Andric sat drinking as a few of the Elders formed a small ring around his father at one end of the table.

  The fox tribe’s Council was breaking into its usual factions as the necromancer walked around the village, speaking to commoners.

  “Look at him, making the rounds as if he’s an Elder,” said Chief Mihalic, pointing at Tybalt and Vidalia walking around.

  “He is bound to carry some influence,” replied Elder Vladmir with a shrug. “He helped your boy save the village. You should be pleased. All of this redounds to young Andric’s credit as well. The two young men’s reputations are linked by their shared valor.”

  “What about his little woman there?” asked the Chief, pointing to the drunken fire mage, who was eagerly chattering to Elder Milena and holding hands with her now. Andric couldn’t tell if Milena was pleased or uncomfortable. She had a smile on her face, but it could as easily be false as true.

  “What about her?” asked Elder Michael.

  “She is an embarrassment, but the young men like women like that, don’t they?” asked Elder Vladmir in an amused voice. He gave Andric a look as if to ask for confirmation, and the war chief responded with a strained smile.

  She fought bravely beside Tybalt, so why would I care if she likes her wine? Andric thought. Maybe she’s drinking to forget all the men on her own side she killed defending our innocent women and children. If she hadn’t been there, maybe the necromancer and I would both be dead. I can’t judge her. She did the right thing when it counted.

  “What about her influence?” Chief Mihalic said. “If they marry, can you imagine her speaking through him? Or for him, if he’s incapacitated? Two humans, trying to push and pull the Council in their direction, compromising our judgment?”

  The Chief was referring to an idea that a couple of other Council members had broached at one point. Elders Elswyth and Sybil believed Tybalt should be appointed to the Council of Elders, despite being roughly the same age as Andric.

  “He is the High Priest of Lord Mudo,” Elswyth had said, at least as Mihalic had conveyed it to Andric, relaying the conversation afterward. “He could take my seat! He is more entitled to it than I am.”

  The Chief had spoken about this in a tone of exasperation, and that same emotion showed through now.

  In the present, he said, “If he ever sits in a position of authority, then she sits in it with him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Elder Vladmir said. “Why would he let the little hussy have any influence at all? Or rather, why would you assume he’s letting her influence him? She seems like a very fun young lady, and I’m sure he feels a lot of affection toward her, but when he went to actually interact with our people, the one he took was young Vidalia.” He turned and gave Andric a sympathetic look that made the war chief want to get up and leave. As if Vladmir thought that the young man had already lost. But he made himself stay. As his father had pointed out before, Andric needed to be in the space where these conversations were happening, if he ever wanted to be Chief himself. Even if it was uncomfortable.

  Elder Michael was nodding with approval. “Our new young friend has some political sense, clearly. Even if- ” His eyes darted to Andric, and he shook his head and stopped saying whatever he was about to say. “Anyway, as long as he marries a beastfolk woman or two, preferably members of the fox tribe, whatever political influence he wields will be moderated responsibly. Some women are good for one room of the home, some women are good for another. Happily, some of us have women who are good for both. But we should not assume everyone’s life will be like that.” Beastfolk huts usually only had bedrooms, for sleeping, and a common area, where social activity and cooking took place. “Lord Necromancer seems to understand the difference.”

  “You’re obsessed with tying him to our tribe by blood,” said Chief Mihalic, trying to affect amusement- Andric could tell he was annoyed by how the conversation was going, but he couldn’t let it show.

  “Blood is everything,” Elder Michael replied firmly. “If he marries a beastfolk woman and gets a child on her, he will never betray us. He will be family. Until that happens, he is a stranger. A friendly stranger, but still a stranger.”

  “He will always be a human who grew up in the Kingdom,” said the Chief. But he was interrupted before he could continue, by his own son.

  “A man who betrayed the Kingdom,” Andric said quietly.

  His father glared at him, but Andric made himself ignore it.

  If I’m ever going to sit in your chair, father, I have to have a spine. You cannot pose upright without one.

  “I should go back to where I was sitting,” Andric said after a moment. “Someone must entertain my guest.” He gestured to Tatiana, who was still in her place, beside where Andric had been seated, looking bored.

  “Get up and go, then,” Chief Mihalic said, in a tone that said, We’ll discuss this later.

  —

  Well, the food is all right, at least, Dero thought. I can’t complain about that. Not after I’ve eaten so much of it…

  Almost involuntarily, she turned and looked at where Tybalt was, but she found him absent from his place.

  That’s odd. The guest of honor left early- no, wait the girl who had her hands all over him all night is still there. He wouldn’t have gone home without her. He must be talking to people.

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  She kept her eyes peeled, and after a few minutes, she saw them. The mystery mage and the same foxgirl from earlier- or was she?- walking among the people, chit-chatting. The beastfolk peasants seemed delighted to speak with him.

  Like he’s the greatest thing since magic was invented, she thought. I guess I can’t blame them.

  She had deliberately been avoiding asking anyone about the mage, since she wanted to solve the mysteries surrounding him for herself, and the caravan guards’ loud chatter plus Carlos’s quiet conversation about different places he might travel in the future kept her mind occupied.

  But it had been impossible for her not to overhear people referring to the “hero,” and it was easy for Dero to put two and two together and recognize that Tybalt had done something important for these people.

  Twenty minutes went by, and he approached. The dark elf sat up a little straighter and brushed some crumbs off her dress. Not that she cared what he thought, but she had dressed a little nicer for the feast, and anyone who saw her up close might as well get to appreciate her full splendor.

