Reese's cabin was one of the largest homes in the settlement of Freemont, and its four rooms housed six Rhean refugees along with herself. The interior's log paneling made me feel like I was inside a growing, living spruce tree, and the abode smelled like baked bread, wool blankets, and the sharp scent of a conifer forest. It made me want to roll myself up in the fur rug and never leave.

Jackson said Reese was considered the matriarch of the mountain town. With no family of her own, she took it upon herself to care for the community—including the children left behind by fallen soldiers and possessed civilians. Every time a new orphan popped up in Freemont, the foster mom was the first to offer her lodgings, and I wondered how long it would take before she added Will, Torian, and me to her collection.

Will, who'd changed into a pair of men's shorts, sat up in bed as Reese and Torian tended to his wounds. Bruises had already formed on his pale skin, and a raster of inflamed cuts and scrapes marred his body. The damage he'd taken in such a short window appalled me, and I feared the crippling pain tomorrow morning would bring.

Beckett sat on a cushioned chair in the corner of the bedroom, recovering from the redressing process, while the rest of us stood around the mattress, awkwardly tinkering with our weapons and overheating in our winter apparel.

I desperately wanted to shoo them all away so I could talk to Will alone, but I could tell he needed some sleep—and maybe some of Tori's special herbal tea.

Our chat would have to wait.

Torian finished cleaning the gash on Will's neck and grinned at me. "Now you guys are a matching set."

Reese looked me over, her eyes lingering on the faint scars spanning my jugular vein. "Except for the white hair, maybe. Were you born that way, dear?"

I shot her a weary smile. "Not even close."

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Will cleared his throat before I led us down a rabbit hole of magic, murder, and poor decisions. "While Beckett and I are stuck—" he caught himself. "While we're taking some time to heal, I need the rest of you to convince my people you're not raging lunatics. They hate Ellsians, so try to make a good impression."

Mason looked at me and mouthed, Lost cause.

I would have flicked his bullet wound if I hadn't agreed with him.

"Um, you may be king around here, Liam, but you still can't boss me around," Valerie complained, folding her arms over her chest. "Kindly rephrase."

Reese lifted her brow at the girl's informality, but Will just frowned. "Fine. Please mingle and humanize your country's citizens. And don't do anything...rash."

"It's like you don't even know me," I teased, and he gave me a pained look as I looped my arm through Mason's. "Rest up, Your Highness. You did your part. Now it's our turn."

While Jackson and Cillian showed the others around Freemont, I decided to go for a walk—an unsupervised stroll, much to my friends' distress. But I assured them I'd stay out of trouble this afternoon. Honestly, I just wanted to prepare for what I was going to say to Will when the Fates finally granted us some alone time.

Deep down, I knew he loved me back—according to Valerie, it was obvious—but it didn't make the confession any easier. Some insecure part of me wondered if he didn't reciprocate my feelings anymore, or if I'd misinterpreted his platonic affection for something else.

It was an unreasonable fear; I knew my brain was simply trying to protect me from the sting of heartbreak. And yet, the call for raw, bleeding vulnerability still frightened me. I'd never had to navigate those treacherous waters before. In fact, for most of my life, I'd ignored the sea entirely. But it was time to leave my island behind.

It was time I learned to swim.

I gravitated toward the farmland, attracted to the winter grasses and the grazing animals, subconsciously drawn to the familiarity there. No matter how far I traveled from my ranch, or how distant those memories felt now, my identity was tied to this lifestyle in many ways. My roots were in Belgate and the land my father devoted his world to, and only now, after experiencing the trials of war, did I finally understand his love for the profession.

There was a simplicity to living off the land and caring for the same beasts every day. There were achievable tasks to check off the list, smaller challenges to take on, and progress to be made. And with that mindfulness, came peace.

It was ironic, really. I'd wanted so badly to flee Belgate and prove myself to the world, but now I ached for fertile soil and a brood of chickens.

How did that happen?

About half a mile into my walk, I came across a young girl crouched next to a black dairy cow. The child was probably seven years old, and she wore a man's coat, a pair of yellow ribbons in her chestnut hair, and boots four sizes too big.

It sounded like she was giving the animal a pep talk, and my lips twitched as I made my way over to the fence.

"What a beauty," I said, leaning against a wooden post.

She jumped, whirling around to face me. Then her blue eyes widened in fear, and she straightened with the cautiousness of cornered prey. "You're the prince's friend. From Ells."

"Sure am." I smiled, trying my best to appear nonthreatening. When she didn't see any weapons on my belt, she relaxed, and my gaze slid to the cow. "She doesn't look so good."

The girl hesitated, as if she wasn't sure she should converse with me, but then her shoulders sagged, and she nodded. "I know. She's acting weird, and she's not eating as much as she should. I'm really worried."

My smile faltered as I took in the creature's sunken eyes and droopy ears. Seeking a closer look, I hopped the fence and lowered myself to the cow's level.

"Hey girl," I whispered. Big brown eyes blinked up at me, and I reached out to twist the hide of her neck. The skin eventually uncoiled, but far too slowly.

