Book 1: The Missing Queen

Chapter 1

Desmond awoke with a start, his body tensing up. It took him a moment to figure out exactly what the problem was, his magic finding its way up to his brain.

He realized after a moment that it was a crash from his kitchen that had woken him. However, the presence that he sensed was not anything that would cause him harm. His dishes and food supply might be in danger, but he was not.

Running a hand over his face, he tried to pull the sleep from his eyes, glancing at the time piece. He was planning to get up now anyway; the alarm would beep after a moment or two. It was later than he normally got up, but he didn't have anywhere to be for another hour.

“Nathaniel,” he said as the door to his chambers whooshed open at his touch. “What are you doing?”

His former Tiro looked up at him, a piece of toast in his mouth.

“You're awake.”

Desmond raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe.

“You think I can't still sense when you are causing chaos? Eleven years of training you, Nathaniel. I promise that the bond is not broken yet.”

Nathaniel smirked as he searched for more bread, and Desmond decided it was a losing battle. Besides, he was meeting Mariah for breakfast anyway, so he didn't need food here.

He had trained Nathaniel for eleven years as his third Tiro, readying him as a full-fledged witch; the guardians of the galaxy. Magic was dangerous and destructive if not controlled and well trained, and those born with it often didn't survive it unless they were taken from their families and devoted their life to its control. Witches, who were taken to the academies around the galaxy and trained by Maestros, became warriors, guardians, peacemakers, and healers. They were well respected, strong, and completely devoted to keeping the galaxy safe.

It came at a price, of course. They rarely, if ever, saw their families again. They were not supposed to form attachments or have families of their own. They were completely devoted to their craft and their quests. When they were young, they were usually devoted to their Maestros. When they came of age, they were put through a series of rigorous tests that determined whether they could go off on their own and become a new generation of Maestros.

There were exceptions to every rule, of course. Tiros were supposed to be in the academy from the time they started walking, and they needed to be with a Maestro by the time they were thirteen if they wanted to be able to take the tests. Otherwise, they remained at school until eighteen and could work in a minor role. Any time after eighteen, they could take the tests and become a full-fledged witch.

Desmond knew that he and Nathaniel had broken almost every single one of those rules in their years together. It wasn't necessarily on purpose, because he didn't always believe in everything the Jurors dictated. But Nathaniel had been almost fourteen when Desmond finally took him on after a disastrous last Tiro. Nathaniel was stubborn, mouthy, and more interested in fun half the time. Desmond knew Nathaniel would never be the serious, quiet, thoughtful Witch that was expected. Nathaniel was twenty-four when he finally took the tests, passing with flying colors in everything except his attitude.

Now, nearly two years later, they remained at the academy. Nathaniel was teaching some of the classes, and Desmond sat on the Jurors part time, dealing with the intergalactic issues that came their way. Both of them were expected at some point soon to take on a Tiro. But after a bumpy eleven years, Nathaniel didn't seem quite ready to be self-sufficient

Desmond, despite being technically free of a Tiro, found it hard to find time for himself and Mariah – not that he publicly wished for it.

The first day Desmond saw Mariah was nearly thirty years ago. They had both been young witches on their first Tiros. They had locked eyes across the room, and Desmond knew that he was in trouble.

Neither of them had broken any rules, at least in public. But as they started to age toward retirement with a quiet life of advising only in their near future, he found it harder to make sure they were in line and not just existing in a grey area that the Jurors raised their eyebrows at.

He knew Nathaniel was aware of the fine line he walked and took it as challenge. No matter how much Desmond tried and scolded, Nathaniel had always had eyes for women. He wasn't discreet either, and more than once, he had been called in front of the Jurors for disobedience.

Desmond's only solace was that, as Nathaniel got older, he seemed to be settling down and focusing his attention on the one woman he came back to again, and again. A quest on Jeffro – a border planet – had introduced the fifteen-year-old Nathaniel to the seventeen-year-old orphaned ruler, Queen Eliza. She was just as head strong, stubborn, and in control of her emotions as he was. Desmond pretended to not hear the late-night hologram fights they had over the years, and pretended not to hear Nathaniel's thoughts when they were doing well. As long as he was focused on his duties, Desmond could turn a blind eye. And, he noticed, no matter how hard they fought, they always returned to each other. They fought in a way that acknowledged that ending their relationship was never an option.

It was admirable, in a way, except neither of them were supposed to be even thinking of romantic love.

This life was not an easy one, but it was worth it for the greater good. Despite being two of the most powerful warrior witches in the galaxy, they were still only human.

“Are you going to the showcase today?” Nathaniel asked. “I saw them setting up this morning.”

“I might,” Desmond answered, watching Nathaniel eat his way through half a loaf of bread. The showcases were bi-annual and meant to show off the skills of young witches who were hoping to find Maestros. They came from the various academies to go the headquarters, and it was usually impressive. Desmond wasn't quite sure he was interested in taking another one, though. If he was truthful, Nathaniel had been difficult at best. Desmond would technically age out before another Tiro came of age. He and Mariah had loose plans to not take another one, retiring together. Not that he could tell anyone of that, he knew.

Right now, his biggest concern was getting Nathaniel out of his kitchen. “Is there something wrong with the cafeteria? Or your own kitchen, perhaps? Your room is down the hall, Nathaniel. Surely your own kitchen is closer.”

“I have to teach in ten minutes,” Nathaniel protested. “There's no time to wait in the cafeteria or make my own food. You always have something ready.”

“In case I need to grab something swiftly,” Desmond replied. “I don't usually keep you in mind.”

“I love how prepared you are, Maestro,” Nathaniel grinned. “I didn't have time last night.”

“Why? You finished class at seven p.m.” Desmond raised an eyebrow. “What did you do with your evening?”

“Eliza called,” Nathaniel admitted. “It was a long call.”

“I'm sure it was,” Desmond said. “Go to class. If the professor is late, it says something.”

“See you.” Nathaniel finally finished chewing and took off, leaving Desmond to shake his head. Nathaniel's appetite had not changed since he was fifteen, nor had his energy or his attitude. It was amazing how different they were. Nathaniel's dream was to be on the Jurors, where Desmond couldn't think of a more boring way to live life. Although Nathaniel was successful and well respected, Desmond sometimes wondered where he went wrong as a Maestro.

He tied up the bread bag, putting the dishes in the sink before going to get dressed. He always got Mariah from her room if they were having a meal together, as the hallways were crowded. Mariah had been blinded nearly ten years ago, and although she was very proficient with her magic, using it to see rather than her eyes, he still worried about her. Her last Tiro, Nathaniel's childhood best friend, had graduated early, and Mariah had been working within the safety of the academy ever since. Desmond worried every day she took a minor quest, even though he knew she was just as strong as the first day.

His com-link buzzed as he was finishing getting dressed, and he saw it was Thomas, one of the permanent members.

“I'm not expected for another two hours,” he answered, finishing the buttons on his old shirt.

“I know,” Thomas replied. “I'm not calling because I don't know how to tell time.”

“Good to know,” Desmond answered. “What can I do for you?”

“There was a ship coming from a border planet that had some terrible turbulence. It was full of showcases attendees, and some were injured. Can you stop by the med bay to sign off on their participation? The professor is insistent that they participate, and I'm not sure he's taking their physical state into account.”

“These off-world professors,” Desmond said, shaking his head. “They count their success on the amount of Tiros that get trained, regardless of consequence.”

“I'm aware,” Thomas said. “Will you do it?”

“In an hour,” Desmond replied. “I have plans currently.”

“Doing what?”

“I have plans,” Desmond repeated. “But I will be there.”

Thomas sighed. “Fine,” he answered, not willing to fight. “I'll see you later.”

“You will,” Desmond said, and hung up. He knew that walking the grey areas of magic often landed him with tasks like this, but it was a small price to pay to mostly do as he pleased.

Mariah was ready when he came to the door, looking beautiful despite a plain outfit. Her hair was pulled back, and he was used to the scarring around her eyes that had caused the blindness. Once bright red, the scars were now pure white, crisscrossing her eyes and causing his heart to ache whenever he saw her. She was still beautiful, but he hated that he had not been there to help her.

“Good morning,” Mariah said, knowing exactly where to look. “You're troubled today.”

He smiled, always impressed by how sensitive her magic was.

“It could have been Thomas calling to ask me something ridiculous,” he replied. “Or it could be that Nathaniel showed up and ate half of my fridge before dawn.”

“So, a normal day, then?” She smiled at him, closing the door behind them. He took her arm, the shivers going down her spine. The only good thing about her blindness was that they could now touch in public under the guise that he was guiding her.

“A normal day, lately,” he said, shaking his head. “Nathaniel has such pent-up energy since we've returned. When we were working, he could exhaust himself by the end of the day. We worked from dawn to dusk, and I usually didn't hear a peep from him after ten p.m. But here, just teaching during the day and having nothing to do in the evenings doesn't suit him. And yet he does nothing about it.”

“Desmond,” Mariah said softly with the patience of a mother. Their Tiros were the closest thing to children they would have in a life they could only dream of having. “He's not ready to leave you.”

“He's taken the tests,” Desmond replied, “and he was physically ready to take them years ago. I know his self-sufficiency is still an area he struggles with, but he will not last long here before he gets into trouble. There's already a pretty blond Maestro that I see him eyeing.”

“Are we ones to talk?” Mariah asked, and he sighed.

“He's not discreet, Mariah.”

“At that age,” she said softly, “I'm not sure we had learned how to be, either.”

Chapter 2

“Mariah.” Her former Tiro and Nathaniel's childhood best friend, Sybil, touched her arm gently as they were finishing their breakfast in the cafeteria. Humanoid with green skin and a need for a watery environment more often than not, it had been Sybil that they thought would be more difficult to train than Nathaniel. But Sybil had proved a quick study and quick to adapt, and had taken the tests at nineteen, several years before Nathaniel. Today, she had her own Tiro and was rising fast. “How are you?

“I am well,” Mariah said, still feeling a bond with her former Tiro. “I thought you were back last night. Was it successful?”

“Simple search and rescue,” Sybil replied. “Easy to locate the target with just a small bit of magic. Anyone could have done it.”

“You are modest,” Mariah praised her. “And your Tiro?”

“Already itching to go out again,” Sybil replied. “How are you, Maestro Desmond?”

“I am well, Sybil,” he replied. “It's been a quiet week, so a chance to reflect.”

“Are you two going to the showcase?” Sybil's eyes lit up. “We're going just to watch.”

Sybil had grown up in the center of the relationship between the two of them, and while she didn't agree with the grey line they walked, she was well aware of it. She knew it would take wild horses to separate them when they had every opportunity to be together.

“We might,” Desmond replied. “I have encouraged Nathaniel to attend, though.”

“Excellent! I haven't seen him in weeks,” Sybil replied. “I'll leave you to it. It was nice to see you.”

“And you,” Mariah replied as she left. She turned to Desmond with a smile. Desmond sighed.

“Oh, is that what it's like when your Tiro graduates and becomes a proper person away from you?”

“Hush,” Mariah said. “Nathaniel will be fine. Didn't you have an errand to run?”

“The med bay,” Desmond remembered. “Do you want to come?”

“I have a few tasks myself,” she replied. “Go ahead, and I'll find you at the showcase.”

“Will you?” Desmond asked. “They can be quite crowded.”

“I'll be fine,” Mariah reminded him. “Go on.”

He touched her hand lightly and then rose. She was so independent, so strong, and he had to remind himself often that she would be fine. But it didn't mean he resisted the urge to try and take care of her when he could.

The med bay was in a separate building, connected by tunnels. They confused him once upon a time, with no signs anywhere. Now, he knew them like the back of his hand, hardly paying attention to the twist and turns as he walked down the hallways.

It was unusually busy today, likely due to the showcase. It was more than participants coming in today, with observers and Maestros looking for new Tiros attending, as well. The landing bays would be constantly occupied, and he was glad he didn't have any travel during this time.

