I asked nothing of the people of Pine Hill. I introduced myself then we all set up camp outside the village. And despite never having done anything to them, despite in fact only ever having helped them, they still set a “hidden” guard between our camp and the village.

  I would have loved not to be affected by that, but it took some serious effort from the humans to cheer me up once we spotted the sentry. They sang, told stories, and bantered with a forced enthusiasm, determined not to let the villagers’ suspicion get to me. Credit to them: it did help a little. What helped a lot was when Lahnie snuck out to join us.

  She did so because she thought it was monstrously unfair that we weren’t allowed to stay in the village. Now, that simply wasn’t the case — we’d chosen to camp outside because it was more convenient for everyone involved, especially me. And she did show up in the middle of Mak’s enthusiastic performance of a pretty damn raunchy ballad, but I doubted the girl understood any of the innuendo anyway. And we did have to have Herald bring her back home pretty quickly, since it was hours past sunset and far past her bedtime — how she’d stayed up so late, I had no idea. None of those things stopped us from spoiling the hell out of her with dried fruit snacks, dragon rides, and enraptured listening to anything she wanted to tell us.

  I loved that kid. It was very different to how I loved Herald, Mak, or the others who I knew so well — to be completely fair to Lahnie, I loved her more for what she represented than for who she was. She was a sweet kid, and I liked her enough for that alone, but to me she represented hope.

  Lahnie was the first person on Mallin I’d actually spoken with. Garal and I had talked at each other, but we hadn’t understood what the other said. With Lahnie I’d actually been able to converse — as much as one can with a preschooler at any rate. And once I’d convinced her that I wasn’t a demon and that I wasn’t planning to eat her, she’d accepted me quickly. After I first met Garal, Lalia had driven me off, making me despair of ever having a friend again. Then her sister had given that hope back to me. Life could be funny like that.

  The next day we set off early, but I made sure to say goodbye to Lahnie before we did. Her parents found it hard to refuse when I insisted.

  It was mid-morning by the time Mother came to check on us. She’d flown past during the previous evening, but had kindly chosen not to land and terrify the people of Pine Hill more than she already had. She was heading out to patrol the coast again, and all she wanted was to make sure that we were all right. She didn’t stay with us, which was just as well. Our poor mules had a hard enough time with me; when Mother landed in a clearing up the road from us, we couldn’t get them to take another step, and Apple almost bolted, poor boy.

  I let Instinct take over for the short while I spent with her, until she vanished behind the mountains. I thought I caught some suspicious glances from Tam once Instinct retreated, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Tam was no fool. None of them were. I knew very well that Instinct spoke and acted differently from me. I wondered what they thought of it, though. Did they think that I was putting on some act in front of Mother? But what else could they possibly think?

  Pretty much on the spot, I decided that if anyone asked, I wouldn’t lie. I wouldn’t tell them about the whole “human soul” thing, but I could let them know about Instinct and how Mother could tell who was in control. They could draw their own conclusions.

  Nobody asked. “Bonus personalities” clearly wasn’t the first thing anyone thought of.

  From Pine Hill, it was more than a hundred miles to the ruins of Old Mallin. No more than another forty of those would be along a good road. At that point, we’d reach a bridge across a large river — the same one along which Piter’s Clearing and Sweet Creek had once lain — and beyond that bridge the road quickly deteriorated from lack of use, becoming pitted, blocked by fallen trees, and overgrown. The going would be slow.

  Twenty miles northeast of that bridge was the ruined villa we’d searched for when I’d first gone north. From the lakeside campsite near Pine Hill to that villa, it had taken us five full days. Based on that, we estimated at least a week, possibly as much as nine days, from Pine Hill to Old Mallin. That was assuming that the terrain didn’t get any worse than we’d previously seen, and that everyone could keep up the pace. Besides that, we’d soon be entering the truly wild northern forest, where Rifts became common and monsters were everywhere. That might slow us further. Ten days, maybe?

  I was starting to second guess my choice to take them so far north. Not because I wouldn’t enjoy travelling with them; it might get boring at times, but I was still with all my favorite people, far from the rampant bullshit of Karakan. It was a bit of a holiday, really. No, the problem was that I actually worried about that city. The Council could sit and spin, but I worried about the inn and the staff there. I worried about Ardek’s kids. I worried about the Gray Wolves. I worried about Maglan and Darim and the others with the army. I worried about all kinds of things, and I was pretty sure that I could make a difference. And yet here I was, skiving off so I could enjoy myself killing monsters and exploring ruins.

  I didn’t even need Conscience to feel guilty about that.

