Shiro took every chance he could get to tap out the info to the team: on walls, on tables, on anything that wouldn’t look strange or draw attention. He just hoped they would hear it; he trusted them to realize it was Morse code. He repeated the message once, but that was all he could manage before the end of the day. Even keeping it short and sweet, he just couldn’t be tapping all day long.
	Knowing that their suite was the prison cell he’d first thought it to be wasn’t helping. He didn’t want to go back to it, and was anxious to leave it, even if the entire Diplomatic Palace was their prison. He couldn’t contact the team and they couldn’t contact him, either. He was still trying to figure out an escape route.
	We have to take the fight to the Galra – and soon. It’ll take a while for their reinforcements to get this far out, but every quintant – every varga! – we’re stuck here is another chance for them to arrive. Presumably the two of them would be transferred to a Galra cruiser at some point; that transfer would be a good time for the team to strike. But Shiro didn’t want to wait that long if they could help it. That was a last resort sort of plan, not one to start off with.
	“Do you think they got the message?” Allura asked when they were back in the suite.
	“Allura!” he hissed. “What if…?”
	She just shrugged. “What’s the worst that happens if they find out we know? We can’t leave any sooner, nor can we be transferred to the Galra before they’re ready. And we need to talk.”
	He sighed. “You’re right. I repeated the message once; hopefully they could hear it.”
	“Only once?”
	“Morse code takes a while. You have to spell out every letter of every word. There are certain abbreviations to speed it up, but I couldn’t use those for everything.”
	“So what next?” she asked. “We can’t just sit down here and let the Galra build up their forces.”
	“The main problem is getting us out of this building. From there, everything else is pretty straightforward.”
	“We are presumably here for peaceful negotiation,” Allura mused. “We can force their hand if I declare the negotiations a failure and wish to leave.”
	“And then what? We fight our way out?”
	“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary.” She grinned.
	“You have something up that pretty sleeve of yours?”
	She tsked and blushed. “Shiro.”
	“Sorry, sorry; it’s getting to be a habit.” He cleared his throat. 
	“But to answer your question, yes, I do. I’ll explain while we have dessert.” She was already headed for the credenza.
	He laughed. “You’re addicted.”
	She didn’t deny it. “It’s very good! Do you want one?”
	“Of course I do.”
	They talked over fruetana, the princess laying out her plan. Shiro wasn’t sure they could pull it off, but he promised to try. “The only problem is that we’d have to tell the Paladins,” Allura concluded.
	“I… think I have an idea on how to do that, if you can get us out of ‘negotiations’ for one quintant.”
	“I’ll think on it in the shower.” She rose to leave and then turned back to him. “Shiro, I feel I should apologize.”
	“Apologize?” He got to his feet again. “For what?”
	She looked down. “It’s my fault you’re even here. We could have just explained to the Grashnarians that you forgot the appropriate ritual for some reason. We could have come up with some other way, but I took the easiest path, and because of it, you’re a prisoner again.” She looked back up to him. “I’m so, so sorry.”
	“Oh, no. No, no, Allura, you don’t have to apologize for that. You did what you thought was best at the time. You reacted with grace and quick thinking to cover for my mistake, for my… entire lack of thinking.” He chuckled ruefully. “And I’d rather be here with you than have you here by yourself.”
	She blushed faintly again even as she informed him, “I’d figure out a way to free myself, you know.”
	“And even if you didn’t, the team and I would come get you. So, see? Nothing to apologize for. After all, there are worse things than pretending to be married to you.”
	She smiled, and he wondered if she could hear his heartbeat pick up. They were on the same page, on the same line, as they so often were. There was a… connection there between them. Or it’s just that we’re both strategic thinkers. Or it’s a coincidence. Or I’m just fooling myself.
	She turned away to go shower. He centered and focused himself for his meditation, which went better than it had in a while. They had a plan. Maybe it would work and maybe it wouldn’t, but just knowing what the next steps were going to be was enough to settle him. No plan survives first contact with the enemy. They’d improvise where they had to, but they had a foundation. 
	It was what he’d done during his time in captivity, from what little he could recall. Plan, scheme, figure out ways to escape. Even if they hadn’t worked, it gave him something to do that kept the hope alive in him of getting away, maybe even getting home.
	The Castle of Lions flashed in his mind. 
	The team high-fiving after a victory.
	Everyone laughing over dinner.
	Coran’s hearty congratulations.
	Allura’s warm smile.
	Home.
	He opened his eyes.
