Rylan idly noted that, from a distance, the acrid smoke rising from the city of Cliffport seemed to merge into one great column, which loomed up like a dark tower piercing the great blue sky.

  Despite the ominous view, his nerves and dread were focused fully on the short-haired, blonde woman, standing in front of him with tears filling her eyes.

  He was actually about the same height, now, Rylan couldn’t but notice as Helen reached out and wordlessly pulled him into a fierce, warm, bloody hug.

  Rylan had a lot of fond childhood memories of Helen. The many games of tag and hide-and-seek they’d played with her, the stories she’d read, the hugs and play-wrestling...

  It was hard to reconcile with how, later, she’d been the one to sorrowfully lock the deepmetal anklet on him.

  After a moment, he still reached up to wrap his arms around her and hugged her back.

  Finally, she released him and stepped back to shoot him a watery smile. “Hey there, kiddo. Been a while, huh?”

  She seemed not quite sure what to do with her hands now, one of them brushing along the side of her head as if she wasn’t used to how short the hair there was yet, the other tapping restlessly on her thigh.

  “Yeah... it has,” he agreed, his mind going back to her words from earlier.

  ‘I’ve been training for this since the day you were born,’ she had said.

  Was that why Helen had been working so hard, learning the spear? So she could protect him?

  It was all too much to process right now, but there was at least one thing Rylan knew he wanted to say. “Thank you. For saving us.”

  Helen’s smile brightened, turning more natural as she bobbed her head with a bit too much vigour to pass for casual. “Of course! Anytime.”

  Rylan bit his lip, hesitating for a moment, but feeling compelled to ask. “Were you just coming to help whoever was fighting the Talons, or...?”

  She shook her head. “We were up in the lighthouse, trying to get a good view of the overall situation. We were debating whether we should try to perform a strike somewhere to take pressure off the defence, or if the siege had already advanced too far for it to be meaningful, when we saw the flare go up. And when we turned our spyglass to the battle that followed... there you were. There was no question about what we would do after that.”

  Rylan felt a smile creep up on his face, which Helen mirrored.

  He still had his reservations about how the Thistlethorns had treated him in the past, but... well, coming to rescue him and his family in the middle of a naval battle had to count for something.

  “So,” Helen continued, awkwardly scratching her scalp through her short blonde hair. “I see you’ve met your father. Does that mean you... know?”

  It was Rylan’s turn to bob his head like a gull. “Yeah. He told me how you two met and, ehm, all that.”

  “Right.” Helen took a deep breath, her eyes turning to the sky for a moment, and Rylan had the horrible premonition that she was about to apologise, right there on the deck, in front of everyone.

  He was saved by Leahna, who came flying in to throw her arms around him from the side. “We did it!” she squealed. “Great Spirits, I can barely believe it! Oh, is this...?”

  “Leah, meet Helen Thistlethorn,” Rylan said quickly, grateful for the interruption. “Helen, meet my sister, Leahna Hawktalon.”

  Leahna finally let go of him and gave a proper curtsy. “Much obliged for the timely assistance, milady.”

  “My pleasure, my pleasure,” Helen mumbled awkwardly, her eyes flicking back and forth between their faces. “You have much to discuss, I’m sure... We’ll talk later, yeah?”

  “Later,” Rylan agreed. Anything was better than now.

  “Good. Great,” Helen said with a sigh. She tried to slink back, but ended up bumping into Artoran, who was hovering over Nazyr and Yuel where they were sitting on the deck.

  “Oh, pardon me!” Artoran said, grabbing onto her shoulder to stabilise.

  “No no, that was my bad!” Helen replied. “I... hey.”

  “Oh, hi,” Artoran said.

  It was silent for a moment.

  “I’m just gonna...” Helen said, pointing over her shoulder.

  “Yes, right. Of course.”

  Leahna and Rylan shared a glance with many a raised eyebrow.

  Then Nazyr hissed, sounding pained.

  Coming closer, Rylan quickly noticed the blood soaking the left side of the man’s britches, but it took him a moment to spot the snapped-off arrow shaft sprouting from his thigh.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “I know, I know, boo,” Yuel said, carefully cutting away the surrounding fabric with a sharp knife. “I know it hurts... Can we get some rum? I’ve got a man in pain here!”

  “I have some here, but it’s not for drinking,” Miss Brightwind replied sternly as she came swishing over with a sewing kit, apparently having been fetched by Soren. “Drinking it thins the blood.”

  Nazyr grumbled something not intended for polite ears.

  “I’ll pretend not to have heard that,” Miss Brightwind said breezily, before turning her attention to Rylan. “So good to see you alive and well, dear, truly, but please give me some room to work.”

  Feeling rather helpless, Rylan stepped aside so she could kneel down and put down her things. Soren leaned down next to her to place an unlit lantern on the deck.

  “Looks like it went all the way through,” she remarked. “That makes things a bit easier, but you are going to need stitches.”

  “Is he going to be all right?” Leahna asked, nervously wringing her hands.

  “He’ll be fine,” Yuel replied soothingly. “Not the first time we’ve been through something like this. Right boo?”

  “Aye. Still hurts like a right—hnng!”

  Miss Brightwind tossed the bloody arrow over her shoulder without even looking.

  “I’ll cook for you for a week,” Rylan promised. “You’ll be healed in no time.”

  Yuel quickly brushed back his blonde hair to expose the cut on his scalp. “Such a generous offer milord, for you to personally cook for the two of us; truly, you’re too kind!”

