“Put your legs around each one,” he said. “And then scoot as closely as you can so that you hug the pillar.”

The boy did so. Cyrus pretended to do likewise, and then demonstrated what he wanted him to do next.

“Duck your head underneath and then slide a little bit to the side,” he said. “Once you’re holding on tight, very tightly now, look down.”

By holding on to the pillar with arms and legs wrapped around it, the boy could hang out over the entire drop somewhat safely. Cyrus had done it dozens of times, and the exhilaration was always worth it. By the gasp the boy made, he agreed. Cyrus remained sitting beside him, his hands resting on his knees. Only a tremendous amount of self-control kept them from shaking.

“Is it not amazing?” he asked.

“It is!” Prince Uriah said, and for a brief moment he sounded unworried and unafraid. Cyrus watched him hang suspended over the air. His attention shifted to the black ring about the boy’s forefinger, bits of cloth helping fill it out so it sat comfortably above the joint. Should the ring be forcibly removed, or his mother or father don the matching ring, they would activate its magic, killing Uriah instantly and without pain. When one is the Usurper King to a newly conquered nation of the Everlorn Empire, such measures were necessary to prevent the capture and torture of one’s children.

But no one knew the boy was in danger. No guards. No warnings. A more perfect time to kill would never come.

“I’m Uriah,” the boy said after he pulled back, though his arms and legs remained wrapped around the balustrade pillar.

“People call me Vagrant,” Cyrus said. “It’s nice to meet you, Uriah.”

Uriah smiled, but it was forced. His nervousness was growing. He might panic and call for help soon, if not distracted…

“Look there,” Cyrus said, and he pointed to a distant glow of torches. “If you squint, I bet you can see the animals drawn in fire by the Belhaven Tavern. They use torches to do it, little dots close together to create shapes. Some say you can see it for miles.”

Cyrus stepped back from the edge as Uriah made a good show of looking. He pulled the hood up and over his head. He drew one sword, then the other. Each action was slow, methodical, and meant to delay what he knew must be done.