Author: Erin Klitzke

Sixteen

“How was it?”

Elaine blinked at Hadrian he came around the edge of the table to his usual spot across from her, the spot that left his back to the window and the wall. He looked tired, but otherwise seemed all right as he slid into his chair, setting his laptop case on the table a few inches shy of one of her teetering stacks of books.

“How was what?” she asked, dumbfounded.

Bolts on Friday and then suddenly back here on Monday like there’s nothing wrong? She canted her head to one side, studying him, seeking signs of what might have happened. His expression and stance revealed nothing—it was as if nothing happened.

Nothing as opposed to her roller coaster of a weekend.

Saturday morning she’d spent more than two hours talking to Caius in game—seeming to talk about everything and nothing all at the same time, but if she said that she hadn’t enjoyed every second of it, she’d have been lying. It had been nearly noon when she’d headed back downstairs, finding Joslyn and Jason fast asleep on the couch in the living room, Joslyn tucked against Jason’s chest, his arms around her and her arms around his.

It had been at that point when she realized that he looked familiar, that she’d recognized him.

Jason Grey, one of the founders of the game she’d been playing since it launch, was asleep on her couch with her roommate—was in a relationship with her roommate, one that was much more serious, it seemed, than she’d initially thought. Oh, she’d known that they’d been talking for a long time, that they’d gotten to be close friends, but what she’d seen over the weekend went deeper than what she’d expected—even in light of Joslyn’s confession in the car on Friday night that she was pretty sure that she was in love with him.

That had gotten her thinking—if Jason was Jason Grey of GreySoft and he played Ascalon, who did that make Caius?

She still hadn’t worked up the guts to ask, though she strongly suspected she knew exactly who he was and that scared her a little bit.

It still hadn’t stopped her from talking to him again on Saturday night, then again on Sunday—and planning on checking in on him again that night after research and seminar.

“Well, Thursday and then Friday? How was it? Did you have a good time?” Hadrian watched her as he started to unpack his work.

“Yeah,” she said, watching him. “Yeah, I did. I’m glad I went—on both counts. I think I made a new friend.” She glanced back down at her notebook, drumming her pen against it. “And then things got exciting Saturday morning.”

“Exciting?” he looked at her, pausing in the middle of logging into his laptop. “Exciting how?”

“Well, you know that guy that she’s been talking to in the game for months?”

Hadrian nodded slightly. “Yeah, I remember you talking about it. Something wrong?”

“No,” Elaine said. “No, not at all. In fact, when I left the townhouse this morning, they were still in bed.”

Hadrian froze. “What?”

“He drove all the way here from Wisconsin on Friday night,” Elaine said, watching Hadrian’s expression. “He came to see her.”

Hadrian let out a low, soft whistle. “Wow. Something changed?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. He hasn’t told me what, but Joss hinted a little bit. He was in the service and someone he knew got killed and someone else got hurt and he was feeling pretty adrift and reached out to her. I guess they both kind of reassessed and reset and made some decisions.” Elaine smiled, looking back down to her notebook again. “He’s a nice guy and I think they’ll be good together.”

“You’ve got pretty good instincts when it comes to that kind of thing,” Hadrian said softly. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“What about you?” Elaine asked, glancing up again. “You bailed out pretty quick on Friday. Everything okay?”

Hadrian winced slightly but nodded. “Yeah, yeah, stuff’s okay. Had to swing down to Chicago unexpectedly.”

“Chicago?” Elaine frowned. “Is your brother okay?”

“Yeah, Tony’s fine—next time I talk to him I’ll make sure I let him know you asked. It was something else.”

“Something connected to why you missed most of September?”

He winced again. Elaine sighed, leaning back and hoping she hadn’t hit a sore spot.

“Sorry,” she said. “Sorry. You don’t have—”

“No,” he said, cutting her off. “No, it’s okay. You deserve to know. Friend of mine got hurt in September and we were in Chicago because Ky and her partner got tapped to help with the investigation. I came for moral support for everyone involved. It was where I needed to be and I kept up with stuff up here as best I could. Profs understood once I explained what was going on. I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. It wasn’t fair of me to keep you in the dark.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “It was your business. I shouldn’t have pressed. You didn’t have to tell me.”

“I did,” he said, then smiled faintly. “Don’t worry about it too much. You didn’t press—not too hard, anyway, and not for anything that you shouldn’t know.” He tapped a few keys on his keyboard before he spoke again. “Tony did call me on Friday and that’s why I bolted like I did, but not because anything was wrong with him or Ky or Maggie or the kids. There was some stuff with the case and with my friend who got hurt and we needed to get down there as soon as we could.”

“Is everything okay?”

“It will be,” Hadrian said. “I have faith in that.”

Elaine nodded. “All right. Good. Good. I’m glad. I—I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little worried when you bolted like that on Friday. I mean, I know you said it wasn’t Ky or the kids, but that still set off all kinds of alarms, you know?”

Hadrian smiled crookedly. “And you’ve got a pretty active imagination, so I’m sure you came up with all kinds of awful things.”

She choked on a laugh. “Mitigated only by the fact that you told me it wasn’t Ky or the kids and the fact that something and someone managed to distract me for a decent chunk of the weekend. Redirection is sometimes the best solution to me worrying about shit I shouldn’t.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Hadrian said, grinning at her. “In any event, everything’s pretty much okay for now, but if something changes, you’ll know pretty quick since outside of my family, you’re the person I see the most.”

“Only because we staked out this corner together,” Elaine said, reaching for one of the books she’d stacked on the desk, already sprouting a dozen paper markers tucked between the pages.

One of his shoulders hitched in a shrug. “Not just that. I trust you and I don’t trust a lot of people. Or have that many friends, for that matter. You’re one of them.”

“The honored few,” she teased, though only mildly. Hadrian smiled, nodding slightly.

“An accurate assessment,” he said quietly, turning to his laptop screen. For a few moments, they lapsed into silence, both intent on their work.

That didn’t last.

Hadrian reached over, covering her hand with his and stilling the pen she’d been drumming against her notebook—without noticing that she’d been doing it. She startled, looking up from her book and meeting his gaze. Hadrian arched a brow.

“Okay,” he said. “Real talk time. What’s bugging you?”

“What makes you think—”

“Because after a year I of this I’d like to think at least I know you a little bit. You’ve been drumming your pen against your notebook for fifteen minutes and I’d like to know if you remember any of what you’ve read in that period of time.”

Elaine winced, glancing down at the book in front of her. The words on the page were unfamiliar, even in the section she knew she’d read a moment before. A sigh escaped her lips and she squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds. “So the guy that Joss has been talking with—the one that’s at my house? It’s Jason Grey. GreySoft’s Jason Grey—one of the founders of the company.”

Hadrian’s brow furrowed slightly. “That’s what’s bothering you?”

“Yes,” she blurted, then sighed, leaning back in her chair and covering her face with both hands. “No. No, it’s not. What’s bugging me is a conclusion I’m drawing based on that and I can’t bring myself to ask the question I need to ask to confirm what I suspect.”

“Why not? What are you thinking?” Hadrian’s brow arched as he studied her. “What’s going on?”

“I met someone in game,” she said, forcing herself to put down her pen before she started drumming it against her notebook again. “I’ve been talking to him a lot—and I like it. I really, really like it. We never talk out of character, though, it’s all roleplay, it’s all characters, but I look forward to doing it. It’s fun.”

“So what’s the problem?” Hadrian said, his brow furrowing now. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Laney. You’re allowed to enjoy a little escapism.”

“That’s not the part that’s bothering me,” she said. “It’s who I suspect is behind the character I can’t wait to log on and talk to, the one that I’m excited to get a message from. That’s the part that’s bothering me.”

“What’s the question you can’t ask?” Hadrian asked, watching her, as if he knew that was at the root of what was bothering her. Maybe he did—he always seemed to be able to figure her out.

He always seemed to be able to figure most people out.

Elaine exhaled. “I can’t ask him if he’s Peter Grey.”

Fifteen

Twenty minutes after she’d gotten the message, Elaine was in game, on horseback, heading up the winding roadway to Weatherstone’s perch on top of the cliffs overlooking the sea. The morning was quiet, the sun still rising, and much of the city behind her was still asleep at this hour. It was, after all, Saturday morning, and it was well before nine eastern. As she drew closer to Caius’s stronghold, she could see the massive gates were closed, flanked by armed guards.

It seemed that Ascalon—or perhaps Caius himself, since he’d been awake to at least send her that letter—was taking no chances with his safety, at least not right now. For that, Elaine certainly couldn’t blame him. He’d been stabbed in front of hundreds of witnesses.

I wonder if they’ve gotten anything out of the would-be assassin.

For some reason, she doubted it.

“Hold,” one of the guards called as she approached. She reined up, turning her horse to the side as she met the man’s gaze. He stared at her, hard, eyes like twin bits of flint beneath the rim of his helm. “His lordship is seeing no visitors today. Your name and business.”

“Isolde Caomhánach,” she said, chin lifting. “Lady Arenvale. I’ve come to check on his lordship’s condition after last night. I’m the healer who tended him.”

The guard exchanged a look with his partner. The other guard let out a whistle to someone out of sight. “Let her through,” he rumbled. “His lordship ordered she be admitted.”

The gate opened, the gap in it just wide enough for her to guide her mount through.  Beyond it, a stablehand came jogging from somewhere to take her horse. Behind her, the gate closed again, softly, though with a clank that suggested security, finality. Elaine glanced back as she dismounted, then shook her head at herself, adjusting the bag she carried so it settled more comfortably against her spine. She smiled at the stablehand who took her mount’s reins.

“Thank you.”

The young man nodded. “Of course, m’lady.”

Then he led her horse away and she was left standing in the courtyard, staring up at the oak doors to Weatherstone’s keep. She had to take a few deep breaths before she felt steady enough to mount the steps heading to those doors. There was no reason to be nervous, she tried to remind herself. He’d anticipated her coming—had basically asked her to.

Who was she to deny him?

Besides, she wanted to see him again and needed to make sure that he was, in fact, all right after last night’s events.

