Derpy tried resting his hands flat against his knees. The next discharge burned through the cloth.
He jerked them away and swore under his breath.
A thin white-blue current followed the movement, leaping between his fingers before striking the stone between his boots. The mark it left branched away from the earlier scorch. He stared at it, waiting for the pain behind his eyes to subside.
He had stopped fighting. His body seemed determined to continue without him.
“Come on,” he muttered. “I am sitting still.”
The courtyard gave him no answer. Somewhere beyond its entrance, boots crossed the passage and kept going. For the moment, no one had followed him outside.
His bracelets warmed.
Derpy looked down. Fine seams opened along the bands, separating sections of metal he had always assumed were solid. He caught one wrist with the opposite hand, then released it when the pieces continued unfolding beneath his fingers.
Rune-light stretched between them.
The bands lifted, turning through shapes too small and intricate for him to follow. A spine assembled first. Ribs closed around it. Wings folded into place above four small limbs, and a narrow head lifted toward him.
The little dragon climbed onto his shoulder.
Its claws clicked against his collarbone through the fabric. It weighed more than he expected, warm enough that he could feel it even through the ache running down his arm.
Derpy turned his head.
Celica’s eyes stared back at him from a face no larger than his hand.
He blinked.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
“Derpy,” it said in Celica’s voice, “your new expression is unstable. You are not permitted to force it into obedience through pain.”
He looked at his opened bracelets, then back at the dragon.
“She put a smaller version of herself in my jewelry.”
“I am a guardian avatar. Her imprint is sufficient for the task.”
“Apparently the task is watching me have a terrible morning.”
A spark snapped along his thumb. He winced, and the dragon spread its wings just enough to keep its balance.
“Lower your hands. Open your fingers.”
“I know.”
“Then do it before you injure them again.”
He wanted to argue with the voice. It would have been easier than admitting he had started clenching his fists without noticing.
Derpy lowered his hands beside his knees and let his fingers uncurl. The current thinned, leaving a prickling ache beneath his skin.
The dragon leaned forward to inspect them.
“Better.”
“I did not ask for a babysitter.”
“Your body requested containment. The bracelets responded.”
“Of course they did.”
He faced the courtyard again. The small creature settled more comfortably against his shoulder, apparently satisfied that its explanation had resolved the matter.
For several breaths, it let him sit without correction.
Then it asked, “Are you cooling off, or running?”
Derpy’s mouth tightened.
“I needed space.”
“You have it. What are you doing with it?”
He looked toward the passage. Lenora had said his name just before he left. He remembered her raised hand and the way she had stopped herself from touching him.
Lewd had stopped herself from very little by the end. Neither had he.
“I was scared,” he said eventually.
The avatar waited.
“When I put her in the cage. I was scared she would keep coming.” He rubbed his thumb against his palm, then stopped when the movement stirred another current. “And I was scared of what I would do if she did.”
“You chose a structure you could not control.”
“I thought I could hold it.”
“The electricity was new.”
“I know that now.”
He spoke too sharply. The little dragon did not recoil or admonish him. Its steady attention left him listening to the anger in his own voice.
Derpy looked down.
“I did not want to hurt her.”
“And yet you did.”
His shoulders drew inward.
“She hurt me too.”
“That will also need to be discussed.”
He had expected an argument. The simple acknowledgment made it harder to keep defending himself to something perched on his shoulder.
The avatar watched a weak arc disappear near his wrist.
“If the power bites again, stop. Do not feed it more to prove you are in command. Lower your hands and let the discharge end.”
Derpy breathed out slowly.
This time, when his fingers twitched, he left them open.
“Is Lewd all right?” he asked.
The dragon’s gaze shifted, briefly unfocused.
“She is alive. She is angry and ashamed.”
“Can she wake now?”
“Yes. You released that boundary when you returned to your body. What remains between you will not be resolved by waking.”
Derpy closed his eyes.
“I was hoping for one thing to be simple.”
“You asked whether she was all right.”
He opened his eyes again. The current was almost invisible now, though he could still feel it gathering beneath his skin.
The guardian remained on his shoulder.
He did not ask it to leave.
Vespera stopped before the guard could bring his spear fully across her path.
“I request entry,” she said.
The guard looked up at her wings, then toward the men watching from the wall. A bowstring tightened above them. Farther along the battlements, a mage raised a hand bright with gathered power.
Vespera kept her own hands visible.
“Your name and business.”
“Vespera. Something inside your walls is waking magic that should concern you.”
His grip shifted on the spear.
“You will need a better reason than that.”
“Then bring someone who understands the reason I gave you.”
“We do not open the gate for omens and threats.”
She considered him for a moment. He was frightened and trying to make the fear sound like procedure. Pushing him would make getting inside more complicated, and the contract beneath her ribs was already urging her onward.
“Then let us use your procedure.”
She gave the formal name and title required to invoke an audience.
The guard’s expression remained blank. The mage’s did not.
His raised hand lowered. He spoke quickly to the captain, and a runner disappeared down the stair before the captain finished answering.
Vespera waited.
The spear stayed where it was, although its owner no longer seemed certain whether that was appropriate.
