“I was in a meeting with the defense ministry,” Valor disclosed in his office, his voice speaking for his displeasure at Sush’s tone when she demanded to know his whereabouts during the attack. Sush and Greg had easily deciphered most of the animal code from Hazel’s secret correspondence after the catastrophe. The Great Horned Owls was code for the archers, sacrificed. Rat with a capital R being let off from above? Sush herself, let off from above when the elevator malfunctioned. She and Greg speculated that his presence in the elevator was most likely not considered since he forced himself in at the last minute. The next code - other rats wouldn’t know how to save the owls - meant no octopus knew how to save the archers. Because none of them knew the codes. The next one - data leaked when the sun rose - took them a little more time, but they eventually figured it out. The sun rose from the east. Data that someone didn’t want being found had been leaked from the attack in the east. T

Sush was in an ash gray dress that hung from her shoulders by thin straps, the length of her skin stretching from her neck, down her arms and hands was on full display. Her hair was loose from her usual ponytail, the pink headband no longer in sight but her necklace still sat in its usual place.  She hadn’t seen Greg yet but felt a buzz in her purse and her footsteps slowed as she dug through it. Her knitted brows eased into a soft line when she saw the caller ID, swiping to answer as her head swung around, looking for him, which was when their eyes locked and the corner of her lips lifted naturally. The background blurred away as they took steps toward each other, closing their distance. When they were six feet apart, a figure appeared from Sush’s right and a hand stopped her by her elbow. Sush’s defenses took

His octopus’s usually confident frame and posture now shrunk, like she was trying to keep to herself as her eyes - though pinned on Larissa Ferdinand in shock - amplified a need to leave. Greg’s eyes turned onyx and he shot the Ferdinands a glare - which neither of them noticed - before he positioned himself in front of the only one in the room who mattered, blocking her view of the sharks out to gobble her, though he couldn’t understand how or why yet. His hand reached for her face, cupping her cheek, and his voice came in an assuring whisper, “Sush, this is not an obligation. No one is going to die if you refuse. And you’re not a politician. You can refuse.” His large frame shadowing over hers offered her cover, made her feel protected,

“My queen. Cousin.” Greg acknowledged, bringing himself next to Sush, facing the royal couple. “Your Majesties,” Sush greeted with a bow and curtsy. Lucy’s brow lifted at the title and the formalities, which she and Xandar returned before the queen said, “Honestly, Sush. You’ve been calling me Paw for years. This isn’t an email. It’s either Paw or Lucy, especially now that we’re technically closer through a…” she glimpsed at the duke and said, “...family member. Actually, I’d prefer Lucy.” The hint wasn’t even subtle. That was when Greg had an epiphany - the queen never even allowed Izabella to address her like a friend.

He wasn’t just listening. He was absorbing, taking in every word like she was preaching a sermon imparted by the Goddess. The intensity in his eyes radiated his need to know. The range of emotions - from anger to sorrow - marring his face show that he wasn’t just listening, he was connecting with her, feeling these things with her, and it was that very action that drew her physically closer to him, because emotionally, she was already attached. Her throat flexed a hard swallow, and she threw out the biggest confession of the night, “I’m not with the hunters because I want to be.” Admitting it to herself, in her head, was one thing. Confessing to someone outloud, someone she hadn’t known very long, was foreign and unnerving. “I’m here because I’m convince