A servant opened the door before she could even knock—either they’d been watching, or somehow alerted to her presence. Elaine offered up a smile and slipped inside, only to be met by still another member of Caius’s staff, who bowed at the waist.

“Lady Arenvale,” he said, his voice rumbling. “Please, allow me to escort you to m’lord’s chambers.”

A shiver crept down her spine, but Elaine nodded. “Thank you. Please, lead on.”

He straightened and did, taking her through a hidden door and down a narrow corridor to a staircase that felt familiar. He led her up the winding spiral stair, though he paused before they reached the top.

“If m’lady continues up this way, she will find m’lord,” he said, studying her for a few seconds. “I will bring up a tray shortly with refreshments.”

Then he was gone, leaving her blinking at the spot where he’d been. Elaine shook herself and took another deep breath, then turned and continued up the stairs—another flight and a half by her estimation—to the landing she remembered from the night before. The doors to Caius’s rooms stood closed and he hesitated a moment before knocking. There was no immediate answer, so she tried the knob—unlocked. She eased the door open and slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind her. Unlike every other door in the keep, the one into Caius’s bedroom stood ajar, though only slightly, and through the sliver, Elaine could see him in bed, his back to the door, apparently asleep or otherwise resting.

A sigh of relief escaped her and she silently padded across the floor toward the door and where he lay in bed. He stirred as she got close, half rolling onto his back with a wince, one eye cracked blearily open.

“That was quick,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and perhaps the effects of a pain draught. “I can’t say that I expected you so quickly.” He offered up a smile then, and her heart that had begun to sink instead soared again. “Though I am certainly not unhappy about it.”

“Well, let’s just say I didn’t have any plans for the morning beyond what you suggested,” Elaine said, a wry smile curving her lips. She unslung her bag and set it on the bedside table, then unfastened her cloak and laid it over a chair. Caius shifted in the bed, his gaze following her as she moved.

“Thank you for last night,” he said quietly. “I can’t tell you how much it meant.”

“I only did what any healer would have done,” she said quietly. “I told your brother that.”

“No.” Caius shook his head slightly, gingerly pushing himself into a more upright position, propped up against his pillows. “Not that. Before.”

“Before?” She looked at him, brows knitting. “I don’t—”

“You let me feel something real,” he said, still watching her, pale eyes gleaming under dark lashes. “More real than anything I’ve felt in a long time. Do you have any idea how isolating it can be? To be—to be what I am?”

Elaine sank down on the edge of the bed, meeting his eyes. They were very, very blue, the blue of a sky at the height of summer, bottomless, endless. She swallowed hard. “No,” she whispered. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

“I haven’t ever danced at one of those,” he said, still watching her. “Not even the first I held as lord. I always stood aloof. I felt like I had to. Last night…” his voice trailed away. Elaine cleared her throat.

“What changed?”

“I don’t know.” Caius closed his eyes for a moment. “I wish I did. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was you being there.”

Elaine started to shake her head. “I don’t—”

“Either way,” he continued, “I don’t regret it and I’m very glad you’re here. I’m glad I didn’t scare you away, that whoever decided to put a knife in my back didn’t drive you away.”

“It’ll take more than that to drive me away,” Elaine said softly. She was blushing and knew it. Caius didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he said nothing. “I’m made of some rather stern stuff, you’ll learn.”

Caius smiled. “I admittedly look forward to it.”

A lump built in her throat and Elaine swallowed hard, trying to shove it back down again. The way Caius looked at her, spoke to her, sent her heart careening through her chest with reckless abandon, made her feel things that she’d never considered. She reached over and touched his hand where it lay on top of his covers. Caius turned it over and grasped her fingers gently.

“You, m’lady,” he said softly, “are a woman of rare quality, I think.” His eyes glinted and his grin grew a little wider. “And don’t you dare say that I flatter you.”

“Well, I think you are,” Elaine said, smiling back. “But as you are my lord, I will bow to your opinion.”

That made him laugh, which in turn made him wince, his free hand going to his side. Elaine murmured a soft curse, her own free hand chasing his, the words to a spell already on her lips.

“Easy,” she said quietly. “Easy. You need to rest so that will heal properly.”

“I know,” Caius murmured, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. “By the powers above and below, I know. But I’m not used to playing the invalid, not these days.”

Elaine shook her head slightly, her spell delving into the wound to see if he’d undone anything she’d worked the night before—he hadn’t, just tugged on some of it a little. No broken sutures, nothing worse than what she’d found the previous night. Another spell rose to her lips and she whispered the words. She watched as Caius relaxed markedly, eyes blinking open to regard her with relief and perhaps a little awe.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Of course,” she said softly, reaching to check his forehead and cheeks for fever. A diagnostic spell could have done the same, but sometimes the older, more familiar methods were more reassuring—and that, at least, was half of what most patients needed.

Is he really just a patient, though?

She brushed the thought aside as she withdrew her free hand. Caius still had custody of the other one and didn’t seem inclined to release it anytime soon. “Doesn’t seem like you’re running a fever,” she said quietly.

“I take it that’s a good sign?”  He was smiling. Was he teasing her? It was hard to know.

Elaine smiled back, nodding a little. “At this stage, I’d say yes. We’ll have to keep an eye on it, but at least this means for now things are as they should be. Have you felt anything strange?”

“You mean other than feeling like there’s a hole in my back?”

She gave him a level look. “Yes.”

He shook his head, sobering. “No. No tingling, burning, itching, nausea, chills, fever, nothing. Nothing to suggest that maybe the blade was poisoned.”

Elaine’s brow arched. “You’ve been through this before.”

Caius shifted uncomfortably in the bed. “Only once,” he said quietly. “And let me be the first to tell you that I am more shocked now than I was then.”

“So it doesn’t happen very often,” Elaine said softly. She stopped trying to examine him further, just sat on the edge of the bed, holding his hand even as he held tightly to hers.

He shook his head. “Three times,” he said, then amended, “that we’re aware of. I suppose there could’ve been others that didn’t get close enough for us to realize what they were or things we chalked up to a nasty case of food poisoning. We almost chalked the second one up to that until we found the vials.”

“Vials?” she echoed, tilting her head slightly.

Caius sighed, nodding. “Yeah. They tried to poison Ascalon and I but they left the vials in the bloody kitchen at the inn where we were staying. One of our friends found it while Ascalon and I were bedridden with what I thought was the worst bout of food poisoning I’d ever had.”

Elaine let out a low whistle. “Shit. That—what happened?”

“Well, we never caught who did it. The poor innkeeper was mortified. He couldn’t be sure who was responsible but he gave us descriptions of all the people who he remembered coming in and out of his kitchen that night, but gods know that he couldn’t have possibly seen or remembered everyone.” Caius shrugged slightly. “We let it go and no one ever spoke of it again except in private, never in mixed company.” One corner of his mouth curved into a slight, rueful smile. “You’re the first person I’ve told outside of that circle. I suspect that Scarlet probably knows, too, but probably not many more people beyond that.”

Her cheeks heated in a blush and she glanced down. “I appreciate the confidence.”

He squeezed her fingers gently but firmly. “You earned it.”

“I was just in the right place at the right time,” she murmured, assuming that he meant the events of the night before. “I only did what any healer would have done.”

Caius just smiled. “Not any healer,” he said.

She looked up, met his gaze. Her breath caught and she had to swallow hard. There was something in his gaze that got her heart going a little faster, that gave her a hint that maybe he wasn’t talking about the role she’d played in saving his life after he’d been stabbed, that maybe it was something else, something different.

“I—”

“I’m glad you came,” he said again, his voice quiet. “I’m glad you’re here.”

For a few seconds, she just stared at him. “Oh,” she finally said, sighing out the word as little more than an exhaled breath. “You’re lonely.”

He smiled sadly, blinking something away. “Ascalon said you were a dangerous one,” he said softly. “That you saw things that sometimes other people didn’t.”

She swallowed hard again, edging a little closer. “I don’t understand.”

Caius shook his head, the smile fading and his gaze growing distant. “It’s okay. I mean, you hit the nail on the head. There’s not a lot of people I’ve let inside and that’s maybe a failing of mine. But there was something about you that made it easier.”

“I’m not sure what,” she said, her soft tone matching his. His fingers tightened around hers again, maintained the pressure. It wasn’t unpleasant, not at all. “I’m just me.”

“Maybe that’s what it was,” Caius said. “Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe you’re just different.” He shifted slightly, leaning back against his pillows. For a few seconds, his eyes slid closed and he didn’t say anything. Elaine stayed there on the edge of the bed, watching him. His fingers tightened more, then loosened a few seconds later.

“Maybe you should rest,” Elaine whispered. “I can get you something for the pain.”

“It’s not bad,” he murmured. “Not as bad as I’ve felt, anyway. I’ll be all right.” He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes again. “And I want you to stay.” Some color rose faintly in his cheeks as he stared at her. “Though if you want to pull back, I completely understand. I know it’s a little much all at once. I mean—you met me last night.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, no, it’s not that, I just—” her lips thinned and she tried to collect her thoughts. “I just don’t want to intrude or overstay.”

“I don’t think that could ever happen,” he said, then smiled. “And I’m rarely wrong about that kind of thing.”

“Confident, aren’t you?” she said with a crooked smile.

He grinned back at her. “I’m told it’s both a fault and a strength of mine—that and the stubbornness.”

“I could see that,” Elaine said, still smiling. “Regarding both—both ways.”

Caius shrugged with one shoulder, tugging her hand gently. “You comfortable sitting there? We can go sit out in the sitting room if you want. I think I can make it that far without falling.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Bed’s soft.”

“Too soft sometimes,” he murmured. “There are days I don’t want to claw my way free of it.”

Her brows knit. “Why not?” she whispered.

His smile was sad. “That,” he said, “is complicated.”

