It was more embarrassing than I wanted to admit to track down the exhausted elf and remind him there was one more thing I needed from him. 

He must prepare the report of injuries and put together the book of names of our captives and casualties before meeting me for dinner with the city officials tonight. His tired expression strained my conscience; all I could think of was the help I could have offered him while I was off having lunch with Penelope. 

 Never again will I take advantage of my position; I can't slack off here. I have to help these people and stay with this one hundred percent if I want to make a difference. Making my way back towards the Citadel, I try not to punish myself too severely; I'm mentally getting to a healthier place without adding my self-loathing back into the mix. 

Marcus walks beside me with his hands in his pockets, and I'm frustrated that I find it hard to resist the urge to cling to him for warmth as the day begins to head towards the afternoon. The prospect of having a lycan heater was, at times, hard to resist. It was tricky being surrounded by men and having to lean on myself for my usual coping mechanism. 

The thought of touching myself was vile, a cop-out and an excuse. I'd rather get the few extra minutes of attempted sleep than waste them on unsatisfying self-indulgence. 

He's an odd character. Despite his charm, there was something off about him that I couldn't put my finger on. At first, I envisioned that he would be like he was when we first met: a pest and overly confident. But he's silently followed me around without council, just keeping his eyes open for anything that might pose itself as a threat. 

It was the opposite of how he originally presented.

 As much as I hate to admit it, it appeared to have helped to have him with me. He stands behind me like a lumbering shield but his presence does not seem as intimidating. Even Tonic, with his angular features and scar, is enough to make people pause, but Marcus carries a different energy. 

His dimpled cheeks, curly shoulder-length hair, and amber eyes are warm. Even though it mirrors Tonic's, his scar almost fades into those deep, expressive, honey-colored pools. His smile is nearly too big, enhanced by his close-cut beard. He dresses like us, as a human, and if one is not near too close to him, it would be easy to mistake him for a large man rather than a wolf in hiding.

 Comforting and horrifying, they could blend in, which is what it would look like. Nobody would know they were among us.

"You don't have to follow me around." Yet something in me pleads with him to stay. I don't want to be alone after such tongue-lashing from Tonic and Frost.

"No worries, it's my job." He tells me and casually offers me his arm, ignoring my retraction from his intrusion into my space. When would I stop flinching? When would I be normal? 

Touching my neck to steady my pulse, I exhale and avoid acknowledgment. 

When he looks away, I quietly observe him. He's dressed warmly, a change from when I first saw him. I admire his skin, his unique complexion even darker than my own, more decadent than the tan I'm used to seeing on his brothers. Loose strands of hair fall on his face and around his ears, spiral-curled pieces that frame the strong jaw.

 His eyes catch mine and I don't shy away, I almost challenge his odd nature. "Aren't you hot? I know lycans don't feel the cold like we do."

Marcus smiles. "I'm warm, but I'm used to it now. I like looking less... feral."

 The corners of my mouth pull down. Are my lycans feral? I thought it was just comfortable for them. "You're not feral; it's okay to be hot. People need to understand that." 

Marcus considers this, tilting his head to the side as he watches the clouds roll in. A light flurry of snow trickles toward the ground. "I don't really care what they think; I do it for me. My brothers might enjoy running around naked, but I'd rather leave a little to the imagination." He winks at me, sparking a snort of retaliation as I bristle.

 At least he's confident in who he is, regardless I'm grateful he will be keeping his clothes on. I'm not in a good place to be surrounded by more naked men. After a long moment, I curl my arm around his, tilting my chin up to walk confidently forward.

 I can hear his grin and elbow his ribs, though it probably hurts me more than it hurts him. 

"Shut up. It's cold as hell out here." 

He says nothing though when I sneak a peek, he's highly amused. 

"So you knew Randy?" I change the subject and he shakes his head at me. 

"I know Randy. He's not dead." Marcus reminds me, causing my breath to catch. I grip tighter onto his coat; my knuckles turn white from the pressure.

