Mullen's eyes burned with hatred, fury, and disbelief. His breath rattled wetly; shattered ribs and a punctured stomach strained with each inhale. Only the man's monstrous vitality kept him alive at all.
"A rhino," he spat, blood bubbling from his lips. "A fucking rhino. Behemoths are nearly impossible to kill. Even like this… I'll last hours."
"No, you won't," Dem said quietly.
"You used escadomai."
Mullen forced a ragged laugh, pain twisting his face. "You must have Duke's blood in you."
"Think so?" Dem asked—and shifted.
His clothes fell into a bloody heap.
A massive black rat stepped free.
Mullen's eyes widened. "Fuck… The Rat King's Blood?" His jaw clenched so hard his teeth cracked. "If I'd known… I would have joined you."
The rat blurred forward.
Claws swept cleanly across Mullen's throat.
Blood fountained.
Dem returned to the clothes, shifted back, and dressed calmly.
The white rhino padded to his side, shrinking into Rodric.
Dem laughed softly. "You do look like a happy rhino. But we should head back."
On the beach, Sadera waited in the jollyboat. The ship behind her was already overloaded; only her Scrivener rank guaranteed her a seat. An hour passed… then another.
She finally motioned to the sailor assigned to fetch the Black Crow leaders. "Go see what's taking them."
He ran—and several minutes later returned pale.
"Both dead," he whispered.
Sadera exhaled, not surprised. She had feared for the polite young tribal who had somehow humiliated a larger, wealthier force. She might have warned him to flee, had Feran and Mullen not been watching.
"I suppose," she murmured, "they should have run."
"Pardon, miss?"
"Gather some men," Sadera instructed. "Bury Mullen. Bring Captain Feran's body back—we must return it to his family."
Dem and Rodric had expected to walk back, but Feran and Mullen had left their coursers; they claimed the mounts instead.
Searching the bodies, they found that both leaders carried storage rings.
Feran's bore a noble crest—the kind bound to its owner until death.
Mullen's was mid-tier, holding weapons, armor, clothes, alcohol… and a thousand gold.
Dem sighed in relief. "At least you won't have to ride back naked. His clothes should fit you."
Rodric tugged on a shirt, stretching the seams. "A little tight, but passable. What about the gold?"
"As Feran's second, Mullen was carrying the payment owed in the contract. He hadn't given it to us yet."
Rodric grimaced. "So I can't keep it."
"Nope," Dem said. "But everything else—including the ring—is yours."
"What? Really? I was joking."
"I wasn't." Dem tucked Feran's heirloom ring into a pouch. "Bound rings keep their secrets until you put them on. I'll hold onto it for now."
Rodric picked up his spear and followed Dem toward the coursers.
"Thank you for having faith in me, Commander."
Dem swung into the saddle. "Told you I did."
**
Tori's mismatched eyes were usually bright with mischief. The Huntmaster's Second loved pranks almost as much as hunting.
This time, her eyes held something very different.
"You have to be kidding," she said flatly.
The Azure shaman shook her head, mortified. "At the Gathering… I suggested Dem's noble bloodline might be easier to control if we drained some of it."
"That's really… stupid," Tori said.
The shaman nodded miserably. "I was theorizing about preventing unwanted transformations. I didn't realize how it sounded until every other shaman denounced it."
Tori exhaled hard, pinching the bridge of her nose. She'd just finished talking with Telo—apparently, the Sentries had forced a massive mercenary host to flee Khomane with their tails tucked. "You're new. And young. Apologize. Profusely."
"I tried…" the shaman wilted.
"You should go through a purification ritual," Tori said, eyes beginning to sparkle again, "and invite him to attend."
"What? But—That's a sacred rite. It's for cleansing serious mistakes."
"Exactly," Tori agreed smoothly. "Let me handle the arrangements."
The shaman hesitated, then nodded. "Since you're close with him… I'll heed your advice."
Tori kept a perfectly solemn expression until the shaman walked out of sight—then grinned like she'd just been gifted a festival.
"Who doesn't love a good show?"
**
Rodric and Dem arrived at the Stonefall compound atop massive coursers that thundered across the ground as if trying to crush the stones beneath them.