Fourteen

The next morning, the sun came up in all its glory, pinks and oranges painting the clouds in a lavender sky. Elaine watched it from their back deck, a mug of coffee cradled in both hands, an oversized sweater drawn tight around her against the chill. Joslyn was awake, too, despite the early hour, neither of them able to sleep very well though they likely should have. Elaine had been up at her usual time of morning for a weekday, not necessarily odd for a Saturday but not that common, either. There was a bite to the October air, a promise of things to come, perhaps sooner than anyone would have liked. But it was Michigan, and that was to be expected. She could just smell the faintest scent of woodsmoke on the morning wind, a sign that either someone had held a bonfire the night before or perhaps someone had fired up their wood-burning stove or fireplace that morning. It didn’t matter what it was from. In the end, it was a comforting, familiar scent that fall brought every year, one she reveled in the same way she reveled in the changing leaves and the taste of cider and doughnuts. It had always been her favorite season and she suspected it always would be. Affections like that, she’d noticed, seemed to run deep in her family—at least it always had.

It was hard being the only one left.

“You okay?”

She glanced back at Joslyn as her friend leaned out the slider to watch her. They were both still in their pajamas—flannel pants and a tank top for Elaine, an oversized tee and boxer shorts for Joslyn—and seemed poised to stay that way for the better part of the day unless something intervened.

Elaine nodded. “Yeah. Just watching the sunrise. Pretty this morning.”

Joslyn looked past her, gaze lingering on the sky for a few seconds before she nodded. “Yeah,” she said softly, padding in her slippers out onto the deck, hugging herself against the morning air. “But chilly. Was it this cold last night?”

“Pretty close to,” Elaine said. “We just didn’t notice. I think we were better dressed for it.”

Joslyn laughed and shook her head. “Probably right. At least it doesn’t look like rain again.” The previous weekend it had rained from Friday night straight through to Monday morning, soggy and dreary though not necessarily all that cold, surprisingly enough. If it rained today, though, the dampness would certainly set in, likely in the most unpleasant ways.

They leaned against the rail together for a few minutes, both staring up at the sky. Joslyn chewed her lip and Elaine glanced at her sidelong.

“Are you okay?”

Joslyn nodded. “Yeah. Just…just a little nervous, I guess. I don’t even know when he’s going to be here, just that he’s coming, you know?”

“I know,” Elaine said, taking a sip of coffee. “He didn’t tell you anything about where he’d be coming from?”

She shook her head. “No. He just said he’d come and that was that. I gave him the address. I don’t even know if he’s driving. He could be flying or taking a train or who knows what.”

“I’m sure he’ll get here safe,” Elaine said, reaching over to squeeze her arm. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“There is a hell of a lot to worry about,” Joslyn said, then laughed. “I should get dressed. God only knows when he’s going to show up.”

“And you’re not intending for him to see you in your pajamas?” Elaine grinned at her sidelong and Joslyn laughed.

“It would be quite the impression.”

“It’s not like he doesn’t already know you, Joss.” Elaine squeezed her arm again and straightened. “I mean, he’s been talking to you for months.”

“Almost since launch,” Joslyn murmured. “Feels like forever.”

Elaine smiled. “Then what are you worried about?”

“I guess I’m not,” she said, then smiled. “Maybe a little.”

“Well, miss ‘maybe a little,’ let’s go inside and have some breakfast because I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not do this on an empty stomach—if it happens sometime this morning at all. You said yourself, you don’t know how he’s getting here or where he’s coming from.” Elaine threw her arm around Joslyn’s shoulders and tugged her friend back toward their townhouse. Joslyn sighed with a crooked smile and leaned into her for a second, wrapping her arm around Elaine’s waist in a quick hug.

“You’re the best, you know that, right?”

“So are you,” Elaine said, grinning and gulping down the last of what was in her coffee mug as they stepped inside. “I think I want oatmeal.”

“I’m going to make some toast,” Joslyn said, and together they descended on the kitchen.

It was only a few minutes before they were both settled at their little kitchen table, each with the breakfast of their choice and each with a fresh mug of hot coffee. For a few minutes more, there was only the sound of Elaine’s spoon against her bowl and the scrape of a butter knife across toast as Joslyn spread her half-melted butter around.

It was Joslyn who finally broke the silence. “So what’s on your agenda today?”

Elaine shrugged slightly. “Probably going to work on organizing some research I’ve got here and do some reading for Monday afternoon. Maybe I’ll log in for a little while. We’ll see.”

Joslyn smiled wryly. “So how did it go last night with Lord Caius before shit hit the fan all over the place?”

A blush stole across Elaine’s cheeks and she shook her head quickly. Joslyn smirked, leaning back.

“Well?”

“We danced,” Elaine said simply. “That’s all.”

“The entire time?”

“Until he got stabbed,” Elaine said, glancing down into her bowl. “Then shit got a little unpleasant.”

“As one would expect,” Joslyn said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Considering he got stabbed in the back by god knows who.”

“Yeah,” Elaine said, scraping another spoonful of oatmeal from her bowl. “Everything got a little surreal there—ironic, considering it’s a freaking game, but still. It was like things slowed down and sped up at the same time. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced something like that before.”

Joslyn shivered. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad it was you and not me. I don’t know if I’d have been able to keep my head.”

“How do you know that I did?”

“Because the person you sent to come get us told us you did,” Joslyn said, shaking her head. “Besides, you’ve always had a more level head than me. It’s just a thing, I think.”

Elaine snorted. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

Elaine just grinned and got up, shoveling the last spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth and heading for the sink. “Well, I think you’re flattering me just a little in that scenario,” she said as she put her bowl and spoon into the sink and ran hot water into it. “But thank you nonetheless.”

Now it was Joslyn’s turn to snort.

There was a knock at the front door. Both women froze, staring at it for a moment, then meeting each other’s gaze.

“Do you think…?”

Joslyn nodded, swallowing hard. She started to stand up but Elaine waved her back into her chair.

“I got it,” she said, turning off the water, drying her hands on a striped towel on her way to the front door. She fought down a strange queasy, excited feeling in her stomach on her way there, leaving the towel on the edge of the counter as she headed from the kitchen to their small foyer, where light jackets hung on pegs next to their front door, shoes lined up in a neat row beneath them, toes not quite resting against the wall. Elaine twisted the deadbolt and opened the door just a crack, peering out to see who’d come knocking at just past eight in the morning.

He was slender, dark-haired, a few inches taller than she was, perhaps an inch or less taller than Joslyn. His eyes were green, copper around the irises, and seemed much too old for his face. He was dressed in jeans and a wrinkled tee beneath a half-zipped hoodie, its sleeves rolled to his elbows, feet shoved into a pair of old low-rise Converse. He peered through the crack, meeting her gaze with a hopeful one of his own. He swallowed once, then asked quietly, “Is Joslyn here?”

Elaine stared at him a moment longer, then nodded. “Are you—?

“Jason,” he said quietly. “Ascalon, if you know that name, too.”

“I do,” Elaine said as she slowly swung the door open a little wider. “Come on in. I’m Elaine—Joss is my roommate.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jason murmured as he stepped into the foyer. By now, Joslyn had come to the doorway that led from the foyer back into their kitchen and living room, leaning in its archway and staring directly at him.

“Hi,’ she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Hi,” he echoed, his own voice not much more than that.

Elaine quietly closed the door behind him and locked it again, watching them stare at each other for an awkwardly long time. She cleared her throat. “I’m sure you’re hungry and could use some coffee,” she said, slipping past him on her way back to the kitchen. “I’ll go put on a fresh pot.”

They’d gone through most of the one she’d made when she’d gotten up anyway.

That jarred the pair out of their awkward silence and unfroze each of them, Jason by the front door and Joslyn six feet away. Elaine glanced back to see Joslyn taking a step forward, toward Jason, and smiled slightly to herself, continuing across the kitchen to the coffeemaker.

“How was the drive?” she heard Joslyn ask, her voice quiet, almost tentative.

“Long,” Jason said. “I had to stop for about an hour once I crossed the state line so I could sleep for an hour. Was going cross-eyed when I was on the tristate and that wasn’t going to be a good way to make the rest of the drive.”

“The tristate,” Joslyn echoed. “Where did you drive from?”

“Wisconsin,” he said. “I know I could’ve taken the ferry but I—I don’t know. I guess I wanted to stay in control.  I know I didn’t want to be on anyone else’s schedule.”

“I’m just glad you got here safely,” Joslyn said.

Elaine leaned back from the coffee pot, peering back through the doorway. The angle wasn’t right; she couldn’t see anything.

Not that I should be spying on them anyway.

She shook her head at herself.

In the pocket of her sweater, her phone buzzed. She dug it out on her way to the sink to rinse the coffee carafe and fill it so she could start the promised fresh pot. An alert glowed on the blue background, one from the Universe companion app she’d finally gotten around to installing on her new phone after replacing her old one months ago.

New letter. Huh.

Elaine tucked her phone back into her pocket, though her heart had started to beat a little faster. There was something exciting about getting a message that morning, as silly as it seemed. She forced herself to wait until she got the coffee going before she dug her phone back out again, setting it on the countertop as she reached up to get a mug down from the cabinet for Jason. She left it there as she went back to the kitchen table to retrieve her own mug, sipping from it as she returned to the counter and swiped a finger across the notification, unlocking her phone and opening the message in the same motion.

The message was from Caius.

Lady Arenvale,

You have my heartfelt thanks for your assistance last night. I hope that the excitement will not prevent you from being my guest again in the future. I would like to see you again soon, though I suspect that as a healer, you will likely appear at Weatherstone soon enough to check on my progress. I assure you that I remain abed, as I suspect you instructed my staff to keep me while I was unconscious. I have instructed them that you are to be admitted into my presence as you see fit. I confess that I hope that you will see fit soon.

Faithfully,

Caius.

Her heart rose into her throat, still beating too fast, and for a second it was hard to breath, a burst of nervous butterflies erupting in her stomach.

He’d signed it simply ‘Caius.’

What did that mean? Did it mean anything, or was she reading too much into all of it?

Taking a deep breath, she closed the app and stuffed her phone back into her pocket, leaning against the countertop. The coffeemaker made its familiar noises as a fresh pot brewed, and she stared at it perhaps a little too intensely, trying not to eavesdrop on what was going on out in the foyer. Joslyn and Jason weren’t making eavesdropping easy, in any case, their voices low enough that she really couldn’t make out whatever they were saying over the sound of the coffeemaker.

