Aven slammed the privy door shut and tried not to retch.

  For years, he’d thought about what to say if he saw Mother again. Now, when the time came, all he could do was flee. He leaned against the wall, for the moment too overwhelmed to even care about the stench of human waste coming up from the hole in the low seat.

  Just a moment. He just needed a moment to stop his heart from pounding like this, and his legs from trembling, and-

  It wasn’t passing. The sensations only hit worse. His throat tightened, and the void was crawling through his veins like spiders under the skin. There was too much to separate. Splitting off the panic with the Battle Mind was just trying to drain away a flood into buckets.

  He could close his eyes and be back there again. On his bed, forcing back tears from Father’s discipline while Mother filled up a needle with the latest concoction. All the pain that every injection of voidblood inflicted upon a child caught between a mother’s ambition and a father’s iron discipline.

  “Be brave, my darling boy. It will hurt, but you won’t remember the pain...” she’d say. Her words were always so gentle. Her hands were always so steady.

  Aven did remember. From the moment the Battle Mind awakened, Aven remembered the pain.

  “Aven.”

  The mental whisper came at the edge of his thoughts, a hesitant touch. Esharah. He must be projecting his panic strongly enough that even without actively reaching out, she was feeling it.

  “I’m fine,” Aven sent back.

  “You’re not,” she said, and it stung how futile the lie had been. “But you can get through this. I think I can help. May I?”

  Stupid pride almost made him deny her help, but the storm was too turbulent to handle on his own. “Please.”

  Esharah’s touch felt like an anchor, dragging him out of the storm and back to earth.

  “Breathe,” she instructed. “Slowly.”

  She pulsed a rhythm, and Aven struggled to match it. Short, rushed breaths transformed to slow, heavy ones. The thoughts tried to press back in, but Esharah held them at bay, a cocoon of her presence wrapped around the core of his mind. Only the core. In his panic, the Battle Mind had split into a half dozen spirals, looping memories of needle and knife, Father’s disappointment, Mother’s soft smile as she pushed him to his limits.

  “Slowly,” Esharah repeated.

  Aven squeezed his eyes shut and tried to follow the rhythm of her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Again. And again. He was no longer a boy curled up in bed. He was a man. Currently, a man kneeling over a shit-hole. That thought, for some reason, was almost enough to bring a weak laugh.

  He wiped his forehead. It came away slick with sweat. With every steadied breath, his throat opened up a little more, and the next breath came easier. The stabbing pain faded from his chest, replaced by a dull, heavy ache.

  “I’m...better,” Aven sent.

  Esharah’s presence relaxed but did not recede. She did not, apparently, take “better” to mean “good.”

  “That woman...is my Mother,” Aven gasped out. With Esharah’s presence, the thought didn’t start another storm. “I knew...we knew that she authored the report. But seeing her here, without warning...”

  “You don’t need to explain,” Esharah soothed. “I understand. I...felt the same when I saw Madame Truthteller, even knowing that she would be in Northstar.”

  Aven took one last breath before pushing himself to standing. He still felt unsteady, but the worst of the tremors had passed. The void in his veins had settled. “Thank you,” he sent.

  “Etrani says...” Esharah paused. “She says that that she didn’t know Elesmara Genthus would be here. Iraias didn’t mention specific names of the delegations. But the governor is speaking to your mother now, as if he was expecting her.”

  Anger pulsed in her, echoed by Aven as shock sought rage as a way out. Was this some sort of trap by the Governor? Or just thoughtlessness? Did Governor Iraias even know the relation?

  “I have to go back out there,” Aven murmured aloud, half to himself.

  “I can distract everyone,” Esharah offered. “Give you a chance to get out back to the guesthouse.”

  Gods, it was tempting. To hide. To let the storm pass. But Mother was still out there. The other delegations were arriving, and this wasn’t about him. It was about the fate of the entire empire, and he couldn’t let his personal demons jeopardize that.

  “No, I’m...I’m ready,” Aven said. He wasn’t, and Esharah would feel the lie, but maybe pretending he was ready would make it so.

  “There’s...someone else here as well,” Esharah cautiously said.

  An image came to Aven’s head. One other figure of the delegation he’d missed while so focused on Mother’s presence. A small figure just behind Mother. A black-furred felin dressed in a bodyguard’s garb.

  “Teja?” Aven gaped at the image of the former Vulgares. “What? How? She-” Aven paused and ran through the possibilities. She’d disappeared after the battle at Frostwood. No one knew where she’d gone. Aven had assumed she had vanished alongside Wally and the other escaped former prisoners, even though Katrin hadn’t seen her go with them. Now, it seemed she’d fled south. Back to Agenthus. But what twisted her path back to Mother?

