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threatened a member of The Pride, even Siena herself, would face censure.
    It did not follow that Siena would accept or allow the censure. She certainly would not have allowed Silas to strike her, had he been insane enough to do so. But Syreena was merely a younger Princess to them, heir to the throne only until Siena produced her first child. So, though it galled her until her stomach roiled with bile, they did not hold her in the same regard or esteem.
    It did not even seem to matter to them that she had the potential to become one of The Three herself one day.
    Though she never showed it outwardly, that really ticked her off.
    She muttered a native curse, tossing her hair over so that only the brown side showed. She shook her head and body in a quick little shiver, sending the strands in a quick coating of her skin. Hair turned to feathers in a heartbeat, clothing dropping forgotten to the ground as a peregrine falcon took flight out of them.
    Syreena flew through the closed caverns of the monastery dungeon quickly until she gained ground level. Then she winged quickly out of an entrance, leaving the cavern of The Pride behind her in a matter of minutes.
     
    Siena turned her head when the sound of beating wings reached her ears. She watched from the corners of her eyes as the familiar falcon swooped into the chamber she used for prayer, transforming on the spot so that the Princess landed at a slight run of feet instead of talons. The Queen of the Lycanthropes rose from her meditative position on her knees, pausing briefly to shake the thin gown she wore into proper place.
    Syreena stood in her nude human form, regarding her sister, whose long golden curls of hair hid the features of her luxuriant body far better than the sheer scrap of cloth she was using for a dress. Nudity meant nothing to either of them, nor any of their genus for that matter. A Lycanthrope could not change form in restrictive clothing, so they wore little to none of it. What they did wear was easily discarded either just before or during the change.
    “How did it go?”
    Syreena had not told Siena that The Pride had beckoned her, but neither was she surprised that her sister had found out. She was Queen, after all.
    “Let’s just say I won’t be invited to tea anytime soon,” Syreena responded glibly, giving her sister a half grin that Siena could very much appreciate.
    The sisters were as opposite as they could possibly be, at least in outward appearance. Where Siena was tall and carved out like a voluptuous Amazon, Syreena was petite, slim, and often referred to as willowy. Where Siena was golden-haired, golden-skinned, and a seductive beauty, Syreena looked more like a cunning calico cat with her bi-colored hair and opposite-set harlequin eyes. Siena had grown up in the thick of court intrigues and the freedom to mesh with the other Nightwalker races. Syreena had grown up in the monastery, secluded and sealed up from the real world from the moment everyone realized how different she was.
    It was not that she had been shunned or outcast. Quite the opposite. She had been overtreasured. Lycanthropes loved a good mutation, especially a powerful one like hers. She had been sent to The Pride not only for training and education, but to protect her from those who would use her as a weapon to gain power. More specifically, to gain the throne her father had held until only fifteen years earlier that, upon his death, Siena had ascended to. Siena had demanded Syreena’s return that very same day, extracting her from her sheltered existence in order for her to take her place as heir and to use her learning skills as a diplomat and chief advisor for Siena.
    They had been veritable strangers the day the Princess had come home, in spite of the constant exchange of letters between them over their century apart. Though Syreena had initially felt like an outsider, Siena had seemed to merely flip a mental switch that made her an immediately loving and doting