Archive of Our Own ^beta

If you were to ask Briar, she would say she had a perfectly normal childhood before she went to prison. She had a doting father-when he remembered her. And yes, she did tear people into bloody ribbons, but those were just chores! Other kids did dishes. It was no different. Either way, kids help around the house. Did she lick the blood off her fingers afterwards like it was the sauce of street food? Of course. She was raised by hemomancers. It was their culture.

With this in mind, you can perhaps understand why it never occurred to her that the words scrawled along her bottom right rib were important. No one had ever mentioned it. And it wasn’t impressive-only neat black letters, the first word shorter than the second. So really, what did it matter? It was probably a tattoo to identify her, like a cat’s collar. Either way, it was in Noxian script. Her dad had only taught her Camavoran.

Then Swain captured her, and Briar was wrestled into a prison jumpsuit and a hundred restraining belts so long she honestly forgot it was there. You know the rest of the story-pet spiders, broke out when she was twenty, blah blah blah.

After that first gulp of sharp dirty city air, Escape Buddy ran for his life. Shame. But Briar wasn’t one to be kept down. There were so many things to do: find new species of spiders, visit her father and Miss Emilia, suck the veins of that one cruel guard who always stabbed her with the spear instead of telling her to move dry…and, of course, make a friend. She couldn’t do that by moping around.

The Noxian capital was a strange place. People couldn’t even agree what it was called. Some called it Noxus Prime, others the Immortal Bastion. The following arguments seemed stupid to Briar. How much could a name matter? She’d forgotten all of her names but her first, but that made no trouble. It wasn’t like the capital was beautiful enough to even be worth fighting over. With the massive ugly buildings blocking off the sun, the narrow streets and city-wide commitment to gates, grates, and privacy walls, it was easy to forget she was out of prison. Briar quickly learned to stay on the roofs, away from the cage-like crowds.

The roofs weren’t easy to traverse. With her pillory, her balance was totally shot. By the end of her first day she’d fallen twice, earning bruised knees and a long scratch up her side. The summer sun turned the shingles scorching hot, blistering her feet. But birds would flutter by and Briar could roam any direction she pleased, occasionally waving to friendly-looking guards, so it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Late one day, as Briar laid on her stomach watching white pigeons, she thought, I need to find a hemomancer. It’d been weeks since her escape, and she hadn’t had blood or found any information about where her father was since. A hemomancer might help. Briar foggily remembered her dad huffing about immature students, so at least some hemomancers had to have history with him. And all hemomancers had blood stores.

Briar nodded to herself, then resumed watching pigeons.

Once the sun set, she at last stood and stretched. Every vertebrae popped. With a happy hum, Briar scanned the city. Where should she start? She guessed they wouldn’t be in the neighborhood she was in. It was too crummy and cracked. Hemomancers were all sorts of posh, forever dressed in velvet and lace. They’d live in the fancy neighborhoods, the clean ones. She had to find a nice neighborhood with a house smelling like blood.

The nice neighborhood part was easy enough. The houses with squeaky clean gutters weren’t hard to pick out from an otherwise battered skyline. Briar took a moment to hop off one of the lower houses and wash off her feet in a garden wall. It seemed rude to track dirt over such a clean roof.

The first house that seemed promising distinguished itself from its bland monolithic neighbors with a marble frieze of ancient battles. The scent of fresh blood leaked out of a cracked second floor window. Ah, Briar thought, they must be working magic. She backed up, then ran and leaped, landing on the windowsill. The thump of her landing was covered by a loud clang. Briar paused. That’s not a normal hemomancy sound. Usually it sounded sloshy and spluttery, occasionally accompanied with screams. Lots of liquid. Not the solid sound of a clang. Mindful of her pillory, she hooked her fingers around one half of the window and eased it open. She pressed her eye to the gap between the curtain. Oh, there was blood alright-splattered around the head of a man collapsed on the floor and dripping off the candlestick held by the butler crouched next to him.

That’s not hemomancy, she thought. That’s only murder!

With an indignant harrumph, Briar leaped over to the next house’s windowsills. Four houses later, another candidate presented itself. This house was boring, exactly like every other house on the street, except for the thick blackout curtains guarding each window. Briar sniffed again to double check. Yup, that was blood. Briar tried a couple windows but no dice. She thought about trying the door, but decided against it. What if it was another murder? Best to sneak in. But what entrance wouldn’t have a lock? Briar glanced up the roof and grimaced. “Gosh, I hope you clean your chimney,” she muttered.

They had.

Now on the second floor and minimally dusted with soot, Briar always crept through the silent dark house. The owner was a sadist, she quickly decided. Who else would have so many hard heavy decorations scattered on the floor but no lights? Briar had to move glacially to avoid braining herself on a statue. Finally, she found the door to hemomancer’s workroom. Easy enough when only one room smelled so delicious. She teetered on one leg, fishing with the other for a door handle. Please don’t be a doorknob, please not a doorknob…yes! The door swung in. Briar grinned. Once inside she kicked the door shut and went looking. The worktable had zilch. Same with the cabinets. Briar tried the cold box by the window, hope rapidly dwindling. The sweet aroma of iron leaked out. Jackpot!

Inside were five painted clay jars of blood crammed between chunks of ice. Briar’s mouth watered. Oh, it’d been so long. She shouldn’t. She needed to ask that hemomancer where to find her dad. But they weren’t there yet. Surely they wouldn’t miss a little smackerel?

Briar was licking out the last drops of blood when the door flew open. The hemomancer, a bearded man with an elaborate moustache, stared. “What”- he began to exclaim.

He collapsed, head rolling away like a lopsided billiard ball. Briar sat up. Standing over the corpse was a hooded figure wearing a peculiar ribbon cloak. In his hand was the blade that had cut through the magician’s neck. An assassin. Convenient. “Want some?” Briar asked, jerking her chin at the jar. It wasn’t as if the owner would chastise her for overeating or giving it away. Why not share?

For a long moment, the assassin was still. Long enough for Briar to catch the outline of his young male jaw, the only bit of his face not swaddled in shadow. The he fled. Briar shrugged and went to lick up the hemomancer’s blood. No sense in wasting it.

So busy was she gorging herself on blood, not once did Briar notice the faint tingle on her right side.

. . .

Noxus wasn’t big on public services. They were very much on that “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” moonshine. But there were some services they had to provide out of necessity. Bathhouses, to prevent epidemics. For another example, libraries. Briar, as any halfway sane broke person would, made use of all of them. She especially loved the library.

Despite it’s typically Noxian construction, it proudly bore two floors of stuffed bookshelves and the strongest musty book smell on Runeterra. It was said they sold the smell to addicted bookworms to make up for budget cuts during civil wars. Briar couldn’t yet read Noxian, but there were plenty of books to teach illiterates. There were even Camavoran books she could read fully. She found learning far more entertaining than stalking animals, even if no one was teaching. And of course, Briar was always looking for information on her family. Hey, they were old and magical. They had to have made it into a history book or two.

One rainy autumn day, Briar wandered through the aisles looking for books on spiders. She’d stooped to inspect a promising cover when something blinked against the stone floor. Kneeled a shelf down from her was a main in a very familiar dagger cloak. Briar froze. Did he know she was there? What was he doing? Before Briar could decide what to do, he looked up from the hardcover he was scanning. They locked eyes. Silence fell. A special silence. The embarrassed, terrified silence belonging to criminals who’d caught each other in the act and spouses who’d caught each other cheating.

Hmm, Briar thought. He’s not attacking me. He does kill people for a living, so he probably won’t judge a little blood-drinking. Maybe we could be friends.

“Hi. What’s your name?” Briar whispered.

He didn’t say anything, flatly staring like, really?

“I’m Briar,” she offered.

“I’m Talon,” he said softly, as if he didn’t want her to hear.

“Nice to meet you. For the second time. What are you looking for?”

“Pardon?”

“Books. Like, what are you looking for?”

“Oh. Um. Spy novels.”

“Cool. I’m looking for a guidebook to spiders.”

“In the fiction section?”

“I can’t read.”

“…oh.” He gave her a funny look. Briar couldn’t imagine why. “Try over there.”

He pointed. Briar followed his finger. “Oh. Thank”-

Talon was already gone.

The next time they met, it was on a rooftop above a busy street. Briar had been listening to a group of unusually talented street singers when she spotted Talon across the way. She waved, then vaulted across the street to stand next to him. He jerked back, but let her chatter about the city gossip she’d overheard, interrupting only occasionally. Eventually Briar made a joke and found herself without an audience. Unoffended, she meandered on with her day.

It became their custom as they moved into autumn. Briar would approach, Talon would receive the attention, and then he’d flee. He left later each time. Despite her total lack of progress on finding her dad, Briar was content. She’d made her first friend.

Talon’s family often forgot his name wasn’t Talon. It was easy enough. He’d never told them the real one. He hadn’t even mentioned he was an escaped slave. Like much of his history, he left that to his family’s guesswork. To him, it didn’t matter. From the day Marcus dragged him into the manor, he’d fit in like a furniture repair so fine one forgot it was a repair. He was quiet and well-behaved. He got on well with his sisters, especially Katarina, who encouraged his training with their father. When his father dragged Soreana and Cassie home after discovering their Black Rose ties through the change in Soreana’s name on his arm, Talon was nothing but polite and unobtrusive. He mourned with his father when his sisters were sent away to their powerful soulmates.

Best of all to Marcus, he’d never once looked for his fated match. Why would he? A tattoo on someone else exposing his most private thoughts? Having to move oceans to be with them? Upsetting his father? No thanks, thought Talon. Beyond being a Camavoran pretentious enough to use an alphabet dead for centuries, his soulmate had four extra names. How could a person like that possibly be worth knowing? Only once had it been tempting. One spring, neither of his sisters could visit and Mother hated Father again and refused to leave her suites. Aside from busywork and avoiding his parents, there was nothing else to do. But he’d held out. Talon treated his soulmark like he treated his scars. He dressed in the dark to avoid seeing it. Simple. Effective. Very Talon.

The summer Briar broke out, Talon finally had something to distract from the horribly empty manor. General Swain had given him and his father a mission: track down and assassinate Vladimir and his inner circle. At last, purpose.

Then of course, he ran into a short pallid woman on his mission, and then he was spending his free time stalking his-whatever she was. Friend didn’t fit. Her gregariousness was almost certainly a clumsy lure for betrayal. Or a fleeting interest prior to abandoning him. It was a total waste of his time, something to be reported promptly to Father.

He didn’t report to Father, though. When the family at last had dinner together and Father asked, Talon said nothing had happened on the mission. He told himself it was out of pride. No need to admit he’d screwed up and left a witness. But he kept seeing her and not telling Father. By the time he was staying in places easy for her to find, he could lie to himself no longer. He liked being around Briar. Disgusting.

Even if she’s innocent she’ll still desert me, he thought, inspecting the wolf spider Briar had gently trapped between her feet.

Screw it, he thought a day later as Briar gushed over his knives. If she’s going to leave, she’ll do it faster if I’m around more.

Briar wasn’t bad company. She admitted when she didn’t know or was wrong, and was thus in Talon’s view smarter than nearly every noble he knew despite having the education he’d had as a street urchin. And though Talon would never admit it, it was charming the way she got hyper over whatever new thing she’d heard. He was less fond of her exaggerated movements-dodging the pillory got old fast-but her healthy respect for his space made up for it. He hadn’t even had to tell her to, only dodge a hug. Talon had told Cassie every day for a year to stop touching him before it stuck, and Kat had still had to smack sense into her.

Halfway through autumn, Briar still hadn’t sold him out. It was deeply unsettling. Every time Talon spotted her bloodstained rest’s nest of white hair, his stomach turned. Was this it? Would this be the time he had to fight his way out?

One night, after Talon assassinated a hemomancer, he spotted a familiar gray woman a few roofs away. He breathed deeply through his nose. Really? Tonight? He was more tired than preferred for a fight, but he was armed and uninjured. He could win this.

Talon slunk along the roofs, carefully out of sight. It was painfully easy. The idiot’s not even keeping track of me, he thought, annoyed. She was hunched over the rain gutter. He jumped over, dagger already in hand. His feet hit the roof with a purposeful loudness. He wanted that burst of fear. He deserved it, after how long she’d drawn out his anxious suspense.

Briar didn’t cower as planned. She didn’t even do him the decency of looking up. Even dumber than I thought, Talon thought. He cleared his throat. At last, Briar jolted. Her round face whipped around to lock on him. Talon smirked, waiting expectantly for terror. Again, Briar didn’t grant it. Instead, he eyes widened and her mouth split into a grin oozing oblivious sincerity. “Talon! Did you look for me this time?”

Talon, faced with his sweet, stupid, undoubtedly loyal friend, sneakily sheathed his dagger. “Yeah.”

“Aw. That’s so sweet!”

When he returned home at three in the morning chased by rainstorm, he could deny it no longer. He had a friend. He allowed himself an embarrassed grimace and a good night’s sleep, then set about du Couteau protocol for loved ones: spying and compiling a dossier. Prison records, newspaper articles, half-assed wanted posters. He kept all documents filed neatly in his nightstand, not bothering to hide it. Father was busy enough to not notice his investigation, and if he wasn’t, Talon doubted he’d care. Thus were the spoils of being the good kid: trust.