"Whatever. I don't want to think about that right now. " I can see his expression turn curious and I quickly trudge on in my train of thought. "What was he like? Has he always been..." I trail off, unsure of how to describe him to someone who might not know him as intimately as I have.

"A jerk?" He chuckles, taken aback by my harsh scowl. He slows his pace and raises a brow. "I'm kidding. He's like a brother to me." With a heavy heave of his chest, he scratches his jaw as he contemplates his words, thoughtful of the task. "Yes. He's always been his own person, even when he was little. He's a good man despite being English in blood." Marcus grins as if thinking of some distant memory. "Why are you interested in knowing about Randy?"

Clearing my throat, I hadn't prepared for cross-examination. "No reason,"  

Marcus makes a sound of acceptance. "Oh, good. I thought it was because you and Randy had a thing, what with him being inclined to men and all."

 Catching me completely off guard, I choke on my reality. 

"Dios mio! I knew it! You sneaky fox!" He pauses, raising his eyebrows with consideration for the circumstances. "You're a terrible actor. How are you hiding this from everyone? You're doing  a bad job." 

I smack him on the chest, pulling my arm free. "Ugh! Shut up! Someone is going to hear you!" I seeth, crossing my arms over my chest. I'd rather freeze and die than deal with this.

"Oh, please, nobody cares. Hey! Is anyone out here?!" 

I clamp my hand over his mouth, his hot breath warming my chilled palms. The threat in my eyes must amuse him because he comically stops in his tracks, feigning terror.

"I will stuff you back in your mother! Shut. Up!" I tangle my fingers in his beard hair, yanking him down to my height. Wrinkling his nose at me, I make a sound of disgust as I release him. "What are you?! Five?!" 

"Life is too short to take it so seriously."  He teases as he smooths out his beard and flexes his full lips. "Aye.. you're mean. I like it."  

"Please." I shake my head, dismissing the flirty attempt. "Tell anyone about this, and I'll have a new fur coat." 

Marcus looks thoroughly amused. "Who would I tell? As you can see, anyone who knew Randy already knows he was promiscuous. With women anyway, I wondered what kept him hopping from bed to bed. He and Caspian had an odd relationship. I always suspected there was a reason beyond what he would show. Then he got married, and it put my suspicions to rest for some time." 

The words cause a cold shock to rush up my spine. I stare vacantly ahead as if the words would evaporate if I just gave them the opportunity. But they play on repeat in my mind, reminding me repeatedly that the statement has to be true. 

 He purses his lips and takes a step back. "Uh oh."

"Married?" I feel sick watching him nod, confirming once more. "As in, is still married. As in, cheating on his wife with me?"

The Spanish man pulls his lips into a thin line, cocking his head to the side. "Mmm.. I don't believe he knows that she's alive."

"Of course she's alive! That son of a bitch!" I kick a stone and send it hurling across the courtyard. "I'm going to leave him in that jail to rot! He better hope he's dead because if he's not, I'm going to murder him!"  

My bodyguard raises his hands in defense: "Calm down. All is fair in love and war, right? M'lord, we did not know if any of our families survived. Many of them are dead and are still going to die. Can you blame him for wanting something and seeking it in a time such as this? Have you seen any female lycans?"

"Yes! He's married!" 

"Maybe he doesn't want to be..?" His words make me pause, and I stare at him, halting my pacing. Cautiously, he tests that I won't attack him with a step forward. "Sometimes, we are forced into things because it's what is right at the time, but it isn't what we feel in our hearts. Surely, you have regrets...?"

I want to be angry, but I can't be, at least not now. It feels silly to throw a tantrum over a broken heart when we are in an active war zone yet the pain is very real. "Regret is something I'm very familiar with," I mutter. 

Marcus takes my hand in his, warning me with his eyes. He brings my knuckles up to his lips, and the bristle hair of his beard tickles my skin. 

"We all have things that we regret, secrets that we hold in our hearts." His voice is smooth as silk. "Do not dwell; all will right itself." He squeezes my hand as I slip my fingers from his. I can't deal with this attempt right now, and I don't want him to feel sympathy for me. "Vamos. You have a dinner to prepare for and allies to make."