  “What’s wrong?” Mak asked me. It felt sudden, but when I thought about it, she’d been walking next to me and throwing glances up at me for a while.

  “I’m feeling irresponsible, that’s all,” I said, lowering my head to her level to spare her neck.

  “Over what? Not spending more time looking for those goblins? We asked in Pine Hill, but—”

  “No. Thanks for asking around, but I was thinking about Karakan. I could be helping the army, or the navy, or both. I could go and finally rein in the lord hierophant and the lord justice so the Council stops wasting time and making stupid decisions. Instead I’m here, choosing the few people I love over the hundreds of thousands of people I could be doing something for.”

  “Firstly, not all the Council’s decisions are foolish,” Mak scolded me lightly. She must have believed that strongly indeed to be able to disagree with me. “Secondly, the city’s future is not your responsibility. No matter how important it is to us all, the city as a whole has not exactly done its utmost to make you feel welcome.”

  “But it is important to you. And there are a lot of people in it, or connected to it, who are important to me. So I feel kind of shit about just leaving, even if they did pay me a sack full of gold to go.”

  “In that case, why not go back?” Mak said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You could do something to feel like you’re helping out. Maybe do some more scouting flights for Yakamo or go south to help the army.”

  I snorted incredulously. “What, and abandon you instead?”

  “You wouldn’t be abandoning us. You can cover, what? Eighty or ninety miles in an hour?”

  “Sixty, if I don't push myself,” I mumbled.

  Mak nodded, eyes bright with an almost embarrassing admiration. “We’re less than an hour from Karakan at that speed. You could leave in the morning, do something for the city, and be back with us by the time we make camp. And if you happen to be away overnight, well… I’d miss you. I always do, and we all would. But you know what? We’re not the same as we were when last we went north. We’re stronger — Mercies, I am so much stronger! And there are more of us, and we’re better equipped. We’ll be as safe as anyone can be here.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Is Draka going somewhere?” Herald asked. She'd snuck up on us, as much as she could sneak up on someone who always knew where she was.

  “She's feeling guilty about leaving the city,” Mak answered with no concern for my privacy.

  Herald silently nodded with understanding.

  “Our sister is trying to convince me to leave,” I grumbled.

  Mak shook her head. “Not ‘convince’. I’m just saying that you can, and you needn't worry about us if you do.”

  “Well, that is true,” Herald agreed. “And you can easily check in on us whenever you want.”

  I looked between the two of them. I wasn't sure how to feel about this. It wasn't like they were ganging up on me, exactly; I just wouldn't have expected them to be so open to the idea of me leaving them as we got further north. “If I didn't know you two better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”

  “But you do know us,” Herald said fondly. “So you know we only want the best for you.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. Of course I knew that. And sometimes they knew me better than I knew myself. Are we okay with this? I asked my two invisible companions.

  At this point I’d feel worse about staying, Conscience said. Can't you feel the concern rolling off Mak?

  And I could. By then I knew that I hadn't been imagining things. It wasn't like how Mak always knew what I felt no matter what or how far apart we were. Mak had to be close, and her emotions had to be strong to get through. But they were there, vibrating along the bond we shared. And Conscience was right: Mak was very concerned about how worried I was just then.

  All I got from Instinct was the mental equivalent of a noncommittal shrug.

  “You're sure that you’ll be safe?” I asked my sisters.

  “Between the two of us, Val, and Tam? Absolutely,” Mak said. “And don’t forget that Avjilan has spent his life hunting monsters; I don’t think Herald will mind if I say that he’s at least as good as she is with a bow. Sarina and Marvan are no novices, either. You saw them sparring. Those axes of theirs aren't for show.”

  “Go on,” Herald said. “Go. Do what you must.”

  “Do you want to come?” I asked them both. I hadn't planned to ask. The words came unbidden, just slipping out so unexpectedly that I wondered for a moment if one of my headmates had taken control. But, no, it was just a combo of poor impulse control and wanting everything — to both relieve my worries about the city and to be absolutely sure that my sisters were safe.

  “Yes,” Mak said reluctantly. “But I don't think I should. I need to be here with the others if anything happens.”

  “And I should be here if you need to tell us anything. Besides, you will be back, will you not? I thought I heard something about returning by the time we make camp.”

  Annoyance, relief, anticipation; I felt all kinds of things at their refusal. But most of all, I felt a kind of embarrassed gratitude. They were right: if I left, they should both be there with the others. But I’d gone and opened my big mouth, and if they’d said yes, there was no way I could have left them. So I wished them all a good day’s journey, told them not to push Ardek and Kira too hard, and took off south.

  It took less than an hour to reach the city. In that time, I checked in with Herald and Mak twice. The only reason I didn’t do it more often was that after the second time Conscience offered to do it for me.

