With the air somewhat cleared between us and the kitsune, we walked on in companionable silence. We were already quite far from the town. In fact, we had almost reached the bridge that would allow us to cross over to Alys’ and my slice of territory.

  I turned to address the kitsune again… only for my eyes to land on nothing. I looked around, feeling a twinge of frustration.

  “Hmm? What’s wrong?”Alys hummed, squinting her own eyes at our surroundings. “Oh. He’s gone?”

  I lashed out with several detection and diagnostic spells, but they failed to reveal any sign of annoying foxes.

  Hmmm. How about…

  I changed the target of my diagnostic spells, infusing them with extra mana to expand their range. It took a moment, but I did notice a trail of flattened grass and disturbed plants.

  “See you some other time, then!” I called, waving directly at the spot where I knew the kitsune was.

  His steps faltered. Then a vulpine laugh echoed out into the night.

  I scoffed and shook my head, even as I resolved to keep practicing what I had just done. I was no longer an assassin, but that didn’t mean I shouldn’t maintain certain skills, particularly combat. Recent events had reminded me that I needed to be prepared to defend myself.

  “I should start training again,” I admitted out loud with a grimace. “I have neglected my physical abilities since I came here. It’s so easy to focus only on you and brewing.” My tone became teasing, though no less sincere. “The kitsune is a good reminder that life will continue to surprise us. He is friendly, but…”

  “But what if he wasn’t?” Alys finished the sentence for me with a grimace of her own. “He recognized what you were somehow, and he can apparently go invisible. Hrm. That would have been hard to deal with.”

  “Perhaps. If we had some warning, I think we could handle him easily enough,” I mused. “I can detect him through his invisibility. You can use your breath to devastate an entire area in whichever general direction you please. And I do have poison to fall back on, if necessary. Without those skills, however… yes, that would have been tricky..”

  It was ironic, considering my background, but I really didn’t like the idea of some invisible assassin coming after us.

  Thankfully, the threat wasn’t any more serious out here on the frontier than it would have been in the city. Though I’d been trained in an urban setting, and though my Belladonna heritage meant I couldn’t grow anything other than poisonous plants, I could still connect with regular greenery. I might even be able to force normal plants into a few moments of explosive growth before my poison infected them and caused them to wither away.

  It was that connection to nature that had allowed me to spread my diagnostic spell so easily through the grass. Granted, I wasn’t accustomed to using my abilities in that particular manner, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t do so. I was just as capable of detecting infiltrators, spies, and invisible menaces in my current setting as I would have been back home.

  My family’s training didn’t include ‘sensing people through the use of plants’ as a core skill simply because it wasn’t needed. Most of our work happened in cities, so we were fearsomely proficient in detection spells for urban settings. From what I knew, my parents’ most recent targets before I left had all been relatively high-ranking members of the Spring Court.

  Pan had been stirring up drama again.

  Of course, it was neither new nor surprising that the most troublesome of the Seasons was making trouble. Spring was infamous for a good reason. He was, singlehandedly, the reason why fae could make verbal contracts on a whim.

  No one even knew his real name…

  A claw poked my cheek, and I blinked at the hand attached to it before glancing at Alys. She looked thoroughly amused.

  “What’s on your mind now, hrm? Solving Grafton’s problem?”

  “No, actually. I got a bit lost in thoughts about home, and my mind wandered to some strange places. Did you know that no one knows what Spring’s real name is? I once had a chat with a very high-ranking member of his Court, and they couldn’t tell me either. It’s not that they knew and weren’t allowed to say it. They explicitly admitted that no one knew.”

  “That’s… odd. I thought his name was Pan?”

  “Oh, the name ‘Pan’ definitely belongs to him, but it isn’t his name.”

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  Her expression made me start snickering. I couldn’t help it.

  “Explain,” she huffed. “And don’t be an annoying fae.”

  “That is offensive. And also true.” Reining in my amusement, I said, “You know all the stories about fae? How you shouldn’t promise anything to us, or make deals with us, or even offer simple thanks, especially not while acknowledging a debt? Actually, the bit about thanks is an exaggeration. You can thank us freely. Acknowledging a debt can get you into trouble, though. Anyway, Spring is the source of all those stories.”

  Alys made an adorably startled face. “Him alone?”

  “Correct! He started it all by stealing the name of a god, Pan. Pan used to be the god of the wilds, music, and a couple other things. When Spring got a hold of his identity, he siphoned all of that away. The original Pan, the true Pan, withered and faded, and Spring stole all of his power. That’s why he likes to appear as a satyr sometimes.”

  “Fae can do that?” She didn’t seem wary of me, exactly, but there was undeniable worry in her voice.

