Riven hurried into the Invigilator’s Office. The guards saluted as he dashed past, and the urge to do a double-take was immensely powerful. They were saluting him? How far had the tale of his fight with the Deadmage spread?

Father’s personal fortress was buzzing like a beehive readying to go to war. All orderly of course. Employees were barricaded at their respective offices, junior officers sequestered in their cubicles while janitors swabbed the deck of this motionless ship. Not that it wasn’t always like this. But there was a tension in the air today, a subtle unease palpable in the way few were moving about, fewer talked among themselves, and all seemed busy in one thing or another.

And all of them seemed to notice when Riven walked by. Damn it, someone was responsible for talking him up after his efforts against the Deadmage, and he was going to find out who.

“You’re late,” Viriya said.

“You’re early,” Riven replied.

She stood at the foot of the stairs, leaning against the wall with one boot resting on the lowest step like she couldn’t wait to be off. He wasn’t about to ask how long she’d waited for. Riven hadn’t seen her since they had arrived in Providence at midmorning when she’d said she had a ton of work to get through. She hadn’t even bothered to assign him anything in his capacity as her assistant, telling him to get some good rest. Like he hadn’t proved he wasn’t some fragile little boy tuckered out after yesterday’s exertions. She hadn’t even asked him to fulfil his duties as her assistant.

“Well, come on,” Viriya urged. “You had a long rest. The meeting is going to start soon, and I thought you were excited to be invited?”

“I am. And I’m ready too. But did you get any rest?”

“I thought I told you I slept in the rail carriage.”

“With a half-dead Glaven beside you? Don’t blame if I doubt that.”

No passenger trains were travelling between Providence city and Welmark, but a little thing like that was never going to stop Rosbel Morell. He’d sent older versions of rail carriages, the bulky, wide ones that could use train rails to travel everywhere, albeit much slower than the more modern rail carriages. Riven had spent most of the ride fretting over Rose, who had passed out after some administering from the medicers at Welmark, when he’d ridden with her in the rail carriage just for the two of them. Viriya had taken the one with comatose Glaven.

“I’m fine,” Viriya assured. “When was the last time you saw them?”

Riven swallowed. The last time had been before noon, at the large hospital, half of which Father had emptied just so his two precious elder children could have the privacy they so desperately needed, attended by a small army of nurses, doctors, and other attendants seeing to their every non-existent need. “Er… a few hours.”

“A few hours. When I was last with you. Just after we got off the rail carriages.” Viriya’s eyes were merciless. “Seriously, Riven You need to learn to sleep better.”

“I sleep fine, thank you very much.”

“You don’t wake up fine. Can’t be an Essentier if you can’t wake up properly.”

Rivne frowned. There was her familiar tiny smirk at the edge of her lips, a faint hint of good humour at his expense. Well, he didn’t mind it much. She’d admitted he was an Essentier, though they hadn’t really talked much about any of it yet. “I’ll check in on them as soon as I get out. Sound good?”

She turned and started upstairs. “You tell me.”

Riven, of course, decided not to. It was horrific. All of it. The medicers at Welmark had barely patched Rose up, grimly stating she’d lost her eye permanently and her injured arm was likely ruined forever. They’d been unable to do anything at all about Glaven. Bastard had stubbornly refused to wake up, even after Riven had spent at least ten minutes shouting his name. Severe head trauma, apparently. Not that he’d been right in the head before anyway, the damn idiot. The better-regarded medicers at Providence were hard at work trying to disprove the Welmark medicers’ assessment by healing Rose and awakening Glaven, partly because they had a reputation to uphold, but mostly because Father was holding an invisible axe over all their heads.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. However much it made his heart twist, Riven couldn’t shed a tear. At least, he couldn’t obsess over just his siblings. Too many others had outright died. An estimated half of all the attendees at the meeting that was more a gala were either missing or confirmed beyond saving. Many more were admitted in the tiny hospital in Welmark, the workers of which were stretched to their limits. Of course, Father hadn’t cared about any of that.

All he cared about was the fact that Illuminate Khathir, the head Arnish official, was dead as well.

Damn Deadmage. Riven hadn’t ever thought one of them could be so powerful. Those tornados and sir scythes had been insane.

He was about to bring it up when Viriya paused halfway up the stair. “I’m a little worried about this meeting.”

Riven caught up to her, staring out over the bottom floor of the Invigilator’s office. The few foolish heads who had been gawking up at him quickly looked away. “Worried about what?”

