A/N: Sorry about the wait. I took a while off to read the books. Still haven't quite finished, but I'm at a reasonable point where I feel comfortable continuing now.

So... welcome back. let's get right into it.

6

"Geralt," Ozpin said gravely. "Welcome home."

Geralt's lips twitched slightly. "Ozpin," he greeted, stepping down from the bullhead to the stone of Beacon's courtyard. The second bullhead, with Team CFVY and Summer, was just pulling onto the second landing pad behind them. Yennefer followed him off. "Thanks for sending them my way," he said to the Headmaster. "Pleasant surprise to wake up to."

Ozpin nodded. "I had hoped they might find you in time to help," he said. "Failing that, of course, I am glad to have facilitated an early reunion. Besides which I doubt I could have been able to keep your friends from following anyway."

"Quite right," Yennefer snorted.

The sun had set, and the deepening purple twilight allowed the luminescent green glow of Beacon's spire to cut through the night like a second moon. It reflected eerily off of Ozpin's deep-green clothes, making him seem almost to glow, even as it washed the color out of most faces.

"Will you be able to teach your class tomorrow?" Ozpin asked. "Your students have been asking after you all day."

Geralt rolled his eyes. "Brats," he muttered. "Yeah, I should be fine. Might be a bit sleep-deprived, but I've worked through worse."

Ozpin frowned. "If you get to bed now, you should have adequate time to recover," he said. "And did you not spend most of the last two days in a bed?"

"Well, yeah," Geralt allowed. "But I don't think I'm going to be doing much sleeping tonight."

"Damn right you're not," Yennefer growled huskily. "I didn't drag that unicorn across time and space just so it could sit idle."

Ozpin crossed a hand over his eyes. "I see," he said. "Please try not to wake the students."

"I make no promises," Yennefer said.

"So, how'd it go?" Ruby asked Velvet eagerly as the second-year team filed into the classroom the next morning.

Velvet exhaled heavily. "It was… rough," she said slowly. "The leshen was dangerous. It drained Aura. Geralt didn't expect that, I don't think. Some of his friends showed up after we finished. Apparently, Professor Ozpin sent them after us."

"Wait," Yang said quickly. "What?"

Geralt entered just then. "What is this, social hour?" he asked roughly. "Sit down, all of you."

They did. Geralt came towards the center of the room. Ruby was watching him so intently that she didn't notice the woman who entered behind him until she felt a hand brush her shoulder lightly. She turned. Blinked.

"Mom?" she asked startled.

Her mother smiled down at her. "Hey, little Rose," she said.

Geralt coughed. Summer Rose rolled her eyes and followed him down to the center of the classroom.

"So," Geralt said. "Before anything else, I think all of you have met Summer. She was the Huntress who told us about the leshen. She was injured by it on Tuesday night, which is why Ozpin rushed us out the door on Wednesday."

Ruby shuddered and looked at her mother worriedly. The woman smiled back reassuringly.

"Summer," Geralt said, glancing at her. "Why don't you take over?"

Summer nodded at him and leaned back against his desk. "Geralt wanted me to talk to you about monsters," she said. "I've encountered three, now. Only one of them didn't nearly kill me, and two Witchers were fighting that one. So I'm going to give you a Huntress' perspective on monsters.

"Let me preface this by saying that they're dangerous. I mean, obviously. But it's not quite what you're thinking. Most Grimm could probably pose more of a threat in a straight fight than most monsters. Even though that leshen was deadly, it wasn't really comparable to something like a Goliath or a higher Grimm. But monsters have things the Grimm don't, and that's why Huntsmen aren't already using tools like Geralt's.

"The first monster I encountered looked human. It acted like a human, talked like a human, and…" she stopped. Looked down.

Ruby didn't realize she was standing up until she was already in her mother's arms. Summer huffed a damp laugh and held her close. "Sorry," she said quietly.

"It's okay," Ruby whispered. "Love you, Mom."

Summer squeezed her and looked back at the class over her head. "I won't go into detail," she said firmly. "It's personal. But suffice to say that I was missing and presumed dead for twelve years because of what that one monster did. And that wasn't the worst thing Geralt's ever had to face by any stretch."

She shook her head. "Monsters have survived," she said, "by staying hidden, and by keeping our Huntsmen and our militaries from realizing they exist. That means that they've got skills and powers very different from the Grimm. They don't just charge you like the Grimm do. They aren't aggressive, murderous beasts. They're usually pretty intelligent, and always have a few tricks you wouldn't expect up their sleeves."

