The Demon Queen Wants To Live.

The Archon stepped past his desk and gestured toward the door. I looked at Ash. Ash looked at me. Sol, from atop my head, looked after the old man and chirped once, as if she alone understood what was happening. We followed behind him.

The old man walked ahead of us with his hands clasped behind his back. The corridors beyond his study were livelier than those near it. Students moved between classes in small groups, grey uniforms flowing around us. Their voices lowered as we passed, though not all the way to silence. That was new.

We had gone perhaps twenty paces before the Archon stopped beside a group of three demonblood girls gathered near a tall window. I recognized one of them. Her hair was the color of frost. She inclined her head to the Archon. Her companions did the same.

"How goes the forging?" the Archon asked her.

The girl's shoulders drew in. The pale Line on her arm glimmered. "The mistress says I'm close," she said. "But I can't figure it out." It was the first time I had heard her speak. Her voice was very soft.

He nodded slowly. "It comes to everyone in time," the Archon said. "Try not to force it. That is the greatest mistake of all."

The girl nodded. She nodded too seriously for advice so simple. We walked on.

At the next crossing, a small human boy stood alone. He was staring at the yellow Spark on his arm as though it might leave if he looked elsewhere. When he saw the Archon, he straightened so quickly that the books in his arms nearly fell.

"Are you alright, Perrin?" the Archon asked.

The boy nodded quickly. "I'm alright. This- this place is just a lot bigger than I expected. Say…" he looked around. "Um- do you know how to get to the Beastlore class?"

It was bold, for a Spark, to ask the man who ran the Academy for directions to one of its classes. The Archon laughed, and then he gave his directions. The boy nodded fiercely as he wrote them down. "And do not worry about the size of the Academy. If it is large, that only means you will grow to fit it."

The boy beamed, and then he bowed. He did it poorly. His books slid against his chest, and he had to catch the lowest with one knee. Yet when he rose, he was smiling.

We walked farther. The Archon knew a human girl whose red Crest took the shape of a flower. He knew a demonblood boy with a single blue Spark and asked whether his sister's fever had broken. There were others. There were more of them than I could have counted had I tried. Human and demonblood, Crest and Sigil and Spark, and he seemed to know every one of them, and every one of them knew him.

When I had first walked these halls, the people in them had made it difficult to see anything except their fear of me. Most eyes still fixed on me, but now I noticed the way they fixed on the Archon.

My generals had respected me. I had believed that and Zarvok's journal had shown me it was even truer than I had allowed myself to think. But there had always been fear laced through it no matter how deep they buried the root. I saw no fear here. And where I did see a flinch, it was not the flinch of a creature that feared for its life, but perhaps of disappointing him. It was closer to the way I knew Heroes had been loved.

I looked sideways at Ash. She was watching the Archon greet another student, a small smile on her face.

"Tell me," the Archon said, without turning around. "Which of the classes did you prefer?"

"The music class," Ash said at once. I looked at her. She smiled wider. "And the conditioning class surprised me. The last thing I expected was a desert."

The Archon laughed again. "Inker Martial enjoys that particular surprise far too much. You know, that room doesn’t have to be a desert."

A group of students had stopped ahead of us to stare. Sol puffed herself up and chirped at them with great authority. One of the demonblood girls smiled at the bird rather than flinching from the woman beneath her.

The corridor ended at a pair of open doors. Beyond them lay a broad training yard. Several dozen students sat across it with their legs folded and their eyes closed. An Inker walked among them and bowed when he saw the Archon, and the Archon nodded back.

The demonbloods sat apart. There were only a handful of them, and they had gathered on their own stretch of grass, separate from the humans, with a clean margin of untouched green between the two. I suspected that no Inker had ordered this.

The Archon stopped beneath the shade of the doorway. He watched the class for a long moment. "It wasn't always this bad," he said. "Not in Koralis."

Ash glanced at me. I listened.

"There have always been tensions in this world," the Archon continued. "There are old wounds in these lands, and men have a talent for inheriting wounds they never suffered. But Koralis was one of the places in this kingdom where those tensions ran thinnest. The Marquis helped me do that, and then he undid it twice as fast."

"And that changed when the Marquis's son challenged Ilyasviel?" Ash asked the question I had decided not to.

