"Yield," he coughed, and he collapsed forward on to his face.
"Idiot! You were supposed to scratch him, not try and kill him! Fionh, Amber, attend to Fellstamp." Garvin's instructions were crisp.
"Will he be OK?"
"You missed the heart, though not through any skill on your part. Sword." He held his hand out to me.
I gave him the sword.
"Kneel and bare your forearm."
I knelt carefully down, watching as Amber and Fionh lifted Fellstamp into a sitting position so that they could apply pads to the wound. His face was grey with pain and his shirt was soaked red all down the front. There was a lot of blood.
I did as I was bid and the blade flashed down, the line of red droplets staining the floor anew. I didn't feel the touch of the blade, but I knew Garvin well enough to know that it had cut. The blood welled from the line across my wrist.
"Your blood is mixed with the blood of the Warders. Do you accept it?"
I looked up into his stony calm.
"Do you?" he repeated.
"Yes."
"Taste it," said Garvin.
I put my lips around the cut, the thick sticky taste cloying my mouth.
"By your blood, will you serve the will of the council until released of your service?" he asked.
"I will." The metallic taste got stronger.
"By your heart, will you hold the life of any member of the council above your own?"
"I will." The blood made my tongue slow. It felt swollen.
"By your mind, will you seek to preserve and protect your fellow Warders even at risk of your own life?"
"I will." My heartbeat thumped in my chest.
"By your power, will you keep the secrets of the council, even to your own death?"
"I will." Red dripped from my wrist on to the floor.
"Stand, Warder Alshirian, also called Dogstar, and bow to the other Warders."
I stood, my knees unsteady, but bowed nevertheless. "What did we just do?"
"You passed the test. You took the blood of a full Warder. From tonight you are on active service."
"But I'm not ready." My protest echoed Fionh's.
"No, you're not, especially after that performance. Tate, uniform, please."
"You said we would accelerate the training, you didn't say anything about this."
"I changed my mind."
"Is this to keep me from Alex? Is that the reason?"
"Alex is the least of my worries. We have other problems. Get dressed." He handed me the charcoal-grey uniform of the Warders, trousers, jacket, turtleneck shirt. The shirt was silk; you could feel it in the texture.
He turned to Fellstamp. "Are you able to stand?" Fellstamp still looked grey.
Fellstamp nodded, Fionh and Amber helping him up. "Nothing that a week of rest and good sex won't cure."
Fionh assessed him. "If you have sex tonight it will kill you."
"Yeah, but I'd die smiling." His grin was infectious, at least with Fionh. Amber didn't appear to find it funny.
"Get him a clean shirt. Have you stopped the bleeding?"
Fionh lifted the pad and inspected the wound. "Mostly. The puncture's clean, so it won't scar. We'll keep a pad on it for a few days."
"Good. Help him dress. Slimgrin, clean the blade and find the scabbard for it."
He turned to me. Tate was helping me into the dark grey jacket, grinning at me all the while.
"As a Warder, you take orders, understand?"
"I understand, but you can't order me to leave her there." He knew I meant Alex.
"I said I would help you and I will, but you have to help yourself. Get yourself killed and you're no help to me or her. You have to learn to keep your feelings to yourself. You wear them like a badge of honour but your enemies will see them as a weakness and exploit them for all they're worth."
"I can't help the way I feel."
"You can hide the way you feel if you want to live long enough to help her. You need to learn quickly if you're going to survive as a Warder. We need to present you to the full council. Put your sword on." He took the scabbarded sword and belt from Slimgrin and handed it to me. "You don't draw that again tonight, whatever happens. Do you understand?"
"I think I've had enough blood for one night, don't you?" I nodded to the sweep of spatters across the floor and up the wall before buckling the belt around my waist. The weight of the unfamiliar blade rested against my thigh.
"Just do as you're told for once." He turned and addressed the Warders. "Get your weapons, people, we're on in three minutes. Dogstar, you're with me. The rest of you, stay close."
Garvin swept out of the room, me in close pursuit. I fell in beside him. The others followed so that our steps fell into time, a dull tattoo on the carpeted floor echoed by the rhythm of the sword slapping against my leg. I glanced backwards. The Warders followed, close enough to leave no exploitable space between them but each in their own space, unhampered by the others. Following their lead I let a little distance grow between Garvin and me. He reacted by catching my arm and pulling me back.
"Stay close. I mean it."
I nodded, acknowledging his order. This was getting stranger and stranger. I had seen Garvin fight four Warders at once and not look stressed. I had seen him stay calm when everyone else was anxious. I had never doubted his capability in any situation. Tonight he looked nervous. What would make Garvin nervous?
We arrived at the door to the main chamber. I knew the council were meeting tonight; Garvin had told me. I knew that beyond these doors there would be seven huge wooden thrones carved from bog oak and heavy as iron. I knew that the room would be dimly lit but for the figure in each of the chairs. On the left would be the empty chair, the chair reserved for the Seventh Court and held against the return of their lost brother, Altair, Lord of the Untainted. In the next would be pale Yonna, Lady of the Fey'ree and ruler of Blackbird's court. Next to Yonna would be Barthia, her huge bulk and ham-like forearms a complete contrast to Yonna's tiny slender frame, her upturned tusks no less strange than Yonna's pointed ears or over-wide mouth.
In the centre would be Krane, the most human-looking of the leaders of the Feyre, though the feline grace with which he moved would set him apart as much as Barthia's size. Mellion would be next, his smooth dark fur beautifully groomed as always, the heavy silver chain of office draped around his neck. Against Mellion's lithe grace, Teoth would look short and dumpy, his flat nose and square features so similar to Fellstamp's that I knew at once that he must be the leader of the Luchorpan. Finally, Kimlesh, Lady of the Nymphine court, would be on the right. Her hair, like Fionh's, was never quite still, the blonde curls moving with a will of their own, winding around the finials on the chair as if they were tasting it.
I had been presented to them before, but not as a full Warder. Up until now I had been protected by Garvin's tutelage and, though I had been counted as a Warder since I first swore the oath I had repeated tonight, I had not been on active service, and so not at their disposal. Tonight that had changed. Now the council could send me anywhere they wished, for any reason they wanted, and I had sworn to obey with an oath that bound my heart. That oath protected me. It meant that others could not use their magic to extract the secrets of the council from me. It had allowed me to live under the council's protection. But it meant I had to obey.
Garvin turned before the door to the chamber, facing the rest of the Warders.
"School your faces, still your hearts. We are the Warders."
"We are the Warders!" The others echoed his words, putting their hands over their hearts in salute.
Garvin turned and paused for a second before using the end of his staff to rap three times on the door. He pushed the double doors open before us and we marched forward into the chamber, keeping formation. We approached the seven thrones in step and stopped where the light grew bolder and the seven-pointed star in the floor marked the space before the High Court of the Feyre.