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The girl stalked through the undergrowth of the lush jungle. Green foliage flowered everywhere, a beautiful sight. But the girl scowled unseeingly, her ruby-red eyes racking over the jungle. It was obvious that she was ill at ease; not only did her eyes flit from place to place constantly, her tail switched back and forth continuously, betraying her urge to run. But her slim form remained under a tense kind of control. The effort it was taking, however, was evident by the deep brown color of the tabby markings on her body, and the laid-back position of the crimson red horns just above her pointed ears.

A bird of some kind burst out of the canopy just above her head, shrieking. The harsh sound made her grimace, baring her pointed canines. But she did not stop.

She continued her trek, straight through the jungle, ignoring the seemingly uneasy rustles made by the creatures lurking out of sight. In most cases, a traveler would have been set upon… and devoured, by the occupants of this hostile environment. But they instinctively shrank away from this demon-girl – for there was no doubt that she was a demon.

However, the kind was not quite so obvious. A cat demon – suggestive by her crimson, tufted tail – did not have horns. Besides, she did not behave like one of that number, for they would travel this region on all fours. There was no denying, however, that she had many attributes of a cat demon – for example, the elongated fingernails, sharp and lethal. And their matching counterparts, the toenails – which were on display, as she was barefoot.

The most obvious sign of this strong suggestion, of course, were the tabby markings in high evidence on her arms, legs, and back. But unless they chose to, cat demons did not show their markings in a humanoid form.

By her body language, she was extremely unhappy, which implied that she was being forced to do something. But what? And why?

Suddenly, her horns pricked up and her eyes narrowed. She dropped into a crouch.

Directly in front of her, the bushes parted to reveal a huge stag; glowing white and incandescent, with – she had to admit – an impressive rack of antlers. As she noted this, he lowered his head, preparing to charge.

Before she could move, a strong hand closed on the back of her neck and a dagger was pressed against her throat.

“You have trespassed onto elven ground,” a soft female voice murmured in her ear. It reminded her of the winter’s frost. “What is your purpose in coming here? …Who are you?”

Her only response was to stiffen slightly and sigh inaudibly.

“Your purpose?” the elf asked coldly. The dagger pressed lightly at her throat, causing a hair-thin trace of hot blood to trickle down her neck. The elf was impatient. Excellent. Maybe she’d let something slip. Her job was already hard enough.

“So the city is back under the elves,” she said lightly, hiding her anger.

“You speak foolishly,” her captor chided impatiently. “The city has always been of the elves. The Queen created it from the living rock herself, with the help of her fellows. Certainly you are aware of such rudimentary history.”

Then the elf pressed her down to the jungle floor, pinning her. The anai stood near at hand, a kind of curiosity in his brown eyes.

She ignored her weakened position, which seemed to make the elf nervous. To cover her moment of disadvantage, she said sharply, “You have yet to answer my questions.”

She did not respond.

“It would be to your advantage to cooperate.”

Anger washed through her like poison. Cooperate with unhonorable backstabbers? Out of the question. “That’s stupid,” she growled.

The hand at the back of her neck tightened, but she ignored it and went on, “You talk of rudimentary history, but every word out of your mouth is a lie. Your talk of a Queen making Ku’anay from living rock is merely a child’s myth. It was made with the sweat and blood of the Long-Lost Race… but why should I explain true history to one who will not listen? Besides, the elves have always been adept at covering their treachery.”

“You are quite confused indeed,” snarled her captor. “I doubt that you know the city you seem to think you know so much of. Certainly that you do not know its true name indicates your ignorance.” She paused smugly, waiting for the demon-girl to retort. She did not oblige, so the elf continued, “Certainly you have never laid eyes upon it. No intruder has been permitted within five miles of Quayai without being confronted for the past seven hundred years.” She paused again, obviously waiting for a response to her arrogant boast. Again, she did not get one. “Very well,” she said irritably. “As you will not talk to me… you will talk to Zemar, captain of the guard and the Queen’s military advisor.” She paused yet again, and then said, a smirk evident in her voice, “You will soon wish you had cooperated with me.”

After tying her hands behind her back, the elf walked up to the anai, patting his soft fur, murmuring in his ear. For the first time, the demon-girl saw her. She hissed silently – of course she had been picked up by one of the Purebloods. That explained her attitude.

