A feast! With hawks! And seals! And polar bears! All in Prince Arctic's honor!

Oh, it was good to be home.

Whatever Foeslayer had always said about the NightWings being his tribe, too – they certainly never threw a feast for him.

"We're fighting a WAR for you!" Foeslayer's voice echoed in his mind.

"They're fighting for animus powers," Arctic replied to the Foeslayer in his imagination. "They don't care about ME."

"YOUR MOTHER is fighting for animus powers," Imaginary Foeslayer replied. "She wants to kill our dragonets."

Arctic shook his head as if to shake himself out of his ruminations.

Foeslayer still was not here, beside him, as she should be.

But Whiteout was.

And she had very much not been killed by Queen Diamond.

Ha.

Here, in the middle of this feast in the Ice Palace, Prince Arctic finally felt accepted for who he was, with his hybrid dragonet walking talon in talon with him as proof. He was forgiven. Treated like the royalty he was. Even though he had still not betrayed the NightWings. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe, Arctic thought, since Queen Diamond is giving Whiteout a chance – maybe she will learn to accept Whiteout's mother as well. After all, Foeslayer learned well enough how to behave in a palace during all those events in the NightWing palace. She knows how to coordinate her accessories and behavior with me to emphasize that we belong together. Maybe she's a little fiery for most IceWing tastes, but that suits me perfectly. She is fiery like the life-giving sun to me, and I cannot live without her. If I am accepted, Foeslayer must be accepted by extension. Yes. Surely.

As soon as I get Foeslayer back and return her earring to her, she will be safe and warm from its spell. Maybe then we can start over here and finally be happy.

Prince Arctic looked around at the glittering hall filled with ultra-polite IceWings. They were so unlike Foeslayer.

Well, maybe if we keep to ourselves most of the time, we can try to be happy here. We were happy together here before we ran away. I've lived with her tribe for so many years now; it's my turn to live comfortably in my own climate for a while. She owes it to me to at least try living in the Ice Kingdom.

But, Arctic also knew, whatever he thought Foeslayer owed him – he also still owed it to her to think for at least a few more days about how he might buy her freedom without betraying her entire tribe. Even though we're only in this predicament due to your own stupidity, Foeslayer - taking off the earring that kept you safe just to prove a point, really!

Lost in his thoughts as Arctic was, a dragon with a single circle on his necklace appeared seemingly out of thin air in front of him. Oh no. Not another dragon whose name he had long forgotten.

"Prince Arctic."

Arctic hesitated. He always was terrible with names.

"Good evening," Arctic said. "My apologies, it has been many years."

"My name is General Squall," the other dragon responded. "Your Majesty. We met yesterday outside the palace."

Oh. That's awkward.

But hey, he called me "Your Majesty." By the moons, that feels good to hear again.

"General Squall, of course," Prince Arctic recovered. "I present my daughter, Whiteout."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, General," Whiteout said with a bow. The general bowed politely in return.

"Your Majesty," he addressed Prince Arctic. "We are all very pleased about your return to the Ice Kingdom and your willingness to help end this war which has taken so many IceWing lives."

Arctic felt a pang in his chest. He could feel the blame hidden behind this dragon's words.

"The queen has invited you to her council meeting tomorrow morning. We hope that you will be forthcoming with the information you promised."

Arctic bristled.

"Do you presume to speak for the Queen?" he asked.

"I speak for myself," General Squall replied hastily, "and for the troops under my command. But a great many IceWings hold the same hope." He glanced around the ballroom and Arctic followed his gaze. Indeed, most of the IceWings in attendance were either staring openly or glancing sideways at Prince Arctic and General Squall. Their eyes betrayed a certain intensity that spoke of something other than simple joy at Prince Arctic's return. They wanted something from him.

"The war will have been for nothing if the queen does not release my wife to me," Arctic said quietly to the general. "She wanted me, and I will not stay here without her."

"Whose side are you on?!" General Squall hissed, eyes wide. "The enemy has an animus because of you, and by the sound of it, he has been left entirely undisciplined, to the point of madness."

Arctic thought of what happened with the SeaWing animus Albatross – how he had gone insane and murdered so many in his own tribe.

"Very well," Arctic retorted, "Perhaps Darkstalker will massacre the NightWings himself. I unleashed a weapon upon your enemy, not a gift."

"You mean our enemy," the general growled.

"Meanwhile, I bring our tribe the most beautiful dragon in the world to continue the animus bloodline in the IceWing royal family." Arctic gestured at Whiteout, who stood quietly, observing. "The queen started this war and the queen can end it. She can end it faster with my help, in exchange for my wife. I'm hardly asking for anything unreasonable."

General Squall inhaled sharply through his nostrils, then stormed away in Queen Diamond's direction.

"There's a worse energy here," Whiteout said unexpectedly. Arctic turned to her, then followed her gaze across the ballroom.

He first noticed the peculiar cloak covering one dragon, who stood close to another. They were whispering and not bothering to avert the glares they were shooting at both Arctic and Whiteout. The dragons seemed familiar. The one without the cloak – that was his cousin Snowfox. And beside her, the one in the cloak… is that the one Foeslayer said should hate me for forgetting her name? The one I was supposed to marry? Is she still bitter about not marrying me? She didn't seem to like me very much... Well, she seems to like me even less now. What is she doing in the main Ice Palace, anyway?

"That one's the most dangerous," Whiteout whispered to Arctic. "Not the general or even the queen. That one. You know her."

"Her name is Snowfox," Arctic replied. "She's my cousin. Next in line for the throne."

"If she defeats the queen in a challenge," Whiteout amended.

Arctic's joy about his feast was being replaced by a pressing weight in his heart. The pressure to betray the Nightwings; the struggle to get Foeslayer back; the hostility, perhaps even enduring danger, if the next queen of the IceWings really had developed a dangerous hatred toward him. Could he and his family safely live in the Ice Kingdom after all?

But something Whiteout had said gave him pause… Prince Arctic looked intently at his daughter, the seed of an idea planted in his mind.