It was somewhat disturbing to discover the details of her pillory. Compulsive cannibalism was a bit much even for the most coldhearted of assassins. Talon set down the arrest report and took a deep breath. Maybe reading this during lunch wasn’t his greatest idea. Especially when lunch was tomato meatball soup.

After lunch, Talon resumed reading. A strange picture formed. Briar was clearly magical, which fit. No natural creature could carry that pillory without its spine snapping. Nearly all the guards’ reports matched her observed personality-bloodthirsty, friendly, bizarrely fond of spiders. But that first incident… Briar was certainly numb to violence, even by Noxian standards, but Talon couldn’t imagine her tearing through people like that. Especially at thirteen.

Talon checked the clock and put away the books. Time for work.

After stalking and killing a hemomancer over three days, Talon returned to an empty house. Like, totally empty. A tension headache began to form. Please, he prayed, please let them not have left without telling me. He hurried up to his room, an overlarge thing mostly empty of decoration except for a few deeply embarrassing posters from his edgelord phase. He counted the stones away from the corner, removed the fifth, and cursed passionately.

Inside the secret cubby laid a note. We’re going to deal with business. No assignments. Rest-M, it read. Dammit. Father had definitely left for vacation-after pissing off two ancient sorcerers and their cults. Honestly. Talon couldn’t leave them alone for a second. He tried not to imagine what danger his sisters were getting up to without supervision. Talon loved them, but unfortunately, they were all purebred Noxian nobles. Only a cataclysmic humbling could overcome that kind of distilled privileged disregard for rules.

Whelp. Might as well track Briar in person.

Briar wasn’t in the library. Briar wasn’t in the morgue. Briar was, in fact, in none of her usual places. Instead, Tal found her in Mortoraa of all places. What in the world? Not only was Mortoraa one of the oldest, richest neighborhoods in the city, it was also the most stuck up. Of the three nobles bold enough to insult Talon’s background to his face, at least two were from Mortoraa. How had Briar not been thrown out?

Briar moseyed down the street. Talon followed, darting from alley to alley. Where is she going? Talon wondered. To raid another hemomancer’s stores? He didn’t know of any in the neighborhood. Briar did not stop at any houses, instead skipping to the garden at the center of the neighborhood. Full of exotic plants and surrounded by a tall stone wall with guards at every entrance, it was exclusive to residents. Talon had never visited. Briar walked up to one of them. Talon tensed, hand going to his hidden knives. Hopefully the guards wouldn’t hurt her for talking and getting confused, but he wouldn’t put it past them.

Instead, they smiled politely, checked her palm for…something, then stepped aside. Briar sauntered past like it was nothing. Talon’s brow furrowed. “What on earth?”

Unwilling to risk getting caught sneaking in, Talon found other avenues of research for the afternoon. Namely, records of real estate ownership in Mortoraa. He had to go back centuries, to a time when the tongue was Ur-Nox and not Va-Nox. Another one of those properties passed so easily through families that no one had bothered to update its ownership, it seemed. Its ownership was linked to an old manor only a block away, where he went next. The house was empty but for a couple maids and an old butler, who Talon eavesdropped on.

What precious little information Talon found illuminated nothing. The garden was private, full of exotic flowers and insects from Camavor and Kathkan, owned by a mysterious old mage. Only people with the mage’s approval stamped on their wrist could enter. How could Briar possibly have gotten that stamp? Why would she have even wanted it? Talon reread his notes once home and grimaced. Exotic spiders. Of course. He couldn’t have a normal friend, he had to have one as crazed about spiders as Cassie was about Shuriman archeology.

Talon checked back through his sources. He’d found nothing on the owner-not even their gender. He tipped his head back and groaned. Why did everything have to be complicated?

Talon and Briar kept meeting. Briar still sought him out most of the time, but occasionally he would move first. Slowly they settled into an unspoken agreement. Talon would be at the library on Thursday. Briar would ambush him. Then they’d stake out the city. Sensible. Talon still watched Briar for the first sign of betrayal, but slowly the suspicion faded, replaced by the realization that Briar couldn’t deceive her way out of a paper bag.

One Thursday, when Talon had worn older, duller clothes to match Briar’s jumpsuit, they walked on the cobblestone streets rather than the roofs. Briar didn’t have shoes, so she couldn’t do the roots with that night’s harsh winds and unending rain. Talon only half-listened to Briar’s rambling story as he scanned the street. Not for enemies, for once, but for an overhang. Talon could handle a cold but preferred not to, and only heaven knew what it’d do to Briar, she of indeterminate species. He spotted a covered alley by a pub. A bit loud and dirty, but it’d be dry. He tapped Briar’s arm. Her mouth shut with a click. Odd, Talon thought. Out loud he said, “Come on. Let’s go over there."

Only a few moments after they dipped into the alley, the telltale clank of city guard armor made its way down the street. Talon’s I’m-listening smile quickly slipped. Surreptitiously he snuck a glance at the windows across the street. One building away. Drat. He pushed Briar further into the alley.

See, assassins were fine in Noxus. Escaped prisoners? Not so much. And while the people of the city clearly didn’t care, the city guard might. They’d gone to the trouble of a wanted poster for her, even if she hadn’t ever been convicted of anything. Best not to risk it.

Briar, sweet oblivious darling that she was, didn’t know that context, and yelped like a kicked dog. “Hey! What are you”-

Talon covered her mouth. “Guards,” he whispered. Briar stopped fighting. They waited, listening intently for the scuff of boots. Thank the gods he’d worn dark clothes. He blended into the dark alley excellently, and blocked Briar’s white hair from view.

The steps came closer, closer, closer… They came into view-two humans in shining armor, one holding a lantern. They were moving slowly, examining every inch of the city. Thinking quickly, Talon turned to Briar. “You were saying about the library?”

“Huh?” Briar took a moment to catch on. They would be seen, but could be overlooked. “Oh! So anyway, the lady with the kids started nattering on”-

“Nattering? Where’d you learn that?”

“It’s a normal word.”

“Yeah, for my grandmother.”

“I read it in a young adult book!”

“When was it published? Mordekaiser's reign?” Talon asked with forced cheer, which for him was a slightly friendlier monotone. He was painfully aware the lantern behind them hadn’t moved.

“No, published in-I don’t actually know, but that’s not”-

“Oi, you there!” one of the guards called.

Mordekaiser’s eyeballs.

Talon turned, careful to shield Briar’s face with his body. “Can I help you?” he asked flatly.

The guard holding the lantern visibly sized him up. His companion, the one who spoke, hadn’t yet brandished her spear but held it as if she were about to. “Are you Talon du Couteau?” she demanded.

Normally, he’d tell them off but if he wanted Briar to stay out of the eyes of his father and the law, he needed to do this quickly. Talon kept his hands in clear view and said, “Yes.”

“Excellent,” the guard said, approaching. “The Crimson Circle sends it’s regards.”

Talon’s eyes went wide. The guard thrust her spear forward. Talon had been well-trained, but the alley was tight. He threw himself into dodging. He went for his knives, but he was not fast enough.

But Briar was.

The snick of her pillory unlatching was all the warning the guards got before she threw herself at them. She tackled the spearman, knocking away the spear.

Before she could push her off, Briar dug her claws in between the guard's ribs and ripped open her ribcage. Flesh and muscle came apart like torn cloth, each rib snapping like a twig. The spearman screamed, so Briar ripped her throat out. The alley fell silent. Impressed, Talon thought, Strong, direct, ruthless-my family would like her. This completely sane train of thought was rudely interrupted by the ringing of a bell. It slowed as the lantern guard noticed the two lethal glares suddenly upon him.

“Run,” Briar snarled at Talon. “I’ll handle this.”

Talon opened his mouth to protest, but Briar tore into the guard. Shouting guards approached. Cowardly, Talon was not, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. He was gone long before reinforcements arrived.

Talon swiftly darted across the rooftops. He noticed no tails, but Father had impressed caution too deeply into him to act as if that were true. He fled into the dark, lightless slums, then dropped to the streets and through the back alleys. He hid in an old unused clock tower. Its bottom floor was so dusty breathing felt like snorting someone’s cremated ashes, but it was dry and quiet, so Talon had little cause to complain. He leaned against a wall and listened. A few minutes later, a distant operational clocktower announced it was half past eleven. Half an hour and I’ll head back home, he thought and then tried not to ponder beyond that. He failed.

Was Briar alright? Talon hadn’t seen how many guards had come to help. Could she handle that many? Had she gotten locked up again? Were they already carting her off to prison? He clenched his jaw. I couldn’t have done anything, he reminded himself. I’m not trained to fight groups, and wasn’t nearly armed enough. It would’ve only risked the du Couteau name, being caught fighting the guard with an escaped prisoner. The public wouldn’t distinguish between infiltrators and public servants.

A queasy feeling grew in his stomach. What if Briar snitched? Or someone had seen him go into that alley? Had he ruined everything and lost his one chance at damage control? Would the Crimson Circle try to use Briar as a hostage to get him to stop hunting them? How’d they even know he was the one hunting them?

Once, Katarina had told him he needed to learn how to go without a plan, or “you’ll be as useful as a soggy matchstick when people don’t stick to your script.” He’d scoffed at her, thinking them the words of a reckless spoiled brat. As Talon buried his face in his hands, he wished desperately he’d listened.

For the second time that night, Talon’s completely sane and normal thoughts were interrupted by an unexpected sound. This time, however, it was the creak of a door opening followed shortly by Briar sneezing. “Ugh, gods, this place is dusty. Talon? Talon, are you here?”

Talon held himself back, observing her briefly. No sign of trackers. Definitely signs of a fight; her jumpsuit was torn like blades had cut into it, but her skin was smooth and clean beneath it. Her pillory was in one piece again. But Talon’s need for information outweighed his suspicion, so he stepped forward. “Present.”

Immediately, Briar was all up in his space. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?”

“Personal space,” Talon said, leaning back.

Briar backed off immediately. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Were you followed?”

“Nope. I killed lantern guy and got away before they got there. No one saw. No witnesses!” She smiled proudly. Blood was smudged around her mouth, just outside the reach of her tongue. Talon ignored the urge to wipe it off.

“That’s…good.”

“You aren’t hurt, right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Cool. That’s cool. Sorry, I know you’re super smart and good at fighting but I get worried, y’know? You’re only human. I didn’t want to risk it.”

Talon’s analysis of the situation tilted. “You were protecting...me?”

“Of course,” Briar said indignantly. “I like you!”

That did funny things to Talon’s heart that he chose to blame on lingering adrenaline and promptly shoved into a box. “Thanks. I like you too,” he said. Briar’s smile was too much for him. His gaze fled to the floor. “I’ve got to be going,” Talon said. “Will you be alright?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll huddle down in the harbor for a few days, that’s all. I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Briar said.

Talon stuffed something new into and started adding locks to the box of inconvenient about his kind, strong, protective best friend. “I’m fine. See you Thursday.”

“See you then.”

“Bye.” Talon fled manfully into the night, too flustered to notice their unspoken agreement was now very much spoken.

The next morning, Talon had a horrific realization. He couldn’t tolerate the thought of losing Briar’s company. She had too many charms, from her guileless bloodlust to her endless patience with his quirks, and had become a source of irreplaceable necessities in his life. How repulsive and weak of him to develop that dependence. He’d have to find some way to make Father let him be around her without interference.

But how?

His idea came next Thursday as he and Briar watched people decorate a town square for the winter holidays. Briar was talking about her time with the Black Rose. “Miss Emilia didn’t like me much, but she never let them do anything bad to me. It was actually pretty nice. I’m sure they wanted to do worse but everyone was too scared of my dad to do anything.”

Talon blinked. “You have a dad? I thought you were made, not..."

“Well, yeah. He raised me,” Briar said. “And even if he didn’t, it was his blood and hemomancy that made me so it’s sorta like he’s my blood father too. I look a lot like him, all pale with moon eyes.”

Wait, that sounds like-no. It can’t be. But just in case, Talon said, “That’s nice. What’s his name?”

“Vladimir vol something. I don’t know. We have a really long last name.”

Talon tried to hide his excitement. It was almost perfect. “Huh. Never heard of him. Have you seen him since you got out?”

“Nah. He’s pretty tricky to find and I’m pretty sure he’s off on business. He’ll find me when he gets back in town,” Briar said with obviously fake nonchalance. Talon sympathized. It was hard enough to be so far from his sisters; he could only imagine how much worse it’d be without letters or even knowing if they were safe. He didn’t ask further questions, letting Briar prattle about the different kinds of blood while he refined his plan.

The next time he and Marcus were home at the same time, Talon struck.

His prey lurked in his office, assembling a scheme against…something. Probably Vladimir and his wing of the Black Rose. Talon had only ever trained for assassinations, never military campaigns, so he didn’t understand or care to. The room was empty aside from his father’s desk, leaving the veined marble floor uncovered. An excellent choice, if one wanted to make sure no one could sneak in unnoticed. Talon would’ve found it more impressive if Kat hadn’t told him years ago the only reason it existed was cause Mother got sick of Father doing work in their bedroom. Y’know, back when they still shared one.

