortified expression made him grin. She kicked him under the table.

"I think both of you will do fine," Nuada said to the ewah when he'd finally managed to swallow the laughter down far enough that he wouldn't choke on it. "And the girl - 'Sa'ti, was it? - she should do, as well." At that, four pairs of confused eyes (and a single troll eye) blinked and stared at the Elf prince. The Silver Lance did nothing but thread the stitching needle, which his lady deftly plucked out of his hand before he could use it on her. "I know how to do that, you know."

"So do I," Dylan replied. She began stitching, gritting her teeth against the nausea. She'd had to give herself stitches before. Nothing made her stomach roll like the sight of a suture needle piercing her own flesh. Thankfully Nuada had used magic and some kind of salve to thoroughly numb the injuries first or there was no way she could've paid attention to whatever the prince was talking about.

"We'll do fine with what?" Tsu's'di demanded suspiciously. A'du'la'di' had fallen silent. 'Sa'ti watched from Wink's side with wide eyes like the spring sky.

"My lady," the crown prince said, "is in need of a guard, a page, and a maid. The three of you seem qualified for the positions. You have proven that you do not lack honor. Proven that you have manners - for the most part." At this, both boys blushed. "And you were the first to come to my lady's defense today. You," the prince added to A'du'la'di', "say you like my lady. What of you, little maiden?" Nuada turned his voice gentle when he looked at 'Sa'ti. "Do you like her?" The cougar-shifter nodded, though she kept a wary eye on the prince. "Then it seems that that is no issue." Focusing once more on Tsu's'di, the crown prince of Bethmoora asked, "Would you be willing to serve?"

Wary, smoky turquoise eyes met Nuada's. The prince saw a lot more than the youth thought he did, or would care to. He saw the pain, the anger. The emotional scars that always showed in the depths of the eyes. Dylan's often haunted gaze was proof of that. And Nuada saw the fear that one day this boy would make a mistake and lose the two people who meant more to him than anything else, including his own life.

I know the feeling better than you think, the Elven warrior thought, but didn't say. Now was not the time for coaxing. The children would not be in a position to be dangerous, or to protect Dylan if it was needed. They were not the ones that Nuada needed to be sure of. It was Tsu's'di who would be one of Dylan's bodyguards. Which meant the ewah youth had to be certain he could do this without any outside interference from the prince or anyone else.

Those smoky eyes flicked to Dylan's face. What did the boy see there, Nuada wondered? The same things that he saw? Acceptance. Serenity, even though the pain of her wounds was beginning to resurface a little. Affection Not quite love, not yet. She didn't know any of these children well enough for love yet. But did this Child of the Cougar see that there was a capacity and potential for the kind of love and care that the fae constantly craved but rarely if ever found? A simple love that was hellaciously fierce for all its simplicity. Loyalty that would never yield or break. As the prince knew these three were orphans, they would even have a home.

Even if the courtship charade were broken, Nuada would make sure that they kept that home.

Finally, Tsu's'di bowed his head. Pressed his right fist to his heart. "We three - Tsu's'di Ka'ta, A'du'la'di', and U'de'ho'sa'ti, of the Children of the Cougar - will serve A'ge'lv Dylan."

Nuada brushed his fingers against Dylan's upturned palm. A whisper of a thought had her murmuring in an oddly regal voice, "I, Lady Dylan of Central Park, accept your service on my behalf and on the behalf of Crown Prince Nuada Silverlance." Then, in her normal voice, she added, "Now stand up, both of you. You're making me really nervous with all the bowing and kneeling."

The Elf prince sighed and fought not to roll his eyes. For all she was so magnificent, Dylan was still a commoner. Maybe that was why so many of the merchants and craftsmen they'd seen today were happy with her. She didn't let aristocratic dignity stand in the way of fun. Didn't let it keep her from enjoying just looking at "pretty things" and learning about them. Didn't, Nuada realized, let it put too much distance between her and the Hidden Ones who saw her as, perhaps, their future princess.

He glanced at Tsu's'di, who was watching Dylan with a puzzled expression. The poor boy had no idea what he was in for. Good thing they were eventually going to get him some companions to help.

.

Nuada sent Wink with Dylan and the three ewah to get the things they would need. A'du'la'di' and 'Sa'ti, he'd been informed by their older brother, had trinket boxes back at their "nest," filled with children's treasures that they didn't want to leave behind. Dylan, taking in the sight of their shabby clothes, had quietly informed him that they'd need at least one new outfit each before the two of them could even think about taking her new retinue somewhere to stay. Wink said Dylan would need a new jacket and shirt, as both were ruined. Nuada had given Dylan his own black overtunic and coat in the meantime. It was warm enough in the tavern and he could handle the cold long enough to meet up with them and get his coat back later.

