Rise to Power: The Finale: Silver Foxes

By M.R. Anglin

The three part Silver Foxes finale all in one place.

 

Expermia lay in ruins, and Hunter is determined to do something to help. But the resources he tries to send to the country continue to be returned. What's behind this, and what can he do to help his people? Will he ever reunite with Xena? Or will Max find her first?

 

Contains Part 1: Rebuilding Expermia, Part 2: The Festival of the Silver Crescent Moon, and Part 3: Rise of the Silver Foxes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.R. Anglin
• Release date: Feb 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215846209

Book preview

Rise to Power: Part 1

Rebuilding Expermia

––––––––

By M.R. Anglin

Copyright © 2022-2023 M.R. Anglin

All rights reserved.

Fonts on cover are used under an SIL Open Font License: http://scripts.sil.org/OFL

Sansita Swashed © 2020 Sansita Swashed Project Authors.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Chapter 100

Chapter 101

Chapter 102

Chapter 103

Chapter 104

Chapter 105

Chapter 106

Chapter 107

Chapter 108

Chapter 109

Chapter 110

Chapter 111

Chapter 112

Chapter 113

Chapter 114

Chapter 115

Chapter 116

Chapter 117

Chapter 118

Chapter 119

Chapter 120

Chapter 121

Chapter 122

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Chapter 1

Cortraire couldn’t remember the last time he had made it to the training center to meet with his platoon. As a lieutenant in the Expermian army, he had been tasked with getting the troops under his command ready for combat, ensuring their equipment remained well maintained, and in general making sure they could succeed no matter what mission came their way. Apparently, he’d done a pretty good job at it because his platoon—and others across Expermia’s capital, Silver Sait—had been called out day after day to deal with the troubles plaguing the devastated city.

First it had been search and rescue assignments, moving rubble and saving as many Expermian lives as possible after Drymairad’s invasion. Under King Maximilian’s command, the entire city had been levelled, leaving many dead and thousands homeless.

But after everyone had been rescued or accounted for, the teams had to deal with reconstruction. Which hadn’t been going so well. The invasion had destroyed the capital’s infrastructure and supply chains which meant they had no way of obtaining supplies and no way of ordering them even if they could. Phone lines, electricity, schools, roads, water treatment plants, hospitals, shops—all of it had crumbled into the rubble surrounding him. Worse, no one seemed to be in a hurry to assist. Though Expermia was a vast country, none of the other Expermian clans had raised a finger to help.

Cortraire wasn’t even sure anyone had asked them for aid.

Still, he had to keep his head up high. As the last remaining adult Cunor, he had the pressure of being Expermia’s shining hope resting on his shoulders. He had to suck it up and walk tall for the sake of the people.

At least everything was quiet today. Maybe he’d actually get to talk to his team.

Lieutenant! came a voice from across the crowded, cracked roadway.

Cortraire swung around to face the voice. Cordon, one of the privates in his platoon, trotted up to him. What’s going on, Private?

Sir. Cordon, a bit breathless, saluted him. Sarge told me to come find you. There’s a disturbance at the #3 rations pavilion. It’s getting bad.

Are you serious? Cortraire gave a slight groan before taking off at a light run. Lead the way.

Cordon led him down the road, around several clusters of tents housing homeless Expermians, and to a large, yellow and brown canvas tent set up over the storage area of the food supplies the military had managed to muster. Surrounding the counter where civilian soldiers handed out rations gathered a crowd of Expermians, writhing together like a hive of angry bees. Foxes and vixens swarmed, yelling at the top of their lungs, ears flat, and fur on end. Some in the back scuffled with each other while Outsiders—what Expermians called non-Expermians—tried to separate them. His own platoon also stood in the middle of the fray, parting fights and trying to calm the people.

Hey! An Outsider soldier, a slitted-eyed coyote with a frown on his face, had arrived before Cortraire did. He must have been an officer in the Drymairadian army, judging by the insignia on his uniform. The Drymairadian government had left their soldiers stationed in Expermia to help the rebuilding, but everyone knew they were really here to make sure no one revolted against King Maximilian’s domination. All of you, get moving! he yelled. This place is now closed!

Behind him stood another Outsider who brandished a rather impressive rifle ready to fire. More Outsiders gathered behind him.

As one, the Expermians turned to these intruders, teeth bared.

Hey, now! Kirion, Cortraire’s sergeant, raised his red-furred hands to the crowd. Calm down, everyone. Don’t do anything you’ll regret!

Regret? came an Expermian. Those Outsiders destroyed my home!

They don’t belong in Expermia! came another.

Get out! Someone threw a rock at the coyote. It struck him in the head.

He bristled, teeth bared. With a curse, he drew his gun. The crowd gathered and converged on him, unafraid of the weapons. In turn, the Outsiders waiting in the wings drew their weapons. The whole thing had escalated in microseconds. Cortraire had to put a stop to this.

Enough! Cortraire barked as he approached.

The crowd snarled, turning on him next, but when they saw his face—Cortraire, the last Cunor and bastion of hope for Expermia—they quieted. Ears rose, fur settled. Once the Outsiders noted the change in the crowd, the officer raised a hand. They lowered their weapons.

Cortraire approached the crowd, stepping deliberately. He looked over his people and caught their eyes. The silence settled around him. Who threw that? He pronounced his words purposefully to ensure sure each syllable made an impact on the crowd.

No one spoke.

I said, ‘who threw it?’ Cortraire allowed a bit more sternness to come into his voice.

Slowly, a small hand rose in the middle of the crowd. The people separated until they revealed a fox of about sixteen. He had his ears lowered as he looked up at Cortraire through round eyes.

Sixteen years old.

One year off of his sons’ ages.

Cortraire looked at Cordon out of the corner of his eye.

Sir! Cordon marched over to the kid and escorted him to the back of the tent.

Now, then. Kirion! Cortraire made his way over to his sergeant. What’s this all about? He had to tilt his head to see Kirion’s face, seeing as though Kirion was both taller and older than him.

