The indiscernible ball of fire finally set behind the mountain peaks to our west, and the villagers gathered about the fire pits, eating dinner in huddles and spilling laughter into the darkness.

I'd never been part of a community that hunted and foraged together, prepared food together, and served each other—man and woman and all characters in between. But in a settlement like this, all parties pitched in to provide for the clans, even the children.

There was something beautiful about that interdependence, as opposed to Belgate, where a man cared only for his blood relations, resulting in places like the slums. Places where people like Will and Harmon feasted on our excess produce and expired meat, where the motherless and the underprivileged lurked in the shadows.

Our people could learn a lot from Rhea, their sense of equality, their reciprocity, so long as both nations managed to deconstruct their vilifying perceptions. But after seeing how far Grismond and the other soldiers had come, that didn't seem like an impossible feat anymore. Not even for someone as bigoted as Mason.

Tonight, the blond sat with Jeremy and the other members of Laughlin's task force, swapping war stories and comparing battle scars. While I'd worked on decoding Aila's journal with Molly, Mason and the team had spent the afternoon discussing alternative weapons and battle logistics. According to Will, the weed came to life in an environment full of experienced fighters and strategists. For once, Mason's ideas were acknowledged and adopted, his realism respected, and in return, the last of his ingrown prejudice had faded from his eyes. Among Rheans, the thunderclouds had cleared from pale irises, and he now gazed upon the settlers with respect and solidarity.

Although, while he seemed to be enjoying himself among the soldiers he'd once considered gutter rats, he also appeared rather distracted. Every few minutes, he'd throw a hopeful look at the tree line behind him, waiting for a young doctor to return from his voyage.

Tori and the others had pledged to be back before lunch, and the sky was now black behind the dull, murky film encasing our world. Laughlin figured the trio had encountered a washed-out trail or rockslide. He said they'd likely been forced to embark on a detour around the mountain face, but I recognized the false assurance in his eyes. I'd seen it before on Rover's face, back when he insisted Will would find his way home from Godric's domain.

"—of course! I'll come find you later," Valerie promised one of the five unmarried men she'd been flirting with all day. The 20-something stretched his arms out to her, asking her to stay, but she waltzed away from him with a bright, playful laugh.

The archer spotted me sitting alone with Richard and Cinder, and she pranced over to join me, her red cloak billowing behind her like stage curtains closing on a performance.

"Did you mean any of that?" I asked as she sat down on the bench adjacent to mine. "Or are you just getting his hopes up like you did with the other four?"

She grinned, sparing the young refugee another glance. "He's definitely handsome, but as much as I enjoy flirting with strangers, it's rare that one ever catches my attention. They're men, after all." A mischievous, honey yellow filled her eyes as her gaze settled on the flames. "Honestly, when I really, really like someone, my ability to flirt completely disappears. I get as flustered as any other girl. Sometimes I even get mean." The surprise on my face amused her. "Didn't expect that, did ya?"

I shook my head. Valerie had made herself known as a bit of a promiscuous woman among the ranks. A seductress who spoke in blandishments, a real siren who enraptured every recruit—often as a means of securing dessert or evading chores around camp. Based on her confidence and overall success rate, I'd assumed she'd sampled a good number of single men in the armed forces, but now it was clear just how many of them exaggerated their encounters. "You said it's rare when you reciprocate their feelings. Have you ever..." I hesitated, reflecting on my word choice. "Have you ever reached the stage where you felt comfortable enough to...take things to the next level?"

Her smile was shy, but her reaction told me I hadn't crossed a boundary. "Only once." I raised my brow, hoping to pry the details out of her, but she passed the question back to me before I had the chance. "What about you and Liam? You two knockin' boots yet, or what?"

Hot blood filled my cheeks, and I spluttered out an unintelligible response. "Val, I...we just got together! I don't even...I can't imagine Will even wanting...there's no way he'd...no..."

She laughed at the word vomit dripping down my chin. "It's okay. There's no rush. You'll get there eventually. Just time your cycle right, and there's nothing to worry about."

Patrons, I wanted to die.

Throw me into the fire, already.

Deliver me from this mortifying hell.

"Speaking of love," she drawled, enjoying the miserable glower I sent her. "You better watch out for these Rhean women. They have their eyes set on that crippled prince of yours."

