《The Shattered Circle》


 1 - The Death of a Hero

    It pleased me to crush their dreams, and yet, it was never a thing of beauty when I broke their prophecies. Such windings of Fate...they do not shatter like chains, but are cracked into pieces like the bones of the children bound to them.


    Cold bit into my face with familiar fangs as the wind of a winter beyond natural swept through the battlefield. I undid the visor of my helmet and then lifted it from my head with one hand, coming face to face for the first time with the young man whom the gods of good had proclaimed would kill me.


    He lay on the ground, shivering in a pool of his own steaming blood, his slick fingers wrapped around the blade that had punched through his armor and ribs like they were made of paper. Later, the stories would say it was a wicked enchantment. The truth was nothing so elaborate: I have a great deal of practice seeing the failures in armaments.


    For a moment, it was only the two of us. Snow crunched as I took a knee before him only to have him flinch like a kicked hound. Ever so gently, I reached out and cupped his face with one gauntleted hand, swiping a steel-clad thumb across his cheek to catch the tears of fear and horrible pain. He couldn''t have been more than eighteen, lantern jaw barely touched by stubble, hazel eyes like sunflowers edged in green.


    Every time, it is the same.


    My thumb left a streak of his own blood across his cheek. "Hush, little one. It is all over now."


    "But..." Blood burbled from his lips as he gazed up at me, that disbelief and heartbreak written so clearly across his face.


    "It is not your fault you failed. You did your best." I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forehead as the first snowflakes drifted down. Lingering there for a moment, I tightened my grip on the blade through his chest. "I am sorry." With a brutal twist of my arm, the sword cracked through the next rib, wicked edge sliding through his heart. A little sob of breath, blood gushing down his chin, and he was gone.


    That is the sound of breaking Fate.


    I rose to my feet, my blade sliding out of his body. He sprawled back across the snow churned by our duel. Behind him, that glittering army, all the pride and chivalry the powers of heaven could muster, suddenly froze in horror as their hopes shattered. Inside my chest, rage howled like a demon. Muscles in my jaw flexed as I looked at those hateful banners.


    How dare they? How dare they place all their demands on him and him alone?


    They deserved the death of their Chosen One, but he did not deserve to die.


    "The rebels, my lady?" Thin and sharp as a razor, Vex''s voice was as pointed as the workings of her mind. She stood behind my right shoulder, her favorite position. Even without looking, I could feel her eyes on me, clouded with death-sight. "We have them hemmed in like cattle. Shall we butcher them accordingly?"


    I looked down at Woe, checking the edge of my beloved blade for damage. They called it evil, more sorcery than sword, quenched in the blood of a thousand infants. It was just simple steel, a gift from my mother that followed me for all of my life. I adjusted my grip thoughtfully on the worn rayskin grip, still looking at the army that was now receding like the tide. "You have the path of their retreat?"


    "Snared and surrounded." Vex danced her bony fingers across my shoulder, her pointed nails lovingly caressing the mark of our liege worked into the smoke-darkened steel of my pauldron. "Something they are about to discover."


    I looked down at the boy''s body. "He was from Rusa, wasn''t he?"


    "Yes, the secret son of Lord Sidon, slayer of the great wyrms of Azov." Vex''s voice dripped with relish, a delight in the pain of an old foe. No doubt Sidon would mourn his precious son immensely.


    "What is the punishment for murder in Lord Sidon''s court?" I closed my eyes, but I could still see those hazel eyes. They would stay with me for some time yet. Then I turned to face my second, opening my eyes again.


    Vex''s smile was ghoulish, twisted lips pulled back to reveal rows of needle-like teeth beneath a flat nose and eyes like black buttons. She had long ago shed the trappings of life in exchange for the eternal existence of undeath, immune to the needs of the body and the ravages of time. It had done nothing to quench her appetite for blood. I could feel her hunger, radiating off her like heat from a burning coal. "It is a capital crime, my lady. I believe beheading is the current fashion."


    She was like an eager hound, always ready to anticipate her master''s wishes and oblige to the best of her ability. She had a mind of her own, by my request, but Vex was loyal ad infinitum. "Line the road to Lord Sidon''s border with their heads. Leave none alive. I will make my report to the King in Black."


    Vex bowed, kissing the wrought silver signet ring on my finger: a simple emblem of a withered rose. "It will be my pleasure. Shall we send Sidon his son''s head?"


    "No." I whistled sharply, catching the attention of another. "Brydris, burn his body to ash and scatter it to the four winds."


    It was hard to recognize Brydris as a human anymore. He had delved so deeply into the blood of wyrms that coursed through his blood that the mage seemed more beast than man, even to the point where his skin bore patches of dull red scales and his yellow eyes were split by pupils in narrow slits. He was as cunning as his forebears and perhaps even more dangerous with human adaptability bred in. His voice rumbled out like a distant earthquake. "At once, my lady."


    He drew a simple arcane pattern in the air with one clawed finger. It flashed like the sun glinting off a gold coin and conjured fire exploded upwards from the earth, consuming the body in a torrent of flames. In moments, only ash would remain.


    "When you have finished, support Vex." I strode past Brydris with a nod.


    He gave me a deep bow, eyes calculating. That was the danger of the wyrm-blood. It tended to bring with it the avarice and arrogance of its source. "As you wish, my lady."


    I knew full well that I held his loyalty only as long as I held more power, a difficult feat when he had magic at his command and I did not.


    The conference of generals was not far, so they drool away like jackals as they watched the havoc unfolding on the battlefield. At least, that was Luka''s focus, the only one currently outside the tent. His lean body hunched forward as he watched the bloody clashes, full formations of silver-gilded warriors vanishing under the swarms of mindless undead. I moved to step past him into the tent, but he turned his head towards me. "You did well, Lady Frostborn."


    I shrugged, pulling out a square of plain black cloth to clean off my sword. Blood left on steel isn''t good for the blade. "They did it to themselves."


    He smiled, fangs visible even in his less threatening form. "That makes it all the better. His Majesty will be pleased."


    Raised voices at my destination etched a frown into my face. "What are they quarreling about now?"


    Luka chuckled, a rasping bark of a laugh. "They believe they have found enemy sympathies in General Hallen, suggesting that his failure was intentional sabotage. I think they aim to have the King in Black kill him, though I could not say if it is for their own power or genuine distrust."


    I wiped down Woe and tried not to sigh. "As if we do not have enough enemies. Must we invent our own?"


    His lupine smile broadened. "As if you concern yourself with their idle prattling. Last I heard, such machinations were beneath you, Aleyr. An eagle does not snap at flies."


    "A wise eagle pays attention to the termites undermining the tree in which it dwells." I knew I sounded more sour than usual, but did not try to conceal my mood. "Who is in attendance?"


    "Hallen, obviously. Lords Rhandiir and Varys." Luka laughed at my sneer at the last name. "General Maric and his second, Lady Teth. I believe Lady Naltheme is keeping the peace."


    I relaxed slightly. At least the Lady of Bones was present. She had a good head on her shoulders, though she was not always popular. The consequences of being advanced well beyond what her experience merited because of her incredible arcane potential meant Naltheme was often isolated at court when I was not present. I rather enjoyed the way it grated on Varys and his inferior grip on such powers. "Is His Majesty present?"


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    Luka inclined his head slightly. "I was saving the best for last. You know he is never far from your victories. I merely thought you would like a warning before stepping into the middle of their squabbling."


    "How thoughtful," I said dryly. "I''m certain your perch here has nothing to do with the view of the battlefield."


    "It is always a pleasure to watch your planning come together, Aleyr. To see Vex in action, well, that is no less satisfying."


    I flicked the flap to the tent open. "I appreciate the compliment." Then I stepped in, a shiver running through my body at the sensation of entering a space outside of space, something conjured by the King in Black and kept open by his will. The inside of the tent was the ideal of comfort, with silk cushions everywhere and beautifully carved mahogany seats draped in various colors and patterns of thick velvet. A table laden with maps stood to the side, but at the moment everyone sat in a circle, with General Hallen standing in the open middle.


    The King in Black dominated the room with sheer presence, reclining back in an ivory throne. His robes were a darkness that devoured any light that dared to fall on them, dark magic more than cloth. The hood that fell low over his face could not truly disguise his visage: pure bone, a skull surrounded by eldritch blue fires that burned most brightly in the sockets of his eyes. Even as the others continued to bicker, his head turned towards me, letting his hood fall back.


    As with every time I entered his presence, the gold band melded into the bone of my left ring finger grew so cold it ached. It was a symbolic piece, a reminder of the bond between us.


    I was the only one, living or dead, who could enter his presence without bowing and scraping. I approached and leaned down, pressing my lips to the cold bone of his cheekbone. A skeletal hand stroked my hair.


    "Your victory was effortless," he said as I pulled away, tones the whispering of wind through hollow bone. "It pleased me greatly."


    "Hardly a champion worthy of me, Your Majesty."


    The eldritch fires in his eyes seem to grow brighter. "There is no champion of Light who would ever be worthy of you, my rose."


    I took a seat at his right hand, in the chair left vacant for me. That was a move of arrival that distracted them immediately from Hallen. I immediately became the center of attention instead of the poor general, something he no doubt appreciated.


    "You certainly took your time, Frostborn." Varys was only just smart enough to hold in his sneer, aiming for impatience instead. The vampire was far more impetuous than his sire, enough so that sometimes I wondered what in every hell Rhandiir was thinking when he had turned the formerly independent brigand lord. Varys wore his white hair long, so pale even an albino would have found him pasty. His armor was finer than mine, or at least more engraved and embellished.


    I preferred practicality, not Varys''s relentless excess and self-indulgence.


    Rhandiir kicked his progeny savagely, onyx-dark face twisting into a mixture of annoyance and sharp retribution. "Remember you speak to the Beloved!"


    "Someone had to win," I said, entirely disinterested in Varys''s needling. Rhandiir''s correction of him was rather satisfying. "But do not let me interrupt this proceeding. I''m sure the narrative you have concocted will be riveting fiction."


    It was General Maric''s turn to look annoyed, his withered features frowning. He was of the same make as Vex and granted the same independence, though as a wight lord, considerably more powerful. He bared his needle-like teeth in disapproval, black eyes narrowed. "This is a serious matter."


    "I assure you I was not speaking facetiously." I gestured to General Hallen. He, Naltheme, and I were the only humans in the room. It often prompted the others to assume ?we would automatically share sympathies, as we shared mortality. My feelings towards Hallen, while respectful, were actually rather tepid. We agreed on few things except in planning for the battlefield.


    "He sabotaged his own advance for a woman," Maric said, flinging a collection of letters at my feet.


    I picked up one casually, flicking it open. A quick scan revealed it as a love sonnet, fumbling and stilted poetry written using every reference to stars and flowers that a sap could think of. It was embarrassing, but not necessarily any proof of anything. "Well, he obviously wrote it," I said. "None of you have enough of a heart left to create something so nauseatingly saccharine. However, I fail to see the connection between this and your accusations."


    Hallen glanced over at me, pale as a ghost, but said nothing.


    Varys sneered. "It was meant for Princess Lera of Rusa."


    "That is a lie," Hallen said, twitching in fear when the vampire bared fangs in his direction. He was trying to rally, but it was clear he knew how close he was to death.


    I folded up the letter and dropped it back onto the small pile of letters. "Who was the intended recipient, then?"


    "A girl from my home village," Hallen said through tight teeth, clearly humiliated by the admission that he was writing to some peasant woman. "She was named for the princess, but they are not the same."


    "One of the most powerful men in the Eternal Kingdom writes to some dirt-scratching peasant who just happens to be named for the ruler of an enemy kingdom?" Maric demanded.


    I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I knew Hallen enough to take his sentimentality in stride. We shared it, on a level, though I was hardly a romantic. "I find the leap of logic that inclines you to believe one of the most powerful men in the Eternal Kingdom would suddenly switch sides, and write truly abysmal love poems to a princess who has publicly stated she would have him executed for his crimes, a far more ridiculous jump."


    Naltheme adjusted her position in her seat. The painfully slender young woman, practically skeletal herself from the drain of necromantic magic, turned her lowered gaze towards the King in Black. "It is not our decision to make, General Maric."


    "Indeed." Our liege''s voice swept through the room like a freezing wind. "Maric, are you convinced that this failing in Hallen''s loyalty renders him unworthy of his duty?"


    Maric''s posture seemed to swell with triumph. "I am."


    A bone finger curled a lock of my hair around it, then tucked it behind my ear. "And you, my Beloved?"


    "Anyone who places absolute loyalty above competence is a fool," I said sharply. "Hallen has won a hundred battles for every one he has lost, this one included. I have not lost a whit of confidence in his ability. I am satisfied with his explanation of an old flame from his peasant days."


    "You cannot be serious!" Maric snapped, clearly furious with me. "This is¡ª" He had to bite off his words immediately when the King in Black raised a single, bony finger.


    That hand could spell instant nonexistence for any being in this world and everyone here was well acquainted with that fact. In life, the King in Black had been a wizard so powerful he could slay the god of magic. In undeath, he was more than that. "Finished. This is finished." Our master turned his skull to face Hallen. "You will renew your pledge of fealty to me, General Hallen. I hope you remember your gratitude towards my Beloved until the sun burns out for her intercession on your behalf. As punishment for your failure, you will surrender command of your elite troops to Lady Teth."


    I smirked. It was a solution that pleased none of the interested parties. Hallen''s precious human units would go to Lady Teth, a square-jawed vampire known for her cruelty and cunning, a command where no doubt they would suffer greatly. Maric had not rid himself entirely of his rival, something so infuriating that I could practically hear him gnashing his teeth from across the room, and worse, he had received no direct control of Hallen''s units. Now he would have to deal with Teth as a rival. Varys and Rhandiir would be denied a bloody execution.


    It played only to my advantage. Hallen would be in my debt now, something he was not likely to forget. As an honorable man, he kept close accounting of such things.


    Hallen bowed low, kissing the ground before the King in Black and I. "Thank you for your clemency, Your Majesty. I will serve you proudly in life and in death."


    "A promise I will hold you to, Hallen." The King in Black looked around the room, taking in all of us with his burning stare. "I have spoken. Now this audience is at an end. I have words for my Beloved. The rest of you are to leave us."


    The exodus from the room was swift, leaving me alone with my master. He touched my chin with a skeletal hand, fingers warmed by the heat of my skin. "What do you desire of me, Your Majesty?"


    "Their resentment of you will only flourish. It might have been a wiser course to give them Hallen, my rose."


    "He is far more useful alive than dead, particularly with his loyalty newly affirmed by your generous gift of his survival."


    His burning blue eyes flashed. "You see better into mortal hearts than I."


    I shrugged slightly, never looking away from his skeletal face. "A consequence of having one."


    "I have a reward waiting for you in the Sanctum, in gratitude for your continued excellence. Even now, I feel the gods'' strength ebbing as their followers cry out and earn nothing in return. That will keep them from challenging our borders for many years to come."


    As unnecessary as the gift was, I appreciated the consideration. "What is this reward?"


    "Something you have desired greatly for a long time, my rose."


    I smiled faintly. There was only one thing I had asked him for repeatedly. "Thank you." I leaned in and kissed his bony cheek. "Shall I depart and annoy Maric and Varys further?"


    "Whatever pleases you. We will speak again when you return to the Sanctum." He gestured with a hand that I could depart and I rose, knowing it was actually time for me to check in with Vex and Brydris on the devastation of the armies of light. Perhaps I would even speak with Hallen.


    Again, I thought of the boy''s sunflower eyes, now nothing more than scattered ash. A bitterness swept through me, so powerful it stopped me at the flap of the tent.


    There would come a day, with the blessing of the King in Black, when I would truly punish them for their sins.

 2 - The Heartless Rescue

    I only made it back to my tent much later in the day, after Hallen''s very public groveling. The tent was a structure far less grand than that of my master. If I had asked, he would have given me such magic-fueled comfort in an instant, but I found I preferred the simplicity and roughness. Inside, I had a single low table with a detailed map of the region spread across it, a stand for my armor, a basin for washing, and a thick bedroll spread on the hard ground with enough blankets to keep the chill off. That was all I needed. The opulence of the Sanctum was frequently too much for me.


    I needed to feel the discomfort?. It reminded me ? I was still human, even with my life unnaturally lengthened by my connection to the King in Black. I bled and bruised in a way no undead could, just as I could feel emotions that were beyond their reach.


    Vex and Brydris were mopping up the last of the dying on the field, ushering them into their new life of service as undead. They were the two most likely to trouble me with news, but I had seen neither hide nor hair of them for hours, which meant they were still prowling the killing fields.


    If I had any illusions that I would be alone for the evening, however, I was sorely mistaken.


    Naltheme was waiting for me just inside. She''d seated herself on the ground near my low table, fingers dancing across the painstakingly drawn lines of the map. My cartography had grown quite proficient, drawn from the images she could conjure with her scrying spells. Young as she was, the arcanist was an invaluable asset and my ally more often than not, mostly because being connected to me protected her from the carnal appetites of Varys. Not that he truly would have dared lay a finger on her for fear of the King in Black. Our master prized his apprentice above most others.


    "To what do I owe the pleasure?" I drawled as I stepped in, settling my helm onto the armor rack in its proper place. It needed cleaning after the day''s battle. Next, I laid Woe across the table in its scabbard besides the series of whetstones I used to hone its edge.


    "Must there be a reason for me to pay you a visit?" Naltheme asked, smiling faintly in my direction. Her smiles were always strained, mostly from a lack of practice. She had always been serious and studious, even as a little girl.


    I set to work on undoing my armor. It was easier when Vex was here to help me, but I could do it myself. "Neither of us are people who relish the company of others."


    "Maric is still raging about Hallen."


    "Let him snap and snarl." My cool indifference had settled back in as the duel faded behind me. "He knows what will happen if he goes too far."


    "And Varys?"


    My lip curled in distaste. "Must we befoul the evening with the mention of his name?"


    The girlish laugh that slipped out from Naltheme''s lips sounded genuine. She relaxed slightly, the smile a little less strained. She seemed closer to her actual age for a moment, just barely twenty. "Have I ever mentioned how much I appreciate your bluntness, Aleyr? It''s immensely refreshing after dealing with Teth all day."


    Teth was an avowed schemer, someone far more dangerous than Maric could ever be. "And easier to follow, I imagine, as I only talk out of one side of my mouth at a time."


    "I don''t know how she abides General Maric," Naltheme admitted.


    "Well, you know what they say about women like Teth," I said mildly as I peeled my breastplate off. My gambeson beneath, smoke-gray silk, was thinner than the padding most needed because of its material. There was no blood on it, mercifully, but it was still sweaty from an entire day of wear. Even in the cold of an unnatural winter brought to bear on the enemy, battle generated a lot of body heat.


    Naltheme studied me. "I don''t, actually."


    "They always have a useful idiot standing in front of them." I grinned a little when she snorted at that. "Tell me I''m wrong."


    "After spending six weeks of hell with them? It is physically impossible to be more accurate."


    I hadn''t forgotten that Naltheme''s motivation for intruding was a mystery. "So why are you here?"


    "I was actually looking for Brydris."