There was a squabble about some rations. Kirion crossed his arms, allowing the silver cuff buttons on his black uniform jacket to twinkle in the sun. It blew up.

Rations? Cortraire turned to the civilian soldiers manning the counter in front of the supply tent.

The Civilian Soldiers were a regiment of enlisted foxes and vixens who were too young for active combat. Instead, they handled peacetime missions like disaster relief . . . or manning the distribution of rations. The two behind the counter, a yellowish-furred fox and a brown-furred vixen, wore the Expermian military black along with a white band with their last name stitched on it around their right arms: Cairin and Suraine, respectively. They looked a bit shell-shocked but otherwise calm—though if the disturbance had gotten worse, they might have been dragged into it. Cortraire swallowed hard and tried not to imagine his two sons in a similar situation. They were recruits and would be exiting Civilian Soldier Training Program to participate in missions soon. It could very well have been them behind this counter.

Shoving those thoughts aside, he turned to the two who tried to act as professionally as possible. What happened?

Those two. Cairin pointed at two vixens both holding a can. One had auburn hair which turned lime green at the end, and the other brown hair with purple ends.

They started arguing over their rations, Suraine said.

This is mine! She stole it from me! The auburn haired vixen said.

She cut in line, so it’s mine! the brown haired on said.

I did not!

Did so! Liar!

Cortraire said nothing but held out his hand. Grudgingly, the two set the can in his palm. Waterquise, a succulent vegetable Cortraire couldn’t stand. He turned to the civilian soldiers. Why not give them another?

The two exchanged a glance.

Cairin leaned in close and whispered, It was the last can.

Suraine beckoned to him. When Cortraire came close, she jerked her head to the tent opening.

Cortraire peeked in, and inhaled a breath through his teeth. Only about a sixth of the shelves had products on them—barely enough to sustain the crowd here for a few more days. Perhaps it could be extended by reinforcing the supplies with extras from less frequented rations tents, but it couldn’t last for much longer.

Closing the curtain entrance, he turned to the crowd. My fellow Expermians, I know things have been hard, but we cannot turn on each other. It’s bad enough our city is in rubble. We need to come together. Sacrifices must be made so we can make it through—

Sacrifices? Someone in the crowd spoke up. "Yeah, right! You’re living it up while the rest of us slave away to survive. I’d like to know what sacrifices you’re making, Cunor!"

The crowd murmured amongst themselves, looking questioningly at Cortraire.

Cortraire pressed his lips together. Not that it’s anyone else’s business, but . . . He waited until the crowd settled. My wife and I have decided to only take half the rations my family is entitled to. We’ve been doing it for months.

The crowd gasped, murmuring to themselves.

What? Kirion swung around to him. You didn’t tell me that!

It’s fine. We’re fine, Cortraire said in a low tone. Annais is smart about how she uses the rations. Before Kirion could say anything else, Cortraire raised his hands to quiet the crowd. We all need to work together to make it through. Everyone has to do their part. As soon as I finish here, I will go straight to the Council. I swear to you, we will find a solution to this. In the meantime, we have to build each other up, not spit and fight over a can. He handed the tin to the auburn haired vixen. The brown haired one never took her eyes off it, and bit her lips as if holding back tears. After a moment, she turned to leave.

Hey. The auburn vixen reached out to her. I . . . uh . . . see you have calopee there.

The brown haired vixen clutched her basket full of greens close to her. So?

My family prefers calopee to waterquise. She held out the can. Want to trade?

Thank you, yes! The brown haired vixen shoved the bundle of leaves into the other vixen’s hands. When she took the can, she held it to her chest. Waterquise the only thing my little boy will eat right now.

Really? A fox in the crowd stepped forward. I managed to grow some in a container at home. They’re easy to cultivate as long as you keep it watered. I can hook you up with some cuttings. We can find something to trade for it.

Thank you! said the vixen.

I’ll get my rations, and we can arrange it, the fox said.

Cortraire smiled as he watched his people come back together. This was the side of Expermia he knew. Kirion, make sure the people get back in an orderly line—as close as you can to their original positions. And give the lady an escort to this gentleman’s house just in case.

What about the kid who escalated things? Kirion glanced over his shoulder at the Outsiders who silently watched the entire thing. Want me to deal with it?

Please. Find some work for him to do. He needs a way to channel all his pent up frustration.

Got it! Kirion turned to the other member of his platoon. Let’s go, fellas! We got orders!

Cortraire left him to it and made his way to the Outsider officer and his companions. I’m sorry about the rock. We’re going to take care of the kit.

The coyote’s eyes roved across Cortraire’s face. Are you Lieutenant Cortraire?

I am.

I heard about you. The coyote nodded. They say you’re always able to calm the people down. Glad I got to see it.

My people aren’t mindlessly violent, you know, Cortraire said. They’re heartbroken.

I don’t know about that. The Outsider clapped Cortraire on the back. But I know who to call next time things get rough. The rumors are right. You do get things done. With that, the Outsiders returned to their posts, each one holstering a weapon of some sort.

Inhaling through his teeth, Cortraire turned on his heel to head over to the Council’s meeting tent. It seemed they had narrowly avoided a massacre. Cortraire had to make sure this would never happen again.

Chapter 2

Hunter tapped on his computer and studied the screen. A dozen different permits scrolled by as he watched, all of them with green checkmarks by them. Tapping another button, he brought up the list of inventory housed in the various shipping containers he had purchased with money from his Engtnight fundraiser. Everything—food, water, construction materials, heavy equipment, generators—had been inspected and greenlit. So why did his shipments to Expermia keep being returned?

Scratching the large ears indicative of his Expermian heritage, he sighed. People are going to expect an update soon, and Expermia has nothing to show for all the money we collected, he muttered to himself. Everyone’s going to think I’m a fraud.

Did you say something, Hunter? Karalaina looked up from where she folded clothes on the couch—a paltry amount with his girlfriend, Xena, and her father, J.R., missing. Like Hunter, Karalaina had massive ears indicative of an Expermian fox. Her salmon fur made a delicate compliment to her curly, blonde-turning-auburn hair.

