She found Prince Nales in the library. She always did, these days—except that one time she’d found him in the privy.

He’d started with just the demon book and a rentac translation dictionary. Then he’d added another dictionary. After that came a few religious texts, then the maps. By the end of the first week, he’d laden his table with over thirteen texts, and covered every spare inch of the solid oak surface in map scrolls, pencils, ink quills, and half-scribbled scraps of paper.

A multi-reader had appeared at one point, looking like a water wheel of books, each open to whatever page he’d been referencing.

The prince himself sat at the back of the table, facing the door. When she’d first met him, he’d reminded her of a forest bird—a small, wiry nuthatch with his lean build and dark clothing. Now, he felt more akin to a crow. Still wearing dark colors, but stronger than she’d thought, and unerringly distracted by interesting things. The book held his current fixation. He was bent over it with a magnifier, completely ensconced, as if the pages would reveal the secrets of the world if only he looked at them hard enough.

Matteo sat nearby. Like Nales, the foreign soldier had been spending a large amount of time in the library, doing a different sort of language study. He waved cheerfully at her when he saw her walk in, the paper on his own, smaller table filled with lines of neatly written Janessi and half-scribbled… something else. Not Catalan, Treng had said, but some other language. Catalan was, apparently, Matteo’s second.

The man was quite the curiosity.

She waved back, then continued on to Nales. “Your Highness.”

“Rnari,” he acknowledged with a quick bob of his head, his eyes still absorbed in the line of rentac he was reading. “Just a moment.”

As she watched, his right hand carefully mimicked the strokes of the characters, copying them to a piece of vellum. He was inordinately focused on the task. No magic, not as far as she could tell, but it clearly required a great deal of concentration. She couldn’t read it at all—her schooling hadn’t bothered with demonic languages. That was his family’s specialty. The Cizek’s and their cursed-sword legacy.

Sensing he’d need more than the ‘moment’ he’d told her, she let her own attention drift, surveying the changes to the table.

The books and papers had shifted since the morning, half the table pushed aside to make way for the map scroll he now traced over. He was on his third piece of vellum. The other two sat on other sections of the map, weighted into place, the thin tracery and reedy cursive of Prince Nales’ scrawl adding new symbols and labels to the map’s original geography. A sketched line of graphite formed a dashed ring, with radial lines flowing into its center. Another dashed line intersected it, appearing to follow the path of a river valley…

Or was that a ley line?

She wasn’t sure. Human maps rarely included them. But Pemberlin castle held was no stranger to non-human work. They had, after all, been delighted to bring her on—and Doneil had already worked here over a year.

As well it should be. Non-human work was usually better. Especially with map work. Unless, perhaps, that human was also a mage with particularly keen mage sight. That still wasn’t nearly as keen as her woodcraft. Then again, few were as keen as her, even among the Twelfth Circle.

As she waited, Prince Nales started in on a second line. His left hand splayed out on the paper, an unconscious sleight of body language. A simple, polite, almost apologetic way of saying, ‘I know you’re there, and I know I’m being rude. I’m sorry, but it is important that I focus on this right now.’

Of course, she might be reading into it a bit—reading what she wanted to see.

It had been her decision to prompt Prince Nales to call her into service. Which meant, for all intents and purposes, she had brought this frustration—this anxious waiting around until the prince was ready to do something—on herself.

She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

After a few minutes, and a few more symbols carefully scratched onto the vellum, Nales finally sat back. He breathed out a sigh and looked up at her.

“Good hunting?” he asked, a soft, tired smile tugged the corners of his lips.

Elryia’s hand—he looked exhausted. The late afternoon light cast hard shadows on his face, outlining the heavy bags of self-driven sleep deprivation under his eyes, and his sclera were shot through with broken veins of pink. His skin had a sheen to it, as if he hadn’t washed in a few days.

Just how late had he been staying up? Had he even slept last night?

If not, that made it three nights he’d spent in here, squinting at demon symbols under oil lamps.

“We found four today,” she reported. “Three northeast of Brighton, and the last on the way back. The ones by Brighton were all mid-sized Arni demons. The fourth was Temi.”

