Hadrien stared at Pauline long enough for the atmosphere to shift from tense to taut. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and the temperature behind his eyes dropped a few degrees.
He clearly wasn’t used to being spoken to that way, nor did he enjoy being reminded, politely or not, that whatever banners flew over House Voss, the argent crescent flew higher. That he was allowed to keep his position only because the Sanctum permitted it, and that it would only take a word for everything to be taken away.
After a long pause, he exhaled through his nose and tilted his head in what could politely be called a nod. “Very well,” he said evenly, despite the annoyance and anger he was no doubt feeling. “House Voss will comply with the Lunar Sanctum’s request.”
He didn't try to re-argue the point, clapping his hands, and the same squire who had fetched them at the gate appeared from the doorway a moment later.
“Joss. Get them to the ledgers for the larder," Hadrian said, effectively dismissing them.
Neither Orion nor Pauline lingered any longer than necessary, exchanged their goodbyes, and left the lord and his wife behind.
Joss led them down a cool corridor into a narrow office where shelves bowed under ledgers and seals. He pulled the current year’s books and stacked them on a table without comment, despite being aware of the reluctance behind the order.
Pauline verified the years were correct, not wanting to have to come back, and gave a subtle nod when she saw everything was in order.
“Thank you,” she said, tucking the ledgers under her arm.
“Please ensure the records return intact,” the boy said, as if reciting something. “The steward will have my head if anything were to happen to them.”
“They will,” Orion replied, and they left before anyone else could try to talk to them. House Voss’ hospitality had already frayed enough.
In the entrance hall of the temple, Pauline handed the ledgers to a harried young witch and turned to Orion with a worried frown.
“I shouldn’t have involved you in that,” she said, her voice gentler than usual. “I didn’t anticipate him being so hostile, but I should have expected some resistance.”
Orion shook his head. “I was the one who suggested it, and it was better that we did it this way,” he said. “If it were my mother who walked into the manor and gave the same order, they would have taken it as either an overreach or a sign of the Sanctum’s lack of faith in them. This way, it will be seen as a bureaucratic squabble and little more.”
Her mouth quirked, conceding the point. “Go sleep. I’ll run these against the temple tallies and make sure Voss doesn’t keep anything for himself.”
“Let me know if he does, I’d enjoy punching that smug face,” he said, and left her to it.
His room was small, dry, and blessedly dark. He pulled the blanket up to his waist, propped his stone foot on the edge of the chest to ease the pull in his calf, and fell asleep a moment later.
By the next morning, the rain had stopped, but the clouds still covered the sky, and the light that filtered through was the same shade as pewter.
Somewhere in the vicinity of his room, doors slammed, and voices rose and fell in bursts.
Orion sat, dressed quickly, and hurried to find the source of the commotion, grateful that he had taken the time to adjust the foot’s output, as it allowed him to march without hobbling.
He rounded the last corner and stepped into a highly tense scene. Eire stood with her chin raised and her hands loose at her sides, seemingly calm, but he knew that was her default expression and could see the subtle signs of mounting displeasure.
Opposite her was a woman in a gray shawl with blonde hair that had faded with age, her mouth pursed tightly in judgment. A group of younger witches stood behind her, but whether they supported her or were listening in, he didn’t know.
“You’ve got gall showing your face so openly,” the older witch said sharply. “After what you did. After what you nearly cost the Veil Priestess.”
Stolen novel; please report.
Eire didn’t flinch. “I did what I had to do,” she replied softly. “And besides, that is a matter between us. You have nothing to do with it.”
“We all have something to do with it when we have a known traitor in our midst,” the woman snapped.
Orion stepped out of the shadow of the archway. “It really isn’t any of your business,” he repeated. “Magistra Eire was directly responsible for the survival of many during the attack on the Floating Bridge, myself included. Yes, we left the Sanctum on bad terms because of what she did, but we’ve come to terms with it, under the High Priestess’s watch.”
The older witch clearly hadn’t expected him to interfere, let alone defend Eire, given their history, but she wasn’t ready to give in so easily. “You think that fixes everything? You might be young, but you should know that once someone betrays you, they will always be inclined to do it again,” she demanded, but the bite had dulled.
That the son of the woman she was arguing on behalf of was against her significantly diminished her confidence.
“No,” Orion said. “But it is what matters now. We can pick at the old scab later if you must; now is the time to look for the enemies circling outside, not within.”
The woman’s lip curled, then flattened. She muttered something that might have been an agreement and turned away, taking the gaggle of younger witches with her.
The silence they left behind was pregnant with unspoken words. Eire exhaled deeply and looked at Orion as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
“I didn’t think you’d defend me,” she said quietly.
