Naena spent three nights in Graydon's room. She only really needed one. They had some fun but nothing serious. Exploratory and hesitating. He knew she enjoyed herself, but he ended up frustrated in the bathroom, taking more showers than necessary.
Easier for her to enjoy herself, which only emboldened him.
All that came to end the fourth morning when she joined him behind the estate. He had let his guard down. He remembered thinking he heard something, but then dawn's light hit her just so. She was flush, bright red, and breath hitching when there was a scuff on the walk around a hedge.
His father came around, eyes on papers, tea almost to his lips, as the pair separated. He settled in his seat, grunted, stiffened, looked up over the back gardens, then slowly turned to the pair of them sharing the only other seat. Large enough for them to almost sit side by side.
"Can't have you standing," Graydon said.
His father looked away, back toward the hedge. He saw the little jerk of his father's chest before the man went limp and turned back.
"Wouldn't do well for my mood," his father murmured. "Thank you. Hello, Naena."
"Morning, Lord Pan."
She rarely said good morning. There was nothing good about a morning in which she had to greet others.
They spent their quiet time out back. Naena started spinning her wheels with worries and concern and where she'd spend the summer, so Graydon took her down to Theon's place and was pleased to find Theon already in residence.
Since Theon was her guardian, all those questions needed to be answered by him.
"My key," Theon demanded.
"Haven't got one," Graydon said. "And those locks are unpickable. Oh... Oh, no, Theon, I don't have a key."
"Nor do I," Naena said.
"I must have given you a key."
"No, Theon, never," Naena protested. "I'd remember receiving a key."
Theon swore. Then he got a look. Then he turned to Graydon, who sucked in a little sound.
"Teach your parents better," Theon said. "He was a sword. He certainly knows how to get in and out of my home without alerting me to the fact that he's having sex with my sister on my couch!"
"His couch," Naena corrected. "I told you, anything his—"
"Yes, I learned that after replacing my mattress, thank you," Theon responded. "They're worse than mages with their school lover. By Mason. Get in here, Naena. From the look of him, Graydon hasn't spoken to his father yet."
Graydon said goodbye to Naena and headed back to the estate. The walk back to the estate was twenty minutes of him going over everything he had done wrong that year. He was sure he was going to be called out on that morning even, as he stepped into Lord Pan's study.
"Ah, Graydon, sit," his father said as he raised his head and frowned. "What's that about?"
"Theon said that I obviously hadn't spoken with you," Graydon responded.
"Ah, he meant petulant," his father muttered as he sat forward. "Graydon, your performance this year has been unexpected. You showed softness, heart, emotion, planning, conniving, manipulation, and even a keeping of secrets that might be considered dangerous."
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?" his father demanded. "We weren't able to do this last year. You flew off in a rage as soon as I started."
Graydon adjusted in his seat and lowered his eyes to his father's desk, remembering that fight.
"And I reacted," his father said. "Graydon, you were a problem, and I threw you at another problem. They had expressed concern over him, and you attempted to resign. I never expected... I made an error, Graydon. And I need you to understand that. I sent you on a fool's errand that should have ended in both of you dead. I... couldn't even tell your mother. Her surprise when Theon walked in and you the one bringing him back? I just... I couldn't take that from her by admitting I almost got you both killed. Did you ever even... fer fuck's sake, Graydon, there's a time to say no!"
"No," Graydon responded. "No, I just went. He'd never hurt me. I just showed up and started talking to him. I told him you were doing shitty, and so mother was doing shitty, and he just stared at me for a long time. Then he asked what I would propose, and I said just to come home. And he did."
"I'm sorry," his father responded, a smile splitting his features. "Are you telling me that you went to my shield—a war mage with a body count higher than yours—and you told him he had best come home because you were upset because mummy was upset because I was upset because I was worried about his well-being?"
"I might have mentioned I was there because I was upset, yes," Graydon said.