They’d killed a Temi demon together, once. On the first night of the invasion, when Abiermar’s peaceful fete had been slashed by brutal violence. By the flicker in Nales’ eyes, she suspected he was remembering. Temi were ambush predators, usually hanging above, completely motionless until their prey slipped within range.

Unfortunately for the Temi by the road earlier, the forest had sung its location into her mind with a snarl of vengeful bloodlust.

“That is definitely good hunting,” he said. “Thank you.”

His words sparked an odd warmth in her chest. When was the last time any of her superiors had ever thanked her for her service? Other than Treng?

Prince Tarris certainly hadn’t.

She realized she’d shifted into the rnari ‘at ease’ stance—feet splayed, one hand clasping the other’s wrist behind her back. An unconscious habit, and familiar. As if this were simply a casual report to a superior, not the prince who’d subjugated her. As if their very relationship hadn’t just cracked a century of polite tradition down the middle.

As if demon-hunting were a normal thing.

Maybe it was, now. Wasn’t that a depressing thought?

That’s why I chose this path. Nales, at least, cares about fixing this.

And wasn’t that what the rnari were truly meant to be? Not just soldiers for the Raidt to sic on its enemies, but a sect of warriors created to help people? To defend the weak? Fight for the reign of good over evil?

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Truth be told, she’d rather enjoyed doing just that, these past two weeks of ‘errands.’

However, they did need to get moving.

“How about yourself?” she asked, indicating the table. “Good… translating?”

“Yes.” Despite his exhaustion, he beamed. “Very good translating. If I’m reading this right—” He paused, a habitual frown creasing his brow as he turned back to the spread of papers in front of him. “—this book details how each of the four worlds overlaps. I had to dig, but—”

“‘Overlaps?’” Now, she was frowning, too. “What do you mean, ‘overlaps’?”

“Oh. Ah.” He glanced up at her, a sudden realization clearing his face before he frowned with the calculation she usually saw on his expression. “How much World Theory do they teach in the Raidt?”

“In the Raidt? Plenty. In the rnari?” She shrugged. “There are four connected worlds. Gates go between them. Three of them live in relative peace. The demon world is filled with enemies and is—was—sealed.”

“Right. Yes. Well. One of the most widely accepted theories is that there aren’t actually four worlds, but one world four times.”

One world, four times?

Her eyebrows arched. She glanced at the maps, notes, and pages of unreadable foreign script scattered across the table, keeping a carefully neutral expression as her mind stretched to remember the last time she’d studied anything to do with their multi-world system, none of which had involved demonic translation.

“Go on,” she prompted.

“So, if it’s one world—the same world—that explains why the gates are in the same places in each world.”

“But they’re not,” she said. “At least two open in completely different habitats. One, I think, opens in the middle of a lake.”

“The geology evolved differently. Spatially, however, they’re in roughly the same places. Like—like pins on a map.” He gestured to the map on the table, which didn’t have pins. “Okay, pretend I have pins in this. If I did, then took an eraser and erased everything else, then redrew it completely differently—the pins would still be in the same places on the paper, wouldn’t they?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Okay. Now, take that paper, and add another three underneath it, with the pins going through each leaf. Each page has a different map on it. Some may be more similar to others, but they all have differences. However, instead of each page being a different world, it’s a different dimension, all layered on top of each other. The gates—the pins—simply allow us to access the other ones.”

She could see where he was going, though she didn’t necessarily believe it. The way she’d always understood it, the four worlds were exactly that—four worlds. Not some complicated multi-dimensional sandwich.

And this is why I specialize in stabbing things instead of reading things.

“This book,” he said, gesturing to the tome the demon librarians had gifted him. “Aligns with that theory and provides maps for the demonic side, along with purported weak spots. I’ve been trying to figure out the corresponding locations in our world. If I’m right, we might be able to get a better idea of what, precisely, happened to the gates.”

“I thought we were going to ask the Light Elves about it?” she said.

“We are. But I didn’t think they’d be excited to entertain theories from demonic books.”

She huffed a soft laugh. ‘Excited’ was, actually, a very good descriptor of what they’d be. ‘Excitedly burning the demonic book’ was an even better one.

