Among the assembly of shocked and grave expressions, Gregor's attention was solely on the trembling form of Dalia—a young servant he had met during his first visit and whose job he had not entirely understood. All he knew was that it related to taking care of Stellovet. For one moment, he wondered if the Overland equivalent could be "babysitter", but Stellovet was . . . what, fifteen? Too old to need anything like a babysitter, anyway.

Gregor inspected Dalia closer and restrained the urge to stand up and ask the guards to release her. They held her so tightly that they nearly lifted her off the floor. But if he did, they would hardly listen to him. He looked over at Luxa to ascertain whether she had similar thoughts, but she remained impassive.

And the trip had started so well, Gregor thought, suppressing a sigh. At least he had left Boots with his mom in Regalia.

It had meant to be only a day trip to the Fount; Luxa had wanted to take him to see something she called "The Cascades"—whatever that was—and Gregor thought longingly about yesterday. They had meant to begin their trip first thing in the morning, yet their preparations had been thwarted by the ring of the alarm bell. York had turned down Luxa's proposal to return to Regalia earlier than planned, ordering the two of them to remain in the keep without explaining what the emergency actually was. Before that bell, all had been well.

Then, Gregor's gaze, just like the entire assembly's, was drawn to the entrance when two newcomers stood in the frame. His eyes widened when he recognized who it was.

"What a fine mess," said the Death Rider, but he did not sound lighthearted.

"Apologies, we did not mean to be late," added Thanatos, fluttering in behind his bond and settling on the far side. The outcast strolled into the room, taking in York and Susannah, Howard, and finally Luxa and Gregor, before his eye fixed on the restrained Dalia.

Gregor watched the Death Rider find a spot on Luxa's other side and, as glad as he was to see him again, his apprehension of this meeting's purpose rose at his sight. What could possibly have prompted them to call him here too?

"There you are at last. Now that we have all assembled, let us reiterate," York said into Gregor's thoughts, scrutinizing the Death Rider with a raised eyebrow, presumably for being late.

Dalia's head shot up as well; she looked at Gregor and Luxa, then at York's and Susannah's family, and finally at the Death Rider.

"Speak, for Sandwich's sake! We have waited long enough," York screamed when she did not instantly respond, and Gregor jumped together with Dalia.

"They . . . came out of nowhere," she finally began. "They were . . . were three gnawers, and they had us surrounded in moments. Tristan and Orin—I mean, the guards you sent with us—were killed at once."

Gregor fidgeted in his seat; no one had yet explained to him why his presence here was required. The alarm bell had not rung since yesterday morning, yet neither he nor Luxa had been permitted to even leave their quarters since. Gregor hoped that finally being summoned would at least amount to some answers.

Had the delay to do with the fact that the Death Rider and Thanatos were here with them? If they were needed, Gregor thought it would have taken some time to alert them.

Before he could get lost in his thoughts again, Dalia continued: "Trust me when I say that your daughter fought with all her might, but they took her away." Her voice cracked. "I could not . . ."

"Oh, by all that is dear to us, release her!" Howard jumped up from his seat without warning and instructed the guards to let go of Dalia's arms. Gregor inadvertently breathed out in relief. "She is not to blame for this. She had no means of preventing it."

York's eyebrow shot up again at Howard's bold move. "She may have at least tried to defend my daughter," mumbled York, but finally waved for the guards to release Dalia. Had Howard not supported her, Gregor thought she would have collapsed. He helped her sit on his own chair, placing his hand on her shoulder soothingly. "Please continue."

Dalia stiffly wiped her face and attempted to brush away a few strands that had come undone from her intricately interlaced braid. "They sent me back to deliver a message to you," she said, looking at York and Susannah. "And to you as well, Your Highness." Her gaze met Luxa's. "They . . . knew that you were here, and—"

"—and that she was supposed to warn us," York cut her off impatiently. "For the safe return of our daughter, we are to send the Death Rider, the queen, and the warrior," his eyes met Luxa and Gregor, "to a—" he hesitated and frowned at Dalia. "Did you say a . . . gnawer arena? Somewhere on the outskirts of the Firelands." She nodded, and York shook his head. "If we instead alerted the army, the wretched beasts would murder my daughter within hours."