“The meeting, what else?”

“It’s just…”

Viriya faced at the ground. Riven had the irrational urge to put a comforting hand on Viriya’s back but he shoved his hands in his pockets instead. He had no intention of risking her cutting it off. But he had never seen her so unsure. There was that terror when they had faced the Deadmage, but this was different. More raw, more open. More… vulnerable. Her, who had always been so cold, so shut off, so impervious, so impenetrable.

“Go on,” Riven whispered.

Viriya shot a glance at him. A hard, jagged glance, that dared him to get closer. Get closer, and slice himself to ribbons. “I’m tired of this stupid Deadmage problem.”

“Is it stupid?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then sighed it out. “Remember that demon. That was my target. I was supposed to be done with this and then go after it. Who knows how far it’s gone in nearly this whole week I’ve left it all alone, and now this whole problem blew up in my face. I’m not going to be free of this anytime soon. I know it.”

“I feel that.”

Viriya looked at him, and Riven had the hardest time to meet those demanding eyes that couldn’t decide between green and black. “Oh really?”

“I was supposed to get access to the research on the Sept, remember? Rose was supposed to let me in. I was finally going to get a lead to a cure, finally some good news for Mother. And now it’s all gone. I can’t even bring it up, even though I really, really want to.”

Viriya snorted without mirth. “What a team we make. But there’s the two of us so we can get it done at twice the speed.”

“That’s right.”

Viriya released another long breath, then continued on her way. Riven took a moment, before following. Easy for her to snort it off. Her mother wasn’t dying at some disease that could only likely be cured if they used Sept. If Essence was driven by Sept as that Deadmage had insinuated, and he had brought Glaven back to life with his Essence, then surely something could be sone about Mother’s terminal condition. It didn’t have to be as terminal as everyone kept saying.

But then, how much had Viriya had really revealed? He still had no idea why catching that demon mattered so much to her. Her obsession was something that extended well beyond some professional need to see to the completion of her initial job. No, this seemed almost personal.

Riven, of course, was too afraid to ask. Better to wait and let her reveal if she ever felt the need to. Like today, moments ago. Maybe saving each other’s lives had built something.

“I think you should go for it,” he said as he followed her.

She looked back without slowing her stride. Great, she’d fall, and Riven could save her life again by catching her. Or they’d both tumble and crack their skulls as was more likely. “What do you mean?”

“Tell Father you want the demon assignment. There are other Essentiers who can deal with all this.”

“I wish I could.” She looked forward again, but not before Riven caught the haggard look stealing over her features. “There’s too much going on. I saw it. All of it.”

She had, no doubt about it. While Riven had been generally useless while he’d worried at his siblings’ bedsides—all right, Rose’s bedside mostly—Viriya had been busy looking after things, trying to instil some order into the chaos that had gripped Welmark in a vice. He’d hardly seen her until the rail carriages had arrived. And then again, only once when they had arrived in Providence city and they had moved the injured to the hospital. Busy all this time, until now as they headed to Father’s office.

Viriya knocked on the doors. They waited until the conversation within faded and they were bidden to enter.

Inside was nothing like previous visits. The room had too many people. Several wore the uniform of the Essentiers, but many more were men and women in full military regalia. The most curious attendees were the Arnish standing in the middle. Especially that rude older woman Riven had met at the hospital in Welmark.

“Ah, the guests of the hour have finally arrived,” she said.

All eyes turned to them. Riven did his best not to flush. He belonged here after he had proven himself against the Deadmage, among all these other Essentiers and military leaders. Among all these people responsible for the safety of Providence Demesne.

“You’re late,” Father said, back in his usual place behind his desk, overlooked by the painting of their family. He wore a pinstripe suit, the hints of shoddiness at the cuffs the only sign of any stress. Cleanly shaved, his face was as impervious as ever, and he’d never wear anything with even the hints of shabbiness under normal circumstances. Riven almost felt sorry. Almost.

This was Father, after all.

“You’re early,” Riven repeated.

“I have no time or wish to dally words. Take your place.” He waited until they had both inserted themselves between two other Essentiers whom Riven vaguely remembered from Welmark, one a moustachioed younger man with unshaved jowls with a silver badge, the other an older, paunchy fellow with a gold pin. A Thirdmarked and a Secondmarked, respectively. “Viriya, recount the details of yesterday briefly.”

