"Nicolas." 

The voice shakes me from my musings. The memory fades like a disturbed pond. I blink a few times, refocusing my eyes.

 "Are we boring you?" 

I look out at the sea of faces, all those who represent the rebellion. 

Meetings are hard for me; I'm easily distracted, a defense mechanism against being forced to make potentially life-altering decisions. Perhaps not one of my best qualities, but an irritating character flaw nonetheless. 

I straightened with a yawn, trying to remind myself what this meeting was about.

We had concluded that the lycan force was enough of a presence in Loan's town to keep the elves at bay. Since their arrival, attacks had stopped, except for a few unfortunate thieves who mistook lycans for commoners. 

The young lycans are good camouflage. They aren't nearly as battle-worn and vicious as their older kin. They are even helpful, considering their boundless energy and muscular bodies. The town had begun to rebuild, and morale had slowly crawled out of the depths. There was hope; people were once again talking about the future.

 I think about Alpha; how would he feel about being 'helpful'? 

"Perhaps we break for lunch?" Haryek suggests, tilting his head to catch my gaze. 

I eyed the braided crown with a slight hint of distaste. How could one be in wartime and still take pride in one's appearance? Every day, the elf was polished to near perfection; I felt lucky if I remembered to brush out my hair and adorn clean robes. I was hardly bathing or eating, and the stress was overwhelming when I was alone. 

Every time I closed my eyes, I watched him die.

Haryek is attempting to become my best friend these days. It makes me physically sick sometimes, but he has been very helpful in bringing me up to speed on what a king should be like. I didn't have to like him; I only had to accept his help. 

It's one thing to talk about leading a small army, but to do it is exhausting work with no end, and I'm not even officially in charge. It doesn't help his cause that I feel Haryek's use is at full peak whenever we talk about his judgment for his multiple discretions, though I have a feeling he will never see his day in court. 

At least not my court.

 It would seem he figures if his father gets ahold of him, he will be in worse trouble on his home turf if we don't come out on the winning side of this. I picture Haryek's hopeful crown evaporating to amuse myself; in between jokes of the one night we shared and my distaste for what the man stood for, I might find a way to stomach him.

Maybe that's why he braids his hair like that?

"Lunch sounds good," Bogdan says, observing me. "Rest the body and the mind; we still have much to discuss."

 We share a special connection, even though we've hardly met. Being a Solomonari bonds me to dragons in a way that is unmatched by other races. It's always interesting to see someone like Bogdan, a dragon taking the form of a man, who isn't bound to the school.

 I suppose he thinks the same when he looks at me, sampling my magic and its unchecked aura. He must be as disappointed with my lack of control as Loan is. It wasn't often that one survived the schooling I'd gone through and had come out so incapable of defense and magical use. With their judgemental gazes looming over me, I kept to myself whenever possible. 

 Is this what it was like to be the Alpha? 

I remember wondering what made him look so tired and why he appreciated the silence. I had imagined it was a personality trait.

Grabbing a bowl of oatmeal, I head to the dining hall. We are mostly back in the castle since it is the warmest, and winter is on our doorstep. 

My companions sit all around me with Victor, who is wearing Adriam like a necklace these days. Frost intended to become my shadow, guarding me at a new level; I was the only one left who could rule my country and guarantee us safe passage through the magical realm. Without me, this journey became even more impossible. 

 It had become quite evident that some were very interested in my demise. Frost had tasked himself with preventing that, and while I didn't see the need, I tried not to make his job any more difficult. 

I'd learned my lesson when it came to roaming. 

 Haryek has practically appointed himself my right-hand man. Though Loan might want the position if he liked me more, I feel as though Loan just liked to watch me struggle. I pick at my oatmeal, moving it around with my spoon, struggling to convince myself to consume it. My stomach rolled; I was starving, yet I couldn't fathom a bite. 

