Saif ‘examined’ the bookshelf in Minul’s private study. He’d, of course, been here hundreds of times before. He was fairly certain he could recite all the names of the books in alphabetical order. The Queen was a creature of habit. Once she had her bookcase stocked, it never changed.

“He somehow noticed us, your Majesty.” Adeeb el-Kader, the spy they had tasked with monitoring Ranvir, reported. “I am not sure how. I should’ve been outside the range of any first-stage tethered’s senses.”

“Then what happened?” Pashar asked, fulfilling the role of questioner.

“He…” Adeeb exchanged a look with the record keeper. “Invited us to dinner.”

Saif didn’t have to see the Queen’s face to know she wasn’t pleased. He could imagine the lips squeezed together, her slightly annoyed frown knitted, hands resting on the desk. All of it carefully arranged to give her the appearance of a ruler. Disapproving without being overbearing.

“Then we left, your Majesty,” Adeeb said, bowing at the hip. “We went straight to you, reporting back what we learned.”

Saif glanced over his shoulder as Minul dismissed them with a wave. The first move she’d made since inviting them inside. “Your Majesty.” They mumbled and hurried out of the space, ready to leave the tension behind.

“This shouldn’t be possible.” The Queen didn’t rise from her seat. From the way she reached back to grip the arms of her chair, she wanted to get up. She didn’t trust Pashar enough to show such a clear sign of emotion.

“His tether-sense was over-developed even as a first-year,” Saif said, leaning against the bookshelf. “In fact, I remember you commenting as much yourself.”

She glared over her shoulder at him, which didn’t touch him one whit. If he shriveled and wore away at every King or Queen who gave him the evil-eye, he’d have died a hundred times over.

“His senses have only grown sharper and longer ranging since leaving Vednar,” Pashar said, standing stiffly to the side. She knew of Minul’s lack of trust as well. If Saif didn’t know any better, he’d say she’d been cultivating it personally.

Minul pressed her forefinger and thumb together until both went white from the pressure. Saif glanced up to see Pashar’s eyes returning to the Queen’s face. She’d noticed it as well.

“You know his range.” Though phrased like a question, Minul didn’t say it like one.

Now it was Pashar’s turn to grow annoyed. Tension accrued around her eyes and jaw. “It’s hard to tell. He’s far more subtle now. When we left, he was about the radius of the academy, two, maybe three, hundred meters. If I’ve seen him really try, I haven’t been able to feel it, but I’ve caught his senses from at least five kilometers from his house.”

Minul chuckled and leaned back in her chair. It was a poor act, fooling neither Pashar nor Saif. “Be serious, please. Masters cannot reach five kilometers.”

“I suspect Ranvir can reach further still, but I cannot tell for sure.”

“What makes you say that?” Saif asked.

“There’s some employment of his tether-sense that I don’t understand. Perhaps I could learn it if I had the right teachers, but I wasn’t able to make the proper connections at the time.”

Saif’s gaze lingered on her. She returned his look. More rebellion.

“There’s got to be some way,” Minul muttered. Had she forgotten herself with Pashar in the room? “We have to turn this to our advantage.”

Pashar shook her head. “I’ll leave the planning to you two.”

Saif stopped her with a raised hand and a slight twitch of his tether-sense, just to remind her. “What would you suggest? How would you turn Ranvir into a benefit?”

Pashar’s tether swept through him, examining it and then… retreating. Did she dismiss me? Saif felt an uncharacteristic flutter of anger. He let it wash over him. She’d dismissed him, minimized his ability. She felt less threatened by him than she’d ever had. Somehow, she’d shed the weight he held over her.

The anger took within him, lighting a fire that made him want to lash out. But Saif was not a child. Her dismissal was no weight against him or his ability. She didn’t truly know him. How could she? He’d never allowed her a glimpse of himself.

The burn of the anger faded, flickered and passed. He felt it and let it pass. The anger had no hold on him.

“Honesty,” Pashar said. “I’d suggest talking to him and telling him what you want. Attempting to hide things will not last, and he has access to all space within his reach.” She grabbed the door and stepped outside.

Minul watched her leave, eyes narrowed, fingers pressed tight together. “That’s quite a change from her, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

Ranvir sat in the lounge with his friends. The heat from the hearth warmed him deeply. Frija snoozed comfortably against his chest, the weight reassuring against him. Vasso had retreated into his room. Smoke tickled his nose as he inhaled slowly, the crackle and snap of firewood like a comforting drum against his ears. The sweet taste of mead lingered on his lips.

Esmund and Kirs cuddled on one of the bigger chairs. Es slowly stroking her hair as he stared into the low burning fireplace. His face showed no emotion, eyes withdrawn. Ranvir got equally little from his tether-sense.

Sansir leaned back on a chaise lounge, looking into the ceiling, but staring into long gone memories. One hand clenching and unclenching around the grip of his belt dagger. A vicious looking, razor-sharp hand-length blade, designed as an emergency weapon rather than a tool. Scuffed and worn, marks of sand long ingrained into the leather, Sansir’s boots rested on the floor next to him.

Grevor appeared in the doorway, briefly stopping to check in on them. They shared some inane conversation for a few moments. Then he stepped away, checking on the rest of the floor. This was near where his brother’s family slept. Ranvir heard him stop by to chat with them as he passed as well.

Dovar sat on the couch with Ayvir, each occupying an end, leaving plenty of space between them. His eyes initially seemed as focused on the fire as Esmund’s, but the closer Ranvir looked, the more he saw them shoot off at every noise and sound. Dovar wore his nerves on his jacket, so exposed and raw that even the slightest twitch nearly had him jerking in his seat. Despite being surrounded by friends, he couldn’t relax.

Ayvir relaxed too much. Leaning into his corner, head thrown back, a light snore tickled from him. His hand held a glass of mostly drunk mead. It rested against his leg, leaning just enough that it might tip and pour onto the carpet. He’d been drinking steadily since the dinner, only continuing once they’d retreated to the lounge. His empty sleeve would occasionally twitch, making it swing ever so slightly.

Gazing at his friends, Ranvir realized something had gone wrong. Their connection wasn’t what it had once been. They weren’t as close as they should be. He needed—no; he wanted to fix things. But he wasn’t sure how to do it.

He couldn’t stick around here much longer. Frija and Vasso didn’t live in Vednar. This wasn’t their home, and he would not uproot them. He had payments to make on his house back on Korfyi. He had work to pay for it. He had friends there as well, other connections he’d wanted to maintain. He could not make time for Vednar as well. He didn’t have enough time in the day.

That was without mentioning Saleema. Ranvir was confident that he could take her. She was strong, but unstable. He had training and sanity on his side. But that was still no excuse to potential submit his children to expose against her.

While he was confident in fighting her, he might not stop her from hurting either of them. Frija and Vasso should not be staying for too long. He didn’t know when she’d wake up, but that was not a risk worth taking.

Reaching up with a clawed thumb, he poked at something in his teeth as he considered.

“You guys look like a sour bunch.” Grev observed as he passed by. Sansir grunted in vague acknowledgment, while Dovar nodded as if in agreement. None of the others were present enough to respond.

“You know how it is,” Ranvir said, running his hand over Frija’s hair.

Grevor nodded and walked past before peeking around the corner again. “Also, your little protégé wants to know if she’ll need a morning wake-up call tomorrow.”

Ranvir shook his head. “No, midday is fine.” A thought stuck around, though. Even after Grev left. Perhaps there was a way for him to manage all of his responsibilities.