They probably wouldn’t miss me if I went upstairs, would they? Would Joss be okay with that? Of course. Of course she would be. She’s known Ascalon for a long time now—even if this is the first time they’ve seen each other face to face. Elaine glanced toward the foyer again, then sighed and shook her head. She took another gulp of coffee, resolving to wait at least until the fresh pot was done.

The brewing had just finished when Joslyn appeared in the doorway again, drawing Jason behind her by the hand, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. Still leaning against the counter, Elaine arched a brow at her friend, studying the pair as she gulped down the last of the coffee in her mug.

“What?”

Joslyn shook her head, leading Jason over to the kitchen table. Elaine’s brow climbed higher, but she turned away, reaching for the carafe.

“How do you like your coffee, Jason?”

He seemed startled by the question as he dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. “Uhm, black is fine.”

Elaine nodded, her back still to them as she filled the mug. She filled hers, too, before she put the carafe back, then collected Jason’s cup and brought it to the table, handing it over with a crooked smile. “I hope it’s not too strong.”

“I honestly doubt that it would be,” he said, smiling warmly as he took the mug from her. “Thank you.”

Elaine nodded, then headed to the fridge for cream for her own coffee. “Was it a bad drive?”

“No,” he said. “Not too bad. Just long and it was dark and last night was a little exciting before I did that. I probably should’ve slept a couple hours before I left but I—” he broke off, looking at Joslyn for a few seconds as she reclaimed her seat at the table.  “—I just wanted to get here,” he finished, his voice quieter. “I needed to get here, I guess.”

“Well, we’re both glad that you made it safely,” Elaine said, smiling. “I’ll let you two…uhm. I’ll let you two talk. I’ve got some work to do upstairs anyway.” She wrapped both hands around her mug. “It’s nice to meet you, Jason.”

“Likewise,” he said quietly, watching her for a few seconds.

Elaine smiled again, nodded, then retreated up the stairs, leaving the pair alone in the kitchen.

  

Thirteen

“That was quite the evening,” Elaine said as they walked out to her car. The night had grown chilly, and she tugged her jacket a little tighter around herself. “I wasn’t sure what to expect but it sure as hell wasn’t that.”

“It was definitely a bit more eventful than a lot of events at Weatherstone,” Joslyn said, glancing up toward the sky and the stars that were just barely visible in the glare of the parking lot’s lights. Even though the mall was closed, the lots were still brightly-lit, even this late at night. “I didn’t expect it, either.”

Elaine dug her keys out of her pocket and hit the remote start on her car as they drew closer. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure. Why?”

She shrugged. “You just seem distracted, that’s all. Did you and Ascalon have a good talk or whatever?”

“I didn’t realize you noticed we left.”

“I did, I just didn’t think it was a big deal,” Elaine said, unlocking the car as they reached it. “Everything okay?”

Joslyn didn’t answer right away, just slid into the passenger seat. Elaine frowned for a second, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

“Everything’s not okay?” She guessed.

Joslyn shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “But he’s coming here.”

If they had already been moving, Elaine would have slammed on the brakes. “Wait, what?”

“He’s coming here,” Joslyn repeated. “I told him it was okay. He—we talked. You were right. You’ve been right all this time. It’s always been more than just character interaction, we were always just pretending it wasn’t. It just—it all came out tonight. All of it.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “And he needs someone and I’m the someone he needs right now. I said I’d come to him but he said that it was easier for him to get away than it’d be for me. So…he’s coming.”

“Ascalon is coming here.”

“His name is Jason and I am pretty damn sure I’m in love with him.”

“But he’s coming here.” Elaine looked at her sidelong for a few seconds, the car idling as they sat in the parking lot. “But you do love him?”

“I’m pretty sure I do,” Joslyn whispered, then scrubbed a hand over her face. “This is hard.”

“It usually is,” Elaine said, swallowing. “Do you know when?”

She shook her head. “Soon. Sounded like he was leaving after he logged off. I don’t know where he is, though, so I don’t know how long. I don’t know if he’s flying or driving or taking a train or what. I don’t—” she broke off with a sigh.  “I don’t know enough. About how he’s coming, I mean. About him, I—I know a lot about him. What I need to know, anyway.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I know.”

Elaine reached over to squeeze her hand. “Joss. I trust you. It’s okay.”

Her friend exhaled and shook her head, staring at the ceiling of the car for a few seconds. “He just sounded like he was hurting so much, Laney. I could hear it. He was—there was something bothering him tonight and I could tell from the second I laid eyes on him.”

“Did he tell you?”

Joslyn nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, he told me.”

Elaine exhaled and started to pull the car out of the parking spot, out of the lot to head home. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“He was in the service,” Joslyn said quietly, leaning her head against the passenger window, staring out into the night. “I don’t think I ever told you that he was. I’ve known for a while. He got out a few years ago, went back to school—fine arts degree. Works for the family company doing art and writing and that’s why it was going to be easier for him to duck away than me. I guess he’s not wrong about that.”

“No,” Elaine agreed softly. “Not at all.” She glanced toward her friend as they stopped at a stoplight. Joslyn didn’t notice.

“He lost someone—a few someones, I guess. People he knew. It rocked him harder than I think he thought it would. That’s what finally did it.”

“Did what?”

“Brought the wall down,” Joslyn murmured. “Made him think and then that and what you and I talked about the other day got me to talk and really think about what I wanted and what he’d started to mean.” She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “And I guess we’ll figure out what it all really means and if it’ll work when he gets here.”

“I am in complete awe of your guts,” Elaine said, shaking her head, eyes on the road. “I would not be able to do what you’re doing.”

“You never know what you can do until you’re in the position to do it,” Joslyn said, finally looking at her. “It could be you someday, Laney. Don’t rule it out.”

Elaine smiled weakly, glancing toward her for a moment. “Okay. I won’t.”

“Promise?”

Elaine nodded. “I promise.”

“Good,” Joslyn murmured, then turned to look out the window again. “I want it for you, Laney. You’re too good of a person to just be alone.”

Elaine winced, eyes stinging for a few seconds before she blinked it away. “Well. We’ll have to see, right?”

“Yeah,” Joslyn said. “Hopefully sooner rather than later.”

She choked on a laugh. “We’ll see what happens. There’s a lot of road between me and whatever happens with that in the future, I think.”

“Maybe.”

Elaine risked another glance at Joslyn, but she wasn’t looking at her. Instead, she was watching suburbia fade into a landscape that was a little more rural without being completely isolated. Elaine smiled a little and turned her attention back to the road.

Just let me get through school, Joss. Maybe then I can think about a relationship that goes beyond being friends with someone.

“Thanks, Laney.”

“For what?” She glanced over again, though only for a second, gaze returning to the road quickly as they started up a winding hill.

“Not freaking out. You could’ve—you’d have been entitled to it. I didn’t even ask you.”

“You didn’t have to,” Elaine said, shaking her head. “You never have to ask me if it’s okay to do something you need to do. Not something like this.”

“Still,” Joslyn said softly. “Thanks.”

Elaine sighed, not answering right away. Then, finally: “You’re welcome.”

Neither said another word the rest of the way home.

“I will never get used to that.” Peter sat on the edge of the couch, slowly unstrapping the contacts of the gaming rig as he perched there, looking much more tired than Jason had expected him to look.

“You mean the weird out of body thing when your avatar’s unconscious but you’re not?” Jason scrubbed a hand over his face as he stood up, holding still for a moment and letting the sense of temporary vertigo fade. “We tested it, Peter. We said it was fine.”

“I know, I know.” His brother tossed the contacts onto the couch behind him, then leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees. “I don’t regret it, I just don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

“Well, hopefully it’s not going to happen that often.” Jason finished unstrapping his own rig and met his brother’s gaze. “We didn’t expect that, did we?”

“Fuck no,” Peter said. “That was a complete surprise. Not even sure who’s responsible or who’d have the balls to try it.”

“Well, Cay does have enemies.”

“Not many of them.”

Jason shook his head. “More than you think.”

Peter made a face at him and Jason just shook his head again.

“I’m just being honest.”

“Right,” Peter said, still watching him. “So what’s bothering you?”

Jason exhaled, rubbing at his temple. “Nice change of subject.”

“Nice attempt at a dodge. Spill it.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Right. You knew.”

“I asked you when we were in game. For some reason I had it in my head that it was something related to what we were about to do in there, but now…” Peter shook his head, still watching him. “Something happened.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “Yeah, something did. Then something else happened.”

Peter’s brow quirked.  “Okay.”

Jason sat down across from him, mirroring his brother’s stance almost perfectly, leaning forward, elbows against his knees. “This afternoon, we found out that someone I knew okay back when I was deployed was killed with her entire crew.”

“How long ago?” Peter asked in a whisper.

Jason’s eyes dropped. “I don’t know. We didn’t have that information.”

“How did it happen?”

“Someone brought her chopper down,” Jason said, studying his hands as he clasped them loosely between his knees. “She was in a war zone. It happens. You just—” he hesitated, then forged onward. “—you just don’t expect it to happen to people you know. I got luckier than most while I was deployed. I guess luck runs out after you’re out sometimes.”

“You okay?” Peter watched him, brow furrowed slightly. Jason didn’t dare look up, already knowing what he’d see in his brother’s gaze—worry, love, and a silent plea that Jason talk to someone, anyone, even if it wasn’t his brother.

“I will be,” he said, still staring at his hands. “I just need you not to get mad at me.”

“Mad at you? For what?”

“I’m driving to Michigan tonight.”

Peter sat up straight, blinking rapidly. “Michigan? What’s in Michigan?”

He risked a glance at his brother. “Scarlet.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he sucked in a breath. “Then you—is that where you went? I thought that you’d follow us down but by the second song I realized you’d vanished. I wondered where you went but I was having too good of a time dancing with Isolde that I kind of stopped thinking altogether.”

“That’s a good sign,” Jason said, more than half relieved that for the moment, Peter was slightly distracted with telling him about how his night went after Jason had absconded with Scarlet—with Joslyn—to his study at Weatherstone. “I’m sorry it was cut short.”

“Me too,” Peter murmured. “I wish I’d met her sooner.”

“She’s pretty shy,” Jason said. “Busy.”

“We’re all busy.”

