Tyrhyld is a beautiful city, even half-burnt and streaked with soot and ash— it’s tall and built of pale stone only a shade or two darker than the white sand on the beach. The city walls extend into the ocean far enough to ensure that there are no weak spots on land. The water-side of the city is open to the docks and such, which may seem like a safety hazard, but, looking back behind us, I see a massive log-and-chain boom raised back into the narrow harbor mouth. Two heavily fortified watchtowers sit atop the pale cliffs on either side of the harbor mouth as well, to guard the entrance and work the boom. I have no doubt that it would take a fair amount of magic and men to overcome the garrisons of those towers. Obviously, the pirates didn’t succeed.

  And it would take even more resources to gain the city itself. Tyrhyld is built on a tall, fairly steep hill that slopes down to the sea. The land side of the city is almost another whole city by itself, while the ocean side looks to be the sea-merchants’ and sailors’ district. Lord Garein’s round citadel sits in the middle, reaching for the heavens like a pale arm. I can’t help but stare up at it as we disembark at the docks.

  “Watch your step.” Daniel says, grasping my arm as I trip over a warped board in the dock we’re walking along. Startled, I look at him. Amusement dances in his eyes.

  “It’s quite the beautiful sight, isn’t it.” He nods at the citadel rising far above us. I look back up at it.

  “It’s definitely something.” I agree, hardly paying attention to anything else.

  The harbor master’s aide and Antony lead us through the orderly streets toward the citadel. I am amazed by how clean and bright and prosperous this city is, even with the ash and bits of rubble. I haven’t actually been here before, and I didn’t know such places still existed in the Clan lands. There are bright flowers growing in painted window boxes on the houses and shops we pass. At the least the ones that aren’t crushed and burnt.

  Flowers! Who knew.

  A merry sound catches my attention, and I look over to see Daniel chuckling and openly watching my ill-concealed amazement.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Have you never seen a city before?” He teases. I shake my head.

  “Even as battle-worn as it is right now, I have never seen a city this bright and clean, besides—.”

  “Besides what?” He asks. I shake my head again, waving my hand in dismissal of the question.

  “Never mind. It’s one of those secrets I’d rather keep.”

  Daniel’s face saddens. “Trust is a bridge, Ava. It travels both ways.” He remarks quietly. I look at the ground.

  “I’m sorry, Daniel.” I say softly. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it gently.

  “You’ll come around.” He says lightly. I muster a small smile, but make no reply. After a moment, he releases my hand and we walk in silence. I savor the feel of the sea wind in my hair and on my face as I try to regain control of my thoughts. Take a deep breath of the air. It fills my lungs, blessedly clean even with the smoke, and scented with market spices and salt. I allow myself to enjoy it.

  A squad of guards in decent armor halt us at the the main entrance of the citadel. The main doors here are double doors; huge, reaching up dozens of feet. A smaller wicket gate is set in the left door.

  “Lord Garein is expecting us.” Antony tells the guards, handing the squad captain the letter the elf had received in Ciliren. The captain peruses the missive, then nods to us.

  “Very well.” The captain says and opens the wicket gate for us. The harbor master’s aide takes her leave of us and trots back down to the docks. Antony leads us inside the citadel.

  The courtyard we find ourselves in is cool, shaded from the sun. It’s also as wide as a street, and across from us there is a two-story building wrapping around the rising center of the citadel. It circles out of sight. I look up and behind, and my breath catches in my throat. The outer wall rises the height of the highest point in the citadel, and the courtyard we’re in really is a street of sorts. I think the wall stands by itself all the way around the citadel. Recessed windows of sorts pock the surface of the wall high above us, letting in sunlight and wind. How in the world… does this stand like it does?

  “Coming?” Daniel’s query jerks me out of my thoughts and I turn to see that my friends are all waiting for me, ready to move onward, and watching me with amusement as I gawk at the splendor of the architecture around us.

  “Sorry, yes.” I reply, a blush warming my cheeks. I hurry to catch up to them, and Antony leads us around the building a little ways to a set of stairs that lead up to a second street. This street runs between the second story of the ground building and another two-story stone building. I’d wager it continues like this all the way up to the top.

  Despite my keeping myself fit, my legs are burning by the time Antony stops in front of the doors to the top of the citadel. The top is a round tower, a couple dozen feet tall or so. Recessed windows pierce the stone walls in various places, letting in light and air to the interior, I assume.

  The citadel is huge, and a beautiful work of art, but I am glad that I cannot see past the buildings around us. We’re hundreds of feet in the air and I have no wish to look down at the city below us.

