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I step forward to the edge of the overlook, and beckon Nazar forward. Together, we face Fortiss, Tennet, Caleb, and Miriam.

“The first time I ever entered the plane of the Divhs was under Nazar’s tutelage,” I begin.

“I went farther, experienced more than I should have. But I didn’t think anything of it because I didn’t know what I was doing.

He knew better, of course, but he didn’t tell me to stop.

After that, I ventured out more in training with Gent, racing over the hillsides of his home, trying to understand what it was and where it was, but mostly just trying to bond with him so that I could hold my own in battle after very little practice. ”

Tennet rubs his jaw. “I never went anywhere outside of the initial training grounds, the field where I first banded to Ayne,”

“At least you did that,” Caleb scoffs, waving the comment away.

“Until Nazar told me how things were supposed to go, I’d barely even thought about trying to see these training grounds.

Marsh banded with me on the ground outside the coliseum during the Tournament of Gold.

I haven’t had to go anywhere else but here, given that I’ve been training the new banded soldiers.

Marsh has always come to me.” He offers a lopsided grin. “I think he likes it here.”

Nazar exhales a long stream of sweet-smelling smoke.

Clearly, he already understands that we won’t be in a place for long where the luxury of pipes will be possible.

“In the early days of my connection with Wrath, we followed the traditional path. Warrior and Divh met on the claiming fields of the Blessed Plane to bond together, to forge that first connection or to strengthen it if the bond itself was first made in this world. But there was no need for most warriors to interact with their Divhs outside of this plane. And, to be sure, the expectation was always that the Divh served the warrior, not the other way around. Those of us who have done battle with our Divhs—actual battle, not simply performing in exhibitions—know the truth is somewhat different than that.”

“The truth about a lot of things is different than that,” I agree.

“And where one dispute occurs, more are possible. Why travel by horse across our great Protectorate when we could reach any destination in a quarter hour traveling through the plane of the Divhs? When my sandworm brought me her children, they still smelled of heat and sand. They’d been unsuccessful in their transition, and she was tired of waiting for them to figure it out.

She plucked them from her plane to bring them here for training.

That journey would have taken days on horseback. ”

Tennet squints at me. “And you believe that because you have survived your brief encounters with the Divhs in their plane, you’ll be able to travel anywhere in their plane?”

I shrug. “Maybe not alone, but with their presence, yes. They survive here. Not for very long, because we can’t sustain creatures their size.”

“And even that we know not to be entirely true,” Fortiss says, his voice turning bitter.

“Rihad trapped Szonja for more than a decade in the caverns of the First House. He needed magic to do it, but he did it. She ate, she breathed, she survived. There’s no reason why we can’t do the same, especially if we’ll only be there a short time. ”

I turn to the female councilor. “We should be fine, because we’re bonded to our Divhs.

Miriam, there’s no guarantee you’ll be comfortable there.

But Gent will know, and he’ll return you immediately if you don’t thrive.

Worst case, you’ll end up somewhere in the midst of these plains—he’ll get you as close to the First House as possible. ”

“I have horsemen already patrolling the area, searching for any remnants of the skrill,” Fortiss says. “You’ll be found.”

He issues that statement with an unshakeable confidence that feels right and true. He’s a commander, through and through—our commander. Mine. At least when it comes to the battlefield, if not anywhere else.

My lips twist in self-derision. Right. Keep telling yourself that.

“I’ll be fine.” Miriam waves off our concern with a dismissive, cutting gesture. “I haven’t endured this long as the only female on Rihad’s council to die a quarter mile from the First House with my face in the dirt.”

“Good enough.” I turn toward the wide plain, squinting into the darkness. “You, Gent, and I will go first. If we don’t reappear immediately, the rest of you follow. Once we all arrive in the Blessed Plane, we’ll reconvene, make sure we’re all stable, and decide how to proceed from there.”

Before anyone can gainsay me, I lift up my left arm, extending it to the heavens, and curl my right hand into a fist to lay on my heart. “Gent,” I whisper, the words soft and full in my mind.