Father looked up as soon as Talon entered. His left palm was uncovered, exposing the name Soreana de Laval written across it. The soulmate was a dark grayish red that day-not fully hate nor love. Talon wondered what Father thought of her. Mother, while she’d given up the elaborate clothes she used to love in the first year of house arrest, always wore long sleeves to cover up the mark on her.

Soulmarks. What headaches.

Talon waited in front of the desk, arms folded behind his back.

Father sighed. “What is it, Talon?”

“I have a potential lead on Vladimir,” he said. “I’m seeking permission to pursue it.”

“What’s the lead?”

“His daughter.”

Father looked up. “He has a daughter?”

“Apparently. Remember that blood golem Swain imprisoned?”

“Faintly.”

“Made of his blood. According to her, he raised her as a daughter.”

“And how would she be helpful?”

“She escaped six months ago and has been looking for him since. She expects him to make contact soon.”

“Six months.”

“Yes.”

Father’s eye twitched. “…interesting.”

Talon’s pulse quickened. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not you. I don’t understand why a certain general is allergic to giving me all the relevant information,” Father said. “You’ve done fine.”

Fine? Talon thought indignantly. Not for the first time, Talon wished his sisters still lived with them so their parents could appreciate how well he did. They’d gone too long without sudden shocks. Why couldn’t Garen or Sivir have moved to them, instead of the other way around?

Father continued. “What’s your approach?”

“Befriend her and try to get information from there. She’s friendly, credulous, and generally unguarded, so it should be quick.” And we’re already friends.

“Didn’t she eat people?”

“Not anymore.”

By this point, Father had completely set down his notes and given Talon his full attention. There was nothing more frightening he could’ve done. Marcus du Couteau’s full attention was given to three kinds of people: his soon-to-be-dead enemies, disappointing subordinates, and his family. Talon wasn’t sure which one he was. “How do you know all this?”

Kat’s voice echoed in his head. Show no weakness, act like you were supposed to do this and above all, let his anxiety save your reputation.

“Research,” he said.

“Research?”

“Yes.”

“Would your sister approve?”

“Which one?”

“You know.”

“Kat? Yes.”

Father sighed. “Then please never tell me. My hair’s still red and your mother like it to stay that way.”

Talon tried to muffle his relief. “Then I have permission?”

“Yes. Do stay alive though. Your sisters are visiting this spring, and I’d prefer they not arrive to your funeral.”

Talon didn’t disguise his delight. “Of course.”

The frost came. Briar didn’t care at first, but then her body began to slow. Something was off. Maybe her blood was congealing. Would that, like, freeze her till spring? She didn’t want to find out. So, home she went.

It’d been years since Briar roamed the warren of tunnels beneath the Immortal Bastion, but it’d gotten no harder to find them. Not because she had a good memory or anything like that. Really, it was that the tunnels were cleaned with a specific cleaner that never changed. Miss Emilia liked the smell too much to change it, and somehow it never occurred to Noxian command to ask why people would randomly smell strawberry banana all over the city.

Once in the dark tunnels, it was a short trip to Dad’s house. Briar popped out into one of the living rooms. It was hard to tell which one. No matter the room, Dad always decorated the white stones and dark wood of his house with expensive red curtains, carpets, and candles. A housekeeper in a red and white uniform glanced at her and continued to clean.

“Your father’s out, young mistress,” the housekeeper said.

“I know, I know,” Briar said. Her father hadn’t been home for months. He was off doing something for Miss Emilia. “I’m not here for him. Are there any winter clothes I could borrow?”

“Naturally.”

Briar left bundled head to toe in thick black wool and a pair of old black boots Miss Emilia didn’t want anymore. Her body moved easily again. She smiled to herself then set about finding something fun to do. Spiders were gone for the winter. Hmm. Maybe people would do something entertaining in the square. She popped by a couple. Disappointingly, the only changes were the addition a few roasted almond stands and the subtraction of most of the people. Guess humans can’t handle the cold well, Briar mused. Everyone left was either working or boring. No one cussed out their spouse for sleeping with their brother that day. Briar quickly moved on, because really, if not for the gossip, what’s the point of being in public?

The library was still open, despite the weather. A mess of little oddballs clustered in the young adult section. Briar listened for gossip, then fished some of the beginner books off the shelf. It was as good a time as any to figure out Va-Nox. Plus, she really wanted to see the look on Talon’s face when she could suddenly read his books as good as he could.

She spent her week reading and chilling. By the time Thursday rolled around, Briar had graduated from the basics to single chapter books. The librarians raised their eyebrows, but Briar saw nothing unusual. Anyone who didn’t need to sleep would’ve done the same. Still couldn’t write at all, but that was more a pillory thing than a her thing.

She was hungry though. The library didn’t allow food, and Briar was pretty sure blood would count so she hadn’t eaten in a while. Eh. It wasn’t like she’d be any less hungry if she ate. She tried to ignore it, like she had in prison.

She’d just settled in with The Young Maid’s Guide to Battle when someone tapped her shoulder. Huh. That’s weird, Briar thought. Probably another parent asking her to take off her scary makeup. She ignored them.

They tapped her again. “Briar,” he said, amused. Briar twisted to find Talon, smiling faintly. It was a nice smile. Pretty teeth, from the little slice visible. Briar wondered why he didn’t smile more. Instead of his weird ribbon cloak, he wore a dark blue coat and a badly knitted red scarf.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “It’s not Thursday, is it?”

“Yup. Meet me outside. I’ve got a present for you,” Talon said. “Afterwards, we’ll go look for your situational awareness.”

Briar cocked her head. A present? For me? She couldn’t imagine what it could be. It wasn’t like she’d ever asked anything. She nudged her book closed with her nose and followed Talon as he strolled to the exit.

Outside, they sat on a bench. Talon buttoned his coat and pulled out this…thing. Briar squinted at the ceramic, two-part cylinder. “What’s that?” she asked.

“A thermos,” Talon said, unscrewing the top.

“What am I supposed to-oh.” The coppery smell of blood wafted out. Briar’s mouth watered. “Really?”

“Lamb’s blood, fresh from the butcher. Let me know how you like it,” Talon said.

“Thank you,” Briar said, eyes stuck to the red sloshing around. “Um, how do I drink it?”

With some coordination and a few clinks of the thermos against her teeth, Talon set it against her lips and tipped it to pour blood in her mouth. Briar gulped it greedily. The blood warmed her throat, and for a brief moment her hunger quieted. It was as close as the little weapon had ever gotten to peace.

When Briar had been small, before the hunger, Miss Emilia had once shared one of her rosewater snacks. It came to mind, and for a moment Briar couldn’t figure out why. Only when Talon took away the gentle scratch of his calluses against her skin did she realize. It was the only other meal she hadn’t had to fight or steal. Her eyes opened. Talon took away the thermos, stowing it in his coat. Briar licked her lips. “Thanks. Talon. That was…really tasty.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Technically Briar didn’t worry about it. But she did think about it. A lot even after they split up. Mostly about what she could give in return. She couldn’t let him give her stuff without giving anything back! What was she, a pet?

Her first idea, of course, was food. An equal exchange, right? Problem was, humans weren’t as simple as Briar. They ate many kinds of food, and had preferences, intolerances, and gods knew what else. How would she even carry it around? Not an option.

Unfortunately, Briar didn’t have many other ideas-even when she went on a good thinking roof, all snowy and high up. Talon had never talked much about himself. He dodged questions like they were arrows. Briar knew he had two sisters, was a very good assassin, had a fancy last name, and liked spy novels. Oh, and he was human. Obviously. But that was it.

At that point, Briar got bored and went looking for blood. A couple days later, as she was digging through a rats nest with her elbows, she remembered, oh right, a present for Talon.

She caught a rat with her mouth, nearly gagging from the fur on her tongue. The rat squealed. Briar crunched down, sat, and started peeling off the fur, which was quite tricky with no hands. I guess I’ll have to go with something he biologically needs. Like food, but not. What else do humans need?

She dropped the now shredded rat onto her leg. With her other foot, she began picking off bits of pelt and tossing them away. I guess humans need to talk to people, but you can’t give human interaction.

Once the rat was naked, Briar bit again. She grimaced. The blood had already gone lukewarm. They need to be not sick, have water, stay warm… Stay warm! Briar’s mood instantly improved, mediocre blood aside. She had an idea.

The first step of her plan was to get money. As she had no job, you’d think this would be difficult. Luckily for Briar, she had two things going for her: invulnerability and a healthy supply of drunken idiots. Even luckier, the army was in town. The bars were full of drunkards without a clue who she was.

Briar waited till eleven. Soldiers were good and wasted then, but not so drunk they’d start heading home or being violent. She strolled into a decently sleazy tavern and struck up conversation. It was never hard. For some reason, a lot of men liked talking to her. Then she’d say it, that killer line, “I have a really high pain tolerance. It’s like I don’t even feel burns.”

“No way,” they’d say.

“No, really. I bet you five gold it won’t hurt me if you put out a match on me.”

A few minutes later, she’d have her coins with no difficulty. Good sports, those soldiers. Even when she skipped off with their money, they watched her go with a smile. Briar liked them.

Two nights of bar bets later, Briar had enough gold coins stuffed in her boots to bring her height up an inch. It hurt like heck when she walked. But they might as well have been the softest socks in existence for all the pep in Briar’s step. Finally! She skipped into a little shop on the border between posh and poor neighborhoods. The cashier, tired and used to eccentric Noxians, had no quarrel helping her around the pillory. Briar pointed at the thing she wanted. “That one please.”

The next Thursday, Briar bounced over to where Talon was nodding off, hunched over The Secret Shuriman. “Talon!”

He jerked awake. “I’m up!”

Briar giggled. “I see. I got you a present.” She jerked her chin down at her pocket. “Come on, take it.”

Blinking, Talon reached into her pocket and pulled it out. He studied the blue and black fabric. Briar waited expectantly. Whatever answer he was looking for in the thorny vine patterns, he didn’t find it. He looked up. “What is it?” he asked.

“A face mask,” Briar said as brightly she could, hoping he’d be tricked by her voice and ignored her nervous rocking. “Your scarf covers your neck, but your face is always bare, so I thought you might be cold.”

She held her breath. Talon considered the mask, then wrapped it around his face and tied it behind his head. He didn’t smile. After all, it was Talon. But his voice was more slush than ice when he said, “Thank you,” and that was plenty.

The next time they met, it wasn’t Thursday. Instead, it was at a fancy midmorning party thing. Briar wasn’t clear on what it was. All she knew was Miss Emilia had hunted her down, overseen her change of clothes, and shoved her into this shindig with the order to “Be distract-actually, simply be you.” Briar didn’t like having so little knowledge, but no one said no to Miss Emilia.

Briar wasn’t even wholly certain where she was. Miss Emilia had pushed her out of a tunnel by a fireplace and shut the door behind her. The ceilings were low, and the labyrinth of rooms was full of people Briar’s age in elaborate clothes like her dad’s and heavy, pretty furniture that seemed to be there to make it hard to walk. At least she didn’t have to navigate with her pillory. Part of the Emilia makeover was swapping her pillory for enchanted vambraces. Briar wasn’t sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, it was great to use her hands. On the other, her frenzy was locked far from her reach. She was trapped in sanity and weakness. She felt like a snail stripped of its shell.

The rest of the makeover was less emotionally loaded. She’d been cleaned, washing away the blood in her hair, and stuck in a white cotton underdress and then a corset and a matching black overdress and high-collared waistcoat. Briar had snatched a glance at the mirror before Miss Emilia marched her off-enough to know she looked like a feminine version of her father, except for the gold necklace Miss Emilia had given her. Briar and her dad had always worn silver. She wasn’t sure what the change meant.

For lack of better things to do, Briar wandered through the candlelit rooms looking for food. She’d never had any besides blood. She found none, because of course the first party she went to had to suck. Briar sulked by a statue of a man way too interested in a lady’s chest. Be you, Mordekaiser’s rotting teeth. Did you mean hungry and confused? Cause then this is totally working.

Sulking got boring after the first forty five seconds. Briar switched routes. Maybe she couldn’t get food, but maybe she could find a friend instead.

One boy, heavy set and dressed in a red suit, wasn’t talking to anyone. He smelled of blood, so he was probably a hemomancer. Not a bad place to start. He liked blood, she liked blood. See? Already had something in common.

She approached with her usual grin and an outstretched hand. “Hi! My name’s Briar. What’s yours?”

He sized her up, then wrinkled his nose and walked away. Huh. That’s weird, Briar thought, before wandering off to try again. She wasn’t the sort to be put off by one little failure. It’d take more than that to get her down.

Eleven more failures, to be exact.

After that, even Briar wanted to go die in a corner. Alas, there were no empty corners because someone had crammed a plant or a statue into all of them. Briar settled for slouching on an empty couch, clenching her jaw to keep her composure.

At that moment, Talon strolled through the door. Briar straightened. There were so many hemomancers and nobles there. It was almost definitely a Black Rose party. Talon was super not in the Black Rose. So why in the Gray Realm was he here?

While not as flashy or elaborate as the others, he was definitely dressed formally. His face, stoic as ever, explained zilch. Briar watched nervously as he scanned the room. Was he looking for traitors? Here for fun? Would he be mad she was here? He finally landed on her. He stiffened. Briar waved nervously. Surprise! Talon hesitated, then stalked over and sat beside her.

“Hey, Talon.”

