"Eat."

Oleander all but dropped a piece of rye bread and a slice of cheese in my lap while I was still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

I covered up a yawn with one hand and grabbed the piece of bread with the other. "Thank you and good morning to you too?"

Oleander ignored my lighthearted comment and sat opposite me on the bed. "There is one more thing I need to tell you before we leave this inn room and head into the mountains."

"You need to tell me something," I repeated. "Do you really have to? The last few times you 'told me something' it was about your deception and an evil artefact made with the blood of children. Terrible things."

"It's about the Changeling," Oleander continued, again, ignoring my lighthearted albeit half-serious comment. "A confession I have to make."

I cleared my throat and dropped my smile because Oleander looked dead serious. "Let's hear it then."

Oleander crouched and grabbed the staff from below the bed. He unwrapped the cloth hiding the gem. Its blood red shine looked all the more menacing to me, knowing how close I was to having to wield it.

"To state it bluntly," Oleander said, "I don't know exactly what happens if you touch the Changeling. I only know it's not deadly to the god-touched, since it was never the intention of its creators to kill its wielders. And, as far as I know, everyone who used it survived."

I smiled wryly. "Good to hear I won't die when I touch it. Probably."

"The Changeling may test you, however," Oleander said. "Thankfully, you've been training with your storm-touched gifts ever since you were a child. You received it at a young age if I recall correctly."

"Yes, I was five," I confirmed. "And my parents started preparing me to head into the mountains and slay a dragon ever since. I needed to be well-trained with my gifts for that."

Oleander snorted. "I never thought I would say this, but bless them for that. I can't imagine what would happen if I tried to take one of those weak Wildewall god-touched to the mountains."

"What do you mean?"

"You saw those god-touched at the temple, pretending to be guards at my execution." Oleander wrinkled his nose in obvious distaste."They went down like they had never even used the might their god granted them in their life."

"I saw you kill them with one slam of your tail, yes," I said. "They never even had the chance to use their god-touched power on you."

"You would have been able to summon your thunder before I could reach you," Oleander shot back. "They couldn't conjure their magic fast enough, and that is a clear sign of improper training and completely their own fault. They spent all their time living in a temple, getting fed grapes and living off of their status as a god-touched. Worse: people let them and believed stationing them as guards at my execution, which was nothing but empty posturing, would be enough. They allowed themselves to get comfortable and weak and it's a disgrace to their gods. Despite being disgraced and exiled from the court, you followed a far more noble path."

"I don't know, Oleander." I grinned. "If I had known what waited for me in Wildewall and I could've been sitting on my ass getting worshipped by everyone around me, I might've taken that life instead. It beats being smacked around by Gisela for missing a target. Not that I would've wanted to end up slammed against the wall by a dragon's tail like them."

Oleander raised a suggestive brow. "It's unfortunate to hear you're not happy being slammed into the wall."

Heat rose to my cheeks. "Don't change the subject," I protested. "The Changeling. It's going to... test me?"

"It is possible," Oleander replied. "I can't say I know it all. I'm not a god-touched." Oleander frowned. "I wish we could ask Farun or any of the elves who are far better versed in magic than I am. Regardless, all I'm meaning to say is: be prepared for the artefact influencing you as well as you influencing it."

"The evil artefact made by crazy wither-touched elves will influence me?" I pressed my lips to a thin line. "Great."

Oleander reached out and touched my hand. "It's not too late to change your mind. As long as I escape the queen's grasp, I will be able to do this, and they will not find me if I do not wish for them to find me. I can wear the skin of a dragon, after all."

I looked at Oleander's hand on mine, then at his face. He seemed serious, and it surprised me he even offered me an out, considering how badly I knew he wanted to save his people.

I shook my head. "I came this far. I'm not going to turn around and run now. Where would you even find another god-touched capable of wielding the Changeling near the mountain range, Oleander?"

"I likely wouldn't," Oleander admitted. "But I have already asked a lot of you."

I winked. "Glad you acknowledge that."

Oleander offered me a smile. Then he got up and started pacing the room. "Before we depart, we need to go back to that shop and buy clothes. All we can find."

"Why?"

Oleander stopped and looked at me. "There will be many elves who will die of frostbite once the Changeling's effect on them breaks and they shift back. I almost froze to death when you found me."

"Right. I'd almost forget: dragon skins don't come with clothes when you change back. Inconvenient. Well..." I reached for my bag and pulled out the pouch containing all the gemstones. I placed it into Oleander's hand. "Let's hope this is enough to buy it all."

