Right Hand

Garrick first met Xaden Riorson when they were both six years old. Garrick had just had his birthday when his father announced he was going to be bringing Garrick with him to Aretia instead of leaving him with his mother and cousins and everybody else out in the country. He didn't have a great sense of what Aretia meant. He'd been into town sometimes and got candy when they went there, and his mother said Aretia was a really *big* town, so he was picturing the town's square except with five or six candy sellers instead of just the one.

His dad was doing *really important work* helping Duke Fen, and his Aunt Morag was in charge of all the swords in the whole city, he was pretty sure, and his greatmum lived there, and his older brothers spent part of the year in Aretia too.

"Fen's boy needs more playmates than just his cousin. He needs someone who can keep up with him, and Gar's just shy of his age. It'll be good for them both." It made Garrick feel very important to know he was going into the city because he had *important work* to do, being friends with this boy he hadn't met yet. He packed up the little stuffed dragon his mom had made for him, and his slingshot and some of the really good, smooth rocks from down by the creek, in case they didn't have good rocks in the city.

Then his mom took the rocks out. "Garrick Flynn Tavis, you are not taking a rucksack full of rocks into the city."

"But mom, I need them for my slingshot! Auntie Morag's in charge of weapons so I gotta show her I'm ready!"

"There are rocks in Aretia, Garrick, I promise you."

"But what if they're not *good* rocks?"

She just sighed and hugged him and told him how much she'd miss him like he wasn't going to come back and see her but of course he was going to come back and see her. He'd see her in the fall just like his brothers did. But for now he had important work to do.

First, he managed to sneak about half of the rocks back in his pockets. He rode to the capital with his dad and his older brothers, annoying all of them with questions and making them laugh when he believed their answers. When he got there he met his Auntie Morag and his greatmum for real instead of just hearing stories. Auntie Morag gave him his first wooden sword before his dad could say anything about it.

"He's just turned six," his father grumbled. Garrick listened just to make sure he wasn't going to lose his new sword. "He doesn't need to be learning swords yet."

"Of course he does. Young master Xaden just started sword lessons this week, you know."

"I think I knew Fen was pushing for that, but damn, Mors, they're so young."

"Yeah, and the venin and the Navarrans both are getting more bold, don't you know?"

"Believe me, I know. And the way Fen's talking… Well I think we both know he's raising a king and not a duke."

"Xaden's a good boy. They'll look after each other. You and Fen both just want to make sure your boys get the best chance to grow up."

He didn't quite understand the conversation, but the next day Garrick woke up early and his father took him up to the biggest building in the entire world. His father had told him during the long ride to Aretia how this part would go, so he bowed to the man in the fancy chair, who he knew was the Duke, and sitting by him was the Duke Lady and the Other Lady and the two boys about his age that stood beside them. He guessed the taller one was maybe a year older than him, and the smaller one about his age.

Garrick bit his lip before he started, trying to remember all the words. "Please and honor to meet you, misses and misters. I'm called Garrick, son of Rory Tavis and nephew of Morag Tavis." He didn't think he'd gotten it quite right but the Other Lady smiled at him and petted the smaller boy's hair.

Then this older boy looked at the Duke, who nodded, and turned back to Garrick with a bow that was shallower than the one he'd given but seemed more fancy anyway. He introduced himself as Xaden, his pronunciation just enough better than Garrick's that it made him nervous. This was the boy he was supposed to be friends with? He looked and talked like he was older, how was Garrick supposed to keep up?

"Take him to lessons with you," Fen told his son. "We want to see how you do together."

Xaden grabbed Garrick's left hand in his right, pulling him into the hallway. As soon as they were out of sight of their parents, Xaden grinned at him.

"Race you!" he said and took off running. Garrick dashed after him despite not knowing where he was going. Xaden got there first, but Garrick was right behind him. Maybe he could keep up after all.

By the end of the day, Garrick had busted Xaden's forehead open with his new wooden sword, Xaden had taught him two different secret passages through Riorson House, and Garrick loved Xaden instantly and completely the way only small children can.

That was how the next ten years of his life went. In the spring his father would bring him into the city and he'd spend his summers trying to keep up with Xaden, learning to argue like a gentleman and fight like a soldier and come up with whatever Xaden needed for his latest plan.

As they got older, Riorson House filled up more in the summers with other kids. Their games got more complicated, and Garrick always felt like he was at least one step behind Xaden, sometimes more. He knew Xaden was depending on him, though, to get whatever they needed or make sure nobody got left behind. He knew where everything was in Riorson House, what he could help himself to if Xaden or Bodhi needed it and what he needed to sweet talk someone for.

Xaden shot up past him when they were fifteen and stayed there no matter how much Garrick grew over the winter. He was a diligent student of his Aunt Morag and knew how to use every weapon in the armory, was even helping her teach the younger kids defense, but he couldn't beat Xaden in a spar no matter what he did.

"Your arms are too long. What did you do all winter, practice hanging by your fingertips?" The complaints were good natured and neither took them seriously as they pulled their tunics back on and sat on the ground at the edge of the courtyard where they practiced.

"It's because you spend the winter doing honest work and I spend it with Morag," Xaden laughed.

"Don't let her hear you say that."

"Oh, she makes me work, don't get me wrong. But it's drills every day, so I don't even think any more. My body just does what it needs to. And you're actually doing things that have something to show for it at the end of the day. When you harvest wheat and beat it up-"

"The word is threshing. I hate threshing," Garrick shook his head.

"But you grow something and then you harvest it and then you go and bake bread! And that's a thing that you made, a real thing that someone can eat. That seems a lot more useful than sparring matches and pretending I like dancing."

"Oh, right, you just got back from Cordyn. How was Catty?"

Xaden rolled his eyes. "She was thrilled when they announced our betrothal."

Garrick choked a little. "So it's official, huh?"

"It's officially official in the future, I guess. Unless we decide it's terrible, but then my dad won't get the luminary, and we need that."

"Maybe she'll decide she doesn't want to marry you and we can figure something else out."

"Found you!" Garrick looked up to see Imogen watching them from the edge of the courtyard. "Your dad is looking for you, Xaden."

Xaden stood and offered Garrick his hand.

"Just you, this time," Imogen clarified.

Xaden rolled his eyes and let Garrick drop back onto the grass. "I'll see you in a bit."

Imogen dropped down onto the grass next to Garrick instead, her long yellow braids pooling on either side of her. "Is he really going to marry Catty?" she asked once she was sure Xaden was out of earshot.

"Probably," Garrick shrugged. It would be years from now, so it didn't feel particularly real.

"Ugh. I'm glad I don't have to marry some Poromish princess."

"She's not really a princess, I don't think," Garrick laughed. "Besides, if the goal was an alliance with the throne of Navarre, it'd be you or your sister instead. Or maybe Sloane. Tauri's only got sons and I don't think any of them look at other guys."

Imogen gave the little snort of laughter that always made Garrick happy. "That sounds like it'd be my sister's problem."

"Depends on which prince. Alic's only a year older than you. He was kind of an asshole when we had to go to Calldyr last year, though. He kept staring at me like he couldn't believe I had the audacity to breathe his air."

"You're not really selling me on political marriage."

