“So… where exactly is this special place we’re going to?” asked Pharynx as they trotted along the streets of Fillydelphia.

He’d disguised himself as a tawny-coated unicorn with green eyes and a scruffy, brown mane verging on red. Significantly taller than average to match her height, but with sufficient musculature so as not to appear twiggy, and he wore a simple, black vest over a white collared shirt that lent him an air of sophistication that mildly clashed with the way he was constantly scanning his surroundings like a watchdog on high alert. He’d been like that since stepping off the train.

“Not far,” said Tempest after giving him a sidelong glance. “Keeping an eye out for ambush points and exit routes?”

“Naturally,” he replied without pausing in his silent appraisal of every passer-by on the sidewalk.

However, she did notice him stealing glances at the skyscrapers every now and then. His ears were perked and his gait had started off briskly, but the farther they went into the city, more and more of his tension sloughed off, until he almost looked like a wide-eyed tourist rather than a wary bodyguard.

She smirked. “First time in a big city?”

“Yeah. It’s almost like a hive, you know? Everypony’s got their own business to mind instead of getting all up in your face and asking all kinds of dumb questions with answers they’re not interested in anyway.”

As if right on cue, a stallion gruffly harrumphed when he bumped into Pharynx’s shoulder, then carried on without so much as an apology or a second glance. In fact, he even picked up a little speed after glancing at his watch.

“Now that’s efficiency,” Pharynx said with a grin. “More places should be like this!”

“You’d be surprised how many places are already like th—damn.”

Tempest deftly sidestepped a dirty puddle and quickly trotted past the stretch of wet pavement ahead, lest an errant pedestrian’s hoof splash her dress with the remains of a light afternoon rain. Her sudden movement drew Pharynx’s glance, but if he could taste her sudden bout of self-consciousness, he didn’t show any sign of it. Neither did any of the pedestrians.

Yes, the great Commander Tempest is wearing a dress.

She wondered what the Storm King would’ve thought of that.

Granted, it was more like a really stylish jumpsuit with long, flowy sleeves rather than the skirted type that most mares liked to wear, but a dress nonetheless.

She would’ve vastly preferred the comfortable weight of plate armour, but she’d been under the impression that this particular outing with Pharynx carried certain expectations, and none of Twilight and her friends had seen fit to tell her otherwise. Thankfully, with a little bit of persuasion, Rarity had tailored one to her specifications: plain black, with no frills, beads, lace or any other unnecessary adornments, aside from some well-hidden pockets for utility.

It was probably a good thing that her mane and tail hadn’t fully grown back to their original lengths, otherwise Rarity might’ve insisted on styling them herself. As it was, the silver horn ring already felt a bit much, but that’d been the price of Rarity’s service, in lieu of tacking on any other ‘essential’ accessories that she’d attempted to coax her into wearing for her date.

A date.

I’m going on a date, she realised.

She and Pharynx had gone their separate ways for a time after the joint military exercise. After all, their jobs weren’t the kind that afforded them a lot of time to go wherever they pleased. They’d kept in touch mostly by mail and the occasional meetup in various locales anywhere between Ponyville and the Badlands. But those were social visits, often in the presence of their respective charges, with little opportunity to break away for some privacy. Not dates.

It was surreal.

Dating was the kind of thing that common folk got to indulge in, not for conscripted soldiers like her. Relationships in the Storm King’s army were not uncommon, but they rarely went further than the physicality of it. You either wanted it or you didn’t, and there was little time or privilege for anything beyond scratching a very specific itch. But to slowly work her way through the trappings of a relationship by choice, with the potential for a lasting, deeper connection rather than a plain hunger for intimacy…

Some deep-seated part of her felt foalishly giddy about the prospect.

A prospect that she’d forgotten about for almost as long as the feeling of magic coursing through the full length of her horn...

“Something on your mind?” Pharynx asked.

She banished the thought and returned her attention to weaving through hoof traffic. They’d reached a particularly busy intersection, and she had a vague sense of being followed. Several glances behind confirmed that there were a few pedestrians who’d been tailing them for the last couple of streets, but she’d yet to determine if it was mere coincidence or criminal intent.

Her days of watching for a dagger in her back were supposed to be over, but…

Old habits really do die hard.

After stealing another rearward glance, she shrugged and said, “Yeah, I know a few ponies in this city. Got some memories.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, the usual. Smuggling, collecting debts, some racketeering on the side. Dirty work for the Storm King before he was big enough to launch an all-out offensive.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“When we weren’t squatting for weeks in a warehouse waiting for instructions, sure.” She grinned. “You haven’t lived until you’ve fought off a police raid while high from accidentally inhaling dreamweed dust.”

“Too bad. That stuff doesn’t actually do anything for changelings.”

She slowed and cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’ve actually tried dreamweed?”

“No. But my subordinates have.” Pharynx rolled his eyes. “Some of them have pony friends who shared at parties. Didn’t work. Not even close to the effects of sugar and love.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a pity or something to be jealous of—”

Tempest spotted movement up ahead and quit speaking just in time to see a filly galloping right at her, laughing and squealing as a colt chased her through the crowd. She leapt aside just in time to avoid getting cannonballed.

“Hey, watch it!” she called over her shoulder as the filly dashed on.

The colt chasing her grazed Pharynx, stumbled a little and then mouthed off a hasty apology before turning his back to them and breaking into a gallop.

Or he would have, if Pharynx didn’t double back and pounce on him like a praying mantis.

“Aagh! Hey, what’s the big deal? Let me go!” the colt cried, twisting and squirming as Pharynx hooked a foreleg around his barrel and carried him back to where Tempest stood.

The colt had looked ordinary enough at first glance: unicorn, just above cutie mark age, wearing a loose-fitting jacket; the kind she’d expect to find running around parks and streets whilst their parents lagged behind.

But on closer inspection, the colt had a certain scruffiness and ratty scent that reminded Tempest of her early years in Kludgetown. There was dirt caked into the hair of his unshorn fetlocks and little smears of grime in his mane. His holey jacket was fraying at the edges and had way too many pockets on the inside surface.

Pharynx ignored his protests and dug a hoof into one of the pockets, barely flinching even when the colt zapped him in the muzzle with a spark of magic.

“This is mine,” he growled at the colt when he pulled out a little pouch that clinked softly with bits.

“Let me go!” the colt cried. “Help, help!”

Tempest glanced around, but nopony came to his aid. In fact, she got the distinct impression of everypony speeding up, as if suddenly remembering that they’d left the stove on or something.

She snorted.

No one cared enough to get involved, which made it the perfect environment for a pickpocket to make a clean getaway. No heroes to run after pickpockets on behalf of elderly mares, but not so good either if said pickpocket was a child and needed somepony to step in if they were caught.

“Give it up, grub,” said Pharynx, grinning as he sat the colt down and firmly held him in place by the shoulder. He then shook the pouch of coins before stuffing it back into his own vest pocket, saying, “My brother went to a lot of trouble to get me these. You’re going to have to do a lot better if you want to take them off me.”

The colt’s eyes widened. His lower lip trembled as he sat frozen to the spot, his chest rapidly swelling and compressing with shallow breaths as Pharynx sprouted fangs and leaned closer, as if to bite his face off. When Pharynx blinked, his eyes briefly flashed into a pure, soulless purple whilst a forked tongue flicked out of his mouth.

Tempest stepped up to them and swatted the back of Pharynx’s head.

“Ow! What are—”

“That’s enough. I think he’s learnt his lesson,” she said. She then turned her gaze to the quivering colt and added, “Isn’t that right?”

The colt nodded vigorously, still huffing and puffing.

“Good. Let him go.”

Pharynx looked at her for a moment, then took his hoof off the colt’s shoulder and straightened up. His fangs shrank back to normal as he growled, “Fine. Get lost, grub.”

The colt scurried off without another word, stumbling and teetering on his wobbly legs. But before he could take a turn and vanish down an alley, Tempest whistled sharply at him. He froze and hesitantly looked over his shoulder, then flinched when she tossed her own coin pouch his way. He caught it with magic at the last second, peered inside and then blinked a couple of times. Only after getting a nod from her did he finally retreat with his unexpected prize, rendezvousing with his filly accomplice in the distance before disappearing around a corner.

Aside from a few cursory glances, none of the other pedestrians showed any surprise at the scene before them. Pharynx was the only one staring at her.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she said, before resuming her trot towards their destination.

A couple of seconds later, she heard the clip clop of his hooves catching up.

“What was that about? I thought you hated kids,” he asked as he fell in step with her.

“I do.”

When Pharynx cocked an eyebrow, she added, “Doesn’t mean I want them to go hungry. And it’s not like I use that much money, anyway. It might be enough to keep them out of trouble for a while.”

His ears tilted back a little as he nodded slowly. “I… I see.”

“Just don’t bully them and we won’t have a problem.”

“Hmph. Okay.”

He didn’t look like he’d completely come around to the idea, but since he didn’t say anything else, she allowed him to mull it over whilst they walked. She couldn’t blame him. Sometimes, she didn’t feel like she had a definite grasp on what she was supposed to do with juveniles, either.

They crossed a busy intersection, and Tempest led him past a row of shop houses, then into a narrow back alley that cut right through the block. Thankfully, they didn’t bump into any other homeless or drunks there, and they emerged into the outer edge of a huge park filled with towering pines and oaks. Gravel paths twisted and curled around the trees and decorative boulders, with park benches strategically placed at scenic stretches of grass, flower beds and small ponds.

There were other young couples in the park, too. Some meandered along the paths, whilst others lay together on the grass, some on the benches, and some of the more nimble and adventurous ones, in the trees themselves. Most of them spoke softly, whispering sweet nothings to each other. Tempest felt slightly overdressed when she saw that the vast majority of them had foregone any clothing aside from scarfs, hats and the occasional shirt.