    That made sense. Honestly, it was impressive that they had been lovers for five months and yet Naltheme could still walk straight and hadn''t broken in half. She loved him for his physical protection and raw charisma. For his part, Brydris clearly just enjoyed the power trip of having the King in Black''s own apprentice in a way no other man had. I don''t think he could love her in a way that wasn''t a dragon clutching at some prized relic in its hoard. "I hope you weren''t planning on using my tent for your little reunion."


    Naltheme flushed. "I would never plan on such a thing, Aleyr."


    "Yet it continues to happen," I said dryly. It was occasionally annoying, but they kept it off my bedroll, which was all I really cared about. "I should really start sending Vex in with a bucket of icewater."


    "Brydris would put her to flame."


    I smirked. "You say that like it would discourage her. Better have tried and failed."


    A scream split the air somewhere nearby and I tensed for a split second, mentally measuring the distance between my hand and Woe.


    Naltheme held up a hand to stop me from arming myself and investigating. "It''s Varys''s new plaything. I recognize her...voice. He finds her scream particularly delightful."


    My eyes narrowed. "That is not continuing into the night."


    The arcanist clearly didn''t disagree, but attempted to soften my murderous mood. "I didn''t think the King in Black''s Beloved needed beauty sleep."


    The flap to my tent opened and Vex stepped in, absolutely dripping gore. She looked as happy as a wight could be, licking blood from her hand with a long, prehensile tongue. My second had a supernatural sense for when I needed her. "Shall I make my report, my lady?" she asked eagerly, utterly oblivious or at least uncaring of the gagging sound Naltheme made.


    I stepped over and flicked a piece of some indeterminate internal organ off her face. "I have something else in mind, Vex," I said casually. "May I ask a favor of you?"


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    "Of course, my lady. Anything."


    "I assume you heard the scream from Varys''s portion of the camp, unfortunately positioned beside mine." It had been Maric who laid out the positions of every unit and their commanders. I had a feeling this was an intentional irrtation he''d laid for me.


    Vex bobbed her head. "It is difficult not to."


    "I want a nice, quiet evening, Vex."


    "Do you have any particular thoughts on how you would like your displeasure communicated, my lady?"


    I turned and picked up Woe in its scabbard, letting my fingers curl around the worn rayskin grip. As much as it would have pleased me to gut Varys, the King in Black still had uses for him. There were other ways of punishing him, however. "Considering he is disturbing my peace, I think he has sacrificed his toy privileges."


    "You could make him a eunuch," Naltheme suggested from her seat, averting her eyes from Vex as the wight plucked another chunk of flesh off her own shirt and ate it. "That might curb his enthusiasm for it."


    "He would regenerate," Vex said, an obvious disappointment in her tone. She brightened slightly. "It would be quite unpleasant for him, though."


    The temptation was certainly at the forefront of my mind. Without supernatural endurance, I was tired after a long day of battle, which only stoked the fire of my anger more. "Follow," I told Vex as I strode past her out of the tent. I knew without needing to look that she was as close on my heels as my shadow.


    It was a short walk to Varys''s tent. The lesser vampires that served beneath his thrall scattered at our arrival, save for his personal bodyguards who crossed their spears to bar my entry to the tent. "Lord Varys wants no interruption, my lady. We cannot grant you entry."


    I heard the weakness in his tone, the fear of what I could do to them warring with the fear of what Varys would do to them. Gaining access would simply be a matter of tipping the scales in my favor.


    Vex twitched slightly, needing no prompting. She could smell fear like a shark could trace blood. "Do you know who you speak to, worm?" the wight spat. Suddenly, the eager hound was baring its teeth in attack. "This is Aleyr Frostborn, the Withered Rose, Beloved of the King in Black. She has razed cities and slaughtered armies for less insult than this interference." The wight seemed to rise taller, the blackness of her eyes growing in intensity as she faced the spawn.


    Both vampire spawn shrank back, pulling their spears from the entrance. "Lord Varys, you have a visitor!" one blurted out, trying to save face.


    I entered the tent before he could finish his sentence, drawing Woe in one smooth motion. I prided myself on the artistry of my every movement. It came from spending a life honing my combat skills. After all, I had to contend with undead like Varys as much as the forces of light. His tent was far more expansive than mine and crammed with every creature comfort. It was exactly the excess I hated most about him.


    It was never about pleasure with him, truly. It was power, hedonism for the sake of demonstrating how far above he was from his roots, while having changed hardly at all.


    Varys was smart enough to drop his plaything, a trembling wreck of a young woman, stripped and covered with bites and claw marks. It was clear this was not her first time in his embrace, if the fading colors of the older bruises were any sign. That was unusual. Normally, he never kept them long, his hunger getting the better of him.


    "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" he snarled, covering himself with a sheet. The girl didn''t even have the strength to scramble away. She just curled in on herself, looking up at me in horror.


    I tightened my grip on Woe meaningfully. "I am tired of your infernal racket."


    Varys sneered. Away from our master, he was much bolder. "You have no authority over me, Frostborn. I answer to my sire and the King in Black only."


    "Vex, the girl."


    My faithful wight grabbed the young woman by the arm, sharp claws biting into her flesh until blood rolled down. She yanked the vampire''s prize away from him.


    The moment he reached to grab her, I lashed out with Woe, severing his grasping hand. He screeched in rage, looking down at his fresh amputation. It would be whole again by morning, but he would have to bear the pain. It was a pity that castrating him would be a bridge too far.


    "Be grateful I take only your hand, Varys," I said sharply. "Next time you speak to me so, I will take your head."


    Whatever sharp words were gathering on his tongue died at the sensation of sharp, cold steel against his neck. Beheading was the only true way to send a vampire to the true death, and he knew few things would bring me greater joy than being his introduction to it. "My sire will hear of this!"


    I smiled faintly, arrogance crystalizing into a perfect condescension. "That''s nice." I stepped back out of his tent, following in Vex''s footsteps.


    The girl was on her feet, struggling to get away from the hungry wight. I grabbed her from behind and pulled her in tight, trapping her against my body with a punishing grip on one wrist. "Who would you rather?" I whispered in her ear. "The devil you know or the devil you don''t?"


    Tears spilled down her face, but she stopped struggling, letting us drag her back to my tent. Naltheme was gone when we arrived, which probably meant Brydris had returned to spirit her off to some quiet location that at least pretended to be romantic. I dropped the girl on my bedroll, then turned and leaned out the tent flap. I could see Varys in the distance with some of his men, headed straight for his sire''s accommodations.


    "He will be a problem," Vex commented, keeping her eyes on the terrified girl.


    "He is always a problem," I said sourly. I turned to face our captive. Her wrists were bound together with twisted iron that had burrs to slice deeper into her flesh the more she struggled. That would keep her out of immediate trouble. It was the necklace that caught my eye, though, a delicately carved wooden pendant.


    I stepped over, catching hold of it as she cowered. A symbol of Ishal, goddess of healing and protection. Her priests were frequent foes, always fighting on the front lines, but the priestesses usually stayed to the rear and tended to the wounded. I broke the leather cord holding the holy symbol and ripped it away from her neck, ignoring the way she grabbed for it with a pleading, wordless cry.


    "What good has your goddess done you here?" I hissed, hand clenching into a fist around the symbol. "If you are wise, you will thank me for this later." With those cold words spoken, I dropped the pendant into the fire where it would burn to ash.


    Vex seemed completely oblivious to the young woman''s devastation. "Shall I find her something to wear?"


    "That would be appreciated. You are to keep her out of trouble tonight."


    "And after?"


    "I don''t care," I muttered, pulling the spare bedroll out of her pack. She never slept, but carried one for me in case I needed more blankets. "I''m going to bed."


    Vex gave the girl a toothy grin. "If I were you, I would be quiet," she advised, moving over to the basin to cleanse herself of the blood of the fallen. "My lady needs her rest."


    I spread the bedroll on the opposite side of the tent and laid down with Woe, hand on the blade''s hilt in case something stirred in the night. I slept lightly even in the security of the Sanctum, which sometimes made sleeping on campaign difficult. Fortunately, the girl seemed to take Vex''s hint. She smothered her sobbing in my blankets, wrapping herself in cloth. It was cold, after all. Even in the warmth of my tent, drafts had a way of sneaking in.


    Vex hunted through her own bag, eventually pulling out a plain, many-times-mended shirt and worn leather pants. She dropped them at the foot of the bedroll the girl occupied. "For you."


    The girl said nothing, only watching with frightened eyes.


    I curled my arm under my head as a pillow and sighed, tired muscles slowly relaxing without the annoyance of screaming. The harsh little breaths she took whenever I moved were relatively easy to ignore.


    Whatever diplomatic nightmare would come of this, I would deal with it well-rested in the morning. Rhandiir was far more intelligent than his spawn in such matters and would know stirring me again during the night was not advisable. Handling him was a much more delicate walk than dealing with Varys. His blood-father, after the obligatory quarreling, would bring the younger vampire to heel.


    I went to sleep relishing the look on his face, my favorite expression of his: a mixture of impotent rage and pain.

 3 - Share and Share Alike

    Morning came sooner than I would have liked. I blinked hard, clearing my eyes of sleep with the scrubbing of my fingers. I still had my sword by my side and Vex''s humming was audible throughout the tent like a dark lullaby, along with the sound of her delicately filing her sharp claws. I sat up on the borrowed bedroll and turned to face her. The wight''s sleepless vigil had apparently continued uninterrupted.


    The young woman I had taken from Varys was curled into a little ball in my blankets, unconscious from pure exhaustion with her wrists no longer bound in iron. She''d pulled on the tunic from Vex, but the pants clearly hadn''t fit, because they sat at the end of my bedroll. I would have to requisition her clothing, not a difficult proposal.


    In the dim light filtering through the hole at the top of my tent that allowed smoke through, I could see her more clearly than I had bothered to the night before when my entire fixation had been thwarting Varys. He always liked the pretty ones, taking a special pleasure in destroyingsomething beautiful, and this one was no different. Her features had a classical style, like the statues they carved of angels. Her hair had the rich shadings of brown found in mahogany and the way it fell loose reminded me very much of the waves of such a tree''s wood.


    Vex''s head swiveled to face me, the rest of her body unmoving. It reminded me of an owl sometimes, though she couldn''t twist quite that far back. Just enough to unnerve most of the living. "Good morning, my lady. Sleep well?"


    "Well enough." I glanced meaningfully over at our sleeping prisoner. "Did she give you any trouble?"


    "She tried to run once. She stopped when I told her that your protection was the only thing keeping her away from Lord Varys." Vex grinned. "Doesn''t say much, but she does sign."


    I raised an eyebrow. "Why doesn''t she speak?"


    "She''s one of the Sisters. They take a whole heap of vows from what I remember. Fidelity, celibacy, silence." Vex shrugged. "You know how those religious folk get when they''re really devout."


    Immediately, I thought of the holy symbol I cast into the fire and bitterness welled in my throat. A lowly priestess was not likely to have played any role in selecting some fabled hero to come and kill me, but it didn''t change my hatred of the gods of light and all who sought to spread their influence. "Those vows explain why Varys was so fascinated with her."


    "He does enjoy breaking things."The wight finished filing her claws and tucked the rasp away inside her own bag. "Not to put too fine a point on it, my lady, but what do you intend to do with her now?"


    "I''m open to suggestions," I muttered as I opened up my bag and pulled out a clean set of clothes. "I''d prefer not to keep her."


    "Varys will just take her back if she''s given over to the army as a slave. Though if the only goal was to annoy him for last night..." Vex shrugged, aware that I would read her indifference to the priestess''s fate with ease.


    Did I really care? At that point, though, the desire to rub salt in Varys''s wounded pride was stronger than my customary indifference. "Fine. Until I find some other use for her, she stays."


    "I didn''t take you for the slaver type, my lady. Are we expanding your interests?"


    "She is a prisoner, not a slave." I fished out my comb next and moved over to the basin. It was hard to stay clean on campaign, but that didn''t stop me from trying. "We may even be able to ransom her back to her people."


    "Will they take her back with broken vows?"


    "It wouldn''t surprise me if they discarded her. That is the fashion of the righteous and noble, in my experience." I stripped quickly and used a wet washcloth to get the worst of the blood and sweat off of me. My armor kept me from being bruised and battered to pieces from combat, but my muscles were still stiff and tired from exertion. I lived for battle, but I was well aware that my body had limits. As soon as I was clean, I dressed and then used the comb to unsnarl my hair.


    I looked like a woman in her thirties, even if my age was far beyond that. Age could only cling to me in certain ways, like the threads of silver in my auburn hair.


    I heard a soft cry behind me and turned to look. Now our captive was awake and white with terror as she looked up at Vex. I supposed that to anyone but me, the wight was not a welcoming or comforting sight first thing in the morning.


    I stretched my stiff neck one way and then the other before belting Woe on. I made no move to don my armor, my second skin. Negotiating the spoils of war meant coming from a place of strength and wearing my armor might suggest to Varys that I was concerned about losing a fight. Besides, even without surprise on my side, I was capable of doing him a grievous wound.


    "I am not going to devour you, little morsel," Vex said solicitously to our captive priestess. "Not without my lady''s permission."


    I glanced over my shoulder. Vex stood with her arms folded, absolute sincerity and a definite hunger shining in her expression. It was clearly not relaxing the young woman any, curled into a ball as she was. I sighed and tightened the wrap of my swordbelt, cinching it down until it reached the groove I had worn into it, fitting like the solitary key into a masterwork lock. There was a hesitant flurry of motion from our prisoner''s hands, still bruised and bloody from the twisted iron that had held them the night before.


    "She wants to know your name, my lady."


    I raised an eyebrow as I checked my reflection, aiming for at least presentable. "She may give hers first." It was a fortunate thing that Vex''s brother in life had been deaf. She could actually speak sign in a way I could not.


    Another quick few movements. Her delicate fingers danced deftly in the air, sketching out a brief pattern. "Her name is Shira."


    I turned and approached our prisoner. Vex moved instinctively to the side, like a lesser shark moving to allow its superior to approach prey. Luminous blue eyes met mine, still reddened by tears. The impression was clear enough: she did not know me, but doubted I was a true salvation. I stopped in front of her, making no effort to lower myself to her level. "My name is Aleyr Frostborn."


    She flinched like I had slapped her and shrank back. I suppose I might as well have. My blasphemies and impiety was legendary. Nothing soothes the soul of that savage beast like the glow of a burning temple, the stories said.


    "If we leave her here during the negotiations, my lady, she might be taken from you," Vex pointed out. "Varys is a schemer."


    "An abysmal one," I said by way of agreement. It would have been a heavy handed way to reclaim some of his pride, so he was likely to try it. I looked down at Shira. "You are to be Vex''s shadow until my affairs are settled, is this understood? If you flee, I will not come after you, but I promise that the undead will gladly give chase."


    Shira nodded and started to sign quickly, hands shaking.


    "She wants to know why you haven''t killed her."


    I set my hand on Woe, looking straight into those blue eyes. "My reasons are my own. If you wish to die, you need only ask."


    There was something fascinating about the way her fingers danced in the air. It reminded me almost of arcane workings, though such knowledge a priestess would have found blasphemous. Vex, fortunately, translated again. "She says she doesn''t want to die." The wight sighed slightly. "More''s the pity."


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    I clucked my tongue at my second and shook my head. "Insatiable. Keep an eye on her, Vex. If anyone interferes with you, you may act on your own accord with my blessing."


    Vex grinned, dark eyes flashing with delight. "A carte blanche? You shouldn''t have, my lady."


    I almost groaned at the thought of what horrible ''gift'' would be waiting in my tent for me if Varys was stupid enough to send his spawn after our captive. Vex had a flair for decoration better left in the halls of a torturer. "I''m aware." I flexed my fingers, working out some of the stiffness. "I will be back later."


    With that said, I departed, headed quickly for General Maric''s grand tent. He and I had similar tastes in accommodations, but his was large enough that he could host such councils. This time, everyone would be in attendance except for the King in Black. The distribution of spoils was a matter beneath his time and attention unless there was a particular artifact he thought would be useful to advancing his knowledge, things few and far between. The wight guards in polished black armor made no effort to bar my passage, saluting with bowed heads.


    It was a bit overdone, to my mind, the darkness of the aesthetic Maric pursued. It was meant to reinforce the menacing appearance of his undead troops and advertise his loyalty to our sovereign, but black everything became rather dreary. Even my armor was only darkened steel, just enough shine taken off by smoke that it wouldn''t reflect the light if I needed to move stealthily. The end result was a dull, unpolished gray.


    Of course, I had the luxury of still seeing color. Perhaps I would have cared less, had I his duller vision.


    "Ah, Lady Frostborn, welcome," Maric said, a hint of a smile twisting his grim mouth. I felt a throb in my temple in automatic response. With Rhandiir standing beside him, and Varys sulking behind, I knew they had made some plan in my absence. "It is always an honor."


    I took a seat on one of the benches around the central table without waiting for an invitation to do so. "How flattering. It''s as though you''ve spent the morning scheming to deprive me of hard won spoils."


    To Maric''s left, Teth grinned. She was an interesting woman, covered from head to toe in beautifully intricate tattoos imbued with magic that granted her a resistance to the holy powers that wights struggled at times to combat. Her hair was in its typical top-knot, as if ready for battle, but the vampire had eschewed her armor just as I had. She looked utterly comfortable on her part of the bench, leaning with elbows on the table. "Isn''t it so wonderful, how well we all know each other?"


    I shrugged, letting the lids of my eyes fall heavy. "I suppose a sufficient amount of contempt does engender some familiarity."


    "Harsh language, Frostborn," Rhandiir said, running his fingers through slicked-back hair. "Your victories always make you so dour."


    "If she wasn''t dour, we would have great cause for concern." Teth said. There was a wonderfully smooth quality to her voice, like pouring oil. I knew full well that she had a habit of spreading her words around, ready at any moment to drop a match that would ignite them and burn someone''s world to nothingness.


    Naltheme stepped into the tent, Luka and Hallen on her heels. "Are we ready?" she asked.


    Rhandiir pulled the covering off the table in answer, a faint glow filling the room. Here, contained on a single tabletop, were the most powerful magical items the enemy could muster: the spoils of war. Wealth was immaterial to us, we had accumulated so much over so long, but power was a resource that never lost its value. The boy''s sword hummed at the center of the table, surrounded by a selection of rings, pendants, wands, weapons, and potions.


    "Better than average," Luka commented, his nostrils flaring to take in the air. I always wondered how the Master of Spies managed to breathe at all, standing so close to our egos. He was a much more practical man. "I assume an even split?"


    "Not quite," Rhandiir said. "Lady Frostborn has taken part of her share early."


    I raised an eyebrow, disguising my displeasure behind a mask-like indifference. "I wasn''t aware Varys''s hand was considered valuable."


    "The priestess," Varys snarled.


    I reached out and picked up a dwarven dagger, a gleaming masterwork glowing with runes of fire, and turned it over in my hands. "Are you expecting me to believe that your little plaything is equivalent to any of this?" I flicked hard, sending the dagger into the table point-first with a flash of flame. "Absurd."


    Teth chuckled. "Perhaps Lord Rhandiir objects to losing the dignity of his progeny."