"I'm not sure I'll even get married. I'm supposed to do Infantry with Xaden, so it won't even happen for like ten more years."

Imogen shook her head. "I told my mom I want to marry someone who breeds horses like my dad did, and she didn't like that much. So I told her if I can't do that I'll go to Basgiath and marry a dragon rider."

Garrick imagined the look Lady Cardulo had made at that and grinned.

"Dragons are the only thing worth riding besides horses anyway," Imogen continued. "Like who'd ride a gryphon when you can ride a dragon?"

"Fliers, I guess."

"I guess. I mean, they don't have a choice. But they're basically just horses with wings, aren't they?"

"Sharper than horses, though," Garrick pointed out. "That time your horse kicked me was bad enough, and your mare didn't have claws."

"Yeah but dragons have claws and they're huge and so fast. And they breathe fire. They're amazing."

"Maybe I'll be a rider," Garrick blurted out before he realized he said it.

"Really? I thought you'd do Infantry with Xaden."

"I'm supposed to, but he'll be fine whether I'm in his shadow or not, Mims. Theoretically I could pick another quadrant. I could be a healer or a scribe, even."

She laughed again at that. "They'd throw you out of the scribes in about two days. I've never seen you sit still ten minutes, and you hate lessons."

"Well then, all the more reason to be a rider. Besides, what am I going to learn in Infantry that I don't already know? Aunt Morag taught a couple of years at Basgiath before I was born."

Imogen looked at him like she was evaluating him against her knowledge of dragons and riders. "Yeah, I think you'd do okay as a rider."

"Thanks," he said, not entirely sure why his face felt hot. "I'm going to go get some lemonade, it's warm out here."

The idea of being a rider instead of a infantryman rattled around his head for a few weeks after that, though Garrick wasn't sure what he'd actually do when it came time to go to Basgiath. His oldest brother hadn't gone to Basgiath, too busy running errands or missions or something for their father, and his other brother had entered the rider's quadrant the year before.

Right now, though, Basgiath would be four years away for him, and he was starting to wonder if they'd be studying there at all, if things went the way the adults were planning. He didn't know all the details, of course, but he'd attended some meetings with Xaden, and heard most of what happened at the ones Xaden went to without him.

Garrick's father told him and Xaden both that controlling who knew what kept people safer when things were dangerous, and he thought that was probably true for the younger kids at Riorson House, but even Liam was starting to pick up on the tension, let alone Ims and Bodhi.

He didn't bother questioning his dad, but went to his aunt instead.

"'Course you notice things, my Gar, that's what your father taught you to do," she sighed. "It's not an accident you're teaching those little ones more than just the wood swords you had at that age."

"You wouldn't have me teaching self-defense if you didn't think we might have to defend ourselves."

Morag put her hands on his shoulders. "If it comes to that, I can count on you protecting the littles, can't I?"

"Of course!" It wouldn't have occurred to him to do otherwise. Those younger than them at Riorson House had always been Xaden's responsibility, as if he was practicing for when he'd have the whole duchy under him, and if they were Xaden's responsibility, then they were Garrick's too.

The last time he saw Morag, she was rounding up a few of the smallest children, pushing three-year-old Imely into Garrick's arms. He was already wearing a rucksack full of supplies, but it didn't occur to him to complain. She hugged him and Xaden both, one in each arm, until Imely complained she was being smushed like peas.

"We can fight, you know we can fight," Xaden said to her but Morag never let him argue with her.

"Come on, Xaden, the kids are waiting," Garrick spoke up instead. "We have to make sure they don't worry."

Xaden looked back at the doors to the main House, and then at Garrick, and for a minute Garrick was worried he'd have to try to drag him.

"Right. Let's go," Xaden said, his jaw set, and for the first time Garrick thought his best friend looked like a real grownup. He strode to the gate where the two dozen children who'd been living in the House were waiting, some crying and some running around.

Two steps behind him, Garrick made eye contact with Bodhi and Imogen, and they both nodded to him. Garrick counted up the full packs he and the other older kids had been given before they dismissed the kitchen staff. He wasn't sure what would happen next, or how long it would be before they could return to Aretia.

Garrick whistled loud enough that Imely slapped her hands over her ears. "Time for a new game! We're playing marching orders! Girls are in Imogen's squad and boys are in Bodhi's! Line up in twos behind your squad leader!"

Xaden smiled gratefully at him before addressing the kids, doing his best impression of his father. "Soldiers, we're about to advance on the Caerbannog caves and escape the city! It will be a tough mission but we believe in you. Never lose sight of your squad leaders and never let go of the hand of your buddy. Now, march!"

Somehow it worked. Liam and Eya took the ends of their lines, making sure there weren't any stragglers, and Garrick transferred Imely so she was riding on his shoulders, her hands fisted tightly in his hair and some of her weight resting on his rucksack.

Garrick was pretty sure he could hear dragons roaring outside the city, but it was hard to tell how close they were. He wondered if his brother was there.

As they walked, some of the Aretian citizens who hadn't been able to flee came out of their homes. After a quick conference with Xaden, they agreed that anyone who wanted to could follow them. It wasn't originally part of the plan, but anybody who was still here had to be desperate.

"They're my responsibility too," Xaden said.

"Of course," Garrick agreed, turning back to the handful of people who'd approached them. "Any food or supplies you can grab would be appreciated. You should be able to catch up, we're only walking as fast as the four and five year olds can go."

By evening, Garrick was grateful they'd attracted so many others. It meant there were more than enough adults to carry the small ones when they got tired.

When they reached the caves, Garrick handed out small, smooth stones he'd made with Colonel Mairi's guidance. Each was imbued with the rune for light so that it glowed when the children held them. Colonel Mairi had made sure they would activate automatically when they were needed, explaining that it was a technique she'd been perfecting.

Sure enough, as they moved from dusk into the darkness of the caves, the stones lit the darkness around them so that the little ones weren't so afraid, and so the older ones could see where they were going. Xaden took the lead with Garrick right behind him, since they'd been playing in these caves for years and knew the way.

They didn't stop until they reached the entrance on the other side of the mountain. Garrick went out to look, confirming that there was light in the east, the direction of Aretia- either dawn was coming or something worse. Xaden announced they would get a few hours sleep here and then they could head farther west, using the forest for cover.

Even the adults that had come with them looked to Xaden easily to know what to do. It made Garrick proud to stand next to him, even if they weren't sure what would come next.

Xaden was already gone.

So was Bodhi, and Imogen, and Liam and Sloane, and the other kids they thought were the most valuable. Then the cute ones, it seemed. There were so many that had been rounded up, it had been hard to keep track; some of them weren't even Tyrrish, but children of Navarran officers who'd joined their side, but it felt like the least he could do was learn their names. He watched as a noblewoman inspected a row of children like his mother had taught him to look over sheep, then took Imely right out of his arms without a word. It might have been the woman who took Sloane and Duncan but he wasn't sure, they were blurring together despite his best efforts.

At some point Garrick had gone almost entirely numb. Probably it was before they'd had to watch their parents executed, because he'd been focused on making sure everyone had their tokens from Colonel Mairi and trying to convince the littler ones to look away from their parents. He vaguely remembered the heat and the light, Imely propped up in the arm that held his stone and his other side pressed against Imogen while she held Bodhi's hand. Imely buried her small face in his neck and screamed and Garrick set his jaw against the pain burning up his arm so that he didn't drop her or squeeze too tight. He'd hardly let go of her since Morag put her in his arms.

