Dorius huddled against Driftbane’s shoulders, his face pressed to the back of her neck where her mane whipped cruelly at his skin in the wind. They had taken multiple rests at his own request. It turned out that it was not the mare’s strength with extra weight that gave out first, but his own. His shoulders and legs ached from gripping the mare bareback, his stomach protested the constant rolling motion of flight. The sharp chill of cold wind buffeted down his robes and snapped at his eyes, leaving him unable to do much except bury his face into her neck and squint at the changing light of the landscape around him.

  Now, finally, the walls of High Haven were coming into sight, and it was later in the afternoon than he had hoped it would be. He had wanted to land and cross the clearing before the walls on foot to avoid attracting unwanted attention. Now darkness approached, he feared the consequences of encountering wild-Fae without Val if they were on the ground too long. Now they would have to land as close as they could dare and hope no one looked beyond the walls into the valley out of habit.

  Driftbane skimmed the tops of the trees, keeping low as forest dropped into clearing and they beelined for the final approach to the rear gate of High Haven.

  It was rare that he was ever fully alone, let alone without Val nearby. It was already the longest they had been separated in years.

  He felt hollow. His victory had been so close and hard won, it did not feel like he thought it should. It felt like it should have failed, that he had deserved failure and not the twist of fate that had scraped him a victory. How would he explain it to others? Would it be truthful, or would he conveniently skim over the rougher edges of their journey? The obvious temptation was to ignore those parts of the telling and return only speaking of their successes.

  And did not even begin to unpack the feelings he had about the gods they had met, the power he had witnessed, or leaving Val behind.

  His stomach jolted as Driftbane flared her wings to slow them, and he felt the roll of her muscles as they hit the ground at a canter and she slowed herself to a stop fluttering her wings. Dorius finally raised his head and saw the shut rear gate of High Haven before them.

  “I don’t know what I expected…” he mumbled to himself, and tossed one leg over Driftbane’s wide shoulders to slide off her back with his belly facing her, dropping the final distance to the ground. His legs were so weak they buckled and he sat in the dirt at her feathered feet for a moment catching his breath.

  Above them a hawk cried.

  Driftbane’s skin twitched, her hide foaming. His plain travel robes were dotted with her hairs and sweat. She stepped clear of him and hung her head watching with one dark eye, and he swore he still saw her contempt for his weakness reflected there.

  “I’ll be right in a moment,” he muttered to her, rubbing the back of his legs. Dorius knew she listened, but she rarely answered, her obedience since he had crossed a leg on her shoulder had been faultless. Too weak for the heavy crown. Those words still lingered. She snorted, sending up a cloud of fine dust from her dish shaped nostrils, then lifted her head and turned her ears to follow the hawk that flew overhead.

  Dorius followed her gaze and was surprised to see the hawk drop, then panicked when he realized that it was coming for him. His hips and legs wouldn’t obey, so he sheltered his head under his sleeves hoping his thick robes would protect his head from the bird if it was indeed aiming for him.

  Instead… What the fuck are you doing here?!

  The voice was definitely Bastian’s but he was familiar enough with the feel of mind words to know it had not been spoken. He lowered his arms, and stared at the hawk that was standing on the ground before him, wings half extended as it clumsily walked closer.

  “Bastian?” The golden eyes and the color of his red feathered mantle were uncanny in their familiarity.

  Who else?

  “Why are you-”

  Why!? The fucking Vigil! I’ve not been much interested in listening to their explanations. They can piss right the fuck off!

  “You're a bird though?”

  Yeah, no shit. I’m pretty aware of it.

  “How?”

  The Vigil changed me, I heard the words of the Watcher or some such shit.

  Dorius blinked. “Changed…” he gasped and put his hands to his mouth, “They can’t…”

  I knew it! Bastian leapt the air battering him with his wings as he screamed with his hawk voice. Dorius ducked again under his sleeves to protect his face. You did this! Didn’t you!?

  “I asked for a Vigilant who was changed to return with me to Southold!” he cried back in explanation, “I didn’t mean for them to turn someone from Southold into a changed Vigilant!”

  I fucking knew it! Continued Bastian, punctuating his mind words with high pitched screams. Tell them to change me back!

  “I’ll try! I’ll try!” cried Dorius in response, “Just stop! Stop!”

  The assault on his head ceased and he lowered his arms to look into the golden eyes of the goshawk staring back at him. As a bird, Bastian had some impressive white eyebrows and deeply set eyes that seemed to give life to his rage-filled greeting.