"Just so." The Archon stepped into the yard. We followed along the stone path that cut through it.

"Young Elias always wanted to prove himself." The Archon's voice had gone quieter. "The boy had drive. A passion to improve, rare in one born to so much wealth. He gave himself to the teachings with a vigor most of his station never bother to summon." He paused. "And of course, he had a Sovereign mark. He had a bright future ahead of him. And then he challenged Ilyasviel."

I could set the pieces together now, with so many of them laid before me. "And the friend you knew," I said, "changed when his son did not wake."

"In the span of a single day. By the following morning, I hardly recognized him."

The Archon led us to the far side of the yard, where a low stone wall overlooked the middle ring of Koralis. Roofs crowded one another below. Farther off, layers of city walls curved beneath the line of the hill Koralis was built on.

"From that day forward, he made my life difficult at every turn. He pushed for instructors who shared his new views, brought in from other provinces. And there was no shortage of them from the other Academies. Stricter checks within the city walls. Threats to make my life harder still if I did not stifle the education of every child with demonic blood." His voice had dropped low.

He turned, and he looked at me. "All that and more, he has tried. I had thought he was lost to me until I saw him today. It was as though the years had not touched him. As though he had found something he'd lost." He looked past me, at nothing. "And perhaps he has. Thank you."

I have never taken well to being thanked, in this life or the last. On the rare occasions a general or a supplicant had thanked me, the words had fit wrong, like a garment cut for another body.

"Do not thank me yet," I said. "I have not healed his son. Perhaps I will not be able to at all. And if I cannot, then I suspect the man you thought lost will be lost in truth."

Sol let out a chirp from atop my head. It sounded angry, as if offended that I had doubted my own ability.

The Archon looked down at my forearms, at the black running down the right and the white running down the left. "You will be able to," he said.

"And why is that?"

The Archon turned. "Because you turned Corin from a Hollow -he said the word with open disdain- into a boy with a working mark. You both had a hand in that, I suspect." He looked at me, and then at Ash, and then back to me. "And because my men went to that village you hail from, Hamel, to take the vows of silence for the two of you. And they came back with the tale of a boy who had been rejected by the Ink. A boy who now bears a Spark."

I said nothing. How had they found out about Marin? Surely his mother had not said a word. Was Sara safe? Did they only hear or did they extract? I needed-

"Lysanthia," he cut in, "It was a story only one of my men overheard from the boy himself. I understand he was telling one of his friends and the guard overheard. Nothing more." How he had read my thoughts so cleanly I could not say. "Regardless, the soldier in question is loyal, and he did not speak to his friends. Even he thought it was just a curiosity, but I understood. You have now performed two miracles with those." He gestured at my arms.

"To heal the Marquis's son," the Archon said, "is a remarkable thing. But not an impossible one, for a Sovereign of the right mark. To give life to a mark that had none, or to take it from a Sigil-" He shook his head. "That is something else entirely."

"It seems that is a dangerous thing to speak openly then," I said.

The Archon smiled. "No one around us can hear a word we say."

"And how is that?" Ash asked.

"My power." He lifted his arm, and on it the Rune turned, that collapsing sphere winding endlessly inward. "I have weighed down the sound around us. Past a dozen feet, there is nothing to hear."

It was not something I had noticed, so far away from the louder parts of the Academy. There was no reason to believe the man was lying. I looked at the man's Rune. "That is a useful power," I said.

"I have told no one of what I know," the Archon said. "If I did, the two of you would be hunted to the ends of the earth. You would never know rest, however far you ran, however long you ran for." He looked between us. "So see that no one ever learns it."

"Why?" I demanded. "You take on a great deal of risk, if this is all as perilous as you claim. What do you expect in return for it?"

The Archon looked at me for a while before he answered. "Nothing," he said. "Save for what you are already doing."

"And what am I doing?"

"That which I, over the whole of my long life, cannot." He gestured again at the mark on his arm. "I am eighty-nine years old. It took me most of that life to reach the Rune. By the time I had the power to change anything, I was already a graying old man." He looked from me to Ash. "Much of my life had been spent reaching the place from which I could begin. The two of you will reach it far faster, I suspect."

