Gray stood in a stunned and silent shock.

He was dimly aware of Corentin moving around him, her voice speaking with the king's cold commands.

'Absolutely not,' the king was saying.

Gray wrenched his mind away from the griffin. Corentin already had a strangely shaped saddle blanket in hand and was staring at the king hopefully.

'The heavens part,' said Corentin shyly, 'in the heart to heart.'

The griffin had just spoken to him.

Real words.

Words he could understand.

Gray's heart thudded in his chest.

'If you're going to have this level of disbelief every time I tell you something,' said the griffin, 'this is going to be very frustrating.'

The words were deep.

Gray let out a shuddered breath, turning to gape at the griffin.

His golden gaze watched him.

'No,' said the king firmly. He pointed to Gray, his gaze resolutely settled on Corentin. 'Too important. No accidents. No flying, no getting lost. No heavens, no heart to heart.'

Gray shifted as Corentin's face fell.

'I won't fly off, sir,' he muttered.

'You most certainly will not,' said the king. 'No.'

'No heavens, no clouds,' said Corentin softly. 'Perhaps something smaller would be allowed?'

'What's allowed,' said the king, 'is him learning how to communicate with griffins with both feet on the ground.'

Gray held his hand out to the griffin. 'He wants to stretch his wings, sir.'

The king paused.

Very precisely, he turned to meet Gray's eye.

'He told you that?' said the king.

'Er, no,' said Gray. 'I just-'

The king made a sharp sound, turning on his heel and striding away, his robes billowing. And then, swiftly returned, his mouth curled into a snarl.

'I,' said Gray, speaking over the lingering shock, 'I can hear him, though, sir. He's speaking to me-'

The snarl fell off the king's face. 'You can hear him?'

'Yes, sir.'

'What's he saying?' he said sharply.

'He's calling me frustrating. He says he's learnt our language, because he lives with humans, and if I want to speak with wild griffins, I need to learn how to speak the language of images and -'

The rest of Gray's sentence was cut off as Corentin swept Gray up with an unexpected shout of laughter. Gray let her, grinning uncertainly.

The king gave them both a very rare and very small smile.

'So?' said Corentin breathlessly, facing the king.

'No.'

—

'Baldwin seems happy,' said Killian as they stepped out of the warmth of the stables and into the cool evening air, some hours later.

His voice was dry. Collected.

Killian gripped a black coat in one scarred hand that looked - at first glance - like it'd be much too small for him. His uniform, his wolf fur collar, his polished boots were all in immaculate order, but there was a sharpness to Killian's gaze that warned Gray he was at the tail end of a long day.

But, Gray couldn't help letting out a small smile.

Which Killian caught. 'Happy king, happy mage, eh? Miracles do happen.'

'It went all right,' said Gray, ducking his head to hide his face, not wanting to grin like an idiot in front of a tired and stressed Killian.

The exhilaration of talking with the griffin lingered, as did the sensation of home from when they connected to communicate.

The air of hay and griffin clung to Gray's training blacks, but with every stride, it was concealed by the briny wind rolling in from the sea.

Killian thrust the black coat at Gray. 'On. You had dinner?'

'Uh, thank you,' said Gray, slowing to shrug into the coat. It was brand new, light cotton and had pockets sewn in everywhere, Gray realised with delight. 'No, I-'

Killian shoved a neatly wrapped parcel at Gray.

'Eat while we walk,' said Killian, his Lismerian clipped. 'We're already late for Jessica.'

Gray trotted after Killian and unwrapped the parcel - sandwiches piled with chicken and a bunch of vegetables he'd never seen before - wanting nothing more than to leisurely stroll along the lamp-lit streets and take in the people, the bustle, the buildings while he gulped down the sandwiches.

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But, he couldn't.

There was an urgency in Killian's stride that had the people parting and making way.

Gray hurried after him.

—-

The barracks didn't look like a barracks.

It looked like a fancy academy. The kind where those who couldn't make the cut weren't welcome. High stone walls towered over Gray, old but perfectly maintained and clean, and lit by a hundred lanterns and a hostile enchantment that made the air sting.

The only thing giving away that this place was a barracks was the small warning sign by the guard house, and the sounds of training within the looming walls.

Steel clashed.

Boots stomped rhythmically.

Sharp orders in clipped Lismerian - and responding cries from soldiers being drilled - shattered through Gray's lingering thrill from the griffin. The air was thick with voices and movement.

'Finished?' said Killian.

Gray could've eaten those sandwiches three times over. He nodded, showing his empty hands.

'Hood up,' said Killian. 'Head down.'

Gray adjusted his new coat and fumbled with the hood as he trailed behind Killian.

The iron gates were closed, manned by several guards.

One glance at Killian, the guards bolted upr and swung the gates open.

In the light of the lanterns, Gray saw the barracks were set on a large swath of land and forest. Near the palace and guild, but back from the sea, and lined with intimidatingly grand stone buildings with blue roofs.

Gray followed Killian, his footsteps a whisper against the ground compared to the heavy, deliberate strides of the soldiers, and nothing compared to the commanding walk of Killian. Something had shifted in Killian as they'd passed through the gates. A slamming down of one of his masks. His presence cut through the air. He didn't slow. Didn't glance back.

Gray suppressed a shiver.

The courtyard stretched before them.

Heads turned as Killian stalked past. Conversations stilled. Even those in the midst of drills stole glances - a sliding of gazes to the corner of eyes - some respectful, some curious, some wary.

Gray felt each gaze pressing between his shoulder blades. They weren't looking at him, not really, but he was there, walking in Killian's wake, and that seemed to be enough.