In an embarrassing measure of desperation, I sneak a glimpse around me to assure myself that nobody was paying me any particular attention. Then, I began my agonizing ritual of hoping Alpha would round the corner and attend our meal. 

I did this every time I had a moment to think, every time there was a void that needed filled, I torment myself. Seeing him helped to ease the ache, to convince me that there was a reason to proceed with this death march.

Sensing my sadistic nature, Loan speaks up. "So we need to work on some of your spells; by some, I mean all of them." He tells me, I wish he'd picked a different seat than directly in front of me. 

He's a beacon of white in his robes. I tap my spoon on my bowl and decide my response; I hadn't worn my robes since the day they decided to push me to the forefront of this rebellion. Haryek thought it better to put me in my royal attire, at least as far as my shirt and coat were concerned. 

 "Aren't you cold?" I attempt.

"I would be if I wasn't warming the air around me." He sounds so pompous.

 Did I sound like that? Indeed, I had, perhaps worse, given my upbringing. 

"My furnace isn't working these days," I respond because one is dead, and the other is cuddling with a vampire. Shutting my eyes, I allow my spoon to sink into the thick substance, I'm not interested in eating after such a thought. 

"I'll warm you." Haryek scoots closer, and I resist flinching away from him. Every attempt he makes to get closer to me only reminds me that Haryek could be the vilest of creatures. Every time our eyes locked, I couldn't help but think about how loud he was on that shabby couch.

"Hypothermia isn't so bad." The insult stops his advances, and he sighs in defeat; my scars ran too deep for me to consider forgiving him enough to let him touch me. With my means of desensitization gone, I was worse now than ever. 

I wanted nothing, nobody, to touch me.

"So, what were you saying earlier about visiting my father?" The elf changes topics, which is a wise move. "Every time we get around Bogdan, you clam up." 

Loan gives me a knowing look. "Solomonari and dragons have a history. Nicolas had a different experience with them in school than I did. A more.. intimate.. knowledge." 

My body feels rigid. I could be sick, but there'd be nothing to vomit with how little I'd eaten.

"Bogdan's a good dragon, though. You'd be wise to speak with him; he might have a lot of insight into unlocking your potential."

Possessing little interest in inflicting even more discomfort on myself, I shrug. I was struggling enough as it was with the burden of existing in this world with nobody, let alone coping with the mental break of potentially falling for my captor. "You seem to have that under control." 

I put on my game face, copying the political expression I see Haryek carry in his everyday life. Practice would make perfect; I had an army to run and couldn't do so with a somber expression. 

"About your father, Haryek. I want to act as though we will surrender, buy some time while he's distracted, and send the army toward the city the elves are occupying."

 I feel like that's what Alpha would do. Divide and conquer. 

"I like the idea of killing knife ear," Victor responds and I almost jump, I had forgotten they were even here. 

Haryek doesn't look impressed. "Hey, some of those are my friends.. but how do we get away from Taryek once we are there?"

That was the part I hadn't thought through. "I didn't think you had friends." I accuse, sniffing at my malice before exhaling. "I'm open to suggestions. If Taryek knows we are coming, he will surely focus on us. I can't think of a better time to attack. It's overrun, right?" My attention drifts to Loan. "They won't be able to surround us with a countermeasure if we take that city."

Loan considers this: "It is overrun. The young lycans could probably draw some of them out; the more experienced could take it head-on." He draws battle plans in the air with his fork, mapping out what they would look like. 

In a sharp motion, Haryek snatches his hand, firmly placing it on the table with a look of disgust. "Please. Forks are for dining, not.. whatever it is you are doing. Paper." He pulls a notebook out of a pouch on his hip.

Haryek has been dressing more like a civilian despite his polishing and priming. With his silvery hair and marble skin, he looked out of place in the dark colors of our winter gear. Noticeably, the clothes had been trimmed and tailored to fit him. Disgusted by our manners, he slides the paper over with a fountain pen. "You are worse than the lycans. At least they have the decency to be naked." 

