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Siban moved gracefully to the side so that Demos could exit.

The door clicked shut behind him. Ryder offered a glass to Siban.

They nodded. He silently poured them a glass and gestured for them to sit down.

With that normal, economical movement they did.

They sipped the wine and blood but said nothing about why they had come.

Siban… strong hunter… silent… says less than they feel… always on outside of pack , Weryn muttered. Survived War. Not a surprise.

They’re our Childe. Tell me about them. Some tender stories. How you met. Anything. We’ve come back from the dead for them.

Weryn didn’t answer. The memories were there. Deep inside of him. But if he reached in for them, he had no idea what he would be pulling out. So he held back. He had never sensed any connection to Siban. They had always watched him from afar, never gotten close.

The only time he had felt something was during his and Demos’ last hunt for a War Childe.

Siban had sought him out and warned them about a specific attack the War Childe liked to do.

It had saved his and Demos’ Second Lives.

Weryn’s strength and abilities hadn’t been with him then, but Siban’s advice had. They had helped.

“Was I always like that?” Ryder asked Siban as he sat down opposite them.

They lifted delicate eyebrows. “Like--”

“Crazy?”

Siban blinked and a faint smile came to their lips. “Ryder…”

“You came in here thinking I was still acting like Weryn?” Ryder asked.

Siban gave a brief nod.

“Why?” But then he shook himself. “Forget I asked that. I’m glad you’re here.”

Another brief nod. No agreement or disagreement with the sentiment, but that wasn’t abnormal for Siban. They stated, “I have known you longer as Ryder than I did as Weryn. ”

“But you must have known me better as Weryn. You’re... my Childe,” Ryder said awkwardly.

He wanted to feel a connection with Siban. There must have been tenderness there. He had chosen them, courted them, fed them from his own body, showed them the ways of Vampires and--

“I was a War Childe,” Siban answered.

Ryder felt his heart tumble into his feet. This he had not known or even suspected.

Silent. Solitary. Good for reconnaissance behind enemy lines, Weryn whispered.

They are our Childe! Why do you just speak of War? We must love them! Ryder asked.

And, for the first time, Weryn seemed to answer him, Love someone who will not last? What use is that?

We should not have made them if we didn’t want them! If we didn’t love them!

But Weryn was silent again.

Yet was this not what he had so blithely told Grayson that morning? About how love was reserved for those with immortality alone. A mortal--or a War Childe--would not survive long so there was no need to love them. No reason to. It was better not to get attached.

“I had no idea you were turned back then,” Ryder admitted. “You aren’t…” He stumbled for the right words.

“Crazy?” Siban smiled, mimicking his earlier statement. “I have not ever been one who has sought connection so the lack of it between us did not unhinge me like it did others.”

But what did it do? Nothing good, I’m sure.

Ryder’s shoulders slumped. Of all the things he had expected to hear, that Siban was one of the discarded War Children was not one of them.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Siban sipped their wine. “Yes, I know.” They stared into the glass of wine. “For years, Demos and others whispered that you were Weryn reborn. Your skill with shifting was unmatched. But I did not believe it.”

“May I ask why?”

Ryder assumed they would tell him that his failure to curb Lawson’s excesses or take control of the Bloodline would be their answer, but it was not.

“Everything I knew about you told me that you would never make a Childe you did not love and you would not send them out to war,” Siban answered.

Ryder felt like the air was sucked out of his lungs. “Oh, I--”

“But perhaps there is something wrong with me. Many have said there is, even before I was turned. I was not like others,” Siban said with a graceful shrug as if that explained everything.

Voice rough and raw with emotion, Ryder said, “There is nothing wrong with you.”

Faint frown lines appeared on their forehead. “But when you returned, you did not try to make a connection with me as you did with Demos. Even now, you don’t know what to feel about me.”

“Only because I don’t know what you need. I fear making a mistake. Compounding my mistakes,” Ryder explained.

Siban blinked and looked over at him directly for a moment. “I suppose I did not reach out to you either. But the Master--”

“Sets the rules?” Ryder flashed a pained smile. “I swear to you, Siban, there is nothing wrong with you. There is no reason I should not have bonded with you. The fault lies with me.”

