I hate being on an operating table, even one so nice as this. The overhead lights are blinding and hot. I almost want to run away; it takes all I have to keep myself still on the bed. It’s like this for me every time, no matter how many times I have been under the knife, it is always the same.

Like all the others, I will get through this—most importantly, this augmentation is just for me. That thought helps relax me a little. This is not something I feel forced to do in order to survive and overcome the men in my life who would have had me in chains. This is because I have already broken my chains—I am free to do whatever I want with my body.

Tessa enters the room; her eyes look bright and cheerful. “You feeling okay?”

“I am,” I tell her. “Or at least I will be. How is Dia?”

“Perfect,” she says. “She’s off to the tank. The two of you will wake up around the same time.”

“That’s a relief,” I say, trying to relax. “I’m ready.”

She relays some orders to her staff, and they get to work making final preparations. The anesthesiologist talks me through the process, her calming voice putting me at ease.

“Count down from ten,” she says.

“Ten…Nine…eigh…”

I wake up in a new bed, the room dimly lit. It takes a few moments to adjust. My vision is blurry, and my body feels heavy, as if someone is lying on top of me. I manage to get up, my feet pressing against the cold tiles on the floor. It sends a little shock through me that helps get my brain out of its fog.

The lights turn on automatically as I move about the room. There’s a mirror against the length of the wall, just next to the door that leads into a bathroom.

Ears!

I hurry off the bed, eager to look at myself. In my haste, my tail swings and knocks against the footboard of the bed. There is a loud clang and immense pain shoots through me.

“Fuck!”

I had totally forgotten about the tail. Instinctively, I coil it up and stroke the spot that had banged against the bed. Lesson learned. The fur is remarkably soft, and it is quite soothing to rub my fingers along its length. Like my hair, the fur of my tail is the darkest black, its sheen glowing under the lights. The pain fades away, replaced with joy and giddiness. 

I hold my tail high behind me, curling the tip down towards my back. Lesson learned—don’t forget about it when you’re in a hurry. I’m in a sterile hospital gown that I take off to stand naked in front of the mirror. I inspect the tail first, watching it as I sway it side to side, curl it in various ways. After a few moments of practice, I can even make the tip of my tail look like half a heart.

My face is an entirely different matter. It occurs to me as I study myself, that I often used my hair to cover my ears. New hair covers that area completely, hiding where my ears once were and giving my face a pleasing profile. I practice moving them around, folding them back or forward—I suppose I must look a bit like a kitten who is seeing their reflection for the first time. The thought makes me giggle, which makes my ears perk up, already adding a new way to be expressive.

Oh, how far I have come since the day I quite literally ran into the woman who would change my life. It scares me, at times, to think about how much has changed in such a short time. For my entire life, I have railed against my cage to no avail, only to throw myself wholeheartedly at this woman with long white hair and piercing cold eyes. In my darkest moments, I wonder if I didn’t trade one cage for another, but of course, that thought is ridiculous.

I look at myself in the mirror, eyes and tail that would have been unthinkable to have on my body—proof that finally I am free. There is one week left until my birthday, and not too long ago I was scheming and plotting to retain even a grain of my agency. Never in my life did I imagine I could smile as I have, feel such deep joy, and make such stalwart friends.

Not until she arrived on her mission, sweeping me up in her cosmic winds. Now—now I can look forward to my birthday, my future. I even look forward to my marriage, which I want to delay for a while, but now the thought no longer feels me with dread. Now, I only feel excitement and eagerness to give my body, my very soul, over to this woman. My cheeks burn red at the thought of her, my heart pounds in my chest.

I gather myself and go put on clothes. Nothing dramatic, just one of Dia’s hoodies and a pair of form fitting leggings. I realized rather quickly when we arrived on Earth that I did not own casual clothes. I have formal wear and my academy uniform, none of which is particularly comfortable for going out. Dia, being a gracious fiancée, however, has given me free rein over her wardrobe. I admit, I rather like how baggy all her tops are on me.

Gods, she really is so much bigger than I am.

I push down the increasingly lewd thoughts of her as I walk out of the hospital room. The door hisses open, bright light stings my eyes. There she is, talking with a nurse who is sitting behind a desk, a fluffy tail gently swaying behind her. Dia looks towards the sound of the door—directly at me.

“Look at you, Princess,” she says, walking towards me with a grin on her face. “Being a catgirl suits you perfectly.”

