They'd been having this argument for an endlessly long period of time. Neither of them would back down. Normally Tylendel was her most obedient trainee, but when he dug his heels in… Well, Savil was about ready to yank her own hair out in frustration.

"Look- you can't go to him, Tylendel" Savil said. Her expression was stern, her words firm.

Tylendel had to look away, guilt and fear warring in his gut. "You'renot listening to me, Savil. It's not just that his arm's broken- he's scared, terrified, for his life- I don't know how to explain to you in words how afraid I felt him feel. It was like staring down the face of Lord Death himself. I have to go to him."

Tylendel tried to push past her to reach his bags, slumped against the wall. Savil stepped in his way, stopping him surprisingly well for such a small woman.

"And you're not listening to me," Savil snapped, her limited patience wearing to a thread. "We're at least two weeks away from Haven- with good weather and the Lord and Lady's good favour on your side, mind you- not to mention how long it would take to travel to Forst Reach. By the time you got there, Vanyel's arm would practically be healed."

"But-"

"I'm not finished," Savil said pointedly, glowering until Tylendel subsided. "What do you think would happen if you went charging into Forst Reach like a fool, shouting about lifebonds? I scarcely managed to get you out of there before that pack of imbeciles tried to exorcise you because of your Gifts."

Tylendel's eyes went wide at the implication, fear crossing across his face like a dark cloud, and Savil felt a twinge of guilt, even as she forced herself for continue, "Haven knows what my idiot brother and that clod of a priest would do to poor Vanyel if you showed up claiming to have a mystical bond with him. One that's typically known to be only formed between lovers."

Tylendel went a little green and looked up at her, stricken, like she'd just broken his arm. Sighing, Savil patted his shoulder gingerly. Ah, these younglings would be the death of her.

"He'll be alright, Tylendel. We'll figure this bond business out once we return to Haven."

"I can't just leave him," Tylendel insisted. His expression said that she wouldn't get a moment's rest if she left the conversation as is, regardless of how much she wanted to. She swore telling trainees things they didn't want to hear was like trying to have a discussion with a brick wall, only with more teenage angst. The wall would probably be more reasonable to boot.

Savil was tempted to throw her hands up in frustration, but she held the impulse back, just barely, and said, "So write him a letter. I'm sure he'd be happy to hear from you."

"Withen's been keeping his letters back, I'm fairly certain," Tylendel said with a grimace, scrubbing one hand through his already thoroughly disheveled curls. He took a few steps backwards and flopped bonelessly into one of the overstuffed chairs, like all the fight had drained out of him. "He hasn't replied to any of my letters or Staven's for months. I was going to ask you to get involved, but then we left Haven and… Well, I didn't want to worry you. Obviously- Well, obviously that was a mistake," Tylendel said, his voice tight.

Savil frowned. She wouldn't put it past her brother, the old stubborn ass that he was, but why would he bother? He'd allowed the brothers to communicate with Vanyel for years, even after the whole scene Savil had caused when she'd shown up. So why now?

"It's not your fault Tylendel," She said firmly, hoping to keep her student from spiraling down into guilt. She wondered fruitlessly for the hundredth time why anyone had thought she'd be suited to dealing with trainees. These three and their drama should have been handed off to Lancir- he would have known what to do with these younglings who had emotions in place of any sense. Hell, almost anyone would have been better than her- Jays would have been a better bet than she was.

"When did this start?" She asked at length, when Tylendel continued to stare off into space, not seeming to even have heard her the first time.

"A few months after Vanyel and Withen went to Rosewood for the summer festival," Tylendel said, his lips twisting into a fretful frown. "Normally Vanyel's quick to reply, but he never answered one of my letters, or the second one I sent in case the first one had gotten lost. Then Staven told me Vanyel hadn't been replying to his either."

Savil sighed, trying to quell the urge to hunt her brother down and strangle him. It was an urge that had only grown more common the older they god. Whoever said wisdom came with age was sorely mistaken.

"It's no permanent solution, but you can send a letter with my signature and seal," Savil suggested.

Tylendel nodded, but he had a faraway look in his eyes, like he was scarcely listening. Savil sighed and left the room. She'd met her daily maximum dose of teenage melodramatics, and there was a nice cup of wine calling her name in the taproom downstairs. She'd know in an instant if Tylendel ignored her and tried to run after Vanyel, and It was hardly like Tylendel could do anything foolish alone in a shabby rented room of an inn.

Tylendel hardly noticed Savil leaving, finally responding to Staven's repeated prodding- which had only gotten more irritating the longer he'd ignored him in favour of talking to Savil.

:So, are you going to tell me what that was all about?: Staven's voice was sardonic, but Tylendel could hear the current of concern underneath it. If Tylendel really focused, he could almost feel the quill Staven was holding, hear the scratch of it against the parchment. He was probably in the middle of a lesson, dragged back in after Tylendel had spoken to him nearly a candlemark past.

In a flash of stupidity, Tylendel was tempted to lie and say everything was fine. It was a stupid impulse- he and Staven couldn't lie thought-to-thought, so Tylendel begrudgingly said, :It's a bit complicated…:

:So uncomplicate it.:

:It seems I've somehow… formed a bond with Vanyel,: Tylendel said haltingly.

He felt Staven's hand jerk, likely ruining whatever parchment he'd been writing on. :You what? How? Why?:

:It was an accident. Probably. I didn't know it was there until this evening,: Tylendel said. He paused and then added, :You're not going to like this, but Vanyel must have broken his arm.:

:I kind of suspected that when you asked me if I'd broken my arm without noticing,: Staven said. His tone was oddly acidic, but Tylendel hadn't the faintest idea why.