“It is strange to have those words matter after so long.” Siban sipped their wine and blood. “In a way, it is unfair of me. I only knew you as Weryn after Ashyr’s death and the cruelty of war had honed you down to the bone.”

“I can’t remember that time…” Ryder stopped and corrected himself, “If I remember, my personality changes back to how I was or there is a risk of that. Balthazar has given me the choice of reintegrating my past with my present at a slower rate.”

Siban nodded and sipped their wine. “Do you wish me dead?”

“No!” Ryder nearly broke another wine glass. He lowered his voice and said, “No, absolutely not. On the contrary, I wish I could… fix this.”

Siban went very still and slowly they lifted their eyes to him. “Do you wish me as your Childe?” There was an almost lost note in their voice. Hearing it, Siban attempted to stand. “This is foolish talk. You do not need--”

“Yes.” He covered their hand with his. “Yes, Siban, I want you as my Childe. But do you really want me as your Master?”

Their hand trembled under his then stilled. “I would not be here if I did not.”

“I don’t know how to do this. Or what you need,” he admitted to them.

Siban gently stroked the back of his hand. It was a brief touch and then done and then they pulled away “Nor do I.”

“Demos would say that we just go one day at a time,” Ryder said.

“He would be right except it is night instead of day,” Siban corrected.

“Point taken.”

“That human--the boy, Grayson--he is… is he Ashyr?” Siban asked. “He held us. Stopped us from running. Which was wise.”

A single nod. “He does not know. He will be told in time.”

“You must be so joyous that he has returned,” Siban said without irony.

Ashyr… Ashyr… Ashyr… you’ve returned.

“I do not seem joyous,” Ryder admitted. “We just met. We connected immediately. I can’t stop thinking about him. I want him with me all the time.” Then he said, “He hates Vampires.”

Siban frowned. “But he is a student here.”

“It’s a long story,” Ryder admitted with a faint smile.

“The best ones always are.” A faint smile in return. “What do you wish, Master?”

Master?

Something stirred within him. A memory of Siban calling him that long ago. Of him ignoring that plea. But not this time. This time he would take all upon himself and be the Master that they deserved.

“About Grayson?” His heart did this leap in his chest when he even said the young man’s name.

“About him. About everything. Now that Lawson is gone and you are back in charge, what will you make of your Bloodline? What will you do?” Siban asked.

“I thought of this many times--not as Weryn--but if I were in charge. Yet what I did in the Ring and after has tainted that fantasy. For I no longer come as a hero,” Ryder answered with a press of lips.

“You come as a conqueror,” Siban suggested.

“Conqueror?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Conqueror does not sound so friendly.”

“True, it is different from a hero,” Siban agreed. “But that does not mean you cannot become beloved. We are your Bloodline. Mold us. Uplift us.”

There was a faint knock on the door. Ryder had sensed Demos’ approach. He called for him to come inside. Demos opened the door but hung on the threshold.

“They are all waiting in the courtyard garden,” Demos said.

Ryder frowned. “All--”

“None of them have left,” Demos said and there was a trace of happiness and relief in his voice. “They’re waiting for you in the courtyard.”

“What are they waiting for exactly?” Ryder asked.

Siban rose from their seat. “To await your judgment. Harlan gathered them.”

“My judgment? I’m not going to harm them--”

“I know. And now they will.” Siban bowed their head.

Ryder blinked. He realized what had occurred. “They sent you up first?”

“I volunteered.” Siban nodded.

“If I was still Weryn--”

“And you still wished us dead, they would have heard what happened to me and fled. Some would have,” Siban explained. “Others would have remained. You are our Immortal. We live or die by you, Master.”

“Siban--” Ryder was stunned into silence.

“You did not need Lawson as your Master. Demos had you so Lawson did not matter to him either,” Siban explained. “But I have you again. Or, perhaps, I had a chance of having a Master for the first time. I was willing to take the risk.”

Siban turned and left the room.

“Siban has a point,” Demos said with a lift of his shoulders. “They have you back. Let’s tell the rest you’re back, too.”