Sylus narrowed his eyes, placing a glance to his side at the Viridian captain that was so clearly Gustave.

  Dorius drew back his hood and stepped down from the line of hooded Vigilants, coming to stand by the empty throne. He was aware he probably looked exhausted, his hair knotted from the wind and his skin chafed and raw from the cold. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t hiding. And he couldn’t let the Vigilants suffer Sylus’ temper at the contract he had struck with them.

  “You’re not in Barth?” commented Sylus coldly, his expression unchanging as he re-evaluated the situation.

  “No, I never was,” replied Dorius.

  There was a shift as Sylus found his angle after a moment of quick thought, and he drew his thin lips into a sly grin, “This is very close to treason, Cousin. Going around our Uncle like this, negotiating your own agreements with foreign states. I wonder what he might think if he were to know?”

  Dorius drew his back straighter, running his fingers along the cold stone of the empty throne’s arm. He was aware of the Laon drone, bare chest smeared with black ash watching him curiously with a sneer. He was aware he was alone, Bastian flying above the chapel, Val far away in the mountain still. He had no retinue to back him up here.

  “And I wonder what he might think of you here? Does he know?”

  “Deflecting from your own guilt, what other plans have you made to go around his back?”

  Dorius tightened his jaw. Sylus was trying to put him on the defensive, and avoid being made to discuss his own motivations. If it devolved into a battle of wills, Dorius knew he would lose. So he changed strategy. “I have done exactly as I was asked to do. When I met with our Uncle at the Horned Palace, my direct instructions were to reestablish diplomacy with the Free Mountain State. I have done so quietly and peacefully, and the price of doing so has been paid by me alone.”

  “You can hardly think negotiating exclusive bargaining rights was what Uncle had in mind?” spat Sylus.

  “I am a member of the Fourth Pentarchy. I have re-established diplomacy with the Fourth Pentarchy. I have met the letter of our Uncle’s orders,” declared Dorius, taking a breath to pause before continuing, “The matter we should be debating is why you are here and what orders, if any, you are acting on?”

  The Sylus’ eye glinted in the red and orange light, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword that Dorius knew he didn’t know how to use. His manner shifted, his hand opening and fingers curling.

  “That is far above your station. Perhaps it is fortuitous you are here, maybe we can help one another? For mutual benefit of course.”

  Dorius glanced sideways.

  “You see, a matter has come to my attention that is greatly concerning to me, and I’m sure it would be to you as well, a matter of such significance that it will reach the ears of others eventually, and I wish to cut the rumor off before it does so,” explained Sylus, stepping away from the Prime and towards Dorius.

  “What matter?” This was not the turn Dorius expected next.

  “I’m sure you could agree that it should remain confidential until our Uncle has had the time to assess it for himself. But you see, I am having some difficulties negotiating with this cult.” Sylus raised his eyebrows meaningfully at Dorius, skimming down his borrowed Vigilant robes with crystal blue eyes, “Perhaps, you could be of assistance to me?”

  “Why would I-”

  “You are a member of the Fourth Pentarchy? Is that not what you just declared?”

  Dorius bit his tongue, sniffing slightly in apprehension. His stomach reeled now with bubbling anxiety as he realized the position he had been walked into. He should have remained silent. His back was against a wall. He had acted on a momentary emotional response instead of a cautious strategy. Inwardly he cursed, he was so tired, so sore, he knew he needed more information to see the path forward, and yet here he was facing Sylus down.

  Sylus drew close, his voice lowering to a whisper between them, “You are not welcome in this game. You have no idea how to play it. Get out of the water before you drown.”

  “I am here whether or not you welcome me,” hissed Dorius in reply, glancing over to Gustave. The captain watched back, green feather arching over his cap, hand relaxed on the hilt of a sword with the relaxed familiarity of someone who did know the weapon.

  “Clearly. This has gone too far. End it before you regret it.”

  Dorius glanced at the Prime, who watched him with narrowed eyes, the crows feet in the corners bunched as if she too was assessing the range of outcomes for this situation. The Laon soldiers had remained unmoving the whole audience, but he wondered without Val would they step forward to intervene if Gustave drew that sword. They might to protect the Vigilants, now he knew they were compelled to do so as a wish of Fenris. But would they protect him?

  Fuck. He should have just remained silent. He was so tired he could barely stand. He needed to buy time.

  He drew a shaking breath, and tucked his hands between the sleeves of his robes. When he spoke he addressed the room.

  “I would be glad to hear the details of your need, Cousin. But not here, where foreign states listen in. Would you come back, and we can discuss more privately?”