    Now acidic spite was welling up in my stomach. Teth liked to say that I sharpened my tongue and dipped it in poison for precisely these occasions. "How does one value the loss of something they have never known?"


    Varys moved as if to grab his blade, then realized his sword-hand was still fresh and weak. I expected a yowl, but he managed to contain it to gritted teeth. Rhandiir grabbed the younger vampire by his collar and wrenched him back down into his seat.


    "You took something that was not agreed upon by the whole, Aleyr," Rhandiir said reasonably. "Thus, we felt¡ª"


    "We have not agreed on anything," Luka said. He smiled, a dazzling array of fangs. "Unless, of course, you intended to undertake these negotiations without the input of your King''s spymaster and his favored apprentice."


    Teth''s smile broadened. "I''m sure they would never be so bold, Luka. We all know well that an army without eyes and ears is a feeble sacrifice awaiting the knife."


    Naltheme took a seat at my left hand, Luka at my right.


    "We have always divided things evenly," Luka said. "If Aleyr has taken property from Varys, I am certain she will be happy to reimburse him, but these items are considerably more precious than a human life."


    Before Varys could argue, Teth interjected. "A reasonable concession, if Aleyr agrees."


    Coin meant nothing to me and they all knew it, which was probably why Varys was gritting his teeth hard enough to almost crack a fang. Rhandiir sighed. "That will hardly discourage further unwarranted invasions of our privacy."


    I almost laughed at the absurdity of that comment. "Perhaps if your privacy was not audible at such a range, I would consider it privacy."


    Luka nudged me under the table, a sign that he was up to something and I should let him talk. "Very well. Shall we take our shares evenly and then I, as a disinterested party, will select an item from Aleyr''s share to allocate?"


    "You''re at her back more often than you''re not, Luka," Maric growled.


    "And you''re sour that Hallen is alive because of her, so do not pretend you are impartial either, my dear wight," Luka said cheerfully.


    Hallen had been silent up to this point, but seemed stirred into motion by the sound of his name. "Luka has always been fair."


    "It is one of his worse qualities," Teth agreed with an impish smile, ignoring Rhandiir and Varys''s betrayed anger. "Very well, I have no objection. Naltheme?"


    Our necromancer ran her hand down her bone staff, carved from the leg of a slain wyrm. "I find Luka''s proposition reasonable."


    Luka glanced at me, eyes flashing like a wolf''s in the firelight. "Aleyr, will you abide by my selection?"


    I leaned back and stretched lazily. "I agree."


    "Then let us begin. Naltheme, you were last the last time we split," Luka said, rubbing his hands together with anticipation. "That means you begin this time."


    Piece by piece, the arsenal of good arrayed against us was split up until each person had a small pile of magic items sitting before them. I made certain to take the sword of the boy with sunflower eyes first. When we were done, Luka''s eyes darted across my pile. He pulled the Chosen One''s sword free, still bearing the crest of Lord Sidon''s fabled house. "For you, Varys."


    The vampire grinned and seized it immediately, almost cutting open Luka''s hand.


    I nodded slightly to Luka, pleased with his choice even if I kept my face stony. Varys clearly assumed the loss would grate on me, a prize I had won directly in battle.


    Luka knew me better. He knew that I had chosen it so it would be discarded, because such items made me sick with rage at those who gave them out.


    "If everyone is satisfied?" the spymaster asked, hopping up out of his seat and sweeping his items into a small bag at his waist.


    "Immensely," Varys said, gloating eyes turning my way. His expression faltered slightly when I gave no response.


    Teth raised an eyebrow. "Aleyr?"


    I waved a hand, making a mental note to express my gratitude to Luka away from prying eyes. "I am pleased to be done with this and headed home on the march. The whole affair was tedious."


    "Agreed," Naltheme said quickly, her raven-dark eyes flitting about the group assembled. "I miss my library."


    Luka helped himself to one of Maric''s glasses and a bottle of blood. He poured each of us a cup, knowing that Naltheme, Hallen, and I wouldn''t drink it. We shared in the toast all the same. "To Aleyr''s idea of tedium," he said with a grin. "May it never be less bloody."

 4 - Homeward Bound

    It took me two days to decide what to do with Shira. I had called her a prisoner, but something about the idea of locking her in some hole to be ransomed back or forgotten grated on me. Besides, eventually Varys would find out and take her, whatever my wishes. I had thwarted him so far, but that was not guaranteed forever. If this little light was to understand her new world, part of that awakening would include learning to harness her own strength.


    Vex''s thin eyebrow arched skeptically when I told her my intention. "You mean to make an assassin for yourself, my lady? Sidon and Lera will use any training and knowledge you give her against you."


    I shrugged. "Should I leave her lying around helplessly as bait?"


    "I was thinking as a meal."


    "She''s skin and bones, Vex." I cinched the saddle down another notch on the horse I''d taken from Sidon''s favorite commander. Tavuus was a fine warhorse, with a temperament much more suited to me than the soft idiot he''d been previously saddled with.


    "She looks more tender than stringy," the wight said in a low voice, glancing back at Shira.


    The young woman seemed slightly better than she had been, dressed in one of my spare shirts and fitted leather pants, with a thick doublet of blood-red wool to keep away some of the chill. Her appearance was almost strange to me, rosy-cheeked from the cold in a way undead never were. Her eyes still watched Vex and I fearfully, circled by shadows from the cruelties of Varys that haunted her in her sleep. She was slightly built and smaller than me, with more girlish curves. I had long ago lost that softness and my northern blood meant I stood a full head above her. My youth was spent eating meat and chasing storms in the barbarian north, while she had grown on a farmer''s diet with not much in the way of spare food.


    I turned to face Vex and her eager hunger. "No. That''s my final answer."


    "Very well," Vex conceded, clearly disappointed. "Shall I fetch some rope?"


    "She rides with me," I said pointedly. "A leash will not be required."


    Vex pursed thin lips. "A prisoner, my lady?" Clearly her opinion was that I should be dragging the young woman behind my horse, if only to avoid getting peasant on my person. Her minor noble roots had a habit of showing. To her, I was royalty above all others except the King in Black himself.


    "She''d slow us down and I would rather be back at the Sanctum sooner than later. She cannot move as tirelessly as the undead or as fast as a horse."


    My faithful wight sighed. "As you wish, my lady."


    I turned and whistled sharply, catching Shira''s attention. "Over here, priestess." The last word fell off my lips with a bitterness I made no effort to disguise.


    The truth was that I felt conflicted every time I looked at her. She was a servant of the same gods who sent chosen one after chosen one to end me...but she was also young and painfully naive, perhaps more so than the boy I had cut down. Could I not afford her the same softness I felt towards him? Surely she was a pawn of the Light too. She had been duped by them, manipulated into aiding and abetting leaders like Lord Sidon and his liege, Princess Lera.


    Maybe that was why I thought of her protection even as I knew my efforts would strip away that coveted innocence already damaged by Varys. Was that cruel of me, to make her see the world as I knew it was?


    Probably, but cruelty was in my blood and bone.


    Shira approached, muscles tight like wire. I could see her ready to flee, though she still glanced around nervously at Vex and towards Varys''s section of the camp, now pulled up and ready to move. We had stayed in one place for just long enough for Vex''s seconds to carry out my order: the road to the border was lined with heads. Some of the enemy army had survived, withdrawing out of the Eternal Kingdom with hungry undead gnashing at their heels. The survivors would have scars and nightmares for the rest of their days.


    I opened my saddlebags and pulled out a small tin and a wrap of bandages. "Hold out your hands." My order was sharp and firm.


    She obeyed immediately. No doubt Vex had told her that I didn''t care to repeat myself. I took one hand and then the other, using my dagger to slice away the bandages that she''d applied herself. My grip was strong, but the touch of razor-sharp steel was barely a whisper against her skin. I didn''t nick her once. The wounds were red and puffy, the sign of a first stage of some infection. No doubt it pained her greatly. I carefully removed the lid of the tin and grabbed her right forearm first.


    My face stayed as impassive as stone when she cried out in pain at the application of the healing salve. It burned horribly, but that was its way of purging the infection. As I watched tears drip down her face, a twinge started in my chest.


    I hated it when they cried.


    Still, I kept to my work. Once every wound was smeared with the substance, I wrapped her hands and wrists up to almost her elbows in clean linen. She bit her lip to try and stop herself from crying out. I wasn''t gentle, but the bandages were at the correct tension, firmly in place without cutting off circulation.


    "Shira."


    She looked up at me with pleading eyes still full of tears from the burning salve.


    I frowned, an expression that sent a shudder of fear through her body. "If you struggle, I will bind you hand and foot. Do you understand?"


    The young priestess nodded, suddenly uncertain.


    "Get on Tavuus," I said, jerking my head towards the horse. I had removed his military saddle, knowing full well that it would only get in the way of both of us. Instead, he wore a broad-backed riding saddle with a thick blanket of padding beneath, so she could sit in the front with me at her back It meant if a fight broke out, an enemy would find it far easier to unseat me, but that was not really a danger at the moment unless Varys did something suicidally stupid.


    She hesitated, delicate fingers dancing in the air towards Vex.


    "What is she saying?" I demanded, feeling my patience already wearing thin.


    "She says she doesn''t understand."


    "It was a simple order," I said coldly, watching her shift fearfully at that tone in my voice.


    Vex sighed, clearly annoyed that she''d been relegated to translator for a walking meal. "That, she understood. The reason, however, eludes her."


    I grabbed Shira by the chin with a cruel grip, pulling her in until we were almost nose to nose. "My motives are not your concern," I said sharply. "Get on the horse or I will drag you behind it."


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    She nodded, fresh tears welling in her eyes. I released her the second they started and let her move past me, up onto Tavuus. The warhorse wouldn''t budge at her command, so I wasn''t worried about her fleeing on his back. I stepped up into the stirrup and swung a leg over, settling in behind her. I reached around her with one hand, taking the reins, and adjusted how Woe was strapped to the saddle with my other hand.


    "Shall I return to our contingent of undead, my lady?" Vex asked, looking up at the pair of us.


    "That would be best. We will see you when we reach the Sanctum," I said. My horse was considerably faster than the horde of undead, particularly with the enchantments worked into his horse-shoes, but they could move through the night without tiring. We didn''t have to make our way all the way to the Sanctum on foot, fortunately: the King in Black had prepared our way with a massive spellgate, conjured to permit us a much faster and more comfortable passage back.


    Shira shifted nervously in front of me, clearly not entirely comfortable with the press of my armor against her back and sides. I urged Tavuus forward, keeping one hand loose on the reins and the other hand tight on her hip. It meant the sharp points of my gauntlet''s fingertips bit into her flesh, but she was wearing thick enough clothing to keep warm, which turned that grip from painful to uncomfortable.


    It was a long ride to the gate, at least ten hours following the roads here. At least they were well made.The undead made for fine construction workers, who never tired or bitched about pay, and we built our roads like the walls of the city: each was constructed in a trench built six feet deep and twenty-five feet wide, filled entirely with perfectly stacked paving stones that fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. It made moving an army so much easier than whatever rutted nonsense existed beyond the borders of the Eternal Kingdom.


    Ever so slowly as we rode, Shira leaned back into me under the weight of her own exhaustion. Her dreams kept her awake most of the night, fearfully watching the tent''s entrance in case Varys appeared. It was something I intended to remedy when we returned to the Sanctum.


    The snow faded away as we moved, the intensity of the winter fading by will of the storm-weavers. When the King in Black had taken the northern mountains, my homeland, he had made good use of the shamans and their weather magic. Most stayed in my contingent, preferring rule by ''one of their own'', even if I had joined civilization long ago. The enchantments woven into the very thread of the doublet I''d given Shira kept her just warm enough to be comfortable, particularly when she pulled the sleeves down over her freezing hands.


    I appreciated the silence of her vow over the course of the ride. There were no pestering questions to draw my mind out of its thoughts, a relentless contemplation of the priestess''s future. I had no doubt that Vex was right: if I gave her any useful skills, they would be turned against me.


    However, they would much more readily be turned against Varys if he attempted to assault her, and that was a thought that brought me something approaching savage delight. Some peasant girl stabbing out one of his eyes would wound his pride far more than I would ever be able to. I knew better than to let such emotions get the better of me, but the thought entertained me.


    Shira suddenly tensed and I looked to the right, where a wolf the size of the great polar bears had come up alongside, midnight black fur barely concealing the ripple of its muscles as it moved.


    "Luka," I greeted, inclining my head to the wolf.


    Our spymaster twisted his head up towards us, eyes gleaming with interest. His words were a growl, but long ago had Luka mastered the art of manipulating his form so that he could speak even as a beast. "What a picture, Aleyr. The conqueror carrying off some fair maiden as a prize of battle. I hope you don''t intend to take a page from Varys''s book. It would be most unbecoming."


    My lip curled in disgust. "That you make the comparison is insulting."


    Luka''s tongue lolled a moment before he spoke, long and pointed, almost more serpentine than wolf-like. "Forgive me, Lady Frostborn. I spoke in jest." He always took a more thoughtful, deferential tone when he wanted to soothe my legendary temper. I was not quick to anger most of the time, but my rage could be as devastating as a mountain''s spilling fire when it was roused.


    Shira clung to my armor, hooking her fingers behind the straps that held my shield to my back. I seldom used it, preferring to keep both hands on Woe, but it was useful for training purposes and so I carried it with me on campaign. She looked ghost white as she stared at the massive, speaking wolf.


    "What can I do for you, Luka? Your presence here is not a coincidence."


    "You sound so certain of that, Aleyr." His lips rippled back from his teeth, baring fangs in what he imagined was a disarming smile.


    I adjusted my grip on Shira''s hip, squeezing a little more tightly to make certain she didn''t fall in fright. "I am quite aware that I owe you for so deftly handling the spoils of war."


    "It pleases me to hear that you might entertain a humble request from a lowly spymaster."


    I glanced over at him, arching an eyebrow. "Have you ever known me to neglect my debts? Make your request, Luka. I will do what is within my power to honor it."


    "When we return to the Sanctum, I would like you to mediate a quarrel between fangwardens," Luka said. "There are...family entanglements involved, and it would be most prudent to have an unbiased arbiter."


    I knew that meant Riyd was involved. Luka''s daughter was far wilder than her father. She spent most of her time in beast shapes, resentful of the authorities that curtailed her nature, including him. "The nature of the disagreement?"


    "Maiming. The Shadeclaw wishes blood, not gold, in response. This would naturally create a large problem." Luka shrugged his powerful shoulders between strides. "I would prefer not to deal with warfare between clans. A direct representative of the King in Black could nip the dispute in the bud."


    "I''m surprised you didn''t approach Lady Teth. Her tongue is far more silver than my own."


    "She is two-hearted and three-faced. The clans respect power more direct in its usage. Besides, who would dare ignore the will of the Beloved herself?" Luka was an oddity in that regard, far more adroit at the games of politics and survival in the Undying Court than most of his kind. They tended to live in the wild places away from such things, not thriving on the strange energy he seemed to draw from the little games everyone played. Perhaps that was part of his rationale for stepping back as well: while he advised the clans, he did not command their absolute obedience by his very nature.


    I sighed. "I am an outsider. They will not appreciate a variable they do not understand."


    Again, Luka gave me that eerie, fang-filled smile. "Precisely."


    I adjusted my grip on the reins. "Very well. When we have settled in, have the interested parties meet me in the Circle. Last I heard, that was neutral ground for your people."


    "My gratitude, Aleyr. I find the earnestness with which you fulfill your debts most agreeable."


    I grinned back at him, a dark humor flashing in my heart. "You may not sing the same tune after I have made my decision."


    Luka''s laugh came as a harsh bark. "I think we have demonstrated that any solution that suits one perfectly does not suit the whole." He glanced over at Shira with one yellow eye. "What are you going to do with the girl? She is such a soft thing."


    I weighed my options. I could lie, to Shira as much as him since she was listening to the conversation, but the truth was often more useful with Luka. "That won''t last."


    "Varys will seek to take her back."


    I smiled thinly. "If I have my way, she will make him regret the attempt."


    Luka shook his head slightly. "Ah, to shape the youth. Such a noble goal, Aleyr." He switched languages, speaking to me in the tongue of the Dead. "Varys can force her to break her vows, but you could entice her to break them of her own accord. What sweetness surpasses corruption?"


    I shrugged, my attention pulled away from him towards the hum of magic ahead. A massive, pulsing gate of dark blue energy glowed ahead. Much of the army was already marching through it, Maric and Teth''s contingents always the first to arrive. They were always quick to comment on my ''fashionable lateness'' to every battle, but they knew that was by design. For the most part, the King in Black kept me in reserve, always hiding his strength if it was not absolutely needed. As a consequence, I and my contingent would be the last through the gate. Still, in a matter of minutes, I would be back in the halls I had called home for more years than I cared to count. I was already looking forward to it.


    "A sight for sore eyes," Luka growled, eyes lighting up at the shimmering vision that was the gate. The vast, sprawling ivory towers of the Sanctum were clearly visible through the magical connection.


    Shira released her hold on my armor, slumping slightly. No doubt she knew that to set foot into the heart of the Eternal Kingdom reduced her chance of escape to nonexistence.


    We rode closer and closer, sending a shiver through me as the cold presence in my ring grew stronger at the proximity.


    The voice of the King in Black caressed my ear as I urged Tavuus through the glowing window crossing such space. "Welcome home."

 5 - Care from the Cold

    The Sanctum was clearly more than even the exaggerations of her people''s stories, because Shira gaped as we rode across the Narrows, a slender bridge crossing the frothing River Salh as it wound its twisting way around. The plunge off the side of the bridge was a hundred foot chasm with water roiling so furiously as to be white all the way around. It was a formidable natural barrier, one enhanced in certain ways by the area. All around us was a blighted landscape, gray and ashen covered by a perpetual chill. The plants that survived were pale and twisted things, even the flowers that bloomed already rotting by the time they spread their petals. The path to the Sanctum''s great gate was lined with dying roses and dark, needle-like thorns.


    Towers of white glass rose from the barren slopes of the mountains, built into the side of a great cliff. Some floated above, anchored by bridges and connecting towers, all intricately woven together to form a city that rose as high in the sky and deep in the ground as it spread in the cardinal directions. It was a massive citadel, with an outer wall of seamless basalt that rose a hundred feet high, studded with defensive towers. Each tower bore a set of sigils carved in a vertical line on the interior side that connected it to the network of wards and magical defenses the King in Black had woven to endure every assault by gods and mortals alike.


    I smiled faintly as we passed through the Obelisk Gate, carved to look like the great maw of some grinning skull, with sharp adamantine teeth that closed behind us as a combination of portcullis and doors. Just inside was the obelisk it was named for, a towering hunk of gleaming silver metal engraved with scenes of undead triumph. Above us in the sky, a great aurora with shades of blue to green to purple burned in the sky as magic radiating from the wards danced to illuminate the world below. In the morning, the sun would shine so weakly through the clouds, designed to protect the more sensitive undead, that even midday seemed barely dawn. At night the sky was far more striking and clear.


