“Markus,” Nicholas greets me as he steps out of the teleportation pool. He’d called ahead and a servant had come to find me. “You look tired.”

  I don’t need reminding of my current exhaustion – it’s a couple of hours – marks – after dawn and I haven’t had a wink of sleep. A single sleepless night would be fine – even two doesn’t affect me as much now I have my Class – but I’ve been running on only a few hours per night since Valence called for the duel.

  It doesn’t help that I’ve been battling my own emotions too ever since the calming draught wore off. ‘Volatile’ is an understatement. I’ve had to pinch the Bonds between me and my companions almost closed – misery loves company, but I don’t want to inflict my dramatic mood swings on those I love.

  Even the guards have noticed the hair-trigger I have on my temper and have been increasingly warier around me. Useful as it was during the ball, I’m not sure the effects are worth the ‘hangover’ afterwards. Tiredness probably doesn’t help, either.

  If I get the chance, I need to sleep at some point – if people fear me snapping at them, I may miss something important.

  “Nicholas,” I greet, unable to summon much enthusiasm, despite what his presence – hopefully – means. “Welcome back.”

  “No luck?” he asks, his eyes sharp as he strides through the ‘water’ towards me. A few seconds after he has exited the pool, the three guards who doubled as my trainers also appear.

  “At least one of the people who took them is off to the north-east,” I inform him, impatience lacing my voice. I force it back. “The Alchemist in the local village ran tests on soil from a bootprint and was able to determine that much.”

  “Nothing more specific?” Nicholas inquires.

  I shake my head.

  “The concealing magic apparently interfered with her potions.”

  “There’s a lot of land to the north-east, even if they stay in Moriax,” Nicholas muses. “Though it indicates they haven’t gone to Rainpoint, which is something, at least.”

  I hum, then step forwards, pulling out the dagger I found during the night.

  “Can you identify who might be associated with this symbol?” I ask, turning my hand so the carving catches the light. It’s a creature which rather reminds me of a raccoon.

  “A nithla,” he murmurs. The name is nothing new – the guard captain could do as much. Apparently they’re common creatures to find in cities – from the description, they sound like racoons or foxes. Smart, get into everything, and can be dangerous if cornered.

  The dagger itself hasn’t provided any other leads – it’s a common dagger which anyone might keep hidden on their person for defence or utility. The blacksmith – who was rather gratifyingly complimentary about Happy – informed me that there is nothing special or enchanted about the blade. The Tracker guard also regretfully told me that there weren’t enough traces of the original bearer which he could use to trigger his Skills. But perhaps the emblem might mean something to Nicholas.

  Nicholas takes the blade and turns it over between his fingers, frowning at it.

  “I don’t recognise the emblem,” he answers finally, passing the dagger back to me. “Nor does the dagger mean anything to me.”

  Disappointment fills me, though little surprise. I return the dagger to my Inventory – I’m still hoping I might be able to give it back. Right through the heart of the person who lost it, that is. The tracker might not be able to identify who it belonged to or what the etching means, but he was able to confirm that it hadn’t been in that tree for more than a couple of days – that means it’s almost certainly one of the attackers.

  “Pity,” I comment listlessly – I’d been hoping that we might have actually found a clue, but it seems not. I decide to get down to business immediately. “Can we do that ritual you spoke about? It seems like our only hope right now.”

  “Of course. Unless you wish to sleep a few hours first?” he asks, looking concerned. I shake my head.

  “Every minute counts,” I reiterate. “I can sleep when I’m dead.”

  Nicholas gives me a long moment.

  “Given how professional these kidnappers seem, if you go half-cocked, your preference may easily be obliged.”

  I wave an impatient hand.

  “I’m fine. Let’s get a direction first and make a plan. Then maybe I can afford to sleep,” I tell him roughly. I resist the urge to scrub at my eyes – they’re dry and irritated.

  Nicholas eyes me for an infuriatingly long moment, then dips his head briefly.

  “Very well. We will do it in the ritual room – the wards will help conceal the fact that we are looking from those magically shrouding where they are.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “They won’t block the ritual from reaching my Bound though, right?” I check with Nicholas anxiously.

  “They would have to be more powerful than two Titanbends in our seat of power, which is unlikely,” Nicholas assures me. I nod briefly, fear curdling in my stomach. If this doesn’t work….

  Once the three guards have been sent to go and get some sleep themselves, we head off into the manor. Nicholas tells me that we need to pay a visit to the family treasure room first. I’m too fretful to be interested in the items Nicholas pulls out from several drawers, noticing only a black velvet bag which sounds like it’s full of marbles, a roll of parchment, a bowl with intricate engravings on the underside of it, and a strangely-shaped blade.

  Then, after once more waiting impatiently for Nicholas to check that no one else is present in the room and lock up, we head to the ritual room.

  “Did Valence come up with any names?” I ask Nicholas as we walk.

  “Heir Fell came to me at the end of the ball to report on his progress.” Nicholas relates. “Unfortunately, he hasn’t been able to identify the second speaker – none of those he managed to get close enough to were recognisably the same voice he heard.”

