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Old instincts woke Zairsh before dawn. Esmal had twisted around in his sleep and curled into the bigger lizard's chest. Warm affection stirred for the prince. A keenness for another person Zairsh had not felt in a long time. After a contented sigh, he wrapped his arm around Esmal and kept him close.

A few hours later he woke with Esmal tracing a finger along his chest. His prince was smiling softly when Zairsh opened his eyes. “Hey," Esmal whispered.

“Mmm," Zairsh rumbled, “sleep well?"

“Better than I have in weeks," Esmal snuggled into the lizard. “Thank you for last night."

“Heh, the sex was pretty good, wasn't it?"

Esmal rolled his eyes; Zairsh knew what he really meant.

They slowly got up, agreeing to head to the baths together. Esmal, limbs a little shaky, stumbled out of bed. Zairsh sat there, watching the human's scarred back flex as he stretched. It was an ugly sight, those lash marks. The day Zairsh saw them was the day he decided Esmal needed his protection.

Esmal held out his hand, “Can you toss me my shirt?" Zairsh did, and he said while putting it on, “Don't mind going nude seeing how that's how most reptiles are, but don't want my bare shoulder and ruin tonight's surprise."

“Please, no one in this valley can keep a secret. Everyone knows you're performing the Dance tonight."

“Jealous?"

Zairsh growled. “As if Sisbul can compare to me."

Esmal smiled and leaned down to kiss him. Zairsh grumbled, but knew his prince meant well. His prince. The steward could call Esmal consort all he wanted; it'd be Zairsh there in Savish with the prince when he needed help the most.

“Shame about my pants but I'm probably not going to need much more desert clothing after tomorrow night."

“We'll have to leave the day after. Longer it takes us to get to Savish the harder it'll be for you to claim your throne."

“Have you been planning out our trip?"

Zairsh glanced at the wall to the blue banner with a lion's head on it and admitted, “I have been thinking about you a lot lately, kid."

“Zairsh…"

The lizard scowled. “What's with that look?"

“What? I really do appreciate you, you know that?"

“Heh, thanks." Zairsh glanced back at the banner and added, “There was something else I wanted to bring up with you."

“What?"

“That conversation we had the morning after your chat with Shkhanna. You think about it at all?"

“Oh," Esmal sat next to Zairsh on the bed. “I suppose I got caught up in everything else…"

“Esmal," Zairsh touched his arm, “It's easy for you to ignore it here when none of that stuff matters to us. You can just be—but when you're back in Savish… think about it… you always got cold and shut down around the men, always tried to spend time around women…"

Esmal frowned, which Zairsh met levelly, till the prince went slack, eyes widening. “Y-you… you're saying…"

Zairsh nodded, offering a sympathetic smile. “We don't need to figure out what it means for you anytime soon, but there's a reason I stopped calling you boy."

Esmal's fingernails dug into his knees. “I'm not…" Zairsh had witnessed this before—coming to a truth too strange to fully understand. Even the words shaped in an alien way for Esmal when he asked, “I'm not a boy?"

Zairsh hugged him. Esmal fell into the embrace, quivering. He whispered, “Fuck, Zairsh, why now?"

“It will be alright, Esmal," Zairsh whispered. “Srei is different, too. Nothing is going to change between any of us, but you need to know—deserve to know what things make you happy, and what you've had forced on you."

“Damn it… fuck… Shkhanna's slit," Esmal cursed. “I'm such an idiot."

“It's hard for anyone to see themselves, kid."

Esmal cleared his throat. Zairsh expected the prince to cry, but he held it in. Esmal whispered, “For now, I'm just Esmal. We can figure this stuff out later."

“We'll figure it out together."

“I know, Zairsh," Esmal said, voice wobbly but smiling at him. “I think that's why I'm not scared."

***

Esmal stopped at the door to his old suite in the palace. After a comforting bath with Zairsh and then breakfast, he received a message to meet Zysh here. Esmal took a deep breath before opening the door. The room was how he left it: cleaned and ready for use should someone need the space—only Zysh waited now by the writing desk with a stone bowl and knife.

“You summoned me?"

“Yes, there is work that must be done before we cast the spell tomorrow," Zysh said. “It will not take much time, but it will require some of your blood."

Esmal approached the desk, saying, “I gathered as much."

“Your arm, please."

He rolled up his sleeve and did as asked. Zysh positioned his wrist over the bowl and, in a clean cut, slit it. Esmal grit his teeth but said nothing as blood drained into the bowl. Compared to previous wounds in his life, this was nothing. While he bled, Zysh cleaned the blade with a rag and asked, “Are you ready for the dance?"

“Last night's rehearsal went perfectly."

“Then are you ready to do it again while in trance?"

Esmal nodded. Something he only learned later, after that disastrous night where he told Sisbul the truth. Part of the dance they did in trance. Esmal needed the muscle memory of the steps to still keep up while Sisbul performed with him. Those violet tongues of flame apparently made for quite the light show as they wept from Sisbul's eyes.

Esmal said, “I will keep my mind clear of our plot. I doubt I will care about much more than the performance after a certain point."

“You and Sisbul have not made love since the night he gave you that mark," Zysh said. “It's funny, you know, he is nervous you don't want him."

Esmal glared at the python. “You know exactly why I've been keeping my distance."

“Hmm, I am sorry. You bring him so much joy… It has been a thrill to see him fall in love with you, to see him so happy when so much of the last few years have been overshadowed by the threat of your empire."

Esmal frowned. He glanced at the bowl and noted it nearly full. His arm was a little numb and shaky. He voiced what troubled him: “Why are you telling me this?"

“To let you know when I came here and beat you that night, it was because I underestimated you. I thought the only way to persuade you was to cow you like your father had. I regret not helping Sisbul with your education. If he had fallen so deeply in love with you in such a short time, then… I wish things had been different between us."

The bowl filled. Zysh squeezed Esmal's wound and incanted, “Skin seal, blood renew, Shkhanna see this body thrive, see this body come alive." As the python spoke, his cut sealed shut and he felt the weakness from blood loss ebb, as if he lost nothing at all.

“I… don't really know what to say."

“Then do not forgive me yet," Zysh said. “Once this is done, perhaps there will be a chance for us to come to know each other. You are Sisbul's future, after all. I am certain that, no matter what happens, our fates will be entwined."

Esmal offed him his hand. They shook and the prince said, “I look forward to that day, Zyshthunse."

***

“Esmal…" Srei gawked, “You're certain?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

Srei jumped into his arms. Her overjoyed embrace made him laugh as she said, “That's wonderful, my prince! Er—" Srei pushed away. “Princess?" she asked with a cocked head.

“Prince is fine for now," Esmal said, smiling. Her joy was infectious. They were in the library garden, Behesh inside and sleeping through the afternoon. Esmal had taken Srei out there to tell her what Zairsh helped him realize this morning. He sat down on a bench with his beloved retainer still wrapped around him and said, “We haven't figured out what I am yet… but I've realized I don't want to be like the men of my country. And males like Zairsh and Sisbul… I am not like them at all."

“What about Behesh?" Srei asked, smirking.

“Hmmhmm," Esmal rumbled, “Perhaps I should be Savish's librarian."

Srei giggled. “You know what I mean!"

“What? We both know Behesh exists in a category of his own. I don't know if it's a wyvern thing or a Behesh thing, but it's true."

“Mmm, well, I will be sad not to call you a good boy anymore, but I'm sure I can come up with something."

Esmal rolled his eyes. Srei kissed his cheek and whispered, “I'm so thrilled for you, Esmal."

“Thank you, Srei," Esmal said. “Given this revelation, do you think you could come up with a more feminine look for me for the dance?"

She beamed. “Oh absolutely." Her tail wriggled with excitement. “Ohhhh, tonight can't come fast enough!"

***

The fall equinox did not really signal the end of summer. It barely signaled the end of monsoon season. The heat stretched long into autumn, but the nights did begin to mercifully cool. Srrket honored each equinox and the solstices—though this fall equinox was especially vital. The summer solstice fell two weeks after the Battle of Srrket. In the rush to prepare for war and then its aftermath, only small, local ceremonies had been held in honor of the solstice.

Beyond the portent of Sisbul taking a human consort, this festival mattered for its return to normalcy. A show of Srrket's prosperity and capacity to revel in joy and pleasure even in the sparsest of environments. Not that Sisbul or any reptile considered their valley “sparse." It was vibrant with life. With cacti, ferns, trees, flowers, and animals of all size and shape. The Fall Equinox Festival celebrated and honored the land's vibrancy. It thanked the monsoon for life-giving rain that resupplied wells and the groundwater that flowed through the palace baths and all over the city.

For Sisbul, some of his fondest memories were of this night. And those were memories of things that came before the Revelry.

The naga looked out from his suite window onto the northern palace grounds. All manner of tables and chairs from the palace had been set out. Much of it mismatched, with large rugs and cushions put out for reptiles to rest on too. In the middle of the mish-mash was a blank square where a raised, circular stage had been erected. On it, local artists put on shows. Singers, musicians, poets, actors all plying their craft to entertain an audience that had fluctuated in size all day. Food from the palace kitchens came out in regular streams and was doled out to anyone who asked. A reptile could watch shows from the stage from morning till the Revelry began, food provided whenever they needed it. Srrket was bountiful in so many ways, and Sisbul savored just how his people showed that time and again.

The sun was beginning to set. He had gone back and forth managing the festival with Tezz all day, and only stopped to retreat to his room to have his makeup and body-paint done. He wore little in the way of gold adornments tonight. A large septum hoop for his nose, armbands, and six cuffs, three on each side of his hood symmetrically arranged. His facial makeup copied what he wore the night he and Esmal first made love—a thing Sisbul hoped the prince recognized. The yellow scales inside of his hood had a rising and setting sun motif: dawn on the right and dusk on the left. Meanwhile, the black back of his hood had been painted with a waxing and waning moon.

Sisbul took a deep breath. Esmal had been getting ready in his old suite. In three months, their relationship had been enemies to this. When he first hatched this plan, he did not expect to become so close. Certainly not so soon… But something about the prince…

When Sisbul seeded his connection to Esmal's soul with that first trance he had known the prince a kindred spirit. “We are each other's futures," Esmal had told him in his vision. Sisbul hoped tonight marked the beginning of a long and bright future.

The steward left his empty rooms, the fifth floor of the palace now quiet. He went to Esmal's suite and took a deep breath to try and compose himself.

He knocked.

Srei cracked the door and smiled when she saw him. She said, “We've been waiting for you, steward."

She opened the door and gestured to Esmal.

Consort Esmal stood, arms held in front of his hips, one wrist holding the other. A shy posture from the prince. His face, clean-shaven, wore more makeup than Sisbul expected. Esmal's cupid's bow, cheeks, and brow held a soft shine from highlight, a dark eyeliner stood out with a red eyeshadow, faded a little blend into his skin tone, but clearly meant to match the vibrant red of his dancer's outfit. The outfit was the red of a brightly bloomed desert paintbrush, a flower Sisbul thought (correctly) looked good against his dark skin. The garb was held up by a single shoulder, his bitten shoulder bare. The dress cinched at his waist with the rest billowing down to a long train behind his back. Golden accents lined the dress, with emeralds, like Shkhanna's eyes, faceted to the golden clip that kept the dress around his shoulder.

Sisbul gawked. His consort never needed scales to be a stunning beauty.

“I think he likes it, Esmal," Srei said smugly.

Esmal, blushing, said quietly, “I'm really happy he does, Srei."

She giggled and exclaimed, “You two!" She shook her head and went to Esmal, taking his hand. “Will you be alright if I leave you?"

