We entered one of the old brick buildings, and I was startled to find the space flooded with soldiers. They huddled around wooden tables and along the bar, laughing and drinking. Indulging in all life's pleasures while they still had the chance.

Rover whistled, drawing their attention. "This is Alex. She's a guest here—" He was interrupted by a chorus of hoots. "And she's your captain's baby sister! Act accordingly."

The cat calls dwindled.

Tom was a big shot then. That would certainly come in handy.

As we walked through the pub, a lot of men greeted me with cordial smiles and welcoming head nods, others with suspicious once-overs. A few scoffed and traded sexist jokes.

"What has this government resorted to?" one growled. "Schoolgirls in the army..."

He reminded me of Titan—huge and Yeti-like. Tattoos of cursive names circled his large arms. Four were crossed out, and I didn't want to think about what that could mean.

Rover smiled warmly at the brute, unfazed. "Grismond, this is Alex. Alex, Grizzly."

"I know her. She's the one who brought that Rhean trash here," the giant hissed.

The room quieted to a hum of murmurs.

My eye twitched at the accusation. "Trash? Have you smelled yourself lately, Neck-Rolls?"

Grismond let loose a terrifying guttural sound as he as he stood from the table. "You—"

Smoothly, Rover placed himself between us, smiling back at me. "Let me handle this, Fuse." He cleared his throat and patted the man on the shoulder. "Sergeant, I'm sure you can understand how excited the Captain is...having been reunited with his sister after seven years. She's made it all the way from Belgate, on foot, to alert the Interior. She survived a demon attack. And she brought us a war prisoner to use as leverage. As far as I can see, she's deserving of a warm welcome, no?"

Grismond shrugged Rover's man-hug off. "That boy's an enemy. And she defended him. She could be a conspirator."

"You really think a seventeen-year-old girl is conspiring against the Ellsian government, Gris?"

The snickers around the room only further agitated the man. He glared down at Rover, puffing out his colossal chest. "Women don't belong here, Wright. Skirts don't fight, and they sure as hell weren't meant to carry weapons." His gaze flicked to my sword in disgust. "We won't blindly accept her just because she's Kingsley's blood. His word ain't law."

Rover's expression remained good-humored, but something dangerous took shape in his eyes. The ocean receded from the beach, and I could almost hear the sirens. "You've forgotten your rank, Gris. We respect the captain and those he deems trustworthy."

"Respect needs to be earned," the man spat.

I brought my knife down on the table, piercing the wood and startling the men around me. "Let me earn it, then," I declared.

I was so sick and tired of men debating my worth.  If they wanted me to prove why I deserved a place here, I'd prove it. Even if I had to work twice as hard.

Around me, backs uncurled in surprise. A few mouths pulled into curious smirks.

Grismond snorted. "Put away your toy, girl. This is no place for you."

"And why's that?"

He laughed along with a few of his peers. "You're just a child. You wouldn't last a day in the belly of war."

That sounded like a challenge. "Really? You willing to put money on that? Or are you scared of losing your skits to a school girl?"

Grismond moved forward threateningly, and Rover pressed his hand against the man's sternum—holding him back calmly, but with intention. "Why don't you take your leave, Gris? Before this gets ugly."

The muscles on the man's arms twisted like wrung necks, and he leaned forward, invading Rover's personal space. "Or what?"

A boyish grin lit Rover's face, and a bit of nervousness crept into my bloodstream. I didn't want Rover to die on my behalf.

"Oi! Break it up, you two!"

I spun around in shock, but my ears hadn't deceived me.

The bartender's silky black hair dangled around her ears, the bulk of it tied back in an orange bandana. She held a bottle of whiskey in her hand.

"There'll be no fighting in this building, you hear me? I just had the windows fixed from the last catfight." She pointed her bottle at the men. "I'm not mopping up any blood tonight. If you can't play nice, get out."

Grismond narrowed his eyes, but the aggression subsided. Holding Rover's gaze, he leaned away. Slowly.

"There, see?" the woman purred, and Grismond sent a hostile look her way. Her ruby lips quirked up at the edges. "It's not so hard, is it, Gris?"

He sneered and made for the doors, waving for his posse to follow. "And she wonders why we don't let breeders run a man's establishment," he rattled. "They don't know fun if it's staring them in the face."

When he'd disappeared out the door, conversation returned to a normal octave.

Rover threw his hands up, exasperated. "You won't let me get into one fight, will you, woman? No matter how hard I try you will always be there to save the day!" He collapsed onto the bar stool unhappily.

She shrugged, lifting a pitcher off the counter and filling his mug. "You know I'd let you throttle the Bear if I thought you could handle him."

Rover gaped, snatching his cup before she was done pouring. Alcohol dribbled over the edge of the table. She tsked.  "What's that supposed to mean, Jay? I could take down twenty Grizzlies if your life was at stake."

"My hero."

They shared a grin, and Rover beckoned me over. "Jaden, this is Alex."

She smiled, her brown eyes warm and tender. "Nice to put a face to name. Your brother talks about you all the time."

"Really?"

Rover huffed. "You kidding? It's always Alex once did this, and Alex always did that. The man is obsessed."

