A cold wind blew through the hall in the castle, howling through the passageways and weeping through the rooms with doors ajar. Gregory shivered in spite of himself as he glared at the tapestry of a knight kneeling to a man that was half wolf. That must be Coran, Gregory thought to himself idly.

He drummed his fingers on the stone pillar he was leaning on. He looked at it, tracing the curves with his eyes. It was a rearing horse with horns curling around its head and poking around from below its mouth with sharp points; a Unircori.

“We haven’t seen one of those this side of the Black Sea ever since the Age of Myth.” A man said from beside Gregory. He hadn’t seen the man, but he knew the man was always close to him no matter what.

“Has my mother returned yet, Zhanshee?” Gregory asked.

Zhanshee flinched. “You know?”

Gregory nodded. “I knew she would try something with the Queen of Exantir. She’s always had quarrels with that particular line of heirs.” Even though he had really sent her. “It was only a matter of time, and what better time to do it than when I walk through the portal to the Testing Grounds?”

He shivered as he remembered those. You had to face your biggest fear, kill the one you loved most without hesitation, and see your downfall. Each situation was behind a stone doorway called a Vanaal, made by the Mystyk. He remembered everything. Ulizaria, forgive me. She had been a part of each situation. Her biggest fear was her death-by his hand. He had killed her. She had killed him. It was all so painful.

Gregory glanced at his Sword Bearer. He was wearing plain brown breeches and a white woolen shirt instead of his regular silk and satin. He had been training with Ish’Namael this morning. His blood red shoulder length hair was tied at the nape of his neck, while hard blue eyes stared at him watchfully.

“How was Ish’Namael this morning?” Gregory asked, bending over to tie his leather, knee-high boots.

Zhanshee smiled, and Gregory felt hatred mixed with pleasure flow through their bond. “He was…tired, I must say.” He chuckled dryly, half talking to himself. “Maybe now he’ll leave Grendelak alone.”

Gregory shook his head. “You and that bloody woman.”

Zhanshee smiled, eyes narrowing in a friendly way and opened his mouth. Before he could speak, a woman stood before them.

“Show him proper respect, Zhanshee. What you were about to mutter is by far not acceptable.” Suddenly Zhanshee was on his knees, pain flowing through the bond he shared with Gregory, but he kept his eyes on the ground, and his mouth clamped shut.

“Stop it, mother.” Gregory hissed, slapping a shield on her. “I will not have you interfering with my Sword Bearer.”

She snorted, but otherwise seemed undisturbed as Zhanshee stood back on his feet. “It is done.” She said briskly.

Gregory nodded. She’ll be safe. Good, safe, and away from me. He watched his mother as she walked away, a little hatred seeping into his heart. Safe.