The next few days passed in a haze of training and research. Since the moment of dismissal at their second training session, Milius, Sirius, Shakil, and Ariana had been spending most of their free time in the Library, trying to find out as much as they could about the Void Hunters, the Sandstone Archers, and the Temporal Paladins.

Much to their dismay, however, the secrets of those three groups seemed to be very closely guarded, and the most that they had managed to discover, in addition to an old legend that their bows were crafted by the archer-god Apollo, was that a very old generation of Dragonknights had once partnered with their time's Sandstone Archers to defeat a restless Daimon in the long-destroyed village of Haverdale. This was made all the more frustrating by the fact that this information was found, not scribbled in the ancient texts of the Library, but engraved on the luminous walls of the structure underneath the Dragoon Cave.

Even Shakil, whom Milius had come to regard as a walking encyclopedia of mythological figures, had very little knowledge of the matter, which disappointed Milius far more than the lack of information in their Library. More frustrating still was the fact that the Elders were showing no interest in their attempts to garner more knowledge on their competitors, and were instead encouraging them to focus more on their training sessions.

The Bellator Ligneas were now fighting so fiercely that Vulcatrix’s newly discovered ability had to be used more often in training sessions; the sword, apparently, possessed the extremely useful ability to siphon pain from an injured person in the same way that Palpatunde could siphon life energy — though it had a very nasty drawback.

As they had discovered a mere hour after Shakil had first touched the surface of the blade and relieved himself of the anguish that he had been plagued with, the pain returned to him, doubled in intensity.

Thankfully, between the salamander’s scorching feelers, Shakil’s shoulder wound, and the continued effects of Vulcatrix’s ability, Milius’s stock of Nectar was proving most useful, returning them to full capacity mere seconds after each period, though the miraculous liquid was now almost fully depleted. To make matters even worse, on the fourth day following, just after that day's session with the Elders, as the four Dragonknights trooped through the Cave, sweaty and irritable, they found themselves face-to-face with Regulus, Milius and Sirius’s cousin.

He was standing at the entrance of the cave, his long brown hair fluttering around his pallid face in a strong draft. A royal guard was standing beside him, clutching a silver-tipped spear in one hand and two velvet-wrapped packages in the other, and farther out, where the four dragons usually rested, was a large, pure-white carriage, gilded with gold and drawn by four handsome palomino horses. “Ah, here they are!” Regulus said, smiling widely — though his baby-blue eyes were as cold as ever. “Sirius! How are you? And Milius, too — last time I saw you you tried to hack me to pieces!”

Milius felt himself flush, but Regulus waved away his embarrassment, still smiling unpleasantly. “No need for shame, Milly, all is forgiven! We are family, after all.”

“What do you want, Regulus?” Milius growled.

“Oh dear,” Regulus said in mock abashment. “My own cousin, looking at me with such disdain —”

“What do you want?”

“All right, all right, calm down.” He pulled a thick, tightly sealed scroll of glossy violet parchment from his pocket, held it up, read for a moment, and then said in a flat, bored voice, “I'm to tell you that the delegations from Rhantar, Vergennes, and Derwenton — that is, the Void Hunters, the Sandstone Archers, and the Temporal Paladins, along with anyone else they might bring — have already set off from their own home lands and have begun their journey towards Halgaria. If all goes accordingly, they should arrive just in time for the pre-wedding ball.

“For the actual wedding, the two of you, Thalia, Aunt Aurora, and Aunt Minerva (assuming she is up to the journey, of course),” — he smiled maliciously again, and Milius stared at him, shaking with rage — “will be seated along with me, Mother, the king, and the rest of the royal procession.”

He resealed the scroll, then looked at Milius and Sirius. “Obviously you will need something decent to wear, and seeing as your senses of decency are so far off from what the wedding dress code requires, I've taken the liberty of procuring your garments.” He gestured at the guard, who stepped forward and thrust the two packages he was holding into Sirius’s chest.

“That will be all for now,” Regulus said. “Any further information will be sent to you over the course of the next few days, via an actual messenger — it won't do for the future prince to travel to such places for such tasks, as I’m sure you can understand. So, Elders.” He nodded coldly, his eyes fixed on a point behind Milius, and Milius turned to see that the Elders had joined them without his realizing.

“Well, Milius, Sirius, I shall see you at the wedding.” And without looking once at Ariana and Shakil, he swept out to the carriage, his guard following.

“Prince,” Milius sneered at his retreating back.

“Still can't believe Porella managed to sink her talons into the king of the country,” Sirius said, shaking his head in disbelief. He took a deep breath, held up his package, and then said in a resigned voice, “Well — let's see the worst.”

But the suits weren't as bad as Milius had imagined; on the contrary, they were actually quite handsome. Black doublet jackets with fine golden trimming, dark, crisp breeches, and highly polished, buckled boots. A small wreath of silvery-blue flowers, much like those that Milius had seen in the forest with Shakil, was pinned onto the right breastplate, and a golden ticket was sticking out of each pocket.