"Are you two...close to Tom?" It was weird hearing people talk about him in present tense. I still didn't know how to process him existing.

"Yeah, and we get crap for it," Rover complained. "People think I'm a sycophant because of how he treats me. Lots of backlash."

Jaden slapped him with her towel. "That's because you are one, Rove. Now suit up, I need help."

"Apologies, Fuse. Duty calls."

The blond jumped over the counter, leaning in to kiss Jaden's cheek. She intercepted his face with her hand, shoving him away naturally, like she did this often. But they were both smiling.

I watched Jaden laugh as Rover failed to tie his apron on correctly. She helped his fumbling hands, the two making eye contact for a second too long. Rover did that stupid chest-nose flick to break the tension, and she laughed, swatting at him.

"Nauseating, isn't it?"

I jumped in my seat, turning to the man who'd seemingly appeared out of thin air.

He was middle-aged, and he'd bundled himself in a heavy black coat with too many pockets. His hands were covered in scars and callouses—evidence that he'd been at war a long time, that he'd survived a long time.  "Those two lovebirds have danced around each other since birth basically. Always flirting in our faces. Disgusting."

His voice was rough and strained, like a tired gust—one that had been riding the wind for too many years.

"They aren't together?"

"Friends, they say."

My eyes roamed over the pair again, and I observed their interactions carefully.

Jaden asked Rover about something specific, and he went off, cursing and changing his voice to suit the characters in his story. Glancing at her every once in a while for the reactions he sought. Jaden laughed, rolled her eyes, shook her head. She breathed easy.

"It's refreshing to see young love though, I'll admit. Even in its prickly stage. It makes you reflect. It makes you ask yourself, what are you really fighting for?"

I glanced down at my gloved hands, contemplative.

The military had always been my calling. It had been something Tom and I had bonded over since we were children, and after his passing, it had become a way for me to honor his sacrifice, to live as he had lived. Eventually, that dream had grown to encompass several other goals, including a ticket out of Belgate and a chance to do something, be something.

But now I had Tom back in my life, and I'd escaped Belgate's towering walls, so that left me with new and shifting motivations. 

What was I fighting for?

I didn't have a Jaden to protect. I wasn't even sure I still had a family to support, least of all a home. And the High Court was the last thing I'd die for.

So would I fight for justice? Revenge? Peace?

Freedom, as Frost had campaigned? Or mere survival?

Was I just...trying to prove a point?

Now that I was finally here, I couldn't find my reason, the concrete motivation propelling me forward, and it bothered me.

"Do you think they'll ever admit their feelings?" I asked, trying to bury the uneasiness.

The man took a swig of his beverage. "Undoubtedly. War makes the heart grow fonder, you know. One day he'll come too close to losing his head, and one of them will break, and next thing you know we'll have a whole family full of sarcastic alcoholics."

I grinned. This guy was something else.

He stuck out his hand.  "Beckett."

I grasped his forearm in favor of his bare palm, surprising him a little. "Alex."

"The one who brought the enemy," he said, although his tone was playful.

"He's not an enemy."

"Then just a bad person."

"No...not that either." Just mean-spirited and deceitful.

"Then what is he, exactly?" Beckett stroked his chin and the dark hair that gathered there. "To me, he sounds like the kind of person the world is set against without bothering to lend an ear to. Thrown into a current of labels and prejudice. Much like a young lady I've had the pleasure of sitting with."

The man watched me with old green eyes that reminded me of the ancient forest around us. It made me feel childish and small.

Was I really judging Will so harshly? Even though he'd lied?

My father once told me I shouldn't judge people solely by their actions. That sometimes people have the right intentions. But Will's actions were noble. His motives were the screwy part.

"Haven't you been fighting Rhea for years?" I asked. "How can you be so...?"

"Tolerant?" He chuckled and took another swill from his mug. "For the last ten years, I've been fighting monsters, not people. Before that, I fought the country, not its inhabitants. It's important to make that distinction. Rhean citizens shouldn't be punished for what their king has done. Rhean soldiers shouldn't be condemned for their service." He gave me a small, sad smile. "People like to forget that we all bleed red, hm?"

I hadn't heard anyone speak so sensibly in a very long time. Especially when it came to Rhea.

In school, we read texts on Rhean's deviance from democracy, its adoption of a monarchy and witchcraft and other medieval practices. We read horror stories of human sacrifices and burnings to honor the king. We were taught to hate the culture. To perceive its people as prehistoric and savage and murderous.

But Will didn't seem like the type of guy to go around lighting people on fire. He was intelligent. Sensible. And perhaps...perhaps even considerate, if you looked deep enough.

"They'll kill him."

My heart thudded so painfully, I thought it might have fallen through my chest and hit the rum-splattered floor.

"...What?"

"Vengeance...fear. They run deep among us." Beckett watched the crowd, eyes sweeping over Grismond's abandoned table. "Your friend's not safe here."

My mouth turned to sand, and I struggled to swallow.

Kill him?

Beckett poured me something from the bottle he'd hijacked. "Here."

I peered down at the foamy liquid. "Alcohol?"

He smiled.  "There's nothing else here, kid."

"Will you tell Tom?"

A wink. "Who's Tom?"