Viriya fixed her eyes on Father, ignoring all the other glances thrown at her. “I reached Welmark at half-past ten, yesterday morning. My investigations of the site of the first incident—the now-destroyed Haven—led me to the survivors stationed at the hospital, which was curtailed by the arrival of the delegation.” She nodded at the Arnish woman. Viriya went on to recount what had happened at the battle with the Deadmage, granting Riven the briefest smile of appreciation when his involvement came up. It was very difficult not to flush then. “With the Municipier and sub-Municipier incapacitated, I did my best to keep things in order. That involved addressing the wounded, burying the dead, calculating losses and damages incurred on both individuals and Demesne properties, and multiple reassurances that the world wasn’t about to end and go into the Sundering.”

The last bit was delivered a little more scathingly than the inflectionless rest were. Sundering again. It kept cropping up everywhere, and Riven needed to understand what that really meant. But that was a lot of work, as Riven had suspected. If she had been that busy in Welmark, it must have been a hundred times worse here in Providence.

No wonder they hadn’t talked much. He ought to be grateful she had still managed to accompany him to the hospital where his siblings were in the morning.

“Well, now that we are all on the same page, I will reiterate my command.” Father looked over them all, amber eyes trapping everyone in their place. All, save for the Arnish, on whom his sight lingered. “All the Deadmages in the province are to be rounded up immediately. If any other Deathless are encountered, they must be confronted and it must be ascertained they are no threat before they are allowed to leave. This order goes in immediate effect.”

Riven fingers curled to form fists. Viriya had been right. They were now sucked into this mess, and there was no way to get what either of them wanted. Not with Father in this kind of mood.

“We will be part of the investigation, of course,” the Arnish woman announced. Her twin red coattails seemed to wag like an excited dog’s tail.

“I understand. But I request that you remember that this is Resplendian soil. Any strange impositions, and the treaty so carefully kept up might fall apart.”

“Is that a threat?” she whispered.

The temperature in the room fell several degrees, and Riven froze. Everyone had tensed, though it was saying something that no one’s hand reached for weapons despite the abundance of them at every person’s waist.

“No, Luminary Shasthi,” Father said. He showed no signs of any reaction. “It is a fact. Just as how the death of Illuminate Khathir has strained the relationship between the Arnish and the Resplendians is a fact. Take it how you will.”

The Arnish Luminary made no further comment, but her darkened brows didn’t lighten. If anything, her brooding went inward, shadows rippling in the crooked grooves of age that scored her grey-tinged brown face.

“High Invigilator Orbray will gladly welcome any and all Arnish assistance in the matter,” said a familiar voice.

Riven’s ears prickled, and he jerked his head to the left. There, at the end of the line, was Rio. Still standing languidly as ever. Still with that irrepressible smile on his face. Still with those pale eyes that seemed almost luminescent. Damn it, Riven must have missed him behind the others.

“And what else did the High Invigilator say?” Father asked.

Rio stepped forward. “High Invigilator says that I must also be part of any investigations as the official representative from Ascension Demesne.”

“Well, so long as it’s only you. Orbray interferes too much. I’d like you to remind him that this is my Demesne.”

“Well, he is the High Invigilator, sir. Your boss.”

“Regardless.”

“I will tell him so.” Rio made to step back, but then turned back to face Father again. “Oh, one more thing. Knightforger is coming to look into the Deadmage incident personally. Good thing the Deadmage buried at the Consulate in Welmark has got a permanent, round-the-clock guard. That’s supposed to be Knightforger’s first stop.”

If it had gone tense before with the mention of a threat from the Arnish Luminary, it had now become fully flooded with pins, needles, nails, and spikes. One wrong move and they’d all be perforated worse than pincushions. Knightforger. One of the twelve members of Resplend’s Dodecilian Council, one of the most powerful Essentiers in the whole world. It was enough to send anyone’s mind scrambling at the implication.

But all Riven had eyes for was Rio. Rio, and the what Father had said. He was fine if it was only Rio and not someone else coming in to barge in on his Demesne. Why single out Rio like that?

This was also the perfect time for Riven to barge in. “Where were you when we were attacked by the Deadmage, Rio? Is running away at the sight of trouble the kind of help your Ascendant Demesne is sending?”

“Riven,” Father warned. “Not now.”

“And I have words for you too, Father. I hope you’re not including me in all Essentiers. For one thing, I never agreed to be an Essentier under you, and for another, I haven’t forgotten the promise. I’m still waiting for access.” Riven shut himself up before he revealed something too sensitive. He had no idea who was privy to all the details about the research, but it could never a good thing to mention with the Arnish around.