"That will either make this awkward or more concerning," his father said with a laugh. "Oh, dear. One day I will ask him about that. No, Graydon, you and I need to talk because I, as your father, am telling you that..." his father hesitated and sighed. "The rules that apply to your siblings apply to you as well."
"What?" Graydon asked.
"Graydon, you've never been a child. Now you will be. You need to know what that's like. To be a child of this household. Summers, little serving, curfews, bedtimes, activities within the household, you will be there. Understand?"
"No," Graydon protested. "I, no—I understand that is what's happening but not why. You can't do that. It's not fair! I have worked hard for what I have. You can't just take it from me!"
He knew the rules. They all knew the rules.
No boy could be alone with a man.
"What brings this on?" his father asked.
Graydon clenched his fists and forced himself back into his seat. He hadn't even been aware of standing. His head lowered because he knew better than to speak against Lord Pan.
"Graydon," his father said sternly.
"If I'm a child, I can't be—" Graydon's voice broke as he looked down. "I can't be alone with Theon."
"That's an exception I'm willing to make," his father said. "Here, there, on the road, Graydon, I trust Theon with you and all of you. Not Typher on the road, I just think it'd be too rough for the boy, but I trust him with you all. Exception made. The rest remains. Yes?"
"Yes," he responded with a sniff.
"Good. Wipe your eyes, and go back to your shield. You're at an important time of the tempering. For the next three weeks, when she's around, I don't want you further from her than you absolutely need to be. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"We're heading out tomorrow. I'll arrange shield rooms for the pair of you. We'll revisit the arrangement once they return from their trip."
"Trip?" he asked.
"Yes, Theon is her guardian. He's taking her on a trip. It is none of our business where they are going or what they are doing but, please, Graydon, for the love of everything, ask her. I can't rearrange scouts and teams if I don't know where they will be."
Graydon's eye twitched, but he couldn't tell if it was because his father lied or that he took issue with Theon gallivanting around with Naena.
He returned to Naena, told Theon what his father had said, and then ended up spending the day alone with Naena in Theon's home as Theon went to talk to his father.
When they headed to the coast for their summer home, Naena was startled to find she had access to almost no magic at all. Graydon learned this the first evening when she came out terrified because her hygiene spells hadn't worked.
Her protest just made him smile as he slipped out of bed and gently explained to her that most women just slept in the remains of lovemaking. She was horrified, absolutely horrified. Then she asked why the man never did or why someone didn't put down a damned towel.
They did have another moment of horror over the other spell they used, but that was quickly solved, and they took no more risks.
The summer was filled with nights on the beach around a fire. Theon telling stories to the children and Naena. For three weeks, they spent every second together, morning, noon and night. Then Theon took Naena off to someplace he hadn't even told her about.
Graydon retreated to the library and picked up the research he had left the year before. He spent mornings working his body, mid-morning to lunch with his siblings, lunch on his own, afternoons on his research and a late afternoon conference with his father. Evening meals with everyone followed by an evening of quiet activities with his siblings.
When Naena returned, the evening was filled with stories. She was distant, went to her own bed but ended up in his halfway through the night. She didn't say a word, but Graydon felt the wetness on the front of her nightgown, tears absorbed by the fabric.
He didn't let her out of his sight, following her along. She adapted to his schedule, moving with him to the things children must do. A curfew, yes, but they had nowhere to go out there. They had no bedtime. Late in the evening was when they'd visit Theon, sitting out on his porch as they shared a glass of wine. Sometimes his father would join them.
Those times, Naena sat in her own seat.
It was good to be able to share that with Theon. Even better when Theon appeared to approve.
Until the bastard took Naena on another trip. She returned furious but unspeaking, shaking. She was so angry. He had gone to Theon, they argued. They fought.
Theon tried to drown him in the ocean.
It was good to get that out, too.
The only thing that saved Graydon was that Theon dragged him past his siblings sitting around a fire as his father attempted to retell one of Theon's stories. Theon spun it as a dramatization of a story he had yet to tell the children.