Our group collectively rolls its eyes, but I take the notebook and jot down my plans using crudely drawn circles and lines.

"How does that get you your magic practice? If you're going to be with Taryek, he won't want you practicing and getting stronger." Loan points out, shaking off his hand as if vermin had touched it. 

Haryek shoots him a wink and takes a bite of a loaf of bread. 

"Well, all we need is his fog. Anything else is extra," Adriam points out, sliding over from Victor's side to sit in his lap and get a better look at our plans. "Plus, we do have you."

My red-haired schoolmate frowns at the thought of his addition to our forces.

"We are an easy target. If one of us is shot down, the other would do well to be just as strong. Especially considering they're probably going to be thinking I'm him."

 He makes a valid point. With our red hair, we stood out, and our complexion and dress looked near-identical from afar. 

"I have a weapon." Though I'm pretty sure it's been crushed in the rubble of the cave-in caused by our use of the table.

 After the guardian attacked me, I don't remember ever retrieving it. 

The conversation begins to roll around as this becomes a possibility. It would not be easy, but it's a thought worth having. We talk about how we would be exposed here without a standing Alpha, but the advancing party that takes on the elf kingdom needs the most experienced individuals there, which means that Victor and Frost would have to go. 

That leaves us stretched very thin. 

I jotted down numbers, doing math to divide them so that the city wouldn't fall if a small force invaded while all this was happening. It hurts my head that so few could fill the shoes that Alpha left behind. One man had indeed ruled them all and took the place of many.

 We are left with no choice but to bring in Tonic. 

Sighing, running a hand through my hair in a habit I'd picked up from the warlord I coveted, there was nothing else for it. I want to fight and argue, stand my ground, and say that there's no way that Tonic deserves such a punishment. But everyone else is sacrificing something, and I feel he isn't mine to defend when we are done discussing.

 "It's in his blood," Adriam reassures me. 

Frost adds, "We can train him just like we trained you. Once he accepts the role, I'd feel more comfortable letting everyone advance independently."

 The weight of the situation continues to dawn on me, making me cringe- there are so few of us. I can't stifle the sickened laugh that leaves me, causing me to shrink at the awkward stares. It hadn't slipped past me that there were whispers that I was losing it, that this had permanently affected me, and I wasn't acting how a prince should. 

I wanted to bite back and say that it should affect me, to challenge them to witness what I had and come out on the other side unscathed. They were not haunted as I was, forced to awaken to a man choking on his blood, only to awake for a second time- cold, alone, and isolated. 

"Sorry, I'm just lost in this silly thing called logic.. how? What made you think you could do this? How did we fall to so few?" I'm flabbergasted. 

Three hundred slaves took down a nation; it was insanity, but it had happened all the same. 

Loan gives me a look that says he agrees that we should have been better prepared while Adriam thinks about this momentarily. 

"Perfect storm of situations... luck... an army of wolves against a large plot... You can take your pick. Your father, while he was corrupt, made an incredible weapon." He seems to want to say more but bites his tongue while sliding off his man-chair to stand. 

Stretching, I marvel at how slight and short the French man was. What excuse did I have when he was even smaller than I was? 

  How did someone so petite gather so much respect among giants?

"I have to tend to some things around here; go to Tonic and talk to him about this. We can train him, but it won't be perfect. A lot of this is instinct.  I'm looking forward to handing this off to someone else, so if we can all be prompt, that would be lovely." He gives us a sweet smile and grabs Victor's belt. 

Adriam pulls him along like someone carrying their luggage, though the giant Russian falls happily beside him like an oversized shadow. I can tell by Adriam's expression that he doesn't trust us and is tired of sharing.

 I take a few bites of my oatmeal because it feels wrong to waste it. We murmur, and I find myself drifting in and out of the conversation until I can't stall any longer. Reluctantly, I get up. 

It's time to make my case.