The Great Green whizzed by as they flew from the capital to The Citadel. Jen sat slumped against the waist-high rail he’d conjured around the platform. Damien didn’t fly at his fastest pace. He needed time to collect himself and he was certain Jen did as well.

What in the world had Dad been thinking? Even a warlord as strong as his father couldn’t handle most demons alone. He couldn’t imagine Dad thought he had anything to prove at this point in his life. Everyone already regarded him as the best warrior of his generation. What more had he wanted?

Jen sniffed and Damien looked down at her. “You okay?”

She craned her neck to meet his gaze. Her eyes were bloodshot and tears streaked her face. “No. I can’t believe he’d do something so stupid.”

“He must have been confident he could handle it. Dad had killed demons before. He probably thought what was one more.”

“One more was one too many. I swear, I’ll finish what he started. I’ll hunt down the monster that killed him and bury it.”

She sounded so angry Damien took a step away from her. Angry or not he couldn’t let her do something foolish.

“Not alone you won’t. This thing already killed Dad and he had Lizzy to help him. Together they were twice as strong as you are by yourself.” Maybe he should have been more gentle, but he needed to get through to her before she did something unwise.

“Don’t try to stop me. I can’t just stand aside and do nothing.”

“I don’t want to have to carve your name under Dad’s.”

She fell silent, her hard glare softening. Jen had to know he was right. It was just her grief talking. The St. Clouds were all alike. When in doubt, take action. Damien knew he had a tendency to make that mistake as well. He fought it constantly.

“How about we wait to hear what Lizzy has to say before we make any decisions? Once we know what we’re dealing with we can make a real plan.”

She let out a long sigh. “Alright.”

An hour or so later The Citadel appeared on the horizon, the imposing structure looking especially intimidating today. They landed outside the walls on a flat stretch of land screened from the keep by a wall of spruce. Hundreds of stone monuments of various designs spread out in front of them.

Each one represented a master of The Citadel that had died while in the crown’s service. Most were simple granite rectangles with shields carved into them above the name of the master and the date of his or her death. Some were more ornate, resembling swords or axes. Without fail the stones were spotless, each cleaned and polished several times a year by the first- and second-year students. The cemetery served as a constant reminder of every warlord’s eventual end.

The St. Cloud family headstone was a black rectangle with a large shield in the center. The shield was crossed with a sword and spear, their parents’ favored weapons. Someone had carved Mom’s name a little below the emblem with Damien’s birth date beside it. He bent down and ran his finger over the letters and numbers.

It was his fault she died. If he’d never been born she’d still be alive, maybe Dad would be too. Damien had no doubt his father had believed that. He never said it, but it was always there, just below the surface.

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Damien conjured a small chisel of dense soul force, its edge so sharp it would carve the stone like soft wood. The construct floated up to Jen.

“Do you want to do it?” Damien asked.

“I don’t think I can. Once I carve the numbers it becomes real.”

Damien looked up and found his sister holding the chisel in trembling hands. He stood and put his arms around her. She cried into his shoulder, the chisel floating forgotten to one side. He didn’t know how long they stood like that, but when she finally pulled away from him her gaze met his, steady and strong.

Jen snatched the chisel out of the air and took a knee. With deft strokes she carved Dad’s name along with the date of his death. When she finished Damien absorbed the chisel. He helped her to her feet and they stood in silence for a moment, each thinking their own thoughts. Damien wished he’d had a chance to build on what they started at his name day party, but wishes were as worthless as regrets.

“Let’s go talk to Lizzy,” Jen said.

It was a short walk to the outer gate from the cemetery. The guard on duty nodded and waved them through, a sad frown on his face. He wore a black band on his left arm. The first- and second-year students were out in the yard doing their forms while the masters looked on. Every one of them had a matching black band on their arms.

One of the sword masters noticed Damien and Jen. He bellowed something and all the students stopped and faced them. As one they brought their fists to their hearts. Damien and Jen came to attention and returned the salute. Damien glanced at his sister and found her jaw clenched so tight the muscle looked like a small ball.

The students returned to their practice and Damien and Jen went on their way. Beside him Jen cleared her throat. “One more display like that and I’m going to start crying again.”

“We should be good now.”

The doors stood open and they walked through without anyone seeming to notice. Damien allowed himself a hint of a smile as he strode the familiar path to Miss Ella’s room. This was the first time he’d ever visited the infirmary when he didn’t have an injury. The next door down two warlords stood at attention with their swords drawn. It looked like they were taking the tradition seriously. The two men couldn’t stop Damien if he really wanted to get in, but they could keep him from doing it quietly. He really hoped Lizzy was close enough to the infirmary wall to allow a connection.

Damien knocked on the closed door and a moment later Miss Ella opened up. She had on her familiar blue dress and white apron with the red cross on it. When she saw them she burst into tears. Damien looked at Jen who looked back with an uncertain expression.

He put his arm around Miss Ella and guided her back into the room. Damien helped her sit on her stool. She had settled down and was wiping her eyes. “You must forgive me. It was such a shock hearing about Fredric. Are you two holding up okay?”

“Considering the circumstances I guess so,” Damien said. “We need a favor.”

“Anything I can do, just ask.”

Damien smiled. “I need to talk to Lizzy. I’m hoping she’s close enough to the connecting wall for my thoughts to reach her. Can you keep anyone from bothering us for a little while?”

“No problem there. I seldom have visitors since you left.”

Damien winced at the backhanded compliment. He had visited her so much because he was constantly getting hurt. “Thanks. Jen, let me see if I can find her then I’ll ask her to bring you in with us, okay?”

His sister nodded and Damien flew along the wall separating the two rooms. Damien trailed his fingers against the wall, murmuring Lizzy’s name over and over as he drifted. Come on, where are you?

He was almost to the far end of the room when he felt her presence.

Damien?

He was floating right above Miss Ella’s desk when her voice reached him, faint but clear. He settled on the desktop. “I’m here. Am I close enough for you to bring me in?”

No. You’re right at the edge of my consciousness. I can sense those guards. Will they not let you in?

“No. No one can see you until the generals decide who your next bearer will be. It might be a little while.”

I’ll make it simple for them. Tell the generals the only one I’ll accept is you.

His heart skipped a beat. “Me? I’m not a warlord.”

Her laugh made him smile.

I’m a demon spirit, remember? I have divine soul force. It can be used either internally or externally. My first bearer was a sorcerer after all. Tell them, Damien. You and no other.

“Damien?” Jen had moved to join him by the desk. “Is everything okay?”

“We’re too far away to enter Lizzy’s world. I can just make out her psychic voice. We’re going to have to wait to find out what happened.”

Jen snapped a tongue depressor in half. “I hate waiting.”