Graydon's nose ached for a week from the salt water he inhaled.
He said his goodnights, begged an early evening and went back to Naena soaking wet. He told her what happened because she asked, and she ended up howling with laughter at Graydon's re-enactment of Theon's spinning of the tale.
Then she told him that they'd been to see wiccans. Graydon was confused, so Naena explained that's what natural magic users called themselves. They gathered over faults when they thought they were carrying a wiccan child to prevent the babe's magic from accidentally killing the mother. Everyone else believed it was supposed to be auspicious and make them more powerful, but that wasn't true. Hence, a woman had to run while in labour to escape some mages who were trying to kill her.
She would have died if Naena hadn't been there to right what happened.
That was why she was angry.
Then she added with an annoyed grimace, "was nice to get clean, though."
"Stick works great."
"Oh, I'll use the stick," she responded venomously.
"Did you ask Theon?" Graydon asked.
"He doesn't try, apparently," she said with a shrug. "But he said another shield, from his training time, used magic here, so it must be possible. I'll figure it out. I mean, that's all I want. I like what we do, but... are you sure it's supposed to be..." she trailed off as he grinned. "Why do you look like that whenever I mention it?"
"Must be a man thing," he said. "Hey, so, I got to thinking. Everyone thinks I'm my grandfather. That's an image, and I should probably—"
"Keep the image, yes, we've touched on this," Naena responded. "To be honest, Graydon, the idea of playing that role is fine by me. But I just don't think I can make the switch. I can't see you as two different things."
"Right, so, I was thinking about that, too," Graydon said. "What about a code word or something? We could work on it so that you'd know when things were actually serious and when I'm like, you know. This is the act. If that doesn't work, then we just show you wearing me down over time."
"Thought your father wanted a softer image," she countered.
"It's my image," he protested. "Know how many problems my grandfather had to deal with? My father even? That image could keep us safe one day. If being a cold-hearted bastard in public keeps you safe, then that's what I'll be."
She frowned at him. It was a confused look, with a scrunched-up nose and twisted lips.
"What?" he asked.
"Did your father tell you to say that?" she asked.
"No, why?"
"He said the exact same thing to Theon after executing a wiccan on Amos grounds and right before Theon tried to beat him to death with the scotch. For some reason, they started drinking it from the broken bottle. I think it was really expensive or something. Anyhow, your father ended up weeping in the arms of an angel statue as he cradled a pineapple and babbled about the pointlessness of the world," she hesitated for the briefest of seconds. "And that's how they forged."
Graydon swore.
"I knew he did it once. I just didn't know the context."
"Have you ever—"
"No," Graydon protested. "No. A woman? Yes, but not a na—uh—not a wiccan. Pretty sure they were gearing up for it, though. The first step in preparing an executioner is dehumanizing their intended target. The only stories I know of them have been told by Theon or my grandfather."
"Why are they dangerous?"
"Why are they—are you joking?" Graydon asked. "Their magic might be subtler but has far-reaching consequences. Any mage with liquid magic might be able to do the same thing? Like Mikent not having children. Theon cursed his entire family. Mander's work that they say led to you." He sputtered out a sound. "Theon was bullied a lot at Amos. He was this runt of a kid, shorter and slimmer than you. He didn't shoot up until he was almost twenty."
"He told me," Naena said with a nod. "Said the world has a way of working things out."
"That's not worked out. A mage slipped down the steps from a leak in the ceiling that landed in just such a way that he would step on it, slip, and fall. Oh, and the whole building has been spelled so it can't leak, but they found the leak. Magic was fine, but there's this leak. A leak can't get past magic to prevent it. Now, Theon has been taught not to do that. Imagine a—well, imagine if you could do that."
"You people have no idea how this works."
"Technically, I have no idea how it works," he said. "We've offered to teach wiccans how to use mage magic, and they said no—huh. Doesn't that mean we know they can do it?"