    The Sanctum was fairly chaotic at the moment, with an army flooding in to resume their various lives. I nudged Tavuus with my knees, directing him over another bridge to a higher section of the cliff, back to the stables. They were kept away from the mindless undead, tended to by the human servants who made their homes here. Those who served the King in Black of their own volition were paid and treated well. He cared very little about what they did with their own lives, mundanely beneath him, but had laid down laws that prohibited the undead from simply devouring them.


    There were plenty of different living groups who had come to his banner: the wild berserkers of the northern reach and their stormcallers, the arcanists who might have been burned as witches, the acolytes and priests of the Dark Mothers who praised necromancy and its wielders, and the houses of nobility who fell in the civil war that divided Rusa from the Eternal Kingdom. There were even a few wyrms who kept lairs in the mountains nearby, treating with the King in Black as if he was one of their number.


    Captives were a different arrangement. Like all mortals, they were ants to the King in Black, but they were also enemies. He was willing to leave their fates to the whims of his generals. Hallen would probably execute his prisoners quickly and relatively painlessly after gaining as much information as possible with Luka''s help. Those captured by Rhandiir, Varys, and Teth could expect far less pleasant ends. Maric had already let his soldiers tear apart the mortals they''d captured on the road, never one for delayed gratification.


    Once we were inside the stables and away from the undead, Shira''s grip on me eased. Something about the familiar warmth, smell of animals, and the sudden appearance of human servants put her at ease. I sighed and patted Tavuus. Even without battle, it had been a long day and he deserved to rest. I swung down from the horse and looked up at Shira.


    She froze under my gaze as if I was some basilisk.


    "Come down." Even as I spoke with that same hint of chill, I held out a hand to help her down.


    Her fingers curled around mine for a very brief moment, warm and soft. It was the touch of a healer''s hand, not a warrior''s. I frowned deeply, less in disapproval of her and more at the fragility of such a thing being doomed in a place like this: a subtle sorrow, the same one feels as they let the petals of a rose fall apart in their fingers.


    As soon as she was on the ground, I pulled my hand away and turned to face the stablemaster. "Aldous, how have things been?"


    The towering old man grinned as he bowed, showing teeth that had been filed to points. "Quiet, my lady." His eyes turned to Shira, inquiry clear in his expression.


    If ever there was a gossip, it was Aldous. The less I said about her, the longer she would evade Varys''s clutching hands. "This is Shira. She doesn''t speak."


    "Blade got her tongue, my lady?" He tried to look sympathetic, but Aldous really only cared about horses. He was much more ready to use a whip on a person than on a beast of burden. The victims of my cruelty seldom received even his pity, as he saw me as placing them where they were deserved.


    "Something like that." I handed him the reins to Tavuus and then untied Woe from the saddle, returning my sword to its proper seat at my hip. "Try not to spoil him too rotten. I''d still like a warhorse when you''re done."


    He had the gall to wink at my horse, already pulling an apple out of one pocket. "No promises, my lady."


    I caught Shira by her wrist and pulled her through the stables, out the back door. The Street of Broken Sky stretched out ahead of us, populated by the humans who made their home in the Sanctum. It took its name from the paving stones, glassy bricks that reflected back the sky in rough, crack-filled approximations of its real beauty. The effect was stunning, though: it looked like the aurora was playing across the street like it would on the surface of a lake or river. Here she was less obvious and at least somewhat safer. Not safe for certain, however. The vampire lords were not permitted in the quarter by edict of the King in Black, but their spies were certainly present.


    Shira was wide-eyed and quiet as I pulled her along the street, which was probably the closest thing to normal she''d seen since being taken. The people made it anything but, however: arcanists practicing openly in the street, barbarians ripping into each other with claws and teeth outside a bar, alchemists and apothecaries crowding the place to sell their wares to their fellow humans who feared undeath and the undead themselves alike, and the fearsome wyrm-blooded with their strange eyes and dull patches of scales.


    I kept pulling her until we reached the end of the street, where a delicate archway marked the grounds of the Winter Palace, though it was really more just a piece in the complex of the palace that belonged to the King in Black. Most importantly, it was my piece. The servants who served here had been picked by my hand and no other, something that had secured me my sanctum sanctorum, a place where the other generals could not push their influence so overtly. They were not even permitted entry except with my consent.


    They had spies, of course, and I had spy-catchers. There was always a ready pretext to be rid of one or the other. Occasionally one such spy stepped too far and was executed, but most I either let go from my service or politely asked Luka to make them disappear. What happened to them after that point was not my concern.


    It was quiet and still in the Winter Palace, late enough at night that only the wights were up and about. Many of them took the tasks of cleaning and any labor that required heavy lifting, while the humans who made their homes within my home did things like cooking and artisan work. Haven met me at the door to my private chambers, stepping out. The wight still had the hungry look of all his brethren, but was much more controlled than Vex. He even kept his claws trimmed short and even. "Welcome home, Lady Frostborn," he said with a deep, sweeping bow. "I took the liberty of running you a hot bath."


    "You know me so well," I said, flashing him a smile equal parts relieved and pleased. "While I''m getting cleaned up, would you please have Ember service my armor?"


    "Of course," Haven said, his rasping voice even and measured. He turned dark eyes to Shira. "And for your companion?"


    "She needs a bath as well and clean clothes. Melody can take her measurements in the morning."


    The wight nodded ponderously. "Quarters?"


    That I had yet to decide on. "She will remain here until I have settled on a better solution," I said simply. "You know I hardly sleep in that bed anyway."


    Shira looked at me as though I''d sprouted a second head and flicked her fingers. I raised an eyebrow and made a mental note to have Vex brief me on at least the basics of signing.


    My response was blunt. "I don''t understand you." I turned back to Haven. "I need a volunteer from the Sashes to serve as her bodyguard when she is not under my protection. Someone who understands her mode of speech."


    "Of course, my lady." I could tell Haven was puzzled, but he was not a creature who would argue with my orders. If I asked him to jump off a cliff, he would take the plunge head first. I knew to treat my people well, the undead included. That was more than anyone except Luka could truly say. Even Naltheme considered her servants as experiments just waiting for a theory.


    I stepped inside my quarters. They were far more comfortable than I was entirely suited to: a sitting room with a dining table to one side and couches draped in crimson cloth arranged around a fireplace to the other. Thick rugs added warmth to the stone floor and tapestries decorated the wall, pieces of priceless art taken as spoils in war. A single one was out of place, common wool woven and dyed instead of extravagant silk. It was my favorite, depicting a tree going through the four seasons, starting with spring on the left and ending in winter on the right. My mother had worked on it for months and months, just for me.


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    Every time I looked at it, I missed her, but also felt a singular warmth.


    Down the hall was my bedroom, an armory, a bathroom, a training room, and the last door at the far end led out to a garden space. The last was normally barren, but I saw a faint golden glow coming through the glass of the window-like door, not completely obscured by the curtains.


    I pulled Shira through the living room and opened the door to the bedroom. The door let out a loud creak of protest. The bed was altogether too large for just me, but I kept it to remember the days when love had ruled my heart and bodyinstead of just my soul. The bedspread was simple, just a dark ruby wool over silk sheets. A fireplace burned fragrant pine to one side, the flames licking over the wood but never consuming it, with the fur of a great dire wolf spread on the floor beside it. The other side had a closet with rows of neatly folded outfits and a basin full of steaming water.


    "Wash up. You can take a proper bath after I''m done," I said firmly. "You will sleep in my bed tonight."


    She shivered in fear, no doubt remembering Varys.


    I turned to face her. "I will not lay a finger on you like that, Shira." When she looked at me wide-eyed, I sighed in frustration. "I am not the creature who took you. Now do as I have said."


    Shira nodded and stepped into the bedroom, looking around at the paintings of nature scenes that decorated the walls. Many were taken from conquered noble estates or commissioned from artists swept up into the Eternal Kingdom. I loved the beauty of nature that existed beyond the dull gray of the Sanctum, unspoiled and serene like the mountains I once called home.


    I stepped into the bathroom, Haven on my heels as I stripped out of my filthy attire. Between battle and the long ride, grime clung in a layer to my body. My face was arguably the worst, smudged with ash and blood.


    "You are wounded, my lady," Haven observed as I finished undressing.


    I glanced down at the ugly gash on my thigh, carefully tended to and stitched up by Vex. To me, it was just another scar on the rough topography of my body. I had endured so many battles, so many duels, so many attempts to end me. One does not go through a life like mine unscathed. "It has mostly closed. Just go carefully around it."


    Haven nodded and motioned for me to sit on the wooden bench beside the bath. He dipped a scrub brush in a basin of steaming, soapy water and then used it to scrub away the dirt and blood so I would be clean when I went to the bath. I let out a sigh as the bristles soothed the muscles in my back. It was half a scrubbing, half a massage. Haven always knew right where the pain points were and how to soothe them.


    "Is she staying long?" he asked as he worked, periodically dipping the brush and moving around me in an effort to get every last bit of filth.


    "Presumably. She will be with us until she is ransomed back to her people." I closed my eyes and let my shoulders finally relax as he started on my neck, brushing over the muscles as tight as wires.


    He immediately noticed the tension. It was out of the ordinary for me, a thing that existed only when I battled a Chosen One. "You have been clenching, my lady."


    "I killed a boy," I said bitterly. "A boy who should have been safe on his farm, marrying his sweetheart and living a quiet life."


    Haven nodded, bringing the brush down my back in a soothing motion even though he had already cleaned off the streaks there. "All mortals die, my lady. At least you usually make it quick and painless."


    "There is a difference between a flower fading after a glorious prime and cutting away the bloom while it is still in a bud."


    His dexterous fingers quickly undid the braids in my hair. He combed every tangle out methodically before adding soap and massaging it into my scalp. It felt so good to be taken care of for just a little while, the weight of everything easing. I trusted Haven implicitly, a rare thing in our situation. The wight knew me better than even Vex did, responsible for little moments like these.


    By the time he dumped the water over my head, washing everything else away, I was so relaxed that I felt like melting into the floor. I rose and stepped over to the bath, descending down the carved marble steps into the heated pool. I knew I couldn''t soak too long with Shira in my room. She''d need the bath too. Still, I sank into the wonderful mineral water that bubbled like a spring, enjoying this little piece of self-indulgence far more than anything else in the Winter Palace. It was always a nice feeling after a long bout of training.


    Haven cleaned up the mess I''d left on and around the bench, chasing the dirty water into drains with a mop. "Shall I fetch the girl, my lady? She needs a bath more than you did. She stinks of vampire."


    I heard the distaste in his voice and grinned despite myself. "Varys''s cologne is quite obnoxious, isn''t it?"


    "It offends the senses," Haven agreed gravely. He set the mop aside once the area was clean, dark eyes watching me in the bath.


    I reluctantly moved out of the stream of water moving beneath the surface, back towards the stairs to climb out. After Shira''s experience with Varys, I doubted she would trust any undead hands on her, particularly a stranger''s. "I doubt she''s ready to be taken care of in the same way, Haven. Varys''s charms haven''t improved."


    He pursed his thin lips. "She is not dirtying the bath. Shall I wake Melody?"


    I shook my head. "I''ll do it. Worst case scenario, I have to hold her down while I''m scrubbing."


    Haven nodded. He had a very different understanding of my position than Vex did: he knew how much I hated to be elevated onto a pedestal, which was an unfortunately common experience now. He was my caretaker and confidante, not my servant. Even the honorific became something more like a nickname. "I will fetch her, then, my lady."


    I dried myself off with a towel and quickly pulled on the clean clothes waiting for me: a soft woolen tunic and pants. I rolled up the sleeves to my elbows and then rolled up the pants to above my knees. It only took me a moment to sort through the brushes that Haven laid out for me, finding clean ones. Then I refilled the bucket, adding soap and stirring ferociously to create a foam.


    The wight reappeared, his hands gently gripping Shira''s shoulders as he guided her into the room. "Is there anything else you require, my lady?"


    I let my gaze drift over Shira, trying to take her measurements at a guess. "Go borrow some of Melody''s clothes for her. They''re about the same size."


    Haven nodded and vanished out the door, leaving the frightened priestess alone with me.


    I sighed, well aware I probably would have to hold her down. "This is a traditional Shana''ai bath. It is custom for you to wash before entering the bath itself. Undress and come here."


    Shira froze.


    I picked up a scrub brush and motioned to the seat on the bench. "I am not going to harm you, but if you are sleeping in my bed, you are not doing it covered in dirt. You can either undress of your own free will, or I will do it for you. I promise you I have no compunctions about ruining my own clothes."


    The priestess nodded hesitantly and then undressed. The bruising and scrapes from Varys''s mistreatment were far more plentiful than I''d realized. The wounds on her wrists were definitely the worst, but he had been rather thorough. Dried blood streaked down her back where he had dug in his pointed nails most fiercely. She tried to shrink into herself and cover everything, so I turned my gaze away to grant her some modicum of privacy.


    "Sit," I said firmly.


    She sat with her back to me, allowing me to scrutinize the damage to her skin. I set aside the brush and picked up a neatly folded washcloth, dipping it into soapy water. I let it soak and then wrung it out. Instead of scrubbing at her back the way Haven had mine, I worked my way gently around and over those wounds, listening to the sound of her breathing for cues to pain. She was stiff as a board as I worked, at least at first. Slowly, as I wiped away more and more of the blood and memories of Varys''s touch, she relaxed.


    I followed the lines of knotted muscle in her shoulders with a gentle pressure, kneading away some of the fear''s power, then down her arms, stopping at the edges of the bandages. Then I reached over Shira''s shoulder, handing her the washcloth. "Finish cleaning up. We''ll deal with your hair once I have fresh bandages for those wounds."


    Shira turned her head, looking up at me with luminous, conflicted eyes. She signed at me again, almost automatically.


    I sighed impatiently. "I cannot understand you," I reminded her before turning away to the cabinet. Haven tended my wounds here often after baths, so there was plenty of spare gauze and infection-cleansing ointment around. I rummaged through the cabinet, retrieving supplies and placing them on the far side of the bench where they would stay dry.


    When I turned back, she curled away from me, a sign I took to mean she was clean enough.


    Her mahogany hair was much wilder than mine. I dipped the comb over and over, picking out each tangle with care not to tug. Shira sat so still she almost seemed like a wight, in the perfect motionlessness of the dead. Still, I knew what I was doing almost as well as Haven did.


    The tasks that had once been so hateful to me were rather enjoyable when I did them on my own terms.


    Soon I could switch to the brush, smoothing out Shira''s hair with a gentle touch. The way she relaxed was visible. I ruined it by dumping the bucket over her head with little warning, just as Haven always did to me. She sputtered, but made no other sound, and looked up at me again with wide eyes, arms crossed to cover herself.


    "Into the bath," I ordered. When she flinched at the harshness in my voice, I softened a touch. "You may come out whenever you like. Haven should be back with clothing for you soon. I am going to sleep."


    I left her to melt into the baths in privacy, grabbing a few spare blankets off the table in the hall. My feet took me back to my bedroom. I pulled back the covers for Shira, well aware that Haven made the bed like a military man. Better I do it now, as amusing as it would have been to watch her struggle to untuck the covers. It required rather more strength than most people expected.


    My normal sleeping mat had already been rolled out for me beneath the window, where the cold draft blew in. I laid down on the thin padding that mimicked a bedroll nicely and settled down, adjusting my clothing to be more comfortable. Then I pulled Woe against my chest, the cold metal of the sword warmed by my body. I curled around it and let myself drift into the light slumber that was all I could manage anymore.


    Shira would either come to bed under her own power or Haven would put her there with his forceful politeness. Either outcome suited me just fine.

 6 - The Authority of Frost

    As much as I enjoyed my quiet mornings, Luka''s requested favor was time-sensitive. I rose long before most others were awake. Shira''s nightmares had exhausted her to the point of a relatively deep sleep, so she was still curled up in my bed, clutching at the covers like a protective shield. I sighed and changed into fresh clothing, grabbing Woe automatically as I made my way to the door.


    There was a soft, familiar patter of a knock on the door. I opened it without a moment''s hesitation, catching that wonderful smell of the aromatic tea that Melody could brew with such an artistic hand. Normally fabrics and information were her domain, but this was something she had brought with her from her homeland, far across the sea.


    Melody offered me a small smile. She was a delicate woman, like spun glass, who moved in swaying ways. She was always mindful of where her body was, as her bones were fragile. Her eyes were always hooded, almond-shaped and dark, and she kept her black silk hair in a complicated knot at the back of her head. The weak sunlight meant she was as pale as I was, her once wheat-colored skin now almost porcelain white. "I heard you had a difficult campaign, Aleyr."


    I motioned for her to take a step back and then pointed to the central table, surrounded by low couches. When I shut the door behind me, it was with a delicate touch to prevent any sound. Normally we shared tea at the low table beside the largest window in my room, but Shira had only started to actually sleep an hour before dawn. She needed rest, and I was not inconsiderate.


    "And here I was hoping to meet your newest stray," Melody said lightly.


    "You will be disappointed in her gossiping skills. She only speaks in sign," I said, taking the tray from her delicately and then placing it down on the table. Rich, red-brown tea in delicate ceramic cups formed the pools for foam fish to swim in, artfully drawn.


    Melody sat down across from me and picked up a cup, inhaling steam deeply for the fragrance as she collected her thoughts in response. "I heard what happened. Amputation is such a crude punishment, Aleyr."


    "A crude punishment suits a crude transgressor. Though perhaps Naltheme was right." Varys left a sour taste in my mouth.


    "What did she say?"


    I relaxed, arching my back in a stretch. "Her recommendation was castration."


    Melody laughed. It was always a beautiful sound, soft and silvery. Everything about her had that air of delicacy that made people forget the needle-like precision and focus that her relentless mind brought to bear. Not just anyone could lead the Sashes, my personal guard, from secret. "That would have been a most suitable punishment."


    "Only if it were permanent," I muttered. "Rhandiir had better rein him in or I''ll stake him out in the real sun and carve his head off with a dull penknife."


    "He is growing unfortunately bold. Might I recommend you make use of Luka''s little favor and remind people why you are feared?"


    I arched an eyebrow as I sipped from the cup. Faint notes of cinnamon and other spices mingled with the richness of the tea leaves themselves, sweetened just enough by honey. I set the cup down carefully, just as mindful of my movements as she was with hers. "What can you tell me about this dispute of theirs? It''s odd that Luka would want to draw an outsider into a fangwarden quarrel."


    Melody shrugged. "He has a familial bias to one side. Riyd refused the Shadeclaw''s son as a mate several times. When she persisted in ignoring him, he went to his father to demand that she be compelled to accept. The match would have been most beneficial for all parties, if Riyd wanted it. That if, of course, was the sticking point. You know how Riyd adores being controlled."


    I snorted at that. "How many pieces did she carve him into?"


    "He is in one piece, but that pretty face of his was ripped half off by her claws. When he bemoaned the pain and ruination, Riyd remarked that it was a substantial improvement. The Shadeclaw was not amused."


    I sighed. "I imagine not. From what I understand, usually such things are resolved by dominance display and posturing."


    My delicate friend inclined her head slightly. "Precisely. There were traditional, diplomatic ways of resolving such things. Riyd has no patience for such things. It always astounds me that she''s Luka''s daughter."


