when the claws of winter bite

by forsworn

Summary:

Edgin, Xenk and Kira get pulled into an adventure, battling against a necromantic cult. Kira is excited by the experience, Xenk finds himself tested, and Edgin struggles to shake his shivering ghosts.

Notes:

• For AlpakaAlex.

“Sure you wouldn't rather be at the market in Neverwinter?” asked Edgin, nudging Kira, hoping that the soft ache in his chest hadn't climbed into his smile. “It's much bigger than Greyford's.”

Kira snorted, gently nudging him back. “I can go with Holga next time,” she said, a fragile smile on her own mouth as she trailed her fingers across the bracelets on the stall. “And I'm just looking anyway.”

“You don't want me to buy you one?” asked Edgin, half teasing, as he slipped an arm around her shoulders.

Kira giggled, wriggling under that touch – playful more than a real attempt to escape. “I think I'm a bit old for these, Dad.”

Edgin gazed at the bracelets. Woven cords suspended little beads, the patterns forming brightly-coloured images of cats, rabbits, smiling suns. Adorable. Edgin swallowed. “Yeah, of course,” he said, releasing her.

Ribs a little tight, Edgin glanced over to Xenk, who was inspecting the selection of clothing on the next stall, that handsome face intense and earnest. Edgin sidestepped across, slinging his arm around his partner's shoulders instead. “Bet you're glad to be at this market, not in Neverwinter.”

Xenk lifted his head, fixing that deep gaze on him. “I am indeed,” he said, absolutely sincere.

Edgin chuckled softly, stomach twingeing. Xenk hadn't exactly refused to go to Neverwinter, but Edgin had seen the flicker across his brows when Simon said he needed to grab some reagents. Maybe it was because his ears were so sensitive, but Edgin had figured out pretty quick that Xenk wasn't a fan of crowds. So Edgin had learned to suggest a quieter detour when Xenk got that look, because the paladin was too selfless to protest.

“Planning to splurge on anything?” Edgin teased, as if Xenk wasn't too selfless for that too.

“I have all that I need,” murmured Xenk, and the way his eyes lingered on Edgin's face sent another twinge through his stomach. “But winter is fast approaching...”

Edgin glanced over the display of thick shirts, scarves and cloaks in front of them – then to Kira in her plain dress, still vaguely smiling as she ambled closer. “Hey, kiddo, you need a new cloak? Gonna be winter soon.”

She smiled up at him, soft and earnest. “I haven't grown that much, Dad.”

He was pretty sure she had. She looked so much taller than when and Holga were sent to –

A chill curled inside Edgin's gut, the memory whispering as it wrapped around him.

“Come on, honey,” he breezed, clamping his other arm around her, tugging her in so he was sandwiched between her and Xenk. “Let your old dad spoil you a bit. Look, this one's got flowers on it.”

Kira giggled. “It is nice...” she admitted, so Edgin dived into his coinpouch and turned his charm on the stallholder.

Cloak duly purchased, Edgin wrapped it around her shoulders, beaming. “There. Now you'll be warm and fashionable.”

Kira huffed fondly, but she said, “Thanks, Dad,” and the words were so earnest that he had to pull a funny face and skip to the next stall before he got embarrassingly gooey.

The three of them drifted past an array of baskets, one of boots, then onto a display of produce – and Edgin was just chuckling at the impressive potatoes, about to make a comment to Xenk about Holga, when he caught sight of the boy.

Small, skinny, with wide and hungry eyes, he was lurking by the apples with a twitchy stance that screamed I'm about to steal something. A stance too obvious not to be seen, unless –

“Hey, pal, how much are these potatoes?” asked Edgin, urging his grin to its widest and most charming, pointing at the other end of the stall as the boy's hand reached –

Xenk inserted himself between the boy and the stall. “And these apples?” asked Xenk, urgent and serious, blocking the child from view.

The stallholder's eyes flicked between the two of them. “Two coppers for the potatoes, one for the apples,” she said, and calmly accepted Xenk's coins without any suspicion.

Once her eyes were back on her marrows, Xenk spun and held the two apples out to the boy, whose expression went from nervous to hesitant gratitude – then to gasping shock as Xenk pressed a silver into his hands too.

“Thanks, mister,” he breathed, then scampered away, a grin tugging at his mouth.

Edgin chuckled, slinging his arm around Xenk's shoulders again. “You give a silver to every urchin in this town,” teased Edgin, a soft murmur right into Xenk's ear, “you'll be broke in no time. They'll all be queueing up.”

Xenk turned those kind, dark eyes on him. “If there are enough hungry urchins here to empty my purse, it is the town which is broken. And then I shall have much work to do.”

Edgin snorted, fingers squeezing Xenk's shoulder. “Xenk, you really –” Edgin paused, fixing his smile into place, as his eyes drifted over a figure in the crowd. “Don't look now, but someone's watching us.”

Xenk looked.

“Their cloak is navy blue,” muttered Xenk, studying the figure. “Perhaps a Harper.”

Edgin gave up and stared too. They were wrapped tight in the fabric, hood pulled right up, even though the sky above was no more than a soft grey. Definitely Harper colours, but surely an agent would know better than to look so suspicious. They stuck out like a sore thumb. “You see their vow?”

“No,” Xenk said, low and sharp, his tone absolutely certain. Edgin still wasn't sure how it worked, Xenk being able to tell if someone was a Harper – he'd asked once, and Xenk had tried to explain, but there'd been a lot of weird magical terms and Edgin's thoughts had drifted to Xenk's gorgeous mouth instead – but Edgin trusted that Xenk was right.

Edgin narrowed his eyes, flicking them to check on Kira, shuffling her feet next to him. “Well, maybe they're not –”

Xenk pressed a palm to Edgin's chest as the figure raised a hand, pointing a finger at Xenk. “Hold, they are sending a message,” he said, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “Yes, I am Xenk.”

Edgin snorted, a frown twitching onto his forehead. “You could hear them without a Message cantrip at this distance.”

“But the Harper could not hear my reply,” said Xenk, solemn and focused. He returned to a whisper. “And you have some need of me?”

“All Harpers can use Message,” Edgin said, stomach tightening at Xenk's assumption. “Doesn't mean only Harpers can.”

Something about that bundled figure, way too obvious for a secret contact, was setting him on edge. Even if Xenk was calm. But then his partner would walk into an easy ambush, just on the slim chance someone was really in need.

“Keep them talking, Xenk,” Edgin instructed, and moved to slide close to Kira again. “Look natural, Kir. This way.”

He steered her around the corner of the stall, out of that figure's sight, a casual smile perched on his mouth. Kira managed a nonchalant expression too, already a better actress at her age than Xenk was after more than a century. But then, Edgin's chest twinged, Kira was his daughter.

“Honey, can I borrow your necklace?” Edgin asked, offering her a gentle smile.

Her fingers curled around the pendant, hopeful brows raised. “I could do it, Dad.”

“I'm sure you could,” he said, resting his hands on her shoulders, still smiling. “But if they're a Harper, I might recognise them.”

Kira bit her lip, then slipped off her necklace and handed it over.

“Thanks, Kir,” he said, as bright and reassuring as he could. “Now, walk back round to Xenk and try to look casual.” Putting her back in the figure's line of sight didn't make him happy, but even without his sword and armour Edgin knew she'd be safer near Xenk than not.

Kira sighed, only slightly reluctant, and turned as Edgin activated her necklace. He followed her until she was safely back with Xenk – just in case the figure had an associate waiting to snatch her – then dipped among the bustling shoppers, winding his way across the crowd to halt in front of their mysterious contact.

That looked like a Harper cloak, alright. Harper armour too. Edgin darted in close, peering under the hood. Even half obscured by shadows he could tell she was a young woman. Soft voice as well. She was still whispering to Xenk, her finger targeting him with the cantrip.

“Please, I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”

Edgin frowned. No doubt Xenk would be swayed by those words, oblivious to any insincerity. But Edgin had to admit there was a slight crackle to her voice that suggested real worry. Fear, even.

He hurried back to Xenk. “I think she's legit,” Edgin said, rippling back into view.

The young woman startled. Her finger flicked to him, then her whisper fluttered in his ear, as if he was still right next to her. “I know this is unusual. But please, all of you, follow me. It's very important.”

Edgin pursed his lips, studying Xenk's expression, every line of that handsome face already set on helping. Because of course he was. Edgin sighed.

“Kir, use your necklace,” he said, slipping it back around her neck.

“Ooh,” Kira burbled, eyes flaring bright. “Is this an adventure?”

“Maybe.” Edgin sighed again, and lowered his voice to a whisper as his grinning daughter vanished. “Lead on, then.”

The young woman turned and scurried out of the market, drawing several glances as she went. Edgin and Xenk followed, attracting less attention. Xenk might be imposing – with a level of charisma that made strangers' knees go weak, let alone Edgin's – but he wasn't swaddled in a cloak like some second-rate cultist. Wasn't swanning about in shiny plate like a magpie's dream either. Although...

“Sometimes,” muttered Edgin, leaning close to Xenk as they strode along, though the guy would've heard him anyway, “I wish you didn't walk around town without your sword.”

Xenk looked over at him, one eyebrow raised, mouth slightly teasing. “You have your dagger, do you not?”

Edgin nodded, heartbeat thumping. If it came down to it, Xenk could definitely do a lot of damage with his dagger. But he hoped it wouldn't come to that. Hoped Kira was sticking close beside them too – but Xenk could probably hear her footsteps, and he'd have warned him if she wasn't.

They traced the young woman's route, winding through the streets, to quieter and quieter parts of town. Cloak pulled tight around her, she kept a good distance ahead, like she didn't want anyone to see them together – which was good practice, except that she was subtle as a hammer blow.

But despite the glances from passersby, nobody bothered to challenge them.

At last the young woman turned into an alley, dark and cramped. Edgin inhaled slowly, hand drifting to his pommel. She might seem sincere, but if there was ever a place to be ambushed...

“Kir, hang back till we know it's safe,” Edgin said to thin air, which he hoped contained his daughter.

An exasperated sigh confirmed it did.

Dipping into the shadows halfway down the alley, the woman loitered as they approached, shifting her weight from foot to foot. When Xenk and Edgin closed in, she dropped her hood, revealing her entire face.

Shit, she really was young. Barely an adult, her grey eyes soft and hesitant, expression worried but almost as innocent as Kira's.

“It's really you, isn't it? Xenk Yendar?” she said, with no small measure of awe.

“That is my name,” Xenk confirmed, solemn as ever. “What did you wish to discuss?”

The young woman shuffled on the spot. “I received a message this morning from... one of our agents. And I don't think I can handle this on my own. But I'd heard you were in town, and that you've worked with the Harpers before...”

So she was a Harper. Edgin's chest tightened. He'd been in his mid twenties before he'd managed to get in with them, nearly thirty by the time they'd let him take the full oath. Didn't seem safe for her to –

“You don't look old enough to be a Harper,” he blurted out.

Her shuffling sped up. “Well, I – I'm technically still just an associate. But my father is a Harper, so...” She paused, those nervous grey eyes roving over Edgin's face. “You seem familiar.”

Edgin cleared his throat.

“He is my partner,” said Xenk, with a certainty that made Edgin's stomach clench.

The young woman nodded, with less certainty. “I just wanted to be sure before I led you two to the sanctuary.” She paused again, glancing around the alleyway. “You two, and... the girl.”

“Still here,” Kira piped up, enthusiasm in no way dampened by being completely invisible.

“Right, yes. Good,” murmured the young woman, then turned back to Xenk, grey eyes wide. “Please, would you come with me?”

“If you need assistance,” Xenk said, so noble that Edgin's chest tightened, “I shall render what aid I can.”

The young woman relaxed a fraction, then tugged her hood back up. “It's just a little further. Please try not to attract attention.”