She leaned down to kiss the top of Ruby's head, and then looked back at Geralt. "Back to you," she said.

"Thanks, Summer," Geralt said, looking around the class. "Any questions for Summer?"

Ruby wasn't looking, so she didn't see the hands go up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Geralt give a nod.

"Can you tell us about the leshen, Mom?" Yang asked. "What'd it do? What tricks did it have up its sleeve?"

Summer hummed consideringly. "Well, it drained Aura," she said dryly. "Didn't find that out until later. I thought it'd just broken my Aura in one hit. No, apparently, its magic was sort of an anti-Aura. It used its magic to make roots spring out of the ground like knives. I wasn't expecting it, and it got me hard. Knocked me back a fair distance, and drained my Aura. I barely got away."

"How did you get away?" Blake asked.

Summer chuckled. "That's a long story," she said. "Suffice to say I've got a few tricks up my sleeve too."

"If you had to fight the leshen again," Pyrrha asked, "what would you do differently?"

"Run faster," Summer said flatly. "Wait for Geralt."

"No other suggestions?" Ren pressed.

Ruby's mother shook her head. "Not from me," she said. "I only saw it use one attack, remember? I'm not the person to ask for detailed deconstruction of that specific monster. All I know is that every monster I've seen has been really dangerous, even if each one was dangerous for totally different reasons."

While her mother was speaking, Ruby, wiggled out of her grip and nestled into the crook of her elbow, huddling into her side comfortably. Summer smiled down at her and stroked her hair gently.

"What was the second monster?" Coco asked.

"Nightwraith," Geralt cut in. "It's in the specters section of your bestiaries. My daughter and I fought it near the end of your last semester. Summer and Team RWBY were there."

"It was incorporeal until Geralt did things to make it physical," Summer said, "but it could still attack. If he hadn't had his signs and his Moon Dust bomb, I don't know how he would have won."

"I've fought specters without using Moon Dust or Yrden," Geralt admitted. "I don't recommend it. They're not very common around here, though."

"How would you even go about that?" Yatsuhashi asked.

"Silver still hurts them," Geralt said, pointing to the angular-hilted sword on his back. "Not as much, but you can kill them that way. Well, assuming they can be killed to begin with."

There was a pause.

"What does that mean?" Nora asked.

Geralt sighed. "Specters sometimes can't be killed conventionally," he said. "Or you need to jump through hoops to make them killable. Penitents, for instance, appear in sites where some horrible deed was done. In order to kill them, you need to find the person who did it and make them undo it as best they can. Until they do, the penitent can't be harmed in any way. I fought one once which had taken up residence at a lighthouse. The keeper had a bad habit of shutting off the light when merchant ships were coming in, then looting the wrecks. I had to hold the penitent off while he went to the lighthouse and lit it."

The Witcher shook his head then. "All that's beside the point," he said. "I wanted you all to have an opportunity to talk to a Huntress who'd fought monsters, get her opinion on them, get a feel for how they compare to the Grimm. If there aren't any more questions, we should get on with it."

"Mind if I join you?" Ruby's mother asked.

Geralt blinked at her. "For the lesson?"

Summer nodded. "Might do me some good," she said. "We didn't have a Witcher in residence when I was in Beacon, after all."

Geralt shrugged. "Fine, grab a seat."

Ruby followed her mother back out into the benches. Once they were settled, he began.

"We didn't have time to go over everyone's tool choices last time," he said, "so we'll start on that now. I can give each of you more in-depth reviews and thoughts in private, but for now, I'll just give you a score and a quick comment. We'll start with the obvious: Yang."

Ruby saw her sister grinning sheepishly.

"Full credit," Geralt said dryly, "for an effective tool that plugs a hole in your style." Geralt had pointed out that needing to get hit to charge with her Semblance meant that Yang would never reach full-strength against an opponent who could cripple her in a single blow, and many larger Grimm fit that category. "I expected you to pick up something a little more… tactical… but if it works, I won't complain. Also, if you break my classroom again, I'll break you."

There was a round of chuckling from around the room. Yang was slightly flushed, but looked pleased with herself overall.

"Next, Weiss," Geralt said. "A-minus. A good tool, but it's not a big equalizer. It'll work better against armor and large groups, but you already had Red Dust in Myrtenaster which could do most of the same functionality. Not to mention you were already using Dust more than any other student, and specializing further isn't the point here."