Esmal smiled. “Of course, dear."

“Then I will see you both down at the festival," she kissed his hand in much the same gesture as when Esmal first met her. She passed Sisbul with a wink and then it was just the two of them, the naga still in the open doorway.

Sisbul offered his hand, “You are, um, beautiful, my consort."

Esmal smiled and crossed the room to take his hand. “You are as well, my steward."

Sisbul cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. He asked, “Are you nervous about tonight?"

“Hehe, no more than you it seems."

Sisbul chuckled. “It's funny, I've not been nervous about one of these in decades."

“What changed?"

Sisbul gave him a look. “This won't be the same as some Gilean ballad in the rain."

“Mmm," Esmal stepped closer, “I've missed that night."

“So have I, why did we never sing together again?"

“I was… nervous and…" Sisbul clearly saw Esmal working through several things at once before he reached up and touched the naga's cheek, “I promise it is nothing you have done, Sisbul. You are… everything I needed to become someone not ruled over by others, and I want tonight to simply be about how much you mean to me."

Sisbul leaned in and kissed his consort. His chest was light and dizzy with affection. The kiss lasted only a moment before Sisbul whispered, snout to nose with Esmal, “It's funny, Tezz and Zysh both warned me about you falling in love and not being able to leave. But I don't think they ever considered that I might fall so deeply for you that I wouldn't let you go."

“Sisbul… I do love you."

“And I love you, Consort Esmal, and if I can find some way in the next five years to fix this broken world I will do it just to keep you here."

Arm in arm, they walked down to the festival.

Passing into the dwindling sunlight and rising moonlight, Esmal wondered if he made a mistake siding with Zysh. What if Sisbul really could find some magical means to protect everyone? What if there was no need for all this treachery? No—tonight was not the night for second thoughts. Come the morning there might be the chance to consider alternatives, but Esmal wanted this night with Sisbul. Should Zysh's plan come to pass, he wanted one last precious night of joy and pleasure in Srrket with those he loved.

Esmal was trembling when they approached the festival. Sisbul whispered, “No fear, love, I will be by your side all night." Sisbul understood why he might be nervous. Everyone in Srrket by now knew that he and Esmal would perform the dance tonight. The talkative tailor who made Esmal's dancing gown and the gossipy servants who saw them practice in the palace made sure of that. Still, the people of Srrket did not disappoint. When they caught sight of the two a cheer went up. Dozens of reptiles raced to greet them. Drakes, lizards, and nagas all came to offer congratulations, to touch the steward's scales and Esmal's dress. His consort hugged tight to Sisbul's side so as to not be swept away. Sisbul received the crowd with laughter and equal enthusiasm. He laughed and joked with them, knowing the names of every person.

Esmal was embarrassed and humbled to be received with such enthusiasm. Even after getting to know Srrket so well, he did not expect so much unbridled affection for him. Once, he had been the invading warrior prince of a power-hungry empire, but now Srrket's people offered their congratulations for his newfound love. Sisbul kicked up the crowd into a song:

“Consort oh Consort how you have longed

Tonight your Steward's no longer gone

Consort oh Consort be of good cheer

As your Steward finally appears"

It was a simple, well-liked love song that Sisbul got the crowd singing. So that they met the festival with a parade of song, reptiles dancing in playful pantomimes of passion as the song detailed a Steward and their Consort's reunion.

The singing left Esmal's head spinning as they reached a large, cleared out space in the middle of the ring of chairs and rugs. There, Tezz and Zysh waited on one side, the former singing along and the latter offering a faint smile, and on the other side Srei sat on Behesh's shoulders and both were beaming at Esmal. So much love and joy surrounded the prince he almost became overwhelmed by it. He fought to hold back tears, trembling a little. Esmal let go of Sisbul and ran to their side, embracing Behesh's chest. Srei slid down and hugged him, and crying, Esmal said over the singing, “I love you both so much!"

Srei said, “We love you. This is your night, you deserve this. All of this. Now look at me!" Esmal did and Srei ordered, “Stop crying or you'll ruin all the hard work I put into your makeup!" She carefully dabbed away his tears with her fingers and kissed him.

Behesh said, “Hmm, I think it will be quite ruined by the end of the night, yes?"

Srei wrapped her knuckles on the wyvern's chest. “Hey! Not if Esmal makes sure to always swallow."

“Shkhanna's slit you two are incorrigible!" Esmal laughed, his tears drying as the singing around them died down. The consort went to Sisbul's side again, sitting in his coils and looking up to the stage. They would not dance right away, but would instead linger with some of the night's performances first. After all, it would be untoward if all Sisbul ever did was miss every performance and then steal the show. Performers practiced hard for these shows, often being the biggest crowds they got all year.

Until the sun had completely set, Esmal sat amidst Sisbul's coils, watching dancers sway, bands play well-known ballads that the crowds sang along to. Food and wine and mezcal were passed around, some smoked pipes. Esmal forgot about plans and lies, became caught up in the shared festivities until the moon had risen and the stars came out. Then reptiles too old shepherded those too young for the Revelry back into the city to sleep.

The crowd buzzed with chatter a moment and Sisbul touched Esmal's shoulder. “Are you ready?"

Esmal nodded. Taking the steward's hand, the crowd parted while Esmal and Sisbul climbed the ramp up onto the stage. Sisbul waited on one end and Esmal went to the other.

There was a dance for each species of reptile. The Dance of the Wyvern and Dance of the Drake happened on the solstices, the Dance of the Lizard on the spring equinox. Because there had been stewards and consorts of all shape and size, elaborate dances for any pair of reptiles had been created over the centuries. Esmal would be using the step pattern of a lizard partner.

The Dance of the Serpent told the story of how Shkhanna charmed the first snake and sung it into a naga. The steward always played Shkhanna in these dances, so Esmal would be the serpent.

Sisbul's coils wrapped around himself, he raised a hand to Esmal from across the stage and incanted, “Draw down his back, lovely wind, soothe nerves and bring to life the garb he wears for me tonight."

Esmal shivered as breeze blew down his back. The train of his dress began to flutter and float a foot above the ground. Red and gold swayed in the moonlit night, giving the effect of a swaying tail.

Musicians at the edge of the stage, who had spent the last two weeks practicing with Sisbul and Esmal, began to play.

It started with a few plucks of a mandolin. An exploratory melody. Esmal turned to Sisbul and outstretched his hands to the audience while the steward raised higher on his coils. His hood flared out and he looked about to strike. Sisbul lunged across the stage and Esmal spun away to avoid him. The rest of the band began to play and the melody took on a panicked tone as Sisbul chased Esmal. The prince spun, ducked, and bounded out of the way until Sisbul caught his hand. He spun in the steward's grasp, and they both bent low, Sisbul dragging his tongue up Esmal's chest. The prince shivered in his touch before quickly weaving out of Sisbul's grasp. Esmal swept around Sisbul and leapt on his back, walking down the spine while spinning. His dress billowed out in a flashy display of color before Sisbul lifted his coils and Esmal slid back down those scales towards the steward's waiting hands. He caught his consort and lifted Esmal into the air. Sisbul's great strength made it easy to lift the prince over his head, twirling Esmal about his waist before setting the prince in front of him.

Esmal was blushing, panting as Sisbul held his hand. The steward's eyes began to glow, and purple flames began to pour from him. Esmal felt his muscles slacken only a moment, but then his and Sisbul's wills were one and all his strength returned.

They had not done the trance during practice, but Sisbul had never worried about it. Still, he did not expect to enter Esmal's mind and soul only to be met with such deep affections. He had worried all month about what the prince really felt towards him. Now Sisbul had no doubt. The first time Sisbul touched Esmal's soul he knew it there: the prince had a capacity for love as great as any reptile. An ocean of endless kindness and care. Now it was a flood of ambrosia to Sisbul's soul, all that love and affection directed at the steward. Esmal would be his. Esmal would be Srrket's.

They moved through several more steps automatically. Their attention entirely on one another. Occasionally Esmal might dart away again, and the trance would fade, but soon as Sisbul had the prince in his arms they grew closer still.

The audience watched on, enraptured.

All except for two reptiles.

***

Soon as Zairsh saw Zysh leave the festival, he started picking his way through the crowd. Since Esmal filled Zairsh in on their plan with Zysh, he had been getting every reptile he trusted ready for when Imad would show up. When he learned fucking Zysh was the one who nominated Esmal for the Dance, Zairsh knew tonight would be the night the portal opened. It was all too convenient, Esmal and Sisbul occupying each other while Zysh got Imad and his soldiers through the portal safe and sound.

So while the dance wore on and increased in its passions, Zairsh stepped through the crowd, tapping drakes, nagas, and lizards on their shoulders and telling them, “It's happening, get your things and meet by the southern palace gate."

Fifty reptiles in all. Not enough, but it was all Zairsh truly trusted. People he helped train and who followed his commands in the Battle of Srrket. Once he had gotten them all, he ducked out of the festival and headed for the palace.

By the time he got inside, Esmal and Sisbul were in the thick of it.

Zairsh wasted no time ascending to the upper levels of the palace with his sword drawn. On the fifth floor he found Esmal's old suite opened. He checked it first: empty. The door to Sisbul's room had also been left open. Zairsh crept to it, keeping along a wall to stay out of sight. When he reached the doorway he peeked inside and saw Zysh at the other end of the room. He held a bowl of blood, and was busy painting on the wall a doorframe. Zairsh clenched his sword and considered charging the python. It would have been satisfying if he got to run the lying bastard through, but Srei had been right when she said Zysh would stop Zairsh with a few words.

Besides, Imad was the prize. Zairsh could always introduce Zysh's neck to his sword later.

Careful to back away quietly to not be seen, Zairsh began to backtrack to the festival to warn Esmal.

Those poor fools, Zairsh had hoped for Esmal's sake that he would be wrong about this, but he knew better. He hadn't lived this long by hoping the best would come to pass.

***

The trance was different this time. Esmal did not become a slack doll. Did not feel his mind and will overwhelmed by Sisbul. They worked as one. It was not just that the steward sensed his consorts thoughts and feelings, Esmal could as well. The prince did not even try to enter Sisbul's mind—he merely arrived. They were one.

Sisbul grabbed the clasp of his dress and tore it off. Esmal's dress fell, his steward lifted him into the air. Their chests pushed together and Sisbul's lips met his. The prince barely registered a cheer from the crowd. Esmal's chest thumped with life, sounding out for his lover. Both their blood ran hot. Sisbul's slit had swollen up already, and Esmal sported a semi. Their lips pressed and searched each other. Tongue slipped from one mouth to the next. Their passion so long repressed… Esmal could tell Sisbul needed him badly. Had wanted Esmal for as long as he wanted him. Though he had been far from admitting it at the time, when they met on the border Srrket months ago, Esmal already found the steward attractive then. His scent comforting then. A swirling, tantalizing musk that reminded Esmal of the sea-locket trees that grew along the coast of Savish. That same musk today that filled Esmal's body with heat.

Sisbul's coils wrapped around him. Smooth scales wiped sweat from his calves and thighs, helped Esmal stand while the naga's hands reached down. Scaled digits dipped into Sisbul's drooling slit, stirring the sex up a moment before the prince felt them slide between his butt-cheeks. Slick with arousal, those fingers prodded at Esmal's entrance. He huffed against the steward's lips as two fingers slid inside him. His now-hard cock slid against the naga's scales. Esmal humped back into the probing fingers, rubbing his dick against the snake's body at the same time. Meanwhile, Sisbul's cocks emerged from his slit. The tapered hemipenes quickly filled with life, each pale pink shaft glistening in the moonlight. Esmal realized the only time he saw the steward's arousal was his first night in Srrket. Now he was too busy letting said steward's tongue ravish his mouth to admire those shafts again.