Edgin almost snorted at that request. Xenk might draw people's eyes, even without his armour, but this Harper was about as subtle as a flaming sign.

But they followed her through a few more streets, brighter than that alley, until they came to a row of steps that dipped down behind a little shop. A plain door waited there, and when the young woman pushed it open they piled into the storeroom behind. All it contained were a few crates and a lot of dust, but she ignored all that, crossing to another door – even more plain, worn, boring – and stroked her fingers across it with a whisper –

The second door popped open, and the young woman led them through – to a much bigger room, full of shelves and books and knickknacks, lit by flickering candles that had to be magic. But they still filled the space with a soft warmth, a balm after the late autumn chill outside.

“I'm sorry for the secrecy,” she said, dropping her hood again as she turned to them. “But you know how it is. I can't let just anyone find our sanctuary.”

“We understand,” said Xenk, in that intensely earnest way of his.

“I'm Lyria, by the way,” she said, wandering over to a table, fingers idly rubbing at a piece of paper there.

“I'm Kira,” the air said cheerfully. “Can I stop being invisible now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Edgin, casting his gaze over Lyria. “She seems...”

Incompetent.

“...Safe.”

Lyria smiled at Kira as she rippled back into view, then turned to the paladin. “And I know you are Xenk.” She settled her eyes on Edgin, expectant.

Stomach twisting, Edgin loosed a slow sigh. “Edgin.”

Lyria opened her mouth – but any reflexive greeting melted to suspicion before it left her tongue. “Edgin? As in Edgin Darvis?”

“That's me,” he grunted, meeting her gaze evenly.

“Edgin is my partner,” Xenk said, more firmly than before. “In every sense. He can be trusted.”

Lyria's mouth twitched, but her fingers lingered on the corner of that paper.

“Alright,” she said, vaguely reluctant, then took a deep breath. “Early this morning I received a warning from my father. He's been investigating an old castle north-east of here, after reports that a cult has taken it over.” Her voice faltered slightly, but she continued. “He was cornered, had to use Sending to deliver a message straight to me, and I haven't heard from him since.”

She picked up the paper, stroked her fingers over it, then held it out.

“I wrote it all down. Not – Not that he could say much.”

Xenk reverently took the paper, and Edgin shifted in close to read it too. It was short – whether due to the limits of the spell, or because his enemies were closing in – but it outlined the facts: Lyria, the reports were right. Cult of Kelemvor occupying Regis Castle. They have a Palivar Stone. Ritual at full moon. I'm cornered. I love you.

Those last three words were written in shaky handwriting. Edgin swallowed, glancing at Kira.

“Someone has found one of the Stones of Palivar?” said Xenk, voice rumbling with concern. “I thought they were lost to the ages.”

Edgin inhaled a deep breath. “I'm guessing we're gonna wish it'd stayed lost.”

Xenk frowned, laying the paper back on the table. “It is dark magic. Almost as dark as the Beckoning Death.”

“Shit,” muttered Edgin, so low only Xenk would be able to hear it.

Lyria almost snatched the paper up, clutching it halfway to her chest, then smoothed it back on the table again. “We heard a rumour a few months ago,” she said, averting her gaze to a bookshelf, wavering voice steadying a little as she ran her fingers down the spine of a thick tome, “that a mage from Collaven was looking for one. Didn't think it would come to anything, obviously, but...”

“But it has,” Xenk said, firm and serious.

“What are we going to do?” asked Kira, words bouncing with the thrill of adventure, and the absolute assumption that they'd be embarking on it. “You wanted our help, right?”

Lyria scratched the back of her neck. “If you're willing,” she said, with the kind tone of an adult talking to a child. It only made Lyria's innocent face seem younger. “I... I'm not really trained for this, yet. I've been doing research all morning, but I don't know what could stop a Palivar Stone. And if the cult were too much for my father...” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, those grey eyes wide. “That's why I sought you out. I thought the legendary paladin Xenk Yendar must be able to help.” She laughed, soft and quickly faltering.

“I will do what I can,” Xenk said, intensely earnest, the rumble of his voice setting a shiver in Edgin's chest. “Do you have a map?”

“Uh, sure.” Lyria stepped over to the next shelf, rifling through some assorted papers. She pulled out one large roll, and spread it across the table, weighting down the corners. “This is the local area. Here's Greyford.” She pointed.

Edgin, Kira and Xenk clustered around the map, with varying degrees of solemnity.

“And you said their base of operations was to the north-east?” asked Xenk, dark eyes roving across the image.

“Regis Castle,” said Lyria, prodding at a symbol, some distance from Greyford. Edgin wasn't sure of the scale, but he suspected it was more than a day's ride away. “The outer walls have been ruined for years, but the keep is mostly intact.”

Xenk hummed a low note, soft yet ominous, as he scanned over the map. “The Palivar Stones are ancient necromantic magic. If we are to neutralise one, we will need an artifact imbued with the power of life.” He tapped at a different symbol, closer than the castle, off to the north west. “Unless things have changed in seventy years, the Chauntean nuns at Fargrange Abbey are in possession of a sacred chalice. That may suffice.”

“Sounds perfect,” said Lyria, awe creeping into her voice again. “I knew you'd know what to do.”

“When do we leave?” asked Kira, excitement shining in her face.

Xenk looked at Edgin, who frowned slightly, stomach tight.

“The message said they're planning a ritual for the full moon, right?” Edgin said, turning to Lyria. She nodded. “And that's... three days away?”

“Three nights from now, yes,” confirmed Xenk, those dark eyes fixing on his, earnest and expectant.

Edgin inhaled slowly, scanning across the map. “Lyria, how long would it take us to get to Regis Castle?”

“About half a day to the abbey, and then another day to the castle, maybe slightly more,” she said, with more confidence than she'd displayed so far. “Riding at a steady pace, that is. I'm guessing you have horses?”

“Yeah, we do,” said Edgin, eyes drifting across the map, to the far corner where Neverwinter lurked. “So Neverwinter is maybe... four days from the castle.” He lifted his eyes to meet Xenk's gaze again. “The others would never get here in time.”

“We could do it without them,” urged Kira, stepping close. “I'm sure we could.”

Xenk glanced at her, then back to Edgin. “I trust in our skills,” he said, voice firm, though his eyes were soft.

Edgin bit his lip, mind whirring. “How big a cult we talking?” he asked Lyria, facing her again. “Ten people? Twenty? A hundred?”

“Based on what we've heard... Ten, maybe twenty. Definitely not a hundred,” she said, shuffling her feet.

Edgin swept his tongue over his lower lip, considering. If they were lucky, they'd be able to sneak in and break the Palivar Stone without a full confrontation. But if it came down to a fight... With his speed and grace, Xenk could probably take on ten cultists alone. Edgin could probably take three – alright, maybe two. And Lyria...

He looked her up and down, then swallowed. “Can you cast Sending too?” he asked.

“Oh,” she said, slightly flustered. “Yes, I can. Do you need a message delivered?”

“Not yet,” he said, studying those wide grey eyes, her gaze trembling. Gods, she was green. Probably couldn't even fight. Not really. Taking her with them would be more of a liability than a boon. “But you'll need it if you discover anything. We need someone clever to stay here and carry on the research.” Edgin urged his mouth into one of his charming smiles. “Let us handle the cultists. You can let us know if you learn anything important about Palivar Stones, or if your father manages to send another message.”

Lyria bit her lip, shifting from foot to foot. She clearly wasn't eager to go out there, but she seemed reluctant to admit that...

“We'll find your father,” said Edgin, gently as he could. He kept the smile plastered across his mouth, covering the ache rising behind his ribs. “Bring him home. You look after the sanctuary, keep it safe for him.”

“I can do that,” said Lyria quietly.

“Good. Thanks,” said Edgin, trying to sound as earnest as Xenk. He turned to the paladin, eyes flicking between him and Kira. “I'll contact the others, let them know what we're doing. Then we should get going.”

“We?” said Kira, glee spreading across her sweet little face.

Edgin gazed at her and swallowed. He wasn't thrilled about leading her into danger, especially without the whole group, but after the debacle with Forge he wasn't keen to leave her in someone else's care either. Especially not a stranger. Especially not Lyria. Maybe the Chauntean nuns. Maybe.

But he could always get Kira to hang back once they reached the castle...

“Yeah, kiddo,” Edgin said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “We're going on an adventure.”

“Yes,” Kira hissed softly, under her breath, a grin curving across her mouth.

Edgin had to chuckle, even as his heart clenched. He squeezed her shoulders, then let go, digging into his pocket to pull out the sending stone. “Just give me a few minutes,” he said, stepping away from the table. Letting Lyria listen in seemed weird, somehow.

Dipping into a corner, Edgin activated the stone. “Hey, you there?”

There was a crackle, a rustle, then Doric's voice came through. “We're here,” she said, light and sure.

“What's up, Ed?” asked Simon, less sure. “It's not even noon.”

“Yeah, I know,” sighed Edgin. “We've stumbled into something here.”

“What kinda something?” grunted Holga.

“A cult kind,” said Edgin, grimacing to himself. Gods, maybe he should've said no. But he couldn't refuse just because he hated working with the Harpers. Not when it came to dark magic. Not dark magic that rivalled the Beckoning Death. “Don't worry about joining us. Just get your stuff done in Neverwinter. We're on a tight schedule, and you wouldn't get here in time. Xenk and I will handle it.”

“You mean Xenk will handle it,” muttered Holga.

Edgin rolled his eyes, but a smile twitched at his mouth.

“Alright. Good luck,” said Simon, hesitant but slightly relieved. “Don't miss tomorrow's check-in.”

“Say hi to Bug for me,” added Holga, gruff but earnest.

“Say hi yourself,” said Edgin, gesturing his daughter over. He handed her the sending stone with a smile.

“Hey, Bug,” said Holga, with the rumble of tenderness she reserved for the girl. “You doing good?”

“I'm great,” said Kira, eyes bright as she clutched the stone. “We're going on an adventure. I think it'll be a good one.”

Edgin chuckled, though his stomach was swirling a bit. He hoped she was right.

“Yeah?” said Holga, voice slightly soft. “Wish I could be there. My armour's still not patched up...”

Edgin rested his hand on Kira's shoulder, let her chat a little. They could only use the sending stone for an hour a day, so there'd be no nightly call tonight. Kira would have to make do with this.

But even when it came to Kira, Holga wasn't that chatty, so after exchanging a few well wishes Kira was handing the stone back to Edgin.

“Right,” said Edgin, stowing it away. He strode back to the table, Kira eagerly trailing behind. “We'd better get started.”

“Thank you for the information,” said Xenk, fixing Lyria with one of his most earnest looks. “I promise we will do all that we can.”

Those words did seem to break through her nervousness, and she smiled, awed and genuine. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, we'll save your dad,” insisted Kira, her grin wide.

Edgin swallowed, his ribs squeezing. But he forced a smile to his lips, curling one hand over her shoulder. “Yeah,” he murmured, then steered his daughter and partner away.

They strode back into the street, back into that almost winter chill, back across town to the inn. Once they'd collected everything – and Xenk had buckled on his armour – they updated the innkeeper. Xenk had paid for a week in advance, in the expectation they'd hang around until the others rejoined them, and Edgin kinda wished for a refund – but Xenk insisted the innkeeper keep the money, and suggested they would return in a few days. Edgin had to shake his head, chuckling fondly.

Still, he hoped it was true.

 

*

 

Outside town, a whisper of mist lay low across the fields. Without the bustle of the streets, the pale grey blanket of sky seemed a lot gloomier, almost apologetic as it stretched from horizon to horizon.

Edgin shifted in his saddle, trying to ignore the faint chill ghosting across his stubbled cheeks. In the market, there'd been plenty of sights to delight his eyes. In the sanctuary, a tense unfolding of information to occupy his thoughts. But even on horseback, the majestic vista didn't change quickly enough to keep his attention for long. His gaze drifted across the slow undulations of the farmlands, the huddled copses of bare trees, the pale wisps of that clinging mist, then his eyes defocused as his fingers drummed a beat upon his thigh.