York's declaration was followed by a heavy silence. So this was the purpose of their presence . . . His, Luxa's, and the Death Rider's. Gregor felt shivers down his spine. They had been requested. In exchange for . . . Stellovet's life. Her face flashed before him, and his gaze met Luxa, who had not taken her eyes off Dalia yet.

"He further said I should mention that . . ." Dalia finally dared speak again, looking at the Death Rider. "Longclaw sends his regards. For whatever that means to you."

"It means a lot." The outcast raised his voice for the first time, drawing all attention. "Longclaw is someone with whom we are . . ." He exchanged a look with Thanatos. "Let us say—we are not on his good side. Although we would like to apologize that he dragged your family into this feud." His face was grave, and Gregor wondered if he had ever seen the witty outcast this apologetic.

When York next spoke, his voice had lost all its former aggression; his tone matched the unusually frail and defeated look of Susannah, whom he held close. "Longclaw . . . I have heard that name before. Was he not a general of Gorger's who was banished for trying to usurp him?"

Gregor listened up. He hadn't come across the name yet, but he had no time to ask for details. "Indeed," said the Death Rider with a nod. "Yet exile has not fazed him much, as it seems. He had gathered a substantial number of followers when we last faced him months ago." He exchanged another glance with Thanatos.

"Fewer of them might have died in that cave-in than we had hoped," said the bat with the white face somberly.

The Death Rider nodded. "All that we currently know is that Longclaw is out for the crown of the gnawers and that he wishes our severed heads to adorn the front of his new keep."

A brief moment of dire silence followed, and, to Gregor's surprise, it was Luxa who broke it. "So, you mean to say that this Longclaw has kidnapped . . . my cousin?" She cleared her throat. "To set a trap for . . . you? Do you not find this a little far-fetched? Why does he not target you directly, if it is you he is after? Why would he take a detour through . . . my family?"

"I have no answer to that," replied the Death Rider, shaking his head.

"Perhaps he deemed us too elusive for a direct attack?" proposed Thanatos.

"We are quite hard to get a hold of." The outcast forced a laugh. "Our non-human friends are well protected. And then there remain only you . . . The questers. Besides, he seems to be after you and Gregor as much as he is after us. Whether we were his intended target or you, he seems to be seizing the opportunity to kill two crawlers with one stone. Or four."

Luxa gazed at him in silence for a moment, then lifted her shoulders. "I suppose we will walk into his trap then. To save my . . . cousin."

"Under no circumstances!" Gregor winced at York's stern tone. The Death Rider frowned, yet Howard's father undauntedly continued: "By that, I mean Queen Luxa and Gregor will under no circumstances walk into this trap."

Luxa's mouth opened, but the Death Rider spoke first. "I agree," he said, to everyone's surprise. "It would be needless to risk their lives with one already on the line." He exchanged another glance with Thanatos. "This is our feud, so we will go end it."

"Your feud and my sister," interjected Howard. "I will go with you to ensure her safe return."

York finally cast his eyes on Howard properly. For one moment, Gregor thought he would rebuke him, then he nodded. "Very well," he said stiffly, looking back and forth between the two young men who had volunteered—with such striking differences in their appearances and backgrounds yet mirroring each other's resolute expressions. Then his head snapped toward Howard. "You must bring my daughter home. And you," he turned to the Death Rider, "must eliminate Longclaw as a rising threat."

The two exchanged looks for the first time, and Gregor thought a brief unwillingness darted over their faces as they took each other in, but then they nodded in unison. "We will depart at once," proclaimed the outcast.

"Halt." Howard held him back by his long sleeve. "Have you any idea where exactly we are to go?"