A group of boys barely older than Gray, with shaved heads, bruised knuckles, and out of uniform, clustered near a water fountain, talking loudly. One of them spotted Killian and nudged another. Their gazes ran over Gray. One muttered something. The rest of the group smirked.

Some way behind him, Gray recognised the voice of one of Killian's lieutenants. Gray turned sharply in time to see Killian's men march out of sight around the corner as Killian's lieutenant shouted commands at them.

'Head down, kid.'

Gray bowed his head, curling his fingers in his pockets against the light cotton, seeking some kind of anchor as another group of soldiers passed by, their eyes sliding over him with practised indifference.

Gray swallowed hard and kept pace with Killian as they entered the largest building and through a maze of sparse corridors.

'I'm not invited to the meeting,' Killian said. 'I'll wait for Jessica's crow to come pick you up once you're done.'

Gray chewed his lip, and then opened his mouth to ask why Killian wasn't invited when Killian came to an abrupt halt outside a nondescript door.

He tilted his head as he sought Gray's gaze.

'You with me, hm?'

'Yes,' muttered Gray.

'You know the streets and layout of Krydon?'

Gray eyed the nondescript door. If Jessica - anyone - was in the room behind it, they were completely silent. 'Yes.'

'You've been listening to your instructors?'

'Yes,' said Gray.

'You've shown improvement with the griffins, clearly.'

'Yes.'

'Control of your magic?'

'Uh,' said Gray, eyeing the door again. 'A bit better.'

Killian clapped him on the shoulder and then swung open the door without knocking. 'Go knock them dead, kid.'

Gray stepped over the threshold and felt the whoosh of wind as Killian closed the door silently behind him. He lowered his hood.

It wasn't just Jessica Pruitt inside the room.

There were several others, most with harried air and careworn appearances and with enough stars on their uniforms to rival Jessica's. They sat spread out around a large table scattered with maps and papers.

Gray nodded at them, too nervous to take in the blur of faces in any detail.

Jessica leaned forward as Gray entered, leaning her elbows on the biggest map on the tabletop. Gray breathed in, slow, doing everything within him to control a slow rise of anxiety. Talking in front of groups. Not his favourite thing. He took in the map.

Krydon.

Jessica's black hair was slicked back into an immaculate bun, and she'd laid aside her usual two swords, which were propped up in the corner of the room within easy reach.

'You're being followed in Arnel Street,' she said, her voice carrying loudly across the room. 'How do you confirm it and how do you lose your tail?'

Gray hesitated, thrown off by Jessica's lack of hello or introduction. She stared at him, raising her eyebrows.

Arnel Street was one of the main streets in Krydon.

Gray edged forward. He'd been through this with his tactics instructor. His gaze dropped down to the map.

'I slow down near a glass window - this shop would work best - and I check the reflection. I check the higher stories, the rooftops, for a spotter from above.'

Gray darted a glance at her, to see if she was satisfied.

Her face betrayed nothing.

'I turn,' said Gray, 'here, where Arnel gets narrow and reaches a dead end.' Gray drew in a steadying breath. 'If they're following, they'll either hesitate at the corner, marking them as a tail, or they'll charge in after me, which means they're sloppy. Either way I confirm they're there.'

'Sounds like a good way to trap yourself,' said Jessica.

Gray leant over the map. 'There's a hidden path, here, that loops back to main street. No one uses it but locals. I can run.'

'So, it's not a dead end?' said Jessica. 'You could get ambushed.'

Gray furrowed his brow. 'Arnel has vendor stalls - here. If I need to move fast, I knock something over to slow them down. If I want to disappear, I drop into the sewer grate at the dip, here. If it's crowded, I cut through the tailor - right here - swap jackets, and head out - here.' He glanced up, meeting her gaze evenly. 'If they're still on me after that, then I'm not dealing with someone I can outrun or trick'.

'You're dealing with a vampiric sorcerer,' said Jessica, leaning back in her chair, 'and a regular sorcerer, both of whom can fahren.'

Gray delved into defensive runes.

'… If I need to block, I etch a Rune of Ironvene, to stop physical attacks and dampen the effect of spells, but the stronger the attack, the quicker it burns out, so I can also use a Veil Rune to hide …'

Words spilled out of Gray's mouth, fast and controlled, and doing everything he could to mask his nerves. The way Jessica was looking at him - the way her eyes were darkly demanding, assessing, measuring, ruthless - warned Gray that he was about to be drilled harder than any of the soldiers out in that courtyard. She was watching for hesitation. For any stumble.

Soon, Gray was under a rapid fire of questions.

'What's the best escape route here? The blindspots here? Resources you can use to evade capture here, here, here?'

Gray kept his gaze firmly on Jessica, answering every question and refusing to let his gaze wander to the others in the room. He may as well have been in a blank office for all the detail he'd taken in around him. His world was Jessica Pruitt and the Krydon map right now, and he didn't dare wrench his attention away.

'Longwark and the vampiric sorcerer,' said Jessica, her voice dropping low, 'they're going to come after you and they might well corner you. They might attempt communication. They might attempt lures. They might attempt kidnapping. You need to always be thinking, because the whole point of this, is that you're luring them.'

Gray's pulse quickened. 'Yes, ma'am.'

'You're not prey,' she said. 'You aren't bait. You're the hand guiding the knife.'

Gray gave a small nod.

'And,' she continued, 'I intend to make you very deadly.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'I'm going to show you,' she said, 'the route we have mapped out that gives any tailing sorcerers the best chance to glimpse not only you, but each other. To feel each other.' She held Gray's gaze. 'And to fight each other.'

Gray's mouth was dry. Unbidden, an image of Longwark flashed through his mind. Very carefully, he pushed it down.

Jessica traced her finger over the map. 'It starts at Arnel street ...'

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