  Sylus turned the request in his mouth, corners of his moustache twisting. Dorius felt his knees tremble with exhaustion.

  “Very well… If that will move this forward. You will invite me for dinner tonight, wherever it is you stay.”

  Dories released his held breath, and as Sylus turned, let his posture slip to grab the side of the empty throne in a desperate bid to keep himself standing. “I will do so, cousin,” replied Dorius.

  Sylus had his back turned, sweeping his way down the chamber again, “Your town will accommodate me, Vigil,” he called.

  The Prime glared at Dorius, still gasping with relief, her eyebrows drawn together in question and rebuke, but called in response, “Or course. The mayor is capable of arranging that on our behalf.”

  Quietly, she drew close to Dorius, Bryer stepping down from the other Vigilants to join them. Unexpectedly, she grabbed Dorius by the back of his head, tucking her fingers into his hair and drawing his face around to look at her. He yelped at the rough treatment, tears welling in the corners of his eyes as she tugged his scalp.

  “You’ve done it now,” she hissed, throwing him off the empty throne.

  Shocked, Dorius stumbled away from her, batting her hand off him as his indignation gave him strength, “You would not be in this position if not for me.”

  “And you don’t think that was the intention on our part?”

  Dorius blinked, his mouth hanging open. This was the most human he’d seen them act, for once as if something had gone wrong and that this wasn’t part of some greater plan. His mind raced as he tried to identify what was different now.

  “You wanted an excuse to tell him no?” he surmised.

  The Prime tucked her good arm into her sleeve, drawing herself back from him.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “High Haven has already been the site of too many wars. I was hoping this was the twist in the weave that prevented the next one starting here too. Even after all my years, it seems the Weaver still has tricks for me in their pattern,” hissed the Prime. She marched from the Chapel without another word, leaving him standing alone within the dappled vibrant lighting that seemed a merry contrast to the sober stones and dish of mirror like water within the center of the chamber.

  —

  Dorius collapsed into his bed in the guest wing, not caring for the sweat and horse hairs on his robes that would get his sheets dirty.

  “You’ve missed a lot,” same the calm words of Elias from over his shoulder, “Bastian and I have been at work.”

  Dorius buried his face into his pillow, taking several breaths to calm himself. There was a fluttering at the window and he heard the sounds of Elias rising and unlocking the shutters to let Bastian in, still trapped in the form of a goshawk.

  Is that horse you bought back winged? He began.

  Elias drew a tight breath, “You found a winged horse? What of the Dragoness?”

  He came in riding it. Added Bastian. The sounds of claws on wood told Dorius he was perched near his head on the decorative knobs of the headboard.

  “Watcher! It has been a generation or more since the last documented case of a winged horse bending to a human rider. I think it was the Third Pentarchy…?”

  Dorius rolled and sat up, and began to strip his outer layers without regard for where he threw them.

  “If it makes you feel better, I’m fairly certain she hates me.”

  “Hates you?” asked Elias, curiously raising an eyebrow.

  “I don’t think she would have chosen it if there was another choice,” said Dorius, “She has barely spoken to me since, and most of it has been to criticize that I pull her mane because I’m such a poor horseman.”

  Elias settled back on his chair, “We have only a few hours before we must arrange for Sylus. Tell us what happened on the mountain? You were obviously successful, but where is Valina? And we must tell you what we have learnt here as well. I suspect it may help understand some of Sylus’ intentions.”

  Dorius rubbed his forehead, “We can talk, but have someone bring a bath for me. I thought I saw Lee’to? Find a Vigilant, Bryer maybe. I think it might be worth them hearing what has happened as well.”

  And so, Dorius began his retelling of the past few days on the mountain. He told it chronologically, and factually, not glossing over their struggles nor lingering on the fantastical elements that it seemed were becoming normal to his life now. Lee’to had some soldiers bring in a bathing tub and partition for his privacy so he could strip and bathe while continuing his story. There would be no time before meeting with Sylus otherwise.

  When he reached their first encounter with Abrigardius his voice faltered. He described the bonfire, Val and Fenris fighting her, and with a lowered voice… that he had run.

  You left Val!? Accused Bastian, his mind voice punctuated with a screech.

  “What was I meant to do? I can’t fight? I’d only be in her way, a distraction while she tried to keep me alive.”

  You can not put her in danger with stupid plans like directly challenging a dragon god! Hissed Bastian.

  Dorius gave a short bitter laugh, his voice cracking with his exhaustion, “You’ll love what's next then. When I found my strength to come back and observe the fighting, I was just in time to watch her climb the dragon’s back limb and get… swatted, crushed. I’ve never seen anything like it, her clothing was wet and black in a moment, her horns got impaled on its side.” He swallowed, feeling sick at the memory. He could still feel that visceral realization that no body could have survived that damage through normal means, more muscle and bone held together in a sack of clothing than living creature.

