"I wonder where Tina's gotten off to," Cyréne said a few minutes later.

Brand shrugged, "I'm sure she's fine."

"You could be a little more concerned. She was a big part of this."

"I know. She just rubs me the wrong way."

Cyréne bit her lip to keep from grinning.

"We should see what kind of weapons and armor we can scrounge from around here. All Tina and I have are bows and daggers, and it's a long walk to Winterhold. I don't know why I thought it'd be a good idea to travel in a dress instead of armor."

Brand gave her a quizzical look. "What is it that you do exactly? I assumed you were a mage, but I don't know any that travel in armor."

"You first," she said.

"Well," he hesitated. "I was a mercenary, until-"

"You took an arrow to the knee?" she joked.

"No, until I was turned into a werewolf."

"Oh. When was that?"

"Six months ago."

Cyréne's eyebrows rose, "And, you're in control of it? That's amazing. Do you have a pack?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "You sure do know a lot about this. What aren't you telling me?"

"I have a friend like you," she said simply.

"Yes, I'm in control of it. At least, I haven't killed anyone, if that's what you mean. No, I don't have a pack and no, I don't know what I'm going to do next."

Her brow furrowed. "Who did you get to change you if you don't have a pack?"

He gave her a hard look. "I didn't get anyone to change me. I wasn't given a choice."

Cyréne stopped digging through the chest she'd been poking around in and looked up at him. "What?"

"I said I wasn't given a choice, it was forced on me."

Cyréne's voice changed from her normal sweet tone to one as hard as steel, "By who?"

"By the damn Vigilants – or an offshoot of them – some radical group of werewolf hunters"

"The Silver Hand," she said. Her voice was as cold as ice. "Brand, in case you haven't figured it out by now, you can trust me. I need you to tell me exactly what happened to you and don't leave anything out. This is very, very important."

The urgency and authority in her voice, along with her barely concealed fury sent a pang of fear down his spine. He wanted to trust her, he did, but she'd just transformed before him and it made him nervous. He swallowed and didn't say anything.

She took a breath and closed her eyes to steady herself before walking over to him and pushing him gently down into a chair. She looked him in the eyes and reached out to touch his shoulder. Her touch was gentle and reassuring and he felt himself relax a little.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Brand. I truly am. I wish I could have been there to kill every one of the bastards that hurt you. They are cowards, and they have no code of honor. All they know is cruelty and hatred, and they deserve to be punished. I can't go back and stop what happened, but with your help I may be able to prevent it from happening to others. Please trust me, Brand, please." She drew back and looked him in the eyes again. "What can I do to reassure you? Tell me, and I'll do it."

He looked up at the ceiling, "Cyréne . . . it's not that easy."

"You trusted me a few minutes ago. What changed?"

"You did."

"No, I didn't. I'm just multifaceted."

She put her hands on the table behind her and pushed herself up to sit on it. She scooted back and folded her legs under her, placing her hands in her lap in an effort to be as non-threatening as possible. "Now, ask me anything."

"Who are you?"

Cyréne shot him a broken smile. "Honestly Brand, Im just a runaway from Cyrodill that had to grow up way too fast. I came here to escape an arranged marriage, and found out quickly that the world isn't a friendly place."

"I hear you," Brand said with a nod, "but, I'm going to need more than that."

"I'm the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. I earned that title through blood, sweat and tears, not just academic magic. I am Thane of Eastmarch, Winterhold and The Reach. I hold the rank of Legate in the Imperial Legion and was at the side of General Tullius when Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak met his death. I am also a high ranking member of the Companions and the Harbinger considers me one of his most trusted and skilled warriors. I am a familiar of werewolves and an enemy of prejudice, unwarranted violence, and the suffering of the innocent. I've killed a lot of men and women in battle, but I've never taken a life unjustly or through deceit. Once I consider you a friend I will stand by you through anything, and defend you with my life. It takes a lot for someone to become my true enemy, but when they achieve that status, my vengeance is swift and brutal. If anyone tries to hurt the ones I love, I will kill them, and I will not regret it."

Brand's mouth fell open slightly. He gave his head a shake. "Anything else?"

"I hate the cold and the snow. I'm afraid of Skeevers. I have a full set of double-enchanted daedric armor and weapons that I never get to use because I'm afraid it will intimidate my shield-siblings. I love horses, sweet rolls, firebrand wine and the way you woke me up this morning. If Tina hadn't expressed interest in you, I wouldn't have stopped at your abs yesterday – I would have given you the best bath of your life, and by the time I was finished with you, you would have needed another one."

Brand was on his feet in an instant stalking toward her.

Cyrene realized her mistake immediately and backpedaled. "I said if, Brand, if."

He loomed over her, pressing against the table. "Tell me you don't want me, then."

"I'm not a liar, of course I would want you – you're extremely attractive, but I'm not going to betray a friend for it. I just gave you a whole speech about that."

He jerked her lower body off the edge of the table with a growl.

"You feel that?" he snarled. "That's the second time in an hour you've done that to me with no plans to follow through. I would never force myself on you, but I don't have unlimited power over the beast. Don't do it again!"

Cyrene's eyes widened. "I won't, I promise."

"Good!" he growled, and stalked back over to his chair. After a moment he shot her a sensuous grin. "If you break your promise, I promise that you'll be getting a taste of your own medicine from me."

Cyréne swallowed the wave of embarrassment that was threatening to drown her, and continued. "Got it. Now, will you tell me what happened?"

"Yes."

"Well, let's hear it."

"I'd rather tell you when we're alone."

"We are alone."

"No, we aren't, Tina's been hiding over there in the corridor for the last minute and a half."

Cyréne looked over towards the shadows and Shaye walked out with a shrug. "Hey, I'm just cautious. No need to miss the good stuff that people say when they think no one is listening."

"You smell like death," Brand stated. "What have you been doing out there?"

Shaye held up a couple of rabbits, "Getting breakfast."

"Don't pull that shit with me. Who did you kill?"

Shaye looked to Cyréne for support, but all she got was a raised eyebrow. Finally Cyrene spoke, "I'm sure you had a good reason for whoever they were, but I would like to hear it."

"What?" Shaye squeaked.

"You left with a full quiver. You have two rabbits there, and only six arrows left, and you're a very good shot." Oh my gods, I sound just like Vilkas.

Shaye sighed in defeat. "There were some assholes out there snooping around. They looked like they were up to no good."

Cyréne widened her eyes and tilted one ear forward as though she'd misheard. "So you just . . . shot them?"

"It's kind of my thing," Shaye said.

Cyréne put a foot on the ground and slid off the table, "And, what does that mean, Tina?"

"My name isn't Tina, it's Shaye."

"Alright," Cyréne said calmly. She slightly shifted her weight into a defensive stance as a cold dread settled in her stomach. "What does that mean, Shaye?"

Brand crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. "It means . . . she's an assassin."