But, Gray realised, his breath shallow, Killian had already figured this out.

Killian stared at Gray, his face white. His battle scars were barely visible in the unlit store room.

There was an unspoken hardness in Killian's gaze.

And understanding shifting between them.

Conor would be here to kill as many soldiers as he could. He'd be here to weaken and destroy the barracks.

'Come,' whispered Killian. 'Keep masking.'

They were moving. Through the deserted corridor outside. Slipping shadow to shadow in the courtyard outside. Past dark shapes lying prone on the cold ground.

Conor had come in, Gray realised numbly, ripping his horrified gaze away from the dark forms on the ground, and Conor'd taken down the whole guard without a sound. Every fighter, every soldier, every weapon in the courtyard. He'd disabled the hundreds of enchantments on the barracks walls.

He'd done it silently.

Without Gray even feeling it.

While he was masking.

Gray's stomach plummeted.

They were screwed. Lismere was screwed.

He'd known Conor was powerful, that he was a real threat, but seeing this in the flesh-

Another memory hit Gray, spiralling to the surface of Gray's mind with shocking intensity, and Gray stilled, his whole body stiff. He was vaguely aware of Killian gripping his arm, of hissing whispers in Gray's face kid, what the fuck, what is it, Gray what's wrong with you but Gray was busy doing everything he could to push the memory away.

Gray was five, hidden under the stairs, and Conor was peering in, his face full of concern, too scared to speak. His face was so like Gray's - the same eyebrows, same hair, same eyes, only Conor's gaze had always been so much colder, prouder, intelligent, powerful, and much better adapted to see through darkness. If Gray lit a lamp now, it would hurt Conor's eyes something fierce. Gray knew Conor would be able to see him, hiding here in the shadows-

The memory broke off.

Killian's hand was on the scruff of Gray's neck, and he was pulling Gray through the barracks gates and out into the street outside. Fast. Faster. They were sprinting.

Killian let go of Gray, and they were flying through the streets.

Left. Right. Twisting and turning.

Gray didn't know where they were going, and he didn't dare glance behind him, didn't dare look at Killian, because he knew it must be killing Killian to be running from this fight, to leave Jessica there, his men.

Killian slammed through a carved wooden front door of an old stone house, without knocking, without speaking.

Gray followed him, running behind him, through a carpeted reception room - it wasn't a house, wasn't a home, it seemed to be some sort of small guild, Gray realised, as his surroundings blurred past - and up a set of stairs.

'Gruger!' Killian yelled. His voice, usually controlled, was filled with urgency.

And expectation he'd be answered. Obeyed.

A hulking man immediately peered out one of the doorways. He had a huge amount of shaggy hair, a glass eye, and a very crooked mouth. When he walked out to meet Killian, he used a cane.

'Code Eagle,' said Killian. He pointed at Gray. 'Guard. Take him to my place.'

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The man - Gruger - took this all in as though it was just another Wednesday. He nodded.

Killian turned on his heel and left.

Just - left.

Gray sprinted after him. 'Killian.'

Gray was fast. He caught Killian out on the street.

Killian screeched to a halt as soon as he clocked Gray running in his shadow. Shoved him back, a sharp jab to the shoulder.

'Stay, Gray.'

'If you think I'm just going to stay here,' snarled Gray, pushing past him and breaking out into a run again, 'like a little-'

'If you get hurt,' said Killian, his words sharp and cold, tugging on the back of Gray's coat, 'Baldwin will have my head. You listen to me. You stay.'

Gray slowed. Halted.

And watched Killian vanish into the shadows, back the way they'd just fled.

—

Gray was either dying or having a panic attack.

Out in the damn street.

And now was not the time for it.

Gray fumbled for the rock Mali had given him in his pocket, finding it with trembling fingertips and trying to get a damn grip.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

'Griffin, isn't it?'

Gray tensed at the deep voice behind him, schooling his panic and his ragged breath.