The fingers pumping in and out of Esmal left him whimpering and shuddering in Sisbul's grip. The naga's body began to surround the prince on all sides. Sisbul's tail wrapped around Esmal's chest. The move of scales across his skin, his nipples, was undeniably erotic. And he felt, too, Sisbul's devotion to him, the naga's desire to touch him all over and worship his body. Then one of those slick cocks pushed against Esmal's backside. His skin became smeared with arousal, sticky and hot. Fingers once spreading released him, tipped the shaft rubbing against his rear to his prepared asshole. That tapered tip slid inside of him, smooth as all the scales roving his body. Esmal submitted completely to Sisbul.

Esmal felt through the trance his own tight heat. How pleasurably his passage clenched on the steward's length. The cock's throbbing ache as it pushed several inches inside, spilled dollops of precum thick as Esmal's normal load. Sisbul released his lips and Esmal's neck craned backwards to moan. And all around him, he saw reptiles fondling themselves… rubbing engorged slits, shoving their tails in wet cunts, stroking long, dribbling shafts. The Revelry had not begun, but every reptile in the crowd seemed to be teasing themselves at the sight of the Prince of Savish's penetration and submission. Esmal's eyes scanned the crowd only a moment before Sisbul grabbed his jaw and made him meet the naga's violet gaze again. Those supernatural flames even erotic as Esmal returned into the depths of the trance.

“You are mine, Consort Esmal," Sisbul hissed as he forced over half his length inside Esmal. His rim was stretched tight, burning with that sweet, pleasurable ache. “After tonight, you will be a prince second, an emperor second, you will always be consort first." That shaft pierced deeper, the rounded girth of its middle forcing in against Esmal's prostate. Sharp, intoxicating fullness made him moan. “Do you submit?"

“Yes," Esmal cried out. “I want to be yours, Sisbul!" The prince felt the desire for it deep inside him. To be claimed, to let another take care of him, decide for him. Sisbul might drain all his thoughts away with the trance and Esmal would not protest so long as the pleasure continued.

Sisbul grunted, hilting his shaft inside Esmal. The prince felt the bulge in his stomach rubbed over by the naga's coils. Sisbul's other cock slid lewdly between his split ass, smearing more arousal across Esmal's body. Both cocks throbbed and spurted precum. Esmal felt his belly rush with heat, heard the splatter of pre as it landed across the stage. The prince's cries were met with more cheers. In some ways, this show was Sisbul's conquest over the heir of Savish, but all Esmal felt between them both was longing fulfilled. A desire finally sated. He was warm and full and belonged seated on Sisbul's cocks.

Esmal wanted the naga to breed him. The steward sensed that desire in his willing consort, saw before him the image of a fat and blissful prince. Cocks plunging in and out of cunt and ass at the same time. Esmal's body no more than a sheath for his endowments, a place to seed and show his virility. Sisbul groaned, overtaken by Esmal's fantasies.

The steward decided to twist Esmal around. The prince's passage burned with pleasure as that throbbing meat twisted about his walls, till he faced the crowd. Sisbul's tail slid one more loop around Esmal's chest, pinning his arms this time. The prince looked out on the crowd, blushing and sweating. A crowd taking pleasure at the sight of a submissive, mewling consort.

Sisbul ordered in his ear, “Open your thighs."

Esmal did, finally noticing his legs freed. Sisbul reached down pushed his bare cock between the prince's thighs. Esmal now could admire that fleshy, pink girth all he wanted. Long as the prince's forearm, the drooling taper constantly producing thick precum. It rubbed against his cock and balls and Esmal wished his hands free so he might aim it to frot him better. But Sisbul did not want that. Esmal sensed the steward's plan, and it made Esmal wish to melt in those coils and scales.

The naga's powerful body pulled Esmal up. He squirmed as cock slid out him, rim straining against its invader. Then Sisbul yanked him back down. Dick rubbed between his thighs and along his length, his balls, and belly. That unsheathed taper spilt a font of precum across Esmal's front, bathing his flesh like only Behesh ever had. But the fullness of the cock inside him wiped everything else away. His body seemed made to yield to it. The prince's neck craned back to moan, and his gaze fell on the steward's again. Those tongues of violet flames surrounded him. He felt how tight and wet his passage was. How good his arousal-slick thighs felt as Sisbul's cock stroked through them. He felt the steward's internal testes churning with promised heat and virility.

Esmal's jaw went slack, body relaxed. His pleasure mattered little. For his was Sisbul's as well. The naga began bouncing his new human consort on his lap. His passage milked its invader, enticed Sisbul to fuck him harder. This receptive body begged for a breeding. That inflamed pucker messy and smeared and leaking the naga's precum. More and more of it spilled across Esmal's thighs and cock at the same time. Sisbul's virility was easily something Esmal could drown in. The naga never stopped being productive, even as he felt the pleasure in Sisbul's core grow tense, those balls growing tight. Esmal was at a pleasurable plateau, unable to rise any higher than his steward. Unable to cum until his steward did. But Esmal wanted that. He trusted completely that whatever Sisbul did to him, it would be ecstasy.

The crowd could tell their consort was close as well. While naga and human remained holding their trance, the steward's eyes grew a brighter violet. Those flames raged higher, spiraled into the air. Sisbul, panting, incanted, “Consort take this claiming bite, hah, become mine this night." Esmal's lips mirrored the words as Sisbul continued fucking into him. Then the snake lunged down. Fangs pierced Esmal's shoulder again and the prince screamed. His back arched and he thrashed as his body boiled and burned with fire and pleasure. It ran through his nerves and blood. Sisbul's cocks flexed, one inside him and the other between his thighs, before gouts of thick spunk began to fire from them. Esmal came as well, though, he barely noticed his orgasmic heights as he felt the tension release from the internal testes inside his steward. Cum gushed inside his stomach, and sprayed in ropes across his body. His thighs, face, stomach, cock, all of it covered in a virile heat. He smelled the cum and musk as it released into the air. He heard raucous cries of approval and moans from the crowd. Esmal's stomach grew taut with cum, belly quickly swelling.

He shivered, shuddered with pleasure. He mewled and whined. Those wonderful twin endowments the center of Esmal's world just as the prince's receptive body was Sisbul's center.

Esmal sensed the trance ebbing away. He was looking up at the palace, so he saw it when there was flash of light and explosion of thunder from the windows of Sisbul's suite.

Alarmed yelps and cries broke everyone from their reverie.

A single, loud realization rang through Esmal: Zysh lied, he opened the portal now.

And Sisbul, still connected by the fading trance, knew, too, what Consort Zysh had just done. He released Esmal's shoulder. In a broken whisper: “Esmal… why?"

“Sisbul I'm sorry it wasn't—"

Sisbul had no time for Esmal's excuses. Coming onto the north grounds, Sisbul saw Zairsh leading a crowd of armed reptiles. Zairsh barked from across the grounds, “It's tonight! Savish is here!"

Sisbul touched Esmal's temple and ordered, “Sleep."

The prince went rigid as magic jolted through him, then slack. Feeling sick, Sisbul disentangled himself from his traitorous consort. His arousal had quickly gone down and he called out to the confused crowd: “Everyone! There is an emergency at the palace. The city is not safe tonight." Sisbul pointed at Tezz who had approached the stage, sensing the trouble, “My Consort Tezzbelst is going to lead you all into the mountains for safety. Please, return quickly to your homes, gather up your young and your elders and go to the city's southern end."

Nearly a thousand reptiles stared at the steward and shock.

“Go!" Sisbul barked, “And be not afraid, your steward is here to protect you!"

Reptiles started moving, a frantic energy to the crowd as they dispersed. At the same time, Zairsh had reached the stage with their group. Tezz, still there, asked, “Sisbul, what's going on?"

“Your son seems to have a better idea than I," Sisbul said with a glare at Zairsh. Arrayed behind him were reptiles the steward recognized as guards and warriors scattered around Srrket. People who normally patrolled contested borders or guarded the palace for ceremonial reasons. All of them armed, some with smatterings of armor slung across their bodies.

Zairsh said to Sisbul, “Your bastard consort plotted with the Emperor of Savish to overthrow you. He thinks Esmal's father will let him rule Srrket if we just hand you over and do what they say."

Sisbul stared in disbelief. No, not disbelief. He stared at a truth too painful to want to look at. He wanted to see through it, around it, anything but face a reality he never thought would come to pass: that his most trusted consort would lie to him, plot against him, to carry out some ill-conceived plan to protect Srrket.

Sisbul clenched his fist and said, “Zairsh, post your men around the palace entrances. Do not enter the palace, just make sure no human leaves it. I will confront Zyshthunse and Imad myself."

“Esmal!" Srei shook the prince as he lied on the stage, but he remained fast asleep. Sisbul glanced at her and found Behesh near the stage's edge, looking worried as well.

“I merely put him to sleep with my magic," Sisbul said. “He will wake soon enough."

Sisbul wove his way down the stage, stopping beside Tezz for a moment. The two shared an embrace and the drake whispered, “Be careful, love."

“Protect Srrket and its people. You will still have magic for a short time if I should fall—if that happens—"

“Stop," Tezz snarled. He pushed his snout into Sisbul chest. “You are going to survive this."

Sisbul smiled and scratched affectionately behind the drake's horn. “You're right. I will see you soon."

He let go of his faithful consort and headed for the palace. His only faithful consort… the thought filled Sisbul with grief. Behind him, Zairsh split his soldiers into teams and made orders, while Tezz headed into the city to help with the evacuation. He heard the entire city rousing, felt the thrum of his people's fear and panic, but they would be safe. Sisbul swore on his life they would be.

As the naga passed under the open doorway into the pyramid, he began incanting a complex verse. Stone and dirt from all around the naga softened and slid up along Sisbul's skin, quickly covering the steward so he appeared to be a sinuous, living statue. From his hands grew first hilt then the blades of stone swords. All while more stone stripped off the palace floor, ceiling, and walls, leaving striations as Sisbul passed. Till he encountered the first group of soldiers on a ramp up onto the third floor.

They wore full plate armor, held crossbows with broadswords belted at their sides. A logo of a hawk was painted on the chest plate of each soldier. Four in all. Two fired their crossbows while the other two scrambled to draw their swords. The crossbow bolts plinked off Sisbul's stone skin, and he cleaved his swords into the two soldiers who charged. Their armor then bodies crumpled under the forceful blows, blood seeping between the plates of the still soldiers. The other two tried to run but Sisbul spoke, “Sand still," and their boots fell into sand that quickly hardened to stone. Sisbul cracked their skulls while they screamed for help and continued his advance.

On the third floor, a dozen men rushed towards Sisbul, some with axes, some with spears, more with crossbows and swords. Sisbul plowed into the group, moving so fast he simply ran one man over. His stone swords slammed into two, sometimes three men at once. When one soldier brought an axe down and snapped the stone sword, more rock was stripped from the palace to replace it. He was invincible to them. He killed the next group methodically, till only one soldier remained. He charged screaming with an axe overhead. Sisbul flung his stone sword, the large blade spinning once before slamming down on the human's face. Skull and helmet crushed together in a bloody slurry. He moved to the ramp to the fourth floor and found ten men arrayed in a phalanx with spears hoping to block his advance.

Sisbul pointed at the ceiling above them and spoke: “Slam." The stone overhead did not so much as fall but catapulted down as one solid slab. The soldiers crushed under it barely made a sound as Sisbul incanted, “Return." The rock responded to his will and returned to the ceiling as if it never collapsed in the first place. Not even the dust remained, just the dents and divots caused by the collision with the plate the soldiers wore.