"No worries. Longclaw's arena is a place we know well." The Death Rider paused, making a face. "It lies eastward from the Firelands, slightly beyond the boundaries of the mapped regions. We could be there in . . . What say you, Death? Could we make it in two days?"

"Undoubtedly," concurred Thanatos.

"Beyond the maps . . ." mumbled Howard, and for a second a shadow of regret flashed across his face as he realized that he had volunteered to follow the lead of an outcast into uncharted territory, but he quickly regained his composure. "If that is what it will take to save my sister . . ." He made a face. "Let us depart as quickly as we can."

"I wish to come with you as well."

The quiet voice caught everyone off guard. All eyes turned to Dalia, who had stood up and was now looking directly at Howard and the Death Rider with a newfound sense of resolve.

"You were unable to defend my daughter when she was stolen," interjected York. "Why should I believe that you would be of use in retrieving her?"

"I realize that I have displayed incompetence," said Dalia, her eyes on the floor. "Which is why I ask for a chance to prove my worth and be of use in making up for my negligence."

York scrutinized her skeptically, but then Susannah tugged at his sleeve. "We should give her a chance," she said in a voice that suggested she had likely spent the night crying.

"I concur," said Howard, placing a hand on Dalia's shoulder again and guiding her to take her place beside himself, the Death Rider, and Thanatos.

"Death, you will carry us all effortlessly, yes? Even after we have retrieved Stellovet?"

"That won't be a problem," confirmed Thanatos. "And it shall be stealthier if we take no other fliers along."

"Very well." The Death Rider assessed his newly assembled party, then clapped his hands together. "Let us waste no more time then. If we manage to plan a route that comes by the orange lake, we needn't many supplies either," he thought aloud. And before Gregor knew it, the gathering had disassembled.

York and Susannah made their way toward their quarters, and the Death Rider, Thanatos, and Howard left in the opposite direction, briskly discussing potential routes. Gregor meant to ask Luxa for her thoughts, but she leaped up from her seat and dashed out without a second glance.

Before he knew it, Gregor was left in the room by himself. He got up with a sigh, and only when he heard a quiet shuffle behind him did he realize that Dalia was still there as well.

"Pardon; I did not mean to startle you," she said, and Gregor wondered if she had been crying too, or if her soft, husky voice was simply her natural tone. "You must be tired. Please go along after the others."

Yet Gregor remained where he was. "Hey, I'm sorry that they were so hard on you." He gave her his best attempt at an encouraging smile. "I'm sure they didn't mean it. They were probably just really upset about what happened. There is no way that you could have fought all those rats on your own."

You're not like me, he thought grimly. How many rats could his moody yet at least somewhat reliable rager talent have taken? Gregor shuddered, thinking that he didn't need to know that answer.

A glance over at Dalia told him that she blamed herself anyway. He hadn't exchanged more than a few words with her yet, but as he saw her standing there with her slumped shoulders and her rigidly clenched hands, he felt a rush of sympathy flood him.

"Hey, I'm sure you guys will bring Stellovet back safely." He tried to smile again, but Dalia wasn't looking at him, and he suppressed the urge to place a hand on her shoulder. Maybe that would be too forward, considering they were barely more than strangers.

Only when Gregor took a step toward her and inspected her closer did he notice her sunken cheeks and the large purple circles under her eyes. She wasn't just skinny, he thought; she was downright emaciated. He guessed she may be nineteen or twenty, but her face was hollow like that of an old woman. She looked like she hadn't smiled in years.

Before he could ponder why she looked so unwell, Dalia briefly glanced at him. "I hope so." She wrung her hands. "If we do not succeed, I will never forgive myself."

"I mean, why shouldn't you succeed?" Gregor attempted another encouraging smile and finally brought himself to place his hand on her shoulder. She raised her head properly, and he registered that he was marginally taller than her.

"I mean, I suppose what I am saying is that I hope we may succeed without taking you or the queen." She could only hold his gaze for a moment. "The gnawer who threatened me was very insistent that we bring all of you. I suppose I fear that he meant what he said and that Stellovet will be killed if we disobey his command."