    "She''s also Redda''s daughter," I pointed out. Everyone knew the stories of the Wolf Queen, even if most had only seen her as a bas relief on the walls near the Circle, a legend of feral might carved into the weathered stones. The Wolf Queen had been more of a force of nature than a person, nature red of tooth and claw taken to the extreme. As far as mastery of mayhem and havoc went, not even Vex could compete with the woman. The lands beyond the Eternal Kingdom had breathed a great sigh of relief when she was finally brought low.


    Luka had roasted her betrayers on a spit, one at a time, for all to see when he found the men responsible for abandoning the Wolf Queen to succumb to her wounds. There was nowhere they really could have run to, not when the man they sought to escape was the King in Black''s personal spymaster. His reach spanned continents. The savage satisfaction he had taken in their horrible agony was enough to turn most stomachs, but I understood the impulse. To lose something so beloved...


    At least he still held Riyd.


    Melody seemed to sense where my thoughts had gone. "You know the practice of retaliation among the fangwardens, Aleyr. Luka no doubt seeks to preserve his fragile web of alliances by either moving the outrage into your lap or stopping the cycle of blood-seeking in kind with some other kind of agreement."


    "He told me that the Shadeclaw refused wergild, which from what I understood, is what normally would prevent a feud." I wasn''t entirely clear on how the system worked, but Luka had explained many times that wergild was the amount of wealth equivalent to a mortal''s lifeblood. The more of it was spilled, the higher status the victim, the more wergild was paid.


    "Yes, well, the Shadeclaw has never been particularly reasonable." Melody shrugged. "In my humble opinion, he was looking for an excuse to usurp Luka as leader and Riyd was volatile enough to provide him with one."


    I could already feel the headache coming on. Luka was asking me a much larger favor than I''d received from him, which grated on my patience. We would have to talk about it later. "The son?"


    "I doubt he was involved in his father''s machinations intentionally. He strikes me as lazy, entitled, and shortsighted. An unfortunate consequence of no longer having the Wolf Queen around. In her day, he likely would have been exposed at birth. However, he is his father''s favorite, and you know how deep family connections run among their people." Melody saw my frown and her smile widened slightly.


    "Do you have any advice on handling them? Diplomacy is not my strong suit."


    "So play to your strengths," Melody advised impishly. I knew there was a level of serious mixed in with the flippant response. "Just be aware that the Shadeclaw might challenge your intervention fiercely. He already chafes under the rule of non-shifters. If he is successful in ousting Luka, he might pull support from the Undying Court. I would advise against killing him, however. He does have supporters and plenty of them. His bloodline holds almost as much power as Luka''s and any bad feeling...well, they do like to retaliate."


    I finished my tea. "I suppose I should stop dawdling, then. I only have to go save the Court from splintering and tame a few beasts," I said dryly.


    "Do try to enjoy yourself, Aleyr. I will look after your little lost lamb," Melody said. She patted a small roll of cloth near her, full of needles and pins and various measuring tools. "I can have her measured and fitted in a day. I will keep her fully preoccupied until you return. Also, La''an told me that he can sign and she''ll be quite safe with him."


    "Good choice," I said approvingly. La''an was a fearsome warrior, but soft spoken and moved like a mouse. People rarely expected the ferocity he could bring to bear, which made it all the more potent for being unexpected. He was also human, which Shira would no doubt find less frightening. "If Vex shows up, tell her to arrange an extra watch of wights. I sincerely doubt even Varys would seek entrance to the Winter Palace with thoughts of defying me, but his insolence does tend to defy expectations."


    Melody laughed and set her cup down. She reached out, catching my hand, and squeezed softly. "I look forward to that penknife''s use."


    "Not half as much as I do." We said the rest of our goodbyes and I set off on my way, stopping only long enough to put on the armor that Ember had cleaned for me. I knew better than to risk my own hide in such endeavors. Besides, I wanted to be seen as a warrior, not a lord.


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    The Circle stood outside the gates of the Sanctum, across the bridge to the north that led into the Wilds: coarse heather and moors blending into dark pine forests full of brooding shadows. It was beautiful in its harshness, the jagged crags of the mountains capped in white snow. It was a wilderness that defied boundaries, stopped in its spread only by the borders of the ocean itself. The entire northern half of the continent was utterly undeveloped and left as it had always been, barely aware even of the touch of a logger''s axe. The undead had little use for it. There was no need for them to plow a field or sow, no need to build a house to shelter them from the weather or construct endless inroads.


    Besides, the fangwardens would have objected fiercely to any such intrusion. It had been a constant source of wars between them and the barbarians in the mountains, but now that the tribes had moved south and joined the King in Black, that tension evaporated. Now if the barbarians wanted food or supplies, they could either request them or better yet, raid Rusa and the other border kingdoms. It seldom resulted in a full-scale war like the one we had just finished. Most of the Light knew to cringe like a kicked hound at the mere thought of the Eternal Kingdom''s power, settling for skirmishes that never even crossed over our border.


    Luka was waiting for me at the Circle, a collection of monolithic standing stones arranged in synchrony with the constellation called the Beast. He was not alone. It looked like the whole bloody bunch of them were there, those at the back of the crowd wearing their beast forms so their hearing would be sharp enough to catch every word. This was going to be a very, very public spectacle.


    Hopefully, I could navigate this so I wasn''t the one playing the fool.


    As soon as he saw me, the Shadeclaw''s face turned practically purple with rage. He was a giant of a man, with a wild black beard and long, sharp teeth. Instead of Luka''s leanness, he was built with the muscle mass of a mountain bear, broad and deep-chested. "This human is your arbiter?"


    "You might consider looking more closely at that human before speaking so dismissively," Luka said with a sly half-smile.


    The fangwardens were often in the wilds for so long they forgot faces, so I pulled off my left gauntlet. The sight of a golden ring melded to my flesh and bone was unique enough to jog the memories of most. A whisper went out through the crowd in a ripple.


    The Shadeclaw almost choked on the words he was about to use at the sight of that ring, molten and unshapely from the way the King in Black had bonded it to me with the spellfire of his rebirth. "This is not the business of His Majesty''s Beloved," he said, more muted in tone even as a fury blazed in his eyes.


    "I concern myself with anything that threatens the stability of the Eternal Kingdom," I said, taking a seat on a flat slab of rock. I unbelted Woe, setting the blade next to me. I made no move to peace-bond it, as all the fangwardens had their own weapons. For one, I couldn''t suddenly manifest claws and teeth, and two, I had the right to bear arms anywhere I pleased as far as I was concerned. "This dispute threatens to do so."


    Luka gave me what he probably imagined was a chastising look, as if I was saying the quiet parts too loudly. My expression remained profoundly indifferent.


    Riyd looked my way, giving me a nod of respect. That was more than she gave just about anyone else, but we had fought alongside each other enough that she knew I wasn''t soft meat. She looked painfully like her mother, with flaming red hair and high cheekbones, her eyes permanently gold and wild from spending so long in animal form. Her beauty was untamed and striking, as harsh as the mountainscape behind her. If she was worried about anything, it didn''t show.


    Then again, why would Riyd worry? She seldom thought of consequences before she acted, this being a prime example.


    "Why have you refused the wergild?" I asked, looking over at the Shadeclaw.


    The black-bearded fangwarden bristled under my scrutiny. "Look what she has done and tell me if mere wealth is acceptable in exchange." He gestured to the man to his left, who pulled back his hood.


    The younger fangwarden''s face was an absolute wreckage on the right side. His eye had been gouged out and his jaw was half gone, probably ripped off by Riyd''s claws. Strips of flesh were still missing, though magic had healed them into furrowed scars.


    "He is fortunate the daughter of the Wolf Queen did not do so to both halves of his face," Luka said pointedly. "Your son is alive. Let us pay it and be done."


    I waved my hand like I was shooing away a gnat. I knew Luka was trying to needle him into just accepting wergild and smoothing this all over, but all interested parties knew that there was more at stake. "I am going to assume you are an intelligent creature, Shadeclaw." It was more generous than I wanted to be, but I was here to play the role of mediator. I kept my tone calm and even, cold as ice. "The purpose of wergild is to prevent an endless cycle of retaliation that would reduce your people back to feuding little packs with no power or influence within the Eternal Kingdom. To refuse it suggests a motive that reaches far beyond the maiming or your swatted ego."


    "You insinuate that I intend to sabotage our people?" he snarled.


    I drummed my fingers on Woe. "Am I insinuating? I thought I made myself quite clear. After all, why would the Beloved of the King in Black interest herself in an affair unless it had implications that spanned the Undying Court and beyond?"


    He shifted uncomfortably, as if he had suddenly become so much more aware of the threat I posed. I had no intention of allowing him or Luka to make this a quarrel about power between them. Their petty games threatened to weaken the Eternal Kingdom and that was a sin I would not tolerate. I owed Luka a favor, so he would get part of what he wanted, but that would be the end of it. His were not the hands that guided my strings.


    Luka''s glare vanished. He looked down at my feet, as clear a sign of submission as ever there was one among fangwardens. Even Riyd shifted as if the air around had suddenly cooled a few dozen degrees.


    "If you wish the true strength of our people at the King in Black''s call, you would depose that sniveling coward and allow actual power to rule us," the Shadeclaw growled.


    He towered over me from where I sat, but the longer I stared into his eyes, the more that position seemed reversed. "Do not think to dictate your will to me, creature, or you will find there are worse hells than the roasting spit."


    The Shadeclaw took a step back, shoulders rolling forward in submission.


    Even without the menace of the King in Black''s power at my back, I had done things just as cruel as Luka when wronged. More than one place our army had gone through had been reduced to ashes and pikes impaling the living. I was not called Frostborn because it was my family name or because I had come from the north, though the foreign often assumed it was both such things.


    Her heart was born of frost, the soothsayers said when I walked back into the villages of my people with an army of undead at my back. The first few revolts I had put down only cemented that truth in the minds of the common folk, and so a name had grown out of it.


    "I will give you a choice, Shadeclaw. Your line are the wounded party, after all," I said bluntly. "You can accept double the wergild that is normally appropriate from Luka, paid once for the maiming and once for the wound to your son''s pride. If that is so intolerable for you, you may have your blood price and forfeit your son into my custody."


    "My son?" he demanded ferociously. "Why?"


    "If wergild cannot ensure your loyalty, I will do so," I said bluntly. "He will be kept as a guest of the King in Black and every offense you make against the peace will be taken out of his flesh. You will have what you feel is due you and I will have what is due me. Make your decision: blood or gold."


    "You have no right!"


    "Who built the Eternal Kingdom, Shadeclaw?" Molten metal would have frozen on contact with my voice.


    "The King in Black." He stared again, defiant.


    "And who has been at his right hand since the beginning? Who razed Shana''ai into the ashes of memory? Who shatters the armies of Light every time he wishes it be so? Who wears his ring?" I held up my left hand, allowing the sun to glint off the band. "I am his will made flesh. I am his eyes, his hands, his mouth. The drops of blood I have shed, my own and others, to break every prophecy that ever promised our doom have purchased me the right to act in His Majesty''s best interest. So unless you are prepared to try and take this ring from me by force, Shadeclaw, and all the suffering that bearing it brings, I would suggest that you abide by the judgment that I have spoken."


    Shadeclaw seemed to shrink into himself, defiance fading. He glanced at his son, then let his gaze drop. "The wergild."


    "Father, she''s just a¡ª" Shadeclaw''s son started to protest.


    "The Beloved has spoken," Shadeclaw growled sharply, pivoting to face his own son. "We will accept her judgment, coming as the will of the King in Black. The dispute is over." He glared over at Luka. "You heard her. Double the price."


    "My ears are quite intact," Luka said. I had a feeling he was relieved that Shadeclaw had backed down. A bloody purge would have resulted otherwise, and while I would have enjoyed it, he would not have.


    I rose to my feet when the Shadeclaw went to turn away. "I want your oath, Shadeclaw," I said sharply. "You and Luka both. This wergild seals the quarrel and it is buried here beneath the exchange."


    "What is the point of such a thing?" Shadeclaw''s son grumbled.


    "There is a special hell for oathbreakers," Luka said in a low voice. He knew people who had gone to it. The King in Black was a power that believed very firmly in law, and honoring one''s word was a cardinal part of that. "You have my oath, Lady Frostborn. After the payment of wergild, it will be settled, and Riyd will think twice before using her claws so again."


    Shadeclaw''s jaw flexed for a moment like he was chewing gravel. "Very well," he spit out finally. "You have my oath. The quarrel is buried."


    Luka sliced his own palm with claws and then held it out to Shadeclaw, who did the same. They did not clasp hands, but allowed the blood to mingle as it fell onto the sacred soil of the Circle. They would keep the peace, at least until a new and better pretext could be found.


    I patted myself on the back mentally. Clearly Melody''s lessons in my youth were finally beginning to stick, because that hadn''t ended in the skull-crushing it might have in the past. Now I could go back to dealing with my other problems.


    While the Sanctum was my home, it always had an uncomfortable number of schemes and power struggles running at all times. I envied His Majesty so much at times. What was it like, to be so powerful that one could exist almost in a different plane, above all the scurrying of little ants. At the end of the day, I was just a frail form encased in a thin layer of metal, not even immune to cuts from paper. I had to not only endure the enemy, but these so called allies and all the mud and poison they liked to throw around.


    Was it any wonder I preferred my private world in the Winter Palace?

 7 - The Curse of Memory

    I heard Melody''s soft voice drifting out of her rooms as I strode back through the halls of the Winter Palace, my mind in relentless motion after everything that had transpired in the course of Luka''s little favor. The spymaster still had not arrived to give me his opinion of the settlement, but it was an inevitable eventuality. I stopped in my tracks to listen. Even just the sound of Melody''s voice could calm me down when I was like this, frustrated with the world I was surrounded by. Part of it was her nature, the inherent magic of her voice, but more of it was the comfort I associated with her presence.


    "You seem so perplexed, Shira." Melody''s laugh rang in the air like the pealing of silver bells. There was something otherworldly about even the smallest hints of her voice. "Let me offer you a piece of advice: you will find most around the Undying Court have many faces. Lady Aleyr is no exception. With one hand, she takes life, with the other, she gives kindness. Sometimes they are one and the same."


    There was an unpleasant tightening in my stomach as I thought of the boy with sunflower eyes. I banished the thought almost as quickly has it had come. Once upon a time, they haunted me for months. Now? The memories of my challengers faded within days, leaving only the bitter anger at their mistreatment behind.


    "Shall I spin you a story of her?" Now Melody''s tone was practically conspiratorial. She loved stories, both the hearing and the telling. "Ask and ye shall receive."


    A brief pause hung in the air, no doubt Shira asking her question by the flicking of her fingers. It didn''t surprise me that Melody could understand her, not when her gift and hobby was languages. I envied her talent often.


    The delicate woman cleared her throat for dramatic effect. "Surely you know that once upon a time, the King in Black was mortal. Rusans say that he was Iskandar the Great''s personal wizard, but if you want my opinion, that''s absolute rubbish. Their kings can''t abide the idea that their greatest foe came from humble origins, the son of a merchant who could only rub enough silver together to buy his son the lessons needed for literacy."


    I leaned against the wall outside of Melody''s room and closed my eyes, letting the spell of her voice smooth over all my frustrations.


    "It is a long story, Shira. I will spare you many of the details, fascinating though they are, for the sake of time." I knew that when Melody said such things, what she really meant was that she would omit details that might be dangerous for Shira to know. "But picture this boy, taking to the written word as a wyrm hatchling to flight. His hunger for knowledge was insatiable. People say that he met the Devil in the woods one day, walking the merchant''s road, and that was when he learned his first spell. However it began, that too he took to. He found he had a gift for it, and the second that first flicker of power touched his fingertips, around it crystallized an ambition you cannot imagine."


    Truth be told, it was difficult for me to think back so far into the past, except around the pieces my bond kept crystallized. Mortal memories are such fallible things. The King in Black recalled everything with perfect clarity, his whole self preserved perfectly by undeath, in some ways the same and in other ways wholly changed.


    "The stories they tell in Rusa say that the King found a use for this boy and his gift, sending him with the army against kingdom after kingdom, defeating each ancient enemy in turn with the help of his growing magic. Perhaps they paint so to illustrate hubris: a king feeding his own defeat with the suffering of his enemies, never recognizing the serpent held to his breast, the serpent fed by his own ambition. Whether that is the truth, who can say? The history has been told and retold, written and rewritten, so many times. What I will tell you is my favorite part of the story."


    I hesitated, looking at the crack of the open door. Depending on which version Melody was telling, how close to the actual truth it was, interrupting was potentially important. I trusted her, but some versions were harder on my heart than others.


    "The part where Aleyr Frostborn enters the scene, of course. In the Rusan tellings, granted. You see, the danger was noticed very well by some in the Court. They whispered of the wizard''s growing power and ambition. For their answer, they turned to the scion of a disgraced house who was reduced to a scullery maid. She would act as their assassin, in the name of the greater good. Who would expect a girl?"


    I relaxed slightly. This was a version I knew well. The Rusan nobility hated the idea of my foreign blood overcoming them as much as they hated the common origins of the King in Black. Both were erased from their stories.


    "The girl slipped into the wizard''s room in the dead of night, well aware that no one can cast spells while sleeping. All magic requires will, awareness, purpose. They say her hands on the knife were so tight that they trembled like branches in the sea winds. She went to the edge of the bed and raised the knife over his heart to strike, but in that moment, he awoke. They stayed like for a moment that was like a thousand years, would-be mage slayer and mage looking deeply into each other''s eyes. That is how one knows their soulmate, in the old folktales, isn''t it?"


    I almost laughed at the ludicrousness of it all. As if we had known in the moment of our meeting what our futures would hold, what we would become to each other. I held a memory so much different than that of our meeting. Even though I knew I would regret it, I closed my eyes, submerging myself into it.


    Sweet spring breezes blew through the apple blossoms, hanging heavy off the branches over my head as I walked through the orchard, hunting for any climbing ivy to trim away before it could strangle the trees. It was my favorite task, one that kept me far from my lord. I had no expectation of being bothered that day. In the distance came the shouts of men as they prepared for the Festival of Green Grasses.


    I rounded a trunk and almost tripped over the young man sitting there, his nose buried in a leather-bound book. He looked up, the sun striking his eyes, clever and bright like a sparrow''s. "I''m sorry," he said in his strange accent. The apology came immediately, reflexively, as he dropped his book into his lap. He was scruffy at best, his doublet worn and weathered, his pants in dire need of new stitching to repair old holes. Barely better than falling apart, even his boots looked as though he had walked a thousand miles.


    I steadied myself on the tree and took a step back. "You''re foreign," I said automatically. "Like me."


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    He squinted at me. "You sound Luth''alen."


    I dropped my pruning knife into the basket I held against my waist with one arm. "Not any more." A tinge of heartache ached in my tone. They had taken me from the northern mountains, a captive in battle, daughter of a thane reduced to a common servant. The winter still sang in my blood, calling me to war, but I was a girl not old enough and not strong enough to heed it.


    "I didn''t mean to hurt you," he said earnestly. "I''m Shana''ai myself."


    My eyes widened slightly. "You came from across the sea?" It was hard not to sound incredulous, with the dangers that those waves posed.