	“Your turn!” Allura called from the bedroom.
	“On my way.”
	In the shower, he let his mind drift among memories of the past and flashes of hopeful futures. He didn’t fight it, he just let it come, and it was more refreshing than any shower, any beverage, any frozen treat. He let himself wonder and imagine, just for these few minutes. What would it be like to kiss you in the rain? What would it be like to lay my head in your lap and feel your fingers card through my hair? How would my name – my full name – sound on your lips? What would it be like to go to bed and wake up again to that secretive smile you gave me as you entered the ballroom? 
	He shut the shower off, got dressed, brushed his teeth. He turned to face the door. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he’d be back in the present, in a prison, back to being her Black Paladin and nothing more. And that was okay. He was proud of who he was, of what he’d become. And if it was pointless to expect more, well, he could always dream.
	He opened the door and walked into the bedroom to find her… gone. “Allura?” he asked, worry starting to rise up.
	And then he got a pillow to the face.
	He recoiled and looked over towards his assailant. Allura had hidden off to the side, behind the armoire; she was only wearing her nightgown, pillow in hand, grinning wickedly. “I think we could use a way to… what’s the Earth expression? Blow off some steam?”
	He nodded. “Maybe so. But I’ll point out that you’re the only one who’s armed in this fight.”
	She smirked. “I never said I’d play fair.” And she baffed him with the pillow again. 
	He ran for the pillow armory – the bed – while she batted him about the head and shoulders. He did his best to raise his arms to block her attacks until he leaped for the bed and grabbed a pillow, rolling over to block with his new shield & weapon. “Ha!”
	She adjusted her pillow-y attacks to his abdomen, but that left her open for a quick strike to her head. It mussed her hair and she stumbled backwards.
	“What’s the problem, Princess?” he teased as he got to his feet. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”
	She smirked, and the battle was on in earnest.
	Naturally, she was a skilled fighter, no matter what her weapon. They danced around each other, swinging when they each thought they had a good shot. A short skirmish would erupt and then they’d break away from one another again.
	“You said you’re not playing fair, right?” he asked her.
	“All’s fair in love and war, ‘dear’.”
	“Oh, do the Alteans have that saying, too?”
	“No, I just heard Lance use it once and decided I liked it.” She took a swipe at him.
	He dodged; the pillow just barely missed his nose. “But the point is, you were willing to be unfair. I assume that still holds?”
	“It does.”
	“Oh, good.” He dropped his pillow and charged her, pushing her back to the bed.
	“HEY!”
	“All’s fair,” he reminded her as he half-picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. He pinned her down and reached for another pillow to rain down his vengeance upon her now that she was prone, but she got two good thwaps in on his face and head. He rolled away and nearly off the mattress, but she grabbed hold of his hand and hauled him back onto the bed proper.
	“You won’t get away that easily after that little stunt!” she warned him. 
	The stand-up pillow fight had quickly devolved into pillow wrestling, if anything. They each had their turns smacking the other around with their weapons, but neither of them could pin the other for long. It made sense that Allura could easily break his hold, but the reverse shouldn’t have been true. Which meant…
	“You’re holding back,” he accused her as he pinned her down again.
	“I don’t want to hurt you. Or the pillows.”
	He snorted. “If you’re not going to be a challenge, I don’t see any point in continuing.”
	“Oh, so you yield then?”
	“Not a chance.” He got in his best strike yet, straight to the right side of her face. “I just want a good fight.”
	“Well, if you insist.”
	He wasn’t even aware of what she did or how she did it. One second, he was on top of her and the next, he was flat on his back on the bed and she was the one on top. Fast as well as strong. I’ll have to remember that. He tried to raise his pillow to fight, but she pinned his wrist down. She pinned them both down, easily.
	Shiro flexed against the weak points in her hold, but she didn’t so much as twitch. She didn’t redouble her strength or adjust her hold; she didn’t need to. “This what you were looking for?” she asked smugly.
	“It’s a bit more what I expected, anyway.”
	She leaned down a little. “I’m not letting you go until you yield.” She was smirking in the certainty of her triumph.
	He was still testing various places. She adjusted her legs either side of his, to make good and sure he couldn’t kick her off. That was it. She was confident (with good reason) that he couldn’t break free.
	“Are you done yet, Shiro?” Her voice was a smug purr.
	He swallowed hard as he realized two things: first, that he had definitively lost, and second, the position they were in. He took a long blink, licked his lips, and looked her in the eyes. “I’m… not going to fight you anymore.” He focused on getting his breath back and thinking of the coldest places he’d ever been.
