Faine twiddled the toothpick hanging from the corner of her mouth and propped her boots onto the table, crossing one leg over the other. Across that table—what he considered a desk—sat Eliphas with his furred hand clutching tightly onto a pen as he waited for Faine to speak. The paper underneath the side of his fist was already crinkled after he grabbed onto the corners to control his anger of having to do this as his assigned task for the day.

More than anything, she enjoyed watching him squirm.

Sinwolves, like gadigators and minotaur, were known for being larger than life itself. They didn't fit into small chairs and couldn't wiggle their way against a table without smooshing their entire bodies. It brought great humor to Faine that the chair he sat in, high-backed and rimmed with dragon wings, was barely visible. His shoulders scrunched together, hunched high against his back. Faine had watched him sit down minutes ago. Wiggling his way down to fit in the chair wasn't exactly the easiest thing to keep quiet about.

But while she was busy making up these jokes in her head, Eliphas had them already planned out. Something about her horns, another about her purple skin and dark lips, the strange fit of her golden-brown eyes against dark lashes and silver hair that transcended into black at the tips. Faine made out the list in her head but enjoyed the mocking conversation playing out within her skull.

Eliphas wasn't as...sickly to look at compared to the many other sinwolves she came across on journeys to and from one end of the kingdom to the other. Steelmaw Woods was always packed with them. Whether they came close or not, they were always watching. The terror happened when she spotted them through the trees, watching her, their bright eyes glowing against the dark branches of clustered pine.

Like the common trend sinwolves carried, Eliphas was no different. If Faine didn't know him to be supercilious and arrogant, she'd think his azure eyes were breathtakingly beautiful. The truth hidden underneath them was enough to make her look at anyone differently, whether the sinwolf or another creature ugly underneath skin.

Felirams had soft, silky skin while their opposites, the sinwolves, prided themselves in their scars and uneven tones of fur. The ears on the side of his head were not human, they appeared like that of a traditional wolf; pointed and slathered in their respective coats. Anything human about him was not such, the fur, the hunched posture, the molding of his snout—halfway human and halfway wolf—set their kind apart.

Rabid and foul beasts. Faine could hardly stand to look at him without snarling or outright vomiting.

In meetings like these, their two personalities clashed. Hard. Eliphas didn't want to ask the questions, Faine didn't desire to answer them, and the person left out of the loop and sitting silently, like a child, happened to be Ametrine. The most mature of them all, apparently. Faine had ample time to do this for hours on end, stare at him and wait for him to speak. Patience was her number one virtue.

Pissing people off was her second.

Eliphas, finally, huffed through his nostrils. "If you speak, the faster I can go back to doing something that actually matters," he droned.

"Celestia put you up to this believing you were the right man for the job." Faine pointed her toothpick at him and he grimaced. "After all, our fearless leader is too busy at the moment to deal with such fickle matters."

"Are you angered because she picked me and not you?" He narrowed his thin eyes.

Faine snorted. "You're wrong if you expect me to do everything. Someone like you, a beast with a mind and the ability to read and write, must ask the questions." She paused a moment and pursed her lips. "You possess the ability to read and write, don't you? Or did the notorious members of Steelmaw skip that lesson and go straight for teaching you how to rip off heads?"

The chair creaked when he leaned forward and folded his hands together. The retractable claws in his hands shot out against his palms, but they didn't cut. Not his skin, anyway. The ink pen he'd clutched so tightly without a care for breaking latched onto the very tip of his claw, and through that, snapped like a spine. Eliphas shrank away from the calm demeanor he held so near and dear to his heart in meetings like these, and tensed. His body went rigid, coated in a thick layer of rage, and he said, tone deathly quiet, "Felirams were our favorites. We picked our teeth with their horns when we finished with the rest of them."

Faine grinned wide. "How bold of you to assume I give a shit."

"How bold of you—"

"That's enough." Ametrine placed her palms flat on the desk but backed away when the sinwolf shot her a warning look. They were seated in his private chambers, a dark and dastardly place and a hellhole that Faine hadn't hoped to visit.

