By their third day in the village, Azael was beginning to feel restless and bored. He'd been keeping his distance from Tissaia again, though if the female noticed it, she hadn't said anything, and that was probably for the best.

    Part of his restlessness came from trying to keep his emotions in check whenever he saw her and Kaius interacting. He hadn't witnessed anything between them since that first night, but he was still bracing himself for the possibility of it.

    If they kissed in front of him, he didn't want to risk losing his temper again and doing something he'd regret. They didn't deserve that. But being so constantly on edge left the house feeling increasingly small, and the village had grown suffocating as the days passed.

    Azael was seated on a long bench in the kitchen, working on sharpening Raxys and the dagger Kaius had given him when Talarion entered the room. He glanced up as the male paused in front of him. His long hair had been tied into a ponytail today, as opposed to its usual braid, but he was dressed in the leather suit that Azael hadn't seen on him since they arrived in the village.

    "I want to scout beyond the village and see if it's safe for us to leave tomorrow," Talarion said.

    Azael recognized the hint and stood, sheathing his blades. "Lead the way."

    He followed the male out of the house and ignored the twanging of bow strings from the other side of it. Tissaia had found another bow at the smith's forge and given it to Kaius rather than swapping it out with her own. The pair had been practicing their shots all day. Given that Talarion wasn't heading towards the sound, Azael guessed he'd already told them his plans.

    He gritted his teeth against the thought of them being left here by themselves. Together. Azael forced his mouth to relax a moment later. What use was there in letting himself be bothered by the fact? He couldn't prevent anything from happening, and even if he could, it wouldn't matter. Something had already happened.

    He followed Talarion a short distance from the house before the male nodded to him, then vanished from sight. Azael couldn't help but shudder. Kaius had explained to all of them how they could leave the hidden village and re-enter when they needed to, but it struck him as unnatural. He hadn't attempted it yet as a result.

    But he wasn't going to give Talarion an opportunity to ridicule him, so he closed his eyes and murmured under his breath, "Drenusha bids the forest to return me." Wind brushed past his ears like the sound of a breath being drawn, then he was surrounded by the familiar sounds of the forest.

    He opened his eyes and found Talarion watching him with a smirk. "You look unsettled."

    "The entry and exit processes of these villages are unsettling," Azael retorted, rolling his eyes. "How far do you want to scout?"

    "Until the riverbank is in sight." Talarion turned to the east and waved a hand. Azael trailed after him, keeping one hand on the hilt of his sword. His companion tracked the movement. "You didn't bring Orilight."

    "It's safe in the village."

    "I'm curious why you brought it if you don't intend to use it."

    Azael's mouth curled to the side. Talarion didn't push him to answer. He just drew one of his curved daggers from its sheath and reversed the blade in his grasp. His dark eyes darted across their surroundings, sharp and calculating.

    Azael found himself thinking he wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that gaze. He had heard the rumors after all. Many people claimed that Lord Roshan used his son as his personal assassin. Whether or not it was true, Azael couldn't say, but Talarion's skills had to have some purpose.

    "I don't know why I brought it either," he found himself admitting. "I suppose the only thoughts in my head at the time were that it might bring us luck, and it couldn't hurt to have an extra weapon, especially one blessed by Oriana's hand."

    Talarion inclined his head. "Do you think your father was angry?"

    "He'll be angry at the principle of the matter more than anything else. He hates that sword. It shook the peoples' faith in him when it didn't glow the first time he held it. Now he blames it for everyone thinking he's losing his mind."

    "People think that because he acts like it," Talarion huffed. "What kind of King sits there as empty-headed as a pigeon and would be content to let his people rot?"

    Azael's eyes narrowed, but he couldn't refute the claim. He knew it better than anyone. King Mavron had no interest in the affairs of his subjects. He didn't care what happened to them, whether they lived or died, whether they had the means to sustain themselves. The only reason very few people were aware of the fact was because of him making his father's decisions.

    "Why doesn't he just abdicate to you?" Talarion continued. "His entire court knows you're the one ruling behind him."

    "His title is his only worth," Azael replied. "Without it, I think he knows he has nothing. He'd rather cling to his power and let it soothe his ego than do what's in the best interest of his kingdom."

    Talarion slowed his pace up ahead and knelt near a patch of sprawling ferns. Azael quietly moved behind him and scanned the greenery for whatever it was that had caught the male's attention. Talarion brushed a finger over the fronds of the plant and they snapped closed, curling into themselves. He tilted his head, peering towards a few dark splotches on the stems. Azael crouched as the male leaned closer and sniffed at the spots.