	She leaned in a little closer. “Smart man.”
	He tried to keep his gaze on hers. He couldn’t help his eyes flicking to her lips, to the rapid fall and rise of her chest, to the mark he’d left on her neck, back to her lips and her eyes. He exhaled out the last bit of tension in his body. He surrendered and let himself fall. It was too late to save him anyway.
	He watched her lick her lips, saw her tilt her head just enough, and he held his breath.
	But then she sat up, swinging her legs off him. “W-we should… get some sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow if we want to get out of here.”
	He sat up to look at her. She was blushing harder than he’d ever seen before, trying to get her hair back into order after their rowdy pillow fight. They were still close; she just wasn’t on top of him anymore. It wouldn’t be hard to reach a hand out, to comb his fingers into her hair, to cup her face gently as he closed that last distance. 
	He started to do it, but when his hand came into view, it was the Galra prosthetic. He dropped it immediately. She wouldn’t want to be touched with this. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it. The pillow fight was fun, to blow off steam, like she said. He wondered again if she’d heard his heartbeat and realized what it meant, if that was why she had backed off so suddenly.
	“Yeah. Sleep’s… good. Uh… do you want me to sleep on the couch? Since we’re no longer play-acting for the…”
	“No. Stay here. I mean, if you want to, it’s… it’s fine. You don’t have to, of course. But we have to resume ‘play-acting’ tomorrow anyway. If we change our behavior, then it will be an obvious tell. Maybe they know what we’re up to now and maybe they don’t. We have to go ahead as if they don’t.” She cleared her throat.
	He nodded. “Of course, Princess.” He stood to gather up the now scattered pillows. 
	When he turned around, Allura was straightening out the bedclothes. “Thank you.”
	“To the victor go the pillows,” he joked weakly, hoping to break the awkwardness that was choking the room.
	She rewarded him with a smile. “Go to sleep.”
	“Yes’m.” And, awkwardness aside, it had been good: stretched his muscles out some, got his heart rate up for reasons other than his anxieties or her charms. He turned out the light and crawled into bed. He expected she’d keep her distance that night, and she did. But when he awoke the next morning, she was curled up right next to him once more.

	Immediately upon arrival in the conference room, Allura moved for a recess. “Let us just take a break for one quintant, the better to muse upon the various points brought up. Shiro and I would like to learn more about your people’s history, so perhaps Obseq could be sent for? Or whoever else might be able to give us more in-depth knowledge of the art and historical objects on display here.”
	The Councilors shared a long glance, but, in the end, agreed. After all, the prisoners weren’t asking to leave the building. It didn’t really matter what they spent their time doing so long as they stayed here. Obseq was brought in, and Allura asked for another, longer tour, if he didn’t mind? He was happy to oblige.
	Shiro didn’t start right away. At first, he just wandered around with Allura, asked the occasional question to appear interested, and formulated in his mind how he wanted to make this plan as succinct as possible for transmission. Then he put his arm around Allura, his left hand resting on her shoulder. He kissed her temple briefly, to appear affectionate, and as soon as Obseq started in on the history of the ancient Vesculari tribe, Shiro started tapping on Allura’s shoulder. It was close to her ear, so they should be able to hear it, even over Obseq’s commentary.
	The first thing he sent was that coded transmit was okay. He waited, and Allura’s earrings flashed: dash dash dash pause dash dot dash. “OK.” They’d received. He sought confirmation that they’d received yesterday’s message and got an affirmative. He started his next message with the words “New Info” and went from there.
	Even keeping things succinct, it was Morse code. There was a lot of tapping, a lot of waiting in between for messages to come back. And, of course, Allura’s earrings flashed the whole time. Obseq generally was facing the artwork or objects, but, of course, Allura had to ask questions to keep the tour going. And thus, at some point, Obseq would face her out of politeness. And that meant, inevitably…
	“Excuse me for asking, Princess, but are your earrings flashing?”
	“Are they?” Allura asked. The flashing stopped for a moment.
	“Oh, I… must have imagined it.”
	“Likely just glinting in the sunlight from the windows,” she assured him. “Do carry on. You were going to tell me about the customs of the Hurkal.”
	“Oh, yes, I was. So, the Hurkal took warfare very seriously.”
	“War is not a game,” Shiro spoke up, to make it appear as though he were listening avidly.