When she first walked in, the environment hadn't held as much death as she thought it would. The walls weren't bathed in blood; the bed wasn't ripped to shreds—everything was normal until she saw the plagues of heads and horns on the wall. Some had teeth or belongings to famous and rich beasts he killed in his lifetime. She didn't have to wonder what beast the horns belonged to.

The worst part was the placement. Directly over his bed. In the middle, a hog's head. Hanging from his teeth...golden chains.

Faine shivered. The lifeless eyes followed her wherever she went.

"I wish to take a bath and sleep," Ametrine said coldly. "To do that, both of you must do what Celestia asked. Behave, please. Just for one day." She held up her finger in the air.

Rolling her eyes, Faine dropped her boots from the table and sat properly in the chair. "In Isflean, behind a popular restaurant by the name of The Amber Pavilion, we encountered two suspicious life forms. One a feliram, the other an elf." The words slipped from her tongue with ease, but each threatened to tie her tongue with regret.

Luckily, neither member of the room caught on. Eliphas scribbled it down word for word and looked to her again, this time with a new pen he hadn't snapped in half. The enjoyment she received from making him shake with rage was a similar feeling to the easy toying with Jatloxl, another beast unable to control their temper.

"Physical descriptions? Suspicion of occupation?" Eliphas grumbled.

"The elf...teal skin, hazel eyes, brown hair—beautiful face. Noticeable." She rested her cheek on her fist and slouched back down. Nalea and Kaspar would kill her for this, she could imagine them standing in the corner, screaming at her to stop.

To save her ass from being found out, she had to. This was her only choice. Playing the double life, manipulating others into believing she was their friend instead of their enemy, meant stepping on toes. Faine didn't oppose it, but she had every right to hate spilling the truth of her friends to her enemies. Eliphas, Ametrine, they didn't know the people she was describing were members of Rising Eternity, a guild she was a part of and had been for nearly one-hundred years.

"The male feliram was tall, broad, handsome. Everything you'd think of seeing in a warrior. Grey skin, golden eyes, white hair, black horns." Faine bit the inside of her cheek.

"They didn't reveal their occupation, but I suspect they are criminals of another guild or independent spies," Ametrine included. "From the looks of it, they were investigating and were more than aware that I kept looking in their direction."

"Of all the things you were taught, getting yourself caught is not one of them," Eliphas insulted. "Be smarter about your approach next time; Silver Willow does not employ the inexperienced."

Faine twirled her hair. "Yet here you are."

"For your information, I have experience beyond your basic intelligence. Do not think I am weak like you."

"Ah, that must be why you were sent to visit with the high elf father," Faine said with a slow and sarcastic nod. His stupidity didn't extend beyond getting the hint.

Every time she looked at him, she remembered the young and innocent faces of the mortals locked away in cells. They weren't facing use as many others did, slaves to the rich and famous in the land, but were about to come face to face with something even worse. Faine couldn't put herself in that place of terror without feeling nauseous to the core; running through the woods at high speed, panting for breath and waiting for a monster to break through the tree line, pounding straight for her.

Eliphas was always the face of the beast chasing after her. The exercises were for the younger sinwolves rising in their training, but he was the initiator. At some point, Eliphas was the one running on all fours through the woods, claws extended and fangs bared. He leapt for his target and sunk both those weapons in. That was always the moment Faine woke up, when his body sailed through the air, directly for hers.

Deserving wasn't a factor for the sinwolf sitting in the chair across from her. He faced his punishment for what transpired and what he lied about, but Faine thought about it that night, and the night after that, and the night after that. If she was the leader of Silver Willow or any crime guild, the punishment for what he did—with absolute knowledge of who he hurt—was death. Or at least life banishment.

Celestia wasn't in the business of making enemies, and her leadership techniques differed from the harsh rise and fall of Faine's axe. Two different reigns. One common goal. Stand on the line of both sides of crime. Be the criminal; be the investigator. Help the good and the bad. Make allies, not enemies, on both sides. May death await you.