  “I don’t know,” Esharah sent. “She...hasn’t responded to my mental touch. Her mind is hidden in shadow. Different from before. Deeper. Maybe I could invade it if I really tried, but...”

  But attacking people’s minds at a peaceful delegation would probably qualify as the sort of disruption Governor Iraias was determined to avoid.

  “I’ll handle it,” Aven said. He splashed water on his face from the basin by the door, then straightened up as much as he could.

  Esharah’s presence receded, but not entirely. The anchor remained, ready to moor him if another storm rolled in. Aven took a breath and stepped out.

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  Other than an impatiently waiting man who shoved past Aven into the privy the moment the door opened, the corridor was empty. Aven wouldn’t even need Esharah’s help creating a distraction to sneak out. Just head down the opposite direction of the hall. But to what? To cower from Mother like a frightened child stuffing his head under the sheets?

  Aven glanced down at his hands. The black veins stood out more than usual, the unnatural blackness creeping into the surrounding skin. When he took a deep breath, though, the taint of the void retreated back into the veins where it belonged. The Battle Mind stood ready to siphon off the edges of fear and rage still swirling. He was ready. Mostly.

  When he stepped back into the hall, there was no commotion, no fuss. Just the constant hum of dozens of conversations. Attention wasn’t on Aven, nor even on Mother. Instead, it seemed to focus on other figures of the Agenthus delegation, foremost the four figures who bore obvious Signs of the Fourth Circle, ranging from a woman with iron-grey skin and a posture rigid enough to put a measuring rod to shame, and a beastkin man with high horns with lightning-blue sparks darting between their tips. Fourth circles to match Iraias’ six. No one needed that many higher circles for protection, only for a display of power.

  Those sort of games were beyond Aven at the moment. He scanned the crowd and found Mother at the edge of the room, speaking with Governor Iraias. Just behind the governor, Aelia and Esharah were waiting to speak to her.

  And as if sensing his presence, Mother turned to see Aven again, all the way across the room.

  This time, Aven didn’t run. He walked, circling the edge of the room to meet up with them just as Governor Iraias left, and Aelia took his place in front of Mother.

  “Lady Elesmara Genthus,” Aven heard Aelia’s words echo through Esharah’s thoughts. “Pardon me, but I’ve very much been wanting to speak with you. I am Executor Aelia Etrani of Hellfrost County and-”

  “Charmed, Executor Etrani,” Mother interrupted smoothly. Somehow, she always knew how to time her words to squeeze in the faintest gaps in another’s speech, as surely as Father knew how to guide a sword tip between armor. “I’ve heard much about you, and I’m eager to make your acquaintance. Before that, though, I’m afraid I have a more pressing reunion than business.”

  Aelia glanced back to see Aven approaching. Before Mother could move past her, however, Aelia interrupted.

  “I actually think it is more pressing for me to ask why you are accompanied by a woman who attempted to murder me.”

  At that, Mother started for a second. “Pardon? I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

  Aelia didn’t back down, though she must have been terrified. “The felin companion who entered alongside you, who is currently hiding in the corner and watching your every move while trying to act surreptitiously, is named Teja. She is formerly of the rebel group Vulgares, who attempted to overthrow Hellfrost. She personally made an attempt on my life, only stopped by my captain’s brave actions.”

  “You are mistaken,” Mother smiled with the infuriating, inhuman calm Aven had seen so many times before. “My associate’s name is Deva. Now, if you have no further wild accusations, I need to see my son.” She brushed past Aelia, with such certainty that Aelia was disarmed.

  The entire exchange had taken only seconds, but it had given Aven the time he needed to approach. His entire body tensed as Mother finally faced him again. Her smile broadened. It looked so genuine. So loving.

  “Aven,” Mother approached, arms opening up.

  For a moment, part of Aven reverted to a small, weak child. One who wanted to pretend the past years hadn’t happened. That Mother’s embrace was one of safety, not suffocation. The part of Aven that still saw Mother’s face in the void as salvation rather than damnation.

  The Battle Mind split that treacherous, weak part away. It was real, and he would still carry it, but not now. Not here.

  When she stepped forward, he stepped back. “Mother.”

  She pressed forward as if not noticing his obvious refusal. Or as if it didn’t matter, because only her will mattered, “Oh, my boy. Let me look at you.”

  Aven took a larger step backward this time, leaving no room for misinterpretation, “You can see me perfectly well from a distance. Don’t.”