  “Glad to see you’re all enjoying the feast,” Tybalt said as he made it.

  Dero’s eyes confirmed for her that this foxgirl was not the same one- she was noticeably thinner- but probably her twin?

  Is that a crack about how much I ate? the dark elf wondered. She was aware she had put away a lot of food.

  “We were a little hungrier than we’d otherwise be,” Dero said after a moment. “Rats got to our food in the caravan.”

  “Rats, huh?” Tybalt said. He sounded genuinely interested. “This is Vidalia, by the way. Victoria’s sister.”

  Dero just nodded.

  “The rats seem to have joined us back in Sal,” said one of the caravan guards ruefully. “Nasty creatures, but you can’t get rid of them if you’ve got food with you.”

  “Thank you again for inviting us, Lord Tybalt,” said Carlos. “It has been very nice to spend time in this village again. And yes, the food is even more appreciated given our present shortage.” His eyes landed on the foxgirl. “Vidalia, so good to see you again! Despite what I just said, I do still have candy for you! Just let me check my bag…”

  “I- I’m not a little kid anymore, Carlos,” the foxgirl said, blushing.

  “Oh, no?” the merchant said. He looked crestfallen and then a little sheepish. “I’m sorry. I forget how much time passes between trips. Of course you’ve grown up a lot since I last passed around this way. Forget I said anything.”

  “Um, I’ll take candy, though…”

  Then what was the point in saying the first part? Dero thought, snorting.

  Vidalia stuck her tongue out at her, and the dark elf laughed.

  Tybalt looked a little amused too. But he turned his expression neutral again as if on command as soon as Vidalia turned to look at him.

  “I’m glad not too much has changed,” said Carlos, smiling at the foxgirl. “The last time I saw you, I remember- ”

  “Please don’t tell him anything embarrassing,” she said, tilting her head to indicate Tybalt. “Since we’re going to get married eventually, I might never hear the end of it.”

  Carlos shrugged. “Those kinds of things help keep a marriage light on its feet,” he said. “But have it your way. I’m sure you will invent your own share of embarrassing memories together.” He gave Vidalia a warm look, and it made Dero smile despite herself- despite her suspicions of Tybalt and by extension the people around him.

  If Carlos likes her, she can’t be a bad person.

  Dero didn’t let herself get too close to people very often. As she had said to Tybalt, it was true that human lives were too short. And most of them weren’t worth knowing. The merchant was an actual friend, though. When Dero visited his hometown, his wife treated the dark elf like family. Dero had played with their children.

  As the elf was reminiscing, Vidalia sat down beside Carlos, and they started catching up. The sort of light chitchat that Dero instinctively ignored.

  Then Tybalt sat down a foot away from her.

  “Vidalia wanted to say hello to Carlos, but I mostly wanted to come over and say how impressed I was by your fighting earlier,” he said quietly. “Even though you seem like a very grumpy elf, I’m guessing there’s a lot I could learn from you. How do you feel about humans? The Kingdom?”

  The question wasn’t quite out of nowhere. She had heard the chatter over dinner. Bits and pieces. The Kingdom had attacked the beastfolk here. She was worldly enough that she could guess it was a part of a broader anti-demihuman policy in the Kingdom that also discriminated against elves, dwarves, ogres, and other nonhumans.

  But that was all none of her business.

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t love it, and I don’t hate it. You couldn’t pay me enough to make me care about politics.”

  “And you don’t care about the Kingdom driving the elves out of these lands decades ago? A lifetime ago for us, but within living memory for an elf. Or what about them trying to exterminate the beastfolk living here now?”

  “I don’t like it, but it’s nothing to do with me either. My own circumstances- ” She swallowed. She wasn’t sure how much she was willing to explain. It had been years since someone asked her about what had happened to her people, her own family. The mage wasn’t exactly asking about that, but the conversation would go there, if Dero allowed that.

  And it was none of his damned business.

  “My own circumstances are such that I don’t worry about other people’s political conflicts. Or their military conflicts. If the Kingdom is making war on the beastfolk, or the beastfolk are bringing war to the Kingdom… led by the heroes of the village, the stupidity of either or both sides is exactly none of my business. I don’t want it to be my business either.”

  “Even though you’re more than strong enough to make a difference- ”

  “I think I already answered the question you’re about to ask. But if you want me to repeat myself, less politely, feel free to continue.”

  “I see,” Tybalt said. His expression was completely neutral as he stood up. “I think I wasted your time.”

  “Forget about it,” Dero said.

  The foxgirl seemed to read the change in the mood instantly. She rose alongside her intended.

  “It was good seeing you again, Carlos,” Vidalia said. “Maybe we’ll catch up more later.”

  Tybalt and Dero looked at each other, saying nothing, for a long moment before he and the foxgirl walked away.

  “What was that about, Dero?” asked Carlos. “It felt very sudden. That girl can talk your ear off most of the time. She’s a dear.”

  “That man wants my help with something,” the dark elf managed. “And I don’t think I want to give it.”

  Dero had been in wars before. As a fighter and as a bystander. Each time, she had lost something or someone she cared about. She swallowed down a lump in her throat as the memories came surging up, and she forced a false smile onto her lips as she reengaged in the conversation with the others around her. Some light banter to make them forget anything they had seen on her face for a brief, unguarded moment.

  These aren’t my people. This isn’t my fight.