My father insisted that this matter had to be resolved in person, so we traveled to the headquarters of the Faith to talk. We were received at a luxurious restaurant. A rather busy one.

  At the table sat my father, Helmut Kestrel—serious and unflinching as always; an elderly cardinal; a middle-aged man with a dark presence, unmistakably Left Hand; and me, who had already—unintentionally—started on the wine.

  For a moment, my thoughts drift to Lorcan and Elena. I wonder, against my will, if they’re alright. After all, their future may very well be sitting at this table.

  “Thank you for receiving us on such short notice,” my father says. “We assume you understand the gravity of the situation.”

  “We do,” the cardinal replies. “We assume nothing beyond that.”

  A brief, measured silence. Food begins to arrive. The cardinal starts eating. No one else at the table seems to share his appetite.

  “There was uncoordinated interference in a Council-approved operation,” my father continues. “Clear signs of Left Hand activity.”

  The Left Hand representative inclines his head slightly.

  “The paladin exercised operational judgment,” he says. “He chose to intervene in response to an unregistered anomaly.”

  “Your paladin acted without authorization,” my father interrupts, “in an operation already registered with the Council. That is an infraction.”

  “We have no confirmation that the paladin deviated from protocol.”

  “Then your reports are incomplete. We have reports of an active light sword maintaining a lesser demon in slow combustion. That is not containment. That is a signature.”

  Silence again. The cardinal clears his throat.

  “We are not here to blame each other,” he says. “We are here to prevent escalation.”

  “We agree,” my father nods.

  The cardinal reviews some documents.

  “Then let’s be clear,” he says. “The civilian involved is the problem, yes? From what we see, she is not a witch, not a confirmed asset.”

  “She is the paladin’s sister,” says the Left Hand representative, “and we suspect she is under the influence of a weapon.”

  I swallow.

  “Lorcan is not influencing her,” I say. “At most, he is preventing her from being harmed.”

  “Then perhaps we should start with who put her in that position in the first place.”

  I frown.

  “That was Elena’s decision.”

  “After she had no other way out.”

  The cardinal raises a hand, stopping the debate.

  “She is still a human who crossed the Threshold,” he continues. “Like many before her.”

  “And like many before her,” my father adds, “she survived.”

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  The Left Hand representative does not smile, but something tightens.

  “We do not believe this warrants an inter-institutional conflict,” the cardinal continues. “Nor a rupture of the pact.”

  “Neither do we,” my father replies. “We believe this can be dismantled in the best possible way.”

  “Very well. We will proceed as follows.”

  The cardinal takes notes.

  “The Left Hand will dispatch a team to locate and remove the paladin from the area. He will be recalled for review.”

  The Left Hand representative nods stiffly.

  “In return,” the cardinal continues, “we request that the Council also remove the Kestrel weapon from the area.”

  My father does not react.

  “Is that a request,” he asks, “or a demand?”

  “Whichever you prefer,” the cardinal replies. “'Forced vacations', if you will.”

  “We accept.”

  The cardinal keeps writing.

  “And regarding the paladin’s sister?” the Left Hand representative asks. “We are prepared to take responsibility for her training. I’m sure the paladin would prefer it that way as well.”

  I can no longer hide my displeasure.

  “The Council can also take responsibility for her training,” I say without thinking.

  “Elisabeth…” my father warns.

  “I think you and your son have already done enough,” the Left Hand representative says.

  The cardinal raises his hand again and wipes his mouth with a napkin.

  “Whoever it may be,” the cardinal says, “from the Faith’s perspective, she is not a significant asset. We will not impose a destiny on her—but we will not allow her to remain unsupervised indefinitely. Is that fair?”

  “It is,” my father replies. “We will see that the girl decides what she wants.”

  One of the cardinal’s aides approaches and whispers something unintelligible in his ear. The cardinal’s expression tightens. It must be serious.

  The cardinal and the Left Hand representative excuse themselves and leave us alone with my father. Only then do I exhale. I nearly lost control.

  “So they won’t touch Elena, then?”

  “Not for now. And not officially,” my father replies, finally touching his food.

  I pour myself another glass of wine. This time without guilt.

  “Her options haven’t changed,” he continues, listing them. “Accident. Possession. Convent… or mage. And she’d better choose soon—before someone chooses for her.”

  I don’t answer. I know he’s right.

  We return to the mansion after sunset.

  Before the car even stops in the garage, I feel it. That familiar sensation.

  Lucian.

  The deadline is over.

  We step into the lobby, and sure enough, he’s there—back turned, staring out the window. Hands clasped behind his back. Perfect posture. As if he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

  He sees us arrive together. No words are needed.

  “Did you have fun?” he asks.

  Lorcan doesn’t respond, but he steps forward just enough to place himself between Lucian and me.

  “The deadline is over,” Lucian says.

  “I know,” I reply.

  He finally turns and takes a step forward. His gaze locks onto mine with conviction.

  “I won’t insist,” he says. “But I will close this.”

  The air tightens again. The pressure returns. He turns his attention to Lorcan.

  “You have a few hours to breathe. Until dawn. At the Southern Hill—where this all began. This is not a suggestion.”

  Lorcan exhales slowly. There is no smile, no mockery on his face.

  “What do you expect to achieve with this?”

  Lucian lowers his head slightly, as if ordering his thoughts before releasing them.

  “My sister has apparently already made her choice,” he says. “Now it is my duty to show her how wrong she is.”

  I feel the weight of those words more than any previous threat.

  “This is not a trial,” Lorcan says. “And you are not her owner.”

  “Interesting reasoning,” Lucian replies, “coming from her jailer.”

  Lorcan clenches his fists.

  “I made my mistakes with Elena, and I’m paying for them. But even if she went with you, I would respect her decision.”

  Lucian stares at him. Now there is an edge in his gaze.

  “Prove it,” he says. “Prove that you will respect her. Once I defeat you and she sees that her protector is useless, she’ll have no choice but to come with me.”

  I listen to this exchange, almost outraged.

  “Why do you think you get to speak for me?” I say. “Both of you?”

  Lucian and Lorcan look at me for a moment. Then they return to their standoff.

  “I know convincing you is impossible,” Lucian says. “I want to test this pagan.”

  “If you want a test, you’ll have it,” Lorcan replies. “Southern Hill before dawn.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Lucian turns and leaves without another word. Only Lorcan and I remain in the lobby.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Lorcan replies.

  That paternalism again.

  “Why?” I repeat.

  “It’s how I buy you more time.”

  I stare at Lorcan. He says nothing more.

  “I’ll go prepare,” he says, walking away.

  I watch them disappear in opposite directions. Two men convinced they are fighting for me.

  Neither of them turned around to ask what I wanted.

  If I don’t start choosing for myself, they will keep fighting over my head forever.