BERT STIRRED THE liquid. It was just boiled water mixed with some mint he had found near the stream, but it smelled good and would help warm Cat when she woke. He had hollowed out a log and dropped hot rocks from the fire to heat it up. He hoped to surprise her with the tea, giving her some sense of normalcy out here. She had lost so much. He looked over at her sleeping form and smiled, taking in her long hair which she had braided before sleeping. Despite looking regal at what she thought would be her coronation as regent of Wyrmgate before her father appeared, she had still made practical choices. Her clothes cost more than anything he had ever owned, but she had still chosen leather breeches and boots in order to highlight her practicality as a leader. Having escaped on Yellow’s back, she had stripped much of the finery from her clothes and stashed her bejeweled tiara somewhere. Her long dagger sat beside her, rolled up in her belt. Despite a bit of travel grime, she still looked like a princess to him.

  At the ceremony the day before, she had been about to speak about her next steps as regent of Wyrmgate. Obviously, the focus had been on what the people would do in regards to the growing movement to start a war with the dragons and Cat’s desire to find a way to peace instead. Bert knew that was what mattered most, but she had also promised to make clear her intentions to him. She had admitted, privately, to having deep feelings for him. She had said she feared it becoming an inferno, or at least that was how he remembered it. A lady of the court had asked about her betrothal to Sir Darian Storme and Cat had been just about to state her intentions when everything went to hell. Right when she was about to set everything straight, she had been interrupted by now-king Leoric and Garrick Crowe rushing in and ruining it all.

  Bert shook his head, realizing he was focused on the wrong thing. He was so much less important than this war, and the way he was feeling was nothing compared to what Cat must be feeling. He scooped the liquid carefully with his hand, suffering the heat, and poured it into a small cup he had made with birch bark and pine sap. He took a step back and smiled at the little cup of tea. It wasn’t so long ago he was an orphan, stuck in town all his days. The time with Dray and Mira in the forests had served him well.

  “It smells good, Bert,” she said.

  Bert hadn’t heard her awaken. He looked over to her smiling face and it warmed him more than the tea would have.

  “It’s for you, Cat. I’ve already had some,” he lied.

  She took the cup gratefully, clearly making a point to treat it like it was a priceless relic and not to be spilled at any cost. She sipped it slowly, smiling and raising her eyebrows in shock at how good it was. “Funny how the small things seem so big out here. It’s one of the things I love about being in the wilderness. I’ve been spoiled with so much, I forget how incredible things can be when they are made with care and skill.” She tilted the cup, showing him it was still half-full. “Thank you Bert, but drink the rest. You’re a wonderful person, but a terrible liar.”

  Bert smiled and took the cup, happy to have his share.

  “I guess we need to decide what to do next,” she said, standing and fastening on her belt.

  “I mean, don’t you want to talk about what happened? They took everything from you,” Bert said, filling the cup up again with what was left in the log and passing it over. He leaned up against Yellow, the massive dragon. The big wyrm didn’t even seem to notice, breathing slowly in sleep.

  She sighed. “It was certainly an…eventful evening, but I have learned never to fret over what could have been.” She saw him about to talk over her, but shushed him. “Oh, I’m upset and angry, but what is there to do about it now? We must move on.”

  Bert stood, his mind trying to process how she could be so calm about this. Her own father had walked in and stolen her crown from her. Worse, he had been accompanied by the exact, evil man they had spent all this time fighting with. The two were working together and would undo all that they had fought for. All that people had died for! “But…Cat. Your father!”

  Cat patted the log she was sitting on. “What do you remember of your father, Bert?”

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  It said a lot about how far they had come that she asked him the question without asking permission or apologizing for bringing up bad memories. There was no topic they couldn’t discuss. “I remember bits and pieces. My name was not always Lorne, obviously. I was Bertram Sawyer then. My father was a woodsman and he traveled deep and far looking for the best woods to sell. He worked in a team and the children were often left with the wives in groups while the men took horses and wagons to earn enough for us all to eat. He was a busy man who wanted nothing but the best for me. Still, when we had time together, I remember playing games, swimming in lakes and ponds. My memories are all fond. I think he knew he had to make that time count with me, and he did.”

