Florian heard the news at the well, where two merchants argued about which road to take come morning. The lord would pass through Kazia Village at dawn, they said. No guards, no attendants. Just a single rider cutting through on his way to the northern holdings. Florian's hands tightened on the bucket rope. He left the bucket where it stood. The stables marked the old road through the village center, the one lords had used for generations. Florian walked past them twice, studying the ground, the angle of the light. The tavern sat directly across from the stables, its door facing the road. A man could wait there. A man could step forward when the moment came. Back home, Florian cleaned his machete until the iron shone. He laid it on the table beside his tunic. Griffin would ask where he was going when dawn came. Florian would tell him the truth. He always did. This was for both of them, for the life they'd planned, for the knighthood they would share or not have at all. The lord had refused him twice through closed doors and silent guards. Tomorrow there would be no doors. Tomorrow Florian would stand on that road with his blade at his side and his purpose clear in his voice. He would ask his question to the lord's face. Whatever answer came, he would finally have one.

Florian stepped into the predawn cold and found Griffin already waiting on the road. His boyfriend stood in the middle of the path, arms crossed, his breath making clouds in the air. The tavern door hung open behind Florian, spilling weak lamplight across the dirt. A banner stood planted beside Griffin, blue fabric snapping in the wind. The golden griffin emblazoned on it caught the first rays of dawn. Griffin's greatsword leaned against his shoulder, and a wooden training dummy sat propped at his feet. "I know what you're doing," Griffin said. His voice was steady. "And I'm not letting you face the lord alone." Florian's hand found the machete at his belt. He'd planned every word he would say to the lord, rehearsed the questions until they felt like weapons. But he hadn't planned for this. "This is my fight," he said. Griffin shook his head. "It's ours. You said we'd become knights together or not at all. That means we stand together when it matters." He gestured to the dummy. "You think the lord will believe this is about both of us if only one of us shows up?" Florian looked at the banner, at the dummy, at Griffin's face set with the same determination he'd seen the day they first talked about knighthood. The words he'd prepared felt suddenly wrong, incomplete. He stepped forward until he stood beside Griffin on the road. "Together then," he said. Griffin's hand found his. When the lord came, he would see two boys, not one. He would hear two voices asking the same question. Whatever answer came, they would face it the way they'd face everything else.

The lord never came. Florian and Griffin stood on the road until the sun climbed above the trees and the merchants at the well started their morning gossip. One of them called out that the lord had changed his route, taken the northern pass instead. The banner sagged in Griffin's grip. But the merchant had more news. The crown prince himself had arrived at the way castle with his retinue, just before dawn. BelloSaros and his men were staying in the barracks there, preparing for the campaign against Nekros. Griffin's eyes met Florian's, and without a word they were running. The way castle sat two miles north, close enough to reach before the prince departed. They slowed as they approached the barracks. Blue banners hung from every post, each one showing a griffin with wings spread wide. Soldiers moved between the buildings, polishing armor and checking supplies. Florian spotted a war table set up in the courtyard, its surface covered with maps and wooden pawns marking troop positions. Three officers stood around it, pointing and arguing in low voices. Then the door to the main hall opened. A man stepped out, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing armor that caught the morning light. BelloSaros. Florian's breath stopped. The crown prince moved with the easy confidence of someone who'd never doubted his place in the world, never been turned away from anything he wanted. He spoke briefly to one of the officers at the war table, then glanced across the courtyard. His gaze passed over Florian and Griffin like they were part of the landscape. In that moment, Florian understood something he hadn't before: becoming a knight meant more than training or courage. It meant being seen by people like this, and right now, they were invisible.

