"He'll back on his feet soon," Lara's rod danced just inches above Jules' calf. A golden trace of runes sneaked on Jules' skin as she hummed words the boy couldn't understand. Healers used mantras to clear and focus their minds as they worked. "You're lucky the wound isn't deep."

Ravin gave a short nod, his face relaxing with relief at her words.

Under the golden signs, his skin was warm and itching. His torn flesh was knitting. It wasn't the first time a healer had treated his injuries - though these ones had been the most serious so far.

"I'm done," Lara straightened on her chair and rubbed her temples. She motioned at Ravin in an authoritative gesture. "Remove your shirt and take a seat. It's your turn."

The hunter drank his coffee, put the mug back on the table at took his shirt off on the way to his bed. He sat down and Lara took a seat at his side. She unwrapped the blood-soaked bandage off his forearm.

"You're stubborn and careless like always," she frowned at the sight of the long cuts that tore his muscles. "What was it, again?"

"A striga," Ravin gave his apprentice a warning look.

"I wasn't saying anything!" the boy responded with a hurt expression.

"You didn't have to," Lara pulled the chair closer and put the bowl with water on its seat. She washed Ravin's arm with a cloth. "I can tell there was more than one. Strigas are very social, aren't they? Just like bats," she gave the hunter a questioning look, but the man remained stubbornly quiet. "I heard they were a real pain in the winter. Anyway," she tossed the cloth into the bowl and grabbed a needle with a thread. "You won't get away from here without stitches."

"I didn't expect to -" Ravin stopped short when the needle pierced into his skin. "Goddess, are you angry about something or what?"

"About you nearly getting killed, that for starters!"

Jules observed them, grinning. He had never before seen a woman bending Ravin's ear - or his master accepting it. Yet, while Mistress Lara ranted about the need for cleaning and dressing wounds properly, the hunter only listened, his eyes absent, nodding from time to time.

"She's been always like this," Ravin told Jules after the healer left their room. "Yelling at us while dressing our wounds whenever Kedmon and I got in trouble. There is one thing you should remember: if you argue with a woman, you've lost before you start."

Jules reached under his bed and grabbed his backpack. He rummaged in it, then took out a small bundle: three stones taken from his family's graves, wrapped in gray cloth.

"What do we do about the Lensters, anyway?" the boy got up and jumped on one leg toward the table.

"You aren't supposed to walk, don't you remember?" Ravin caught up with him in the middle of the room and grabbed his arm. Jules nearly dropped his stones.

"And you aren't to use your hand either," he reminded quite cheekily. Ravin frowned at him and the boy looked away, abashed. "I'm sorry, I'm just exhausted."

"And this is exactly why you should be in bed," Ravin helped him to get to the table. Jules smiled at the man bleakly and laid the stones on the table top. Then, he reached for a candle and offered it to the hunter. "Could you light it for me?"

Ravin lit the candle and placed it on the table between the three stones.

"Thank you," Jules rested his chin on his forearm, watching the little flame growing brighter. "I'd nearly forgotten it's the last day of May today."

His sister and mother had died on the last day of May. This day five years ago he had cried over their dead bodies. And each year, at the evening of their deathday, he would take out the stones from their graves and light a candle for them - and for his father, just not to feel guilty for missing him out.

He couldn't force himself to miss him, no matter how hard he tried. The few good memories connected to his father were clouded by the uncertainty whether the man had been his real father at all. Jules refused to believe his mother had betrayed her husband; on the other hand, the Sixth Sense had to be inherited. His father had treated him with cold resentment from ever since the boy could remember. It was Maya who had been always the apple in their father's eyes.

"It's no wonder you forgot, you have too much on your head already," Ravin offered him a mug of warm tea. The boy accepted it thankfully and drank half of it in a few sips.

"I hope they don't mind I can't go to the cemetery," he fixed his eyes on the flickering flame. The warm light of the fire danced on his face and shone in his eyes, making the hazel one appear almost amber. "I don't want them to think I've forgotten them... Ravin?" he looked at his master across the table. "Why do you never talk about your wife?"

The hunter's eyebrows lifted high, and though his face was usually expressionless, now it bore a puzzled mien.

"You don't talk about your family often, either," the man poured more drink into his mug. He sipped while Jules observed him intently. "Fine," Ravin put the mug on the table. "Her name was Vivienne. We got married soon after I passed my Master Exam."

"What was she like?" Jules asked quietly, trying to imagine the woman his master had fallen for. "She must have been a beauty, I bet?"

Ravin chuckled at this, and Jules almost dropped his mug; he had rarely seen the man smile, let alone laugh.

"She had a charming smile, but, you see, she had been born with a limp. Yet, she was always caring and cheerful. For most of the time, I used to carry her around" Ravin smiled sadly at his memories. "This is why... One day she..." he shook his head violently, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She died about a year after our wedding. A few days before our anniversary."

"Ravin, I'm so sorry..." Jules reached for the hunter's balled fist, but the man stood up, walked over to his apprentice's chair and pulled the boy up.

"It's time for bed," his voice sounded empty, and when Jules looked up at him, the hunter's eyes were unfocused. "You should be asleep already."

He helped Jules to his bed, and when his apprentice sat down, he returned to the table to blew out the candle. The boy watched his master walking over to his own bed and lying down without saying goodnight.

Jules crawled under his blankets, watching Ravin's back for a few minutes, wondering whether he should apologise for upsetting him. He hadn't done anything wrong though - wasn't it only natural that he wanted to know about the past of the man that had been raising him for the last five years?

He closed his eyes and rolled in the bed, irritated. He almost drifted off to sleep when a bang made him jump. He sat upright, straining his ears; something clashed outside. A cacophony of many angry voices filled the room through the broken window.

"What's going on?" he watched Ravin pulling on his boots. "Where are you going?"

"It sounds like a tangle by the main gate," the hunter headed to the door, grabbing his reila on his way.

"Wait, I'm coming -"

"No. You're staying in bed," Ravin shook his finger at his apprentice. "You'd better be here when I come back."

The door closed behind the hunter. Jules rolled his eyes; his leg didn't hurt much, and he was sure he could walk without breaking the stitches if he was careful. Ravin's supply of patience seemed to be at an end though. The boy wasn't eager to get on his master's bad side.

"Rosalie? Can you hear me?"

She appeared right by his side, making him blush. Her golden hair danced around her porcelain face, her thin eyebrows knitted in an expression of worry.

"Sir Lenster is at the gate," she turned toward the window. "He has several warriors loyal to him. They say they won't leave until they speak to the lord."

"Can't your father hear them out, then?"

"No, he can't. They want to see my grandfather," Rosalie shook her head. A waterfall of gold locks fell onto her misty shoulders.

"But you told me he already knows that Lord Harald is dead," Jules got up and jumped on one leg to get to the window. He removed the curtain and looked outside, but the gate couldn't be seen from this side of the castle. "What is he going to achieve?"

"It's all a political game," the ghost girl gave him a sad smile. "The Lensters are the Arvers' main rivals. Our families arrived to this land together, and the Lensters had always laid claims to rule it. My grandfather was an unpopular ruler; now his death is kept secret, people are scared of the curse they believe that had been cast over the feud. It's a great opportunity to bring my father down."

"But you can't just bring a lord down! The king wouldn't accept that -"

"He wouldn't if it happened somewhere else, but Arvene is just a small patch of land. We have no political or economic worth. I don't think the capital cares what happens in here."

"Still, sir Lenster can't siege the castle with a few men," Jules said reassuringly.

"No, he can't. But if he incites the people into revolt or gets support from the neighbouring feuds, it will be the end of my family."