	“No, of course not, but to the Hurkal, it was central to their society. Bringing them to the peace talks was quite difficult…”
	And he was off and going again. Shiro tapped an OK and the message from the team resumed. That worked for a while, when they were in rooms with windows. But once they got into the hallway, there was no excuse. He had to trust Allura to cover for them, because staying on the top level was the only way to communicate with the team.
	And, as he’d expected… “They’re most definitely flashing, Princess. Your earrings, I mean.”
	“Are they? Oh blast.” She sighed heavily as the flashing halted. “They’re malfunctioning again. Ten-thousand-year-old technology, you understand. They’re meant to monitor my life signs and flash in certain patterns and colors to indicate illness or injury, but sometimes they just…”
	And the team heard their cue. The flashing restarted. Shiro had to keep from smiling as he read Q-U-I-Z-N-A-K in the flashes. 
	Allura continued, “Well, sometimes they just go off when nothing at all is wrong. Coran can fix them, usually; do you think it’s possible I could send for him?”
	“Well, I am not the authority on that subject, but it’s, ah, highly unlikely he would be allowed into the Diplomatic Palace, Princess.”
	“Oh, I’m sorry then. Sometimes they stop on their own. We’ll just have to hope for that.”
	“But you aren’t sick or injured?” he asked.
	“No, no, I’m fine! They’re just… what’s the Earth word, dear?”
	Shiro snapped out of his reading. They’d gone ahead with the rest of their message. “Uh… buggy.”
	“Yes, they’re buggy. I do apologize. I hope they’re not too distracting? I was looking forward to finding out more about the first intertribal peace treaties.”
	“I will try my best to ignore it, Princess.” Obseq cleared his throat. “So, yes, the Gerudo tribe preserved this moment in history on their gorgeous pottery, as you can see here. I’m afraid most of it is in shards; we’ve found only a few unbroken pots.”
	Shiro went back to reading and transmitting, which they could do in relative peace now. The paladins back in the Castle would occasionally need time to figure out what to send, and in those moments, he’d pay attention and ask questions and help keep the tour going. And the first chance he got, he leaned in to whisper in Allura’s ear, “Clever work, my princess.”
	She snorted and gave him a playful shove – not with her full strength, thankfully – but he caught her blushing. He shoved his personal thoughts aside as her earrings began to flash again. (Though it turned out to be the paladins teasing him by asking him how the marriage was going. He tapped out FOCUS on Allura’s shoulder, and the next transmission was back to business.)
	Not long after, they took a break for lunch. Allura and Shiro chatted over the midday meal about what they’d learned, the better to appear enthusiastic for the rest of the tour. Hing stopped by to say hello, and Allura didn’t miss the opportunity to ask for more fruetana in her – and Shiro’s – favorite flavors. Hing grinned and said they’d bring them by personally later.
	“Oh, don’t put yourself to any trouble on our account!” she demurred. 
	“Sharing the fruits of my family’s labor is never a trouble,” they assured her. “I am pleased you’ve taken such a liking to it. They will be, as well. An alien princess and her consort both enjoying our fruetana! They will be very happy.”
	There was a throat-clearing behind them, and Welx was frowning disapprovingly. “Must you speak this way in public?” she asked.
	“Forgive me, colleague.”
	She rolled her eyes. “That’s what you always say.”
	“And what you always do,” Hing pointed out with a smile.
	She huffed and left, but Shiro got the impression it was an old joke between friends more than anything else.
	“Anyway, I’ll leave you to your meal and bring the fruetana by later. I wish you peace.”
	Allura and Shiro replied in kind. He waited until they were out of earshot to whisper, “I wish more of them were like Hing.”
	“Is that the fruetana talking?” she asked with a grin.
	“Only a little.”
	They laughed and finished eating. There was the rest of the top floor to get through – and more transmitting to be done.
	And that was how the quintant went: walking around, tapping out Morse code on Allura’s shoulder, and occasionally learning more about Grashnarian history. Some of it was actually very interesting; Shiro just found Obseq’s delivery a bit dry. And he was, of course, distracted by sending and receiving messages.
	Once that was done, they killed the rest of the time until dinner with the tour. Shiro couldn’t help noticing that much of Grashnarian history was the result of the struggle to bring warring tribes to peace with one another. That was why the rituals were so important, why everything was so constrained: you didn’t know what might offend another tribe, so you kept things polite and in check. Do they really still need to be like this with each other? Or is it just habit now?