Gregor swallowed hard. "I mean . . . The Death Rider said he knows his way around, and—"

"Oh, no doubt!" Dalia took a step back and shook her head. "This was not meant to be a reproach. I would never expect the like of you, who are worth so much, to risk their lives when enough capable forces are available to do it for you." She stood a little taller and dusted off her dress, yet she still did not look him in the eye. "I should not even be saying this," she mumbled, wringing her hands more aggressively. "Please forgive me. I should not be so forthright when—"

"No!" yelled Gregor, and Dalia winced. "No," he repeated more gently, stepping closer again. "Don't apologize!" He opened his mouth to assure her that the concern was perfectly valid, but then closed it again.

He flashed back to the few fleeting encounters he'd had with Stellovet, and his jaw tightened as he recalled their initial meeting some year ago—her cruel joke about Henry and how desperately he had hoped to never see her again. But then his eyes landed back on Dalia's trembling form. He thought about the tear-heavy eyes of the so warm and friendly Susannah, the clenched jaw of York, and Howard's grim determination . . . and the lump in his throat grew until he could not swallow it anymore.

"Just because we are considered special by some, that doesn't make our lives worth more than anyone else's," he mumbled, and Dalia's head flew up.

"You . . ."

"I'll give this some thought," Gregor cut her off, forcing yet another smile. Man, what was he saying? "Just don't blame yourself so much. Even if we don't end up coming, I'm sure you guys can pull this off without the rats noticing." His grin widened. "You know what? When worst comes to worst, they could dress you up as Luxa and Howard as me. With how overconfident those rats sound, they won't ever know the difference!"

For a brief moment, Dalia looked at him with widened eyes before she finally managed to smile back.

***

"So what you are saying is . . . you think we should go with them?"

Gregor could barely hold Luxa's gaze. "Not necessarily; I just—"

"It is exactly what you are saying." She turned from him and stepped toward the window to glance down.

For the hundredth time, Gregor attempted to swallow the lump in his throat, but it remained lodged there. Following his conversation with Dalia, he had returned directly to the guest quarters, where they had both been staying. He needed space to think.

Most of all, he wished he could talk to Ares about everything, but Ares and Aurora had requested permission to join the fishermen that morning to gain insight into their work, and they hadn't returned yet. So, Gregor had spent the last few hours alone, sitting on the broad windowsill, coming to terms with the decision that he and Luxa had to make whenever she returned. What they . . . had to do.

He joined her by the window and spotted the three figures at the main gate, preparing for departure. The Death Rider received a hamper of what Gregor thought had to be supplies and loaded it on Thanatos' back. Both Howard and even Dalia carried backpacks now; she had changed into a long shirt and a pair of pants and draped a short cape around her bony shoulders. Her waist-long, thin hair was tied back in a tight braid.

"But what if Dalia was right?"

Luxa ignored him for the sake of the scene below. Gregor caught sight of Howard going through a medical kit and exchanging a few words with a servant, who then disappeared back into the keep. Of course, Gregor thought, smiling. He had informed Gregor's mom of his decision to pursue a career as a doctor. Maybe you'll be a doctor too, someday, she had then said to Gregor, and he had only shifted uncomfortably in response.

He had not even remotely considered what he wanted to be when he grew up. He always felt like he already had a job—warrior.

Gregor watched Howard take something from the servant, who had returned to the keep earlier, and store it in the medical kit. Well, at least he had discovered his true calling. "I mean, what if she really ends up dying because we didn't go with them?"

Luxa still didn't respond, though a glimpse at her told him that her jaw was clenched tightly.

"I know you don't like her." Gregor tugged at the seam of his doublet. "But isn't she still . . . like . . . your family?"

"Not all family is good family, Gregor," retorted Luxa, and Gregor groaned. But before he could say anything, she continued in a more dejected voice: "I know that this is nasty of me to say, and I know that you are likely right. But I . . ." She finally looked toward him, then back at the floor. Her hand darted up to feel for her crown, and Gregor was suddenly inundated with sympathy.