:It wasn't like he just fell out of a tree or something, Staven. He was afraid, for his life. I've never felt fear like that, and it wasn't even mine. It was like he thought he was about to die,: Tylendel said. He absently rubbed one hand over his forearm, the one Vanyel had broken. It was a testament to how dangerous bonds could be- his body felt entirely fine, but there was a corner of his mind that was still convinced he was grievously hurt, despite the injury not even belonging to him.

He felt Staven pause, a rush of concern washing away the strange bitter-acid taste of his thoughts. :Was he in that sort of danger? What happened?:

:I don't know. This bond isn't like ours, I can't reach out and talk to him like I can with you. I jut felt the pain and his fear. It came out of nowhere and nearly knocked me on my ass, and then was gone just as fast.:

:If the bond isn't like ours, what is it?:

This was where Tylendel hesitated, raking a nervous hand through his hair for the hundredth time. There had often been a sort of tension between Vanyel and Staven when they'd met as children. It had faded over time, as Staven and Vanyel had become friends, but it hadn't ever fully faded away, just a faint aftertaste in Staven's mind-voice sometimes when they spoke about Vanyel.

:It's a lifebond, or that's what Savil thinks. It's formed between- between people with close emotional ties,: Tylendel fumbled. He pushed aside the niggling hint of guilt that tried to blossom in his gut. He wasn't lying to Staven. He just… wasn't telling him all the details. It wasn't a terrible thing. He'd have plenty of time to explain it fully. Hopefully after having been able to talk to Vanyel about it first.

:A lifebond, huh? Sounds serious. How common is that sort of thing with you Heralds?: Staven's voice didn't sound suspicious, only curious, and Tylendel felt him begin to write again, quill smoothly gliding across parchment.

:On its own, they're uncommon, but I've never heard of anyone bonding without noticing right away. This had to have happened years ago, when my Gifts first manifested.:

Staven was silent for a long few minutes. Tylendel could feel him chewing on his thumbnail, an old habit he'd had ever since they'd been children.

At long length, Staven finally said, :While I do find it hilarious you somehow managed to not notice something like this, there is something bothering me about all of this.:

:Vanyel's broken arm,: Tylendel said grimly. He sagged further into the chair, sighing audibly. Given time to cool off, Savil's assessment of the situation seemed fair. He couldn't go to Forst Reach.

But he couldn't sit back and do nothing either.

:And if you what you said about it not being just an accident is true… You haven't gotten any letters from him recently, have you?: Staven asked, accompanied by the barest hint of… some emotion Tylendel couldn't identify

:No, not since a few months after he came back from seeing you at the festival. Have you?: Tylendel asked. He frowned. There was something about saying that phrase that niggled at the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside as Staven replied, in a small voice, :No.:

And there- that faint taste of that unknown emotion, sour like lemons, heavy and lingering on the back of his tongue almost like-

:There's something you aren't telling me. You know why Withen's keeping our letters from Vanyel, don't you?: Tylendel asked suspiciously.

Staven didn't need to reply- that same lemon flavour boiled up, filling Tylendel's mouth with eyewatering sourness, so easy to identify as guilt.

:Staven, what happened at the festival? What aren't you telling me?: Tylendel struggled to keep his mindvoice calm and non-judgmental. It was difficult, his fear over Vanyel's panic that afternoon mixing with his building worry about the months spent waiting for replies to the many letters he'd sent, which never had come.

Staven sighed long and slow. When he spoke, he sounded tired, his voice tinged with regret. :I told you about the death of Analisbeth at the hands of Uncle, and how I had to convince Withen not to go storming out in the middle of the night, dragging poor Vanyel with him. What I didn't tell you was what happened right before those events.:

Staven paused again, long enough that Tylendel said, :Just tell me. I promise, on my honor, I won't be angry. I just need to know what happened.:

:It wasn't anything serious. I was teasing Vanyel about not having much luck with the ladies and well, we kissed. Withen came in right after- we were finished, but it was a compromising moment, and I expect he knew what we were doing,: Staven explained, all in a rush. :Once they got back to Forst Reach, I expect Withen didn't realize right away we still wrote to each other, but once he did…:

Tylendel nearly bit a hole in his lip, and held back the first three things that came to mind. He had no right to feel jealous- he hadn't seen Vanyel in years, he didn't know if he was even shay'a'chern. He didn't even know what Vanyel looked like. And yet. Vanyel was his lifebonded. Not Staven's.

Tylendel closed his eyes and pushed the jealousy aside, and then the anger- what had Staven been thinking, what a foolish, risky thing to do with Vanyel's father around!- and exhaled slowly.

When he'd fully gotten ahold of himself, he said, :It's okay, Staven. It was an accident.:

:It was stupid! I shouldn't have done it, but I was just so focused on wanting Vanyel to have fun with the little time he had here. He looked so miserable when he got here, and the way Withen talked to him… It made me sick.:

:Let's just focus on the matter at hand,: Tylendel said, forcing himself to push his growing anger with Staven aside again. It was foolish of him, and indulging in his own anger rarely boded well for him.

:You mean Withen breaking Vanyel's arm?: Staven asked, his voice bitter, somehow feeling rough like sandpaper in Tylendel's mind.

:Do you honestly think Withen could have done something like this?: Tylendel asked, feeling a little foolish. He wanted to believe that Vanyel's father couldn't be so heartless. The alternative made his chest ache with worry.