When his mind caught onto the rhythm he was making, Edgin shook himself back to focus. Ahead of him, as she gleefully led them through this safe area close to Greyford, Kira's new cloak was a waterfall down her back. It really was pretty. Suited her. And he was glad to know she'd be warm...

But as the memory of ice curled in his stomach, a restless tension coiled there too. It crawled up his chest, prickled down his limbs, till it threatened to dance in his fingers again.

Clearing his throat, Edgin grabbed his lute instead. Urging a vague smile to his face, he strummed at the strings and sang, “Hey, darling, won't you please, dance with me this midsummer's eve...”

Xenk fixed those dark eyes on him, warm and attentive, as their horses plodded side by side. The fond twitch in the corner of that gorgeous mouth set Edgin's stomach rippling. “It is hardly midsummer,” Xenk said, almost teasing, as the last notes faded.

“That mean you won't dance with me?” asked Edgin, mischief curling across his mouth.

“I will dance with you any day of the year,” Xenk said, with such sincerity, such yearning that Edgin's heart clenched.

Part of him wanted to lean closer to Xenk, to grab one of those steady hands and squeeze it. But they were on horseback, so Edgin licked his lips and launched into a song called The Most Noble Paladin.

By the time he got to the third verse, a sheepish smile had claimed Xenk's mouth.

 

*

 

As the weak sun reached its peak and began to burn off a bit of that mist, they paused to eat lunch overlooking a silver and silent lake. Xenk methodically worked through his bread and cheese, Edgin chewing between daydreams, Kira demolishing hers before skittering over to the shore.

“I'm going to skip stones!” she declared, voice bright and earnest, curls bouncing as she bent to pick her missiles.

Munching on his crust, Edgin watched as she spun a series of pebbles across that mirrored surface, skipping a couple of times before sinking into ripples that lapped to meet the tendrils of fog. Sometimes she seemed so grown up, but others she was just as he remembered her...

A soft ache bloomed behind his ribs and Edgin shivered, a small noise crackling in his throat.

“Are you well?” asked Xenk, those eyes so kind as he leaned in.

“Yeah,” muttered Edgin, dusting the crumbs off his palms before tugging his jacket tighter. “Just not a fan of winter, you know?”

“I understand,” murmured Xenk, nimble fingers grasping his cloak and draping it over Edgin's shoulders too.

They'd never really talked about Revel's End, about what Edgin had gone through there. He wasn't keen to uncork that poison. But Xenk knew he'd been there. And his partner had a paladin's heart...

Edgin swallowed, inching closer so their shoulders nudged. “You worried about this? About our quest?”

Xenk inhaled slowly, a solid presence beside him. “The Stones of Palivar are legendary. What I've heard may be little more than rumours. I cannot be sure of how they function.”

“Well, we're not gonna find out,” Edgin said, pushing a curl of reassurance across his mouth. “We'll sort this before they even start the ritual. It's all gonna be fine.”

An aching solemnity lingered in those warm eyes, but Xenk's lips curved to a tender smile.

The fog drifted closer. Edgin shivered deeper.

Xenk wrapped his cloak tighter around Edgin, that smile gaining a playful edge. “Perhaps we should have purchased a new cloak for you also.”

“Nah, it'd spoil my look,” Edgin said, throat tight even as he grinned. He arched towards Xenk. “And I wouldn't have an excuse to share yours.”

Xenk chuckled, a yearning in his dark eyes. Leaning closer, he brushed their lips together, soft as a sigh. Edgin nudged into the kiss, an ache shimmering in his chest, and exhaled as they edged back. Lingering there, expression solemn, Xenk rested his forehead against Edgin's – and as Edgin breathed through that quiet moment, that gentle touch, Xenk slipped his hand down to clasp Edgin's fingers.

Ribs quivering, Edgin squeezed Xenk's hand, till a rhythm tingled down his fingers again. Edgin inhaled sharply, peeled away, scrambled to his feet. “Right,” he said, striding over as Kira's latest pebble plopped into the water, “time for Dad to show you how it's done.”

Her giggle echoed into his chest and lodged there, sweet and heavy.

 

*

 

The late afternoon was drawing thin, warm in colour but not on the skin, before the abbey appeared on the horizon. Surrounded by the furrows of slumbering fields, it was a solid and practical building, a brick edifice that hunkered down and promised safety. Like many Chauntean sites, a large granary loomed beside it, both an altar of worship and a working building.

Edgin glanced at Xenk as they guided their horses towards it, hooves thumping in the dirt. His partner sat tall in his saddle, that handsome face calm and ready. But as the fields and lonely trees rolled by, tension coiled tighter in Edgin's stomach.

He urged their horses into a cluster of trees crowning the last low hill before the abbey, surveilling from as close as he dared. When he jumped down to stare across the melancholy fields, Xenk and Kira followed suit, shifting in beside him.

“Alright,” said Edgin, clamping a hand onto Kira's shoulder, a slight flicker in his stomach. “Kir, I'm sending you in first. Just a bit of recon, no actual thieving. Once you report back, I'll make a plan to get the chalice. Okay?”

Her face lit up, but Xenk's turned to a frown.

“We are not stealing the chalice,” Xenk insisted.

“What?” Edgin chuckled, fond despair shimmering in his chest. “Course we are. You think they're just gonna hand it to us? You said it was sacred.”

“We only need to borrow it,” Xenk said, those dark eyes intense with righteous certainty. “I'm sure they will agree. Chauntea would oppose any form of necromancy. It is a twisting of her gift.”

Edgin huffed out another laugh, almost melting to a groan. “You want to ask them?”

“We are not stealing the chalice,” Xenk repeated, gaze burning into Edgin.

That fondness ached behind Edgin's ribs. He swallowed, taking in the hard set of Xenk's mouth, the steady stance in that graceful body, the resolution in those sincere eyes. Back straight, dressed in that polished armour, his partner practically vibrated with paladin surety. Shit. There was no arguing with that look.

Edgin swallowed a sigh. “You're lucky I'm in love with you,” he muttered, and Xenk's lips twitched. “Fine. Talk to them. If they'll give it to anyone, it's gonna be you.”

Xenk's mouth tugged wider, into one of his wonky smiles. Edgin's stomach quivered. Even when his partner wasn't absolutely perfect, he was perfectly adorable.

“You will see, this will be much easier,” Xenk insisted, with more innocence than a half-cursed man ought to have.

Edgin doubted it, but he didn't voice that aloud. Xenk couldn't be swayed before the harsh truth was stained upon the ground. Too devoted to hope, too oblivious to the realities of people. Edgin snorted. Probably why Xenk thought him worth courting.

“Always glad to do it the easy way,” sighed Edgin, clapping Xenk on the back. His voice creaked with resignation, but he couldn't help the smile that twitched across his lips.

Xenk returned the smile, warmer, louder.

Kira pouted a little. “No recon then?”

“We shall have need of your skills another time,” said Xenk, voice rumbling low, eyes sincere and kind.

A soft light flared in Kira's eyes, her smile fragile, and Edgin squeezed her shoulder.

“Right, let's go.”

They swung back into their saddles, guiding their mounts up the last bit of road to the abbey. A few nuns were bustling about by the entrance, dressed in deep green robes, casting curious glances as the three of them hopped down and tied the horses to the provided rail.

Edgin flashed them a smile, charming but not too charming, and let Xenk take the lead. For all his awkwardness, Xenk had an earnest intensity which people seemed to naturally trust. It did more to convince reluctant strangers than any story Edgin could spin.

“Excuse me,” Xenk said, plain but with such gravitas, to a nun who caught his eye. “We must speak with your abbess urgently.”

The nun's gaze flicked over the mark on his forehead, then across his gleaming armour, her brows first tightening and then relaxing. “Come with me.”

She dipped through the open double doors, the three companions trailing after her. The late autumn chill followed them inside, lingering in the wide corridors, lit by high windows and glowing stones that provided no heat. Edgin knew the Chaunteans had a thing about not lighting fires, but a shiver still rolled down his spine. Xenk clasped his fingers for a moment.

That faltering sunlight spilled across the potted plants that lined the walls, the space otherwise empty. In fact they passed no people at all. Despite the size of the place, despite winter creeping in, none of the congregation were sheltering inside. Harvest may have passed, the planting season far ahead, but no doubt the nuns were still busy with something. A tiny smile tugged at Edgin's mouth. Chauntea's children had an even more ridiculous work ethic than Xenk.

The nun led them to a huge hall, airy and open, lined with pews. A central well loomed from a dark patch of bare earth. Must be their worship space.

“Please, wait here,” she said, and scurried away.

Xenk stilled, his steady form thrumming with resolute anticipation. Edgin shook off another shiver, and wandered over to a pew, trailing his fingers across the cushions. They were embroidered with all kinds of produce: wheat, corn, pumpkins, carrots, radishes. Even a few potatoes, lovingly stitched. He gestured at them, grinning at Kira. If Holga was into handicrafts, that's the kind of thing she'd do.

Before long the nun returned, walking in the wake of another woman – older, sterner, sweeping into the room. Her dress billowed in the cool air, bright as the summer sun, edged with deep green. Another exquisite embroidery adorned the front: a blooming rose on a field of corn. Edgin shuffled back towards Xenk, trying not to look thiefy.

“Welcome to Fargrange Abbey,” said the abbess, hands clasped in front of her. “I am Harvestmother Anira. What is your business, paladin?”

“We have come to ask for aid,” said Xenk, with absolutely zero guile. Gods, Edgin could never look that innocent. Even if he was.

He usually wasn't.

“The daughters of Chauntea are always glad to open their arms to those in need,” Anira said grandly. “You are welcome to a share from our stores of food, or to seeds for your fields, or access to our libraries. What aid do you require?”

“A dangerous cult has taken hold, not far from here,” said Xenk, earnest and solemn. “They mean to use one of the Palivar Stones. To stop them, we need an artifact blessed with vitality. I humbly ask for the use of your Lithera Chalice.”

Anira's mouth twitched, brows drawing tight. “That chalice is our sacred charge. I'm afraid we cannot allow it to pass beyond these walls.” She looked him up and down. “Even in such honoured hands as yours, Xenk Yendar.”

Xenk tensed, forehead furrowing as he inhaled a sharp breath. “Do you not understand? The Stones of Palivar contain a power that opposes all Chauntea stands for. I do not ask to be gifted the chalice, merely borrow it for a time. You may be assured I would return it in perfect condition.”

“You cannot ensure that,” Anira said calmly. “The chalice is sacred. No need outweighs that, even yours. But I can be sure that you will find another way, Yendar.”

Xenk opened his mouth, sharpness flashing in his dark eyes. Before his partner could unleash that righteous indignation, Edgin stepped in close, curling his hand around Xenk's arm.

“It's fine, Xenk,” he said, his reassuring tone more for the abbess than Xenk, who rarely picked up that kind of thing. “I'm sure Plan B will be just as good.”

Xenk hummed a heavy note, rumbling with frustration. But he relaxed under Edgin's touch. “Thank you for your time, abbess. But if your answer is no, we must take our leave. Our own time is limited.”

Anira smiled, far too smug for Edgin's liking, and gently waved them off.

Edgin steered Xenk back towards the entrance, collecting Kira on the way, who seemed a little awed by the majesty of the space.

“How can they refuse?” muttered Xenk as they stepped back outside. “How can they let this happen?”

Resignation creased Edgin's forehead and he sighed. “Don't worry. I know what to do.”

They mounted up again, Xenk emanating a level of disapproval that Edgin almost felt judged by in proximity. But Edgin urged their horses forward – not back the way they came, but round the side of the abbey, across to a nearby clump of trees.

