Someone was in Gray's room, and they weren't taking any trouble to keep quiet.

Gray dragged himself out of sleep. Blinked his eyes into focus and peered through the darkness of his room.

A huge man was digging around his room, calm, efficient, and slamming his drawers. His walking stick thumped against the floor, muffled by the woven carpet. The profile of his face was craggy.

'Gruger?' said Gray, his voice rough from sleep.

Gray rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up. To take in the giant silhouette. The glass eye.

Gruger threw Gray's training blacks at him.

'Up,' said Gruger. 'The plan's changed. Get dressed.'

Gray watched Gruger, disoriented. Weak morning sunlight crept through the crack in the curtains.

'The Othoans,' said Gruger, pushing shaggy hair out of his face, 'likely with the help of Wilde and Krupin, have gotten through the border wards. They're in Lismere territory as we speak.'

Gray's insides slowly turned cold. He pushed down his blankets, his breath catching, and trying to drag his mind away from sleep, from dreams and thoughts about Krydon, Xs, and Alistair and whether he'd be allowed to even go-

'The wards on the Othoan border have fallen,' said Gruger. 'Up, Gray.'

Gray staggered out of bed.

'Baldwin wants you out to Krydon and back within the hour,' said Gruger. 'After that, he can't guarantee a clean exit. We don't know how long the forest will slow them.'

'Baldwin's letting me -?' Gray's breath left him. Within the hour?

'Move,' said Gruger.

'I,' said Gray. He had to go to Krydon, instigate a sorcerer fight, then Jessica and her team would step in, while Gray went to the tombs and negotiated access with the Griffins. After this, Jessica's team had to deal with the jar and the death curse.

He fumbled to shed his bedclothes and get into his blacks. His heart jumped in his throat.

Don't throw up.

'Where's Killian?' said Gray. 'Jessica?'

'Palace,' said Gruger. He threw a pair of socks towards Gray. 'The army's assembling there. Some have already left for the northern border.' He paused at Gray's bedside table, glancing down at Ryan Griffin's wand.

It lay innocently there, ornately carved and inlaid with gold details.

Gruger looked at Gray pointedly.

Gray hesitated.

'I'm not going to hand it to you.' Gruger raised his eyebrows. 'I know enough not to go touching a mage's wand.'

'I, uh ...' Gray faded out. He didn't know how to use a wand, he wasn't supposed to be using any kind of magic, and he didn't want to run the risk of something happening to it. Ryan Griffin's wand. His great-great grandfather's before that.

'I've,' said Gray, 'been specifically told no-'

'Krupin,' said Gruger steadily, 'is probably in our borders. Take the wand.'

Gray hesitated again.

Don't be a coward, he told himself.

He snatched it up, tucking it into the narrow pocket on his thigh.

They were running down the stairs. Through the front door. Into the soft light of early morning and the empty street.

Gray's heart pounded in time with the pulse in his ears. Stunned shock had taken over his mind. His body moved. Gruger was moving surprisingly fast, with a lopsided, loping run, and his walking stick banging fast against the cobblestones.

'You convinced Baldwin to let you go to the alchemy academy,' said Gruger. His footsteps were heavy, scuffed, as they hurried over a small bridge. Past Conor Griffin Wanted Posters.

'Kind of,' Gray muttered numbly. This didn't matter now. 'I begged. To go to the alchemy guild. It wasn't dignified.'

Gruger let out a snort that might have been amusement, or it could've been stress as they ran up the street.

'The academy was a compromise,' said Gray.

'Well done,' said Gruger.

The palace was in sight. It was glittering against the early morning sky. The streets surrounding it were swarming with messengers, soldiers, and grim-faced people. Carts rattled past, filled with crates of weapons.

'Go,' said Gruger. 'Baldwin's office.'

Gray kicked up to a fast sprint, through the guarded gates, through the crowd of military, through the clash of shouted orders from officers, and through the crush of armed people there.

He was through the sidedoor, and into the glittering marble halls.

Weaving through the people and halls, up the stairs.

Gray wasn't the only one running. He flew past a team of running soldiers. Barrelled past a sprinting mage, her robes flying.

The doors to Baldwin's office were open and crowded with dozens of people. These people were different to those outside and in the halls; they were calm.

The office was as hushed and tense as a medic's death ward.

Gray dodged through, seeking Jessica.