  Another squad of guards bars our way at the doors to this final tower. But when Antony announces himself and shows them his missive, they stand aside. One of the men tells us to wait and slips inside the tower. He returns a moment later and beckons us forward.

  “Lord Garein will see thee now. Thine weapons, if thee please.” The guard says. We disarm ourselves and place our weapons in the custody of the guards. For my friends’ sakes, I keep back no knives or anything. The guard who is spokesman regards Antony with something akin to fondness. “It is good to have thee home, Kitten.” He holds the door open for us.

  Antony presses his lips together in a thin line as his cheeks flush a pale pink. He motions for us to follow him as he steps inside the tower.

  “‘Kitten’?” I whisper discreetly to Daniel. The paladin grins.

  “Later.” He whispers back.

  Inside the tower, it is a simple, single room. There is a dais across from us on which is place an elegant, wooden chair carved to look like an oak tree. There are around a couple dozen or so courtiers in the room— men and women both, and mostly elves—, and a straight path to the dais is open before us. Antony strides confidently down this path, stopping a few feet from the dais and bowing low to the elf who is seated on the chair there. Daniel, Eliana, Raeldon, Auvanna, and I mirror him.

  “Welcome home, Antarion.” The elf on the dais has a surprising deep voice. Antony straightens and looks the elf in the eye. We behind him straighten as well.

  “Thank you, Uncle.” Antony responds, his voice oddly subdued and formal. So, this is Lord Garein. While Antony and Garein exchange their pleasantries, I study the elvish lord.

  I’ve never met him before. I hear he rarely leaves Tyrhyld. He’s ruled here for a couple hundred years, I believe, but he doesn’t look a day older than mid-thirties. He’s as ash-blond as Antony, with the same pale grey-blue eyes. Maybe slightly taller than my friend, and definitely with a more muscular build. Garein’s demeanor is every bit the lord.

  I tense as Garein’s eyes turn to me, and he regards me cooly. “Will not the changeling reveal her true form? Thee will not be persecuted here.”

  I freeze, then flick my gaze back and forth between Daniel and Antony. An odd sense of betrayal wells up in my chest before I have a chance to squash it down. “You told him?” I ask softly.

  Antony’s face is unreadable. Daniel’s look is apologetic but firm.

  “Everything that you told us. Antony sent a message ahead, detailing our group. It wouldn’t have been right to hold back information like that from his lordship.” The fool paladin says.

  I lift my chin, icy formality entering my tone. “We will speak of this later, Daniel.” Then I turn my gaze to Garein. “Forgive me, my lord. If you truly wish it, I will reveal my true form.”

  He inclines his head to me, all cool seriousness. “I do wish it, Lady Avalon. I will have no pretenses here.”

  “Very well.” I sigh softly, resigned, and drop all physical guise. I know it the instant Daniel and the others behold my true form. The paladin’s eyes widen, and something unreadable enters his gaze. Antony just looks surprised. Eliana looks as if she has never seen a changeling before, Auvanna is astonished, and Raeldon…. Well, Raeldon is his usual stoic self.

  I look down at myself, wondering why they could be so surprised. I am just me, your typical changeling. I haven’t cut my hair in a while, and its translucent white length flows down a little ways past my waist, unfettered by any ties or pins. My skin is a changeling’s usual translucent pale-as-snow hue. I can’t see my eyes, but I know that they are the same shade of grey as my brother’s are. I am the same size I usually am, so my clothing still fits… I literally cannot see what astonishes them so.

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  “What?” I ask, looking back up at them. Antony shakes his head.

  “It has been so long since I have seen a changeling shift. I had forgotten the strangeness of thine folk.” He says, though not unkindly. I can’t help but feel a bit amused. Daniel just swallows before answering me, his cheeks faintly pink.

  “You— you’re just… not what I’d expected.” He says, his voice oddly strained. I quirk an eyebrow at him, and glance at Lord Garein to see him looking at Daniel with an amused expression on his regal face.

  “Um, alright….” I say, before addressing his lordship. “Is this more to your liking, my lord?”

  He nods once, satisfied. Yes, I can definitely see the family resemblance between him and Antony.

  “Indeed.” He says. “Outside these walls thee may take whatever form thee wish, but while thou art inside my citadel, I would not have thee hide thineself from us. I regret the hatred thine race has faced, but here thou art safe.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Uncle.” Antony speaks up. Garein looks to him. “The city has already repelled the invaders. There is no more fighting to be done at this time. What would thee have me do?”

  Garein’s face saddens. “Help with the cleanup, visit with the inhabitants of thine city, and mourn thine dead, Antarion.”

  Antony’s expression freezes. “Who of our family… didn’t survive?” He asks.