She turned back to her captive, and the demon realized that she had been wrong. True, she had the long, silver-blond hair and slim figure of a Pureblood… but her eyes weren’t right. Slitted like a feline’s, they were a demon’s eyes – like her own. But she had never seen a demon with blue eyes, not in all her years and experience. Usually, they were red or gold. Rarely, they would be green or silver. Once in a blue moon, they would be purple. But never had she seen a demon with blue eyes.

Before she could draw any conclusions from this startling development, the elf swung her up onto the anai’s back. Then she climbed on behind… and they were off, the anai bounding effortlessly through the jungle at a distance-eating lope.

Before long, they emerged from the jungle and he anai descended into a broad valley thick with wildflowers. The crystal-clear River Myia wound through it, sparkling in the dazzling light of the afternoon suns.

But the suns sparkled off something else, too: the Conquered City. The demon girl felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. It was magnificent, as if a Faerie’s castle had been set in the River. Surrounding the city was a colossal wall, hiding most of the city from view. It was perfectly smooth and shaped so that it resembled a crashing wave of the Fabled Ocean. Beyond that masterpiece of artwork, the upper stories of white buildings could be seen, glittering in the sun.

It didn’t look anything like the tales described.

The anai continued his effortless lope, bringing them closer and closer to the city, aiming for the grand marble gates. He bugled as he cantered down the slope, and in answer, the gates began to swing open on silent hinges.

Now within the city, she could see the buildings properly. She noted with distaste the subtle art present in their architecture. However, most of the buildings were covered in thick, knotted vines with large, pearly-white buds; it was an effective barrier against the sculpted buildings. Throughout her study of the city, the anai had traveled narrow white-brick roads and over a lacework of wide, sparkling canals. They were deep within the city now.

Now they came to the largest canal in the city: it encircled the palace. This architecture nearly turned her stomach: it was built at the level of the river so that waterfalls tumbled over and around it. Tall, thin spires thrust up into the sky, the water frothing around their high terraced bases.

They passed over a narrow, arching bridge into a raised courtyard at the base of one of the towers. The river’s waters swirled just feet below them, occasionally sending up spray. She curled her lip, nostrils flared.

The elf pushed her roughly off the anai’s back, and then slid off the great stag’s back herself, landing lightly on her feet. She loomed over her, but she didn’t much care at the moment. She could feel the city calling to her, despite its beautiful appearance. It was calling to her, tugging at her heart. She sat on the cool flagstones of the courtyard, her hands tied uselessly behind her back, and laughed. Oh, she would have her sweet revenge.

Her captor glared at her with her unnatural eyes, but she couldn’t stop laughing. She put her head down on her knees and laughed hysterically. Even the inexorable opening of the elaborate doors into the palace keep couldn’t halt her mirth.

Even though her eyes were occupied with the white flagstones and her mouth was engaged, her ears were still keen. The doors stopped, and a set of footsteps approached.

The steps were slow and measured. Someone with authority, her brain told her… someone who was used to getting their way. But there was something else in the footsteps. She couldn’t think of what it might be.

“I found her just outside the city,” her captor reported.

“Very good, Tiyan,” the owner of the footsteps said. Male, her brain catalogued. She wondered idly if this was the torturer her captor had hinted at.

“She appears to hold the belief that the city belongs to her people,” Tiyan sniffed; her voice was thick with contempt.

There was no change in the tone of her superior’s voice. “We will see what we can find out.” Hmm. That was interesting. This elf was a force to be reckoned with. His eyes would be devoid of emotion, dead. She had seen those kinds of eyes before. That stopped her laughter. It was likely that he was indeed the resident torturer.

“Put your head up,” he commanded, his voice soft.

She did not move.

“I do not want to have to resort to force,” he said. “But I will if I must.”

Her head snapped up, and she hissed ferociously. He merely looked down on her with pale green, empty eyes. She had been right.

“I wonder if we have an insane demon within –”

“Hush, Tiyan,” he said, turning slightly towards her. “She is not feral.”

Yes, he would definitely be a threat. He would have to die. Fleetingly, she regretted that. This dark-skinned elf with the fair hair was noble. Did he really need to die?

He turned back to her. “I must blindfold –”

Her glare silenced him momentarily.

“Please, don’t make this more difficult for yourself. I will regret having to use force,” he reminded her gently.

She growled low in her throat, but dropped her eyes. He was right, as much as she hated to admit it. Her job was already complicated enough. And a blindfold wouldn’t really hinder her that much. She did not fight the blindfold over her eyes. His hands were surprisingly gentle around her head.

