"I don't think this is a good idea."

Calix turned slightly, meeting Tarquin's eyes, which glinted from behind a mask fashioned to look like a panther. He was frowning as they approached the doors leading to the castle's largest ballroom.

Still fighting with his own mask, Calix sighed and said, "I have to show up. I was invited by the king." He snickered. "And so were you. Which means you have to come with me."

Tarquin grimaced and said, "Which makes it lucky I had this." He shrugged his shoulders, his knee-length coat made from a panther skin glistening in the light of a nearby candelabra. 

He'd had the coat for longer than Calix had known him. The great cat it had once belonged to had terrorized the village Tarquin had grown up in on the border of Metus and Sorveti. It had been killed by his father, the coat sewn by his mother and Tarquin had always gone to great lengths to keep it in near perfect condition.

"We just have to stay for a little while," Calix said. He snarled and cursed when his mask slid again, leaving him blind for a moment.

Tarquin laughed and put a hand on his arm to keep him from running into anything. Calix let out a huff, but stood still as Tarquin tied the mask firmly into place for him.

"A little while is all it will take for you to make a bad decision, mindra," Tarquin muttered.

He had already decided to make what Tarquin would call a bad decision.

Not responding, Calix adjusted his own heavy coat. Dark fur draped over his shoulders and lined the treated leather. It had cost an extortionate amount of money, but its fine make and his new salary had made it worth it. The black wolf fur and waterproof leather that the coat was made of would keep him warm in Brunia.

"You should leave it alone," Tarquin pressed as they started walking again.

Calix shook his head helplessly. He couldn't leave it alone. Couldn't leave her alone.

"She hasn't allowed you to see her for nearly eighteen days." Tarquin put a light hand on his shoulder. "It's best to know when the chase has run itself out."

"That's not what this is about," Calix said through clenched teeth. "I'm not—that's not what I'm doing."

Tarquin sighed and dropped his hand, sensing that he would make no progress here. They got to the doors leading into the great hall, both of them blinking in the candlelight. The ballroom was the brightest place in the castle, though not by much. Flickering light danced off jewelry and metal masks, shimmering along silks and furs.

The somber, dark colors that had been donned during the Cairna feast and holiday service had been traded in for more flamboyant costumes.

Calix and Tarquin both lingered by the door, assessing the crowd before them. The ebb and flow of the dancers and the murmur of conversation. Music floated above everything, clear as a mountain stream, accompanied by laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Tarquin turned to him. "Do what you will, brother. Just don't forget who put those new scars on your back."

Before Calix could so much as open his mouth to retort that it hadn't been the princess, Tarquin was gone. Calix watched with a mix of anger and grim amusement as Tarquin scythed his way through the crowd before he paused beside a lady wearing a swan mask and a white dress with a panel of feathers down the front.

He gave her a graceful bow before sweeping her into the dancers.

Eventually, all Calix could do was shake his head and laugh to himself. At least one of them would manage to have a good time tonight. He scanned the room once before snagging a goblet of wine from a wandering servant bearing a tray and took a small sip.

It was unwatered now that they'd survived dinner and the temple service. He took another sip before he looked over the room again.

The men he saw wore masks fashioned after mighty bears and great cats. Swift falcons and eagles. Foxes and even the cunning wild dogs found in the southern deserts of Marbel.

His own mask of a snarling wolf drew a number of strange looks. Wolves, as a general rule, were a symbol of the northern lands. Some—like the giant white wolves of the Setorian Mountains—were considered to be omens of bad luck. Bringers of death, the eternal enemy of their warrior god, Eretanes.

He found a bench near an open door leading onto a wide balcony and sprawled onto it, burrowing deeper into his coat. The cold kept most of the others away, but the constant stream of fresh air kept him from feeling trapped as he waited and watched for the princess.

The women, as was tradition, wore the guises of gentler animals. Of prey animals.

Calix searched through the flocks of swans, doves and peacocks. The herds of exotic zebra and antelope. Soft rabbits and shy does abounded. There were even a few women dressed as more legendary creatures. He caught sight of a pearly pegasus and even a brilliant phoenix.

And every now and then, Calix caught a glimpse of Tarquin as he made his way through all of them. A slight smile tugged at his mouth. He knew his brother wouldn't settle on his quarry until he had sampled everything on offer tonight.

Dance after dance passed, and still he caught not so much as a hint of the princess' presence. Calix slumped farther down the wall, wondering if she would deny him even this chance to set things right between them.