:They locked you up in a cell, Tylendel,: Staven said, his voice cold and hard as ice. :I don't trust a single rat in that ship, aside from Vanyel.:

Tylendel sighed. :There's nothing I can do here. I'm too far from Haven, much less Forst Reach. Savil's offered to let me send a letter under her seal, but that will take weeks if not months.:

Staven paused, making a vague humming noise Tylendel always associated with him making plans, usually ones that spelled trouble for anyone involved. :I'm riding out to collect taxes from some of the tenant farms further away from Rosewood,: he remarked.

:So?:

:I'll only be a few days away from Forst Reach at the furthest farm. I can have to armsmen return to Rosewood with the taxes without me, and I can ride to Forst Reach myself from there,: Staven said calmly.

It was more than Tylendel could ever have brought himself to ask for. His twin was in a situation even more precarious than Vanyel. Even the simple act of disobeying their uncle could tip the scales, and cause the ongoing feud to boil over in unexpected ways. Tylendel was filled with worry for Vanyel to the point of distraction, but there was no way he'd ever be able to ask his twin to make such a move.

But if he was offering…

:There's one more thing. If Withen broke Vanyel's arm, he can't stay there. Withen was already pushing Vanyel before Rosewood, and if he suspects anything…: Tylendel trailed off. There would be no Savil riding in to save Vanyel if Forst Reach got it into their heads that Vanyel's differences need to be punished. There would be no friend to pick the lock on the cell, or to visit in the darkest hours to give him hope.

:Rosewood might be safer for him, even with all that's going on here. At least I'd be able to protect him, and Uncle would too, after I explained things to him,: Staven surmised.

:Please,: Tylendel said, with barely a second's reflection. :Get him out of there.:

:Of course,: Staven said.

Down past the tenant fields, the rambling orchards, and the river where Staven and Vanyel had waited out the hottest hours of midsummer, lay a small house. It was on Frelennye land, technically, but the family that lived there had long since broken ties with Rosewood. In the small kitchen, nearly a dozen people were crowded around the ancient table. Their faces were solemn as they listened to the man seated at the head of the table, reading from a letter he'd received that morning.

"-which means the mage will arrive within the week," he concluded, and set the letter down on the table.

For a moment, no one spoke. The group had gathered often, more frequently the longer the feud with the Freylennes boiled over, but this was the first time anything had come from the meetings, aside from mutual grumblings about what their enemy had done to them this time. When Lord Wester Leshara himself had proposed more direct action, months previous, it had been easy to agree, with heads full of poorly-brewed ale, and hearts hardened with years of accumulated slights and vitriol.

But now, at this table, just miles away from the Rosewood estate, it seemed that much more difficult.

At last, one of the younger men at the table asked hesitantly, "Are we certain about this?"

The man who had read the letter glowered at him, snapping "It is the perfect time. The Frelennye brat will be returning from collecting tithes within days, and his uncle will not leave to inspect the vineyards for at least a fortnight."

"No, I mean… Are we certain about doing any of this?" The younger man asked, and then shrunk down in his chair when the man at the head of the table stood up sharply, his chair falling over with a clatter.

"After all they've done, after Analisbeth? Despite years of our petitions, the crown does nothing, but send those cowardly Heralds who do naught but pour flowery words of peace in our ears. Peace? Pah!" At this the man slammed both palms on the table, making everyone around it jump. He glowered at all of them, meeting each of their gazes as he continued in a low growl, "The Freylennes are godless creatures, and if left unchecked it will not just be our crops and our livestock that suffer- already a mother and child are dead at their hands- and our children will be next. By doing as Lord Wester instructs, we are doing the Lord and Lady's work."

Slowly, each person at the table nodded their head, a fire burning in their eyes, and they began to discuss what remained of their plans.

The young man who had spoken bit his lip, but held his tongue and stayed silent the rest of the evening.

Of course, simply showing up at Forst Reach unannounced would have been a terrible idea for several reasons, so Staven gave it careful thought while riding as quickly as his horse could handle. Having lived in the keep for several months was useful, especially since he and Tylendel had been at the right age to be easily ignored and equally prone to roaming around the estate given the chance, with their primary goal of staying out from supervision whenever possible.

A childhood of avoiding tutors and armsmen alike made it easy enough to sneak in unnoticed. He left his mare in one of the stalls he knew the groomsmen rarely used, and snuck around the side of the main building to an entrance so hard to find that Staven was fairly certain no one had used it in all the time since he'd found it while hiding from one of the cooks after he'd stolen an entire loaf of freshly baked bread.

He'd have to be quick about finding Vanyel- someone would eventually have to notice that there was one more horse than there should have been in the stables. Not to mention how many people lived and worked in the keep. He'd only be able to avoid so many sets of eyes, especially in the middle of the day. Frankly, it would have made more sense to wait for nightfall, but Tylendel had been 'checking in' at least eight times a day to see if he'd reached Vanyel, each time growing a little more frantic. Staven was honestly not sure he could handle any more second-hand panic.

Not that he wasn't worried about Vanyel. He'd spent less than a year at Forst Reach, and he'd seen first hand how clannish the whole lot of them could be. There was no telling what sort of violence they could convince each other was acceptable.

The side door lead to what probably had at one point been intended to be a small pantry, given the dusty shelving, and it opened up into an equally unused hallway. He pulled the hood up on his cloak- it was almost he same colour as the one armsmen wore if you weren't looking too closely, and he slipped by a maid, all but holding his breath the whole time. The woman didn't so much as glance at him, and it was all Staven could do not to melt with relief.