A hand yanked her roughly to her feet by the back of her neck. She hissed savagely, but the hand only tightened. All right, the elf-b***h was going to die. But not yet – she was too close to have all of her efforts wasted now.

“Gently,” her superior advised.

“Why?” she asked sullenly, though her grip loosened.

“Guests are to be –”

“- treated with –”

“- cordiality,” he finished firmly. “You know the consequences.”

He then took her from Tiyan’s clutches and led her along gently, his hand resting lightly on her elbow. She seized the opportunity to calm herself. It was a state more suited to gathering information – and she had seven hundred years’ worth of information to gather. She had to get started.

The elf stopped and kindly removed the blindfold, revealing a long hall. White marble pillars, elaborately carved with vines and blooming flowers, rose to a high domed ceiling overhead. He took the lead, and she followed him on silent feet down the aisle.

He halted before a basin of clear water, sitting on a pedestal even more elaborately carved than the surrounding pillars. Bouquets of brightly colored flowers were heaped around its base, scenting the still air with sweet perfume.

He went down on one knee before the basin, bowing his head.

She stared at him disdainfully, her lip curling. So he was an idol-worshipper, huh?

“My Queen, please, show your face to your humble servant, for he seeks an audience with you,” he murmured.

She narrowed her eyes. Not only did he worship this idol, but he treated it as a goddess as well. Maybe he wasn’t a threat after all. Only the weak believed in higher powers.

When the invisible, female voice spoke, her face remained blank. “Rise, Zemar, my honored captain.”

The elf rose slowly to his feet, his eyes remaining downcast. “I come bearing a report, my Queen.”
“
Yes,” agreed the voice. She had pinpointed its source now; it emanated from the basin on the pedestal. Tiny ripples shivered out from its center.

“The guard Tiyan, of Teeth’s Dagger, rider of the anai Siolfur, confronted this demon girl some five miles northwest of the Grand City, and captured her with little resistance. However, she claims that Quayai was not created by you… my Queen, she is mistaken.”

Her eyes narrowed at the pleading tone that crept into his manner at the end. Did he fear this queen’s anger? Did he fear punishment? She wanted to read his eyes, to see if they were filled with this strange emotion. But they remained fixed on the marble floor.

“Zemar, put that notion aside,” the voice said gently. “Go now, while I speak to her in private.”

He did not answer, but bowed to the basin and marched out.

He was obedient. She wondered idly if that was a result of his heritage. But she didn’t get to pursue that thought further, for the water in the basin was shimmering. It was as if it was caught in a ray of sunshine. Rainbows danced and flashed over its surface.

Before the demon girl now stood a elf with long waist-length red hair, held back from her face by braided locks that tied together behind her head. A thin golden circlet rested on her fiery hair, and her wine-red dress was accented by thread-of-gold. It flowed about her figure, alluring, but the demon girl was not impressed. She noted that the elf’s feet were submerged in the basin’s water.

“Good day to you, Demon Cat,” she greeted her, smiling. Her eyes were the green of a new bud in spring.

She growled in response, tail lashing and horns pricked up in agitation.

“That’s not very polite, you know,” chided the Queen gently.

She smiled a razor-thin, lethal smile. “I know.”

“Ah, you speak.”

She didn’t answer.

“What is your purpose here?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I come as a messenger.”

“Oh?”

“The Races will not tolerate the Elvish domination much longer. Already, they are mobilizing to take back what is rightfully theirs.”

“I assure you, we can defend ourselves very well,” the Queen responded, unconcerned. “The warning is unnecessary.”

“Then your peace will be shattered on your conscience, not ours. We made an effort to settle this peacefully. Remember that when your city lies in ruins at the feet of the Races and your race is dead.”

A thin smile quirked the corner of the Queen’s mouth. “You speak as if the Races – Cat, Wolf, Dragon, Raptor – can cooperate with each other. I assure you, the Elves can wait patiently for the moment when they will be at each others’ throats. Then we will strike, and you shall fall – again.”

“You assume that we have not learned from history,” she replied coldly. “You are mistaken. The Races have, and they will leave no survivors in their wake. Too long have the Races been dominated by the Elves. You underestimate our anger and our hatred. When the war comes, every elf will die.”

“The Demons’ hatred is not enough to bring about the fall of the Elves,” the Queen said, “for you cannot mold it into something useful. You cannot cooperate together.”

“I assure you, you are wrong,” she said, smiling. “Our hatred has brought us together to face a common enemy. True, our cooperation is not perfect, but it is enough that your destruction is guaranteed.”

