"If we are to judge of love by its consequences, it more nearly resembles hatred than friendship."

- Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Several hours later, the door to Kodlak's study opened and the old man called for Skjor.

Cyréne had spared no detail of the encounter with Kodlak – she'd been too upset. When she'd appeared at his door with a worried Farkas trailing behind her, she'd been shaking with rage and barely able to speak. Kodlak had immediately posted Farkas at the door to prevent interruptions and eased her down into a chair, urging her to breathe. Kodlak was privy to all of Cyréne's secrets, and she did not hesitate to bare her soul.

"I could have killed him, Kodlak. I almost did."

"But you didn't, Cyréne. You remained in control."

"I was reckless. What if I'd cut him deeper than I . . ." she swallowed and forced out the truth, "wanted to? What if I'd become too distracted to heal him?"

Kodlak nodded. "We won't consider that now. I don't believe you would have allowed that to happen, no matter what your feelings."

Cyréne pinched the bridge of her nose and took a shaky breath. "What I did was . . . wrong. It was so wrong."

"Tell me why it was wrong," Kodlak said,

Cyréne raised tortured eyes to his.

"Tell me why, Cyréne. Why was it wrong?"

"I slashed his side open with a silver dagger, Kodlak. Everything about it was wrong. I used the one thing that I knew would hurt him the most and I used a spell that is much too powerful to be trifled with. I . . . I don't know why you still suffer my presence here."

Kodlak uncrossed his arms and moved from where he'd been leaning against his table to sit down across from Cyréne.

"Responsible use of spell craft aside – for that is a matter on which I must defer to you – I see no difference in what Vilkas did to you, other than motivation. If anything, you showed more restraint."

"How so?" she asked cautiously.

"Vilkas took the one thing that he knew would hurt you more than anything else and used it to cause you as much pain as possible. He was truly vicious, Cyréne. You accuse yourself of losing control, but did you, really? You retaliated, certainly, in much the same fashion as you were attacked, by using a known weakness against him. But you only caused harm that you knew could be repaired—"

"But he will still feel the pain of the injury!" she interrupted.

"As he should, and as will you. No, Cyréne, if anything I question Vilkas's honor in this, not yours."

"I cut him, badly."

"For another, that would be unforgiveable, perhaps. For you, given your skills and intent - it's not the same. You dealt punishment, not careless injury."

"Does that not make it worse? I am not fit to judge any of my shield-siblings, or decide their punishment."

Kodlak smiled. "A mark of a true leader. Do you remember the conversation you and I had on the night of your induction into the companions?"

Cyréne's brow furrowed, "Yes, I wanted to know about the beast-blood."

"Bah!" Kodlak said with a small shake of his head. "What you wanted was to know how to control the beast. You searched even then for a hint that the power might lend itself to abuse or recklessness. You said something that night that stays with me, daughter."

Cyréne's eyes widened and she swallowed. "I am unworthy of that title," she whispered, "especially on this day."

Kodlak sighed. "It is yours, none-the-less. You told me, on that night, that what you feared most, with the beast-blood, your position and all the rest was power without accountability. 'Power without accountability' you told me, 'is what will always threaten to end the world', remember?"

She nodded.

"And," Kodlak continued, "I promised to always hold you accountable for your actions, no matter the circumstances, did I not?"

"You did."

"And, where did you come, immediately after your deed?"

"To you."

Kodlak ruffled her hair. "Ah, but perhaps that was just to get your side of the story heard first?" he jested.

A small smile flickered across Cyréne's face before she spoke. "He will never forgive me, and if he tells the others – they'll never forgive me either. They won't understand, won't trust me . . ." she buried her face in her hands. "Oh, what have I done?"

"Do you seek his forgiveness, then?" Kodlak questioned

"No," she said coldly, "only yours."

"You have it."

"And my punishment?"

"Will not come at my hands, child." He put a hand on her shoulder. "I see your heartbreak, even through your anger."