"Pan would be the ones to know," Naena said. "One of your ancestors is a natural magic user. The Seven wanted wiccan magic for their women. It was common to kidnap and murder Seven women, use them in sacrifice, all that mage nonsense. The Seven wanted to protect their women but instead got a woman who stabbed a man in the throat at the alumni ball. They chastised her, and she said any man who touches a Pan woman will wear the family's colour, it pushed Pan's hand, and they had to step up."
"You're saying that I get to beat a man who abuses my cousins, sisters, and aunts, because a woman stab—oh, I get it, our colour is almost blood red."
She gave her head a little shake as she smiled.
"A woman changed it," he muttered.
All they needed to do was plan something big like that.
"I'm not a Pan," she said. "Even if I marry into the family, I can't do that."
"Could do it for shields, though," Graydon said as he smiled.
He saw her to bed. The next morning, he went to see Theon and related the story to him. Theon, of course, already knew about the story because he was the one who told Naena. When he explained the second part, Theon said the same thing Naena had, so he sighed and explained again.
There was a long silence before Theon said his name delicately. He grunted in response.
"You do realize what you propose is that I beat the shit out of you in public the second you cross a line," Theon said. "Which could very well require you to cross the line on purpose. I've seen the way you two act in public and in private, recall."
"So?" Graydon asked.
"Boy, I have never done you true harm."
Graydon swallowed the lump that formed at the back of his throat.
There had been plenty of cuffs upside the head and uttered threats. Some bruising during sparring, but that work was done with gentle hands, on purpose.
"If it keeps her safe, then do it," he said after a long moment.
"And when I pull Lord Lugh around Amos by his ear for uttering a command to his shield and then leaving the boy lying on his back so he could drown in his own sick," Theon said viciously. "What then?"
"I'd pay to see that," Graydon said.
"Really, Graydon?"
"I think Nendan would piss himself," he countered. "But... change doesn't happen quickly unless someone else steps in. We move at the speed of a snail because it's always something bigger and older than us. If we can go from our women being slaughtered to well protected because one woman may have lost her temper, why can't we do the same thing for shields?"
"Is this your proofing?"
"No, my proofing is finding an arch mage room."
Theon's eyebrows rose.
"What?" Graydon asked.
"This isn't your proofing?" Theon asked.
"No, Theon, I just told you—"
"You just want to do this?"
"It's the right thing—I mean, it's not the easy thing, but damn it, it's the right thing to do. Lords haven't been protecting their shields. Let the shields demand answers of those who hold their leashes. So, yes, Theon, if you think I'm going to do something stupid, clip her, throw her off a cliff, put her in danger, or am overreaching, I want you to make a public example of me."
"And Andle?" Theon asked. "Who would stand with me—"
"Me. Theon. I will stand with you. Kaulu has broken off. That's fine, but they will obey."
Theon stared at Graydon, mouth partly open as his question faded. He closed his mouth slowly.
"As you say," the war mage responded. "Have you spoken with your father of this? You've every right, but let's not surprise the poor man again. Qual is good, but his heart might not take another shock."
"What?" Graydon demanded.
Theon just stared back at him, so Graydon did the rational thing. He went to see his lord. Not as his father, he knew. He approached the conversation just the same as he would have with any other member of the Seven.
Which is to say, he took a strip off of Lord Pan, Lord of the Seven, for not disclosing a health problem. Between early retirement and death while lord, everyone preferred early retirement. That strip involved Graydon taking another piece off his father for possibly resisting because Graydon wasn't ready. In times of need, the brothers of Lord Pan could step in and rule on his behalf until his son was capable.
"Do you ever breathe?" Lord Pan countered.
"What are you doing?" Graydon asked. "Trying to pull the horse off the road with a bee to its backside?"
Lord Pan's eyebrows raised.
"Oh. Also? I told Theon he should just stab the next person to abuse a shield."
The eyebrows rose yet higher.
Graydon sucked in a little breath. "And if he goes against Andle, I'll stand at his side."
Yet higher as the lord looked away, then jerked his gaze back to Graydon.