Thinking out loud. Hunter tapped his nails on the table. In contrast to Karalaina’s softer features, Hunter had orangish-colored fur and sandy colored hair, the edges of which turned a shade of pinkish-purple at the ends. He had been sitting at the breakfast table in Xena’s house on the Isle de Losierres, but the place seemed empty without her and J.R. there. Even the breakfasts Karalaina made didn’t taste as good.

Three months ago, Xena had walked out of the front door with J.R. and never returned. She had put herself on King Maximilian’s radar when she had disguised her fur to participate in a special dance at the Engtnight Charity Declaration Hunter had hosted to raise money to rebuild Expermia. Max, however, had seen through her ruse.

She was a Silver Fox, last of her kind—or the first in centuries, depending on how you looked at it. Because of a genetic condition which made her store excess metals in her fur, she had the ability to control and manipulate electricity—an ability Max wanted to exploit. So, once he had discovered her, J.R. had to whisk her away and go into hiding for her protection.

Clenching his teeth, Hunter fought the urge to slam his fist on the table. If only he hadn’t made a big deal about the dance. In days past, on the night of the First Crescent Moon Festival after the spring rain, a chosen Silver Fox and their Trainer would perform the dance before thousands of Expermians. Hunter himself was a Trainer, the last in a long family line tasked with teaching Silver Foxes how to control the electricity running along their fur. Hunter had thought it would be fun to recreate the dance—even if the fundraiser had taken place in fall. He and Xena had practiced day and night for the moment to perform what none had seen for centuries, but now he wished he had never come up with the idea.

Thinking about Xena? Karalaina’s soft voice cut through his thoughts.

Hunter gave a sheepish smile. How could you tell?

The look on your face. Karalaina shook out a dress made for a pre-teen fox. Anger, pain, regret . . . you always look like that when you think about her.

Hunter placed his chin in his hands. It is practically my fault she had to go.

Don’t, Hunter. You can’t blame yourself. Karalaina hung the dress on a hanger. Xena knew better than to sneak out. J.R. was specific with her, and she knew the risks of being out while Max was here. I love her, and I miss her, but that decision lies squarely on her shoulders.

Doesn’t make me feel any better. Hunter focused his eyes back on the computer.

Any luck figuring out why the supplies aren’t getting to Expermia?

None! Hunter rapped his fist against his forehead. I need to figure this out now! We should have already left for Expermia.

Karalaina bit her bottom lip. Can’t say I’m excited to return there . . .

Hunter didn’t notice her interruption. I’m just lucky Mira is handling the press. She’s been keeping things under wraps, but . . . He looked up, though his hands kept tapping on his computer keys. "What has the media been saying about all this, anyway? I haven’t had time to keep up with the news."

Nothing lately. Karalaina set a folded shirt on the couch beside her. The news cycle has shifted to Queen Celeste since she had her baby earlier than expected. In a snowstorm no less. Lately, there’s been some controversy because the tabloids got a picture of the baby she didn’t authorize. Debates about privacy vs free speech has been dominating the news.

Wait. Hunter halted, his fingers hovering over the keys. Queen Celeste had the baby?

That is what we are discussing, Hunter. Karalaina rolled her eyes. Honestly, you’re like how Eric used to be when he got focused on his computer junk. Didn’t listen to a word I said.

This could be bad. Hunter chewed on the inside of his cheek as his mind processed this information. Are the king’s parents still at the palace?

His father left the capital a few days ago. Karalaina paused to look up at the ceiling. I think I remember hearing something about his mother moving into a fancy apartment.

Crap! Hunter drummed his fingers on the table. We have to be off this island by the end of the week.

Why?

So far King Max has been focused on the queen and the baby. His parents’ appearance distracted him even more. Now that it’s over, his eyes are going to focus on us. With him involved in planning the fundraiser, he has the perfect excuse to visit us without raising suspicion. When he finds out Xena isn’t here where he left her . . .

Karalaina’s hands dropped to her lap. He could have the whole world searching for her and J.R.

I don’t think so . . . Hunter narrowed his eyes, tapping a finger on the table for a moment. He doesn’t want anyone else to know about Xena. It’s why he basically trapped J.R. and left her here—at least he thought trapped J.R. If he finds out they escaped, he’ll go after them in a sneakier manner than before. We need to get to Expermia on the double. Camping out there will force him to concentrate on the rebuilding efforts . . . maybe even cause the media to re-scrutinize his army’s devastation of the city.

Doubt it. Karalaina snorted through her nose, her ears flattening slightly. He has a whole Public Relations team pivoting public perception on what went on there. They’re painting him as the good guy.

Either way, as long as the focus isn’t on Xena. Hunter turned back to the spreadsheet he had been working on. We need to distract him as long as possible.

I understand why we have to go, but . . . Karalaina paused to fold a pair of pants. I wish we could have stayed longer. This is the only place J.R. knows were to contact us.

So far he’s done a good job keeping clear of everyone. Hunter chuckled. I wish I knew how he’s able to get those letters to Mira, though.

Kathra goes to her house every day to see if she has gotten another one. Karalaina picked up a stack of folded laundry and stood.

Hunter glanced around, ears pricking. Where is Kathra anyway?

Outside. Karalaina headed to the stairs. She’s been sitting up in a tree for the past few days. She misses Xena like crazy.

She’s not the only one, Hunter muttered. After hanging his head for a moment and picturing the face of his lost girlfriend, he heaved a sigh and got back to work. After all, life went on no matter how heartbroken one felt.

Chapter 3

In Kathra’s mind, no place on Clorth was as beautiful as the Isle de Losierres—not even Justin’s Ridge, though she loved her hometown more. The sun sparkled off the ocean in the distance and shone off the buildings’ glass windows and doors. The sea roared in the background, the constant crash of the waves creating an inspiring white noise which was perfect for studying. A pleasant fruity scent permeated the air. At the beach, people splashed in the water and played in the sand. If Kathra was there, she would be too.

