Fire and Sword

What was I doing?

I am a prince of the realm,

not a beast in the night.

Lynan laughed wryly at his own pride. Some prince of the realm: exiled to the Oceans of Grass, with a future only the greatest optimist would find any hope in, and now plagued by desires that were inhuman. Areava would not be surprised, of course, she always thought of him as almost less than human. He could remember vividly their last conversation on the palace’s south gallery only hours before Berayma was murdered; he had seen in her eyes then how she truly thought of him.

With that memory came a very human anger, and the emotion threw out the last vestige of his unnatural hunger. This is how I control it, he thought with surprise. By never forgetting the first cause of my exile and transformation.

His confidence renewed if not wholly restored, Lynan walked back past the sentry and into the camp. He reached his tent and looked east, back toward civilization, back toward his enemies. He imagined Areava in her throne room, thinking he was dead and celebrating the fact, Berayma’s murderers by her side.

If only she knew what had truly become of him.