Weiss nodded, looking unhappy. Ruby winced sympathetically—Weiss did not appreciate anything below about 97% on an assignment.

"Blake," Geralt said. "Full marks. Flashbangs are something totally outside your usual toolkit, capable of dealing with new situations, and it synchronizes with your previous abilities. Well done."

Blake nodded placidly.

"Ruby," the Witcher said then, and the team leader looked away from her teammates and met his gaze. "Solid A, not quite full credit. Your Semblance already covers a lot of the weaknesses your new flash rounds do. You can close distances, or make space, fast enough that disorienting them doesn't help you as much as it might otherwise. So your tool doesn't really cover weaknesses, like the assignment demanded. That being said, disorienting the enemy with flash rounds opens them to a charge and a melee engagement, like Axii does for me. Your new tool synchronizes well with your old gear, even if it doesn't plug holes."

Ruby nodded. She'd have to ask him for ideas for better tools and weakness analysis.

"Now, Pyrrha," Geralt said. "Full marks for a simple solution. Adding Dust to your kit is invaluable."

Pyrrha smiled slightly.

"Nora, full marks," Geralt said. "Yellow Dust synchronizes with your Semblance in a much safer way than what Yang was going for."

Nora grinned and winked at the pouting, sullen expression on Yang's face.

"Ren, full marks—conditional on you getting me an actual working version by the end of the year."

Ren nodded. He'd brought forward blueprints of an upgraded StormFlower which would seamlessly swap between machine-pistol and hand-cannon configurations to deal with more heavily armored enemies.

"Jaune, B," Geralt said. "Dust is good, but it doesn't give you any new ranges or engagement options. It only enhances your damage. Blade oils are fine, but they're not really an equalizer."

Jaune nodded, looking frankly pleased with the grade.

"Coco," Geralt said, "solid A, although I'm hoping you've figured out the weight problem. A club won't do you any good if you can't swing it. You're just shy of full marks because you already had a melee option, even if it is a reach increase."

Coco grinned. "Oh, don't worry," she said lightly. "I can handle it. A's fine."

Geralt nodded. "Fox," he said. "B-minus. It's an improvement, but it doesn't change how you fight at all. You already use your legs—like Jaune's, this just ups your damage, and it isn't even as dramatic an increase as his."

Fox's expression didn't change from its usual slight scowl. He just nodded.

"Yatsuhashi, solid A," Geralt nodded at the large student. "Full marks if you can show me that the integrated weapon works well."

Yatsuhashi nodded shortly.

"Finally, Velvet," Geralt turned to the rabbit faunus. "Full marks. Major combat style change, and gives you a lot of options. Everything I asked for. Well done."

Velvet smiled slightly.

"And now, with that out of the way," Geralt said firmly, "let's get back to analyzing each of your styles as they are now. I want to get through that today so we can get on with our lives on Monday."

"Priscilla," Geralt said lowly, approaching the woman during lunch. She looked up and smiled at him.

"Geralt," she greeted, her voice slightly lower than he remembered, likely as a result of her acid burns. "What is it?"

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Name it."

"Keep the others busy for me. Yen can help you." Geralt set a hand on Dandelion's shoulder where the bard sat beside his lover. "We need to do something."

Dandelion blinked at him. "What on earth, Geralt?"

"Hush. Follow me."

Geralt led his friend down the long dining table until he came to where Regis was sitting, talking with Summer, at its end. Team RWBY was assembled around them, listening.

"So you see," the Higher Vampire was saying, speaking carefully to show as little of his teeth as possible, "the vampire as presented by mythology is primarily fabrication. I would assume you had some of the lower breeds here, at least. While they do drink blood—"

"Regis."

Regis glanced up. "Ah. Yes. Mrs. Rose, students, if you would excuse me."

He stood up smoothly and extricated himself from the table. "You have wine?" he asked Geralt.

"White Wolf. Yen brought it with you."

"Good. It would not be proper otherwise. Lead on, my friend."

By now, Dandelion had figured out what was happening, and followed Geralt without a word as he led the two of them out of the dining hall and down a corridor into a small room. The place was probably a conference room, usually, by the long table in its center. Geralt had already been here, and had set out six places; each with a table of bread, meat, and cheese, and a small mug of wine.

