So focused on my immediate worries, I completely forgot one of the guiding principles my first platoon sergeant taught us: no matter how bad shit looks now; don’t worry, it’ll get worse. We’d managed to rescue Jenna without taking any serious casualties, so things were looking up. Why would that lesson be anywhere near the forefront of my mind?

  I turned the last corner on the skyway, skirted around and ducked under the last cluster of dense branches on the path before we’d have to climb down for the last leg of our trek, only to find Rowan leaning against the trunk of the tree right next to way down. She didn’t look pleased. That was the moment my platoon sergeant’s words whispered their way back into my mind.

  “I’m going to assume something happened,” I lead off with before she had a chance to speak.

  She nodded in reply and pushed off the trunk. “You could say that.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the rest of the group who were just now navigating the turn. Tomas noticed Rowan first. The happiness on his face faded as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a weary wariness.

  Turning my attention back to Rowan, I sighed. Something in her demeanor insisted that not only had the other shoe dropped, but that there were a lot more behind that one just waiting for the opportunity to follow. “So, are you going to tell us now or when we get back home?”

  “Nobody is going any further than right here, not for a while anyway.”

  Behind me, Tomas spoke up with no small amount of exhausted irritation in his voice. “What? Why?”

  Rowan’s resting frown deepened. “Because traveling to Fiddler’s Green on foot takes almost a week.”

  Things started clicking together in my head while Tomas continued his protest. “What are you talking about? We made it there in—”

  I held up a hand. “Tomas, she means as far as anyone else knows, it takes a week. Rowan, who doesn’t need to know we can get there much faster?”

  Her features softened with a vanishingly faint smile. “We have a visitor, an envoy from an alliance of nations, former allies of the Syr.”

  There’s a lot of ways to interpret that, Rowan. “How ‘former’ is former? Are we talking ‘we used to be friends but haven’t spoken in a while’ former or ‘thought they were good people before they knifed us in the back’ former? And how does this involve us?”

  “The first, and they came to us because they’re trying to find out what happened to a full company of veterans that showed up dead in Fiddler’s Green rather recently. Your handiwork, I presume?”

  And there’s the next shoe. I sucked air in between my teeth. “Yeah. Yeah, that was me.”

  “Excuse me, but I’ll have you know,” Tomas started.

  I half turned to glare at him and jerked my head to the side to silence him. “Tomas, the less she knows now, the less she has to lie later. Let me handle this for now.”

  Tomas was clearly put off by that, but Rowan’s eyes offered silent thanks when I turned back to her.

  Not that this was a common thing during my after-mission debriefs, but this certainly wasn’t the first time I stood in front of someone knowing the truth had to be carefully handled to minimize consequences. Anyone who’d been in the military more than a few months understood that sometimes your superiors only wanted specific parts of the truth when the rest would be inconvenient if they couldn’t be pretended away. This was clearly one of those moments.

  A heartbeat passed before her first question broke still air. “I don’t see the twins. Did something happen to them?”

  “No. They’re fine. They’re just pulling up the rear.”

  “Did this company announce who they were?”

  “No.”

  “Who drew steel first?”

  “They did.”

  “So they attacked you without warning, without provocation?”

  It took me a moment to contemplate whether or not what I was about to say was strictly true. “Correct.”

  Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge later, once the Council sends the envoy off.”

  The fact I hated being left in the dark was the only thing rivaling my curiosity at this point. Considering information only travels so fast and this world didn’t have any form of telecommunications that I knew of, I suspected I already knew the answer to the question I was about to ask. “Why is this person being handled with kid gloves, Rowan?”

  “Because this alliance could wipe the Glade off the map in an afternoon if they chose. If we didn’t have Fiachra, they could probably do it over lunch.”

  And there it is. “And I guess it’s safe to assume they could start at any time with zero warning?”

  Rowan’s expression soured and she nodded grimly. “The envoy appeared just outside the waystone boundary, set off the alert, and waited for us to investigate.”

  “You know, Rowan, I’ve had it about up to here—” With motherfuckers just teleporting in like they own the place. I reined in my mouth at the last second, shifting to something less incriminating with very little grace. “—with all this bullshit.”

  She nodded. “You’re not the only one.”