“Hey,” he said. He sat casually, but Briar heard his pounding heart. He was stressed. Something was going wrong.

She leaned in. “Talon? Is this a brand new super-secret murder mission?” she whispered.

Talon’s fingers flexed on the couch. “Something like that.”

“Ah.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Um. My…” Briar searched for the right word to describe Miss Emilia. Nothing quite fit. She took her best guess. “…stepmother ordered me to come here. She’s the one who swapped out the pillory for these things.” She drummed her knuckles against the vambraces. “Not sure what I’m supposed to do, really. Not like anyone wants me here.”

“I get it,” Talon said. They locked eyes. “They’re wretched, aren’t they?”

A snicker escaped her. “Stop that.”

“No, I’m right. Let me guess-they treat you like you don’t exist because you don’t play their games, but won’t tell you the rules?”

Briar thought of the sneers, of some, the way others had gone deaf when she’d greeted them. “Yeah.”

“I bet. They did the same when my father started taking me to these.”

Briare tilted her head curiously. This was the first time she’d heard of his parents or background. It was an opportunity she couldn’t miss. “You’re a noble?”

Talon’s heart sped up further. “Adopted in,” he said with false ease.

“What does adopt mean?”

His heart was a champion sprinter the way it was racing now. “It’s when a family makes a child part of it when they’re not blood related.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Briar said. “Any idea what we’re supposed to be doing?”

“Cower and beg to fit in with these brats, likely.”

“How do we do that?”

“Why would you want to?”

Briar shrugged. “I’m stuck until she picks me up. Might as well.”

“Might as well lower yourself to fit in with your inferiors?”

“I’m not better than anybody.”

“You’re better than nearly everyone.”

The gap in conversation was filled by surrounding prattling and the music of a distant harp. Briar studied the jester pendant on her necklace. She no longer listened to Tal’s heart, distracted by the fluttering of her own.

“I don’t want to embarrass my dad,” she admitted quietly. “Or you.”

“You aren’t embarrassing,” Tal said firmly. “But if you want to play by their rules-I’m not as good as my sisters and it’ll take more than one night. But I can give you the basics.”

Briar’s insides turned all warm and gooey, like tea with too much honey. She squeezed her skirt to keep from squeaking. “Sure. Please. Thanks.”

They stayed on the couch breathing the scented smoke as Talon explained in a low voice for ages. It was the most Briar had ever heard him speak, and the first time she’d seen his face unobstructed by hood or mask. It was a good face-solemn, yellow eyes, peppered with fading scars. Beautiful but tough. He was strong and survived hardship. He may not have looked it, but he possessed the strength all Noxian prized. Briar liked it. She liked what it meant that he let her see even more.

She basked in his attention, trust, and utter lack of judgement for as long as she could. And that was a long while, till candles had burned into stubs and a grandfather clock rang scoldingly. Talon went still at its clangs, and left quickly. Briar waved him off, warmth lingering in her chest.

Miss Emilia arrived not long after with the pillory.

As winter marched on, so did Talon and his father’s campaign against the Crimson Circle. One by one, Vladimir’s top hemomancers perished. The ringmaster remained out of reach, however. All attempts to find him were like grasping mist. Talon began avoiding home, if only to avoid his quietly irate father. When Talon couldn’t escape the manor, Father asked innocently on his progress with Briar. Talon told a version of the truth-he was building trust. He didn’t let on that Briar’s trust was well-earned, or that he was close to asking Briar outright to help find and capture her father, if only to get her leniency from the Trifarix. The only reason he didn’t was wariness of the results. If he told her and she didn’t comply, she could warn Vladimir and Talon would have lost his only lead. If she helped, she might not be able to hide her allegiance well enough to not tip off their prey. Her ignorance was, unfortunately, necessary. Talon kept his silence.

Their routines changed. Well, Briar’s side didn’t. She was friendly as ever, utterly unaware they might have more eyes on them. It did no favors for Talon’s guilty conscience, but staying close was too pleasant for shame to drive him away. Even when he’d missed his target at the strange party-the one he still wasn’t sure why Briar was at-because he was helping her, he came to her again only a few days later. The mask she’d gifted him warmed more than his face.

Talon wasn’t daft, though. When walking the snowy streets or in the very public library, he held back his impulsive compliments and kept his mask pulled up to hide any smiles or blushes that spies could misinterpret. He spotted no eyes from either father. He stayed cold as a black hole always. Just in case. No matter how heartbreaking Briar’s confused face was.

In private, of course, no such restrictions applied. He stayed as close as he pleased in their clocktower conversations and spoke freely-albeit in a hushed voice. It was the happiest he’d been since Cassie left for her soulmate and marriage-maybe even happier, since Briar almost certainly didn’t have a soulmate to rip her away. Heavens knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

They were the best of friends. Friendly friend-y friends. It meant nothing that he was more charmed than insulted when she started calling him Spider-Boy (because of his skill at stealth and climbing), or noticed how fascinating her freckles were (they were uncommon in nobles, understand? It was normal to find rare traits interesting). Nothing for his father to worry about.

Talon was vaguely aware this may not have looked convincing to outsiders, but he knew better. People were foolish, too quick to read into things.

Soon the winter solstice passed. Even on the days Talon wasn’t avoiding his father, he was out before dawn and back after dark. It was a wonder he wasn’t more embarrassingly dressed, given he couldn’t be bothered to light a candle to do so. His dreams were empty most of the time, drowned by exhaustion and work.

Most of the time.

Briar and Talon were in his room. His parents were off somewhere-the details escaped him. Briar wore the first outfit, the jumpsuit that left her back and most of her thick, pale thighs exposed. Talon closed the door. Her pillory was gone, and she lifted his cloak off his shoulders. She pulled him down to kiss him. He kissed back, pulling her against him. Then they were on the bed and she was sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of his hips like they hadn’t been driving him insane for months. The words slipped out of him like a prayer, “I love”-

Then he woke up, hot like a frying chicken, grabbing for someone who wasn’t there. Talon stared into the dark of his room, then buried his head in his hands. “Fuck.”

It wouldn’t be the only dream of its ilk. Talon tried not to think of what they might mean. Because if he thought about it, he’d know, and if he knew, soon his father would. And his father could never, ever know.

Briar was not a fan of this whole ‘winter’ thing. It wasn’t just the weather-though, don’t get her wrong, that was definitely part of it. The cool part of not needing to sleep was she could spend her nights doing whatever she please. However, when it was too cold to leave whatever attic she’d hid in, that was a moot point. No, the really nasty bit was something about those shorter days made it seem to people that it was a-okay to go after her. Swain and Darius’s guards lurked around every corner. What a pain. On top of all that, Talon was acting strange-in a new way. In the streets he was as quiet and withdrawn as he’d been when they first met. But when they were alone, he’d talk as much as her, quietly whispering stories of his training like they were hiding under the covers at a sleepover from her dad. Briar loved it-at last, she knew a little about him. He was Talon, a street kid adopted under a street name into a noble family for his assassination gifts. A true Noxian success story. He never mentioned his birth name, but Briar didn’t bother with that. He said his family didn’t know it either. In private their situation was as good as the richest blood, but still strange.

Even stranger, he finally came closer to her. Not touching, as much as she wished he would, but close enough that she could feel the heat of his leg separated from her by a centimeter-thick wall made of air, fear, and disinterest. Most peculiar and fustrating, he never took off his face mask. With that cold stoicism it was already hard for Briar to read him, but with his mouth covered it was almost impossible. Once he stopped looking her in the eyes, it was totally impossible.

She hadn’t even done anything! She hadn’t eaten anyone in front him, or spooked him, or so much as tapped him with her pinky. It was like, bam! One day, full view of pretty gold eyes, the next, no Briar, no looking at you, the wall over your head’s much cooler. Rude! Mean! A betrayal of the highest order!

It was nice he liked his present. The recipient wearing it constantly wasn’t a bad result for Briar’s first stab at gift-giving. Score one for Briar! Take that Emilia. Who says I’m too feral to be worth socializing?

Though maybe that wasn’t fair. Miss Emilia hadn’t said that since Briar was three. She might not even believe it anymore. Even if she still wouldn’t tell Briar where her dad was…

Briar didn’t ask why things with Talon changed. If her chattiest guards wouldn’t tell her why she was in literal actual prison, then someone as quiet as Talon wouldn’t tell on something as little as that. Probably wasn’t anything mean anyways.

It still bugged her.

Like, were her eyes too weird-looking? She could change them. She wasn’t sure how, but she would. She missed friendly eye contact. She missed hugs even more. Sometimes she felt like she was going to die if someone didn’t touch her, like the books said babies would. Stupid, she knew. If starvation, dehydration, and exhaustion couldn’t take her, not having enough hugs wouldn’t either. But then neither would not drinking blood, and it wasn’t like she’d stop craving that anytime soon...

She was walking to the library, having decided to ask for a hug, when footsteps started echoing hers a little too neatly. Bat ears: total lifesavers. Briar tried not to groan out loud. These guys again. Why couldn’t Darius’s people leave her alone? She wasn’t eating anyone. At that time. Briar thought. She couldn’t go to the library, because then Talon might get hurt and blood could stain the books. Maybe she could lose them? No, her pillory was too big and odd to miss and made it hard to hide in tight spaces. She needed somewhere wide open to frenzy-that’d scare them off. There was a courtyard down that street, right?

She ducked in, numb to the gross smells, and immediately froze. A squad of soldiers with axes waited.

Briar had learned though. She snapped her pillory in two. Run fly fee pain spear? No hack with chain pulling hurts rip out scream pain heal fight fight flee tight kill drink kill flee flee flee need safe father’s gone mother’s gone but he mate? Friend? Not here doesn’t matter flee defend no he’s here he he he Talon.

Briar’s pillory snicked back into place. Blood and gore soaked her-dripping down her chin, clotting in her hair, stuck under her nails. She felt none of it. Only the gentle warm pressure of Talon’s arms around her.

“Are you back?”

She rested her head on his shoulder. Please, gods, let this last forever. “Yes.”

He pulled away. Briar half wanted to cry. His clothes were now soaked with blood too. He’d never want to touch her again. “Good,” he said in a tone as readable as a five year old’s waterlogged diary. “We need to hide.”

They ended up in the usual clocktower. Briar softly apologized as soon as the door closed, but Talon waved her off. “You were protecting yourself. Don’t apologize for that, he said. Briar opened her mouth to respond, but then he pulled off his cloak and shirt. And oh. Oh my. Those were muscles and scars, the trophies of hard work and bravery. Gorgeous.

That wasn’t hunger in her belly, was it?

Once he’d changed his clothes, Talon said, “I’m sorry for not being there. I should’ve protected you.”

“No, no. I’m stronger. It’s my job to protect you.”

Talon huffed, pretending to be insulted. “How bout we protect each other?”

“Deal,” Briar said, all casual like a thought from earlier wasn’t echoing in her head like a death sentence: Mate?

If Talon were asked to rank his family in terms of his favorite, he would skip to the inevitable end of that exercise and slit his own throat. If instead he were asked that question’s more diplomatic sibling, who are you closest to, he’d say, Father, Katarina, Cassie, Mother. In that order. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Cassie or Mother. It was simply, well…you can only get to know a person so much when they’re your prison warden’s adopted son. Talon loved his father, but not enough to redirect blame for the state of things for him. Mother wasn’t nasty, but Marcus taking Talon in without telling her and then locking her in the house was an enormous mountain to look past.

You can thus understand why Talon went white like dead coral when he snuck back into his room to find a note in beautiful calligraphy on his pillow.

Meet me in my sitting room tomorrow morning. Don’t wear work clothes-Soreana.

What did I do? Talon thought despairingly. He tried to remember everything he’d done in the past few weeks. He hadn’t left his shoes lying around or said anything about her. What else could it be? There was no question she was upset. The single, solitary time they’d spoken privately was because he’d spilled ink on one of her dresses. He’d practiced writing in the garden after that.

After another night of agonizing yearning dreams about Briar he seemed to now be condemned to, he didn’t leave before dawn. Instead, he dressed in what he guessed looked normal: a light shirt and loose pants, all dark blue. Yes, everything in his wardrobe was blue. He had a very honest understanding of his skills in color matching. Talon crept through the halls to Soreana’s wing of the manor. She distinguished her territory from the rest of the house with security risks-ahem, decorations. The wing wasn’t quite as crowded as the party he’d infiltrated, but it was close. Soreana’s sitting room was marked outside by a table holding a small painting of their family and two ornate candelabras. Talon eased the door open and slipped inside.

Light poured through the massive shining windows, illuminating a room covered in fabric. Tapestries, carpets, blankets draped over every surface in the room. Mother sprawled across a chaise, a fur-lined coat and hat sitting next to her. She wore lace gloves with her dress, Talon noticed. She hadn’t done that in years. Had the house arrest finally been lifted? But then why would she be cross with him?

“Hello, Mother,” he said.

Mother jolted. “Goodness' sake, Talon. You scared me.”

Talon winced. He’d forgotten his mother wasn’t as attuned to his gait as the rest of the family. “My apologies.”

“You can’t keep doing that. I’m getting old,” she said, gesturing to her silver-streaked black hair. “One day it’ll kill me.”

“Maybe a bell would work.”

Mother hummed. “Perhaps. Are you available today?”