“Alright,” said Edgin, when they'd tied the horses up, hidden inside the copse. His fingers drummed on his thigh as he peered across the gap to the abbey. “Plan B.”

“I do not know of a second option,” Xenk said, brow furrowing deep, gloomier than Edgin had heard him for a long time. “The closest alternative is the Haggiron Blade, five days away, in Mallio's old tower.”

“Xenk,” Edgin said gently, pressing his palm to his partner's back. “We're going to steal the chalice.”

“We are not going to steal the chalice,” said Xenk, turning those dark eyes on him, so fiercely earnest.

Edgin opened his mouth to huff –

“We will merely borrow it,” insisted Xenk, a slight gleam in his eye.

Edgin guffawed, sliding closer to wrap an arm around him. “That's the spirit,” he breezed, delight dancing in his chest.

“So it's back on?” Kira said eagerly, hand already reaching for her necklace. “I get to sneak in?”

Chuckling, Edgin curled a hand over her shoulder too. “You get to sneak in, honey.”

Xenk fixed his urgent gaze on her. “We entrust our mission to your skills, Kira.”

She grinned, excitement thrumming on her young face. “I'll report back as quick as I can,” she promised, and vanished.

Edgin felt the brush of fabric as she slipped from his touch. He inhaled slowly, arching further into Xenk's steady form. Xenk leaned into him too, anticipation heavy in the air.

The nuns knew they were here now, knew they were interested in the chalice, and Edgin doubted the abbess was naive enough not to imagine they might try this. If they'd tried this route first... But Xenk had strict rules, and that was just part of the man's infuriating perfection.

Of course, the abbess didn't know Kira could turn invisible. An ache quivered in Edgin's gut at the thought of her alone in there. But a load of nuns were hardly any danger, no matter how smug they were.

“You are okay with this, yeah?” said Edgin, arm clinging to Xenk's armoured form, turning his head to study that handsome face. “The second they realise the chalice is gone, they'll guess it was us. And the abbess knows who you are.”

“This quest is more important than my reputation,” Xenk said, utterly earnest, as he fixed those deep eyes on Edgin. “And if my reputation cannot weather this, it was worth little to begin with.”

Edgin chuckled, heart singing at his partner's sincerity. Gods, even when Xenk was embracing thievery, he had to be such a paladin about it. How did he ever score such a guy.

“They'll forgive you when we return it,” Edgin murmured, and nudged forward to press their mouths together, a brief but reassuring kiss.

Xenk hummed a low note, not disbelieving, not yet certain, and stole a second peck from his lips. Then he turned to stare at the abbey, and Edgin did too.

As they watched that hulking building, a few nuns scurrying beneath that wilting sky, the faint wind flickered around them – a tendril of winter cold snaking up Edgin's sleeves. He flexed his fingers, shaking it off, then slipped into that drum again as tension coiled down his limbs.

When a shiver claimed his spine, Xenk clasped Edgin's restless hand. “She will return soon,” he murmured, sure and tender.

Edgin nodded, jaw set hard. But soon stretched before him, no markers but that blank sky, and he couldn't keep any measure except the slow winding in his gut. He was quietly vibrating, clinging to Xenk's fingers, before Kira flickered into view before them.

“I couldn't find the chalice,” Kira said, calm and businesslike, an unfamiliar attitude on her young face. “But there's a vault under the abbey. I don't know how deep it goes, but there's a locked door. The chalice must be behind it, right?”

“Probably, yeah,” said Edgin, a grin stealing across his mouth as some of his tension fluttered away. “Good work, honey.”

She beamed at him and his heart melted.

“But how do we reach the vault?” asked Xenk, serious again. “We cannot all wear the necklace.”

“We'll just walk in,” said Edgin, shrugging. “They don't have guards. Place was practically empty. We should have a few minutes before anyone spots us, and that's all we need to get this done.”

“Yeah, I almost didn't need to be invisible,” said Kira, bright and earnest. “I only passed one person as I was walking around.”

“I suppose the nuns have other duties,” mused Xenk.

“Ridiculous dedication is useful sometimes,” teased Edgin; Xenk blinked at him. “Come on. Let's get in there. Don't run, just walk like we're meant to be there.”

He led them across the grass, strolling with purpose, Kira matching his gait. Xenk didn't look quite so relaxed, but then he never did. But he always had the air of a man who was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Edgin pulled open the side door and ushered them inside. “Which way, Kir?”

“Straight on, then left, then right, and down the steps,” said Kira, gesturing with her hands.

Edgin set off, following her instructions. He didn't ask her to turn invisible again – he was always more comfortable when he could see her, and it wasn't like they were expecting a fight. Her being invisible would do nothing to hide him and Xenk either. But Xenk had that attentive look on his face, the one he always did when they were sneaking around, and Edgin knew his partner was using his sensitive hearing to listen out for approaching footsteps.

They were halfway to the vault when Xenk stopped, holding his hand out. “Someone is coming this way,” he murmured.

Kira instantly turned invisible. Edgin urgently glanced around: there were a lot of potted plants, but none big enough to hide behind. But there was a little alcove, half in shadows, and maybe that'd be enough –

“Come on,” he muttered, grabbing Xenk's hand and tugging him into the small space.

Xenk pressed in close, dark eyes wide, the cold armour covering his solid body pushing against Edgin's chest. Normally Edgin would've thrilled at the proximity, heartbeat pounding in his chest – but Kira was nearby, they were at risk of being caught, and so his heart thumped for another reason.

But as he inhaled deep, trying to calm himself, Edgin caught a waft of Xenk's scent – armour polish, a hint of sweat, and that floral soap he always used. Subtle, familiar, whispering of warm nights cuddled close.

The footsteps plinked closer, loud enough now for Edgin's ears to hear, and Edgin held his breath. Kira might be invisible, but they weren't really hidden, just vaguely obscured – so if the nun turned down this corridor, if she was paying attention, if she wasn't daydreaming –

But the footsteps passed on, continuing straight ahead, not down their side corridor. Edgin loosed his breath in a rush, squeezing Xenk's fingers. Xenk softly raised his brows.

Edgin swallowed and stepped from the alcove, reluctantly releasing Xenk's hand. Kira popped back into existence, eyes wide, her smile wavering – half excitement, half nerves. Edgin matched her smile and ushered them on, following her earlier instructions.

The rest of the corridors were empty, and soon they were scuttling down the steps to the vault, the carved stone chamber beneath the abbey. Lit by more glowing stones, the low air was even colder here, lingering around them like the morning's mist.

Swallowing, Edgin strode over to the door, heart pattering in his chest. The tension in his limbs vibrated at the way Xenk's armoured boots echoed in the sacred space. But nobody came running, nobody raised an alarm.

Edgin studied the thick wood of the plain door, then checked Xenk's expression.

“The lock is not magical,” Xenk noted, those solemn eyes focused. “Have you been practising your lockpicking?”

Edgin cleared his throat. He'd been meaning to, he just hadn't quite got around to...

“I could do it,” Kira piped up, her smile softly urging.

Edgin stared at her. He'd shown her the basics years ago, demonstrating on a practice padlock, giving her a little taste of their thieving ways – when she was old enough to need that anchor, young enough to find excitement in such a small thing –

Kira shuffled her feet, smile faltering. “Forge taught me a few things...”

Edgin's stomach clenched, rime prickling over his skin. Gods, how many things had she learned with him?

How many things had she forgotten.

But the watchful air of the vault weighed on him, Xenk's presence vibrating beside him, so Edgin offered her a shaky smile and dug his lockpicks from his pocket. “Okay, kiddo, show us your stuff.”

Kira took those lockpicks, her smile earnest – so grown up, so fragile – and set to work. Edgin watched, busy mind noting every little click, every clink of metal inside that lock – his eyes drifting over her new cloak, the border so sweetly embroidered –

The lock thunked and Kira stepped back, her smile yearning and hopeful.

Edgin swallowed, tension coiling in his chest, proud and aching. “Great work, kiddo,” he said, earnest as he could manage, patting her shoulder gently.

“That was well done,” agreed Xenk, truly sincere.

Kira beamed.

Urgency rippling in his veins, eyes bright and alert, Edgin pulled the door open and –

Xenk pressed a hand to his chest. “Hold. I sense a ward beyond,” he warned, his gaze sharp and serious. “Only the purest spirits may enter.”

Edgin snorted, halting instantly. He clamped a hand on Xenk's steady shoulder, on the gleaming pauldron. “Good thing we've got a holy paladin then, yeah?”

A frown twitched across Xenk's perfect forehead. He didn't move, instead closing his eyes, breathing slow and deliberate.

Edgin wrinkled his nose, a jitter dawning in his feet. “Come on, Xenk. Just get in there. Your spirit's purer than some nun.” Even some very loud nights hadn't dampened Xenk's vows the slightest bit.

Sharp and vulnerable, Xenk fixed his eyes on Edgin. “I must prepare myself. Clear my mind. I cannot enter such a place with selfish aims. I must not be motivated by greed, or frustration, or spite.”

Edgin nudged him, chuckling. “What, saving the world isn't selfless enough? Xenk, it's you. There's no way you can trigger it.”

Xenk's throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes still a little fragile. But Edgin couldn't imagine any spite there.

“We are merely borrowing the chalice,” muttered Xenk, like a mantra, like an anchor.

Edgin beamed at him, his own thieving heart clenching, but still thoroughly believing. He patted Xenk's shoulder again, and his partner stepped through the doorway.

No blaring siren sounded. Nothing but the light click of Xenk's boots.

Xenk glanced back at him, hesitant, almost surprised, then pressed on. Edgin lingered, careful not to cross the threshold. The space beyond was not a catacomb, a deep and winding collection of passages that Edgin had feared they'd have to search – just a single room, windowless, empty except for the soft glow of those fireless stones. And one pedestal, plain wood, claiming the centre spot. On it sat a chalice – tiny, tempting, gleaming in gold.

“Alright, grab it,” urged Edgin, a hint of reverence in his tone. “Let's get out of here. We've got a world to save.”

Xenk paused, hand carefully closing on his pommel. Slowly, studiously, he circled that pedestal.

“Come on,” begged Edgin, impatience rattling down his spine.

“I sense magic from the pedestal,” murmured Xenk, locking eyes with him from the opposite side. “I fear it may be trapped.”

“Figures,” sighed Edgin. But he waved a hand. “Break the spell then.”

“That is not my speciality,” Xenk said, eyes lingering.

Edgin offered him a grin, full of charm and reassurance.

“But I will try.” Cautiously, Xenk reached out, pressing his fingertips to the side of the pedestal. He breathed slowly, inhaling, exhaling – far more evenly than Edgin, blood rushing in his veins. The slightest frown twitched across Xenk's forehead as he adjusted his fingers slightly, a little left, a little right, exploring the surface. Exploring the magic, Edgin hoped.

At last Xenk pressed his palm flat against the surface and muttered a spell. The pedestal hummed, and the air went lax.

“There you go,” crowed Edgin, chest swelling with pride. Kira grinned next to him. “Now grab it.”

Xenk hesitated, his dark eyes wide and soulful. Edgin's stomach clenched, cold understanding flooding him. After Xenk had been so opposed to stealing the chalice, after he'd wriggled his moral stance through some reluctant loophole, it seemed cruel to force him to be the one to take it. But nobody else could cross the threshold.

Edgin dropped his voice to a low, soft tone, laced with all the tenderness he felt for Xenk. “We're only borrowing it.”

Xenk swallowed and picked it up.

Still no alarm. Thank the gods.

“Now let's save the world,” Edgin urged, hushed and gentle, gesturing him closer.

A fragility lingered on Xenk's handsome face as he slipped back into the chamber. Edgin rested a hand on his arm, smile aching. Shit, Xenk really was too much of a paladin for this thieving business. But they were only borrowing it. Even Edgin would swear to that.