A mere eighty-nine years was no great span of time for my kind. It was even less for the Demon Queen, whose class granted her a longer life still. I knew it was different for humans. For them, eighty nine years was already more than most would get.

Ash's jaw had set. "And if we don't continue to do as you want?" she asked. "What then? Will you expose us?"

"That will not happen." He said it as if it were simple. And he looked at me. "You healed Lena, after you had killed the thing inside her. Her life was safe enough by then. There was no reason to heal her as you did, with your power. Any of our healers could have seen to it." He paused. "Now, perhaps she will even take the Ink again someday. We shall see."

"That was not my intention," I said at once. Because it was true.

"I doubt it was," the Archon agreed. "But a man's nature often works faster than their thoughts."

There was nothing to say to something so odd.

Something in the Archon's face eased, and he almost smiled. "People always say that half-demons are strange. I have never found that a bad thing. It is a poor world where people are not strange."

Sol let out an approving chirp. The Archon looked up at her and the almost-smile became a whole one. "And naturally," he said, "that goes for you as well." Sol chirped again, louder.

Since he was being so forthcoming, there was one question I wished to see him answer. "Do you know anything of the black wrongness we saw in the girl, in the Arena?"

The Archon said nothing. His face did not tighten. There was no flinch. No muscle strained against restraint. He just stood there, perfectly silent and composed.

"Well?" Ash asked.

“A vow is a powerful thing,” the Archon said. “Lena’s vow will not permit her to see Lysanthia, nor even to stand in her presence, unless Lysanthia allows it. To her, the vow will feel like nothing. Perhaps she has not even noticed its hold upon her. For Lena, it will be a thing burning her from the inside should she ever come close to breaking it.”

I understood, then, that he had not answered my question. He had answered a different one. That he himself was under a vow that silenced his lips. Ash looked at me, and I knew that she understood the meaning as well as I. There were forces far greater than the Archon at play here. At the very least, it meant that someone else knew of that black wrongness, and had chosen, above all else, that no one should speak of it.

"I am glad you understand," the Archon said. He turned to survey Koralis. The city stretched below him. "I say this all to you because I have a warning."

I tensed. I felt Ash tense next to me. Even Sol stirred atop my head, though perhaps it was from her sensing my unease more than her own understanding.

"The Exarch of Arianeth, Arianrhod, is coming," he said softly. "She should arrive soon. Perhaps within the day. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps the day after that."

Arianrhod. It was a proud name. "And who is this Exarch?" I asked. It was a title almost as strange as the man's own.

"She is," he paused. "She is the most important woman in this kingdom. Second only to the King. And even that, most would argue with you." He turned back to face us. "She is also one of the Three Hands of the Divine. The only Script this kingdom has, that any of us know of. I told you once to stay hidden, so that you would not draw the eyes of people you should never wish to meet." He sighed. "She is one of those I meant."

Neither Ash nor I spoke. We both looked past him, out at Koralis. A Script. A stage beyond the Rune. A woman with the weight of a king. Perhaps a woman with a mark at the same stage as Morrigan.

"How far away is she?" Ash asked.

"She is in the capital." The Archon tilted his head. "Two provinces over."

"And you say she will be here in only days?" Ash asked.

"Distance," the Archon said slowly, "is only a small thing to her." When neither of us said anything, he continued. "You should have had years," the Archon said, and his voice had gone very low. "I told you that. Then I told you months. I did not think the story would fail this quickly."

"What will she do," Ash asked, "when she gets here?"

"I honestly do not know. The Exarch is a strange woman."

"Is there danger?" Ash's voice was fierce.

"I do not know that either," the Archon said, "She is the head of the Covenant in this nation. If she wished a thing done, there is no one who could gainsay her. No one, save the Divine herself."

A woman with true authority, then. Not like the Archon, who had only seemed to hold absolute power on the first day we had walked into this place, and who I now understood held far less of it than he wore.

"You do not have time," the Archon said. "When you return from the Marquis's manor, go to the Crest chamber. It is ready now." He paused, and something passed over his face. "Its previous occupant left it in no fit state for anyone. But we have repaired it as best we could, under the circumstances."

He looked at Sol, and then at me. "And go alone."

