In the time that Alex had known Prince Khalik Behr-Medr, one of his closest friends, it was rare that he had seen him appear in public looking anything but impeccably dressed, groomed and poised. His beard was always perfectly sculpted like he’d used a ruler to measure every angle. His plaits were always perfectly braided, and his clothes were rarely anything but immaculate, perfectly clean, washed, and pressed.

The only time Khalik had ever looked worse—unless he was in the middle of a battle or a long campaign—was when he was really hungover or exhausted from long nights of studying, or training.

But even then, he’d never looked quite this terrible.

‘Who the hell is this?’ Alex wondered as he floated down, landing on the sidewalk beside Claygon, Thundar, Khalik and Najyah.

The prince was sitting on a bench with his face in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, his clothes rumpled, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

His eyes were bloodshot when he looked up at Alex.

“Khalik? You…okay?” Alex asked.

Even Najyah, who usually teased her master, was nuzzling the prince’s side as though he might drop dead at any second.

He simply groaned.

“What’s wrong with him?” Alex asked Thundar.

The minotaur shrugged uneasily. “Look, I went to pick him up for an early workout and he opened the door looking like this. Haven’t been able to get two coherent words out of him. Just that he wanted us to get you and Isolde. That’s basically it.”

Suddenly, Khalik cursed in Tekish, his bloodshot eyes squeezing shut and his body shuddering as though in great pain. Thundar, Claygon and Alex rushed to his side.

“Hey, hey talk to us, man,” Alex urged. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

“Wait…” Khalik groaned, his voice cracking. “Just…wait…wait for Isolde.”

Alex looked at Thundar again. “Is she on her way?”

“Yeah, she was out this morning, but we ran into Svenia,” the minotaur scratched his head, looking down at Khalik in utter bewilderment. “I don’t think it’ll take her long to get here. Svenia said that she’d already gone to the Cells early this morning, but she’d go get her.”

“Does she know to meet us here?” Alex asked.

“I—”

Suddenly Khalik bent over the side of the bench, retching his guts out over the paving stones.

“What the hells!” Thundar cried. “What’s going on, man? Are you sick?”

“No,” Khalik groaned. He tapped the side of his head. “Listen, it is all up here.”

“Is something attacking your mind?” Alex demanded, looking around the street and nearby rooftops. It was still early morning, and hardly anyone was out.

There were no signs of attackers anywhere nearby.

“I am not under attack,” Khalik insisted. “I…cannot…”

Alex and Thundar looked at each other, dumbfounded.

Nothing in Khalik’s body language gave any clues as to what he was going through, only that he seemed to be suffering from a high level of anxiety.

The young man looked like he’d just attended his own funeral.

“Khalik!” Isolde’s voice called.

Alex looked up, catching sight of the young noblewoman flying over the rooftops, then descending toward them. “I came as quickly as I could…Svenia told me you would all be at Alex’s bakery.”

“Yeah, well we never made it there,” said Thundar, snorting twin clouds of steam. “Something’s really wrong with Khalik.”

“I can see that,” Isolde said. “What is the matter…are you and Sinope having troubles?”

Khalik looked up at her sharply.

Suddenly, certain memories of the past few months returned to Alex: Khalik and Sinope were spending a lot of happy days together, but now and then, a troubled look would cross the prince’s face when he was around her.

They would only appear for the briefest of moments—too brief for him to truly find a pattern in them—so he’d never thought they were serious enough for him to pry into his friend’s deepest affairs.

Now, he regretted that he hadn’t.

“Khalik, if this is about you or Sinope, you can tell us what’s happening,” he said quickly.

The prince’s face looked stricken for a moment, but then he shook it off.

With a growl, he pushed himself to his feet and pulled a kerchief from his shirt to wipe his face. He ran his fingers through his beard, straightened his hair, then smoothed his rumpled clothing.

A glint sparked in his eyes as he rose to his full height.

Alex’s breath caught.

In that moment, the person standing before them wasn’t the wreck of a man he’d found there minutes before. Nor was it his friend, Khalik, relatable, always ready with a joke, friendly encouragement, or a glass of the strong stuff.

No, the person now standing before the cabal was none other than Prince Khalik Behr-Medr, The Raptor of Tekezash, Lord of the Sapphire Sea and second son of King Aksuma Behr-Medr and Queen Ishtar Behr-Medr.

Even Najyah flapped away for a moment—taken aback—before returning to perch on his shoulder. She too rose to her full height, preening her feathers, but ready to serve her master.

“My friends. My companions. My cabal members,” Khalik addressed the others like a king addressing his greatest lords before the battle of a lifetime. “I do not often ask favours from you. I pride myself on the ability to stand under my own power. I have lived a privileged life, and to demand favours of others without the principle of reciprocity would be the height of entitlement.”

He drew a deep breath, his broad chest expanding. “But this morning, I must beg for your help as though I was not even capable of feeding myself. You are free to refuse me, free to decline, but know that I need you now more than at any other time, thus far.”

Thundar, Isolde, Alex and Claygon looked at each other.

Determination filled their eyes.

“I shall do anything you ask, Khalik,” Isolde said, with all the pride of a Rhinean noble.

“By my ancestors, I’ll be your shield, your sword and your friend,” Thundar agreed.

“I’ll have your back,” Alex stepped up. “No matter what it is. I’ll be there. No matter who the enemy is? I’ll break them.”

“You have…my spear…and my voice. You have been good…to father…and me,” Claygon’s voice thundered. “I will be…good to you.”

Khalik lowered his head. “I thank you, my friends and greatest companions. What I ask of you now will be simple, but in return: you cannot ask me any questions. Do not try to pry details from me and do not whisper what I am about to ask of you to any other. I will have your word on this. Your oath or nothing at all.”