"Look, I didn't mean to make you feel like—"

"Apologize not," said Luxa. "I know that your fear that this mission cannot succeed without us is justified." She looked back at him. "I am all but surprised to find you advocating for embarking on a perilous, forbidden trip."

Had the situation not been so dire, Gregor would have laughed. "Yeah, I'm surprised too." He managed a grin before giving an exasperated sigh. "I'm just thinking that if Dalia is right and Stellovet dies because we decided to sit around here and have others do our work—could you live with that? The more I think about it, the less I believe I can."

For the first time, Luxa looked directly at him. She held his gaze for a few heartbeats, then turned her eyes down. "She is family . . . family." The word hung over them dreadfully. "Once, I told myself that I have now lost so much of my family that I would do whatever it would take to avoid losing any more."

Gregor caught sight of her faintly trembling shoulders and had to restrain himself from embracing her. In his head, he went over everyone she had lost: her parents, Hamnet . . . and Henry. She had lost him in the worst possible way.

"There is also to consider," said Luxa, looking up. "If this Longclaw is as dangerous as the Death Rider claims, he must be stopped. Sending the Bane to Ripred may have truly averted his fate, but maybe the world would have Longclaw take his place. As the queen, I must do everything in my power to help prevent that . . . mustn't I?"

Gregor stared at her, mouth agape, for a few heartbeats before he processed that this was her attempt to work with him. "Yes!" he exclaimed, nodding excessively. From the corner of his eye, he registered that the group below was almost ready to depart.

"And . . . they could use our help if they encounter trouble," mumbled Luxa as they stared down together.

"Yeah." Gregor nodded again. "I mean, didn't the Death Rider say he couldn't fight anymore, ever since he lost his eye? And who knows if Dalia can fight?" He attempted to picture her with a sword and failed miserably. "Howard would have a hard time on his own."

For a moment, Gregor's eyes hovered on the outcast; he stared at the oversized, two-handed sword on his back, next to his old one. "Maybe the Death Rider's solved his issue, though. Why else would he carry that massive new sword?"

Luxa's eyes lit up. "I was very much inclined to ask if I could hold it."

"I don't know," mumbled Gregor, barely hearing what she had said. "Is it just me, or does he seem . . . changed?" His eyes followed him as he approached Thanatos and exchanged a few words with him before he signaled for his companions to mount up.

After their quest in the jungle, Gregor hadn't asked about what had happened to the outcast since or where he had been. Maybe he should, thought Gregor. Especially since, when they had reunited for the first time, during his last visit to the Fount, he had barely recognized him. His clothes were new, his hair had grown . . . But his appearance was not what had changed. It was something more, thought Gregor.

"Something significant has happened to him," said Luxa, and then and there, he knew that she felt it too.

While Gregor was no longer astounded by the rough consistency and handmade quality of his clothes, he stared at the outcast's gauntlets, which reached past his elbows, and the layer of bandages that went up to his shoulders. "He . . . Do you think he's covering his skin up on purpose?" It was the first thing that had struck Gregor as noteworthy when he had inspected him closer.

Luxa threw him a look that conveyed she'd had the same thought. "But whatever has occurred, it has strengthened him," she said after a pause. "I would not be surprised if he has regained his fighting prowess."

"How do you know that?"

"He has not cut his hair."

Gregor frowned. "But . . . if he can fight again, wouldn't that be a reason to cut it? The way you did when we went on our first quest?"

"I told you that it is hindering in battle," said Luxa without looking at him, a faint smile playing on her lips. "But long hair is also something that we humans wear proudly. We wear it long when we cherish the memories it holds. I begged them to let me cut mine after my parents had died, yet they would not. They said that, as royalty, I could not show the world that I had been hurt. I may have cut it anyway—it wasn't like they may have glued it back on if I had." She tightly clasped her hands. "I did not change my mind until . . . until Henry told me to leave it."