But she didn’t feel like going down to join in the fun.

She didn’t want to shop or study or hang out with her friends either. All she wanted to do was sit up in the tree in her front yard, watching the road and wishing with all her might that J.R. would appear in the distance, scoop her up, and whisk her away to the safe place he had found for Xena.

Kathra clutched the book resting in her lap, causing the pages to wrinkle. She had come out here with the intention of reading the afternoon away—anything to keep her mind off of her missing family. She did, after all, want to take the test to see if she could bypass the rest of her schooling and get into college early—maybe even start on a medical program. J.R. and Xena had been gone for months. Perhaps it was time to get on with life while she waited for them to return. But not even the mysteries of biochemistry could distract her from how much she missed her father and sister. Their absence felt like a hole had been bored in her stomach. Only thinking of Skitter filled the hole a bit.

A flying squirrel from the distant island of Kasate, Skitter always knew the right thing to say. But the only way to contact anyone on Kasate was through letters, and they took weeks to deliver.

Skitter . . . Tears flowed down Kathra’s cheeks. I wish you were here.

Will I do?

Kathra swung around and spotted a German Shepherd sitting next to her. He was dressed in Expermian clothes—a tunic with two splits up either side and light blue pants with silver on the trim. His toagae, the decorative cloths Expermians wore on their outfits, were rich blue and his ortoagae, the decorative pins to hold them in place, were gold with silver trim. His white fur gleamed in the sun, matching Kathra’s own white fur—though his seemed to shine more than hers ever could. In contrast to her blonde hair, his was white like his fur.

Josaif! At the first sight of him, Kathra threw her arms around him.

Hello, Kathra. He hugged her back. 

Being in his arms, surrounded by his comfort and the feeling of peace and joy radiating off of him, gave Kathra permission to let go. The anger, sorrow, and loneliness bubbled up and overflowed out of her. Sobs wracked her body as she cried into his shirt.

I know, sweetheart. I know. Josaif didn’t try to stop her tears instead choosing to pat her back and let her cry.

I miss Daddy and Xena so much, Kathra wailed through her tears. I’m so scared I’ll never see them again. Or that Max will get them, and we’ll never know. Or that we’ll have to leave here, and Daddy will never find us again.

I know all your fears, Kathra. Josaif held her at arm’s length. Everything is alright. I have my eye on them. Don’t worry. Leave it to me.

Though a million questions raged through Kathra’s mind, she felt her tears dry up. No matter what, she could trust Josaif. If he said it was alright, it was. A calm settled down inside of her.

Are you okay now, sweetheart? Josaif looked her in the eye.

I’m still sad, but . . . She returned his look. I believe you.

That’s my joyous girl. A grin broke out on Josaif’s face. I came to tell you something incredible. Very soon you’re going to be leaving the Isle—

Kathra’s heart plunged to her toes. She gripped Josaif’s arm hard. How will Daddy find us if we leave?

Josaif didn’t even flinch. Didn’t you say you believed me when I told you it would be okay?

Sorry. Kathra released him. She noted red marks under his fur where her nails dug into him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

You are going to leave the Isle, Josaif continued. Once you do, your whole world will open up. You’ve been very patient while I dealt with Xena, and your time to shine is coming. I’m going to send you a tutor to teach you everything you need to know to fulfill your destiny.

Really? Kathra’s eyes widened as her view of the world shone in her mind.

Study up, okay? Josaif tapped the book she held. You have to be prepared.

Ok. Kathra turned her attention to her book, a new determination welling up inside of her.

There’s one more thing I have to tell you. Josaif spoke with his eyes on the horizon. A mysterious smile spread on his lip . . . a smile tinged with sadness.

Josaif, what’s wrong?

Nothing’s wrong, Kathra. Josaif turned his mysterious smile to her. The most joyous things in this world can break the hearts of those who don’t understand . . . or are left behind.

Kathra cocked her head. His explanation made no sense.

You’re going to see Xena and J.R. again soon, Kathra.

Really? Kathra smiled so widely she felt as if her fur rose.

After your reunion, I’m going to take J.R. on a journey. Josaif returned his gaze to the horizon. It’s almost time for him to go to my father’s house.

Wow! Kathra’s grin widened. He gets to see your dad? Can I come?

Not yet. When the time comes, I will personally come to get you. But J.R.’s turn is coming soon.

It sounds like fun. Kathra swung her feet.

When I come get him, it won’t be easy for Xena. Josaif turned to her. Joyous One, you must be strong for her. Can you do that for me?

Of course. Kathra jostled him. I’d do anything for you, Josaif. Though, I don’t know why Xena would be upset.

When the time comes, you’ll understand. Josaif patted her head. Now, get ready. You’ll be leaving the island soon. And, Kathra . . .

Yes, Josaif.

Don’t lie, Josaif said before jumping from the tree. He landed on his feet and stood straight to brush off his clothes.

Kathra watched him from her perch, and a question she had been nursing came to her mind. Josaif?

Yes?

How come you are always wearing Expermian clothes?

Expermia is my special place, and I love it. Josaif held one of his toaga in his hands and let it slip through. Besides, these clothes are comfortable.

That’s true. Kathra nodded as she remember the outfits she wore when she had been in Expermia before. They are.

Josaif raised a hand in farewell and disappeared in front of her eyes, leaving Kathra grinning in the branches. With a deep breath, she turned her focus back to her book to continue studying.

Chapter 4

Mira stood at her open window, feeling the constant breeze blow through her fur. This was the best thing about the Isle—never too hot or too cold. Even throughout the throes of winter—which they were in the midst of now—the bright sun shone down on the Isle, basking everyone with warm weather. No wonder everyone flocked here all year round.

Quite a contrast to the frigid winter her father, Pierson, had to endure on the other end of the phone. Mira could hear the wind blowing through the speaker.

I’ve had about enough of snow. Pierson chuckled over the line, and Mira heard a window close. It’s below freezing, and a gale is blowing outside. I can’t wait to get back to the Isle.