Father had steepled his hands again, fingers rigid as though his skin and meat had calcified to bone and become a part of his skeleton. “Not. Now.”

“I’d like to address that though, sir,” Rio said, facing Father, “if that’s okay with you.”

Father took a moment, then nodded.

Rio faced Riven with a smile. A smile that Riven would be damned before returning. “I was with the Arnish delegation, Riven. When the Deadmage attacked, I was responsible for showing them a way out to safety before they were all eradicated and we’d have had a bigger mess on our hands. Didn’t I, Luminary?”

Luminary Shasthi smiled at Rio. “Escario was excellent company while we evacuated.”

“Invigilator Morell understand and appreciates my contributions. I don’t think there is anything to debate about what I have and haven’t done.”

Riven still glared. Of course there wasn’t anything to debate here, in the middle of everyone who recognized Rio’s contributions in the name of Resplend. So patriotic of him to frolic with the foreigners where the rest of them got killed by the Deadmage. That wasn’t even Riven’s sticking point. Rio had abandoned him, Riven. Where, when Glaven and Rose had been at death’s door, had Rio been? Kissing Arnish arses, no doubt.

But he subsided and held his mouth. This was no place to argue further.

“Sir, if I may?” Viriya asked.

“Go on,” Father said.

Viriya stepped forward. There was a hardness in her eyes, an obstinacy written on her face. “Sir, I requested to be assigned to the demon I met on the day Riven came to Providence. I am repeating my request. I’d like to pursue that demon as soon as possible.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible right now, Viriya. I need all hands on deck at the moment, and I can’t guarantee when the need will be over.”

“I think it’s worth investigating,” Riven said. He didn’t need to look at Viriya to know she’d glanced at him in something like gratitude. But he couldn’t look back. Not when whatever he was saying was very likely gibberish. “I saw that demon in action, and I think it’s been healing itself all this while. If we leave it alone for too long, it will recuperate fully and might be as worse a nuisance as any Deadmage. Wasn’t it an Infernal?”

“It was,” Viriya added.

Before Father could respond to that, Rio butted in. “Sir, demons are my area of expertise.” He gave a little disbelieving laugh like he knew just how much what Riven had said was bullshit. “I doubt that demon was anywhere near an Infernal. The destruction would have been far vaster if so. I also don’t believe demons are as great a danger as Deadmages. Most of them are till behind the Frontier, near the Sundering Pit.”

Father stared at Viriya with the same hard glare as he stared at everyone, but there was a little droop to his lips. Riven frowned. As if he could be sad about having his way and trampling over anyone else’s input until his opinion stood tall and superior. “I cannot, Viriya. The Deadmages are our number one priority, for obvious reasons. Once this is over, however, I will grant you leave.”

Viriya’s mouth was a hard slash of lines, lips almost disappearing. She gave a curt nod, then fell back.

Father took a deep breath, then sat straight. He looked at them all in turn, regarding Riven as dispassionately as everyone else. “Most of you have already heard your duties. Viriya, Riven, your first mission shall be recovering the Spectres who escaped from the battle at Welmark. Tamallow.” He jutted his chin at the younger man beside Riven. “You’re assigned to Viriya’s team. I have nothing further to say besides a reminder about the Monastical tomorrow. Please attend if you can spare the time. Dismissed.”

Shasthi sniffed like Father didn’t have the right to “dismiss” her, and stalked out. The half dozen Vedel Arn soldiers accompanying her followed. In ones and twos, the rest of the attendees of the meeting began trickling out as well.

Riven held himself back at first. There had been no announcement that he was now officially one of Father’s brood of Essentiers. No sign that he was now bound to whatever Father wanted of him, without any indication of any recompense. Chasm, the rest of them were getting paid handsomely for their troubles right? What would Riven get? A slap on the back and quiet assurance of job well done, you’re an adult now?

As much as he wanted to remain behind and hash out those finer points, Viriya pushed him along. She nodded at Father, before nudging him to keep moving.

He looked back when he stepped out through the doorway. Besides Father, Rio was the only one remaining, but he wasn’t the subject of the Invigilator’s attention. Father was staring at his desk, his whole form bent over as though bowed by an invisible weight, harshly reminiscent from yesterday, where Viriya had looked exactly like that. A posture that had given way to the world’s demands. A position that had admitted defeat.

Behind, the paintings looked down, sad in their inability to reach out to him and prop him back up. Then the doors to the Invigilator’s Office closed.