My reprieve with Ling is over much too quickly.

"You do not have to come," I say.

"I need to," Ling counters with a slight smile, rubbing her thumb over my lip. "We have enough people that it should be safe, even though I am not a fighter."

I shake my head, wrapping my arms around her. "Battle is never safe," I mutter into her hair, breathing in her clean scent. "But I understand." I would want to see my captor's demise as well.

We do not waste the morning, leaving House Viir early in the same procession as I left yesterday, only this time Ling rides with me, her face clear of exhaustion and her eyes alert.

Her cheeks are flushed from the last orgasm I gave her before we left.

She catches me looking at her and blushes, our bond clearly giving away the direction of my thoughts. I smile, but it fades as we exit the tunnel and start the ride to House Caffaar. I do not know what Franean will decide to do upon seeing our formidable forces, but we must be ready for resistance.

The smart move would be to surrender, to minimize his House's losses. But it also would have been smart to never become involved with Malathin's plan in the first place.

He will have had time to prepare because unless he is completely incompetent, news of Malathin's ousting and the change in leadership of House Saren will have reached him. We will just have to see what he does with that knowledge.

Before we reach the tunnel leading into House Caffaar's rakennus, our scouts come back, their faces grim. "The gates are closed and archers line the border walls," the older one says.

I nod. I am not too surprised. Still, I will not make the mistake of assuming surrender is not an option for Franean. It would be a much cleaner end to this, and I hope for that outcome still.

We enter the brightly lit tunnel and come out onto the clear flat portion of the cavern. As the scouts said, the gates are closed, the tops of the border wall bristling with archers, their arrows notched and aimed.

I call out a halt outside their range, scanning the border wall. The situation is much the same as at House Saren but this time, my eye lands on Franean. He is at the top of the gates, his eyes narrowed as he takes in the people still streaming in behind me.

I keep from hailing him until our forces are inside, wanting him to understand what he will be fighting should he choose to resist. When the last of us trails in, I turn back.

"Surrender!" I call out. "You cannot stand against such force!"

His eyes scan until they land on me, his mouth tightening. "I will not surrender! This attack on my House will not be tolerated!" he shouts back, standing up straighter as if posing for all to see.

I shake my head. He is an utter idiot.

"Will not be tolerated?" I repeat, allowing shock to color my voice. "You kidnapped my Pari and attempted to hold her hostage until I did your bidding." The guards around him remain stoic, but their faces twitch as they face the knowledge of why they are under attack. "Did you think their would be no repayment for such an act?"

Franean's gaze moves over to lock on Ling and he sneers. "I am sorry indeed to see your Pari alive," he calls out.

Even his own people quiet at that statement. It shows not only his idiocy, but his utter lack of empathy.

A cold calm descends over me. There will be no surrender today.

I signal our archers into position. They line up in a semicircle in front of the front boundary wall, still outside of House Caffaar's archer range. All of them are equipped with House Fernal's bows, built to travel a longer distance than the standard, traditional bows and not yet used in a battle situation. We have been keeping them under wraps, a surprise if needed.

"Fire!"

Arrows arch up toward the top of the wall just as their people let go of their own. Theirs hit the rock some distance away from us, falling short.

Ours do not.

Screams and yells fill the air as our arrows hit their intended targets, cutting down almost the complete line of archers in one release.

And then it is a full attack.

We use ladders and weighted ropes to breach the walls at first, but then our people take control of the gates and open them from the inside.

There is no recovery from that.

Our forces are so overwhelming, it is over without even much fighting, individuals surrendering even if their Prince will not. I have no desire to kill the entire House for one Prince's terrible actions.

But that also does not mean blood is not shed.

I leave Ling with a cadre of guards as I wade into the battle, cutting down those who refuse to give in to the inevitable. I search for my prime target but eventually realize the truth. Unsurprisingly, Franean has barricaded himself inside the House Mansion, too much of a coward to fight, though he has sent his men to die.

"Step aside," I warn the six guards arrayed in front of the door as I step into the courtyard with Elorshin and Drevakin at my back.

"We will protect our Prince," the leader says grimly, his sword and knife already coated in blood.

"You know you will not succeed," I say softly.

Even if they manage to cut us down, our soldiers will finish them.

"Success is not always the goal."

I nod. Principals are important no matter how inconvenient. It is a shame they are wasting theirs on someone like Franean. The three of us move forward as one, the guards dividing two for each of us. Being Prince of a House does not mean being able to relegate the bloody, dirty work of fighting to soldiers while hiding oneself. No, despite Franean's example, a Prince will see more battle in his lifetime than any of the people under him. We have all seen more than any of these young males.

As I block a guard's swing and kick out into his side, I take no joy in it. But neither will I lose sleep over a necessary kill. I make it quick, a slice to the throat, almost painless. When he goes to stem the flow of crimson liquid, I stab my knife into his eye. Instant death.

Pulling it out with a grunt, I turn to the other guard. He manages to score a slice along my ribs, but then I swing my sword in a pattern designed to confuse the eye. He makes the classic mistake of anticipating a blow from the side and I run him through. The light dies in his eyes as I pull my sword back out.