Geralt took the head of the table, and Regis and Dandelion sat to his left and right, respectively.

For a time, they were silent, looking at their food without touching it.

"Dandelion," Geralt finally said. "You're the poet. What have you got for us?"

"There's a time and a place for poetry," Dandelion replied.

Regis chuckled slightly. "My, but you have grown up. Has it been half a century of poetry yet?"

"Not quite yet," said Dandelion with a hoarse laugh. "Not quite."

Silence again.

"Milva would disapprove of this," Regis said quietly.

Geralt nodded. "I can hear her now," he said dryly. "'What're you three old sops doing? There's work to be done! We haven't the time for this nonsense!'"

Dandelion snorted and twitched, as though about to bring a hand up to his face. "And Angoulême would have told her to 'Give 'em a minute, Auntie, they can't help being old men!'"

"And then Milva would've reminded her why she wasn't to be called Auntie," Regis agreed with a smile—a proper smile, wide and toothy. "And Cahir would just sit and watch them and pretend not to be rolling his eyes."

"He really was very like you, Geralt," Dandelion said, glancing at the Witcher. "Like a younger you."

"Wasn't half the swordsman," Geralt said quietly. "Might've been more than half the man, though."

"He was proud," said Regis softly. "In the very best way. He had pride enough to be humble. Pride enough to be as good a man as he could."

"Yes," agreed Dandelion, perking up. "Yes, that, exactly! Do you mind if I use that line, Regis?"

"Not at all, my friend."

"Oh, you two met up again in Toussaint, right?" Dendelion looked between the two of them. "How was that?"

Geralt grimaced, but Regis smiled.

"As idyllic as you remember," he said. "Possibly more so, after Geralt's intervention."

"Doubt Dettlaff would agree."

"Dettlaff made his own choices, Geralt, from beginning to end." Regis set a hand on the Witcher's shoulder. "He chose to be what he was—something as near to an animal as a vampire's nature would allow. Without that, he might have understood deception, or vengeance, or forgiveness, but he has ample opportunities to learn each."

"I think he picked up vengeance pretty well."

"Vengeance? No. A mad rampage through Beauclair over a dishonest lover is not vengeance, Geralt. You, who were planning to avenge Ciri's death before you found her alive, ought to know that."

"Vengeance doesn't have to be equal."

"No, but it must be targeted. It must be specifically designed to hurt the intended individual. Whereas if there was anyone in Beauclair who would not have been hurt by the deaths of its citizens, it would be our dear Sylvia Anna."

"Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?" Dandelion asked smoothly.

"I suppose you haven't heard the story, then? You'll have to pester Geralt to tell you it, sometime."

"There's a couple stories you haven't heard, Dandelion," Geralt said quietly. "Stories from my travels with Ciri. I'll tell you a few of them before you leave. We're getting off topic, though."

"Yes," agreed Dandelion, his face falling as he looked over the three empty places. "Yes, I suppose we are."

Geralt raised his mug of the finest Toussaint wine. His friends followed suit.

"Milva," he said quietly. "Cahir. Angoulême."

The words stuck in his throat. It was all he could do to force out two. "Thank you."

"To the victorious dead," Dandelion said.

Regis was silent.

As one, the three friends lowered their mugs and drank deeply. One by one, they finished and set them down.

Dandelion was frowning at his. "Geralt," he said. "What wine did you say this was?"

"White Wolf."

The bard met his eyes. "Geralt," he said. "Why do you have a Toussaint wine named after you?"

Geralt shifted his grip on Vesemir thoughtfully as he studied the target across the field. After a moment, he slowly drew the gun back and slung it behind him, before bringing his hand down to a resting position. Then he reached back and pulled it out, still moving slowly and carefully. He pointed it at the target and took a moment to aim. Then he withdrew it again and began anew.

"Practicing?" The voice was Summer's.

"Figuring out how I'm going to draw it," Geralt explained. "I need to be able to pull it out fast.

"Might want to learn to shoot it first," the Huntress advised. "Just an idea."

Geralt snorted as his hand returned to rest. Then, in one motion, he fluidly drew the gun, aimed it, and fired at the target. The whole motion took less than a second.

The bullet, however, did not hit the target, instead pinging off the wall near it.

"See?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Geralt did not withdraw the gun this time. Instead, he took his time, carefully lining up his shot.

"Why not use both hands? It's a .50 caliber, right?"

"Yeah. The whole idea is to be able to use it without sheathing my sword."