The chilled stone he leaned against felt good on his aching back. He sipped slowly at his wine, carefully watching each woman as she passed. Even with the masks, he knew none of them were her.

The point of tonight's masquerade was to reveal the animal that resided in your heart. Calix would have bet his life that there was no gentle creature beneath Cassia's skin.

Then again... He frowned, focusing his attention on a few women with the right hair color and height. Perhaps she was simply hiding behind a docile mask to avoid the attention of eager nobles and scolding mothers.

Still, she was nowhere to be seen. Even masked, he could tell none of the women here were the princess. None of them moved with her poise or easy grace.

None of them moved—

Shocked gasps pulled his attention to the main doors of the hall and he sat bolt upright, fingers tightening around his goblet. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as she strode into the ballroom, people moving aside to let her pass. Even the music softened as the musicians caught sight of what had caused such a stir.

Her dress was a masterpiece of white and grey silk, silvered fur and sparkling embroidery. A capelet of shining fur protected her bare arms. The grey bodice hugged every delicious curve, her skirts falling from her hips in rippling folds of grey and silver before turning to pure white at the hem in an uneven pattern.

On her face was a silver wolf mask.

Cassia inclined her head toward her parents, both of whom were scowling at their daughter. She didn't lower her chin so much as an inch as she moved through the crowd before stopping to talk to an older woman wearing a sparrow mask. The woman shook her head and Cassia grinned, lifting one shoulder in an apologetic shrug.

After a few long moments of people staring at the princess who had declared that there was a wolf in her heart, the music picked back up. The dancers began moving again and conversation once more swelled, though that did nothing to diminish the number of staring eyes.

Calix swallowed hard and let his gaze drift across the room. He found Tarquin staring right at him over the shoulder of a woman in a brilliant blue dress. Slowly, Tarquin shook his head and Calix lunged to his feet.

He abandoned his wine on the bench and cut his way through the crowd until he found himself standing behind the princess. Her hair was in a clever knot at her nape, encrusted with smoky diamonds and grey pearls. Like she could feel his presence, she whirled to face him, then blinked in surprise.

The candlelight turned her eyes to pure gold behind her mask as she took in the blackened metal and snarling features of the wolf that lurked beneath his skin. Her mask was far more delicate, beautifully engraved and shining like quicksilver in the light.

A white wolf, and a black one.

All of the words that he had wanted to say to her abandoned him. The world around him faded a bit, until all he could hear was the music lacing its way through the air and the rush of blood in his veins.

Before he was conscious of the action, his hand reached toward her. "Dance with me," he heard himself say.

Cassia's lips parted slightly, her eyes widening with shock. His hand hovered between them for a long moment as she just stared and stared at him.

Just as he was sure she was going to reject his invitation, Cassia shook her head and placed her hand lightly in his, allowing him to guide her onto the dance floor. He bowed to her as she curtsied, then placed his hand on her waist as they picked up the step.

She whirled away from him when the music asked her to, then back into his chest and that's where he held her. His hand slipped to the small of her back, holding her body tight against his. Every move of his was answered by her, the music around them nothing like the song between them.

Calix opened his mouth and Cassia immediately stiffened, her eyes flashing up to his before darting away. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder, digging into the dark fur there.

"Princess—"

"How do your wounds fare, my lord?" she interrupted him, then bit her lip. More quietly, she said, "Are you still in much pain?"

Calix shrugged a shoulder, not allowing himself to wince. "They've healed well."

A combination of bedrest enforced by Tarquin and the ministrations of the court physician had seen the lash marks healed quickly and healed well. All but the deepest were now nothing more than scars, and even those were well on their way to becoming such.

The ache in his back now was mostly from the beginnings of the tattoo Tarquin had designed and perfected. Calix had forced him to begin inking just as soon as his skin was whole enough to withstand the needle.

It was nowhere near finished, but there had been something soothing about the rhythmic clack of the mallet and needles that Tarquin worked with. Something cleansing in the design that began to come to life across the ruined skin of his back.

As Tarquin had worked, Calix had been lost in thought, and had arrived at the same decision after each session.

"I'm glad," Cassia whispered softly after a long moment, her hand moving across his shoulder to stop just shy of his throat. He swallowed as she let her hand settle safely back on his shoulder.

To his surprise, she stopped moving and made to pull away from him, but he tightened his grip.

Cassia blinked up at him. "The dance is over, my lord."