Pharynx slowed down and looked at her expectantly when they neared a clear spot of grass where a gap in the massive oak branches overhead provided a good view of the purple-orange sky, but Tempest simply shook her head and went right past it.

Something did not feel quite right about the park, though. That back alley may not have been as empty as she’d thought.

Tempest still vaguely felt like she was being tailed by someone in the distance, but despite her best efforts, she detected no signs of the supposed stalker. No rustling bushes, no skulking shadows, no gleaming eyes.

“Pharynx, let me know if you sense anything odd.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ponies are odd, and they’re all around us.”

She smiled thinly and huffed through her nostrils. “You know what I mean. Give me a heads up if anyone’s trying to get the drop on us.”

“So that’s what’s been bothering you,” he said as he cast a quick glance around. “Is this place supposed to be dangerous?”

“No. But it never hurts to be prepared.”

Pharynx narrowed his eyes as he gave their surroundings another quick scan and nodded.

The relatively natural landscape of the park soon gave way to a more sculpted arrangement, more closely resembling the garden terraces in Canterlot. The grass was well-trimmed, bushes had been sheared into hedges, and the air was thick with the scent of roses and other flowers she couldn’t identify. The kind of ponies wandering around had also changed, wearing finer clothes in addition to having obviously spent significantly more time grooming their manes and tails.

The deeper they went, the more ornate the landscape. Topiaries, fountains, statues and pieces of ancient Cloudsdale architecture dotted the garden, with increasingly taller hedges that obscured more and more of the park until they were practically navigating a maze, albeit a generously spacious one.

Eventually, they reached their destination.

“This is the place?” asked Pharynx.

Tempest tilted her head back so she could properly take in the full height of the building before her.

The Wellspring Club was a sturdy, almost foreboding mansion constructed with massive slabs of pale, chiselled stone and marble columns almost three storeys tall. Stern griffons clung at the top of each column with the back of their heads connected to the roof, their gaping beaks serving as rainspouts. Warm, yellow light poured out of the opaque, stained glass windows depicting ponies hauling pots of water and harvesting grain.

With a spacious garden surrounded by tall, thorny rosebushes, the club certainly stood in stark contrast to the rest of Fillydelphia’s urban landscape. With so few proper trees around, there was nothing to stop towering skyscrapers from looming overhead, dominating much of the sky that was visible above the well-trimmed hedge. The sun had gone down, and the first stars were already twinkling in the bluish-grey sky, behind a sparse layer of clouds.

“Yup. This is it,” said Tempest.

A massive griffon stood guard beside the heavy double doors. He wore a black suit and shades, but Tempest recognised the speckled patterns on his grey feathers and the scarring on the scales of his forearms, right down to the missing talon.

She strode up confidently towards him and waited whilst the griffon watched in silence.

Then, the griffon lowered his shades to reveal bright orange eyes. “Commander?”

And there it is.

She nodded. “Captain.”

“I, uh…” the griffon shuffled his wings. “I don’t go by that anymore.”

“Neither do I,” said Tempest. She then smiled and bumped her hoof with his fist. “Been a while, Gillon. Never thought I’d find you here, though.”

“Heh. Work is work, and beggars can’t be choosers.” He then gave Pharynx a cursory inspection and nodded. “So, just the two of you? I’ll have to see your membership passes.”

Tempest fished two gold-plated cards out of her pocket and placed them onto his palm.

After taking a moment to inspect them, Gillon passed them back to her and pulled one of the double doors open. He then dipped his head and gestured for them to enter. “Right this way. Enjoy yourselves.”

She walked past him, but paused when he gently but firmly laid a hand on her shoulder. Pharynx bristled and opened his mouth, but she averted the impending confrontation by meeting his eyes and giving a brisk shake of her head.

“Not that it’s my business, but are you, uh… working, tonight?” asked Gillon as he withdrew his hand, giving Pharynx a conciliatory nod. “The kind that needs cleaning up after?”

Tempest took a couple of seconds to think. “Maybe.”

“I’m serious,” he insisted, lashing his tail. “I’m the guy they pay to step in and escort troublemakers out. I don’t want to have to—”

“If it comes to that, I’ll call in that favour you owe me,” Tempest said with a wry smile. “If it makes you feel better.”

Gillon stared at her.

Chuckling, Tempest thumped him on the shoulder and trotted on into the mansion.

Just before the door boomed shut, she heard a distinct, “Aww, pluck…”

Pharynx gave the doors a suspicious glance and asked, “Is he going to be a problem?”

“Not likely. We’re just here to have a nice dinner.”

“And does anything else happen here aside from nice dinners?”

“Yes, but they’re none of our business tonight,” she said, giving him a firm shake of her head. “Besides, Gillon’s an old friend, and a smart griff on top of that.”

Pharynx chuckled. “Too bad. I could take him.”

“Maybe some other time. We’re running a little late.”

Their hooves barely made a sound on the thick, plush carpeting in the reception hall. Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, filling the place with warm light that reflected on suits of armour standing guard along the walls, in between tapestries depicting ponies of historical importance.

A grand flight of stairs rose up directly in front of them, with two doorways on either side of their base that led to a courtyard in the middle of the mansion. To their left was an open door into a drawing room filled with bookshelves, pool tables, writing desks and couches, where Tempest spied a couple of middle-aged ponies conversing as they lounged in heavy chairs carved from hardwood.

Tempest looked to the right and saw rustic wooden door with a glass window set into its upper half, through which she could see slightly distorted figures, some seated at round tables and others moving briskly between them.

A bell tinkled softly when she pushed the door open.

Though the restaurant had similarly ostentatious décor, the slightly dimmer lighting, combined with softly-spoken idle chatter and the clinking of cutlery helped to give it a more homely and cosy atmosphere when compared to the rest of the mansion.

The round tables were covered with deep-red tablecloths, and each had supplementary illumination from a short, fat candle in the middle. Most of the tables were occupied; some by couples young and old, some by groups of friends, and some by syndicate-oriented individuals, characterised by the discreet but wary looks they gave her from the corners of their eyes. Nearly a third of these were non-ponies, consisting mostly of griffons and diamond dogs, but she did spot a minotaur at the far table and even a juvenile yak. Of the ponies themselves, a good quarter of them were thestrals, which was a startlingly high percentage when compared to the general population.

All were dressed either for courtship or business, but years of experience on the streets had taught her to read the temperamental undercurrent beneath the veneer of class and luxury. It was a den of predators, in more ways than one, and half the sheep who frequented it probably didn’t even know.

Pharynx flicked his tongue out and smiled. “I like this place already.”

A unicorn waiter trotted up to them and dipped his head respectfully. “Welcome to our establishment. Table for two?”

Tempest nodded. “I have a reservation.”

“Ah, Miss Shadow, I presume?”

“Yes.”

The waiter smiled and nodded. “Right this way, please.”

Their table was of the size reserved for couples, being small enough for intimate conversation whilst having just about enough space for an assortment of dishes. It was situated right next to the wall, with a high-set window that faced the garden outside. From there, they had a good view of the restaurant interior and most of its patrons, plus most of the potential exits. And most importantly, none of the tables directly adjacent to them were occupied, affording them greater privacy.

A strategically valuable position, though not entirely relevant at the current juncture in their date.

After sitting down, she breathed in through her nostrils and hummed in appreciation when a waiter trotted past with several dishes floating after him, trailing a mouth-watering scent.

“Tempest?” Pharynx sniffed a couple of times and blinked. “Is… is that what cooked meat smells like?”

She smirked and leafed through the menu. “The good stuff you can’t find anywhere in Ponyville. Order whatever you want; we probably won’t get to dine here very often.”

“That so, huh?” He glanced at his menu and frowned. “Wait, aren’t there supposed to be prices on these things? There’s no way that they’re free.”

“If you have to ask, then you can’t afford it. It’s a thing with these places,” she said with a shrug. “Don’t worry, we’ve got enough to cover the bill between us. I’ve made sure of that.”

“Well, if that’s the case…” Pharynx grinned at the waiter and tapped a hoof on the menu. “I want this, this and this. Hmm, better get some of this, too… And don’t bother with the leaves and flowers. I don’t like salads.”

“I… yes, of course. Very good, sir.”

Tempest had to stifle some laughter working its way up when the waiter blinked and fumbled for a beat whilst jotting down Pharynx’s purely carnivorous selection. He was either new and hadn’t yet been inoculated to the tastes of the eccentric, or maybe the establishment had yet to get its share of changeling patrons. She went easy on him and chose a more omnivorous course when it was her turn to order.

The waiter’s departure brought on an unexpected lull.

Tempest sipped from her complimentary glass of water and peered into its transparent depths.

I’m on a date.

I’m here.

On a date.

She looked at Pharynx, who was still poring through the menu, maybe wondering if he should’ve ordered something else.

You’re on a date, so get on with it!

The buck’s a mare supposed to do on a date?

Her predecessor once said that no plan survives contact with the enemy. Apparently, Rarity’s dating advice fell into that category as well.

Simply calling their get-togethers by a different name had an inordinately drastic effect on the experience. Under normal circumstances, they would’ve already finished bitching about the newest recruits and moved on to cuddling or maybe even some… rigorous exercise. Nothing that involved kissing or penetration—he hadn’t yet earned that right—but definitely something more exciting than what was polite in public. Unfortunately, they were in public, and most of their repertoire seemed crass and inappropriate even with the vague recollection she had of Rarity’s thorough instruction on what constituted a romantic evening.

She didn’t feel like Tempest Shadow. Stripped of her armour and fumbling for assurance in something that was not a battlefield, it was as if she had regurgitated all her years of experience until Fizzlepop Berrytwist came spewing out, lost and weak and useless.

