Sure, he felt bad about leaving Grant behind in the crowd. It wasn't as if he'd not left him with the unseen net of energy he'd thrown over him back at the waiting room at the Dyad complex. The man's mind was safe in the crowd, but his ears and nose and eyes and shoulders — maybe not so much.

Kilian stepped over the threshold at the court complex just as all the screens uniformly chimed in the 15th hour and he'd activated the lift before the first minute had passed. But Kilian did not check into the Lane's waiting room screen until three minutes had passed on the hour.

It immediately informed him in deep red type that he was late and that the meeting must be rescheduled.

He yelled at the screen directly. "Come on, you rescheduled at the last minute and made us walk eight blocks through the afternoon shift change. I probably knocked a dozen people down trying to get here on time." He pounded a fist against the wall next to the screen impotently. 

They only had a couple days of leave and would have to be back on the railcar north bright and early the next day. The capital city was two provinces south of the Dyadic training complex at Concord, even with the fastest grade of rail it was an eight-hour trip and both he and Grant had orders to report in at the 7th hour the day after tomorrow.

The screen did not respond. He felt the urgency of opportunity slipping slowly from his hands. He didn't want to accept that he'd simply have to know what was to come without possessing any way to profit from it. He'd have to stay in the goddamn wilds and plod his way through the mind-numbing process of training for years to come through a revolution he'd not be able to take any part in. He feared he'd go out of his mind with the monotony of it.

In truth, he cared nothing if the king was overthrown, if the family was thrown into mutiny and disgrace. Undoubtedly, there were endless genetic variations of snot-nosed princes plodding around this very building. The royal family was a many-headed hydra and the crowd was too tired from their tedious shifts, their short stays on their uncomfortable cots. The crowd was kept just fed enough and just warm enough not to riot but they also lived just short of awareness, just short of a life. They had no idea what it was like to be well-rested, well-fed, and alert. They had no idea what it was to use the whole of their head. And even if they lacked an entire sense in comparison to the Mystics, they had much more power than they thought they did — it was just wasted in routine, in monotony, in the ruse that they were always a few days from breaking okay.

And none of the Mystics dared break rank with the royals as long as Hector attached to Boren's hip, and if it wasn't Boren it would be his son Brangoris, and if it wasn't Brangoris it would be Byron or Gustan or any number of royal-blooded pups tapped from plush seats in the Court complex. Even ancient Amon with all of his accumulated knowledge and practice feared the head of state, especially with Kilian's progenitor attached. And from what he remembered of the man he was both too spoiled and too smart to turn his back on the royals.

But hey, maybe chaos would be to Kilian's advantage — if Boren went down perhaps there was some scenario where Hector went down with him, and he'd be fresh out of basic in the face of that power vacuum. But then again, the threat of his father's standing is what had buoyed Kilian so far. He wasn't exactly well-liked by the other Dyads, by anyone in the city of Concord, or anyone else for that matter. Kilian knew that even Grant thought he was a haughty, spoiled, idiot that had to be constantly watched and reigned in as much as possible.

And with all due respect, Kilian thought Grant was a goddamn fool for believing that whatever friendship they had could provide any sort of real brake thrown on anything Kilian actually wanted to do.

He brought his fist down again half-heartedly as he realized that the screen had no reply for him, in the reverberation of the stroke he heard the sound of a door-track whine and Kilian briefly thought Grant had finally found his way. Instead, he was met with the half-smiling face of a far stranger looking man.

The man was tall and willowy like a Mystic but he had no presence in the aether aside from the regular brick wall of personal boundary offered by any trained personnel. He had copious amounts of white-blonde hair, half swept up under a tall, black hat and eyes so frosty blue they were almost gray. His long mouth was crooked in fascination as he studied Kilian.

"You're here for Charles, yes?" His voice was lower than Kilian had imagined but it had the little wobble in it that denoted breeding. That and the long, well-kept hair, the fine clothes, were context clues said the man was some sort of aristocrat.

Kilian straightened. Though he didn't respect aristocrats and considered them inbred freaks, he knew he had to behave a certain way around them. "Yes, I had a meeting at the fifteenth."

The man shook his head and glanced briefly at the screen — the red letters had faded — it had gone back to the open check-in menu, the clock blaring at the top 15:10.

"Charles went home at noon," The man told him. "He had no intention of making your meeting, I'm afraid. That will have to be answer enough to whatever issue you bring today. Perhaps try again in a couple of weeks? The man is famously temperamental." The strange man did not break eye contact. He'd not quit looking at him with utter fascination. Kilian almost blushed at the attention — if he wasn't such an off-putting fellow, he'd almost be flattered.

Kilian frowned. "He is supposed to be the Dyadic representative among the King's Council."

The man nodded, his shoulders shifted slightly, and he withdrew one of his hands from under his cloak to tap the screen. After a few frenetic motions of his hand, he spoke again. "His assistant is out as well, I fear. Again, I would encourage you to try again in a couple of weeks. Surely, it is nothing urgent or Hector would have brought it in directly."

"Hector is my father," Kilian dropped suddenly.

"Is that so?" The man squinted as he looked intensely into his face. "I suppose it is."

The lift door opened suddenly and Grant burst in, his dark eyes heavy with reproach for Kilian as he righted himself on the landing.

The man looked between them for a moment before giving Kilian a final smile. "Well then, you'll be on your way young Mallloy. Perhaps you should try bringing your issue to your father in the meantime?" He swept past Grant elegantly and caught the lift door and was gone.