Gray gripped Killian's sleeve, steadying him. 'Not a sorcerer.'

'I know it's not a damn sorcerer,' said Killian. 'That's Officer McKinly, and he's come to do exactly what Rigby just did.'

'Oh,' said Gray, startled.

Officer McKinly strode forward. He was a short man with a strong chin and bulbous eyes. He was dressed immaculately in his uniform. 'Slate,' he shouted from down the street. 'Brilliant. I've been looking for you. Stay right there.'

'No,' Killian shouted back.

McKinly came to an abrupt halt. Even this far away, Gray could see the deep and annoyed grooves marking his face as he processed the brutal no Killian had just shouted.

'I beg your pardon, Slate?' bellowed McKinly.

'No, thank you, sir,' Killian shouted.

'Wait just a minute,' said McKinly, breaking out into a jog.

Killian turned his back to McKinly.

'Walk,' said Killian to Gray. 'Home. Fast.'

'What the hell is happening?' said Gray.

'Good night, McKinly,' Killian shouted over his shoulder, gripping the scruff of Gray's neck and urging him across the street.

'Look here, Slate,' shouted McKinly. 'You stop right there.'

'On a tight schedule,' Killian shouted back, picking up the pace so much that Gray was forced to trot to keep up. 'Sorry, sir, king's orders.'

They turned down a small side street that Gray'd never been down, and Killian staggered.

'Are you all right?' said Gray.

Killian nodded, sagging against a streetlamp.

'He's following us,' said Gray.

'I know,' snapped Killian.

'Should we just talk to him?'

'Do you want to?' said Killian, his voice getting sharper and shorter. He pressed a hand against his ribs.

'Of course not,' Gray said. 'But I - we can't just run away from him …'

'Kid, I'll be honest with you, I'm about a hair's breadth from sitting down and not getting back up for three days.'

'Why didn't you say anything?' said Gray, alarmed.

'It's not so bad when I'm sitting down,' said Killian.

'You shouldn't have been out of bed at all, I knew it,' said Gray, taking a stride back towards the entrance of the side street. 'I'll talk to him. Tell him no.'

'Kid, get back here,' Killian said. 'He won't take no for an answer. Not easily.'

'Raised - in - a - tavern,' said Gray. 'I can tell a persistent person no.'

'Yeah, you're so tough,' said Killian. 'Kid, you didn't even know what a Handrun contract was. You're not talking to this man.'

'I can handle him,' said Gray. 'If I can handle you, I can handle -'

Gray froze.

'What?' said Killian. 'What is it?'

'He's got something on him.' Gray frowned.

'What?' Killian lifted his head, his expression pained.

'There's … something …'

'He's cursed? Enchanted?'

'No,' said Gray, closing his eyes for a second and trying to sense the rapidly approaching magic that matched the quick footsteps of McKinly. 'It's small. Subtle. Like - is he wearing an amulet or charm or something? It's magnetic. Charismatic.'

Killian let out a disbelieving breath, his eyes wide. 'That wily bastard.'

He heaved himself off the streetlamp and then grabbed Gray's scruff again, urging him back into a trot.

'McKinly,' said Killian, his breath short, 'he's silver-tongued, smart as a whip, and more than capable of convincing a naive kid to sign something. Especially if that naive kid's guard is passed out on the ground. And especially if he's wearing a damn charisma amulet.'

'I'm the naive kid?' said Gray. 'Nice, Killian.'

'Some of these officers have gotten very, very pushy over the past couple days, and I'd prefer you let me handle them. Understood?'

Gray was on the verge of telling Killian that there was nothing anyone could say to convince him to join the Augustes' army, especially after witnessing Killian's treasure league in Krydon and the acts they committed. That the ruthless, dangerous monster Killian turned into when working for the army was not something Gray wanted to risk ever turning into.

That McKinly didn't stand a chance.

But, Gray wondered, if someone offered him the right things - alchemy lessons, safety for his family, wiping of his debt to the crown - with the help of charms and enchantments that Gray wasn't experienced with, he might end up exaclty where he'd promised himself he'd never be; Baldwin Auguste's army.

They turned a dark corner. They were in a back street.

'But,' said Gray. 'I - I heard people talking today. I didn't think there'd be anyone who wanted me in their division, team, league-'

'Like I said,' said Killian. 'Naive.'

'Will you stop calling me that?'

'The … lure of a mage with a base stat of 78 in magic is … the better the soldiers on your team, the better your performance, the more you win, the more your men are chosen for promotion, the higher the commanding officer's stats climb. The higher the stats, the better the pay, prestige … a lot of people don't care if you're ...' Killian stopped, fading out. His head bowed low over his chest, his breath sharp.

'Oh no,' said Gray. 'Don't pass out. Please. I'd have to ask McKinly to help me get you home.'

Killian let out the smallest amused huff.

'Should I send a crow to someone?' said Gray, seriously. 'Jessica? Gruger?'

'No …'

Gray grabbed Killian's elbow and helped him along.

