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In less than a blink, Phobius stood before him, black spelled robes billowing. The spot on the roof where they stood was thankfully hidden from view; even the guard tower wouldn’t be able to spot them.
“You look fit to be tied, Demos. What—”
“Enough.” He got straight to the point, “Father is involved with Boriel’s absence.” He watched his brother’s expression for any evidence that he’d known all along that their father was somehow back from the Void, that Cael was more than likely responsible for more than just tormenting the winter Elementa.
But Demos saw nothing but surprise in his brother’s eyes, and it wasn’t relief Demos felt now. At least if Phobius had known, Demos could possibly get some answers. But now…
“What?” Phobius asked, for once dropping his hauteur. “That’s not possible.”
“I saw him,” Demos said. “Just now in the In-Between.”
“Did you see Boriel with your own eyes?”
“I didn’t, but Lady Lordes has.”
Phobius crossed his arms and turned to face the north.
“By the Wind, what would he want with her?” Demos asked. “Why Boriel?”
“What would he not want,” Phobius said dryly. “Father will do anything to get what he wants. His memory is long.”
Demos sighed, trying to force pieces together that refused to fit. “I think it’s time the Seraph joined forces with the others. Liriel isn’t enough. And we must get Sierra. No longer can we deny her role now.”
Phobius turned around and met Demos’ eyes. For the first time in over a century, if at all, his brother looked frightened. “If Father sees her—”
“He may already have. Lordes said Sierra went through the Delphos rite.”
Phobius closed his eyes. “Let me guess. Sierra saw Boriel.”
Demos nodded. “I suggest we leave as soon as possible.”
His brother bit his lip, deep in thought. But then he nodded. “I agree. Meet me in my room within the hour.” Phobius shifted and flew as his crow, flying out in a flutter of black wings.
As Demos made his way back to the main floor of the manse, he made a mental checklist of everything he needed to see to before he and Phobius could set out. The first thing would be coming up with some excuse to leave his silver gelding, Argenis, here. Again. Because of this latest development, Phobius and Demos would ride out to the nearest trading post, leave the borrowed Trajan horses there, and fly to Utilla, where they would board an available ship north, as close as they could get to Ordelpho. He’d worry about the logistics once they got further along.
He was just leaving the north wing when Fadon called to him.
“Servant. I have news. Seems Lucius has set up a meeting with the heads of the Ongahri tribes. It’s to take place Janus twelve in Ghypsom City. And of course, Mari was not invited,” Fadon said, his growl deep. “Since you will be setting out there tomorrow—”
“I must interrupt you,” Demos said, holding out a hand. “We’re leaving within the hour.”
“For Ongar’s sake.” Fadon rubbed the back of his neck. The captain looked sleep-deprived, and Demos felt for him. Fadon had a lot on his plate at the moment. “I guess I could leave early.”
Demos considered this. Fadon would slow them down considerably if he were to come with them, and Ghypsom City was a good two weeks’ travel by horse, barring any hold-ups and only if they drove the horses hard.
But if Lucius was going to be there, then Demos would be guaranteed a direct ship back to Ordelpho.
“All right.” Demos looked at the tired captain. “And may I ask what you plan on doing at this meeting?”
“I plan on representing the queen. Then, depending on what I learn there, I may or may not be going back to Ordelpho.” Fadon was rubbing his forehead now. “I’m going to have to have my Second lead House Trajan’s army. It’s times like these when I wish I had been second-born,” he grumbled.
And Demos wished the opposite for himself. Phobius was several years older than Demos, who was always the last to learn a thing. And now that Fadon would be traveling with them, Demos would still be left in the dark as to what Phobius had been doing these past few years.
“About the Owl,” Fadon said tiredly, “What are the chances they’ll retaliate right away? Do they even have means to fight if it came down to it?”
“Fadon, the Owl have more power than you could imagine. Unchecked and hoarded. Never underestimate them. Even if they did know what we know, remember, it’s a small faction that Servant Prius was a part of. The likelihood of them moving now? Not with this weather. Goth Mor Hell is the safest place for anyone on Titus right now, and the weather is your best offense.”
“That’s what I thought.” He let out an exhausted sigh. “I’ll meet you in your room when I’m ready.”