“Er. Yes.” His next mission was in a week, and he hadn’t technically made arrangements with Briar. Only with his brain to watch her from the rooftops and keep away enemies. Upon reflection, he considered perhaps taking notes on relationships from Father was a bad idea.

“Excellent,” Mother said. She gathered her furs into her arms and stood. “Then you’ll have no problem chaperoning me while I shop.”

“Shop?” he asked, before he could hide his surprise.

“Is there an issue?”

“No, no,” he said. Mentally he responded, you haven’t done that since Cassie left. And even then you always took Kat or Father. “Does Father know?”

“I’ll tell him before we leave. Grab a coat. It’s cold out.”

They went to a middle-class shopping district. Talon didn’t know why that surprised him. It wasn’t like she could show her face in anywhere high class, having snitched on the Black Rose. It was nice enough, he supposed. Clean, comfortably within classic Noxian drabness. The workers were nice, though that might’ve been his mother. Non-nobility were nicer to her than anyone else in their family. Father said it was because they mistook her for weak. Talon always thought it was because she was the only one who moved like a normal person. Cassie pranced, Kat sauntered, and Talon and Father stalked. Soreana walked. It made her seem like a person rather than a demon who’d use your bone marrow to sweeten her coffee.

The morning passed slowly. Talon hung back, merely following his mother from store to store, speaking only to answer her occasional questions. For her part, Mother browsed silently and only rarely picked something up. She didn’t buy nearly as much those days. After Swain forced her to betray the Black Rose, she’d lost most of her own funds and refused to use Father’s. Talon respected the pettiness. You ruin my life because it affects your career? Fine. I’ll never affect a thing of yours again. If Marcus ever pushed the issue of sleeping in the same room, Talon was sure she’d sleep on the floor.

Why his dreams were so fascinated with him ruining his friendship with Briar to pursue something like that, Talon couldn’t fathom. Even if he and Briar would never think of doing thing so callous to one another.

They ate lunch at the Safe Harbor Teahouse, the one owned by Kat’s friend Drann. Afterwards, Soreana declared she was done with shopping and would like to walk by the marina please and thank you. Why, he hadn’t the faintest idea. Noxian harbors were nasty. But it made his mother happy, so off they went.

It was then the trouble started. While Soreana sized up a pastry stand, a low rumbling began. The street shook beneath them. Pebbles danced atop the cobblestones. Brow furrowed, Talon scanned the street. The pitching feeling of an earthquake was missing, but what else could it be?

The universe answered with a person careening down the street followed by a mob, a veritable tsunami of armor and weaponry. The mob’s unfortunate prey was difficult to see, a little white blob carrying some heavy dull iron contraption. Talon squinted. His stomach dropped, and he seized his mother’s arm. “Mum. We need to leave.”

She stared at him. “Mum?”

“There’s a mob. We’ve got to get off the street.”

“Rats. Where to?” She followed Talon’s pointing finger to a ladder leading to a rooftop and moaned. “Really? You and your father, I swear…”

Mother climbed first. Talon was nearly at the roof when Briar spotted him and called. He grit his teeth and hauled himself up, missing the surprise and hurt on Briar’s face. “Are you alright?” Talon asked when he spotted his mother hunched over the edge, watching the mob pass.

“Perfectly fine. Did you know them?”

“No,” he lied. He couldn’t risk exposing his father’s operation to anyone, even his mother, and certainly not the truth of their…relationship. In a house arrest she might’ve been, but his mother had ruled the court and marriage politics of Noxus before. Talon had no doubt she’d sniff out any friendship, or worse, the stupid, moronic love attraction on his end.

“Hmm,” Mother said. The clanking and shouting faded. Talon checked the street. Taking advantage of his distraction, Soreana sprung her trap and released a heap of trouble on his head. “Will you ever move out?” she asked blandly.

“Uh-what-do-do you want me to move out?” he stuttered out. Evry question had its right answer, but Talon hadn’t studied for this one.

“Not what I asked,” she said. “Are you going to or not?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. Father needs me. I’ve never thought about it.”

“Twenty-three years old and you’ve never thought about leaving your parents’ house.”

Talon felt a bit as if he’d fallen into a pit drenched with coconut oil and was trying to climb out. “No-yes-I mean, I thought about what I’d do if you kicked me out but that was really it.”

“What would happen if you got married?”

“I’m not getting married.”

Mother raised her eyebrows. “You’re not?”

Talon looked away. “It wouldn’t be fair. My soulmate’s from Camavor. I’m from Noxus. One of us would have to leave their whole family and world. I’m not doing that, and it’d be beyond unfair to demand it of them. And then I wouldn’t marry anyone not my mate because then I’d be depriving them of the same.”

“Ah,” Mother said. “You’re not leaving our house so someone across the world doesn’t have to leave their family’s house.”

Talon dragged his hand across his face. “It’s not like-I can’t do that to Father. Not for a third time.”

“Very considerate,” Mother said, standing. “It’s a shame really. You would’ve been an excellent husband.”

Talon thought of Briar on the way down the ladder and wished he could carve out the uncooperative part of him that wanted something besides friendship. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

Once Briar had lost her pursuers-turned out not even the Trifarian Legion would follow her through frozen sewers-she tracked Talon. Secretly, mind you. Girlie was trained to be an assassin. She could be quiet, when she wanted to. And she really wanted to, because what was Talon’s problem? We protect each other, what a worthless liar. He’d totally ignored her.

But, instead of smacking him, Briar took a deep breath. This wasn’t typical for him. He’d snuck her away from soldiers twice last week. The circumstances were different for him somehow. Briar pulled out her rusty assassin training and shadowed him, too far for him to notice but close enough for her pointed bat ears to catch his conversations.

The obvious difference was the woman. Who was she? From their smell, they weren’t blood related. She was as quiet as him. Was she his teacher? Probably not-she didn’t have the muscle people needed for jobs like that, and she wasn’t checking for danger near as much as Tal was.

She seemed kind of frail in general, pale like she never left her house. Maybe Talon was guarding her? Being a bodyguard couldn’t be that different from an assassin. But since when did he put jobs over people he cared about? He’d told stories of ditching jobs to cover for his sister Katarina, and Briar was ninety percent sure he’d screwed up a job at the party for her. And he’d done that only to comfort her. This had been actually dangerous.

They stopped at a roasted almond stand. “Mother, look at this,” Talon said. Everything clicked. Briar would’ve smacked herself if her pillory allowed it. His mother. Of course. She’d totally forgotten he was adopted. Naturally he’d put protecting his physically weak mother ahead of basically invulnerable Briar. Cheeks red with embarrassment and a brain grateful she’d spied before rushing to conclusions, Briar melted into the shadows of a side street.

In the back of her mind, another theory began to form: was the reason he was shyer in public because he was worried it would get his family hurt somehow?

When they saw each other next, Talon heartily apologized. Briar didn’t ask for his reasons, or check her theory. It would be too awkward, especially if he got upset and started airing his grievances. She really didn’t want to know if he noticed the way she sometimes stared at his arms. They spent the rest of winter in their routine, always looking for the other and keeping careful inches between them, dancing around each other like porcelain dolls spinning around on a music box.

Two things came down on this fragile balance like hammers, breaking it into dust: wanted posters of Briar were plastered across the capital and Talon’s sisters came home.

The problem was complicated. Talon knew Briar wasn’t dangerous. His father knew. General Swain and the Faceless One knew. General Darius, the other head of Noxus, did not know because he couldn’t, for fear of it leaking to his inner circle. His brother Draven was a moron. Quiletta, his ex-lover, had turned out a traitor. Who knew the quality of the rest? Swain wouldn’t tell Darius to back off, so talon stepped up his protection. Briar was hardly ever out in the open now, and never alone. Usually, Talon shadowed her, but he knew better than to think they were always alone. On the lower levels, there was always a third set of breathing in the tunnel. It seemed to Talon that her father, distant as he was, wanted his daughter safe. The day he noticed, he told Marcus he’d focus on Briar. No need for Vladimir to mistake him for a threat to Briar. He preferred his spine being inside him.

That was not the whole problem. Talon couldn’t be in two places at once. He couldn’t guard Briar in the slums and have hot chocolate with Kat. While he couldn’t leave Briar to be captured and free Vladmir to kill and stoke civil war, he missed his sisters. Sue him.

The day Cassie and Kat arrived, winter heaved its dying gasp and coughed up gray skies and intermittent flurries. Talon’s fingers were blanched with cold and his scowl entrenched. Briars cheerful nattering was filled with pauses, though, bless her, she didn’t ask why he kept glancing out the window. He held out two hours before announcing, “We’re going. Follow me.”

“Oh, okay,” Briar said.

Talon led her slowly through the streets, shimmying through tight passages and slinking through shadows. One by one, their tails dropped away. As the sun dropped below the horizon, they reached their destination: du Couteau Manor. Talon hid Briar in the garden, then climbed the house and knocked on his father’s window. He ducked as it swung open, then popped up to greet his father’s glower. “What?” his father snapped.

“I’m bringing Briar in,” Talon said.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. It’ll cement our alliance and let me see my sisters. This is a notification, not a request.”

“Your sisters are staying for months”-

“Kat is. Not Cassie. I’ll see you inside.” The window slammed shut so hard the panes rattled. Talon dropped to the ground and fetched Briar. She swung her pillory over her head, knocking it against her knees. Talon took off his cloak and took it on Briar to hide her pretty, cursedly identifying white hair. It wasn’t a perfect disguise, but it’d work.

Briar’s eyebrows knotted with anxiety as they approached the front door. “Uh, Tal?” she murmured. “What’s this place?”

“My family’s home,” he said, voice easing. He kept his hand on her back, not allowing her to slow or deviate from their path. The faster they got inside and out of sight, the better.

“Why are we here thought?” She sounded like all her suppressed nervousness was leaking out. Tal pushed her harder. “Wouldn’t that lead the bad guys to your family?”

Talon took the door knocker and pounded on the door. His chest felt warm and painful at the same time, like molten lead had replaced his heart. Warm because she was sweeter than honey, and painful because it was killing him not to be allowed her. “I need to protect you and see them,’ he said, eyes glued to the door. “And they won’t know.”

“You’re sure?”

The door unlocked and swung open to reveal Garne and Katarina, clad in matching fuzzy blue sweaters clearly sized for Garen. “Tal!” Kat said.

Talon pushed Briar in and closed the door. “Good to see you-oof.” His sister seized him in a bruising hug, lifting him off the ground. He hugged back weakly.

“I miss you,” Kat said.

“Missed you too,” Tal wheezed.

“Wow,” Briar said. “Human backs can make those noises without breaking?”

Kat set Tal down, but didn’t release him. “Who’s this little lady?”

“I’m Briar,” said Briar. She smiled, showing off her adorable shark teeth. Garen backed away, only for Katarina to shoot him a quick glare. “It’s nice to meet you guys.”

“She’s…an ally. And a good friend,” Talon said.

“An ally,” Katarina said, smiling like a dragon who’d found a flock of sheep without a shepherd. Talon hoped Briar wouldn’t understand that teasing older sister tone. “Well, I’m sure the family would love to meet you. Must say, I’m shocked. Father said our dear little Tal-Tal wouldn’t be here.”

“Father thinks I’m stupider than I am,” Talon said, removing his cloak from Briar. Kat laughed, already returning to the dining room with Garen. The anxious twist hadn’t left Briar’s face. “Are you okay?” Talon asked.

“I’ll have to move slowly,” she said absently. “Because otherwise I’ll break something.”

“I wouldn’t worry. There’s not much breakable in the living room,” he said. Briar’s expression didn’t improve. After a moment’s consideration, Talon patted her shoulder. “You’ll be fine. If those couches can handle Garen, you’re well within their capabilities.”

Briar didn’t laugh, but she did exhale pointedly. Contented, Talon led her to the living room. It was as large and ostentatious as anything else within Soreana’s domain, but blessedly free of any ancient vases to embarrass Briar. A crescent of couches around the blazing fireplace held Kat and Garen on its middle and Cassie and Mother to their right. Talon suppressed his curse. If Kat was smiling like a dragon, then Cassie and Mother smiled like vipers-smaller but no less lethal. He steeled himself. Briar might’ve been safe from soldiers, but he wouldn’t subject her to secondary danger by making his father see her as a threat to his loyalty. He’d have to be cold and composed. At least Father was nowhere to be seen.

Talon and Briar settled on the left couch, a pillow between them. Cassie sipped her wine. Mother leaned forward. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Would you be a dear, Talon?”

“Of course.”

And so the battle began.

Briar quickly figured out there wasn’t much interesting happening in the conversation. It was politics. All politics. Bleh. That was for Dad and Miss Emilia. She pulled her knees to her chin and rested her pillory on her couch, watching the snow fall.

She spent the next day reading, after Lady Soreana showed her the library. She liked Talon’s mother. She reminded Briar of Miss Emilia on Dad’s good head days. Briar was sure to be polite, as her father had always instructed her to when meeting the families of boys she liked. She didn’t know why it was only the guys, but it must’ve been important if it was taught that way.

She’d gotten halfway through a military history when Lady Soreana and her daughters swept in.

“We’re having a formal dinner,” Lady Soreana said. “Would you like to attend?”