  A thought occurred to me, one that I really didn’t want to be true. “So, is it safe for you to meet us—”

  A now very familiar snap from instantaneously displaced air hit my ears and I reacted without thinking. With a trigger pull of three pounds, the black-and-gold robed man who appeared a few feet away had about a tenth of an inch and another ounce of pressure to savor the rest of his life with.

  Bored pale gray eyes drifted up to the barrel pressed against his forehead and then followed the hand back to me. “I suppose you are what happened to my men, then?”

  Something about the man’s calm demeanor irritated me. Between how my parents raised me and my experience dealing with assholes with shiny rank insignias in the Army, I decided to reply in kind as I slowly circled to put his back toward where the twins would be when they arrived. “I’ve happened to a lot of people; you’ll have to be more specific.”

  “I believe eighty men in heavy armor would stand out in your memory.”

  I slowly nodded. “Ah, yeah, they were a little hard to miss. They tried to kill me before we could become properly acquainted. I took offense and returned the favor.”

  The man’s brow furrowed as I noticed Aine come up short at the bend behind him. “Well, in that case, perhaps we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I am Aedward Caeli Ward, vice-Captain of the Company of the Fallen Dawn.”

  I warily let my pistol drift down to my side, knowing full well the man’s life expectancy would be measured in seconds, if not less, if he tried anything. “Samuel Byrne, self-employed. Charmed, I’m sure.”

  Aedward let a slight smirk creep onto his face. “An independent contractor of your caliber? This far west? I can’t say I’ve heard of you.”

  My reply led with a mirthless smile. “I don’t advertise. If people know my name, I’ve failed.”

  Apparent clarity broke out over his expression. “Ah, one of those. I suppose, given how we’ve met, you’re under contract and it’d be impolite for me to make an offer.”

  I nodded. A second shadow joined Aine and stayed behind when she silently stepped forward.

  “Well, that answers some questions and makes for new ones. I won’t belabor that particular point then. For the sake of expedience and offering as little insult as possible, would you mind if I verified your story? I have a spell that would save us both a lot of time.”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  That simple offer was blindingly dangerous to me, personally, that much was obvious, but before I could utter a believable excuse, Aine slid up beside him, quiet as the grave, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

  While having a weapon to his head didn’t faze him, this time Aedward twitched at the sudden, unexpected touch. No sooner than her hand landed, he stepped out from under it, one hand moving toward some unseen weapon for the brief instant it took for conscious thought to countermand instinct.

  “I’m afraid we’ll have to decline on Mr. Byrne’s behalf,” she said, her voice low and almost sensual. “However, I’d be happy to volunteer as the witness you need. In the spirit of cooperation.”

  His eyes narrowed momentarily. “You voluntarily submit to have your memory examined?”

  “Submit is a strong word, captain. We’re not that close. Yet.” The last time I saw the smile that surfaced on her face she was dripping with gore. “Cast your spell. Or don’t. No one here has lied.”

  The way Aedward frowned reminded me of one of the intelligence types I’d interfaced with on my last deployment. It was the look of someone smart enough to know that things clearly weren’t as they seemed, but they had no choice but to proceed anyway. “As you wish.”

  When the captain began muttering what sounded like nonsense syllables to me, I glanced over to Rowan with what I hoped was obvious concern only for the elf to respond with an indifferent shrug. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

  When I looked back, Aedward looked slightly paler and had taken a half step back.

  Aine grinned. “You see, Captain Ward, when the bell of Duty peals, We answer. When our task is complete there is only—”

  “Silence,” Aedward finished quietly. “Duly noted. I thought the House died alongside the heart of the Syr, but clearly such is not the case. It appears I’ll have to revise my recommendations to the Captain.”

  Aine tilted her head somewhat. “Oh?”

  “Aye,” the man said with a nod and then looked skyward for several long moments. “We wrote off the remnants of the Syr.” His attention came back down, settling on Rowan. “Too far, too small, too weak to worry about. One, if not more, is plainly incorrect. Thank you for the candid conversation. Good day.”

  And just like that, he snapped his fingers and vanished with a muted pop.

  I stared at the empty space where he’d been standing for a heartbeat before frowning and casting a glance at Rowan. “You know, he has a very punchable face.”