I link my arm with hers, a shy flush in my face. “Thank you,” I say, looking up at her, studying the changes her augmentation made. Her lupine ears match her snow-white hair except for the tips, which are black as night. She somehow looks both adorable and ferocious, especially when she flashes her fangs at me. “You look perfect, as always.”

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Tessa says, stepping out of another room. “I was coming to check on you again. You were out longer than I expected.”

I turn to face her. “Is that bad?”

She shakes her head. “Not necessarily. It was your first time in the tank,” she says. “If you feel fine, then you’re both free to go. So long as you promise to call me if you notice any pain or discomfort in your ear or tail—that can be a sign of rejection.”

“Of course,” I tell her. “I won’t be foolish.”

“Good, good.” She gives me a once over, checking the ears and tail for responsiveness. Satisfied, she steps back and hands me her datapad that has a form displayed on the screen. “Sign here.”

I do so. “Thank you again,” I say. “You did remarkable work.”

She bows slightly at both of us and then walks off to go check on her other patients. Busy woman. Dia puts her hand on my shoulder, giving me a loving squeeze.

“I have some news for you,” she says. “You’ll like it.”

“Oh?” I take her hand in mine, interlacing my fingers with hers.

“The Bansidhe has made it to the workshop,” she says, lifting my hand to her lips to place gentle kisses along the back of my hand. “It’s being worked on, and I thought we could go see her on your birthday—if you’re fine with being on the transpacific train the whole day.”

“A train that goes across the ocean on my birthday?” I ask, my ears perking upright. If I were not in a public space, I would leap onto Dia and wrap my legs around her. Seeing as I am, however, I wrap my arms around her instead and bury my face in her chest. “That sounds like a perfect birthday to me.”

---

Three days have passed since the operation, and it’s been quite an adjustment getting used to how I fit in pants now. Namely, that I can fit into the tightest leggings and feel absolutely comfortable. I never cared if bulge showed in other pants, but I was always aware of it. Sometimes I enjoyed that, but mostly I was ambivalent about it or wore pants that made it less pronounced. Now, as I look at myself in the mirror of my bedroom and I’m flat where my cock used to be—I feel elation.

It’s early hours still. Gráinne is sleeping, cuddling one of my stuffed animals to her chest. She’s kicked the covers off herself and has somehow turned herself so that she lies diagonally across the entire bed. I pull the covers back over her and kiss the side of her head. I specifically make sure to kiss her new ear. Perhaps because the ears and tail are novel to us, but both of us have made every effort to pay special attention to the other’s augmentations. It was a struggle to even get out of bed just now because her tail was wrapped around mine as we slept.

She whimpers softly as she wakes up, turning over to half-look at me through sleepy eyelids. “Mmmorning,” she says. “Why are you so awake and out of bed so early?”

“Shopping,” I tell her. “We’re having dinner with Sif tonight.”

Gráinne rubs the sleep out of her eye, her ears twitching side to side. “Right. Okay, I’ll come with you. Just give me a moment to get dressed.”

“You can just sleep if you want.” I stroke her hair gently, brushing a few stray locks out of her eyes. “It’s just to the market.”

“No,” she says firmly. “I want to see as much of Earth as possible—I’ve never gone to a market before. Growing up in the palace, I could never do that sort of thing, and at Fianna, they cooked the food for us.”

She sits upright; the covers falling off her. I stare at her nude body, drinking her in as I always do. She catches me staring; her face flushes as she beams at me.

“I thought we were waiting until my birthday?” she sits back on her hands, pushing her chest out. “Or are you just admiring what’s yours?”

“We are and I am.” I lean down, press my lips to hers and cup one of her breasts. “Though you are exceptionally tempting.”

She sucks in a breath, holding back a moan. “Good. I want you to ravage me when you feel fully healed. The waiting is torture for me.”

I nuzzle her cheek with mine before kissing her again. “For me, too. Trust me, I am just as eager to ride your face with my cunt as you are to be ridden.”

“Dia, stop!” She giggles, her face red as a tomato. “You cannot tease me like that while you are off limits.” She pulls her lip into a pout. “Not fair.”

“Alright, alright,” I say, patting her head. “I’ll go make coffee while you get dressed.”

Gráinne beams up at me. “Thank you,” she says softly. “It is—difficult to articulate how much something as mundane as a trip to the market means to me, Dia. In so many ways was my life a cage. Gods, I feel so free now. I don’t want to waste any of it now that I can finally live.”