Her grip on the glass tightened until she could’ve sworn that it creaked.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing…” she murmured.

“What’s wrong?” asked Pharynx.

Tempest reached into one of her hidden pockets and felt the enchanted gemstones she’d procured from Princess Twilight specifically for their outing. They were hard, unyielding to the touch, and oddly enough, a tactile reminder of her place in the world.

A date was unknown territory, but indulging in a little work might reset her nerves.

She transferred her grip on the glass to her magic, heedless of the minor crackling and discomfort, and then stood up. “I need a moment. Going to the restroom to clear my head. And to do… mare things.”

Pharynx’s brow creased slightly, but he nodded and remained in his seat. “Uh, okay. See you soon, I guess.”

“Be right back.”

The restroom was in the corner farthest from their spot, and she had to go past many other tables on the way there. She kept a firm magical aura on her glass, sipping nonchalantly as she walked towards the restroom. Whilst the conspicuous aura on her glass drew the attention of any observers, she divided her attention to pop the magical gemstones out of her pocket, bounce them silently on the thick carpet, and discreetly flick them under the most interesting tables she passed. It took a lot of concentration and more than a little pain to use her magic like that, but she eventually managed to activate and plant all eight far-hearing stones without drawing suspicion. From then on, they would record nearby conversations for the next hour and transmit them to another eight linked stones in her other pocket.

She faffed around in the restroom for a while, taking the time to appreciate the calming effect a little espionage had on her nerves, before finally returning to their table. None of the other guests even gave her a second glance on the way back.

After she’d sat back down, Pharynx grinned at her from across the table. “So, who was it who gave you ‘advice’ on what to do?”

Tempest blinked. “What?”

“Who put crazy ideas into your head about what we’re supposed to do on this date?” Pharynx asked whilst he fiddled with the table candle. “You know… fancy rules about what to say, how to sit, how to look at each other and all that grubbing stuff.”

“That… would be Rarity.” She set her glass down and snorted. “What gave it away?”

“Changeling,” he simply said, gesturing to himself. “But if it makes you feel better, Thorax put me through the same torture.”

“Thorax gave you dating advice? Really?”

Pharynx rolled his eyes. “You have met my brother, right? Big horns, about this tall, mushy on the inside and the outside, doesn’t realise he’s not actually a pony?”

Tempest chuckled. “I may have, yes.”

“So, what’s your plan for this date?”

She shrugged. “I’ve forgotten everything Rarity told me.”

“And I didn’t hear a word Thorax said.” Pharynx leaned back in his chair and huffed. “So who cares about what they want? We’ll just hoof it—or wing it, whatever you ponies say—and do what we want.”

“You know what? I like the sound of that.” Tempest leaned closer over the table and rested her chin on her bridged fetlocks. “And what do we want?”

“You taste like you’re ready to go through the final stages of… courtship,” he said slowly, almost as if he was savouring each word and judging its merits like a chef. He then gave her a cheeky grin and saluted. “I’m just here waiting for you to ask or give me the order, Commander.”

Tempest stared at him for a couple of seconds before a smile slipped through her mask. “Well, damn, that’s awfully direct. And here I was, preparing for us to beat around the bush all night until we drank enough booze to make us confess our feelings for each other. Rarity would probably be offended.”

Pharynx’s grin widened. “Even better.”

She pictured the mare fainting on her tactically deployable couch and stifled a giggle. Then, she shook her head and said, “All right, fine. I suppose we can go with the direct route.”

But before either of them could start on said direct route, a waiter trotted up to their table with several dishes in tow. Tempest bristled at the interruption, but reminded herself that he technically wasn’t her subordinate and silently watched as he gracefully levitated the bowls and plates onto the table.

“Your orders have arrived, Sir and Madam,” the waiter said airily, dipping his head as he lifted the covers off their dishes with a flourish. “Please, do enjoy!”

In spite of herself, Tempest smiled at him and nodded. The food smelled too good to spoil by feeling sour about the poor timing. Pharynx was already eyeing his food like a prowling cat, so there was no point in trying to get back on the topic of their relationship. Besides, her stomach was tying itself in knots with each passing moment of being denied sustenance.

Grilled salmon. Abyssinian desert skinks with stir-fried vegetables. Roasted rabbit with potato mash and catnip, Griffish-style. And a tropical berry cocktail to top it all off.

Pharynx had gone with some baked beetles in mango sauce, locust-encrusted garlic bread, and what looked like grilled chicken wings seasoned with dark peppers. He’d also ordered a glass of iced tea.

Might as well chow down, first.

Tempest was no stranger to fine dining, having occasionally attended such events when the Storm King bothered with pretences of diplomacy, but she never would’ve guessed that Pharynx had had similar training. He used the cutlery correctly and precisely, in stark contrast to his preferred method of sticking his muzzle into the bowl whenever they ate together in the mess hall.

In her case, she had to put in a little effort with magic in spite of the discomfort, since unicorns were apparently expected to do so in this setting. She didn’t want to stand out too much, either.

The first bite of skink—tough, salty and pungent—sent her mind reeling way back to her first campaign under the Storm King, when they’d had to make do with eating whatever they could find in the desert when their supply lines got disrupted. She closed her eyes and chewed in silence as she remembered the endless complaints of her fellow legionnaires.

Things were simpler back then. Follow instructions, and try to enjoy anything in between raiding, foraging and recuperating from injuries. Good fights, good times.

“Oh grub, the hive needs to capture whoever’s in charge of cooking this,” Pharynx said after crunching and swallowing the beetles in his mouth. He then used the napkin to wipe a bit of mango sauce dribbling down his chin and added, “Either that, or I’m getting Thorax to send some of our wannabe chefs here for training! It’ll at least make them tolerable.”

Tempest smiled and sipped some cocktail. “Told you this place was special.”

Movement at the edge of her vision drew her attention away from Pharynx, though.

A trio of newcomers had entered the restaurant: one griffon and two pegasus stallions, and they were markedly underdressed for the venue, in that they were wearing absolutely nothing. Not technically unacceptable, but they did stand out in their casualness.

The griffon carried himself like a fighter, and she noticed that he was scanning the restaurant’s patrons. His eyes met hers and lingered for an instant too long before he lazily turned his gaze elsewhere and allowed the waiter to herd him and his companions to a table.

He’d been looking for her, and didn’t want her to know.

Nice try, but you slipped up.

Looking across the table, she found Pharynx looking at her with one eyebrow slightly raised; he knew something had alerted her. Glancing at his half-devoured meal, Tempest worked up a casual smile and discreetly gestured for him to carry on as if nothing was wrong. She would just have to keep her guard up and inform him when it was safe to do so; an immediate reaction would tip them off.

In the meantime...

She speared a chunk of salmon and chewed, savouring its juicy, rich flavour. She then swallowed and said, “Now, where were we?”

“You were about to say something about us taking the direct route?” Pharynx said after crunching up the last beetle.

“Right. That.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “I… bleeding hells, I have no idea if there’s a right way for me to say this, so I better get it out quick before I break again.

“Pharynx, this thing we have between us… I want it to grow. You’re unlike any soldier I’ve ever come across; you’ve taught me things no one else has, and I want you. I want you to be happy. I…”

She faltered, and distracted herself by spearing a bit of rabbit. Then, whilst she stared at the morsel on her fork, she murmured, “You know, there are entire nations in the southern lands that have lost contact with their extended families. They may not even recognise them if they crossed paths on the street.”

If Pharynx was confused by the change in topic, he didn’t show it. He simply looked on attentively and asked, “Okay, why?”

“Because we sold most of the adults into slavery, and the remainders no longer have photographs. Pictures. Genealogies, addresses, censuses, most forms of records or identifications. They burnt them all.”

“What for?”

Tempest bit the morsel off her fork and chewed. “Because they knew we were coming. We looked at photographs, family pictures… used them to figure out who had ties with whom, so we knew exactly who to torture if we wanted information.”

He nodded. “That makes sense.”

She swallowed. “And I thought them fools. I openly mocked them for allowing themselves to be saddled with such glaring weaknesses. Half of the cities we’d taken might’ve outlasted our sieges if their key personnel hadn’t broken the moment we started whipping their friends or families.”

Pharynx frowned, then squinted at the restaurant’s door.

Tempest followed his gaze just in time to see the door swing shut, but no one had entered. A second later, it swung open just wide enough to admit Gillon’s head, who looked around with a puzzled frown before reluctantly returning to his post outside.

Something was off, but Tempest couldn’t quite put her hoof on it.

“This place is being weird,” said Pharynx. “I can taste somepony really familiar, but I don’t recognise any faces around here, and I can’t pin down where it’s coming from.”

“You sure it’s not the food? They do like to put in fancy herbs and spices.”

“Please. I can tell the difference.” He then gestured at his dishes and added, “They’re delicious, but there’s nothing here that can mess with my head.”

Tempest shook her head and tapped her hoof on the table. “Whatever. Back on track.”

She leaned closer and locked eyes with him. Despite his equine disguise, she saw right through it, to the being that resided within, so alien yet so much like herself. Black, purple, cyan, red. Holes and spines. Wings and frills. Almost like he was a missing part of her that she’d only just realised she’d needed to be whole.

“Pharynx, for the first time ever since abandoning my childhood home and friends, I want to be something more than merely useful and competent.”

She grimaced and stuck her tongue out. “Ugh, I have to use the L word, don’t I?

“Pharynx, I love you.” She reached out for his left foreleg and locked pasterns with him. She swallowed and fought to keep her leg from trembling. “I want to be loved. I want you to be my greatest weakness; I want you to be my greatest strength.”

Solemnly, Pharynx placed his right foreleg over hers and squeezed. “You have me, Tempest. I am your soldier, from now until the hive is dust and memories.”