“I doubt your claims,” the Queen said lightly. “Demons are not creatures of cooperation, even in the face of an enemy. They turn on their comrades as readily as on the enemy.”

“Look at me, Queen,” she said harshly. “What do I tell you?” She turned slowly on the spot, showcasing her supple body. Her muscles rippled under her tawny skin, and the color of her tabby markings deepened to a deep russet-brown. Like her feline ears, her horns were laid back. Her clawed toenails scraped on the marble floor.

The elf did not answer.

“Have you ever seen a demon like me?” she pressed.

After a long pause, she answered, “No.”

“That’s right,” she said smugly. “What does that tell you?”

Again, the queen did not answer.

“Do you have a response?”

The Queen smiled frostily. “I believe I have already made myself clear.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, yes. You see, the Elves do not cower in fear before the Demons – even Demons who have managed to spawn something unnatural between them.”

She growled. “I would convey that message a little more carefully, if I were you.”

“I shall speak to you however I wish.” She smiled wickedly.

“You’ll regret that little statement, then,” she said lightly. “Word will get out.”

“How so?” the Queen questioned. “You will not be permitted to leave Quayai.”

The demon girl’s horns pricked up in surprise. “I’m not leaving.”

“Oh?”

“As the Races’ messenger –”

“I have no need of your services. Had I any desire to do so, I could choose to communicate in a much more efficient, reliable manner with your kind.”

She growled again. “I have already warned you of the consequences of speaking –”

“I grow tired to arguing,” the Queen interrupted. “Heed my words. My people cannot be expected to have any sort of camaraderie with you. It can be considered no fault of mine if you find that you have sacrificed your ability to know another as a friend of companion with this bold move of yours.”

She did not respond.

“Now, go,” the Queen commanded. “You will be treated with absolute cordiality, and you will have access to any luxuries you may desire. For your safety, you shall be escorted wherever you need to go within the city.”

She listened impassively to her restrictions. Things were going to work out better than she thought. With certain luxuries at her disposal, she would be able to do what she needed to. The escort was going to be a nuisance, though. She’d have to do something about that. Hmm… one special person. That’s all she would need. The Queen’s warning about camaraderie didn’t bother her that much. She hadn’t had an ally since her banishment from Sisska Dankor.

Zemar appeared at her shoulder. She smiled coolly at the Queen. “Thank you for your generous hospitality.”

The Queen did not answer her remark, but dissolved into the basin of water. Again, rainbows danced over its surface. Zemar pulled out the blindfold, and gently put it over her eyes. He led her from the Hall, back to the courtyard, where Tiyan still stood, lounging against Siolfur. “Take her to guest quarters with Sepaz,” he told her.

The elf swung up onto the anai’s back and used a small whistle around her neck to sound out a series of notes. Within a minute, another anai could be seen cantering to meet them, bearing a rack of antlers just as impressive as Siolfur’s. The newcomer stopped beside the group in such a way that the new ‘guest’ stood between them. Zemar put her atop the anai’s back and sent them on their way.

As soon as they were out of earshot of her superior, Tiyan rounded on her. “Don’t try anything funny,” she sneered. “The anai are quite skilled.”

She ignored the elf’s attitude, taking in the surroundings around her. They had crossed over the arching bridge again, and were cantering along a street seemingly full of elven and anai guards. The street was a dead end, she noted as Tiyan dismounted.

“Get off,” she commanded.

“Hey, Tiyan, that’s no way to treat a guest!” another guard – male – protested.

She rounded on him. “Mind your own business, Yujiin.”

He pulled his dagger out of his belt. “The death of Teeth’s Dagger wouldn’t bother me any,” he said evenly.

She yanked her dagger out, too. The demon girl hissed as she looked at it: the wicked blade was twice the length of his.

It distracted the male elf. “What’s with you?” he asked in a friendly tone.

“I’ll challenge her,” she growled.

Tiyan whirled to face her, fury contorting her perfect face.

“What?” His golden eyes were bewildered. “How do you propose to challenge an armed elf with your hands behind your back?”

She smiled thinly. “More shame to her when she is defeated.”

He cocked his head. “I suppose,” he conceded.

“I’ll grant your death wish, then,” Tiyan hissed, advancing.

She smiled her lethal smile. “Cocky, aren’t you?”

The elf leaped, dagger outthrust. Her hair blew back in the wind created from her jump, causing it to fly about her head with a life of its own. It enhanced the fury on her face.