So the prince sent his lady, his vassal, and the three new servants to get new clothes and to retrieve the children's trinket boxes. Then he went to pass judgment on those who had dared to attack an innocent child and the impossible mortal who was his lady.

They were in another room of the Black Manticore, guarded by Erik and a couple of trolls from the Market. Aso paced the length of the hallway.

When her jet eyes landed on Nuada, she strode up to the Elven warrior with teeth bared in what he thought might have been a feral smile. The prince suddenly remembered that the Nyame were very protective of children. Then she snarled, "Your mortal lady has guts. I'll give her that. And if you've done anything to those children, Wako Mtukufu, then let me tell you that you do not deserve her."

And you don't deserve my loyalty, was the unspoken challenge beneath the words.

"I had them swear service to my lady," Nuada said softly. "As a guard, page, and handmaiden." He waited a beat. "They'll need new clothes." Aso's snarling smile smoothed out a little. She nodded and stepped back from him. Then she gestured to the closed door, where Erik leaned lazily to hold it shut with the weight of his body. Crimson eyes carefully studied the stone head of the hammer the dökkálfr held in a loose grip.

He also carefully ignored Nuada and the Elf woman of Nyame until the prince went to the door and said almost lazily, "You're in my way, blacksmith."

"Are you going to kill them?" Erik asked, as if he didn't really care one way or the other. "I know you have a reluctance about killing women."

"I don't," Aso muttered. Nuada glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. She folded her lean arms across her chest and settled back on her heels with one hip cocked, disgust and irritation mixed equally in her jet eyes. "Well, I don't. And that lovely little pen is turning out to be a ripe little bitc-"

"You're in my way, blacksmith," the crown prince of Bethmoora said too softly, cutting off the weaver's growling tirade.

Erik slowly stepped to one side. Just before Nuada went through the door, the Elven blacksmith said, "You were right about your lady, Hátign Þína - reckless, but brave. I like her." Then the prince walked into the room where those three fae awaited the judgment of the Silver Lance.

The rougarou both knelt when he entered the room. The swanmane looked over her frail shoulder at him, then turned to offer him full view of her innocent-looking, impossibly lovely face. Between one blink and the next a ravenous hunger rippled over that face. Then it was gone. But Nuada had seen it. Seen it, and knew exactly what it meant. A swanmane in search of a mate. No wonder these idiots seemed to hang on her every gesture. Her magic held them partially in thrall. Even now, he could feel the magical tendrils swirling around the room, entwining around him. Only royal magic kept them from hooking into his mind.

In a voice like shards of ice, the prince said, "Reign in your powers, swan, or I will cut off all of those lovely feathers. See how much power you have then." The swanmane paled further. The magic thickening the room began to dissipate. The swan-shifter slid into a chair as if her legs could no longer support her.

"Your Highness," one of the rougarou said. Cuan, the cougar-shifter youth had called him. "Please. We meant the child no real harm-"

"Bite back the next lie that wants to roll off your tongue, or I will cut that tongue out of your head."

The wolf fell silent.

Then Nuada focused past Cuan, past the swanmane, to the other wolf-shifter. Conri. The wolf whose claws were still stained with Dylan's blood. The wolf whose claws had ripped those vicious furrows in Dylan's arm. Dylan had told him that the rougarou had licked her blood off his claws. And he had been the one to call her a bitch. The one to call her a whore. And that sent black fury rolling through Nuada's belly and boiling in his own blood.

"Do you know what it means to attack a member of a royal house?" Nuada asked. His voice was almost conversational. His eyes were slowly darkening to sanguine bronze. "Even if you belong to another kingdom, attacking a royal is a capital offense. Even if you did not know that was who you attacked."

At his words, the blood drained from Conri's face. The swanmane drew a shaking breath and opened her mouth as if to protest. One look of utter loathing silenced her.

"You are thieves - I have that on good authority from some of the merchants here." Including Laigdech, who'd lost goods to these fae before. "For that and your other crimes, you should be punished." Grim satisfaction pulsed in his blood at the expressions of fear from all three fae. "Do you know what allows you three to keep your heads this day? My lady's mercy. She asked that I spare your lives. I can do no other than oblige her."

Relief overspread all three faces, but was short-lived. The Elf prince darted forward. Even over the high twin yelps of agony, Elven ears heard the sickening crunch of breaking bones.

Cuan clutched his broken hand to his chest and fought to keep breathing through the staggering pain. Conri hunched on the floor. His hand was also broken, only in several places instead of the single fracture his friend could claim. Conri's forearm, upper arm, and shoulder blazed with the searing black agony of more broken bones. Neither would be stealing anything for a while. And both wolf-shifters would remember this judgment for a very, very long time.