Milius seized his own and read; when he had finished, he gasped, “Dates? We're supposed to bring dates?” He rounded on Sirius, who, looking shocked, pulled out his own ticket and examined it.

To Milius’s surprise, he flushed. “What —”

“Well, it kind of makes sense,” Sirius mumbled, not meeting Milius’s eye.

Milius was about to speak again when Calder, whom Milius had almost forgotten was there, said, “On the matter of dates, isn't today's date a rather important one for you Milius?”

Milius looked at him, perplexed, then he remembered. “Oh yeah! Right, I've got to get ready!”

They had received word two days prior from Marlise, who informed them that Minerva had finally woken, and that Milius would be able to visit the day after the next — today — so as to allow Minerva time to fully recover. He bid the gathered crowd a hasty pardon, still looking quizzically at Sirius, who had turned away, and then hurried to his own room. He cleared a space in the closet for the wedding garments, hung them, then hurried into the bathroom, washed, and pulled on a fresh suit of clothes.

Securing Palpatunde in a scabbard hung at his side, over which his tunic fell, hiding it from view, he dashed off to the front of the Cave, where Lumeus and Sirius were waiting.

“Sure you don't want me to go with you?” he asked. Shakil and Ariana had disappeared, and his face had mercifully stopped glowing.

“Nah, I'll be fine,” Milius said, passing him and mounting Lumeus. “See you.” Sirius waved, Milius cried out an order, and Lumeus was off. They arrived just outside Marlise’s ward within minutes. Milius suited himself in his armour, then jumped, hit the floor, and ran up the steps, his armour fading as he stowed Palpatunde.

Minerva was seated inside the reception area, in the very seat that Milius himself had occupied several days ago. One of Marlise’s attendants was standing right beside her, fussing over a bottle of pale blue solution in her hands. Minerva looked around at the sound of the door being opened.

“Milius!” she cried, leaping to her feet, and she flung herself upon him

“Mother! You're —”

“Cured!” she said brightly, releasing him. “Completely! Well, I have been for a while now, but you know Marlise — wanted to make absolutely sure.”

“So you can go home?”

Minerva turned to Marlise’s attendant. “Can I?” she asked rather coolly. The attendant nodded, handing her the bottle. “Well, let's go then!” she said warmly, taking it and turning back to Milius.

Milius pulled open the door and the two of them stepped out into the street.

“So, tell me — was it true?” Minerva asked a few moments later. Milius heard the edge in her voice and knew what she was referring to.

“Yes, but it was all right — Sirius and the other Knights were with me!”

Minerva sniffed angrily. “Those four!” she burst out. “What do they think they're doing? You've barely been Knighted for a week, and already they're locking you up with monsters!”

“Calder said that they had a good reason —”

“And did they tell you what that reason is?” Her tone was as sharp as Milius had ever heard it.

“Well . . . no,” he said quietly. “But they told us we'll know soon enough.”

“Oh, I'm sure they did!”

“Mother,” Milius said wearily. “Can we please not talk about this right now?”

She still looked angry but, with obvious reluctance, she let the matter drop. Milius took advantage of her silence and informed her of the requirements for the wedding.

“Well, of course you'll need to bring someone,” she said patiently, when he had finished speaking. “People from all over the country will be going, it won't do for any member of the king's family to appear there alone. And you as a Dragonknight too” — Milius noticed the slight clip in her voice — “you should really have expected it.”

“But who am I supposed to go with?” he said, almost desperately.

“Is there anyone you would want to go with?”

Milius felt the heat creep up his neck again. This was not a topic that he would want to discuss at the moment, and least of all with Minerva of all people. “Well, I don't really know,” he muttered.

“Well, you still have time,” she said, plainly trying not to laugh. But Milius had just remembered something.

“Wait, are you going too?”

“Well, I'll have to won't I?" she said. "Porella showed up this morning to give me my invite in person —”

“Who are you going with?” Milius demanded.

She looked down at him, looking a little surprised. Then she laughed. “Oh, don't worry about me, Milius. It's who you're taking you should be concerned about. Oh, look, we've arrived!” she added quickly, seeing Milius open his mouth furiously, and indeed, they were now standing right outside Milius’s home.

“Oh, it's going to be filthy in there,” Minerva sighed.

“Do you want help cleaning up?” Milius asked.

“Oh no, it'll actually be good for me, now I think on it. I was in that ward for so long, it might do me well to get something done. And you,” she added, suddenly stern, gazing down at Milius who looked back at her, taken aback, “you should use your time finding a suitable companion for the proceedings, instead of worrying about me. I'll see you at the wedding.” She hugged him.

“Take care,” Milius said.

“I will — unless I get news that the Elders tried to murder my son and nephew — again!”

Harrumphing, she strode off towards the house. Milius waited until she had disappeared inside, then called for Lumeus. . . . In the past two weeks alone, he had faced dragons, harpies, manticores, sea warriors, and wooden statues, and yet, he thought, as the giant figure of Lumeus approached him, his biggest challenge so far would be finding a date for the wedding.