The ramp connecting the palace kitchens had another on the next floor leading the fifth floor. The final level of the palace. There was Esmal's old suite, two others like his, and then the hall leading to Sisbul's rooms. Waiting in that hallway was Zyshthunse. He was trembling as he said, “Sisbul! We don't have to fight—"

“Stone hold him in your grip, seal tight his lips."

“Sisbul!" Whips of stone erupted from a wall, vine-like as magic crackled off it. The tendrils pulled the struggling python into it, all while Zysh quickly tried to incant a counter, but then a tendril wrapped around his mouth and tied shut his snout. The traitor's body became pinned to the wall, coils and all held by dozens of tendrils. And standing through the doorway and inside Sisbul's suite was Imad. The emperor wore plate mail similar to his soldiers, but left his head bare. Grey dotted his short hair and beard, face weathered but with the same nose and eyes of his son.

He glanced at Zysh and said in Savish, “That's impressive! You did that just by speaking?"

“Die, tyrant!" Sisbul bulled through the door fast as a panther, his fangs bared. He was going to feel that bastard's blood drain from his throat.

Sisbul collided with Imad.

And in the next moment he was being swung by his head over the human's shoulder. Sisbul's hood slammed into stone. He coughed, dazed, a spasm going down the length of his body as Imad pinned a knee to the naga's throat. He grabbed the steward's mouth in his gauntlets, holding the snout with one hand and prying his jaw open with the other.

“You work your barbaric magic with speech. We will have to fix that if you are to be our prisoner."

He wrenched Sisbul jaw to the left and ripped it out of socket. An explosion of pain. Sisbul flailed and struggled, stone scraping against stone as Imad's knee remained pressed on Sisbul's neck. He beat his fists feebly on the emperor's metal side, but nothing seemed to make Imad move. His face burned with raging pain as Imad ripped out his still extended fangs. He snapped them off, saying, “These will make fine trophies." Then he reached in Sisbul's mouth again, gauntlet closing around his tongue. Sisbul shut his eyes tight as Imad ripped it free from Sisbul's blood-filled mouth. He screamed and released his concentration on the spells he had cast. The stone on his body melted away, the tendrils holding Zysh became brittle.

He heard the python screaming his name, incanting a spell that blacked Sisbul out completely.

***

A stabbing pang in Esmal's sternum woke him up. He gasped, eyes snapping open.

“Esmal!" Srei hugged him tight. They were lying in their room in the library. Behesh nuzzled his shoulder.

Both of them calmed his nerves before he asked, “What's going on?"

“That fucking traitor opened the portal tonight," Zairsh growled from the doorway.

Behesh said, “Sisbul used a spell to put you to sleep and Zairsh carried you here for us while we waited for you to wake."

Sisbul. That pang in his chest did not go away. He knew, innately, that Shkhanna warned him that his steward was in danger.

“We need to go back to the palace."

“I've already been away long enough," Zairsh growled.

Srei helped Esmal to his feet. He was still naked, but she had washed him with a wet rag of Sisbul and his joining. “Does anyone know a way to the top of the palace that won't be guarded?" Esmal asked as he got his old clothes from the corner of the room. He threw on the dark long-shirt and trousers of his homeland, the fabric a bit itchy.

As he dressed, Srei said, “If you mean a hidden passageway, I'm afraid not."

“If the steward hasn't killed everyone and dealt with this himself, then I imagine they are digging in right now," Zairsh said. “We need to move, I've got fifty good soldiers, if we push from one end of the palace—"

Esmal shook his head, “The ramps from the third to the fourth to the fifth are all fortifiable. You can charge in, but they'll use a phalanx combined with crossbows to break our advance. None of us exactly have heavy plate, shields, or even our own steel projectiles to penetrate their ranks."

“What if you climbed the pyramid?" Behesh suggested.

Zairsh shook his head, “They'll likely have a few men covering windows on all sides. We'd just be target practice."

“Hmmhmm, that is a shame," Behesh rumbled. “The rooftop seems like the best way to surprise the enemy."

Esmal's eyes went wide. He swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “That's it. Zairsh, do you know where Tezz is?"

“Outside the city by now, leading people to the mountains."

Esmal studied his hands in the candlelight; the pink flesh of his palms seemed so fragile.

Srei touched his ankle with her tail. “Esmal?"

Esmal fixed Behesh with a look. “I know what we need to do."

***

Sisbul woke a few minutes later, mouth still sore. Someone had chained him up to one of the support columns along the corner of the pyramid shaft that ran from the rooftops to the bath. His coils hung down the shaft, arms and torso pinched tight to the stone and hands manacled together. As it was, even if he managed to free himself, without help he would fall to the bottom of the shaft.

Zysh had healed his mouth, replacing Imad's cruel solution with a simple gag and leather straps cinched tight around his snout. Cloth rags had been stuff in his mouth so he could not move his tongue. Zysh noticed him stirring and wove to his side.

“Sisbul, Sisbul I'm sorry but this is the only way. Please cooperate, for the safety of Srrket—"

“Yes, steward, you would do well to listen to your adviser." Imad said as he approached the column. Three other soldiers flanked him. Along the wall was a doorway of molten glass. Humans were passing in and out it, some carrying those Sisbul slew back to Savish. Imad rested a hand on his sword belt, “We are already securing the palace as we speak, and I have two thousand more men ready to march through this portal should the need arise."

“Uh, there will be no need, of course, as long as you give Imad a link to Shkhanna," Zysh interjected.

“It is a simple thing, is it not?" Imad said. “You do not need to speak, just look me in the eyes."

Sisbul did, glaring at the human, trying to kill with just his gaze.

Imad's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he did not speak.

“It will be okay, Sisbul," Zysh said, “The emperor will let me govern our lands and so long as we house their soldiers and cooperate with the empire, Srrket will be safe."

Sisbul kept staring down Imad. The emperor returned the glare as he asked, “Tell me, Zysh, the portal will remain open so long as the blood bordering its edges remains undisturbed, correct?"

“Yes, why—"

The hiss of steel from a blade. Zysh's whole body going rigid. Sisbul stared, wide-eyed at another truth tonight he did not want to believe. Blood dripped down the length Imad's blade, the steel tip raising out the back of Zysh's impaled neck.

“Did you really expect me to make you a vassal? Someone willing to betray their own people?" Imad removed the blade from Zysh's throat. He had severed the python's spine in a single, clean thrust, Sisbul knew by the way the rest of the naga's body went slack and fell over, unable to even claw at his throat as he bled out. Sisbul screamed and howled. The whole length of his body thrashed and struggled in his bonds. He felt Zysh dying through their connection. His first consort. Childhood friend. Longest lover. Soulmate. Tears and violet flames both streaked from the corner of his eyes as he tried to meet Imad's gaze. He would make the trance, he would give up his place as steward. In that moment he would do anything to have his gag removed so he might keep Zysh from dying. To keep from hearing those hoarse, ragged breaths grow weaker and weaker. Zysh struggled to put words together, but could not complete anything that would help him. He was choking on his own blood, eyes looking up to Sisbul. He saw the apology there—as if all his stupid consort cared about was Sisbul's pain. The steward raged, and Imad watched Zysh bleed to death, unmoved.

Eventually the emperor said to his soldiers, “Throw this one into the shaft. Then send the order, any reptiles we find you are to kill and pile with this traitor."

Sisbul felt Zysh die. Saw the life flee from his eyes as they became glassy orbs reflecting nothing. The flames in Sisbul's eyes burned out, and only tears flowed from them now.

Imad cleaned his sword on his cape and sheathed it. He said to Sisbul, “We both know you are not broken yet. I will not let you make the trance till you are."

Grunting and struggling, three men tossed Zysh's torso over the railing. The rest of his coils soon went over and Sisbul watched, feeling empty and hollow, as the dead consort crashed into the central bath. Water sprayed upwards, splashed down. Zysh bobbed and floated on the surface, tendrils of blood threading through the water.

Sisbul closed his eyes and held in his sobbing. He could die. Srrket could die. But this bastard human was never going to get what he wanted from Sisbul. Not after this.

***

Behesh lay supine in the middle of the city's abandoned main road. Esmal stood over him, hands on his back. “Are you ready, Behesh?"

Srei watched, arms hugged around herself and short of breath. Zairsh stood beside her, both giving the human and wyvern ample space.

“No," Behesh growled, “but we have no other choice. And Esmal?"

“Yes?"

“I'm glad it is you doing this… even if—"

“I am honored to heal you, dear," Esmal said. There was no turning back. He took a deep breath, let the breath work through his lungs, felt that seat of magical power in his sternum and began to incant:

“Shkhanna see these mangled wings of old?

I call on your energy, let magic mend bone,

let flesh return, grant unused muscles new might,

and have this wyvern rediscover flight."

As Esmal spoke, sparks crackled off his hands. His fingers then palms against Behesh's hide burned as if the scales were too hot. He felt the bones in his hands crack, grow as those changes burned and boiled up his arms. Skin turned into sharp, dark scales that caught the magical light. They had no idea how much this might cost. Scales laced up to his forearms, burning pain traveling through his muscles, biceps, and stopping, finally at his shoulders. Meanwhile Behesh growled and snarled through his own pain as his shredded wing membranes became whole again. The transparent sails of flesh restored, the finger bones arcing along them growing or resetting back into place where they belonged, the atrophied muscles of the wyvern's shoulders and back squirming, flexing, and growing beneath scales.

When Esmal ripped his changed hands away, gasping, Behesh stood on his hind legs, restored wings outstretched as he roared to the night sky. A defiant bellow to signal what he so long denied himself. Behesh felt it, ached for it in ways he so long thought he did not deserve. Did not dare to desire till Esmal and Srei both proposed their joining to him.

Srei ran to Esmal's side, the prince gripping his burning arm. His other hand hung further down his side, arms several inches longer, with fine black claws tipping his finger. Each one long as a lions, that he seemed able to flex in and out his fingers with a muscle that once never existed in his forearm.

Srei asked, “How do you feel?"

“I'm alright," he gasped. “My arms only changed."

“So we might be able to change you back still?"

Esmal nodded. He still needed to be human to go back to Savish and rule. No one would believe the word of some winged reptile showing up to claim the throne.

Behesh laughed and flapped his wings experimentally. He turned on the two of them and said, “I can fly, I am certain of it."

“Then you think you can fly Zairsh and I to the palace roof?"

“The three of us," Srei said flatly.

“Srei you can't—"

“She goes," Behesh said.

“Behesh you should protect her—"

Zairsh clapped a hand on Esmal's still human shoulder. “You don't get it, kid. If you don't survive tonight, none of us do."

“I'll stay out of the fighting, but I know how to use a crossbow. Just get me one and I can cover you both."

“Have you ever killed someone before?" Esmal asked.

“Three someones," Srei said, unmoving. “My escape from slavery was not a stroll in the gardens, Esmal. I don't need to be coddled."

“If we cannot protect you, then what is the point of any of this?" Behesh added.

Esmal sighed, “Fine. All of you gather around for a moment." They did and Esmal said, “None of us are wearing armor, so I'm going to weave the same spell used on Sisbul in the Battle of Srrket."

The prince closed his eyes and whispered,

“Shkhanna protect those gathered here,

let flesh and scale be as stone,

let no harm come to those who fight

let all of us be protected this night."

Esmal felt the magic course through his body into the stone and over Srei, Zairsh, and Behesh. The bottom of his feet burned and he knew without looking the soles of his feet were covered in scales.

