Adrenaline was a drug all its own. It had shot through Daydrel's veins as he had watched his rival topple to the ground beneath his boot.

Rival. The word tasted bitter on his tongue. He stared down at Sedgewick Alverdyne. With his hat now off of his head and abandoned on the ground, and with no hint of magic shining behind his eyes or sparking in his hand, he looked...weak. Fragile. A pale, slight man who had no business causing as much trouble as he had. What had Feyla wanted him for?

A sickness grew in his chest; one that had been there since Feyla had touched the nape of his neck. He'd thought she'd meant to kiss him.

Daydrel's fist tightened but he forced it to relax a moment later. He tapped his foot against Sedgewick's, testing.

"He won't wake up early," Arilla Everbloom said. She stepped over the mage with dainty disdain. "I selected the dosage carefully."

Daydrel grunted in answer but still kept watch over the sleeping mage. Who could tell what hidden protections he might have?

The adrenaline was wearing off. He shook his head. "This wasn't what I came here for."

"You came here because I told you to." Arilla placed the spiked cup of tea and the other tea things onto her tray. Her hands moved with a casual elegance as if she really were just cleaning up after having company.

Daydrel's nostrils flared. "I came here because we had a chance to advance the battle healers and the guild's reach."

Arilla finally turned and gave him her attention. She placed a hand on her hip, the moment much like her daughter's, and gave him a stare that reminded him of why Madam Everbloom was a guild leader to begin with. "I like you, Daydrel. You're ambitious and determined but don't make the mistake of thinking that you are in charge here. I approved your plan because you were supposed to draw my daughter away from him." She flicked her hand in the mage's direction. "And back into the healers. Since you couldn't do that, I've had to find a new way to help Feyla."

"Catching Desden was my ticket to a guild leader position," Daydrel let out through clenched teeth.

"I'm your ticket to a guild leader position." Arilla stepped closer, her voice sinking low. "Do what I tell you and I'll make sure you get what you want." She grabbed him by the shirt and jerked him down to eye level. "Don't do what I tell you and you'll be lucky to be assigned to some backwater village for the rest of your life." She smiled sweetly and Daydrel's stomach twisted. "Are we clear?"

"Yes, Madam Everbloom."

"Good. Now prep the mage for treatment. I want Alverdyne ready by the time he comes back."

In her old healer's uniform, she'd been a pale shimmer of moonlight shifting through the shadows. Now, she more closely resembled the patches of dirt covering the stone street her and Dormaeus were slinking down.

Feyla's ears twitched nervously at every hiss of the wind. The capital was a well-kept city but all cities have their shadowy corners and they'd just crawled into one of them. Buildings of creaking wood and chipped stone pressed against each other, leaving just enough room for leering faces to peer out in search of prey. The scent of rotting fish abandoned by the docks crept in with the wind. Light seeped sporadically out of taverns filled with the cries of drunken men and the moon lit the rest. No lamplighter ventured this far.

"Where are we going?" Dormaeus asked. A male voice called out something vulgar to her and he took a step to her side and blocked her from view.

This was the fey who had burnt his lover and her family. Feyla bit her lip. Jaerick's spell had caused a lot of trouble but it had succeeded in turning a monster into a protector. How was she going to tell him what had really happened to Laryssa? "I have a friend who's supposed to be around here. He can help us find Desden."

"You have a friend around here?" he asked incredulously.

"What's that mean?" Feyla snapped back.

Dormaeus shrugged. "Just didn't seem the type, I guess."

"It's a long story." A symbol scrawled into the side of a building caught her eye. Feyla grabbed Dormaeus's arm and pulled them both to a halt. "Found it," she whispered. After glancing around quickly, she tugged them into the alley of the building. Feyla pressed her palm against the black outline of a spiraling sun. The symbol of the Blacksun family. Publicly known for owning extensive property in the trade city of Vacia. Privately known for being one of the most notorious suppliers of black magic users. Their reach stretched as far north as the kingdom of Onryx, the remains of the old Northlandic Empire.

"This is the symbol of my friend's family," she explained. "He's supposed to be nearby."

Dormaeus squinted in the dim light to take in the sloppily-painted sun. His eyes widened. "I've— I've seen this before." He pressed a hand to his temple. "I remember it."

"Well, well, look what pretty missy wandered into my little corner."