“Does this theory of yours—” She made a vague gesture at the maps and scribblings on the table. “—explain Matteo’s appearance?”

“It might.” He looked uncomfortable. “There was a section listing rumors of other worlds, ones not connected to the Four.”

Ah.

“Perhaps they’re connected now,” she said, considering it.

If whatever had happened at Abiermar had reconnected the demonic world, what else had it let through? Matteo was human—a strange human with strange non-human enhancements, yes, but human. Were there… others?

“If they are, maybe they can provide some answers.” Nales curled his lip at his sprawl of notes and papers. “Ones that aren’t conjecture from untested theories.”

“The Light Elves might know,” she reminded him.

“Yes. Or they might not. Even those fey didn’t know.”

The fey they’d encountered around Grobitzsnak’s fortress. She wondered how they were doing.

“They had a better idea of it than we did.”

“True.”

“The Light Elves would still be good to ask.”

He nodded. “Of course. I plan on it.”

She hesitated, remembering Doneil’s words. “Do you have an idea when we might start doing that?”

A soft smile tugged at his mouth again. “Anxious to get started?”

“Something like that.”

“I see.” Turning back to the table, he pursed his lips at the map, eyes narrowing. “The best way to Sinya is through Peinli, correct?”

“Yes. We can take the train straight across the canyon. Cuts off three days’ ride.”

He let out a breath, teeth baring in a wince this time. “That’s what I thought.”

She glanced at the map, suspicion growing. Very few of the vellum overlays he’d marked up were anywhere near Peinli.

Sure enough, he indicated the nearest one, somewhat westward of Peinli. “I would like to explore here. If I’ve translated this correctly—” He flipped a chunk of demonic book pages back to where he’d left a marker, revealing a grid-lined map hand-pressed onto the page, with additional marks, boundaries, and notes drawn in, forming a similar shape to what Nales had copied onto his overlay. “—then this area is a potential weak point in the dimensional boundaries. I want to see what’s there, and if something has happened to it.” He looked up at her. “What do you think?”

Oh, he was asking her now?

She dismissed the thought. Of course he was. Despite how they’d argued and snitted at each other, he actually did value her opinion.

Doneil was right. She wasn’t there just to stand by and take orders. Prince Nales wanted someone to work with.

“That’s a three-day ride in itself, then another two to Anein.” She eyed the spot on the map. “That’s also a marsh.”

“Is that a problem?”

Her woodcraft wouldn’t be as effective outside of a forest, but that didn’t matter. Not really. The only problem would be if the roads weren’t clear.

“Depends on how flooded it is.” She stepped closer, leaning over him. “If it’s impassable, we can take the high road. Adds an extra half day. We might want to take it anyway, depending on what there is to look at.”

“Doable, then?”

“Yes. We can even stay at inns most nights.” She pointed them out on the map. “Erlin and Lexine, here and here, and there’s a restpoint at the crossroads here.”

“Sleeping inside,” the prince murmured. “What luxury.”

She snorted. Their last adventure hadn’t been quite as luxurious.

“Indeed. I’ll arrange for horses and packs. I recommend we take Doneil and Matteo along.” She let her gaze drift, catching Matteo’s surprised glance. His brows furrowed, one rising in a quizzical way—no doubt curious as to why she was talking about him. “If you’re right about this potential weak spot, and about the other worlds, we might as well have someone with potential otherworldly experience along.”

“Or someone with an otherworldly ability to shoot things from afar,” Nales added, proving she wasn’t the only one thinking of potential problems. “Yes. I agree. Can you—”

“I’ll arrange things. Do I need to pull maps, too, or…?” She made a vague gesture at the table. The map he’d been working with was a scroll, and nearly half the length of the table. A bit unwieldy and delicate for long rides through marshland.

“I’ll take care of that,” Nales said.

“Good. We’ll ride out in the morning.” She straightened and stepped back, heading for the door. “Make sure you sleep tonight. I don’t want to be picking you off the road.”

“You could always tie me to the saddle.”

She glanced back. “I may just.”