Now that she was gone, he didn't quite know what to do with himself. Garrick checked on the remaining kids and then realized he was just sort of staring into space. He shook his head to clear it, trying to think what his father would tell him to do. Since he wasn't trying to keep Imely calm, he realized he could pay more attention to the conversations going on around him.

Garrick had understood that the way nobles in Calldyr valued people was different. His family's titles had been earned rather than inherited, so they didn't mean anything to half the people here. He'd learned when he traveled with Xaden that almost no one seemed to realize what his father's job was; everywhere they went seemed to treat him differently.

In fact, Garrick hadn't learned that his father was considered something of a mystery until he was ten and they went to Calldyr for the first time. Fen just called his father 'my Rory' and Garrick had never thought much about it until then.

After Fen and Xaden had been formally announced, and Fen had introduced Garrick and his father, they'd been told to be on their best manners and help themselves to the treats on the fancy table once all the adults were done. Garrick remembered standing beside Xaden whispering commentary about the grownups around them until the middle prince came over to them.

"What are you here for?" Prince Alic demanded of Garrick at that first meeting.

He didn't get a chance to respond before Xaden piped up. "He is to me as his father is to my father."

A few feet away, Fen choked on his drink.

Undeterred, the prince asked what rank a 'marori' was. Garrick was used to hearing 'my Rory' misunderstood, and snickered.

"What do you mean?" Xaden had asked the prince in his best Navarran.

Alic, misunderstanding their question, had answered, "I need to know if he's worth respecting."

Garrick had immediately had to hold Xaden back.

He wondered whether the Navarran princes even remembered them. Crown Prince Halden had good manners, at least, though in Garrick's opinion he'd always been a little full of himself. Prince Alic, though, seemed to think he was too good for everyone , and Prince Camden was young enough that they hadn't even met him.

"Your Majesty, some of the nobles are complaining about having to put up these children when you're not, ah, setting an example."

Garrick froze at the voice behind him, realizing that meant King Tauri and one of his advisors were here.

"The crown is paying for their educations, are we not? What do they have to complain about?" The man's dismissal made him angry. As if Xaden hadn't taken on a much larger burden for them and not said a word of complaint about it. He doubted there were a dozen people in this room that could add up to one of his father, or Xaden's.

"It is a bit of an inconvenience. Why don't you just put one in the palace as a show of goodwill? Maybe one that's Cam's age, as a playmate?"

Garrick wasn't sure how he felt about that idea, though. He'd been trying to keep track of who was going where so they'd be able to check on as many of them as they were allowed. Anyone in the palace was going to have a hard time.

He turned slowly, trying to seem as if he was casually checking on the other marked ones, hoping he'd have a chance to intervene if necessary. When he did get a look at King Tauri, he saw the man was quiet because his middle son was whispering in his ear. Then Prince Alic caught Garrick looking at him and grinned.

King Tauri looked down at his son. "You're certain?"

"I'll keep him in line."

The king looked back to his advisor and Garrick realized now they were all looking at him. "Fine, take the Tavis boy and put him in the servants’ quarters off the boys' rooms. He's one that can be a hostage as well, since we know he's important to Riorson. My son says he was raised as a valet or something so he can keep Alic out of trouble while Halden's at Basgiath."

When Tauri's advisor walked up to him, Garrick hesitated. "Can I wait and make sure everyone else is taken care of?"

The room was starting to empty, but there were still some remaining. He knew a few were waiting for distant relatives from Morraine and Elsum but he wasn't sure what would happen to the rest.

"First rule of the palace: don't keep the king waiting," the advisor said, but his face softened. "They're keeping records of the placements. If you want to write your friends, I'll make sure you get a copy."

"Thank you." Garrick knew he had nothing to bargain on right now. He'd take a little sympathetic help if that was what he could get. And if someone had to go into the palace, he'd rather it be him than wish it on anyone else. It was only three years, after all.

Tauri's advisor handed him off to someone else, and they handed him off to someone else again, until he finally found himself in a small room with doors on three sides: the one he was led in from, that led to the servants' hallways, one on the left that he was told led to Alic's room, and one on the right that led to-

"Did I hear somebody back here?" That last door opened and a younger man leaned in, looking at Garrick with big green eyes.

"Master Camden, this is Garrick Tavis. He'll be fostering here until he comes of age to go to Basgiath."

Garrick smiled hopefully at him and bowed. His manners were one of the gifts his father had given him that he got to keep. "Hello, Prince Camden, I don't think we've gotten to meet."

Prince Camden stepped fully into the room. "Call me Cam, it's fine. You're one of the rebel kids?"

Behind him, Garrick heard the hallway door close. "I suppose so," he said, not really liking any of the words he'd heard thrown around. Since the executions he'd been hearing "marked ones" for the magical markings that had grown up their arms as their parents suffered. It was probably the least terrible option, so he hoped it stuck.

"Can I see?"

Garrick didn't know what he'd expected, but it hadn't really been that. It felt almost invasive, but Cam's face was open and he didn't seem to be provoking him so Garrick pushed up his sleeve so the markings were visible from his wrist up past his elbow.

"That's wicked cool," Cam said, and that was definitely not the reaction Garrick had expected. "Do you think any dragon can give people cool relic tattoos? I know I've seen them on riders once or twice."

"What?" He knew he sounded horrified but- what the hells?

Cam somehow still managed to look sincere. "Isn't that what happened? Codagh's magic marked all of you because of your parents? That's what everybody said."

Garrick choked, trying to find a response. "It's more complicated than that. I didn't- is that really what General Melgren said?" He dug his nails into his palm where the magic still tingled a little against his skin, even though the runestone was tucked away in his pocket. How dare he take credit for Colonel Mairi's work. He didn't know how the runestones worked but she'd spent months imbuing them.

"I didn't ask Melgren. He's kind of creepy. But that's what other people said. It's why they call you the marked ones, right? Because he marked you?"

"We're marked because Codagh killed our parents. You don't…" Garrick tried not to be angry at him. The youngest prince wasn't there, he reminded himself. Even though Imely and dozens of other children smaller than him had had to watch, Cam didn't know, and it wasn't his fault he didn't know. "You don't want people to look at you the way they look at us."

“Cam!” The other door swung open and there was Prince Alic. “Leave him alone, he’s mine!”

“He’s not yours, he’s in between our rooms! The last time somebody was in here-”

“The last person who stayed here was your nanny,” Alic said with derision. “Do you still need a nanny, Cam?”

“No!”

“Then get out!”

“Fine!” Cam slammed his door behind him.

Garrick looked over at Alic. “I’m guessing I’m not here to be your nanny either.”

Alic snorted. “No, definitely not. You were trained as the little Riorson’s valet, so you’ll be doing that for me.”

“I’m pretty certain that the official description was that we were not being placed as servants or slaves or whatever you have in mind.” Garrick didn’t want to get into an argument with the prince, but he also wasn’t about to be turned into a kept servant until he was 20 if he could help it.

“Who’s going to stop me?”

“I wasn’t trained as a… a servant or a valet. Xaden is my friend.”