“That's it?" Zairsh grunted.

Esmal nodded. “It will still hurt to get hit, but anything that's not a someone slamming an axe on your head or a spear rammed into your gut will bounce off you. The spell has its limits, so don't go jumping on a sword."

Zairsh tsked.

“We should go," Behesh said.

Esmal felt a great grief stab through his sternum. He fell to a knee, clutching his chest.

All three of his beloveds frantically helped him up, and gasping, Esmal said with dreadful certainty, “Zysh is dead. My father is not going to honor his word."

“Then we need to kill him now," Zairsh snarled. “That bastard—Zysh was supposed to be mine." The hybrid went to the edge of the street where he had placed a rug. He climbed onto Behesh's back and wrapped the rug around the wyvern's collarbone. He sat down, legs over Behesh's shoulders and told the other two, “Hop up in front of me."

Esmal and Srei did, settling largest to smallest. Srei said, “Are you sure you can handle all our weight, love?"

Behesh stood and snarled, “I've never felt stronger." He crooked his wings, turned to face away from the palace and said, “Hang on!" He began running down the street with a startling amount of speed. Esmal never knew Behesh's legs to be so powerful. They reached the speed of a galloping horse and Zairsh leaned down against Esmal and Srei, pushing them into the wyvern. All of them held tight to the rug, bouncing on Behesh's back. Then Esmal felt his stomach leap, a sound like sails billowing, and the rush of air.

He heard Srei laughing and screaming some nonsense about flight, but the wind tossed her words away. Esmal opened his eyes and saw Behesh's wings outstretched. The wyvern's wingspan must have been fifty or even sixty paces long. He was sure everyone in the valley could see them taking to the air. Already they had come to the height of the palace. Behesh was beating his way up the mountainside. Higher and higher until, finally, he wheeled around back to the valley. The wind and mountain air cut through Esmal and made him shiver. Behesh and Zairsh were both warm-blooded, but poor Srei. Esmal shifted his grip so his hands squeezed across hers. Her excitement had died down in favor of huddling close to Behesh so she didn't freeze.

With the wind, no one bothered to speak as they approached the palace roof. Esmal saw tiny figures moving around on the roof. Nerves boiled in his diaphragm. His breath got narrow and tense. He closed his eyes and reached for that coldness again, but found it lacking. Esmal's nerves did not go away, and he realized that for once he entered a fight with things he did not want to lose.

His stomach dropped again as Behesh dove for the roof. Esmal saw those soldiers aim crossbows, but if they fired and struck Behesh the wyvern gave no indication. They swept quickly over the roof, flying past it. Esmal heard a faint scream. When Behesh banked back towards the palace he saw why: the wyvern plucked a guard from the rooftop and Esmal now saw the hapless man falling hundreds of feet onto the streets of the city.

Behesh turned his head and shouted, “Landing! Get ready!"

***

The furious fwoosh of wind and a guard's scream from the rooftop roused Sisbul.

From behind him, he heard Imad conferring with his men.

“My Emperor, the palace interior has been secured. We have found the entrances protected by small groups of reptiles."

“Excellent, if they are not trying to take the palace it must mean they don't have the manpower to. Push our soldiers to the northern entrance, we will overwhelm them then attack—"

A crash of stone and screaming broke up everything. Sisbul looked up in shock, seeing a wyvern on the rooftop. His tail hanging over the edge. His. It was Behesh. Sisbul knew because what other wyvern would be carrying Esmal on his back? The prince looked into the shaft, their eyes met and his consort shouted, “We're coming for you, Sisbul!" Something else caught Esmal's eye and he glared to Sisbul's right.

Imad had come to the railing, looking up at the carnage as Behesh twisted around and attacked the soldiers on the roof. Imad turned to his men and said, “Pull back some of our troops to these chambers. It seems my son has arrived."

***

Fortunately, in the carnage of their landing, Behesh didn't throw every human off the palace. Esmal managed to get a broadsword from one of the guards, the blade's weight and balance all too familiar. Srei picked up a discarded crossbow and loaded it with bolts she scavenged. Zairsh drew his sword and they all gathered around the trapdoor. Behesh loomed over them all, but grunted when crossbow bolts bounced off his hide. Imad's soldiers were shooting up from Sisbul's suite.

Esmal touched Behesh's snout and said, “Go, we'll take care of the rest."

“But—"

“That spell I cast can only take so much of a beating before it wears off. You can't just sit here getting shot at all night," Esmal said.

Behesh growled as several more bolts plunked off his hide. He pushed his head into Esmal's chest, and both Srei and him hugged the wyvern.

“We will be fine, love," Srei said.

“Now go."

Behesh said, “Live, no matter what the cost." The wyvern hopped to the edge of the palace roof and leapt off, wings unfurling and gliding into the city night.

Esmal reached for the trapdoor but Zairsh said, “Wait." He went to one of the dead guards, and, grunting, lifted the corpse over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?"

“You'll see, kid, open it." Esmal did. Zairsh ducked inside with his corpse, followed by the other two. The prince did not know what to expect in the narrow tunnel until they rounded the corner to find a line of spear wielding men advancing up to the roof.

“Thought so," Zairsh said before charging into the group. Esmal gawked as the lizard slammed the corpse, still in full plate, on top of half a dozen spears. The sharp edges pierced the plate and caught in the dead human, leaving it a pincushion and the weapons useless. Before any of the soldiers could react, Zairsh had bulled into them horns down.

The soldiers fell backwards into a heap on the ramp. Each of them was too top heavy to easily get back up easily—especially with a seven foot tall hybrid beating them to death through their plate. Esmal approached and helped, finding that coldness now as he pushed his sword through openings of the plate and killed the helpless soldiers. Srei even didn't hesitate, standing over one struggling man and unloading a crossbow bolt into his chest.

When the skirmish was finished, Zairsh spat on a corpse. “Is this Savish's finest? No wonder we beat your asses in the Battle of Srrket."

Esmal, in the moment killing, was in no mood for banter. “Let's keep moving."

As they walked through the tunnel, Zairsh said, “I know you probably want to confront him, Esmal, but leave Imad to me. You focus on getting that portal closed."

Esmal grunted acknowledgement.

“What about me?" Srei asked.

“Stay in cover, pick your shots carefully, help Esmal close the portal."

They came out of the tunnel and into Sisbul's rooms. The steward was chained to the shaft support column closest to them. Dried blood soaked the stone not far from where Sisbul was chained, and Esmal knew it must have been Zysh's. His father killed the consort right in front of Sisbul.

Imad waited with several soldiers that had crossbows trained on the three of them.

“My son, good to see you."

Esmal did not speak. He was still taking in the room. Ten soldiers and Imad between them and the portal. Probably more in the palace. His father was being cautious, keeping those soldiers stationed elsewhere in case an attack from the outside was also coming. If they were lucky, no more soldiers would come up to Sisbul's quarters. They could handle this number, and once they freed Sisbul retaking the palace would be easy.

“Nothing to say to your Emperor? You father?"

Imad did not mince words in a battle.

Esmal said in Srrketch, “He's trying to stall."

Realizing his son did not take the bait, Imad said, “Kill them."

Esmal grabbed Srei and dove for Sisbul's vanity. He felt a crossbow bolt slam into his shoulder, but his spell held. It was like Zairsh punching him there—a blow Esmal knew he could take.

He dropped Srei behind the vanity and turned back into the melee. Zairsh had bulled forward into a fight with Imad. Several of his soldiers drew swords to join their emperor while others reloaded their crossbows. Esmal ran to help but Zairsh leapt backwards and pointed across the room with his sword. “Portal first!"

Esmal cursed. Imad ordered, “Protect the portal, not me, fools!"

The prince ran for the gateway. Another crossbow bolt slammed into his back and he stumbled, allowing a soldier to get in front of him. He slashed his sword at Esmal's head. The prince ducked and barreled forward, forcing his blade through the plate and into his gut. He kicked the bastard away and turned on another soldier in time to catch his blade. Esmal parried his swing and the man went rigid, falling forward. A bolt from Srei pushed out from the small of his back. The little lizard was already in cover again. Another crossbow snapped into Esmal's sternum. The prince gasped, feeling the wind knocked from him, but the spell held. He saw Zairsh spin from Imad and slam his sword into the helmet of the soldier responsible. The blade wasn't sharp enough to cut through the helm, but it crushed the man's skull nonetheless.

Esmal saw a soldier going for Srei, Imad advancing on Zairsh and pushing the lizard back. And more soldiers closing in. He cursed and stomped his foot, “Srrket quake and roar, to my enemies bring war." This time his entire left leg burned. Esmal cried out as a pain far worse than any before lanced through it. Even as the room came to life around him, stone golems rising from the ground and walls. Each one shaped like tailless lizard. They moved with supernatural speed and strength, attacking the remaining soldiers around the room. All while Esmal groaned in anguish, holding his changing leg. Not just scales replacing flesh up to his inner thigh. Bones split inside him, grew, rearranged with muscle and ligament. His left foot became digitigrade. Two of his toes had fused together and now long, dark talons extended from them.

Then Zairsh was kneeling beside him, shouting over the carnage, “What part of 'close the portal' did you not understand?"

Groaning, Esmal barely noticed Zairsh standing. The hybrid picked up Esmal's dropped sword and stepped over to the doorway. Its molten mirror showed nothing on the other side. A showier part of Zairsh would have loved to toss the emperor's head through before closing it, but one thing at a time. He slashed across the thin line of blood at the edge of the portal, blade taking off a chunk of stone with a clang. The molten mirror blinked into a stone wall.

Zairsh turned around to face the fight again. Esmal's stone golems worked wonders on the remaining soldiers. The hybrid watched an enraged Imad smash his sword through the final golem in the room. The emperor's supernatural strength had been the only thing capable of killing the stone beasts in the room. His soldiers had been overwhelmed and he'd not been fast enough to save them from getting their ribs and skulls caved in.

Zairsh dropped the broadsword and held up his long sword to the emperor. Imad was red-faced with anger and soaked in sweat. Zairsh took a step to him and said, “Srei, get over here and help Esmal up."

“Is he okay?"

“He'll be fine," Zairsh said, keeping his eyes on Imad. The emperor spat and said something in Savish. They were ten paces from each other. Zairsh took another step.

Esmal grit his teeth as Srei helped him to his feet. His left leg hurt like someone spent the last hour tenderizing it with a hammer, but all the muscles and nerves seemed to work. Still, he had trouble standing. His changed leg was several inches longer now than the other leg. He heard Imad demand, “What's wrong with him, lizard? What did you do to my son?"

Zairsh did not speak Savish. Esmal glanced at his father and saw on his face the dawning realization of his son's changes. The prince snapped, “This is the cost of their power, father. Do you truly want it?"

Imad said, “No… you're lying to—"

Soon as Imad turned his head to speak to Esmal, Zairsh charged the emperor. Imad deftly blocked his swing, the hybrid's wrist rattled by how immovable the emperor's sword arm was. Zairsh would not be able to overwhelm his opponent like he normally did. That was fine—he enjoyed a challenge. Imad pressed the attack and Zairsh barely knocked the emperor's swing away. Imad followed with a chop and Zairsh sidestepped, lunging forward with his teeth. Imad's free hand struck Zairsh in the gut, and if it were not for Esmal's spell Zairsh might have been more than shoved back. He clutched his stomach, coughing and Imad came in with a thrust. Zairsh parried and backpedaled to avoid the emperor's follow-up swing. He got his breath back, and, before Imad pressed the attack, he lunged. Zairsh brought down his blade with both hands and Imad's sword caught the blow. Steel slid along steel and their handguards locked together. Zairsh was putting his back into it but felt Imad overpowering him.