  Caught off guard, Rowan smirked. “Yeah, yeah he does. Well, I suppose this was all for naught. Let’s get everyone back home then.”

  “Works for me,” I noted and started toward the way down. “Would be nice to sleep in my own bed after all this. Oh, speaking of which, where are we putting Jenna?”

  Rowan cast a glance behind me, presumably at my sister. “That remains to be seen.”

  I noted the undercurrent of irritation in that simple statement and waited until we were on the ground to prod further. “Complication or disagreement?”

  “The latter. Eidhneán wanted to put her up on the family floor. Half the council didn’t want her in the family villa at all.”

  I mulled that over for a few seconds while everyone else descended. “Well, other than Quinn, the only other voice that carries nearly as much weight is yours. What did the two of you have to say about it?”

  “I merely pointed out that there’s a good chance she might want to stay close to you until she’s settled. Quinn agreed, in so many words, and said your sister’s preference should be heard.”

  I grunted and then stepped forward to help Jenna down the last few rungs. “You good?”

  Jenna blinked at me a few times before answering, “I’m stuck in an alternate reality that looks like something off a fanfic message board. I lost everything I own except my cell phone, which has no service and I couldn’t charge it if I wanted to. There’s over a dozen anime and manga series I’ll never know how they end. Oh, and I’ll never finish my PhD. So yeah, I guess I’m good.”

  I pressed my lips together. She’d been quiet since we left Fiddler’s Green, but I’d expected something like that response to an extent. Growing up, Jenna was never the talkative sort, but she’d been prone to brooding when things didn’t go the way she expected. Though, to be fair, I’ve only seen her over a few holidays since I joined the Army. Maybe she’s changed?

  “On the plus side, no student loans anymore,” I quipped with a grin. She squinted at me. “So, about that. Your laptop and everything else is back in my room.”

  The way she stumbled, I could believe someone hit CTRL-ALT-DEL on her mental keyboard. She turned to face me, her face filled with abject confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “Your stuff. It’s in my room. I saved it.”

  Jenna’s eye twitched. “I rolled the truck back in that village. We’ve walked something like thirty miles so far—”

  “Twenty.”

  “Twenty, thirty, does it really matter? Everything in the truck should be back there, somewhere.” She gestured the way we came for a moment and then pointed ahead of us. “Not there. Causality is a thing.”

  I shrugged. “And I’m telling you that I’ve been here a month with your stuff. Don’t ask me to explain it. That’s just the way it is.”

  When I started forward again, she woodenly followed.

  “All my stuff?”

  “I didn’t exactly do an inventory. Don’t worry, I didn’t take any of your porn.”

  “Manga.”

  I theatrically rolled my eyes. “I know what you read. I’m just happy you’re not into tentacles.”

  Silence hung in the air long enough I started to wonder if I’d made the wrong joke.

  “Technically, it’d be the other way around. I mean, that’s how tentacles work.”

  “I’m not having this conversation with my little sister.”

  “What? I’m not the one who— Oh. Right. Figure of speech. My bad. Oh, that’s another thing I’m not looking forward to, running out of my meds.”

  I shot her a glance. “Your meds?”

  “Methylphenidate and guanfacine for ADHD. My allergy meds, too.”

  Not remembering her having any allergies, I asked the obvious question. “What are you allergic to?”

  Jenna rolled her eyes. “Life on the East Coast in general. Something near the lab? I don’t know. I’m fine when I’m back home, but work is rough.”

  Half a dozen steps later Jenna gave me some side-eye. “You’ll question the allergies, but not the ADHD?”

  “I’ve worked with a number of people with it, I just kinda assumed you had it too.”

  Up ahead Rowan cleared her throat.

  “Yeah?” I responded.

  “Eighty people? In heavy armor?”

  I shrugged. “They tried to kidnap my sister—”

  Chuckling, she dryly noted, “I didn’t ask why. The number was more how, not why.”

  “Oh.”

  Before I could package the explanation into something Rowan might accept, Aine’s voice carried from the back of the file. “Sam fits in with us, Captain.”

