Gray didn't start to resist until Killian shoved open the creaky shop door.

The smell of iron and ash hit him hard.

The weapons shop was small and way more crowded than Gray had expected. A row of five soldiers stood to rigid attention, buttoned up tight in their grey uniforms. Axes, swords, and arrows neatly lined the shelves on the far wall. They glinted in the dancing light of the flame in a firepit where - Gray assumed - the shop owner did repairs.

A mage was tied to a chair in the small space in front of the counter.

He was big, as most northerners were. His broad shoulders strained. His robes were filthy, and his pale skin was marked with bruises and dirt.

His dark brown eyes were brightly intense and locked onto Gray. His braided auburn hair was stiff with sweat and worse. His mouth opened and shut soundlessly before he forced his face back into a mask of calm.

He had that quality to him that most mages had - that ethereal edge to his appearance, as though he didn't quite belong to the grimy cities of Lismere, but to the wild and mysterious forests, mountains, and lakes.

Gray recognized him almost instantly, as though from a different lifetime when Barin would take Gray down to Reviness to help with the horses. They'd travel to Reviness to deal with suppliers and bring horseloads of ale and spiced nuts back up to Krydon.

Dillon Ralph, from Reviness.

Dillon was on the cusp of his twenties, trained at the mage guild in Dierne.

His parents and four grandparents counted for six of Reviness's twelve practising mages, and they were all blacksmiths.

Their smithy had a reputation for volatile explosions of fire and magic, and flakes and shards of metal littered the cobblestone streets for yards and yards beyond the front smithy doors.

Gray stared at Dillon, clenching his teeth together.

Beside him, huddled on the floor by the counter, were his younger sister and brother. They looked like Dillon with their broad shoulders, braided auburn hair, bright brown eyes, and sharp cheekbones, and wore wearing mage robes - dirty, torn mage robes that stunk of forest.

Gray didn't know their names, even though he recognised them from Barin's dealings, just in passing.

They were always chatty and grinning.

But not now.

Fear was etched into every line on their faces.

Gray restrained from clenching his fists. Tried to control his face.

'So, kid,' Killian muttered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the strangers, 'who're our guests?'

'I don't know them,' Gray replied, forcing his voice flat like he wasn't trying to keep the rising heat from cracking it wide open.

This asshole would not see him angry.

Killian's grip tightened. 'Answer honestly, kid.'

'No, I –'

'Give me their names. What their family does. Where they'd hide in the forest. And why they won't talk.'

Gray struggled to get his breath under control.

He gripped harder. 'Give me an answer, Gray.'

'I don't know them.'

Killian turned his attention onto Dillon.

'And you?' he asked. He gripped the back of Gray's shirt, shoving him in front of Dillon. 'You know who this is, hm?'

Dillon glared at him wordlessly. His breath shuddered.

Killian waited.

And waited.

One of the soldiers cleared his throat.

'What if I told you,' said Killian, his face inches from Dillon's, 'he's mage. You mages like to look out for each other, yes?'

So, I'm mage now, Gray wanted to hiss, because gods, the rage was building inside him. He needed to push it down and stay calm.

Killian had called Gray a liar, but this man was manipulative as all heck, and nobody could trust one word out of his hard-lined mouth.

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Dillon stilled. He darted a glance at Gray. Then, slowly, he rolled his fierce eyes back onto Killian.

Silence echoed.

Killian crouched in front of Dillon, elbows propped on the man's thighs, fingers steepled like a caretaker about to deliver bad news.

Dillon swallowed. A strand of matted auburn hair caught on his eyelashes.

Killian waited, his eyebrows high.

'Nothing?' said Killian. 'Not a peep, hm?' He straightened up, brushing lint off his uniform. 'All right. Gray, come here.'

Gray hobbled over warily and stopped just out of reach of his hands.

'Closer, kid.'

Gray hesitated.

Killian rolled his eyes and grabbed the front of Gray's sweater before he could dodge away. He latched his fingers through the turf of Gray's hair and turned to the three Ralphs.

'Where are the other mages?' Killian asked.

No one answered. Gray kept his gaze firmly down.

'You know what I've learnt about mages?' said Killian. 'Cutting their hair is taboo. They really don't like it. Something to do with how their magic works, I don't understand it myself.'

There must have been a shift in Dillon, because Killian made a quiet sound with his tongue, like he was calling a hesitant cat.

'You know where I'm going with this, lad?' said Killian.

Quiet stretched.

'You ready to answer some questions?' muttered Killian.