I scoop her up into my arms. She yelps as she wraps her arms around my neck. Tenderly, I kiss her, letting out some of my pent-up passions. Gráinne kisses me back, desperately holding herself back.

“No matter what, my love, I will make sure that you never feel caged again.” I press my forehead to hers, taking in a deep breath.

“A princess has never been so fortunate as I am,” she whispers, “to have such a perfect, pretty wolf as her champion.” Her tail wraps around my leg as she clings tightly to my chest. “I am truly blessed.”

“Flatterer,” I tell her, fighting back the heat creeping into my cheeks. As I stare into her eyes, I can’t help but think back to those first few days after we met. I still have that burning feeling in my chest, that feeling that I would do anything—fight anyone for this woman. “I can’t say that I believe in blessings or fate, but I know that for a long time, all I had was my crusade. Now I have more than just my next battle. I…” The words get caught in my throat, choked back by a singular anxiety I have not yet been brave enough to give voice to.

“What is it?” she asks, her voice gentle and soothing. She brushes her hand along my cheek, her thumb over my lips. “You can tell me anything.” Her eyes gaze into mine, rich pools of warmth and love.

I am undone by her eyes; the walls harboring my thought crumble away like ash. “The deal we made, the vows, too—I don’t want you to feel bound to my private war against the galaxy. If you want to just stay here and live your life, I—”

Gráinne presses her finger to my lips, her eyes narrowed, and her jaw clenched. Her expression is furious, but her eyes—her eyes are still soft. “Banish that thought,” she says, slipping back into her imperious ways. “Banish it and do not think of it again. Your war is no longer private, my love. My eyes were not opened by you, only for me to close them now that I have freedom and peace. Others deserve the same. You and I will succeed together or die together. Either way, to me, that is a life worth living. Now set me down so that I can get dressed. We have a life to live.”

Relief washes over me; I can feel my heart rate coming down. Another deep breath. I kiss her forehead and set her down gracefully. She pats my face wordlessly—such tenderness in her touch.

“As you wish, Princess.”

---

The warm, late morning sun shines down on my face. The smell of street food fills my soul with joy as I walk hand in hand with Dia. A gentle breeze ruffles my sundress, which she got for me just yesterday, and my hair as I peer around at the various stalls. It’s almost overwhelming how many options there are, and I’m thankful that I’m not here to decide about what we’re eating tonight. I leave that for my fiancée who knows what she is doing in the kitchen. Occasionally, I slip my hand from hers to investigate a particular stall, looking at clothes or jewelry or even toys. Miniaturized mechs immediately catch my eye. The mechs need to be built, rather like a puzzle, and seem quite poseable if the packaging is to be believed. They have incredibly detailed internal engineering—for toys.

“Should we get a couple?” Dia asks me, peeking over my shoulder.

“It seems rather silly, no?” My brows furrow, a flush rising up my neck. “We pilot the real thing which are not toys, they are weapons.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Princess,” she says, kissing my cheek.

My blush deepens. I’m not sure what’s sillier, wanting the toy or being embarrassed that I want one. It’s not as if Dia will judge me. “Y-yes,” I manage to admit. “I think they could be very fun to build with you.”

“They are fun,” she says. “These are from the arena line. Professional mech athletes that do honor matches for sport. It’s all a spectacle, but the fights can be really fun to watch.”

“No one is hurt?” I ask, turning to look at her. “The Fomorians also have an arena circuit, but there are accidents, you know?”

“Very, very rarely,” she says. “There’s a ton of safety measures put into place and strict rules for honorable combat. It’s just a game and everyone knows it. The last death in the arena happened before I was born.”

“That does sound fun,” I say, turning to browse the selection. I pick out a white and blue mech that has lovely red accents on the shoulders, the chest, and the waist. “I like this one. The fin and the head antennas are really striking. The face is cute, too.”

“She’s very popular,” Dia says through a grin. “She’s the current champion of the ring and she uses swarm-bits just like I do. It’s been ages since I fought with her, long before she was champion. I wonder who’d win these days.”

It doesn’t at all shock me that my wolf would know a mech celebrity, or that her instinct is to see who would win in a fight. It’s wildly attractive how competitive she is; I’m reminded of how she was with me prior to our duel. My cheeks darken. “Is she another schoolmate?”

“Yeah.” Dia hesitates, reaching up at her hair and plays with her ponytail. “We dated for a while, but our paths diverged. She’s thriving as Central’s Arena Sweetheart though.”