Indeed, the first notes of a new song began to sift through the air, people changing partners. Tarquin moved past them, dark eyes narrowed, arms around a slim woman wearing a cardinal-red dress.

"Allow me one more," he whispered, fingers tightening around hers.

Cassia hesitated, hurt flashing in her eyes. Then her mouth tightened and she bowed her head in acquiescence. His brows drew together, a frown tugging at his own mouth. 

The princess refused to so much as meet his eyes, her gaze pinned over his shoulder as they moved about the dance floor. Her movements now were stiff and unhappy. Perhaps she believed he was somehow punishing her, by asking her to dance.

He needed to say something.

"I could never hate you," was what he found coming out of his mouth.

Cassia gasped softly and stopped dead, dragging him to a halt with her. He lightly cupped her chin, not caring who was watching. His voice low and clear, he said, "I do not blame you for what happened in Mortania."

To his utter surprise, tears filled her eyes. Her fingers clutched at the fur on his shoulder. A shocked huff of breath left him when she slammed her palms into his chest, shoving him away.

In spite of her heavy dress, the princess was already halfway across the hall by the time he'd managed four steps. He was able to chase after her this time. Tarquin caught his eye one last time, his eyes gleaming in warning as he nodded toward the side of the room.

Calix forced himself to stop and look carefully to the side. A chill ran down his spine when he found the king watching him from behind a mask in the shape of a lion's face. He looked back toward the princess to find her storming through the doors, waving off a woman with golden-brown hair.

Uncertainty kept him rooted to the spot for a moment. He counted three slow breaths.

Another look at the side of the room showed that the king had turned back to his conversation with some lord. But he could still feel someone's eyes on him. Calix scanned the room, but couldn't tell who might be watching, prying gazes hidden behind their masks.

Calix hesitated for a second longer, then shook his head. If he let her get too far away, he'd never manage to find her. Slowly, he left the dance floor and made his way to a table laden with food for anyone who somehow hadn't eaten their fill at the feast.

He popped a grape into his mouth and picked up another glass of deep red wine. All he managed was a single mouthful before he began to edge through the crowd, making sure he took on that swaggering, hunting gait Tarquin adopted while searching for his next dance partner.

Just a man trying to brush off one woman's rejection by going to another.

When he no longer felt eyes on his back, he slipped through the main doors and looked wildly around.

There was no sign of the princess.

Calix growled in frustration and ripped the wolf mask from his face. He lengthened his stride, eyes flickering around the hall. There was only one hallway and one staircase she could have picked between, but if he chose incorrectly, he'd wind up on the opposite side of the castle from her.

Praying to whoever or whatever might deign to listen, Calix began to jog, then run down the hall. When he got to the staircase, he hesitated, eyes tracing the steps up into the darkness at their crown.

Something inside of him tugged him away from the stairs. He didn't think she would go deeper into the castle.

He began running again, boots pounding over marble and thick carpet, his coat flaring out behind him. The doors to the perpendicular hall loomed before him and he skidded to a halt after he cleared the arched entryway. 

A rustle of silk had him whirling to the left just in time to watch a silver and grey skirt whip around another corner. Calix sprinted after her, his breath rasping in his throat, his back aching a little more.

The creak of a door spurred him on, the wolf mask falling from his hand to clatter on the floor. Calix caught the edge of the door just as it was swinging closed and burst into a narrow, dark hallway.

A gasp of shocked breath brought his gaze to the princess, who looked like a ghost. Her dress was bathed in the moonlight coming through the windows, turning it pearlescent. Calix realized this hall would have led her to the gardens. It was cold enough that his breath frosted in the air as he walked toward her slowly, hands raised in surrender.

Cassia stayed where she was, eyes gleaming warily from behind the mask still hiding most of her face. When she took a step back, he stopped dead, leaving nearly three feet of space between them.

He longed to reach out and touch her.

A beat of silence passed, only interrupted by the thin strains of music that managed to find them from the ballroom. Calix swallowed hard before he said, "What happened in Mortania, it is no one's fault but my own."

Cassia shook her head, the movement somehow vehement and helpless at the same time. Her voice cracking, she said, "I sent you there."

"The king sent me there," he snapped, then closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. "I am a soldier, Cassia." He nearly stumbled over her name, realizing how inappropriate it was for him to address her in that manner. But he pressed on, saying, "I have been for eleven years of my life. I am no stranger to the horrors of this life. It is not your fault, what happened."

