SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMER!

When I return them to their brooding clan, there is a great cry of joy. Their Advisors come rushing on hands and knees, to exclaim over the small avian figures.

I step back, warily, giving them room for their welcomes and hovering, because I'm not leaving without those blasted feathers.

Even if they are really more grey and brown than actual white…

It takes a while for the angry hisses and glowers to tone down, because the Dove Sisters are powerful enough to change themselves back when I've let them out of the bag.

By the time the Advisors calm them down, they're angry, but reserved and restrained enough to listen to my plight.

So I tell them of the challenge, of what is required and that I wish to have a feather from each of them—in exchange for burning off the runes I've magically carved in each of their arms.

Lefty and Righty exchange a glance and then Lefty sighs—it's a long, slow breath that seems as if she's giving in and I don't understand why.

"I told you someone would come again," she says softly, to her sister and ventures forward. Her gown has pressed against the wound and crusted over just enough.

It must hurt her wing in her alternate form. I wait until she's within arm's reach, then hold out a hand.

She reaches up with her free hand and plucks a single grey feather from her dark hair, handing it over with her injured arm.

Taking the feather and carefully tucking it away, I call up the magic that has remained coiled within me, taut—wanting to be used more than I've let it.

For Hadrian's magic, dark as it is, always will belong to the night and tonight is no different.

Lefty makes no sound as I heal the carved runes in her arm—I didn't expect them to etch so deeply into her skin—to actually draw blood, but magic does have a price.

I was simply prepared to pay it this time.

"Thank you," Lefty says, politely.

It is kind of her not to mention that the healing would be unnecessary, if I hadn't carved the runes there in the first place but she's still talking and I have to struggle to focus on her words, because I'm so close to finishing this second task and I really don't want to listen to another-

"…You didn't have to heal my wing too. Thank you. It has been years since I've felt strong enough to fly."

Her words register deeper than I want them to and I make the calculations a lot quicker than I expected.

Years.

She hasn't flown in years.

That would mean the same for her sister.

It would mean that the bastard was right. They needed rescuing—that was for sure—and you mean to tell me that he couldn't find anyone else to help?

Anyone willing to lend a hand?

Any dragel willing to lend a hand?

Liar.

Surely someone would have helped.

If they'd known.

Righty is next and after another silent exchange, she ventures forward, mimicking all that her sister has done before. I tuck her feather away securely, before I heal her arm with the same perfection as her sister.

"Thank you," she says, hoarsely. "Your kindness is appreciated."

And now I really don't understand them at all, but I nod, because gestures are easier than words and now, I have to think about three French Hens and that's going to be a headache for a while-

"Are you after the twelve labors of Christmas?" Lefty asks, softly. "It is far too dangerous for any one person."

"Dragel," I said, shortly. "And it's days. Twelve days of Christmas. Gifts or something."

"Labors," Righty corrects. "Stars above, tell me they didn't give you a deadline."

My lack of answer is enough of one.

The sisters cling to each other. "Travel safe," they trill, as one. "Call us, if you should have need."

They twist into their dove shapes then, flying a lazy circle overhead around me.

I'm not stupid enough to pretend that I don't feel or notice their protective magic.

I am smart enough to keep my mouth shut.


That's that for the dove sisters. French Hens are next. No guesses for the French Hens? Wow. lol. Glad everyone is still enjoying this. :) Thanks for reading and reviewing! ~Scion