Fortunately, the emperor got so caught up he forgot Zairsh's tail. He wrapped it around the human's ankle and yanked it and himself backwards. Imad lost his footing, landing hard on his back, and Zairsh came in with his sword.

His sword, old and not quite sharp enough to pierce plate. A thrust into Imad's abdomen slid across the armor and down between a gap, finding purchase in the emperor's hip. Zairsh got to feel the satisfying yield of that tyrant's flesh to his blade, even as Imad, who never dropped his sword, thrust his blade blindly into Zairsh's ribs.

Zairsh grunted, stabbing pain lancing across his whole chest. He grit his teeth, grabbed Imad's sword by the handguard and kicked the bastard in the head. Not hard enough to really hurt him—dammit. Zairsh was in too much pain. He did force Imad to let go of the sword, though, and stumbled backwards with Savish steel lodged through his chest. Imad had slammed through spell and bone alike to impale one of Zairsh's lungs, the tip of the blade pushing out right under his shoulder blade.

“Zairsh!" Esmal shouted while the lizard fell to a knee, wheezing. Imad had gotten to his feet, holding Zairsh's sword. Panting, he raised it. Srei struggled to hold Esmal back, looking away herself. “Stop this!" Esmal begged in Srrketch, and the land answered. Between Zairsh and Imad, splitting the room in half, a stone wall raised. Bolts of magic erupted all over the room, the stone being stripped and carved out of walls, floors, ceilings, so it pushed between the two parties. Imad on one side with access to the rest of the palace, and Esmal, Srei, Sisbul, and Zairsh on the other. And while stone moved and magic sparked, Esmal's other leg burned. He fell against Srei, groaning, as a now familiar pain burned through his body. His other leg was changing, the cost of this spell driven only by the raw need to protect his beloved.

Even though his leg still changed, he forced himself and Srei to move to Zairsh's side. The hybrid glared at Esmal and wheezed, “Couldn't… kill him… with magic?"

“Shut up," Esmal said. He touched the handguard of the sword Zairsh still held and said, “Let go, I'm getting this out of you."

Zairsh said, “I'll bleed… faster…"

“I'm not going to let you bleed to death, I'm going to heal you," Esmal said, tears running down his eyes. “You said you'd be with me to the end."

“Hah… my end… kid."

“No!" Esmal snapped. “Fuck you, Zairsh." Still crying, Esmal said, “Srei help keep him upright." Srei moved around to Zairsh's other side, holding him still by his shoulders. Esmal ripped the blade free and Zairsh snarled. Blood immediately gushed out the wound and the prince clapped his scaled hand to it and incanted while fighting back sobs, “Scale and tissue seal, blood renew, Shkhanna see this body thrive, see this body come alive."

Little bolts of light and blood flashed behind Esmal's palm. He moaned in pain as he felt more burning work up his inner right thigh. That spell that created the wall had not affected his leg as much as the previous one, but by the time Zairsh was healed, both his legs had almost completely changed.

Zairsh groaned, but his breathing returned. He touched the spot of his wound and found the scales sealed. He glared at Esmal and punched his prince. “You idiot!"

“A thank you would be—"

Zairsh squeezed Esmal against his chest.

“Thank you," Zairsh rumbled.

Srei said, “We're all glad to see you alive Zairsh, but Sisbul?"

The naga made a noise through his gag to show he was still conscious. Esmal, shakily, got to his feet with the help of Zairsh this time. He wobbled a little, feeling like his body wanted to lean more forward than it should.

“You okay?" Zairsh asked.

Esmal nodded and approached the column Sisbul was chained to. “I don't know how we're supposed to free him."

“We don't need to," Srei said as she joined him at the edge of the shaft. “If we get Sisbul's gag undone he can weave a spell to free himself."

The column in question was about twelve feet thick. Sisbul was just far away enough that none of them could reach the snake's mouth. Esmal realized what Srei suggested as she mounted the stone rail to climb to the naga. He grabbed her shoulder and said, “Wait—"

Before more could be said, however, something slammed against the stone wall. A single large crack split down its middle and Zairsh picked up Imad's sword. “We're out of time," he said.

Srei fixed Esmal with a glare and said, “Someone has to do it, and Zairsh is too heavy and you can barely stand."

Another smash against the wall and this time some of the rock in the center crumbled. Esmal released her and she climbed out onto the pillar. Soon as she grabbed Sisbul's chains as a handhold, Imad smashed down the wall holding him back. Zairsh snarled, “This time I'll aim for your head you bastard."

The two became locked in another melee while the stone and dust from the smashed wall scattered. There were more footsteps, though, soldiers loosing war cries.

While they regrouped, Imad had, too.

They came pouring through the hole in the wall behind their emperor. Zairsh managed to knock away their blades but he was driven back towards the passageway to the roof.

Esmal backed against the pillar, hoping Srei worked quickly, thinking of a spell he might speak should he need it. Then Imad noticed Esmal, and his father hobbled towards him. Unarmed, the prince opened his mouth to speak, but his father hurled Zairsh's sword at him. He had to jump out of the way, but with his balance off, Esmal fell to his knees. The next moment his father grabbed him by the throat. Imad squeezed like he meant to crush Esmal's windpipe, but his protection spell held. He gasped for breath in his father's choking grip, thinking of his sister, hurled to her death like this.

Imad pressed him back against the stone railing and growled, “You are no son of mine."

Neither noticed Srei till she jumped from the chains of the pillar into Imad. He tried to grab her but before he could Srei's claws dug into the human's face. The emperor screamed when Srei gouged out his eyes.

“He is better off without you!" Srei snarled in Savish. Imad released Esmal, and swung his arms blindly. Srei, balanced on the edge of the stone railing, had nowhere to go. When Imad struck her, Esmal was already reaching for her hand. His scaled hand in hers. Her eyes on him. She swung out into the abyss, but Esmal did not let her go, but Esmal did not have a tail, and his new legs did not have the balance he needed, so he fell into the shaft with her.

It happened so quickly Srei had to describe it to him after the fact.

Esmal pulled her to his chest and whispered, “Fly." Wings spilt like bloody red water out his back. They pulled up, and sped into the third floor receiving hall. Esmal slammed shoulder first into the ground, holding Srei to him as they bounced across the floor.

***

When Srei got off Sisbul's gag, he immediately began an incantation. The stone pillar began gel around him, as if it became water around the snake. Before his head disappeared into it, he saw Esmal fall. Saw the prince's wings break from his back. Then he was moving through the pillar, and came out the other side into a melee. Zairsh had been pushed into a corner, and several soldiers were tending to Imad. Some came after Sisbul while his body still moved through the pillar, but the steward merely held up his hand and said, “See your bodies wilt."

The soldiers slumped and fell to the ground, unable to lift their swords to Sisbul. Then the snake incanted:

“Shkhanna see these malcontents

and set nerves aflame, blood to boil

let those who swing blades at Srrket

find nothing but death and regret."

The spell crackled across the snake's tongue and through the room. Each human combusted. In a smokeless fire, flames erupted from their bodies. Their plate cooked till the metal glowed red, blood sizzled as skin melted away, and the smell of burnt bone, hair, leather, and steel filled the air. Sisbul watched them die. Imad had turned on him, but did no more than lift a finger at him, as if he might unleash his indignation to quell Shkhanna's might. She was a goddess, he a mere man, and Sisbul destroyed him with the fires of the combined rage of steward and goddess.

Sisbul freed his body completely from the pillar before weaving his way to Imad. His flesh melted from face and peeled off in slabs and chunks.

“Bastard!" A blade bashed down into Imad's skull. Zairsh smashed his head open and kicked the corpse to the ground. Sisbul blinked, forgetting that the lizard had been there. He clapped a hand on the naga's shoulder. “Sorry, he deserved that. Uh, where's Esmal and Srei, though?"

***

Esmal groaned while Srei squirmed free from his grip. “Esmal!" she tenderly touched his shoulder. “Are you alright?"

He said, “Just, ugh, dislocated my shoulder."

“You idiot," Srei helped him sit up. “You could have gotten us both killed."

“Did you…" Esmal shook his head and cursed, “Did you help, Sisbul?"

“He was weaving a spell to free himself when I jumped over," Srei said. “Hopefully he took care of the rest of it."

“We need to get back up there," Esmal said as he tried to stand.

“No no no," Srei held him back. “You are falling apart."

Esmal looked down at his changed feet. He flexed his talons and whispered, “Shkhanna's slit."

“Can you feel this?"

“Ouch! Srei?" She had pinched a finger of one of Esmal's wings.

Wings. He twisted around to try and look at them. Gawking at the pale, membranes and dark scales lining the fingers of the wings. They had just ripped out the back of his shirt, which was barely hanging on him at this point.

Srei ran a finger along the delicate bone and said, “They're beautiful, Esmal…"

The prince looked down at his changed hands. “I'm not sure if I can keep them."

“We can figure that out together. Sisbul and Tezz will be able to help."

“But not Zysh…" Esmal said, feeling sick.

“Esmal…"

They had both seen the naga's body floating in the baths at the bottom of the shaft, water red with his blood.

Srei hugged him.

“Argh, shoulder!"

Srei let go of him. “Oh! I'm sorry, dear."

“Esmal! Srei!"

“In here Zairsh!" Srei called back. The hybrid pushed through the doors to the hall covered in blood. Much of the maroon that stained his scales came from the wound on his chest, but a brighter red from humans also streaked his orange hide. Esmal had blood on his hands, too, and on his ruined clothes. His transformation had ripped through his pants in places, too.

Srei's hands still had blood all over them as well. His father's.

“Is it over?" Srei asked.

Zairsh didn't respond at first. He had stopped, staring at Esmal and his wings. “Shkhanna's slit, are you even human anymore, kid?"

Esmal grimaced and Srei asked again, “Is Imad dead or not?"

“Sisbul took care of him and his men with a handful of words. He is going through the rest of the palace to take care of any holdouts."

From deeper in the palace they heard a human's scream.

Zairsh shrugged. “I doubt he plans to let any of them live."

Bile swam in Esmal's throat. He remembered telling Sisbul how he went about able to kill. “I never wish to develop such a thing," Sisbul had said a month ago. Now it seemed the naga had his own coldness to reach for. With Srei's help, Esmal got to his feet, wings fluttering open and close as he tried to find balance again. He said to Zairsh, “We need to find him."

“You sure about that, kid?"

“Yes," Esmal said.

“Wait, before we go," Srei touched Esmal's dislocated shoulder, “We should take care of this."

Zairsh closed the distance between them and said, “I've done this plenty of times with myself, let me handle it, Srei."

She backed away and Esmal braced himself against Zairsh. The lizard wrapped an arm around Esmal while his other palm rested against his shoulder. “You ready?"

“Just do—fuck!" Zairsh snapped his arm back into place. He grit his teeth as new aches lacerated his shoulder and down his arm. At this point, his body being in horrid pain was becoming normal. His legs still ached with strange growing pains and the edges of where scale met skin on his body smoldered with near burning heat.

“You alright?" Zairsh asked.

Esmal grimaced and said, “Let's just go."

Srei and Zairsh, flanking him on both sides, offered their hands. He took them, and both lizards helped him keep his balance as they moved through the palace.

They found Sisbul on the second floor in the baths. He sat on his coils at the edge of the central pool. His scales dripped with water and in his arms he held Zysh's retrieved body.

Esmal stopped them just out of earshot to say, “You two head outside. Word still needs to be sent to Tezz that the city is safe. I'll check on Sisbul."