  Cat placed on hand on his and smiled, letting him relive the moments in his head. “I know he was a good man, because I see him in you.”

  Bert nodded his thanks, her words cutting right to his heart and warming him. She was right.

  “My father was not like that. Is not like that, I suppose. Oh, I don’t think he’s an especially bad or evil person. He was trained to be the way he is. His job in life was to learn to rule and take his place when grandfather died. His second job was to have an heir to take over for him. A son. Instead he had me. And the next pregnancy killed his wife. Some soothsayer told him it was sure to be a boy. Instead of the future of the family, he ended up a dead wife, an heir-that-never-was and me to remind him of it all.”

  Bert opened his mouth to interject, to say that you can’t blame a baby for a mother’s death. It was just something that happened sometimes.

  “I know, Bert. I know,” she interrupted him. “I am just saying what I think my father felt and thought. I was just a walking reminder of what he had lost. When he went to war, our relationship actually improved. He sent letters regularly asking about grandfather and Wyrmgate. He talked about his return and how we would work together to maintain what the old king had built, but usher in a new age.”

  “I never knew that,” Bert replied. “That must have been nice to have a chance to connect, even if not in person.”

  “It was,” she replied, smiling and looking to the brightening sky. She began to nod her head and Bert noticed a tear leak from her eye. Rather than wipe it, she let it drip off her chin. “Once his new wife bore him twin sons, the letters stopped. I didn’t even find out from him. I found out one day at court when my grandfather announced it to the cheers of all in the room. No one seemed to care what it meant for me. I wrote a few letters after, but never received a response, so I let it go.”

  Bert let her trail off, giving her time. “I’m sorry, Cat. That’s a horrendous thing to do to your child.”

  She stood, wiping her hands against her pants. “Well, that’s the sort of man he is. That’s why, while shocked in the moment, I’m not really surprised by what he’s done. How could a lowly woman understand anything about ruling a town and making important decisions?”

  “Well, we could head back and try to convince him otherwise. Or we could sneak in and try to take him and Crowe captive to allow the people to choose to have you as ruler once again,” Bert suggested. He knew she was spilling out her feelings to him, but he wasn’t sure how to respond besides something practical.

  “He’s not one to change his mind like that, Bert,” she replied, seemingly happy to focus on what should come next. “The fact is, my father is king now. That is his right, and the way of things for my family. Stopping Garrick Crowe was my duty. He was a rebel and a traitor. Taking power from my father now would make me the traitor. My hope is that the good people of Wyrmgate will convince him that what Crowe did was evil and that he will come around to understand what we did. He is far from a fool, I don’t think Crowe will be able to control him in the way he controlled my ailing grandfather. There is hope for Wyrmgate yet, but returning is not the right play. For now.”

  Bert nodded his agreement. The truth of the matter was he had no idea what to do next, and trusted her instincts entirely in matters of politics. “What next then? Surely we’re not just going to give up?”

  At this, Cat let out an enormous laugh. “I thought you knew me better than that! We have lost but one battle, Dragontongue. The war is just beginning. It’s allies we need. Mira and the Wyrm People are there for us, but we need more people from our side of the border to present a united front to the high king in the Capital. Wyrmgate was supposed to be that, but without it, we’ll need someone else, and I know just who to convince.”

  Bert stared at her, waiting for the answer, but it was clear she wanted him to guess. “Oakhaven. It’s smaller than Wyrmgate, but close by. Maybe the leadership council there can convince your father?”

  Cat smiled and placed her finger on his nose. “Not the worst suggestion, but I have another place in mind. One with its own king and queen, and important connections to both my father and the Capital.”

  “Surely not,” Bert replied, putting the pieces together in his head. “We can’t just show up there on a dragon. Without Darian! He’s still in Wyrmgate and we don’t even know what side he’s on anymore!”

  Cat grinned. “I’m glad you figured it out. There might be a brain for politics in there yet, Bert! Let’s wake up that fire-breathing friend of yours and make our way to Keelwick to see the parents of my betrothed.”