"If I hadn't pressed the matter, the king would have simply sent the Third," Cassia whispered wretchedly, her arms wrapping around herself. Like she was trying to hold herself in one piece.

"And the chieftain still would have killed himself," Calix countered. "He still would have promised war and if the Third had been there, far more than twenty-nine men would have found themselves hanging from crosses."

Cassia winced with every point he made, and he could bear it no longer.

In one long step, he closed the distance between them. She flinched back and shut her eyes, but all he did was untie the knot holding her mask in place. Slowly, he pulled it away from her, using his other hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

He let the mask fall to the floor with a soft clang of metal on stone. The princess kept her eyes closed as he rested his hands on her shoulders.

"I do not blame you," he murmured. "I could never hate you."

He could only love her. Love this princess with her heart and soul of steel.

But he didn't say that. Couldn't say that. Not when he might never return from the island. Not when she would need absolute freedom to move through the world beyond these walls.

She needed her heart unfettered, and he needed to learn to live with the chains she had unwittingly wrapped around his.

He could love her as his queen—nothing more. 

"What happened in Antelium was the work of your brother. And of your father. It is something you tried desperately to prevent." Calix brushed another tear away with his thumb. "You did what was right in your heart. That is all I will ever ask of you. To do the things that feel right in your heart, and no amount of blood spilled will keep me from...admiring you for that."

Something like hope began to gleam in her eyes, and she brought her hands up to rest tentatively on either side of his waist. When he didn't so much as blink, wonder replaced the hope.

It was horrifying, really, how easily and completely she had believed he could hate her. Horrifying that the belief still lingered.

"Perhaps you should," she whispered, voice breaking again as more tears pooled in her eyes.

He managed a smile for her. "I do not hate you. I could not hate you."

"Calix, I—"

He drew her into a swift embrace, silencing her words. A thrill ran through him at his name on her lips. He held her for longer than he should, memorizing how her body fit against his. He memorized the sound of her sigh and the exact shade of her skin in the moonlight.

Cassia rested her head on his chest, her arms tightening around him. He held her, trying to imprint the heat and shape of her onto his heart.

Then he pulled away, leaving her looking startled and a little forlorn.

His hand trembling, he reached out to gently stroke her cheek, his heart fracturing as she leaned into his touch. She moved closer, her head tilted back in question and invitation.

Longing so fierce he thought it might destroy him crashed over him in a powerful wave. His heart cracked further. Her eyes dimmed the longer he hesitated.

Quietly, before he could do something exceedingly foolish, he said, "It was only a dream, Cassia."

She closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks again. But she didn't deny his words. She knew it was the truth just the same as he did.

"It was a good dream," she whispered, opening her eyes. She reached out and touched his face, making heat and despair race through his veins. Her hand moved down to his shoulder and she said, "Can we not keep dreaming for one more night?"

Calix suppressed a shudder, then dipped his head in a shallow nod as she took one of his hands. The other he rested on her back, pulling her in close as he listened for the strains of music coming from the ballroom.

The princess sighed, the sound hollow and rattling as she rested her head against his chest. He spun her in a slow circle, trying to convince himself that he was content to just breathe her in.

He didn't know how long they danced for. He didn't want to track the moon's progress through the sky, or listen for the chiming of the clock.

The light in the hall changed slowly from enchanted moonlight to the pale, cold reality of dawn. Still they danced, even though there was no more music. Calix shut his eyes against the grey light pressing through the windows. They only had a few more minutes and there were still things he needed to tell her.

He started with the least important.

His throat tight, he said, "I inquired after the position of the Fifth."

Cassia jolted slightly, like his words had brought her spiraling back down into her body. She tilted her head back so she could look at him, her golden eyes sleepy.

It had been selfish of him, to keep her until dawn.

"Reports do say that they're positioned in Marbel, awaiting orders to march farther south."

Cassia blinked and pulled back, her brow wrinkling. "But?"

Now Calix frowned, his arm still around her waist even though they were no longer moving. "But I also looked at some of the requisition orders. If there is an army down there, they don't seem to require much in the way of food or medicines."

Cassia blinked slowly, and he watched the understanding fall into place. "If the Fifth is not in Marbel...then where are they?"

All he could do was shake his head, mouth pressed into a grim line. For all his searching, he had been unable to find any clues as to the legion's true whereabouts.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked softly, fingers playing with the fur collar of his coat.