He didn't know anyone. The room swarmed with high-ranking officials, all in unfamiliar uniforms and robes. Serious, unreadable faces. Gray sidestepped several chalk circles already drawn into the lush carpet and ducked around two mages crouched low, drawing more, ready for fahrenning.

He passed Baldwin's alchemy bench, where the alchemic test bubbled. Passed a cluster of strangers in white and sky blue uniforms speaking rapid Foixan. The only word he caught was Silence Veils, spoken in Lismerian, buried in their fast Foixian sentences.

Only Killian and his men were familiar. One of his lieutenants was issuing stern orders, splitting the team into two. One to protect the guild catacombs, one to protect the palace vaults.

They're worried about Dierne, Gray realised.

Wilde and Krupin could reach Dierne fast. Faster still if either of them of their hands on the jar, and with it, huge power.

The forest would slow them. It was its own kind of barrier.

He stalled in front of Killian's men, thinking Jessica could be nearby. Some of them were already eyeing him. Pickering, ramrod straight. Emwell, with his curly black hair.

Killian was talking softly into Codder's ear, his jaw tight, his posture deadly. Codder's shadowed gaze drifted to the side. Landed onto Gray.

Gray looked away and kept moving, sidling deeper into the crowd.

He could hear a mage soldier, smoothly speaking in the mage tongue to a group of casters. Baldwin, talking swiftly to a large man in a black uniform, bent over a line of curse bombs.

'Over here, Gray,' called Jessica.

She was handing weapons out to a line of huge soldiers. Her steely gaze darted to Gray as he skidded to a stop at her elbow.

'Exactly as we discussed,' she said, briskly tying a leather belt around Gray's waist, and slotting a small, enchanted axe into one of the loops. 'The path starting at Ardel Street and ending at the town square. Yes?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Vest?'

Gray lifted his shirt to show her. 'Yes, ma'am.'

'No fuck ups,' she said pointedly, looking him straight in the eye.

'No ma'am. I promise.'

I'm sorry lingered between them. Gray'd apologised to her last night, tentatively poking his head into Killian's room as she'd been sitting at the dresser there, brushing her washed hair.

Now, her steely expression paused. Just for a second.

Then it was back, harder than ever.

'Thank you,' said Gray, 'for letting me go.'

Jessica's jaw was tight. She looked like she was holding back a torrent of words. 'Baldwin -' she cut herself off.

Gray looked at her. Waited for her to continue.

'Gruger told you the northern wards are down?' she said.

'Yes.'

'They were shattered twenty-five minutes ago,' she said. 'Depending on how the Othoans are operating, we've got maybe a few hours before the main force reaches past the forest. It could be less, it could be more. But we're taking no risks. We're getting in, out, and back before Wilde, Krupin, or scouting parties get through, before we start to bleed ground. Understood?'

'Yes.'

She was tucking a folded piece of paper into one of Gray's pockets.

'Your stats,' she said. 'You succeed on a job like this and your score will likely go up by about thirty points, we'll see once it's done … you'll be awarded a payment of ten ardents, ten silver, and ten pennies …'

Gray gaped at her, trying to process her words. Because that was a huge jump for stat scores - stat scores crawled, they inched up by one, by a half - and it could be hard to judge how much they'd go up, because it depended on how difficult the test, competition, or battle was, and how the individual performed and what attributes they were using.

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Estimating thirty points must've meant the job was near impossible. In every which way.

Cold crept over Gray's skin.

He was suddenly shaking. It was minute. Almost internal. He was sure no one, not even Jessica, who was so closely in his space, and who was eyeing him like he was sickening with something, should be able to see. He drew in a deep breath, pressing his hands into his thighs.

It was as though he'd left his stomach behind in Killian's house.

He couldn't believe, minutes ago, he'd been fast asleep in a warm and comfortable bed, in a cosy room.

Do. Not. Throw. Up.

The office, the people, Jessica's commands, were coming to Gray in fragments.

A mage soldier in front of him, shoulder to shoulder with Jessica. She had gold runes painted on her face. Her bright eyes were laser focused. She was grabbing Gray's hand. He was surrounded by a crew of people, all working on him at once.

Someone was painting runes onto Gray's hands. Gold paint rapidly glided over Gray's skin. Over his neck. His face. Runes for protection. For defence. For speed.