Jason smiled wryly. “She’s a grad student, spends most of her time in libraries and archives, studying and writing, I guess. At least, that’s what Scarlet’s told me.” He looked down again. “What Joss has told me.”

“Joss,” Peter echoed.

“Joslyn,” Jason said. “Everyone calls her Joss.”

“And you’re going to leave tonight?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, as soon as we’re done here.”

“You could fly.”

“Driving’s going to take just as long as flying and I won’t be on anyone else’s schedule but mine,” Jason said, stretching and starting to stand. “Might not be back on Monday but probably Tuesday. I’ll call if something changes. Already gave the teams their marching orders anyway.” He paused, then looked at his brother again. “There were a few survivors from the chopper crash—there was a recon team on board when it went down. One of them’s gotten a medical discharge. I had HR offer her a job.”

Peter’s brows went up again. “Doing what?”

“Voice acting,” Jason said, then smiled faintly. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I never do,” Peter said, standing as well. “Call me when you get there, okay? Take all the time you need.”

Jason nodded. Peter stepped forward and hugged him, tightly, and Jason wrapped his arms around his brother, squeezing him close. “I’ll be careful,” he murmured.

“Damn straight,” Peter said, drawing back to look at him. “I’ll let Marissa know in the morning.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Peter smiled. “I hope she’s everything you deserve.”

“I don’t think I’m wrong,” Jason said, then shrugged. “But I guess we’ll see.”

Peter smiled crookedly and shook his head, giving Jason a little shove. “Go on. Get out of here.  If you leave soon, you can still hit a Starbucks before they close.”

Jason snorted. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Pfft. You never know. Go on, get rolling.”

“I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Don’t feel like you have to rush on that,” Peter told him, trailing behind as Jason headed for the couches in the darkened seating area on the seventh floor. “Go with what feels right.”

“Is my big brother who’s never had a relationship in his life giving me relationship advice?”

Peter grinned. “I read. Now go, dammit.”

Jason grinned, nodded, and headed for the elevator. It’d be a long drive, but every fiber of his being screamed that it would be worth it.

Somehow, he knew it’d be worth it.

Twelve

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Caius drew her onward, out of the shadows beneath the gallery and out to the floor. He wore gloves the same as she did, though his were of thin leather while hers were silk. Eyes turned toward them, raked over them as they emerged from the shadows and moved toward the floor, the crowds parting slowly to allow them to continue on.

The orchestra in the corner played a few notes, a few chords, clearly on the tail end of warming up, then followed it with a quick tune, as if to make sure that they were truly ready to play. The conductor seemed pleased enough after making a few more minor tweaks. By then, Elaine and Caius had made it nearly to the center of the inner half of the floor, a circle widening slowly around them even as all eyes remained glued to them.

Caius turned toward her, smiling a sad, almost shy smile. “It’s all right,” he whispered, shifting his grip on her hand. “Don’t think about them. They don’t matter.”

“Then what does?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“This,” he said, then bowed to kiss her knuckles lightly. By reflex, she dropped into a curtsey, managing a faint, only half-terrified smile.

The orchestra struck a cord as they both straightened and Caius reached to settle a hand on her waist even as she, out of sheer reflex, rested her free hand on his shoulder. He smiled at her and she smiled back, a fresh blush creeping across her cheeks.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked in a whisper.

“Of course,” he said.

Then the music really started and suddenly, they were dancing.

Her skirts swirled around them as the moved through the circle of open space that the crowds had formed around them, crowds that she noticed less and less as she focused on him, on his face and expression, on his gaze. He was staring at her as if studying her, memorizing a woman he’d only just met but never wanted to forget.

It was a silly and romantic thought and Elaine wanted to hate herself for it but there was a tiny piece that wanted to cling to it much more than hate it. Maybe it would just be a single dance, but just then, a single dance was all that mattered.

“What are you thinking?” Caius asked about halfway through the song. He was still smiling, still watching her face as he guided her through complicated steps and spins, moving across the floor as if this was what he’d been born to do. There was lightness to his expression now, though, one that hadn’t been there when they’d been up on the balcony before.

Could it actually be that he was somehow enjoying this as much as she was?

“I just—” she stopped, smiled, and shook her head. “I was just thinking how nice this is and how wonderful you are.”

His smile turned rueful, but his eyes crinkled at the edges—it was a real smile, not something for show, not a mask that he wore to hide what he actually felt or thought. There were the faint beginnings of a blush high in his cheeks as he shook his head. “I’m not wonderful,” he breathed, drawing her closer, close enough he could whisper in her ear, close enough that it drew one or two scandalized gasps from the crowd surrounding them. “But thank you for thinking so.”

He spun her, then, and she laughed aloud, his laughter joining hers as she came back to him, their hands clasping more tightly, their bodies closer together, moving as one through the remaining paces of the dance. Caius was flushed by the end, when he stepped back enough to bow to her and she dropped into a curtsey.

“May I have the pleasure of another?” he asked softly as they both straightened again.

“I would be delighted,” Elaine said, grinning.

“Good.” There was something boyish and charming in his smile and her heart soared higher than she thought possible. It was just a dance and just a smile but for some reason both meant more than anything else had in a long time.

She didn’t know what it meant, but she knew it meant something. Eventually, she’d figure out what.

But that would be for later, for now, Caius had asked her to dance again, and she decided that she would dance all night with him if he wanted to.

All he had to do was ask.

By their fifth turn on the floor, the pair was no longer alone. The room had finally begun to settle, and some people had drifted out while others had joined them in dancing, still more clustering in knots of conversation off to the sides, usually nearer to the refreshment tables.

She and Caius didn’t talk much as they danced, just watched each other, each getting a feel through movement and gesture rather than words. Elaine’s heart pounded in her chest, not from exertion, but excitement.

This had not been what she’d expected out of her evening, not by any stretch of her admittedly overactive imagination.

“Another?” he asked in a murmur as she returned to his arms after another spin. Elaine smiled.

“Yes, that—”

She caught movement from the corner of her eye and stiffened. Whether it was her sudden tense or the look on her face or something else, his gaze flicked sideways, but a hair too late. A figure slammed into them, sending Elaine skidding back before she could catch herself. She heard Caius grunt, saw his hand snap out.

Lightning coursed from his fingertips through the man he’d grabbed with a murmured word, his eyes gleaming. The man made a sound that was not quite a cry and slumped, eyes rolling back into his head. Caius’s gaze lit on her and he took two steps before dropping to one knee.

It was at that point that she became painfully aware of the screams around them.

What the hell is going on?

Then she saw the knife and realized what was going on.

“Oh hell,” she breathed, coming two steps forward and kneeling in front of Caius, getting beneath him she he wouldn’t hit the floor. A knife protruded from his back on the right hand side, below his rubs and blood was already starting to slowly seep through his shirt and doublet, staining silver and white a deep crimson.

Caius leaned into her, forehead pressing against her shoulder, his lips moving, forming words she could only barely hear.

“Get out of here,” he whispered, the words almost inaudible. “There could be another.”

Screw that.

“You’re hurt,” she said firmly. “I am not going anywhere.”

One of his hands clutched at her arm, fingers wrapping around it for a moment before he shivered slightly and his hand fell away, as if his strength was fading. Slowly, carefully, Elaine eased him down to the floor, looking around quickly even as she reached for the dagger and the scarlet stain surrounding it. A few people had moved closer, almost forming a perimeter around her and Caius and the would-be assassin who lay unconscious a few feet away, still twitching occasionally with residual energy.

She didn’t recognize any of the people surrounding them, but she did recognize the looks on their faces—horror, determination, helplessness. She took a deep breath, her fingers exploring the sopping fabric around the dagger in Caius’s back even as she focused on two of the people surrounding them. “You,” she said to a woman dressed in navy and gray, “find Lord Dravenwood and bring him here—quickly.” Her gaze shifted to a man in green and brown. “You, come here and help me.”

The woman nodded and turned, vanishing into the crowds. Even as she left and the man in green and brown left the circle, others fell in to close the gaps they’d left behind, the protective circle becoming a little tighter around them. The man in green and brown crouched next to Caius, looking at her.

“Just tell me what you need me to do,” he said quietly.

Elaine nodded, carefully splaying her hands around the dagger, not caring how much blood she got on her hands as long as she was able to help him. “When I tell you,” she said, her voice steady, “pull the dagger out. Don’t hesitate, one smooth motion, straight out the way it went in.”

The man nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“Hopefully put his kidney back together again before he loses too much blood,” she muttered, steadying herself. Her focus narrowed down to the wound, to the arteries and veins that had been severed, the ones that she could sense the deeper she looked using a healer’s magic—her magic. The dagger was keeping pressure on some of the worst of it all—the assassin must have hoped that it’d be pulled out right away, so that Caius would bleed out before anyone could help him. She took an extra second to plan, to figure out what to address first, then cleared her throat. Her fingertips glowed faintly, the green of evergreens and early summer grass all at once.

“Okay,” she said. “On my count.”

“All right.”

“Three.” Her focus narrowed further until the room started to fall away. The man in brown and green wrapped his hands around the dagger, ready to pull it on her signal. “Two.” She drew a little more power, ready to start pouring it into Caius’s wound as soon as the dagger was out of the way. “Go.”

The man in brown and green pulled the dagger free, as quickly and smoothly as she’d hoped he would. Even before the tip cleared the wound, she was at work, mending the worst of the damage in those first few seconds, both hands pressed hard against the wound to staunch the bleeding. Her magic poured into the wound, knitting artery and vein with thin threads of magic, of power. With practiced skill, she tied off each small spell, part of the greater whole designed to save his life.

Time passed, but all she was aware of was her work and the fact that Caius, though unconscious, was still breathing. So completely focused on healing, she didn’t hear the ripple that went through the crowds, the sudden silence in the air, the tension that rose a notch or three.

She heard Acalon’s voice, though, as he reached the edge of the circle. “Who’s responsible for this?”

“That one,” someone said, pointing to the man on the floor behind Elaine, the one that had gotten a nasty jolt courtesy of Caius after the initial attack.

“Take him into custody,” Ascalon said, his tone one of command. There was a faint thread of anger and something else beneath it, though.

Fear?