I can’t wait to have you back, Daddy. Mira crossed the room to her dresser where she kept a holographic picture of her and her father.

Pierson, a tall, lanky, brown wolf with hair down to his neck, stood with his arm around Mira. His deep brown eyes held an air of mystery—or so the fashion magazines who covered his every move said. Even Mira had to admit he had a dazzling smile which made all his fans scream.

Mira had inherited his good looks. She was also a brown wolf but had a patch of light brown fur over one eye. Her green eyes sparkled. Anyone could see she was a pretty wolf—a fact she had been told all her life by everyone who met her. Even this picture, taken when she had gone with her father to a cabin last fall, showcased her beautiful features from her growing curves to her perfectly applied make-up to her impeccable fashion choices to her long brown hair with bronze highlights running through them. Everything about her screamed gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous.

Grunting with disgust, she flipped the photo down. She was pretty—so what? There was more to her than that.

So, Pumpkin. Pierson’s voice took on a bit of a wheedling quality. Mira steeled herself for the worst. What’s this I hear about the Engtnight Charity Event you planned?

Mira’s sharp ears pricked. She hadn’t expected that turn. Daddy, I told you we were having the event here.

"You didn’t tell me you planned it! The entire program was incredible! I was glued to my seat watching all those Expermian traditions on TV. I can’t believe my little girl pulled off something like that."

Mira let her ears fall back a bit. Why was he so surprised? I did learn a lot from Mama.

Yes, but with a royal sponsorship?

Mira could understand his surprise at that detail. It was a shot in the dark to ask the Royal House to attend, but the queen responded. She twirled her finger in her hair. I think she wanted to use it for PR purposes after everyone started turning against the king for what happened in Expermia, but hey! It worked. We raised a ton of money. She narrowed her eyes. All this was fascinating, but why did he start off with the tone he did. Something was coming down . . .

I know. Pierson’s voice took on a hurt tone. Why didn’t you ask me to perform?

There it was.

Daddy, it’s not because I don’t think you’re amazing. Mira plopped down on her bed. Jarbon is the #1 singer in the world. I love your music just like everyone else.

Then why not ask me? I would have travelled half-way around the world to get there in time, you know.

That’s why. I didn’t want to interrupt your tour. And . . . Mira sat cross-legged. I sort of wanted to do it on my own . . . to see if I could.

I can understand, I guess. Pierson heaved a sigh. You are growing up, and you need to flex your muscles. I can tell you, you blew it out of the water. I’m so proud of you, Pumpkin.

Thank you, Daddy.

Even though you want to do this on your own, I want to help. I had no idea Expermia was going through so much. So I spoke with my manager, and we are adding five more cities to my tour. All the proceeds and profits from merchandising sales will benefit the Rebuild Expermia Fund.

Daddy, that’s incredible! Mira hopped to her feet. We’ll raise so much more money!

That’s not all. I want you to come and—

I am not singing with you on stage, Daddy. Mira crossed her arms. You had better not con me into it like you did this past summer!

Pierson paused a bit. I wasn’t going to ask you to sing, but you do have a beautiful voice.

Yeah . . . yeah . . . Mira rolled her eyes.

What I was going to say is, I want you to be the face of the event. Come on stage and tell everyone about Expermia. Make them feel the same passion I saw during the Engtnight Celebration.

Huh. That sounds good. Mira nodded. Okay, done.

After the five cities, we can come back to the Isle together. Pierson heaved a blissful sigh. I can’t wait to spend the entire year there . . . just me, you, and your mom. It’s going to be wonderful. I’ll write songs; we’ll go to the beach; I’ll take you shopping on the mainland . . . His voice sort of drifted off. . . . and I can have some quiet time with my sweet Chloe . . .

Dad, please! Mira cut him off. I don’t need to know the intimate details of your and Mama’s relationship.

Fair enough, Pumpkin. I—huh? Pierson broke off as a lower voice spoke to him on the other end of the line. Alright, Pumpkin. I have to go, he said when he came back on the line. Rehearsals.

See ya, Dad. Mira hung up the phone with him.

Was that your father? Chloe, Mira’s mother, stood at the door. While Mira got her looks from her father, it didn’t mean Chloe wasn’t gorgeous in her own right. She had a fierce, strong jawline, beautiful, brown eyes, and her brown hair caught up in a tight bun. Her figure, neatly tucked into a tailored business suit, was what Mira aspired to.

Yeah. Mira plopped down on her bed again. He told you about the five extra cities, right?

Of course he did. Chloe sat down beside Mira. We always discuss these things first—even before he talks to his manager. I’m disappointed he won’t be home for five more weeks, of course, but he wanted to be involved. He’s so proud of you. We both are.

Thanks, Mama.

I’m still in shock you were able to pull it off. Chloe shook her head. Amazing.

Everyone says so. Why is it such a surprise I was able to do this? Mira hunched her shoulders and let her ears fall. Just because I’m pretty, I can’t be capable at anything?

No . . . that didn’t cross my mind at all. Chloe raised her eyebrows. I’m floored a 17-year-old was able to accomplish it. It has nothing to do with your looks.

Oh. Mira lowered her eyes, averting them from her mother’s.

Why would you think it did?

Mira gave a vague shrug.

Chloe studied her face a bit. Is this about Morrin?

It’s not about Morrin. Mira shot to her feet. He and I broke up three months ago. I’m over him.

Really? Chloe rested her arms on her knees. I know how much you liked him. He was a jerk with how he broke up with you.

Mira held herself as the memory of their conversation came back to her—him telling her all her work on the event had gone to her head . . . that it was Hunter who had really made it happen, and how he wasted the summer going out with her because she wouldn’t sleep with him. Mostly she remembered the searing pain she felt when he told her she should be happy being a pretty face—that trying to be more was embarrassing to her and the people around her. Everyone knew the real talent rested with someone else. Tears stung her eyes. I worked really hard on the event, Mama.

I know you did.

I wanted to see how much I could do on my own, without you and Dad lifting me up.

I know; I know.

To hear him downplay all my work—it hurt.