“Why are you nervous about saying that?” I look at her. “You’re playing with your hair, which you only do when you’re anxious. Don’t be. I’ve never been under the delusion that I was your first.”

“Fair,” she says. “Sometimes I’m reminded that our relationship is still new.”

I pat her on the cheek, brushing my thumb along her face. “It’s true. I’m glad your life led you to me.” With a warm smile, I return to looking at the model mechs. I pick up the box of the one I had my eye on, the Seraph, and turn it around. On the back there is a picture of the pilot, Evangeline—long red hair, a bit like a lion’s mane, and stunning blue-green eyes. “Ah, she’s gorgeous. You have excellent taste.”

Dia looks away, her pale cheeks flushed. “Thanks,” she says. “I’ll get this one.” She reaches past me and picks up another model, the Caliburn. It looks rather like the Seraph, but it is white with gold and black accents. “I’ve been meaning to get this one for a while. It’s her current mech, as far as I know.”

“I look forward to building them with you,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her waist.

The rest of the shopping trip is rather uneventful. Though I am sure I add at least an extra hour or two to this trip with my curiosity. Dia never once gets impatient with me. Several times, in fact, she encourages us to stay out longer so that I might look around to my heart’s content. I only feel bad agreeing the first two times she does so. After that, I finally believe her when she says that being out with me brings her joy.

The oddest thing to me on the trip is the lack of money. Dia would scan the items at a kiosk run by a worker at each stall which would account for the goods we were taking, but there wasn’t an exchange of actual funds. Dia explained to me that Central had long ago abandoned the use of money and capital altogether. It’s difficult for me to wrap my mind around, and yet I see the fruits of Central’s society in the easygoing happiness upon people’s faces.

There is abundance for all, and very little is wasted. A society built on the principles of taking care of one another, of making life easy and accessible to all. Dia once said to me, “No one can call themselves free until the least among us are free,” and that is clear all around me.

When we’re done with the shopping, we return to Dia’s apartment. Layla and Quinn stayed in today. Their faces are locked against one another, the sound of kissing filling the room while a romantic drama is playing on the viewscreen. They don’t notice us coming in at first and pull away from one another rapidly when they do.

“Hi,” Layla says sheepishly, her face exceptionally red.

“Yo,” Dia says. “Don’t mind us. I’m going to the kitchen to get started on dinner.”

“Sorry,” I say, chuckling. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Quinn chuckles, shaking her head. “Nothing we can’t resume tonight,” she says, her voice rather smug.

“Hey!” Layla says, the red in her face deepening. “I—okay, that’s true.”

I grin at them both as I take a seat in a comfortable chair in the room’s corner. “Is this new, or have you just been private?”

Layla takes Quinn’s hand in hers. “Maybe a bit of both? It wasn’t exactly a secret, but so much has happened that I supposed it slipped our mind to mention it. We confessed to one another during the attack on the Danu-II.”

My eyes turn to Quinn, who looks rather pleased with herself. “You know, that really does explain why you were so exuberant after the attack.”

“Yeah!” She leans on Layla’s shoulder, her lips turned up into a warm smile. “I thought we might die, and then we didn’t and suddenly it just didn’t make sense anymore to go through life so scared. You’re always talking about just wanting to live—I feel the same.”

“Good,” I tell them. “You know what, I am going to rather join Dia in the kitchen and see what I can learn about cooking. You two have fun.”

---

“That was good fucking food, Dia,” Sif says, patting her stomach. She leans back in her chair, looking rather content. “Where did you learn to make this?”

“Hatsuko,” I tell her. “She taught me.”

Sif furrows her brows. “Seriously? I suppose you were her favorite.”

“Not anymore.”

An awkward silence falls over the table. The mood which had been good a moment before gets a shade darker as no one is sure what to say next. Sif shoots me an apologetic look.

“Sorry,” she says. “I heard what happened between you two. That wasn’t kind of me to say in light of the history.”

I shrug. “It’s fine. We just didn’t see eye to eye anymore, and she wasn’t the only one who didn’t agree with me.”

“Can I ask what happened?” Gráinne reaches over to me and takes my hand in hers. “You’ve never mentioned her.”

I take a moment to answer. Painful memories push down my words. “She was our teacher,” I say. “Hatsuko didn’t approve of me waging a one-woman crusade against the corporations that run the rest of the galaxy into the ground.”