She rolled off the other side of Sepaz’s back and heard the breath whoosh out of her opponent’s body as she crashed into his side. Alarmed, he sidestepped, snorting. She avoided his sharp hooves and rolled to her feet.

The brief glimpse she got of the other’s elf’s face almost made her laugh. He was gaping at her, shock written all over his finely carved features. Then she skipped out of the way of Tiyan’s thrown dagger.

“Smart move,” she mocked her.

Tiyan pulled a dagger out of her long sleeve and laughed nastily. “I hope you’re good at running,” she said sweetly. “They’re coated in poison.”

“Hey!” protested the other elf again.

“Shut up, Yujiin.”

“When Captain Zemar finds out that you’re in possession of –”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Ah, so you’re using weapons that are against the rules,” she said lightly.

“And the only reason you should care is because you’re going to die by them,” she said smugly.

“I don’t think so.”

In answer, Tiyan threw the dagger. She skipped out of the way of that one, too. “You’re going to have to do better than that,” she mocked.

The blond elf smiled thinly. “I’m just warming up, Kitty.”

She bared her teeth at the elf. “You’re going to regret that.”

“Oooh, did I hurt the kitty’s feelings?” cooed Tiyan, throwing another dagger. She avoided it easily.

“No,” she answered. “But you’re making an invalid assumption.”

“Oh?” she asked. “Do you think I really care?”

She smiled, transforming her face into one akin to the devil’s. “You will,” she cried, and leapt upward, landing lightly on the second story of a building, where she crouched, her tail twitching. The fact that her hands were still tied behind her back was getting to be a nuisance.

She could hear the elves below murmuring to each other in low voices, but didn’t really care what they thought. She really needed to free her hands to be effective in this fight.

Tiyan threw yet another dagger at her. Well, she had no choice; she leapt off the roof, aiming for the airborne dagger. Yes! The sharp edge grazed the tough cord of her bonds. She landed, exultant, on a roof the opposite side of the street.

Now the murmuring was more pronounced – it was shocked – but she didn’t care. She ripped her hands apart, and the cord dropped to her feet in little ineffective ribbons. “Thanks for the help,” she called, crouching down on all fours.

“b***h!” screamed Tiyan. A storm of daggers flew upward. She avoided them all, except one, which she snatched out of the cloud by the handle. Now she was ready.

“My turn,” she said, landing lightly in front of her opponent.

“Do your worst,” she challenged.

Her horns pricked up in astonishment. “You’d be dead already if I was fighting you seriously.”

The elf’s blue eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed, hard and stony. She yanked a dagger out of her knee-boot and held it ready. “You’re going to die,” she hissed.

“I think we’ve established already that I far outclass you,” she corrected, a little irritated.

“All you’ve done is run away!”

“True,” she admitted. “But I’m in a better mindset than you.”

Tiyan charged then, fury distorting her features. But her thrusts were quick and precise. Had she been just a second slower than her opponent, she would have felt that sharp metal in her flesh. She guarded well against the attacks, bringing her dagger up to meet them. Metal clanged against metal.

Then came a wild attack. Tiyan’s blade swung wide. She leapt backward, and opportunity presented itself. She threw her dagger at the elf’s exposed upper arm. It split through the fabric to draw blood from the flesh below. Siolfur and Sepaz bugled angrily.

The blond elf dropped her dagger, and clamped a hand over the wound. Blood was seeping out from under her fingers. It was deeper than she expected.

“I hope you were bluffing about the poison,” she remarked, ignoring the anai.

“I wasn’t,” she grunted.

“Someone get a Healer!” one of the spectators shouted.

Several elves rushed out of the crowd, picked up their wounded comrade, and hurried away. A herd of anai followed.

She stared after them, her eyes narrowed.

A step made her look round. Some few feet from her stood the male elf who had initially provoked the blond. Shock, incredulity, caution and – strangely – admiration warred for domination on his face.

“What?”

“…That was amazing,” he said sheepishly, self-consciously scratching the back of his head. His hair was the darkest she had seen on any elf in this city, a light chocolate color.

She didn’t know what to say to that – an elf praising her for battle against one of his own?

He shifted his weight nervously.

“Afraid?” she asked lightly.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “of being seen with you.”

Odd. He wasn’t thinking of his life. But he had a point; he would be under intense scrutiny if someone saw them together. She realized that the street was empty.

She could get away right now.

No. All her effort would be wasted if she left now… and someone would certainly know, for this elf would surely sound the alarm.

“Hey,” he said, recapturing her attention, “what’s your name?”