Apparently not, judging by the resounding silence coming from Dillon.

Killian slid his needlepoint knife out of his sleeve. 'Johnson. Cut off Gray's hair.'

Gray stayed still, his teeth clenched, sweat covering his body with slickness, as Johnson stepped forward from the line of soldiers, and hacked off Gray's messy ponytail.

'How much do you think that'll be worth, Johnson?'

'Mage's hair goes for twenty ardents a gram in Dierne, Major. This much'll be a king's ransom.'

Killian nodded agreeably. 'Hey, how much will his blood be worth? His sweat? Tears?'

None of them moved. Dillon's eye was fixed on Killian with unmatched loathing.

'Get the phials, Johnson.'

Killian crouched in front of Dillon, leaning his elbows on Dillon's knees again. 'How far are you going to let this go?'

The faintest hiss escaped Dillon's gritted teeth. Then, so quietly Gray could've imagined it, Dillon said, 'We're not hiding from you.'

Killian paused. The only sounds in the shop were the crackling of the fire.

Very carefully, Killian tapped two fingers on Dillon's knee, as a friend might when trying to catch your attention. 'Who are you hiding from, then?'

Dillon clenched his mouth shut.

Killian slowly stood up. 'Get tears, Johnson. Got to be worth a pretty penny.'

Gray stiffened, darting a glance at Dillon. Killian wouldn't.

'You don't want to see this, do you?' said Killian to Dillon. 'If cutting a mage's hair is taboo, tears must be unbearably forbidden, no?'

Gray breathed through his nose, clenching his eyes shut. He heard Killian pacing in front of Dillon and the two younger Ralphs with a steady and soft pad, pad, pad.

'Stop it,' Dillon snarled, straining against his restraints. His voice was strong and lilted with a thick northern accent. 'You overgrown dog. Show some respect.'

Killian froze. The row of soldiers didn't move.

There wasn't a breath.

Killian tilted his head. His hand was very precisely on his sword. 'You're wrong. I'm a lot worse than an overgrown dog. Best thing for you to do is to tell me where I can find a master mage, else you'll find out exactly what I am.'

A muscle spasmed in Dillon's clenched jaw.

Then, as though wrenched from deep inside, 'This isn't about you,' hissed Dillon. 'This is bigger than you and your soldiers. We're hiding to protect you, protect Krydon. Our silence is to protect you. Everyone - not just mages. We don't want anyone - harmed.'

Killian's shoulders were square. His dark gaze swept Dillon up and down, and then darted to the two Ralph kids huddled on the floor.

'Protect from what?' said Killian softly.

Dillon's lips were a hard line. Sweat dribbled down his temple.

Killian crouched, his hands on Dillon's thighs. 'You're a tough nut, hm? How did you get missed in the military sign-up?'

Dillion let out the slightest breath.

'It didn't need to be this way,' said Killian. 'You could've opened your mouth before I made you.' He gazed at Dillon, through his dark hair.

Dillon sagged in the chair, his breath shuddering.

'I just need a master mage here,' said Killian, his voice low and restrained, 'to aid in orders that have come from the king. You have parents, right? Grandparents?'

Dillon inhaled shallowly, his nostrils flaring.

'Course you do,' said Killian. 'You could all be charged for obstruction, for fleeing from me.'

Fear flickered over Dillon's expression for the first time. 'We're not doing this to offend the king. The goal isn't to break any laws.'

Killian rubbed his chin. 'Tell you what, lad, this is what's going to happen. You're going to leave here today, and you're going to go back to the other mages hiding in the forest, and you'll tell them to come running.'

Dillon refused to meet Killian's eye.

In the resounding silence, Dillon continued to avoid Killian's gaze, and instead stared at the younger Ralphs.

'Or,' said Killian, his face close to Dillon's, and forcing eye contact, 'I could keep your little brother and sister, until your elders decide to comply.'

Dillion hissed, shifting his legs like he wanted to kick out.

'There we go,' said Killian. 'There's your motivation. Johnson, take his brother and sister.'

Gray had expected Dillon to fight like his life depended on it. But he sat, utterly still, the muscles corded in his neck like he'd been carved out of marble.

'Hm?' said Killian, tilting his head.

Silence.

'Go get your parents,' said Killian, 'and bring them here. Grandparents would be even better. The need to be able to fahren far. No tricks. No magic.'

Dillon's expression hardened, and his eyes flickered to Killian.

'I'll get them,' he said. 'And they'll obliterate you.'

'I welcome them to try.'

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