    "Blood. Four days old," Talarion reported. "Good thing we went to the village when we did."

    "Let's keep moving in this direction and make sure that's where the trail is going," Azael suggested. Talarion nodded and fell in step with him.

    They were both quiet for several minutes, continuing to scan the terrain around them for more signs of the blood trail, before Talarion spoke again. "Would you take the crown if it was offered to you?"

    "Of course. It's what I've spent my life preparing for."

    "Have you thought about the changes you'll make to your counselors when that time comes?"

    Azael furrowed his brows. "Not really, I suppose."

    "If you're open to suggestions, you should remove my father the moment you have the authority to."

    "That might not be possible. Lochren is one of Asterria's key cities as one of our only accessible ports. The people between the Vidar and the mountains look to it for protection and profit. If I removed him from the council and he sought revenge and cut off Lochren from the rest of Asterria, those who need Lochren would side with it. If we tried to take back the city by force and they fought against us, it could spark a civil war."

    "I know," Talarion said as he trailed off. "But as a citizen of Asterria and Lochren, and as my father's son, I'm telling you that it's in your best interest to make Roshan Lochren as powerless as possible."

    "Would you want to replace him?" Azael asked.

    "As Lord of Lochren?" Talarion's gaze slid to him. "No. I want to leave that city and never return the moment Tissaia and I are both able to."

    Azael hesitated, another question on the tip of his tongue, but he knew it would be a sensitive one. Probably one the male wouldn't want to answer. "They say you're his assassin. Is it true?"

    The corner of Talarion's eye twitched, the only emotion he betrayed. Otherwise a mask of cold nothingness had blanketed his features. He heard the male swallow, saw his throat bob, then, "Yes. I have killed people in my father's name. People undeserving of such a fate."

    "Why would he use you like that?"

    "Because it was the only use he saw in me. Our only worth to him is what we can do for him. As a young boy, I was already showing signs of being powerful, and I was adept at slipping around undetected. Father began my training the moment I was able to exercise control over my magic. He hired the strongest warriors he could find. Males from the mountains. Those who live in their own little clans and govern themselves by their own rules."

    "My training was carried out in secret. It had to be. It was so..." Talarion broke off, his features hardening and dark shadows simmering in his gaze. "It was brutal. If someone had witnessed it, Father knew they would have reported him, so he had to make sure there was no proof. All people knew was that I was being privately trained. They didn't know any of the methods involved."

    "What were they?" Azael asked. He didn't want to, but a part of him needed to know. A picture had been steadily growing in his mind of the kind of male Roshan was, but he now realized he'd only begun to scratch the surface of the secrets buried within the Lochren family.

    "When you were training on the Isle with the Cahirim, tell me, did they have you practice your skills on someone unable to fight back? Did they watch you torture them in ways that still kept them alive throughout it? Did they ever make you practice on yourself? Did they punish the one dearest to you when you made a mistake, no matter how small?" The male's voice had fallen low and rough, his knuckles white around his dagger.

    "No," he answered. The one dearest to him... The only other person Lord Roshan had access to Talarion's whole life... One bonded to him by birth... Rage sparked a burning coal in the pit of his stomach.

    "That's the difference between your training and mine. And before you ask me why I never left or why I never told anyone, remember what I said about the proof. There never was any. Not that someone would be able to find. Who would believe that the great and benevolent Lord would use his only children in such a way?" Talarion halted and turned to face him. Azael braced himself, unsure of what was to come.

    "And if you're wondering why we haven't left now that we're older, think of how we've been paranoid every day of this journey that our father is looking for us. I don't want my sister to spend her life on the run." The male's gaze swept over him once more. "You were supposed to be our chance to escape."

    The words slammed into his gut, driving the air from his lungs. "We don't blame you," Talarion added. "Or at least, I don't. You're running from something too, even if I don't know what it is." He set off again, leaving Azael to stare after him.

    He recovered himself quickly though, not wanting to lose sight of the male. Talarion kept walking as he fell in step with him once more. It took a moment for Azael to find his voice, but when he did, he said, "Maybe I can't be your escape in the way you thought, but there could be something else I can do when this is over. Gaelen has been insinuating that he wants you for the Cahirim, and as for Tissaia..."

    The thought died on his tongue. He had no need to offer his help to her. She wouldn't accept it, and she no longer needed it. She had someone else to turn to.

    "I'll keep that in mind," Talarion answered gruffly, and Azael took that as his sign to fall silent. Neither of them spoke again as they continued to search the area.