“I released her from her contract with me,” repeated Dorius, turning back behind the partition to let Lee’to begin dressing him.

  “Do you think that was the best idea?” questioned Elias.

  Dorius flinched, glad for the layers Lee’to began to pass him as an excuse to keep his fingers busy. “Yes.”

  Bastian hunched to look down at him from above, beady golden eyes unblinking. I don’t believe it. You, do something selfless?

  Dorius frowned up at him, lifting his arms to let Lee’to begin the complicated belting process around his middle. “She suggested it. I trust her to come back.”

  Bastian gave a raspy hiss. Like you trusted me to stay?

  Dorius frowned, “I’m sorry. Humans were not meant to go into those mountains, that I am certain of more than ever having been myself. It was for the better that we were a smaller party.”

  Bastian straightened, turning one shoulder again. Talons clicking against the wood. If a bird could seethe with anger, it seemed Bastian was.

  Elias cleared his throat, “Well, your return was well timed, regardless. We have news from the Second, and it is unclear exactly how much detail Sylus knows yet, but his petition today to the Vigil suggests that he knows something. The Second Pentarch is dead, the Citrine Snake Prince Cassius O’Malus has ascended the throne, with no sisters or living female blood in the family.”

  Dorius felt his stomach drop, his hands grow unsteady. The moan of realization as he put things together sounded like a painful, strangled gasp of someone dying instead of standing to be dressed.

  “Will he be considered legitimate?” Dorius knew the answer, but he needed to hear Elias say the words.

  “It… has not been tested. If we are lucky, opinion may sway that he is the last, with no successor… like you. It is definitely questionable if a tradition built on dynasty will uphold rule by someone who can produce no heir…”

  Dorius motioned for Lee’to to give him some space, still only dressed in his white underlayers. He emerged to sit and rub his temples with his fingers.

  “And we have confirmed that there are no women in their line, none whatsoever?”

  Elias nodded, “It was the cause for their original pilgrimage. At this point both the Vigil and I have searched and there is no one, the family seemed to begin having an epidemic of sons several generations back.”

  “They’ve diminished,” muttered Dorius, noting the curious look Bryer gave him at his choice of words. “Is there a chance the male line could be recognized? Abrigardius was open to me being her blood?”

  “Blood, yes. Heir? A different matter,” replied Elias diplomatically, “Do you intend to make your relations known publicly?”

  Dorius sat back in his chair, tracing the grain of the wood with a fingertip, “No. I see no advantage to yet…” he paused, “I am not sure what she will do now she is awake. Her power is unlike anything I have ever seen before. If she makes her presence known, she will cause revolution - she is everything we have forgotten since the Unrest and more. There may be some value then in others knowing I have a direct relation, but until we know exactly what she will be, it might be more prudent to keep it secret.”

  “You think the Dragoness will make herself known?” asked Bryer cautiously.

  Dorius watched them for a moment, trying to assess the reason for them to ask and what skin in this game the Vigil had. Their motivations still remained somewhat cloudy to him, and while they had mostly seemed in control and knowing about events, he was coming to believe that was built mostly on certainty in the Weave rather than any true foreknowledge.

  “She will need time to readjust to the world she has woken up into. But she carries herself like a ruler, and is used to wielding power like one,” replied Dorius cautiously, searching Bryer’s face for a reaction. When he saw nothing, he changed subject with a sigh, “So, let us outright assume Sylus knows this as well now. The summit he is requesting - how does it play into his strategy?”

  Elias drew back into his own seat, “That should be your primary goal to determine in your meeting with him tonight.”

  Dorius groaned, and rose again to continue dressing, “Easier said than done. I have no advantage over him, or at least certainly not one I’m willing to play.”

  Elias tipped his head, “It may be time to do so. Going in seeming weak, did not go well last time…”

  Dorius grimaced and stepped behind the partition again to let Lee’to begin working his outer layers, the robes were like those he had worn to his first meeting with the Vigilants, Laon style clothing again, dyed a steeled grey blue but without the gold he might have usually worn when acting in official capacities. As she pleated the crisp folds and tucked them into the unusual belt style they used, he chewed on an idea. As he stewed he called, “Bastian, you’ve been watching him, what do you know?”

  You want to hear my opinion now?

  Well, he did deserve that. The hawk was still perched up on the top of the partition where he had a full view of the room.

  “Yes. I always want to hear it. I said I’m sorry.”

  The hawk hissed again. He arrived with a smaller retinue, he was not expecting an extended visit. Most of his men I have identified now within the Pilgrims, and using them as a force multiplier would reveal their positions. Likely he is also cautious of the Seconds presence.

  “The Citrine Snake is still here?”

  Bastian nodded his head, yellow beak bobbing. The rider with the news came only days ago. Given the secrecy they are trying to act with, a rapid departure might only raise questions when they are in neutral lands. You will have him at an advantage if you can put on a display of force.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Dorius chewed on his thumb, and called over the wall, “You do diplomacy here regularly? You have some nice halls? Public places I might use? I want a location that I can make an arrival at.”

  Bryer narrowed their eyes, “The town's usual business is dignitaries. This is not a Vigil matter I need to be involved in.”

  Dorius continued undeterred, “Arrange with Gail his best accommodations and food, Elias, and write a letter of invite. Then join me to go visit Driftbane. I will introduce you to her and we can begin asking how it is we can make her service to me comfortable. I’d like to request her help for this evening.”

  Bastian flexed his toes, arching his wings over his back.

  I cannot join you. My best advantage to you is that no one knows I’m in this cursed shape, or ties my movements to you. You need a guard with you, unlike last time.