He passed a few more servants on his way up to where he remembered the boys' dormitory being, but each person was as uninterested as the last. Once upstairs, he hesitated outside the door. At that time of day, all of the boys should have been either in lessons with the tutor, or outside in the training salle with Jervis, but it wasn't like Staven had been the only one to sneak out of lessons when he got bored enough. Out of anyone living in the keep, the boys would be the ones most likely to recognize him, after Withen, Jervis, and Father Leren.

Standing around like an idiot outside the door wasn't going to do any good, so he cautiously cracked the door open, and peered around its edge.

All his worry had been for nothing- there was no one there, not even Vanyel. In fact… it almost looked like the room had been abandoned entirely. Only one of the beds had any blankets on it, and there were hardly any personal effects strewn about, like Staven remembered.

So much for that plan. Older boys slept in the bachelor's hall, but usually not until they were of age or near to it. It didn't seem likely that Vanyel would be down there, since he'd expressed distain about having to move down when they'd been kids- the hall was even noisier than the boys' dorm usually was.

On a hunch, Staven snuck down to the library, ducking his head deeper into his hood whenever he passed an armsman or maid. The library was the same as it had been when he was eleven- well stocked, full of light, and entirely deserted. Frankly, if Staven didn't want to be found, he could simply stay in the library and never be seen by a soul for at least for a few days.

He swore the door into the secret room had gotten even smaller while he'd been away; his shoulders nearly got stuck and he had to wriggle to get free, tripping over his own feet as he did so.

There was a clatter and a voice shrieked, "Havens!"

Staven stumbled to his feet and looked up. Vanyel was standing on the far side of the room, by the window, one hand clutching at his chest, a book fallen to the floor at his feet.

He'd grown since in the time since the summer festival- obviously he had, he'd been thirteen that summer, and he was nearing fifteen now, and Staven had also grown in the intervening time- but Vanyel hadn't just gotten older, he'd gotten handsome. His angular face didn't look over-sharp and narrow like it had as a child- it looked fey and only made his grey eyes stand out all the more. Detracting from his handsomeness was the string of bruises on his left cheek that trailed down his jaw. Worst of all was his right arm, strapped to his chest and bound up in bulky bandages.

"S-Staven?" He asked incredulously, eyes wide as saucers.

"Tylendel was right!" Staven blurted without thinking. He hadn't really doubted his brother, but it had seemed a little far-fetched during the long ride to Forst Reach, and he'd almost convinced himself that Tylendel had been mistaken somehow. He honestly would have preferred to have been sent out to see Vanyel for nothing, rather than having to see him look like hell.

"What?" Vanyel asked, looking perplexed. "What about Tylendel? Why are you here?" He paused, eyeing Staven's clearly travel-worn clothing, and added, "Does anyone else know you're here?"

"No one knows I'm here, I snuck in," Staven said, figuring Vanyel' last question would be the least difficult to answer. "I figured that would be for the best, considering your father…"

"Well. Yes," Vanyel said, still staring at him like he wasn't sure Staven was actually there in the room with him. "But why are you here?"

"That part's kind of complicated, but basically…" Staven trailed off uncomfortably. Even with all the time it had taken to get to the keep, he hadn't been able to come up with an adequately vague explanation of how and what a lifebond was, without getting into the romantic part of it.

He hadn't believed Tylendel's crock of horseshit about it only signifying a deep emotional connection for a second- he wasn't stupid, Tylendel had followed Vanyel around as kids like a lovesick puppy and even years and miles apart, he still fussed over Vanyel like nothing else. It was typical, frustrating Tylendel- trying to keep a secret from Staven like that- but Staven figured he had a reason for it, so it wouldn't sit right with him to explain everything to Vanyel. But lying was right out too. Damn Tylendel for putting him in this position.

"He's formed… a bond with you. Sort of like the one between me and him," Staven settled on lamely.

Vanyel frowned. "He what? How? When? What do you mean a bond?"

Staven sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. This was exactly what he'd been hoping to avoid dealing with. Damn Tylendel.

"I honestly don't know much more than you. Tylendel said that the bond had to have formed when we lived here, without either of you realizing it. He doesn't know how or why it formed, but that it has something to do with your friendship and his Gifts… Probably. This whole thing is just as baffling to Herald-Mages apparently."

"That's not terribly comforting," Vanyel said dryly and sat back down on the window ledge, bending to scoop up his fallen book. The motion drew Staven's attention to Vanyel's broken arm, as he struggled to keep it tucked out of the way.

"More importantly- how did that happen?" Staven asked, gesturing at Vanyel's injured state. "Tylendel felt it happen somehow and flew into a panic, which is why I'm here."

"He was worried about me?" Vanyel asked, eyes widening, completely missing the point.

Staven barely held back to urge to roll his eyes. "Yes. Savil has him up in some godforsaken corner of Valdemar and it would have taken him at least a month to get here. So he badgered me into coming instead."

"Oh," Vanyel said, voice a little small. His cheeks pinked slightly, before he took on a slightly guilty expression. "You both didn't need to worry so much- my arm, it's fine- well, it hurts like hell, but it's… it's just broken. It's nothing to fuss over."

Vanyel's expression was brittle, his smile false, and the words coming out of his mouth had to have been parroted from someone else. Staven wanted to wring the necks of whoever was responsible for that.

"Vanyel," Staven said, expression serious. "What happened?"