“To be fair, it’s idiotic,” Sif replies. “What Central does works. Every year we grow as more and more systems defect. You’re just impatient and would have gotten many people killed.”

“Central can pretend to keep their hands clean that way if they want to,” I say harshly. “It’s so fucking easy to say stupid shit like that when you get to be who you want, Sif.” I furrow my brow, trying my best to keep my temper in check. “And you only figured that out recently under the best of circumstances.” I squeeze Gráinne’s hand. “So yes, I’m impatient, because I see the rivers of blood already flowing and just can’t handle how many more people are going to die. Rather blood on my hands for doing something than on my conscious because I did nothing.”

Quinn looks down at her lap. She clenches her jaw tightly. “Sometimes we can’t defect either,” she says. “My family comes from a farming world deep in Fomorian space, nowhere near the border. People who talk about wanting to leave… well, they don’t last long before they vanish.”

Sif looks taken aback, her mouth agape for a moment as she tries to gather herself. “I didn’t know ya’ll were from the Armory,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not really a one-woman crusade anymore anyhow,” Gráinne says. “Not when the imperial princess and powerful Armory nobles are backing the cause. People desperately want freedom, and sometimes all they need is to be shown a bit of hope—that it’s possible to obtain at all.”

“Wait, you went through with your plans?” Sif asks, her tone incredulous. “That’s where you’ve been all this time?”

“Of course,” I tell her. “What, you thought Hatsuko’s disapproval of my actions was going to stop me? That I really wasn’t willing to do it alone? I love that woman to death, like a third mother, but I’ve done what I’ve had to do.”

She takes a moment to process that. “Fucking hell, I’m shocked you haven’t been arrested for inciting war.”

“I’m a simple mercenary,” I say with a shrug. “And it’s hardly a crime in Central to be a merc in space we don’t control.”

“Consorting with imperial princesses and nobles isn’t being a merc, Dia,” Sif hisses.

Gráinne laughs then, a dainty and controlled laugh. She looks perfectly calm except that her tail twitches behind her. “Oh my, I suppose I could call you my consort, couldn’t I?” She looks at me, winking. “Though I much prefer champion.”

Despite my irritation, my cheeks go a shade red. “Really, Princess?”

Layla and Quinn both chuckle. Gráinne smiles warmly at me as she lifts my hand to her lips so that she can kiss my fingertips.

“Wait…” Sif blinks several times, the gears in her head turning over several times before she speaks. “You’re the princess? I suppose I should have put that together; except for one problem—I can be very stupid.”

Gráinne nods. “Just so. I saw the value in her plan, and she showed me she has the strength to carry it out. Naturally, she has my full support. But do please go on about how it’s consorting.”

Sif falls silent, her cheeks and neck several shades of red all at once. After a moment of silence, she looks over at me. “And to think this started because I asked you about the food.”

“Happens.” I sigh, my ears twitching. “Believe it or not, I had it in mind to ask you to join me. There was a whole evening planned to catch up after we ate and then I’d bring it up for you to sleep on.”

She clears her throat. “Why me?”

“Because the list of S-Tier pilots is very short,” I tell her. “I need and want the best, and you’re the best sniper alive.”

Sif folds her arms over her chest. She looks at me, then at Gráinne and finally at Layla and Quinn, who are both giving her a hopeful glance. Dinner had been pleasant until now, and we all were getting on great. So, I sit and wait patiently for her to answer, hoping that by meeting the people I care about, she would care about them, too.

“Two pilots, Dia?” she asks mournfully.

“Three,” Gráinne corrects.

“Three pilots is better,” Sif says. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “But if you’re really looking for the best, that’s not you… well, I’m not really the girl to be calling on. Sure, I’m a great sniper like you said, but I was never really in ya’ll’s league.”

I let out a sharp breath. “I don’t think she wants anything to do with me, and I can’t really blame her for that.”

“Evangeline?” Gráinne asks, looking down at the floor. “Is that who you mean?”

“Yes.”

Gráinne wraps her tail around mine and squeezes my hand. “If it is to liberate my people, I think we should reach out to all the best assets we can. You said so yourself, to Brigid, that you needed allies.”

“Whose Brigid?” Sif asks, her brow lifted curiously.

“Heir to House Áine. She’s a pragmatic and ruthless woman when she needs to be. Like me, she saw the value of liberation rather than the throne itself. I count her among our allies.” Gráinne puts on her dignitary voice, sounding almost the way she did that day in Brigid’s office.