  Nazyr guffawed, then cut himself off with a wince as Miss Brightwind doused his wound in rum and started cleaning it. Then she pulled the plunger on the lantern, and started heating her needle.

  Rylan’s attention was pulled away by footsteps approaching him from behind.

  “Oh darling, it really is you!” Lady Dionne Thistlethorn exclaimed, smiling tearfully as she drew Rylan into a surprisingly firm hug. “We’ve been so worried! Here, let me take a look at you... My, you’ve gotten even taller!”

  Rylan didn’t really know what to say as the woman he’d only recently learned was his grandmother fussed over him, so he just kind of let it happen. She’d always been a warm presence in his life, but in the past she’d been more... reserved with him. This was the kind of affection Soren could expect from her, not him. Of course, that might’ve been part of the whole ruse, to keep him hidden...

  If her tutting while using a handkerchief to wipe spatters of blood off his cheeks was to be the new norm, he supposed he could live with it.

  Lord Thistlethorn came up as well, his shield now stowed, his silver-blue beard impeccably groomed as always, and Rylan found himself straightening up in the man’s imposing presence.

  Bryce Thistlethorn drew up and... hesitated. He nodded at Rylan—who was still being fussed over—then reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you, lad,” he finally spoke. “Are you hurt at all?”

  “No, I’m all right,” Rylan replied, shaking his head, taking a short step back once Dionne finally let him go.

  “Good, good,” Bryce hummed. “Glad to hear it.”

  “Indeed,” Beatrice Thistlethorn said warmly, as she came over to join them, striding in her gown with her back perfectly upright and her personal maid just behind her as always. Her sharp eyes raked over Rylan’s figure, before she gave a small, but genuine-looking smile. “You gave us quite the fright, you know?”

  Rylan pursed his lips. Part of him wanted to reflexively apologise to the highest figure of authority from his youth, another wanted to say something scathing and sarcastic. He opted for a middle ground. “At the time, I didn’t have much reason to believe you cared,” he replied, somewhat stiffly.

  The Lord and Lady exchanged a loaded glance. Countess Beatrice let out a breath through her nose, a hint of sadness playing over her face before she schooled it. “That’s not a conversation for the deck of a ship,” she said carefully. “Let’s save that for the parlour, at home.”

  Rylan blinked, the gears in his mind starting to spin. “Ehm, actually, I don’t think that’s a great idea. The Talons are bound to come after us.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Beatrice replied, not unkindly. “The Talons have a lot on their mind right now; I’m sure it’ll be a while before they come knocking on our door, and when it comes to that, we’ll—”

  Shaking his head, Rylan interrupted her. “You don’t understand. We... we figured out their secrets. Or some of them anyway.”

  One of Beatrice’s silvery brows rose up high. “Their... secrets?”

  A hush fell over the gathered people as their attention fell fully on him. Helen—who had re-joined when the rest of the Thistlethorns came over—stared at him wide-eyed, and even Nazyr kept down his groaning.

  Rylan hesitated for a moment, licking his lips, but to be honest... he couldn’t find much reason to hide it. The Talons were the ones that had benefited from hiding the truth all this time; the best way to fight them was probably to expose it.

  “The Contracting Skill doesn’t exist,” Rylan stated firmly. “The Talons are of an ancient Hermean bloodline, which gives them special privileges with Ethereon, which they can access at a console... and we inherited that bloodline as well. Dad—Artoran broke his so-called ‘Contract’ when he refused to inform the Talons of my existence, but just last night, I used a console to remotely restore his access to his status and Skills.”

  For a moment, the cracking of the kite sail above them and the steady hum of the Aetherium drive below deck were the only sounds around.

  Beatrice’s sharp eyes turned to his father. “Artoran, is this true?”

  By means of an answer, Artoran pulled his gittern around from behind his back, and strummed it, white light filling the strings that had survived the battle.

  “And if you could do it for him...” Beatrice said, trailing off as the implications seemed to hit her.

  “I could do it for anyone,” Rylan confirmed. “And unfortunately, Vidric definitely noticed Dad use his Skills just now.”

  Beatrice clicked her tongue in annoyance.

  “That changes things,” Bryce said gravely.

  “Indeed,” Beatrice muttered, looking down. “We’ll still need to swing by Thistlebloom to pick up some essentials, but after that... I think it’s best if we headed straight on to Thornholm. I suspect the Thorns will be very interested to learn about this, and will definitely want to protect you.” She turned her gaze up to meet Rylan’s. “Actually, they would do so either way. After all... you’re family.”

  Rylan swallowed, trying not to show the wave of emotion the first official acknowledgement from the Thistlethorns had elicited in him.

  “What if the Talons chase us there?” Leahna piped up to ask.

  Beatrice snorted, turning a half smile her way. “Just because they can take Cliffport, doesn’t mean they can take Thornholm. If they try, they’ve got another thing coming. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some gulls to send.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and left. Bryce and Dionne soon followed her, and Rylan let out a deep sigh, already feeling drained from interacting with them.

  He turned to lean on the railing, staring out over the cloudsea towards the city he’d barely had a chance to enjoy, wondering if any of the plumes of smoke were rising from the Knackered Hag, or the Hawktalon family home.

  His grip on the bamboo tightened.

  He was a Sapphire now, with an Affinity to boot, and he could lift Restrictions. Whatever the Talons were up to, trying to capture the city and the Crown Princess, someday, they would come to regret crossing him time and time again.

  He’d make sure of it.

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