Srei and Zairsh both squeezed his hands a moment before they let him go.

“I'll find Behesh and let him know you're safe," Srei said.

Sisbul did not move or acknowledge Esmal as he approached the steward. The naga's tail rested in the blood strewn waters, wrapped around Zysh's. All of the steward, tail, coils, arms, held his dead consort tight.

Part of Esmal wanted to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. No matter how things had gone, no matter what Zysh had done, Esmal did not want him to be condemned to death, to condemn Sisbul to this loss. The prince knew better than to beg, remembered what Zairsh told him the night before. He stood tall and said, “I am sorry about tonight, about lying to you."

Sisbul did not rouse or try to look at Esmal. He spoke to Zysh, whose face he cradled in his hands, “I remember now, the night you tried to tell me." His voice was cold and distant.

Esmal dug his claws into his scaled palms. “I wish I had the courage to tell you the truth sooner."

“Sooner? How long did you know?"

Esmal took a deep breath. He felt more nervous now than he had all night. He said, “The evening before our dinner together. He came to my rooms and told me he was planning a coup against you. That he thought the best way for Srrket to survive was to let my father vassalize these lands and in exchange for that and your power, Zysh would govern here. He had hoped to wait for a chance for Savish to weaken before reclaiming independence. He needed my help, my blood, to open the portal to let Imad come here, and he threatened both Srei and I. He kept a surveillance spell on us, which was how he knew I had told you the truth that night and came ready to confront you. He threatened to kill Srei and—"

“And you did not feel like you could tell me," Sisbul said.

“We were worried you would not believe us."

“Of course I would not believe you," Sisbul said, a ragged edge to his voice. He shook his head, “But then I would have put you in a trance and seen the truth for myself—you did not even try, Esmal." Sisbul said his name like he spat a curse.

Esmal flinched, but stood his ground. He said, “I was terrified of losing Srei, of losing you."

Sisbul laughed bitterly. “Well you do not need to worry about that anymore."

Esmal felt dread begin to line his chest. “I did not want any of this to happen, Sisbul. I didn't know Zysh planned to open the portal tonight. I had no idea he was going through with his real plan."

“There should have been no plan—the three of us should have all worked together to come up with something that kept everyone safe."

“Sisbul…" Esmal took a deep breath, “Shkhanna herself told me—"

“Damn her, then!" Sisbul snapped, twisting around to face Esmal. He clutched Zysh to his chest and tears streamed down his face as he spoke, “Do you have any idea what I feel right now? Do you think you can make an excuse? He… he—" Sisbul sobbed, “Zysh was everything to me and he betrayed me and now he is the one dead. And what am I supposed to do with all this anger, Esmal? Throw it at my goddess? If she cared she would have warned, even now she is silent." Weeping, Sisbul buried his face in his dead consort's shoulder and cried. Esmal heard him sobbing, “It should have been me… it should have been me…" as he rocked back and forth with Zysh's body.

Esmal was speechless. He wanted to weep, too, for Sisbul's pain, but he was too scared to take off his mask. He did not so much as step towards the steward, afraid the naga would lash out at him again if he noticed Esmal there. Paralyzed by fear, still, after all this time, the prince stared at the floor and waited for Sisbul to tell him what to do.

Eventually, Sisbul looked up at him and asked, “What are you still doing here?"

The question was like a blow to Esmal's face. Unable to meet Sisbul's gaze, he said, “I—I still want to support you, Sisbul."

“No," Sisbul snapped. “I… when I look at you all I feel is pain and failure and grief and anger. You lied to me, too. You let fear rule your decisions just like you used to let fear of your father rule them. You are a coward, Esmal. I don't want to see your face ever again."

Esmal finally looked up, gawking. They stared at each other, Esmal trembling. Both steward and consort now with tears running down their cheeks.

Sisbul said, “You are banished from Srrket, Consort Esmal, for betraying me and the rest of Srrket. By tomorrow evening, when I cast Dusk Song, I expect you to already be out of the valley. If you are not, I will have an armed escort drag you to the border."

Esmal struggled for words. He wanted to shout and snap at the steward. Wanted to fight for what he wanted, but more, he just wanted to surrender to whatever Sisbul said. He wanted to be punished—felt he deserved nothing more. He sighed. “I understand… I'm sorry, Sisbul, truly—" he stopped when he noticed the steward glaring at him. “I will never forget you."

Esmal walked quickly for the palace entrance, feeling himself close to breaking down. Panic rushed through his chest with aching grief. The banishment, Sisbul calling him a coward—and he was. He was never not a coward. Always motivated by fear. He wasn't worthy of—

Someone ran into him. He did not even realize when he stepped into the night sky, but soon as he did Srei was there holding him. And Behesh, too, both asking him what was wrong, both with only concern for him in their voices.

Esmal finally broke down and wept in earnest while each held him in their embrace.

***

“I can figure out something to tailor so you can still wear clothes with your wings," Srei said as she washed Esmal's back with a rag. They sat in Zairsh's bed, a bucket of well-water next to it. Outside, Zairsh was helping strap an improvised pack of supplies to Behesh's back. As soon as Srei and Behesh pried from a sobbing Esmal that Sisbul had banished him, they both agreed to go with Esmal to Savish. When Esmal had tried to protest, Behesh had said, “If you cannot come back to us then Srrket is no longer a home for us."

“Thank you," Esmal said. His voice was hoarse from crying, and Srei knew there would be more grief to come through their journey.

“At the very least you're able to walk now, and Behesh can teach you how to fly," Srei said, trying to remain chipper. The wings had grown across Esmal's shoulder blades, which were now covered in those dark, rich brown scales. Srei had taken off all the prince's clothes to take note of the changes. His undersides were a bright brass color while his back remained a lustrous brown darker than his skin. His legs were digitigrade like any lizard, but the transformation stopped at the top of his thighs. Just as Esmal's shoulder's only remained half transformed. In theory, there was the chance Esmal's body could be restored…

But without Sisbul's help, Tezz was not sure it safe to try alone.

They would return to Savish to claim the throne, and Esmal would be this strange hybrid shape for the foreseeable future.

Esmal offered a half smile. “I don't know if I ever saw Behesh so excited before."

When Srei suggested Behesh teach Esmal flying the wyvern practically jumped for joy.

“It is something precious you two get to share. I can't wait to see you both soaring through the air."

As if summoned, Behesh's head poked through the doorway of Zairsh's home, “We are ready, you two."

“We will be out in a minute, love," Srei said as she dropped the rag in the bucket and offered Esmal his last set of clothes. “Let me help you with the pants." Esmal acquiesced to Srei carefully putting on his pants. Already her prince had shredded his other remaining pair with his talons when he tried to put them on.

“Does the kid really need clothes?" Zairsh asked. He leaned against the open doorway of his home.

“I think having my cock out while I try to claim my throne will be more scandalous than having scales," Esmal said.

“Bah, I hate Savish more and more by the minute," Zairsh said.

“Ignore him," Srei said as she finished getting the cuffs of his trousers around his ankles. Esmal took care of the rest, throwing on a matching white shirt with the back slit half open to make room for his wings. It exposed both the scars of the whipping he received as a teenager and the scales covering his back.

He took a deep breath and summoned what courage he could. “Alright, let's go."

The four of them left the valley together, heading back the way Esmal entered Srrket. They left in the early morning light, the air cool enough that Srei had wrapped one of the cloaks around her that they secured for the journey. As they approached the switchback that led to the mountain pass out of the valley, they all heard a shout: “Esmal!"

They stopped and turned around to see a silver drake bounding down the road after them. Tezz stopped short of their group, panting, and Zairsh asked, “What do you want?"

Tezz sucked in a deep breath and said, “I need to ask Esmal something."

The prince stepped forward, mind racing with what Tezz could want. “What is it?"

“Do you still love Sisbul?"

Esmal was shocked.

Zairsh growled, “What kind of—"

“I do," Esmal said, grief weighing deeply on the confession.

“Then don't give up on him," Tezz said. “I cannot change his mind, and I am sorry I cannot. But remember the vision Shkhanna gave Sisbul, Esmal. Remain faithful to him, continue reaching out. I am certain you will reach him someday."

“Tezz…" tearing up once again, holding back more crying, Esmal nodded. “I will, thank you Consort Tezzbelst."

“Keep Srrket in your heart, Consort Esmal. May sun stay warm on all your backs."

Epilogue: The Letters his Prince Wrote

Dear Steward Sisbul,

I hope this letter finds you and Srrket safe and healing. I cannot believe how quickly these last six months have passed. Really, I am not sure where to begin, what I should say. I know that I still regret my actions in Srrket. I know I think about you every day. I miss you, Sisbul.

Our journey home passed quickly. Turns out flying was fairly intuitive for me with Behesh as my teacher, and once I was able to keep up with him, we spent many of our days traveling through the air. Behesh carried Srei and Zairsh, and we managed to cut down the journey by a month. The trees in Savish were still shedding their leaves when we reached the capital.

I do not wish to go into the next month, which was a contentious time of strife. I had to duel no less than three relatives and four generals to maintain the throne. The court hates me. There is an old guard here definitely loyal to Imad. I had my father branded a liar and a traitor for breaking our Empire's treaty with Srrket. There have been insurrections in the north as well—not peasant uprisings but power-hungry men who hope to depose me and pick up where Imad left off.

Everyday there is a new conflict to attend to, and I cannot leave the capital to face outside threats directly lest I return to find the palace gates barred and my own guard turned against me. It is hard going, but none of us expected any less.

Zairsh, Srei, and Behesh help matters. There are those who blame my transformation for sharing my bed with them. And I mean with all of them. We knocked a hole in the seaward facing side of the palace so Behesh might have access to my rooms. Before that I preferred sleeping out in the gardens with him.

Behesh perhaps draws the most fear and concern, but his fluent Savish and eloquent manners have made any claims of him being a beast ring false. I also find his presence a good force for intimidating upstart nobles in my court. No one seems to want to stand up to the Emperor with a wyvern big enough to tear their head off with a single bite. Behesh is amused by it, honestly.

And Srei tells me she has never seen Behesh happier. Each evening he and I fly out into the ocean. We dive and swim through the waters no matter the time of the year. Since I have had to live with this strange body, I noticed it does not get cold as easily, so the winter waters are not a bother for me or Behesh. We play like children in the sea, dance through the air together, and have once or twice gotten caught on the beach doing other things that have scandalized my reputation here.

Srei and Zairsh are not quite as happy with Savish. They are not unhappy, but Zairsh complains constantly about the barbaric language he must learn. He tells me standing in a crowd of humans is like listening to a pack of yipping dogs. He has not lost any of his grouchiness or protectiveness. In fact, that attitude has extended to Srei and Behesh as well. He took to training Srei in swordsmanship and she has already mastered more in three months than I did in three years—proving once again she remains brilliant in all things. I train with Zairsh as well. We have not lost our morning routine, only now we fight in the palace barracks. Often palace guard will rouse to watch us put on a show. I still lose most fights, but I can tell our soldiers are impressed by our swordplay.

Perhaps when the hostility towards them has died down and Zairsh has mastered more Savish, I will let him begin taking over palace security.

Oh, and, I'm not sure we could have avoided it if we wanted to, but Behesh has bonded to Zairsh, too. It seems drakes are just as affected by a wyvern's musk as humans are.

Srei continues to be the desert gem I was stunned by the moment I met her. She has quickly adapted to Savish culture and helps me run my court. Already nobles consider her my top advisor, and regularly try to curry her favor so they might have better access to me. She despises how cold Savish gets and curses the weather regularly. She works just as hard as me, perhaps harder, to help me achieve my goals for this empire. Honestly, it is hard to believe I ever thought I could do this without her. Already we are beginning to outlaw slavery throughout the empire. Not without consequence, however, as that was the final straw that led to the uprisings in the north.