Tented.

"Is she gonna be okay?" the girl asked.

I fashioned a confident smile and rose to my feet. "She'll be fine. Just a little dehydrated." I glanced at the muddy field, then the barn at the other end of the property. "We'll need a pale of warm water, a bit of honey, some baking soda, and salt. Think you can help me with that?"

The kid scrunched up her face. "Kinda sounds like a potion. Are you a mage or something?"

I snorted and stuck my frigid hands back in my pockets. "Or something."

An hour later, the two of us sat on the barn floor next to the milk cow, Cheddar. We'd spent a good amount of time convincing the mammal to drink our mixture, and she'd just now finished her second pale. But with some fresh water and electrolytes in her system, she'd make a fast recovery. I was sure of it.

Cheddar gave a pleased sigh and placed her heavy head on the girl's lap. The kid—Molly—scratched beneath the cow's chin, and it reminded me of my interactions with Guinevere and Ophelia. I'd spent many evenings brushing their hair and reading my books aloud to them. Countless nights sleeping in the barn, comforted by their presence.

"Do they have big farms in Ells too?" Molly asked.

I leaned back against a sack of seed. "Quite a few, actually. I grew up on one."

The girl cocked her head at me, her arctic blue eyes studying my face. "Mmm...you don't seem like you're from Ells."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Pa says the people over there put little girls in chains and lock 'em up in the cellars. And they put little boys on a stage and make 'em fight to the death."

"I think that's a bit of an exaggeration," I got out, holding back laughter. "Our countries like to make up outrageous lies about each other, though. My teachers used to say that Rheans worshipped kings like gods and that you would sacrifice your own children in their name. They think that when you light those big pyres at night, you're burning people alive—not cremating and honoring the dead."

Her mouth fell open. "What? That's not true. Why would they say that?"

"Because if we knew the truth, we might just become friends." And if we didn't see each other as criminal adversaries, we might stop murdering each other upon command, halting the bloody pursuit of natural resources and arable land.

Couldn't have that.

She wiggled her eyebrows. "Or more than friends. Like you and the prince."

I shook my head, pretending to laugh, but I was a bit unnerved by her perceptiveness. How did a seven-year-old pick up on that dynamic so fast? There was no way I was that easy to read.

...Right?

"Are you going to get married?" she whispered. Her eyes widened comically. "Are you going to become queen?"

"I...those are some big questions."

And outlandish. I'd sworn off marriage the day my teachers told me it was mandatory. I'd rather die than legally bind myself to a man, even one as handsome and intelligent as Will.

But her question did manage to unearth the fears I'd buried since my chat with Torian. If Will were to reclaim his title after the war, would he be required to marry? Would he be expected to produce children? Heirs?

How would he meet those deliverables with someone like me at his side? How could it possibly work?

I couldn't help feeling that our paths would fork soon, and it saddened me that this could very well be the only time they crossed—at the intersection of war and genocide.

"I don't think I'd want you to be my queen," Molly admitted after a while, rolling out from under Cheddar's enormous head and clambering to her feet. "No offense."

"That makes two of us, kid."

She grabbed the pale of leftover sugar water with both hands. "I think I'd rather be friends."

I smiled, reminded of Eagan and his bright, curious expression. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Then I can get away with stuff like this!"

Cackling, the little rat proceeded to dump the rest of the sugar water over my head before dashing out of the barn, singing something about demon honeybees feasting on my flesh.

Molly and I arrived late to the voting event, both of us covered in grass, mud, and a sheen of honey. Mason took one look at me, then shook his head and immediately walked away, unwilling to claim me as an acquaintance.

The Rhean villagers gathered at the pavilion to cast their votes, huddling for warmth near the fire pits. Children chased each other around, weaving between bodies, and a handful of elderly folks sat on the wooden benches in the courtyard, grumbling with impatience as the sky darkened.

At the front of the crowd, Laughlin and Reese sat at a banquet table counting clay marbles. Molly explained to me that each voter dropped their marble into one of two ballot drums: the black drum, which represented the choice to help Ellsians defeat the crown; or the white drum, a decision to remain a bystander in this war and continue building their utopia unbothered. Then the clan chiefs would count the marbles in each drum and announce the winner.

So far, the co-leaders had each filled several counting trays worth of marbles, and I wondered how close the results would be after Will's performance today. Neck and neck? Or were we kidding ourselves, expecting these strangers to lay down their lives?

On the ceiling of the pavilion, someone had carved the national seal into the wood—a red-tailed hawk sweeping through a mountainous landscape, blood dripping from its feathers. Nine family crests hung from the gable below it, accounting for every clan but the Sterling line.

Hand in hand, Molly and I walked over to Will, who was standing off to the side on crutches, politely greeting those who dared approach him. He'd bathed since the fight, and with a fresh set of winter clothes, a clean face tattoo, and his hair tied back at the slope of his neck, it was hard not to stare.

"Do I want to know?" he asked me, looking over my sticky wardrobe with a hidden smile.