“We’ll get our answers from him once he’s conscious,” Ascalon continued, then turned to look at the crowd still milling around. For a second, he seemed on the verge of saying something further, then exhaled and moved closer to Elaine and his wounded brother, dropping to a knee beside them.

“Is he stable enough to move?” The question came as a murmur in her ear. Elaine took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yes. Yes, that should be fine. Better, probably—certainly more comfortable.”

Ascalon nodded and squeezed her shoulder, straightening. “You there, get the hall cleared. I think we’ve all had more than enough excitement for the night.” He glanced toward Joslyn and motioned her over. “Scarlet, help me with him.”

Elaine blinked. “Wait—”

“You said it was safe,” Ascalon said, moving to start lifting Caius from the floor. “Is it?”

“I mean, yes, but be careful.” Elaine swallowed hard. “It’s not fully healed.”

“Never is,” Ascalon said grimly as he lifted his brother. Scarlet rushed to help. Elaine watched, heart in her throat. Caius’s face was pale as death. Had she somehow miscalculated when she’d asked for the dagger to be pulled out? Had she hesitated too long?

Stop. Stop. You never second-guess yourself like this. It’s fine. You did fine. He’ll be okay.

Elaine took a ragged breath and followed Ascalon and Scarlet as they began to carry Caius away. Behind them, several people were starting to clear the hall, Caius’s guests slowly trickling out the doors at the head of the room even as Ascalon and Scarlet carried Caius toward the back of it. Elaine chewed her lower lip, hurrying to keep up. Even carrying Caius, somehow the pair still moved faster than she did.

“What happened?” Ascalon asked as they ducked through a hidden door beneath one of the galleries and into a hallway. “Don’t leave anything out.”

“I didn’t see much,” Elaine admitted. “We were dancing. It was getting near to the end of the song and he asked me if I wanted to dance another and I said yes. Then someone came out of the crowd—the man you saw on the ground—and ran right into Lord Caius. We lost our grip on each other and the next thing I saw was Caius grabbing him and channeling lightning into him. Then he dropped him and started moving toward me, but he didn’t make it. When he went down on one knee was when I saw the dagger. The bastard stabbed him and gods only know why.”

“Do you think he made someone angry?” Scarlet asked quietly as they rushed through corridors, heading deeper into Weatherstone’s keep. Suddenly they were on a winding staircase heading upward. Elaine swallowed hard again, this time against the bile rising in her throat.

“He told me to get away,” she said, her voice barely audible. “That there might be more. He was—” she stopped before she could say scared. Was that really what it had been? “—concerned.”

“Caius has some enemies, that’s for certain,” Ascalon muttered as they continued upwards. Elaine lost track of the distance, but it felt like those stairs went on forever. She kept her gaze on the spot of crimson on Caius’s back, trying to gauge if it was any worse.

She couldn’t know if it was or not with her magic unless she was touching him.

“But would one of them have made a move this ballsy?” Scarlet pressed. “This feels all kinds of wrong, Ascalon.”

“Damn straight,” he muttered.

They reached the top of the stairs. A small landing awaited them there, one with a door set several feet back from the end of the steps. Ascalon made a beeline toward that door and opened it without breaking stride, moving inside with his brother still in tow. Beyond the door was a small study, and beyond that study was a bedroom, visible through the half-open door at the far end of the room. They headed there, Caius giving no indication of waking even as Ascalon laid him on the bed and started undressing him.

“Then what does it mean?” Elaine asked quietly as she knelt against the edge of the bed, taking one of Caius’s hands between both of hers. Her eyes slid shut as she mouthed the words to a diagnostic spell, assessing his condition a little more closely than she’d been able to downstairs. It was heartening to find him relatively stable, if suffering a little from blood loss and the obvious trauma. At least he didn’t seem to be in shock despite his pallor and unconsciousness.

“I don’t know,” Ascalon said, his voice soft. “But we’ll find out. Trust in that—somehow, we’re going to find out and someone’s going to pay for this. This sort of act—“ his voice hitched. “This sort of act doesn’t go unanswered.”

“Is he all right, Isolde?” Scarlet asked. “Will he be?”

Elaine nodded quickly. “Yes. As long as he takes it easy and rests, I think so.” She exhaled a sigh of relief, then let go of Caius’s hand, moving to start unlacing his boots so Ascalon could concentrate on other parts. “I just—I don’t understand why someone would want to do this to him.”

“People do stupid, wrong-headed shit all the time,” Ascalon muttered, gently lifting his brother to strip off his ruined tunic and the shirt beneath. “I’ll have some bandages sent up so you can bind everything, Isolde. Assuming that you’re willing.”

She blinked at him, startled. “Of course I’m willing,” she said. “I’d hate to leave the job half-done. There’s a part of me that wants to stay until he wakes up, but I’m thinking that might not be until morning.”

“Like as not,” Ascalon murmured, staring at his brother for a few seconds. “Thank you for everything tonight. You have—you have no idea how much it’s meant.”

Elaine gave him a faint, warm smile. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said quietly. “But I appreciate it all the same.” She took a deep breath, then, and exhaled it slowly. “Frankly, sorting out who did this and why? That will be all the thanks I need.”

“Those are answers I intend to get,” Ascalon promised. “You can rest assured of that.”

“Good,” Elaine said, softly, simply. “That’s all I ask.”

That, and that whatever bastards decided that Caius needed a dagger in the back pay for their poor judgement—one way or another.

Eleven

Elaine’s head jerked up and she stared at Caius for a few seconds, heart lodged in her throat. He was laughing. She’d just said things that she probably shouldn’t but somehow—

—did he think it was funny?

Oh my god, he thinks it’s funny.

He took a step forward, smiling ruefully and she felt her blush growing deeper, her cheeks hot.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, not quite sure what else to say.

Way to sound stupid.

“Don’t be,” he said, still smiling. “I needed that—more badly than you realize, in fact.” He reached for her hand and she let him take it, watching as he lifted her gloved fingers up to his lips so he could kiss the back of her hand. “Caius Horatio.”

“I-Isolde Caomhánach.”

“It’s my pleasure and honor, then, Isolde Caomhánach. You’re Lady Arenvale aren’t you?”

She nodded almost convulsively. “I am, yes.” He hadn’t let go of her hand. In a way, despite the sudden attack of nerves, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. “I—I’m sorry to have seemed so elusive. It wasn’t my intention to cause any offense.”

He blinked, then laughed a little. “You mean with your absence at these sorts of things in the past? Consider it forgiven. I find them a bit trying myself, so the fact that you’ve missed them isn’t something I’ll hold against you.”

“That’s a relief.” She smiled at him and he smiled back, the expression reaching eyes the color of leaves that had just begun to turn from green to burnished gold with the coming of autumn. They sparkled with something she couldn’t name—not quite mischief, not quite interest, but something akin to each and still wholly different.

Caius took a deep breath, still watching her. “May—may I request the honor of a dance tonight?”

She blinked at him, a shiver racing through her. “A dance?”

There was that crooked smile again. “I promise not to step on your toes too much.”

Elaine laughed nervously. “It’s not my toes that I’m concerned with. I’m sure you dance wonderfully.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

It took a second for her to catch his implication—that he supposed that both of them danced just fine—and as soon as she did, she found herself blushing again. She glanced down toward the hem of her gown only to find him tilting her chin back up with his free hand, the other still firmly occupying hers.

“There’s no need for that,” he whispered, searching her face. “It’s all right. My brother speaks highly of Scarlet and any close friend of hers must certainly be someone I should meet and make a friend of.”

Elaine found herself blushing again but managed a tiny shy but pleased smile. “I think my lord flatters me.”

“I only try to speak the truth,” Caius said, and deep down, she somehow knew he meant it. “So. May I have the pleasure of a dance? The first one, perhaps?”

Elaine nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak right away. It took a moment before she managed, “Yes. Yes, of course. But…” she glanced out toward the railing, a dubious look on her face. “Will there still be a chance for that? The crowd’s a bit restless and I didn’t think the orchestra was ready.”

“I imagine they will be by the time we reach the floor,” Caius said. “As for the crowds, they’ll settle soon enough. They always do.” He squeezed her fingers, then released them so he could offer her his arm. “Shall we, then, Lady Arenvale?”

“I would be delighted, m’lord.”

Caius smiled at her, inclining his head, and led her down the hidden stairway that had been the way she came.

Ascalon watched his brother escort Isolde to the stairs, only looking away as they disappeared into the gloom. Scarlet’s hand tightened around his and he exhaled, leaning his shoulder into hers and slumping slightly.

“What’s wrong?” She whispered, letting go to wrap both of her arms around him. “Is it this Sapphire Crown business?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “No, I wish it was that. Come on. We need to talk.” He hesitated. “I need to talk.”

She blinked and leaned closer, her lips next to his ear. “Out of character?”

Ascalon nodded, squeezing his eyes shut.

“The study?” She asked quietly, and he nodded again.

“That should be fine. Cay probably won’t notice I’m gone right away and if he comes looking after his turn on the floor with Isolde…” his voice trailed away as he found he really wasn’t she he cared if Caius came looking or not.

Scarlet squeezed him gently, then let go, moving along the rear wall of the gallery to a well-hidden door, one Ascalon and his brother had used on more than one occasion to make a quiet escape from the festivities, usually when one or both of them needed a few moments’ peace. A few seconds later, he and Scarlet were through that door and moving down the corridor beyond, the sounds of the gala fading the further they went. With each step, it got a little easier to breathe, though his heart just got heavier.

But he needed to talk to someone and there was no one he’d rather bare his soul to than her.

His grip on her fingers tightened as they reached the study. She was the one to open the door and ease it open, the space quiet and small, tucked deep into Weatherstone’s maze of rooms. It was his study, not Caius’s, his place to come and hide when he needed it—only rarely at that. Of the two of them, Caius was far more likely to need solitude and peace in the heart of everything. Ascalon, by contrast, usually sought others to distract himself.

This time, though, he knew it wouldn’t work—not the same way it always did.

At least he had Scarlet.

Ascalon moved toward an easy chair tucked in the corner near a fireplace, wood stacked on the grate, waiting for a spark. He stared at those logs for a moment, wondering if maybe he should light them, wondering if it would be wise to do it. Scarlet closed and locked the door behind them, lingering near it and watching him for a few silent moments.