When I step back to look at the others, Drevakin is using his fallen opponent's tunic to wipe his blade and Elorshin is pulling his knife out of his opponent's back.

I nod at them as I open the door into the House Mansion, bracing myself to find even more guards posted to protect their unworthy Prince but the entrance is empty but for Franean, standing with his sword and knife out, a tinge of fear on his face.

Perhaps there were no other guards willing to protect him.

I take a step forward. "You made a mistake," I say. "Following Malathin's plan will be your downfall."

He chuckles. "Malathin was an idiot," he concedes. "If he had been more careful with that human the first time, we would not even be here," he spits out. "He was even stupid enough to sign his own name to the missive when contacting you! My suggestion of course—he would have been a convenient target for you." He shakes his head. "Really, it was a pity he could not perform the simple task set forth for him."

I frown. "It was your plan," I say, completely taken aback by this revelation.

He shrugs. "It would have worked and I would have gotten away with it if not for Malathin's incompetence."

He may not be wrong but my entire idea of his and Malathin's relationship obviously was.

His sword and knife are clean, leading me to believe he ran as soon as our archers loosened their arrows. Protecting his own hide first.

"You are a disgrace," I say, completely disgusted by him.

He draws himself up to his full height, as if that is going to impress me somehow. "You are ruining the fabric of our society! Breaking traditions that are in place for good reason!"

"What of the tradition to lead your people in battle?" I ask, arching a brow at him as we begin to circle, Elorshin and Drevakin guarding my back. I would not put it past this sniveling fool to have someone else attack me while I focus on him. "Or is that not a convenient one for you to uphold?" I mock.

He snarls. "I am disappointed indeed to see your Pari alive and well," he sneers, changing tactics. "My guards were especially sad to see her go. They had plans for her." He smirks. "You do realize she will never be truly safe?" he taunts in a quiet voice. "You have made too many enemies and she is too tempting a target."

Anger attempts to take over, but I push it back down. He has lost. And he knows it.

"You are a disgrace to the Alvan race."

Darting in, I feint with my sword. He blocks it, leaving his side open for my knife but I only manage to nick him before he twists out of reach.

We continue to circle, both of us quiet now as we focus.

He attacks next, flipping his knife in his hand and throwing it at me in a move I was not expecting at all. I shift to the side quickly, but it slices through the outside of my thigh, the trickle of blood hot as it slides down my leg.

But now he is down to his sword alone.

I attack in a flurry of movement, keeping both blades in motion so it is difficult to focus on either. His eyes track them carefully, blocking where he can, dodging where he cannot. All the while, I slice small, shallow cuts where he is unable to protect himself until he is covered with them and his own blood, breathing hard.

The blood loss is slowing him down, just a fraction.

It is all I need.

When he comes in to attack, I move to the side and sweep his legs out from under him. As his back hits the ground, I kick his sword out of his hand then the tip of mine dents his throat, a warning he heeds by going still.

"You cannot kill me," he says, swallowing slowly, his eyes darting around, looking for an escape that does not exist. "I am Prince of House Caffaar, the greatest—"

I slice his throat open with one firm jerk, cutting deep enough that he is dead within moments.

"I wanted to hear what was the greatest about him," Drevakin remarks sardonically.

"Most likely the greatest ass this generation has seen," Elorshin says dryly.

I step back, catching my breath. "His prattling was irritating me." I look up at them. "I believe we have won."

They grin, the sentiment almost identical, a harsh baring of fangs.

Our enemies are dead.

As we leave the House Mansion and walk out through the courtyard to the marketplace, the fighting is over. There are many dead, but also a significant number of prisoners. I will have to dwell upon who should be appointed as the new Prince of House Caffaar.

Someone who did not agree with Franean's position but I am more than willing to put that decision off for a few days.

When I reach Ling, she is craning her head, searching the crowd. Her eyes land on me and relief suffuses her face palpable through our bond. But then she scans down my body and sees the blood covering me.

"Naefaren!" she cries, running over to me, her hands coming out to grip me by the arms. "Where are you hurt?"

"It is not my blood." I look down. "Well, some of it is," I admit.

She shakes her head, dragging me over to the carriage and forcing me to sit. I comply, letting her check me over.

"Is it done?" she asks, when she has assured herself my injuries are minor.

"Yes." It is. Though there is always more to do, the battle has been won. Anyone will think twice before crossing me or any of my allies in the future.

"Good," she says, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head against my shoulder. "Can we go home?"

I nod, pulling her in even closer. She is an anchor, bringing me back to reality as the haze of battle lust clears.

My allies and I leave some of our most competent people behind to run House Caffaar until we decide what to do with it and then we ride out, back to our respective Houses, with a promise to meet in two days.

Ling's warmth against my side reminds me why I fight so hard for the future I envision. I want a world in which she is happy and safe. In which everybody can be. And when we reach House Viir to the cheers of our people, passing through the crowd to reach the House Mansion, I know she is my talisman, keeping me in the here and now, a tangible manifestation of my goal.

In the House Mansion, where she has added an undeniable feel of a real home, we bathe and eat, falling into bed as exhaustion overtakes us.

I hold her against me.

Comforted by her very existence, I fall into a dreamless, exhausted sleep.