"I always hated the dressing-up part of being a princess," Dean muttered, running her fingers over the fine fabric of the simple yet elegant white dress.

"You hated it because Father turned everything into a self-serving spectacle," Dana said. "Even our birthdays revolved around him being our father, rather than a celebration of us."

Dean curiously examined the echo of Lee's memories in her head.

They reminded Dean of the fairy tales she once adored as a child—until Wolfgang entered their world and slaughtered Lee's family.

Guilt slammed through her, even though she had no part in what had happened.

She had not even been born yet.

Lee was alone for a long time, she realized.

"My elf is content,'" Lee admitted, shaking her head and bringing Dean's attention back to the present.

That familiar, self-mocking smile tugged at Lee's lips, reminding her of Arlene.

"But the wolf... not so much," Lee admitted with a wry smile.

Shae's warm laughter filled the room, grounding Dean in the present and reminding her that they were not alone.

Dean glanced at the Du Moi twins with their raven tresses, pale, unblemished skin, and sparkling green eyes.

They looked entirely different in their house dresses than they did in their battle gear.

Nor did they act the same way in private.

They were much gentler and more refined in the privacy of their tent.

And it was understandable.

They were women in a merciless man's world and to make matters even worse, they were royalty.

We do the same thing... she admitted.

She was half surprised that, despite their famed beauty, their father had not married them off yet. Then again, their tongues were sharp when dealing with the opposite sex.

Most noblemen might be intimidated by women who could—for lack of a better term—hold their own against men.

"What would happen if you, your elf, vampire, and wolf just ended up being on the same page?" Carla asked Lee, amusement sparkling in her eyes.

Dean met Lee's eyes and found it hard not to laugh.

"Something bad," they answered in perfect unison.

Shae and Carla exchanged glances, and their laughter filled the tent.

Dean grinned as Lee winked at them, chuckling.

I have never heard my sister laugh.

She had only ever caught echoes of the sound in Lee's memories before the massacre.

"Do not keep the king waiting," Shae reminded, shooing them toward the door.

They sobered instantly, lifting their hems as the twins pulled the tent flap aside.

Dean stepped through first.

The balmy evening air was thick with the mingled scents of horse manure, unwashed bodies, and dust.

"See you later," the twins called after them.

Dean and Lee waved and walked off.

"This feels strange," Lee murmured as they made their way between the rows to the king's tent.

"Yes," Dean agreed.

She lowered her voice and peered into the night, but they were alone.

"Do you think this is a trap?" she asked.

"I have no idea," Lee admitted.

Her silvery-blue eyes shifted restlessly from shadow to shadow, unsettling Dean.

She looks more elf than wolf, which speaks volumes.

"She also does not trust this move on the king's part," Dana said.

When the soldiers spotted them along the way, they stared.

It made Dean uncomfortable.

Maybe they are struggling to reconcile the image of us in dresses with the creatures and warriors they know, she reasoned.

Then, one by one, they sank to their knees.

Dean and Lee looked at each other.

The moment echoed the uneasiness they experienced with their vampire caretakers earlier.

Two guards opened the flaps to the king's tent when they approached and stood at attention.

They hesitated before the entrance and Dean took a deep, cleansing breath.

"Are you ready?" Lee asked.

Dean nodded.

They linked their arms and passed the guards.

The tent flaps settled in place behind them, and it felt like a prison door closing to Dean.

A servant awaited them inside.

"This way," she said, avoiding their eyes as she curtsied low before leading them to the dining area

"As if there is any other way," Lee grumbled in Dean's mind.

The table was set for a feast.

Only a king could command such extravagance at the edge of a battlefield.

Dean regretted how full she was, though the confectionaries still drew her attention.

She glanced at Lee, who eyed them as well.

A grin tugged at her stiff lips and the corner of Lee's mouth twitched.

The rich aromas intrigued her, but for now, they were no temptation.

Even Dana barely noticed—they were too tense to care about food.

In an hour or two, that might change.

Her gaze swept the room, landing on the king.

He sat at the head of the table with Lord Darren on his left.

Prince Darren,she reminded herself.

The distance between them stretched into a chasm.

Dressed in full uniform for the occasion, he rose as they approached.

Her heart ached, but she was distracted from her own pain by Arlene's feelings bleeding into hers.

I am not the only one who mourns the divide.

They suffered for different reasons—Dean for the man she loved, and Arlene for the best friend she had lost.

They curtsied before the king, who gestured for them to sit. Prince Darren followed suit.

It felt surreal, like a parody of their former lives, since the messenger's arrival.

With so many of the king's memories imprinted in her mind, she struggled to see him as the cold, unfeeling ruler they had met mere days ago.

