Val tried hard not to look at the stand of trees. How many demons waited there? What abilities might they have?

She shifted her stance a bit and pretended to admire the colorful sunset, an enchanting mixture of pink and orange and purple streaking across the sky. Unexpectedly, the sight calmed her. She wasn’t one to normally take the time to appreciate something so ordinary, though on occasion one caught her eye. There would be other sunsets, many sunrises, an unending number of flowering trees and summer rains and…

With war so close it seemed that nothing was truly unending. Tomorrow was not promised. For some, this sunset would be the last.

Moments earlier her father had dismounted well short of the wooded area where an ambush awaited, to examine his mount’s front hooves with evident displeasure. It would appear to anyone who might be watching that he was concerned for the animal and also annoyed by the delay. They made camp earlier than they’d originally planned, earlier than those who waited in the shadow of the trees ahead might’ve thought they would.

The attack would have to wait, or else the enemy would have to leave their cover and come to them. They’d be far more exposed than they’d planned. Val and her army would be ready. Were the demons gathered there patient enough to wait until tomorrow?

Could an army of mortal men — with one child among them — ever be ready to face an army of demon daughters? The demons were all young women, perhaps seemingly vulnerable. But they were powerful, each one with their unique gifts. Or curses.

Val reminded herself that none of those they faced in battle would be among the small number of daughters of the Isen Demon who’d chosen to embrace their human selves above the darkness. Those few — far too few — were in hiding, from all she’d heard. And still, knowing that there were some who had managed to deny the darkness gave her hope. For the war. For Columbyana.

Her father walked toward her, a scowl on his face, a hard oatcake grasped in one hand. He handed the food to her and she took it, noting as she did the contrast between her hand and his. His hand was large and hard and scarred. Hers was small, the hand of a child, still.

She did not feel like a child. She never had.

“How many do you expect?” she asked, and then she took a small bite. Her stomach was roiling so viciously that she could not even think of eating much.

“I have no idea. Can’t Kitty tell you?”

Not sure, not yet.

Val relayed the message, and then added, “If there is a seer among them, they will know what we’re doing.”

“That’s a possibility.”

No seer, Kitty said. Powerful demons with lightning in their fingertips and supreme strength, one who will fly and two Ksana demons. But none have the sight.

Again, Val relayed Kitty’s words.

“They will wait until it’s fully dark to attack,” her father said. “We’ll be ready for them.”

The general’s posture changed subtly, and it wasn’t long before Val understood why. Cyrus joined them. Her father didn’t like the farmer’s son much.

“What is my part in the plan?” Cyrus asked.

“You have no part,” General Merin snapped. “I will not have my men or my daughter distracted while trying to protect an untrained soldier. Just…” he waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “Hide. Or better yet, leave us. Yes, it would be best if you headed for home now.”

Instead of slinking away, as many did when confronted by the general when he was in such a state, Cyrus stood taller. He did not back away, not even an inch. “I’m not leaving without Valora.”

“She’s not going with you.” It was a matter-of-fact statement from a stern father.

“Then here I will stay.”

Somehow the two men had gradually moved closer together until they were almost nose to nose. The confrontation had caught the attention of many soldiers who were near enough to hear.

Not that it was necessary to hear to know there was a disagreement going on. Each maintained a stance that spoke of aggression and displeasure. Over her?

Cyrus’s hands balled into fists. “I don’t understand how a man can willingly send his daughter into battle! She’s not much more than a child, and you…”

“Watch your tongue, boy.”

Cyrus was not intimidated. “At this moment I don’t care about prophecies or destined battles. I don’t care how well-trained Valora is, or that she carries a magical sword that apparently speaks to her, or that she’s…” His chin seemed to stiffen before he caught his breath and continued, “Or that she’s stronger than I will ever be. Danger is upon us, and she should be protected.”

Val shifted, trying to place herself between the two men, but she was too late. Her red-faced father moved even closer to Cyrus. “Do you think I like the idea of my daughter going into battle? Do you think I take any pleasure in knowing what’s coming for her? Don’t you think I want to protect her?”