Finally, she cleared her throat. “Ascalon, what’s wrong?”

He exhaled quietly, then crouched to start a fire in the fireplace, using the motions to buy himself time to gather his thoughts. He could feel the weight of her stair, heard the sound of her footsteps, muted against the thick rug, as she approached him. She sat down in front of the fireplace, watching him as he tried to coax the logs into catching.

“Talk to me,” she whispered.

For a second, he closed his eyes, exhaling, shoulders slumping. Scarlet reached out and squeezed his shoulder, a comforting gesture, one he needed more than he cared to admit.

The logs caught and he shifted them slightly, letting go of the tinder he’d used to get them going. He rocked back, half sat, half fell into a sitting position next to her. For a few seconds more, he stared at the slowly growing fire. Scarlet inched closer and wrapped her arms around him.

“Ascalon,” she whispered.

“Jason,” he said. “Tonight, right now, I need to be Jason.”

She was silent for a couple of heartbeats, then her voice came softly. “Okay. You know, that’s the first time you’ve ever told me your name.”

“I know,” he said, then swallowed hard. “It was something I should have done a long time ago and I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”

“It’s okay,” she said, resting her cheek against his shoulder, following his gaze to the fire. “Sometimes it’s easier to just not talk about things like that. It lets us maintain distance—some kind of distance.”

“Easier to pretend that something isn’t something that it is.”

The whispered words were met by more silence. He closed his eyes, hoping that he hadn’t somehow scared her away by saying it. Her arms stayed around him, though, her cheek still rested against his shoulder.

“Joslyn,” she said, just when he thought she wouldn’t say anything. “But most people call me Joss. Easier, a little more informal.”

“Joslyn,” he echoed in a whisper, then exhaled, leaning his head against hers. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You said what both of us were thinking. I’m not stupid and neither are you. I think we both knew that there was something that we weren’t facing. That’s not why I’m here right now, though, is it? There’s something else bothering you that has nothing to do with us.”

“It might have a little to do with us,” he said, reaching up to wrap his hand around one of hers. “I found out today that a friend from the service died. It’s one of those things that sometimes hits harder than you think it’s going to.”

“Oh, shit,” she breathed. “Asc—Jason, I’m sorry. Was it—were you—?”

“We weren’t especially close, no,” he said. “Hung out off-duty, had a few drinks with some other people. We were just friends. Sometimes the senselessness of it all hits you, though. She was a chopper pilot. Her whole crew died with her.”

“Damn.” Scarlet turned her face to press her forehead against his shoulder. Ascalon closed his eyes again. “Was there anyone else?” she asked in a bare whisper. “Did anyone survive?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, someone did—a few. One of them I knew pretty well.”

“Was it bad?”

“Bad enough,” he murmured. “I’m not sure how bad. It’s one of those things, you know? It just hits and you don’t know why and you don’t know when but sometimes it just hits like a sucker-punch to the gut and you don’t know what you’re going to do or how you’re going to pull yourself out of the tailspin it throws you into.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Cay was trying to get me to talk before we got started tonight and I told him it wasn’t anything that he needed to worry about.”

“But he knew something was wrong.”

He nodded. “He always knows. It’s like he’s got a sixth sense for it. There’s not much you can hide from him.” He straightened slightly and looked down at her just as she looked up at him. “He asked me the other day about you and I.”

“What did you tell him?” she asked.

“I didn’t,” he said. “I dodged like I always do. It’s not something he needs to worry about.” He studied the lines of her face, throat getting tight for a moment as he wondered how much of it might be echoed in the woman behind the avatar, the person he looked forward to talking to almost every night, the one who always seemed to be there when he needed her. “I love him, but there’s some stuff that I’m not ready to let be his business too, y’know?”

She smiled a little. “My roommate was asking about you, too. I told her I didn’t even know your name.”

“Now you do,” he said. Her smile grew a little wider, one corner of her mouth quirking higher than the other.

“Now I do,” she agreed, then stretched up to kiss him.

He leaned into her kiss, squeezing his eyes shut against tears that suddenly stung his eyes, tears coming from nothing and everything all at once. He wanted to sob, to scream, to wrap himself up in her and never leave. He turned toward her, wrapped his arms around her and drew her tightly against him, swallowing hard as he kept right on kissing her, tamping down the sobs that threatened to tear free of his throat. She reached up, hands caressing his cheeks, fingers running through his hair before they wiped aside the tears that welled up, the tears that wouldn’t stop.

He held on, because all of a sudden, she was the port he needed in a storm, the one that had always been there, the one that he never realized was there, the one he never realized how badly he needed.

In the space of a heartbeat, he knew that she had been the one he’d always needed, always wanted—and probably always would.

He pulled back, breathing raggedly, arms loosening before he reached up to scrub away his tears with the heel of his hand. She watched him, brow furrowing slightly, concern written in every line and curve of her face.

“Jason,” she said softly. “What do you need?”

“You,” he breathed without thinking. “I need you. Here, actually with me. I—I need to feel something real.”

“Then tell me where to go,” she said. “I’ll come.”

It hit him like a truck at top speed and for a second he just stared at her, mouth dry, not sure what to say, how to respond. He swallowed once, then again, finally shaking his head.

“No,” he whispered. “No, I’ll come to you. You have your work and all of that and you can’t just duck away. I can, at least for a little while. They’ll understand. Just—just tell me and I’ll come.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever been so damned sure about anything in my life.”

“Okay.” She reached up, cradling his face between her hands, wiping away his tears with her thumbs. “Okay.”

Then she told him where he needed to go and he kissed her again.

She held him afterwards for what seemed like a long, long time.

Ten

“Here goes nothing,” Caius murmured to Ascalon. His brother tore his gaze away from Scarlet and Isolde, the smile that had blossomed at the sight of the former fading as he focused on Caius, who stood grave-faced and serious beside him.

Something was wrong and he couldn’t put his finger on it, but in his heart of hearts, he knew there was something—just not what.

“You’ll be fine,” Ascalon said quietly, half a second before the sound of Caius’s majordomo’s staff against the floor rang out, plunging the room into sudden silence.

“His Grace Caius Ezra Tristan Horatio, High Lord of Elfaedil, Master of Weatherstone and the Thornwood, commands your heed.” The majordomo’s voice was clear, firm, and echoed through the space, cutting through the silence like a hot knife through butter. “Turn your eyes to him and listen well.”

Next to Ascalon, Caius winced slightly. His gaze slid sideways for a moment and Ascalon met his eyes.

Hell of a time to get a case of nerves.

“You can do it,” Ascalon mouthed, then stepped back half a step. Caius took a deep breath and stepped toward, wrapping both hands around the railing as he leaned against it, looking out over the assembled guests below.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice firm and even, carrying to every corner of the space. Ascalon knew it would reach every ear at the same calm, measured level, not too loud nor too quiet, thanks to the simple amplification spell Caius had long ago mastered for occasions such as this. “Welcome to Weatherstone. I am pleased that you all have been able to join us this evening, as the request I am about to make of all of you is one of great solemnity and importance. It is a request to help restore a lost piece of Elfaedil’s legacy, a piece of our history that has been lost for nine hundred years.”

A faint ripple of murmurs flowed through the crowds below, people exchanging glances, whispering to each other. It was the reaction they’d expected, planned for.

Just keep going. You can do this.

“Many of you are familiar with the tale of the Sapphire Crown,” Caius continued, gaze roaming over those assembled in the room below him. “And those of you that are, I beg that you will grant me the forbearance needed so I can tell those who are not.” He paused for half a beat, then forged onward. “The Sapphire Crown was once a part of the regalia of Queen Tiana of Elfaedil, before the Sundering split our world into the lands we know today. Legend says it was an object of great power, forged by the greatest dwenomer smiths of ages past whose techniques are lost to us now in these modern times. Some tales go so far as to stay that the materials that went into its crafting were blessed by the gods themselves. I will admit that I do not know the truth of it, but I know this: nine hundred years ago, the crown was lost during the Sundering. The last known record of it is at the Battle of Nylan in the mountains of Deith, far to the south of where we stand now. It was said to be in the possession of the queen and her retinue at the time of the battle. After that moment, after that battle, we do not know what happened to it, for there is not a single record where it is mentioned since then.”

Caius spread his hands. “Some of you may scoff at me for believing it was not somehow destroyed in the Sundering and I admit that for a long time, I thought the same. But we have heard reports and rumors from the south, from the deep woodlands of the Dravenwood, from the scrub forests that cluster around the skirts of the mountains of Deith.” He paused. “There have also been dreams.”

A fresh ripple ran through the crowd, the murmurings growing louder. Ascalon took half a step forward again, scanning the gathered below with a critical eye.

Something still felt wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Caius lifted his hands, waiting for a few moments until the murmurs died away to nothing. He took a deep breath and continued, tone measured, words coming with gravitas that Ascalon had always known his brother was capable of but rarely experienced. “Seers have seen and Dreamers have dreamed, my friends. Something’s changed—something’s awakened—and I have reason to believe it is linked to the reemergence of the Sapphire Crown.”

“So what the hell do you want us to do about it?” a voice called from the crowd. Try as he might, Ascalon couldn’t pinpoint its owner. Caius didn’t seem to care.

The Lord of Elfaedil smiled. “I want you to find it.”

The room erupted.

The cacophony was so much and so sudden it left her head ringing. Elaine looked toward Joslyn, who stood with her jaw clamped shut, gaze trained on Caius above them—and on Ascalon beside him, standing half in the shadows, half not.

“I’m guessing this isn’t the usual sort of reaction,” she hissed at her friend.

Joslyn shook her head slowly. “No. No, it’s not.”

There were too many people talking at once, some amongst themselves, others shouting up toward the Lord of Elfaedil as he stood on the balcony, just watching the crowd, expression not quite concerned, though not quite impassive, either.

Elaine’s jaw tightened. “This is insane,” she said, half to herself and half to Joslyn. “Someone needs to calm this shit down. He’s clearly got more to say.”

“How can you tell?”

“You can’t?” Elaine shook her head and took a deep breath.

It shouldn’t take much, should it?