“We'll bring it back,” Edgin said.

“We will bring it back,” Xenk repeated, his tone a little firmer, back a little straighter.

Edgin flashed another grin at him, squeezing his bicep for a moment, then strode towards the entrance to the vault. “Right, everyone out!”

Xenk and Kira followed him as they retraced their steps. Edgin's senses all flared bright as they hurried down the corridors. Perhaps caught in the grip of reverence, Xenk was still clutching the tiny chalice in his fingers. But then, with all that solid armour, he didn't exactly have somewhere to shove it. Only his steady hand concealed most of that gleam. And taking it off him didn't seem right.

Swallowing, Edgin resisted the urge to run. Their best disguise was to look natural. Hurrying would create more noise, attract more attention, especially with Xenk's armour clanking. Yeah, the guy was remarkably quiet in it – that supernatural grace aiding him again – but he wasn't silent, definitely not at speed. So they were just going to have to walk out of here.

And if anyone looked too closely, they'd be rumbled, sacred chalice glimmering between Xenk's fingers or not.

But the abbey was still practically deserted. Even Xenk's sensitive ears didn't alert them to anyone approaching. All of the other nuns must be outside, or in their quarters, or just plain not nearby. Glee soared behind Edgin's ribs, adrenaline whooshing in his veins –

“I hear someone,” murmured Xenk.

Shit.

Edgin quickly looked around, desperate for somewhere to hide. But there wasn't anywhere. No alcoves this time. All of the plant pots nearby were tiny. Gods, why couldn't there be a nice big leafy palm to crouch behind?

“Just act normal,” hissed Edgin, forcing his legs into a stroll. “We're just leaving the meeting, yeah?”

“I have never been a good actor,” murmured Xenk, shifting in close behind. “Nor am I sure what signifies normal.”

Kira's hand flicked to her necklace, but Edgin shook his head. Better for her to be seen. She was definitely the least suspicious of them. Who'd suspect a sweet teenage girl would be stealing from some nuns? Her little face was far too innocent.

Of course, she'd been an accessory to theft since she was a toddler. But that just meant she'd been practising that innocent look since she was a toddler. A skill Edgin had always praised.

Well, except when she turned it on him.

A jolt lanced through Edgin's chest as the approaching nun turned into their corridor. She was heading straight towards them. He fixed a half-smile onto his face. The sort of vacant greeting born of reflexive politeness, a relaxed expression that implied he wasn't really thinking – definitely not masterminding a heist of that sacred chalice, only a minute from succeeding –

As the nun grew closer, Kira also pulled a smile onto her face, just as vague, but with more genuine innocence. The nun matched her smile warmly, eyes flicking over her, over Edgin, over Xenk's hand –

“Hey, what are you –”

Double shit.

“Run,” gasped Edgin, grabbing Kira's hand, and burst into motion. Xenk and Kira followed suit – barrelling along the corridor as the nun shouted at their backs –

“Stop! The chalice! Thieves, stop!”

But she didn't chase them. Didn't attack them. She was a nun, not a guard. If the abbey had any guards, they weren't here. And the door was just ahead – Just one last door, one dash across the field, one gallop on their horses –

Urgency rattled through Edgin's stomach as they sprinted, still half expecting some armoured hulk to slam him to the floor.

But no hulk appeared. No guards at all. No barriers besides that holy ward, which only someone as perfect as Xenk could slip through –

Panting out half a laugh, Edgin burst through that door. There was nobody outside. The grass was clear. Edgin raced across it, breathless, still squeezing Kira's hand. If anyone was chasing them –

But they had a head start, they could escape, they needed this chalice –

Xenk clanked along just behind him. Even in full armour, Xenk was faster than him – but Xenk always placed himself between his allies and any enemies, and somehow the unarmed nuns were those enemies right now.

They reached the horses, still unopposed – untied the reins, jumped into their saddles, urged the horses back into the open – urged the horses to a gallop –

Edgin was so glad Kira was a good rider –

If anyone even tried to follow them, they lost them before they made it back to the main road. A laugh spilling from his mouth, Edgin carefully slowed his horse, gratefully patting her neck. Xenk and Kira did the same, the urgency of flying hooves thrumming to a weight in the air instead.

Still half breathless, Edgin grinned at them both.

Xenk stared at the precious chalice in his hand, so delicate in his fingers. He swallowed, curling his other hand more tightly over the reins.

“We're just borrowing it,” swore Edgin, rushed but earnest.

“We're gonna save the world!” cried Kira, her breath melting into giggles.

 

*

 

They kept riding till the late autumn sun had almost faltered to darkness, pushing their horses at a slow pace for as long as they could, as far from the abbey as possible. As the last sliver of pale sunlight lingered in the cool air, they dipped through a gap in the forest to find a small clearing, mostly screened from the road.

Xenk solemnly handed the chalice to Kira, her eyes wide as she let it rest upon her palms, then he and Edgin piled into setting up the camp. Without Holga's strength to heave in stones, Doric's owlbear bulk to drag the branches, and Simon's magic to light the fire, it was a more haphazard effort than usual.

Edgin muttered under his breath, cursing, as he struck the flint and tinder to no avail. Xenk gently held his hand out, received the tool, and sparked a light first time.

“Always gotta be so perfect,” huffed Edgin, half teasing, half fond.

As the blaze flickered to claim the kindling, Xenk's smile shone on his lips, wonky and sheepish.

Simon usually carried their cooking supplies, an infinite bounty in his bag of holding, but without him their options were more limited. Leaving in a rush, they'd not had much time to stock up either, having expected a week of relaxation in Greyford. All they had was Xenk's cookpot, barely big enough for three, and a limited selection of vegetables. Still, as their campfire crackled to a generous heat, they managed a thick soup in that pot. Using some thin branches as spears, they produced some toast for dipping, and a baked potato each that Holga would be proud of.

When that warm food was resting in their bellies and Edgin was licking the last taste from his lips, Xenk picked up the chalice and rolled it in his fingers, serious gaze fixed on the firelight playing over that rich gold.

“You gonna need a while to attune?” asked Edgin, shifting on his log seat.

Xenk's brows twitched. He held the chalice still. “I do not think it needs attunement,” he murmured, low and earnest. “I sense that it is already willing.”

Carefully, he tipped the empty chalice, and a pure flow of water streamed out, clear except for the dance of the campfire behind it. Where it hit the scraggly grass below, it didn't pool – but a patch of daisies sprouted, bright and pale, shivering in the dusk.

“Wow,” breathed Kira, leaning forward. “That's so cool.”

Xenk righted the chalice and the water stopped. He glanced at the bowl; Edgin could see it was empty too. “I understand why the nuns of Chauntea value this so,” Xenk murmured.

“Can I try?” asked Kira, brows lifted, a hesitant smile on her face.

Xenk held it out to her, silent and reverent, and she closed her little fingers on it. She slowly tipped it as he'd done – and more water trickled out, a little sputtering as she laughed. This time, red clover unfurled before her feet.

“Dad, you try,” she urged, passing it on to him.

Clearing his throat, Edgin shrugged and did the same. Maybe a drop rolled out, nothing else. His stomach tightened.

“Guess it knows what kinda man I am,” he said, casting a grin round at them, too wide, too false.

Xenk just hummed, dark eyes intense as they lingered on him.

Kira shuffled in her seat as Edgin set the chalice down. The campfire crackled, warmth whipping through the air. A spark of tension flared in Edgin's chest, curled on itself, coiled down into his gut, as Kira tapped her feet.

“If you don't need to attune,” she blurted out, “could we do a little more weapons training, Xenk?”

Xenk gazed over at Edgin, eyebrows lifted.

A twinge flitted through Edgin's chest, but he nodded. He didn't love the idea of Kira sparring – sharp edges had a tendency to turn to cuts – but Xenk was so steady, so careful, so graceful in his movements that Edgin knew he could never hurt Kira, even by accident. Xenk sparring with Kira was even safer than Holga doing it, and Holga would never hurt her little Bug on purpose.

“I would be happy to help you,” said Xenk, unsheathing the dagger portion of his daggersword.

Kira's face bloomed to a picture of glee, and she pulled out her own little blade – a gift from Holga on her most recent birthday.

“Not long though,” warned Edgin, one leg jittering. “Not much light left.”

Kira snorted. “Xenk can see in the dark.”

“Yeah, but you can't,” teased Edgin, swinging his legs over the log to watch.

Xenk offered Kira a gentle smile and bow, then slipped into a ready stance. She giggled and adopted her own, far less polished. But as she darted and dipped, Edgin could see she was coming along. Much better than she used to be. An ache rippled in his chest, stoked by her excited little sounds.

But a part of him couldn't help latching on to the sight of Xenk, expertly stepping and parrying, every movement honed – that physical prowess was impressive, even if the guy was clearly holding himself way, way back. Xenk's words were gentle too, praising and encouraging as he guided her form. “That's it, Kira. A little faster, Kira. Just so, Kira.”

Edgin exhaled slowly, bouncing his leg as he leaned back. Part of him wanted to take over, to instruct Kira, or spar with Xenk instead, or maybe trot across to his saddlebag and grab his knitting – but he just clutched at the log until Xenk murmured, “The sun has set, Kira.”

She sighed, but didn't protest as she stowed her dagger and resumed her seat.

“We doing half and half watches tonight?” Edgin asked Xenk, as his partner returned to the flickering heat of the campfire too.

Xenk nodded slowly, that handsome face so serious. “I will take the morning watch, if you do not mind,” he said, as though that wasn't what they always did in this situation.

Edgin snorted. “Sure. You'll be up before dawn anyway.”

A tender smile tugged Xenk's mouth sideways, the curve lopsided and familiar. “And you cannot be dragged to bed till midnight is long past.”

Edgin cleared his throat. Xenk had found ways of enticing him to bed earlier, but definitely not to sleep. Ways of prying him out of bed too, turning his grunted protests to softer moans. Ways he couldn't mention, let alone invite, while they travelled the wilds with Kira. Part of him regretted they wouldn't get that lazy week in Greyford...

“I could take a watch,” Kira piped up, eyes wide as she fiddled with her pommel.

“And I'm sure you'd be great at it,” said Edgin, aiming for a stern but gentle tone, his chest twingeing. “But you're still growing, and you need your sleep.”

“It is a kind offer, Kira,” agreed Xenk, soft and earnest, “but I should not like to see it harm you, when it will do no harm to us.”

Edgin wasn't sure about that. He was forty-two now, and his aching bones didn't find quite as much rest on the hard ground. And Xenk would be sleeping his armour, gods only knew how, which could hardly be comfortable. Even if Xenk wouldn't complain.

But five hours of uncomfortable sleep was okay for a night or two. Edgin would never make Kira take a watch just so he could scrape another couple of hours curled in his bedroll. His body might absorb the rest, but his soul would lie unsettled.

“Fine,” sighed Kira, half resigned, but there was a little twinkle in her eyes – one that said some day soon she'd be too old for his reasons to apply. Edgin swallowed, ribs tightening.

Xenk got to his feet. “Then if you'll excuse me, I ought to go to bed,” he said, pausing in front of Edgin.

“Yeah, sure,” murmured Edgin, tilting his face up for a kiss. “Night, Xenk.”

Xenk leaned down, pressing their lips together, chaste but tender. Then he pulled away. “Goodnight, Edgin. Goodnight, Kira,” he said, offering them both a gentle smile, slightly wonky, as his genuine joy somehow always was despite his perfect features.

“Goodnight, Xenk,” said Kira, her own smile soft.

Affection flared in Edgin's chest, and he pulled his lute out, more to occupy his fingers than to spin a melody upon the air. He strummed lightly across the strings, soft enough to be a lullaby as Xenk pottered to his bedroll, slipped in, drifted to a dream immediately.