Someone was arming him with brusque efficiency. An enchanted dagger, right by his axe on his belt. Large sticks of white chalk. A rattling bag of potions ('stamina and myrtle essence,' someone said), a pouch with powders, a sling with a curse bomb. Jessica hadn't discussed this yet, what he was going to be armed with, and Gray stood still, swarmed by mage soldiers, aides, officials, trying to identify everything he was being swiftly armed with, everything that was getting tied to his belt.

Someone was braiding his hair, with nimble fingers, so fast, weaving some kind of enchantment into it, an enchanted hair chain.

'Krydon is under a death curse,' said Jessica. Her Lismerian was so fast, so clipped, that Gray was struggling to keep up. 'There have been dangerous creatures, mists, and weather reported in the area. You need to clear any street or space so you can continue on your designated path, throw this powdered fierilion weed,' she tapped one of the pouches of powder, 'along with-' she tapped the last potion bottle on Gray's belt '-this. Big noise, big heat.'

'Right,' said Gray numbly.

'Powdered griffin claw,' she said, taking over the arming of Gray's belt. 'Throw into the air to create a defensive mist. Star pebble powder for the tombs. It'll leave a trail of light, so you won't get lost. All going well, you won't go far into them, but just in case. And,' she said, 'Silence Veil,' she said, pointing to the curse bomb slung on Gray's belt. 'You hear wailing, you feel a pull, the vampiric sorcerer starts talking to you, you use this. You need me to run down everything again?'

'I,' said Gray, 'I got it.'

Jessica was placing an amulet around Gray's neck. 'Baldwin and Cyril enchanted this themselves,' she said, quickly. Quietly. 'It'll farhen you 100 yards. If myself and the team are taken out, you abandon everything, you activate this, and you run. You understand me?'

'Yes ma'am.'

'If time goes past the hour,' said Jessica, 'if you hear the Othoans coming, if Wilde or Conor come, if fey come, if Longwark or the vampiric sorcerer don't behave as planned, you run. You do not get captured.'

Gray tried to say yes. His mouth wouldn't work. He nodded.

'You activate it with the words ic fahren ta seo, and with strong intent and will on your landing. Make sure you land in a clear space. One you can sight. You can do this?'

Gray nodded, his heart in his throat.

He reminded himself not to throw up.

Jessica peered at him closely, her gaze hard as stone.

'Get the Modig amulet for Griffin,' said Jessica to the mage hastily painting runes on Gray's neck.

The mage stopped. 'You're not giving the Modig amulet to an apprentice.'

'I have a novice here who is very nervous,' said Jessica. 'And a situation that demands speed, Urkskin. Modig amulet.'

'I'm fine,' said Gray, firmly. Steadily. 'I don't need anything.'

Perhaps his voice wasn't as firm or steady as he thought, because everyone working on Gray paused.

The swift, efficient air stopped.

'He's wearing the dragonscale vest?' said one.

'Mali was instructing him in control, wasn't she?' said another.

'I'll ask Baldwin for the Modig amulet,' said Urkskin, swiftly disappearing.

'Slate,' said Jessica, her voice raised, controlled, 'over here, for a moment. Attend Griffin.'

Killian's damn face was one of the last things Gray wanted to see right now.

He wanted to see Alistair.

He wanted to see Krydon's mossy-tiled rooftops, with the mountains and ruins in the distance, and hear the five women fiddle band play inside the Tipsy Stag Tavern.

He wanted to see everyone there, the people he'd known his whole life, and the people who he just knew through passing, who he spoke to sometimes when they came in for a drink, to know if they were OK, if they were alive.

Not Killian Slate.

But, it was too late. Killian stood before him, his cap pulled low over his dark eyes and his mouth in a hard line. He took one swift look at Jessica, and then glanced at Gray.

Gray internally shoved down the tangle rearing up within him. It didn't matter that Killian's damn voice had replayed fifty times in Gray's head before he fell asleep last night; they won't let me work with you if you stay here, kid … it's important to me to leave that door open. It didn't matter that he didn't know if Killian had manipulated the hell out of him, with Barin and Harriette, Fudgie, planting the seed with the Baldwin for alchemy, in the off chance Gray might sign with him, and if Killian had, Gray was going to be so angry. It didn't matter that Gray was embarrassed, and grateful, and he couldn't believe he'd let himself ask to live with him.

It didn't matter.

Gray had a job to do.

'Looking pale, kid,' said Killian. 'If you need to puke, there's a bucket in the corner. It's already been used about seven times. It's getting pretty rank.'