She was a healer by training, but she still had a few additional tricks up her proverbial sleeve.

Focus.

“Isolde? Isolde, what are you doing?”

Electricity raced up and down her limbs, setting her hair on end. She focused on a spot high above, in the center of the room, well clear of the galleries and the ceiling.

Focus.

“Isolde.”

Three.

Joslyn’s eyes had widened, as if she realized what her friend was about to do. “Don’t.”

Two.

She lifted one hand.

Joslyn seized her other arm, hissing in her ear. “Elaine!”

Release.

Silver-green light shot from her palm to the spot she’d chosen. It arced upward, then started to descend once it reached a point a few feet blow the ceiling. Already she could hear the sound of steel rasping against steel, sounds that she ignored. The bolt of light exploded into a shower of sparks, enough to draw the attention of most of the crowd.

“Enough!” she roared, her voice echoing in sudden startled silence. “Your lord speaks! Be silent and listen for there is more for him to say.”

Silence reigned for the span of a heartbeat. She could see some figures moving through the crowd toward her, steel already drawn.

“Hold.”

It was Lord Caius’s voice and the sound of it arrested the figures in mid-stride, their attention snapping from their quarry—her—to him. The Lord of Elfaedil leaned against the balcony, staring down at her, expression impassive.

“Harm her and you answer to me,” he said. “Sheathe your weapons and heed what I am about to tell you. The lady is correct—there is more for me to say, if you would hear it. Will you?”

A soft murmur rippled through the crowd, most voicing assent, though a few were grumbles. Glares were thrown in her direction an Elaine shifted her weight from one foot to the other, knowing that with one act she’d made enemies of people she’d never met before today.

Next to her, Joslyn exhaled in relief and let go of her arm.

Caius’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before it shifted to encompass the whole of his audience once more. “The Sapphire Crown is said to hold immense power,” he said, his voice deceptively quiet, though somehow it carried to the very back and edges of the great hall, reaching every ear. “That makes it sought-after and dangerous all at once. The extant records don’t speak of what it can do, but there are legends and stories that will be made available to those of you who choose to take up the hunt. Know this, too—the power of the Sapphire Crown is said to be linked to particular lines of descent dating back centuries before the Sundering. Our aim in this is to recover a piece of our history, not to recover some kind of weapon of mass destruction. It is to be returned to Coronet to be added to the collection of artifacts held in safety here. I hope that is clear.” He paused, gaze raking over those assembled in the room. Elaine felt a chill shoot down her spine.

There was a promise in that gaze, and the promise was not a kind one at all.

“As more and more information is gathered about the Sapphire Crown, it will be distributed throughout Elfaedil,” Caius continued. “Working together we are more likely to find what we seek than alone. Lord Dravenwood will be the main point of contact for information to be passed along. Further, we have reason to believe that there may be other artifacts dating to the same period that are reemerging. Those, too, will be important.

“Together,” Caius said, his voice abruptly gravelly, “we will solve this mystery, my friends. Together, we will learn why here and why now—and where these items have been for all this time.

“Enjoy the festivities this evening. I hope they will not be the last for a long time.”

He stepped back, then, into the shadows of the gallery above them, and for a few moments more, silence lingered. Elaine barely dared to breathe.

Joslyn tugged at her hand. “Come on,” she whispered in her ear, just as a murmur began to ripple through the crowd, only growing in volume.

Swallowing hard, Elaine nodded and let her friend tug her toward the shadows that lurked beneath the galleries.

Caius didn’t stop backing up until he reached the wall behind him. He pressed his spine against it, taking one ragged breath, then another. The shadows of that upper gallery cloaked him, though he wished they were something more solid than they were, something more tangible. It was written all over his face—a look Ascalon had seen many times before, though never quite this intensely.

“It’s all right,” Ascalon murmured, stepping in front of his brother, hiding any bare glimpse of the Lord of Elfaedil with his body.  “That went surprisingly well.”

“Who is she?” Caius asked in a faint voice, staring at his brother’s shoulder for a moment without seeing it. Ascalon bit back a curse and reached for Caius’s shoulder. Startled, his brother glanced up at him, then asked again, “Who is she, Ascalon?”

Ascalon blinked at him, a frown creasing his forehead.

Caius swore under his breath. “The one who shut them up. Who is she? I don’t remember—I don’t remember seeing her at one of these before.”

Grimacing, Ascalon glanced away. Caius watched him, slowly straightening.

“Ascalon.”

“What?”

“You know her,” Caius said slowly, his voice quiet. “Don’t you?”

He nodded once.

“But you won’t tell me her name?”

“It depends on why you want to know it, Cay.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” The question came quietly, curiously. “Do you think I’m angry?”

Ascalon’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t sure what he thought. “No.”

Caius exhaled an explosive breath through his teeth and shook his head. “Fuck-all, Ascalon. You know me better than that.”

“You’re right,” Ascalon said. “You’re right, I do.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and turned to face his brother squarely. “Lady Arenvale. She’s a friend of Scarlet’s.”

Caius studied him for a moment. “But she’s never come before, despite invitations. She’s never been here before.”

Ascalon shook his head. Caius’s brows knit.

“Why now?”

“That’s a question for her, Cay, not for me. I don’t know. I don’t have any answers for you.”

Caius swallowed and looked away. “I want to meet her,” he said, his voice quiet. It sounded strange, an emotion buried there that Ascalon couldn’t quite identify—nor was he certain he wanted to.

“I think I can arrange that,” Ascalon said softly. “Are you going to wait here?”

Caius nodded. “For another few minutes, anyway. I’ll let the clamor die down.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Someone needs to tell the orchestra to start playing.”

“I’m sure someone will soon,” Ascalon said, heading quickly and quietly toward a hidden stairway down to the main level, hidden in the dim of the shadows along the back wall of the gallery. “Just—just say here.”

Caius flashed a thumbs-up, leaning against the wall again and staring toward the balcony, expression a little grim—enough so that it made Ascalon’s heart give a painful squeeze. None of them ever thought of how heavily this all weighed on him sometimes. It wasn’t fair, but at the same time there was little they could do.

He was the Lord of Elfaedil, and with that lordship came very particular responsibilities.

Still. He was his brother, too, and with that came another specific set of things.

His foot hit the steps and he hurried down, quiet, hoping that no one would notice him as he reached the bottom and eased out from behind the tapestry that hid the bottom of the stairs from the rest of the great hall. Hopefully, he’d find them quickly and—

“Ascalon.”

A shiver shot through him and he exhaled a sigh of relief, kicking himself. He shouldn’t have worried—Scarlet knew this stairway and would have wanted to get to him as quickly as she could after everything that had just happened.

I’m an idiot.

Scarlet and Isolde were only a few feet away, already deep in the shadows beneath the gallery. The rest of the great hall was still loud, still abuzz with the announcement. He estimated about half would leave immediately, collecting small chapbooks full of information on their way out, intending to start their hunts for the Sapphire Crown tonight. That was all well and good—the fewer hot-heads any of them needed to deal with for the rest of the evening, the better.

A few of those hot-heads would linger, though, and perhaps one or two would be convinced there was more that hadn’t been revealed, either in words or in the chapbooks. Those were the ones that concerned Ascalon the most.

For a few seconds, though, all of that stopped mattering. He cleared the space between he and the pair of women in two quick strides, took Scarlet by the shoulders, and kissed her within an inch of both of their lives. For her part, she startled, then wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him for the few moments that the kiss lasted. When they both finally came up for air, she canted her head to one side, a brow arched, eyes glittering in the dim.

“What was that for?”

“Everything and nothing,” he whispered, then leaned in for a briefer, more tender kiss. Her fingertips grazed his cheek and he smiled as he stepped back, taking a deep breath.

She and I need to talk.

The thought startled him, even as right as it felt.

He glanced toward Isolde and managed a wry smile. “Hello, Isolde.”

She shot him a crooked smile of her own. “Lord Dravenwood.”

Ascalon shook his head. “Ascalon, please. Always Ascalon.”

“Is everything all right?” That was Scarlet, her fingers tangling in the sleeve of his doublet. The thread of worry in her voice made his heart ache just a little. “That announcement…”

“It will be,” he reassured her, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her into a one-armed hug for a few seconds. He exhaled a sigh and looked at Isolde. “Caius wants to see you.”

She winced. “If I was out of line—”

“You weren’t,” he said, hoping it sounded more reassuring than it felt. “You were fine. He asked to meet you. That—that doesn’t happen very often and almost never happens at something like this. I think you impressed him.”

Isolde blushed and shook her head. “I just did what felt right. That’s all.”

“It was the smart call,” he said quietly. He’d known Isolde for a little while now, though mostly through Scarlet. The pair were close and knowing how much Scarlet trusted her was almost enough for him—would have been enough for him, truth be told, even before he’d met her himself and formed his own opinions. She was focused, driven, but there was a softness and kindness to her that was achingly rare in people.

He shouldn’t have been surprised that she out of everyone in the room had silenced the crowd so his brother could finish.

“Come on,” Ascalon murmured, letting go of Scarlet and turning back toward the stairs. “He’s waiting for us.”

Scarlet caught his hand and squeezed as he led the way back to the stairway, Isolde trailing behind both of them. Together, the trio headed up the shadowed stairs back to the gallery, where Caius still stood with his back against the wall, staring at the crowds milling below, beyond the rail. He was pale and seemed like he was a thousand miles away even if he was physically present with them.

Ascalon swallowed.

Keep your shit together, big brother. I know you can do it.

“Cay?”

He startled slightly, glancing toward them. “I didn’t hear you come up,” he murmured, straightening from his lean. His gaze flicked from Ascalon to Scarlet before finally settling on Isolde. Something softened in that gaze as he studied her, though she didn’t seem to notice the softening, only his gaze on her. She looked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“I owe you my thanks,” Caius said after a few moments of silence. “You didn’t have to do what you did.”

“Yes I did,” Isolde whispered, still not looking at him. “They weren’t listening and you had more to say. You’re the Lord of Elfaedil and they should damn well shut up and listen.” She blushed darker, as if realizing what she’d just said. Her fingers bunched in the fabric of her skirt.

Caius just laughed.