Morgane sent word to the Ravens that she would meet with them, and by noon, the Ravens had come to Rosewood. Hypocritically, Jarrett was glad Morgane wasn’t going to their camp.

He steered far clear of the town hall, where they were meeting, in favor of directing the obfuscation of rebellion activities. In case the Saridi soldiers began poking around, they had to make barns seem like barns once more, instead of the training facilities they had been converted into. Weapons and armor and training dummies needed to be dispersed into people’s cellars and sheds, out of sight.

Word was spread to the Vanguard mages to lie low—no magic use was permitted until the danger had passed. Though the soldiers were still days away, the Vanguard had to take as many precautions as they could. Some mage hunters were uncannily good at identifying mages.

Jarrett just finished shoving a couple of training dummies into his pantry when he heard knocking at his door for the second time that day. Was Morgane’s meeting over already? He rushed to his door and opened it to see not Morgane, but Fae. He stopped short at the sight of the Raven.

“Your presence at our meeting has been requested,” Fae informed him coolly. Much as she had done upon their initial meeting, she turned to lead him onwards without another word. She strode confidently away, obviously expecting Jarrett to follow. He had to jog to keep pace with her.

“Requested by who?”

“Leandra and Morgane.”

Jarrett’s blood ran cold, but he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of the situation if Morgane had a hand in summoning him. He had to prove his trustworthiness all over again and disobeying her summons wouldn’t help.

He allowed himself to be led down the familiar cobblestone roads to the main square, then into the town hall. Off in a side room, where the Vanguard’s council usually convened, Morgane and Leandra sat at opposite ends of the table.

Morgane’s eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the older woman. It was enough for Jarrett to know that she was displeased. Leandra’s face was a blank sheet of paper for all he could ascertain from her neutral expression.

As he and Fae took seats at the table, Jarrett caught a whiff of lavender, just strong enough to revive his memories of the previous night in Leandra’s tent. He scooched his chair away from Leandra and wished he was much, much farther.

“We came with a proposal for Morgane.” Leandra’s cold eyes bore into Jarrett once again, even as he tried to avoid it. “But she insisted on conferring with you before giving us an answer.”

“What’s the proposal?” he asked.

Morgane glanced over to Jarrett. “They think the soldiers are being sent here to search for a magical artifact that may be hidden underneath the village. They want to stay here, to protect the artifact… and us.”

Over a century ago, as a part of the truce that ended the territory wars between the gods, magical artifacts created by talented mortals or the gods themselves were banned altogether. Not all of the artifacts were dangerous weapons used in the wars, some were simply delightful oddities—regardless, the existing artifacts were destroyed and the creation of new ones was prohibited.

“Wait, there’s an artifact here, in Rosewood, that survived the Magus War?”

Morgane tilted her head. “You already know what artifacts are?”

Jarrett shrugged. Strangely, he didn’t know where he’d learned about artifacts and the details of the treaty. Saridian wasn’t rich with the history of magic and he couldn’t think of anything he had read or anyone who had told him about this aspect of the Magus War truce. Leandra must have explained it to Morgane before he got there, but the question stood—how did he know?

His tattoo prickled, just a little.

“This artifact didn’t survive the war,” Leandra said. “It was created more recently, to be used against Riordan.”

“How do you know about it?” Jarrett asked. “If they’re here, why don’t we know about them?”

“We know because of our god.”

“Death,” Morgane clarified. “Apparently.”

“Death has a vested interest in removing Riordan from the throne—as much, if not more so, than you do,” said Leandra. “Riordan is terrorizing her. He may very well disrupt the cycle of souls and reignite the Magus War, if he has his way.”

Fae spoke next, quiet yet confident. “Only recently has this artifact come to our attention. We don’t know why it was stashed away, but regardless, we intend to use it.”