Vanyel's face crumpled. "I just wanted to get sent away," he said in a small voice. He looked out the window, down at the empty training yard, mouth twisting into a bitter smile. "It was stupid, but I thought if I could prove that I needed a different style of arms training, father would send me away, like he did to Lissa when I was a younger. It was right before you and Tylendel came."

Staven had to bite his tongue bloody to keep from interrupting Vanyel's account of what had lead up to his fight with Radeval, but when he got to the part about Jervis striking him down over and over, he couldn't hold himself back from shouting, "That heartless bastard."

Vanyel jumped, eyes going wide. "Staven-"

"We have to get you out of here," Staven said, mind already racing, trying to figure out the easiest way to smuggle Vanyel back to Rosewood. The Freleyenne-Leshara feud might have been almost boiling over, but at least Staven could be certain that no one would be allowed to beat Vanyel half to death on his father's orders. He'd agreed with Tylendel, but he'd been a bit hesitant at the time, but now…

"Staven-"

"I'll figure out how to convince Uncle not to tell Withen where you are on the trip back. How much do you have to pack? If you only have a trunk, we could leave tonight, and-"

"Staven!"

Staven jumped, mind wrenching back to the present. Vanyel was on his feet, his eyes glittering oddly like-

"Are you crying?" Staven asked, startled.

"No," Vanyel said thickly, even as he scrubbed at his eyes with his good hand. "Shut up. I just… I missed you." He smiled brightly, and Staven couldn't help but smile back, even as Vanyel's next words took it right off of his face: "Things have been- well, difficult here. To say the least. But I can't just leave Forst Reach."

"Why not?" Staven demanded. He could feel Tylendel shifting in the back of his mind, trying to get his attention, but he ignored him- his twin could wait, this was much more important.

"I'm my father's heir," Vanyel said simply. "If I just disappeared, father would tear the country apart looking for me. Not because he ca-" Vanyel started to say, but cut himself off, guilt flicking across his face. He didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't have to; Staven heard it loud and clear. Not because he cares about me.

Vanyel cleared his throat, and continued, as if he hadn't stopped. "Well, he'd have to at least seem like he was tearing the country apart trying to find me. Think about what it would look like if I disappeared and he didn't bother to look for me- as his heir. What would the other lords think? And what about your uncle?" Vanyel added, raising an eyebrow pointedly. "Even if he agreed to hide me, there's almost no way the news wouldn't reach my father eventually, and your uncle would be the one to take the brunt of the blame for 'kidnapping me'. And that's assuming that father didn't look for me at Rosewood first."

Staven pursed his lips. He hated how much sense Vanyel was making. The tight, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was uncomfortably familiar- an echo of what he'd felt when Tylendel had been locked up in the bowels of Forst Reach and there hadn't been a damn thing Staven could do.

"I can't just leave you here," he said at length.

Vanyel's mouth quirked into a mischievous grin, one that Staven thought he might have learned from him. "Well," he said slowly. "You don't have to leave right away, do you?"

Staven shook his head. "No, I was about to leave to collect taxes from some of the landholders a few days' ride away from here when Tylendel told me I needed to find you. The armsmen I was with weren't too happy about going to the last few tenant farms on their own, much less about returning to Rosewood without me, but they're used to this sort of thing from me," he said with a wink.

Thousands of miles away, Tylendel let out a careful sigh of relief. He was supposed to be helping Savil figure out what was going wrong when Mardic and Donnie tried to work in concert, but he'd really been repeatedly pestering Staven until he told him what was happening. He'd known that Staven had to have reached Forst Reach, given how close he'd been when Tylendel had bothered him around dawn (much to Staven's disgust), but Staven had stopped answering around the time he should have been arriving at the keep.

"So, what do you think about that attempt?" Savil's sharp voice brought him back to the present. He turned to her, and she raised one expectant eyebrow at him.

"Uh. Improving, somewhat. But something is still not quite right," Tylendel said, echoing what he'd said the last four times Savil had asked him for feedback.

"Is that so?" Savil asked. She snorted, her head tipping towards Mardic and Donnie- or rather where Mardic and Donnie had been the last Tylendel had noticed. Now, there was a distinct lack of his fellow Herald-Mage trainees.

"Savil-" Tylendel started to say, but cut himself off when he realized he didn't even know what he wanted to say. He honestly didn't have any sort of excuse, apart from Vanyel.

She rolled her eyes but didn't snap at him, which was honestly probably better than Tylendel deserved.

In the week since they'd discovered the bond, Tylendel had been less than useless.

"We may be out in the boonies, Tylendel, but even we would have heard if something terrible had happened to my nephew by now," Savil said. "Gossip like that travels faster than the post."

She was trying to be comforting, Tylendel knew, but it only irritated Tylendel further, and he had to bite back several snappish responses he knew he wouldn't really mean.

Vanyel was well-known to be a little odd by a rural lord's measuring stick- too fey, too soft, too interested in pursuits that had little value to men like Withen. If Withen took stricter measures to attempt to shape Vanyel into the heir he needed, well, most people outside of Haven wouldn't find it even remarkable enough to gossip about. Both Savil and Tylendel knew this, and the fact that Savil wanted to pretend otherwise, even just to comfort her trainee almost was enough to make Tylendel see red.

But snapping at his mentor would hardly be productive. Nothing Tylendel could do at that point would be productive, apart from waiting for news from Staven.

So, he bit his tongue, apologized again for having his head in the clouds, and headed back to the inn once Savil dismissed him.