I know it did, Mira. Chloe stood and put her hands on Mira’s shoulders. You can’t let anyone tell you who you are. You have tremendous potential, and you’ve already accomplished great things. Don’t let a guy tell you that you can’t.

Mira nodded.

Honey. Chloe lifted her chin. While I don’t want you to let a guy dictate who you are, I also don’t want you to fall into the trap of thinking all men are scum. They are not.

Mira smirked. Are you talking about Daddy?

Naturally. Chloe’s eyes took on a faraway look. Also J.R.

Mira pricked her ears. Really?

He used to be a real piece of work—probably worse than Morrin. Chloe let her hand drop to her side. I was embarrassed to call him my brother. But he is an example of someone who can change. He sacrificed everything for Xena and Kathra.

He did, didn’t he?

In any case. Chloe turned her attention back to Mira. It’s good for you to take some time to figure out who you are and who you want to be. You need to be secure in yourself. But one day, you’re going to meet someone who will see your potential and whose potential you’ll see. You can help each other grow. I’d hate for you to miss out on a fulfilling relationship because some jerk broke your heart.

Mira nodded.

Chloe tapped her nose. You are incredible, Mira. She drew her into a hug. I hope one day you’ll believe it so strongly nothing anyone can say will sway your opinion of yourself.

I hope so too. Mira returned her hug. But deep down, where it mattered, she doubted she’d ever reach such a point.

And she certainly didn’t believe she’d ever find anyone who’d see her for who she really was.

Which was fine. She was done searching anyway.

Chapter 5

The sight of his people coming to blows over food whirled in Cortraire’s mind as he sat on a bench outside the Council’s Pavilion. Since the destruction of Expermia, the military had erected special tents to house the Expermian citizens and to provide a place for the Council to meet. The Council’s Pavilion—made of silver and red tarps stretched over several poles—stood on the plot where the old capital building used to stand. The tarp used to make the tent had been manufactured with Expermian ancient secrets which made it durable, rough, weather-resistant, and kept out the sand and wind. Inside, panels made out of the same material, separated the area into several, different rooms—a place in the front for a receptionist, an office for the acting Grand Councilman, more for the remaining Councilmembers, and the Council Meeting Chamber itself. All these rooms were connected by a hallway which extended past the receptionist area and stretched to the back of the tent. Quite a pavilion. Too bad it was all his people had been able to accomplish in the months since the city had fallen.

The tent opened, and the receptionist peeked out. Lieutenant, the Council is ready to see you.

Thank you. Hefting himself to his feet, Cortraire walked in.

The temporary Council Meeting Chamber housed enough space to seat thirty adults and allow several more to stand in the corners. Blue, red, green, and white panels of fabric which fluttered with any movement hung all over the walls and hid the window panels, making the room darker than it should have been. The Council members sat on pillows arranged in a semi-circle around a low table. Fabric covered the remainder of the ground. Cortraire made certain not to step too far in with his filthy, sandy boots.

Only five of the original fifteen Council members remained to lead Expermia—a priest, a priestess, and three political leaders. The rest had been taken to Drymairad and executed for war crimes.

Cortraire saluted them.

Welcome, Lieutenant Cunor, said Dardain, the acting Grand Councilman. He was a brown fox with dark brown almost black eyes and graying auburn hair which morphed to light red at the ends. The wrinkles around his eyes shifted as he spoke. At ease, please.

With respect, Acting Grand Councilman. Cortraire stood with his feet apart and his hands behind his back. My official military designation is Lieutenant Cortraire. I applied for and received special permission to go by my first name more than 15 years ago.

Don’t worry about it. Inerai, the only vixen left on the Council, waved her hand in dismissal. She had light brown fur with grays peppered through it and straight, dark hair she kept covered in a veil-like cloth. The shape of her olive eyes and the smirk of her lips spoke of a long life cultivating her looks into perfection—even though age had sent her skin and ears to sag slightly. She was the head priestess of the goddess Disutrine, and wore a red tunic over her Expermian dress. We revoked the order last week.

Cortraire’s ears pricked. E-excuse me?

We decided it was more important for the people to know a Cunor protects the city. Aronai, priest to the god, Hamatan, spoke up. A red fox with striking blue eyes and a stern, calculating demeanor, he certainly looked like he belonged serving in the god of war’s temple. He sat as straight and still as the god himself—as depicted in the statues of him, anyway. Aronai, too, wore a red tunic over his clothes. The people need to know we have everything under control.

Cortraire snapped his mouth shut before he said, Is it, though? Such a comment would not have gone over well.

Here you are. Aronai handed Cortraire a small, gold-toned name plate. Wear this. Starting immediately, it will be a part of your uniform.

Cortraire examined it. It had the name Cunor etched into its surface along with surface scratches which came with the wear and tear of common use. Cortraire had to concentrate to keep his ears from flattening. None of the metalsmiths or engravers had been able to resume their trades as of yet. Therefore, this could only have come from . . .

Forgetting himself a moment, Cortraire blurted, Is this Marviot’s?

Yes, said Phaerasaine, a quiet Councilmember Cortraire couldn’t remember ever having heard speak before.

We found it in the remains of his home. Inerai heaved a deep sigh. What a stunning place it was—all those water features. Such a shame it was destroyed.

We feel it fitting his brother should take up his legacy. Dardain motioned for Cortraire to put it on.

Pressing his lips together, Cortraire removed his own nameplate and put on his brother’s.

Ah, very nice. Dardain nodded his approval. Now, then. Let’s move on to the reason for your visit. He drew a piece of paper in front of him. Unfortunately, Lieutenant, we have decided to deny your application.

Cortraire blinked. Application? What application?

We have discussed it and believe now is not the time for another addition to the Council, Aronai said.

I . . . see . . . Cortraire tried not to let his confusion bleed into his voice. But what were they talking about? He never applied for a position on the Council. Unless . . . Oh, Annais!