*

The owner of the clothing shop was jovial as ever. She spread her arms wide with a smile when she saw me returning to her stand. "Back so soon, traveler?" she greeted me and Oleander. "Do you need more clothing? I'd be happy to take some more gemstones off your hands."

"We certainly need more of your warm clothes," I replied.

The shopkeeper clapped her hands in her excitement. "Excellent, may I recommend you our new line of deerskin leather? How many more items do you need?"

Oleander placed the gemstone pouch on the shopkeeper's table and opened it wide. "All of them," he said. He pointed at the cart and the horse standing beside the stand. "And we'd be most grateful if we could borrow your horse and cart as well to take these where they need to go."

For a moment, I doubted if the shopkeeper was even listening to Oleander. Her wide eyes were firmly trained on the bag of riches on the table, which was certainly more than we needed to pay for these clothes. Still, she didn't accept Oleander's request immediately. Prying her eyes off of the gemstones, she met Oleander's gaze. "And where will all my clothes be going, good sir?"

"To the mountains," Oleander replied honestly. "We're leading... an expedition of sorts. We'll bring your cart and horse back in one piece. We're not going far."

"Alright then," the shopkeeper finally gave in after scrutinising us both. "I normally wouldn't let people borrow my steed and my cart, but I suppose you've just earned me so much coin I can make an exception." The woman guffawed. "And since you bought my entire stock, I'm not going anywhere for a while. I have more hides to tan!"

"Thank you," Oleander said with a charming smile. "Let's get to work, Laurence. Or rather, can you get to work? My shoulder hurts and you are the one with the impressive muscles."

Oleander pouted. I jokingly rolled my eyes. "Fine."

I accepted the first set of shirts which the shopkeeper kindly handed to me, and stacked them into the cart. Oleander didn't help me. He stood next to the horse, holding the queen's staff in both hands while I worked. I paid little attention to my surroundings until I felt eyes burning on me from across the street. Like someone was watching me.

Just as I wanted to look up, Oleander stepped in front of me and blocked my view. "Don't look up and act natural," he hissed. "We are being watched. Mercenaries, I think."

I trained my eyes on the pile of clothes in the cart and resisted the urge to glance at the people watching us. "I saw a few men at the inn observing me yesterday," I muttered.

"Why didn't you mention it?" Oleander whispered back.

I stalled behind the cart by shifting some of the clothes, as if making room for more. "I thought they were fortune seekers on their way to Wildewall, who just wanted my coin," I replied. "The queen's soldiers can't possibly be here yet. Without your flight, it would take them at least a week to reach the mountains."

Oleander walked back to the shopkeeper's stand without responding, while I lingered near the cart. My mind raced. The queen's soldiers really couldn't have made it here already, could they? They didn't have dragons in Wildewall, and as far as I knew, there were no god-touched who could travel at these speeds. Dragon shapeshifters were created by the elven artefact, and I'd never heard of anyone accomplishing anything like it with other magic.

I didn't even know the men watching us now were the same men I'd seen lurking near the inn yesterday. For all I knew, they weren't, or they were simply curious about what we were doing with all these clothes. I would be curious too if I saw someone purchase all the wares from a stand with gemstones.

One brief glance wouldn't be suspicious, would it? I could make it subtle. As I stepped away from the cart, I casually stretched my arms and looked across the street. There were several men staring at me and with a jolt I realised I certainly recognised their faces from yesterday. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, and they only watched me. But then a man donned in slightly fancier clothing than the others pointed at me, and all the men started moving. Their hands rested on the handles of their swords as they came marching towards me.

"Oh shit," I muttered. I turned to the clothing stand. "Oleander!"

Oleander looked up at me, at the men, and made a run for the cart. "Keep the change!" he yelled at the shopkeeper.

As Oleander tossed the queen's staff into the cart and hurled himself in after, I climbed into the driver's seat and grabbed the reins. I waited until Oleander was safely settled and then spurred the horse on. With an almost offended neigh at being ordered to run so abruptly, it galloped away.

"Stop them!" the man in the fanciest mercenary clothes yelled. The other mercenaries ran after us and one of them leapt, grabbing hold of the cart's railing. But with a roar, Oleander kicked the mercenary's hands, making him fall off again, howling in pain.

People screamed and ducked out of the way left and right as I steered the horse through the streets at full speed. Several clothing lines caught on the cart and snapped, causing freshly washed clothes to land in the dirt. "Sorry! Out of the way!" I yelled at the villagers we passed. 

After a few moments we crossed a bridge. The cart squeaked and moaned—it clearly wasn't made to travel across stone at this speed. "Oleander, this is not the glorious march into the mountains I expected it to be!"