Edgin swallowed, fingers finding another tune. “It's good to see you getting on with Xenk.”

Kira chuckled, leaning back. “Of course I do. He's Xenk.”

A soft laugh spilled from Edgin's mouth. “True.” Xenk might be shit at talking, but there was a kindness to him, a relentless sincerity that wore down even the coldest, most resentful thief's heart.

“Anyway,” she sighed, half yawning, “I've got two mothers, a dad, and an uncle. Why would I complain about one more?”

Edgin's note twanged sharp, hand hovering in the air. In some ways, he was as bad as Xenk, when it came to talking about serious stuff. So he'd sorta tried to feel his way around the ghost of Forge, to learn if her supposed uncle had left invisible scars when he held that knife to her neck – if her own dad had left invisible scars when he got sent –

“You might complain when Xenk starts trying to recruit you for dawn meditation,” said Edgin, not looking up, a slight croak in his voice.

Kira just giggled. “I wouldn't mind waking up at dawn. We're on an adventure!”

“Well, you might sleep through that adventure if you don't go to bed,” Edgin said, softer, an ache shimmering in his chest.

Kira released a long groan. “Dad, come on. I can actually wake up without three elbow jabs, unlike someone.”

Edgin huffed fondly. “But not if you stay up on watch with me. So, bedtime, kiddo.”

Kira shook her head, snorting softly. But she got to her feet, and scurried over for a hug.

Edgin slipped his lute back into its holster and squeezed her close. She felt so small in his arms. “Night, honey.”

“Night, Dad.”

 

*

 

By the time Xenk stretched and slipped from his bedroll to take over the watch, Edgin had taken his lute out, put it away without playing, grabbed his knitting, abandoned that, and fiddled with the chalice twice. In the end he'd settled into prodding the campfire with a stick, watching the endless variety of sparks and swirls of flame that puffed from it, hands falling into some hypnotic rhythm as his eyes glazed over, some restless eddy in his chest never quite bursting to the surface.

“You are not sleepy?” murmured Xenk, slipping in beside him, resting one hand on his shoulder.

“Why would I be sleepy now you're here?” asked Edgin, arching in, and claimed Xenk's mouth with his own – a more urgent kiss than he'd allowed himself in front of his daughter.

Xenk moaned softly, nudging into it, gentle but firm. He slipped his hand up to cup Edgin's cheek, breath a little ragged as he pulled back. Edgin's stomach clenched to hear it; the paladin never got out of breath during battle.

Shivering, Edgin delved back into the kiss, savouring the warm press of Xenk's soft flesh. This, oh, this was so much better than sleep –

A yawn crept into his jaw and Edgin had to dip back from the kiss, drawing a playful smile from his partner.

“You, my dearest bard,” Xenk said, soft and earnest, “are an incorrigible liar.”

“And you're a perfect paladin,” murmured Edgin, leaning back in, “so you'll forgive me.”

“Forgive you, yes,” chuckled Xenk, pressing a finger to his lips, “but also insist you claim your few precious hours of sleep.”

Edgin groaned. But Xenk's dark eyes were as stern as they were teasing. He arched forward to rest his forehead upon Xenk's, exhaling slowly. “Sure. Fine,” he muttered against that finger. “One more kiss first?”

Xenk smiled, wonky and earnest, and granted his request.

 

*

 

A sharp wind woke Edgin, and he pulled the blankets tighter, hissing. The wool was scratchy on his half-raw skin, and his bones ached with two years of howling snow. He rolled over, staring at the other bed – but there was no Holga on that empty slab, just a fierce whistling of air –

Whimpering, Edgin curled into his ragged blankets, but that endless chill pierced the feeble fabric like icicles pressing deep. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that wind was still yowling, screeching, crying –

No, that was a voice. Kira's voice, high and choking. So lost, so alone, so far away – separated by such distance, trapped as he was trapped –

Edgin scrambled awake, panting hard, frantic eyes barely focusing as his mind reeled to remember that he wasn't there any more. He was here, now. In this camp. Kira was here. Xenk was –

“Edgin,” murmured Xenk, sliding in close, gentle hand pressing to Edgin's back as he heaved in air – not icy, but tinged with the warmth of their campfire, simmering low now.

“Xenk,” croaked Edgin, when his tongue was working again.

Stern face soft with yearning tenderness, Xenk wrapped his arms around him, cradling him near. Edgin arched into that embrace, not attempting any further words until his breath slowed, his thumping heartbeat calmed, his aching flesh was thrumming with Xenk's hold. The solid press of that unyielding armour only steadied Edgin more.

When Edgin leaned back to look at him, Xenk brushed a stray lock from Edgin's forehead, eyes so kind. The paladin raised his eyebrows, a soft and silent question.

“Revel's End,” Edgin whispered, the words bitter in his mouth.

Xenk's expression arched to a deeper ache, all that paladin kindness aimed at him and only him. Edgin swallowed and burrowed closer.

“Two years, Xenk,” he murmured, eyes drifting to Kira's slumbering form, so peaceful and yet... “Sometimes I feel like she's not the same girl any more. What have I done to her?”

Dark eyes so gentle, Xenk stroked a hand down Edgin's back. “I'm sure she has changed. Was she the same at three as she was at five, the same at six as she was at eight? Two years of difference does not mean she is broken.”

Edgin's words jabbed at his throat. “But two years with Forge.” He swept a tongue across his lower lip, leaning against Xenk's solid form, gaze still resting on Kira. “Sometimes she seems so fragile now.”

Xenk chuckled, kind and not teasing. “I think all children are fragile at that age. She is trying to leave the little girl behind, not yet tall enough to grasp the woman she will become.”

A snort slipped past the lump in Edgin's throat. “Bet you weren't fragile.”

Xenk's thumb rubbed at his back, and the smile on his face almost was fragile. “I was not always the man I am now.”

Edgin swallowed hard. “I'm not the man I was two years ago.”

“But are you a better man?” murmured Xenk, eyes full of such kindness, such yearning. “In my heart, I believe you are.”

Edgin loosed a raw chuckle, half bitter, his hand flexing on Xenk's. “Does that make me a better father?”

“Yes,” insisted Xenk, squeezing that hand, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his cheek.

Swallowing again, Edgin gazed at him. Part of him yearned to guide Xenk down, to urge him between his legs, claim some earnest and aching intimacy, something true and undeniable. But the night was dark, the breeze cold, the ground hard and unyielding. And Kira was asleep, just feet away.

“Well, you would say that, paladin,” Edgin whispered, a melancholy curve clawing at his mouth.

Xenk clasped his fingers tighter, his own smile sad. “Perhaps you will see the truth better in the light of morning. You should return to sleep.”

Edgin groaned, reluctant to let Xenk go.

Xenk's smile deepened, playful and tender. “I will stay with you,” he murmured, guiding Edgin down, a chaste and protective echo of Edgin's fantasy. “I can keep my watch from here.”

Curling into his blankets, Xenk's hand resting on his shoulder, Edgin swallowed the ache inside him. “Goodnight, Xenk,” he croaked.

“Sleep well,” murmured Xenk, more like a binding spell than a gentle wish. Edgin sighed as he surrendered to it.

 

*

 

The morning light was pale and cool again as it cracked Edgin's eyelids open. And yet, as he groaned out a stretch, he had to admit the faint warmth of it left his spirit more settled than last night. Xenk was no longer kneeling beside him, gentle hand an anchor on his back – but when Edgin rolled over he realised his partner was only feet away, collecting up an already-sliced selection of cheese and apples and bread, before offering that breakfast to him.

Sitting up, swallowing, Edgin muttered his thanks and took it, gratefully shoving the pieces into his mouth as his blankets fell to his waist. He chewed idly, gazing round the camp, as Xenk flicked a smile at him then strode away to perform more chores. Gods, the guy was such a paladin.

Kira was humming and skipping, a slow and hesitant hopscotch around tiny patches of wildflowers. Spring flowers, not ones fading into winter.

“Hey,” called Edgin, half teasing, a shard of apple still wedged in his cheek. “You been messing with the chalice?”

“It wasn't me,” insisted Kira, giggling, and leaped over the next clump.

Xenk hummed a low note, slightly sheepish. “I was practising.”

Edgin snorted. “That's worse. You don't even need to practise.”

Xenk ducked his head, a smile twitching in the corners of his mouth, a faint ache in his eyes.

 

*

 

Veins flush with the rush of adventure, Edgin was soon beaming and shifting in his saddle, restless energy rising before noon had even arrived. Kira was even more intense, her grin wide, almost bouncing onto her horse. Xenk was more sedate, thoughtful fingers lingering on the chalice, now hanging from a loop on his belt.

They crossed the country easily, horses sure-footed, Xenk directing the way. Whether it was a good memory of Lyria's map, knowledge earned through a century travelling these lands, or just Xenk being annoyingly good at everything, the guy always seemed to know how to get where he was going. Edgin had never seen the paladin get lost.

Well, not when Xenk was in charge of directions.

As the cool autumn breeze brushed across Edgin's skin, Regis Castle loomed in Edgin's thoughts, half promise of adventure, half danger. But they had the chalice, they had everything they needed, and Xenk would know what to do. Edgin inhaled deeply, shoulders creaking as that cold air filled his lungs. A whisper of Revel's End tugged at him – but Kira was humming as she rode, and it was hard to believe she ever –

The woods gave way to more fields, fallow and furrowed, then back to deeper woods. As noon feebly sang in the sky, they paused for lunch, claiming the wide stumps of some previous logging attempt as their stools. Edgin flicked a dry bit of crust at Kira, grinning, and she huffed playfully as she brushed it off.

“Dad, my new cloak,” she protested, still smiling.

After swallowing down their sandwiches, they veered back onto the road. Edgin drummed his fingers on his saddle as his horse plodded beside Xenk's. Up ahead, Kira was humming again, vibrant with the last warmth of autumn.

But Xenk was quieter, sterner, even by his standards.

Edgin studied him, eyes flicking over that handsome face, that straight back, down to the fingers curled over the chalice.

“You okay, Xenk?” he murmured, lifting his eyebrows.

Xenk almost startled, eyes wide. “Edgin, I...” He paused, fingers idly stroking that stolen relic.

Edgin offered him a smile, soft and tender as he could make it. “Feeling guilty?”

Xenk swallowed, staring ahead. “There was no other way.”

Inhaling slowly, Edgin tilted his head. “No, there wasn't. It wasn't your first choice, but sometimes you gotta give in.”

A frown twitched across Xenk's perfect forehead. “I did not give in, Edgin.”

Edgin frowned too, stomach tightening. He licked his lips, surveying Xenk carefully.

“We are only borrowing the chalice,” Xenk insisted, and urged his horse ahead.

Edgin sighed and shrugged.

 

*

 

The woods thinned a little, thickened, proud firs settling to an undulating pattern almost like the crest of a mountain ridge. Xenk led them on, stern and sure, as the miles and the hours rolled past.

It was approaching sunset by the time the jagged shape of Regis Castle loomed before them, the pale autumn glow glancing off the dark stone, collecting on the yawning edges of the half-collapsed walls. They tied their horses up just inside the nearest patch of woods, and crept in close, peering over a tumbled-down chunk of the outer wall. The keep was small and sturdy, only slightly damaged at the parapets, but there didn't seem to be guards outside. Edgin swallowed. That was useful, but it also suggested the dark mage in charge had other ways of protecting his assets.

“Should we wait for morning?” Xenk murmured, sharp eyes fixed on the empty courtyard.

Edgin licked his lips. “No. We go now, use the night to hide us. It's not the full moon, so the cult can't use the Palivar Stone, right?”

Xenk frowned slightly. “I cannot guarantee that. But it should at least not be at full power.”