I followed her gaze to the dark-clad figure at the pavilion leaning on his crutch. The man in question was helping himself to a second serving of stew, and a group of girls had surrounded him on all sides. The young ones were coy and giddy in his presence, showering him with questions about his life in Ells and the story behind his face tattoo. Meanwhile, the oldest of the lot didn't even attempt to hide their affections—playing with their hair, biting their lower lips, laughing at everything he said (even though I knew for a fact he hadn't cracked a joke). Not intentionally, anyway.

I'd seen the girls in Belgate swarm the wealthy boys the same way, desperate to earn their signatures on a marriage contract. But I really didn't blame these ladies for shooting their shot. Will was royalty, and should he intend to restore the monarchy one day, they were all eligible wives.

I grinned at Will's irritated frown and bored eyes—a cry for personal space and silence. Poor thing.

"Hey, if they want to deal with his flighty attitude and gloomy sense of humor, they can have him," I said, turning away from the harem. Not that the prince would entertain their advances, of course. Not with his sights set on my flat chest, deadly hands, tangled hair, and war-battered body.

If the time came for Will to make marriage a priority someday, I knew he'd choose what was best for him and his people. I didn't need to let that distant future tarnish my present; I'd let my fears spoil enough already.

Valerie inspected my face for lies and insecurities, but when she found nothing of interest, she leaned back on her hands, impressed.

"By the way...I'm sorry," I told her, deciding it was time to address the fissure in our relationship. The crack concealed by anecdotes and spirited conversation.

"What for, doll?"

"I just...I'm not very good at....friends?" I passed her an embarrassed smile. "Especially friends who are girls."

Her nostrils flared with a stifled laugh, but she waited for me to finish.

"Honestly...I used to think feminine women were weaker somehow. Meek. Easily influenced," I admitted. "It felt like, by becoming this...textbook definition of a woman, they were giving into the High Court's demands. It felt like they'd chosen societal expectations over rebellion, and individual advancement over progress." I'd thought women like Ellen Price were shallow and selfish for leaving Nova to fend for herself, for sending me to the Council for dress code violations. But after witnessing Jaden's influence over the cadets—made even more potent by her feminine nature—Siren's strength throughout her pregnancy, and Ellen's nurturing role in action, I despised the victim mindset of a younger, angrier Alex.

I'd had it all wrong.

"It makes sense why you felt that way," Val insisted, trying to validate my naïve worldview. "You were all on your own. Those women in Belgate didn't look out for you like they should've. No one told you how they felt when their husbands weren't around. So of course you saw them as complacent."

"But that's just it. They were looking out for me. In their own way, they were showing me how to survive."

Upon hearing the regret in my voice, Richard rested his chin on my knee, staring up at me with those loving, round eyes. As the sole witness to my transformation, he'd seen the resentment enter and leave my bloodstream. He'd watched society pit me against my own, then release me from its blindfold.

"There will always be women like Gaines who use people like me as footstools, and I'll never forgive them for their betrayal. But...girls who don't follow the rules wind up in Ground, or worse. And the women of Belgate knew that was my trajectory. I think most of them were trying to save me by stomping out my individuality."

Those moms and sisters and wives were victims too, victims and learned survivors. And now that I'd seen firsthand just how corrupt and dangerous our government was, I understood why they'd avoided messy entanglements with lawbreakers.

"But then I met you," I continued, smiling at the girl who wore lipstick to battle and rinsed her face with rose water every morning, "and you completely changed my perspective. You're the most feminine person I know. Hell, you're the pinnacle of womanhood, and you're also one of the strongest people in the federal army—by far, the most selfless. And...I'm really grateful to have met you."

She stared at me, her eyes glossy, her lips parted around a stolen breath.

"And...I'm sorry that I implied you don't take things seriously enough. I know you've given everything to this cause—flower crowns don't negate your lived experience. I shouldn't have snapped at you when you were trying to help me out with Will. You didn't deserve that."

My gaze found the prince again, and to my surprise, he'd managed to escape the mob of fangirls. Only now, he'd subjected himself to a seminar about the Miyamoto Clan's family tree, and I didn't see him escaping that history lesson any time soon.

"I ended up taking your advice, Val, and this feeling...it's everything I could have ever wanted." I swiveled to face her again. "I'm really glad I get to experience this with Will before...before it all ends."