  Dorius felt a sly grin creep onto his face, maybe a neutral third party would be enough given Sylus’ limited resources here. He raised his voice to call to Bryer again, “Do you want to come to dinner with us, not as a representative of the Vigil, but for your own personal amusement?”

  He heard a snort of amusement, but Bryer gave no answer.

  Dorius stood straight as Lee’to adjusted the layers around his collar, “There is nothing the Vigil can do to change you back?” he asked, turning his head upwards to Bastian again.

  “He can change himself back, he just needs to work out how and he has refused to let one of us carry him into the belltower where the carillon is to meet the other two who can work some magic,” said Bryer, eliciting a disgruntled screech from Bastian in reply. “And whether or not you like it, you’re a Vigilant now, there are things you need to learn. Although, most of us choose to open our ears to the Watcher instead of her reaching out to us as she did with you.”

  Dorius sighed, even after his bath he was still exhausted. Lee’to stepped back, clasping one hand in the other to let him know she was finished. His own hands were trembling, and his fingers felt naked without his rings. He still had a long night ahead of him.

  —

  Val paused against the cold stone surface, tracing the lines of the rock with her fingers curiously.

  “How can you tell it’s here?” she asked, not looking over her back to watch the giant black wolf who walked with her.

  There is a marking in the rock above your hand. And another at your feet. Also, I’ve lived here for more time than you can imagine.

  Val lifted her hands, tracing a discoloration in the rock. It could have been nothing, just a natural defect in the rock caused by age and erosion. At her feet was a similar marking. She shifted her axe to crouch and inspect it.

  “I suspect you knowing is most of it. I would never be able to find it,” she commented gruffly. From the discoloration, her fingers could just find the edge of the door, imperceptible to the eye but raised in a way that her sensitive finger tips could feel and trace, a line too linear to be natural. Curious, she traced its entire outline familiarizing herself with its shape, it went well over her head, likely large enough to allow the passing of the giant goat mounts the Laons used.

  It's a good thing I’m here. Said the wolf smugly, his jaw falling open to let his pick tongue hang between his teeth. The stone singers made the doorways generations ago, the Laon colony is raised knowing how their home works, even if they have shrunk in size and no longer need it’s full size.

  Val hummed, and then finding the outline of the mechanism for the door, pressed the divot in the rock with two fingers. The stone gave way, and the door shifted, then folded inwards, a faint glow of fluorescent blue almost imperceptible compared to the bright white of daylight.

  “I will part from you then,” said Val simply, tucking her gifted wolf skin coat close to her collar.

  Good. Once you visit your own kind, will you return to the little Dragon Prince?

  Val turned to look at Fenris, his tongue and posture were relaxed, but his yellow eyes watched her intensely. Val avoided meeting his gaze, instead she knelt, and beckoned over his twin silver wolves. Both wolves stepped forward, leaning against her sides as she scratched behind their ears and patted them roughly on their sides.

  “I will,” she said after a moment to gather her thoughts, “Whether it was the Weave or merely chance, he is… my Brother.”

  And what of your own kind? Dragon thrones and Dragon gods are for those descended from Dragons. The Fae will never be welcome with them. Once we were like their toenails and shed hairs - discarded and scorned for being lesser than what we were created from. Now we remain, and they diminish, and we are scorned for having a trace of what they once were still. The Laon, the Nyx, the Sil-ae, and more, we persist. Will you continue our history of service to them?

  Val could hear the challenge in his voice, like the rolling dark clouds of a distant storm that threatened thunder and lightning. She did not know all the species he named, but it seemed a topic he was insistent on bringing up with her again and again, each time the implications of his words a little different.

  “You were once Dragon… or Human? You admitted so yourself,” she replied cautiously, carefully lifting her eyes to see how he would react. His tongue withdrew into his mouth and his jaw closed, lips drawn back over his teeth in a menacing grin.

  Aye.

  “And despite claiming to have such low regard for them, here you were - guiding Dorius to meet a Dragon God. I think your challenge to me is a test of something that you cannot even find in yourself, a way to break our bond with them and be free as our own species for once…”

  The wolf began to growl, deep in the back of his throat. Val slowly rose, unflinching, this all felt like a test. She gazed up his long muzzle to meet his yellow eyes, and paused. If she turned, or weakened, she had a sudden feeling he would kill her.

  It didn’t scare her, not like when she had laid in the snow with her broken body and felt regret. Already she was taking steps so that when she knocked upon deaths door again, it would be with the calm she had imagined she might feel.

  Instead, this threat had an edge of something she was familiar with, this challenged her to see if she could pay the constant price that surviving required.

  It was the price of constant vigilance. It was the price in the numb quiet place between life and death. Payment extracted as the hollowness after killing, as the quiet weight of secrets and sacrifice. A price that would eventually demand every payment she had to give. She would die one day, in service to Dorius, far away from her own kind. While he might be remembered, she would be forgotten. In a way, Fenris was offering her a way out if she could not hold firm against the payment that would be extracted from her, as a final act of mercy.

  And Val gave asserted to Fenris with her mind and her steady gaze - she already knew this. It was a battle she had fought everyday already just by existing in places she did not belong. “I know the choice I make,” she said finally.

  Fenris lowered his lip, hiding his white teeth again. Whatever you choose, that will be the choice that was meant to be, but that will not save you from its consequences.

  Val felt her chest tighten. The wolf turned his shoulder and silently padded between the trees, disappearing surprisingly quick for a creature so large. With a single whine, his wolves lingered just long enough for one last rub, then streamed off after their master, leaving her alone.

  Val slowly released her breath. She was certain she would never see him again, but the wolf pelt around her shoulders seemed to carry a warmth it hadn’t before.

  She pushed the doorway into the mountain full open and marched inside to see what lessons the Laons had for her next.