When he rounded the corner and entered the med bay, it was chaos. They were used to receiving wounded warriors just off quest or dealing with minor injuries. But Desmond quickly identified eight young Tiros and a frantic professor, who was arguing with a medic, being held there.

Desmond recognized Tara, the head medic, trying to calm the situation. He stepped in, cleared his throat, and Tara looked at him gratefully.

“Did the Jurors send you?” she asked, and he nodded. “Took them long enough. This is Desmond. He will determine whether your Tiros can enter the showcase.”

“We came all the way from Maui,” the professor snapped, heavily accented. “We better–”

“Sir,” Desmond said calmly, as he often was, “I will give my judgment based on Tara's advice, and the requirements of the Jurors to enter a showcase. Shall we begin?”

“Here,” Tara indicated he should follow.

They were so young, Desmond observed. It felt like the participants got younger and younger every year, smaller, and more frightened. He remembered his first showcase as a Tiro, and then as a Maestro. These Tiros seemed to be positively tiny compared to him now.

“This is Judd,” she said. “He's eight years old, and he broke his left arm in the turbulence However, his magic is right handed, so he's not technically handicapped by it.”

“Hello, Judd,” Desmond said, and Judd nodded, tears in his eyes. He took a look at the report Tara had written up and tried to think of how the Jurors had set up the showcase this year. “Technically, that should be fine, if he's up to it.”

“That's fine,” Tara said, placing a checkmark on his file as Judd broke into a smile. “Next is Ian. This is a concussion without a doubt. It would be against my medical advice.”

“Absolutely,” Desmond said, despite the tears of the groggy six-year-old. The professor growled, and he turned to him. “He will have many more showcases ahead of him. To present now will harm his house. My former Tiro suffered a concussion early in his career, and it took us out of quests for nearly a month. You wouldn't want that, would you?”

“I know that you headquarter staff like to think you know better,” the man said, and Desmond didn't address it. He wasn't one for arguing or confrontation. Either things were done, or they weren't.

Slowly, they moved through the Tiros, most of whom were all right to continue, at least with modifications. When he got to the last one, he reached for the report, but Tara pulled back.

“This one is…” she chose her words carefully. “Was just here to observe anyway.”

Desmond turned to the young girl sitting on the bed and felt something hit him like a tidal wave. She cocked her head, meeting his eyes, and he felt something stirring that he had not felt since he first laid eyes on Nathaniel and the ones before him.

“What do you mean?” he asked Tara for clarification

She regarded her report. “Sienna is not meant to be trained.”

“What do you mean, ‘not meant to be trained?’”

“She has the acridid gene,” Tara replied. “You've heard of it?”

“I thought it was a myth,” Desmond replied, aware of the medical condition that tended to attack all bodily systems like a swarm of acridids. It was autoimmune, and he thought it was fatal very early on. Medical science had come far, and it appeared that it could be managed, for she was bright eyed as she watched him. She was razor thin and fragile, but he felt magic within her that shocked him. This girl was powerful, brimming with magic.

“It's not, and we do everything we can to manage it. Sienna comes here a few times a year for advanced treatment. I wasn't sure if she was going to participate.”

“Do you want to participate?” Desmond turned to Sienna. She opened her mouth, and he could see the thoughts behind her eyes. “She doesn't speak Basic,” he realized, turning to the professor. The man raised an eyebrow.

“She really was just here to observe,” he answered. “There's no point in training Sienna. She's an interesting case, but she won't make it to the tests.”

“Every Tiro brought to school has a chance,” Desmond said, turning back to Sienna. He focused directly into her eyes, speaking slowly. “Do you want to participate in the showcase?”

She nodded, picking up the words carefully.

“I…can…fight?” she asked, her words stilted. He held her focus, waiting patiently for her to get the right words out. It wasn't uncommon that those who trained offsite were weak in Basic. She should be stronger in it by now, but he suspected she might have been identified late or not given proper training. He wasn't about to stand for that, especially when he felt such power in her.

“If you are well,” he turned to Tara, who sighed.

“I guess,” she said. “She wasn't injured in the turbulence. She's just…her.”

“Then she will compete,” Desmond said, smiling at Sienna. “Yes.”

“Me?” her eyes lit up. “Thank you!

He chuckled at that.

“Good luck to you,” he replied, and then turned to Tara.

“Is that all?”

“For now,” Tara shrugged. “I think you are making a mistake.”

“Luckily, Tara, you do not sit on the Jurors, nor do you have to answer to them for my mistakes,” he answered.

“You are getting surly in your old age, Desmond,” she answered. “Go.”

“I'll see you all at the showcase, then,” he answered, rolling his eyes as he headed out. He, perhaps, would have given an even more brusque answer had he not been distracted by Sienna's magic.

‘Did the acridid gene produce more powerful magic?’ he wondered. ‘And if they were more powerful at birth, did the flame of hope get snuffed out early?’

He didn't know enough about it to even speculate, but he did know that everyone deserved a chance, no matter their situation. His last three Tiros had been long shots – black sheep – and most of them had turned out all right.

He tried not to think about the ones that didn't.

Desmond paused outside Nathaniel's class for the last few moments, listening to his former Tiro teach. The Tiros were engaged as they always were. Nathaniel was closer to their own age than most Maestros, and he was still full of energy.

Sometimes, Desmond thought, it was hard to belief that this was the sullen thirteen-year-old boy that he had seen dragging himself through the showcases, thinking he had no hope.

It was also hard to believe that this was the same fifteen-year-old boy who had looked up at Queen Eliza and known instantly that his life was going to change. Nathaniel and Eliza as teenagers were even more headstrong than they were now. Now, they were quiet, able to hide their feelings, careful, and accepting of their fates. He was a witch, and she needed a noble marriage. It was safe, Desmond thought.

Except for the amount of time he caught Nathaniel thinking about her in the moments that were quiet. He knew that his former Tiro was in too deep to stop now, but he hoped, as the months went on, that Nathaniel would continue to learn discretion.

It would be the hardest choice to leave the witches' order because one was trying to be good to their heart as well as the rest of the galaxy.

“Hi,” Nathaniel interrupted his thoughts. “I thought we were meeting at the showcase?”

“I was in the area,” Desmond said with a shrug. “Mariah and I saw Sybil this morning.”

“Oh, she's back?” he grinned. “Good. I want to talk to her. “

“Don't get into mischief,” Desmond warned him. “The two of you together are worse than a tornado.”

“But we're Maestros now,” Nathaniel pointed out. “Which means we call the shots.”

“No,” Desmond said, knowing it was a losing battle. “Are you done here?”

“Aye,” Nathaniel answered. “Ready to see an amazing display of power?”

“I'm ready to watch the showcase,” Desmond replied, always the more serious one. “And who knows? Perhaps you'll find a Tiro.”

“I don't want a Tiro,” Nathaniel answered, surprised. “I thought you knew that.”

“You will have to take one eventually,” Desmond pointed out, knowing that arguing with him now was pointless. “Let's go.”

Chapter 3

“Nathaniel, I just saw an eight year old warming up who could beat you!” Sybil greeted her former classmate with a grin as the crowds gathered for the showcase. Desmond and Mariah were standing behind him, and a smile came to their faces.

This was the closest to a family they would ever come, Mariah thought as she listened to their voices. They were like two grown children harassing each other.

“I believe a weapons class just called me the greatest warrior of our generation,” Nathaniel replied with a grin on his face as he greeted Sybil. “They did a whole lesson on the Bablyon quest that Desmond and I took down single-handedly.”

“You and I remember Bablyon very differently,” Desmond said as they tried to find seats. “Because I remember it being a whole lot of effort, and you seem to think you just snapped your fingers.”

“Maybe I did,” Nathaniel answered with a shrug. “A snap to make you work. Here, Maestro. Sit.”

“At least they respect their elders,” Desmond said to Mariah as they both settled into seats that had been laid out. The gymnasium was crowded and buzzing with energy. The younger children were sitting on the floor, and seeing no other seats, Nathaniel shrugged. He and Sybil settled down at their Maestro's feet, her Tiro gone to find her friends. “Can you even see anything from down there?”

“Let me worry about that,” Nathaniel grinned. “Besides, what do I need to see? I can sense strong magic a mile away.”

“This is like old times,” Desmond said to Mariah, who smiled.

“Isn't it?” she said. “I thought we wouldn't get another chance to be together with everyone. I would have thought by now that everyone would be going off in their own direction.”

“Life is surprising,” Desmond said as the first group moved into the center of the gymnasium. They were young, and his low expectations were met. At that age, they couldn't do much besides levitate a few objects and practice making their usually visible streams of magic vanish. Still, every once in a while, there was one who stood out; one who was clearly above their class.

The Tiro-less Maestros were looking for different things. Some wanted fighters; some wanted diplomats; some wanted older Tiros so as to be done training faster. It was a matter of choice, and no one could guess who would be picked out from any given showcase.

Desmond looked down at some point to see Nathaniel with his com unit, sending a fast message through in between groups. From his vantage point, he recognized Eliza's contact information at the top of the screen. He raised an eyebrow as he watched the message shoot across.

By six p.m., I can be online.

Seven p.m. Some of us have a job to do.

Being a queen isn't a job, your highness.

If you don't stop, I won't be online at all. And then what will you do with yourself?

“Nathaniel,” Desmond landed him a kick as the next group came up to the center. “Pay attention. More importantly, dim your screen.”

“She's just so…” Nathaniel forgot where he was and looked up to meet Desmond's hard gaze. “Right, sorry.”

Desmond rolled his eyes at his lack of focus and turned his attention to the group in the center. He saw Sienna right away in the center of her group. She stood out from the rest; she was slightly taller and thinner. Her focus was like a laser, and her thin shoulders were tensed in concentration.

Desmond's gaze became like a laser as he watched her. He reached down to Nathaniel to indicate where his attention was.

Sienna's magic was clearly stronger than the rest, and she was more powerful than Tiros in the age group above her. It was untrained, though, and messy. There were streams of magic long after the others had vanished. She was so strong, but such a mess.

And within eight minutes, Desmond caught a quiver in her knees. She was battling to stay upright as the Tiros were tasked with levitation. Her body tensed, and her knees buckled, but she fought it again and again.

Desmond rose up, the only one in the crowd doing so, and she looked up, watching him rather than focusing on the pain she was clearly in.

‘Come on, little one,’ he thought. ‘Come on.’

The bell rang, the exercise ended, and all the objects dropped like a stone. Sienna put her hands on her knees, panting. But she caught his eyes and gave him a smile that was like sunshine.

“Maestro?” Nathaniel asked in confusion as the Tiros took a bow. There was a break directly following the exercise, and Desmond remained standing, watching where Sienna went. “Did you see something?”

“You didn't feel that?” Desmond asked. “The tall one? She was so strong.”

“With the brown hair?” Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “Strong is not the word I would use. All of that magic serves no purpose if it's all over the place.”

“That can be trained out, Nathaniel,” Desmond replied, but his former Tiro shook his head.

“Not for the precision a warrior needs,” Nathaniel replied.

“And is that all you would consider?” Desmond asked. “A warrior?”

“Well, yes.” Nathaniel looked surprised, “That's what I am; that's what I want to train.”

“I think we should meet her,” Desmond replied. “At least to tell her that she was strong.”

“But she's not,” Nathaniel protested. Mariah picked up on the conversation, turning her head. Despite a lack of sight, her eyes bore holes into Desmond.

“You felt a connection,” she said, half reading his thoughts.

“I don't know what I felt,” Desmond answered. “I just want to tell her to keep persisting. Is that so harmful?”

“We are just watching, Desmond,” Mariah said, but he got her meaning. She was apprehensive about his approaching a potential Tiro when they had just gotten through a conversation that this wasn't their future.