  “Aye,” Cailleach agreed. “Zero reluctance, remarkably little hesitation. Impressive violence of action, doubly so for a human. Were there any left to receive him, the House would certainly welcome him into its ranks.” I couldn’t help but smile a little, mostly to myself, over the compliment even if my feelings about the House were complicated by what the twins had clearly gone through to join. “Though, the way that ended detracts from the performance.”

  For a moment Rowan looked like she was going to ask what that meant, but she plainly thought better of it and pursed her lips instead. “Well, either way, you’ll have to explain everything to the council when we get back. There’s no way I’m the one explaining any of this to them.”

  Filtered through my many years in the Army, the glint in Rowan’s eyes when she glanced back was unmistakable, the look of an experienced senior NCO who was not about to step in front of the oncoming train their subordinates were clearly intent on jumping in front of themselves. Not that I’d ever been on either side of that look before.

  “That’s— fair I guess.”

  When it came to dealing with the council, their faces looked largely like I expected for most of the debrief, disbelief with a mild spritz of subtle-yet-growing worry. Aside from Rowan, Eidhneán seemed to be the only person unfazed by the entire debrief, but I’d long since gotten the impression the High Priestess wasn’t put off by much.

  Eidhneán finally broke the silence after Rowan and I concluded what we had to share. “So, Rowan, where does this leave us with our visitor?”

  The harvester shrugged. “I got the impression the vice-captain found himself in a position beyond his authority to deal with. They could approach us diplomatically to negotiate terms that might be favorable to us— or they could attack. It really could go either way. Without proper intelligence or even knowing who the decision makers are, I can’t tell you more.”

  Most faces darkened at that response before Fiachra spoke up. “On the plus side, I managed to add additional sigils to enough of the waystones that I believe I’ve strengthened their ability to interfere with teleportation and scrying. Unfortunately, I can’t do more than that without completely rebuilding them. I really should apologize for the state of our defenses.”

  Quinn shook her head. “No, Fiachra, you’ve been run ragged keeping all these plates spinning since the day you recovered. Lord Cahir had a dozen court wizards maintaining the wards, and they had the Court’s material and financial support behind them. Anyone who blames you for only being one person forced to make do with what was available is a fool. If any failure exists, that failure lies on the Council’s shoulders, not yours.”

  The expressions on the faces of both representatives for the various trades darkened further, but before they could object, Quinn cleared her throat. “I move for reconsidering previously tabled extraordinary measures. So long as the Glade remained relatively peaceful, the council had value, but all this bickering and grousing takes time. Time we no longer have. Tonight, we stand on the precipice of events that can do little else but unfold with such rapidity they will overtake and destroy any slow, deliberative body. We must find and appoint a singular leader to deal with these events until such a time that either the threat has passed or the position is made permanent. We must appear united to any outsider, not a collection of competing crabs in a bucket. As such, I nominate Harvester Rowan for the position of acting Lady of the Glade.”

  Beside me, the enormity of the pronouncement dawned on Rowan’s face as the room quickly dissolved into a chorus of increasingly heated voices I could no longer follow and less-than-polite gestures.

  I felt more than heard the High Priestess strike the floor with pointed base of her staff. “SILENCE! Now is not the time. News of Samuel’s return arrived late enough, and we’re already predisposed enough toward needless squabbling without being sleep deprived or unnerved by recent news. Remember your duty. We’ll take up this matter in the morning when we’re all clear headed and tempers have calmed. This meeting is adjourned. Our Lady’s blessing be upon you all.”

  One by one, council members shuffled out, muttering the whole while. Despite her even-keeled countenance, the look Eidhneán gave her mother before leaving felt so curiously devoid of warmth it struck me as a stinging rebuke.

  Quinn paused at the doorway and looked back at us with sparkling eyes. “Some things should’ve been done decades ago.”

  With the room now empty, Rowan sat beside me, still wide-eyed and silent.

  I flashed her an inciting smile. “Congratulations on your promotion, my Lady?”

  She blinked as if just now realizing time had passed. Her eyebrows came down as her gaze met mine. “Fuck you.”

  My grin widened. “Would a human consort be a wise idea?”

  It took her several long seconds of silent wincing and partial gestures before words emerged. “Out. Just get out. We’ll sort everything out in the morning, like I told Jenna.”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  “Samuel, if they go through with this, do not make my first official act your execution.”