  I’ve never seen him dance around a subject so delicately.

  I see a sheen of tears cover Garein’s eyes. “Tyelion and Fyndír.”

  With a quiet, choked cry, Antony abruptly turns away from everyone, his hands flying up to cover his face. His shoulders shake, and the whole room is dead silent. After a couple seconds, Eliana walks softly up to the elf and wraps her arms around him. He turns in her embrace to weep against her shoulder and neck. Despite myself, a hard lump lodges in my throat as I watch his grief. Eliana runs her fingers through his hair and murmurs quietly in his ear. I can’t hear her words, but I hope they help Antony. Garein strides softly to his nephew and lays his hand on Antony’s shoulder. He too says something too quiet for me to hear. I glance over at Daniel, and am not surprised to see him swallow hard and his eyes glittering with tears. Even Raeldon swipes at his eyes with his thumb. Auvanna stares at Antony, a stricken expression on her sweet face. She no doubt doesn’t understand.

  I sidle closer to Daniel. “Who were Tyelion and Fyndír?” I ask quietly. Daniel quickly dashes his hand across his eyes and sniffs.

  “Tyelion was Antony’s cousin, his mother’s sister’s son, and Fyndír was his brother.” He replies equally quietly.

  Oh.

  I understand Antony’s pain all too well now. If I ever lost Fal… it would tear me apart inside. I have lost people I counted as brothers and sisters, way back when our village was sacked and burned. I know the pain.

  After a few minutes, Antony wipes his face dry and lifts his head, taking a shuddering breath. He looks down at Eliana, then stoops and kisses her cheek softly. Despite his grief, Garein smiles.

  “I take it thou hast finally found a bride, Antarion?” He asks. Antony’s lips twitch in a faint expression of joy amidst his sorrow.

  “I haven’t asked the question yet, Uncle, but I intend to soon.” He replies hoarsely.

  “Very good.” Garein claps Antony on the shoulder. “I am happy for thee, Nephew.” He strides back to his throne and seats himself. “When thee see fit, thee may go.” He gives us a respectful nod, and we bow back to him.

  “Come.” Antony says, gesturing. We follow him out of the room, out of the citadel, and back into the town.

  “Where are we going, Antony?” Auvanna asks, trotting to keep up with the elf’s long strides. I listen closely to his answer, curious myself.

  “I have a house in town that I shared with my brother, Auvanna.” The elf replies, clasping hands with Eliana. “We’ll be staying there for the time being, provided it is still standing.”

  How long has it been, I wonder, since he has been back to his home? And how will he cope with having to stay in a place that he last remembers staying in with someone he has just lost?

  Daniel looks down at me and speaks suddenly, dislodging me from my thoughts. “You are not going to change back from your true form?” He sounds mildly surprised. I look up at him, then down to myself. Sigh.

  “What’s the point?” I answer quietly. “Walk a half-mile, might as well walk the whole mile.”

  “If you are sure…”

  “I’m not.” I sigh again. “But really, I may have to shift forms here, in public, so what’s the point of keeping it hidden now?”

  Daniel makes no reply to that, but he does reach over and give my hand a squeeze. I withdraw my hand gently from his.

  “Daniel, why did you have to spread the details of my life like that? I told you in confidence, and I was mostly fine with you sharing it with Antony, Eliana, and Raeldon, but not the whole blasted nobility!” I infuse my tone with some of the ire and betrayal I’m feeling.

  “I’m sorry, Ava. But it was unwise to keep it from his lordship. You shouldn’t worry yourself. I know Lord Garein to be a just and discreet man, and he had every right to know just who he was receiving into his city.” That fool-blasted paladin is apologetic, but still firm on the subject.

  “You still should have asked me first. I am a very private person, Daniel, and not easily trusting. I could have been arrested the second I set foot on the docks.”

  “You were under my protection. Lord Garein would not have done something like that without my consent, even in his own city. He’s vor Elhim, Ava. He knows the meaning of forgiveness. You were safe, like he said.”

  “Oh very well.” I grumble, knowing that it can’t be helped now. And… maybe Daniel’s right. This time.

  I am stared at by the townspeople as we walk to Antony’s house. I see them whisper. I try not to care. I try to ignore the panic that threatens to well up in me. Once inside Antony’s house, once the door is shut against the world, I breathe a sigh of relief, relaxing for the moment.

  I look around. The house is elegant but homey. It’s small and cozy. I like it. A kitchen, dining room, and comfortable sitting room on the first floor, and spacious, sunny bedrooms upstairs. I watch as Antony gently disengages himself from us and walks upstairs. I move quietly to the foot of the stairs and watch him stop in front of a closed door upon which is carved the likeness of a willow tree. Antony places his hand on the surface of the door, then softly leans his head against the wooden leaves of the willow. The sunlight streams in from a window at the end of the upstairs hallway and gleams on the tears running down Antony’s cheeks. He swallows hard. I move away from the stairs.