“I'm just watching,” he echoed. “Nathaniel? We'll be right back.”

“I don't see why I have to go,” Nathaniel answered, but he clambered up anyway.

Sienna was sitting on the floor on the other side of the gymnasium, looking winded. Still, she smiled when Desmond came into her line of sight.

“Hello, little one,” he said, crouching down. “You did well.”

She clearly did not understand his words, but she understood a compliment and nodded her thanks.

“You…are…” She looked between Desmond and Nathaniel and made a motion with her hands. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, looking to Desmond, who understood right away.

“Nathaniel is my former Tiro,” he said. “A year or two gone now.”

She paused, searching. Nathaniel turned back to Desmond.

“Why doesn't she speak Basic?” Nathaniel asked.

“She wasn't properly trained offsite,” Desmond admitted to him. “On the offsite facility, they are assisting her because she is a witch, and all witches belong with us. But they didn't train her well.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Desmond sighed, “she has the acridid gene, and they consider that too difficult to deal with.”

“The acridid gene?” Nathaniel blurted out in surprise “Well, no wonder they don't train her. That's hopeless, Desmond.”

“Is it?” Desmond asked him sharply. “There were some who said you were hopeless, too.”

“You are perception?” Sienna finally managed to Nathaniel. He turned back to her.

“What?” he asked.

“Perception…” Desmond struggled through the few languages he knew, translating back and forth to see if he could come up with what meaning she was going for. “Looking. She wants to know if you are looking for a Tiro.”

“Oh,” Nathaniel answered. “Yes. Eventually.”

“Yes?” she picked up, sitting up a bit straighter.

“A warrior,” Nathaniel practically yelled, thinking she might be able to understand him if he was louder and clearer. “I am a warrior. I'm looking for a warrior.”

She jumped at his raised voice, pushing father back against the wall.

“Nathaniel,” Desmond said, giving him a look.

“What? That's what I'm doing.” Nathaniel rose awkwardly. “Good job, kid.”

She watched Nathaniel with awe as he rose, sensing magic in him that was strong as well. “Warrior,” she echoed. “Warrior is the best.”

That caught him off guard. “I think so,” he said. She pushed against the wall, and Desmond rose, extending a hand so that she could take it and rise as well. “We should get back.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking to Desmond and waving to the showcase floor. “Thank you.”

“There's no need to thank me,” he said. “It is your right, and you fought well.”

“Thank you,” she repeated. She lingered another moment or two and then headed off to her friends, leaving the two of them standing there.

“Maestro, you can't be serious,” Nathaniel said once she was out of earshot. “There's nothing there.”

“Don't jump to conclusions, Nathaniel,” Desmond replied. “I merely think she's interesting.”

“Sure, as a case study,” Nathaniel shrugged. “But is it ethical, you think, to get her hopes up by letting her showcase?”

“There are other kinds of witches besides warriors,” Desmond answered. “You do know that, don't you?”

“Of course,” Nathaniel answered. “I just know what I want. Now, please, can we go back? I haven't seen Sybil in forever.”

“If you can keep your eyes on the showcase floor,” Desmond replied, not eager to go back to Mariah's wrath. He could feel it following from across the room.

If he didn't walk such a fine line, he could make choices by himself without taking anyone else into account. But he had chosen a life that meant there was more than just the magic at stake.

The rest of the showcase finished without incident, and although Desmond was clearly distracted, Nathaniel was eager to head back to his room. It was late, and he was hoping Eliza would be on early.

Sure enough, his monitor showed a video call just as he let himself him.

He always forgot how beautiful she was until she saw her face. With blonde hair and sapphire eyes, she only had to turn her head slightly to make his knees weak.

“Eliza,” he said, sinking into a chair as she settled into hers across the universe. “Sorry, there was a showcase today.”

“Is that where your order puts children on display like cattle for sale?”

“If you think so,” he answered, logging onto the quest system. New quests were posted at seven p.m. nightly, and currently, it was the best time in his life to grab them. Without a Tiro, he didn't have to take anyone else’s qualifications or expectations into account. He scanned the list as he talked. “Wasn't anything interesting, really.”

“Nothing?” she replied. “How many were there?”

“Half a hundred,” he shrugged. “Desmond got caught up with a misfit who won't ever make the tests, but you know how Desmond can be.”

“I didn't think he would be taking a new Tiro?” she questioned.

“He probably won't,” Nathaniel answered. “There's a Jeffro stopover next Monday that's just become listed. It's only four hours, but I could take it if you like.”

“Monday?” she asked, clicking a few keys. “When?”

“At four p.m.,” he answered. She shook her head.

“No good. Find something else.”

“You know, it's not that easy, Eliza,” he growled as he clicked the box to bid for the quest anyway. “Unless you specifically request a witch to assist you, I can't just stop there.”

“Well, I don't need help.” She shrugged, and he grinned.

“Are you sure about that?”

“I don't need help with anything that a generic witch could offer,” she replied. “A specific one though…”

That brought his attention back to the screen rapidly. “Oh really?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “What is it you need help you?”

She smiled, and he knew what was coming. Making sure that the door was locked, he dimmed his lights and turned down the sound on his monitor. She may be a universe away right now, but it didn't mean they couldn't give each other pleasure.

Chapter 4

“Five-six-seven-eight!” Desmond bent his knee just as Mariah leapt, watching her intently. She used the magic to judge her surroundings – to judge the walls and the floor, and to propel herself forward. She was still a strong warrior, still in good shape, and could still outfight most people. Still, her blindness put her just off balance, and he managed to steady her as she went by, quickly placing a hand on her taut stomach. She landed like a cat – soft and crouching.

“How was that?”

“It was fine,” he replied, not wanting to admit he was a bit out of breath. Mariah was focused, relentless, and they had been at this for hours.

“It was sloppy,” she said, shaking her head as she stood up. “And you know it.”

“Mariah,” he said, as he stood as well. “It was better than most could do, never mind a lack of sight and age.”

“Age?” She quirked an eyebrow. “Do you think I've gotten old?”

“I think that's a fact,” he answered. “But it does not make you any less–”

“Hello!” a voice called out, cutting him off.

Both of them turned, interrupted in their training. Sienna was standing at the door of the empty training room, looking on in curiosity. Desmond was aware that the off-planet visitors would stay another day or two, to take advantage of the headquarters' amenities. Whatever she was supposed to be doing, she appeared to have broken away from her group.

“Hello, little one,” he said. “Mariah, it's Sienna. We were just training.”

“You are Maestros,” she managed, and even Mariah had to smile at that.

“Yes,” she said. “But even Maestros need training every once in a while.”

Sienna cocked her head, registering that Mariah's eyes were sightless. She paused, unsure of how to proceed, and then turned back to Desmond. “You…qualify for me? To fight?”

He took a moment to think through what she might have meant. “Modify?” he asked. “Modify training for you?”

She nodded. “You have occurrence in it?”

He realized she was referring to the modifications they were making for Mariah in a simple routine.

“Aye,” he said. “But Nathaniel, my former Tiro, is the stronger warrior. If you are looking for a modified training program, he is the one to speak to.”

“Nathaniel?” she asked, remembering him. “He is…distant.”

“He is not usually,” Desmond answered with a smirk. “The day you met him, perhaps.”

“I…” She took a step forward and then faltered.

“Desmond!” Mariah sensed her magic first, feeling it flicker. Her sightless eyes flashed, and Desmond rushed forward, catching Sienna before she fell.

Her body was burning with heat, her limbs trembling. She clearly wasn't well, although she was doing well to hide it.

He eased her to the ground, and she reached out for his hand, grasping it tightly.

“AH!” he suddenly cried as she squeezed his hand. It hadn't been intentional, but she had lashed out for magic and strength. And without even thinking about it, his magic had flowed to her, offering her healing and strength to make up for hers.

She looked so surprised by it that she stopped moving all together, this feeling completely foreign to her.

Desmond had felt it before, though, with each of his three Tiros. To take strength that easily without even thinking about it was part of the bond between Maestro and Tiro. Their bonds were so strong that they could predict it before it even happened, their thoughts becoming one.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, saying nothing. He tried to smile, cradling her gently.

“Is that better?” he asked.

She nodded, sitting up cautiously. She pulled away from him slightly, her long hair falling into her face. Mariah sat down beside them and touched Desmond's shoulder. He reached out for her hand to tell her without speaking that all was well.

“Yes,” Sienna replied.

“You are not well,” he scolded her. “You should have told someone.”

“No,” she said picking up on the meaning clearly. “No one cares.”

“Sienna,” he gave her a look. “Of course, they do.”

“Too…frequent,” she answered, and his heart ached.

“It doesn't matter,” he replied. “If you are unwell, you should be looked after.”

“Training,” she said, and he smiled.

“Is that all you care about?”

“Yes,” she answered curtly. That much was clear, and he chuckled.

“Sienna, we should go to the med bay,” Mariah said tentatively. “You shall not train today.”

“Please,” she begged, but Mariah pushed herself up from Desmond's shoulder.

“No,” she said. “A good witch does not enter battle if they are at a disadvantage,” she said. “You must always be your best self in order to help others.”

The sentence went over Sienna's head, so she simply rose, stronger than before.

“Training after?”

“Maybe,” Desmond replied. “If you are better later.”

“Promise?” she asked, and he smiled.

“If you are better, then I will walk you through a session. And I always keep my promises.”

She seemed content with this and walked with both of them, only pausing once. It saddened Desmond to see how comfortable she was in the med bay, and he assumed she was quite used to it. She stuck out her arm for blood work like the needle was an extension of her own limb. As Tara drew the curtain closed, Desmond leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Mariah leaned into him and enjoyed the moment of privacy.

“Did it bother you so?” she asked, and he looked down at her.

“I don't think that's the right word,” he said. “She must have had a fever of 103, and she took strength from me as if I was the right medication.”

Mariah jerked at that thought. “Desmond,” she said. “You can't be thinking what I think you are.”

“What am I supposed to think when a Tiro exhibits a bond that has occurred three times in my life before?” he asked, not meaning to snap.

“First of all,” Mariah said, trying to keep her voice low, “she is not properly trained for her age; she's at least a few years behind. In addition, her life expectancy is not going to reach the tests. And even if she does, the level of care she needs would damn her to the lowest level quests.”

“And aren't we taught to have patience and to take paths that frighten us, ones that others wouldn't?” he asked.

Mariah switched tactics. “What about Nathaniel?” she asked.

“What about him?” Desmond replied.

“He may have passed the tests physically, but emotionally, he is not ready to separate from you. He is happy now, the two of you bouncing about the school, and he may even take a quest again by himself. But you and I both know he took the tests because he was aging out, not because he was ready. If he had his way, he'd still be with you until he turned at least thirty.”

Desmond sighed. “He has to grow apart from me sometime, Mariah. Despite his age, Nathaniel is less than two years away from me. That's hard for any Tiro; you know that. The first few years are the worst.”

“Are you prepared for the level of care she will need?” Mariah asked. “Can you handle all of that by yourself?”

“I…” Desmond wanted to say yes and that he was invincible. But a good witch did not falsely take on responsibilities when they put others at a disservice. The truth was, he was past his prime, and she was young. “I don't know.”

“And then there's us,” Mariah put in.

“Us,” he said, keeping his voice low. “If what you say is true, training her will be a few years, nothing more. We have waited so long, Mariah. Can we not wait another few years? What difference does it make in the grand scheme of things? We are together here as we have always been. A few years in our lives is no different.”

“Desmond.” She reached her hand out, touching him. “Do you truly feel drawn to this girl?”

“Yes,” he said. “Please believe me.”

She sighed. “I believe you,” she said. “But I'm not sure you are equipped to take on the challenges that she presents. And you are asking me to wait a few years while you figure that out.”

He lowered his voice. “I would not do this if it meant losing you. But I know that it does not mean losing you, does it?”