  “We can, if we are so inclined and if someone gives us the opportunity. Honestly, you can do a great deal if you manage to acquire someone’s name. Strip them of all their power, memories, and sense of identity. Force them to follow your every whim. Even twist them, physically and mentally, into some rather disturbing creatures.”

  Her expression indicated that my words had done nothing to reassure her.

  “However,” I added hastily, “all of that requires consent. It doesn’t have to be explicitly offered consent, of course. Fae can trick a person into ‘accepting’ the idea of surrendering control, but we can’t force someone to do it. That’s why mortal races have created so many rules for dealing with fae. Don’t accept any food or drinks, don’t say you owe us thanks, don’t make deals, don’t promise favors…”

  I shrugged. The number of rules solely for having a conversation with a fae was really quite shocking. I would have called it excessive, but… the Spring Court existed.

  “You are going to walk me through all the rules that actually matter,” Alys said with finality. “I know a bit about fae and how to deal with them, but my grandmother never went into details, and I didn’t know it was this important!”

  A burst of flame escaped her as she huffed, lighting up the night for a moment.

  I laughed again. “Dragons don’t need to worry so much. Especially dragons as strong as your grandmother. Most Noble Fae would never openly admit it, but even we are wary of dragons. Only the most reckless among us ever try to antagonize one.”

  Her tail lashed angrily, and I didn’t much like the expression that crossed her face. Too late, I remembered an old stereotype I’d learned in my studies: all races that had descended from dragons were envious of their ancestors. Draconians were closer to pure dragons than most, but they still weren’t on the same level.

  I rushed to continue talking.

  “Of course, I would be happy to go over everything with you. Though I will note that the vast majority of ‘common’ fae cannot do any of what we discussed. And really, overall, you only need to worry about the Spring Court.”

  “Hrm? Why is that, on both points?”

  “Common fae are… complicated. Let’s save that talk for another day. As for the second point, the Seasons strongly affect the Courts they rule. Summer is passionate and whimsical. Autumn is a bit mercurial, capable of both intense, nurturing love and deep cruelty. I believe you already know about Winter’s reputation. And Spring is a trickster who loves chaos.”

  “Is this really true for all fae in those Courts?”

  “I… yes.” I would have loved to argue against some of the worse traits ascribed to my own Court, but I truly couldn’t. “To different degrees, obviously. Not all members of a Court will be the same. Still, members of the Spring Court tend to thrive on tricking people for their own amusement. The frustrating thing is that one can’t even say they are malicious.”

  Her deadpan look was, as always, impressive. “Really? After what you just told me?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know how to say it delicately, so here goes: fae do not view the world through the same lens as most other races. The Spring Court is, simultaneously, the home of the worst monsters ever to exist and the most innocent minds you can imagine. I’ve heard horror stories about them trying to help people.”

  She was silent for a long moment, her tail around my waist tensing and relaxing as she considered my words.

  “And what about you? You get along with people just fine.” She was looking at me from the corner of her eye, keeping her face fixed forward.

  “I am a bit of an exception to the typical fae attitude, but… well…” I smiled. It wasn’t a very sincere or happy smile. “Though I hate to disappoint, I’m afraid I am not really that different. When I care about someone, or if I like them, I am perfectly safe to be around. ‘Normal’, even. I also will not go out of my way to hurt people.”

  I paused and swallowed thickly. “I simply don’t care about most people. I am happy to provide assistance and to use my skills in a helpful manner, because that’s what I decided I want to do. I didn’t want to be just another Belladonna tool for Autumn to wield, and I didn’t like how all my family’s gifts were bent towards murder and harm, so I decided to pursue the exact opposite. But I wouldn’t say my motives are… pure.”

  She turned to look at me, really look at me. I could hear my heart pounding anxiously in my own ears. If she decided she didn’t like what she saw, I wasn’t sure what I could do to fix things.

  She cupped my chin and gazed at me for a second longer before she pulled me in for a kiss.

  Relief flooded through my veins like fire, scalding every inch of me until I felt almost feverish. When we pulled apart, the small smile on her face was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  “I think you’re forgetting that no one can accuse dragons of being altruistic, either,” she rumbled in amusement. “I like you the way you are.”

  I caught her hand in mine and kept it against my cheek, relishing in the warmth of her touch. I could feel it even through the fever that had claimed me.

  “Really?”

  “Nothing you’ve said changes the way you’ve treated me, you idiot,” she scoffed. “Or everything I’ve seen you do. Maybe that’s just because you like all the people I’ve seen you interact with, but that’s fine. It’s not like members of any other race are saints to everyone they meet.”

  A part of me was worried she didn’t quite understand what I was trying to get across, but I wasn’t going to protest. Nor was I going to fight the way her reassurance made me feel.

  I was quite content to lose myself in that look in her eyes and pull her in for another kiss instead.