'You cark it and they're going to shunt me off to the consort palace for the night,' said Gray. 'Stay away from the light.'

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'I'm not dying …'

They reached Killian's street, and Killian came to a staggered stop. He swore under his breath.

Right on Killian's front steps was a tall officer with blond hair pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She sat stiffly, cast half in a golden glow from a nearby streetlamp, looking as though she'd been on those front steps for quite some time.

The neighbouring house - Sidney's house - was brightly lit and a cacophony of loud music and voices.

This seemed to be setting the strange officer's teeth on edge, because she was busy glaring at the neighbour's house and didn't see Killian and Gray until they were right in front of her.

'Killian Slate,' she said, hastily standing and brushing off her trousers. 'Gods, are you all right?'

'Fine,' said Killian tightly. 'Thank you.'

'You look ill.'

'It's the lighting,' said Killian.

She tore her shocked gaze away from Killian and peered at Gray. 'And Gray Griffin's hiding under the hood, yes?'

Killian tugged Gray's hood down lower. 'No.'

'No?' she said. Then, she glanced past Gray, up the street. 'Is that Officer McKinly on the corner there?' she said.

'Yes,' said Killian.

'It looks like he's chasing you down,' she said.

'Not to be rude, Finola,' said Killian, urging Gray up the steps, 'but you can say whatever you need to me tomorrow at work, all right?'

'I'll be fast,' said Finola, reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. She craned her neck, trying to peer under Gray's hood again. 'I wanted to speak with Gray, actually.'

'No,' said Killian.

She glanced up at Killian.

'It's just a proposal,' she said.

'You need to run it by Baldwin. Good night.'

'Don't be like that, Slate.'

Killian paused for a fraction of a second, seemingly assessing the folded piece of paper. Sweat beaded his temple.

From Sidney's house, a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday exploded into the night.

'Uh,' said Gray to Finola, getting truly concerned about Killian, 'I'm so sorry, but I'm not interested.'

'You haven't read it,' said Finola. 'No pressure. Just read it over.'

'Uh,' said Gray, moving to lower his hood so that Finola could see he meant his words. 'I don't want to mislead you-'

Killian yanked Gray's hood down with enough force that Gray stumbled. Finola took the opportunity to press the proposal into Gray's hands.

'Hey,' shouted Officer McKinly. His voice carried over the cheering and rounds of applause coming from Sidney's house.

'He's getting close,' said Killian urgently, in an undertone. 'Inside, Gray.'

Before Gray knew what he was doing he was rushing through Killian's front door, Finola's proposal clasped in his hands.

'I don't know how the damn they all found out you're staying here,' said Killian, slamming the door shut behind him. 'It's not safe.'

There was a muffled thumping on the door, and a faint, 'Slate, you can't just shut your door in my face.'

'At this rate,' muttered Killian, 'it's not safe to have you at the consort palace, they'll find you there. You need to have guardians none of them know.'

Through the door, 'Slate!'

'The recruitment tactics will only get worse,' said Killian, 'until you're signed. Or until Baldwin makes an example of one of them.'

Gray stood awkwardly as Killian locked the door with trembling fingers.

'I can do it,' said Gray. 'Go sit.'

'Stop fussing, kid.'

Silence echoed as Killian settled some deeply complicated lock mechanisms into place and then started turning on lamps. Gray glanced down at Finola's proposal in his hand and hastily set it down on a side table.

The room turned warm and golden, some of the awkwardness eased out of Gray's shoulders. Killian collapsed onto the couch. His breathing was shallow.

Chewing his lip, Gray went into the kitchen and started rifling through the cupboards. There were a bunch of dried myrtle leaves behind Killian's store of teas. Gray hesitated and filled the kettle. He couldn't let Killian pass out yet. There were bound to be medicines and potions that Killian needed to take before he slept.

Muted sounds of another chorus of Happy Birthday from next door floated through the warded walls of Killian's home.

'It's Sidney's birthday?' said Gray, trying to keep Killian conscious.

'His brother's,' said Killian. His words were beginning to slur. 'They were going to call it off, because of everything that's been happening. They didn't think it was appropriate.'

'It's good they didn't. It's good to hear people being happy, after … everything.'

Killian's eyes were closing. Gray returned his focus to making the tea, fast. Killian was so quiet and still that Gray checked to see if he'd passed out.

He was glaring blindly at his unlit fireplace.

'You need to go to bed, Gray,' said Killian.

'You need to stay awake,' said Gray, cautiously stepping towards the couch to get a proper look at Killian, 'for another minute. Where are your potions?'

'My bedroom.'

When Gray returned from Killian's beroom, armed with an array of different bottles, jars, blankets, and a pillow, the kettle was whistling and Killian hadn't so much as moved an inch. Gray neatly set out the potions and medicines on the coffee table in a line.

Gray poured the tea and set Killian's mug down, right within reach on the coffee table.

Killian's dark gaze landed on the steaming mug Gray'd set down. 'Myrtle tea?'