Edgin swallowed again and nodded, stomach twisting slightly. “Alright, here's the plan,” he said, glancing at his partner and his daughter, clustered close on either side of him. “We're going in blind, no intel, so we've gotta be cautious. Kira, I want you invisible, okay? I know you're training with your knife, but if there's trouble, hang back and let us handle it. Xenk, I need all your senses trained on any patrols, anything magic that might tell us where the Palivar Stone is.”

“It is an object of foul magic,” Xenk murmured, stern eyes fixed on the keep. “I will smell it.”

“Yeah. Great,” said Edgin, then clapped each of them on the back, the pure energy of danger tingling on his nerves. “We good? Then let's go.”

They followed him across the courtyard, half overgrown with weeds, creeping as stealthily as they could in the shadows. All of his brain fizzing with absolute focus, Edgin imagined he could sense Kira beside him.

Xenk pressed his hand to the door, muttering arcane words, and the lock clicked as the ward melted. Edgin carefully pushed the door open, revealing an empty corridor. The three of them slipped inside.

Flickering torches lined the walls. No guards here either. Huh. How many cultists had Lyria said there were? Ten, maybe twenty? The keep was big enough for them all to be spread out, or maybe they were mostly clustered for dinner right now, but it was weird that nobody was keeping guar–

Sickly green lightning crackled under his foot as Edgin took a step, zipping out and up the walls with an ominous crack.

“Shit,” muttered Edgin. A trap. Had to be, with no guards. “Kira, stay back. Xenk, get ready.”

Not that Xenk needed to be told. That blessed sword was already in his hands, gleaming as the paladin dropped into a fighting stance, before Edgin had even reached for his reinforced lute.

Footsteps thundered through the keep, echoing across the stone. In a matter of moments, cultists filled the corridor, men and women, young and old – or at least he assumed they were cultists. They weren't exactly dressed like it, all the usual robes and shit, just in various everyday outfits, advancing on them with glassy eyes.

Edgin clutched his lute tighter. Shit, yeah, there were definitely at least ten of them.

With a roar, the crowd rushed at them. Edgin struck out, swinging his lute, cracking into the shoulder of a guy dressed like a baker. Beside him, Xenk jabbed and darted, his supernatural speed and grace coming to the fore – though he was only striking them with his pommel, or the flat of his blade, refusing to deliver lethal blows even to some supposed necromancers.

They really didn't look like it though. The snarling woman who made a grab at Edgin's hair seemed more like a farmer, soil ground into the seams of her plain clothes. But there was a ferocity to the crowd, not overextending themselves in anger, but with a measured sharpness. And they all seemed to move the same – steady jabs of their limbs, not wild, but controlled.

Still too fast for Edgin to avoid. He swung his lute at another of them, but one of them kicked at his calf, knocking him to his knee with a gasp – then followed it up with an attack on his other leg, bowling him to the floor.

“Edgin!” called Xenk, but before Edgin could scramble to his feet, a press of bodies rushed in, rushed around Xenk, swarming close, pinning him –

“That's enough,” called a deep voice, and they all stopped.

Edgin wriggled his head out from the melee, peering through the tangle of frozen legs to the figure at the other end of the corridor. A middle-aged man, with hair slightly greyer than his, wearing black robes. Now that was a cultist. But at least he wasn't dressed in red.

“Bring them here,” he demanded, his voice sure and smooth. Unyielding hands gripped Edgin's arms, pulling him upright.

The fighters dragged him and Xenk down the corridor, not speaking, not even glancing at them, their glassy eyes staring straight ahead. Edgin hoped that Kira was hanging back. They could still get out of this, she didn't need to put herself in danger. They could still escape. Somehow.

But Edgin swallowed heavily as his guards shoved him in front of the wizard, halting there.

The man looked over him, then Xenk, both of them tense in those grasping hands. Sighing, shrugging, the wizard gave a flamboyant and dismissive wave. “Take their weapons, then take them to the cells. I don't have time for this tonight.”

Edgin's chest clenched, and he resisted the urge to wriggle as his guards pulled him down the corridor, along another, down a flight of steps – his busy mind noting every step as the blank-faced cultists dragged him and Xenk into the dungeon.

Like the keep, it was compact – only three small cells with solid iron doors. Breath shuddering in his chest, Edgin struggled against their hold to glance across at Xenk, hoping –

But those merciless hands pushed Xenk into the first cell, Edgin into the second, slamming the doors behind them. A whimper almost escaping his throat, Edgin leaped against the solid door, palms slapping the metal. Shit.

Oh, fuck.

It was the first time he'd been in a cell since Revel's End. Staggering back, panting, he scanned the damp walls. A few paces wide, a few more long, it wasn't cramped but it was... small. Swallowing, he flexed his fingers, an old rhythm lurking in his knuckles. He strode up and down, mind whirring. The door was thick, but there was a grate, so if he shouted Xenk might –

But what good would that do? One of the cultists was probably lurking outside. To yell, to reveal his plans, reveal his fears – that would only put them in a worse position.

Edgin forced himself to breathe, a shiver settling in his legs. Fuck. Kira was out there somewhere, all alone. Again. Maybe she'd followed them down – but the cultists had marched them quick, pressed close, difficult to trail without –

Shuddering, Edgin wiped his stinging eyes. He inhaled, exhaled, swallowed down another shiver. Maybe the best plan was to wait for the cultists to return, to open the cell doors at least, to – Shit, he didn't know.

Sniffing, he looked around the cell again, an ache settling in his chest, tender but more calm. There was no window to outside, no stones that looked loose, the floor packed solid. But there was a mattress, thin and uncomfortable looking... Better than his bed in Revel's End.

Edgin shuffled over to it, cautiously lay down, a tremble rippling through his body. He hadn't – He hadn't since –

Squeezing his eyes shut, Edgin pressed his forehead to that cold wall. Xenk was just on the other side. Oh, he wished they were in here together. Wished that Xenk could hold him, the way Holga sometimes had, when the wind was screaming its loudest. Could hold him, even tighter, even steadier, Xenk's paladin tenderness stilling the tremble in his core. But he was alone, like Kira was alone, separated from him just as Lyria was separated from her father, somewhere in this kee–

Edgin's eyes flicked open. Heart shimmering, he stared at the wall. It was thick, but – but maybe not that thick. And he knew Xenk was on the other side. That'd be enough. Enough for the magic –

Steadying his breath, Edgin pointed one finger at the wall. He murmured the old cantrip, the knowledge long dormant in his tongue. Then he whispered, “Xenk...”

“Edgin?” Xenk's own whisper was soft, hopeful, confused. “I did not realise you could...”

Edgin chuckled, curling tighter on the feeble mattress. “Did you forget that all Harpers can cast Message?”

If Xenk laughed too, the cantrip didn't carry it. But his whisper was warm when it returned. “Perhaps I did.”

Edgin swallowed, stomach quivering as he stared at that blank stone. The conversation was a comfort, but he still yearned for Xenk's arms, Xenk's weight, Xenk's warmth –

“Xenk,” he whispered, half a croak, all aching.

“Edgin.” The reply was soft, tender, reaching for him. “Is this... the first time you have been a prisoner since...”

Inhaling shakily, Edgin licked his lips. “In an actual cell? Yeah.”

The short silence was as tender as Xenk's words. “Edgin... I am sorry. I know you do not... I wish I could...”

Edgin swallowed harder, throat tight.

“Edgin,” came Xenk's whisper again, more urgent. “I am pressing my hand to the wall.”

Salt stung at Edgin's eyes. He placed his free hand flat against the stone too. He had no idea if it was the same bit of wall, but his heart clenched anyway. It was the same wall. Xenk was reaching for him. “Xenk, I...”

“Imagine I am holding you as I did last night,” whispered Xenk, almost a murmur, rumbling with tenderness. “My hand on you as you drifted back to sleep.”

A jolt lanced through Edgin's stomach, sweet and aching. “Xenk...”

“I am here, Edgin. I will be here as long as the spell is active, and even beyond that.”

Edgin flexed his fingers on the cold stone, that chill both stirring the ghosts in his soul, and soothing them like a rich balm. He breathed, slow and trembling, until his heartbeat calmed a little. “What are we going to do?”

“You will think of something,” whispered Xenk, quiet but utterly sure. “In the morning. Sleep, Edgin. We can do nothing at this hour.”

Edgin swallowing, those words thrumming inside him. “Kira... She's out there somewhere.”

“She is invisible, Edgin. And she knows the way back to the horses. Her bedroll is there. She may pass the night more comfortably than we shall.”

Edgin choked on a laugh, imagining his little girl, forming an invisible but cosy mound under her blankets.

“Sleep, Edgin. Sleep. My hand is on yours. We shall wrest back control in the morning...”

Shivering, Edgin wriggled on the mattress. Xenk's soft words washed over him like rushing water on the shore, the ebb a slow embrace, a mantra, a spell within a spell that lulled his soul to surrender, to sleep...

 

*

 

Edgin startled with a whimper, unyielding hands clawing him from sleep, from the floor, if not from his dream – that misty confusion wrapping round his thoughts as pulled him upright, pulled him from the cell –

Half panting, vision clearing, Edgin's mind settled a little as he realised Xenk was ahead of him, being dragged along too – sword somewhere, confiscated last night, but his armour still buckled on. Still the true image of a noble paladin.

Xenk twisted in that grasp to gaze back at him, dark eyes solemn and tender.

Whatever was about to happen, they would go through it together.

Swallowing, Edgin urged his mind to wake, his thoughts to calm, as they were shoved and pushed and marched through the keep, along corridors, up spirals of stairs. At last the guards pulled them into an open room – the tatty rug and torn tapestries suggesting this was not a cosy, well cared for space.

“Chairs,” called the wizard, extending one gnarled hand as they arrived.

Gods, he might not be a Red Wizard – no tattoos, and he still had hair, grey and perfectly tousled – but his charming, wrinkled face reminded Edgin a bit of Forge, and that was almost worse.

“Tie them up,” the wizard barked.

Firm hands holding him tight, Edgin didn't fight as two of the cultists set up two chairs – solid furniture, not rickety, despite the look of the place, damn it – and the others dragged him and Xenk over to them, lashing them to the chairs, hands roped behind their backs.

“Give us space,” said the wizard, icy blue eyes drifting from Xenk to Edgin, and the other cultists stepped back. “Now, you're going to tell me what I want to know.”

Edgin opened his mouth to laugh, to refuse, but he held up that wizened hand – and Edgin felt a jolt of magic, a glyph glowing on the floor beneath them all as he whispered something beneath his breath. Shit, a Zone of Truth. Edgin fought against it, his whirring mind resisting it, pushing it out –

But beside him, Xenk relaxed, handsome face serene.

The wizard laughed. “You surrendered to my spell? A wise choice, paladin, but don't imagine I'll be kinder to you.”

“I have sworn a vow of honesty,” Xenk said, fixing him with a stern look, intense and unbowed. “Your magic cannot hold me tighter than my own will.”

“Very well,” he said, almost simpering, pale mouth stretching to a cruel smile. “Now, who are you?”

“I am Xenk Yendar, a paladin. And what shall I call you?”

A peal of laughter tumbled from the wizard's bloodless lips. “You may call me Nizor, for the short time you retain your will.”

Edgin swallowed, staying quiet. Gods, he needed to think of something. Needed to figure out a plan –

“But why are you here, Yendar?” asked the wizard, gaze surveying him. “I see you've been touched by necromantic magic too. Come to steal my Palivar Stone?”

“To destroy it,” Xenk said, calm and simple.

Edgin couldn't help cracking a smile at that, even as his chest quivered. But shit, what were they gonna do? They'd both been disarmed. And there were too many of the cultists to fight, even if there was more space in this room than the corridor...

Of course, they'd need to get free of the ropes first, and he had an idea for that, but they'd need a distraction.

The wizard cackled. “You cannot destroy a Palivar Stone, fool.”

“No, I cannot,” admitted Xenk, voice still even.