	Of course, Hing was an outlier. Though they’d said that many people back home were like them. But then Shiro realized: we’re the new tribe. Of course they’d insist upon rituals and circumlocutions: you don’t want to offend the people holding the most powerful weapon in the universe. Shiro wondered if they’d been an easy conquest for the Galra then, who tended to blast through obstacles (polite or otherwise) with violence.
	Perhaps Tespod is toadying up to the Galra, but everyone else… they don’t know what to do. This is how they’ve dealt with conflict their whole lives, throughout all of their history: cover it up. Put on a smiling mask and pretend to get along until you actually kind of do. 
	Even Hing had admitted they didn’t know how to help them. It was brave enough of them to throw aside centuries of tradition, but it didn’t make them any more knowledgeable on how to help. The Grashnarians had not had war, as far as they knew. Shiro suspected that wasn’t the case.
	“Excuse me, Obseq?”
	“Yes, Prince-Consort?”
	“You’ve told us much about how the various tribes unified themselves and brought peace to the planet. But there was never war? Never any fights?”
	Obseq shifted his weight uneasily. “I…”
	“Many people have had such unfortunate tragedies in their histories,” Allura reassured him. “It does not diminish who they are as a people now.”
	“We do not speak of it,” he insisted weakly.
	“You mentioned the Hurkal were a very war-oriented tribe,” Shiro reminded him. “That it took some doing to get them to come around to the idea of peace without conquest. Surely some of that ‘doing’ was in the form of battles?”
	Obseq deflated, undone by one of the few pieces of history Shiro had actually caught. He stepped closer and dropped his voice. “There is no mention of war in any of our recorded history. Ever. But there is a theory amongst some of our historians: that recorded history began with the peace accords for a reason.”
	Allura nodded thoughtfully. “They wanted to commemorate the peace and not the war.”
	“That’s most of it. The rest of it is that the tribes were so busy fighting that they simply had little time for writing things down. It was all oral history up to that point, and so, of course, it is lost.”
	“But once they sat down to establish peace amongst themselves, they had the time to record it and figured they should do so,” Shiro mused. “So they had written language before then or they created it on the spot?”
	“We’re unsure,” Obseq admitted. “We haven’t found anything older than the Tablets of Accord, but then most archaeological study was halted by the arrival of the Galra.”
	Allura frowned. “They cut you off from your own history.”
	Obseq swallowed hard and straightened up. “W-well, I’m sure you two would like to freshen up before dinner, yes? I will leave you to it. I hope the tour was satisfactory. I wish you peace.” And he didn’t even wait for the ritual response before striding off as fast as his dignity would allow him.
	Shiro shared a glance with Allura. “They don’t remember how to fight.”
	She sighed. “I envy them that.”
	He rubbed her shoulder and kissed her temple. “So do I.”
	“But it also means that… well, let’s get ready for dinner.” 
	Shiro could practically hear what she hadn’t said. It also means that they truly are defenseless against the Galra. That Hing was right about that: the Galra started the lie that the Grashnarians had a weapon capable of defeating them. These people wouldn’t have even thought of such a thing.
	He hadn’t truly sought confirmation of Hing’s words, because he’d already known about the transmitting, because Hing was straightforward instead of evasive, because they were afraid of being caught. He’d trusted his gut, but it was good to have confirmation. Grashnarian history would never have allowed for the possibility of superweapons. He wasn’t sure they’d know what to do with sharp sticks, even.
	Shiro caught up with Allura and wrapped an arm around her shoulder again. He had one more message to send to the team.

	The next morning, they began.
	“I am truly sorry it has come to this,” Allura said after the usual ritual to begin the meeting, “but as it seems our goals are not in alignment, we must depart. I would far rather have had the Grashnarians join us in our fight against the Galra, but I cannot and would not force you into it. The Coalition needs us, and we must return.”
	The other Councilors all looked to Tespod. “We have not said no.”
	“You have not said yes,” she pointed out evenly. “And we cannot stay longer.”
	“Yes, you can.”
	She shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
	Tespod rose majestically to his feet. “You cannot leave yet. There is much still to be… discussed.” His smile was a full-on, bared tooth grin that made the other Councilors quail. 
	“You misunderstand,” Shiro spoke up. He stood as well. “The princess and I are leaving. We would rather leave on good terms than bad, but we will leave regardless.”
	“You won’t be leaving on any terms. You cannot,” Tespod said.
	Allura was still seated but her voice carried that same authority she had shown at the ball, commanding those present to rise. “Voltron is the most powerful weapon in the universe, Councilor. We offered to demonstrate its abilities peacefully, which you have denied. Do you really want this sort of demonstration instead?”
