Kavik growled softly as Kirastasia rose to go, but the snowy princess airily ignored her brother’s protests and climbed out of the den anyway, amber eyes flaming bright and a naughty grin too much like her mother’s playing on her lips. Moonlight bathed her alabaster pelt in frosty stardust as she stood under the open forest canopy. Night creatures grew suddenly still and quiet as they awaited the young sheila’s first move. Above, a stream of stars flowed across the yawning indigo sky like a diamond-studded necklace—a glittering masterpiece reflected in Kira’s wondering gaze. She imagined wearing those winking lights as a crown, like true royalty. Princess Kirastasia: heiress of Malignant.

A girlish giggle bubbled lightly from the pale lady’s maw as she contemplated that impossible title. Queens had many little “heirs” running about; Kira had scented them as they wandered past the birthing den, had heard their names spoken with odd mixtures of affection and reverence and fear. Kirastasia could hardly be bothered to remember how many siblings she had—after all, only Kavik mattered to her. They had begun their fragile lives together. Those other siblings could rot in a hole for all the spoiled ice-pelted lass cared. A deep, dark, nasty hole. With bugs in it.

“You should come out, Kavik. It’s nice outside.” Kira shivered lightly as a gentle night breeze combed through her downy fur. Though her body showed the signs of coming maturity, the brindled cape she wore still possessed the adorable silky texture of a pup. “Well, come on!” She turned to glare over her shoulder at her brother, still hidden at the back of the cave—only to snort derisively as he adamantly shook his head “no.” Trust Kavik to be a good boy and listen to Mommy; the lad practically worshipped the female who birthed him. Idly, Kirastasia wondered if that would still be the case if either of them had met the mythical beast known as “father.” Would Kavik want to come out and play then?

“Fine. Stay inside.” With that, the snarky little dragoness trotted buoyantly away from the dank den, her pawsteps as careful and dainty as a feline’s as she moved.