Bronze eyes lanced the swanmane, who trembled in her chair. The stench of woman's fear always served to revolt him. He had meant to let her off without punishment, because Erik was absolutely right. He did have a soft spot for fae women. He hated hurting them, even if the law demanded punishment for a crime. Perhaps because they reminded him of his mother. Or his sister. Perhaps because he still remembered the men who had hurt Cethlenn and Nuala. Those memories sickened him still. Haunted him still. And because of those memories he had a weakness for women. When the law required their pain, he was usually gentler with them than he was with others.

But not this time. Because this swan-shifter had goaded two nearly full-grown wolves into attacking an innocent little girl whose only crime had been scavenging for food. She'd used her magic to fuel their natural aggression. Used that magic to see which of them would do their best - and their worst - for her. Hurt a child. Insulted and hurt his lady. And then she had dared try to use that same magic against him.

He slowly drew his sword. Elven silver whispered against the leather sheath. Eyes like black pools widened in fear. She began to cry. Softly at first, then louder. Desperately. Gulping sobs that only served to hone his already vicious temper to a nearly lethal edge. When she tried to plead with him, he'd had enough.

"Save your tears for someone who cares for them," the crown prince of Bethmoora said, and let his sword taste the iridescent blood of a swan.

.

She felt him the moment he walked into the heavy canvas tent that belonged to Aso Assase Ya, the Elven weaver. Although she'd been in conversation with the dark-skinned Elf woman, Dylan broke off as soon as she felt the ripple of unease crawl up her spine. She turned to the tent entrance as Nuada let the flaps fall closed behind him.

Their eyes locked.

On instinct, though still feeling a bit foolish for being so demonstrative, she went to him and slid her arms around his waist. That sent a fresh wave of pain ripping through her bandaged arm, but she ignored it in favor of the thud of his heart against her cheek. She didn't even bother trying to suppress the little thrill that went through her when his hands settled on her shoulders and he said her name, oh so very softly.

"About time you got here," Dylan said teasingly, and felt the tension slowly drain out of him. Then they just stood that way for a long moment. Neither Wink nor Aso the Weaver said anything about the tiredness in Nuada's eyes or the worry in the human's scarred face. They simply watched.

Finally, Nuada slipped an arm around Dylan's shoulders as they moved to where Wink and Aso stood near the counter.

"So, Aso took our measurements. And she said she'd be happy to snag a few journeymaid and journeyman seamstresses and tailors and put together some basics for everyone's wardrobes, at which point I said she should probably talk to you about that. Then she wanted to know what my house colors were, and of course I had no clue whatsoever, so I said she should probably talk to you about that as well."

Dylan's colors. The colors of Bethmoora were crimson and gold. Every kingdom had their own colors. Every noble house within each of those kingdoms had their own colors, too. Every fiefdom, every branch of the military. It would be assumed by some that Dylan, as a lady, would have her own colors, as well. He hadn't thought of that.

"I'm personally fond of blue," Dylan added, "but Aso said it had to be two colors at least. And I wasn't sure if anyone had taken the colors I wanted." She shrugged. Felt the slight straining edge in Nuada that meant he wasn't as calm as he pretended to be. "Does this matter to you at all?"

"Your servants wear your colors and crest to show they belong to you. So, yes - this matters. What think you of royal blue, silver, and dove gray?" He was rewarded with her smile. "As for a crest..." Nuada snagged a stick of charcoal from the weaver, along with the notepad Aso kept for commissions, and quickly sketched something that looked a little bit like his own personal crest. He showed it to Dylan. "If you choose it, we'll make it official when we return to Faerie. Do you like it?"

"Did you just come up with that?" She asked. He arched a brow. She smiled and went back to studying the crude sketch.

The image was interesting, and unique. Two blooming roses with braided stems entertwined with the Celtic design that graced the blade of Nuada's lance. Dylan tapped one rose and looked at Nuada questioningly. The Elf prince lightly tugged off Dylan's black leather glove and brushed a fingertip over the golden ring with the blooming rose on Dylan's right ring-finger. Then he covered her slim hand with his own. Callused fingertips gently brushed across her bare knuckles, relearning the softness of her skin. A small shiver whispered up and down her spine.

"Cold?" Nuada asked, a smug smile playing about his lips.

"My hand is cold. You know, since you stole my glove."