“But now,” Leandra said, “Death and Riordan both know it exists, and we have to get to it before Riordan does. Rosewood, according to our information, is one of the possible hiding spots. If this weapon is what was promised, it's the key to defeating Riordan and securing safety for the oppressed of Saridian, for Death, and for our whole World.”

“Why should we trust you?” This was the question Jarrett needed answered more than any other.

“We have a common goal,” Fae said. “We all want Riordan to fall. Protecting this artifact and keeping you from being discovered when the soldiers come to investigate is in our best interest. We want to help you. No strings attached.”

“We will consider this offer,” Morgane said. “Once we discuss this matter, we will send a messenger.”

“What’s there to discuss?” Leandra asked. “You either want our help, or you don’t.”

Morgane looked to Jarrett, expectant. He realized suddenly why she had summoned him to this meeting. She didn’t know what transpired between him and the Ravens, but was sharp enough to pick up that his late night visit hadn’t gone well.

So, Morgane still trusts my judgment. But it was impossible to know if the Ravens would be reliable, plus there were complications that would come along with allying with them. Many Vanguardians wouldn’t be fond of the risk of working with the brash cult. And of course, he himself was consumed by the awfulness of last night.

But soldiers were coming to scour Rosewood. And if the Ravens were telling the truth, the Vanguard would need as much help as they could get, regardless of his gripes or anyone else’s.

Jarrett took a long breath. “Some of our mages are here because Ravens directed them to the Vanguard. We have no reason to not accept help and knowledge where it is needed.”

That seemed to be what Morgane needed to hear from him. “Then,” she said, “we have a deal.”

Leandra smiled, and shook Morgane’s hand. “We look forward to working with you.”

#

Jarrett met with Morgane once more that evening to debrief. It had been a hectic day, but they’d made decent progress toward preparing for the soldiers’ arrival. Morgane picked up some pastries from the bakery on her way to Jarrett’s house, which they now shared as they sat at his kitchen table.

Morgane licked some powdered sugar off her fingers. “We’re going to make it through this.”

Jarrett nodded absently. He took a small bite of the jelly-filled treat sitting in front of him. What he’d already eaten sat sourly in his stomach.

“It’s nice to have allies for once,” Morgane added, giving him a sidelong glance, as if daring him to speak his true thoughts regarding the Ravens.

Jarrett put the pastry back down. “I think you might have been wrong.”

Morgane scowled. “About what? You told me the Ravens were trustworthy enough to work with, so don’t—”

“Not that.”

“Then what?”

“Making me your second. It should have been Rohan, or Korene—”

“Jarrett—”

“—but not me.”

Morgane glared at Jarrett as he shoved a bite of pastry into his mouth. He chewed slowly, giving himself time before having to defend his opinion.

“This isn’t like you,” Morgane said. “You don’t second guess anything, least of all yourself.”

Jarrett’s tattoo itched, but he resisted scratching at it. It’d been bothering him since he’d met with Leandra, and he’d nearly rubbed it raw since then. Reluctantly, he finished chewing, and swallowed. “Maybe it’s time I started.”

“I picked you for a reason. It wasn’t on a whim, and you can’t change your mind on one either.”

“Whims are all I have. It’s not going to do us any good.”

Morgane shook her head. “You have instinct. Decisiveness. The confidence that a true leader needs.” She flashed a grin. “Most of the time, anyway. So get over whatever crisis of faith you’ve been having and give me back the swaggering, uncompromising, frustratingly determined attitude that we need to get the Vanguard through this.” She raised an eyebrow at him as she lifted the pastry to her mouth. “Got it?”

Jarrett held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll snap myself out of it. You’ll have swaggering Jarrett back tomorrow, I promise.”

“Good,” Morgane said, her mouth full. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jarrett snorted. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. What any of us would do.”

Morgane waved her pastry in the air dramatically. “Run amok, most like. Good thing you’re stuck with me.”

“It is, indeed.”