My generals and I are confident we can suppress the rebellion. Our northern territories are a narrow peninsula that depends on fishing and trade, and Savish's naval power can easily blockade and—

I do not want to go into this here. It is depressing and exhausting.

The last thing I will write about is my wives. Abiya and Mezra did not know what to make of me. And frankly, they were afraid of me at first. They helped run my household, but for the first month they were scared and defensive around me. It was… incredibly painful. Especially when Abiya had given birth to a healthy son, my son, Sisbul.

It was not me who won their trust, but Srei. Her unerring charm and kindness, the work they saw her do to help run my house even when they did not want her help. Eventually she convinced them that I was not going to throw them out. One morning I came into the common room finding Srei knitting with the other women, laughing and telling stories about me in Srrket, all while she rocked my son's crib with her tail!

My son is named Iram, after my grandfather. My father named him since I was not there. After that morning, Abiya and Mezra both allowed me to speak with them. It was strange, these last two months I have spent any free time I can getting to know them both again. I try my best to play with and be there for my son as well. Iram cried at first every time I held him, but he is used to me as well by now.

Abiya is very shy and, despite being older, Mezra typically speaks for them both. But I have noticed her sharp wit, in the jokes she will whisper in Mezra's ears. She has only recently warmed up to me. Last night was the first time since coming back that she saw me naked. We did not do more than sleep together, but I could tell she was awed by what my body had become.

Mezra, I quickly learned, held little interest in me to begin with. She seems interested only in women and is protective of Abiya. We get along as friends, but I can tell she is not looking towards me for physical affection or comfort. But I know it is not because of my scales. Because a difference in species has not stopped her and Srei from becoming close. They seem to share a bed and many other types of intimacy every other night. Honestly, I am happy for her and happy for Srei. It seems I never quite quenched my retainer's thirst for humans.

That is all I will share for now. My life is difficult, Sisbul, but I believe strongly that I am doing good.

With love, your Consort Esmal

Dear Steward Sisbul,

It has been two years since my banishment, and, though I write you every month, I have still not heard word from you. I hope this letter finds Srrket safe and you well.

More of my body has transformed. There was an assassination attempt after I announced our plan to repatriate the people we have conquered. Srei saved me but was nearly killed. I used magic for the first time since my banishment and healed her. The attempt had been during a court ball, so an audience got to bear witness for the first time to the powers I have. The powers you gave me.

Not much changed on my body, except for a patch of scales growing across my throat. Everyone seems to enjoy teasing the scales there: Zairsh, Behesh, Srei, and even Abiya. She is pregnant again! I did not think I would be quite so excited for a second child, but I am thrilled. My son has been growing so quickly that he already is ready for his own scales. Iram asked me just yesterday, “When will I get wings?" I had to laugh at that. He actually wants to become like me—this strange hybrid creature. I never wanted to be like my father, so I am just astonished by this child.

He still does not understand why I do not let him call me father, either. When I first arrived in Savish, it was hard for me to figure out what I wanted to be. I knew I was not a man, not by any means, but womanhood I was not sure of, either. I prefer the women here and their company for certain, but it did not feel right to claim I was a woman, either. Behesh says wyverns call those who exist in the middle the strata. And this is perhaps closer to me. I walk back and forth, and with Srei's help have managed to cultivate an image of emperor not defined by masculine power. I wish to embody the best parts of masculinity—things you and Zairsh and Behesh have taught me and combine them with the gentleness and tenderness I have learned to embrace with Srei and Abiya.

Though, I've learned all too well that Srei is far from weak or powerless. Already her skills with a sword rival mine, and she continues to work by my side. She is as much a part of ruling this empire as I am. And her determination and strength are awe inspiring. I try to incorporate everything I have learned from her to embody my own sense of self. That between space. That strata.

In five years we hope to have fully repatriated much of the lands of this continent. It will need to be slow, careful work. If we move too fast my court will revolt completely. And much as I despise most of these nobles, I still need to cooperate with them, at least until they become so powerless I can finally disband them.

I have learned, reading the histories of Savish, that our city was once the hub of a small merchant republic. Its rule was led by the people at one time, and my hope is to eventually return Savish to those times.

And I hope that doing this work will help make up for all the mistakes I have made, all the pain I have caused. Not just to you, Sisbul, but all the war and killing I participated in. I have so much I need to make up for, but I am not alone. I am surrounded by love and I realize that love has made all of this feel possible.

I hope you are surrounded by love as well.

Your Consort Esmal

Dear Steward Sisbul,

I know it has been over a year since I have written. I am sorry, this has been perhaps the most tumultuous year of my rule. A plague swept through the continent, though, I imagine you have nothing to fear. None of us reptiles seem to be affected by this sickness.

I found myself calling my whole rule into question when my son became sick. First Iram and then my daughter Esma. I could not stand by, and so used my magic to cure them of their illness. After that, I could not, in good conscience, stand in my palace while my people died by the hundreds and thousands.

I am fully transformed now. I was by the end of the first day curing people in the city. I am covered head-to-toe in scales. My head is like that of a drake's, horned with a spinal fin like Behesh's that runs down my back to the tip of my tail. My scales are brown and brass. Even my eyes changed color, became orange and slit like a reptiles. I am still bipedal, and am now the same height as Zairsh, much to his chagrin. There was a hope that I might return to Srrket one day to have these changes reversed, but I think we all knew this day would come.

I did not stop at the capital, but traveled with my retinue to every city I could. It was my first time leaving the capital since I arrived five years ago. I spent most of the last year on the road, racing what became known as the “wasting plague." A sickness that seemed to devour the fat and muscle right off a human's bones and left them starving and weak.

An unintentional consequence of stopping this plague is that I became a figure revered overnight. Despite my protests, the people wished to worship me, and while I avoided being raised up as a god, I did become beloved by the people. And with my body totally changed, there became no reason to hold back my magic anymore. It is incredible how many problems you can solve with an incantation. Overnight the court has fallen into line with our land repatriation goals. Already half the territories Savish once ruled have been returned to their people.

We have tried our best to not only give those nations back their independence, but the means to allow themselves to thrive again. The gold capping the towers of the palace has been stripped off, my coffers emptied in order to help those in need. Much as I would like to, I cannot give it all away. Not yet anyways. I must still consider ruling, slowly rebuilding. If Savish collapses all that would lead to are power vacuums and war. It is still slow work, but we are making progress, nonetheless.

There is one other consequence of my body changing that I must share.

This winter Behesh noticed the first whiffs of it with his sharp nose and we were able to prepare for it, but, well, like a wyvern might, I went into heat. When my body changed I lost one set of reproductive organs for another. And while nothing took before that, once my heat struck I was apparently very fertile. I had to lock myself in my rooms for a week with Zairsh and Behesh, both of them nearly feral from my pheromones. I was not much better. Srei was also affected and allowed herself to get lost in the moment at times, but she, with Abiya and Mezra's help, managed our household during that time.

Needless to say, I am writing this carrying a clutch in my belly. Behesh tells me that wyvern heats only come every few years, but a part of me secretly hopes it happens more regularly than that. When I touch my stomach and feel the swell of this egg I am filled with a warmth I never knew could exist in me.

Anyways, it is late, and I promised to spend the night with Behesh so Srei could spend some time with Mezra. Those two have grown very close, and I suspect, were we to ever leave Savish, Mezra would not let Srei leave without her.

With love, your Consort Esmal

Dear Steward Sisbul,

I hope you are well. Somehow, twenty years have passed since we last spoke. I have spent the last two decades trying to disprove you. Trying to prove I am no coward. And some nights I am furious at you for still not returning my letters, but I refuse to give up on you, Sisbul. I still want to return to Srrket, want to rekindle the love between us and know once and for all how deep that well runs.

Anyways, updates:

Iram has taken a seat on the Savish Council. I am proud of him. It is hard to believe that only a year ago I abdicated the Savish throne, stepped down as emperor in favor of a more democratic rule. Iram is the youngest on the council, and there are those who think his relationship to me scored his seat there. And of course it did. If I were to run for council I would no doubt win a seat.

Each day I leave our seaside manor to venture into the capital. I go shopping for food at the market stalls and offer my magic to any human who needs it—whether it is soothing the aches of an old man's back, helping repair a collapsed roof, or praying with a family over the grave of a recently departed loved one. Then I return home. It is just Behesh, Zairsh, Srei, and Mezra living at the manor now. Abiya left with Esma to help Iram in the capital. I see the three of them often, and love them a great deal, but I would not trade the peace and quiet of the countryside to be closer.

My other children are also healthy and spry. Zairsh is already building another addition to the house to make room for them. At this point Behesh, Srei, and Zairsh have all sired their own little ones, but each egg hatches a winged drake with traits of the sire. The most recent, Sranmunse, was born this past winter.

Zairsh insists we spar every day still, but his age at this point is undeniable. I beat him every time now, but Zairsh doesn't care, we spar, and occasionally Srei joins us. Despite being much bigger than her, Srei is far better with a sword than I've ever been. When she joins the fray I often find myself on my back with her looming over me. Not that I have ever minded her doing that.

Srei is thirty-seven. I am forty-eight, but already she looks older than me. It is hard to watch them all age. I know past stewards significantly reduced their lifespan by forming a link to every person precious in their lives just so they did not need to see their loved ones age and die. And when I see Zairsh get up shaky and stiff some mornings, I understand completely why a steward would do that. Why you were so careful in spreading and sharing your love. Sometimes I feel incredibly guilty for staying so young and healthy, and I am horrified what might happen when I am left here with nothing more than my children. The eternally young, god-like ex-emperor living alone just a few hours from a human trade port.

I do not want it to come to that. I do not want these drakes I've carried as eggs and then watched hatch never know the touch of desert sun on their scales.

I'm sorry—I am getting mad at you again. I will not cross out what I have written, but there is no need for me to spiral and plead and beg, either.

Anyways, our days are spent in leisure and domestic bliss. Most of my time is dedicated to the little ones with Behesh. We take care of their education, teach them how to use their wings and how to fly. They have been growing alarmingly fast. Zaszbelst, my firstborn, is already big as Tezz was when I lived in Srrket! He is young and hard-headed like his father, but a good spirit. He is very protective of his siblings, and still has the wiry energy of a teenager. He is fourteen years old this year. We do not know when exactly he will hit adulthood. According to Zairsh if he were a normal drake he would have already reached adulthood and his growth would have slowed down significantly. Behesh thinks he will resemble a wyvern and not reach adulthood until his mid-twenties. Though, Behesh has said that with the caveat that Zasz grows much faster than even wyverns do.

They are all a wild bunch, but each of the siblings remain very close to one another. And many of them now go flying with Behesh and I. We still return to the ocean in the evenings, even if we no longer get up to our old antics, we have not forgotten the joys of diving into the ocean and arcing back out into the air.

I must be going. I can here Sran crying from the other room. She's a few months old but already has said her first words—definitely takes after her mother in her capacity to learn language!

With love, your Consort Esmal

Dear Consort Esmal

I have read every one of your letters and, truly, I am ashamed of what I called you when we both last saw each other. I am ashamed of banishing you. Of not having the strength to help you thrive. I have held in all this grief and anger because I was afraid of letting it go, but I cannot stand it anymore.

Each day these last twenty years I have thought of you. I refuse to let you feel like your future must be spent alone. I am your future and you are mine and I miss you, Esmal. I need you.

Please come back to me, my prince,

Steward Sisbul