She shook her head. “I’m not your commander, and I’m not choosing you to be my subordinate. I choose you because you’re my equal.”

Pharynx grinned, and his eyes briefly flashed into a pure, inequine purple. “That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t want you to be my commander. I want you to be my queen. My mother raised me to be a weapon, the hive’s first and last line of defence, but for the first time in my life, I want to be a father. I want to fertilise eggs—your eggs. I would sire an entire swarm with you, if you would grant me the honour.”

For some reason, the thought of being mother to a family that could be classified as a swarm didn’t immediately fill Tempest with dread or disgust.

Instead, she laughed. “A swarm, huh? I like a stallion with ambition. But does it even work that way for us?”

Pharynx smirked and waggled his eyebrows. “Won’t know until we try.”

“Easy, tiger. We’ll work our way up, one step at a time…”

She released his hoof and shifted her seat around the table to get closer to him. He did the same, until they were practically side by side.

They touched shoulders. She could feel his coarse coat and his wiry musculature even through the fabric of her dress. Felt the warmth of his breath, seasoned with spices. His green pony eyes glowed softly, entranced by her gaze—or was it the other way around?

The world around them fogged up, dimmed and eventually faded away.

Tempest’s breaths slowed, lengthened as the distance shrank between their muzzles.

Her heart rate spiked as she tilted her head slightly sideways.

Should I?

She paused at the last centimetre.

Buck it, retreat is not an option!

Tempest closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his.

It started with a tingle in her lips, rippling across her skin from her muzzle to the rest of her face, down her neck and down her spine, until it raced to the ends of her limbs. Her tail lashed whilst her horn involuntarily fizzled with magic.

Then, she drew in a sharp breath and opened her mouth.

Their tongues met. His was forked, abrasive.

She shivered, but kept up the pressure and continued filling her lungs with his otherworldly scent with each breath through her nostrils.

Lightning raced through her nerves.

Fire danced on her tongue as she ventured deeper and licked his fangs.

Her tongue smarted, and it gradually spread until it filled her entire mouth with a pungent, stinging scent.

Her breath hitched.

The stinging rapidly intensified and spread to the back of her throat. The insides of her nostrils stung and clammed up. Beads of sweat erupted from her pores.

That can’t be right…

Tempest opened her eyes and spotted the remains of Pharynx’s meal. Specifically, the chicken wings. Besides some half-chewed bones on the plate, there were a couple of dark, shrivelled, triangular pods left soaking in the gravy. Then, the name of one of the dishes on the menu came back to her, unbidden.

Brimstone Delight: Succulent chicken wings with Nirik Horns, the deadliest peppers this side of Equestria!

Tempest blinked.

Oh.

Tears welled up.

Oh, holey ship, you’ve got to be kidding me!

She broke away from the kiss with a gasp and wheezed when her very breath seared the insides of her lungs.

“Tempest?”

She couldn’t answer. Too busy retching as she held onto the edge of the table.

“Tempest!”

Still too busy.

Her mouth might as well have been a lava pit for all the fire and brimstone it surely must’ve had seething in there, slowly cooking her tongue. She could feel Pharynx gingerly patting her on the back whilst she worked her way through some ragged coughing, sputtering and wheezing, before she finally slammed a hoof on the table and hoarsely bellowed, “Ice! Water! Now!”

Stunned silence filled the restaurant as all eyes turned to them.

“You heard her!” Pharynx yelled at a waiter. “Hop to it, grub!”

Said waiter dashed off.

Pharynx sniffed the air and winced. “Sorry. Forgot you ponies are super sensitive to chillies.”

“More like you changelings are the freaks with ridiculously high tolerance for hot and spicy shit…” she choked out, blinking the tears away. “How are you not dying right now?”

A waiter cantered over to their table and offered her a glass of water and a jug, along with a greenish lozenge which he levitated right up to her muzzle. “Here, Madam. Take this mint; it’s specially made for cooling you down.”

Tempest tucked the mint under her tongue and drank greedily from the glass. The icy water provided only a fleeting few seconds of relief, but the somewhat gummy mint had a surprisingly soothing effect. She pushed it around with her tongue, and slowly, like mud smothering a bonfire, the cool, minty flavour extinguished the burning agony in her mouth. It still smarted a little, but at least she could breathe again…

She collapsed into her chair and gulped down another mouthful of ice water.

“Feeling better, Madam?” asked the waiter.

“Yes, yes, thank you,” she said, waving him off. “Crisis averted.”

He nodded and trotted away.

One by one, the rest of the patrons turned their gazes back to their own business, too.

Pharynx placed a hoof on her shoulder, but she instinctively swatted it away and growled, “Wait. I need a moment.”

Sucking on the mint had helped tremendously, but it was gone all too soon, and it couldn’t do much about the aftereffects. She felt inappropriately flustered and sweaty, and her sinuses still had traces of the caustic aroma wafting around in them.

Pharynx sniggered, and when she glared at him, he held up both hooves in surrender, with a sheepish grin on his muzzle and said, “Hey, you have to admit it was funny!”

In spite of herself, Tempest grinned back and cricked her neck. “Oh, I’ll show you funny, you miserable sack of sh—”

A shadow fell across their table.

Tempest paused in mid-sentence and scowled at the intruders, silently cursing herself for not noticing the griffon and two pegasus stallions from earlier approaching from their table. They loomed over her and Pharynx, stances wide and ready for action.

“I know you,” growled one of the pegasi. “You’re Commander Tempest, aren’t you?”

Pharynx frowned. “What’s your problem?”

“Sit down, horn-head. Our business is with the good mare, here,” said the griffon.

“If it’s about the Storm King’s invasion, it wasn’t anything personal,” Tempest said slowly. “Besides, I got fired.”

“Don’t play dumb. You took everything from us!” the second pegasus snarled in her face.

Had she been with Princess Twilight, or on just about any other day, Tempest would’ve played nice, maybe apologised and tried to make amends, but under the current circumstances, she was fresh out of hoots to give.

So, she glared right back at them and said, “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Traitor!”

Tempest raised her foreleg to deflect the stallion’s incoming blow, but Pharynx intercepted him first, grabbing his hoof with magic and yanking hard so that he fell flat on his barrel across their table with a startled grunt. Plates and cutlery bounced and clattered all around the pegasus, and before he could roll off the table, Pharynx pounced on him and got him into a headlock.

The griffon, outraged by Pharynx’s assault, reared up and raised an arm to claw him, but seized up when Tempest leapt out of her chair and zapped him with a small arc of crackling magic. That gave her all the time she needed to grab his arm and twist it behind his back. For good measure, she snagged her knife with magic and pressed the tip into his wingpit.

The first pegasus, still unhindered by either of them, leapt forward and punched Tempest right in the cheekbone. She grunted but kept her hold on the griffon. It was a relatively weak and half-hearted blow, anyway, perhaps done out of fright rather than pure hate or professionalism; the stallion certainly didn’t look like a weakling.

“You get that one for free,” she said to him. Then, she applied more pressure with the knife—drawing a pained yelp from griffon—and added, “Try anything and I’ll make sure your friend here never flies again.”

“And this one might lose an eye,” Pharynx chimed in as he levitated a fork in front of the other pegasus’ face.

The free pegasus flicked his gaze between his companions, then snorted and retreated a couple of steps, tail lashing.

“Look, I get it. I know you all suffered during the invasion, and I’m sorry for being a part of that. But you’ve caught me at a really bad time right now, so unless you all want to go home on stretchers, I suggest you get back to your table and enjoy the rest of your evening,” she growled. “And if you’re still mad about it tomorrow, you can come to Ponyville and complain to Princess Twilight. She’ll make sure I’m properly disciplined for whatever I’ve done to you. Deal?”

All three thugs remained silent.

Then, the main door swung open as Gillon barged into the restaurant—one of the staff must’ve alerted him. He’d rolled up his sleeves and looked just about ready to toss someone’s flank out when his eyes found them. He then slowed to a halt and simply stared.

Tempest gave him an apologetic smile and addressed her captive griffon. “I’m going to let you go, and you’re going to walk back to your table and leave us alone. Nobody needs to get kicked out tonight over a little misunderstanding, right?”

Silence for a couple of seconds.

Then, the pegasus who’d thrown the first punch squirmed in Pharynx’s grip and muttered, “You know what? It looks like we got the wrong mare after all. Sorry for kicking up a fuss.”

“How about you?” she asked, nudging the griffon.

He grumbled. “Yeah, we cool.”

Tempest released him just as Pharynx did the same for the pegasus. The two thugs took a moment to nurse their strained appendages and wipe food stains off their coats before joining their third companion, and then all three of them stalked back to their table without another word.

Whilst Pharynx straightened out the tablecloth and tidied up their upset plates, she righted her chair, sat back down and cocked an eyebrow at her impromptu audience.

Most of the couples hastily averted their eyes and minded their own business. The waiters and staff took a little longer, but they too went back to work and acted as if nothing had happened.

The larger groups of more business-like patrons, however, had a few members who gave her long, appraising looks, like animals sizing up a potential intruder on their turf. But eventually, they ignored her, too.

And finally, Gillon rolled his eyes, gave her an exasperated sigh and lumbered back out, muttering under his breath.

“Well, that was fun,” said Pharynx as he brushed a few stray crumbs off his vest.

A waiter hurried over to assist with cleaning and tidying up their table, but Tempest simply waved off his rapid-fire apology on behalf of management and allowed him to leave with their empty plates.

She sipped at her cocktail, which had mercifully survived the scuffle, and watched the rest of the patrons enjoying their evening.

“Tempest, are you okay?”