  “You can’t turn back?” he tried asking, and immediately regretted it as Bastian turned his shoulder.

  You think I’d be like this if I could? I’ve been stuck like this for five days.

  Dorius counted back the days in his head, “They turned you before we’d even talked Abrigardius down?”

  Dorius swore he heard a gasp in his head. You found the dragon? What happened, where is it? Where'd the horse come from? Bastian turned to look at him again, looking down his beak in accusation. Where is Val?

  Dorius took a deep breath, and raised his hands defensively, “I can’t… one at a time.”

  Why isn’t Val with you??

  “She’s alive,” Dorius desperately reassured, “I’ll tell you everything. Everything! I promise. We need to get inside though, and Driftbane needs somewhere to…”

  I will not be caged in a stable. I am not a horse.

  Dorius and Bastian both swung their faces to stare at the winged horse and her unexpected words.

  Dorius swallowed, “No I…” Dorius scrubbed his face one handed, “Just let me start again both of you…” The horse leveled one dark eye at him, swishing her tail dismissively. He didn’t know what he expected on his return, but this was too much already.

  The gate gave a groan, and began to creep open.

  Dorius looked at Bastian desperately, “Did anyone see me coming?” The goshawk hunched its wings in an imitation of a shrug.

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  “We didn’t need to see you coming,” replied a familiar silken voice.

  Bastian immediately screeched and leapt into the air, gaining altitude rapidly with fluttering wing beats.

  Bryer rushed out the door, watching Bastian over their shoulder as they came quickly to Dorius’ side and began to help him to his feet, “We cannot linger, your cousin is coming!”

  Dorius almost fell back to the ground in shock, “What? Sylus? Does he know I’m here?”

  “No, we opened the Pilgrim gate when we sensed the Dragoness settle. He has made his way from Kal’fall for an audience with the Prime,” explained Bryer, eyes on the sky following Bastian’s circling movements cautiously. Dorius was sure he saw some scabbing scratches on the side of their bald head.

  Dorius straightened, letting Bryer help him up, “You cannot!” he immediately barked, “Our contract now binds you to deal only with myself or my agents. And…”

  “No time,” hissed Bryer, “We will abide by the contract, don’t worry. But you had best get inside if you want to listen in.”

  Dorius shut his mouth and focused all his effort on his unsteady steps to follow. With a blink of shock Lee’to was not far behind, who gave Driftbane a reverential bow and gestured for the mare to follow her.

  “Bastian!” called Dorius, “We’re going to the Chapel! Sylus is here.”

  The goshawk fluttered low, circling. I thought he was with Gail?

  “You knew he was here?”

  What else am I meant to do as a bird but spy on everything?

  “I don’t have Val! Come with me?”

  I can’t. I’m not going in that place again.

  “Bastian?” pleaded Dorius, Bryer rushing him faster than he felt like he could manage.

  No. I can’t. There was a note of panic in Bastian’s mind voice that Dorius was not expecting to hear. He was probably just as shaken from his past few days as Dorius felt.

  Dorius pushed himself free of Bryer’s arms as the passed the gate and a Laon soldier began to shut it behind them. “I can’t be seen by Sylus as I am now,” he explained hastily.

  “Not to worry, we’ll hide you as one of us, quickly though…”

  Dorius grabbed their sleeve and stopped them, “Why are you helping?” he asked, more shocked than suspicious.

  Bryer barely paused, urging him onwards, “We can have favorites. Contract or not, the Watcher is taking great interest in these events…”

  Dorius almost groaned, “I am sick of hearing that.”

  Bryer gave a grin, “Did you like the Wolf God?”

  —

  Dorius entered the Vigil Chamber at Bryer’s side, his travel robes hastily covered by an outer layer of the Vigilant’s heavy garments. Compared to his first visit, the stone was awash with red and yellow light from the stained glass ceiling and window panels. Together, they took position behind the dais, blending into the closed curtains of the back wall that were parted only far enough to reveal the huge metal eye of the Watcher.

  The central throne, as before, was empty. The Prime sat on the secondary chair, the Laon drone at her feet and two Laon soldiers on guard that had not been in place for their own audience. He was barely into position, taking hasty breaths to try and steady his nerves, before the door was thrown open and a familiar silver-haired figure entered.

  Sylus was not wearing his usual long-sleeved robes, instead he had ornate lacquered armor and a highly decorated sword at his waist. He was flanked by his seneschal, and a man who Dorius was certain was Gustave but was dressed as a captain of the Viridian Guard. Neither his sister, nor his garden was here today.