  I sigh in frustration, doubt creeping into me again – did he really not identify the other speaker, or is this a case of not wanting to reveal the person who sent him to spread the information? Then I remind myself that he seemed to have been genuine in our conversation. Perhaps his lack of success in the ball is a clue in and of itself?

  “Could the other speaker not have been a noblewoman?” I ask Nicholas.

  “It’s possible, but I suspect it’s unlikely. I had Heir Fell relate the conversation to me. I think it highly unlikely Roland would allow anyone else to speak to him like that. He’s not one to tolerate insolence – and he’s a firm believer in the superiority of nobles.”

  “But if Heir Fell wasn’t able to identify someone at the ball as being involved…”

  “Not every noblewoman was present,” Nicholas points out. “And he wasn’t able to get close to everyone who was there, either. For example, he had to rule out Lady Flameform from a past audience since she was constantly surrounded by others and he couldn’t get close enough to confirm. He will continue to do his best to meet as many noblewomen as he can – the amulet I have given him is limited, but will allow him to send me a short message.”

  “What about the Goldmines?” I ask, my mind leaping to the other female Great Lord – and one with an heir who’s female too.

  “Fell confirms that it’s not Heir Goldmine – he was able to speak with her before she departed. Lady Goldmine was only there briefly and by the time he was acting on your behalf, she had left.”

  “Isn’t that a bit suspicious?” I ask. “Maybe she left early to organise what happened with my Bonded.”

  “Not necessarily,” Nicholas cautions, clearly seeing me jump to conclusions. “Departing early from balls is something Clarissa is known for – she finds them largely a waste of time. Frankly, it would be more suspicious if she’d stayed for any length of time without coercion.”

  “But it would make sense if she’s the one – she’s equal rank to Torrent, and you’re the one who told me she has merchants everywhere. Couldn’t that be the network Valence overheard spoken about?”

  “It’s possible,” Nicholas admits, his tone of voice making it clear that he’s already considered this possibility. “And I agree that the evidence points towards it. But Goldroute depends on the neutrality of its ruling House – there is little that Goldroute offers apart from its trade routes. If they are seen to side with a single Great House, it would risk jeopardising the balance that allows them to thrive.” He pauses for a moment. “Frankly, I hope that it isn’t Clarissa. If Goldmine has chosen to ally with Torrent, she must be in worse trouble than she’s letting on – and that doesn’t bode well for anyone. Especially not us.” He looks abruptly ten years older than usual.

  “Then I hope you’re right,” I agree grimly. Though I don’t know much about the interplay between Great Houses, I can understand his concern at having two of them ganging up against Titanbend, especially one that controls the flow of goods around the realm. But from Valence’s retelling of the conversation, she didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the partnership. Perhaps, even if it is Goldmine, she isn’t as much on Torrent’s side as Nicholas is clearly fearing.

  The worries consume my mind and make the journey to the ritual room quick. This time, no one needs to stay at the door – all of my Bonded are either resting to recover from their own sleepless nights, or still combing the woods for any trail.

  It’s likely that their efforts will ultimately be fruitless, but there’s a small chance that something will be found along whatever route they took our companions – such strong concealment Skills are apparently hard to maintain for long.

  More guards have been sent out to visit surrounding villages too and question the local people, the daylight hours offering them the possibility of going further afield. Only a skeleton guard has been left on the manor itself – it has occurred to me that that might be one of the motivations behind this attack. That’s one reason I decided not to go to one of the villages myself. The other is that I wanted to talk to Nicholas as soon as he returned. This ritual is still likely to be our biggest lead.

  Back down on the sand where we conducted the adoption ritual, I watch as Nicholas rolls out the parchment, full of nervous energy despite my tiredness. Or perhaps because of it. Nicholas eyes me with a hint of irritation.

  “You’re too restless,” he observes, his voice disapproving. “Make yourself useful and imbue each of these stones with a sense of your missing Bonded,” he instructs, holding out the black velvet bag and engraved metal bowl that he took from the treasure room.

  I stop shifting my weight from foot to foot and take the items. I sit crosslegged on the sand and place the metal bowl down. Opening the velvet bag, I see it’s partially full of glinting black stones. Taking one of them into my hand, I run my thumb over its surface. It looks like a flattened sphere of onyx which has been beaten and sanded by the sea to a perfectly smooth roundness.

  “Imbue this with a sense of my missing Bonded?” I repeat uncertainly.

  “Yes. Hold one stone at a time, then focus on one specific Bonded per stone. Think about what they look like, what their Bond feels like. Anything else that sets them apart from others. The stones are enchanted to hold the impressions. Then when you cannot think of anything more, place that stone into the bowl and continue with the next. Do that for all your missing Bonded, and then hand me back the bowl and velvet bag.”

  “Alright,” I agree. Nestled into my palm, the stone disappears as soon as I place my other hand on top. Nicholas says the stones were enchanted and I feel what he means – the stone almost seems to hum, a very faint vibration buzzing in my palm.

  Choose one of my missing Bonded and think about what makes them different from all the others. Well, that should be simple enough – and I know just who to start with.

  here!

  here!

  here!

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