I should not be here…

Whether justified or not, those thugs did have a point. Going by the laws of most of the nations the Storm King had subjugated, she was a war criminal. Had she lost to anyone other than Twilight Sparkle, she would be in chains, rotting in a cell or toiling in a field instead of wearing a pretty dress and having dinner in a fancy restaurant with Pharynx…

From behind her chair, Pharynx rested his chin on her shoulder and whispered, “You’re brooding again.”

“Mm hmm. I hear I’m really good at it.”

“Me too. Thorax and Starlight say it’s unhealthy.”

Tempest stroked his cheek and laid her hoof on his neck, but said nothing.

“Those grubs don’t know what they’re talking about, anyway. I could feel it.”

She remained silent.

“Hey, I’m sorry about the stupid spicy food thing. I keep forgetting there are things we can eat that make ponies annoyed or sick.” He then wrapped both legs around her barrel and continued, “How about we ditch this place and go somewhere quieter?”

“Hmm?”

“I could hold you. Real tight.” She could almost hear his smirk. “And if you feel like it, maybe we can try a different kind of brooding.”

Tempest’s grin promptly shoved her sulk off her face and tied it up in a trunk. “Not that I’m an expert or anything, but you’re a shameless flirt, you know that?”

“Of course. Shame is an aberrant mutation in changelings,” he said with a snort. “So… you forgive me?”

“Like I said, it’s not your fault.”

Tempest nuzzled him, then stretched her leg out and tapped on the table with a hoof. When Pharynx stepped back and gave her a quizzical look, she motioned for him to sit.

“Actually, I’m the one with a confession to make,” she said after he’d sat down next to her. She then flicked her gaze to the patrons, then back to Pharynx. “There’s another reason I chose this place, besides the food.”

“Yeah, been wondering about that.”

She leaned closer and whispered, “Short story is that this place is quite the popular hangout for those who have… dealings in the black market. Dreamweed, kirin beer, weapons-grade Poison Joke extract, cursed artefacts—you name it, there’s probably someone here selling. It’s not quite on the level of the cartels in Kludgetown and Abyssinia, but significant enough to warrant a crackdown.”

“Really?” Pharynx glanced at the other patrons and frowned. “Doesn’t look like there’s much room for big business.”

“Well, this is more the meeting place where the deals take place. Unless it’s something small like a spellbook or a packet of Siren scales, the actual shipments will change hands elsewhere.” – she made a circular motion with her hoof – “But here? This is where the bosses and their suppliers like to meet to conduct business.”

“And ponies have never caught them before?”

Tempest smirked. “They’ve never had my connections before now. In fact, I’m sure that some of the dreamweed stock I used to guard was sold here.”

“Okay, and what does this have to do with us?”

She fished one of the enchanted gems out of her pocket and placed it on the table. Then, she used Twilight’s auditory spell to replay what it had recorded from its twin hidden beneath one of the syndicate’s tables at a low volume. It didn’t take her long to tweak it to the parts with relevant information; several voices haggled over exorbitant prices for artefacts with illegal enchantments.

Satisfied, she slipped it back into her pocket.

“This was my contingency plan if things didn’t go smoothly for our date.” Tempest breathed in deeply and let her breath whoosh out. “And, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a bit of a rough evening, and our first kiss wasn’t quite as magical as I’d been led to believe. Right now, I just want to kick some criminal ass.”

Pharynx blinked and tilted his head in the direction of the patrons. “We get to fight them all?”

“Only those whom I have evidence on, and of them, only those who resist arrest. Also, we may have to share with the police if they get here quickly.”

“These grubs any good in a fight?”

“Well, these types tend to hire decent bodyguards, so I’d expect a reasonable challenge.” She then cocked an eyebrow when a massive grin split his muzzle. “You’re not disappointed that I’ve declared our date a subpar experience?”

“Are you kidding?” He sniggered and then nuzzled her. “How can I ever be disappointed when you’ve just announced the main course? You just saved the best part for last!”

“I… huh.” Tempest blinked at him.

Then, she nuzzled his neck, and slowly worked her way up until she found his mouth and kissed him. He protested with a cautionary mumble, but she knew better than to shove her tongue in there again and simply stuck to the basics when snogging. The residual spiciness still stung her lips, but that didn’t stop her from having another electrifying experience that simultaneously satisfied yet filled her with longing for more.

Eventually, they parted lips.

Pharynx smiled. “I love you, my queen.”

She felt herself redden and quickly huffed, “Love you too, my princely motherbugger.”

A moment of silence and contentment passed between them.

Then, Pharynx began taking off his vest and shirt, which drew a scandalised look from a mare at the other table.

Meanwhile, Tempest charged up a spell on her horn, and once he’d finished stripping, she sent a blast out the stained glass window. The blue, crackling bolt shattered one pane, screeched as it soared into the dark sky and then exploded into a shower of sparks that lit up the canopies of the trees below.

A split-second later, the resounding boom rattled the windows and chandeliers, which she took as her cue to stand up to her full height and slam her hoof on the table.

She then gave the patrons a couple of seconds to yelp, shriek and otherwise look around in confusion until they focused their glares on her, at which point she yelled, “Knock-knock, everybody, this is a raid!”

A flash of green fire punctuated her words, and Pharynx reappeared by her side in his dark changeling form, snarling and baring his fangs. “You grubs try anything stupid, and I’ll suck all the love out of every single one of you!”

Silence reigned whilst everyone took a moment or two to process the situation.

Practically all of the romantically-inclined couples stared at them in confusion, but the larger parties regarded them with newfound wariness. Diamond dogs bristled, thestrals bared their fangs, and horns glowed faintly with discreet magic. The trio of thugs were staring at them with their mouths hanging open.

Nobody made a move, though.

One seedy unicorn stallion with slicked-back hair rose from his seat and frowned at Tempest.

“My dear, perhaps you are mistaken,” he said smoothly, gesturing to himself and his cohorts. “This fine establishment has a long history of only admitting the most upstanding citizens in Equestria, and to imply that it is a den of criminal activity worthy of such a graceless invasion of privacy is a grave insult.”

“Also, you have no jurisdiction!” a grizzled diamond dog called out. “You’re not police!”

“And even if you were, you have no evidence or a warrant,” a griffon added.

Tempest smiled. “Glad you asked.”

She picked the gem recording from earlier and poured magic into it, tweaking up the volume until a smooth, oily voice filled the restaurant, saying, “—no deal, my friend. Ten thousand bits is a pittance for the last surviving copies of Non Consent’s Ensorcelments of the Mind and Doctor Jackal’s Fiendship is Magic. Thirty thousand, or they go my other clients in Hollow Shades.”

“Sounds like pretty good evidence to me,” said Tempest, when she stopped the playback and slid the gem into her pocket. Then, she turned her gaze to the diamond dog who’d challenged her and added, “You’re right, though. I’m no police mare; I’m Lieutenant Tempest Shadow of the Royal Guard, and—oh, guess what?—it turns out that I do have joint jurisdiction local law enforcement in all Equestrian territories.

“And that little lightshow from forty seconds ago? That was the signal for the cops to surround this property and secure all exits. Nobody leaves until we say so.”

The door’s tinkling bell heralded Gillon’s arrival once more. He gave Tempest one look, then grimaced, closed his eyes and massaged his forehead as he quietly pulled the door shut.

More silence.

Then, a middle-aged thestral mare bedecked in jewellery and lavish furs glowered at Tempest from a couple of tables away. She was surrounded by a posse of diamond dogs in business suits, one of whom had a distinctly wolf-like head and looked the equal of a minotaur in upper-body strength. When she whispered in his ear, he growled an affirmative and pulled out an enormous, spiked club from underneath the table.

“I suppose that leaves us no choice but to teach you a lesson.” The mare graced them with a sadistic smile. “It’s been a while since my boys have had some exercise, and dear Fluffy over here has been rather antsy all evening.”

“Now, wait a minute!” cried a portly earth pony as he came cantering into the restaurant from the staff quarters. “If you all would just kindly take this outside—”

The manager’s protestations abruptly ceased when Fluffy viciously brandished his spiked club and snarled, “Smashing time!”

Emboldened by his display, the other hirelings drew their own weapons or charged up their magic, jeering and hollering as they psyched themselves up for a brawl.

Mares screamed. Stallions shouted. The entirety of the staff fled to the kitchen at the back, whilst the guest couples cowered in the corners of the restaurant or sought refuge in the restrooms. A few, including the three thugs from earlier, simply sat frozen in their seats with glazed eyes, as if they couldn’t quite comprehend the situation they’d found themselves in.

Tempest, however, stood unfazed by the chaos.

She simply looked at Pharynx and stepped away from their table, at which point he stepped forward and shoved it aside with the sheer force of his rapid expansion as he transformed into his hulking hornet-scorpion form. He then screeched at their adversaries, forcing many of the batponies and diamond dogs to flinch and flatten their ears.

Tempest grinned back at the now-hesitant mob. “Mine’s bigger.”

For a moment, everyone stood still, at an impasse. Aside from a few muttered curses, nobody said a word. Then, a stack of plates shattered in the background.

“Get ’em!” someone shouted.

The mob charged, and Tempest barked a warning before snapping her eyes shut and firing a broad volley of sparks at them. A series of loud bangs accompanied the bright flashes that penetrated her eyelids, followed by a cacophony of grunts, yips and howls.

When she opened her eyes, she found many of her blinded adversaries sprawled on the floor and heaped against the furniture and one another. Those who’d flown were hovering and cursing as they blinked their teared-up eyes. Most had dropped their weapons, and the few unicorns had either misfired or outright aborted their spells.

Time to go to work.