Their faces were inches apart. She wanted to scream; she wanted to cry; she wanted to tell him that yes, it meant losing her.

But she knew how devoted Desmond was. If he felt a bond with this Tiro, she couldn't deny it.

“No,” she said. “But I want you to think this through; figure out how you are going to handle it. The last thing I want is to get so close to our futures, and then have it taken away because of some accident or some carelessness.”

“Mariah,” he tried to assure her, “It's not going to be like that.”

“Why? Do you have a plan?”

He considered everything that she said, his mind reeling. And then, all of a sudden, the answer hit him like a tidal wave.

“I think I do,” he answered.

“What is it?”

“I'll tell you if it works out,” he said. They separated as Tara pulled aside the curtain.

“She's fine,” Tara said. “She's just not used to such a busy day. An IV infusion, and she'll be all right.”

Sienna looked oddly comfortable with a needle in her hand, watching the three of them. Desmond smiled, stepping forward.

“Little one,” he said, pointing to the call button and then holding up his com-link, “I have to go for a bit. But if you need anything at all, please call me.”

She seemed to understand the connection between the two objects and nodded, reaching out her hand to grab his. “Thank you,” she said, and he nodded.

“Of course,” he replied. “I'm sure everything will be fine. I'll see you soon.”

“Where are you going?” Mariah inquired, and his eyes sparkled.

“You asked me to have a plan,” he said. “When is it that the bids for Tiros are due?”

“Tomorrow,” she said. “You know that. After every showcase, you only have a few days, and then they are gone.”

“Right, so I don't have that long,” Desmond said. “I'll see you for dinner, Mariah.”

“Will you?” Mariah replied, clearly not happy. “This better be an amazing plan.”

“It might be a terrible one,” Desmond answered. “But at least it's a plan.”

Mariah sighed as she felt him leave the room. He usually had plans like this that either worked out or failed miserably. He always rushed off, not telling her anything. She was used to this, but for just once, she would have liked to be in on it. After all, this was about their future, their hopes, and their dreams. They had never been so close before, never had it within reach. If any of his plans ever worked out, she hoped this one did.

Chapter 5

“Why do they want to see me?” Nathaniel asked in confusion the next morning when Desmond came to his chambers. “I thought they weren't assigning quests today due to the Tiro bids.”

“The Jurors do what they want, Nathaniel. You know that.”

“I do know that,” he said as he got up. “But I can't think of what I've done wrong in the past four weeks.”

“Why? What happened four weeks ago?” Desmond asked in confusion.

Nathaniel shook his head. “Nothing. Or it turned out to be nothing,” he shrugged as he shut down his monitor.

“Nathaniel?” Desmond raised an eyebrow.

“Eliza and I had a business meeting on the neighboring planet Jade,” he started, and Desmond rolled his eyes.

“I don't want to know in that case. And I don't want to know how you talked your way out of it. I've long since discovered that the less I know, the better.”

“That's the worst part,” he said. “They didn't have any evidence. Just someone with a big mouth.”

“And how many times do you think the Jurors are going to believe your stories when you keep getting caught with her?” Desmond asked.

“At least twice more, I hope,” Nathaniel said nonchalantly, as they strolled toward the Jurors' chambers.

He was surprised to see most of the Jurors in session. Temporary members like Desmond sat on the sidelines, and Nathaniel realized that it looked very much like a Tiro review.

“What's going on?” he asked in confusion as the doors closed behind them.

“Desmond,” said Thomas, the head of the witch Jurors. “Nathaniel. Thank you for your joining us.”

“Sure?” Nathaniel asked, confused. He was usually easy going, willing to roll with any punches that were sent his way. But his heart beat a little harder as he wondered if he was in trouble.

“The Jurors have received your application for the joint training of the Tiro witch, Sienna, and the reasons behind it.”

“Wha…?” The words died in Nathaniel's throat as he turned to Desmond. To his horror, Desmond looked absolutely calm. He knew about this; he expected it.

“Sienna is a very special child,” Thomas put in. “She has rare abilities and rare power, but also a rare disease.”

“She will be difficult to manage,” Desmond put in. “I acknowledge that. The amount of power within her has rarely been seen, if ever.”

“That is true,” Thomas replied. “Her magical ability is off the charts. But her health…”

“To train Sienna, she will need a Maestro with experience,” Desmond put in. “A Maestro who has experience in different cases, one who is used to handling the special needs of others. Reynolds, my first, also had unprecedented power, and although his fate saddens me, he also required a lot of control. Christa lost her Maestro at seventeen, and I was able to take on her training, keeping in line with her late Maestro's wishes. Nathaniel, as you know, was older than most, and yet here he stands. I have the experience to train one like this.”

“You have the experience,” Thomas acknowledged, “but you are too close to retirement, Desmond. Another year or two, and we would not allow you to take on a Tiro. The level of care Sienna would need and the level of energy required to take care of such a child with such strong power makes me worried that you are no longer capable.”

“I may not be,” Desmond said, “but Nathaniel is. He is young, and he is the greatest warrior of his generation. Her strength, her energy – he can handle it. And if Nathaniel and I can successfully bring a Tiro with that much power and that much uncontrolled strength to the tests with such health issues, who knows what we can do with the other ones? We know of so many witches that are consumed by their power within their own bodies that if we could learn to harness that in order to save them, we could become stronger as an order.”

Nathaniel remained silent beside Desmond, seething. He couldn't believe Desmond had brought him here and would dare suggest that he train this girl whom he had no interest in. He wanted a warrior; he wanted someone to keep up with his pace. The quests he wanted were full of adrenaline and excitement. He did not want this girl.

“These arguments are strong,” Thomas said. “Please wait in the hallway while the Jurors decide.”

“Thank you,” Desmond said as he bowed his head. Nathaniel turned on his heels, following him out of the room. He at least waited until the door was closed before he let loose.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked. “No! No! I don't want this.”

“Did you not hear Thomas?” Desmond asked. “The argument is sound. Even you must agree.”

“Argh,” Nathaniel answered. “Of course, they are sound. They are always sound when they come from your mouth. But Desmond, I can't! I don't want her. There is no connection, no strength. If you want her as your last Tiro, I cannot stop you. But you can't expect–”

“What would Eliza say, right now?” Desmond quirked his eyebrow. “Isn't her specialty finding black sheep in her army and making them her personal guard? She is always looking to help the misfits and to prove people wrong in their judgment.”

Nathaniel growled. “So?”

“You felt how much power she had,” Desmond said. “We could harness it and those like her. I know so many of those like her that have died, likely because their magic consumed them. If we figure it out, our names will go down in history, Nathaniel.”

“They will already go down in history,” Nathaniel said. “We were great warriors.”

“And we still are,” Desmond replied.

“Desmond,” Nathaniel said, squaring his shoulders. “I don't want this. I don't want her.”

“If I take another Tiro, Nathaniel,” Desmond said, “it will be my last adventure, my last outing. I will likely be gone from here more often than not. Do you want that?”

Nathaniel looked down at his feet. “We are still bonded, Maestro,” he said at last.

“Yes, I know,” Desmond replied. “I feel it, too. But I am bonded to her as well.”

“What does Mariah say?” Nathaniel asked at last. Desmond's eyes sparkled.

“Mariah said that I had to have a plan if I was going to do this,” he answered.

“Your plan is me?” Nathaniel answered.

“It's a good plan,” Desmond replied, and Nathaniel sighed.

“Fine. It won't be for more than a year or two anyway.”

“You shouldn't think about it that way,” Desmond replied. “You never know.”

“I've seen her,” Nathaniel replied. “I know.”

It wasn't long before they were summoned back into the Jurors' room. Thomas cleared his throat, and Desmond looked him right in the eye, daring him to deny his request. Desmond was a well-known witch with many credits to his name. He did not want to be treated like a disobedient child.

“The Jurors have approved your request to train Sienna,” Thomas said at last. “Both of you. However, there are stipulations to this.”

“Which are?” Desmond prompted, wondering what they could possibly be.

“The first is that the Jurors see the potential in Nathaniel to be a great witch.” Thomas turned to Nathaniel. “Your skills as a warrior are unprecedented and should not be ignored. The next Tiro you take will be chosen by the Jurors so as to not end up in this situation again.”

“Ah,” Nathaniel said, clearly biting his tongue.

“There is another stipulation,” Thomas said. “Witches like this, they tend to lend their magic to causes that are not noble before they become consumed by that very same magic. They are blinded by their power, and it often ends badly. Should Sienna reach that point before she perishes – which we accept as inevitable – she will be under the same security as any other witch. She will not be allowed to live with power that she uses for anything other than a noble cause.”

“Aye,” Desmond raised his chin. “I will not allow that to happen again.”

Reynolds' name was unspoken in the room. There was silence in the Jurors' room for a long moment, and then Thomas nodded.

“So be it,” he said. “The Jurors grant your request to train Sienna until her death. Be it natural, or not.”

“Thank you.” Desmond bowed, and Nathaniel did the same. Both of them exited at the same time, still in sync. It was outside once again that Nathaniel growled.

“Now they are choosing my next Tiro?

“They will give you a powerful warrior so as to not waste your potential,” Desmond said. “They will find you the most powerful candidate. I can feel it.”

“And I'm just supposed to wait a few years, when that's the person I want now?”

“Nathaniel, do not let your magic be tainted by anger,” Desmond said. “You know what happens to magic when it's tainted by the things we cannot control.”

“I'm allowed to be angry,” Nathaniel answered. “You did this to me without giving me a choice. I'm going to be angry about it.”

Desmond sighed. “Fine, you are within your right. But I want you to remember, Nathaniel, that it is I who made this choice for you, not the girl.”

“I wouldn't do that,” Nathaniel replied. “But I do not feel a connection with her.”

“You will,” Desmond tried to assure him. “A bond between a Maestro and a Tiro does not happen overnight.”

“But apparently, it did between you and her already,” Nathaniel answered.

“I have always been fast to perform bonds with my Tiros,” Desmond replied. “As was Mariah. She picked Sybil out of a lineup on the first day. But sometimes, it can be slow. This is normal.”

“How are we going to do this?” Nathaniel answered, sarcastically. “Are we going to split duties? Split responsibilities? You take her from sunup to sundown, and I'll take the night shift?”

“That could work,” Desmond replied.

Nathaniel stared at him. “I wasn't serious,” he protested. “Besides, Eliza has nights free this week while she's travelling and–”

“I think it works perfectly,” Desmond cut him off with a smile. “Shall we tell our new Tiro the news?”

“I can leave that to you,” Nathaniel answered, knowing that he was not going to get away with such an excuse. This was supposed to be a life changing day as he accepted a new Tiro. And yet, he was anything but thrilled.

He knew that, one day, he would have had to do this. But it was obviously not as he pictured it anyway.

“You'll have to tell Eliza,” Desmond answered, and Nathaniel paused at that.

She had no idea what was going on, of course. But once, and only once, they had talked about having a family. Was this the closest they were ever going to come, by way of a broken Tiro?

“I'll just come with you,” Nathaniel sighed, deciding it was the easiest route. “Do you know where she might be right now?”

“She's likely in the guest suite,” Desmond said, glancing at the clock. “I know they are due to depart in a few hours, so we must make haste.”

“Does she even know?” Nathaniel asked. “That you were doing this?”

“No,” Desmond admitted. “Not in so many words. But to be trained was clearly her greatest wish. And you know as well as I do that a rocky start could linger for years, so be happy.”

“Ugh,” Nathaniel grunted as they walked. “At least our names will go down in history for something.”

“They certainly will,” Desmond replied, knowing they had very different ideas.

Chapter 6

Sienna almost fell off the chair she was sitting on when they told her. It took about three tries, but when she finally understood, her mouth fell open.

“Me?” she said. “Are you positive?”

“We are positive,” Desmond said, and she launched into his arms. It was not proper behavior for a witch, she knew, but she couldn't contain herself.

“Thank you!” she said to him, and then turned to Nathaniel to give an equal response. However, he stood stoic beside the door.

“You're welcome,” he replied, nodding as he leaned on the door frame. She was so fragile and small; all he could think about was how one gust of wind would likely snap her in half.

She stopped moving, her shoulders drooping as she saw his mood. She took a step backward and Desmond glared at him.

“Control your thoughts, Tiro,” he said out of habit. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow.

“But I'm not yours anymore,” he answered. “Remember? I'll see you later. I have a meeting.”

He vanished, leaving them alone. He could feel Desmond's eyes boring into him, but he didn't really care.

If he could slam the door to his quarters, he would have. It was incredibly dissatisfying to watch them slowly close behind him as he booted up the monitor. The new quests weren't listed, but he logged into the program anyway, scanning them more carefully. He needed to think about something else, otherwise he was likely to punch a hole in the wall.

He was surprised when a new quest popped up in his inbox. Clicking on it, he wondered what was so urgent that the Jurors would assign him something.

And then he grinned.

‘Jeffro,’ it said in the location listing. Eliza had requested him.

He flipped over to the messenger icon, hoping to find her online. Her status was set to away, and he reached for his com-link, calling her private line. It was still early on Jeffro, but he knew she would be up. Eliza hardly slept, her energy constant.

She picked it up on the first ring. “Nathaniel,” she said. “You got my message.”

“Loud and clear,” he replied. “I was just assigned. Is everything all right?”

“Our rebel planets have decided to rise up again,” she said. “I am entering peace talks with the leaders on Monday, but I thought it would be helpful to have a witch present. You aren't known for your diplomacy, but you are known for your strength, should it come to that.”

“Of course,” he said, and then the gravity of the day hit him. “But there's something I have to tell you.”

“You can't come?” her voice came through.

“I can,” he said. “But I can't come alone.”

“Huh?” Eliza sounded distracted and confused. “Why? Are you in trouble and under supervision?”

“I'm supervising,” he answered, and she squeaked.

“Did you take a Tiro?”

“Sort of,” he managed before getting the whole story out. Eliza was so quiet on the other end that he thought that he might have lost her. “Hello?”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” she said, a cackle in her voice. “Don't sound so distraught.”

“Are you kidding me?” he snapped. “She's–”

“Your opposite, it sounds,” Eliza replied. “Which is exactly what you need. Desmond is a genius.”

“I cannot believe that you are taking his side,” Nathaniel answered.

“I'm not taking anyone's side,” Eliza replied. “Except Desmond's. I think this is going to be great. I can't wait to meet her.”

“I hate you, you know that?” Nathaniel answered with the confidence of the love between them. “We'll be there, I guess. Creator – that sounds weird.”

“You being here at all is worth any tagalongs you have,” Eliza answered. “I'll be grateful for the extra assistance.”

“There is one more thing you should know about her, Eliza…” he tried to put it delicately. “It's not just that she's not built to be a warrior, or that her Basic is weak. She's entirely unsuited for me, or training, or life, most likely. Part of the reason the Jurors agreed to this is because she was born sick, and her magic will consume her at some point before the tests.”

Eliza went quiet on the other end of the line.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “Our healing facilities here–”

“Are advanced, like ours,” Nathaniel answered. “You should just know that so you aren't shocked.”

“Of course,” Eliza replied. “I will see you soon, my love.”

“And I you,” he said, ending the call. It left him with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach to say that. How many times would he have to tell people that, to warn them about his new, fragile Tiro? How many excuses would he have to make for her in the coming months or years?

What exactly was this life he was living?

At five-thirty, Desmond buzzed him through the com-link. Nathaniel had been sitting on his bed, engrossed in lesson plans. He had taught his afternoon class and then lost his head to the diagrams of an old plane. He had planned more activities with the pictures than time permitted, but he was happy. He was annoyed that Desmond was interrupting it, and he answered gruffly.

“What?” he said.

“Sienna and I are going to dinner in the cafeteria,” Desmond said. “After that, I have some research to do in the library.”

“Okay?” Nathaniel asked, confused. “Why are you telling me?”

“Because after dinner will be six p.m.,” Desmond said calmly and Nathaniel coughed.

“You can't be serious about this.”

“I think it will be good for you,” Desmond answered, and Nathaniel rolled his eyes.

“You sound like Eliza,” he said. “By the way, did you see that quest?”

“What a coincidence that we got a quest to Jeffro,” Desmond answered, gruffly “Is she all right?”

“Should just be peace talks,” Nathaniel replied as he stood up. “Do you really want me to come with you?”

“It's not about what I want, Nathaniel,” Desmond said. “It's your duty.”

“Awesome.” Nathaniel grunted, but agreed. “I'll be there shortly.”

As much as he did not want to spend his favorite meal of the day with Sienna, he did need to eat. All the units had kitchens, but hardly anyone ate there for dinner. When the witches were together, they were expected to socialize and to share their ideas and challenges.

He made it to the cafeteria within ten minutes. He saw the two of them sitting at a table in the center and took a tray, deciding to load it up first. When he could avoid it no longer, he slid in beside Desmond, leaving Sienna on one side alone.

“Are you eating for four?” Desmond inquired, looking at Nathaniel's plate.

“Tough day,” Nathaniel replied, tearing apart a bun. Across the table, Sienna poked at her plate, shifting the food around without making much progress. Desmond watched her calmly, assessing the situation, and then spoke when he deemed it necessary.

“Today is special,” he said. “But in the future, we would expect you to eat and keep your strength up.”

Her eyes shot up, and she reached out, as if touch would communicate the issue. Magic shot from her hand accidentally. Nathaniel was fast enough to block it, throwing up his own stream and preventing any damage from being done.

“Woah,” he replied. “What's that about?”

Sienna looked guilty, drawing back. She took a deep breath, clenching her palm tightly.

“Relax,” Desmond said, half to each of them. “It was an accident.”

“That could have broken my glass,” Nathaniel said, going back to shoveling food in his mouth. Sienna said nothing, looking at the floor. “Jeffro has so many fragile things. Eliza's walls are full of artifacts. She can't be doing that.”

“I agree,” Desmond replied. “It requires training, don't you think?”

And with that, he got up, taking his tray.

“Where are you going?” Nathaniel asked anxiously.

“I told you, I have to go to the library,” he said. “Which is where I'll be if there is a real problem. A real problem, is that clear?”

“Yes.” Nathaniel knew exactly what that meant, and slumped back down. Sienna clearly didn't want Desmond to go either, but she had little choice in the matter.

She went back to playing with her food, shifting it around the plate and taking a bite now and again. Her magic was playing on her fingers, which wasn't acceptable table manners. Nathaniel was inclined to not care whether she went to bed hungry so long as she didn't break anything. But as he watched her out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something odd.

Every time her hand passed over the apple slices on her plate, her magic jumped a little more. It was as if it was drawn to the apple, fighting to leave her body and attack it.

He had never seen anything like that. A witch's magic was not partial to anything. It operated within them, and they were in control.

Except, of course, when the acridid gene attacked the body's own natural systems.

He furrowed his brow and reached across the table, pulling her plate away from her. She looked up at him in surprise, but didn't move.

The magic stopped pushing against her fingertips, and they returned to a normal color.

“Huh,” he said, in surprise. He pointed to the apples. “Have you had these before?”

She cocked her head, and he growled in frustration. There were translation devices, but they didn't operate on com-links. He needed a large room in order to let her speak freely. So instead, he held up the apple slice, extending his arm toward her.

The magic jumped again.

“What the hell?” he asked. She didn't look like she wanted to eat it, but she recognized what he was doing. “Has that happened before?”

Her hand reached for her plate which was full of pasta. The magic did not appear as she pulled her plate closer and picked up the fork. Now that the apple slices were removed, she seemed to be in more control.

He knew that the off-site facilities did not have proper catering, and he also knew that the planet she came from could not grow anything. Most things there were made instead of grown. It was possible that she had never come in contact with an apple before.

But why was her magic pushing like that? It baffled him, and he didn't like things that baffled him.

They didn't have any way to communicate, and so he waited until she was done eating before he stood with her.

“I can give you a tour,” he said. “Show you where class is going to be. You will be going to class.” ‘Since you can't go on any quests worth their salt,’ he thought.

“Quests?” she asked, as if she was reading his mind.

“Sometimes,” he replied. “Jeffro, on Monday.”

“Jeffro,” she recognized the name, and reached for her com-link. To his surprise, he found that it was Jeffro issue.

“Where did you get that?”

She paused. “I…Jeffro.”

“You...” he shook his head in confusion. “Are you from Jeffro?” he asked. He saw it now, of course. The accent should have given it away, but Eliza was so fluent that he hardly heard it. “Oh, my creator.”

She waited to see whether that was good or bad, and he took a risk.

“Eliza?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Queen Eliza,” she said, mocking a curtsey.

“That's right,” he said, grinning despite himself. He put a hand to his chest. “Eliza and I are good friends.”

Her eyes lit up at that, and she nodded. It was the first moment that he felt something, but he dismissed it.

So, she was from Jeffro, and Eliza could tell them what was going on in her head. It didn't mean he should get attached, because she was likely not going to survive long enough to do so.

Chapter 7

“I might not be here when you get back,” Mariah said early on Monday morning to Desmond as he packed his bag. It was five a.m., and they had to be on the airstrip at six. Desmond was barely awake himself, trying to think about what he needed. Twenty minutes ago, when the alarm had gone off, he had sat upright in bed, and right away sent out an unobtrusive ping of magic. It was what he did every day by instinct.

‘Christa,’ he said at first before his mind had pulled through sleep. ‘Safe.’ She wasn't on planet, but the faint bond that they still had told him she was fine.

‘Reynolds,’ he always tried, his heart aching. Nothing came back in response, as usual.

‘Nathaniel,’ he pinged, feeling his former Tiro still sleeping soundly somewhere.

‘Mariah,’ he reached out, and was surprised to find her presence approaching. She must want to see him before he left.

‘Sienna,’ it was new to his routine, but he knew he would be doing it for the rest of her life. She was next door, still curled up in bed. He briefly considered waking her, but decided it wasn't necessary yet. She would learn to be ready for quests on her own, or she would make a mistake once, and never do it again. It was how they all learned, and he smiled, remembering the first time he had left Nathaniel on the platform, stunned that Desmond would follow through on his threats.

***

“Where are you going?” he asked as he grabbed another shirt.

“The facility on Rogers Base has had four Tiros blinded during a training exercise,” she replied. “They have asked me to work with them for a few weeks and see if they can continue.”

“Oh my,” he replied. “I am sorry to hear that. But if anyone can assist, it is you.”

“I'm glad to be asked,” she said. “Their life does not have to be over. I wish there had been someone there to show me the way.”

He paused. “Mariah…”

“No, Desmond. You were a wonderful support, of course. But you sympathized. You didn't understand.”

“Of course.” He accepted this as he zipped his bag. “You really didn't have to get up this early, you know.”

“I wanted to,” she smiled at him, her sightless eyes somehow sparkling. “We always used to do this for each other before we got old.”

“Or lazy.” He shrugged. “I remember, though. We'd always see the other one off.”

She stood up, hearing him zip up the bag. “And it was wonderful, wasn't it? The quietness of the morning…” She reached her arms out, and he let her put them around his neck, leaning into her. This was something that was recent, this level of touch. It was as if the older they got, the more they needed to feel each other and to know the other was still breathing.

They said nothing for a long moment, holding each other in the semi-darkness. He would have let it last another moment longer when Mariah gave a startled gasp.

“What is it?” he asked in shock.

“It's nothing,” she shook her head. “It's nothing. I think Sybil just took a tumble on a cliff somewhere. She's all right, but I felt the impact.”

“The bond never quite fades, does it?” he asked. “Even with Christa, I still feel when she's overexerting herself, running for miles, or dodging a meteor shower.”

“How odd to think that she's had two Tiros and is on her third,” Mariah shook her head. “Christa is efficient.”

“That's one way of putting it,” Desmond said, and reached out with the magic again. “Both of them are still asleep, by the way. I really don't want to have to barge in and wake them both.”

“Have you tried the light trick?” Mariah asked, a devilish smile on her face. “I used to do it with Sybil all the time. Reach out with your magic and turn on the light in their rooms.”

“That's positively evil,” Desmond replied, as he twisted his hand. It took a moment of concentration, because he needed to visualize exactly where it was. But once he could see it clearly, it was easy. “Ha!”

“Kids these days,” Mariah said. “Shall we get some breakfast?”

“I think I'll wait, if you don't mind,” Desmond answered. “I've found that Sienna won't eat unless encouraged, so perhaps we should indulge on the ship.”

“That's going to be quite a problem to deal with,” Mariah observed, and he sighed.

“I know. If I could figure out the cause – what she's feeling – perhaps we could help. I think going to Jeffro, where Eliza can directly translate, is going to be a huge leap forward.”

“If you can tear the queen away from Nathaniel,” Mariah replied. Desmond shrugged.

“Eliza and Nathaniel have always been good about dealing with the task at hand. It's after we are done working that I will worry about them. I don't want Sienna to know that–”

“Her Maestros break the rules?” Mariah inquired.

“Walk a grey line, is the term I prefer,” Desmond replied. “If there was just one for her – her one and only – that would be different.”

“Like you and I,” Mariah prompted, and he lay a hand on her shoulder.

“Like you and I,” he assured her. “Not like Nathaniel's multiple women before and in between Eliza's knowledge. That is not the way to go about things.”

“But you have a new Tiro now,” Mariah reminded him. “Despite the mistakes you feel you made last time, this is time to start anew. Besides, he didn't turn out so bad, did he?”

“No,” Desmond admitted with a smile. “He's all right for now. I should get going, though.”

If they had been a normal couple they would have kissed just then. But instead, they stood inches apart. There had been hundreds of moments like this in the past years. When was it okay to cross the line, and when could they be strong enough to not do so?

Desmond reached the platform at ten minutes to six a.m. and filled out the necessary paperwork. Sometimes, they took commercial vessels, but most of the time, they could sign out one of the smaller ships to make their own way for their quests. Every witch was trained in piloting during their schooling, and the day they took over piloting the ships from their Maestros was a rite of passage. The ships operate manually with fuel, but could also be fueled by strong magic if needed. Desmond chose a stronger battle ship, unsure whether Eliza was telling the truth about the situation on Jeffro. It wouldn't be the first time that she had downplayed just how bad things had gotten. Eliza was a strong leader who ruled absolutely, and she didn't like to admit weakness. But Jeffro controlled so many planets that they could barely keep a grip on it, and rebellions were a common experience. Peace talks, assassinations, search and rescues, and all out wars happened often within the Jeffro system.

“I don't want that one,” was the first thing Nathaniel said to him when he arrived on the platform and saw which ship Desmond had signed for. “It's boring to pilot. I want the Portland Wing.”

“Are you going to fly a Portland Wing by yourself for twelve hours?” Desmond asked. “It may be more exciting to fly and have better guns, but it isn't a one-man operation.”

“Isn't that what you're here for?”

“I may be occupied,” Desmond replied, watching the door for Sienna. He decided to give her five more minutes to show up on her own, and then he was going to go and get her.

“You always flew one with me when we got it,” Nathaniel grumbled.

“Nathaniel, if you want it, you need to take responsibility for it,” he replied. “But that ship is not a smooth ride.”

“For those of us who are fragile,” Nathaniel grumbled as Sienna made her way to the platform, a backpack over one arm. Since it was her first quest, Desmond had sat with her and told her what she needed to pack, as well as going over the quest plan. He noted that Nathaniel had apparently contributed to nothing about this plan.

“Good morning, Sienna,” Desmond greeted her warmly. “Are you ready?”

She looked between the two of them, and then her eyes darted to the Portland Wing. She smiled, pointing. Nathaniel smirked.

“You see?” he asked, going to change the paperwork. “Sienna knows what's right.”

Desmond sighed as Nathaniel vanished, and he crouched down to talk to his new Tiro.

“Can I see your pack for a moment?” he asked, wanting to check that nothing had come out from last night. She needed a myriad of medications that he couldn't keep track of, and he wanted to focus on something other than missing Mariah already.

He was checking the pill bottles when there was a shout behind him. Desmond thought it was just an accident, someone dropping something. But his shoulders tensed as he sensed darkness in the room, and he spun around suddenly.

“You have no authority over me!” a voice screamed as a body broke free from two guards exiting a ship. A dark stream of magic shot from his hands, and one of the guards fell.

The alien was dark blue, with two antennas and four eyes. Desmond could see from his broken bonds that he was a prisoner, possibly being brought to trial for an intergalactic crime. However, his strength was clearly more than anyone had anticipated.

The alien turned before anyone could stop him and shot magic toward the ship's fuel tank. It ignited, and Desmond barely had time to react. He pushed backward, putting an arm against Sienna as a stream of magic shot from his hands. He was trying to block the alien's magic, and luckily, everyone on the platform had the same idea. If the alien's magic hit the fuel hold, the entire place would blow.

“Hey!” Nathaniel's voice distracted the alien as he dropped the paperwork. Desmond watched as his stance changed, and his hands went out. He was ready to fight, but the alien was strong.

Sienna made a noise, and he realized she was scared. She had likely never seen battle.

“It's okay,” he said, quickly, as he reached his hand out to Nathaniel. It was easier when they were still bonded, but Nathaniel could still feel his offer for help. He redirected his palm, and the magic transferred between the two of them.

The alien shot a blast of magic that could have destroyed the whole platform, but Nathaniel's borrowed strength, combined with his own, stopped it cold. As quickly as he had stopped the shot, another one came.

Witches were taught not to kill unless they had to, to be more peacemakers than killers. At the last second, Nathaniel circled his hands to twist the magic, and it formed a bubble rather than a single shot.

The alien froze, trapped. His limbs were frozen above his head, and his mouth twisted in a sneer.

Desmond held the pose until Nathaniel dropped his. Both their shoulders dropped, relaxing.

“It's okay,” he turned back to Sienna, who was watching with her jaw open. Her hand twisted, a bit of magic coming out.

“Warrior,” she said, and Desmond smiled.

“Yes,” he replied. “We are warriors. And you are safe, little one. I promise.”

Chapter 8

“Approaching Jeffro,” Nathaniel said, several hours later when Desmond came to sit beside him in co-pilot seat. True to his word, he had let Nathaniel pilot the Portland Wing, which was proving difficult. Nathaniel was keeping a steady grip on it, but he looked tired. He was clearly focused on his goal, which was getting them to Jeffro to see Eliza. Sienna had been sitting in the co-pilot seat, mostly silently, fascinated by the dashboard. She moved when Desmond got there, scrambling up.

“Make sure everything is packed,” Desmond said, turning toward Sienna and speaking slowly. He mimed, and she nodded, scampering to the back. He watched her go with smile. “It's like she's never seen a ship being piloted before.”

Nathaniel flipped a few switches as he began to activate the landing procedures. He was still waiting for clearance from Jeffro, but he didn't want to wait until the last moment.

“By that age, she should have already taken a test flight. Her education is clearly lacking. She's not going to do well in the classes back home, Desmond. I think she's a few years behind.”

“Well, then she will catch up,” Desmond said with a shrug. “And we will teach her.”

Nathaniel sighed.

“That's not the point of a Tiro,” he replied.

“Teaching?” Desmond asked. “Teaching is not the point of a Tiro?”

Nathaniel said nothing as he flipped a few more switches.

“You know enough Jeffroian to communicate better than I,” Desmond told him, and Nathaniel shook his head.

“I don't. The only words I know are when Eliza calls me names, which is not helpful. Standby,” he turned on the monitor as they approached. “Portland Wing 343 requesting permission to land.”

“Portland Wing 343, you are not cleared to land,” came the crackle back. Nathaniel froze.

“Sorry?” he replied. “We are requested directly by the Queen Eliza.”

“Repeat, Portland Wing 343, you are not cleared to land.”

Nathaniel glanced to Desmond, who raised an eyebrow.

“Can I ask why?” Nathaniel said, after a moment.

“Portland Wing 343, you are not on the list.”

“But I am on the list, I made sure that…” Nathaniel looked down at the monitor, and then swallowed hard. And, to Desmond's amusement, he repeated the call-sign in Jeffroian.

There was silence through the landing system, and then a crackle came back, also in Jeffroian. From Nathaniel's expression, Desmond saw that they were clear.

“You don't have enough Jeffroian vocabulary, hmm?”

Nathaniel growled at that, bringing the ship down.

“You're not going to help me at all, are you?” he asked his former Maestro, who sat back.

“Oh no,” Desmond replied. “This is on you.”

“Maestro,” Sienna appeared again in the doorway. Landings in the Portland Wing were shaky, and Desmond pointed to the jump seat.

“Sit,” he said, making it clear she needed to put on her seat belt.

“Hungry,” she said, and he realized they hadn't been on meal duty today.

“There are some…” He reached to the side, looking for the small storage cupboard. “Ah, dried apple slices. Typical space fair.”

“Don't give her those!” Nathaniel blurted out so suddenly that even Desmond was startled. He froze, the pack in hand.

“What?” Desmond asked, confused.

Nathaniel glanced over. “Just put the packet in her hands, and watch what happens.”

“And don't let her eat them?” Desmond raised an eyebrow.

“Just do it,” Nathaniel replied, as he held the wheel tight. Desmond did as he was told, holding the top so that Sienna knew not to open it. She watched him, confused, but Desmond saw exactly what Nathaniel was talking about. The second her hand came on top the apple slices, her magic began to seep out, covering the package. “You see?”

“Huh,” Desmond replied.

“Every time she reaches for something natural – apples, a flower, a plant – that happens,” Nathaniel replied. “There's not enough research on the acridid gene to tell me why that's happening, but I've noticed it.”

“It's attacking anything natural,” Desmond replied. “That's what's happening inside her body. So, it would make sense it attacked slightly outside.”

“Watch out, plant-based aliens,” Nathaniel answered as they came into the landing bay.

“I'm sorry, Sienna,” he pulled them away. “We'll get some rations once we land and get settled.”

“Looks like we are expected,” Nathaniel said, as he watched the royal procession enter the hanger. “There's Eliza. And she does not look impressed.”

“Probably because you brought a battle ship onto a planet that asked for peace talks,” Desmond pointed out as Nathaniel powered down. “Come on. We wouldn't want to keep the queen waiting.”

Witches were so highly regarded in the galaxy that they were almost always met by the royals, the leaders, and the cream of the crop. It was expected that they were met with the utmost ceremony and respect.

Nathaniel knew he should be paying attention to what Desmond and Sienna were doing, but the second he stepped down to the platform, his eyes were fixed on Eliza.

She looked absolutely stunning, in a sweeping green dress, her piercing eyes looking right into him, even from so far away. She was surrounded by guards who were armed to the teeth as they marched forward. She had a crown woven into her golden hair, and her fingers and neck were dripping with jewels.

Sienna gasped beside him, recognizing right away that this was the queen she had grown up hearing about. She dropped to her knees right away, and Eliza smiled as she got closer. Nathaniel had told her that Sienna was of Jeffroian origin. She had also been told how fragile the girl was, but she was shocked at her appearance. Still, through the illness, she could feel the Jeffroian features in her, buried deep under the all-consuming magic.

“Hello,” Eliza said in her native tongue. “You must be Sienna.”

The girl's eyes shot up. “Yes,” she spoke back, language flowing for the first time. “I am so honored to meet you.”

“And how was your flight?” Eliza asked. “This is your first quest, yes?”

“Yes,” Sienna replied. “I don't like space.”

“Oh,” Eliza gave a little chuckle. “Well, you are here for a while. I am glad your Maestro has brought you.”

“You know my Maestro quite well?” Sienna pressed. “Don't you? Nathaniel?”

“I do,” Eliza answered. “Did he tell you that? That we are friends?”

“Yes,” Sienna replied. “He said he has known you since he was a few years older than me.”

“Yes,” Eliza replied. “That is true.” She turned to Nathaniel then, switching back into Basic. “She's smart, this one.”

“Your highness,” he gave her a cheeky smile, “I'm glad you approve.”

“Someone had to make you take responsibility sometime,” Eliza replied. Desmond cleared his throat. The two of them openly flirted this way, teasing each other and pretending not to get along, and most of them time, it was completely transparent.

“Your highness,” Desmond said, “if you don't mind, we've had quite a long flight, and we are eager to get to work to assist you.”

“Desmond, of course. Always one to get down to business.” Eliza turned to him with a smile. “I have scheduled a briefing for you as soon as you are settled. Your rooms will be in the palace so that you are close to the threats that have been placed on my life.”

“You've been under threat?” This piqued Nathaniel's attention.

“Of course,” Eliza answered, as if it were nothing. “That comes with the territory. Now, come with me.”

The guards snapped to attention, clearing a path so that the three witches could walk within the protection of the guards. They didn't need it, but they would not turn down what was offered. Because witches were often so calm and collected, people often forgot that they could be a superpower in the world when they needed to be.

“The situation has gotten worse since I contacted you,” Eliza replied. “I now have two minor planets in total rebellion. One I could handle, but two is a bit out of my control. They are fighting for what they claim are rights, but are actually complete and total control of the system. Their peace talks so far have involved coming to Jeffro and killing my civilians. I had one terrorist attack that killed seventy-six, and another that set a hospital on fire.”

Nathaniel exchanged a glance with Desmond. That was often one of their key clues. Rebels fighting their leader could go either way, but setting fire to essential services such as hospitals meant that one side was out of control and not interested in keeping the peace.

“They have agreed to meet me at the palace tomorrow,” Eliza said. “But I have a feeling if I don't agree to their terms, it will end in more death.”

“And your police forces?” Nathaniel asked.

“Are doing all that they can,” Eliza answered. “They claim that those attacks are extremists and not linked to their cause, but I highly doubt it. I need to negotiate with the certainty that no one else will die. Your presence will assure them that the Nations are on my side.”

“My lady,” Desmond said as they walked, “we are happy to assist you. But as witches, we are a neutral force; in support of no one side. You know that.”

“Of course,” Eliza answered, although she glanced to Nathaniel. “Still, your presence will be helpful here.”

The hangar was connected to the palace, and Eliza led them into the hallway where the royal chambers were.

“Each of you can be assigned here,” she said, pointing out two rooms. “Desmond, Sienna, your rooms are here. And Nathaniel,” she said, “you can take up guard duty in my outer chambers. I shall sleep better knowing magic is not far away.”

“Of course,” Nathaniel bowed his head, avoiding Desmond's gaze. Desmond knew exactly what he was doing, and he rolled his eyes. These two were so obvious, it was ridiculous.

“I'll leave you to get settled,” Eliza said as her guards snapped to attention. “Your briefing will be ready when you are.”

“Your highness.” Nathaniel ducked his head as she went off, holding his gaze a moment too long. Desmond cleared his throat.

“It's quite late already,” Desmond replied. “I'm surprised she wants to work tonight.”

“You know Eliza,” Nathaniel answered. “She's ruthless. All night, if she has to.”

“That is true,” Desmond answered. “A seven p.m. briefing will be fine. I'll wash up and meet you two in the briefing room.”

“Desmond,” Nathaniel called after him as Sienna stood confused, “are you forgetting something? She needs to be shown the layout.”

“Of course, she does,” Desmond replied. “May I also point out that it's nearly 6:30? You are on a shift for teaching layouts and anything else that may occur throughout the night.”

“Wait…” Nathaniel suddenly put the pieces together. “You can't be serious.”

“Why?” Desmond asked. “Did you have other plans tonight?”

“I have to guard Eliza's chambers.”

“I heard that,” Desmond replied. “A duty your Tiro should learn how to do, as she stays glued to your side. Isn't that how you learned from me?”

“Desmond, not tonight,” Nathaniel cried desperately, but his former Maestro was not interested in negotiation. He vanished into his rooms, leaving Nathaniel and Sienna standing in the hallway. Nathaniel turned to her with a frustrated sigh.

“Come with me,” he grumbled, moving so fast she had to run to catch up. This was not turning out the way he wanted at all.

Chapter 9

“Of course, you have to look after her,” Eliza said after the briefing when Nathaniel was able to find a quiet moment alone with her. “It's after six p.m.”

“Then why would you tease me like that?” he cried. “You knew?”

“Nathaniel,” Eliza leaned into him. She was almost as tall as him, and his lips were just inches from hers. “This is your duty; this is your first Tiro. We always knew that a time would come when your attention had to be elsewhere. And while I admit that I am surprised by its suddenness, I am prepared for it. The fact that she's Jeffrorian, though, makes me smile. It's almost like she is–”

“Ours,” Nathaniel leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. It was sweeter to him because it was forbidden and stolen. He would never take this moment for granted. Eliza's slim body relaxed into his, and he circled his arms around her slim waist. Despite her years, she never became less attractive. Every time he saw her, he wanted her more. “Oh, Creator, I want to be with you.”

“There will be time,” she assured him. “You never were one for patience.”

“I was never one for patience because it was always now or never,” he answered. “We don't have the luxury of time on our hands. Either someone is always coming, or you are always busy.”

“That I am,” Eliza answered. “But even with rebels attacking my planet, I can still find time. I rise early – before dawn, you know that. And dawn these days is around 6:30 a.m.”

“Oh.” He suddenly understood. “Oh!”

“Think you can wait the night?” she asked. “Before you drift off to sleep?”

“If you are on the other side of the darkness, I can stand anything,” he answered, kissing her one last time. Then, he paused, trying not to intrude on her thoughts. “You aren't worried about the attacks, are you? We can take care of you and soothe any situation.”

“I'm not worried,” she answered. “I just don't want a black mark on my rule. For generations, my family has ruled here almost flawlessly. I don't want to be the one to make a mistake.”

“You won't,” he assured her, kissing the top of her head. “And I'm sure you are not the first to find it difficult.”

Eliza's pride flared up. “I'm not finding it difficult,” she assured him, pulling back. “I'm fine. And I should get to bed.”

“Eliza,” he called after her, but she was done for the night. Heading into her inner chambers, her maid closed the door behind her. Nathaniel wanted to put his head through the wall. Instead, he gathered his composure and cleared his head, stepping out into the hallway. Desmond had at least agreed to give Sienna a palace tour so that Nathaniel could set up a security detail. Now, they were returning, and his young Tiro looked exhausted. “Took you two long enough.”

“Nathaniel, a moment,” Desmond said, as they joined him. “Sienna, stay here.”

“What's the matter?” Nathaniel's heart rate rose in his chest as he stepped out of the room. He was picturing a current attack on the throne room or a bomb about to detonate.

“You are to be up all night, yes?” Desmond asked, and Nathaniel shrugged.

“Sure. That's guard duty, isn't it?”

“I don't think Sienna can breathe properly,” he said, and Nathaniel's jaw dropped.

“Sorry, what?”

“She won't open up to me, but you can watch her and see. I don't know how serious it is. It could just be the new atmosphere, or she could be ill. Be vigilant.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Nathaniel asked, in a panic. “She…I…”

“Nathaniel, I will be right down the hall,” he replied. “And you are as trained in first aid as I am. In addition, she is your Tiro as much as mine.”

“Desmond, you can't just leave me to deal with this,” Nathaniel cried.

“I can,” Desmond replied. “But call me if there is a serious issue.”

With that, he turned and left, leaving Nathaniel completely baffled. He knew that Nathaniel was strong enough to deal with these things on his own, and he also knew that Nathaniel had a loud voice, so he could shout down the hall anytime he needed. It was not an ideal situation to be in when there was a tense environment, but that was a reality they had accepted.

Nathaniel turned back to Sienna, watching her as she settled into an armchair. She knew they were on guard duty, and she knew they were expected to stay up all night. She had read about such things in her quest textbooks, where witches sometimes guarded the royals and other persons of interest for days on end.

Her chest was tight, and her cheeks felt tingly. She felt dizzy, and she was grateful to not be moving. It was a feeling that she used to, although she couldn't figure out what it was. That was the problem; no one knew how to tell her what to do to feel better. She often just played her cards and hoped it didn't land her in the hole.

Nathaniel sat across from her, watching her intently. Her eyes shot up to his, expecting criticism, or perhaps anger. He was always so angry, and he seemed to make it clear that he wanted to be elsewhere.

Now, though, she saw a different look on his face. She saw concern, something that she hadn't seen in the entire time she had known him.

“Okay?” he asked, in Jeffroian, and her eyes widened. She knew that he must have a few words, but she didn't think he would actually communicate with her in it.

“I don't know,” she replied, and he paused.

“Apples?” he asked, at last.

“No,” she said, confused, “You didn't let me have them on the ship.”

That took him a very long moment, and he missed half the words. So, instead of trying to understand, he skipped to another theory.

“Oranges?” he asked, remembering the dessert. She nodded.

“Yes?”

Nathaniel shook his head, his mind whirling. “That's something about you and natural food,” he said, mostly to himself in Basic. “Every time, I've noticed, you feel sick, and your magic tries to escape.”

Sienna watched him, trying to strive for understanding. The truth was, she got the feeling Nathaniel didn't want her, and it didn't make it easy to talk to him.

“Why is that?” he asked, and then sighed. “Why am I doing this? Wait a moment.”

He got up, striding toward the bedroom door. She noticed the fact that he didn't knock. He simply strolled into Eliza's chambers. There were a few moments of silence, and then their gentle voices. Within minutes, Eliza came out.

Sienna was surprised to find that she looked almost nothing like the grand queen on the platform. She was beautiful still, but she looked much simpler. Her hair was in a knot at the back of her head, and her eyes were free of makeup. She wore a white nightgown, and she looked almost plain, nonchalant. She even held herself differently – more simply – as she stood beside Nathaniel. Eliza clearly had no qualms with Nathaniel strutting into her bedroom, or seeing her in this state of undress.

“Sienna,” Eliza said in Jeffroian, dropping down to her knees, “were you fed apples and oranges at school? Things like that, before you came to Nathaniel?”

She nodded. “Yes, of course. Not apples, but lots of fruit. They said we needed to be strong.”

Eliza paused, looking back to Nathaniel. “And your magic always danced, like this?” she asked, picking up the girl's hand. It was cold and sweaty underneath Eliza's long, cool hand, her nails perfectly manicured. By contrast, Sienna's were broken and cut, her nails bitten.

“Yes,” Sienna replied, and Eliza sat back on her haunches.

“You could be right, Nathaniel,” she said, at last. “It's a sound theory.”

“But how do I test it?” he asked. “Aside from deny her anything that grew?”

“Well, that's what you do,” Eliza replied, as Sienna leaned forward.

Nathaniel saw it first, the slight slump of the shoulders. He dove forward before he even processed what was happening, preventing her from knocking her head on the floor. He caught her tiny body in his arms, drifting to the floor in one smooth motion as if it had been planned all along.

Her eyes were already fluttering open, and he suspected that she had just fainted. Her life force was as strong as it always was, and he could feel her heartbeat under his hands, always weak, but there.

“She's all right,” he said to Eliza's immediately concerned face. “She's all right.”

“What was that?” she asked.