"You'll never be as accurate with one hand—"

Geralt fired. The round struck true, right in the center of the target.

Summer stopped talking.

"I'm a Witcher," said Geralt coolly. "My hands don't shake."

He withdrew Vesemir and slung it on his back again. Another quick draw, and another round fired.

This one struck the target, but near the outside.

"You're awfully good at this," said Summer faintly.

"Aiming isn't much different from a crossbow," said Geralt. "Obviously it's a different shape and weight, and the recoil takes some getting used to, but I'm optimized for that sort of issue." He withdrew Vesemir again. Drew and fired again. The round was closer, but not by much. This time, it hit the opposite side of the target.

"What will you do now?" Geralt asked Summer, glancing at where she sat behind him on a low stone wall.

She shrugged. "I'm not sure," she said honestly. "But, then, I never am. That's the Huntress' life."

"Sounds like the Witcher's Path."

"I think it is, a bit. Difference is, we get appreciated for it. Most of the time."

Geralt chuckled. "Must be nice," he said.

"I think it's better than the alternative," said Summer. "But heroes are expected to be heroes. All the time. Sometimes that's hard. Sometimes it's… too much for people."

Geralt slung Vesemir on his back and turned to her. "Like Branwen?" he asked.

Summer pursed her lips. "Just curious?" she asked.

"A bit, yeah."

She nodded. "Well, it won't hurt. Her name was Raven Branwen, and she was my partner in Beacon. She and I, with her brother Qrow, and Tai—we were team STRQ. I was the leader. If you can imagine a Team RWBY with a lot more sexual tension and a little less skill—at least at first—that was us. Qrow was Ruby, Tai was Yang. Raven was Blake, and I was Weiss."

"Really?" Geralt asked. "You, Weiss?"

Summer chuckled and nodded. "Hard to imagine?" she asked. "I've warmed up a lot. Ruby and I were similar in that we both had trouble connecting with people, but she had Yang. I didn't. So I became cold. Distant, I guess. I imagine Weiss got to be how she is in the same way."

"And Qrow was like Ruby?"

"He was Raven's little brother," Summer explained. "He was… so young, then."

"He looks older than you."

Summer sighed, looking down. "I know," she said sadly. "Losing Raven and then me… it's done a number on him. He's the youngest of our team by two years, but you'd never guess it by looking at him. Alcohol and stress, if I had to guess. My fault."

"Not like you asked that incubus to come after you."

"I was leader," Summer said dryly, glancing up at him. "It's not about the incubus; it's about Raven. I should've tried harder to get her to stay. I think… I'd loved Tai for a long time. I think she saw that, saw how mothering I was being with Yang. I don't know whether it was jealousy or some kind of martyr complex, but it doesn't matter. I should have been paying attention to her. I shouldn't have been so focused on Tai and Yang that I let my own partner get driven away like that. That's on me, as leader."

"You didn't drive her away."

"Not deliberately, but blindness is as much a flaw as malice, in a leader." Summer shook her head. "Maybe I'll go to Anima. Try to find her. Try to talk to her."

"Will she listen?"

"She was never good at listening," Summer chuckled. "But… maybe she'll listen to me."

"Qrow's gone to Anima, too," Geralt recalled. "Is he after Raven as well?"

"Probably," said Summer. "He's probably gone to tell her I'm alive, and see if she knows anything about Salem."

"She's Zielon's chief, right? Are all her tribe monster hunters?"

"Maybe." Summer slumped slightly. "Would you believe I never asked her much about them?" she asked quietly. "I just… I never wanted to know about them. They were bandits and thieves. Murderers. I was always just glad she'd left them and come to us. I never wanted to hear about them. I should have asked her. There's so much I should have asked her."

Geralt watched her for a moment. "You should go to Anima," he said quietly. "I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."

Summer snorted. "You can't possibly know that."

"Why didn't she come back after you died?"

Summer met his eyes. For a moment, he held her gaze. Then she nodded slowly.

"It's worth a try," she agreed. "I'll see if there isn't a boat or a flight going that way in the next couple of days. Thank you, Geralt."

"My pleasure."

Emerald Sustrai was awoken by a gentle, warm hand on the cold skin of her arm.

"Emerald," a soft voice whispered in her ear, "wake up, my dear."

"Five more minutes," Emerald moaned into her pillow.

The voice laughed like molten gold. "I'm afraid not."