	Shiro reached out with his mind and his heart. It was hard to do without closing his eyes, but he could still feel it, there within him: a bond that could never be broken, that surrounded and fortified him.
	Tespod chuckled. “You cannot form Voltron. You have only one paladin here,” he gestured to Shiro, “and no Lion. The others you left behind cannot form Voltron; even with the Black Lion, they have no one to pilot it.”
	His grin was like a skull. “No Black Lion, no Black Paladin, no Voltron.”
	Now Allura rose, with a slow and elegant grace that carried more power than all of Tespod’s pomp and self-importance. “Your mistake is in thinking that Voltron is the only thing for you to worry about.”
	And, on cue, there was a deafening roar from above that had the Councilors hurrying to cover their ears. Allura just smiled.
	Shiro couldn’t help smiling as well. The roar of the Black Lion filled him with a sense of strength and certainty that he hadn’t felt since this whole thing started. Even without actually being in the cockpit, he felt like he could handle anything right now. And not just because the Black Lion was hovering just over the building.
	“In the names of all the gods, what is going on?” Welx asked. 
	Frex jumped and yelped a little, then ran to a window. “Tespod!” 
	They turned and saw the Red Lion growling at them through the crystal window. 
	“The building is surrounded,” Shiro informed them all. “You are the ones who aren’t going anywhere. The Lions won’t attack so long as we’re allowed to leave peacefully. That’s all we want.”
	“Well, not quite all we want,” Allura added. “We know about your collaboration with the Galra. We know about the lies, the deception, the transmitting to them – all of it.”
	“What?! HOW?!” Tespod demanded.
	“We have our ways,” Allura told him. “And we have no intention of sharing them with you. We’re going to leave here and we’re going to go attack that gathering of Galra ships at the edge of the system.” She looked around the table. “We’ll deal with this sector’s commander, and free you from Galra control for good.”
	Shiro couldn’t resist adding, “You’re welcome.”
	“You can’t…!” Tespod protested.
	“We can, actually,” Allura replied smoothly. “We have many times. Whether you wanted a demonstration of Voltron’s power or not, you – and the Galra – are about to get one.”
	Welx cleared her throat. “This is Voltron’s reputation. This is why they have a Coalition of races who have joined them. They have freed numerous planets and systems from the Galra Empire. And once we are free of them as well,” she was looking Tespod dead in the eye, “your reign over this Council will be over.”
	“If I were you,” Giani put in, sounding smug, “I’d ‘retire early.’ Spare yourself and your family the embarrassment of us overthrowing you.”
	“Collaborators! Traitors!” Tespod declared.
	“Not at all,” Hing commented. “We have seen our opportunity and seized it, that’s all. There is already violence in the streets. My people – the lower classes, the trod-upon and overlooked – are remembering how to hurt, how to maim, how to kill.” They sighed. “I would rather they didn’t. But as it stands? They enact violence against each other now, but all it takes is a leader to channel that towards this Council, and then where would you be?”
	“It’s easier this way,” Welx said.
	Tespod growled and lunged towards Allura. “I’ll take you to Zevox myself!”
	Allura sidestepped easily, and Shiro was there to catch Tespod’s rather sloppy punch and grab hold of his arm. With one simple twist, Tespod was on his knees, wincing and struggling to get free.
	“Unfortunate,” Allura said. “Shiro?”
	“Yes, Princess?”
	“You have a Lion to get to.”
	He grinned. “What about Tespod?”
	“We can manage him,” Giani promised. “Welx can just sit on him.”
	“Giani,” she groaned.
	“We will keep him from interfering,” Hing promised.
	Everyone looked to Frex. He was trembling.
	“I-I… I’m not getting in anyone’s way! Please, both of you, leave! Th-that’s fine with me! Just don’t hurt me!”
	“We wouldn’t harm anyone who didn’t give us a reason to,” Allura assured him. “If you’re sure you have things under control here, then we have a battle to see to.”
	“I’ll go let the guards know you can leave,” Giani declared before bolting for the door.
	“Shall I give you a lift back to the Castle, Princess?” Shiro asked. He let go of Tespod, who scooted into a corner, sniveling and crying.
	“Ask Keith to take me over; the Red Lion is faster. I don’t want any of you away from the fight any longer than you need to be.”
	“As you wish. Well then, after you, my princess.”
	Her smile was that same one from the ball: privately amused, secretly pleased… he hoped. At least this time he was a little more in on the joke. She ran for the door, and he was right behind her.
~End of Chapter 4~