.

      Rune held her hands up in surrender. “All right. I’m sorry.”

      “Are we all just going to stand here?” Grey asked. “Or are we training?”

      “You’re the one that didn’t move,” Rune pointed out. “And why are you so snappy all of a sudden?”

      “I’m not—” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m just ready to get to work. That’s what you’re both here for, right? Let’s go.”

      Tate took a quick step, blocking the exit. “What was Tashara doing here?”

      “Nothing.”

      “Grey!”

      Grey stared over Tate’s shoulder and gave a meaningful look at the still-open door.

      Understanding, Tate reached back and flipped it shut. “There, better? Now talk.”

      “Tashara came to let me know that Dimitri has told the council it was his decision to send Rune and I after Cashel,” Grey said. “She wanted to make sure we didn’t contradict the story and get ourselves killed.”

      Tate blinked like he must’ve heard incorrectly. Then his head swiveled to Rune. Rage flitted across his normally unreadable expression.

      “Whoa, hey—” Rune held her hands up and stepped back, coming up against the wall. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

      “What. Did you. Do?”

      “Wha—nothing! Dimitri said he’d cover for us if we could produce Cashel’s head.” She shrugged. “I just . . . didn’t tell him we already had it.”

      Tate’s eyes grew wide in disbelief. “You tricked Dimitri?”

      “Yes, but—” Rune crossed her arms defiantly. “Before you get upset, you should know that that tiny lie convinced Dimitri that I wasn’t a sniveling weakling and that maybe he should keep us Venators around. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

      Tate snarled but apparently had no argument. He turned his attention back to Grey. “And what did you do that Tashara would issue you a personal warning?”

      “After we got back, I knew I was in danger. I went to Tashara for help.”

      “Out of everyone in this castle, why her? You could’ve come to me or—”

      “What kind of help?” Rune asked.

      “I needed . . .” Grey closed his eyes again, and Rune suspected it was to avoid seeing their reactions since he couldn’t hide behind that hair anymore. “I needed someone to teach me how to survive. How to be someone other than myself. I didn’t know what to do, so I followed my gut.”

      When Grey opened his eyes, Tate was staring at him, jaw slack. “Your gut said Tashara!”

      “Yes. My gut said Tashara. I don’t know why you’re upset. You’re the one”—he lowered his voice—“who told me I was supposed to get close to her.”

      Tate’s jaw slammed shut, mashing around words he wouldn’t say. His finger jabbed at Grey’s nose. “We will talk later. Come.”

      Rune watched the scene with interest. The coldness she’d noticed in Grey when they’d first come in had faded as he talked, but it snapped back into place as soon as Tate ended the conversation. There was a familiarity in that chill, and it chafed against old memories. This new demeanor of his was reminiscent of Ryker. “Grey—”

      “Not now.” He followed Tate out the door, leaving her standing alone.

      “Wha . . . ? I—” Rune couldn’t believe he had just walked out. He’d never acted like that before, no matter how badly he didn’t want to talk about something. “Yeah, OK, Grey,” she said to the empty room. “We’ll talk later. Good chat.” She shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

      “Rune!” Tate yelled from the hall. “Let’s go.”

      Tate stormed down the stairs. His trench coat flowed behind him and skimmed the carpeted steps. Everything about his posture said he was pissed, which was fine—Grey was pretty pissed himself. He had several snide comments on the tip of his tongue as the markings on his arm turned red. Though faint at first, they intensified with each step. Grey glanced back. Rune’s markings were the same.

      She caught his eye and mouthed, Dimitri.

      They came around the curve in the grand staircase where the walls were replaced by a banister that offered sweeping views of the immense foyer below. From that vantage point, Grey could see Dimitri and Arwin walking side by side, moving away from the main doors and farther into the council house.

      Dimitri’s hands were clasped behind his back, and he was leaning slightly forward, intent on whatever Arwin was saying. Arwin’s purple robes were too long, and they puddled around him, sweeping the mosaic tiled floor. Arwin spoke with his hands, motioning as he relayed information.

      Grey couldn’t help but marvel at the strong resemblance between Arwin and the countless stories of Merlin. So many things in this world were eerily similar to the myths and fairy tales portrayed in movies and literature—which made sense given that Venators had once crossed between worlds. But there were other traits and stereotypes that varied slightly from the legends, and some that were just flat-out wrong. It kept him on his toes.

      They were only a few steps from the foyer when Arwin noticed them. His weathered face broke into a smile beneath his long white beard. “Ah, these must be our two Venators! Welcome, welcome.” He picked up speed to meet them at the bottom of the stairs, one hand raised in salutation.

      Though his words seemed both simple and appropriate given the situation, Grey understood the rushed greeting for what it was. A reminder: “We’ve never met.”

      Dimitri didn’t know that Arwin had played a part in saving Grey from the dragon.

      Tate stepped off the last stair and moved immediately to the side, presenting Grey and Rune.

      Arwin smiled and patted Tate on the arm. “So good to see you, Tate. Our Venators are in fine hands.” He then took Grey’s hand, followed by Rune’s, and shook them vigorously. “Dimitri did not tell me what a striking pair you were. My, my.”

      “I can’t say I noticed,” Dimitri said. “I was distracted by those hideous markings.” His eyes cut to Tate. “They’re still flashing at me, Venshii.”

      “My apologies.” Tate dipped his head. “You’ve caught us on the way to our first session. It will be dealt with today.”

      “I will hold you to that. I don’t want to see them again.” Dimitri looked Rune up and down, his nostrils flared in disgust.

      “I don’t know why you find the markings so offensive.” Arwin floated a hand just above Rune’s flickering arms. “The colors are quite stunning.”

      “If they lit at your presence, old man, I think you would find them less ‘stunning.’”

      “Oh, I don’t know, Dimitri. I think I’d be quite satisfied with a nice green, or perhaps mustard yellow.” Arwin winked at Rune. “Yellow is a fine color.”

      Rune’s lips rolled in, trying to hold back her smile.

      Dimitri managed a facial expression of extreme annoyance—just enough of an eye roll to relay the feeling—while maintaining the stiff, expressionless posture of sophistication.

      “I apologize I wasn’t here to meet you both when you arrived,” Arwin said. “I was away on council business. Now, Grey. Dimitri tells me—” He stopped abruptly, distracted by something in his beard. “Hmmm, it appears . . . I’ve lost some of my breakfast. Forgive me.”

      He picked up