Feyla jerked around, her hand falling to her belt and her feet instinctively slipping into her stance. The fey in front of her swayed drunkenly on his feet and leered at her with a crooked smile. "Borrowing your man's clothes? I could give you some of mine if you come over here and—"

I really don't have time for this, Feyla thought. She braced herself to leap forward but contained the blow for now. "Where's Hobrin Blacksun?"

"The half-goblin? I've seen him. How badly do you wanna know?"

"You're not getting anything from her," Dormaeus snapped, stepping beside Feyla. A red glow sparked to life in his hand.

The drunkard blinked at Dormaeus and stumbled back in surprise. "C—Carrow? I thought you were dead!"

"He's not. So—"

Something shifted behind the man.

Thud. The man's eyes lolled back and he slumped to the ground at their feet.

"What the gates, Lady, do you make a habit out of getting in trouble?"

A smile broke across Feyla's face. "Hobrin!" She ran at him, stepping on the drunkard as she did so, and caught him in an embrace.

Hobrin stumbled back. "You're gonna bowl me over, Lady," he chuckled before returning her embrace.

"Sorry." She stepped back and took in her old ally. Hobrin's green-gray tinted skin looked silvery in the moonlight and his grin flashed his pointed teeth. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been wearing plain gray and wielding a knife belt. Now he wore an outfit of blue and maroon and wielded a sleek polished cane which had met the back of the man's head. "You look good," she said gently.

"Been skimming off the profits here a bit." Hobrin's gaze swept from Feyla's uneven locks to Sedgewick's shirt to the wizard behind her. Can't say the same about you though. And since it's night, this ain't a social visit, is it?"

Feyla touched her hair self-consciously and gave him an apologetic smile. "It's not. But I am glad to see you."

"Well let's get inside then. Don't mind Bartlett. He ain't supposed to be around here anyway. Slacker." Hobrin kicked Barlett's side. "This way."

Hobrin brushed past them both and guided them to a set of stairs leading up to the second level of the building. He unlocked the gate blocking the stairs and they all made their way inside.

He tapped a disc on the wall and the glowlights triggered. The first sign that despite the outward appearance, whoever owned this building was far from poor or downtrodden. Feyla locked the door behind them and took in the office. A rug that had once been expensive stretched across the floor. Hobrin's knife belt hung on a coat rack by a desk. Papers were stacked in neat rows along the edges of it and a table had been pushed against the desk to make it longer.

Hobrin hopped up on the desk, not bothering with the chair. He reached over to the table and tapped his finger against a cage sitting there. A small brown rat crawled out of hiding and Hobrin plucked him out of the cage. "What's the trouble? Is that mage of yours having problems again?" The rat snuggled into his hands.

"Sedgewick is...fine." Physically, she added internally. "How's Mrs. Sniffles?"

Hobrin's ears drooped. He fiddled with a ribbon on his wrist that looked suspiciously like his former pet's. "Oh, you know, she got old and—yeah. But this here is Lord Whiskers." He held out his newest rat.

Feyla petted the tiny creature on the head and the rat lifted his tail elegantly in greeting. "Aww, did you make him a lord because he's so regal?"

"Naw, because he's lazy and won't help you out without a bribe."

"Oh," Feyla squeaked out, wondering which of the lords Hobrin's family had bribed enough to inspire the name.

Hobrin plucked a tiny piece of cheese off of a plate on the table and placed it with Lord Whiskers back in his cage. He then pinned his gray eyes on Dormaeus. "I thought you was dead. Weren't they planning to chop your head off?"

Dormaeus, who had been watching the rat with amusement, now gripped his neck and swallowed hard. "Why does everyone think I'm dead?"

"Because...you're supposed to be?"

"He doesn't remember," Feyla interrupted. She explained how the guild had taken Dormaeus's memories in lieu of execution and what had happened since.

"...So we were hoping you could help us track down Desden, as long as it doesn't get you in trouble with Crayden," she finished.

"Crayden?" Dormaeus asked.

"My boss. And...my cousin. He still ain't letting me go back to Vacia, ya know. Hope that mage of yours is still worth it," he said to Feyla.

Feyla's hand instinctively reached for her necklace. "He always is," she said softly.

"And 'course I'll help you, Lady." Hobrin dropped another piece of cheese in the cage. "He was here, you know. Your brother."

"He was?" Dormaeus's face twisted between fear and longing. "Why would he come here?"

Hobrin barked out a laugh. "You really have been scrubbed clean. You used to work for us, Carrow."

***************

Author's Note: Later in the day than I would like but it's finished! Anyone happy to see Hobrin again? How will Dormaeus take learning more about his past? Let me know in the comments!