He'd only just settled down with a mug of cider when he felt a familiar brush at he back of his mind- Staven.

:You can stop harassing me every candlemark, I'm inside Forst Reach with Vanyel,: Staven said. His words were teasing, but Tylendel could feel the undercurrent of exhaustion and worry under them.

Tylendel felt a small twinge of guilt- he really had been obnoxious about checking on Staven's progress, but it had been hard to resist the little voice in his head that was insisting something very wrong had happened, and that he had to fix it.

:Did you get inside safely?: Tylendel asked. They both knew the sort of fuss that Staven being discovered in the Keep would cause. Not to mention both of their residual paranoia about the occupants of the keep, following Tylendel's imprisonment.

:Not a soul recognized me. But I'm staying hidden in the library, just in case. Vanyel just left to sneak us up some food from the kitchen,: Staven replied. His tone grew grimmer, as he added, :We were right to be worried about Vanyel. His arm is broken.:

Tylendel felt torn. On the one hand, it meant Savil was right… they were lifebonded. But it also meant that the fear he'd felt was also real.

Tylendel had to bite his tongue several times to keep himself silent as Staven explained how Vanyel's arm had come to be broken.

:I'm not sure I'm happy to know that I was right. I'd rather have sent you on a wild-goose chase.:

:That's not the worst part,: Staven said grimly. :Bones can heal. Muscles can be strengthened. But these bastards almost managed to convince him that it was his fault.:

Tylendel felt sick to his stomach. He knew the answer, even as he asked, :That what was his fault?:

:That Jervis breaking his arm was his fault. That Withen letting Jervis breaking his arm was his fault. That all of his siblings and cousins treating him like dirt is his fault.: Staven's voice was ice and stone, cold and unyielding. Tylendel knew it was because if Staven let himself feel all the things that his words wanted to provoke in him, there'd be no chance of calming his temper down again. Tylendel had to struggle to o the same before he could respond.

:I was right. We have to get him out of Forst Reach. Immediately. You have to take him back to Rosewood,: Tylendel said. Savil had said they only had a few more days until they'd start the long trip back to Haven. From there, he was pretty sure he could convince her to allow him to go to Rosewood and see Vanyel. After that, well, between the three of them, potentially with Savil and their Uncle's help, they could find somewhere safe to hide Vanyel away from his father. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than doing nothing. He was sick of doing nothing.

Staven didn't say anything for a long moment. His mind felt like oil spilled on water- there was something he wasn't saying, something he didn't want to say, but it was something he needed to say nonetheless.

Tylendel took a fortifying sip of his cider, and asked wearily, :What is it?:

:I can't take him away from Forst Reach, Tylendel.: They were using their mindvoices, so it made no sense for a sore throat to effect one's voice, but Staven's voice still sounded croaky, like he was trying very hard not to cry.

:No.: Tylendel couldn't believe his twin. Tylendel wasn't even at Forst Reach, and he knew in his bones that Vanyel couldn't remain there for another day. It was like saying the sky was blue, the grass was green, the sun rises in the Easy, and Vanyel couldn't be left in his family's clutches a moment longer. It wasn't up for argument. It was fact.

And yet, Staven, in that tortured voice was saying, :-had a point, Tylendel. If anyone found out Vanyel was at Rosewood-:

:We can't leave him again. That so-called family of his will tear him to pieces, if they don't burn him to ashes first!: Tylendel demanded, his temper snapping. His words felt like powdered chilies on his tongue, burning hot and relentless. :Don't you care about Vanyel?:

Staven's own temper flared, ice cold to Tylendel's raging inferno. :Don't care? I'm the one who's here in this godforsaken keep, not you!:

:I'd be there if I could be, and you know it!: Tylendel snapped, ruthlessly shoving aside the guilt that tried to make its way into his heart.

Staven snorted, and his tone took on a decidedly bitter tone as he said, :Oh I know that, sure I do. Of course, you'd leave Haven and Savil and the Heralds for Vanyel. That much has always been clear. Ever since we first met him, he's come first.:

Tylendel frowned, confusion slowly putting out his temper's flames. :What-:

: I've always known I wasn't enough for you, that Vanyel mattered more than your own twin. I mean it's not like I haven't been in more danger for years out in Rosewood. But no, of course you need to move rivers because Vanyel's arm's broken and his father makes him a little sad.:

:What? Staven-:

:You've always made it very clear that I wasn't ever enough. I wasn't enough when our father died and you wouldn't talk to anyone. Or when your Gifts manifested and you thought you were going insane, or were possessed. I mean, I couldn't even get you out of that cell. Of course Vanyel matters more to you than your useless brother.:

:I don't-: The cup fell from Tylendel's numb fingers, spilling cider all over his boots. He didn't even notice. He could scarcely understand what Staven was saying, it was like getting hit over the head with a brick unexpectedly- wherewas it all coming from?

:So don't worry. You've made it very clear that Vanyel must always come first, Tylendel. Don't you worry about that,: Staven said, his words sticky sweet, like rotting, overripe fruit. :And I've had enough.:

Before Tylendel could even try to get another word in, figure out what Staven was even saying, Staven slammed down his mental walls so hard that Tylendel's vision went fuzzy.

When he came back to his senses, he couldn't even feel the faintest hint of their bond. They'd found ways to thin the bond, to give each other space and privacy. But this… It felt like there was a wall between them, seamless and impossibly tall. It was almost like there never had been a bond in the first place.

Tylendel sank to the floor, next to his fallen cup and covered his face.

What had he done?

