He crossed the space with faux eagerness, as if his love for the High Lord made him forget the proper decorum. Most thought the best way to please was to be perfect in all things but Satyendra knew that was too simplistic. People wanted perfection, but they also wanted to be the one to break that perfection. It was a subtle art, and one that he’d spent a lifetime honing.

A smile burst onto his face, all teeth and joy, and he bowed low.

Yadavendra put a hand on Satyendra’s shoulder. ‘I am pleased to see you have recovered yourself.’

Recovered myself? What is he talking about? What has Pik done?

The weight of the gauntlet on his shoulder was heavier than it should be, and through the fabric of his cloak, he could feel the skin that was being pressed down on beginning to prickle.

‘Forgive me, my High Lord, I knew you were coming yesterday, and Mother had told me to prepare myself but when I saw you in the Chrysalis Chamber I …’ He trailed off to try and show that he was struggling to put his joy of seeing the High Lord into words but instead of pleasing Yadavendra, it had the opposite effect, and he felt the grip on his shoulder tighten.

‘Don’t falter, Rochant is always clear in his intent.’

‘I meant to say that my memories were a poor substitute for seeing you in person. Forgive me.’

‘Of course.’ Satyendra was pulled into an embrace, his right cheek crushed into the armour of Yadavendra’s belly. ‘None who love the house as you do need ever fear. It is not my forgiveness you should seek, but to do better. To be better.’

‘I will.’

Now well inside Yadavendra’s aura, he was paralysed by it, and where his bare flesh was touching the glowing crystal, it quickly began to burn. And with it came the terror of discovery. It wasn’t the first time he’d endured being close to the High Lord but this was worse than normal for some reason. Perhaps it was the sunslight charging the armour, or perhaps it was the High Lord’s sterner than usual demeanour, or perhaps it was because Satyendra was changing, getting older. In that moment he didn’t really care for the why. He could feel his facial muscles moving strangely, contracting, drawing back into his skull. It’s as if they’re trying to get away. Though it sounded absurd, he knew it was true, his body was literally trying to turn itself inside out in an effort to break contact.

Terror coursed through him, however he dared not pull away, to do so would be to reject his High Lord, all he could do was endure, gritting his teeth and holding his breath. Whatever strength he had so recently gathered into himself was quickly burned through, so that when he was finally released, he was left gasping.