A loud knock at the door made Ian jump into an upright position. Beside him Faolan woke up with a snarl showing very inhuman fangs. Ian looked at the young knight with a raised eyebrow and asked ‘Are you going to act like a guard dog now? I thought we might try to hide our cards a bit longer.’, he didn’t know why, but he knew he needn’t be afraid or guarded towards his vassal. The connection that had been formed by the pledge remained like an undercurrent. Always there but not really noticeable until he focussed on it.

  Faolan scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed and slightly nervous about this new instinctual behaviour of his. It was unsettling how it felt like the canine part, that had led to his transformation the evening before, had just clicked into being felt like it had always been there. It felt right, like something that had been missing all his life. For the first time he felt whole. But snarling and baring his teeth were definitely not a helpful behaviour in their situation. ‘Sorry.’, he mumbled his golden eyes avoiding his lord’s dark gaze.

  Ian in turn felt suddenly self-conscious, why had he called the young knight out for something like this? The correction had felt natural like when he had talked to his brothers, when everything was still alright between them. Faolan felt like family to him. Even if he only had known him for such a short time. That was unsettling but oddly reassuring at same time. Now he understood his uncle’s trust in Ron. There was no doubt. But they had been friends before. Ron would have, no had sacrificed everything he had out of loyalty to his friend. Was it really ok to trust a stranger like that only due to a magic bond. Something neither of them understood? Not fully, at least.

  Another knock, louder this time, woke them out of their revery.

  ‘Yes?’, Ian called after he and Faolan shared a look and the knight had nodded, motioning Ian to act. It seemed like the young prince was to be their primary spokesperson.

  ‘Sir Marek is here to guide you to the mass, your highness.’, one of the guards told them as he half entered the quarter. Ian shrugged. He was still not used to this whole your highness stuff. His uncle and Ron had trained him to act the part, sure, but in his heart, he was still a peasant boy. Though his sidhe instincts helped in incorporating the lofty existence he was supposed to be.

  ‘Let him know, that we will shortly be able to depart.’, he answered fully knowing, that the knight outside believed himself higher ranked than him, title or not.

  Ian smiled, as remembered one of his uncle’s teachings. They had spoken about how to act in a hostage situation when the one holding him hostage knew who he was. ‘Let them wait for you. That’s the easiest way to establish dominance whilst wearing a title protecting you. Not too long, but enough to let them feel it.’, his uncle had told him. ‘Why should I? People don’t like waiting. And if I am already in a tight place wouldn’t such behaviour make it worse?’, Ian had asked only to see his uncle smile. ‘One would think so. But the truth is if you simply let them do as they please, if you let them hurry you, you loose standing. You are right it is a gamble. But insinuating a concept of power in your enemies’ minds is just as important as real prowess on the field. Don’t overdo it but never be a push-over, otherwise they will do with you as they please. Always remember politics are a game. Strategies are central.’ Ian had nodded hoping not to need that knowledge for some time. But here he was. Counting inwardly to 30 he straightened his gown and nodded towards Faolan, before calling out ‘Open the door. We will now depart.’

  The knight complied visibly surprised by the confident order. ‘The boy treats us as if I was really a guard to protect and not to watch him.’, he thought deeply impressed by the young prince’s calm and confident demeanour. The lack of any arrogance in his friendly smile deepened the impression of competence. The guards felt seen. An impression that was oftentimes absent when dealing with their superiors. And that planted exactly the image Ian wanted to create in the guards’ minds. Both would talk to their colleagues about him. In an impressed and positive manner.

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  Sir Marek was less impressed and watched the way Faolan, a knight, he himself had mentored and who had served under him as a squire, stood protectively behind Ian only half a step away. Just like he, Marek, had done it so often when guarding the bishop. His brows furrowed, as the second in command and the orders spy master, he had been let in on the bishops plan to control both sidhe by pairing them. He had been against it. Faolan had never been a strong believer, but always loyal to those he thought worthy of his trust. And that particular trait coupled with the young Sidhe’s charisma was a dangerous combination. He had voiced it, told them, that Faolan was not ready yet. But his superiors had just laughed at him. They didn’t see any danger even if they worked together against them. He scoffed at the thought. That was hubris. He knew it and it hoped that Lorenz and the bishop knew it too, after yesterday at least.

  His eyes found his former pupil’s gaze it was… different… the Faolan he knew had always had a slightly defiant but submissive gaze. Had always begged for his approval. Like a young hunting dog. Something he always known and had used as a handle to manipulate him. To make him obedient. Like it was his speciality.

  Whenever the order had a special recruit, they were given to him or his master. To break them in. Just like he had been years ago. He had wanted to groom Faolan to do just that. His intelligence and talent would have been ideal for that, if not for the wildness in his eyes, that never quite left. Those feral golden eyes.

  Now these unsettling eyes held none of the traits he had cultivated in them, only wildness and a sense of betrayal. Faolan felt betrayed by him. Marek gulped when he saw his mentee shielding the prince from him. A trust was in those eyes when he looked at the other Sidhe, that he, Marek, had never quite achieved. After not even a day of knowing each other, a pang of jealousy reached his heart. It seemed like they were going to develop something real. Something, he would never have. A sense of loss filled him, now that he had lost the only apprentice, he had ever deemed worthy of succeeding him in his line of work. And lost he had him. If he ever had had him, a little voice in his head mocked him.

  Marek closed his eyes for a moment and then looked at his former apprentice protecting the one he had been told to take on next. Maybe that could become his new leverage using Faolan’s loyalty to the fey prince to bind him again. A smile crept across his face. He had always liked a challenge and that Sidhe knew how to play. Letting him wait. Unsettling him and elevating the guards. Maybe now he could have two competent knights instead of one. Because a knight that princeling would become. Marek could see it with his own special gift, that had landed him with his master. His witch blood and future sight.

  Ian and Faolan followed Sir Marek in total silence. Every now and then they could feel the gaze of the knight’s silvery grey eyes. Faolan, knew his old master was scheming something and he knew that that was never good. Seeing it was him who was sent to fetch them, the third ranked individual in the order, he knew that Ian was to be his next mentee. The thought made his canine side growl. Faolan only just so could stop the sound from his throat. Being that spider’s mentee was not something he wished for anybody, least of all Ian. His time with him taught him everything he knew about why he hated the church. Again, he had to suppress a snarl. These new instincts, that made him connect with his feelings so much deeper than he had in years, were troublesome. He liked how he felt like himself again but knew it was trouble, especially around that man, who new him far too well. No good would come out of this.

  Ian watched the silent interactions with rapt attention. ‘Very interesting.’, he thought, if he didn’t trust Faolan and his pledge, he would have been very worried about the tension between the two. They knew each other clearly better than a simple knight should know his commander. That made him think of the way Lorenz had singled out Faolan the day before. Like he had done that many times before. He would have to ask his knight about it. They had clearly tried to trap him. And Faolan had known about their designs, but had instead bound himself, his very core, to him. Not that he was against it, but he wondered why.

  After about two minutes that had felt like hours they reached mass. It wasn’t big and clearly designed to only cater to the higher ups. Lavishly furnished. And just like his and the bishop’s quarters far too big to fit on any ship. How hypocritical of the order, the church, to condemn magic but use it for comfort and power. And for less benign things Ian could imagine.

  His eyes scanned the room registered the show of power that was presented to him here. It was deliberate, he knew. Then he looked into Theodorus Malus calculating eyes, smug smile and knew his mission to escape had just gotten much harder.