'Do you think he was warning you to stay hidden, kid?' said Killian.

The question sunk down inside Gray.

And then, it was as though the question shattered. It broke into a million sharp pieces. It pierced something that Gray'd been shielding, pushing away, and holding back since the barracks.

Since before the barracks.

Long before.

It was hot and stinging, and it was threatening to make his eyes burn, and at first Gray thought it was the pressed down and ignored - stupid - anger from the prophecy talk, until he realised it was something much less welcome than anger. Gray bowed his head, unable to swallow against the closing of his throat, alarmed, confused, absolutely horrified.

Gray fought it down, because he was fine, this was nothing.

This had come out of nowhere.

He wasn't going to fall apart here, in this pub, in front of Killian.

Getting angry at the drop of a hat, over nothing, panic attacks in the street, getting upset like this - this wasn't Gray. Before his life had turned to shit, Gray was a controlled person. Hell, calm.

'Ah, fuck,' Killian was saying, as though under water, 'this is exactly what I was trying to avoid. Kid … look, I'm not going to coddle you … it's a terrible situation …'

Killian was shoving something soft into Gray's hand, but Gray barely registered it.

Gray blocked out Killian's voice as he fisted his hands and fought to control the tightness in his throat.

It was subsiding.

It was subsiding enough for Gray to lift his head and unclench his hands. He was holding Killian's handkerchief.

Gray passed it back with a gruff, 'Sorry. I have no idea what that was.'

'Hey,' said Killian, 'if it was my family, I'd be sobbing inconsolably into my tenth pint at this point.'

Gods, Killian was uncomfortable, he was awkward, to say such a thing.

'You'd,' said Gray hoarsely, embarrassed, mentally scrambling, 'fight whoever you needed to fight, and you'd win, and fix it. There'd be no sobbing and no pints.'

Killian huffed. 'There'd be pints.' He paused. 'Yeah, I'd be fighting. I'd be throwing hands at whoever I needed to.'

'Yeah,' said Gray.

'I'd burn the city, drag my cousin out of the situation, and then slap the hell out of them until they saw sense. Then sob into the pints.'

'Seems like a reasonable response,' said Gray.

'Definitely.'

'Wilde is the bad guy here,' said Gray.

Killian shifted in his seat.

'True,' said Killian, after a long beat. 'Conor is Wilde's weapon, for all intents and purposes.'

Gray let out a tense breath.

'And a very, very effective one,' said Killian. 'That needs to be stopped. And he'll continue to be a weapon until he has enough strength to push past the binding enchantments that happen during a collection. But, that likely won't be for years. Until he's grown. Usually, by then … well, let's say I've never seen a collected sorcerer or mage apprentice break free from collection as a full-fledged master, and be a force for good. It does something to them. Even the mages.'

Gods.

'There's a reason,' said Killian, 'why sorcerers are classed as one of the vilest, darkest, most predatory creatures in our world. Aside from the killing with no rhyme or reason and the unfathomable power.' He tilted his head, seeking Gray's gaze. 'Baldwin's ordered Conor to be stopped alive, if possible.'

'Yeah, Gruger said.'

'You shared this with Gruger?' said Killian, raising his eyebrows.

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'No,' said Gray. 'I haven't spoken to anyone. He … he just …'

'He's got a way of seeing through you, hm?'

'Yeah.' Gray held his head in his hands. Just for a second. 'Sorry, but I don't believe you. I mean, I don't believe Baldwin. The Augustes kill all sorcerers. He nearly killed me when he thought I was Conor.'

'He was pissed about that,' said Killian.

Gray frowned down at his hands.

Killian hesitated again. 'Baldwin … has always been very interested in retrieving Conor Griffin. Normally, he'd straight up order the assassination. He wants to see Conor. I don't think he's interested in simply executing the kid.' Killian hesitated. 'Or maybe he just wants to personally look the little nitwit in the eyes when he ends his life. It can be hard to tell with Baldwin.'

Gray swallowed.

'Why?' Gray said. 'Why wouldn't he just order the assassination?'

'He's never shared that information with me,' said Killian. 'But, kid, we're kind of fucked. And, Baldwin, he likely wants a Griffin mage with Conor's level of power, and he thinks he can save him and get him on Lismere's side.'

Save him?

Baldwin had wanted Conor Griffin kneeling at his feet, when Gray'd first been dragged in front of him.

'I think we know very different versions of Baldwin,' said Gray, staring blankly down at his untouched meal.

'Yeah,' said Killian. 'You get the cuddly teddy bear version of Baldwin.'