From a seemingly far distance, I hear his distinctive ululating howl, a cry of sheer jubilance.

A moment later, the sky seems to snap tight, and Miriam emits the tiniest whimper of surprise as Gent’s gigantic form appears on the far horizon.

He gallops across the wide plain toward us, covering massive distance with each mighty stride.

I picture him gathering us both up, one in each hand, then remember almost too late how poor his vision is, how easily he can see me and no one else.

“Miriam!” I shout and lunge for her, wrapping her up tight.

To her credit, she doesn’t struggle but grips me back.

A moment later, the two of us are swept from the overlook and plastered against the back of Gent’s mighty palm.

He pauses, lifting us up so that we are even with his enormous black eye, and I turn, one arm still firmly around Miriam.

“Your home—the Blessed Plane,” I tell him, using Nazar’s term for it both in words and thought, while in my mind’s eye I imagine the beautiful blue sky and the endless hillside terrain covered in white and blue tipped flowers.

Gent could have no idea what my ultimate goal is, but he clearly doesn’t care. He turns around, his arms swinging in a wide arc as Miriam tries unsuccessfully to stifle a scream, and then he’s off and running again, two steps, three, five, and he leaps?—

My sight winks out, blackness surrounding me as he grips his fist tight around us—but only for a second.

When my vision clears, I can see the world has utterly changed.

The dry, almost harsh air of the First House plains has been replaced with a heavy, humid mist that instantly covers my skin with fine droplets.

It’s dark here, but not completely black, the light of a distant rising sun somehow mimicking our own experience of day.

“By the Light.” I turn and see Miriam bracing herself against the knuckles of Gent’s mighty paw, her eyes peeled wide as she stares around, and her gaze eventually coming back to rest on me. “I can breathe,” she assures me hurriedly. “I can see, I can breathe.”

Gent howls in joy.

I imagine the other men and their Divhs, all of them coming at once, and Gent doesn’t hesitate.

Pulling his arm in close to his chest and covering the hand that is holding us with his other, he turns and moves swiftly up the embankment.

And it is an embankment, I realize, though I’m unable to pick out more than lush grass dotted with white and blue flowers as he climbs higher and higher, finally cresting a ridge before turning back.

With a mighty whoop, he topples backwards and crashes to a seated position, as if ready to enjoy a show.

A moment later, he peels away his fingers and shakes us out onto his palms—me sprawling into his left hand and Miriam his right, like two-fisted dice about to be thrown.

I look over at the councilor, who looks like she desperately wants to throw up.

Instead, she manages to stagger to an almost-upright position, clutching Gent’s little finger as if she’s hugging the base of a mighty tree.

Still, she’s awake and she’s watching, and a moment later so am I as the sky rips open with the arrival of more Divhs.

Talia! Fortiss’s voice pounds first through my mind, as he bursts into view out of nowhere, perched high atop Szonja’s neck.

The beautiful blue dragon has her wings spread wide.

In this heavy air, they look whole and complete, without even the hint of the debilitating injury she endured for so many years trapped in Rihad’s caverns.

She swirls and turns, soars and darts through the air, her joy at showing off her agility practically radiating out toward me.

Fortiss, for his part, holds on with all his might, laughing with such unbridled happiness that it draws me up short.

Have I ever heard him laugh like this? In all the weeks I’ve known him, he’s been so burdened by his role first as the lord protector’s nephew, and then as the lord protector himself, that it’s hard for me to even imagine him as a man.

We shared one evening in the market day-style atmosphere of the tournament celebrations, when he had thought me a woman—never suspecting I was also playing the role of my brother.

That day may as well have been a century ago.

But now, in this moment, I can feel his joy, his excitement, his thirst for adventure.

I can also hear his words clearly. Talia, are you seeing this, can you feel? I feel more connected to you, to Szonja, to everything!

To Miriam? I think back to him hard, turning to the councilor.

“Try to reach out, imagine Fortiss in your mind, think to him as if you wish to connect to him.”