Her face pinched as she wiped her tears away, and the anger in her eyes startled me. "Why do you keep talking like that? Like you're going to die?"

It was the last thing I expected her to say. And I probably should have been used to that by now—being so completely thrown off by her responses—but she was an expert at keeping me on my toes.

"...I just have a bad feeling."

She glared at me, denying my evasion. "Tell me the truth, Alex. We're friends. So prove to me you can be open and vulnerable with me. Place your trust in me." Her brow lifted, and the pain shone through her frustrations. "Liam and Siren always keep me in the dark because they think I can't handle it. Don't do that to me too. I'm not a child."

It's okay to rely on us every now and again. That's why we're here, idiot, Mason had said back in the Gritz, calling me out on my hyper-independence. And he was right. Valerie was my teammate, and I was allowed to burden her with my secrets. I didn't have to shoulder everything myself.

Not anymore.

Shedding my last piece of armor, I moved to sit next to my friend, and in a broken whisper, I told her of Nova's psychic readings, the strange visions of Fudge and my mother beckoning me to the netherworld. She listened patiently as the emotions piled up in my throat, and then she pulled me into a hug and repeated sweet assurances into my neck.

A heavy creature leapt off my shoulders in that moment, and the archer promised me she'd fend off Death with every arrow in her quiver—and an iron skillet if it came to that.

"No reunions with the dead, love. Not while I'm around."

I huffed through my tears. "You better stick around, then."

"Oh, you can count on it, Kingsley. I'm as sticky as pine pitch."

"Pine pitch, huh? Do you ruin clothes too?"

She smiled. "Only if I deem them ugly enough."

Val and I were wrapping up our sniffling duet when a burst of frantic shouting erupted from the forest. 

A second later, a train of whinnying horses emerged from the black wall of pine trees to our left. At the lead, Cillian rode in on Will's mustang while ponying Valerie's well-minded steed and a flustered, agitated Frank. The redhead looked distressed, his hair in disarray, his face covered in grime, and when I saw the spectacle behind him, the missing pieces fell into place.

Jackson, currently yelling for help, half-carried, half-dragged an injured Torian out of the trees. He slung the medic's arm over his shoulder and heaved the young man forward, one laborious step at a time. I couldn't make out the injury from here, but the sight of blood drenching Tori's abdomen and trousers hollowed my stomach.

That doesn't look good...

The sight beyond the hobbling pair, however, chilled my blood.

Bringing up the rear, Mason's steed, now riderless, towed a heavy, writhing object behind him—by the looks of it, some kind of wild game restrained with rope. But as the horse dragged the creature closer to the pavilion, pulling the animal across jagged stones and clumps of grass, I realized its cargo was no wounded beast.

What slid over the gravel in a growling, squirming heap was a soldier covered in mud, pine needles, and—to my horror—a sizzling layer of black blood.

My eyes darted from Tori's pale face to the demon captive. 

They'd brought a Pan into the valley.

But why? For what purpose?

Children screamed as Cillian led the party straight for the crowd, and the adults scooped up their young ones and retreated from the courtyard. "Tori needs medical attention!" Jackson cried, and Mason sprang forward to help him carry the doctor to the closest cabin.

Tori passed Mason a warm, sheepish smile, battling the pain. "Looks worse than it is. I'll be alright."

"Yeah, you've said the same thing to federates right before you sawed their legs off," Mason complained, his jaw wound tight. "I'll consider you alright when you're not bleeding buckets."

Sensing Mason's genuine fear, Tori's grin faded, and he nodded. 

"What happened?" came Laughlin's angry bellow at the same time Jeremy hissed, "What's a goddamn demon doin' here?"

Cillian dismounted, and his throat bobbed as he locked eyes with the Chief of the Friedman Clan. "The last snowfall wiped out the trail, so we had to posthole our way down the mountain. When we finally got to the horses, this crusty bastard—" he shot a hateful look at the demon, "attacked us out of nowhere. In the tussle, Torian took a stab wound to the gut. I would have killed the thing right then and there, but..."

"But what?" Laughlin demanded, his bushy eyebrows forming a bold, horizontal line across his face.

Cillian slowly turned to stare at me, and my two souls cowered at the ominous look in his eye. 

"He told us he had an urgent message for Ikelos."

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