'Don't,' said Gray, bile rising in his throat, 'say the word puke right now.'

'Oh, eight times,' said Killian, to the faint sound of retching behind them.

'Slate,' hissed Jessica. 'Calm him the hell down, please.'

'He doesn't need to calm me down,' said Gray, snapping his gaze onto Jessica. He wasn't a damn pampered prince, a child, someone who'd not been through high pressure situations before. He turned to Killian. 'You don't need to be here. I'm calm. Return to your men. Excuse me one moment.'

Gray pushed his way through the crowd around him, swiftly located the bucket in the corner, and made use of it.

With unsteady legs, Gray made his way back to where Jessica and Killian waited, through the crew of mages, aides, and officials. They resumed their preparations on Gray in terse silence. They were painting the runes. Tightening his belt. Twisting, braiding, enchanting his hair.

With dignity, Gray took a swig of water from his flask with a shaky hand.

'Better, kid?' said Killian.

'Oh, fuck off, Killian,' said Jessica. 'Thank you very much for your help.'

Killian jerked his eyebrows. 'Here, kid. Shake it off.'

Gray rigidly eyed him, not flinching as someone painted a rune very close to his eye. The gold paint was stingingly cold.

'Like this,' said Killian, shaking his arms out. 'Just for a couple seconds, huh?'

Gray remained stiff, biting down the impulse to tell Killian to go away, even as Killian was elbowing away the mages, aides, and officials, and urging Gray to shake, to jump and down, to move.

But, Killian was making such a damn spectacle in the calm and quiet office, and Gray could feel hot red creeping over his face, and because time was of the essence, and he had a job to do, and he wanted Killian to get the heck away and this seemed the fastest way to do it, Gray complied. He was shaking out his arms and legs. Jumping up and down, like he would before the big races at school, against the kids from the neighbouring villages.

It helped.

Gray's heart was pounding with the flush of movement, masking the fear hammering in his blood.

'Better?' said Killian. 'Hm?'

Gray nodded.

Killian turned to Jessica. 'Happy?'

'Thank you,' said Jessica sharply.

Eyeing her, and then giving Gray a searching glance, Killian strode back to his men just as the mage soldier, Urkskin, returned with a diamond shaped amulet.

'This is a one time only deal, Baldwin said,' Urkskin muttered. 'The Modig amulet is beyond addictive.'

She was layering the amulet over Gray's neck. This one was on a shorter leather strap, sitting close to his throat, and Gray could feel the overwhelming power of this one, it was old, it was like one of the weapons from the Ancients.

Gray took it up with cold fingers. 'What's it do?'

Urkskin said something rapidly in the mage tongue.

Gray tightened his grip around the amulet. 'Pardon?'

'Ah, the closest word is surety, Griffin. It's heady.' Urkskin turned to Jessica. 'Baldwin's coming, ma'am.'

Baldwin was in front of Gray. His fingers were checking the weapons and pouches on Gray's belt. Gray's braid. The painted runes. The two amulets. He was looping a silk scarf around Gray's waist, securing it under his belt. It was very like the scarf from Branbright, covered in runes.

'Additional protection,' said Baldwin. 'Anything terrible happens, it'll call me.'

Gray nodded, his mouth dry.

'You'll do this quickly,' said Baldwin. 'And return.'

His voice was ice. Utterly assured.

'Yes, Baldwin,' muttered Gray.

Baldwin tilted his chin. His silvery hair was braided tightly away from his angular face. His intensely cold gaze darted over Gray's head.

Cutting through the room, Baldwin's ice cold voice, 'Get them out of here.'

Gray turned and peered through the cluster surrounding him to see Sorena and Kester, Laoise and Torryn, and about five other small kids that had to be Augustes hovering by the doors with an armed guard.

Perhaps they hadn't heard about the Othoan border yet. Perhaps they were at the palace for lessons. Maybe they'd stayed there for the night.

Whatever the reason, Baldwin's power surged. It was in the air in the office. He moved his hand, and the doors to his office were buffeted closed as though pushed by an invisible force.

The office was silent.

'Killian,' said Baldwin, 'take them to the consort palace.'

Killian hesitated, standing in front of his men, and then strode out as the crowd parted for him, and he shouldered through the doors.

The feel of Baldwin's magic lingered.

It was around Gray in a cloud, like a mist that wouldn't budge.

It was pulling his focus, it was all he could feel. It was taking away his other senses, blinded, deafened, as Baldwin's magic overwhelmed him.