For a short time, they spoke of only light, inconsequential things. Jarrett began to enjoy his dessert in truth. Morgane was the best at distracting him from his darker thoughts, from his fears and the weight of his lost memories. With her, it was easiest to forget the forgotten and the dangers they’d soon have to face. The relief never stayed long, but still; it was nice while it lasted.

As Morgane stood at his door, ready to leave, Jarrett saw her brow furrow and her demeanor visibly dampen.

“There’s two more things, before I go.” Morgane let out a sigh. “Both of which I should have brought up earlier, but—ah, I suppose it is what it is.”

It wasn’t like Morgane to hedge. “What is it?”

“Okay. Well the first thing is that there have been reports that Riordan is recruiting. But this isn’t just the regular spring recruitment. He’s offering coin to new recruits, a lot of it.”

Jarrett paused. “So the Ravens might be right about him wanting to reignite the Magus War.”

The gods drew up a treaty decades before Jarrett was born in order to end the Magus War, in which they fought over how much of the continent belonged under each of their control. If Riordan was planning on violating that treaty, Saridian might have to worry about more than just the Tyrant. A war against the other regions, against the other gods.

“Or, he’s planning on cracking down on dissenters in the farther reaches of Saridian that have escaped scrutiny so far. Like us. Either way, it’s bad. I think we need to move up our timeline.”

“Morgane. We aren’t ready to take on Kingsmount yet—”

“We might not have a choice. They might come to us before we can get to them. Or if Riordan does want a war, it’s not just about us anymore. He’s ready for this and the other gods aren’t. He could expand Saridian.”

A grim hope blossomed in Jarrett’s mind. “If he breaks the treaty, the other gods will put him down. Maybe they can free us.”

“Or they decide they all want more territory and power. The Magus Wars begin anew. There will never be a decisive victory between them all, and once again, us mortals will suffer for it.”

Jarrett pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. The risks of a war are too great. But sometimes…”

“I know that what we have to accomplish seems impossible. But it’s all we have. So it’s what we’ll do.”

Covert operations were their only real option, no matter how many recruits they gathered. They’d never be able to take on the full military force of the Saridi army. They needed a strike on Riordan, a chance to take out the god himself.

But killing him once wasn’t enough. The Tyrant had a backup, a mortal in waiting that would become his next vessel. If they could wipe out his next incarnate, too, maybe they’d have some time.

Morgane had discovered a piece of knowledge that was not well known in Saridian: the amount of territory a god had under their control, and the amount of mortals that believed in their aspects and cause, was directly correlated to how much power that god wielded. The core of the Vanguard’s plans rested on this. They had to convince enough of Riordan’s loyal citizens to turn on him. It was the only way to strip him of his powers and gain independent control of the region.

But unbrainwashing the masses and convincing them to release their fear or reverence of Riordan and instead take power for themselves—well, it wasn’t going to be easy. But Morgane was right. It was the only option. And so the Vanguard prepared to make their stand.

Jarrett sighed. “We haven’t even discovered the identity of Riordan’s next incarnate yet. But if we have to move forward, then we must.”

“Actually.” Morgane fished out a folded piece of paper from her pocket. She held it out to Jarrett. “The second thing. Leandra gave me this.”

Jarrett plucked the paper from her hand. He unfolded it to find a single word scrawled in ink: Calder. “A name? The name of—”

“Yes. That’s him. Riordan’s backup.”

Jarrett’s tattoo tingled, furiously this time. Until now, he wondered if it was just his imagination. What’s going on? Is Leandra helping me circle closer to the truth after all?

“Jarrett? Is something wrong?”

He was sure Morgane had noticed the blood drain from his face. “Just… surprised. We finally have a lead. Did Leandra say anything else?”

“Not really. Just that it was a thank you for placing our trust in the Ravens.”

Morgane left, and Jarrett was left wondering. As he stared at the scrap of paper, his tattoo itched furiously. What did it mean? As Riordan’s replacement, Calder could be a mage. And if so, could he be the man who had taken his memories?