will hate Dies Irae more. I will speak to Volucris, the prince of griffins. He served as Irae's mount. He will hate the man. I will have him join our war."
Benedictus embraced her and kissed her forehead. "The griffins live many leagues beyond the sea. They dwell on islands no Vir Requis has visited in centuries, maybe millennia."
Lacrimosa nodded, staring into the east. Geese flying south for winter reflected in her eyes. "I know. I will find them."
Benedictus pulled Agnus Dei into the embrace. After a moment's hesitation, Kyrie and Gloriae joined too. The five Vir Requis, the last of their race, held one another, huddling together in the cold. The grass and trees moved in the cold autumn winds.
"The moon is full tonight," Benedictus said. "In two more moons, we meet in Fidelium Mountains. We meet in the cave where Agnus Dei and Lacrimosa hid throughout the summer."
They nodded, embraced again, and whispered teary goodbyes. Benedictus hugged and kissed Lacrimosa.
"Come back to me," he whispered.
She nodded and caressed his rough, stubbly cheeks. "Now and always."
Kyrie and Agnus Dei embraced too, and when they thought nobody was looking, they shared a kiss. Benedictus pretended not to see. He wanted to grumble and throttle the boy, but he only grunted and looked away. Agnus Dei had found a good man, he knew. Kyrie was a man now, seventeen this autumn. As much as Kyrie irked him, Benedictus knew his heart was true.
"It's time," he said softly after the goodbyes were said. "We go. Keep to human forms. Shift into dragons only when nobody can see, and only when you must. The skies are watched. The ground is safer. Remember that."
They nodded. Everyone but Gloriae had moist eyes; hers were cold, almost dead.
Kyrie and Gloriae began moving downhill, armed with dagger and sword. Lacrimosa, holding the crossbow, headed east.
Benedictus held Agnus Dei's hand. "We go north, daughter. We go to the ruins of Requiem."
They began walking. The winds moaned, ice cold. Winter was coming.
KYRIE ELEISON
"First thing we'll need is a good horse," Gloriae said.
Kyrie rolled his eyes. They were only minutes away from the hill they'd camped on, and already she was complaining.
"Walking not good enough for you, princess?" he asked.
Gloriae glared at him. Her eyes flashed with green fire, and blood rushed into her cheeks. "Watch your tongue, boy. You are not my family. I owe you no fealty, and if you speak out of line, I will bash respect into you."
Kyrie snorted. "Spare me. You might have been high and mighty in Osanna. But if I recall correctly, Dies Irae banished your backside. Out here on the run, you're no more important than me."
She gritted her teeth. "I am the daughter of King Benedictus, Lord of Requiem, am I not? You are Vir Requis. I am your princess. You will show me respect, and you will obey me."
Kyrie couldn't help it. He burst out laughing, which seemed to only further infuriate Gloriae. Her cheeks were deep pink now.
"My princess? Oh, pardon me, Your Majesty," Kyrie said. He sketched an elaborate bow. "How shall I serve the princess? Shall I fetch thee thy slippers? Perhaps some tea and pastries?"
She tried to slap his cheek. Kyrie caught her wrist, blocking the blow. They stared at each other. Gloriae was thinner than him, but almost as tall, and her eyes blazed. Golden flecks filled her green eyes, he noticed, like sparks from fire.
"Release my wrist," she said.
Kyrie shook his head. "Depends. Will you slap me again?"
"Maybe."
"Then I'm not letting go."
She kicked his shin. Kyrie yelped and released her arm, and she punched his chest. He couldn't breathe. She kicked him again, and he fell to the ground.
He grabbed her leg and pulled.
Gloriae fell, and before she could recover, Kyrie was atop her. He pinned her arms down and snarled.
"Do I have to tie you up again, princess?"
She tried to bite him. He pulled his head back, narrowly missing her teeth. She spat at him instead, hitting his eye.
He grunted, rolled off her, and rose to his feet. She stood up too, eyes now icy, fists raised.
"Had enough, boy?" she asked. A crooked smile found her lips.
Kyrie wiped her spit off his face. "I think I'm going to be sick."
Gloriae shook her mane of golden hair. "Look, kid. I don't like walking. I don't like blisters. I like riding. If I can't ride a griffin, and if Benedictus said we can't shift into dragons, I want a horse." She pointed to a town a