Emerald's eyes flared open and she sat up. "Cinder," she breathed. "I'm sorry, I was napping, I—"

"Never mind. Emerald, I must speak with our… benefactor." Cinder's supple voice sent shivers down Emerald's spine, matched only by the shudder that went through her when the woman's golden eyes trained on her as she glanced up from her tablet. She was laying, knees up, in the bed beside Emerald's. Her back was propped against the wall, and her hand was still resting in the crook of Emerald's elbow. The tablet sat perched in her lap, a diagram displayed on it. Cinder's hair was bunched lazily over one shoulder, hiding her mouth from Emerald's view, and her eyes like fire peered over the smooth black cascade, crinkled slightly by a smile Emerald couldn't see. "Be a dear and keep Mercury or… anyone else from walking in on me, would you?"

"Yes, Ma'am," said Emerald hastily, withdrawing from the dorm. "Uh, let me know when you're done?"

Cinder chuckled—a hot, breathy sound which made Emerald weak at the knees. "Of course."

Emerald shut the door behind her and leaned against it, glancing up and down the hall. It was empty, and she allowed herself a sigh of relief and a slight slump.

That woman is going to kill me one of these days, she thought with a sigh. Stupid, sexy Maiden.

When she'd first met Cinder Fall in that Valean slum, she'd never imagined she'd be feeling like this just a couple of years later. The woman had always had presence, but at first that presence had manifested as fear. Despite her power, Emerald had found herself afraid of what this woman with the curved swords and the Semblance to control glass could do to her.

Then Cinder had promised her sustenance—had promised that she'd never go hungry again. An easy promise to make, to an urchin on the street. To Emerald, it had meant something rather different.

It had soon become clear that Cinder had already known that. Which only made her more frightening—she had been totally assured, staring Emerald down in that alleyway, despite knowing exactly what she was facing.

But power is intoxicating, and there was no one more powerful than Cinder Fall—neither in raw strength, with the magic of the Fall Maiden behind her, nor in strength of character. It wasn't long before Emerald's knees stopped knocking together and started crossing in Cinder's presence.

The green-haired girl bit the inside of her lip. She knew Cinder was using her. The woman was leading her on for her own purposes, clearly. That didn't change the fact that, working under her, Emerald was happier and more well-fed than she had been in years.

"Hello."

Emerald jumped and whirled, her hands going for her Vermillion Fangs, only to remember that she'd left them in the room.

Before her stood an elderly man, a tuft of white hair emerging like a wisp from an otherwise somewhat balding head. His hands rested on the strap of a canteen which hung on his shoulder and rested on his hip.

"Hello," she said. "You're one of Professor Geralt's friends, right?"

"Correct. You may call me Regis." He stood against the wall opposite her. "And who might you be?"

"Emerald Sustrai," Emerald said.

"Sustrai. Derived from Ansaur-Sterey, one of the old clans, yes?"

"That's right."

"I find myself curious what you might be doing in Beacon academy."

"Same as everyone else. Learning to defend myself from the forces of evil." Emerald met his dark, slightly bloodshot eyes without blinking, her face carefully blank to conceal her fear.

"Admirable," said Regis, smiling. His sharp teeth glinted.

"I'd like to think so. Of course, I'm from Haven, only here on exchange for the Vytal festival."

"Ah, the tournament. Yes, I imagine that would be a good test of a young Huntress' skills."

"That's the idea, yeah."

"Well, allow me to give you a piece of free advice," Regis said. "Professor Geralt is a Witcher. Are you familiar with the trade?"

"No."

"He hunts monsters. Ghouls, hags, succubae, werewolves. Vampires."

Emerald didn't answer.

"He is a good man. He does not harm those who give him no cause, regardless of what they are."

Emerald gave no reply, only held the man's gaze carefully.

"Take my advice, Miss Sustrai," said Regis gravely. "Give him no reason to hunt you. It would be a shame for you to die so young."

Emerald nodded slowly. "I see," she said. "Thank you for the warning."

"You are quite welcome." Regis turned away and began to continue down the hall. Then he glanced back. "Oh, yes," he said. "Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't," Emerald lied.

"But please, call me Regis."

"I will."

"Thank you. Good day, Miss Sustrai."

He left. Shakily, Emerald ran her tongue across her sharp teeth.

She didn't want to interrupt Cinder, but as soon as the woman was done… she'd need to hear about this.