She stared at him for a long moment, trying to understand what he had just asked. Nobody had asked her for her name in such a long time. She only answered when she realized that she was still staring at him; he was shifting restlessly under her red-eyed gaze. “Rakira.”

He started a little at the sudden revelation, and then cocked his head to the side, looking her up and down, studying her. “That’s a pretty name,” he said.

“Is it?”

“Sure. It fits you.”

“Does it?”

“What, you don’t think it does?”

She didn’t answer.

He dropped his eyes from her face and turned away. “…Well, come on.”

“What?”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You want your quarters, don’t you?”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to her, even though the Queen had promised lodging, she supposed. But now that he mentioned it, it did sound appealing. She wouldn’t have to spend tonight out in the jungle again. “Lead on.”

He grinned at her. “Sure.” He walked to the end of the street and ascended a flight of wide marble steps. She followed on silent feet, which didn’t seem to bother him. He led her into the guest quarters.

He spread his arms wide to showcase the rooms’ grandeur, which was unnecessary. The main room alone was larger than she was used to. She slowly padded into the room, wriggling her toes in the rich blue plush carpet. For the moment, she bypassed the canopy bed to peer through one of the two arches leading deeper within. It was the entrance to the washroom. That she had to explore; she hadn’t had access to such a luxury in many years. The room had running water! She turned one of the carved handles – shaped like a flower – and watched, transfixed, as water poured into the basin below the pipe. She dipped her hand into it, and quickly snatched out again.

“Cold?” he asked.

In her preoccupation, she hadn’t heard him approach. She whirled, to see him leaning casually against the arch. “Warm,” she corrected.

“Warm?”

“Yeah,” she answered, turning back to the water. It had been a very long time since she had had warm water. She glanced at the oval hole in the floor. She really wanted to fill it with warm – no, hot – water and take a bath. But she restrained herself and went through the arch next to the sink.

She stopped short, her body stiffening.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a few uncertain steps towards her.

“Nothing.”

“But –”

She brushed past him, entering the main room once more. Again, her eyes were drawn to the colossal canopy bed. It looked so soft. She crossed the plush carpet – it felt so good under her bare feet – and hopped up on it. Yes, it was as soft as it looked. She curled up, yawning.

“Comfy, isn’t it?” he asked.

She opened one half-closed eye to look at him, standing in the archway. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He grinned at her.

Her ears pricked up and she lifted her head to really look at him. “Are all guests treated like this?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“They get quarters like this?”

“Yeah.”

“They get this level of courtesy?”

His face changed; he knew where she was going with this. But he answered honesty. “No.”

“Why are you doing this, then?”

He looked down at the carpet, scuffing it with the toe of his boot. “I don’t really know,” he admitted. She was suddenly struck that he was very young… and vulnerable. She opened her mouth to say something, but he continued, still studying his boots, “I couldn’t stand by and watch Tiyan attack you like that. She went too far.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, laying her head down on her arms, but still watching him through slitted, sleepy eyes.

“What?” he asked, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

“Aggressive, isn’t she?”

He smiled tightly. “You noticed?”

She flashed her teeth at him in something that barely passed as a smile. “Oh, yes.”

He shook his head slowly. “The whole unit is more or less like that.”

“Hm?”

“Teeth’s Dagger. Her unit. She’s a second.”

“How did she get rank with an attitude like that?” she asked disgustedly.

He shrugged, mirroring her disgust. “I don’t understand the workings of Teeth’s Dagger, and don’t care to. They’re the worst.”

“Mm,” she murmured.

“Tired?”

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“I’ll let you sleep, then.”

She gazed up at him. “…Thanks.”

He looked surprised. “You’re welcome.”

Softly, he walked across the carpet. He was almost out the door when she called to him, “What unit are you in?”

He glanced back at her, curled on the bed exactly like a cat, and smiled a little. “Heart’s Arrow.”

Her mouth quirked upward just slightly, and then she was asleep.

For a moment, Yujiin stood in the archway, watching her. Bizarre feelings were swirling in his chest for this fierce, strange demon girl. He had spoken truly and openly to her – the enemy. Did that mean he was a traitor? No, he was loyal. He would have to guard himself against her; she was dangerous. But something within him yearned to be with her. He could not identify the urge, nor could he explain it to himself. Fleetingly, he wondered if it could be love. But he had just met her; that was ridiculous!

He gave up trying to make sense of his thoughts. She looked much more peaceful asleep than awake; it was such a tender image that he whispered, “Sleep well, Rakira.”