Florian grabbed Griffin's arm and pulled him toward the courtyard. They couldn't just stand here watching. The crown prince was here, now, and if they didn't speak today they'd lose their chance. BelloSaros might leave for the front lines tomorrow, or the day after, and then who knew when they'd see someone with the power to grant knighthood again. The training yard sat beside the barracks, marked by rows of wooden dummies and straw targets. A large banner hung from the main post, its golden griffin gleaming against blue silk. Soldiers moved between the practice stations, testing their strikes against the wooden frames. Florian spotted a dark-haired man in armor standing near the dummies, watching two fighters spar with wooden swords. The man gestured, and one of the fighters adjusted his stance. BelloSaros. Florian's heart hammered. Griffin tightened his grip on his banner pole. Florian stepped forward, then stopped. What could they say? That they wanted to be knights? That they'd been denied an audience twice before? BelloSaros would see two village boys with no armor, no training under recognized masters, nothing to offer but hope. But Griffin was already moving, walking straight toward the training yard with his banner held high. Florian followed, his machete heavy at his side. When they reached the edge of the practice area, Daveth emerged from behind one of the weapon racks. The knight's eyes widened in recognition, then he smiled and called out to BelloSaros. The crown prince turned. Daveth spoke quickly, gesturing toward them both. BelloSaros studied them for a long moment, then nodded to Daveth and motioned them forward. What followed passed in a blur. Wooden practice swords in their hands. Daveth calling out instructions. Griffin blocking and striking with the same focus he showed when fishing, his movements clean and deliberate. Florian matching him, remembering every lesson they'd practiced alone by the docks. When they finished, BelloSaros walked over and spoke directly to Daveth, then turned to them. He wanted Florian as his own squire. Daveth would take Griffin. Florian's throat tightened. Different knights meant different assignments, different battlefields. But Griffin was already nodding, accepting, and Florian understood why. This was the door opening. They could walk through it together or watch it close. Later, after they swore their oaths and received their blue tunics, BelloSaros handed Florian a framed painting showing a dark-haired prince and a blonde squire standing side by side, both holding swords. The prince kept his closest companions near him, BelloSaros said. Florian looked at Griffin across the yard, already wearing his new colors, and knew they'd made it past the first wall.

BelloSaros led Florian through the main hall toward a stone staircase. Florian followed, watching the prince's cape sweep across the floor. Other squires carried weapons and bags past them, heading toward different parts of the castle. Griffin was somewhere with Daveth now, settling into whatever chambers Daveth kept. Florian's chest tightened. The prince's chambers occupied the third floor of the eastern tower. BelloSaros pushed open the heavy door and gestured Florian inside. A wide bed stood against the far wall, draped in crimson cloth. A wooden chest sat beside it. A wash basin rested near the window. BelloSaros crossed to the chest and pulled out a folded blue tunic. He held it out to Florian. This one was different from the squire's tunic Florian already wore. The fabric was softer, the embroidery finer. Griffin's tunic, Florian realized. BelloSaros had taken it from Griffin's things before Daveth claimed him. The prince said nothing, just watched Florian's face. Florian reached out and took the tunic. His fingers closed around the fabric. It still smelled like Griffin. BelloSaros turned away, giving him a moment. Florian pressed the tunic to his chest, then folded it carefully and tucked it inside his own shirt, against his ribs where no one would see. BelloSaros walked to the window and looked out over the training yard. He spoke without turning around. A squire's duty was to stay close, he said. To train together, eat together, sleep in the same room. That was how trust was built between a knight and his squire. Florian would sleep here, in this chamber, and wake when BelloSaros woke. They would drill at the jousting fence every morning after dawn. Florian would carry the prince's sword when they rode out. He would learn to fight the way BelloSaros fought. The prince turned back to face him. This was the price of being chosen. Florian felt the tunic pressing against his skin. He nodded. He understood. BelloSaros studied him for a long moment, then nodded back. Good. They would start tomorrow at first light. Florian stood alone in the chamber after BelloSaros left to meet with his officers. He pulled Griffin's tunic out and held it up to the window light. The golden embroidery caught the sun. He folded it again, smaller this time, and slipped it back inside his shirt. Tomorrow he would train with the prince. He would learn what BelloSaros had to teach. But Griffin would stay close, hidden against his heart, a reminder of what he was fighting for. When they both became knights, they would stand together. Until then, this would have to be enough.