Briar wasn’t sure how to interpret that. Was that I want you to come or I have to offer to be nice? “Will I have to eat? It’s…tricky with my pillory, and I don’t want to mess up your tablecloth.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Lady Katarina said.

“Is there anything else I’d have to do?” Briar asked.

“Wear formal clothes and look pretty,” Lady Katarina said.

Lady Cassiopia glared at her. “Ignore her. Your pleasant company is plenty.”

“Formal wear?” Briar didn’t have extra clothes and couldn’t change on her own anyways. Did they know that? It seemed so obvious… Briar hoped she wasn’t being condescending.

“We’ll handle that,” said Lady Soreana. “Your measurements haven’t changed since your imprisonment, yes?”

“Uh…don’t think so?”

“Excellent. You’ll come, I take it?” Briar nodded. Why not? It seemed easy and fun enough. Lady Soreana’s darkly painted lips stretched into a smile, exposing her bone white teeth. “We’ll fetch you before supper. Thank you.”

They filtered out. Briar returned to her book.

Talon was in the kitchen getting water, trying to avoid history’s most awkward card game between Garen and Father in the living room, when an overwhelming aura of smugness filled the room. It was accompanied by a painted silence. Talon sighed. “Kat. What did you do?”

“Why do you always assume I’ve done something wrong?”

Talon turned to face his sister’s mischievously sparking green eyes, leaning against the counter. He sipped his water. “Did you?”

“Of course not,” Katarina cooed. “All I did was invite your little friend to dinner.”

“To dinner,” Talon said.

“Yeah. Well, Mom did most of the actual inviting and sizing and stuff. I was moral support.”

“Sizing?”

“Naturally. I’m a killer, not a sadist. Did you think we’d make her come to a formal dinner in street clothes? With Father present? Mom wanted to make sure the sizing information for her dress was right.”

A string of profanities marched through Talon’s mind. Mother had already identified Briar as someone he might bring around-or worse, she’d misunderstood and thought Briar was a romantic prospect. When had she figured it out? It must’ve been that shopping trip. No one she got news from could possibly know. Did she tell Father? Hopefully not-while Father made her tell him everything she knew, her suspicions were allowed to be her own. But wait-a dress. That meant-

“Briar can’t dress herself with the pillory,” Talon said awkwardly.

“Oh. Um. Why are you telling”-

“Because one of you is going to have to help her, and it better be you. She’s my best friend. I don’t want Cassie or Mother scaring her off with weird remarks about childbearing hips.” Or aggressive matchmaking.

“Aw.” Kat put her hand on her heart. “You’re not embarrassed by me anymore. Dang. I’m clearly not trying hard enough.”

“Shut up,” Talon grumbled.

Kat only journeyed out of the kitchen once, quickly driven back in by the supreme awkwardness of the card game of doom. They spent the afternoon reminiscing quietly about training with Father. They’d had very different times of it. Marcus had not trained Kat nearly so hard, knowing she’d never be able to take over the guild with her potential Crownguard soulmate alliance’s importance to the empire. Talon with his strange, ignorable mark got the real deal. There was one thing they agreed on though-their father was clingy as hell.

Ah, adulthood.

The sun soon set on the slushy snow. Soreana called for Kat. Tal waited within shouting distance from the dressing room while Kat vanished inside with Briar. Soon, Kat stuck her head out. “Talon, come here,” she called. Talon, on edge and not at the height of his logical thinking skills, obeyed. Kat opened the door further to reveal Briar.

“What do you think?” asked Briar. “Kat says she helped pick it out.”

What Talon had forgotten when he asked Kat to help Briar dress was his sister had a sick, twisted sense of humor. The kind that made her think giving him heart palpitations was funny. Never had he been more harshly reminded of this than when he beheld Briar in that dress.

“What do you think?” Briar asked.

Talon grasped for the tatters of his vocal capabilities. “You look stunning.”

The dress was made of two materials-a black lace comprising the sleeves, which were fastened with rows of buttons running down her arms and reaching up to her chin, and a wall of black silk that started as a sweetheart neckline, swept in to her waist, then fell to the floor. It was elegant. Beautiful. Quite possible the death of him.

Briar frowned. “Is that good?”

“Yup,” Kat said smugly. “Sit back down. We’ll see what we can do about that hair”

The answer was apparently not much. When they finally sat, the only changes Talon noticed were the dried blood was gone and her hair was cut more evenly. Mother seated them next to each other, Kat and Garen across from them. Garen, now over his initial prejudice, chattered easily with Briar. It made a kind of sense, Talon supposed. The were both simple friendly folks, except Briar was superior because she was kind rather than obedient and would never waste her years simpering over someone as heartless, bigoted, and weak as Jarvan IV. Talon only half listened to them, mostly tracking his family. His mother and sisters’ knowing smiles were gone, thank the gods. Father didn’t know then. All Talon had to do was not give the game away.

This was harder than he thought reasonable.

He had so many new, inconvenient habits, and was utterly unaware of them until he was halfway through their performance. Since when did Talon reflexively smile when Briar laughed? Twice he caught himself looking to her first after he made a joke. The fight to keep from lapping up her affection and returning it was constant. Talon ended up scarfing down his food without saying another word, eyes locked on the wall above his sister. He was aware it was suspicious but failed to find a way to look innocent. His choice was to seem suspicious or guilty. After clearing his plate, he claimed exhaustion and escaped upstairs from the prospect of further errors. It was only as he replayed the scene as he ascended the stairs did he realize his mistake.

When he’d stood, he’d turned to Briar to speak. The only person he’d do that for in noble etiquette rather than his parents was his wife.

Fiddlesticks.

Not long after Talon went to bed-allegedly, there’d been nothing tired in his scent so who knew what he was really doing-his parents also went up, leaving Briar, Garen, and Talon’s sisters. Servants put away the dishes as they moved from the hard wood chairs to the soft sofas in the living room. Briar brought up the rear, walking slowly and carefully. She wasn’t sure whether she was borrowing this dress or not and didn’t want to tear it. Katarina, who sat next to her, wasn’t so careful with her wardrobe. She pulled off her dining gloves and threw them onto the ottoman, revealing scarred calloused hands with a name tattooed in crisp red on her left wrist. Garen Crownguard. Briar blinked. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Why do you have your husband’s name tattooed on you?”

“What?” Briar pointed as best she could with the pillory. Katarina’s puzzlement melted into amusement. “Oh, that’s my soulmark.”

“What’s a soulmark?” Briar asked.

Conversation died like it’d been shot in the head. Three stunned stares fixed on Briar, who shifted nervously. Did I do something wrong? People had been less horrified when she strolled around with a pigeon still squirming in her mouth.

“You don’t know what a soulmark is?” Cassie asked, aghast.

“…is that important?” Briar asked, twisting her feet nervously together.

“Is it imp”-

Kat cut off her sister. “Yes. Normally people learn young, but its not a moral failing to not know. SO, basically, a soulmark is when the name of the person you’re…best fit for, romantically, is on your body. It’s magical, so it can’t be removed, and you’re born with it. It’s black, and once you two meet it’ll start changing colors to reflect what they think of you. Red for love, black for hate…”

“So that’s that thing on my ribs,” Briar realized. “Huh. No one ever mentioned it, so I thought it was, like, a name tag.”

“You have one?” Garen asked, surprised. “I didn’t realize constructs could…never mind.”

“Should I do anything about it?” Briar asked.

Kat shrugged. “It’s a good thing for marriage if you want that. Like, pre-selected compatibility. A guaranteed ally, whose thoughts on you can be seen plain as day. But you don’t have to, like, go looking for them or anything.”

“Can I ignore it?”

“If you want to.”

“Good. I’ve got enough looking for my dad and learning to read and being friends with Talon and running from the army and spiders. I don’t want to track down some guy on top of that.”

And that was the last they spoke of it, and the last Briar thought of it. ‘Best fit.’ Who was magic to decide that? She had all she wanted with Talon…even if maybe he didn’t want her back. She really didn’t know how to tell.

After a boring night of staring at the ceiling and listening to everyone sleep-did getting married make you start snoring, or was Talon the only non-snorer and singleton by coincidence?-Briar was surprised when Talon visited her before dawn.

“Are we leaving?” she asked. Why else would Tal look so drained?

“No,” Talon said. He reconsidered. “Probably not. But my father wants us.”

“Oh. Okay.” Briar wasn’t sure what to think of Talon’s father. He was sweet to his wife, but didn’t seem to like Briar much. He acted normally, but his face was stiff and his smell whispered disgust-mistrust-dislike. Being alone with him seemed miserable at best, dangerous at worst. At least Talon’s with me, she thought. Even if he’s still acting weird.

Talon’s father’s office was almost empty. It wasn’t a good look. Where did he put his papers? Talon angled his body to block his father from view, which didn’t seem optimistic. He was protecting one of them from the other, but which?

“I have a mission for you,” Duke Marcus said. Talon stiffened. “Both of you.”

Briar felt as if there was subtext she was missing but kept quiet. It was like the prison warden. If she kept quiet and nodded, it’d be over without any fighting. Best to leave talking to Tal.

“In the northern countryside, sources have found a rebel lab. Destroy it and take its notes.”

“Which rebel group?”

“The Crimson Circle.”

Oh, Dad’s, Briar thought absently. That’s convenient. I’ll look for him while we’re there. He’ll be happy to be rid of it, I think. From what she remembered, the Crimson Circle had started as a way to get back at Miss Emilia for one of their fights. Dad had never found a way to back down, so it kept going. They’d be a nice haven’t seen you in a few years present.

Briar realized the others were staring at her expectantly. Shoot. She’d missed something. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” Duke Marcus said.

“When do we leave?” Talon asked.

“if you want to get back before your sisters leave, now.”

It was good Kat had helped her change back into her travel clothes the day before. Talon had waited so long to see his sisters. Briar wasn’t going to hold him up.

They briefly exchanged details, then Marcus handed Talon a map and sent them out. Talon grabbed an already packed bag from his room and marched down the stairs. He must’ve packed the night before. He’d expect this, Briar realized. She wanted to ask, but despite his stoic face his teeth were grinding so loud she could hear. Maybe later then.

After disguising her the same way as the night before, they set off. The streets were filled with slush, but the air was starting to get muggy. Talon fetched a horse and rode, Briar running alongside. Her untiring body had its advantages.

When they camped that night, Talon didn’t seem cross as he stoked the fire, only exhausted. Briar sat on the far edge of his boulder. Briar studied him. His jaw was tight, his pale face blemished with dark circles. She wished she could hug him and tell him everything would be okay, but they weren’t that kind of people.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Fine.”

“Does your dad have other assassins?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did he send us? I mean you’ve really been looking forward to seeing your sisters. Couldn’t he have sent someone else?”

“He could’ve. This was punishment.”

“For what?”

Talon was quiet for a long time. He didn’t meet her eyes when he said, “Don’t worry about it.”

They didn’t speak the rest of the night. Talon prayed quietly for dreamless sleep. It didn’t strike Briar as peculiar. She’d heard of nightmares, and Tal didn’t seem the sort to handle having those around people well. It’d hurt his stoicism. When Talon’s heart started speeding while he slept, Briar gave him space. Strangely, he smelled really nice. Saltier and stronger than usual. Briar wanted to nibble on him, which grossed her out. You weren’t supposed to nibble on friends, especially scared ones. She rechecked her pillory and hoped the dream would end soon. It didn’t.

In the two weeks of travel, Talon kept having the dreams. Some nights he also had the smell, some he didn’t. Half the nights he didn’t, he woke up screaming. Whether he had the smell or not, most of the time he said her name. Briar secretly brainstormed ways she could induce herself to sleep, if only to not listen to that.

They reached a dark forest, still clad in snow and ice. They passed a cabin, which Talon had marked on his map. Soon an old forest of dark stone stretched before them, so incongruous it looked like someone had glued it in like a collage. The surrounding trees were not bare but dead, and the whole place stank of rot. Briar sized the place up. “Do you think we can get in through there?” she asked, pointing to a door above a pit, which seemed to be filled with corpses.

Talon frowned. “I can pick the lock. But guards…”

“Would you stand close to a door that smells like that?”

“We’ll try it.”

It went off with only the minor hitch of Talon’s irrepressible gagging. His weaker sense of smell did little to defend his weaker stomach. Briar, who’d never felt sick in her life, could only watch awkwardly. Once inside, Talon took charge. Briar happily followed. He was good at tracking and infiltration, and she’d bungled her second mission so bad she’d gone to prison. She’d lead more likely lead them to their deaths than the information. Besides, it freed her up to look for clues.

The fortress was too plain for her dad to actually live there, but he could be visiting. It was clean and had too many ingredient pantries to be anything but a lab, but it definitely wasn’t under Miss Emilia’s control. They used the wrong soap. All Dad then. Was this something he’d tried to twist to serve Miss Emilia? Or did he forget it? Upon further reflection, Briar decided he’d almost certainly forgotten it. Her dad didn’t remember his own name half the time, no way would he remember something as unimportant as this.

There weren’t many people roaming the halls. Oh, there were lots of bodies moving. They made getting through a total pain. But they weren’t people anymore. They were gray, leathery carcasses like Sion. Bleh. Fighting them wouldn’t even be fun. Maybe that’s what this place was, building a leathery legion to do…something. That’d explain the pit-they’d have to dump the overly rotted bits somewhere.