“Then you can be my friend.” Alic said it stiffly, as if friend was just another title to be awarded by authority.

Garrick didn’t have much choice and he knew it. Alic was insistent that Garrick follow him around the palace and on royal visits and the occasional diplomatic tour with his father. He dressed Garrick up in Navarran royal blues and purples, insisting he wear tunics with short sleeves to show off his rebellion relic.

It took a little while for Garrick to figure out how to navigate this without making his own situation more complicated, but while Alic gave him orders and sent him to run errands, most of the people around them quickly forgot that they were supposed to treat Garrick differently. A rebellion relic was a strange thing to see the first time you came across one, but after a while most people stopped looking at his arm and started looking at him.

The staff in the castle were the first ones to treat him like anyone else, which was a relief. The strict line between staff and the people they served was so different from what he knew back in Riorson house, and the fact that he inhabited a between-space where he was treated like a servant by Alic didn’t help, but Garrick just treated everyone the way he would have at home. He wasn’t going to stop saying please and thank you to people just because Alic didn’t, and he always volunteered to help when someone needed an extra set of hands because he missed feeling useful.

It didn’t take long at all for the staff to decide they liked him, even seeking him out in preference to Alic when they could.

He was meant to be attending classes with Alic’s tutors, but that turned out to be complicated. Garrick refused to engage with the tutor for history and politics; even though Duke Fen had broken his own rules about what should be said where at the end, Garrick was confident it was a bad idea here. But he couldn’t bring himself to repeat the lies either, and considered the tutor’s physical punishment a small price to pay. Maths and physics were safe enough, and Garrick even found himself enjoying them because he didn’t have to overthink his answers. Numbers were numbers, whichever side of the rebellion you had been on.

Then there were the more physical lessons. Nobody in Calldyr could equal his Aunt Morag- Garrick doubted anyone ever would- but he was also pretty confident when it came to fighting. No, the rules weren’t exactly the same as they were in Riorson House, but they were easy enough to learn.

Alic had multiple fighting tutors, and that was where Garrick first learned that Alic was planning to be a rider.

"Not infantry?" Garrick asked him. "Are you sure?" Privately, he though Alic was exactly the kind of person Duke Fen was thinking of when he complained about riders being full of themselves.

"Someone has to keep you rebels in line," Alic said, holding his sword at Garrick. Garrick parried it easily, and Alic's sword clattered to the ground.

"It's not going to be you with form like that," the weapons master said as she watched them. "Worry about yourself for now, Master Alic."

"My form is fine, he's just using some degenerate Tyrrish style," Alic scoffed.

Garrick shrugged. "If your grip was better, it wouldn't matter. Here, let me show you." He put his own sword into Alic's hand and stepped beside and behind him so he could see precisely what Alic's fingers were doing. Garrick placed his hand over Alic's to show him what he meant.

Alic stiffened and Garrick realized suddenly how close they were. He practically stumbled backing away from him.

"Problem?" Alic asked.

"No." Garrick picked up Alic's sword from where it had fallen and took the fighting stance he'd been taught in the Navarran style. "Do you want to go again?"

The problem with the prince, Garrick decided, was that almost nobody called him on his shit. Garrick had no trouble accepting that some people were better than him. Xaden was, for one thing, and he loved the him for it. Imogen could beat his ass in sparring pretty regularly with a skill that made his heart race, and Bodhi was so damn good with people it made Garrick's head spin. He knew where he stood, too, and that he had no shortage of skills. There was no place for false modesty in Riorson House, or in a war.

But Alic didn't have that. It wasn't just that he wasn't as good as he thought he was, though there was so much of that it was hard to see anything else for the first year Garrick lived in the palace. Alic didn't like to be corrected, and whined when he was, and so the weapon master and the sparring tutor didn't push him as hard as they should have if they really wanted him to improve.

Sometimes Garrick couldn't stand it anymore and talked to Alic like he used to talk to the little kids when he was teaching defense. Sometimes Alic even let him, accepting Garrick's corrections.

This was different, though. Touching the prince outside of a spar felt dangerous.

After that first line was crossed, though, it felt like Garrick found himself in Alic's personal space all the time. The prince was constantly pulling him in closer like he wanted to keep Garrick on a leash. Most of the friends he'd made around his own age were suddenly avoiding him. One of the young women from the kitchen finally took pity on him and whispered that Alic has threatened them if he saw them with him.

The whole thing was frustrating, and not just because all girls who liked him were now avoiding him. Alic liked introducing Garrick to his friends, but then complained when Garrick was friendly to them.

The last straw came on the beach in Morraine. They were visiting a local Duke and Garrick had spent the evening before with the fostered marked ones: Sloane and Duncan, Eoin, and Imely.

Imely was almost six now. Sloane's face showed her frustration when she said Imely was so sweet and well behaved that the Dutchess wanted for formally adopt her.

She didn't remember him. He expected it, he'd braced himself for it, but it still hurt. Her accent was almost entirely Morran.

When they'd gone back to the guest rooms that night, Garrick stared out at the ocean for hours before he could sleep. In the morning, the Duke and Duchess announced there would be luncheon on their private beach. Garrick tried to smooth things our for Alic like he usually did, but his heart wasn't in it, and when Alic started insulting the young woman talking to Garrick, he didn't bother to remind Alic that this was the Duke's eldest daughter until after Alic had driven the girl to red-faced outrage.

The duchess was brought in. Then the duke, and then it was unavoidable that the king would need to get involved.

"It's one thing for him to speak like that about a mouthy marked one," the Duke said, and Garrick wondered what he'd missed Alic saying about Sloane, "but I will not see my daughter in Calldyr any time soon if that is how your sons treat noble women."

King Tauri did his best to smooth things over, but later when they were seated together, the king looked at his moping son and grumbled, "honestly, Alic, sometimes I think I should swap you for the marked boy."

On Conscription Day, it felt like Garrick could find everyone except Xaden. Soleil had come with him, because their foster families were both in Calldyr City. Unfortunately, traveling with nobles from Calldyr City meant they'd both been afterthoughts in the royal procession of Prince Alic and basically every other noble son or daughter who wanted the prince's attention.

When they arrived, Garrick kept an eye out for any other marked ones heading up to the Parapet. Well, mostly he was looking for Xaden, but it would be good to see any familiar face.

"Garrick? What are you wearing?" Garrick recognized Masen after a second.

Once Masen found them, he seemed to be holding on to Garrick like he thought he'd get lost on his way to the Parapet if he didn't have a direction. He didn't mind, even, he just hated that he couldn't find Xaden.

"We're getting in line," Alic pronounced, waving for Garrick to go ahead of him. Garrick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He just had to get up the stairs and across the tiny stone bridge of death and then he wouldn't have to put up with Alic treating him like this any longer.

Soleil and Masen got in line with Garrick, but Alic shoved his way past both of them so that he could stand just ahead of Garrick on the stairs. The entire time they were climbing, Alic wouldn't stop talking.

"I expect to be a section leader by my second year and a wingleader my third," he went on as they climbed. "If you want to be my executive officer, you'll need to earn it."

"I'd rather not," Garrick said as they waited for the line to advance.

"You'd rather not earn it?" Alic scoffed. "I've been too soft on you if you think you won't have to."