Tempest advanced with Pharynx taking point. His bulk shielded her from most attacks, and he had the reach and strength to clear space with his massive, crablike claws whenever the mob threatened to surround and literally dogpile them. For her part, she guarded his rear and flanks, kicking, shoving and zapping anyone who’d otherwise have landed a successful sneak attack.

Whenever she could, she struck her enemies in their pressure points or most susceptible bits of anatomy within reach, by hoof of with magic, incapacitating them with combinations of nervous disruption, impaired breathing or sheer, exquisite pain. Pharynx, on the other hoof, preferred to induce catatonia by introducing their faces to furniture at extreme velocity. Fluffy got his head rammed clean through the middle of a table before passing out.

One by one, they whittled down resistance, but the numbers were still stacked against them.

She’d counted thirty-odd opponents of credible threat, and by the time they were done with half of them, the rest were beginning to take a toll.

Pharynx was her armour, but even though he intercepted blows from their strongest adversaries, he could not guard her from every angle. Her dress afforded no protection against their weapons, and she steadily racked up an assortment of cuts and bruises from knives, hooves, fists and claws. Worse still, a few amongst them were strong enough to hurt Pharynx with blunt force even through his tough chitin. His pained screeches felt like needles in her heart, which led to sloppy mistakes and even more injuries.

She hadn’t anticipated their relationship having this much of an impact on their combat effectiveness.

Even with backup on the way, one bad mistake might cascade into a series of disasters that led to her being taken hostage before their arrival, and if that happened, Pharynx probably would do anything to appease her captors and keep her from further harm…

Shit.

Then, as if out of nowhere, a griffon pounced on her back and sent her tumbling away from Pharynx. They grappled and rolled, knocking over chairs in the process, until they halted with the griffon straddling her belly.

Shit!

“Nighty-night, sweetheart!” he crowed as he raised his talons to rake her face.

Then, a plate sailed into his temple and shattered into a hundred pieces. He turned to face the source of distraction and barely managed to squawk before a flying wine bottle smashed into his forehead, drenching him in liquor and making him go cross-eyed with his tongue hanging out.

Tempest shoved his limp body off herself and saw the shadowy silhouette of a pegasus stallion looming in his place.

It then stretched out a foreleg to her. “Need a hoof?”

She blinked. It was one of the thugs who’d confronted her earlier. All trace of bewilderment had vanished from his face, replaced by a calm alertness that was in stark contrast to the chaos around them.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked as she took his hoof and sat up on her haunches.

“Uh…”

Tempest grabbed his mane and yanked him down just in time to avoid getting struck in the neck by a magic bolt. A second later, his pegasus companion leapt into view and overturned a nearby table so that they could scoot over and huddle behind it for cover.

“You guys aren’t civilians,” she said, frowning. “Who’re you?”

“Crystal Empire Militia, Division Six,” said the other stallion. “He’s Nimbus, I’m Feldspar, and that’s Greg.”

She heard a meaty thud followed by a yelp, right before a griffon vaulted over their table and crouched beside her.

“Thought you might appreciate the assist,” said Greg, wincing as he plucked a four-inch splinter from his bleeding thigh. “Sorry, lieutenant, but we had absolutely no idea we were tromping in on a covert op. Would’ve stayed out of your mane if we’d known.”

Tempest nodded and peered over the top of their cover. The mob had given Pharynx a wide berth and continuously bombarded him with anything they could get their hooves and hands on whilst they regrouped with their bosses near the restrooms.

“We’ll sort that out later,” she said. “Right now, we need to—”

“Taste my power, monster!” someone cried.

Then, a blinding flash of red light forced Tempest to shield her eyes. She heard a loud hiss and the rippling hum of magic, followed by crunching wood and a heavy thud.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a plume of green fire that left Pharynx in his normal form, sprawled across a slanted table as red magic crackled and arced over his chitin. With a groan, he stirred and rolled down the slope, leaving a long smear of gravy and condiments in his wake.

“Oh, hayseed,” Nimbus muttered, wide-eyed as he stared at the source of that magical attack.

One of the unicorns hovered a full metre in the air, engulfed in an aura of magic that resembled red, boiling oil filled with inky, black splotches. His eyes glowed white with reddish coronas, and his previously slick mane fanned out and waved as if he was floating underwater. A black pendant with scintillating runes on its surface hung from a silver chain that fit snugly around his neck.

“Oh, that’s just not fair!” Feldspar cried.

Then, the unicorn locked eyes with Tempest, and his horn blazed to life with red and black energy.

“Move!”

They barely had enough time to scramble away from the table before the empowered unicorn cratered it with an eldritch blast, which sent them sprawling across the carpeted floor nearly three metres away. Tempest could almost hear the sinister whispers as the magical residue evaporated along with the shower of wooden splinters and ceramic fragments, despite the cheering from the mobsters.

“Hold still, cretins!” The unicorn’s voice rippled with power as he fired a continuous beam of eldritch energy at them.

They scattered, and Tempest quickly realised that the unicorn was aiming for her, since he kept the beam hot on her tail as she dashed and zigzagged around broken chairs and overturned tables. Fortunately, he didn’t have enough juice to keep it up for more than three or four seconds, though she could tell from his clenched teeth and focused glare that he was mustering the will to make another attempt.

Could she close the distance between them before he managed another destructive beam? Definitely not with his cronies chucking the odd projectile at her every now and then, and Pharynx was still out of commission. She’d most likely have to bait him into burning himself out before she could take him down, and hope that he didn’t switch targets to someone less agile…

“All right, everypony, that’s enough!”

Tempest turned towards the new voice and frowned when she saw a hooded figure standing in another corner of the restaurant, roughly at right angles from the space between her original table and the mob.

The figure tore off its hooded cloak and then spread her wings wide in a protective stance whilst some of the non-combatant guests hid amongst the furniture behind her, and her horn simmered with purple magic.

Tempest’s jaw dropped. “Boss?”

“Say, ain’t that the new princess?” a diamond dog wondered aloud.

“Oh, we are so boned…”

“It’s just one puny princess,” cried the empowered unicorn. “Get off your flanks and attack! We can still take all of them!”

His henchmen hesitated.

Twilight stepped forward. “Mister, please take off that pendant. It’s a Class Four relic with corrupting side effects, and it’s extremely dangerous for untrained users!”

“I’ll show you extremely dangerous!”

Tempest leapt forward just as the unicorn unleashed a blast at Twilight, feeling her gut twist with the realisation that she would never make it in time to get her out of harm’s way. Then, she gasped and skidded to a halt when Twilight fired her own beam of magic.

The two beams clashed, but instead of exploding outward as Tempest had expected, they merged into one continuous stream, with the energy flowing towards Twilight. The seething, angry red magic gradually paled and calmed as it passed the midway point, turning purple and almost water-like before spiralling into Twilight’s horn.

“Wait, what are you doing?” The unicorn flinched and backpedalled, but remained glued to the spot as more and more red magic leaked out of his horn and the pendant. “You idiots, stop her!”

A particularly enterprising pair of goons, one griffon and one thestral, leapt into the air and dove towards Twilight. Tempest zapped the griff in mid-air with a stun bolt, jumped onto a table and then launched herself off it in order to intercept the batpony with a tackle before he could bash Twilight with a broken chair leg. The griffon crashed onto a table, twitching, whilst Tempest grappled with Twilight’s would-be assailant on the floor, kicking and punching each other until she landed a good hit on his solar plexus and temporarily paralysed him.

That was all the time Twilight needed.

A final burst of red light erupted from the pendant as it unclasped itself from around the unicorn’s neck, and it sailed towards Twilight in an incandescent cloud of purple magic that bubbled with green and black splotches. Its chain went around her neck and its clasp snapped shut whilst Twilight hovered in the air without the use of her wings, inhaling deeply as the last traces of magic spiralled into her horn and her nostrils.

Then, as soon as the magic vanished, Twilight dropped back onto all fours and grimaced as if she’d just swallowed something rancid. The pendant remained black and dormant around her neck, though some traces of gangrenous magic still sparkled on her horn.

“My power! What have you done?” cried the unicorn as he frantically groped at his neck. He then smacked a stout earth pony on the head and bellowed, “Get it back from her!”

If any of the henchmen had entertained any notions of taking on Princess Twilight with a cursed relic around her neck, they’d most certainly dropped them like hot coals when she stomped a hoof irritably and cracked the floor beneath an expanding ring of ignited carpet.

“Oops!” Twilight grinned sheepishly and hastily stamped out the purple flames before clearing her throat and schooling her face into a stern expression. “Okay, can we all call it quits for tonight? The police are here, and I’m sure that nopony wants to add more charges to their list of misdemeanours.”

Indeed, Tempest could finally hear the chatter of voices and stomping of hooves outside, signalling the arrival of her backup.

Shadows flitted outside the windows and red and blue lights flashed in the background. Then, the door burst open, and in poured a dozen ponies in uniform who shouted, “Fillydelphia Police, everypony on the floor, right now!”

The pack of criminals huddled in a defensive circle, most of whom still clutched their weapons as they muttered and whispered amongst themselves. The bosses, however, were busy rifling through their saddlebags and lockboxes, probably in search of another relic that they might wield against Twilight and the police.

But their last ditch efforts were cut short when a dark blue alicorn imperiously strode past the police and froze them all with a baleful glare.

One squat diamond dog dropped the spellbook he was flipping through and moaned, “Oh dog, it’s another one… they’re crawling out of the dogdamned walls!”

“What foul enterprise is this?” Princess Luna bellowed, looking from one criminal to the next. Then, she stomped a hoof when she saw Twilight’s ruffled state. “And to attack one of Equestria’s sovereigns, no less. The sheer gall of it! I would see you all banished to the abyss for this transgression!”

In an instant, all of the thestrals dropped their weapons and prostrated themselves before Princess Luna, squeaking and wailing and sobbing as they begged for mercy. Then, deprived of nearly half of their remaining comrades, the others followed suit and surrendered.