When the minister arrived, he took his time inspecting her. His robes carried enough embroidered authority that he appeared to expect the sight of them to begin the negotiation on his behalf.
“You speak titles at my gate,” he said from the wall. “Do you understand the implications?”
“I understand that your guards would not listen without them.”
“You might have presented yourself properly at the beginning.”
“I thought a warning deserved to be heard regardless.”
A brief silence passed along the battlements.
The minister’s eyes narrowed.
“You are not of this empire.”
“No. Whatever is stirring here does not appear troubled by that distinction.”
“What do you believe we are hiding?”
Vespera looked past him at the city beyond the wall. Derpy was somewhere inside. The pull of their contract remained clear, but it was no longer the only thing she could feel.
“I sense a disturbance,” she said. “I have not yet identified its source. That is why I am asking to enter instead of offering you a convenient accusation.”
“And you expect to investigate it yourself?”
“Under escort, if that makes you more comfortable.”
The minister glanced toward the mage. Vespera saw the movement and left the offer where it was.
“And if I refuse?” he asked.
“Then you will still have the problem. You will simply have it without my assistance.”
She did not raise her voice. Her wings remained folded. The guards had nothing to react to except the possibility that she was right.
At last, the minister lifted his hand.
“Receive her.”
Runes brightened along the gate’s seams. The great doors stayed shut, but a smaller entrance opened within them, and two guards stepped forward to meet her.
Vespera inclined her head before crossing the marked threshold.
Something cold brushed through her bones.
She nearly stopped.
The gate’s active wards passed over her and moved on. Beneath them remained another sensation, older and less orderly. Soul-thread had been worked into the place, used until some trace of its purpose clung to the stone.
Her escort gestured for her to continue.
Vespera did, keeping her expression composed.
Now she knew the unease outside the walls had not been imagination.
Lewd had returned to Vaeloria’s room with no idea what to do with her hands.
She clasped them, separated them, then caught each wrist with the opposite hand. Holding them that way stopped the trembling from being quite so obvious.
Derpy was gone.
She had known he would wake before her. She had not expected how the empty place would feel once she opened her own eyes.
Lenora stood near the window. Lieam hovered beside the table, stealing worried looks at Lewd and pretending each one had been directed somewhere else. Mk1 remained seated, watching with the stillness that had begun to make everyone uncomfortable.
A servant entered to request a status for the queen. Lenora turned to answer just as Vaeloria appeared behind them.
“Derpy is in the courtyard,” she said. “He is sitting down, and no one is approaching him.”
Lieam exhaled.
Lenora’s relief lasted only a moment. “His magic is unstable.”
“Then we will keep watch without surrounding him.” Vaeloria looked toward Mk1. “Stay ready. Do not chase him.”
The doll inclined her head slightly. Whether that meant agreement or merely acknowledgment, she remained in her chair.
Vaeloria dismissed the servant and sat opposite Lewd.
“What happened?”
Lewd glanced at Lenora.
Lenora came away from the window and took a seat nearby. She did not reach for Lewd or tell her what the queen wanted to hear.
Lewd swallowed.
“He told me the capture was planned.”
Vaeloria’s hands stilled.
“By whom?”
“Derpy, Sinister, and Celica. He said it began after he saw Riven’s memories. He wanted to see how the empire would respond when his friend was in danger.”
She looked down at her wrists.
“He also said he had wanted to burn the empire.”
Lieam stopped fidgeting with her skirt.
“Wanted,” Vaeloria repeated. “Or still intends?”
“I do not know. I got angry before I let him explain all of it.”
“How angry?”
Lewd’s eyes filled.
“I slapped him. Then I reached for my weapons.”
No one rushed to excuse it. Somehow, that was easier than having someone tell her she had only been upset.
“I told him we had been frightened for him,” she continued. “He kept saying he was trying to protect us. I kept hearing that what we wanted did not matter because he had already decided what was best.”
Lenora leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees.
“And it became a fight.”
Lewd nodded.
“There was another part. About my eyes.”
Vaeloria waited.
“He said the heart-shapes were a leash. That he could see me looking at him differently when they appeared. Like I was waiting for a handler instead of looking at someone I cared about.”
Lewd finally released one wrist. Red marks remained where she had gripped it.
“I hated him saying that. I wanted to tell him it was mine, that I could still be myself when it happened. He said he was frightened because it looked as though I was disappearing.”
“Is that how it felt to you?” Lenora asked.
“Not exactly.” She struggled for words. “I was there. I could hear myself. But wanting him felt bigger than everything else, and when he noticed, I got scared of what he would do about it.”
“What did he ask?” Vaeloria said.
“To help me train it. Make it mine instead of theirs.”
Lewd wiped beneath one eye.
“He said I was conditioned, not broken. But I could only hear that something was wrong with me and he wanted to change it.”
“Was he telling you something he knew?” Vaeloria asked. “Or something he believed from watching you?”
Lewd hesitated.
“What he believed.”
“Then we will treat it as that until we know more.”
Lenora watched Lewd’s shoulders loosen a little.
“I said he did not get to be my savior,” Lewd admitted.
“What did he say to that?”
“He said he was trying to be my person.”