"I'd rather not be your executive officer," he clarified.

"What, do you think it's too much work?"

Garrick shook his head. "I think maybe you've forgotten, but I lived in your house and followed you around because I had to. Once we enter the Riders' Quadrant, that doesn't matter anymore. You spent the last three years acting like you owned me, but you don't."

Alic's face darkened. "What, you think those two will be able to protect you in the Quadrant like I will, Tavis? You're still a marked one, and every other cadet in there is going to hate you. Do you really want me to hate you too?"

Garrick had a second of wondering if he should give in to Alic for his friends' sake, but then he felt Soleil's hand on his back in support.

"I don't want you to hate me," he chose his words carefully, "but I'm willing to accept that you will."

"Just remember, this was your decision." They were at the top of the stairs and Aric gave his name to the rider recording them on this side of the Parapet. He started crossing without looking back.

"What's your na-" the rider was staring at Garrick's arm, then looked back toward Soleil and Masen behind him. "Marked ones. Fuck."

"Garrick Tavis."

"What?"

"My name is Garrick Tavis."

"Fuck if I care."

"You're supposed to write it down."

"You think a traitor like you can tell me what to do?"

Garrick looked at the cadet standing behind the one writing, but she was making a show of looking utterly disinterested. The one who was supposed to write names was watching them with narrowed eyes and Garrick didn't trust him not to shove them off the side.

"Masen, you go first, then Soleil," Garrick said without looking away. He could at least watch their backs.

Masen said his name to the cadet with the scroll anyway and then climbed up. He tugged his sleeves down so that his relic was as covered as he could make it and started walking.

The cadet didn't bother to write down Soleil's name either, but at least he didn't move, even when Garrick climbed up and there was no one to watch his back. He really wished he'd found Xaden before this, though, instead of leaving him to do it alone.

The cadet taking names on the other side was less obviously hostile, writing down their names without an argument or even a glance at the relic on Garrick's arm. He'd gotten used to being a curiosity. He had to get used to being a target.

It felt like hours waiting to spot Xaden before Garrick could breathe properly. Getting out of Alic's clothes and into a rider's uniform helped, and so did being able to wait with Soleil and Masen as the other marked ones in their year made it in, even if the slowly growing group got plenty of stares.

When Xaden finally climbed down into the courtyard, all six of them that had made it approached him slowly and then the group drifted off to the side of the courtyard. They'd been allowed to write, but Garrick hadn't set eyes on his best friend since they were separated. Garrick thought he'd gotten tall, but Xaden had five or six inches on him now and his shoulders had broadened.

The seven of them ended up in the same squad because the Wingleader for Fourth Wing was the only one who would take them and he thought it best to put them in a single squad to cut down on fighting inside the wing, but that was okay with Garrick. It would be hard letting any of them face the rest of the cadets alone, and this way they didn't have to. They almost immediately began working together to keep each other alive, practicing their sparring before challenges started, trading off homework assignments and watching each others' backs.

It was a learning curve, though. They lost Gwen when another first year stomped on her neck during her first challenge, and Xaden insisted everyone else join sparring practice after dinner. Daeven had his throat slit in the laundry room when he was supposed to be washing sheets, and so Xaden decided they all did chores in pairs regardless of what they were assigned. And then Loriyh fell during the last Gauntlet practice and missed the rope, and there wasn't anything Xaden could do to fix it but Garrick watched him beat himself up for it anyway.

Alic seemed to be there every other time Garrick turned around, despite being in First Wing. Xaden noticed it after the second or third time, his jaw twitching as the prince watched them practice sparring.

"You've got a prince on your tail, Tavis."

"Believe me, I know."

"Do you know what he wants?"

"He's probably still mad I didn't want to be friends with him anymore once he couldn't make me follow him around."

Xaden swept Garrick's legs out from under him, sending him to the mat, and then dropped on top of him to pin him down.

"Come on, Gar, I know you can go harder on me than that."

Garrick wiggled himself enough space to roll over and push up, shoving Xaden off of him. "Easy for you to say. You've still got reach on me."

"I need to be better than I am. We all do."

"I'm doing my best. Show me that leg sweep again."

Xaden did it more slowly this time, letting Garrick see and well as feel how his heel was angled to hook the back of a knee. Garrick went down willingly this time, paying attention to where his balance had shifted and working out how to counter it.

He was standing up to try again when he realized Alic was talking to Xaden.

"How much is he worth to you?"

"What are you talking about?" Xaden practically spat the words in Alic's face.

Garrick's brain to mouth filter failed him and he laughed. "He still thinks I'm your fucking valet, Riorson."

"That's not-" Alic started to say, his face turning red as Xaden laughed at him too.

"I don't think a valet is all he wants you for," he turned to the prince, "is it, Blackhall?"

"What are you talking about?" Garrick looked back and forth between Xaden and Alic.

"Something I'm not interested in and he'll never have."

Whatever was going on, they both seemed to be in agreement about what Alic wanted. "Seriously, what is it?" Garrick hated it when he was the only one who didn't get a joke.

"The fucking prince of Navarre wants you to fuck him, Tavis, that's what."

Alic stormed away with a downpour of insults about marked ones in general and Garrick in particular.

"Fuck this, I'm done for tonight," Garrick picked up his shirt from the edge of the mat. "I want to make sure my arms still work when we have to climb the Gauntlet for real tomorrow."

For a minute he thought Xaden would argue, but he just pulled his shirt on as well and they walked back to the dorms together.

Despite thinking about Loriyh as he climbed, the Gauntlet itself wasn't the part of the day they were worried about. All four of them had heard the opinions of other cadets that the dragons would burn all of the marked ones on sight. Someone had even suggested that was what the marks were for: a promise to finish what Aimsir and Codagh had started.

"Nobody knows for sure what they're going to do when you get out there," their section leader shrugged when it was their turn for Presentation. "I'll give you the same advice we give anybody. Walk across, wait for the rest of your squad, walk back. Leave enough space between you that you don't get burned by accident if they go for your neighbor. Remember what Kaori drilled you on. Now get."

They'd discussed this. Xaden went first, then Soleil, Masen, and Garrick at the rear. Soleil had suggested that they all go together regardless of the rules, to show they weren't afraid, but Xaden had refused.

"If one of them has a bone to pick with me they might leave the rest of you alone."

They walked. Garrick tried not to look, but he couldn't help thinking of Imogen and her fascination with dragons. Unlike her horses, if one of them decided to kick him, it would be over for him. There was a brown that he could have sworn he felt watching him, but the blast of heat never came.

They walked away from the field dazed and relieved. Garrick let himself think that maybe they would actually survive this.

That lasted all the way back to the quadrant, through the night, and until Alic found him on the threshing field.

All four of them had promised to be careful, to stay aware because there were no rules during threshing. Garrick was being careful. Just not careful enough.

Alic seemed to come out of nowhere, pulling Garrick backward. Garrick went for a dagger but Alic hissed at him. "Quiet! I just want to talk."

"Talk?"

"You haven't been alone for a single minute since you came here, Tavis. I can't get near you."

Garrick looked around, wondering if Alic had anyone with him. "Is it true what Riorson said, that you want us to fuck?"