I felt the indignity rise in me. I opened my mouth. "Why?" Ash asked, before I could. I let my objection die between my lips.

"The Crest resonance chamber is not like the others," the Archon said. "I believe I have told Lysanthia as much before. They call it the Oldest Room. It and the Athenaeum are the two structures this Academy was built around, rather than the other way about. It has no fixed shape. Or perhaps it has too many. It attunes itself to those who step inside, and it offers them a challenge, pitched to their measure. The challenge increases based on who steps inside, and how many. That challenge must be cleared, or you cannot leave. Many have died in that room. And there are very few powers in this world that can open that chamber from the outside. Do you understand my meaning?"

"So if we were to step in with others," I said, flatly, "there is a chance of harm. Or death. To them. And even if not, the challenge will be harder than if we just went by ourselves."

"Yes."

"One of our companions is a Sigil," Ash said. "She should be able to handle it, if we can."

The Archon regarded her. For the first time since we had begun the walk, the weight in his expression showed plainly. "If the world was right," he said, "I would forbid the two of you as well. I would forbid you until you at least made the peak of Sigil, and even then I would urge caution. With everything that has happened…" He looked toward Koralis once more. "There is no time. Do not risk those who do not need to be risked."

Ash nodded slowly. "Very well," I said.

"I awakened my own Rune in that chamber," the Archon said. "Ren knows the way. She may lead you to its door, but no farther. I am afraid it is best if I do not meet you in private again. As for the Marquis, he should be simple to find in the Academy."

I thought of the dozen blue-clad Sigils outside his office. "I suspect so."

The Archon's mouth quirked. Then he turned from the wall and began to walk away.

"Archon, wait," Ash said. The Archon paused. Ash passed her hand over her left arm. The bracer materialized on her skin. She worked it loose, and held it out to him. Beneath it, ran the bare black Line of the Sever. "I don't need this anymore," she said.

The Archon looked at the bracer in her hand. "And you are sure of this?"

Ash looked at me. And she smiled. "I'm sure. Besides, I probably need this, if I want to follow her. Don't I?"

I looked at Ash. There were many things I might have said, and every one of them was too large for the words I had. Her disguise might not have lasted much longer than my own had, but knowing a thing might soon be lost was different than handing it yourself. Something inside of me was very warm. "That is good," I said. My voice cracked on the second word. I continued as though it had not. "That you would follow. Or I would have to drag you. And I believe you are the sturdier of the two of us."

The Archon took the bracer from Ash's hand. He was smiling, and there was pain in the smile. "Ah," he said. "To be young." He turned the thin dark band over in his fingers, and did not look up from it as he spoke. "The Exarch would have heard of the blazing Arbiter regardless of any of this. It seems now she will hear a great deal more." He sighed. He regarded the two of us. "You called me the Archon. You may simply call me Valtheris, for the two of you will not be in this Academy for much longer." He smiled. “Honestly, I like the sound of my own name better.”

Ash smiled. I almost found my own lips making the same treacherous expression before I forced them to stillness. I had heard the man's name spoken before. It was different to be given it.

Sol let out a mighty chirp. We all turned to her. She flapped forward off my crown, and I caught her in my cupped hands before she could fall. She craned her small neck toward the Archon.

The old man looked at her. "May I?" he asked.

"You may," I said, reluctantly. It was difficult to say otherwise, when Sol seemed so insistent upon it.

He reached out and brushed the top of her head with two fingers. "You are a fascinating creature," he said. His voice had gone soft. "A shame our time is cut short."

He stepped back. He looked at the two of us together. "I hope the Academy is a better place," he said, "when next we meet."

An odd way to say goodbye, I thought.

He started back towards the yard. I spoke when he was a dozen feet away. "Valtheris," I called out. The man paused, though he did not turn. "I will not forget this," I called to his back.

He started walking again. He never turned, but I saw his back straighten.

"He isn't what I expected," Ash whispered, when the man had turned a corner and gone out of sight. "When I first came here."

I could only nod.

When I first came to this Academy, I had waited for the trap. For the hook buried in the gift, the price hidden inside the generosity. A generous cage is still a cage. Perhaps this world still had a cage. This Archon had had no hand in making it.

"Come, Hero," I said. "Let us find this Marquis."