The artwork above is not mine.

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Mikael sat in a brightly lit corner of the library. Firelight danced on the hearth beside his chair. He was attempting to finish up his book on the War with Koschei. Already, he'd stumbled across another tome that caught his interest and he was eager to start reading it.

Mikael closed his book shortly and set it aside. He loosed a contented sigh, gazing out the window. The moon was full and stunningly bright this evening. This was one of the many reasons he loved his home in the Palace so much. It was situated high enough in the mountains that it sat above the clouds. The stars seemed close enough to touch. Perhaps if he could fly high enough, he could reach the moon.

Ameer often said it made him feel secluded. That was another reason why Mikael loved it. Up here, he was hidden from the eyes of the world. He could relax and not worry about the rebukes and insults that awaited him elsewhere. The Palace was a refuge. It was his home.

He remembered the first time he'd seen it while flying. Ameer was guiding him by the arm, holding him steady while he adjusted to the weight and movements of his wings.

The sun rose behind them, washing the opalescent stone that formed the Palace in a golden glow. Pink clouds floated around the sprawling towers, verandas, archways, and bridges that linked different parts of the Palace together. Vibrant periwinkle morning glories bloomed around pillars. Mist had cast a dazzling sheen over everything.

Mikael remembered seeing Thesan standing out on a balcony, watching their lesson. To him, it had seemed like the sunlight was searching out his father in particular. He hoped that one day, it would search for him too.

The library door creaked open, drawing him out of his memories. Mikael twisted and found Thesan approaching. He settled into a chair close to Mikael's.

"More magic lessons?" Mikael raised an eyebrow.

Thesan shook his head. "I was thinking about our conversation from yesterday and it reminded me of something," he said. Thesan drew a small frame from his pocket and held it out.

Mikael took it carefully. His lips parted in surprise. "Is this..."

"It is. Your grandmother gave it to me just before she passed. She told me that you deserved a way to remember Samanya too. You were so young then, though, and I wanted to give it to you when you were older. I suppose I forgot." Thesan's face flushed red with embarrassment.

Mikael studied the portrait of his mother intently. He had no memory of her at all. She'd died during his birth and her mother, his grandmother, brought him to the Palace. He ran a finger along the smooth outline of her cheek.

While he was the spitting image of his father in terms of hair, eye, and skin color, his features were more like his mother's. He had her almond shaped eyes and full lips. Her hair was curly, like his. Mikael shifted his wings subconsciously as he studied Samanya's.

"How did you meet her?" He asked quietly.

"It was during a rough patch in Ameer and I's relationship. We decided to take a break, but I became depressed and lonely. I went out one night and met her at a dance in a village called Oriens," Thesan explained.

"We danced and talked and I spent the night with her. It became a regular thing. It lasted for about four months. One night, she told me she loved me, but she knew that I wasn't truly happy with her. She told me that I needed to reconcile things with Ameer. Your mother...she was a smart female. I knew she was right, so I listened to her. I fixed things with Ameer and was content that Samanya and I could remain friends."

Thesan paused and Mikael waited patiently for him to continue. "She never told me when she found out she was pregnant. I didn't know about you until after you were born. When your grandmother brought you to me, she explained everything to us."

"Samanya's reasoning for keeping you a secret was that she didn't want to cause a strain my relationship with Ameer until it was necessary. Her mother said that the pregnancy was hard on her. Samanya was never a physically strong person and she fell ill just before you were born. She asked her mother to come and find me so that I could be there, but the War with Koschei had already begun and I was in Hybern. You were born and your mother died."

"Was Father angry with you?" Mikael asked.

"A little," Thesan admitted. "Mostly, he was upset that I was with someone so soon after we separated. We worked through it though, and he's never resented you for what happened. He loves you just as much as I do. Just as much as she did." He tapped the painting.

"What would you have done if she had lived? Would I have grown up with her or would I still be here?"

"I would've brought both of you here in a heartbeat. Albeit, it might've been a little awkward at first," Thesan chuckled. "But I wouldn't have separated you from your mother. You both would've been taken care of."

Mikael nodded after a moment. He continued to study the painting, trying to feel some sort of connection to the female. He knew who she was. Now, he knew what she looked like. He knew the features he'd gained from her. He was slowly learning what traits she'd passed on to him too. Still, he couldn't summon up a feeling of familiarity as he studied her face. Mikael loved her...loved the thought of her, but he didn't know her. He wished he would have.

He looked up again, meeting his father's gaze. "Thank you."

"Don't be afraid to ask questions when you have them," Thesan said as he stood. "I want you to be proud of who you are, and where you came from." He closed the door behind him, leaving Mikael alone with the painting and his thoughts.

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Windhaven was bustling with activity. All of the training rings were filled. Steel clashed and wooden weapons thumped against one another. Estelle gripped Znaniya, squaring off with Corbin. He pulled his shoulder length golden brown hair back into a low ponytail, then drew his own dagger.

"Now, go easy on me, Essie," he snickered. "Dad and I irritated Mom last night and I'm still sore from the ass whooping."

Estelle snorted at the mental image his sentence raised. She could actually see her Aunt Nesta turning Corbin over her knee, no matter how old he was. She'd received her own share of discipline from Nesta's iron hand. Needless to say, Estelle had quickly learned to obey. Corbin had not. It didn't help that his father usually egged him on, of course.