Briar and Talon worked their way up the fortress. Briar wasn’t sure why. Had the map included a schematic of the building? Whatever the case, they reached a thick door in a high tower with six locks. Briar stood guard while Tal picked the locks, sending each one clinking to the ground. They stayed silent, listening for anyone who might be approaching. As soon as the door swung open, a loud warning bell screamed into action. Talon swore profusely, racing in and frantically searching for documents.

The floor vibrated. People were approaching. At last, Talon finished with the papers. Briar prepared to unlatch. “I’ll fight them off,” she yelled. “You get out of here. I’ll find you.”

Talon’s eyes widened. “Briar”-

The pillory snapped apart, and by golly did she make things loud.

Talon hated to say it. Briar’s plan worked. He hated every second of it, but it worked.

Even as he ran, he couldn’t help but admire the sick magnificence of Briar fighting. It was less messy, considering the zombie’s bloodlessness, but no less impressive. These opponents didn’t go down after one hit. Briar had said once she was bred to be the perfect assassin. Glimpsing her work as he fled through the castle, Talon thought she might’ve instead been a one-woman army.

Talon was nearly out of the castle when a large zombie caught his ankle. Talon twisted. The zombie raised its hammer and brought it down. White flesh swung in between it and talon’s belly. “Not yours,” Briar hissed before attacking. The zombie released his ankle. Talon’s feet were moving before his mind. He ran into the tree line as he realized, that hit her shoulder. When he’d perches in the branches of an old redwood, that absolutely broke bone.

Before Talon’s emotions could catch up with his thoughts, clumsy footsteps approached. He readied his blades. Fighting the shambling corpses was difficult, but not impossible. The stumbling person stopped beneath his tree. Talon’s heart lurched.

“See? I said I’d find you,” Briar said woozily.

Talon descended from his tree quickly, heart hammering in his ears. Briar wasn’t supposed to be woozy. Briar was tough-tougher than anyone-she couldn’t get hurt. Reality didn’t cooperate with his anxious reassurances. Briar swayed on her feet, her collarbone so badly broken shards of bone had pierced through her skin. Blood saturated her clothes, and her arm hung limply.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Briar said, like he couldn’t see the fear on her face. “It’s…”

“What?”

“It should’ve-I thought my magic would fix it by now,” she said quietly.

“Fuck.”

They returned to the horse, checking for tails. Talon forced Briar to mount the horse. They needed to get to the safehouse he’d spotted earlier. It wasn’t the best, but it had clean water and hopefully medical supplies.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Talon said, cloaking his guilt in anger.

“Done wha’? Save your life?” Briar drawled.

“I can protect myself.”

“Not then you couldn’t. You’re human, Tal. I’m stronger. I got to help you.”

“I can’t see you get hurt,” Talon snapped.

“Why not? It’ll heal. Tal, you kill people. S’not that bad.”

“Because I…I can’t.”

“Oh, screw you,” Briar snapped back. “Is my caring less important? Cause the way I see it my thing about not seeing you get hurt cancels out your thing so it falls to common sense, and common sense says the person who can take the hit should take the hit.”

This was torture. He was incapable of protecting her, and couldn’t explain to her why he should. He didn’t have the right to. What would give him the privilege to put that on her? She was lovely, good, strong, and he was Kat’s inferior replacement. A pampered placeholder. He was such a mess.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her uninjured shoulder.

“Better be,” Briar rumbled. “Gettin’ mad when I saved your life…”

When they arrived, Briar flopped against him limply. She’d stopped talking, and her face was drawn with quiet dread. She wasn’t supposed to look like that. Ever. Talon swallowed his growing panic and dismounted and lifted her off, carefully setting her on her feet before rushing to unlock the door. There wasn’t enough time. They were losing light, and she was still bleeding badly enough to stain his shirt. He yanked the door open. Briar stumbled in. He locked it behind her.

The cabin was one room with a hearth on one side and row of trunks on the other. It was dim-too dark for him to help. He lit some candles, then the fireplace. “Sit,” he ordered. Briar fell to her knees in front of the fire, panting heavily. Talon looked in the trunks and quickly found antibiotics, distilled water, and a medical kit. He returned. Briar blinked slowly. “Y’ don’t need all that,” she said. “Put the bone back in and it’ll heal. No scar.”

“Can you get an infection?”

“D’ know.”

“Then we need this.” He assessed her again. “I’m going to take off your top to get to the fracture.”

Briar’s eyes fluttered shut. “’kay.”

He reached behind her neck, unlatched her romper, and pulled it down to her waist. Her bare white skin, unobstructed by undergarments, made the dark blood and broken collarbone that much more jarring. He took a deep breath. Clean, realign, apply antibiotics, then stitch it up. He inspected the wound closely. No splintering or obstructive, thank the gods. She’d gotten lucky. Deliriously lucky. If he’d taken a hit like that-

Talon pushed away thoughts of ruptured organs, uncorking the bottle of distilled water and pouring it over the wound. Briar cried out. Talon nearly cursed. Pain-he’d forgotten about that. He’d learned to treat fractures like this on himself. He murmured apologies while searching for some fabric for her to bight down on. For lack of better options, he unbuckled his belt. “I’m so sorry. Bite down on this,” he said. Briar’s mouth fell open, then snapped shut around the leather. “Okay. I’m going to move the bone back into place now.”

The less said about that the better. Briar screamed when he first pressed on the bone, breaking off into sobs halfway through. Her body trembled but remained still enough for him to work. Talon grabbed the anti-infection tonic. When he brought it to the wound, pink flesh was already knitting together. He poured it on anyway. No need to risk an infection getting sealed in. A moment later, skin sealed over the bare muscle and bone. It was like the wound was never there. The only remaining evidence was the blood smeared on her right side and Briar’s gasping, choking sobs.

“It’s over,” Talon said. She didn’t seem to hear him. He touched her cheek. Her eyes snapped open, red and filled with tears. “It’s over. You did good.” He held up his hand. She spat out the cloth, heaved a shuddering sigh, then leaned into his hand. He stroked her gently, thinking. There were things that needed to be done-hide the horse, close up the windows, clean Briar and her clothes… The cold tears running slick against his fingers added comfort Briar to the list. Oh gods. No matter what failures Briar had observed before, Talon was sure watching Talon fricking du Couteau try to comfort her would be the most spectacular of them all. Well, no use dwelling on it. He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m going to take care of some things. I’ll be right back,” Talon told her.

“Grab me some blood if you find some,” Briar said groggily.

“Sure. If.”

When he returned lugging extra water, Briar’s energy levels had risen. Not to her normal levels, but certainly more than anyone would demand of a human who’d lost that much blood. She was also still shirtless, which now that she wasn’t grievously wounded was ruining Talon’s ongoing initiative to pretend sexual attraction wasn’t a thing. However, it also would make cleaning her easier. For the time being, he focused on her face. “How are you?” he asked.

“Okay. Hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.”

She made a face. “Not always. When I’m fighting Sions? Never hungry. They taste awful, like leather.”

“Good to see you can enunciate now,” he said, setting down the buckets. It’d be cold, but he wasn’t sure he could wait for it to warm by the fire with a shirtless Briar without answering some uncomfortable questions about male human biology.

“What does enunciate mean?”

“You can say the words right.”

“Oh.” She tilted her head. “What’s the bucket for?”

“So we can wash the blood off you, and then wash your clothes,” Talon said. He’d grabbed some washcloths with the buckets, and now dipped them into the water.

“Neat. What am I going to wear while it dries thought?” she asked, with all the innocent curiosity of someone unfamiliar with the concept of modesty.

Talon’s hands froze in the water. He…hadn’t thought that far ahead. With a calm he most certainly didn’t feel, he said, “I’ll check the trunks for some clothes. If they don’t have anything, you can take my shirt. You’re… It’ll work. It’ll be fine.”

“Okie dokie.”

Briar crossed her legs and plunked down her pillory, tucking it underneath her legs. As he clinically assessed the extent of his task, Talon found himself again cursing how pretty Briar was. When combined with a disposition that sweet and sanguine and skill that frightening, it was unbearable not to make a move. But she didn’t want that and he couldn’t have her. He suffered. The blood was thickest on the collarbone, so that’s where he started. Some had trickled down her breast, but it was darkest along her ribs. Perhaps another wound. Tal would see to it when he got there. The collarbone took an entire washcloth, but her breast was quick. Briar kept complaining of the cold, so Tal tried to keep it quick. Once he reached the ribs that fell apart. It wouldn’t come off. Was it some deep wound?

“Turn towards the fireplace,” he ordered.

Briar complied. “Is something wrong?”

Talon wrung out another, cleaner washcloth. “Not sure. Think you might have a gash on the ribs.”

Briar frowned. “That’s weird. I mean, I don’t usually remember the frenzies super clearly, but I don’t think I got hit there.”

Talon hummed, leaned down to clean, and dropped the cloth. The world tilted on its axis. That-no, it couldn’t- No. That wasn’t a wound.

That was his name.

His name, his birth name, the one not a soul had used in at least thirteen years, written in bloodred ink across Briar’s ribs.

“Talon?” Briar asked somewhere back on Runeterra. “Talon, are you okay?”

“It’s not blood,” he rasped.

“Oh.” Briar peered down. “Right. That. Is that”-

Before she could finish, he was rolling up his left pant leg to reveal his soulmark. It was red now. His heart pounded so hard it felt as if the muscle would tear. If he was wrong-

“What are you doing?” Briar asked.

“Can you read this?” Talon asked shakily.

She tilted her head. “I can’t read…oh, Camavoran. Sure. Briar Emilia vol Kalah Hei…” She trailed off. “That’s my name,” she said, voice small.

“We’re soulmates,” Talon said. “Oh gods. My father will-I’m so sorry.”

Briar looked confused. “Why are you saying sorry? This is supposed to be a good thing, isn’t it?” Her face dropped. Wait, do you not want me? Is it the blood? I can”-

“It’s not you,” Talon said. He couldn’t stan the idea of her crying because of his baggage. This is not your fault, this is not your burden. “I meant what I said at that party. You’re great.”

“Then-what’s the problem?”

Talon grasped for the words. It was so obvious it felt difficult to describe, like what the word ‘by” meant. “It’s a long story,” he said, standing. “I’ll grab you clothes, then start dinner. I’ll tell you while it cooks.”

It took only a few minutes, but they allowed Talon’s body to settle down into…not calm, but a mild anxiety rather than his previous panic. Some of that was Briar now clad in a knee length shirt. Now he was alone with his soulmate, rather than his half-naked soulmate.

Soulmate. What insanity. They were such a strange fit. His parents were nobles, both loyalty to their family, cunning, ruthless. Very compatible. Aside from being two oddballs numb to violence who’d really like some company, he and Briar weren’t alike at all. Briar overflowed with affection, power, and had no quarrel with him. Talon was weaker, withdrawn, and using her for friendship and to get at her father. It was a horribly lopsided deal. Maybe if Father had raised him to be crueler to family, Talon would’ve been selfish enough to take advantage of that naivete.

Once a pot of soup was warming over the fire, Talon began. “You know I’m not a blood son.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Noxian nobles adopt when they can’t have blood children usually. That’s…not the case with me. Father took me in because my sisters couldn’t be the heirs he needed.”

“Why?” Briar asked, curled up on the floor. “They’re smart. Cassie knows everything about trade.”

“Because of their matches. Both of them were tied to high-ranking foreigners Noxus needed alliances with, so they had to marry them. And Garen and Sivir wouldn’t move, so…” Talon shrugged, staring into his soup. “You can’t run a house or a guild from a continent away. So. Me.”

“Your dad got you as a replacement?”

“You make it sound worse than it was. I would’ve died if I stayed on the streets, and they love me. But there’s a price for it. I’m to serve the family above all else.”

“Is that deal, like, written down?”

Talon snorted. “It’s not even spoken. But we all know it’s there. We’re not fools.”

“Wow. That sounds like a total headache.”

“It is.”

Briar scooted closer. “So…am I, like, getting in the way of you serving the family?”

"No. But my father might see it that way.”

“Would he kick you out?”

“At this point? No. Not enough time to train a replacement,” Talon said. He took a deep breath. There was no way to say it nicely. “But he will probably try to kill you.”

Briar thought for a moment. “Does he have a sorcerer?”

“Er, no.”

“Then it won’t work.

“Briar, he’s the best assassin in Noxus.”

“And?”

“He sent us on the mission to get rid of you and it nearly worked.”

Briar tilted her head. “He tried to kill me for being your friend?”

“No. He tried to get rid of you because I wanted you to be…something else.”

The crackling fire filled the pause. Talon avoided eye contact. Gods, look at him. Killing for a living but too skittish to say something honestly.

“Is there anything he’d be okay with me being to you?” she asked gently.

“A source of information to find your father.”

“Okay. Then pretend I’m that.”

“I’ve been trying for months. I hid my…intentions in public, in private, in front of them, and he still saw through it the first time the three of us were in the same room,” Talon said, trying to contain his frustration. Briar was only trying to help, but it was aggravating retreading everything he’d already tried.

“Wait.” Talon twisted at her shocked tone, only to find her face two inches from his. “That’s why you were acting so ashamed of me? To protect me?”

“…also to find your father.”