“Neither did I,” he admitted. The resentment still lingered, tense and uncomfortable, but it had dulled somewhat since she’d stepped between him and a dragon’s fire. “But I’m not about to watch our people tear themselves apart because somebody finally got their gossip from Silverpeak.”
Eire’s brows furrowed. “I don’t know how it spread so quickly. I didn’t say—”
“Somebody obviously did,” Orion said. “Maybe a pilgrim from the coven, or a witch with good connections.” He let it go with a small shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter as long as we don’t let it pull us down.”
A gong sounded somewhere toward the kitchens, signaling it was time for breakfast, and the rest of the courtyard started to clear out.
By midday, news spread rapidly that sacks of supplies were being opened in the main squares, and that House Voss’s men had formed lines at the lower docks and the riverside square.
Orion peered out the window and saw that, indeed, watchmen were guarding an official as he handed out bags of supplies to a long line of people, and he suspected the same scene was happening all over Last Thaw.
The pressure that had been mounting in the city since the dragons’ shadows loomed over them eased, if only slightly. It showed in the way men stood straighter, children smiled more brightly, and women didn’t pinch their faces in worry.
Orion hummed to himself in satisfaction and headed to the refectory for his lunch. He was just entering the room when a familiar presence filled the air.
Voices fell silent suddenly, and benches squeaked as people rose to pay their respects.
Asteria swept through the arch in a pale white dress that made her hair look almost gold by comparison. She seemed like a force of nature in human form, but to his familiar eye, it was clear she was under a lot of stress, and that the last day of hard work hadn’t been easy.
“Walk with me,” she said.
He fell into step, briefly mourning his lunch as she moved through the temple’s back halls into a secluded garden, where only a stooped old woman was tending some herbs, but she left soon after they arrived. When the door gently closed behind them, the sounds of the temple faded into a soft hush.
“How are you?” he asked, though he could already imagine the answer. He hadn’t seen her in a day, and while his own time in Last Thaw had been hectic, he could only imagine how it had been for her.
“Busy,” she said, and a breath that almost sounded like a laugh escaped her. “And relieved, now that I know the food situation is handled. Thank you for that, by the way. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it, moonbeam.”
Orion shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the honest praise, “It’s fine, anyone would have done the same thing.”
She bumped his shoulder with hers but chose not to press the issue. “I’ve been coordinating,” she said. “And not just with our own covens in the nearby towns.”
He glanced sideways. “With who else?”
Her smile sharpened. “The Collegium.”
“Ah,” he smiled back, though he’d expected that. “They’re sending people?”
“They already have,” she said. “Their bank of the river is fully manned, as they were able to move faster than us, thanks to their more advanced communication methods. They won’t cross the Belt without us asking, which I don’t think we’ll need, but it’s good to know they’re there, just in case. And as soon as our contingent arrives from Silverpeak and the eastern cloisters, we’ll begin the next phase.”
“You mean to hunt the dragons,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
“I will find them,” she promised. “I shall hunt their young, their cousins, and their elders. I will break their nests and caches, and remind them what it costs to attack a city under the Mother’s eye.”
Her voice was low but very clear, and Orion couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine. “The Guardian of the Meltwater will join us when we pass her forest, and we will let it be known to any who dare attack us that the price is heavy indeed.”
It’d be a glorious undertaking, no doubt. Also, an extremely dangerous one, considering they’d be facing what was widely regarded as one of the most dangerous species in all of Cyril.
“Will you take me with you?” he asked, and only after the words were out did he realize he truly meant it. He wanted to go on the hunt, despite the dangers.
Asteria looked at him for a long moment, as if assessing his chances. “We will talk about where you fit,” she said. “I think there might be some room for you on the teams dealing with the wyrmlings. You’ve already shown you can handle them, though I don’t want you on the front lines of the real battles.”
He nodded, not bothering to argue further. “I’ll make you proud.”
“You always do,” she said and placed a kiss on his temple. “Never doubt that I’m proud of you, moonbeam. I know you will keep growing into a splendid man, and I can’t wait to see what you’ll accomplish.”
Orion smiled, feeling embarrassed but happy that she trusted him so openly. “How long do you think it’ll be?” He asked.
“Hmm, I’d estimate they’ll arrive in less than twenty-four hours, and it’ll take a few more to set up the city’s defenses. If you want to train a bit more, now might be a good time, but I’ll remind you to be careful when dealing with higher concepts.
Orion deadpanned, deliberately looking at his stone foot. “I think I learned that lesson.”
Asteria chuckled. “I never know with you. It’s possible all you got from that was that you needed to anchor the spell to specific targets, rather than cast it on yourself,” she said, then saw the look of realization and the hungry curiosity dawn on his face, and groaned. “Orion, do not attempt to teleport again!”
enjoy the story and would like to read more, are available on my .