"You weren't sent at the hand of skill," Eliphas snarled. "The elves are too weak to stand up to sinwolves; the only beasts they trust are the ones with horns and come as beautiful as they are. Anything with teeth and a brash nature doesn't end well. Sinwolves are left out to dry."

Ametrine slammed her hands down on the table, making Faine jump. "This is not what we're here to discuss!" she shouted. "Celestia is already preparing a large team, nearly all of Silver Willow, to leave for the palace. Your bickering is taking up too much time!"

Eliphas and Faine shared a wide-eyed look. It was all fun and games until Ametrine ripped out someone's eye and demanded to run this meeting herself. "We need to discuss what we'll do about these two beings; if they'll have any interference with the ceremony," Eliphas said. Though he spoke out of respect for the angered feliram, his tone still reflected boredom.

"I don't believe they'll be a problem." Faine knew they weren't. "We revealed nothing of the like, and I believe they caught us in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing more."

The tip of Eliphas's pen scratched hard on the surface of the parchment. Any further pressure and it would break. "Fine. I'll send out scouts just in case."

Faine's blood ran cold. "I don't believe that's necessary. They were amateurs and put on a show to scare us. Truthfully, they were likely rogue thieves believing they're better than everyone else."

"I have to consider what Celestia would say." He spoke with little to no affection for their leader and voiced himself to sharpen a bite when he spoke about her. "She always sends out scouts. Always."

Extra forces were already going into finding Saskia, and if they wasted another on keeping a lookout for Nalea and Kaspar...all their forces had the potential to come crashing down around them. Silver Willow, in the process of gearing up for its strongest mission yet, didn't have the resources despite their claim.

Faine didn't receive the chance to mention it for the door opened behind them and Ilian popped his head in. "What do you want, mortal?" Eliphas snapped.

"We're not on a last name basis anymore?" He forced a pout to hide his pure hatred for the sinwolf sitting across the desk. "I never thought you'd reach the point of pet names."

"That's not—" Eliphas dropped his head into his hands and rubbed up and down. "Between the two of you, I can't wait until I move onto something bigger and better once this mission is over."

"What can I say?" Faine shrugged and propped the heels of her boots back onto the desk. "We aim to piss off and not please."

Eliphas growled towards the desk.

"Besides that, can I speak to Faine? I have matters to tend to with her and these little tea parties aren't necessary for a time like this."

"Just...go." Eliphas waved her away and Faine stood without a hitch. "I'll gather the rest of the information from Ametrine. She's the only one listening, anyway."

Ametrine gave Faine a look of promise, meaning she'd be fine alone in a room with Eliphas. The sinwolf had his own troubles to deal with and the fact that Faine was leaving and Ametrine was staying was a prayer sent to the heavens.

Anything to get rid of her.

Out in the hall, with the door shut behind them, Faine smiled at her first meeting with a calmer Ilian. The last time she had seen him was lying in her bed with a pillow hugged against his chest. The sheets tangled around his legs and at some point during the night; he tugged off his shirt due to the heat.

Faine didn't wake him that morning; if the wine wore off by that point, he was in for a battle of mild dizziness and faint nausea. Nothing he couldn't handle, working in Silver Willow left for many worse situations, but it still didn't sit right with Faine. And the matter of protecting her family at Rising Eternity prompted her to forget entirely about beating Eliphas to a pulp.

Once the ceremony was over, then. She, along with the rest of the members, didn't have time.

"You wish to speak to me?" Faine asked once they were walking down the hall together, side by side.

His distance was greater than usual and, seemingly to keep himself from fidgeting as he spoke, Ilian folded his hands behind his back and rested them at the tailored base of his waistcoat, thumbs pressing against the white stitching.

"I want to...apologize for how I behaved the last time we saw each other," he said. "I realize it was unattractive at best."

Faine arched a brow at him, and to make him more comfortable, nudged her elbow against his. "You're not the first drunk mortal I've tended to. What you did is nothing new; in fact, your case was fairly mild."

"That's not an excuse for what I did." He waved his hand about as he talked, but frowned at it once he spit the words out. The only solution was to clamp it tighter around his back. "I—I behaved like a lunatic, and for that, I am truly sorry. It won't happen again."