I understand your disappointment with our decision, but we must think of what’s best for the people. Evaine, the only member who hadn’t yet spoken, looked Cortraire in the eye. He had gray fur but sharp, bushy, black eyebrows. A shake up in their leadership is not something they need right now, he said, and Cortraire couldn’t say he didn’t see a smirk on his lips.

I accept your decision. Cortraire gave a slight bow. Thank you for your consideration, but this is not what I came to discuss today.

Oh? Dardain’s eyes narrowed slightly. What is?

I want to discuss solutions for the dwindling supply problem raging in the city. People are getting desperate . . . and restless. If this continues, it will only be a matter of time before the Outsiders come in and slaughter the rest of us in the name of keeping the peace. Cortraire paused to take a breath. I was wondering if we can send an SOS to the other clans in Expermia. Or if you can make an emergency order to get the roads fixed? Or—

Lieutenant, do you think we are inept? Evaine interrupted Cortraire. We take the authority we have been given over the people very seriously! The solutions are not as easy as you seem to think they are!

Cortraire started. That is not what I intended to imply, he lowered his ears. My deepest apologies, Councilman.

That being said, we have come up with a solution—a plan we feel is perfect for you to take on. Inerai spoke with a small smirk on her face. That is, should you feel as if you are up to it.

I will, of course, do everything possible to help the people. Cortraire saluted.

Glad to hear it. Dardain leaned forward on his knees. Now then, we have been monitoring the amount of rations we have left and are keenly aware we do not have enough for all the people. Therefore, we have decided to ask two-thirds of the population to leave as refugees.

What? Cortraire felt his fur prickle as the words sunk into his brain. All military protocol fled him. You can’t mean to banish the people from the city!

What would you have us do, Lieutenant? Evaine narrowed his eyes, his eyebrows issuing a challenge to Cortraire. Have them stay and let all of us starve to death together? That would do the Outsiders’ job of finishing us off quite handily, wouldn’t you say?

Cortraire pressed his lips closed, not falling for the bait. However, inside he railed at the Councilmembers and mentally rattled off option after option of how they could have prevented the problem in the first place: how about prioritizing the rebuilding of the roads, or getting the people together to start growing food more quickly, or sending for help to their Expermians brothers and sisters living in the desert? But he said nothing out loud.

Instead he swallowed his rage. Where will you send them?

Aronai shrugged. We Expermians are a desert people, aren’t we?

At that, Cortraire lost all his self-control. You can’t dump thousands of people into the desert on a whim! You—

Lieutenant! Dardain barked. Please remember you are a military officer addressing Expermia’s Grand Council.

Cortraire stiffened. Clenching his teeth, he said, I apologize.

Inerai gave a little chuckle. With a temper like that, it’s no wonder it took him so long to be promoted to Lieutenant.

Cortraire clenched his teeth and his fists. Why these self-important—

Lady and gentlemen, Phaerasaine turned his quiet frown to his fellow Councilmembers. What do you gain by provoking the lieutenant in this way?

Something about the quiet way in which he spoke and the way the Council quieted in the wake of his comment allowed some of the rage boiling in Cortraire gut to subside. Some. The rest he swallowed and suppressed as he spoke, How long until you would like us to leave?

Three days, Dardain said. We’ll send out the notices within a few hours.

Can we delay it two weeks while I prepare a place for the people to go?

There. See. Evaine smirked. I knew we had found the proper person for this job.

Dardain nodded. The people do seem to follow you everywhere. We can delay.

I will endeavor to take on this mission immediately. Cortraire snapped his heels together and saluted, a sign he wished to leave.

Very good. Dardain motioned to the exit. You are dismissed.

Cortraire tuned on his heel and marched out of the Council Chamber. Inside he seethed. He clomped out of the tent and into the street, eyes narrowed and hissing through his teeth.

They want to get rid of the people instead of solving the problem? And then dump the whole mess on me! Bunch of idiotic cowards! Cortraire swung around and punched one of the poles supporting the tent, causing a deep ringing to vibrate through the air. "I wouldn’t want to join your Council even if you had accepted my application! Which I didn’t even submit! He snarled. Oh, Annais! When I get home . . ." He stormed toward his house, fur fluffed out in a failed attempt to ward off his seething anger.

Chapter 6

Max allowed himself the luxury of a large, loud, open-mouthed yawn. Resting his head on his hand, he gazed out of the glass-enclosed solarium and onto the garden below. Spring lurked around the corner, but winter still gripped everything in its sharp, icy clutches. Snow clung to the skeletons of trees, and a chill wind blew outside. Drafts of cold air inside pervaded the ancient palace interior. The extended cold weather made it harder and harder for Max to withstand the allure of a warm bed next to a warm wife under a warm blanket in the morning.

Waking up in the middle of the night to tend to a crying baby didn’t help either. While Celeste took it upon herself to change and feed the baby, Max felt it only fair to stay up until she came back to bed.

Who knew taking on a newborn would be so much work? Max closed his eyes as he sat waiting for Celeste to arrive for breakfast. Not sleeping, mind you. Just resting his eyes.

A piercing cry fit to shatter his eardrums jerked Max from sleep. He jumped to his feet, glancing around the room. Maxwell? He darted in the direction of his son’s wails.

He found him cradled in a golden finch’s arms and attended to by a grumpy skunk. The skunk held a rattle in one hand, but the other rested on her waist and glared at Maxwell through narrowed eyes. The finch, however, bounced him and made little clicking noises with her beak. Maxwell only screeched louder and louder, hands balled into fists and toes curled. Tears streamed down his face. He had taken on more of Max’s features as he had grown older, and Max easily found his heart melting when he looked into his little face.

The two fussing over his son were the nursemaids Celeste had hired after Maxwell had been born. They had come highly recommended with glowing references.

Maxwell, darling, please be quiet, said the finch, bouncing him. Mommy will be down soon.

Maxwell paused to take a shuddering breath before screeching louder than Max had ever dreamed he could.

Forget it, Amalie. The skunk snorted through her nose. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s spoiled.

He’s not even a month old, Callie. Amalie kept bouncing him.

Put him down and let him cry himself out. Callie waved her hand at Maxwell. I’m telling you, there’s nothing wrong with him.