Cyréne trembled and forced herself to meet Kodlak's eyes. She steadied her voice before speaking. "I fear you greatly underestimate the damage that's been done."

Kodlak's eyebrows rose.

"My heart felt pain when I found him with another," Cyréne said softly. "It broke, when he struck me, but now . . ." Cyréne looked at the old man hopelessly. "The love I felt for Vilkas is gone – it's like someone died. There is only emptiness where it should be, and anger – not just over what he said - but that, because of the love I felt for him I am going to lose everything. I can't stay here – as much as I need this place, as much as I need you, and my . . . my family. I can't stay."

Kodlak nodded and went to the door to call in Skjor.

Cyréne watched Skjor's face as Kodlak gave only as much explanation as necessary about what was going on.

"Although I don't feel Cyréne bears any more of the blame than Vilkas," Kodlak told him, "she has offered to leave—."

"Have you talked to Vilkas?" Skjor interrupted.

"I will," Kodlak answered.

Skjor nodded and looked at Cyréne. "Where will you go?"

"I have houses in Windhelm and Markarth," she answered, seeing no reason to lie anymore. "I hold the title of Thane in those holds and I can be reached through the court of several Jarls."

"Is that all?" Skjor said, eyebrow raised.

"No." She took a deep breath. "I can also be reached at the College of Winterhold. I'll give you all of the contact information I have."

Skjor nodded. "You should know that Kodlak and I had been discussing your admission to the circle."

Cyréne hung her head. So this is what it will cost me. Fitting.

When she said nothing Skjor continued, "We should make it official before you leave."

Cyréne's head jerked up, "What?"

Kodlak and Skjor exchanged a brief glance, and Cyréne got the distinct impression that she had just that moment gained Skjor's favor.

"I agree," Kodlak said. "Go with Skjor and work out the details. You may leave in two days. We'll begin preparations for the ceremony first thing in the morning. We'll make the announcement tonight."

Kodlak walked the two of them to the door. Cyréne heard him give an order to Farkas as she walked down the hall with Skjor.

"Farkas, go find your brother and tell him to get in here, now!"

Cyréne stood uncomfortably with Skjor as she gave him a list of her contact information. "Argis the Bulwark, is my house-carl in Markarth. He can be trusted with any message you need to get to me."

She rattled off a list of contacts and details, including a few low-key ways to get her attention without drawing any, and who could be trusted with what.

"Also, my resources are available to the Companions whenever they are needed. I can make arrangements for board and aid in advance if you let me know, but I'll also speak with the right people so that provisions are in place in case of emergency."

Skjor nodded and finished his notes before looking up at her. "Why all the secrecy, Cyréne?"

She shrugged. "It's just easier."

"And, how long has the Harbinger known about all of this?"

"Always."

"And yet, you didn't tell him about the offer that Aela and I made you. Why?"

"Because you made it clear that he had no knowledge of that particular offer, and I felt that bound me to secrecy in good faith," she said in irritation.

"Well, it seems there's more to you than I gave you credit for. Is all of this why you rejected our offer?"

Cyréne nodded. "In part, yes. I have a lot on my plate, and my constituents at the college are nothing if not . . . observant. There's also that little matter of my soul no longer being my own. And it would have hurt Vilkas. How is it that you've decided I should join the circle without the beast-blood, Skjor?"

"You've proven yourself capable and worthy to lead."

"And yet, I feel that you've just today decided to support me."

Skjor's lips inched up slightly. "Well, I was hoping you'd come around to my way of thinking. But I've been around long enough to recognize true potential when I see it, and I don't intend to lose your skills to that damn college."

"Thank you," she said curtly.

"You're welcome. When the old man and I finish talking to Vilkas, I'll have his brother get him out of here so that you can prepare to leave and get ready for the ceremony."

"About that, what will be required of me?"

"Normally the ceremony requires participation from all of the circle members—"

"I doubt you'll be getting any from Vilkas."

"He'll do what we tell him to," Skjor growled. "How did this happen anyway, pup? The two of you were like littermates a few days ago?"

Cyréne shrugged, stone-faced.