“That’s dumb. You should’ve just told me. I would’ve helped.”

Talon sighed. “Briar, we’re looking for him to kill him.”

“First off, you can’t kill him, he’s immortal. You’ll have to capture. Second, I still would’ve helped. I want to see him.”

“You’d put your own father in prison.”

“I could visit!”

Not for the first time, Talon envied Briar’s mind. It seemed such a beautiful, hopeful, brutally simple place way to experience life. “My point still stands,” he said.

“We’ll figure it out,” Briar said.

Talon slung an arm around her waist. She flopped against him. “I hope so.”

Then of course the soup boiled over. Talon lurched forward to handle it. Once Talon had a steaming bowl in hand, he met her eyes. “I’m sorry for…all of this. It’s a pain and you deserve better.”

“S’okay. Next time, though, let me be part of the interesting stuff. It’s no fun playing catch up,” she said.

Nodding, Talon sipped his soup. He was really too lucky.

“By the way. What would your non-dad family think?”

Talon paused. “I’m not sure.” But he did have an idea.

Traveling back, the weather improved. Spatters of rain and sun broke up the mist. The forest started to fill in with leaves. Briar walked while Talon rode, neither of them speaking. It’d make it hard to listen for zombies. That left Briar with softly chirping birds and boots splashing in the mud. And Talon of course, but she avoided looking at him.

By Grandmother Viper’s teeth. Soulmates.

Was it weird knowing that made her more nervous? Before it’d been easy. They were friends. Partners. Solid rocks to build their lives around. Sure, Briar had wanted something from him to do with his appearance, which was really weird, but it’d been pleasant. They’d chosen each other. Talon had chosen her. He’d stayed because he liked her, not because he was shackled to her. This soulmate thing-they acted like it was all good, but it clearly wasn’t. Kat and Cassie had to leave their families and Talon’s parents seemed to make each other miserable. Heavens only knew what her dad’s soulmate was like. They’d probably been dead for years, unless they were another immortal-

Briar tripped over her own feet. Wait. Was Miss Emilia her dad’s soulmate? Apparently saying she was her stepmother wasn’t that far off.

But she couldn’t say any of that to Talon. He wouldn’t get the nuance of "I love you but this feels like a poison pill." He’d take it as her asking him to leave her alone.

Maybe she was overthinking it. Talon’s family was kind of weird, so maybe his parents were an exception to the rule. Even then, Kat and Garen seemed happy. It was still Talon she was matched to. Calm, smart, protective Talon. There were only so many ways that could go wrong. He was even touching her now: adjusting her hair, brushing his fingers across her cheek or shoulder. It felt like the first brush of heat after nearly freezing to death. She half wanted to wrap er legs around d his waist and never let go so he’d touch her for the rest of time.

Of course, once the walls of the capitol rose in the distance, the touches stopped, as did the pet names. And in that moment, Briar decided she didn’t care one bit what being soulmates meant if he could smile at her in public.

They returned the horse, then snuck over to Talon’s house. Tal’s family was eating lunch in soft fuzzy clothes and messy hair. It looked like they’d rolled right out of bed. Luckily, Duke Marcus wasn’t there. Briar noticed everyone’s scents were less stressed. Gosh. She was glad people didn’t react to her that way.

Duchess Soreana stood. “My goodness. You two look like you’ve swum through a burial bog. Come, I’ll help you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to”-

“Nonsense,” Duchess Soreana said. Somehow Briar’s shoes teleported to the door, leaving her bare feet marching up the carpeted steps. Soreana’s long nails pressed into Briar’s arm. Briar, whose brain detected long nails and promptly decided Dad, let her drag her up the stairs and into the dressing room in a nostalgic haze. Th room was the same as it’d been last; one six foot mirror, trunks of clothes and medical supplies disguised as makeup, and no windows. The duchess lit a candle and threw open the trunk Kat had pulled the last dress from.

“Did you, like, have a friend who’s my size or something? This seems like a lot of clothes to have in a my size,” Briar said half-joking, knocking her feet together nervously.

Soreana pulled out two big rectangles of fabric, both black with blue edging. “Oh, I ordered them for you dear,” Soreana said absently.

Briar frowned. They hadn’t met until the first dress came out. “When?”

“Oh, when Talon and I were shopping and he tried to pretend he didn’t know you. I hope you made him grovel for that, by the way. Pillory down.”

Briar’s pillory banged against her knees. Soreana started messing with her halter. Briar thought back to that day. It’d been months ago and had lasted maybe five seconds. “Why’d you buy clothes for a criminal who yelled for your son?”

“Oh, that’s not why I did that. Did Talon ever tell you I was in the Black Rose?”

“Maybe?”

“Hmm. Well, for part of my training was learning to read Camavoran. One of your father’s quirks.”

“Yeah, he me made me learn too. Drove my handlers crazy when I only responded in Camavoran.”

The duchess huffed amusedly. “Well, when Talon first came to us, I translated his mark. And I thought to myself, vol Kalah Heigaar. Wasn’t that Vladimir’s surname? But the first name didn't match, so I ignored it. Certainly didn’t tell Marcus. But the day I saw you I first thought you were him. Naturally I investigated. I couldn’t have my son running around with some mysterious hooligan, now could I? I found you were a hemomancer’s creation. And, well,” she chuckled, “only one hemomancer is skilled enough to make you. From there, it was easy enough. A secret friend with his soulmate’s last name? Come on.”

Briar’s romper dropped to the floor. She stepped out of it. Soreana fasted a strip of cloth around her chest, then set about wrapping the longer rectangle around her waist. “You’re smarter than us then,” Briar said lightly. “It took us another two months, I think.”

Soreana tied the skirt’s yoke. “Don’t feel badly about it. You didn’t know such bonds existed. Ignorance isn’t stupidity.”

That made it a little less embarrassing. “Thanks.”

“It’s the truth. You’re a fine young woman with a sharp mind and an information deficit.” Cold cloth draped over Briar’s shoulders. Soreana fussed with the drape. “Now, Talon on the other hand has no excuse. Greatest assassin in Noxus but can’t be bothered to remember his own soulmate’s name. Disgraceful. Put your pillory back up, show me how it looks.”

Briar obeyed. She found herself wearing an ankle-length skirt, and a top that looked like a low-necked, one-piece extended pelerine. So really, not much of a pelerine at all, but Briar didn’t know the real word. She felt like a valuable piece of porcelain, swathed to keep from chipping. It was a strange idea on her. Fragile things couldn’t walk off stab wounds. But it was very covering, leaving her hands, forearms, feet, neck, and head exposed. A nice thing for a drafty manor.

Soreana hummed, pleased. “Excellent. You fit in well with us.”

“Really?” Briar had never fit in well anywhere.

“Of course. You wear too much black and have an extensive history of crime, violence, and aristocratic ties. You’re practically Katarina’s clone. Now come, let’s eat lunch.”

After lunch, Talon again hid with Katarina in the kitchen. Mother had said Father would return in the afternoon, so there was no time to waste. Kat leaned against the island and opened her mouth. Before she could say anything, Talon ripped off the bandage.

“I need your help.”

Without skipping about, Kat asked, “With your soulmate?”

“Yes.”

“Ha! Knew it.”

“Who else knows?”

“Everyone except Father. Sivir sends her congratulations, by the way.”

Father remained ignorant. Talon thanked the gods for small mercies. “How long?”

“Months.” Dammit. No wonder they’d all been teasing him when he brought her home. “You?”

“Two weeks.”

“Talon,” she admonished. “How long have you known her?”

“Seven months.”

“Seven months and you didn’t know her last name. Stupendous. Spectacular. What are we going to do with you?”

Talon grit his teeth. “Will you help me?”

“Sure, sure,” she said. “What’s the problem.”

“Father.”

“Hmm. Well, Briar could live here, so that’s a plus. Does she still eat people?”

Talon thought through how Briar fought. Did she drink blood? Yes. Did she eat flesh? “Not really.”

“Okay. Fix the criminal history and you’ll be fine.”

If Talon were a different sort of little brother, he’d snark about time travel. However, he wasn’t the joking sort and was frankly too tired and stressed for that sort of thing. He quite liked Briar as his soulmate and wasn’t much inclined to bury her. “How?”

Kat waved vaguely. “Get Briar involved with one of those big Black Rose busts or something. She was a kid when she did it. If the generals see her as a good helpful loyal Noxian who was tricked by evil adults for a while, they’ll take down those posters like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“That seems corrupt.”

“No, really?”

“I’ll get on that. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Kat said. “I want to see my baby brother happy. And if Father kills her, I won’t be able to tease you for not knowing she was your soulmate for seven months.”

“You’ll never let that go, will you?”

“Seven months? It changes colors when you first meet, dumbass!”

It wasn’t a difficult thing to pick which bust to get in on. Vladimir. Briar wasn’t worried about putting her dad in prison. He was immortal. It’d go by like a sneeze, and with current laws she’d be able to visit. Talon quickly set about planning a capture. Briar had a simpler approach. One sunny day, she asked Kat to help her put on boots and pranced merrily off to her dad’s house and knocked on the front door. He didn’t answer, so she tried again. On the days he wasn’t there, she drank tea with Miss Emillia.

The second day, Miss Emilia turned to her and said, “You’re going to put him in prison.”

“Yep.”

“For how long?”

“Hmm. After Swain dies, I’m pretty sure we could bribe them to let him go.”

“And how long would that take?”

Briar shrugged. “Can’t take that long. Swain’s old and dumb and high-ranking. That won’t end well.”

“Dumb?”

“Made a deal with a demon, didn’t he?”

Miss Emilia snickered. “Indeed. Good luck, dear.”

The fifth day, Vladimir opened the door. He clearly wasn’t going anywhere-his overcoat and boots weren’t on. Briar watched his face carefully. While her dad loved her, on the days where his memory was funny he could get mean. His mouth was hanging open, could go either way, nose wasn’t wrinkled, eyes were-watering. Oh. Okay.

“Hi Dad,” Briar ventured cautiously.

“Briar,” her dad choked out, before clutching her tightly. Briar smiled into his vest. “It’s been so long. Oh, you’re twenty-one now. I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy-your blasted cousins and that godforsaken Gray Legion-come, sit. Tell me everything.”

They settled in one of their red sitting rooms and sipped blood while filling each other in. Turns out Dad had set up several conspiracies during the last emperor’s reign but had forgotten them until they were set to finish. During Swain’s reign. In a wholly incompatible social and legal context. He’d had to scramble to fix them all, leaving Miss Emilia to handle the city. Memory issues sucked, big shocker.

Dad was ecstatic to hear about the bond with Talon and agreed eagerly to go to prison on three conditions.

“We’ll see what I can do,” Briar said. Noxian high command really wanted him out of the way, but she wasn’t sure it was a ‘we’ll do anything’ level of wanting.

“I shall meet him, attend the wedding, and meet the children.”

Briar stopped licking blood from its saucer. “I can have kids?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“I’ve never had that bleeding thing female humans do.”

“Why would you? You were crafted. We designed how your body worked. Why would we choose for you to be in pain? Your mother would never have allowed it.”

“Huh.” Her mind snagged on your mother. She’d never thought Miss Emilia cared. “Well, I’ll make the request.”

To the eternal befuddlement of Talon and his father, the Trifarix agreed immediately. Briar, along with her former guards, weren’t surprised in the least. Briar was a mini-Vladimir, a weaker less-trained version, and she’d still torn through fifty elite soldiers like they were wet paper and gorged herself on their blood. No one was eager to test their army on the original, right after the Trifarian legion had recovered from its losses in the Freljord.

Meeting Talon went…alright. They met through the grate of Vladimir’s unusually large prison cell under the careful of eye of Marcus and his smug counterpart Soreana. Briar only got a glimpse of her father’s frigid smile before the guards escorted her to a waiting room. An hour later, Talon and his parents emerged, looking as if they had been hiking on ice rather than speaking with an elderly monster.

“How was it?” Briar asked.

Talon sighed deeply. Soreana, composed as ever, side-eyed him. Marcus blinked away his fatigue and addressed Briar. “Young lady, I can make no greater recommendation of your character and temperament than that you have inherited none of your father’s,” he said.

Talon winced. Briar, who both liked her father and thought she was a good bit like him, wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or confused. “Um…thanks?”

The duke trudged off, followed by his increasingly nervous son. Soreana patted Briar’s shoulder. “Don’t worry dear,” she said. “My husband doesn’t like it when people are smarter than him. You’ll grow into it.”

“Being smarter?”

“Naturally. You’ve got the mind, you need the knowledge.”

For all the difficulty in getting his father to allow the relationship, it only took a short three weeks after the meeting with Vladimir for him to begin pushing marriage. Outsiders thought he’d grown past his thing with keeping his children close. The family knew Talon and Briar’s room was one down from his and was not soundproofed. Soreana, whose room wasn’t on that floor, had no such urgency, but was happy to help plan nonetheless. By the second month of summer, exactly a year after they first met, they’d moved out into a small house still on the du Couteau estate. Parental disgust may have won out over parental hovering, but it was a slim victory.

The wedding was, unfortunately for the happy couple, large. It was the event of the year, and not only because the bride and groom fled before the cake was cut. It was the first wedding to have human blood next to the punch. The hemomancers were most appreciative.

And they lived happily, if bizarrely, ever after.