Oh, clever. Edgin had to hand that to him. Xenk couldn't destroy the Palivar Stone – but the chalice could. Maybe his slippery ways were rubbing off on the paladin.

But as Edgin's eyes drifted to Xenk's belt, his smirk faded. Fuck. Where was the chalice? Had the cultists taken that too?

Nizor shook his head, snorting. Even his tone reminded Edgin of Forge... “Then why did you come here?”

“To destroy the Palivar Stone,” Xenk said again, with a level of serenity that Edgin knew from experience could be intensely frustrating. Another smile cracked Edgin's lips, fragile but earnest.

“But you just said –” Nizor snarled, and sighed. “How do you intend to destroy it?”

Xenk simply smiled at him.

Hissing, Nizor rolled up his sleeves, brows drawing tight. Edgin quickly glanced around at the other cultists, all stood perfectly still around the edges of the room, vacant eyes staring into nothingness.

Too still. Too vacant.

He inspected them all closer. Huh, that man in the corner, with silver hair and grey eyes – eyes just like Lyria –

Edgin's stomach clenched tighter. Was he –

“Your little game ends here, paladin,” sneered Nizor, eyes flashing with glee and fury. He took a step towards Xenk –

A crash echoed elsewhere in the keep. Not the sound of another trap, but objects smashing to the floor. A lot of objects.

“See what that is,” snapped Nizor, and every one of the cultists turned and filed out of the room. “Now, Yendar, I'm sure you think you're very clever. But you will bend just as the others –”

A whoosh and a rumble followed that crash. Suspiciously like the sound of a fireball. A fireball racing across a lot of objects, probably strewn across the floor.

“What the fuck,” cried the wizard, thin mouth grimacing as he wheeled around.

Edgin bit back a grin, hope and pride shimmering in his chest. Really, only one person could be responsible –

The wizard growled, eyes flicking over their tight bonds, then stalked out of the room too.

Xenk twisted his head towards Edgin. “If I can edge my chair over to you, Edgin, I may be able to untie you.”

“No need,” said Edgin, the ache behind his ribs fluttering, and wiggled his fingers with a flourish. “Watch this.”

He muttered a few words under his breath. A purple spectral hand appeared in the air before him.

“More magic?” murmured Xenk, dark eyes wide. “Edgin, how many spells do you...”

“Some,” chuckled Edgin, pride thrumming as he curled his hand. The mage hand responded, floating round behind him and tugging at his ropes. A chill still weighed on his soul, still ached a little, but... “The stuff the Harpers taught me was never really good for combat. But I'm a bard, Xenk. My words are layered with magic. You never wondered why our enemies cringe when I insult them?”

Xenk's forehead creased. “I merely thought you possessed a skill with conversation that I have always lacked.”

Edgin had to laugh at that, but he swallowed it with a tender gulp, setting his fizzing mind on his spell – tugging at bindings he couldn't see. It was difficult and slow, slipping each loop free – but he could hear the distant hiss of flame, and certain shouts of profanity from Nizor.

At last the ropes dropped from his hands, and Edgin grinned, springing from his seat to free Xenk too. “You figured out where the stone is?”

“I smell evil on the air,” said Xenk, with the kind of gravitas Edgin would kill for.

“What about the chalice? Please tell me you saw where they took that.”

Xenk inhaled slowly. “I can smell that also, a lighter tang.”

Edgin chuckled, gazing at his partner in wonder. “Shit, can you smell everything? No wonder you hate crowds.”

Xenk pursed his perfect lips as he strode towards the door. “It is not simply my advanced senses that make crowds unappealing.”

Snorting, Edgin followed him, both of them creeping out into the corridor. None of the cultists – or ensorcelled servants, as it seemed – were hanging about. Hopefully blankly staring at that roaring fire as Nizor screamed inarticulate nonsense.

Inhaling deep, brows furrowed, Xenk led Edgin through the keep.

Edgin wasn't keen to put more distance between them and the exit – to put Nizor between them and the exit – but their best hope here was to get the chalice, take out the Palivar Stone. Maybe it'd weaken the wizard's magic enough that –

“I believe the chalice is in here,” murmured Xenk, slipping into one open doorway.

The chalice sat on a table, amongst piles of gold coins and other little treasures, entirely unharmed.

Edgin laughed gleefully, triumph flashing in his veins. “Guess he didn't realise it was magical.”

“Perhaps he did not test it,” said Xenk, striding over to it, carefully tying it back to his belt. “Or he did, and it produced nothing.”

Chest clenching, Edgin swallowed as he remembered the way the chalice had ignored his touch.

But Xenk marched past him, stern eyes focused, following his nose again. Nizor was still shouting, the roar of flame still billowing.

They hurried down more corridors, pelted up stone steps, burst onto the landing at the top –

“The stench is thick here,” pronounced Xenk, striding to a door and pushing it open.

It swung back to reveal a small room, with a table set up by the window, the pale autumn morning glimmering on a jagged crystal. A void pulsed within it, ominous and unsettling, like the heartbeat of something that should not be alive.

“Right,” Edgin said, gesturing at the chalice on Xenk's belt. “Get that thing and –”

“Do not touch that stone,” roared a voice from the corridor.

Xenk grimaced, eyes wide, and slammed the door behind them. But there was no lock, nothing to jam it with, and he braced against it as several heavy thuds impacted – his boots almost sliding across the floor as he pushed back against the brainwashed servants on the other side –

“Shit,” groaned Edgin, darting in, adding his weight to it. “Xenk, you need to use the chalice.”

“You cannot hold the door alone,” grunted Xenk, dark eyes fragile as he struggled.

“But Xenk, it won't –”

“Edgin,” Xenk said, earnest and insistent, “you must do it. I know you can.”

Another groan tumbling from his mouth, Edgin snatched the chalice from Xenk's belt loop, pelted across the floor. He screeched to a halt before the stone, tilted the chalice over it –

Nothing came out.

“Xenk!” he cried, cold panic lancing through his chest.

“Breathe, Edgin,” urged Xenk, eyes wide as he fought to keep the door closed. “Calm yourself as I found calm outside the vault. Your aims are pure. You came here selflessly.” Xenk shuddered through a grunt as he shoved against the door. “You are a better man than you believe.”

Edgin swallowed, chest trembling. He righted the chalice, inhaled, exhaled, pulled Xenk's words inside him –

When he tipped the chalice this time, clear water streamed out. Edgin almost choked on a laugh as it splashed over that whirling stone, that foul magic hissing as the pure liquid doused it, swallowed it, melted it –

That void inside the Palivar Stone swirled hard, whirled out of the crystal, reaching for him –

Touched the flowing water –

And with an almighty crack, the crystal shattered.

The thumps against the door stopped. Edgin raised his eyebrows, panting. As he tipped the chalice back upright, Xenk hesitantly stepped from the door. Nobody shoved it open –

But from outside, shouts were rising. Xenk yanked open the door himself. The once-ensorcelled cultists had turned on Nizor, overwhelming him, all his spells turned to screeching – their bodies no longer moving as one, but united by fury.

Xenk flexed his hand, sword still strewn elsewhere. “I should...”

Edgin caught the grey eyes of the man he assumed was Lyria's father, not pushing quite as frantically as the others. “Harper,” he called, “make the arrest.”

The man nodded, clapping his hands to the others' backs, shoulders, arms, urging them to a calmer fray –

Edgin swallowed, thoughts of his own fatherly duty clawing at his chest. “Kira,” he breathed, and hurried out into the corridor.

Xenk followed him, the two of them calling, and they only skittered down one floor before his daughter rippled into being.

“I set the storeroom on fire!” she said gleefully, her eyes bright.

Edgin chuckled, the ache in his chest clenching tight. “Well done, honey,” he said, pulling her into a warm hug. “Just the diversion we needed.”

“Indeed, it was well done,” said Xenk, softer but no less proud.

Kira beamed up at Edgin, her smile earnest and yet fragile.

Edgin swallowed, squeezing her tight. “I'm so sorry, Kira. I left you alone again.”

She nudged him, smile still soft. “I was fine, Dad. I lived in a castle, remember? I found a cosy corner.”

That reminder of Forge, of his failures, whipped through Edgin like the yowling wind at Revel's End.

Kira's smile faltered a little. “Dad, you're shivering.”

Edgin clutched her close, swallowing harder. “I'm fine now, Kir. I'm fine.”

She chuckled softly, wriggling in his arms to unclasp her new cloak, standing on tiptoes to swing it round his shoulders. “Just till you warm up,” she said, and Edgin saw the ache in his chest reflected in her smile.

As Edgin gazed at her, trembling with unspeakable tenderness, Xenk rested a hand on her shoulder. “Have the horses been outside all night?” Xenk asked her, low and soft.

“Oh,” Kira whispered, eyes widening. “I should go check on them.” A grin stole back across her face as she scuttled down the corridor, half turned to wave at them, fizzing with all the excitement of her great adventure –

Edgin's chest squeezed tight. She really was growing up.

Xenk slipped closer to him, steady hand finding his shoulder now, resting on the fabric of Kira's shared cloak. “It was one night, Edgin.”

“One night,” croaked Edgin, the ache a boulder behind his ribs. “Two years. I dunno how to make up for either.”

“Children are not thin silk that stains and tears at the slightest touch,” murmured Xenk, his eyes so warm, so kind. “They are like saplings, flexing with the wind. If you water them, they will blossom.”

Edgin choked on a laugh, eyes welling up. “Fuck, Xenk, you're meant to be shit at talking. How do you always know the perfect thing to say.”

Xenk's smile wavered, the edge turning fragile. “I think you imagine me more perfect than I am.”

Edgin chuckled, gazing at that handsome face. “No way, holy paladin.”

Xenk's gaze flicked down, hand squeezing a little. “Sometimes you cannot allow me to be less than perfect, others you seem to demand that I falter.”

Edgin gaped at him, that boulder pressing on his heart. “Xenk, I –” He swallowed. “I didn't mean to...”

He stared down the empty corridor, where Kira had gone. He pulled the cloak tighter.

“I'm sorry, Xenk, I think I just needed to believe nobody is perfect,” Edgin muttered, shifting closer. “Because if even you aren't, then Kira can't blame me for being a failure.”

Xenk blinked at him, eyes so kind. “I do not think she does.”

Edgin inhaled a shuddering breath. “I abandoned her, Xenk. How am I supposed to bridge all that? How does love survive that?”

Xenk arched towards him, wrapping those steady arms around him, around that cloak. “And so you imagine that I must be perfect as well as imperfect, for who could love you but a perfect man?”

Stomach dropping like an anchor, Edgin gaped at him. His bardic tongue flickered uselessly, all words failing.

Xenk tugged him closer. “I am not perfect, Edgin. I am as capable of frustration and resentment and spite as any other man. And yet I love you still. You are a better man than you believe, as worthy of receiving love in kind as that which you offer to others.”

Shivering, Edgin stared, then clamped his arms around him, sacred chalice still clutched in his fingers. “Xenk,” he breathed, and nudged in for a kiss.

Xenk granted it, eagerly, tenderly, lips gliding over his. Then he pulled back, resting his forehead against Edgin's. “Do not ask me to be perfect, Edgin, and I will not ask the same of you.”

Edgin chuckled, heart aching as he squeezed Xenk's armoured form. “Xenk,” he whispered, like in that cell, “I love you. In my imperfect way.”

“And I in mine,” murmured Xenk, easing into another kiss. Warm and sweet, they lingered on each other, till Xenk sighed and Edgin shifted back, trembling.

He gazed at Xenk, wonder shimmering in his chest. Then he pulled the chalice back round, holding it between them.

“We ought to take this back,” Edgin teased, smile flickering with hope.

Xenk chuckled. “We were only borrowing it,” he said playfully, and curled his hand over Edgin's, gentle and tender.