"It's not as bad as it looks," I promised.

Fond eyes fell to Molly and the twigs in her hair. "Uh huh."

The young girl curtseyed shyly, lowering her eyes out of respect, and Will bowed his head in response. "Thanks for looking after Alex this afternoon," he told her. "We were all starting to get a little worried."

"Of course!" She beamed at him, then at the she-wolf sitting next to him. "Oh my gosh. Is that a wolf?" She looked at me. "Can I pet it?"

"You can try," I said, uncertain how the creature would respond to human contact. "Her name's Cinder."

Will glanced at me as Molly released my hand to pet the patient, amiable beast. "Cinder?"

"Because of her eyes," I explained, struggling to articulate myself under his warm, enamored gaze. "They're like...glowing cinders. All orange...and fiery. I don't know. The nickname seemed appropriate."

His lips lifted at the corners, and I gave him a playful shove.

"Papa!" Molly shouted, abruptly taking off toward the voting tables to embrace a befuddled and weary Laughlin.

Laughlin.

As in, Chief Laughlin of the Friedman Clan, the respectable leader of this Rhean refuge, and apparently, Molly's father.

"Mol, what are you doing here?" he muttered, side-hugging her, then frowning at her appearance—though he didn't seem all that surprised by her grubby state. "Why are you covered in dirt?"

"We had a sugar water fight."

He opened his mouth to push her for details, then thought better of it. "Right...why don't you find Uncle Jer? I'm in the middle of something right now."

"I know. You're counting votes. But guess what?" She didn't wait for him to guess. "You know how Cheddar hasn't been eating for days and we thought we were going to have to put her down? And she was all droopy and sad and—"

"Mol."

"Anyways. Alex, the girl over there? The one that's gonna marry the prince?" Laughlin's suspicious gaze flicked to me, and I winced, praying that somehow, Will hadn't heard her. "She saved Cheddar! She made a mixture full of electric lights and saved her!"

"Electrolytes," I corrected, waving awkwardly at her father.

"Right. Electrolytes," Molly agreed. "We found out Cheddar wasn't drinking 'cuz the water's too cold! When she lived in Ells, Alex had a super picky cow, and it refused to drink water that was too icy. Just like Cheddar." She took a deep breath and kept going before her father could interrupt. "So we dug a hole for the trough and put it in there. Now the trough is ins...insul—" she looked to me.

"Insulated," I offered.

"Yeah. And now it won't freeze at night and get soooo cold." She puffed out her chest, proud of her contribution to the farm. "Alex is my friend now. I'm gonna show her the hoop house tomorrow. You should come with us and tell her about Ma's garden."

He glanced at me again, reevaluating, and then he looked back at his daughter and squeezed her around the waist. "That's great, Mol. Let's talk about it later, okay?"

She nodded ecstatically and pecked him on the cheek, right above his wiry beard. Then she dashed away to find Jeremy, and I watched the adults smile at her as she passed, amused by the grass in her hair, tickled by the mud on her pants.

Not a single person told her to walk like a lady or to change into appropriate attire, and I couldn't imagine growing up in a community so accepting.

"So...you saved a cow?" Will drawled after a few seconds, his voice laden with humor, and I hung my head.

Ah, hell.

Laughlin gave one last call for Rhean citizens to submit their tokens, and after a few stragglers dropped their marbles in the bin of their choosing, the final votes were counted.

The pavilion quieted to nervous whispers as Reese and Laughlin arranged their marbles into their corresponding trays. Eventually, the last row of spaces was filled, and the two adults shared a serious look before setting the wooden trays beneath the covered table.

Laughlin took a moment to collect his thoughts before addressing the crowd. "Tonight, you have decided the role we will play in Godric's war. As a collective, you have chosen a future for our people, for our youth." His dark eyes found Will. "May we all honor the results of this referendum."

Reese nodded along with Jeremy and the other clan chiefs, and under Will's mask of stoicism, I could tell he was sick to his stomach.

This was it. This single outcome would determine the strength of our peace accord, the likelihood of our victory, and the possibility of destroying Godric's demon portal. 

One decision could change the trajectory of humanity forever. One decision could end us.

Finally, Laughlin and Reese both stood from their chairs and, as a unit, peeled back the tablecloth. Between the table legs were two stacks of counting trays. On the left, Laughlin's stack of three, each stained a dark brown color. And on the right, Reese's pile of sanded pinewood trays—all seven of them.

The crowd erupted in curious murmurs, relaying the news, checking for validity. Then the mumbling increased to a noisy clamor as the refugees began expressing their excitement, relief, or anger.

I didn't know which tray color represented what, so I held my breath, repressing the urge to reach for Will's hand.

"There's a clear winner here," Reese spoke at last, turning her attention to the prince. She smiled warmly, and it immediately sealed the yawning hole in my chest. "As of today, Freemont stands with Asa Sterling and the nation of Ells in their fight against the monarchy. Today, we are officially allies."

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I promised I'd include the confession scene when I updated next, but I had to push it to the next chapter (so I posted both). Enjoy ;)