Vanyel slipped up a rarely used set of stairs, arms laden with as much food as he could sneak out of the kitchen unnoticed, and peered cautiously around the corner.

He and Staven had chatted for at least a candlemark, before Staven's stomach had rumbled so loudly that even Vanyel had been able to hear it.

Vanyel had laughed, and then had left to steal them something for a late dinner. He'd already missed his morning's arms practice, so he decided to skip his afternoon lessons too. He'd be in trouble later with his tutor, and with Father, but Staven would only be at Forst Reach for so long, and it was no question that spending time with him would be worth the scolding he'd get.

Staven had agreed to leave the day after the next, rather than right away- it would make catching up with his armsmen all but impossible before they reached Rosewood, but Staven had only shrugged when it'd come up. Vanyel hadn't had words to express how grateful he was, and he'd been happy when Staven had changed the subject.

Thankfully, the hallway between the stairs and the library were deserted, and it was short work to slip down the hall and through the library's heavy oak doors.

Staven, surprisingly, was outside the secret room and waiting for him in the library proper, idly scanning the underused books on the shelves. It was a little risky, but very few people apart from Vanyel used the library and the little hidden room got awfully stuffy at times, even with the window open. Vanyel could hardly blame him for needing some fresh air, given how long they'd been chatting in there before Vanyel had left for food.

As Vanyel let the door slide shut behind him, Staven turned away from the book case. There was something odd about his expression, but before Vanyel could ask if anything was wrong, Staven was saying, "Oh good, I'm about ready to eat my own arm if you don't feed me soon."

Vanyel frowned minutely- there was something off about Staven's voice as well, too tight, his usual flippant tone sounding forced. But Staven was smiling, so Vanyel just passed over a loaf of bread and one of the apples he'd nicked. He was probably imagining things. Staven had to be tired after racing all the way there, scarcely taking long enough to let his horse rest, of course he'd seem a little off-kilter.

"No need for that, I think," Vanyel said, grinning when Staven forwent any semblance of manners and shoved nearly a quarter of the bread in his mouth all at once.

They sat down with their meal, tucked behind a bookcase in case someone did happen to come up to the library. Vanyel arranged the remaining food on the floor, and made a note to himself to remember to smuggle down some blankets for Staven to use, since he'd be sleeping in the secret room that night. The room might have been warm, but it was hardly comfortable to sleep on the wood floor. Vanyel was tempted to stay with him- they had so few hours before Staven would have to leave, it seemed wasteful to spend any of them on his own in the empty dorm- but there was always the risk of someone noticing him missing at night and while it was one thing to skip lessons and dinner, and another to be missing from his bed. No, better to not raise suspicions too much, even if Vanyel wanted to soak in the presence of a friend for as long as possible. Who knew when the next time he'd see anyone who remotely liked him again?

Staven swallowed his chunk of bread with some difficulty, and said, "I know that you can't come with me Vanyel, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying to find a way to get you out of here."

Vanyel smiled, torn between helpless fondness and resignation. "What could you possibly do? Apart from setting fire to the whole keep to drive us all out, that is."

"Don't be ridiculous, I know you'd kill me if your sheet music got burned up in the process," Staven joked. His expression grew more serious as he continues, "I don't know. But there has to be something. I won't give up on you, I promise."

Before Vanyel could reply, the library doors flew open, bouncing off the walls with a crash.

Vanyel and Staven exchanged wide-eyed looks and they both stayed very, very still, hardly even breathing.

There were two sets of footsteps, one heavy and clomping, the other accompanied by the rustle of silken skirts.

The library door was closed, and Vanyel's heart sank as his mother's voice said, tight with displeasure, "Withen, what in Haven's name did you drag me in here for?"

"It's about the boy." Withen's voice was dark. "I'm sending him away."

"Withen- no!" His mother cried, already on the verge of tears. "You can't! He's just broken his arm, you can't expect him to ride off in this state!"

Vanyel's breath caught in his chest- was his father finally washing his hands of him?

Withen snorted and said, "I'll wait till his arm's out of that cast, but arrangements must be made. There's nothing more I can do for that willful boy."

"Just because-" Treesa began to say hotly, shocking Vanyel by displaying a backbone he hadn't known she had.

And then Vanyel's whole arm jolted with pain from the awkward position he'd frozen in, and his elbow smacked into the edge of the bookcase, knocking a book off the lowest shelf.

The sound of the book hitting the floor seemed to echo in the library's high ceilings, the moment stretching out impossibly long.

Then Withen said, "What in God's name-" and stormed around the side of the bookcase.

Vanyel watched as his father locked eyes with Staven. No one moved for a moment, Withen's mouth working wordlessly, an angry red flush moving up his neck and cheeks.

Then several things happened all at once.

Withen snarled, and lunged for Staven's neck, yelling, "You damned little-" At the same time, Vanyel flung himself between the two of them and shouted, "Staven, run!"

Treesa appeared around the corner, and immediately started to swoon with shock, even as Staven made a shocked little noise, and shot to his feet, ducked under Withen's outreached arms, and nearly tripped over Treesa.

"Guards!" Withen roared, trying to get around Vanyel, who fumbling to stay between him and Staven, heedless of how his arm ached with the sudden movement.

"Run!" Vanyel shrieked again, and this time Treesa really did faint, sprawling across the floor in an ungainly heap.

Staven leapt over her prone form, but didn't head for the door- where Vanyel could already hear the sound of boots pounding down the hallway- and instead raced towards the secret door.

