As Mariella and Vidalia drew near Tybalt, an athletic-looking foxman and a harpy wearing a thick wrap of bandages around her leg stood over him, watching another woman who was bent over the necromancer.

  The fire mage had to crane her neck to see what was going on around the foxman’s legs. When she did, her eyes immediately widened.

  Hey! The foxgirl kneeling beside Tybalt was kissing him for some reason.

  Mariella walked a bit faster to close the distance, but fortunately, she wasn’t running. She had just enough time to see what was really going on.

  The kneeling woman separated her lips from Tybalt’s, poured a liquid from a glass vial into her mouth, then bent and kissed the necromancer again. Now it was obvious that she was feeding him medicine via mouth to mouth, for some reason.

  “Do you need to keep giving it to him that way?” the foxman standing over them asked just as Mariella got within reach. One of his eyes twitched with annoyance as he spoke.

  “Actually, I do,” the kneeling foxgirl said, reddening slightly. “The concentrated elixir is very thick, and it loosens when I swirl it around in the warmth of my mouth before I transfer it. Since he’s unconscious, he couldn’t do that himself. If I don’t treat him this way, he might choke on the elixir and die.”

  “Oh,” the foxman said. “I see. My apologies for even asking. I should have known you wouldn’t have done anything unnecessary. I know how careful you are about, um, this sort of thing.”

  The girl nodded, poured more of the liquid from the vial into her mouth, swirled it, and began giving Tybalt mouth to mouth again.

  The necromancer’s sleeping expression shifted from a frown to a slight smile, and Mariella had to resist the urge to laugh. A moment ago, she had felt the beginnings of jealousy stirring, but it had faded in an instant. Even though she thought the kneeling woman was actually getting some enjoyment out of the experience, despite her explanation.

  It was Tybalt’s face that made Mariella smile.

  Typical, she thought affectionately. Even asleep, he wants affection. I knew I would be sharing him with someone… Vidalia, at least. He’ll probably have more admirers than just us after today. It’s too bad he’s not awake to appreciate this. The foxgirl is pretty—wait.

  The fire mage turned to look at Vidalia, who was just a few feet behind her, having approached more slowly. Then Mariella looked at the kneeling foxgirl again.

  She wanted to do another double-take, but what she saw was obvious enough with just a single look at both women in close proximity.

  They’re identical twins. Right. Vidalia said her sister was taking care of him. I just didn’t expect a twin.

  Mariella watched for another few seconds as the twin continued feeding him. Vidalia stepped up alongside the fire mage and put an arm around her waist. They stood there together in silence, staring down at the man they both cared about.

  I have the stronger connection to him, though, Mariella thought—and immediately wondered why she was competing with the other woman inside her own mind. I shouldn’t be thinking of him as a future husband… He’s dangerous, he’s the enemy of my country, he would probably be a major threat to my family if we let him grow, I shouldn’t even be letting him walk freely, I should…

  None of the self-talk in the world seemed able to do a thing about what she felt, though.

  The invisible chain that bound her to him was still there, wrapped around her neck like a collar, winding through her arms, around her body, between her legs, and ending in the leash that rested in his hand.

  I… have it bad. At least being stupid in this way feels good.

  Her lips kept forming into little smiles as she looked down at him, her heart beat a little faster, and she felt a heat just below her stomach.

  “I’m done,” the kneeling girl said after another minute. “I hope the elixir will work as well as described.” She rose to her feet, and the standing foxman and harpy finally noticed Vidalia and Mariella watching them.

  “You,” the foxman said, looking right at Mariella. “You were the other human who helped us, weren’t you? The one who blasted them with fire?”

  The fire mage nodded. “I… I did what I could.”

  I wouldn’t have even done that much if not for Tybalt urging me.

  Her eyes automatically dropped down again to gaze at the necromancer’s face. He still hadn’t stirred, and from the expression he wore, she guessed he was in the midst of a troubled sleep. The lips touching his had been a distraction, but only a temporary respite.

  If we were in private, I’d kiss him myself… to make him feel better.

  “I’m Andric,” the foxman said.

  “Mariella,” replied Mariella automatically, still staring down at her lover.

  “Thank you so much,” said an elderly female voice from the fire mage’s side.

  Startled, Mariella turned and saw a stooped fox-eared woman with gray hair.

  “I—I haven’t done anything worthy of thanks,” the fire mage said, slightly stunned.

  In truth, I’ve probably killed more of your people by accident than I saved today, burning down their homes. Before I knew the truth about what was happening to you, but still…

  “You’re too modest,” Vidalia replied brightly from the other side. “Our new friend here and Lord Necromancer down there turned the tide of the battle.”