Florian woke to BelloSaros standing over him in the dim light before dawn. The prince was already dressed, his crimson cape fastened at his shoulders. Florian sat up quickly, Griffin's tunic shifting against his ribs where he'd kept it all night. BelloSaros gestured toward the door without a word. They walked down the stone stairs together, through the empty main hall, and out into the cold morning air. BelloSaros moved closer in the stable doorway, his hand brushing Florian's shoulder. Florian stepped back. He couldn't do this without telling Griffin first. BelloSaros studied his face, then asked the question directly. Was there someone else? Florian's throat tightened. He nodded. Griffin, he said. Griffin was everything to him. They'd promised to become knights together. BelloSaros didn't pull away or look angry. He just watched Florian for a long moment, then told him to ask Griffin for permission. If Griffin agreed, the prince would wait. If not, BelloSaros would respect it. Florian felt something loosen in his chest. He hadn't expected that. The next morning, BelloSaros and Daveth rode together toward the stables, bringing Florian and Griffin with them. Florian watched Griffin walk beside Daveth's horse, his blue cape catching the wind. When they reached the carved wooden posts at the stable entrance, both knights dismounted and tied their horses. BelloSaros gestured for Florian and Griffin to check the water troughs and hay bales while he and Daveth discussed the day's drills. Florian led Griffin around the side of the building, away from the others. Griffin looked at him with worry already forming in his eyes. Florian reached into his pocket and pulled out the small silver ring Griffin had given him months ago. He held it between them like an anchor. Florian told Griffin everything. About BelloSaros moving closer. About what the prince had asked. About how Florian had said no until Griffin gave permission. Griffin stared at the ring in Florian's palm, his jaw tight. He asked if Florian wanted this. Florian said he didn't know, but he wouldn't hide it. Griffin was silent for a long time. Then he closed Florian's fingers around the ring and said he trusted him. Whatever Florian chose, they were still promised to each other. They would still become knights together. Nothing would change that. Florian felt the ring press into his palm. He understood now that trust wasn't about holding someone close—it was about letting them choose and knowing they'd come back. Griffin had given him that, and Florian would carry it with him no matter what happened with BelloSaros.

Florian stood in the eastern tower that evening, the silver ring warm in his pocket. Griffin had given him permission, but BelloSaros still hadn't said anything more about what he wanted. The prince sat at the window, looking out over the training yard below. BelloSaros turned from the window and looked at Florian directly. He said Griffin's permission wasn't enough. If Florian was going to belong to both of them, BelloSaros needed something permanent. Something that couldn't be undone if Griffin changed his mind later. Florian's chest tightened. He asked what the prince meant. BelloSaros crossed the room and stood close enough that Florian could see the gold stitching on his crimson tunic. Marriage, the prince said. Griffin could share Florian with him, but only if Florian agreed to marry Griffin first. That way, no matter what happened between them, Griffin's claim would always come first. Florian's hand went to the ring in his pocket. He hadn't expected this. Griffin had given him permission, but marriage was different. It meant standing before witnesses and making vows that couldn't be broken. It meant choosing Griffin in a way the whole kingdom would see. Florian looked at BelloSaros and realized the prince was offering him exactly what he'd been afraid to ask for. Not just Griffin's blessing, but a promise that would tie them together forever. He pulled the ring from his pocket and held it in his palm. He told BelloSaros he would ask Griffin at dawn. Florian found Griffin in the stables the next morning, brushing down the brown horse with the white-feathered hooves. BelloSaros's armored steed stood in the next stall, its blue saddle gleaming in the early light. Florian walked up to Griffin and held out the ring. He told him everything BelloSaros had said. That the prince wanted them married first. That it was the only way he would share Florian. Griffin stopped brushing and stared at the ring. Then he took it from Florian's hand and slipped it onto Florian's finger. He said yes. They would marry before they became knights. They would make their promise real. Florian felt the cool metal settle against his skin and knew nothing would ever undo this. Griffin pulled him close and kissed him there in the stable, with both horses watching. When they pulled apart, Florian saw BelloSaros standing in the doorway. The prince nodded once, then turned and walked back toward the castle.

The ride south began at midday. Florian adjusted his grip on the reins and glanced at Griffin riding beside him. The silver ring caught the light each time Griffin's hand moved. BelloSaros rode ahead with Daveth, their horses moving in step along the dirt road. A dove dropped from the sky and landed on BelloSaros's outstretched arm. The prince pulled a small leather tube from the bird's leg and unrolled the parchment inside. His face darkened as he read. He turned his horse and rode back to where Florian and Griffin waited. The serpent-people had attacked travelers on the southern road, he said. Three merchants were dead. A woman reported seeing eggs left at the roadside as markers before each ambush. Florian felt his chest tighten. He asked if they should turn back. BelloSaros shook his head. Gracia needed soldiers, not cowards. They reached the merchant's cart an hour later. It sat abandoned at the roadside, its painted wood splintered and cracked. Apples and grain spilled across the ground. Florian dismounted and walked to the cart. A green snake coiled on the driver's seat, its scales bright against the dark wood. It didn't move as Florian approached. Griffin came up beside him and drew his sword. The snake's head turned toward them, and Florian saw intelligence in its eyes. Not a serpent, but something more. He stepped back and told Griffin to leave it. BelloSaros called from his horse. They needed to keep moving. Florian climbed back onto his horse and looked at the cart one last time. The snake watched them ride away. He realized this was what becoming a knight meant—not just training in the yard, but riding toward danger when others fled. Griffin met his eyes and nodded. They had asked for this. Now they would see it through to Gracia, whatever waited there. Florian touched the ring on his finger and pressed his heels into his horse's sides. The road stretched ahead, and they followed BelloSaros south.