    He smiled. "It''s not half the distance from here to the mountains."


    "But there are sea monsters and storms." I straightened up and cocked my head slightly, taking in his hunched posture and ink-stained sleeves. "What are you reading, anyway?"


    He went red in the face and tried to hide the book, but I snatched it away first, faster in reaction. To my disappointment, there were no pictures, only the squiggling little writing of the lowlanders. I only knew half of my own homeland''s runic script, some of the sounds the characters made, and couldn''t have written a sentence if my life depended on it. "Hey!"


    "What is it?" I asked, holding the book behind my back. I felt a kinship with him, even if we came from different worlds, because neither of us were in a place we belonged.


    "It''s..." He mumbled something almost inaudible, but I heard it all the same. "...poems."


    I could feel the emblem of a rose on the cover under my fingers, worked into the leather cover. "Love poems?" I teased, elongating each word for maximum effect.


    His blush worsened, starting at the tips of his ears and spreading like a fire across his cheeks. I knew I was right, my triumph only checked by my curiosity. My people sang songs of battle and fire. Winning fair maidens and such was more a Rusan fashion. "Give it back," he grumbled. There was an edge of play to his voice though, like he didn''t mind the teasing. That was strange.


    I never considered myself a pretty girl, let alone beautiful.


    "Give me your name, and I''ll give you the book." I spoke with confidence, since I was standing with my bargaining chip firmly.


    He stood up as quickly as he could to try to reclaim it, but I moved faster, almost darting around him as he struggled in his ungainly way to recover his stolen property. He moved like a scholar, someone used to spending hours in the same stooped position, not like me, not like a war-dancer. "You first, book-thief!"


    I laughed, dodging his grab. "My name is Aleyr. Now what''s yours?"


    It was a feint. His real motion trapped me against the tree between his arms, though I maintained my hold on the book. After more than a year of scrubbing floors, my grip was much stronger than that of someone who was accustomed to a pen. "Give it back, or I''ll¡ª"


    "I''m not afraid of any boy who hides in an orchard reading love poems."


    His face was flushed, but now I wondered how much of it was embarrassment at the tease and how much was our proximity. He had to press me against the tree to keep me from wriggling off with his book, which put him against me. "I shouldn''t give you my name," he said. There was a moment of hesitation, and then he mumbled again, "Names have power."


    "I gave you mine," I pointed out.


    The moment I knew was not the moment our eyes met. It was when he looked away shyly, plucking an apple blossom, and then whispered his name against my ear.


    When I emerged out of the memory, preserved as it was in that perfect moment by the magic of our connection, the grief I felt ripped my heart, destroying it all over again. I walked away with quick and quiet steps, Melody''s voice vanishing behind me. I headed straight for my rooms with the grief as a black hole consuming all of the peace and light anything had any power to instill in me. There were no tears, not anymore. All such things fade in time, even though the pain stayed as this knotted thing inside my throat.


    Haven met me as I crossed the main hall. "You seem upset, my lady," he observed.


    Gods how I envied them in moments like these. How I envied him! What a blessing to not feel, to not even know that the feeling was absent. No wonder so many had taken to undeath. "I am fine, Haven," I said evenly, my voice operating off some script read by a different person, a different Aleyr.


    "His Majesty sent over his gift for you."


    I had forgotten utterly, contending with Shira and then Luka''s problem. "Show me," I said to Haven, so I wouldn''t have to be alone when the wave struck me again.


    We walked together out into the gardens beside my room. There, at the center of an artful courtyard edged by blooming, uncorrupted roses, was a gnarled apple sapling. Not in bloom, but alive and well.


    His magic touching it would have corrupted it in an instant. This had been carried, loved and tended to, by living hands. For miles upon miles as it crossed the bleak wasteland that was the Eternal Kingdom.


    It would have hurt less if he''d stabbed me, but I held fast to my grief.


    Does it displease you? The soft whispering voice of wind through bone echoed in my ears, completely beyond Haven''s hearing. I felt the King in Black''s presence envelop me, his power crackle in my bones. The ring melded with my hand burned with a freezing fire.


    "No," I whispered, feeling the tears that would never fall building behind my eyes. "It''s beautiful."


    As are you, my rose.


    The words struck like the blow of a lance against my chest. I kept my bearings and my balance, though. This was an ache I knew well. "Thank you, Your Majesty."


    I wished he was there. I wished I could touch his fingers and feel warmth again. I wished I could lean my head against his shoulder and weep away all the pains of all the years, of all the sacrifices. I wished my kiss against his cheek was more than just an echo of a love that had burned so powerfully within us both that it had set whole kingdoms aflame.


    As if in answer, there was a whisper of a cold touch against my cheek. All power requires sacrifice, my rose. Think of all we have achieved.


    I pulled in a deep, sharp breath. "I know," I whispered, fighting the urge to press my cheek into the cold. It wouldn''t work, and I knew it. I hardened again and let the years settle over my grief like the almost unbearable weight they were, crushing every bit of sorrow into something hard and cold, like a diamond, under their incredible pressure. We had come so far. We had fought so hard. We had done the impossible, and I was concerning myself with the mere emotion stirred by a tree? Wasn''t it the ends that mattered, not the means?


    Besides, why cry over spilt salt? He wasn''t here with me. He wasn''t the boy in the apple orchard. He wasn''t even the man I had pledged I would follow to the ends of the earth and beyond.


    He was the King in Black, and I was his Beloved.

 8 - A Hint of Fire

    The Shira who emerged from Melody''s room was a different woman entirely from the one I had dragged from Varys''s tent. Oh, the bruising was still there, but a dress as blue as robin''s eggs that hung from one shoulder, silk perfectly tailored to her, suited her so well that I almost forgot I was not looking at some highborn lady. Melody had helped her with her hair, combing and arranging that mahogany into a complicated bun held by a tortoise shell comb. The easy kindness had restored something of her strength. There was a brightness, an animation to her movements as she signed at Melody and even managed to smile slightly, that had been utterly absent in my presence.


    Then they turned to head down the stairs towards me, and Shira hesitated at the top step.


    The light in her eyes snuffed out at the sight of me. The loss of it reminded me of the sorrow of a gardener upon seeing their roses cut in the bud. But then again, who could blame her? To a Rusan priestess, I was the Devil incarnate.


    It would have been much easier if, in that moment, I could have regretted my kindness, given as cruelly as it was. If I had leaned into my indifference, surely it would have stung less. Yet the thoughts of apple blossoms hurt me still, no matter how much I had steeled my resolve.


    She hesitated again when our eyes met, as if she could see the endless ocean of grief.


    "Lady Aleyr, how kind of you to join us." Melody''s first instinct was diplomacy, to smooth things over.


    My mood was still too sour for me to heed her efforts. "My presence has never been a kindness."


    They reached me at the foot of the stairs and Melody shook her head despairingly. "You are as dour as ever, my lady. Here I was thinking we would take tea in the solar. Now I wonder if I should ban you from it." Behind her cheerful demeanor, I caught a current of worry. Normally the bitter side of me waned in influence when I entered the Winter Palace. It was my sanctum, after all.


    Perhaps for an old friend''s sake, I would temper myself. "Forgive me, Melody. It has been a difficult day."


    Shira looked at me as if I had grown a second head. It took me a moment to figure out why, but the moment it clicked in my head, I almost laughed aloud.


    I apologized to someone she thinks I think is beneath me.


    I gestured towards the solar. "Shall we?"


    Together, the three of us walked the narrow hall to the small, private dining room I preferred. It directly adjoined the kitchen, warmed by the ovens, and was far more comfortable than the greater dining hall used on the rare occasion I was forced to entertain guests of status. "So how did things go with Luka''s little errand?" Melody asked.


    "The Shadeclaw was paid the wergild. He and Luka swore a blood oath that their little quarrel was over."


    Melody''s delicate, ruby lips curved into a smile. "How fortunate for them that you were so diplomatic, Lady Aleyr," she said, apparently unconcerned by the idea of Shira hearing some of the Court''s inner workings.


    The tea service was already waiting for us. Instead of the silver traditional for Rusan nobles, it was simple ceramic, with a rich blue-green glaze added in the pattern of leaves. I reached for my cup, identifiable because of the chip to one side of the rim. "Neither side was pleased to be reminded of my position."


    "Luka is a reasonable creature. Whatever ill feeling he might have will resolve pragmatically."


    I grimaced as I poured Shira and Melody tea, serving them before myself. Again, I saw Shira''s eyes widen slightly. "That is precisely what I am concerned about." I knew full well that I was irreplaceable, untouchable, but that protection did not necessarily extend to my household, if Luka ever decided to move against me. The idea of any of them hurt made the cold of my anger expand into midwinter.


    Shira flicked her fingers delicately in the air, her head turned towards Melody.


    "She wants to know if she can ask questions about our discussion. Would that trouble you, Lady Aleyr?"


    There was a potential for great harm in it, but Melody would not have brought up politics if she thought it unsafe. "She will be with us for a time. Better that she knows who to avoid."


    Again, Shira''s fingers danced.


    Melody laughed. "I suppose Luka is the least known of the King in Black''s servants, at least by the outside world. He prefers it that way, I think. He is a fangwarden, a beast-man, and leads the more subtle parts of the King in Black''s power."


    "He''s a spy." My answer was far blunter than Melody''s as I watched Shira''s fingers. There was an art to her movements, a delicate precision to her motion. It was also a mystery, something I could not understand.


    I resolved to pin down Vex when she returned and learn everything I could of sign. I hated feeling my own ignorance.


    "He''s much more than that, don''t let Lady Aleyr fool you," Melody said, lips curving into a sweet smile. "And the Shadeclaw is a powerful tribal leader. All of the heads of the packs style themselves that way. They surrender their first names and are referred to the way they are to show they have become the pack. Or at least its face."


    I settled into my chair and sighed, combing my fingers through my hair. "And he''s far more trouble than he''s worth."


    "Yes, well, I find survival and worth are seldom linked," Melody commented, a hint of stiffness to her movements for a moment.


    I thought of the day I had found her, helpless on the beach, surrounded by the bodies of her family. Bloody flesh and ripped wings. I wondered if the scars on her arms still hurt her in moments like these. We were so close in part because we could see our own suffering reflected in each other. "Death takes the best and the worst in their own time."


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    Melody arched an eyebrow at me playfully. "How philosophical of you, Lady Aleyr. I wonder if Naltheme''s musings are beginning to wear off on you."


    "I shudder at the thought," I said dryly. Clearly Haven had been the one to prepare tea, because there were thin, delicate, honey-sweetened biscuits arranged in an artful spiral and the tea itself lacked the little foam fish Melody somehow managed to create.


    Melody laughed at that and I saw Shira relax by another degree. The former priestess sketched her next question in the air.


    "What is she asking?"


    Impish good humor flashed across Melody''s face, hiding a darkness whose depths I knew well. "She says it''s clear that we''ve known each other a long time, and wants to know how we met."


    I made a small gesture with one hand, nodding my head slightly to Melody. If she wanted to tell the story, that was up to her. I was only the beachcomber, not the beautiful shell found amongst that devastation.


    "There was a shipwreck in a storm, and I ended up battered against the rocks, then stranded on shore," Melody said smoothly, glossing over so much. "Lady Aleyr saved me. As you are no doubt well aware, she is quite good with bandages."


    I sipped from my tea, watching as Shira glanced down at her wrists, still bandaged. I made a mental note to check them later, distracting myself from the old anger. The men responsible for those broken shells, for the cracks in Melody herself, had paid for their revenge a thousand times over.


    Shira''s brow furrowed slightly as she considered Melody''s story. It was innocent enough with the relevant points left out. After a moment, she wove her hands into a few thoughtful signs.


    Little creases formed at the corners of Melody''s eyes. I knew then that she liked the priestess, at least enough to show an amusement as sincere as that she gave me. Their talk as Shira was fitted had clearly gone well. "A fine guess. You are correct: Melody is a nickname, not my actual name. Medesicaste was a bit much for many in this city to pronounce correctly. You should have seen Lady Aleyr try. It was abominable."


    A faint little smile curved at Shira''s lips and for a moment, when she glanced my way, I saw that spark of life again. It vanished just as quickly as it had come and she signed her next question.


    "Ah, one for you, Lady Aleyr," Melody said. I heard the note of weight to her voice and knew it would not be a question with an easy answer.


    "Oh?" I tried to keep my tone as bland as possible.


    "She wants to know why you are treating her like this."


    I raised an eyebrow at the priestess, who was studying her tea intently. As much as I wanted to respond sharply, to ask if she would prefer being kenneled like a hound, I reminded myself that she was not mine to abuse. "There is a certain courtesy that I feel prisoners are due."


    Shira looked up sharply. I saw anger, not fear. Her fingers snapped at the air.


    Melody went still.


    "Translate." As much as I cared about Melody, I was not above compelling her to do as I wished.


    "She wants to know how the Butcher of Stonepoint can say such a thing."


    I remembered that day well. Two thousand prisoners executed in full view of the walls, their blood mingling with the dust in a river of crimson. "That was a different situation," I said, running a fingertip along the edge of the cup. "I demanded that their commander open the gates or see his men die. He refused, and I am a woman of my word."


    Shira''s eyes blazed as she turned to face me. I could see her frustration in the twisting of her lips. She wanted to speak so badly, to try and strike me with words. The only thing stopping her was her vow to her god, that promise of silence. Her fingers stabbed at the air like the knife of an assassin.


    "She says they were conscripts, boys from poor families. She says you had no right to take their lives away," Melody translated softly, her dark eyes on me instead of Shira.


    "They were," I agreed before tipping back my cup, swallowing the tea in one gulp as the two thousand had the water I gave them before I ordered their execution. "I take it you had a family member there, Shira. Or was it a lover I killed?"


    Her eyes burned more fiercely and the words beat themselves to death against the inside of her lips. Her fury was beautiful, though I could not help but regret that it was essentially fangless. If she tried to act out some vengeance, I could so easily crush the life out of her or cut her to ribbons with the small knife sitting on the tray of treats. The unfairness of it all seemed plainly laid out for me: the universe had given her such a righteous anger, but stripped her of any knowledge of how to use it.


    You mean to make an assassin for yourself? Vex had said so incredulously. Now that very idea took a deep root in my heart.


    If the gods of light had not provided Shira with the knowledge to use her strength, I would. If she came to turn that against me, I would relish the challenge of a heart beating with the power of an enemy that could be my equal. No prophecy, just naked hatred and vengeful purpose. That was something I could respect.


    "I will not apologize for Stonepoint any more than I will apologize for any other battle." I met her gaze without fear, without deception, without feeling. The armor around my heart closed again, as if it had never been open at tea. "I am who I am."


    Melody stayed quiet. I think she understood how closed off I was and how little her diplomacy would soothe it.


    Before Shira could sign again or lunge across the table at me, I rose to my feet and stepped to the side, sliding my chair into the table. "Enjoy your tea."


    I knew Melody wanted to call out to me, but there was no chance of that changing my course. I headed for the training room, trying to mentally hunt for a weapon that would suit her.


    Vex was waiting in the main hall, covered from head to toe in dried gore. I stopped on my path, turning to face her. "You stink."


    "Isn''t it wonderful?" Vex said with undisguised pleasure. I knew she reveled in all the aspects of her hunger, in all the ferocity of her version of undeath. She was the devouring demon that even the most hardened soldier would flee before. "I suppose you wish me to bathe, my lady?"


    "You know that I do. And once you''ve finished, I have a task for you."


    "My lady?"


    I smiled faintly. "It''s about our prisoner."


    "The morsel?" Vex tipped her head to one side, cocking an ear like a devoted hound.


    "She needs to learn how to fight properly. That requires a great deal of conditioning for a human."


    My faithful wight sighed in disappointment, no doubt crushed that eating Shira was off the table. She would take some small solace in the fact that she could probably make the priestess wish she had never been born. "Respectfully, my lady, I fail to see the wisdom in arming a foe."


    I put a hand on Vex''s shoulder, ignoring the crust of dried blood and bile under my fingers. "Trust that I have my reasons."


    "I trust you, my lady," the wight promised, black eyes meeting mine. "With all that I am."


    It didn''t matter that Vex was undead, that she could feel nothing but that ceaseless hunger for mortal flesh, that her mind worked in ways I could barely comprehend at times. I appreciated her intensely. "Then do as I have asked."


    "Now?"


    I pulled my hand back and looked down at the filth clinging to my ivory fingers. "No. Now, you are taking a bath."

 9 - The Pact of the Hilt

    Haven followed me like my own shadow as I stepped into the training room. "If you train her as you were trained, my lady, there is a chance she will merely shatter."


    "She has will. She has fire." I strode over to my armor, arrayed on a stand. It looked beautiful now that Ember had tended to all the damaged and dirtied pieces. The finish was still dulled with smoke, in striated patterns across the breastplate, but beneath that was a mirror polish that left no room for rust. She had oiled every hinge and piece of leather after cleaning with saddle soap and sand.


    I loved it almost as fiercely as Woe. My sword had been my mother''s gift, but my armor, my second skin, my guardian against all the world could do to me...that had been given by the person who had valued my life above all others. I leaned my head against it and inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of steel and smoke and leather. It smelled like home, like victory, like love. It had followed me through campaign after campaign. Straps were replaced, sometimes plates, but the soul was always there with me, as scarred and battered as my heart.


    Strange, to believe in souls surrounded by the soulless.


    "You are not listening to me," Haven observed.


    I ran my hands lovingly over the pauldrons, smooth and seamless. It was designed with flexibility in mind as well as strength. The range of motion within my armor was barely different than my natural one. It was molded to me like my own skin, particularly after all the breaking in I had done. "I know what I am doing, Haven."


    "And if her fire is your funeral pyre?"


    I turned to face him. "I have broken fate many times, Haven. Even her fire, I could extinguish."


    "You risk yourself too much, my lady." His tone was even, emotionless. There was not care in him, yet he held onto me. Onto the shadow of who he once was, before undeath had changed him into this. "Senseless duels. Leading an army. You have earned glory in the King in Black''s eyes hundreds of times over. Rest on your laurels and let the others earn their keep."


    "It is never enough," I whispered, putting my hand to my visor. I cupped its cheek, the smoothness meant to deflect every blow. "You know it will never be enough for him."


    For a moment, Haven was still. I wondered if he could still feel some ghost of the anger that he once felt in life. After a long moment of silence, he put his hand on my shoulder. It was almost tender, the gesture. I looked over. Claws trimmed back to nails, manicured and carefully kept. Clothes neat and clean, his sleeves rolled up to bare pale arms that in every motion rippled with unholy strength. "You deserve better, my lady."


    I laughed. "When has this world ever treated anyone as they deserve?"


    "After the price you have paid..." He didn''t finish the sentence. He knew as well as I did what had happened: he was there, the first baptized into undeath after the King in Black''s ascension. He had seen my heart in my face that day. When it was all over, when the glory had moved on and left us in its ashes, he had kissed the earth in front of my feet and asked to serve me for the rest of his existence.


    No one knew me better than Haven.


    I covered his hand where it sat on my shoulder. "I saw her anger, Haven," I said quietly. "Impotent, locked in its cage, like a tiger imprisoned behind bars. What a waste."