Cyrus remained calm. “Apparently not.”

Kitty began to buzz. Val gasped as her father drew his hand back as if he intended to strike the man who had dared to confront him.

With a sidestep and a squirming motion, Val managed to insert herself between them.

“Double our number,” she said.

Both men looked at her. Her father’s hand remained raised. “What?”

“The demons, they are double our number. And they’re coming. Now.”

* * *

Pax was glad — relieved, really — to filch a pair of trousers and a linen shirt from a small farm near the foothills. As he’d told Linara, he’d stolen clothing before, when it was necessary. He’d always returned at a later time with better clothes or a bit of coin in repayment, leaving whatever offering he had on a doorstep or on yet another line of drying clothes. This time, he wasn’t sure when or if he would return. For the first time, he felt like an actual thief.

The clothes he stole were clean, freshly washed and left drying on a line along with a woman’s dress which was as well-worn as the pants and shirt he took. Even though he felt like a thief, he was happy to get out of the dead Caradon’s clothes, which were too small and stunk to the heavens.

Linara started to move away, and then she hesitated, as if she were uncertain about what came next. She stuck a hand into the pocket of her dress pulled out a few pieces of dragonstone, which she dropped to the ground. The stones glimmered, unlike anything that might be found in or near this farm.

She looked at him, and then toward the small house. They saw no sign of life there. The residents were working elsewhere, it seemed, or else hiding from the thieves who might be more than thieves. “A promise that I will return one day with payment of some sort.”

A woman who would worry about taking an old shirt and pair of pants without offering compensation could not be evil.

It was just dark, the sun finally gone from the sky, as they walked away from the farm. Linara was in the lead. She did not mind turning her back to him, even though he had not given her his forgiveness. Even though he carried his sword in one hand. He wanted to fly, and probably could, even though he was not entirely healed, but he remained grounded. Hidden. Not for himself, but for Linara’s family.

Linara was a demon who had been sent to his home to kill him, but she loved her family. She would sacrifice anything, even him, for them.

And so like it or not, he could forgive her anything.

He tried to remember if he had ever forgiven anyone. Perhaps he had, at some point during his long lifetime, but no example came to him. Linara had come to his mountain to assassinate him; she had lied; she had stolen his sword. Who could forgive such acts of treachery? She’d used his own sword to bring him down. No matter what her reasons had been…she had attacked him as no other ever had.

And yet, he still thought of a future with her. She was no dragon; she was not his mate, and yet he could imagine too well just the two of them, settling on the mountain which was now behind them, or on any other. The world had many mountains, many caves and ponds and hills. Those mountains were lush and harsh, cold and warm, barren and filled with life. No matter which one they chose, they could have everything they needed. Sex. Laughter. A home. Not a home like any Linara had ever known, but a home just the same.

If they both survived this war, if she would have him, if he could…

Linara held up one hand as she came to an abrupt stop. He stopped, too, wondering what she had heard that he had not.

“My sisters, they attack.”

He moved closer. “The village? How close are we?”

“Not the village.” She turned to the east. “We’re too far away, but…they need us. They need help.”

And he had just been thinking of sharing a lifetime with her! “I have no intention of helping your damned sisters.”

Linara spun on him. “Not them,” she whispered hotly. “We need to help those who are being attacked by my sisters.” She took a deep breath. “They are too far away, but you can take me there. With flight, we can get there in time. Fly low and save your flame.”

* * *

All her life, Val had known she was meant for this. That didn’t make her first battle any easier.

Demons came, some running, more than one flying. The soldiers did not hesitate. For some of them, this wasn’t their first encounter with an enemy who appeared to be a helpless female. The others adapted quickly. It was that or death.

Soldiers fell, but so did demons. They were not invincible, but they were fearsome adversaries. Some fought, as the men did, with weapons made by human hands. Others sent lightning and fire hurtling through the air. Sometimes the magical weapons found their intended target, but often they did not. The demons were powerful, but they were not trained fighters, and changing their plan of attack had rattled a few of them.

It could be said that they suffered from overconfidence.