Alic's nostrils flared and he shoved Garrick away from him. Garrick felt his head crack against a tree trunk and the ground spun. He leaned against the tree, trying not to fall even as his dagger slipped from his fingers. Alic pushed against him, crushing his lips against Garrick's, and Garrick had to fight for breath.

"I want you, Tavis. I'll murder Riorson if I have to."

"Riorson isn't-- you're not competing with him," Garrick tried to think clearly but it was a challenge. He had to get another dagger out. He moved carefully, hoping Alic wouldn't notice.

"If you won't have me, maybe I'll just murder you myself," Alic whispered in his ear, and just as Garrick's fingers found his second dagger, Alic made a choking sound and stumbled backward.

Garrick coughed and looked up to see Xaden holding his dagger, Alic's blood dripping off it. "I think you dropped this."

"Thanks."

"You okay?"

"Cracked my skull on a tree but I think I'll be okay in a minute."

"Good. Don't die, Tavis, I need you."

"I know."

Before they could split up, there was a crashing noise in the trees nearby and both looked up. Garrick's eyes met the molten gold of the brown scorpiontail he remembered from Presentation.

The first noise he heard from the dragon was something like a scoffing laugh, and then the voice in his head. "It's for the best about the princeling. I'd have to teach him that you're mine, Squire."

"Oh. Hello, handsome." Garrick started to say something to Xaden, but apparently he'd already been distracted by a night-blue dragon that would have been more impressive if he hadn't already met his.

"My name is Chradh, but I appreciate the compliment." A more open laugh now. "Your friend has things well in hand. I know you worry over others, it's one of the things I like about you, Squire, but you will need to learn to see to your own priorities as well. Climb up."

"We all have the same priorities," Garrick told him as he shook his head again to clear it. There was a sense of something cool in his spine and the lingering pain faded enough for him to get a running start and mount the brown scorpiontail the way they'd been taught. To be able to sit on Chradh's back, finding the natural seat Kaori had told them about, was almost more than he'd let himself hope for.

"That is never quite true."

"Close enough." Chradh took off then, and Garrick very quickly decided that Imogen had been entirely correct about dragons. Yes, he was hanging on for dear life while Chradh did a dizzying series of swoops, grateful for every set of thigh exercises he'd ever done, but it was also incredible.

"Wait," he realized suddenly, "if you know about my priorities, does that mean you know-"

"Suffice to say there was never any danger of you and yours being rejected simply for your parents' goals." Chradh landed on the flight field and Garrick looked around, trying to get his bearings back. He recognized some of the other riders, saw Soleil already waiting for him. "Go ahead, Squire, take care of your paperwork."

The rest of the day was a dull blur compared to that first flight. Xaden spent the evening meal talking about how amazing his dragon was every time he got a word in, though the rest of them weren't much better. Neither of them so much as spoke Alic's name, though there were rumors around them all evening and an uncharacteristic burst of noise when his name was read during formation the next morning, buried amid the other cadets who had failed to hold their seat or gotten too intimate with something sharp, be it dragon teeth or blades.

If Garrick's face wasn't a perfect mask of indifference, well, everyone knew he'd been fostered with Alic. No one said anything about it.

After that, things got better somehow. Garrick supposed that the cadets took their cue from the dragons, so if dragons accepted them, some of their fellow cadets were willing to give them a chance. It didn't hurt that Xaden's dragon was apparently something of a legend, and Garrick privately thought Chradh was very impressive.

"Of course you do."

"I just mean - you're very tall, and - symmetrical? And-" Garrick felt like he had to justify himself suddenly, but Chradh only laughed.

"You don't need to explain it to me, Squire, I know my strengths. I appreciate the attempt, however."

"Thank you?"

"Now it is time for you to learn yours."

For the time being, though, Garrick seemed to be busy helping everyone else with their signets rather than working out how to find his. He was watching the day someone went to attack Xaden from behind and Xaden's own shadow leapt up to stop the cadet. He knew Xaden probably could have taken the guy in a fight if he'd had to, and it wasn't like he wasn't armed, but it was a wake up call. The older cadets had always had signets, after all, and for everybody who seemed to have calmed down about the four remaining marked ones, there was someone else who seemed to resent the fact that they were still there. That they were succeeding where they'd been expected to give up and die already.

Xaden went off to Professor Carr's class on signets. It didn't surprise him that Xaden was one of the first cadets to manage it, or that he'd produced one that was getting talked about. Garrick had to bully him into being willing to practice with him; Xaden was worried about hurting him all of a sudden and that didn't sit well at all.

"You're supposed to be working on control, right? So just don't hurt me. That's the thing you're practicing to do."

"You make it sound easy."

"You make it look easy, so can you blame me?"

Xaden didn't have an answer for that, so they spent the hour before dinner working on it for a few days.

"Okay, you've got some distance, you've got that blackout thing where it feels like you put your hands over my whole eyeballs, what's Carr got you working on now?"

"Fine control. Small slivers, precise movements, that kind of thing."

Garrick grinned at that. "Hey, do you remember Eagle and Rabbit?"

There was a long moment where Garrick thought maybe he didn't remember, and then Xaden grinned back, the real smile and not the smirk he wore much too often lately.

"I bet you can do a truly bitching shadow puppet show now."

"I would fucking hope so," Xaden answered. "Okay, go ahead and start."

"In the time before Tyrs forgot where they came from, there were many animals who lived on the great plateau, but the strangest of friends were Eagle and Rabbit. They met when Eagle was just an eaglet learning how to fly and fell from his nest, and Rabbit kept him warm there until his mother found him..."

As he spoke, the shadows under the furniture leapt up onto the wall, taking the easy shapes first: the flat line of the ground, the straight and tall trunk of the tree, and then the branch, and the nest, and maybe the shape that slid down the wall from the little silhouette of the nest wasn't the most elegant shape Garrick had ever seen, but it was a start.

"I dunno, I think I can still do a better Eagle," Garrick said, putting one hand over the other and holding it up in the light from the window so that it turned into a rough bird shape on the wall, his fingers stretching into flight feathers.

Xaden laughed. "Maybe I'll just help myself then." Garrick's shadow puppet abruptly pulled away from his hands, the finger-shapes elongating into proper wings and the trail of Garrick's arms turning into his clawed feet.

"I should bring Soleil and Masen next time," Garrick said. "I bet Masen knows like eight hundred Rabbit stories I never memorized."

Masen froze his washwater the next morning, and then Garrick was spending their study hours with him, alternately soaking wet and on the verge of frostbite, helping him get a sense for what different distances and volumes of ice felt like, how fast he could freeze it, how to shape it.

He did, in fact, know easily three times as many folktales as Garrick remembered, and practiced making ice sculptures of animals from the tales until he knew Eagle's features well enough to shape razor-sharp feathers on the fly.

Soleil found her signet when Masen wanted to show her what he'd learned- Garrick was about 60% sure he had a crush on Soleil and didn't know what to do about it- and got a little too excited. His ice deflected away from her, and Garrick wasn't sure if she wanted to punch him for almost hurting her or hug him because she'd found her signet now too.

At least it was easy to find ways to help her practice; she just needed him to throw things at her, and he was good at that. They doubled up her practices with Masen's since they were running out of time, between signet practice, extra sparring, studying for actual exams, and trying not to die.