'I, er, saw your stats. Your magic stat - it's higher than a normal human's. Myrtle tea helps mages recover, and I thought it might make you feel better, too.'

Killian glanced up, his eyebrows high. Then his gaze roamed over the lined-up row of potions and medicines, and then over to the blanket and pillow next to him on the couch.

'You use magic when you shift?' said Gray.

'That's how it works, yes.'

'So, myrtle tea might help,' said Gray awkwardly.

'Good thinking.'

'And,' said Gray, nudging one of the potion bottles forward, 'the label here says you need to take this with your dinner, bolded, and underlined twice, and I definitely didn't see you take anything at the pub, so you better have it now, while the food's still in your stomach.'

Killian's expression twitched.

'Laugh, go on,' said Gray, 'but I'm just getting started. You should've seen me when Harriette got the fey flu …'

Gray faded out, a sharp pain gnawing in his stomach.

'Uh,' said Gray, 'Killian, I need to tell you something. About Harriette and Barin. I think I might need your help, but, I need you to promise that you won't …'

Won't … what? Report them to the authorities? Imprison them? Set off Codder, who was violent and sadistic and capable of anything?

The pain spiked in Gray's stomach.

Killian was draining his medicine, his gaze sliding back towards the fireplace as the sounds of the birthday party next door rose. 'What about Harriette and Barin, hm?'

There was a tapping on the window.

Gray started and hurried over to let in a crow.

It flew in, its wings whipping cool night air over Gray's face.

It landed on the back of Killian's couch, and pecked at the rolled-up note attached to its leg.

In the time it took for Gray to relatch the window, Killian had already unrolled the note and was absent-mindedly stroking the crow as he read. Slowly, precisely, Killian folded up the note and tucked it up his sleeve.

The crow hopped along the back of the couch, eyeing the steaming cup of myrtle tea on the coffee table.

Killian glanced up, apparently feeling Gray's inquiring look. 'It's from one of my men. He'll have to wait. I need to rest.'

'Er, right,' said Gray.

'What were you saying?'

'Uh.' Gray hesitated, eyeing Killian's slumped form. 'Nothing.'

Killian's eyes slowly blinked closed. 'Spit it out, kid. Barin and Harriette, yes?'

'No,' said Gray. 'It's nothing. I forgot.'

Killian opened his eyes a slit. 'Shower. Bed. Try to get a good sleep. Tomorrow's a big day.'

'Right. Good night, then.' Turning on his heel, Gray headed up the stairs.

Gray paced inside the bathroom. Perhaps - perhaps tomorrow he could speak to Codder, sort this whole thing out, Gray'd be at the palace with Jessica before fahrenning to Krydon. They'd set up a temporary barracks there in one of the sections of the palace. Codder would probably be there.

Killian didn't need to be involved.

In fact, he probably shouldn't.

Gray stood under the stream of clean water, letting it ease his tired muscles and clean his healing scrapes and grazes. The X on his wrist. He scrubbed himself clean, once, twice, and then again.

By the time he emerged, even the gnawing worry in his stomach about Barin and Harriette, and the faint, rising beat of anxiety at the thought of heading to Krydon tomorrow couldn't keep him awake. He climbed under the covers of his bed.

—-

Gray woke to the muted sounds of Happy Birthday being sung next door. This round of Happy Birthday was slurring. The singers were off-key.

The room was dark.

It was still night.

Pushing himself blearily out of bed, Gray made his way down the dark staircase and into the golden glow of the living room, thinking to check on Killian.

The couch had been slept in, with the blanket and pillow mussed, but no Killian.

There was a crow, sleeping on one of the chairs in the lounge. It was different to the crow earlier. Smaller.

Killian must've been sending and receiving messages. At some point, Killian must've gotten up to get some work done, because the coffee table was covered in a complex map of Dierne and files, and pages of his neat writing.

Gray edged forward, staring.

The pages of Killian's writing were mostly sums and calculations that Gray didn't understand.

And the map wasn't just a complex map of Dierne, Gray realised. It was tombs, caves, and underground buildings.

Killian had neatly stacked the books on the fey to the side. One had a military report shoved into the pages, and Gray could make out the fringes of the writing.

Gray leaned close, not daring to touch anything in case Killian could - what, smell it - or just notice.

It was Jessica Pruitt's report.

On the incident with the fey in Krydon. Sorena had struck a bargain with the fey queen.

In exchange for safe passage and a vial of the fey queen's blood to be used in the [REDACTED] potion, Sorena will pass her right as third in line to the Auguste throne to the fey queen, who shall inherit instead of Sorena, should the -

Gray wrenched his gaze away, his mouth hanging open. 'Shit, Sorena.'

Surprised that Killian would've left this out for Gray to see, Gray poked his head into the den.

Empty.

He padded up the stairs and peered into Killian's room.

Empty.

Gray stood still on the small, dark landing, uncertainty coiling within him. He went back downstairs into the golden glow of the living room. Hesitated by the front door. Killian's boots and his jacket were gone.

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