  She stopped, jaw tightening just a bit. “We’re finally reunited. It’s been eight years, Aven. Won’t you at least let me hold my son again?” Even now, her words were so gentle.

  Any momentary guilt Aven felt in his wavering heart faded when Esharah’s disgust echoed in his mind, “She...doesn’t even acknowledge how she hurt you. She’s...puzzled. Gods, she’s as horrible as Vestra.”

  “Your ‘son’,” Aven spat. “The little monster you created. Well, look.” Aven held up a hand to show the pulsing black veins, as if they needed more demonstration than his twisted face already gave. “I’ve become more of a monster than you could have ever imagined.”

  “I know what you’ve become.” Mother’s eyes flashed with excitement. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Proud. Aven trembled. He’d never dared hope for an apology; that was too foolish even for him. But at least...acknowledgment. Recognition of her cruelty.

  “You filled a child’s blood with poison,” Aven snarled, “and you’re proud?”

  “Of course.” Still so bemused at his anger. “You’ve endured trials others would have fallen to a dozen times over. They condemned you as a murderer and prisoner, and you’ve emerged a hero. What mother wouldn’t be proud of her son for that? I was certain you would succeed, but to see you here...to see what you’ve become...it’s the culmination of my life’s work.” Her expression turned rapturous. “Your Father claimed you would succumb to the void, but you didn’t. You became its master. You took every gift I gave you, and you’ve made them your own.”

  “Gift?” Aven tightened his fists, trying to hold back the screaming void trying to break free. “What you gave me was a curse. That I’ve made it my own is my achievement, not yours.”

  “A wonderful achievement,” Mother agreed. “I can see that you’re still angry and hurt. I am sorry for that. All I can hope is that one day you can come to see that I only ever wanted you to become as strong as you are today. And I know that you’ll become stronger still. I had hoped that we could have the proper reunion for a mother and son, but I see that you aren’t ready for that. Until then, I’ll leave you to enjoy the gathering.”

  There were still people around them. Enough that they were starting to stare. Aelia stood there, aghast. Esharah’s mind echoed his own horror. Mother bowed and gave Aelia brief, parting pleasantries before vanishing back into the Agenthus delegation.

  Aven just stood there, stunned. Esharah’s anchor was the only thing that kept him from breaking down in sobs. The storm had passed. All that was left was the wreckage and the utter helplessness of being unable to even scream at the one who caused it all. You couldn’t denounce a hurricane for the damage it caused.

  “Aven.” Aelia touched his arm. “Are you...can I help?”

  “I...” Aven tried to collect his thoughts. Against the unyielding force of Mother’s denial, Aven half wondered if he truly was the one at fault. If all his rage was just a child’s tantrum.

  “All the pain you suffered was real,” Esharah reminded. “Her denial does not erase it.”

  “I’m going to be all right,” Aven forced himself to will the lie to become truth.

  Aelia still kept her hand on his arm. He could handle this. With Esharah on one side and Aelia on the other, he could handle this. The encounter was over, and even if the outcome wasn’t right, it was...livable. The storm had passed, and though Aven’s control had frayed, he hadn’t snapped.

  “Focus on the gathering,” Aven squeezed Aelia’s hand before moving it off his arm. “You have bigger concerns than me right now.”

  Reluctantly, Aelia withdrew and nodded. Grateful as he was for her support, it would be pure selfishness to steal her away from such an important task. With a last mental pulse from Esharah, he was left to watch as Aelia glided back into the throng. To fight battles that he couldn’t help with when his own sanity felt it was hanging on by tattered strings.

  The doors to the hall opened, and another group approached.

  “Ambassador Trellian Rosval of Tenebras!” The servant announced.

  Tenebras. Once Aven’s home. Curiosity demanded he look and see if there was anyone in the delegation he knew.

  Smaller than the Agenthus group, this one only about the size of their own delegation from Hellfrost. The smaller size meant that Aven saw the two faces he knew immediately. One, yet more family.

  Another a man who Aven thought dead.

  “Magistrate Helena lex Avarnius-Folis,” the servant announced the name of Aven’s elder sister. Then the man at Helena’s side, a man with color-shifting eyes and a silver-tipped cane whispered his own name to the servant. “Hanion vis Dreamweaver.”

  All the control that Aven thought he had retained snapped. Aven looked at the man entering, a man who had, alongside Father, taught Aven how to kill. A murderous devil who now stood at his sister’s side.

  The void howled, and Aven didn’t stifle the cries. He embraced them. Everything else faded. His legs coiled into springs that launched him straight towards Hanion vis Dreamweaver, with voidclaws outstretched.

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