About a month after Threshing, Xaden pulled Garrick aside to let him know he was going home.

"Cover for me if anyone asks, but I'll be back before formation on Monday."

"You're- are you ready to fly that far?"

"Sgaeyl's fast, and I can hold myself on with my shadows if I need to. It was her idea, actually."

"Why would she want to go to Aretia?"

"She said there's something there I need to see." He tried to ask Chradh, but he was getting used to the fact that his dragon nearly always demurred on the subject of Sgaeyl. The weekend was long, and he spent it trying to focus on not one but two essays for Devora, one for him to hand in and one for Xaden to recopy on Monday.

Xaden woke Garrick up as soon as he got in, at ass-o'clock between Sunday night and Monday morning, and then had him wake up Masen and Soleil too, to tell them. Aretia is being rebuilt…

The idea of it echoed around Garrick's head for days. He'd assumed what he'd been told was the truth, that Aretia was a wasteland as sure as the Barrens were. It wasn't the case, though. There was something to go back to, someday. It kept him going while he tried to figure out what was up with his signet, or lack thereof.

"I don't feel like I'm going to burn out," he told Chradh after a flight practice. "Shouldn't I be worried about that by now?"

"No, Squire. You'll figure it out in time. Go back to your river and concentrate."

He could picture the river near the farm where he'd grown up, solid earth on either side and Chradh's power flowing lazily beside him when he stood on the riverbank. He picked up the smooth stones he remembered collecting as a kid, wondering if they were a metaphor here or just a memory. He'd learned to dam the river up when he needed Chradh to leave him to his thoughts, and to pull on it for lesser magics (and thank Amari for that because his handwriting with the quill was still atrocious; the ink pen was a great improvement). The river flowed faster and higher as the weeks went by, and Garrick thought he should worry about drowning. He never managed the panic that seemed to be what triggered a signet, though.

It was late in November that Garrick finally noticed something was up. Suddenly one morning he felt like he was starving at breakfast, eating enough for two cadets and then finishing Masen's breakfast for him. Lunch and dinner weren't any better.

The next day he woke up aching, not just in one or two places but everywhere. He started to dress anyway and discovered his leathers just… didn't fit. The pants that had fit the day before were a size too small now, gapping at his ankles and refusing to button.

He took himself down to get new leathers, which was frankly annoying because now he had to break them in again, and was late enough to breakfast that he was still trying to finish his sausage as he made his way to formation.

"What the fuck is going on with you, Tavis? You okay?" Xaden whispered to him.

"Fine. I'll tell you later."

Later never seemed to happen, but really he was fine. Better than fine, even. He felt amazing. A little confused, but amazing.

He figured all the extra workouts were paying off, because he could feel himself getting stronger. He didn't realize how much muscle he'd put on until he managed to tear one of the shoulder seams on a tunic when he was done in the shower.

Garrick hadn't paid much attention to his looks since Alic had made it weird, but now he stopped to actually use the looking glass.

He almost didn't recognize himself. Garrick knew he'd bulked up some, he'd been down to the uniform rooms enough times that he scored a date with the tailor's apprentice, but in his heart he still thought of himself as a skinny guy trying to keep up with Xaden.

The guy in the mirror was wide enough to be two Garricks. His pecs were broad and his abs were defined; Dunne, he had more than the wisps of dark chest hair, and a trail of dark curls winding their way down to where his cock was-

"If I looked as good as you, I'd stare at myself all day too," someone joked as he passed behind him, and suddenly Garrick was aware that he had been staring.

Once he was aware of it, Garrick spent days unable to stop thinking about it. He was acutely aware of the way every piece of fabric or leather on his body moved. His weapons training was all out the window, since he wasn't used to his new strength when swinging an axe or a sword or anything else.

Xaden must have gotten tired of watching him flail like a ham-fisted idiot, because he dragged him out to the sparring mats after hours.

"Come on, Tavis. Let's go like we used to. That'll get you used to moving again."

Garrick had to admit he had a point. When they'd been thirteen and fourteen, Morag had given them extra instruction as they grew into new reach and strength. He even recognized some of the moves Xaden was walking him through.

It didn't take long for Garrick to loosen up, and Xaden started to put the pressure on him. He moved faster, and Garrick kept up. He hit harder, and Garrick kept up.

Finally Garrick saw an opening and plowed right through Xaden's half-assed block with a solid elbow that had all of his weight behind it. Xaden's feet left the mat, and a moment later he landed on his back, stunned.

Garrick paused, worried, but the first thing he heard was Xaden laughing.

"Fucking brilliant, Gar. That's the best spar I've had in years." He took the hand Garrick offered him and sprung back to his feet. "I came out here to make sure you're okay, but that was exactly what I needed."

Something in Garrick's chest unfurled at that. Had he really been that worried that he wasn't able to be what Xaden needed him to be?

"Yes, you were," Chradh said as Xaden went on picking out some daggers for them to spar with next.

"Is that what all… this is?"

"You're putting my energy to good use, Squire."

"I have no idea what that means."

Xaden threw one of the daggers at him, easy, aiming for Garrick to catch it. Plucking it out of the air was easy, but Garrick found himself overbalancing when he tried to stab at his friend. They spent another hour going back and forth, and Garrick finally started feeling at home in his own skin again.

Emetterio tapped his staff on the floor when they finally stepped away from each other for the night. Garrick looked up in surprise, but Xaden's head moved more slowly. Of course Xaden had known.

"Professor?" Xaden asked.

"You may go, Riorson. I'd like to speak with Cadet Tavis."

Professor Emetterio was one of the better teachers in the quadrant as far as Garrick was concerned, probably because he genuinely only seemed to give a fuck if you could win a fight or not. No politics on the mat. Or at least, everybody was expected to act like there were no politics on the mat. There wasn't any real way to keep someone from trying to snap your neck just because they didn't like your dad's politics, but he at least seemed to try, and Garrick respected that.

So he didn't have any problem waving Xaden off and falling into step beside the professor as he straightened the gym. Garrick grabbed the mats and swung them into position against the walls for overnight. He was pretty sure someone came through and washed them in the mornings when they set everything back up again, but if that was somewhere on the chore roster, he'd never been assigned to it.

"How is your training going, Tavis?"

"Fine, sir."

"I can't help noticing you've had a bit of a growth spurt." Considering Garrick was now tall enough to see the shiny spot on the top of his shaved head, that was an understatement.

Garrick didn't roll his eyes, but only out of self-preservation. The guy was an instructor, after all. "I noticed too."

If Garrick didn't know better, he'd have thought the sound Emetterio made was a laugh. "I also noticed you're having some trouble keeping your balance now. I see you putting the work in, don't get me wrong, but it's going to take more than wrestling with Riorson to adapt."

"Sir?" Xaden was one of the best fighters in their year, and Garrick liked to think he wasn't too far behind even now. Sure he wasn't as comfortable with his center of gravity as he was used to, but he was getting there.

"I've been talking to Carr about you and he agrees with me that your physical adaptation is likely a manifestation of your signet," he explained.

"Oh. Does that mean I have to start going to his classes?" Garrick wasn't really sure how that was supposed to work. It was one thing to practice moving ice or force fields or shadows, but what was he going to do in Professor Carr's class? Practice being tall?