Val was a target; she noted that several of the demons set their sights on her as soon as they were close. They worked their way toward her, leaping with grace, all but flying, moving faster than was normal and cutting down the soldiers that got in their way.

As one hurtled toward Val, hands like claws raised in the air, Cyrus — wielding only a long knife — threw himself in front of her. The demon never took her eyes from Val; she simply tossed Cyrus aside like a rag doll Val’s youngest sister liked to sleep with.

As Val watched Cyrus fly, something happened to her. Her focus intensified, and she felt a new strength flow through her. Everything around her was suddenly washed in the colors of the rainbow. The approaching demon paused and then stumbled, before continuing.

Princess, Kitty whispered.

She is not…

That is the name this Ksana gave herself, when Stasio found her. She came before you. She was once…

There was no more time for words, magical or otherwise. Val lifted her sword and swung.

Princess was fast. She ducked and spun. And she smiled. When she turned her head, Val saw a scar on the demon’s neck.

Normally, the demons didn’t scar. The wound must’ve been deep.

Instead of turning to Val, Princess leaped to the place where Cyrus lay on the ground. Dead? No, he stirred. Princess looked at Val, then smiled widely as she dropped to her knees and lowered her mouth to Cyrus’.

Val pushed past a wounded man. The battling soldier would be fine; he did not need her. Cyrus did need her. She spared a glance for her father, who was holding his own, as were most of his men. When she reached Cyrus, she raised a booted foot and kicked Princess off of him. The demon, surprised by Val’s strength, flew off the body and landed on her rear end in the dirt.

And then she laughed. Val wanted to look to Cyrus, to make sure he was still alive, that the Ksana had not drained him in the short amount of time they’d been touching. She didn’t dare take her eyes from Princess.

“They said you were strong,” Princess said as she leaped to her feet and brushed the dirt from her skirt. “You might be harder to kill than they…”

An ear-splitting roar from the near distance grabbed everyone’s attention. Val turned, and so did Princess. So did they all. For a moment, the battle came to a standstill. The night stopped.

Val blinked once, to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

A dragon, flying low to the ground, approached with great speed. A woman rode upon its back, and she held a sword high. It was a sight Val had never thought to see, something out of a bedtime story or a myth of earlier days. The dragon and the woman crashed into the battle. Clawed feet dug into the ground and sent dirt and grass flying. Oh, the size of the beast!

Ksana, Kitty whispered, and Val’s heart stopped. Her small army had a chance against the demons alone, but they could not defeat a dragon. When it spat fire…

One of the demons who had the gift of flight rose into the air and drifted toward the intruders. For a better look, or did she simply want a word with the woman on the dragon’s back a woman who was, apparently, one of their own? She moved past the dragon’s head, the shirt of her simple gray dress trailing behind her like fog on an early morning. The beast turned its head, but still, there was no fire.

Reinforcements. How could they fight a dragon?

The flying demon was shocked when the woman on the dragon rose up, swung the massive sword, and took her head. Val was shocked, too. So were the other demons, who panicked and ran toward the trees. Even Princess retreated.

The dragon, which was beautiful in flight, Val had to admit -- even more beautiful now that she knew it was on the right side of the battle -- rose high, then dropped and turned, swooping overhead and creating a warm breeze. A massive tail, thick and long and powerful, a weapon all its own, whipped in the air. The swinging tail made a whistling sound, much like a stormy wind in the trees. Now behind the retreating demons, the dragon spit forth a white hot flame they could not outrun.

They were demons, but they screamed like women as they died. They were aflame, even the Ksana Princess who had tried to kill Cyrus. Val wasn’t sorry, she couldn’t be sorry, but for a long moment, she closed her eyes against the horrifying sight.

She did not stay in that position long. She turned away from the burning demons, dropping to her knees beside Cyrus. Kitty fell a short distance to the dirt. The sword gave an indignant but short-lived howl as Val placed her trembling hands on Cyrus’ pale cheeks. His eyes were closed. His lips were parted and pale.

“Please be alive,” she whispered. “Please, don’t die.”