From there, Tempest only had to watch as the police swarmed in to secure the criminals and escort everyone else out under Luna’s watchful gaze. Paramedics arrived soon after to tend to those who’d been knocked out in the fight. Some of them looked a little unnerved by Luna’s presence, and for good reason; she did not look particularly happy with the variety of illegal substances they were confiscating.

Speaking of contraband…

Twilight was sitting at one of the few intact tables, sipping from a glass of wine as she watched the proceedings with an off-kilter smile. The pendant was glowing softly again.

“Boss!” Tempest dashed over to her and nearly bowled over a startled paramedic in her haste. Then, when she saw Twilight’s rigid posture, twitching wings and contracted pupils, she carefully sat next to her and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Well… I just found myself smack in the middle of a raid-turned-tavern-brawl—apparently orchestrated by my personal guard, I must add—that’s resulted in damages to private property, bodily harm and multiple arrests!”

Twilight grimaced and shut her eyes as her horn and the pendant flared in synchrony, and then subsided with a fit of hysterical giggling. “Oh, and I’m currently having a conversation with an evil relic promising me unlimited power in exchange for devoting the rest of my life to the consumption of the essences of sapient beings. It’s not being terribly logical about it, but I’ll give it an A-plus for effort in trying to brute-force its way through the defences I’d prepared. Aside from that, everything’s just peachy!”

Twilight then turned to an approaching figure and waved. “Oh, hi, Luna. Fancy seeing you here!”

“We could say the same about you,” said Princess Luna as she sat down with them. “This hardly seems the sort of place you would frequent.”

“Oh, you know…” Twilight waved a hoof dismissively and took another gulp of wine. “Sometimes you just need to stalk your bodyguard because you went into her office and found documents referencing criminal activities taking place in an out-of-town venue that happens to be in the same city and on the same day that she told you was supposed to be her date with a special somebuggy, leading you to suspect that she wasn’t being entirely honest and having all kinds of paranoid ideas about her slipping back into her old ways and stuff.”

Tempest winced. “Sorry. Didn’t want to trouble you, and I just wanted Pharynx and I to—”

Pharynx!

She sat bolt upright, ears flat as she scanned the restaurant. “Damn it, I forgot about him!”

“He’s fine,” said Princess Luna.

She flashed with green fire, and in her place sat Pharynx, smirking whilst Twilight’s jaw dropped.

“Why, you little hayseed—that was a dirty trick!” one of the criminals cried.

“You’re just mad because you couldn’t stop giving me the salute from down under!” Pharynx shot back as the thestral was hauled away in cuffs, furiously sputtering out a denial.

Most of the police officers had paused to watch with mild fascination when he transformed, with only a few actually balking to stare, and they were quick to get back to work once they’d satisfied their curiosity. Credit where it was due: their superiors had properly informed them of the fact that Tempest was working with a changeling in the field.

She gave Pharynx a quick once-over and sighed when she found nothing more than some minor scuffing and dents on his chitin.

“Okay, that was some good misdirection. I’m almost mad that I didn’t see it coming,” she said with a half-scowl. “You had me worried for a second.”

“Your concern was delicious, though.” He licked his lips and grinned as he rubbed his belly. “I’m feeling better already!”

“But I—what?” Twilight cried, shaking her head as she frantically looked from Tempest to Pharynx and to the officers milling around them. She then covered her mouth with a hoof and mumbled, “And did I just admit to stalking you? Aargh!”

Twilight raised a hoof to forestall questions and glared at the pendant. “S’cuse me a minute. Can’t think with this thing around my neck…”

She unfastened the clasp and tugged on the pendant with her magic. She winced when the chain necklace went taut, but she kept pulling it inch by agonising inch away from her neck, as if it was a powerful magnet attracted to her flesh. Then, it crossed an invisible threshold and released all that tension with an audible snap, leaving Twilight gasping for breath as she held it away at arm’s length.

She then summoned a lockbox, tossed in the pendant and snapped the lid shut. “Phew, that’s better!”

With the relic out of the way, all the tension leaked out of her like water from a punctured balloon, and Twilight slumped against the table with palpable relief. Her pupils dilated back to normal proportions, and even though her hair remained frazzled with residual magic, at least it looked more like a case of minor sleep deprivation rather than some eldritch mania.

Then, Twilight’s eyes shot wide open and her jaw dropped as she quickly scanned Tempest from horn to hoof. “Oh no, you’re bleeding! And your dress—it’s ruined!”

Tempest looked down and shrugged when she saw the numerous rips, tears and cuts on her dress, in addition to food stains and a few wet patches of blood. She had many superficial lacerations, most of which had already stopped bleeding. She would definitely feel the bruises in the morning, though.

“Unfortunate collateral,” she replied. “I’ll have to apologise to Rarity.”

“Speaking of apologies…” Pharynx interjected, giving Twilight a pointed look. “Didn’t you just admit that you were stalking us?”

“Yeah, about that…” Twilight ruffled her wings and chewed her lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, but to be fair, you actually were up to something that looked really questionable to an outside observer. I mean, what was I supposed to think when I saw those shipping manifests and missives to shady ponies on your desk? And that was on top of those audial scrying gems you asked for!”

“How’d you do it?” asked Pharynx. “I thought I’d tasted your nervousness back there, but I never saw you once. Were you invisible?”

Twilight shook her head. “Oh, no, that’ll be the Wallflower spell. In some ways, it’s even better than invisibility or silence, because it simply makes the user incredibly uninteresting to casual observers. You both came close to seeing through the spell a couple of times, though.”

“So, you were in here with us the whole time?”

“Most of it. And, uh, practically all of the way from the Fillydelphia Station. I took such a long time to get involved because I was having a panic attack, and then I got hit by your flashbang spells.” Twilight massaged her temples and scrunched her eyes. “They really hurt.”

A moment of silence, then…

“You know, you could’ve just stopped me and demanded an explanation at any point, right?” Tempest cocked an eyebrow. “I would’ve called it off if you gave the order.”

Twilight groaned. “I know, but I didn’t want to look silly if it turned out that you weren’t up to anything. And also…” – here, she averted her eyes and gingerly tapped her hooves together – “I’ve never gone on a date before, despite reading way too many books on the subject. I suddenly had the idea of conducting field research on the… reliability of those books whilst making sure you weren’t getting into trouble. You know, efficiency!”

More silence.

Then, Pharynx chuckled and said, “You should’ve been hatched a changeling.”

Twilight blinked. “What?”

“I mean, you seem to have a thing for spying on ponies getting together,” he continued, grinning all the while. “Did you at least enjoy the show? I bet you were eavesdropping with magic, too!”

Twilight turned beet-red and hid her face with her wings.

“Okay, knock it off,” said Tempest. “I think we can all agree that there’s plenty of fault to go around.”

“Speak for yourselves.” Pharynx leaned back in his chair and patted himself on the chest. “Innocent changeling right here!”

Tempest had no retort to that, but she was spared the need to do so when she noticed several figures approaching their table from the corner of her vision. She turned and saw a large, uniformed earth stallion leading the group.

He saluted. “Lieutenant Tempest.”

She nodded. “Inspector General.”

“These fellows say that they’re with you,” he said, gesturing to the two pegasi and griffon standing behind him, flanked by another pair of burly police mares. “Were they in on the op as well? Couldn’t find any ID on them.”

Feldspar raised a primary feather and sheepishly said, “Crystal Empire Militia don’t typically get IDs apart from our uniforms—we’re still a little behind the times—and we aren’t wearing them right now because we’re under cover.”

Tempest narrowed her eyes. “What’s your business here? I had no contact with the Crystal Empire for this operation.”

“Uh…”

Tempest gave Twilight and Pharynx a cursory glance and realised that neither of them showed any recognition for the militia. And judging by their nervous fidgeting, they didn’t have any unannounced ties with Twilight or Pharynx, either.

“You three aren’t crystal ponies,” she pointed out.

“We’re still Crystal Empire citizens,” said Greg, puffing out his chest. “We serve just the same as the sparkly guys. Been living there for almost as long as it’s been back from limbo.”

“And the Storm King never made it to the Crystal Empire, so what was all that talk about me destroying your homes and stuff?”

Nimbus opened his mouth, then snapped it shut when he saw Inspector General scowling at him.

Tempest suppressed a grin. She had them by the marbles, and they knew it. One word, and they’d be hauled off for processing with the rest of the criminals.

“So… let’s try this again.” She rested her elbow on the table and propped up her chin on her fetlock. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Nimbus gulped. “Princess Cadance, she wanted us to—”

“Shut it!” hissed Greg.

“The Princess of Food?” Pharynx tilted his head. “What does she have to do with this?”

Feldspar scowled at his companions and shook his head. “Okay, fine. I guess there’s no harm in telling you now…

“We were ordered to tail both of you and keep an eye on how your date was proceeding. If things got iffy between you, we were supposed to create a confrontation or a disturbance of some sort that would provoke the two of you into working together to keep the peace or eliminate the threat.”

“What?” Twilight shrieked. She then cringed when all eyes turned to her and tried to burrow her face into the table. “Oh, stars above, that mare is out of control…”

“I swear, we had no idea that you were planning an operation of your own,” Feldspar continued after giving Twilight a nervous glance. “So… yeah. Funny how that turned out.”

“That was reckless!” Twilight cried, flaring her wings.

Greg shrugged. “The hazard pay was good. Upfront, too, plus guaranteed coverage of medical bills and fines racked up while on the job.”

“How’d you get the timing right?” Twilight demanded. “Tempest didn’t inform me until a couple of days before, and I never said a word to Cadance!”