Gregor's mouth opened, then closed again.

Luxa glimpsed at him from the corner of her eye, and to his surprise, he found her smiling again. "He told me to leave it because, with it, I would be cutting all memories of my parents, not only the dire ones. He told me to wear it proudly, as any evidence of surviving something tragic should be worn."

"So . . . why did you cut it then?" asked Gregor, utterly lost on what else to say. He would have never thought there would come a day when he'd be inclined to agree with a piece of advice coming from Henry.

Luxa laughed. "Because it was genuinely starting to become an enormous pain in my hide."

Gregor laughed along with her, but when he next glimpsed down at the Death Rider, he looked at his considerably longer ponytail like a deliberate statement.

But then Thanatos spread his wings and leaped into the air. He looped around the keep once, then disappeared out of sight, in the opposite direction from where he thought lay Regalia.

"So, what are we going to do?" Gregor asked the one question he was afraid to ask.

"We must talk to our bonds," replied Luxa. "But truly, have we even a choice?"

As he looked back at her, Gregor felt a sudden pang of regret. Had he actually convinced her to . . . "We really don't, do we?"

***

"So, have we understood this correctly?" Ares perched on the frame of an enormous armchair in the middle of the room. "Stellovet has been kidnapped by a gnawer named Longclaw; both the Death Rider and Howard have departed earlier to rescue her, and you two," he eyed Luxa and Gregor, "have convinced yourselves that we must follow them?"

The two exchanged a glance. "Well, Dalia said—"

"You already mentioned what she said." Aurora did not look up from where she lay, curled into the chair. "This is indeed a predicament . . ."

Gregor scooted back and forth on his bed, looking at Ares uncertainly. He sensed how torn he was about this and felt it added to his own already unbearable dilemma. "Look, I—"

"You believe we must go, but even if we go, how will we know where to?" His bat interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

"That shall not be an issue," said Luxa unexpectedly. "I know where they are headed." Under everyone's baffled gazes, she pulled a tightly rolled-up scroll that revealed a map of this part of the Underland out of the backpack she had already packed. "I . . . overheard the Death Rider and Howard planning their route."

"Wait." Gregor perked up. "Was that after you ran out of that meeting?"

"They left this map on the table," Luxa continued undauntedly, as if she had not heard him.

"Hey!" Only when Gregor grabbed her shoulder did she turn to him. "Did you plan this all along?!"

For a moment, she looked at him with an unreadable expression. "No," she said eventually, averting her eyes. "Not . . . exactly. I merely did not . . . appreciate the way York dismissed us without a second glance. As though we are little children, incapable of making our own decisions." Before he could remind her they were indeed children, she continued: "And I thought it may be useful to at least know where they were headed. Just in case."

"You could have mentioned that earlier!" Gregor grumbled, but Luxa ignored him and stepped toward the table, placing down the map. "Their goal lies beyond the Firelands." She pointed at an "x" someone had drawn on the eastern border of the map. "They aim to travel alongside the Firelands border to avoid the jungle, eventually arriving at about this point. And this," she pointed at a curved line in the same ink as the "x". "This wide tunnel is called the "Path of Styx" and supposedly has an exit that leads us near the arena."

"Firelands?" Gregor frowned. "What kind of a name is that?" He attempted to remember whether he had heard it before but could not.

"It is a territory northeast of Regalia and known for its high volcanic activity," replied Ares. "It is a relatively unexplored and frequently avoided region, as a substantial portion of it is polluted with toxic fumes."

Gregor's frown deepened, but Luxa waved dismissively. "They said nothing about any fumes. We may likely avoid them, as we do not mean to venture deep in."

With a sigh, Gregor decided to leave it be and fixed his gaze on the map, thinking he hadn't yet entirely processed that they were truly going through with this.

"And you mean to catch up to them . . . where?" asked Aurora.