"Surely that little ebony-haired whore of his didn't cause all of this?"

Cyréne bristled, "Don't insult me! I wouldn't bear the shame of allowing something like that to fuel my actions." Although my litter-mate would.

"Then what?"

"You'll have to ask, Vilkas. I don't know."

"Very well. Go make your preparations and keep all of this to yourself. Anyone who asks will be told you're leaving for an extended job. See Eorlund to get fitted for your new armor – I'm sure Kodlak's already had him working on it. I'll send Aela to you to give you details on the ceremony."

"Thank you."

Skjor watched Cyréne walk away and then headed back down the hall. He nodded to Farkas to stand aside, so that he could enter Kodlak's chambers, where he could already hear Vilkas yelling.

"This is your doing, Vilkas, not hers," Kodlak said.

"Harbinger, you can't be serious!"

"I am."

"Do you not hear what I'm telling you?" Vilkas insisted. "She cut me open with a silver dagger!"

Skjor's jaw tightened but he held is peace.

"Where Vilkas? Show me," Kodlak sighed.

Vilkas jerked his hand to his shirt. "Do you not see the blood?!"

Kodlak caught Skjor's eye and held it. "The wound, Vilkas; show us the wound."

Vilkas jerked up his shirt, his voice strangled with frustration. "Here! It was here!"

"That's barely a scratch, boy!" Skjor growled. "Where's the wound that caused that blood?"

"It's that one," Kodlak said.

Skjor glared at Vilkas. "Explain yourself!"

"She healed me, somehow," Vilkas said quickly, "but she left the dagger right in front of me – the silver dagger, coated to the hilt in my blood!"

Skjor narrowed his good eye at Vilkas. "And how did she manage all of that?" he sneered. "What were you doing while she murdered you and brought you back from the dead?"

Vilkas's frustration knew no bounds. "She used magic – she's a damn witch, is what she is – she can't be trusted. She dishonors the Companions!"

"And you did nothing?" Skor prompted.

Vilkas was too angry to weigh his words. "I struck her, but not to kill."

"You stuck her? Where?"

"Across the face! Surely you—"

"Why?" Skjor interrupted.

"Because she . . . she . . ."

"Because she wouldn't cower in front of you?" Kodlak interrupted angrily. "And when she didn't strike you back? What then, Vilkas? Is that when you dishonored the name of the man she grieves? Is that when you took a death that she blames on herself, and threw it in her face?"

Skjor's eyebrows rose.

"Words!" Vilkas insisted. "Only words, not a dagger in the side!"

"No," Kodlak said, "not a dagger in the side, Vilkas."

Worse.

After a moment, Skjor spoke. "Cyrene is leaving in two days—"

"Are we to let a traitor stay in our midst that long?" Vilkas objected.

"Hold your tongue, boy!" Skjor barked. "Cyréne is leaving in two days, of her own volition. She is not being punished. We are inducting her into the circle tomorrow night. You will be there."

"What!?" Vilkas shrieked. "After what she's done?! After she tried to kill a fellow Companion?!"

"If she'd been trying to kill you," Skjor snarled, "you'd be dead!"

Kodlak nodded. "That is all, Vilkas. You're dismissed."

"You'll be there tomorrow night and you won't cause any more problems before then, if you value your place here," Skjor said as he walked Vilkas to the door.

"This isn't right," Vilkas muttered.

"Vilkas," Kodlak said calmly.

"Yes, Harbinger . . ."

"You say Cyréne is not to be trusted?"

"Aye."

"Tell me," Kodlak mused, "How long did you know about Caldor's death before you threw his name in her face?"

Vilkas swallowed and tried to push down his anger. He moved to leave but Skjor blocked the door.

"How long, Vilkas?" Skjor said.

Finally he answered. "Two days."

Skjor opened the door and Vilkas stormed out.

"Follow him," Skjor said to Farkas. "Keep him out of trouble, and make sure you're both back by sunset tomorrow."

Farkas nodded and leapt after his brother.