"You fucking what?" Lord Pan roared, coming to his feet. "Boy, you are out of line. You do not stand beside my fucking shield!"
"He's not your shield," Graydon managed in protest.
He had seen his father angry before, but never like that. Yet as he spoke the words, he saw his father flinch. A hand clenched before it slipped into his pocket. Fury still played over Lord Pan's features, but they were now contorted with some attempt not to snarl again.
"It's not my fault that I—let alone he—know not what you think of your shield."
"He knows."
"I made a promise because he spoke of uncertain want," Graydon countered. "I may have brought this to him, but he is the one who will follow through. My uncle needed someone to stand beside him, and neither of us knew if you would. That's not our fault!"
"Graydon, I need you to leave."
"Le—what?"
"Take Naena, go to Riverend or wherever else you two slink off to," Lord Pan said. "You may return in three days."
"Yes, sir," Graydon whispered.
He went off to Riverend with Naena. They spent three nights under the stars just where it was safe to camp out. No one bothered them. Naena spent her time wandering around, but Graydon just sat by their fire, staring at the cold fire pit as his nose hurt from the salt water. His heart lurched each time he thought of that moment in his father's study. They had almost come to blows the year before, and he hadn't been banished then.
He managed to return, barely, to Lord's Pan study three days later.
Who looked up at him and flinched.
"I can go again," he said as he turned toward the door.
"No, no, come sit," Lord Pan said.
"I'd rather stand."
"Graydon, sit."
He took the seat and found himself staring at the desk that stood between them. Lord Pan's desk, used by each and then passed on when they retired to the new Lord Pan. It was hard to shake the memories of previous times, standing before that desk, terrified that this would be the time he was executed.
"Spoken from the mouth of a babe, but your words ring true," Lord Pan said. "Graydon, look at me." He looked up. "It's good to know there is something in this world that you fear, but you shouldn't fear me. We are partners, not competitors. It may be hard to believe, but I only want what is best for you. Just because we need to be an executioner, a sharp blade to be used and then honed as we need, that does not mean that is all you are or all you can ever be. If I'm being frank... I cannot fucking believe the balls on you."
Graydon managed a confused, terrified little sound.
"You somehow came to this conclusion, and when my retired shield, a war mage—who we still aren't certain wouldn't kill us all given the chance—expressed concern, you immediately volunteered. Do you know what that means?"
"That he'll be protected."
"It's a challenging act, Graydon. You aren't telling the world that you'll stand by Theon, which after time to think, I can appreciate was your intention. You are telling the world that you would choose him over me."
"Yeah, and?"
"I'm seeing a pattern," Lord Pan said as he stood.
Graydon sighed. "How long am I going for, now?"
"Three weeks. You're coming with me to Lugh. We're having a private convening for Nillon. Naena and Theon are going out again."
"Did you talk to him?"
"No, I've no rights but those he grants me, Graydon. Unless he comes to me, I can do nothing and offer no support."
"That is bullshit."
"I'd say tell him that, but they'll be on their way as soon as Naena arrives home. This is red book, Graydon, what we're about to do."
"Why?" Graydon asked.
"What do you mean, why?"
"We argued—"
"We had a disagreement of opinion."
"And now it's more service."
"Boy," Lord Pan said with a smile. "A private convening doesn't take three weeks. You and I will spend two and a half weeks in a rented cottage."
"Couldn't you just whip me instead?"
"No, only Theon gets whippings and only when he begs me for it. Go pack. And no school work."
"But—"
"It is not the time to get ahead, Graydon. Pack that game you're always talking about."
"I don't think we should play chess," Graydon protested. "Mother says we're both too competitive for anyone to enjoy it."
Lord Pan hesitated, hands mid-motion of something, though Graydon wasn't sure what. He drew in a long, slow breath, then let it out.
"Then I suppose we'll just have to talk to one another."
"A—about what?"
His father sighed again, wearily and heavily.
"Go pack, boy."
"Yes, sir."