"Just keep going! We must reach the mountains!" Oleander yelled back. Then he uttered what I assumed were swearwords in elven. "Laurence, they have horses too!"

I looked over my shoulder. Oleander was right; several of the mercenaries had mounted horses and were rapidly gaining on us. They were far faster on horseback than we were with a cart full of clothes.

"Why are we even fleeing?" I asked, balling my right fist and making thunder crackle in the palm of my hand. "I can scare them off."

"No!" Oleander stopped me. "You will need all your power to wield the Changeling. I fear what will happen if you're too tired. And you will also need to stave off the dragons that aren't elven."

"There are dragons in the mountains that aren't elven?" I squeaked. "Multiple? You didn't tell me that!"

I couldn't worry about it right now, however. We wouldn't even make it to the mountains at this rate. As we galloped past The Last Stop's gates, we entered an open road. There was even less of a chance outside the village walls that we would outrun men on horseback with a cart. I looked over my shoulder again and realised they would reach us any moment now. 

"Laurence!" Oleander suddenly called out.

Our horse neighed and then the cart jolted to a halt so abruptly, I just barely managed to grab onto the rail as we slid to a halt. Three more riders had appeared in front of us from behind the trees and blocked the road. Behind us, the others trapped us by circling the cart. They carried bows, with arrows pointed at both me and Oleander.

The mercenary in the fancy clothes came to the front of the cart and smirked at me. "You're not going anywhere," he said. "This is the end of the line for you, lord Montbow."

Slowly, I stood and made myself tall and broad on the cart, towering over the mercenaries on their horses. Making ourselves look more impressive than we were, bluffing, was a skill that had protected the Montbow family more than once over the years as our wealth declined. I had to admit I mostly relied on my mark, however. I didn't have the natural ability to intimidate like Conrad and Gisela. They would be calm in this situation, while my heart thundered. 

"How did you know we were going to be here?" I demanded. "You could not have traveled from Wildewall to the mountains this fast."

The man stared at me. He didn't seem to understand what I was talking about. But after confusion briefly flickered in his eyes, he was soon back to smirking unpleasantly . "A little bird whispered in our ears you would be attempting to slay the dragon again, lord Montbow. Except, I expected Endris with you. Not..." The man looked at Oleander. "This person. No matter. It makes this much easier if we don't need to kill Endris, too."

"He's not sent here from Wildewall, Laurence," Oleander muttered. "At least, not since we escaped the queen. No, they're here for another reason."

"You're right, these are not the queen's soldiers. They must be Ytel's," I replied quietly. Ytel had wanted our remaining territory at the Thundercoast for himself. He must've had these men waiting for me and Endris to ambush me when I went into the mountains again for a second attempt. "I can strike them down. We can wait!" I told Oleander. 

"No," Oleander replied. "We can't risk delaying now. One of the riders went the other way. He must be getting reinforcements and we can't keep fighting off more of them. We have to go."

"I hope you had fun whispering, lord Montbow," the mercenary leader spoke. "Because these are the last words you will speak before you tragically lose your life in the mountains fighting a dragon."

"Wait," I called out as the archers drew their bows. "Your master, knight commander Ytel, is dead. You're not going to get paid. You have no reason to kill me anymore."

The mercenaries didn't listen. Their bows were drawn, and I would need to defend Oleander and myself if I didn't want us to die here. I breathed in deeply, energy flowing through my mark.

"Laurence," Oleander spoke from the back. "You will have to do this."

I didn't have time to summon my thunder. I didn't even have time to turn my head to look at Oleander. A man screamed in pain behind me. The queen's staff clattered onto the floor beside me, and Oleander leapt past me in a blur.

The horse of the bowman cried out in panic as Oleander jumped from the cart and launched himself onto its back. Oleander knocked the rider onto the ground before jumping after him. Then he stole the sword from the mercenary's scabbard and stabbed its owner in the chest. An arrow aimed at Oleander swished past my head, but Oleander dove out of its way and it ricocheted against the ground. Jumping to his feet, Oleander smacked the other two horses on their ass and they both bolted, clearing up a path in front of me.

"Go!" Oleander yelled as he rolled out of my way. "I will follow you when I'm done with them. Go!"

I didn't want to leave Oleander with the mercenaries. The mercenaries who were here to kill me. They were after me. If this cost Oleander his life, I would never forgive myself. But me fighting these men wasn't what Oleander wanted. The only reason he was here was to free his people.

And so I did as Oleander said. Ducking down, I spurred the horses on with the reins and broke free from the mercenary group. At least five arrows hit the cart with dull thuds, the arrowheads burying into the wood. While my horse galloped towards the valley, I stayed low until I no longer heard yelling and scuffling.