    "She will hate you," Haven said. "Vex will make her suffer in your name, all to become a great warrior."


    "And what would you have me do? Throw her loose, to be caught in Varys''s claws?" I couldn''t bring myself to be angry with Haven. Instead, it came out as a sincere request for his thoughts.


    Haven gave my shoulder a slight squeeze. It was not out of love, but a recognition that I would appreciate the comfort. "No, my lady. I would have you end this at its beginning. I will bring her a swift, merciful death. She will not feel a thing. Then the blood will be on my hands, the guilt on my shoulders, not yours."


    I turned to face him. "My dutiful Haven," I said softly, meeting the gaze of those black, shark-like eyes. "You have already borne too much for my sake."


    "I do not feel it. You do." There was a cold, inhuman logic to his speech, to his thoughts. "I can see where this ends, and it is with a blade in your heart, Aleyr."


    It always had an extra weight when he actually spoke my name. He saved it for occasions like this, rare and personal. "She would have died in Varys''s clutches, Haven, abandoned by her goddess and all the other archons of light. A terrible fate for someone. Everyone deserves the chance to break their fate."


    Haven''s gaze searched my soul in my face. "I hope I am wrong, my lady," he said softly. "I do not want to lose you."


    I squeezed his hand. "You would not feel the grief for a moment, Haven."


    "But I would know that you were gone."


    I would never understand how the raw hunger of a wight could exist alongside the tenderness of Haven''s touch. He bound my wounds, soothed my fevers, scrubbed the dirt from my body, listened to me pour out my sorrows. The name I had given him was truer than it had any right to be, knowing his nature. Perhaps his emptiness, the hollow space where emotion once ruled, was a place where I could pour mine. Or was I only seeing what I wished to see?


    "I''m not going anywhere, Haven."


    The door behind us banged open as Vex steered a mute and frightened Shira in. Again she was the girl from Varys''s tent when she was in the clutches of my ravenous second, so terrified of her own demise. I would have to break her of that fear, and many others, if I was to release her from her cage.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I turned to face the pair. Vex was in high spirits, savage glee scrawled across her twisted features. "My lady has a purpose for you, it seems," the wight said as she pulled Shira in, kicking the door closed behind her. It effectively trapped Shira between Vex and the two of us.


    "Your mannerisms are unbecoming," Haven said formally, his black eyes fixed on Vex.


    Vex waved her hand like she was swatting away a gnat. "I am not here to be presentable and courteous, Haven. I am here to be a crucible."


    I held up a hand. "There is a conversation to be had first," I said coolly.


    Shira''s eyes settled on me, devoid of the firelight I had seen in the solar with Melody. There was only fear and uncertainty.


    Haven stepped away from me, linking his hands together in front of him and bowing his head respectfully. I knew it was his way of fading into the background. He always made his opinions known privately, not publicly.


    I stepped forward, stopping directly in front of Shira and meeting her gaze with my own. "I believe in choice, priestess. Not fate. In accordance with that, I will offer you a choice."


    Vex released her hold on Shira, leaving the young woman shivering in front of me. She flinched when I drew Woe.


    "There are three parts to a sword in Luth''alen martial tradition," I said, holding my beloved longsword out in front of me, balanced perfectly on two fingers. "From the tip to the middle, this half of the blade is the jhaan, the weak.''" I looked her straight in the eyes as I spoke. "You could go home, escorted by Vex to the edge of the Eternal Kingdom. There is a chance that Varys or his people would find you, but you would have the protection of your priests." Then I tapped the blade closer to the hilt, where it tapered wider to meet the crossguard. "This is the ahl, the strong." I didn''t let my gaze waver for a moment. "You could accept death in this moment, at the bite of Woe, and go to your goddess in defiance."


    Shira raised her hand, fingers trembling as she moved them through signs. And yet, I could see it in her again. That fire, that anger, that drive.


    "She wishes to hear the last option, my lady," Vex commented offhandedly.


    I touched the hilt. "This is luth. The hilt, the connection to the wielder, to all the power that makes a sword what a sword is: a tool." I knew she was listening when I heard her breath catch. "You could stay, willingly, and learn to become more than what you are."


    I let the blade stay balanced on my fingers, watching her breathing flutter in her throat. For a long time, there was only silence. I knew she just needed the tiniest breath of life into that spark.


    "Which do you wish to be, Shira?" I asked quietly. "The protected servant of a goddess who has already abandoned you, the honored dead sacrificed in some Rusan advance, or the hand that moves?"


    Shira did not look at either Vex or Haven. A stillness spread through her body and then I saw the fire spark in her eyes. She closed her hand around Woe''s hilt, still meeting my gaze head on.


    I covered her hand with my own, holding her grip to Woe. "Very well," I said. "I will make you suffer for this choice of yours as very few have suffered. If you are alive at the end, you will be a warrior with few equals."


    The fingers of her other hand flicked.


    Vex laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. "She is promising you something ridiculous."


    "Translate, Vex," I ordered sharply. Shira''s eyes were still on mine, still burning with those coals of resentment and righteous fury.


    "She says that when she is finished, she will lay you peacefully into your grave for this mercy."


    I smiled coldly. "Then she understands precisely what kind of mercy this is." I pulled the sword swiftly, yanking her hand from the hilt and drawing it across the length of the blade. It sliced across her palm, spilling crimson across the floor. It gleamed scarlet on Woe as Shira cried out in pain and clutched at her hand. "That scar will remind you of your choice, priestess."


    "What would you like me to do with her?" Vex asked, watching Shira sob helplessly without lifting a finger to comfort her.


    I knew it was necessary, but the sight of those tears coursing down her face wounded me like an arrow. I thought again of sunflower eyes, of the others that had come before. I reached out and touched her face, just long enough to catch a tear, but pulled my hand back before she could recoil. "It''s not your fault, this weakness," I said gently. "Your gods robbed you of your strength, but you will claim it back."


    "My lady?" Vex prompted.


    "Bandage that injury," I ordered. "The first part will be learning to move, then conditioning. Then we will start on technique."


    Vex covered her heart with her hand and bowed deeply. "As you say, my lady." She caught Shira''s shoulder and pulled the former priestess back, away from Haven and I. "Come along, little morsel. That''s nothing a few stitches won''t solve. Then we can get started."


    Haven stayed at my back, again assuming the role of my shadow.


    "I hate it when they cry," I said quietly, heartsick for a long moment. Slowly it ebbed, but I knew I would feel it many times over as Shira walked the path she had chosen. I looked back at my faithful caretaker, the echo of my oldest friend. "I have a task for you too, Haven."


    "Yes, my lady?"


    "You will tend to her with the same care you would give me. Vex''s loving hand will leave her with many bruises, many scrapes, many wounds. All of them will need care, attention, and a tireless ear. Melody has too much on her plate already to be the girl''s safe place. That is why I am asking you."


    Haven placed his hand over his heart, black eyes solemn. "As you wish, it will be."


    The smile I gave him was faint, but it was sincere enough to reach my eyes. "I knew I could count on you."


    "Always, my lady."


    Perhaps that was why I preferred the company of the undead called lesser. They were constancy, an absolute, a comforting compass in chaotic and changing times. "Good." I pulled in a deep breath, letting my mind rest on my other problem. "Before you seek her out, would you send Melody to my rooms? She and I need to have a talk before I speak with Lord Rhandiir at his little victory party."


    Haven''s face didn''t change, but I imagined the lip curl of contempt he would have made in life at the very sound of Rhandiir''s name. "I thought that invitation reeked."


    "Your sense of smell has always been impeccable." It was tempting to bring Shira and flaunt her in front of Varys, but he would be aggravated enoughby my mere presence. As much as I wanted to cut him into ribbons, diplomacy would likely have to rule the day. All of that, of course, was mutable based on what secrets Melody could whisper into my ear beforehand. I looked down at Woe, still dripping Shira''s blood onto the floor.


    In that sanguine spill, I could see a new beginning.

 10 - The Dress and the Dragon

    Melody scrutinized my expression in the mirror we both faced as she braided my hair. I never paid much attention to what was in fashion, but she breathed it like air. She loved dressing me up, as if I were some favorite doll. I think that was half the reason she was so disappointed to see me go when war called. "So what color for this evening, Aleyr?"


    I had long ago surrendered any idea of true control when Melody was in her element. Besides, I always found it soothing when those delicate fingers played with my hair, enough to make me amenable enough to playing the game. "Do you have a recommendation?"


    "I may have obtained some painted emerald silk from Azov that I may have done quite well with."


    My lips tipped into a shadow of a smile. "May have?"


    She laughed and released me. "I took the liberty of laying it out on the bed."


    "How generous of you," I said dryly, a nudge that I knew she would take as a reminder that I knew this was more for her satisfaction than my own. I turned and rose from my seat, following her out of the bathroom. It felt so strange to be in a satin slip instead of armor, after more than a year of campaign.


    "Don''t be so churlish, Aleyr. You simply cannot march into Rhandiir''s banquet hall with arms and armor arrayed about your person like you''re invading it. You would ruin the victory party."


    "But it would be most enjoyable."


    She laughed and pulled me through the door. "Honestly, Aleyr, sometimes I feel I''m wasted on you."


    "Always," I agreed, pausing to admire her handiwork as I took in the sight of the dress. Azovian painted silks were rare to find this far north and west, but they were always breathtaking in their intricate patterns. This differed from the geometric or swirling patterns that they favored enough that it had to be a special order, however. Particularly given how well the painted design meshed with Melody''s masterful use of fabric.


    It was more than a green dress worn off one shoulder: it had shades as an emerald did, ranging from deep forest green following some cuts to the color of fresh spring buds shading in other areas. A great wyrm, twisting and turning gold that gleamed like real metal, seemed to wind up from the dress''s lowest hem, clutching an opalescent rose in one claw, as if it was climbing the left side of the garment and breathing silver fire down that sleeve, just touched at the very wrist by delicate, almost petal-like swirls of crimson. I was fascinated by the eye of the wyrm, as opalescent as the rose it held. It was beyond merely white, carefully painted like all the rest.


    "What do you think?" I could hear Melody''s pride in her voice. How many hours had it taken her to craft something so carefully stitched to keep the whole beauty of the pattern? How much time and effort to find a silk-artist who could work such magic? I suspected that while the silk had come from Azov, the painter had worked from Melody''s sketches of the dress she intended as much as from their own imagination.


    "I think Teth is going to die of jealousy. You have done a masterful job."


    Melody beamed. Teth''s vanity was legendary and as a result, she spared no expense to obtain the best and rewarded those best with undeath...that also consequently bound them to her service. For any to outdo her precious stable of artisans, that required astronomical talent accompanied by immense amounts of hard work. It didn''t hurt that I had given my highest compliment as well. For successes like this, I always used the word ''masterful''. To me, it honored the thousands of hours of practice and thought and relentless improvement that had gone into their labor, an unspoken underlining of their hard work that those who knew me best always appreciated the most.


    I stepped forward, skimming my fingertips along the dragon''s spine. "Who did the design?"


    "Pantelis."


    I blinked and turned to her. "I thought he was still an apprentice."


    "Not anymore." A mother''s pride shone fiercely in Melody''s expression. "This was his demonstration that he had surpassed his master, and a repayment of your gift of an education."


    I felt a twinge of warmth behind my breastbone as I looked down at the dress. "How swiftly he has grown," I murmured, stroking a thumb across the fabric. It seemed like yesterday that he had been a toddler chasing butterflies in my garden. "I knew he would make the best of his place in the world, even being sent away. I''m flattered that I received his masterwork."


    "As if it could have gone anywhere else, Aleyr," Melody said. She hardly disagreed with her son being sent away, no matter how difficult it had been: he was a boy who needed the beauty of a living world, and that he was not likely to find in the Eternal Kingdom where he had spent his first thirteen years. I had used a good amount of coin and leverage over some of Luka''s ''friends'' to ensure he would be safe and able to study with the best.


    "He could have bought himself a patronage in any royal court in the south or east with this."


    Melody laughed. "He would have never even known about Azov silk painting if you hadn''t given him that book. We both hoped you would wear it for us."


    "For Rhandiir''s party? That seems unfair to the two of you," I murmured.


    "Keep it and wear it for many years, then, and think of us every time you do."


    I heard the reminder in Melody''s voice, a gentle nudging at the truth that our natures were not the same. All three of us were alive, but they would age and wither where I would not, albeit not quickly for either of them given Melody''s heritage. I turned and put a hand on her delicate arm. "I will," I promised, hoping she could see the depths of my sincerity. "Tell him when you next write to him that I am proud of him and touched to receive his gift."


    Melody smiled. "I will. Now enough avoiding things, Aleyr. You need to be completely dressed in two hours."


    Stolen novel; please report.


    "And how is that so difficult to achieve?" I asked as I picked up the dress.


    "We haven''t touched your cosmetics at all."


    I sighed, mostly for effect, but in truth it didn''t really bother me. I viewed cosmetics as the diplomatic version of warpaint, completely stripped from the ideas of courting and romance that they held in the bordering kingdoms. They were just part of the mask that I wore when the battles of words began, as carefully constructed as the helmet that shielded me in war, even if they were less permanent.


    Once upon a time, I had felt differently, but I no longer had any interest in outlining whatever beauty I had for the eye of another. Those days were gone, and as far as I was concerned, nothing would return them to me.


    I stayed perfectly still under Melody''s attentive hands and artist''s eyes, making certain that I made no move to ruin her careful shading or delicate lines. I let her shape the hardness of my appearance, comfortable in the knowledge that nothing would remove the coldness.


    As she worked, Melody rattled off answers to the many questions I had tasked her with: who would be attending, what their intents for the evening were, who would be better to approach and who to avoid, and who was currently aligned with whom. The major players I knew well, but their underlings were in many ways more important to managing court politics. It helped to have an arsenal of secrets at my disposal, even if I was far less adroit in their usage than Melody.


    "...and I think several extra guards would be prudent," Melody finished. "Given everything that has happened with Varys."


    I pursed my lips, now painted gold to match the dragon. "It might be taken as insecurity."


    "I agree, which is why I was going to tap a couple of the less vital agents I have in Rhandiir''s household staff for the purpose. If something happens, they might expose themselves, but that is an acceptable level of risk. The vital people will all be well isolated from any backlash."


    I nodded, running over the list of Melody''s spies in my mind. She made certain that I knew who her agents were and how thoroughly she felt they could be trusted. I was long past the point where duplicity truly grated on me. It was too useful in war and peace alike for me to discard it. Besides, as Melody had rightly pointed out, even I was a woman who knew the value of being different things to different people.


    "Test the waters with Teth," Melody reminded me. "Whatever Varys''s wounded ego might spur him to do is less important than whether she is ready to step out from behind Maric now that she has Hallen''s elite units bolstering her people. Speaking of Hallen, you might interact with him too given you haven''t really had a conversation since before the public groveling. I know in the past that you''ve had your differences, but he may be exceptionally useful, even if he is perceived as being less relevant by everyone else."


    "He remembers his debts."


    Melody regarded me with her dark eyes composed in shrewdness. "His current debt is stinging his ego like vinegar dumped on scourge wounds. If you truly want something you can use and not just another problem, you will find a way to restore his pride to him."


    "I cannot reassign units. The King in Black already gave his judgment."


    She shrugged her delicate shoulders. "I am only advising."


    I nodded, filing that away for future reference. I felt some sympathy for Hallen. Had it been my own people delivered into Teth''s clutches, I would have done anything to free them...and the burning ashes of nations could well attest to what anything I could muster. I made a mental note to find Hallen, no matter how the festivities went.


    Knowing the vampire lords, it would probably be their particular brand of bloody decadence taken to a violent excess. Even Teth, so well-mannered and groomed, had the same sadistic heart that drove Varys to crush prisoners and Rhandiir to glut himself on the misery of those around him. It would be interesting to see how Naltheme and Hallen weathered it. Both had some sympathy for the victims as well as their torturers.


    His Majesty would likely not be in attendance. Such things were beneath his notice unless some other purpose drove him there. I would sit beside his empty seat, the ring on my finger warm and dead in his absence.


    The door to my chambers opened, one of the new servants standing at an almost painful attention. "Your carriage is ready, Lady Frostborn."


    I slipped back into my role as easily as I donned my armor. "Very well. I will be there presently."


    "Off to battle you go, my lady," Melody said with a smile, resuming her role as servant as if we had never been speaking as anything else. Even most of the Sashes didn''t realize what she was, and those who did know were fully aware of the consequences of their voice...and hers.


    I stood and walked with the lightness of a duelist, elegance paired with danger. There was nothing in the Sanctum that I feared, not even the King in Black himself. We knew each other far too well for that, or once had, at least. Such rivers, once crossed, cannot be returned from. I wore no other ring, but Melody had made certain to pull out the draconic torc I had been given by an ambassador from the wyrm Drevanax and emerald earrings Naltheme had obtained at no small expense as a thanks for saving her precious books from fire on the battlefield.


    Gone was the warrior version of Aleyr and in her place stood a queen in her own right, attired for a war as vicious and ugly as any fought on the front.


    At the bottom of the stairs, Shira knelt on the floor to help a scrambling young man clean up his mess. She could roam the Winter Palace under Vex or La''an''s watchful eyes, now that we had something of an accord. Once she was more capable of defending herself, I intended to let her fully wander as she pleased.


    She glanced up at the sound of my footsteps on the stairs and froze like a deer, eyes wide.


    I wondered what she saw that gave her such pause. Perhaps it was seeing this side of me. The stories only told of me in armor, covered in the blood of those who opposed me. Was this not what she expected? Or was it something else, some fear seeping into her heart?


    I met her gaze and immediately she looked away, scrambling to get herself and the young man out of my way. He greeted me with the bowing and scraping of a new, nervous servant. I watched him tremble like a reed under the weight of my gaze.


    Shira flicked her fingers delicately, still avoiding my eyes.


    "She apologizes," La''an said in his slow, meandering way as he moved around the staircase.


    La''an stood far taller than I, a true son of the storms. He kept his blond hair pulled back, shaved on the sides of his head to show off the runic tattoos that named him an instrument of the tempest itself. The various markings that ran down his body were meant to channel lightning, so he could endure even a direct hit by a mage or by a thunderhead without suffering damage. But for all his intimidating bulk, he was soft-spoken and used only the amount of force absolutely required.


    He was easily the equal of Varys''s best spies.


    I studied Shira and the trembling young man. He was gripping a damaged tea kettle so tightly it was liable to shatter, trying to hide it behind his back. She seemed calmer, but it was a forced calm, an attempt to conceal fear.


    "No apology is necessary." I dipped my head in a slight nod to La''an as thanks for the translation, then focused my attention on the young man. "I only hope that you are more careful with delicate things in future, for your sake."


    I left them with that thought, headed out to the carriage and whatever festivities Rhandiir had in mind. I was never joyous on such occasions, but I still found my own savage pleasure at such events, even when politics were on my mind.

 11 - The Gift of Revenge

    Naltheme''s colorless lips curved into a faint smile as she raised her glass of firewine, the ruby liquid still swirling slightly from the way she had turned it to catch the smell. "I cannot wait until Teth sees you. It will be a rare treat to see her envious for once."