Telo spotted them first, whooping loud enough to wake ancestors. "THEY'RE BACK!"
The Sentry force swarmed them, cheering, embracing, pounding backs in celebration. Relief and pride rolled through the group like a wave.
Geordi Stonefall stepped forward, bowing with real gravity. "Thank you. The Black Crows would have devastated us. Allow us to host a feast in honor of the Sentry Force."
Dem grinned, accepting on behalf of his people. "Every Sentry contributed. Our Sub-Chiefs stepped up—commanding the night raids while Telo and I ran interference and day operations. Forty-five Sentries shattered the will of six hundred trained mercenaries."
A ripple of pride moved through the force.
For the first time in weeks, they stood down.
Stonefall tribals took over watch.
The Sentries were given something they desperately needed.
Rest.
Dem relaxed in the main lodge, warmth and mingled scents lulling him into drowsiness. His eyes were closed when he felt Tori sneaking up.
"Planning something?" he asked without looking.
Tori nodded, then straightened as if rehearsing a line. "Our Azure shaman from Stonefall wants to make amends with you over some stupid comments she made."
Dem grinned. Tori always leaned close when she talked, making it distracting.
"Is that right?"
"Yes," she said brightly, then pivoted. "But on a more important note—" she tilted her head, eyes glittering— "which of my eyes do you find more appealing? The blue one? Or the brown one?"
"It's hard to say," Dem replied, deadpan. "With that nose of yours getting in the way."
Tori clutched her nose in mock horror. "How dare you?"
"Whenever I can," Dem said, nonsense tone fully intentional.
Undeterred, Tori hooked an arm around his shoulders. "I understand. My face belongs in dreams."
"If you consider nightmares to be dreams," Dem added.
Tori narrowed both eyes at him—mismatched yet somehow unified in mischief. "Men always pretend they aren't interested in me when they really are."
"Maybe they aren't pretending," Dem snorted. "Where do I meet the Stonefall shaman?"
Tori chose to ignore the jab. She slipped her arm through his, voice softening. "Joking aside, thank you for offering her a path to redemption. I'll escort you to the cleansing pool."
Dem followed, mostly because Tori functioned as Stonefall's unofficial trickster spirit. "Do I have to do anything?"
"No," she said, leading him out of the lodge and along a narrow trail toward the rocks. The sound of running water grew louder. "You're here as a witness."
"Fine," Dem said. "Don't blame me if I fall asleep."
They reached the small falls. The Azure shaman stood in ankle-deep water; the cascade behind her was gentle enough to stand beneath. A ceremonial silver bowl rested beside her.
Tori offered a polite smile. "This is where I depart."
Dem stepped forward.
The shaman was draped in light cloth, her bright azure skin obscuring most features. Her short hair matched her complexion. She bowed.
"Demetri Swiftwind. I spoke out of turn at the Gathering. I am a new shaman—less than a year wearing the colors. I said foolish things trying to impress my peers. Please forgive my words and accept my promise to aid you whenever needed."
Dem nodded once. "A good apology. I accept it—and your promise of aid."
A small smile touched the shaman's lips. "With my words forgiven, I will erase my error by cleansing it from my skin."
She lifted the cloth from her shoulders with one graceful motion, revealing her slender form. She bent, raised the silver bowl, and poured water over herself.
Dem froze.
"…"
She repeated the ritual twice more, then stepped beneath the falls. Clear water struck her body and ran down in streaks of brilliant blue.
Back in the lodge, Tori shared a drink with Telo and Reyka.
"Too bad Dem isn't here," Reyka said, raising her glass. "To the Sentries."
"Sentries!" Telo echoed—then shot a sideways look at Tori. "Wasn't he with you?"
"He was," Tori admitted, laughter bubbling up. "I did promise that if you ran off the Black Crows, I'd give him a special present."
Dem reunited with Tori an hour later. She was seated beside Reyka, teaching her a drinking song so scandalous that the Archer Sub-Chief had turned bright red.
Reyka spotted Dem like a drowning woman spotting a drifting log. "Join us!"
Dem sat beside Telo—who was face-down on the table, presumably "resting his eyes."
Tori's smile could melt ice. "How was the cleansing? Did you fall asleep?"
"I did not," Dem replied truthfully.