The road narrowed as they rode deeper south. Trees pressed close on both sides, their branches forming a canopy overhead. Florian heard the horses' hooves strike packed earth in steady rhythm. BelloSaros raised his hand and the group slowed to a stop. A fallen tree curved across the path ahead, its trunk forming a natural arch. Vines and moss covered the wood. Beyond it, Florian saw a dilapidated hut with faded grass walls and a sagging roof. Daveth dismounted and drew his sword. Griffin started to follow, but BelloSaros stopped him with a gesture. The prince pointed at Florian and Daveth, then at the hut. The two of them would approach. Florian climbed down from his horse and pulled his machete free. His heart hammered in his chest. They walked under the arch and stopped at a nest woven from twisted branches. Four pale eggs sat nestled in its center. A woman emerged from the hut. Her lower body was scaled and serpentine, green and coiled beneath her. Her upper body was human, bare except for the snake-like patterns on her skin. She studied them with eyes that didn't blink. Florian forced himself to speak. He asked why the Citya were attacking travelers. The woman tilted her head. Her people weren't violent by nature, she said. Something had driven them from their nesting grounds in the south. Men in armor had burned the marshes and killed their young. The Citya were striking back in desperation, not malice. Florian felt understanding settle over him like a weight. He asked what would stop the attacks. The woman coiled closer to her nest. If the soldiers withdrew from the southern marshes, her people would leave the roads alone. Florian looked at Daveth. The knight nodded slowly. This was information BelloSaros needed to hear. Florian told the woman they would carry her message to the prince. She watched them back away toward the horses. As they rode north again, Florian realized knighthood meant more than fighting enemies. Sometimes it meant understanding why they fought at all.

They rode back toward the prince in silence. Florian's mind turned over the Citya woman's words. Soldiers had burned the southern marshes. Killed the young. The eggs left at each attack site weren't warnings or trophies—they were reminders of what had been taken. BelloSaros waited beneath the fallen arch with Griffin beside him. Daveth dismounted first and approached the prince. Florian followed, still gripping his machete. Daveth told BelloSaros what the Citya woman had said. The attacks would stop if soldiers withdrew from the southern marshes. BelloSaros listened without expression. Then he shook his head. The soldiers weren't his, he said. They belonged to someone else—someone who wanted the eggs for a purpose he didn't yet understand. Florian felt his chest tighten. If the prince couldn't stop the soldiers, then the Citya would keep attacking. Griffin stepped forward and pointed south along the road. Fresh cart tracks cut deep into the dirt, heading away from the hut. Someone had been here recently. BelloSaros studied the tracks. He ordered them to follow. They rode fast, pushing their horses until the trees opened onto a clearing. An abandoned cart sat tilted in the mud. Wooden crates lay broken beside it, their contents scattered. Florian dismounted and moved closer. Shackles lay in the dirt near the cart, their chains still attached. The metal was rusted but the leather cuffs looked recently used. Daveth knelt and picked one up. These weren't for prisoners, he said. They were too small. Florian looked at the broken crates and understood. Someone was stealing Citya eggs and transporting them somewhere. BelloSaros ordered them to search the area. Florian found a nest hidden beneath the cart—empty, its woven branches torn apart. Whoever had been here had taken everything. He called the others over and showed them. The prince's jaw tightened. This wasn't about territory or revenge anymore. Someone was hunting the Citya specifically for their eggs. BelloSaros mounted his horse and turned north. They would ride to the way castle and send word to the other lords. Until they found who was behind this, the Citya would keep killing travelers to protect what little they had left. Florian climbed onto his horse beside Griffin. The question had changed. It wasn't why the Citya attacked. It was who was taking their children—and why.