He smiled, the expression small. "In the library, you said you were unable to learn of the Fifth's location." A small flinch from her at the memory made him pause. Gently, he grasped her chin, lifting her face toward his. "You told me to look for any information regarding them."

Her throat bobbed and she said, "I didn't ask anything of you that day." She turned away from his touch. "I couldn't have."

Calix brought both hands up, meaning to cradle her face in his palms before he realized that he shouldn't. So instead, he took a small step back from her and gave her another smile. "You never needed to."

A shaky breath escaped her. Her gaze had turned uncertain again. Calix inhaled, taking one last moment to decide if he really meant what he was about to say.

There wasn't so much as a hint of doubt in his heart.

He clasped her hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing her fingers to his lips. "I am yours, Cassia Auralius, to do with as you will." He heard her gasp as he began the ritual words. "My life and my death are yours. I will be your vengeance and your shield. I will serve only you, fight only for you." He licked his lips. "Die, only for you."

Something in his heart lightened as he finally said the words he had been considering for days. It was no pretty speech to convince her of his feelings toward her. This oath had nothing to do with such petty things.

No, this was something ancient, belonging to the warrior kings of the far past who had needed someone so dedicated to them that they'd be willing to bind their lives together. It was a practice that hadn't been observed in well over two hundred years.

By saying these words, Calix had tied himself inextricably to her. And while it might one day destroy him, his heart leapt with the idea that he would be hers in a way no other might claim.

Slowly he knelt before her, waiting for her to either accept or reject his oath.

Almost immediately, she fell to her knees, twining her fingers through his. Her eyes somber, she said, "I accept your oath, warrior-heart. I willingly and fully trust my life to your shield and my empire to your sword."

For a heartbeat, Calix could have sworn a silver light flickered in the air around them. They stared at each other for a moment longer, the dawn turning fully to day.

Then Cassia smiled and leaned forward, brushing her lips once across his.

There was nothing heated in the kiss. Just forgiveness and apology, and recognition of the new role they would play for one another.

His heart broke completely, even as it rejoiced. This was what he had wanted—some way to show her his loyalty and that his heart truly belonged to her, even if hers could never belong to him.

It was more than he had the right to ask for, and she had done him a great kindness by accepting.

Cassia got to her feet, pulling him up along with her. Her fingers stayed threaded through his for a moment.

There was just one last thing to tell her.

Calix took a breath to steady his heart. "When you leave for the island," he whispered, "go to a tavern near the docks called the Raven's Well." He chuckled at her raised eyebrows. "Tell the man behind the counter my name, and he'll get you on a ship bound north."

A smile that nearly knocked his feet out from under him lit her face. It just as quickly dimmed, her gaze growing distant. "My father knows of my plans. Every northbound ship will be searched before it can leave the harbors."

Calix frowned at that, wondering how the king had found out.

"Marcus," she hissed, reading the question in his eyes. She waved a hand. "It hardly matters. He was not trying to stop me, merely redirect me for his own gain."

"Redirect you to where?" Calix growled. His hand went instinctively to his hip, his fingers curling uselessly at his side when they found no sword hilt. 

"Soria," she said with a frown. "To perhaps parley with King Malchus."

Calix stayed quiet for a moment, mulling that over. He ran a hand through his hair. "As much as it pains me to say, perhaps the prince has the right idea."

A raised eyebrow nearly made him flinch, but he pressed on. "Malchus' army, and perhaps more importantly his armadas, are the only true match to our own power. Ultimately, it works in our favor to have peace with the Sorians. With our struggles in Brunia, it's possible Malchus is once again looking east in hopes of conquest. A chance to cement our relationship with them is not a terrible idea."

"Which makes it strange coming from Marcus," she grumbled, and he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips.

"Indeed." He shook his head. "Whichever way you decide, Your Highness, north or west, my instructions remain the same. Ask for Caius Viloria. He'll help you get out of Metus."

Cassia mouthed the name to herself, memorizing it. "Thank you," she said more loudly.

Calix kissed her hand one last time. "You need never thank me," he said, voice rougher than he'd intended.

"But I will," she replied, finally pulling away. A glance toward the sun beginning to trickle in through the windows told him he needed to go. He had his own ship to catch northward.

When Cassia stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, he said, "If you ever find yourself in over your head, Princess, come find me."

She smiled as she wrapped her arms around him. "That is against the rules, my lord."

He held her tightly, knowing this was the last he'd see of her for a long, long time. "I won't tell if you won't."