"Why are you being so formal with me?" Faine asked. "You've never behaved like this."

"Well, I was speaking to Ginevra, and—"

"Ah, that explains it." Faine nodded dramatically. She rolled her shoulders and went on, "Let me guess, she said I smell like cow manure and share a passing resemblance with bull balls."

Ilian tipped his head back and laughed outright. "In fact, she said that exactly. Though, I believe both are drastically untrue."

His smile was like no other Faine had ever seen. Whenever he conveyed that expression, his entire face lit up. Mortals were known for having frown lines, but smile lines—Ilian possessed those. The faintest of dimples against the corners of his mouth drew Faine's attention, but she was too tuned into his twinkling eyes to perceive the handsomeness of his face. By the time she digested the smile itself, Ilian wiped it off and left her staring at his prominent cheekbone that faded into a dark hairline.

Forcing herself to look away was as hard as uncovering why she was enjoying his bliss. Too many questions, not enough time.

Isflean's journey didn't take more than a few days. It was one of the shortest trips she took, only because the high elf father and his son handed over their best and fastest dragons to help their cause, similar to Silver Willow's. Form a plan, save lives, don't waste a second. The high elf son even escorted them back on a dragon of his own, revealing that, like Faine, he had a passion for flying and training the beasts to be his children. Not beasts. Children.

Whoever his bride was, Faine hoped she had it in her to love dragons as much as her new husband. The future of Pinedon was in strong hands once his father decided the proper time to hand over the land. Dragons needed to survive as long as rulers were in place, they were a staple for royals and rich merchants, entertainers, and warriors in the same sense.

Through that time in Isflean, Faine didn't have available space to think about anything other than what was at stake. Normally, missions weren't confined into a box and held dearly in her grasp. But one dealing with the high elf family—it meant something entirely different. Purpose. The mission involving the innocent lives of mortals held the same weight Faine allowed itself to carry, but this...the high elf father.

Due to the severity of who was involved, she didn't have time to think about anyone. Not Ilian and not Kaspar or Nalea until she saw them with her own eyes. Standing at his side now, breathing in his scent and memorizing his smile for when it wasn't there, Faine realized how much she missed his presence. Just having him there was enough comfort that her heart settled and molded with her mind.

"Besides the insults Ginevra reminded me of, she also told me I needed to apologize for my actions. And I agree. So here I am...apologizing," Ilian said. He splayed his arms wide at his side.

Faine grabbed onto his arm and stopped him in his tracks. "Ilian, did you do anything to hurt me?" she asked.

"No, I didn't—"

"Did you do anything I would frown upon? Did you hurt anyone else in any way while I was gone because of what the wine did to you?" Ilian shook his head; his throat bobbed. "Did you raise hell on the base or swing from the chandeliers? Did you urinate in my bed?"

Again, Ilian couldn't say he did. He smiled, though, at the thought of anyone urinating in her bed. Faine reached forward and took his hand in hers, clasping one over the top and the other cupping his palm.

"I don't want to hear apologies from you if they are unnecessary," Faine said quietly. She patted the back of his hand and stared into his soul, far enough to view the unsuspecting nature of what she'd say next. "As for Ginevra, tell her to go suck one."

He snorted. "She won't be very pleased to hear that."

Looping her arm around Ilian's waist, Faine was more than happy to know that. She knew what Ginevra's play was, protect Ilian at all cost, but bully him in a passive-aggressive way that made her actions acceptable. Too many people Faine encountered behaved the same way, and she didn't care for their nature.

Ginevra was immortal, she had all the time in the world. Ilian didn't. He needed to take what he had and run with it, for life was too short to waste on people that made him believe he was in the wrong.

Ilian draped his arm around her shoulders and held on tight. He couldn't smell in the same capacity immortals could, but Faine got the sense he was breathing in every bit of her to remember for when she departed. When she had to return home to Rising Eternity and leave him behind. For the future, Faine blocked off those thoughts and only focused on the present.