“Sounds like my kind of woman.” Sif grins. “Alright, Dia, I’ll join you on your hairbrained scheme, but only on one condition.”

I cross one leg over the other, looking at her intently, trying to restrain my bitterness. “What condition, Sif?”

“You gotta talk to Eva,” she says. “If you talk to her like you talked to me and she gets on board, then I will too. Even with a pragmatic, ruthless politician, and a pilot-princess on your side, I don’t feel good about this. If somehow you manage to convince Eva of all people, then I’ll have no complaints.”

“Fuck you, Sif,” I say irritably before I let out a deep sigh. “Fine.”

She lets out an unholy cackle. “It’ll be just like old times.”

“Well, not totally,” I say, motioning towards her chest. “You have tits now.”

Sif bites her lip and looks away, her face the reddest it’s been all night. “Touché.”

---

My wolf paces back and forth in our room, chewing on her thumb anxiously. She stops, goes to the bed and flops over, looking utterly exhausted.

“Oh, my love,” I whisper, stroking her hair. “Does the idea of speaking with Evangeline really fill you with such stress?”

“Yes,” she groans. “That woman is a bloody nightmare. Literally. She won’t listen to anything I have to say and will demand that we fight. That’s just to get her to agree to be a part of this. Before that, we’re going to have to talk about us, and I just don’t know if I have it in me to deal with feelings that have been long buried.”

“You still love her,” I whisper. “How did it end?”

Dia opens her mouth, her ears pinned back. I press my finger to her lips, shaking my head.

“Don’t deny it,” I tell her. “You would not be this stressed if you didn’t, and you need not hide your feelings on my behalf.”

She furrows her brows, rolls over onto her back, and puts her head in my lap. “She begged me not to leave,” she says. “And this is not a woman who begs for anything. She bared her entire heart to me, and I told her I couldn’t stay and live a happy life with her.”

“I see.” I continue stroking her hair, brushing stray strands out of her eyes. “That must have been agony for you both.”

Dia nods silently, tears forming in her eyes. “Yeah, and I’m afraid of re-opening old wounds for nothing. She’s already refused to join me once, and there is even less reason to join me now.”

“Is that all you’re worried about?” I ask, gazing into her snowy eyes. “Or are you worried that you’ll make new wounds because of me?”

She purses her lips tightly. “Not exactly,” she says. “That’s part of it, but I also worry about us, too. This relationship is still so new—I am not sure where the boundaries are. We haven’t had much of a chance to talk about them.”

I smile, running my fingers across her lips. “Let us talk about them then,” I say. “I suppose I am a bit of a blank slate to be fair. I have fully rejected what was instilled in me, such as it being wrong to desire women at all.” A wide grin forms on my lips as I look down at her. “I very much do desire women. In fact, I ache for this one woman in particular. She has eyes like freshly fallen snow—she stole my heart at first glance.”

Her cheeks turn a subtle shade of red. “My love, be serious,” she says through a hint of a smile. “So, are you saying it’s all up to me? That you trust me that much?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” I say, rubbing her ear between my fingers. “I would tell you if something bothered me, so rather just go about things as you normally would.”

She looks up at me, leaning into my touch. “And if I told you it’s not unheard of for me to have more than one partner at a time? Is that something that bothers you?”

“No,” I say with an ease that surprises me. “I would like to know of them, of course, but I do not own you as much as I tease you about being my champion.”

“Consort, too,” she reminds me through a smirk.

I chuckle as I run my hands through her hair and then down her neck. I massage her gently, pressing my fingers into the muscles on her chest and shoulders until I feel her relax. “If there is a chance for you and Evangeline to reconcile, are you going to want to take it?”

“Maybe,” she says. “It depends on if you two get on. You are my main partner and she and I have a troubled history—I’m not going to risk us, Gráinne. At the very least, if I meet with her at all, I want to patch things up and become amicable.”

“Then do not let your mind be troubled, my perfect, pretty wolf,” I murmur. “I will follow you unto the ends of the universe and beyond. If you are putting us first, then I have no cause for worry, nor do you over our bond. Be yourself—I support you.”

“As you wish, Princess,” she says, closing her eyes. “Let’s get some sleep. We have another two days before our trip, and then it’s all going to be testing and tweaking your mech until it’s perfect. Won’t have much of a vacation once we get to the workshop.”

“We’ll manage.”