Withen shoved past Vanyel, knocking him on his ass, and causing him to smack his broken arm on the edge of a bookcase. He saw stars, but stumbled to his feet, chasing after Withen towards the secret room.

He got there in time to see Withen lunge at Staven, just as Staven dove through the half-height door, miraculously making it through.

The door was too small for Withen to fit through with his broad shoulders, and stomach paunch. Vanyel tried duck around his father for the door, but Withen grabbed him by the upper arm- the broken one- and shook him like a dog with a rabbit.

"What in God's name were you doing?" He snarled, spittle flying from his mouth and hitting Vanyel in the face.

Vanyel bit his lip and refused to speak, sick to his stomach even as he heard the sound of the window in the secret room slide open, and Staven escape into the night.

"What was that- that perverted invert doing in my keep?" Withen roared, shaking Vanyel again, hard enough that his vision started to grey from the pain in his arm.

He still stayed silent, biting his tongue against the pained cry that wanted to slip through.

Withen glowered at him a moment longer, and then tossed him aside with a snarl and stormed out of the library, shouting for the guards again.

It was only once the door slammed shut again that Vanyel let himself curl into a ball and begin to sob.

A young woman burst into the small cottage, the door bouncing off of the wall with the force.

"It's time!" She gasped, chest heaving. Her legs wobbled as she stepped into the cottage, and she collapsed onto a stool.

The leader of the group nearly dropped his quill and said, "Laina, what-"

"They're back! The armsmen, I saw them on the road! I came as soon as I saw them," she said, between desperate pants.

"Was the young lord with them?" It was the man who'd protested at the last meeting, Kittle, who spoke. He still had reservations about the plan, but speaking against it had become less and less tolerable, but he'd take any excuse to try and slow down its implementation.

Laina and the Leshara leader both looked at him in confusion.

"Where else would he be?" Laina asked, a small frown creasing her delicate face.

"I just want to be certain that if we act, we aren't wasting-"

"It's no matter," the leader said firmly, ignoring Kittle's protests. "The mage has already arrived. He can do his work now. We will have our blood."

They'd only been on the road back to Haven for a day and a half, when Savil abruptly stopped in the middle of the road.

Gala and Mardic and Donnie's companions all stopped without having to be asked, and the three trainees exchanged confused looks. The road ahead was entirely clear, without so much as a single traveler in sight.

Savil's head tilted slightly, a tell Tylendel knew to mean that she was speaking with Kellan, her companion. As isolated as the three of them had been in the outer edges of Valdemar for the better part of a month, they hadn't had any contact with any other Heralds, but if one happened to be within Savil's considerable range…

:Love,: Gala said gently. Her voice was kinder than it had been in days- she hadn't been pleased to hear about Tylendel and Staven's previously unmentioned bond, and had been curt with him ever since. Her sudden change in temperament could not mean anything good.

:What is it?: Tylendel asked, heart already sinking. He couldn't take any more bad news. Staven's spot in the back of his mind was still as terrifyingly blank and empty as it had been since they'd fought earlier that week. He hadn't heard a word from him since, though to be fair, Tylendel hadn't extended a metaphorical hand either. It rubbed him raw, and set his teeth on edge. He and Staven might have allowed each other their privacy, and avoided contact sometimes, but even then, he'd been able to still feel their connection, even faint and distantly.

:Savil was just contacted by Herald Wren,: Gala said. Her words were slow and careful, like she was worried the wrong word would set him off somehow. :He was sent specifically to track us down out here. To track you down specifically.:

Tylendel's stomach churned and he fought to keep from clutching at Gala's mane like a child their first time on horseback. There was only one reason to send someone out to find them all the way out in the boondocks of Valdemar: to bring them unpleasant, important news.

Herald Wren was especially well known for his impeccable mindspeech range, and his companion's speed. This was news they couldn't wait to hear once they were returned to any town on a trade route, much less Haven.

:What was the message?: Tylendel managed to ask. It was a good thing mindspeech didn't require vocalizing words; Tylendel's mouth had gone dry, his throat all but closed up with fear.

Gala hesitated for a long moment, her ears flicking forward uncomfortably. Ahead of them, Kellan swung his head around to give Gala a long, steady look.

At last, Gala sighed deeply, and said, :Love, there was an attack on Rosewood. A magical one. Many people died… Including your uncle. And Staven.:

For a moment, Tylendel almost didn't understand what she said. It felt like a rush of noise without meaning, just inconsequential sounds.

It didn't make any sense- his uncle. Rosewood. Staven.

:Breathe, chosen,: Gala said insistently- like she'd said it more than once. Tylendel abruptly realized he'd been holding his breath, and gasped unevenly. His whole body trembled like a leaf. He scarcely noticed Gala moving them off to the side of the road, or Savil exchanging a few quiet words with Donnie and Mardic.

:He can't- this isn't- Staven-: Tylendel said to Gala, his mind skittering over her words like a stone skipping across a pond. It didn't make any sense. Staven couldn't be dead. It just wasn't possible. He'd know if he was dead. He would, wouldn't he?

The blank spot where Staven normally was felt even more empty and frightening.

:Love-: Gala started to say.

Savil tried to coax him off of Gala's back, likely because he was shaking so hard he'd nearly unseated himself, but Tylendel batted her hands off irritably.

:He can't be dead. He can't!: He insisted.

:Chosen, they found a-:

Tylendel ignored her, pushed her out, and focused on the blank spot where Staven was supposed to be. Where he still was because he wasn't dead.

He slammed himself against the mental wall and screamed :Staven!: