The swipe of a wet cloth on my brow wakes me. For a second, I think it is Casey. Then I hear the human say, “Finally.”

My eyes blink open, but I cannot see a thing. It is pitch black inside the tent. I hear steady breathing. I feel the warmth of bodies surrounding me. The wet cloth is returned to my face carefully.

“What are you doing?” I manage to say.

“Don’t know why y’all wanted me to look after you,” the human mutters. “Not like I could tell what was going on with those freaking funeral pyres.”

“Where is Aktor?” I demand, my voice stronger.

“Still out cold,” she says.

Alarm courses through me. Has my mother done something already? Before the Council meeting? I would not put it past her, but Right of Rule has some measure of protection. Until the Council meets, I and my entourage should be off limits.

I close my eyes again and let my head fall back on the bedroll.

“Tell me what happened?” I say.

“You know, I liked you better when you were just a flirt at the deli,” Sonya mumbles.

I can't help the smile that spreads my lips. Sonya has always had a bite to her. But it is the mention of the delicatessen Casey owned, the one I used to frequent daily just to see her face, which makes me grin.

“She was full of so much Fire even then,” I say.

Sonya huffs out a breath, but her ministrations become less brutal.

“Apparently,” Sonya starts, “you used an excessive amount of Pyrkagia to make those pyres disappear.”

I did, but I won't voice that aloud.

“So much,” she adds, “that when you walked back in here, you collapsed.”

“Dora fed me,” I murmur, dread pooling in my gut. Sonya will tell Casey. Not that I intend to keep it from my Thisavros. But the truth does not assuage the guilt.

“Isadora,” Sonya corrects in an imitation of Cassandra. I nod my head, accepting the reprimand. “As did Nico and Aktor,” she says.

“All three?” I open my eyes and scan the tent, but it is still so dark in here. “They are recovering?”

“Yes. Aktor said sleep would revive them.”

“It should,” I say, gently pushing her hand and the cloth away so I can sit up.

The world spins lazily for a moment, my stomach churning.

How am I to fight my father, an Ancient, if I am taxed so much putting on a simple display?

“That did not go quite how I expected it to,” I admit.

My eyes adjust to the low lighting, and I see Sonya’s pale face across the tent from me. She’s at Aktor’s side now, running the wet cloth over his forehead gently. More gently than she did me. I glance at Dora. Isadora, I correct with an amused smile. It does not look like she’s received the same treatment.

I should count myself lucky the little human bothered to tend to me at all.

“If it’s any consolation,” Sonya says, “Aktor wasn’t at all surprised.”

I frown at my old friend but say nothing. Then I hear voices outside.

I am up, swaying on my feet in an instant, Fire pooled in my hand, ready to hurl.

Sonya shades her eyes from the sudden bright light and scowls at me.

“That’s Pisces and Hip,” she advises. “They’re standing guard.”

I blink at her, then look toward the sealed flap of the tent. Have we a guard?

“Oh,” I say, and let the ball of Fire in my hand go out.

The tent flap opens in the next instant, and through it appears Marcus Eden.

“Were you standing guard also?” I ask.

He looks at me, the light from fires outside making his face appear in silhouette only. I reestablish the ball of Fire and let it float up to the ceiling to illuminate us more softly.

Mark looks to Sonya and arches his brow.

“Is he all right?” he asks her.

I scowl.

“A bit slow, but he's getting there,” she says, and I turn the scowl on the human instead.

“Easy, your Bitchy-and-Bossiness,” Marcus says. “We expected you to be out for a few more hours.”

“How long has it been?” I ask.

Marcus moves into the tent fully, and I notice then that he carries a bag. He places it down beside Dora’s feet and takes a seat. I’m not surprised he places himself between Isadora and myself. There may be aspects of Marcus Eden’s character I do not particularly like, but I cannot deny he is a natural protector.

“Maybe an hour and a half,” he says, reaching for a bottle of water and unscrewing the lid. He takes a drink and then hands it to Sonya. She also drinks and then hands it to me.

Such a simple sharing of resources. Not for the first time, I am reminded that we are a team.

“That’s good,” I say. “I need to make an appearance or the effort will mean nothing.”

“Agreed,” Marcus says. “That little display has tipped the scales.” My turn to arch a brow at him. “Camp Crazy has halved its membership,” he says. “We’ve got a few more Pyrkagia calling for a new King. Specifically, you as King.”

“I am the heir.”

“You were exiled. Or was that little magic show you put on just for fun?”

I shake my head and sit back down on the bedroll. I am still feeling a little weak. Sonya rummages in a pack and produces a breakfast bar. She hands it to me without a word. I realise I am hungry. Human hungry. Not Stoicheio hungry. I accept the offering and begin to eat.

“You’ll be pleased to know,” Marcus says as I finish my meal, “that Noah is fully on board with your plan.”

“My plan?”

Marcus shares a look with Sonya.

“He really is slow,” he says.

“Told ya so,” she deadpans.

“My plan?” I say again.

“You know, the plan to act as Aether’s sword and balance Pyrkagia, therefore, help keep balance in the world?”

“Oh, that plan,” I say. I hadn’t realised it was an official plan. I was more or less acting on instinct.

Marcus cocks his head and stares at me.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks.

I frown at the empty wrapper in my hand. I am not quite one hundred percent, but I will not say that.

“I’ll be fine,” I say.

“Sure,” he offers and then delves into the bag he brought into the tent. “So, Noah has been rather helpful.” He proceeds to pull out a large object. A satellite phone, I realise. Then he reaches back inside and pulls out another. Two satellite phones.

“I see,” I say. But really I don’t.

Maybe I am a little slow as Sonya says.

“A show of faith,” Marcus says. “His way of letting you know that he’s on our side.”

“Is any Alchemist truly on our side?” I comment.

“I am,” Marcus says with a shrug. “And I think we can trust Noah. He did decapitate the Alchemists’ previous leader.”

I smile. That had been rather unexpected.

“So he did,” I say.

Sonya looks from my teeth baring grin to Marcus’ corresponding teeth baring grin and shudders.

“There is something really wrong with you two,” she says.

Marcus places a hand on the human’s shoulder and squeezes.

“We’re the good guys, Marin,” he says and winks.

“Whatever,” she mumbles and turns her attention to a still sleeping Nico.

I look at the phones in Marcus’ hands.

“And what does the good doctor think he is achieving with those?” I ask.

“These?” Marcus says, lifting up the two satellite phones. “These, your Surly-and-Snarkiness, are a gift for Aether.”

For Cassandra?

And then I let out a shuddering breath.

My eyes meet Marcus’. I reach for a phone. He hands it to me, a look of understanding gracing his face.

“Of course, someone has to take one of these babies to her,” he murmurs.

I stare at the phone for a moment as if it is the answer to all of my prayers.

“You truly believe we can trust Noah?” I ask.

“Yeah. I think he would die for Casey.”

That’s enough for me for now.

“Then go,” I say. “Take the phone to Cassandra. And tell her…Tell her…”

Marcus stands and places a hand on my shoulder.

“You can tell her yourself, your Majesty.”