“They told us that she faints frequently.” He looked up to Eliza. “Magic can do that to you if you can't keep it under control, which hers clearly isn't. It gets to your head, and you just pitch forward. That's why we train so hard.”

“I just thought you were all strict,” Eliza tried to smile at him. Here, away from the public and the harsh judgment of her governors, she was soft, quiet, and kind. “Are you all right, little one? Can I get you something?”

“Water?” Sienna managed, and Eliza nodded, getting up to go back to her chambers. In the silence, Sienna looked up at Nathaniel and managed a single word. “sorry,” she said.

“Sorry?” he replied, in shock. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

She gestured around, and he shook his head.

“This isn't your fault,” he answered. “Don't worry about it.”

She said a stream of words, and he looked to Eliza, who returned to the room just then, a water glass in her hands.

“She thinks she's going to ruin this quest,” Eliza said as she handed over the water glass. “Which–”

“Is not the case,” Nathaniel said quickly. “Tell her, Eliza, that that is not a concern. Desmond and I can take care of you and Sienna at the same time.”

Eliza translated to Sienna, who looked calmed by the words. Switching back into Basic, Eliza looked up to Nathaniel. “Look at you, acting like a protective Maestro.”

“Nonsense,” Nathaniel answered. “Anyone would do the same.”

“Anyone would catch her,” Eliza answered. “But not everyone would offer her comforting words on top of it.”

Nathaniel looked away, considering this. She was right, of course. Eliza was always right.

‘Maestro.’

“What?” he looked down at Sienna. Eliza scolded him.

“She didn't say anything.”

“No, she…” He met his Tiro's eyes and realized what had just happened.

She hadn't said anything with her mouth, but with her mind. She had spoken in his mind, which was rare. Usually, the only time such a bond was found was between a Maestro and Tiro.

‘But we aren't bonded,’ he thought quickly. She and Desmond were getting there because he could clearly understand her more than Nathaniel could. But Nathaniel hadn't even tried to form a connection with her.

A small smile came across her face, and she knew he had heard her.

‘I can sit up?’

The bond didn't operate in any particular language. It was just a knowledge, a certainty, of what the other was thinking. Neither of them needed vocabulary in the other's language to communicate.

‘Yes,’ he said, hesitantly. ‘Sit up slowly.’

He had never spoke to anyone but Desmond with his bond. It felt odd – different. But it didn't feel wrong like he thought it would.

He wasn't sure yet, but he thought it might feel right.

Chapter 10

It was mid-afternoon when Nathaniel woke up. The all-night guard duty had taken most of his energy. He was used to going for hours on end, but the six a.m. wake-up call had gotten to him. He had sent Sienna back to her rooms, knowing Desmond might disapprove. Desmond always encouraged his Tiros to train harder than they were comfortable with and to push past what they felt they could do. But, Nathaniel realized, she was his Tiro, too, and he got a say.

He splashed his face with water from the tap, reveling in the cool feel of it. Jeffrorian water always felt cooler, crisper, and purer than the water back home. The whole planet felt like a soft, spring day, often relaxing.

Today wasn't relaxing, though. The palace felt anxious, and everyone he saw was walking around with their shoulders tensed as if they were waiting for terrible news.

As soon as he was dressed, he headed to the throne room. He knew he wasn't late for the meeting; they would have come to get him if he was. But he had no idea what time it was, and that threw him off.

Desmond was waiting for him in the antechamber of the throne room, having sensed him waking up. And at Desmond's side, looking a bit stronger than yesterday, was Sienna. Today, she greeted Nathaniel with a smile, which Desmond raised an eyebrow at. That was certainly different than yesterday.

“Good morning,” Nathaniel said. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing yet,” Desmond replied. “I have asked Sienna for the nightly report, but she said there was not much, especially since you sent her to her room early on.”

Nathaniel picked up anger on Desmond's side and quickly deflected it. “No, it wasn't like that,” he said. “She wasn't well, and I thought it best that she went to sleep at a regular time. I wouldn't disobey your orders unless I thought…”

Desmond actually smiled, which just confused him.

“Good,” he said, and Nathaniel stopped.

“What?”

“Unless you thought you had a reason,” Desmond said. “Which you should do, as a Maestro. My rule is not law in this case, although I know that you are used to that.”

Nathaniel chuckled. “That's for sure.”

“So, the rest of the night was uneventful?”

“That's correct,” Nathaniel answered. “Eliza was safe.”

He made the mistake of thinking about the night before. Yes, he had sent Sienna back to her room for her health. But as soon as she was gone, he couldn't help but take advantage of the situation.

He was awake all night, but it was not in Eliza's outer chambers. His mind flashed to the memory for a little too long, and Desmond sighed.

“Nathaniel…” he started.

“What? I…Oh, creator damn it,” Nathaniel realized that Desmond had seen his memory. Sienna squeaked, her eyes widened, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Nathaniel groaned. “Double creator damn it.”

Luckily, Sienna's reaction distracted Desmond.

“You saw that, too?” he said, in surprise

“She started doing that last night,” Nathaniel quickly tried to divert Desmond's attention to her new bond. “We couldn't communicate, and she was ill. And then all of a sudden, her thoughts were in my head.”

“Huh,” Desmond replied. “That is surprising, especially given your attitude earlier.”

“Can it happen that fast?” Nathaniel asked.

“Of course,” Desmond said, lost in memory. He shook his head after a moment, clearing it from the memories of the past. “Just be careful. We should get inside.”

‘Water,’ Sienna suddenly thought in Nathaniel's mind, and he looked around for a pitcher of water that was usually kept there. To his dismay, he saw it was filled with lemon slices. Eliza and her fancy water was killing his Tiro, and it frustrated him.

“We'll have to see if there are refreshments for this meeting inside,” he said, not touching the water jug.

“You're set on that theory?” Desmond said. “I'm not opposed to trying it. I just want to make sure we aren't depriving her for no reason.”

“There isn't exactly a manual for this,” Nathaniel replied. “We should get her a chair, though, just in case there is a repeat of last night.”

“Good idea,” Desmond replied. “Oh my…”

They had not expected the throne room to be so crowded. It appeared the rebels had brought half the planet with them to back them up. They were standing in the center of the marble floor, and no one looked happy.

Eliza hadn't entered yet, and Nathaniel stepped up onto the platform behind the throne as she liked them to be. She always wanted the display of power that she had to be clear.

Whenever he stood on the right side of her throne, he couldn't help but notice the empty throne beside her. It was meant for a queen, slightly smaller than the other one. Because Eliza was a female sovereign, she sat in the larger chair, the one meant for kings. If she married, he knew she would likely choose to make her husband the consort, sitting in the smaller chair. Eliza had no intention of giving up her power.

There had been a time when he was convinced Eliza only had to say the word and he would leave the witches forever; he was so in love with her. But she had told him in no uncertain terms that she would never ask that of him, that he had a duty as much as she did. And so, she never uttered so much as a single word to indicate he should sit in that throne beside her.

If she did, he would be there instantly. At least, he would have been before all of this. Now, he thought if she asked, she would have to wait until he was done with Sienna.

The thought startled him.

“All hail Queen Eliza!” came the cry from the footman, and everyone's head snapped toward the door.

Eliza was in full regalia, and Nathaniel thought she looked beautiful. She cast her eyes to the throne, and then gave him a little nod to indicate that she approved of him being there. Her jaw was set, and Nathaniel could tell just by looking at her that these were not going to be easy talks.

“Nathaniel is king?” Sienna whispered to Desmond,

Desmond choked. “No,” he said, in no uncertain terms.

“Oh,” she replied, and he sighed. How exactly was he supposed to explain what was proper behavior, when neither of them followed the rules.

For a change, Sienna could actually follow the conversation and negotiations that were happening. In Jeffrorian, with a translator for those who spoke Basic, Sienna watched as they went back and forth. Her eyes darted between the two parties, and she stood stock still. Desmond knew that the best way for her to learn was to watch and to see things first hand. Classes could never quite teach the same things as a hands-on quest.

“Enough!” After an hour of intense negotiations, Eliza stood up. “We will consider your offers in private.”

“My lady,” one of the rebels said, bowing. He had a smirk on his face that Desmond didn't like, and he locked eyes with Nathaniel, who returned them from the throne's platform. Eliza glanced to Nathaniel, who nodded, indicating that she was probably safe to go. Neither of them took their eyes off the rebels' movements for a moment.

“Well, that was tense,” Nathaniel said when he got within speaking range.

“Unfair,” Sienna spoke up, and both of them turned to her.

“How so?” Desmond asked, and she fought for the Basic words.

“They…” She indicated where the rebels had been. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, and she closed her eyes.

‘Nothing benefits Eliza.’

Nathaniel glanced to Desmond to see if he got that bit. Desmond nodded, and Nathaniel felt relieved. This was certainly going to be easier going forward. However, she really did need to learn Basic, as most negotiations were conducted in it.

“That is true,” Nathaniel replied. “They aren't leaving her in an easy situation. Eliza will do her best, though.”

“We should attend to her,” Desmond said. “She feels uneasy to me, like she is worried they will go behind her back.”

“It wouldn't be the first time Jeffrorian rebels said one thing and did another,” Nathaniel mused, as they exited the throne room. Desmond's com-link buzzed just then, and he pulled it out to see Mariah's ID on the screen.

“Take it,” Nathaniel escorted Sienna a little farther down the hallway. “You can meet us later.”

“Nathaniel,” Sienna said, catching his wrist. “Homework?”

“Homework?” Nathaniel asked, and then realized what she was asking. When the Tiros were this young and away from the school, it was recommended they keep up with their classes. Most of the homework was about fake quests anyway, so they simply geared them toward the quest they were on if needed. “Yes, they should be loaded onto your profile if you check.”

“But war?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“No, no war,” he replied. “At least, I hope not.”

Desmond rejoined them, looking troubled, and Nathaniel tensed.

“What is it?”

“It's nothing,” he said. “We should focus on the quest at hand.”

“Desmond,” Nathaniel replied. “You're clearly distracted.”

Desmond sighed. “Mariah is just worried. Sybil hasn't reported in since yesterday.”

Nathaniel stopped cold. “What?” he asked. “Where is she? Can't Mariah feel her?”

“Their bond is no longer as active,” Desmond assured him. “I'm sure it will be all right. How many times have you or I gone days without reporting in for various circumstances?”

“This is different,” Nathaniel replied. “Sybil is always on top of reporting and of making sure everything is done by the book.”

“I'm sure she's all right,” Desmond tried to assure him. Both of them were distracted by yelling voices down the hallway. He looked past Nathaniel to see guards rushing into the royal chambers.

Neither of them needed to even glance at each other. They ran down the hall at breakneck speed, Sienna hot on their heels.

Nearly every guard in the palace seemed to be in Eliza's room, frantically moving around. It only took Nathaniel a moment to realize that they were all there because she was not.

“How could she just vanish?” Nathaniel demanded of the captain. “She doesn't just vanish.”

The captain blinked. His face was frantic, but it was clear that he didn't understand. Nathaniel realized with horror that the man spoke no Basic.

“Eliza?” Sienna spoke up, her Jeffro accent coming through. The captain turned to her, and spoke rapidly. Nathaniel only caught one word out of three, but Sienna reached out, strengthening their bond.

‘She went in, but is nowhere to be found.’

“This is ridiculous,” Nathaniel said, storming toward the bookshelf. The guards looked only mildly concerned that he knew all the hiding places and secret passages within the room. “Desmond?”

“Did anyone come into the chambers with her?” Desmond demanded. “Sienna, help.”

Their bond was still shaky, but between the bits and pieces of conversation that everyone could make out, the details came out. Eliza said she was going into her room for a private moment. No one else had been with her. It had only been moments ago, and the guards stood at the door to the outer chambers. One of them had heard a crash, and then they burst in.

“Someone was waiting for her,” Desmond surmised. “Someone knew she would come back here.”