"Take that!" My brother-in-law Gahariet disappeared into smoke as I lunged forward. But we'd been practicing often enough that I knew that he'd re-materialize at my back. I put my back to a wall and spun to face the opposite direction, stick ready to hit.

He landed on my stick, catching a hard blow on his thigh which tipped him over. He tapped out on the floor. I grinned down at him.

"Had enough for today?"

"If you'd moved that stick a few inches away, you wouldn't be getting any more nieces or nephews."

"Ew," I said. "I don't want to think about that."

"I do." Gahariet grinned at me, a distant look in his eyes. Disturbing and gross.

"Warrior blood beats blue blood, every time."

Gahariet snorted. "I'm just predictable. You don't beat Olivier as often."

"That's because he's crazy."

"True."

Gahariet was a much more methodical fighter than his brother. I'd learned things from other people without having the formal tutelage that Gahariet had enjoyed.

There was some old Yore literature that made it seem that we were descended from people who'd made a certain branch of martial artists who'd become warlords and later emperors. The Phoenix style was the same as Phuong's name. I probably got most of whatever I had from them. I didn't need to be shown a move more than once, which was why it was easy for me to memorize Gahariet's moves. Olivier was a constant surprise because he didn’t fight with his brother’s discipline. He was more intuitive which helped him against a fighter like me and hurt him against a fighter like his brother, who knew the way to get Olivier into a corner before beating his pants off.

In the orphanage, fighting had been a matter of survival. I didn't think that most Yore were able to do this kind of thing.

Under the Draka, right after the conquest, weapons of any kind had been forbidden to the conquered Yore. Yore fighting had evolved to put more emphasis on hand-to-hand combat. I'd practiced with some of the easy things to pick up, like staff fighting. More of the Yore had the fight beaten out of them by the Draka.

"Let's go eat."

"Sounds good." Gahariet stood up and limped down the stairs to go down to the kitchen.

"Since you won, you have to cook."

"I don't think that's how it works, but sure." The kitchen was always well stocked. There was a corner that was just for me. Food had been something ultra-expensive for us. It was a huge relief when Phuong had mated her two dragon mates, because we suddenly could afford any food that we wanted.

I sliced the mushrooms into slivers. They didn't look like the white button mushrooms that the Draka had brought with them. These were brown and long. I put some pork into a pan to brown before adding the mushrooms and a generous amount of garlic.

"Smells good." Olivier walked into the kitchen.

"Where's Phuong?"

"With the babies. They're in the bathroom, so..."

"So you have no idea when they'll come out."

Olivier shrugged. I noticed now that he had a huge wet spot on the front of his shirt.

"The babies love water just as much as she does."

"And they have the same silvery thing that Phuong and you do when exposed water." Olivier walked to the stove. "What's that?"

"Pork and mushrooms. I'm going to wrap them into dumplings."

Olivier was washing his hands now. "I'm starving."

I had a place here in my sister's home, even if it was just as her chef. Neither of her mates could cook. There was a time when my home was hers, but even though they hadn't been anything but welcoming, I knew that I couldn't stay forever. When I provided for her, it was right. It wasn't right for me to mooch off of my brothers-in-law. I had plans. Once the hover-antiquary was totally ready, then I'd use the profits to move out. There'd been whispers about our royal Yore blood. She’d be fine in here, mated to two Draka. I needed to move on at some point.

Impatient, Olivier reached into the fruit basket and brought out a na. The na looked like a grenade with yellow skin. He peeled it. It was full of seeds, like a pomegranate, but so sweet that you could get cavities just from looking at it.

Gahariet and Oliver scuffled over the peeled na as I kept cooking the pork and mushroom dumplings. I needed to get out of here. I was better off as an occasionally seen uncle. I loved my nephews, but I didn't belong here indefinitely. I needed to move out to find my own mate.