"Preferably near the entrance to the Path of Styx." Luxa let the map snap shut. "If we reach them too soon, they will promptly send us back. However, in this way, a return trip will no longer be worthwhile."

Gregor eyed Luxa and couldn't decide how to feel about how meticulous all of her planning was. Suddenly, he recalled her unannounced appearance on the boat during their quest to slay the Bane and wondered if a similar planning session had preceded her departure then.

"How . . . long must we wait before we depart, in that case?" asked Ares.

"Not long." Luxa shrugged. "We should leave as quickly as we can before York and Susannah think to assign guards to watch us. It will take over seven hours to travel to the entrance to the Path of Styx, and, although the Death Rider said it is a good place to rest, I doubt they will linger for long."

As Gregor looked up to look at Ares, his bat mirrored his own uncertain determination. "Man, we are really doing this, aren't we?" He was suddenly incredibly grateful that he didn't have to justify this trip to his mom or anyone else. He couldn't even properly justify it to himself.

"So it would seem," concurred Luxa. Nobody saw the need to add anything.

From then on, everything went decently fast. Luxa showed Gregor first to a storage of some kind, where he picked out a backpack. Then she led him to the keep's little armory, where he uncertainly eyed a rack with swords.

Gregor chose one at random and fastened it to his belt, then turned to spot Luxa in the entrance, a sword already hanging from her belt. "Are you set?"

Gregor nodded, then took off his backpack again to reassess its contents. Here, he had no museum to go through, and he eyed the single pair of extra batteries he had packed for the journey to the Fount, then his only flashlight. It was the much too expensive yet water- and pressure-proof flashlight they had recently invested in "for Underland-related emergencies", which his dad had insisted he took along despite the brevity of his trip. Better safe than sorry, he had proclaimed. And don't lose it. This thing cost a fortune . . . But considering the place you have chosen as your go-to hangout spot in recent times, I say it was a sensible investment either way.

Gregor poked it, along with the spare batteries, concerned. "We don't have much light," he said, making sure the expensive flashlight was secure at the bottom of the backpack.

"That will not be a problem," said Luxa, stepping closer. "The fliers will find their way in the dark. And when we reach the others, we will have their light."

Gregor hesitated but finally nodded. After one final look, he closed his backpack back up and shouldered it, then followed Luxa out of the armory.

Just as Gregor was about to ask what their response would be if any guards asked about their intentions, they stepped into the entrance hall. The guards he had been so concerned about cast suspicious glances at them, but before they could utter a word, Luxa beat them to it. "We are at last making our trip to the Cascades, as planned," she said. "Now that Stellovet's rescue has been arranged."

The guards exchanged glances. "Just the two of you?"

Gregor felt himself breaking with nervous sweat, but Luxa shrugged nonchalantly. "We are to meet with an entourage about halfway." She stood on her tiptoes to glimpse outside. "Gregor here had forgotten something he had to take care of, so we are already late. Let us pass, or they will have concerns."

Gregor opened his mouth but shut it again when the guards shrugged and courteously nodded at Luxa before letting them pass.

Out in the open, Gregor pondered whether it was worth complaining about how she had essentially humiliated him in front of two strangers, but then he asked something more important instead: "How long does that give us until they notice?"

"At the latest, York and Susannah will be searching for us during dinner time." Luxa waved at their approaching bonds.

"Maybe . . . we should leave them a message somewhere." Gregor wrung his hands. "I mean, they'll be worried, no?"

"Why, yes." Luxa groaned. "So worried that they may send the entire army to retrieve us at once. Have no concern, Gregor. We may explain ourselves when we return."

But Gregor was concerned, and when he next looked at Luxa, he wondered whether the Bane quest hadn't been the first time. How many times had she pulled off something like this before? "You're really experienced at this," he shot in her direction as he mounted Ares.

"A little too experienced for her own good," his bat replied instead, as he and Aurora lifted off.

Gregor voiced an enormous groan, which quickly turned into a yawn. "Let's hope this doesn't become a habit for me too."