The finch narrowed her eyes but kept bouncing Maxwell.

Max marched over to them. What is going on here? He snatched Maxwell from Amalie’s arms. What are you doing to my son?

Your Majesty. Amalie gave him a bow. We’re not doing anything. He’s being a fussy.

Impossible is more like it. Callie muttered as she crossed her arms.

Max gazed down at his son crying his eyes out. Holding him to his chest, he patted his back. It’s alright, Maxwell. It’s alright.

At Max’s voice, Maxwell’s cries softened. The little kit blinked the tears out of his eyes, looked up at his father, then quieted. He gave a whimper, closed his eyes, and leaned against Max’s shirt. In a few moment, he fell fast asleep.

Fussy and impossible, huh? Max glared at the nurses. Highly regarded and recommended? I’m beginning to wonder if you didn’t forge those glowing reviews.

Callie’s face turned red under her fur, but Amalie stepped in front of her. I know what it looks like, sir, but he does this all the time. No one except the queen can handle him.

I’ve never seen him like this before, Max said.

Because you’re sleeping when it happens, Callie muttered.

Or in a meeting, Amalie interjected.

You are treading on thin ice. Max narrowed his eyes at Callie. Where is Celeste?

She asked us to bring the prince down while she changed. Amalie glanced around. She should be here by now . . .

Maxwell? Celeste’s voice sailed into the room from down the hall. Maxwell? Maxwell! Each time she called his name, her voice went up an octave, and a surge of panic crept in. By the time she burst into the solarium, all her gray fur stood on end. Maxwell! Oh. She halted when she saw her son in Max’s arms. Thank goodness! Placing a hand on her chest, she sighed. When I didn’t hear him screaming, I thought the worst.

Max furrowed his brows. "When you didn’t hear him screaming?"

He screams non-stop if anyone else holds him. Celeste approached Max while brushing her raven hair from her face.

He’s not screaming now. Max put a fist on his hip.

Of course not, Maxie. You have him. Celeste turned to the two nurses. Thank you, ladies. You can go for the day.

Amalie and Callie bowed.

Good-bye, little prince. Amalie waved. See you tonight.

Callie said nothing, and the two left.

Celeste, why would you leave Maxwell with those two knowing he’d scream like that?

Celeste turned her bright green eyes to Max with the most heartbroken expression he had ever seen. I know; I know. She hung her head. I’m a terrible mom!

Max held up his free hand. C-Celeste, I didn’t mean—

I can’t do anything when he’s with me. Celeste held herself. "I’m afraid he’ll roll over and fall or suffocate or get hurt or get lonely. I wanted a little peace to myself. I haven’t taken a real shower in over a week, and I wanted to feel clean! But I felt so guilty leaving Maxwell alone with them, I didn’t even wash the shampoo out of my fur. So now I feel dirty and sticky and awful. I just . . ."

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Max set a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Baby, you don’t have to feel guilty about wanting to take a shower. You birthed a child into the world a few weeks ago. You deserve to take some time for yourself.

Celeste heaved a shuddering sigh and nodded.

Max looked her in the eyes. They had dark circles under them, and her ears hung limp. Sweetheart, you’re exhausted. Haven’t you been sleeping?

Of course not. Celeste looked at him as if he were stupid. I’m up all night taking care of him. She pointed to Maxwell.

Max bounced him a bit. I stay up until you come back to bed, but I’m not nearly as tired as you.

Celeste gave him a look. You stay up until I come back to bed?

It suddenly occurred to Max that while he did wake up when she did and while he did intended to stay up with her, he couldn’t remember the exact moment she returned to bed. He cleared his throat. Well, um . . . I’ve got Maxwell now, and he’s fine. Go take a proper shower and have a nap.

I can’t. Celeste walked out to the table. We have too much to do today. I’m fine now, Max. I’ll drink some coffee or something.

You hate coffee. Max pulled her chair out for her.

Tea, then. Celeste sat in her chair. I’m okay; I really am.

You’re not okay, Celeste. Sitting, Max adjusted Maxwell in his arms. You need some help. Some proper help.

Amalie and Callie were the best nurses I could find.

We have to find someone else.

Right, right. Celeste let her eyes dart around the table. They settled on the newspaper Max had folded next to his plate. He loved reading them even if they were a bit old fashioned. What’s in the news?

Max knew she was deflecting but let her. Expermia, mostly. There’s been several disturbances there lately—something about dwindling supplies. People are starting to turn a questioning eye on them again. He tapped his fingers on the newspaper. Whatever happened to all the money you raised with the Engtnight Fundraiser? Shouldn’t we have heard something by—?

A slight snore interrupted him. Celeste had fallen asleep with her chin resting in her hands.

You’re fine, huh? Max shook his head at her. You are putting your parents through the wringer, Maxwell. He gazed down at his son, sleeping in his arms. No use waking her, huh?

He beckoned to a guard who saluted and trotted over. Take the queen back to bed. Don’t wake her, and make sure no one else wakes her either. Let her sleep as late as she wants. Let Stetson know where she is.

Sir. The guard scooped her up and carried her away.

Silence fell on the breakfast table. Max set his cheek in his free hands and let his gaze drift out of the window into the garden below. Such a quiet day with no birds and little noise. A light snow drifted from the sky—probably the last before spring came, but who could be sure? The flakes were taking their time to come down, though—lazily floating through the sky. Lazily, almost sleepily.

Sleepily . . .

Before Max knew it, he had fallen asleep while sitting up in his chair.

Chapter 7

A nnais! Cortraire marched into his house and slammed the door behind him. Annais, where are you? You need to explain! He paused to listen. No response. She must be out. Of course she is. It’s the middle of the day. With a grunt, he plopped down on the couch.

Barely a few weeks before he and Annais had been married, Cortraire had purchased this house in the middle of the Paimal District, an upper middle class neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. Marviot and the Grand Councilwoman, his grandmother, had turned their noses down at its size and the neighborhood. As Inerai had mentioned,