“That was exhausting!” Frija said, falling face down in her bed. “That was a looong time, Dad.”

“I know, Fireheart.” Ranvir scratched the back of her head as she slumped into her mattress. Menace, who’d spent too much of their time in Vednar in doors, leapt onto her bed and started pawing at her. “I think he wants to play.”

Frija grunted as one massive mitt pounded her even deeper into the fluffy stuffing. Her exhaustion didn’t last long in the face of her youthful stamina and playful kitty. Ranvir followed them out of the room, watching as both bounded down the stairs.

“So,” Vasso said. “Um, do you think we’ll go back?”

“Yeah, I still have to teach Laila and I don’t intend to bring her here yet.”

Vasso nodded, but remained quiet for a while.

Ranvir said nothing, instead they simply stood there.

“Anyway.” Vasso waved and walked towards his room.

“You didn’t want to say something?”

The teenager hesitated at the door, looking up at Ranvir. He grimaced before nodding. Inhaling deeply, he stepped closer and ran a hand over his face. “I wanted to come along as well,” he blurted.

“Okay.”

He looked at Ranvir for a moment before nodding. “Good. Yeah. Thanks.”

“It’ll be a day or two before I go back. So take some time, practice on your own. You know the drill.”

Vasso nodded and ducked into his room.

Ranvir looked up as the potragos approached Limclea. They were still a flare’s time from the city, but he couldn’t sense Kyriake at all. She rarely left, but when she did, it wasn’t for anything less than an emergency. Personal or factional.

Wrapping himself in space, Ranvir soon stepped onto the grounds of the Sentinel’s facility. Things looked normal. People were training behind the primary structure, others were napping in the barracks. There were a few discussing their latest fold-runs. He could see a segment of red tassel wearing braced, preparing for a run.

Inside, the quiet of shuffling paper and muted discussion took over from warrior cries. The smell of fresh ink, leather treatment, and old parchment dominated his senses. He slipped his own tassels, denoting him as a middling Afosío—a dark-red like the ones outside. The silk ran smoothly through his fingers, a caress still unfamiliar to him.

He walked past the administration staff that handled normal business, stopping instead in front of a corner desk towards the rear. A heavy-set older woman sat behind the desk. Her floral perfume was so thick in the air, he could feel its bitter taste on his tongue.

“Hello,” she said, tapping her jaw.

Ranvir reciprocated. “Hello, I was wondering if I could see Kyriake.”

She shook her head. “Unfortunately not. Kyriake is on a retreat with the other Wardens.”

“Wardens?” what was she doing with all the strongest braced of the Sentinels?

The secretary nodded sluggishly and hummed her agreement. “She was called away only three days ago. An Arkrotas meeting is coming up soon.”

Ranvir nodded and stepped back. The Arkrotasia were the powerhouses of Korfyi, them and their second-in-command represented a significant percentage of the worldshard’s power.

“When will she be back?”

The elderly woman shrugged, shuffling some papers around. “It takes as long as it takes. The Arkrotasia doesn’t meet until everyone is ready.” Seeing his exasperation, she explained. “Last time, it took six months.”

“Six—“

“But usually it takes closer to eighteen.”

Ranvir stepped back, wiping a hand across his face. That wasn’t exactly the news he’d wanted to hear. Striding out of the hall, he hurried through the city. Could he approach directly?

That wasn’t a possibility worth considering. Even if he could find them, he couldn’t pull her away. The Sentinel wouldn’t let her. If he had any intention of having a long-term relationship with Vednar, he’d need to deal with Saleema. Yet, he’d suddenly discovered his best option out of reach.

“Dammit all.” He cursed further under his breath before arriving at the store in question. “Alexis?” he asked, stepping inside.

The girl from the fold with Amalia looked much changed. She’d grown her hair out over the months since, and it now fell into her eyes, causing her to squint at him. “Ranvir?”

“Yeah. I need help with a few items and maybe you know someone.”

Armed with a couple of pocket-watches and an alarm, Ranvir stopped by on the station. The potragos was sliding to a halt just as he reached the pale stone. Two sun-tanned and thrilled women emerged from the crowd. They greeted and hugged.

“I figured you might give us a lift back to the orphanage,” Amalia said, as they stepped away from the crowd of people still scuttling about on the platform.