'Yes,' Gray muttered, taking a moment to breathe, breathe, his insides weren't seizing, his lungs weren't sand, before turning to face the man Killian had left him with. 'Gray.'

The man - Gruger - was in the street, the doorway of the little building open someway behind him, lit by the warm lanterns within. He was leaning heavily on his cane. His glass eye gazed slightly to the left.

Killian will need reinforcements, Gray wanted to say. Shout.

His mouth, his mind, wasn't working.

It was filled with young Conor's face, peering in at him as he hid. Gray's chest tightened. His hand shook as he held Mali's rock.

Gruger surveyed him. 'Air mage, isn't it?'

Gray was holding himself so stiffly he could barely nod. Before he knew what he was doing, Gray was turning, heading back towards the barracks, because he couldn't just stay here-

A cane blocked his path.

It had appeared as though out of nowhere. Gruger had moved swiftly, silently, and faster than Gray would've thought possible for such a large man with a limp.

'Rooftop,' said Gruger. 'You need fresh air.'

Gray shook his head stiffly.

'The air quality at street level leaves something to be desired,' Gruger said.

When Gray continued to hesitate, Gruger grunted, 'now.'

Gray averted his gaze, searching the street, the barracks. Listening.

It was so damn quiet.

'If you fight me,' said Gruger, 'as I know you're very close to doing, it will not go well for you. Rooftop.'

Gray stiffly turned and stalked back into the house. 'I wouldn't fight you, sir.'

'Glad to hear it. Up.'

As Gray made his way up the first flight of stairs he noticed a woman on the landing, who'd definitely not been there just moments ago. She leaned against the wall, flipping a coin. A man sat on a nearby windowsill, casually oiling some kind of wire.

They glanced up at Gruger as he and Gray reached the top of the stairs, the timber creaking underneath their weight.

'Code Eagle,' Gruger muttered to them.

They both nodded and swiftly disappeared down the stairs and out the front door.

The next flight of stairs had throwing knives stuck into the railing. Gray trailed his fingers over the marked and old timber. It looked like this railing had been used as target practice a lot.

Weapons lined the wall, tucked away for easy reach, and a small plaque was stuck to a door on the last landing.

Assassin's Guild.

Gray glanced at Gruger. An assassin?

Normally, he'd be curious. Normally, he'd want to ask a hundred questions.

Gray swallowed hard and followed Gruger through a drafty attic.

The rooftop was a small balcony off the attic, with barely enough space for both Gruger and Gray. A girl not much older than Gray was perched on one of the gables, inspecting a knife. Another sat near the chimney, her legs dangling over the edge, her gaze on the street.

'Code Eagle,' Gruger said.

The girls melted into the black shadows.

Seeing Gruger send four - frankly, deadly looking - assassins after Conor did not ease Gray's turmoil at all, despite the cool, fresh air streaming over Gray like a soothing balm.

He gripped the balcony railing, glaring blindly at the view stretching before him.

'You've been taught breathing techniques?' said Gruger.

'Yes.'

'You wearing a dragon scale vest?'

'I'm not going to lose control,' said Gray.

Gruger shifted, making the balcony groan, leaning his cane against the railing. His shaggy hair flew every which way in the cool breeze. 'You've got enough power to flatten a city.'

'That's an exaggeration,' Gray muttered.

'I've read Killian's reports,' said Gruger. 'I've read-'

'I'm wearing one.' Gray moved his coat for Gruger to see.

'Between you and me,' said Gruger, watching Gray closely, and his tone shrewd, 'Baldwin's orders are he'd prefer capture, if possible.'

Gray slowly pulled his glare away from the view. Dropped it down to his white knuckles gripping the railing.

'In case that's important,' said Gruger. 'And, I emphasise, between you and me.'

'Capture?' said Gray.

'Capture,' Gruger repeated firmly. He continued to watch Gray closely.

Gray thought of the stories and reports of Conor defeating everything in his path, and doing it all with such ease. He thought of the boy peering in at him under the stairs, with his cold, powerful gaze.

'I don't think they'll capture him,' Gray said.

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