Even as Alex swore beside his friends, he wondered just what in the world Khalik had gotten himself involved in.

As each of them swore on life, honour and ancestors, relief entered the prince’s eyes, as though a terrible burden had begun to lift away. But those eyes hardened again. Quickly.

“This evening, I ask only this of you: go to the Brass Grapes and obtain a table for five. Wait there for me until midnight.” That strange look crossed his face again. “If I come to you tonight, then I ask one thing of you: console me. Buy me drinks. Tell me tales of wonder and happy memories. Console me.”

“I…” Isolde opened her mouth, a question on her lips. But she quickly shut it. “Alright.”

“Whatever you need,” Thundar said.

“Yeah, we’ll have you,” Alex said.

“Good. That is a relief,” Khalik said, smiling sadly. “If I do not arrive tonight, then I ask that you return here for three more nights, keep a vigil for me in that time. The latest I will come to you is on the third night. If I do…then just listen to what I have to say. And if I do not appear on the third night?”

His jaw clenched. “Then come and find me. Do not look for me before then, but if I do not appear in three days, then my situation will be even more dire than it is now. Look for me then.”

Alex reeled at Khalik’s words, each one spoken with the strength of flint.

He desperately wanted to ask his friend what was going on, and why…but a single look from the prince silenced all questions. He trusted Khalik, and swore he would do as he was asked.

And he was asked to not ask questions.

He respected—and trusted—his friend too much to break that pact.

But he needed one question answered.

“Are you going to be alright?” Alex asked.

Khalik looked at him sharply. His shoulders slumped. “Either way? I will live. In what state, I am not sure yet. The upcoming events are not entirely for me to decide. In the end, I can only place my fate in the hands of myself, and in the hands of others. Including you.”

He smiled wanly at his friends. “My friends, I thank you for supporting me. Hopefully, our next meeting will be a happy one.” Suddenly, Khalik stepped forward and hugged each of his friends in turn. “I will return.”

With that, the prince turned and walked away, heading down the street with Najyah on his shoulder.

His head was held high. “Do not follow me,” was all he said.

“An hour to midnight now,” Thundar said nervously, glancing at the door of the Brass Grapes.

The crowd was light tonight, with most students having already gone home for the summer. Only a few had stayed behind: there was a group drinking after a project gone wrong, a couple on a date at the bar…

…and the cabal.

Alex sat with Isolde and Thundar at a table with a good view of the door.

Claygon had been standing beside their table all night, his eyes never leaving the door.

‘Nothing…yet…’ the golem said.

“You know, I don’t know if I’m nervous that he’s not here, or happy that he hasn’t gotten here yet,” Alex said.

Isolde took a long sip of hot wine. “He said that if he were to come tonight, we would need to console him. So him not arriving is a good thing. I think.”

“Jeez, I can’t believe he’s keeping us in the dark like this,” Thundar grunted, throwing back half a stein of beer. “It’s not like him.”

“It isn’t,” Alex agreed.

“You don’t think he’s off doing something stupid, do you?” the minotaur asked.

“Khalik is one of the wisest among us,” Isolde said. “I would be shocked if this was something dangerous he decided to face alone out of misplaced pride.”

“But what in all hells could it be?” the minotaur demanded. “We could help him with almost anything in his life.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Alex said, gulping a shot of whiskey. “He’ll tell us when he’s ready. I’m sure of it. I trust him. We’ll be here for him.”

“We will,” Thundar agreed. “I just wish I knew what all of this was about.”

“Time will tell,” Isolde said. “And we will know soon.”

For better or for worse, Khalik did not appear that night.

“Hour until midnight,” Thundar reported on the second evening. “I’m ready to jump out of my skin here.”

“Yeah, Theresa and Selina are worried too,” Alex said.

“I…am also worried…” Claygon said. “What if…he went to do something…and a hidden enemy…got him…”

The memory of the mana vampire returned; how it had attacked them in that dark alleyway in the city, but Alex shook the memory away.

Isolde grunted, uncharacteristically. “You know, perhaps he thought of engaging in something that he knew he could handle on his own, but had the potential to become more complicated and dangerous. But for the life of me, I cannot begin to guess what that could be.”

“Yeah, I’ve got no idea either,” Thundar said.

Alex frowned, but said nothing.

“Father…?” Claygon asked. “Is there something…wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “I just don’t know.”

Again, the prince of Tekezash failed to appear that night.

“One hour until midnight,” Thundar reported, pacing back and forth by their table.

Waves of tension emanated from Claygon.

Isolde’s lips were a tight line.

Alex was flexing and unflexing his hands.

None of them had had anything to drink that night.

Thundar’s mace was in his belt loop at his side, Alex’s staff leaned against the side of the booth, and Isolde’s dagger shone in its sheath.

The party was prepared for war.

“We should have broken our pact,” Isolde said. “He will not come tonight, and if anything has happened to him, it will be our fault.”

“It won’t be,” Alex said.

“His life is more valuable than our word,” Isolde said. “It will be our fault for not investigating when we should have.”

“No, we trusted Khalik…but that doesn’t mean I won’t blame myself if something has happened to him. But we listened as he asked us to, because we respect him: all we can do is go looking for him if he doesn’t show up.”

“We’ll find him,” Thundar promised.

No one replied.

The minutes ticked by in the bar, each one feeling like a lifetime. Slowly, other groups left for the night, leaving the cabal alone.

Last call approached.

Midnight approached.

Alex’s last nerve was fraying.

And then…

“He is coming…” Claygon announced.

Everyone scrambled from their seats as the prince finally appeared with Najyah on his shoulder.

He looked different.

He had changed, and his hands were wrapped in white gauze.

And that gauze was stained with blood.