'Ready?' said Baldwin.

Gray barely heard him. Barely processed it. He could see, as though misted, as though his mind was stranged, that Baldwin had something breaking through his icy, steel demeanour. There was something lurking underneath his voice. Something close to urgency. Fury.

The mage soldiers surrounding Gray had all paused.

Their postures changed. They were on heightened alert.

'What is it?' said Jessica.

The mage soldiers were moving. They were drawing their wands.

Gray frowned, shaking to clear his head, confused why the mage soldiers were reacting like this to Baldwin's power.

He realised, much too slowly, that they weren't reacting to Baldwin, that their attention was on the doors that Killian and Baldwin's children had just disappeared through.

Gray turned to see, and he felt it, too.

It was like a silky breeze whispering through the air.

A silky, light magic that was edging Baldwin's magic aside. Drifting it delicately and skillfully away.

There were distant shouts. Outside the palace. Steel clashed.

The alarm bells sounded.

He didn't need the mage Ellery Drake, his gold mask smeared, his temple bloodied and his robes torn, to burst through the doors, and to utter, 'Breach inside the palace,' to know.

Conor Griffin was here.

—

Gray stared at Ellery Drake, trying to shake off the cloying linger of Bladwin's power.

Baldwin's hand was on Gray's back, right between his shoulder blades. He was urging him into one of the chalk circles.

'Jessica,' said Baldwin, 'get your team to Krydon. Now.'

Around Gray, groups were already evacuating from the office. The room was filled with the tense muttering of the fahrenning enchantment, and the loud CRACK of groups disappearing and the sting of static in the air.

A formation of armed soldiers were braced in front of the office doors.

'My children?' said Baldwin.

'I passed Killian,' said Ellery. 'He's evacuating them.'

'Ellery?' said Urkskin. 'I thought you were still …'

Urkskin's voice was drowned out by another loud CRACK as a group fahrenned away.

There was something off with Ellery.

He was too stiff. The way he moved was off.

Gray's conversation with Killian from a couple days ago replayed in his mind: Yeah, that wouldn't have been Ellery, kid, he'll be up on his feet in a few days …

Urkskin was frowning. She and Gray shared a quick glance.

Gray rushed forward. 'Is that Ellery-?'

The blast caught him mid-step.

Gray slammed back into the far wall. The air knocked clean from his lungs. Heat surrounded him. Fire fell from the sky.

He had a moment, to see, through shimmering heat, Ellery Drake dissolve into the air. Like nothing.

Gray screwed his eyes shut against the heat. The ash. He couldn't see.

The runes painted on his skin activated. Gray could feel them, a current running over his skin. The amulet around his neck was activating.

It was rushing through his body. It was steadying him. Gray was reminded of Powl's potion back in Sirentown and the soaring confidence he'd felt. His shaking was turning into something bold. It was locking into place within him, like it had always been there. It was laughable that Gray would come out of this harmed.

He had no need to be nervous.

Not even when - through the fiery chaos of the office, through the screams, through the CRACK of more people evacuating, trying to evacuate, something was going wrong with the mages' fahrenning attempts, there were dark rips in the air as mages attempted and failed to fahren - a fey reached down where Gray had crumpled, and slammed him back up against the wall, his knuckles pressing against Gray's throat.

Gray's head knocked against the wall. His lungs burned, winded.

The Modig amulet fair hummed through Gray. He was fine. He wouldn't break, not for something small like a fey.

Gray took him in.

The fey looked like Lunn.

Exactly like Lunn.

If Lunn had been through a very bad few weeks, had his floor length hair hacked off to his elbows, and had his deadly magic - the magic that crept over and under Gray's skin at the same time - taken away.

Power stripped.

His dark hair was a mess. He snarled with too many teeth, his expression, his shoulders, his everything, screamed murderous and untouchable. Faint blue veins branched over his exposed skin.

Involuntarily, Gray's gaze dropped to the fey's wrist.

There was an iron shackle there.

Gray's lips were dry. He could barely make out the fey in front of him as the air wavered from heat. Ash rained down.

There was no way this was Lunn.

There was no way you could strip the power out of a fey.

Not like this.

This was awful. It was making Gray's stomach flip at the mere thought.

'Bleed on me,' hissed Lunn, 'vomit on me, breathe on me, you insipid child, and the last thing you hear will be the echo of your own scream.'

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