  As he swept up the chapel and around the central dish of water he called out imperiously “Your sorry excuse for a mayor has informed me that you have forbidden him from treating with me!”

  The Prime settled casually into her chair, slinging her one good arm into the front wrap of her robes.

  “That is correct.”

  Sylus came to a halt, his voice hissing with indignation, “What manner of game is this? I represent the Fourth Pentarch directly!”

  “Speak your case, and I will disclose what, if any, negotiation may be possible,” replied the Prime, her manner just as haughty, “You have not come in Pilgrimage, so I owe you nothing.”

  “I come as a representative of the Fourth Pentarchy, the Dragon Throne, to the Free Mountain State. If your representative will not negotiate with me, you owe me the diplomatic welcome I am due,” demanded Sylus.

  “And what diplomacy are you seeking to conduct?” the reply from the Prime had the sickly sweetness Dorius found infuriating when interacting with them.

  Sylus smoothed back his hair, “We are seeking to hold an emergency summit. Gather the Pentarchs here in neutral territory.”

  The Prime raised an eyebrow, “That was not the purpose you claimed only days ago when your representatives hounded my mayor?”

  “Well times change. You can’t just shut your gate for months and expect the world to wait for you. The situation is dynamic.”

  “And why are you holding this summit?”

  “That is not your business. You are the Vigil and High Haven an Independent State. You are not a participant of this summit,” snapped Sylus defensively, “My question for you is simple. Will you host the summit or not? Your mayor was unable to answer me.”

  The Prime was still, the pause dragging on for just too long. “No,” was her final short reply.

  Dorius resisted the urge to pull his heavy hood tighter around his face. Gustave had been skimming the room with his eyes as Sylus spoke.

  “What do you mean ‘no’?” spat Sylus, “Your gates have been shut for months, you have had no business. I am proposing to use your town for a gathering that will bring in money again.”

  “If your request was personal, we might be able to talk. But you have declared that your request is an act of official diplomacy on behalf of the Fourth. The Vigil, and by extension High Haven, have entered an agreement which only allows us to directly negotiate with one member of the Fourth. You will need to direct your request through them,” explained the Prime simply.

  Sylus mouth hung for a moment, then snapped shut into a thin frown, “When? Who?”

  “The agreement is only recently effective.”

  “Yes, but who?” pressed Sylus, “I cannot direct my request if you don’t tell me who you have this agreement with.”

  The Prime smiled, folding one leg over the other, “Are you not a Prince of the Fourth? I thought you would know.”

  Sylus drew his breath in a hiss, “The grey Prince struck some bargain with you? Am I right? Where is his representatives? He is barely a Prince of the Fourth, you have made a poor decision thinking he will follow through on any terms he set with you for this.”

  “On the contrary. He has fully met the terms of our agreement and delivered his own payment.”

  Dorius barely suppressed his own grin of enjoyment, glad for the heavy sides of his hood and the anonymity of standing between the other Vigilants at the back of the Chamber.

  “Payment? Name a price and I guarantee I will double it. Was it the pilgrims? What has he promised?”

  “Coin was not exchanged. Our contract at most authorizes me to tell you that it was a favor, which has been completed to our satisfaction.”

  Sylus’ eyes bulged, his handing bumping the hilt of his sword at his side. The Prime rose from her seat, stepping over the Laon drone to descend the dais down to Sylus.

  “We will negotiate with the Fourth. But only through the Cinereal Prince or his designated agents. Unless you are also here on pilgrimage, this audience is over.”

  Sylus straightened, his mouth contorting into a smirk, “You have made a poor choice. It is the equivalent of making an agreement with the king’s jester. You have only made fools of your Vigil doing this, as if you weren’t already irrelevant.”

  The Prime did not rise to the bait, keeping her voice level and sweet, “I think you may shortly find our Vigil more relevant than ever, Viridian Dragon Prince.”

  Dorius’ heart pounded, his anxiety growing as he saw the telltale shifts of Sylus’ face that portended his most unpredictable moves.

  “Is that a threat?” he asked, stepping close to the Prime to look down at her, “Tell me, weak old woman, what could you possibly mean by that?”

  Dorius watched as Gustave placed a hand on his sword. His heart jumped into his throat. This would go disastrously if they drew swords here. He clenched his fists, feeling acutely the absence of his rings and jewelry.

  “Sylus,” he called, stepping forward from the line of Vigilants, pushing back his hood, “Stand down.”