  “Our seer is right,” Andric agreed. “Once this man recovers, we will do everything we can to honor the two of you for all that you’ve done. I will host him in my own house, and—”

  “No, um, that won’t work,” Vidalia said quietly. “I mean, of course, I’m sure our new friend would enjoy your hospitality, war chief, but the medicine my sister gave him is very strong. Our alchemist prepared it at my request. I had foreseen an emergency like this. It placed him into an induced sleep. We will need him healthy to help our people in the dark days to come. I must attend to him night and day with my powers so that this intense sleep does not lift too soon or too late. I’ll give up my bed and sleep in the next room with my sister in case he cries out in his sleep. We’ll take it in shifts.”

  Mariella barely avoided raising an eyebrow at the foxgirl’s innocent-sounding words.

  Attend to him night and day, eh? She’s speaking completely differently than how she did with me, and she’s talking about Tybalt as if he was a stranger. ‘Lord Necromancer.’ I bet he’d love that if he could hear it.

  “He was the one?” the old woman asked, eyes wide. “But the young man is so… so young. I saw one of his creatures get between my son and a spear. Saved my boy’s life, I think.” She bowed low at Tybalt’s unconscious body, and Mariella heard the audible creaking of the woman’s knees. “Please thank him for me, when he wakes up. Tell him he’s in our hearts and in our prayers.”

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  “We will,” Vidalia said, smiling. “Thank you very kindly for your prayers.”

  The old woman stepped back and quietly withdrew. Mariella thought she saw tears in the woman’s eyes as she moved away.

  She was just the first in a long line of admirers who approached to thank Mariella, Andric, Vidalia, and less often the other beastfolk who had fought to defend the village. By far the one who received the most expressions of gratitude, however, was the unconscious necromancer. Vidalia knelt beside his body as the beastfolk continued to approach and pay their respects, resting Tybalt’s head in her lap.

  At first, the fire mage tried to awkwardly refuse their thanks—it simply felt too obvious that she didn’t deserve them. But by the end, she was simply nodding and smiling and taking the hands of the women and children who, often tearfully, expressed their gratitude for the safety of their village and their loved ones.

  There were small gifts foisted upon Mariella in her and Tybalt’s name, which she tried to politely decline at first, until Vidalia whispered that refusal was very rude in beastfolk culture. Then Mariella found herself the proud owner of an animal horn dagger, a loaf of oatmeal bread, a set of carved geode bracelets, a hooded cloak in addition to the one Tybalt had already placed over her, a bunch of small sweets the children gave her, and on and on.

  A few items looked genuinely valuable, and those that weren’t were obviously homemade and would have meant something to the person giving them to her.

  To accept these very heartfelt gifts, she had to tell herself she was just holding them for the necromancer. He deserved them. He clearly cared deeply for these people. He had been the one to make the call to protect them, then charged in and almost given his own life in their defense.

  He’s the enemy of my country… but my country wanted to wipe these people out. I helped try to wipe these people out.

  Mariella found herself blinking back unexpected tears more than once as she tried to hide how the situation affected her emotionally.

  The thing that made her most uncomfortable was how they all bowed and promised to pray for her and Tybalt. Not long ago, she had been destroying their villages. Hers had been one of the faces they would hide from.

  Now, more than one old person knelt and kissed her hand. Somehow they all knew that she was nobility from the way they addressed her.

  “The gods sent you, good lady,” said one old man, in an interaction fairly representative of the trend. “May they bless and keep you.”

  Accepting their gratitude felt dishonest, even hypocritical, made even more so with Tybalt quietly suffering nearby as Vidalia tried to soothe him with her powers.

  I barely agreed to help him protect the village, the fire mage thought. So many regular people were hiding here, and their lives would have been snuffed out like so many candles. If not for you. By the gods, if not for you, I would have helped in the mission. What kind of woman am I? What kind of country have I been defending?

  She shook her head at the latter thoughts, frowned with worry, and looked over in the direction of Vidalia’s unconscious charge. He shivered as if freezing cold, though there was already a fur blanket someone had gifted draped over him.

  Live, all right, Tybalt. You have… you have more work to do here. There was a warm feeling in her chest as she stared at his face. Tybalt, you—

  “I think you can escape now,” came a feminine voice, soft but matter-of-fact.

  Mariella turned her head and saw the twin.

  “Um, I can…?”