Her voice broke on the last word.
“I wanted that. I still want it. But wanting it made everything worse, and I could feel my eyes starting again. He told me to look at him and breathe. I heard an order.”
She looked directly at Lenora now, almost pleading for her to understand the distinction.
“I know he was saying my name. I know it was him. It still sounded like someone telling me to obey.”
Lenora nodded slowly. “You heard the old instruction inside the new one.”
Lewd’s face crumpled.
“Yes.”
Vaeloria let the silence last until Lewd could continue.
“He tried to contain me. Ice, fire, then lightning. It was white-blue, and it hurt him when he used it. I saw him flinch.”
“You stopped?”
Lewd shook her head.
“I used Sludge Wave. I wanted out. I wanted him to stop deciding where I could go, and I wanted to win.” Her voice dropped. “I tried to drown him.”
Lieam looked away for a moment.
“He got Mia and Sphinx clear,” Lewd said. “They were too close. That was because of me.”
“And the intervention?” Vaeloria asked.
“Celica took him down. Blight took me down. Celica had to change again because he was trying to lift her.”
Lewd looked at her empty hands.
“Afterward, neither of us could speak properly. Blight brought up sharing the grimoire again. Derpy said it did not matter and walked away.”
She drew a rough breath.
“I do not think he meant nothing matters. I think he could not manage another thing someone wanted him to choose.”
Lenora regarded her for a moment.
“Then ask him when he can answer. Do not turn that guess into another thing you punish yourself with.”
Vaeloria nodded.
“You have given us something useful.”
Lewd looked up, startled.
“The truth,” the queen said. “I am not congratulating you for the fight.”
A small, miserable breath escaped Lewd. It almost became a laugh before failing.
“What happens when he comes back?”
“We speak to him,” Vaeloria replied. “As allies. That does not mean avoiding difficult questions. It means he gets to answer them without six people trying to force the answer they want.”
Her attention moved to Lenora.
“Keep the room steady until then.”
Lenora inclined her head.
Vaeloria looked back at Lewd.
“And you remain here. Do not disappear because you are ashamed, and do not make him prove he cares by searching for you. Give him room to return.”
Lewd nodded, wiping her face again.
“I can do that.”
Lieam waited until Lenora had passed Lewd a cup of water.
“There is something else,” she said. “Something I heard at the War Office.”
Vaeloria turned toward her daughter.
“During the tests?”
“When they were demonstrating their control. They talked as though none of us were worth worrying about.” Lieam rubbed her palms against her skirt. “They mentioned infrastructure beneath the capital. Rune arrays and old access lines.”
Lenora glanced toward Mk1.
The doll’s fingers moved once against her knee.
“What were the lines for?” Vaeloria asked.
“They called it munitions routing. I thought they meant weapons being moved somewhere, but it sounded as though they could do it without using the streets. I did not see the system. I only heard them discussing it.”
“That is enough for a lead.”
Lieam looked relieved, then uncertain again.
“I should have told you sooner.”
“You are telling me now. Keep to what you remember. Do not fill in the gaps because you think I need a complete answer.”
Vaeloria rose and looked toward Lenora.
“The offices are empty. Whatever they built beneath us may still be operating.”
“Or waiting for someone to use it,” Lenora said.
Mk1 offered no response.
Vaeloria held her gaze on the doll for a moment before returning to Lenora.
“Seraphine is absent. That gives us room to investigate without another set of demands being placed between us and the answers. Use it while we have it.”
Lenora nodded.
The room had not become calmer. It had, at least, found something to do besides watch the empty place where Derpy should have been.
In the courtyard, another spark left Derpy’s fingertip.
He opened his hand immediately and waited for the accompanying pressure to fade.
The guardian adjusted its footing.
“Good. You stopped feeding it.”
Derpy exhaled. “I would enjoy a lesson where progress was more exciting than managing not to burn my own fingers.”
“Master this one first.”
He was about to answer when he felt something move beneath his ribs.
It was distant, steady, and familiar in a way the electricity was not.
Derpy lifted his head.
The little dragon did the same.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Something crossed a threshold.”
He looked toward the courtyard entrance.
“Here?”
“Elsewhere. But connected.”
Vespera passed beneath a rune-marked arch and stopped so abruptly that one of her escorts walked several more paces before noticing.
The residue was stronger here.
She could feel where the soul-thread had been worked into the structure. It was neither living presence nor simple remains. Something had made use of it and left it able to respond.
The guard turned back.
“Is there a problem?”
Vespera looked along the arch, following a sensation her eyes could not confirm.
“It recognized me.”
“Who did?”
She did not answer immediately.
The response had traveled beyond the stone in front of her. She felt attention passing along a pattern, moving inward through the city rather than settling on the visitor beneath the arch.
Her contract with Derpy pulled beneath her ribs.
For the first time since landing, she wondered whether following it had shown something else the way.
Derpy felt the pressure again, stronger now.
He kept his hands open. No electricity came.
This had nothing to do with the power he was struggling to quiet.
The guardian’s claws tightened against his clothing. Its head turned toward the city beyond the courtyard walls.
“Derpy,” it said. “Something in the empire recognized you.”