"That's an option, but tell me, Tavis, you seem to have a lot of fighting experience. Not just on the mats. I've seen you picking up different weapons in open practice."

Garrick blushed a little at the compliment. "Oh, ah, yes, I do. My aunt was the weaponsmaster in Aretia." He was still learning how to talk about his life before the apostasy, which words made people flinch and which were more welcome, and how to choose his words based on the reaction he wanted. That skill seemed to come naturally to Xaden. Garrick had spent the last few months listening to his word choices, and he still wasn't confident he always knew what his friend was aiming for, but he had a better idea of the weapons Xaden was using.

It was better to use aunt, rather than Morag's name, and it was better to use Aretia rather than Tyrrendor. He wasn't sure why the latter was true. Maybe because Aretia was officially destroyed while Tyrrendor was still on the map. It suggested he was from a place that no longer existed, and therefore was not a threat.

"What did she teach you?"

"I was as close as she had to an apprentice, so near about everything she could." He listed off the weapons he'd studied with her, getting a little more relaxed as the conversation went on- so few people were genuinely interested in anything about his childhood that he ended up talking about Aunt Morag's opinions on the difference between Krovlish and Tyrrish styles of throwing axes before he even realized he'd said her name.

"Mor- Oh, of course. Morag Tavis." Emetterio at least said he like he was impressed by her rather than disdainful of the terror she'd inspired in most of the infantry. From what he'd heard, Infantry had decided that after her execution, she'd made a deal with Malek to haunt anybody who didn't clean their weapons properly. He wasn't sure if that was because she'd been a hardass as an instructor or because she'd taken out an entire infantry unit on her own during the siege.

"Yes, sir." Garrick stopped talking anyway.

"Have you thought about working on weapons qualifications, cadet?"

"Not before right now," Garrick admitted. He'd been a little busy. They all had.

Emetterio nodded. "Most people don't until second year, but most people have a signet they wield, rather than one that wields them."

"Sir?"

"Physical signets are uncommon but I have more relevant experience than Carr, so I'll be taking over his block in your schedule. We'll start you off working through weapons qualifications to get you accustomed to your abilities and then see how far I can push you."

Physical signets? Was that what had happened to him? Garrick definitely didn't mind the changes, but it was disconcerting to think about it that way.

"And why is that, Squire?" Of course Chradh was listening.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I didn't expect bonding would make me someone else."

Chradh bristled at that. "You are no more 'someone else' now than you were when you went through adolescence."

Garrick let that thought settle while Emetterio showed him the weapon options.

"Who maintains these?" he couldn't help asking, picking up a glaive that looked like it hadn't been oiled in two or three seasons at least.

"Technically it's part of the gym's chore rotation," the professor answered with a grimace that at least made it clear that he was aware that the maintenance was lacking. "Ideally, I'd have a third year assigned to it, but we're all running short of third years thanks to- well, we're all running short of third years with free time."

"Can I do it?" It was nothing like the weapon storage at Riorson House, but it smelled almost right: a few hundred years of mineral oil and beeswax polishes, leather and sweat.

"Do you have time?" Was that just the disbelief of a professor who was hearing a student ask for extra homework, or real doubt about Garrick's skills? Or motive?

"I'll make time. Weekends, probably, until I get caught up." He looked up at Professor Emetterio. "My aunt taught me that care and respect for that which protects you is important." Garrick looked around the room, cataloging the collection of weaponry and the cleaning supplies he could spot, making a list in his head of what he might need to track down.

Emetterio had gone silent, and when Garrick looked up he saw the professor had the same faraway look he'd been getting used to seeing on the other cadets' faces. Once everyone around you started doing it, it was easier to ignore. It was unusual to see it on a professor, though.

"Very well, Tavis," he said finally, pulling out his little notebook to write something down, and Garrick smiled. "No promises I'll be able to get your chore rotation adjusted, though."

"I don't mind." He meant it.

"Have you ever thought about learning to make weapons?" The question was almost casual, but Garrick could sense it was anything but.

His instinct was to hedge his answer even though he didn't know why he was being asked. "I spent a few months helping the smith out when he was between apprentices, the summer I was fourteen."

"You've certainly got the build for it. Let's see how things go between now and the spring first, though. I'll see you tomorrow."

Garrick felt like he was holding the conversation in both hands, turning it over to see how it looked in the moonlight, as he recounted the shape of it to Xaden behind the wardlocked door.

"Do you really think they'd let you near the forge…" Xaden sounded like he didn't want to get attached to the idea.

"I guess we'll see in the spring."

"I can't believe you volunteered for extra chores."

Garrick couldn't quite believe he had either. "I don't know what came over me. I just… Aunt Morag would be so angry to see me using weapons kept like that."

"Don't tell me you believe those infantry ghost stories." They both laughed.

"Aunt Morag would never. If she was going to haunt someplace it'd be Sorrengail's office or the fucking palace."

Xaden nodded. "It's a good sign that you're being asked, though."

"Like you being XO, or Masen volunteering with the healers." The more leadership trusted them, the safer they'd be. And the safer Imogen and Bodhi and the others would be next year, not that he was letting himself think that far ahead.

"I hate that it's working, but it is working. We're impossible to ignore."

Garrick snorted. "Yes, that's my signet. Too big to ignore."

"Dragon or no, your signet has always been being right where I need you," Xaden told him. "I couldn't do this on my own."

He almost never opened up like this now; Xaden sounded more like he had when they were seventeen tonight. Like everything since was locked outside, and it was just the two of them in Xaden's room, trying to figure out a way to stay in Aretia instead of getting sent away with the younger kids.

When had they stopped being kids? On the way to the caves? Earlier, when they figured out what their parents were doing? Or maybe later, but Xaden had definitely not been a boy when he was negotiating with General-Fucking-Sorrengail.

Garrick leaned back against Xaden's wall. "I liked the time I spent in the forge."

"You complained about how it was hotter than the Barrens every single day."

"Yeah, it was. But I got to watch Master Wayland and Colonel Mairi working together, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

Xaden clenched his fist. "If we'd been able to get the luminary, they could have-"

"Maybe, but it doesn't matter now." Garrick wrapped an arm around Xaden and pulled him back so they were leaning against each other. "Are you still thinking about Catty?"

"No," Xaden said in the way Garrick knew meant yes.

"You'll figure something out, and we'll make it happen. We've got time."

"Do we, though?"

"We have to. Otherwise there's no point to doing any of this."

Xaden sighed and let his head rest on Garrick's shoulder. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"Being yourself. Being uncomplicated."

"Yeah, well, I'm only here because of you. If being simple makes you happy, I'm happy to oblige."

"Not simple," Xaden insisted. "Uncomplicated. Other people say one thing, do another, and they're lying three different ways while they do it. Even me. But you don't, at least not with me."

"I don't need to. Care and respect for that which protects you, and you protected all of us. But I'm not going to wax you, so don't ask."

They both snickered. "I've seen the way people look at you now, Gar. I think if you wanted to be oiled there'd be no shortage of volunteers."

"Yeah, I've found a few perks," Garrick grinned. "But nothing serious."

"Waiting until next year?"

"What?"

"Nevermind, Tavis. Nevermind."