  “So, ‘Kitten’?” I ask Daniel, joining him at the dining room table. He smiles.

  “Yep. It was the name he was given by his siblings and cousins when he was younger, on account of his fierce temper and his affinity for heights and knives and squeezing into very small spaces. They used to use the name to tease him.”

  “Antony had a temper?” I am surprised.

  “Has.” Daniel corrects. “Has a temper. It doesn’t show the way it used to, and he rarely snaps anymore, but it is still there.”

  “Huh.” I let that new piece of information revolve in my mind for a while, until Antony comes back downstairs to show us all to our respective bedrooms. I’m bunking with Eliana again, it seems. This time, we’ll have Auvanna with us as well.

  We spend the next few days helping around the city, using manna and back-breaking effort to clean up rubble, and mourning over the dead, fortifying damaged walls, and occasionally rebuilding a house or two. I work alongside my friends and complete strangers, and I don’t get many dirty looks.

  But there will always be those who let their prejudice get the better of them.

  On our seventh day in the city, just as we’ve finished up the last of the major cleanup, I am approached by an angry half-orc who clearly doesn’t want me within a mile’s reach of the city.

  “Clear off, changeling.” He growls.

  “Hey!” Daniel steps in angrily, but I motion him aside.

  “Leave off, Daniel. Let it alone.” I say, and move to ignore the half-orc.

  Or, at least, that is my plan until the half-orc grabs my arm and spins me to face him. Daniel moves to to aid me, but the crowd has contracted and moved back, forming a ring around the half-orc and I.

  “Leave off, sir.” I tell the half-orc icily, yanking my arm out of his grasp.

  “When you leave the city.” He growls down into my face.

  “I have as much right to be here as you.” I growl back at him.

  “Ava!” I hear Daniel shout, and in my peripheral I see him trying to push through the crowd, trying to get to me. I ignore him. I can handle myself.

  “You have no right to be here, changeling scum.” The half-orc sneers.

  “What did I ever do to you, that you hate me so?” I ask.

  “Your kind has always been a plague upon our lands, and the northern lords were right to drive you out. That point was driven home when D’Adrian stole his crown!”

  My fingers curl into tight fists. No one gets to talk about my brother like that!

  But then I force myself to relax. Violence will not fix anything.

  “If you have a problem with my presence, you can take it to Lord Garein.” I mutter, turning away.

  “No! Your kind killed my family! You deserve to pay!” The half-orc whirls me back around, and this time I shove him away. He staggers, but keeps his footing.

  “Don't touch me again.” I growl at him.

  “Your kind killed my family.” He repeats, anger and bitter grief smoldering in his tone. “I’ll see you pay.”

  Great. Someone else whose loved ones probably haunt me. I’ve killed a few orcs and half-orcs in my time. I wonder which ones were his.

  I try to defuse the situation, knowing that I’m probably lying as I say, “That wasn’t me. Leave off.”

  “I challenge you.” He growls. “Single combat. Let the gods decide if you are guilty or not.”

  My eyes widen, and my hand reaches up almost of its own volition and slides my mage blade out of its sheath.

  “Ava, no!” I hear Daniel shout. The half-orc grins, bloodlust glinting in his eyes. He yanks a large sword out of his belt and levels it at me. The crowd, once silent, now begins to chant.

  “Ava!” Daniel’s distressed cry barely rises above the noise of the crowd. I don’t look at him, instead locking eyes with the angry half-orc.

  Kill, something inside me whispers. I see the same command glint in the half-orc’s gaze. Kill.

  No.

  I refuse to add any more blood to my guilt. Not when it can be avoided. The half-orc must have seen something flicker in my eyes. Something that tells him I’m backing down. He snorts angrily.

  “Fight me!” He roars.

  “I’m not going to fight you.” I tell him, lowering, then sheathing, my mage blade. I have no thirst for blood anymore. The crowd around us goes abruptly silent. The half-orc growls in fury, but I’m already turning away. I’ve taken no more than a few steps before I hear shouts behind me. A half-second later, something strikes me, hard, high in the back. Blinding, burning, white-hot-ice-cold, sharp-as-knives pain erupts in the left side of my back and my chest. Steals away nearly all thought, all feeling, all breath. Only fragments race through my mind, sensations there and then gone.

  Unexpected

  Unprepared

  Too sudden to fight the pain

  Too sudden to gather my wits

  I collapse.