  “You can escape,” the foxgirl repeated, a slight sardonic note to her voice. “We need to carry Lord Necromancer there off so that he can recover in peace. You and he have stayed long enough to endure most of the admirers, and no one can reasonably expect you to remain for longer once we protest the village savior’s health as a reason to leave.” She lowered her voice. “Take the opening. They’ll keep you here for hours otherwise. Our people are more accustomed to revelations of disaster than they are to causes for celebration. They’ll be milking this for weeks. And I can see you’re uncomfortable.”

  Mariella nodded numbly. “Thank you.”

  “I’m Vicky, by the way,” the foxgirl added. “Victoria to strangers, but… I have the idea that you and I are going to get to know each other a bit.”

  “Mariella,” the fire mage replied.

  They squeezed each other’s hands, and then they bent to pick up Tybalt.

  Together, with Victoria and Vidalia on the lower half and Mariella cradling his head against her chest as she bore the upper half, they began walking the necromancer out of the village.

  Mariella dimly realized she hadn’t asked how far they would be going, but she supposed she could endure even a very long walk with just half of Tybalt’s weight in her arms. She could have carried him by herself for a few miles, at least.

  The foxgirls in front of her were obviously much weaker than herself physically. Victoria carried the majority of the weight on the foxgirls’ half of the necromancer’s body, while Vidalia appeared to be struggling to carry the weight of just one of his legs. Victoria gently pushed her sister off after less than a minute of this, and Vidalia walked beside them with an expression of slight helplessness until she brightened and realized she could help by grabbing all of the random gifts Mariella had been forced to accept.

  How are these twins so different? Mariella wondered as they walked.

  Vidalia and Victoria had identical heights, identical fennec fox ears and tails, and identical faces, but the similarities ended there. Vidalia was as pale as the full moon. Victoria had a healthy-looking tan. Vidalia was thin and delicate, with twigs where arms should be and small, perky breasts. Victoria’s arms were almost as toned as Mariella’s, and her breasts were noticeably fuller than her sister’s. Both women had the same well-shaped hips, but in Vidalia’s case, it was almost as if that was where all her weight had gone.

  Did someone take Vidalia prisoner and starve her? Is this the price of being a seer? Or am I somehow wrong about them being twins?

  All three ideas felt faintly ridiculous, but no other obvious explanation for the difference between two obviously identical twins presented itself.

  As they reached the edge of the village, however, something happened to take Mariella’s mind off of the discrepancies in the two women’s appearances.

  A foxman with graying temples and a handlebar mustache stepped into their path, hands raised gently as if in a gesture of mild objection.

  “My dear seer,” he said, fixing his eyes on Vidalia, “would you mind pausing a moment?”

  “What is it, dear chief?” she asked with a smile so sweet that Mariella knew it must be fake.

  “Is it truly best to take the young lord out of the village? My home is available—”

  “Your son already made that generous offer, sir,” Victoria interrupted gently. “My sister needs to be available to care for Lord Necromancer in his induced sleep state. Her power, you understand.”

  Right, her power is to do with dreams, Mariella thought. Vidalia mentioned that excuse before. The fire mage was almost certain that was what it was: an excuse. The foxgirl just wanted to be close to Tybalt, a feeling Mariella could relate to more than she would have readily admitted before today.

  “Is it truly appropriate for you young ladies to take this young man—”

  “Honored elder, are you questioning our virtue?” Vidalia asked icily. “We will, of course, give up one of our rooms to the village’s ailing hero. I will share my sister’s sleeping space. This woman—” she jerked a thumb at Mariella—“is Lord Necromancer’s lover, so she will keep him warm at night and help ensure I know if he needs me at any hour.”

  Mariella blushed. Lover—I mean, we are, but I wasn’t ready to start introducing myself to people that way… When did I become the kind of woman who gets introduced as the necromancer’s lover?

  It sounded very disreputable—and just a little bit alluring at the same time.

  The foxman floundered as he responded. “Of course not—I mean, I wasn’t questioning that, dear girl, I was just concerned about the way things appeared. I hadn’t factored in the human woman, of course her culture does things differently—” he gave Mariella a nervous smile—“but you must consider how others in the tribe perceive things. I know you’re not used to doing that, as such, yet.”

  So, in our culture, the women are whores? Mariella thought.

  “Thank you, Chief,” Victoria said, bowing her head without letting go of Tybalt’s legs. “If there’s nothing else, we would like to move on. Lord Necromancer will get heavier if we have to stay here holding him for too long.”

  I could carry him on my own, Mariella thought reflexively, but she had the wits not to share that aloud just then.

  The foxman moved aside, and Lord Necromancer’s retinue continued moving along the path out of the village.