'He threatened to tear me apart in the grand stadium today,' said Gray, feeling his eyebrows rise.

'Were you being irritating?' said Killian.

Gray let out a breath before he could monitor it.

Killian leant forward. 'You made a pass on his daughter, after staring at her - shamelessly, I might add - and he let you walk out of his office. After granting you permission to attend the Alchemy Academy.' Killian glared at Gray. 'Teddy bear Baldwin.'

Gray slumped on the table, burying his face in his arms.

'He wants decent duellers,' Killian continued. 'Ones that can go toe-to-toe with a sorcerer. The Griffins were always good at that. Fast reflexes. Fastest I've ever seen. They were head and shoulders above the Drakes, the Fernbys - faster than the Augustes. If you can get a mage that combines the reflexes of the Griffins with the power of the Augustes, and have them trained, you've got someone pretty potent on your side.'

Gray listened, keeping his face buried.

'Conor fits all that,' said Killian. 'He fits it more than you. You're like a consolation prize.'

Slowly, Gray lifted his head from his arms.

Killian was grinning. It wasn't his usual pleased-with-himself grin. There was something much too understanding in it.

'But, I won't lie to you kid, if Conor doesn't cooperate or if he destroys enough of Baldwin's kingdom, he'll absolutely kill him.'

'You don't think he wants him because of the prophecy,' said Gray.

'Maybe.' Killian shrugged. 'Baldwin doesn't often put power into anything outside of himself and his abilities, his mages, his military. Baldwin cares about results and things that are real. But, he could have the prophecy in his mind.'

Gray stared blindly down at his plate.

The hushed and murmured sounds of the pub barely filtered through Gray's thoughts.

'What other memories did Conor use?' said Killian.

'That was it,' said Gray, his heart thudding as though he was running, and not sitting inside a quiet pub with a plate of food in front of him.

'No,' said Killian, 'no traumatising sights, no flashbacks?'

'No. I was hiding,' said Gray, talking to his plate, 'and Conor was making sure I was hiding. And maybe that's how Wilde got him, you know? How Wilde got him and not me, because Conor was busy checking I was hidden, when he should've been hiding himself, or running …'

Killian tilted his head, his gaze trained.

'I …' Gray's tongue was thick. 'He was concerned. He looked concerned. He can't - he sees well in the dark and light hurts his eyes, you know? I thought I should mention …'

Gray faded out as the bell dinged over the door as someone else entered the pub. He instantly recognised the military uniform. It was the same as Killian's, down to the wolf fur collar, but with several stars added to his lapel.

He was tall, bearded, and with shoulders so broad he clipped the doorway as he moved through. Gray'd seen him before, in passing, in the king's office that day. When the man swept the pub with his gaze, he nodded at Killian and Gray as though they were long-lost friends.

Killian closed his eyes briefly and hissed like an angry snake, 'Oh, for Clochaint's sake.'

The man made a beeline for them. Uninvited, he slid into the booth beside Killian, and the bench groaned under his weight. His massive shoulders boxed Killian in, and his air of authority crowded the table as he draped one arm behind the seat, completely unbothered by Killian's black stare.

'Thought you might be here, Slate,' said the man. 'Glad I caught you.'

This close, Gray could see a vicious swipe of old scars across his jaw and down his neck. His nose looked like it had been broken in the distant past. There were fine lines in the man's weathered skin, and there was a robust red flushing his cheeks above his dark beard.

'No,' said Killian. His words were strained. 'Absolutely not. Get out.'

'Are you ordering your superior to leave?' said the man. 'In a public area?'

There was no threat in the man's words. No true indignation. Just a wary amusement as he took in Killian, and a guarded posture that suggested he was prepared for Killian to throw a physical attack in the same way you might be on guard when stepping close to a territorial terrier.

'Eat quickly, Gray,' said Killian, dragging his stare away from the man. 'I need to get the kid into bed, Rigby, if you don't mind.'

'Not at all,' said Rigby, running his fingers through his neat beard. 'Gray can listen to my proposal while he eats.'

'No,' said Killian stiffly. 'You need to take this up with Baldwin.'

Rigby smiled widely and nudged Killian with his shoulder. 'I don't need to run a proposal by Baldwin first.'

'You do,' said Killian.

'Do not,' said Rigby.

'For this mage,' said Killian, 'you do. I'm following orders.'

There was the smallest moment of hesitation in Rigby. Then, he rolled his eyes, easing his huge weight back in the booth. 'Please. This is the exact same stunt you pulled on Pruitt when trying to get the Drake mage on your team. Not that it worked, did it?'

'You have no idea what you just interrupted, Rigby.'

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