Arthur didn't move.
Xavier stood across the clearing with the worm between them and looked at Arthur the way people looked at things they'd already thought about before arriving.
What does he want.
Arthur's eyes moved fast. Xavier's triad. Auros to the left, broader than he looked at the ceremony, arms crossed, relaxed. Calver to the right, blue hair, eyes sharp, a cloth sack hanging from his right hand.
That sack.
Arthur looked at it. The weight of it. The way it hung full and heavy from Calver's grip.
He doesn't need ours. By this point he's cleared enough of the island to be sitting comfortable. So why is he here.
Xavier took a step forward.
Kreasial's body locked. Arthur felt it without looking — the specific stillness of someone shifting from tired to ready in one breath. Theodore moved half a step back and his bellus pressed flat against his ankle.
Arthur stayed where he was.