_________________________________________

I find Penelope, and she looks at me questioningly. My expression tells her not to ask. I'm impressed with my newly appointed rebellion leader. The giant oak table is already set and prepared for the arrival of our hopeful allies. 

I am busy catching up on everything I have missed. As I walk, people feed me information. Food supplies are holding strong, the wall hasn't sustained as much damage as we had feared, and the rebellion soldiers are safely tucked away within the halls of the Citadel.

 There is a moment of alarm that most of the wolves are gone, but I assure them they are probably hunting since there will be no fires to scare off the prey. 

I almost dress in royal clothes but instead, I opt for a more casual look, these people aren't royalty. They're appointed town officials who have to explain to their people why they are surrendering their livestock. I feel nervous as I cling to Penelope, she's not amused with my needy nature but after Marcus's reveal, I'm not quite feeling my usual self.

The officials begin to arrive, and I'm thankful I did not overdress. These people are meer commoners; the town's Duke fled with the royal family.  

It's hard to be the life of the party, it's not something that was ever my responsibility. My brother was always more outgoing, and my father never needed to impress anyone. I envision how Haryek would be handling things, but I'm not sure that is how I want to go. 

I begin to shape my character, trying to be warm and welcoming without giving too much away about our plans for the march and the attack. I want to be a good host, for the dinner and the kingdom. It's my job to convince them to stay, doing that is difficult when I'm not familiar with my own home anymore. 

 They have valid concerns. How can I protect them as my father did? I weave a tale that even I begin to believe. We will build an army to defend us, and our towns will employ a police system to report to officials and redesign our court systems. 

We will be a union; we will no longer be forced to fend for ourselves. It's convincing, and I see a few nods of approval. I try not to drown myself in wine. 

I hate this.

 My inner self stalks in the shadows of my mind, whispering judgment. 

It's fake. It lies. They know who you are. They know what you are. It's hard to get it out of my head as I down another glass. I feel like darkness looms over me, a heaviness. My chest feels tight, like a weight is pulling me down.

I casually rest against a pillar to hide my fatigue. 

Penelope quickens her stride to join me, concern clouding her gaze. "Are you okay?" She breathes, trying not to draw attention as she smiles at a glass tipped in our direction.

"I feel like I'm going to pass out," I mutter through my teeth. She puts her hand on my shoulder and jerks as if I had shocked her. 

"Do you have it?" She hisses.

The book. "Of course. I never leave it. What if someone takes it?"

"For the love of the gods." Her eyes glare daggers at me, and she announces to the crowd. "Excuse me, everyone; Prince Nicolas must retire for the night as he has an early meeting in the morning, but feel free to have some more wine. Marcus will see you out." She gestures to my bodyguard and drags me off to my room.

 "Get it out. Now." She commands. 

I pull the book out of my hidden sleeve, and its fingers reach me. Flinching, my only option to prevent it from consuming me was to drop it on the floor. Air pulls through my teeth like I'm breathing for the first time in hours.

 "Have you learned nothing? Nicolas, you can't carry that thing around you raw like that!! Where's your blessed cloth?" She searches through the hordes of clothes. 

I kick the book away, lean against the bed, and lower myself to a sitting position. My ears ring and the world swims, swirling around my vision in waves of torment, I can almost hear it screaming in displeasure. 

She throws the cloth over the book.

 The screaming stops and I feel wetness on my lip, I reach up and my fingertips come away bloody. "Oh.." I mutter—a nosebleed.

Penelope inspects me and mutters a healing spell. "Idiot." She flicks my forehead. "That's dark magic, Nicolas; it will suck the very life out of you if you're not careful. Any opportunity to get stronger the book is going to take. It's evil. Do not carry it without the cloth."

 As the words leave her lips, I see she's running out of steam. The fact of the matter is that I scared her; she was worried I'd done true damage to myself. Quickly, she threw her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly.  "Even the best of us can be corrupted."

I hug her absently. I need to get rid of this book.