Prince Darren shields himself better than his father, she thought.

"Or maybe King Duncan manipulated what we saw during our failed healing attempt?" Dana suggested.

"Does it matter?"Dean murmured. "We can no longer distance ourselves from him as we did before."

"There is so much more to him than meets the eye," Lee added.

And Dean realized she had thoughtlessly dropped her mental guard.

"So much good, kept hidden like a carefully guarded secret," she agreed.

The king's voice cut into her thoughts.

"You look well."

His gaze darted between them, sensing their silent exchange.

Yet she was sure he could not read their minds.

"I thought you would die," Prince Darren said.

Shadows played hide-and-seek in his eyes.

"Hell, I thought I was dead for a moment," the king admitted, rubbing his trimmed beard.

A deep frown creased his forehead and his dark brows nearly touching.

"If you ever try something like that again, I will kill whatever it is you are trying to heal."

His words startled her.

King Duncan, though he appeared closer in age to his son than a father should, was one of the oldest vampires alive. Even though his dark hair and beard, piercing green eyes, and strapping build painted a different picture.

Aside from his eyes and his build, Darren favored his mother, former Lady Eleanor Fairchild, who became Leah the Warrior Queen.

She was also Meghan's mother—the sister Lord Darren only recently discovered.

The very same Meghan who had risked her life by defying the council and allowing them to escape.

If not for Meghan, they would never have sought Terra's help, never become the strange creatures she had fashioned, nor be sitting at the king's table now.

Instead, we would be dying in agony in some distant castle while Lord Darren suffered.

She could not forget that the council had acted on the king's instructions.

Bonded cannot be separated from the one they are bonded with.

"Which means he has tried to kill us twice," Dana hissed.

There was no denying it or explaining it away.

She hesitated, unsure how to react.

Lee was silent as well.

"Did you hear me?" King Duncan pressed.

"Yes, Sire," they echoed.

He held their gazes, commanding their submission.

The pressure in her temple signaled that Lee wanted her attention, so she allowed her mind to open.

"His will is as powerful as Wolfgang's and Verne's," Lee whispered in her head.

"Perhaps stronger," Dana added.

"Yes," Lee answered to Dean's surprise.

"You can hear her?" Dean asked, curiosity cutting through the weight of the situation.

"Yes," Lee said.

"You are not supposed to," Dean said, completely distracted.

Although she and Lee could communicate from mind to mind, the wolves had always been personal.

They were only ever supposed to be able to speak to their bearer—unless they granted full control, or the human part of them was unconscious.

"Nothing about us works the way it should," Lee reminded, before closing the connection.

If the two of us are linked in every other way, then why does it surprise me that she is somehow connected to my wolf?

"Dana, can you speak to her wolf?" she asked.

"No."

"You almost killed Prince Darren."

The reminder refocused her attention on the king.

Dean lowered her head.

She could not bear the thought of almost having harmed him.

Dana gently whined.

"You are angry at me, daughter of Wolfgang," King Duncan observed—his voice unreadable.

Dean's hands clenched beneath the table when she heard her father's name.

She hated the bond of her blood to him.

"As are you, princess of the elves," he continued, shifting his piercing gaze to Lee.

"Speak freely," he urged.

They exchanged wary glances

"This is no trap," he assured them, leaning back in his gold leafed chair with its rich brocade seat and back.

"You wished to kill us," Dean said.

"You are risking our lives!" Dana warned.

Dean caught the way Lee's eyes widened at her boldness.

"Do you not trust that I had a reason?" The king lifted his knife, testing its edge.

Is it a warning, or is he idly toying with it? She could not look away from the glimmering reflection of the gold-plated utensil.

"Sorry, Your Highness," Lee intervened in a belated attempt at diplomacy. "We did not intend to hurt either of you or ourselves."

"Something interfered," Dean insisted, her voice edged with frustration.

The king nodded. "Yes, young one, you are right."

He waved off Lee's apology, the red gemstone in his daylight ring glittering in the low light of the oil lamps.

Dean dared to meet his gaze directly.

"Dark magic affected you, but it did not take hold," he revealed.

The thought had never occurred to her, but Lee's lack of reaction suggested she had already considered it.

And it should have occurred to me after everything that happened up to now.

"We are still thinking like a werewolf," Dana said.

"But that is not the mindset we need in the world we now live in, is it?" she asked, trying not to let the knowledge daunt her.

Not just that she belonged to the magical realm now, but that the most powerful mage of all time had set her sights on erasing, her, Lee, and Prince Darren.

And once they were gone, Duncan, Wolfgang, and Verne would follow.

Yet it did.

Artemis meant to rule alone, and they were the last obstacles in her way.

Soon, there would be no one left to stand against her.