“Thorax…” Pharynx growled. “He’s probably been getting tips from her on my behalf. He knew my schedule, and of course she would dig that info out of him.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you three were basically sent here to be unsolicited chaperones for a couple of high-ranking officials from allied nations, in a city that isn’t part of your sovereign territory. Do I have that right?” Tempest rounded on them and raised an eyebrow. “She sent you to spy on us.”

Feldspar gestured vaguely with a hoof. “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way…”

Tempest narrowed her eyes. “She sent you to spy on us.”

He opened his mouth, paused for a couple of seconds and then deflated. “She sent us to spy on you.”

“Point of contact?”

“We had you marked from the train station. We knew how to keep our distance.”

“And how’d you get past the bouncer?”

“How else? Griffons love gold,” said Nimbus. “And the princess gave us plenty just for contingencies like this.”

Tempest huffed and shook her head. “Figures. I wasn’t imagining things after all…”

Then, everyone jumped when Pharynx suddenly burst out laughing.

“Hah! This is rich!” he said in between gasps for breath. “I can’t believe that I’m actually the least duplicitous guy in this room!”

“I’m confused, Inspector,” said one of the police mares as she flipped back and forth between looking to her superior for instructions and giving concerned sidelong glances to Pharynx. “Are we supposed to arrest these guys or not?”

“It’s fine, Inspector General. I’ll take them off your hooves.” Tempest beckoned the militia to seat themselves and then saluted the officers. “Been a pleasure working with you fillies and gentlecolts tonight. I’ll have the paperwork and evidence sent to the FPD tomorrow.”

“Works for me.” The inspector general smiled and tipped his hat when he met Twilight’s eyes. “Princess Twilight, Lieutenant Tempest, you all have yourselves a good evening. If there’s anything else you need, we’ll be around all night locking this place down and taking statements.

“Oh, and General Pharynx? If any of your folks are thinking about joining the force, please send them my way. You’ve just given me a new appreciation for what your people can do for law enforcement.”

With that said, he turned and took his subordinates with him, leaving them all in relative peace at their table whilst surrounded by a hive of activity as the police began combing through the debris for anything they might’ve missed.

“So… uh, thanks for covering our flanks,” said Nimbus. “Princess Cadance did say that we’d get royal pardons in advance, but she’d still appreciate not having any paperwork if we could avoid it.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said, forestalling any protestations with a wave of her hoof. “Seriously, don’t. I don’t need the paperwork, either.”

By then, Pharynx had finally gotten most of the guffaws out of his system, and apparently swung all the way around to a melancholy disposition as he start blankly at nothing in particular. He then groaned and cradled his head with his hooves. “Oh grub, the changeling’s the least duplicitous one amongst a bunch of ponies. We’ve really fallen far, haven’t we? I’m a disgrace to the hive…”

“Or maybe you just lack imagination…” Twilight muttered.

Pharynx froze, and then slowly lifted his head to stare at her. “Did… did the Princess of Friendship just insult me to my face?”

Twilight’s eyes shot wide open.

But before she could stammer out an apology, Pharynx cracked a grin, thumped his hoof on the table and pointed it at her in triumph. “There, that! There’s hope for you after all. I’m so proud of you. Now, if you could teach Thorax to snark like that, I might even ease up on border security with Equestria when I get back to the hive!”

Twilight simply sighed and downed the rest of her wine.

“So, not that we’re in a position to ask, but… what happens now?” asked Greg.

Tempest and Pharynx shared a look.

Then, he sidled up and put a hoof around her shoulder, saying, “I want to spend the rest of the night with my special somepony. So, get lost.”

Feldspar sucked in a breath through his nostrils, then stood up and sighed. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Nimbus and Greg got up as well and politely dipped their heads before following Feldspar. Neither the police nor the remaining staff attempted to stop them. But when they were halfway to the door, Pharynx drew their gazes back with a shrill whistle.

“And by the way, tell your princess that the next time I catch anyone spying on me and Tempest, I’ll have them podded up and mailed back to her with eggs laid inside them.” He then grinned and added, “You three, however, are welcome to drop by and visit anytime. I might even get you a beer, or whatever it is you mammals like to drink.”

After a moment, Nimbus and Feldspar nodded with dubious smiles on their muzzles. Greg simply settled for a thumbs-up, and they all trotted out the door.

“I guess I’d better get busy, too.” Twilight stood up and summoned her discarded cloak. “These officers might need my help if they come across any more cursed artefacts.”

“Will you need an escort home once you’re done?” asked Tempest.

“We’re in Fillydelphia, not Kludgetown. I think I can make my way home in one piece,” Twilight retorted with a rueful smile. Then, she put a hoof to her chin and mumbled, “But… maybe it’s best if you tell me where you’ll be for the next few hours, in case we discover another den of hardened criminals hiding somewhere inside this mansion.”

“We’ll be outside in the park. Just send up a flare and I’ll find you.”

“Outside?” Twilight tilted her head as Tempest and Pharynx rose and began walking out. “Hang on, are you sure you don’t want to find another nice restaurant to pick up where you left off? I think I can recommend a few places on Glitter Street that’s only fifteen minutes away from here, or you could try—”

“It’s all right, Princess. The park’s better than any restaurant,” said Pharynx.

“Better? In what way?” Twilight blinked. “You’re not thinking about eating grass, are you?”

“Yuck, no!” Pharynx briefly met Tempest’s eyes before he turned back to Twilight and bobbed his head vaguely. “I just want to do… stuff.”

Tempest got his drift almost immediately, and narrowed her eyes whilst Twilight continued giving him a blank look. When he noticed Tempest frowning, the corners of his lips curled up, and his eyes twinkled with mischief.

Fine.

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Tempest turned to Twilight and said, “I’m Stuff.”

“Huh? What are you—” Twilight squeaked and went bright red. A stiff grin then worked its way onto her muzzle as she giggled nervously and said, “Oh. Oooh. Uh, have fun… I guess?”

Tempest gave her a casual salute. “Will do, boss.”

She trotted out the door with Pharynx by her side and Twilight’s burning gaze on her back. She probably could’ve fried eggs on Twilight’s cheeks.

Before leaving, though, she did make sure to pass all of her remaining bits to the bewildered restaurant manager; there was more than enough to cover their meals, and arrangements had already been made with the police in the event that the Wellspring Club saw fit to hold her liable for damages.

The police had set a clear perimeter around the mansion, but aside from giving them a few wary looks, nopony contested their departure from the area.

Once they were out of earshot, Tempest shook her head and said, “That was mean. Twilight’s going to be awkward around me for days. I owe her an apology.”

He sniggered. “You enjoyed it.”

“I know. You’re a terrible influence on me.”

He trotted right up alongside her and transformed his left wing into a feathery one, which he then draped warmly over her back.

Together, they slowed to a silent, leisurely walk and exited the mansion’s grounds by taking one of the gravel pathways to the park. Crickets were chirping all around, and the sky had darkened to a moonless, abyssal-blue sea filled with countless stars. The trees occasionally danced and rustled in a chilly breeze that carried the faint scent of night flowers.

The park was mostly deserted by then, save for a few couples here and there who discreetly made themselves scarce at the sight of them—probably in no small part due to her torn, bloodied dress and Pharynx’s classical changeling form.

Despite knowing that Twilight would’ve disapproved, Tempest couldn’t help smiling at the thought of how they must’ve looked to others whenever they trotted out of the darkness and into the dim light cast by the lampposts at intervals along the pathway. Friendship was superior, but there was nevertheless something about being feared that spoke to her on a primal level.

“Don’t feel guilty. A queen should be feared as much as she is loved,” Pharynx quipped.

“Reading the mood again, huh?”

“Oh, yes.” He chuckled evilly and leaned close to whisper into her ear. “If you like that kind of thing, there’s always more of it to be found in, I don’t know, starting a war? I hear conquest is a great way to feed your ego.”

Tempest slowed and gave him a mockingly stern look. “You really love dancing on the edge between flattery and insult, don’t you? And treason as well. It’s going to get you killed one day.”

“Hey, you have very specific taste.”

She snorted and thumped him on the shoulder.

Then, she pointed to a grassy hillock off to the side of the path and said, “Fine. As part of my new, glorious conquest, we’re taking that hill right there.”

Pharynx bowed. “As my queen commands.”

The grass felt cool and springy as she sat on her haunches, side by side with him as they gazed at the stars. But when they started nuzzling and caressing, an involuntary hiss escaped her when some of his feathers poked into one of her wounds.

Pharynx immediately transformed his wing back to normal with an apologetic chirp and motioned for her to take the dress off and lay down on the grass.

She did so without complaint, and he began rubbing his forelegs together around the holes. Thick, glistening strands stretched between them when he pulled his forelegs apart, which he collected and pressed between his hooves. He then gently stroked her bruises, leaving patches of warm, soothing ooze on her skin that tingled as they rapidly cooled and dried up.

When he started licking her cuts to clean them before applying the resin, she reciprocated by caressing his neck and gently nibbling on his ears. Changeling exoskeleton wasn’t normally the most pleasant thing to cuddle with, but this time he’d altered his chitin’s pliancy and texture until he felt more like a big, velvety plush toy filled with warm dough.

She then widened her eyes when his diaphanous wings twitched and vibrated, filling her ears with low thrums and clicks. Then, she felt him droning and chirping through his chest, almost independently of his steady breathing. There was a distinct melody to it, mournful and filled with yearning, with a secondary tune that almost sounded like foreign lyrics if she ignored the part of her brain insisting that they were just insect noises.

At some point, she found his lips again, and this time, they didn’t stop.

Not until her eyelids had grown heavy, and she’d curled up in the secure warmth of his embrace, still listening to the song of his heart.

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the long wait.

Hope the length somewhat makes up for it.