In answer, the Elven warrior raised Dylan's hand to his mouth and breathed against her knuckles. Deliciously warm air caressed her skin. His breath whispered over her skin, and she was suddenly very aware of several things: the silken weight of Nuada's overtunic against her body; the nearness of those dark lips to her hand, hovering like a soft promise; the wild richness of Nuada's scent surrounding her and sending a different sort of warmth sizzling through her; and especially the too-intense, honey-kissed ivory of those beautiful feral eyes looking right into her own.

Her mouth went dry. Could he hear her pulse racing? Could the beautiful older Elf woman hear it? What about Wink? She didn't know about the other two, but from Nuada's expression he could most certainly hear the way he made her heart pound. She tried to take a steady breath. Failed miserably. You are killing me. You are absolutely killing me, Nuada. You've gotta stop.

Immediately he shifted. It was subtle, something she probably wouldn't really have noticed if she hadn't been so attuned to him, but as soon as he moved, she could breathe more easily. Her pulse slowed. The heat that had been shimmering under her skin faded a bit. All of that made it a lot easier to think.

Am I scaring you? Forgive me.

No, she said quickly. She couldn't let him think he frightened her. She knew how much it bothered him when he thought he'd scared her. No, no. I just... um... well, you're just... you make my heart pound. As soon as the confession was out of her mouth - or brain, rather - she felt like an idiot. Sorry. It's just that you are really, really, really...

Hot. The word held a world's worth of masculine satisfaction. Then, a bit more gently, he added, It's all right, Dylan, to be attracted to me.

Oh yes, of course you would think that. Never mind that when you smile like that, you tie my tongue in knots. Heat flooded her face. She could feel the idiocy-quotient ratcheting up. Oh, shut up, brain. Shut up, shut up, shut up. No, Nuada, it is absolutely not all right to be attracted to you! What if I do something ridiculous?

Such as?

Such as accidentally-on-purpose fall on your lips.

Nuada grinned, where everyone could see him. Dylan could feel the blush burning in her cheeks. Considering your mouth is at least half a foot below mine, mo duinne, that would be a bit difficult to accomplish if I did not wish it to happen.

If she needed to worry about anyone "accidentally-on-purpose" falling on anyone else's lips, she needed to worry about him falling on hers. Especially because she tended to lick her bottom lip when she was nervous. Which she was right now. Which was why he was having trouble keeping his eyes off her mouth.

They were in public, however. Kissing her that way in public was a very bad idea. Kissing her that way at all anywhere right now was a very bad idea. He had to keep telling himself that as he dropped a light, chaste kiss to the back of her fingers. He inclined his head, retaining possession of her hand. She rolled her eyes and grinned back at him.

Do you feel better now? You looked a little depressed when you walked in.

Yes, he said, still managing to be surprised that he truly meant it without condition. I thank you, Dylan. You have eased the shadows in my heart, as you nearly always manage to do.

Her smile this time was soft and pleased. I'm glad.

Wink coughed into his fist, not even really trying to disguise the word "mooncalf." Nuada glared at him. Gritted his teeth when he caught Aso's wide smile. He'd forgotten about her, stars curse it. By midnight, it would be all over the Troll Market that the Silver Lance had gazed tenderly into his mortal truelove's eyes for... however long he'd been talking to Dylan through their link.

Ah, well. Gossip had been one of the tools they'd planned on employing, anyway.

"So I like the crest," Dylan said. Was her voice just a little bit breathless? Crud. She didn't want her voice to be breathless. "We'll go with that one. And I like the colors. So what does that mean, exactly?"

The Elf prince glanced at the Nyame weaver. Aso shrugged. If the prince wanted her to do this, she would do it. She would even put a rush on it as a favor to an old friend and his lady. The dark-skinned Elven woman said, "Come back by Wednesday. Your lady's livery should be ready by then. And there are a few plain garments for the children until you or Mr. Wink return." She gestured to a stack of clothes in various shades of blue and gray on the store counter.

Nuada sighed at the price. Clothes for three children, two of whom were boys in that age range where stitches seemed almost to rip because said boys kept adding height and muscle during growth spurts. He had gone through that same phase as a boy and as a youth. And where would these children stay? With them? Dylan would have to feed them, as well.

Then 'Sa'ti came jogging up to Dylan and threw her arms around the human's waist. The joy that lit up those fey-like blue eyes sent a swift stab of almost fierce longing right through Nuada's chest. His lady loved children so very much. Wanted so badly to have a child or children of her own. That could never be, so long as she remained connected to him as his truelove. This was the next best thing, wasn't it? To have children in their home, connected to Dylan almost as tightly as she was connected to him?

Very well. He handed over the required coin as 'Sa'ti and A'du'la'di' jumped up and down over the seemingly exquisite joy of getting new clothes. Dylan's smile warmed him like spring sunlight. This would work out quite nicely.