  Lee’to, who was sitting near him to help him change and bathe, drew her hands to her face in a gasp of horror.

  You said she was alive? Instead of anger, Bastian’s words were a strangled rasp.

  Dorius swallowed, “She’s alive,” he said firmly, partially to reassure himself, “Just not here. The dragon took off with her stuck to its side, and I made the deal with Driftbane that I would save Abrigardius if she took me to follow them.”

  “Driftbane?” asked Elias quietly.

  “The winged mare. Lee’to took her somewhere I think…”

  Dorius looked over his shoulder at her, she obediently signed something, exaggerating her movements to aid his understanding. He did not understand everything she said, but he saw the word of Laon in between her signs and figured she had sheltered the horse with her own kind, wherever they hid in High Haven.

  Elias rubbed his chin, “The mare will need to be accommodated almost as if she is an equal rank noble to yourself. Hart can have a team of the most dedicated bull teamsters assigned directly to her, we may have to buy their contracts off the Company permanently, and…”

  “Whatever she wants, no expense spared. She helped me save Val’s life,” replied Dorius quickly, eager to continue.

  He continued his tale, splashing in the water to scrub days of sweat and dirt from his skin, telling of Val’s healing and the dragon's change of heart and finally settling from its mad rage. Then how she had carried Val’s body to the cavern where she had rested to recover.

  “Both her and Fenris had an interesting history to tell, and despite parts of it contradicting our own documentation I am convinced in the end that they were both truthful. Abrigardius was there for the fall of the Monarchy, and she claims it was a betrayal by the remaining High Council. The Monarchy had been falling apart for generations in the lead up to it, but they still held some legitimate sway by the sounds of it,” Dorius rose from his tub, taking a towel from Lee’to to dry himself as he spoke. “What is more, I learnt the true origin of the Pentarchy from her. We knew it was a five family alliance that were influential from before the fall of the Monarchy that had enough sway to stabilize the Unrest, but it seems they were the remaining four factions of the High Council, with the addition of the remnants of previous Monarch bloodline - it appeared that natural crown or not, centuries of tradition could not be unwound in the end. My family must have taken the four horned dragon sigil somewhere in this period, maybe claiming a blood relation to her that was not true, or otherwise reforging events to their own benefit, which has also since been forgotten as well. So the Fourth are descend from the Monarchy, but they are not blood relations of Abrigardius,” he concluded.

  Elias cleared his throat, “We know already. My search of the Vigil’s records concluded similar, although your telling adds context to some of the other things I saw along the way.”

  Bryer rubbed their chin, having been silent for most of the story. “We were wrong then? About you being related to her?” they asked in their silky smooth voice, confusion tightening their brows and wrinkling their bald head.

  “No-”

  “Act-”

  Dorius and Elias both blinked as each had tried to start talking at the same time. Elias slowly raised his eyes to his Prince, who leaned against the partition with a towel around his waist.

  “You confirmed it then? I was only guessing” asked Dorius, folding his arms over his silvery chest hairs.

  “You know?” asked Elias.

  “I’m fairly certain she would have killed me if it wasn’t true. You were right,” said Dorius plainly to the Vigilant, then looked to Elias to confirm, “My father’s side?”

  Elias nodded confirmation, “The direct connection is lost, but Abrigardius definitely had a son, and then years later, halfway across the continent, a grandchild born to a father who is the right age and name but has no record of his own birth. It traced down on your father’s side in a male line. She had allies somewhere that snuck her progeny out from the turned High Council.”

  Dorius pursed his lips, “She thought her son was dead. It was most of the reason for her madness, I think she… became a god? Shortly after.”

  Bastian fluttered up to perch on the partition, turning to sidle along it.

  Where is Val then? Did you leave her to recover with these gods?

  Dorius rubbed the back of his neck, Bastian was going to lose his mind. “No, she woke up the next day. We went to investigate what happened to the Carmine Snake, and Abrigardius mentioned they had come to her begging for help about their line ending, it seemed they thought the Second was at an end. I thought it had something to do with my cousins and decided it would be best to return with Driftbane as fast as I could.”

  Elias sucked in his breath, “Yes, well we have news about that as well. Bastian has at least made good use of his new form…”

  Bastian hissed, scratching the wood frame of the partition as his talons tightened.

  She is on foot following you then? Asked Bastian.

  Dorius flinched, ready to raise his hands to protect his face, “No, I uh… I freed her.”

  You what?