  Once I reached Karakan, I ended up circling for a while, watching the ships and the slow movements of the crowds below as I tried to make up my mind on what to do. Considering how spur-of-the-moment the whole trip was, I didn’t actually have a plan. I didn’t want to get caught up in anything that might keep me away from my family all night, at least not my first time leaving them alone in the north. Thus, heading out to sea or south to the army was out of the question; I was far too easily distracted if I didn’t have a definite goal in mind. Instead I decided to use my day to remind the city that I was still around. Not that the vast majority would have any idea that I’d left in the first place, but it would be good to visit a few important people and places, at least.

  I did briefly consider landing in the forum or some other square like I’d done before, but I quickly gave up on that idea. The fear and suspicion that I’d faced in Pine Hill was still very fresh in my mind, and I didn’t feel like seeing either on the faces of random people. I especially didn’t want to risk facing anger. According to the lord commander, Tekereteki agents had been busy spreading the word that I was the reason Tekeretek had joined the war. If I faced a crowd large and scared enough, they might just work up the minerals to do something dreadfully stupid. I could probably take a few harsh words, but if people started throwing things, well… I may have been mostly human, but I was dragon enough that I really only had one response to aggression.

  Perhaps I was being pessimistic. Perhaps there was no real chance of anyone doing something to set me off. But for some reason, I kept hoping that I had a future in this city, and a bloodbath was the kind of thing that might cement me as an unpopular figure. Better not to risk it.

  The first person I wanted to visit was Captain Nahasia Alanna. I didn't have anything particular in mind, but I wanted to continue working on bringing her fully to our side. Besides, Mak had asked me to; we’d promised Alanna friendship and understanding, and Mak didn't want the girl to feel like we’d abandoned her.

  That decision made, I turned toward the Citadel. I considered setting down on the roof, like I’d done when meeting Sempralia, but the courtyard was plenty big enough, and there were more people there. Not just uniformed guards, either: I recognized the style worn by the staff on quite a few of them. On their backs as they made themselves scarce, mostly.

  It wasn't hard to get Alanna out there, though it took a while. I only had to tell the nervous guards that I wished to speak with Captain Nahasia, and half a dozen of them took the opportunity to separate themselves from me by some nice, thick stone walls. It did take a few tense minutes before she appeared, though, perfectly put together but somewhat out of breath.

  “Lady Draka,” she said, giving me a shallow bow. Her words were tight, but her uncertain smile looked genuine. “I was told you might visit; I just didn't expect you so soon.”

  “Oh, you know…” I said noncommittally then made a show of looking around. “Is there anywhere we could speak privately?”

  “Captain—!” a nearby guard said, but Nahasia waved him off.

  “Thank you, Sergeant, it’s fine. Lady Draka is a friend of the city and to be trusted.” Then she looked up with a sigh and said, “The roof, I suppose.”

  “Is that a problem?” I asked.

  “Not as such. But I just came down all those stairs.”

  I snorted with amusement. “I can save you the climb if you want.”

  “How so?” she asked cautiously.

  “Face away from me, legs together and arms out,” I told her.

  At first she looked nonplussed. Then a whole theater of emotions played across her face, beginning with comprehension, moving swiftly through disbelief and a moment of fear, before settling on stony-eyed determination and a sort of grim acceptance.

  “Very well,” she said — almost snapped, with how tense she was — and posed the way I’d told her to. “I’m ready.”

  “Captain!” the unnamed sergeant said again, having caught on as quickly as Alanna had. He was probably going to protest how immensely foolish it was for her to turn her back on me, but I really wasn’t interested. At the same time he spoke, I surged forward, grabbed Alanna, and leaped.

  There was a breathless, “Oop!” from her, but that was all she really had time for. As tall as the Citadel was, I was strong, and it was a matter of seconds to bring us to the roof. Putting her down safely took longer than flying up there.

  With her feet back on solid stone, Alanna half-crouched, hands on her knees for a few moments as she caught her breath. She turned to the two stunned guards who’d been patrolling up there and panted, “Clear the— clear the roof!”

  “Captain! Are you all right?” one of the young men asked, looking torn between getting closer to check on her and absolutely not wanting to get anywhere within thirty feet of me.

  “I’m fine, guardsman,” Alanna said, straightening. “I want to have a private word with Lady Draka. Now, clear the roof! Don’t make me repeat myself!”

  The other guard looked from her to me and back to her before saying, “Yes, Captain!” and grabbing his comrade’s arm, dragging him off to one of the two doors that provided roof access.

  Then we were alone — just us, the wind, and the view.

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