“Easily.” Ranvir’d felt her touch when they’d first been approaching. She’d lingered just enough to be sure he’d noticed, and he’d obviously agreed.

“Thank Nysea,” Elpir said, dropping her bags. “Spending time with you is lovely, honey, but the potragos offer little in the way of entertainment.”

Ranvir’d only taken it out, so he had time to consider his approach to Kyriake. Ranvir wrapped them in space and they slipped through space, reaching his home in moments. From there, he slipped into Eriene proper. They appeared in the square, next to Phormos’ statue, in the center of the town.

“Looking forward to work?” Ranvir asked.

“A little,” Elpir said. “I have missed the rascals.”

Amalia shook her head. “I know that my work is important and all, but I’d much rather stick around.”

Ranvir nodded. “I might have an opportunity coming up, though I’m not sure when.”

“No way,” Amalia emphatically gesticulated her disagreement. “Not with you. I’ve seen the kind of shit you get into.”

Ranvir snorted. “I’ll bring it up when it’s a little more relevant.”

She gave him a narrow-eyed glare.

“And bring it up to Kasos as well.” Ranvir moved away. He still had a lot of work to do.

“Are you ready?” Pashar asked, pulling at his jacket.

Ranvir gave her a look, and the woman rolled her eyes.

“I know you don’t think it’s important, but you don’t know everything.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I am.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Ready. I am ready.”

Chuckling, she patted him on the shoulder, only reachable since he didn’t hide his wings. They were standing in a waiting room near the Queen’s audience hall. He could hear the footsteps echo as applicants approached.

“No private audience?”

“You lost that right. It was hard enough to get her to agree to this meeting.”

Ranvir doubted that. She’d come back with a time and day in less than half an hour. He didn’t think they were desperate, but obviously willing to hear him out. Especially since he had approached them.

Pashar had made him wear his formal Sentinel’s uniform and was even now pulling and yanking on it to change how it fit. He forced himself to go over her behavior again. He needed to be better at seeing and acting on these signals.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re fussing.”

Three sharp knocks rang, and the door opened. “Two minutes,” the servant said, peeking their head in. He did a double-take at Ranvir’s wings, but quickly retreated.

Pashar stepped back from him. “I’m not fussing.”

“So you were just carefully pushing and prodding my outfit out of boredom?”

“Ranvir, fussing is overly concerned about small details, minor and insignificant items. Fixing the way this uniform fits you is hardly unimportant. Did you cut the slits for your wings yourself?”

“Yes.”

“I can tell.”

The servant knocked again. Pashar opened the door and gestured for him to walk out first. He sensed her reaching for his coat and looked over her shoulder. She pursed her lips and retreated quickly, but not before he saw her. A brief grin snuck onto his face, and she rolled her eyes. “Hurry,” she whispered.

Ranvir entered the audience hall. Nobles sat on benches and cushioned seats off to the sides. A hushed murmur rushed through at the sight of him, and probably Pashar walking behind him as well. They were all dressed in finery that outdid Ranvir’s in color and quality. A noble was a noble, even in Vednar.

He fought off his sneer at their indulgences. The smell of wine, perfume, and sweat lingered in the air, too diffuse to reach most people’s noses, but more than clear to him. His boots tapped audibly against the hard stone of the hall. Carpets covered the nobles’ seating, but not the applicant’s path.

Light filtered in through the top windows, creating spotlights for him to pass through as he drew closer to the centerpiece of the entire room. Arabesque patterns along the wall and ceiling drew the inevitable to the rich throne. Pale wood and silver highlights, lit by windows all along the back wall, cast her in a halo of light.

Ranvir wouldn’t fault peasants for casting her in an almost divine stature after seeing her in dark furs atop that seat. The entire room culminating in her very presence. However, she was undermined by the three people standing in her shadows.

Saif’s orange eyes glittered with contained power, flashing occasionally yellow, from where he stood behind and to the right of the throne. Another triplet master stood opposite him. The ice tethered was Ankirian as well and stood at attention. Behind both of them, unnoticeable, if not for Ranvir’s tether-sense, was a third triplet master.

Elusria had benefited greatly from Ankiria’s downfall.