"You'll find no sympathy from me," Estelle laughed.

They began, their daggers glancing off one another harmlessly. The shadows hung silently around Estelle, but she could feel their desire to aid her.

No, she told them, and they complied.

Estelle and Corbin began to work in kicks and punches as the duel continued. Estelle ducked beneath Corbin's next slash with his dagger. She spied his coiled fist and narrowly dodged the punch as she straightened. Estelle forced her palm against his inner bicep, shoving his arm away. Corbin yelped and she wrenched his other wrist backwards. He dropped his dagger on instinct and Estelle claimed it with a smile.

"Nicely done," Nyx hollered. He finished disarming Lysander almost effortlessly.

"Sometimes, I really hate the fact that you two began training before we did," Lysander grumbled. "We can never win." He slung an arm around Corbin's shoulders.

"It's impossible," Corbin agreed. "I'm convinced they're cheating. Are you giving each other tips? Essie, are you using the shadows?"

We are not cheaters! The shadows protested.

But you wish you were, Estelle replied. The shadows didn't reply. Several of them dove into her mop of hair, as though hiding from her claim. "No, I don't use the shadows during training." Nyx raised an eyebrow. "Very often," she amended. He nodded. "I can't expect to become a Carynthian warrior if I rely on the shadows for everything, after all."

Someone gave a bark of laughter from beyond their training ring. Estelle glanced over her shoulder, sensing the shadows' rising hostility. She narrowed her eyes, spying the Illyrian male who lingered there. Ze'ev watched them with unmasked humor. He ran his fingers through thick black hair, an arrogant smirk on his lips.

"You think you'll become a Carynthian warrior?" He scoffed. "Out of the lot of you, I think only Nyx could achieve that."

"Kiss ass," Nyx hissed under his breath.

"The rest of you might become Arktosians. Oristians at best, but I doubt that." His hazel eyes fixed on Estelle. "And you? We all know the only thing you're good for."

Estelle stiffened and the shadows coiled menacingly atop her shoulders. Lysander grabbed her arm before she could move. "Don't let him get to you again," he whispered. "He comes from a long line of pricks, remember?"

"I'd make good use of you," Ze'ev continued. "Of course, we'd have to get that temper of yours under control, but I have my ways."

"As if my family would let you anywhere near me," Estelle scoffed, lifting her chin proudly.

"I'm not worried about a bunch of whores and bastards."

They attacked at once. The fence splintered as Nyx smashed through it with his dark unbridled power. Corbin and Lysander tackled Ze'ev to the ground. Estelle let the shadows loose. They wrapped around his limbs and throat, squeezing tightly.

The familiar buzz of magic flooded her veins. She managed to restrain it. Illyrian magic could be unpredictable, especially without siphons to control it, and despite being half High Fae, her own magic was tricky enough. Estelle hadn't received her siphons yet and she likely wouldn't until she became a true warrior.

Ze'ev had the sense to look afraid. Nyx stared him down, the starlight in his eyes turning to cold steel. He tilted his head, that same threatening mask that his father often donned sliding across his features. "Remember who you speak of," he growled. "And remember who we are."

"You're just...pathetic novices while...you're in this...camp," Ze'ev spat.

Estelle angled her dagger at Ze'ev's throat. "Maybe, but when we leave? Who are we then?" Ze'ev didn't answer. He glared at her and she glared back. "Who are we then!" She demanded.

"Bitch," Ze'ev choked out.

"Hey, that's enough!" Jorah grabbed Lysander's arm and pulled him away from the group. "Corbin, Nyx, back off. Estelle, release him. Now!" Corbin let go of Ze'ev with a huff and Nyx backed away. Estelle didn't move. "Estelle!" Jorah repeated.

Another hand grabbed her arm and hauled her off Ze'ev. Estelle shook her head and jerked away from Devlon. He grabbed her by the wrists, holding her back while Jorah pulled Ze'ev to his feet.

"Get your sorry ass back to your hut. We'll deal with you later," Jorah ordered. Ze'ev scrambled away, shooting glares back at them.

Devlon let go of Estelle as soon as he was out of sight. "What the hell were you thinking?" He demanded.

"You didn't hear what he said!" Corbin yelled.

"We did." Jorah crossed her arms. "And you should've let us deal with it."

"Well, we didn't. What are you going to do about it?" Estelle taunted. The shadows hummed angrily in her ears.

Jorah narrowed her large brown eyes. "Watch your tone, young Lady."

"Go home, all four of you," Devlon said. "You won't be welcome here for the next two weeks."

"But..." Lysander protested.

Devlon whirled towards him, lifting a finger. "Be grateful this is the only punishment I'm giving you! If you were anyone else, you'd be due for a session of bone breaking!"

He stormed off without another word. Jorah watched as they all spread their wings and took off. None of them spoke as they flew back to Velaris.

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For some additional stories from this chapter, please see the short stories titled "Sacrificial Happiness", "Open Hearts", "Painfully Right", "Reconciliation", "An Heir of Dawn", and "First Flight" in my book "Beyond the Books".

(That's the recommended reading order of those short stories as they're out of order in the bonus book. There's a lot, I know XD)