    I shrugged, as relaxed as I could be with the reek of blood in the air. Even in the entrance hall, the copper tang was omnipresent. "Envy is Teth''s natural state of being."


    "I suppose." Naltheme''s smile widened into something approaching a grin at the sound of a door opening, a rare display of amusement from the normally emotion-sapped dark apprentice. "Lady Teth, how kind of you to grace us with your presence."


    The vampire stalked over. Her smile was sharp and frozen as she looked me over, the barest suggestion of her fangs visible. "You simply must tell me your tailor''s name, Aleyr. That dress is...incomparable."


    I ran my fingers over the painted silk, tracing along the wyrm''s fire as it spilled down my sleeve in silver detail. "Quite a compliment from our resident mistress of fashion." Wisdom with Teth was not to grate against her vanity. As much as Naltheme would enjoy goading her, the vampire was a significant danger, particularly with Hallen''s elite units under her command. Much like with the fangwardens, a tipping of power or vengeful strike could damage the Eternal Kingdom.


    Such a precarious balance.


    Teth''s smile broadened, showing her wicked canines in their full threatening glory. "And how diplomatic of the Frostborn."


    Tension tightened in the air no matter how relaxed everyone seemed. It was indescribable, Teth''s displeasure, more felt than heard or seen. "I have my moments," I said simply. "Shall we enter? It smells as though celebrations have already begun."


    "And a wonderful surprise we have for you, Aleyr." Teth''s dark eyes flashed with some joy a normal person would have shuddered at, as she gestured to the door to the dining hall.


    Naltheme glanced at me, tipping one graceful eyebrow into a questioning posture. I knew what she was asking me: are we safe?


    This time, my tone was considerably blander. "You know how I enjoy surprises."


    "There is no ambush, Aleyr. Relax, enjoy yourself. I know I intend to," Teth said, releasing some of the tension. She still glanced again at my dress, gaze tracing across the opalescent eye of the silken wyrm. "Come."


    The grand dining hall of Lord Rhandiir''s estate was a vision of opulence, with grand vaulted ceilings graced by glittering chandeliers and his own personal banners in crimson and white: a fanged skull in honor of the King in Black¡ªand of course his own vampiric self¡ªon a field of red. The tables that stretched along the length of the mammoth room were broad, covered in enough squirming victims to feed a thousand spawn when only a few hundred were present, most relegated to the far end from their sires.


    Every plate was gold, where visible beneath the fresh, wet blood that spilled over the dishes and onto the crisp white tablecloth. Rhandiir sat in a gilded, high-backed mahogany throne, filling his goblet from the gushing throat of a young man. He moved with the precise, flawless manners of a gentleman until the moment he simply widened the rip, tearing the captive''s head from his shoulders and depositing it onto a plate beside him.


    Varys was an absolute mess to the left of Rhandiir, crimson smeared across alabaster skin and spattered on his white hair. He had no such pretension as his sire, preferring to drink straight from a warm throat or a pulsing wrist.


    I knew better than to let my emotions show on my face, as much as my lip tried to curl in distaste.


    Rhandiir grinned when he saw me. "Lady Aleyr, how wonderful of you to join us! I was half convinced that you would neglect such a public appearance and hide in your fortress of solitude."


    "That would be rather discourteous of me, as much as I enjoy my privacy." I gestured to Naltheme. "I even ensured that the Lady of Bones would pause her studies for an evening, just to join us."


    "Quite the feat," Teth said with a sort of amusement, taking her place at Rhandiir''s right hand.


    I sat across the table from Rhandiir, Naltheme taking a seat beside me. She was no more squeamish than I, though I knew her mind had slipped into the fascination with death that marks all necromancers when she reached out and brushed her fingers along the cheek of the severed head. "Naltheme was very much a part of our victory. I thought it would be appropriate for her to be present."


    "I could animate him for you. It might be amusing," the King in Black''s apprentice offered casually.


    Teth laughed and regarded the head. "I doubt he has anything riveting to say."


    I glanced down the length of the table, noting an absence. "Is General Hallen in attendance?"


    "Tardy, it would appear," Rhandiir said before taking a deep drink from his bloody goblet. "I suppose I should send for your dinner, ladies. I assume you would prefer not to share General Maric''s meal, nor ours."


    "No meat," Naltheme said, pursing her delicate lips.


    "It fascinates me, your aversion to it," Teth said.


    The apprentice seemed to settle into her seat more comfortably, though she eyed Teth with an almost vacant look. Her thoughts were largely elsewhere, perhaps still with the head, as usual. "I rather like animals and would prefer to avoid cannibalism. The shakes would simply destroy my sigil scribing."


    Varys''s bloodlust-glazed eyes finally seemed to register my presence. "Would you like a drink, Aleyr?" he said solicitously, tipping the young woman he was bleeding out towards me.


    I picked up a plate just in time to catch the blood before it could hit the dress and ruin all the hard work Melody and her son had put into my apparel. "I don''t share food."


    "No taste for blood?" Varys grinned. "I wonder what rules a woman without that ambition."


    Teth leaned forward on her elbows, watching eagerly. "Power is far sweeter, Varys."


    I sighed and slid the plate towards him, then pushed the young woman''s head away. "It does seem to be one of the few things a vampire can taste, certainly."


    That answer sent one of Rhandiir''s eyebrows creeping upwards. "If not power and not blood, what is there?"


    "Not all motives need clarification," I said smoothly. "If you could read me like a book, Lord Rhandiir, I should think you would dispose of me out of boredom."


    He chuckled, teeth flashing white against his dark skin. "And take away the King in Black''s Beloved? I enjoy my unlife, Lady Frostborn."


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    While only the King in Black and I fully understood our connection, despite Naltheme''s best efforts to divine its nature, everyone had heard the story: so long as I lived, our sovereign would reign. The moment of my death would be his undoing, or so the myth said. My private nature did not incline me to divulge anything from our life together that was not already public knowledge. Some things were not for the leeches to know.


    "So I was told of a surprise," I said, nodding to General Maric when he arrived at the table.


    The wight lord picked up his knife and fork before helping himself to raw flesh discarded by the vampires. Naltheme was the newest to our ranks and found his excellent manners perhaps the most jarring, particularly given how abrasive he was in every other respect. Some old portion of him still clung to the formality and ritual of it.


    "Are you acquainted with Salduil Haless?" Rhandiir seemed to linger on that hated name with an unusual satisfaction.


    "Has any of us not experienced the frustration of the Rose Knight?" I countered. An apt name for a powerful fighter who had often been a thorn in our sides, Salduil was betrothed to Princess Lera, a connection between Rusa and the Principality of Suzail. Not that they needed much motivation to band together, with the omnipresent threat of undead ready to test the border and blight more of the land. I was not ignorant of the King in Black''s effect on his territory.


    Maric chuckled. "Did you know he was in attendance at the right flank of the battle?"


    I sipped from my cup of wine. "I imagine that was most unpleasant for General Hallen."


    "It was." The stiff voice of General Hallen reached me from behind as he passed, taking a seat at my left hand since Naltheme occupied my right. "He is the reason that charge failed."


    Teth grinned. "Your hesitation to risk your own men had nothing to do with it, I suppose?" The tone was teasing, but there was a definite contempt underlying it.


    Hallen looked far more haggard than I had last seen him, no longer animated by the spark of war that we shared. His gray hair was just long enough to seem shaggy, his normally clean-shaven chin covered in stubble. Even his doublet was rumpled and the collar undone. For a man who normally prided himself on military bearing, it was a sharp departure. I felt a pang of sympathy. The loss of his elite troops had struck him hard in his heart, harder than even I had expected. His stare at Teth burned with hate. "Perhaps it was your unwillingness to reinforce us."


    "We are not here to quibble," Rhandiir said, waving a hand dismissively in a way guaranteed to infuriate both Teth and Hallen. "Rather, I would like to make a gift to our illustrious Lady Frostborn." He made a beckoning gesture and I turned in my seat.


    Six guards approached, a prisoner in their middle bound so heavily with chains that his walk was a mere shuffle, not the graceful stride of a blade-dancer. Salduil had clearly seen better days, beaten and bloody from a flenser''s knife. Runes glowed on the manacles, easily identifiable: they negated magic.


    I let my eyes run over that familiar face. He had the thin, regal features of all elves, a delicate nose and mouth to compliment piercing eyes, still composed in absolute hatred of his guards and the creatures they served. He stood head and shoulders above me normally, but the chains kept him bowed like a servant. No wonder Rhandiir so enjoyed it.


    "How kind of you to join us, Rose Knight," Teth said with a vicious enjoyment, her grin only growing as his lip curled in contempt.


    Hallen practically growled beside me, reaching for his hip even though his sword was peacebonded by magic. I had chosen not to wear mine, and Naltheme hardly required one. The threat of this warrior was considerable, even chained as he was. If a single rune on those manacles failed, we would be facing devastating battle magic that surpassed even the wyrm-blooded''s understanding of arcana.


    I pushed my chair back and stood, coming to face Salduil. I searched his gaze with my own, hunting for any sign of fear. There was none. "Princess Lera must miss you dearly."


    He spat, saliva striking my face. "As if you know anything of love," the elf hissed.


    I reached back and picked up a napkin off the table, wiping off my face. "Rhandiir, what is the meaning of his presence?"


    The vampire lord leaned back in his seat. "I thought him a fitting gift for you, Aleyr. An apology for our recent...friction. Surely your appetite for blood is not sated already by such a swift and short victory."


    I considered this carefully. No doubt they meant for me to kill him. It was certainly tempting after more than a century of his careful planning thwarting many assaults, not to mention the cost it would be to Lera to lose some of her power base and a very competent general. However, it also presented an opportunity. There was someone at the table far more eager than I for revenge.


    I picked up a table knife thoughtfully, testing the edge with care. It was serrated and sharp, meant to saw through meat. "A princely gift, Rhandiir. I trust I may do as I please with him?"


    "Whatever you wish."


    I turned, looking at General Hallen. "It occurs to me I am not the wronged party in either our friction or the battle," I said smoothly. "Allow me then to be a channel for that vengeance. Hallen, what do you want done to him?"


    The general blinked in surprise before hardening again. "It was spellfire that he rained on my men," he said bitterly. "I would see him burn."


    "Shall I assist?" Naltheme offered.


    I shook my head. "General, I think perhaps I can provide you with a revenge even more satisfying than a simple pyre." I turned back to Salduil. "I think it is time we put an end to your particular brand of power."


    Salduil sneered. "I know of you, Frostborn. You are a woman with a metal skin. Comprehension of the Art is utterly beyond you."


    I shrugged. "I suppose that is correct, but I think your intelligence about me is somewhat neglected. You were fated to be a powerful battlemage, Salduil. It is all you have known, your purpose in life. You should know by now that I can break fate."


    A sudden chill seemed to pass over Salduil, even as his curled lip remained. "A fantasy."


    I closed my eyes for a split second, curling my left hand into a fist. While I had no such power over magic, I was bound to one who was the beginning and the end of it. My ring burned cold as midwinter ice on my finger. At least I was not forgotten.


    What is your desire, my rose? I felt an icy, skeletal finger stroke my cheek, some echo of a tenderness that had once existed between us. All around, the lights on the chandeliers flickered and cold radiated out from me in a palpable aura. When I opened my eyes, I could see the dread in Salduil''s expression shattering his implacable hatred.


    "Wither." My voice was the ice of the lowest hell itself as I pressed my left hand against the elf''s forehead, driving the ring directly against his bare flesh.


    Salduil screamed, and the glyphs on his manacles died in a brilliant flash of life. The guards dropped their hold on his chains as the metal arced with power. Blackness spread through the veins beneath my hand, coursing through his body as his connection to his magic withered away into nothingness. He curled into himself like a hollow thing, sobbing as he sank to the ground. For him, the world became the ash and desolation of the Eternal Kingdom, robbed of all its color and beauty and connection.


    "Is that more satisfactory, Hallen?" I asked, watching the wretched animal writhe in agony on the ground.


    The general seemed to glow with pleasure, a satisfied grin spreading across his lips to see his hated enemy undone. "Oh, very much so. I wish his betrothed could see him now."


    "Imprudent, to leave alive," I said before turning my eyes to Rhanduil. The vampire lord sat stock still, eyes narrowed. It was exceptionally rare for me to use that connection to the King in Black outside of battle. "Would you kindly release the peacebonding on Hallen''s sword?"


    "He was a gift for you, Aleyr," Rhandiir said, knocked enough out of his composure that he used my name.


    "And I have done what I pleased with him." My voice sharpened. "If you would?"


    He raised a hand and the enchanted silk holding Hallen''s sword in its scabbard unraveled, falling to the floor.


    The general drew his blade, staring down at the remnants of the Rose Knight. This was the enemy that had ruined Hallen, as far as the human was concerned. I could feel his pain and rage and sheer joy at the suffering as sympathetic echoes in my chest.


    In one smooth movement, he drove his blade down into the elf''s face, ruining those perfect features with a single blow. Salduil kept writhing and convulsing, but the blow killed him even if the body went on twitching. I knew I had given Hallen exactly what he wanted deep down, something that would no doubt endear me to him far more than any words of comfort ever could have. There was a certain irony that the opportunity had fallen from Rhandiir''s lap.


    I turned back to the table, brushing away the few droplets of blood that had splattered across my face. Mercifully, the dress was fine. "Now, shall we discuss something else?"

 12 - If Anything

    Hallen, rumpled and unkempt, followed me out of the hall the moment I disentangled myself from the thinly veiled gossiping of the vampire lords and their spawn. He made no polite excuse to those he hated, instead sliding out of his chair to pursue me as I headed for the exit. With Brydris finally in attendance, Naltheme would feel secure enough to stay without me. ¡°Why?¡±


    I turned to face him, my gaze sweeping across the entrance hall for any sign of servants who might serve as spies. Even seeing none, of course, meant only that the prying ears were skilled. ¡°I rather enjoy spite.¡±


    ¡°I know you well, Aleyr. You are not the kind of woman who offers generosity on a whim.¡±


    I thought of Shira. ¡°I might surprise you.¡±


    Hallen combed his fingers through his shaggy hair. ¡°You needed to do me no favors beyond what you have already. You preserved my life. I have not forgotten.¡±


    ¡°And you were forced to grovel for it. I believe that settles that account.¡± I studied him closely. ¡°If this is a complaint, General Hallen, I do apologize. I was under the impression that you would enjoy putting an end to such a hated foe.¡±


    ¡°It was most satisfactory. Your motivation is my question.¡±


    A wry smile crossed my lips. ¡°Perhaps we living have to stick together.¡±


    General Hallen stepped closer, into what I considered my personal space. His eyes were grave. ¡°I will remember this display of favor. However, if you want a true alliance, Aleyr, deliver my men back to me.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°The King in Black has spoken, Hallen. He assigned your men to Teth.¡±


    ¡°And you of all people are most capable of changing his mind,¡± Hallen said firmly. ¡°I know I am weak now, but with their return, I would be a most valuable asset to a woman such as yourself. You must know that Teth and Naltheme both wish to replace you.¡±


    He seemed sincere enough in his words. That Teth would want to take my place was hardly a surprise, but Naltheme¡¯s ambition was a novel threat. Part of me bitterly wished that they would replace me, even for a day, though I knew it would likely spell my end. ¡°Both of them desire power in their own ways. I hardly consider that knowledge a surprise.¡±


    ¡°Precisely. I could be your bulwark against such ambitions.¡± There was a gleam of desperation in his eyes. Hallen wanted his people back before Teth destroyed or turned them. I could certainly understand the attachment. An edict was no small thing to circumvent, however. ¡°Please, Aleyr, I will do anything. Even kiss the ground at your feet again. They need me.¡±


    They need me. I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, cursing my own heart. ¡°I will take it into consideration.¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± Hallen¡¯s voice softened. ¡°Please, Aleyr. If anything left in you is human¡­¡±


    I met him with my customary bluntness. ¡°I will consider. I promise nothing. That is more than I would do for most who beseech me in such a way.¡±


    Hallen bowed his head to me, even with defeat lingering in his expression. ¡°Thank you for your consideration, Lady Frostborn.¡±


    We parted without another word, but Hallen¡¯s plea echoed through my mind the entire way back to my home. If anything left in you is human¡­


    I felt my humanity so clearly in that moment, the ache of sympathy in my chest. I had not met many of Hallen¡¯s soldiers, but I knew Teth would torment them to strike at their former leader. Perhaps she had already turned them all into spawn. There was no way to know without visiting their barracks, which would draw attention I didn¡¯t want. Vex would be too noticeable.


    I made a mental note to ask Haven if he would run such an errand. He rarely left the Winter Palace and would be far less likely to be identified.


    As soon as I was safely back in my own room, I delicately stripped the dress from my body and deposited it on the bed before turning to the mirror. Vanity was not my sin of choice, not when wrath suited my disposition so much better¡­and pride, of course.


    There was no part of my body without a scar. I traced my hand across my abdomen, following the spiderwebs of raised tissue that shone pale silver in the moonlight pouring through the open windows. So many I had forgotten the source of. The blows were unimportant, just physical memory of those who had dared to cross blades with me. I had lived so long that some had faded into oblivion beneath others, just like the enemies who had left them. They died at my hand or pestilence or famines, or perhaps even old age.


    Beneath the scars was the body that had survived so much, strong and flexible. I had never built bulk the way Hallen could, but I had wiry, iron-like sinew and muscle. Flexibility generated enough power to keep up with some of my foes, but for the rest, it required the creativity and diligence of my mind. That was where technique sat as firmly as it did in my body.


    I had to be better than them, more careful and clever. My flesh was fragile and human, even trained to excellence. One slip and they could strike me down.


    I dressed in my normal clothing, pants tucked into a rider¡¯s boots and a loose shirt beneath a leather jerkin. It felt almost too light without the protective weight of my armor, but I was safe enough in the Winter Palace. This was my domain, after all. Even without magic of my own, my will had molded every inch of this place. Naltheme claimed on some of her visits that she could almost hear the thoughts I battered into the walls, so fierce the workings of my mind.


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    There had been some such days, but not since the last war started. Such conflicts have a habit of clarifying things.


    Now everything was becoming more complicated again. The delicate balance that was the Eternal Kingdom required such maintenance to ensure it continued. As much as I wanted to discard Hallen¡¯s request out of hand, he was right. I needed a bulwark, someone I could count on more certainly than, say, Naltheme. I pinched the bridge of my nose between thumb and finger.


    This was not a good time for the Lady of Bones to develop her own ambitions in such a vein. Teth was already plenty of threat.


    I barely heard the door creak open, but immediately my hand sought Woe.


    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± Melody announced, purposefully making her passing enough to hear. She was so graceful that silent movements came with ease, a memory of another life. It served her well indeed. ¡°Vex mentioned you wanted to learn sign.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± I raised one eyebrow ever so slightly, a change that spoke volumes to anyone who knew me as well as Melody. ¡°You neglected something in the briefing.¡±


    Melody¡¯s lips curved into a smile and she took a seat on the edge of my bed. Standing on ceremony was for when we were under the watchful eyes of others. ¡°I don¡¯t lie to you, Aleyr.¡±


    ¡°No, but you omit information when you think it is advantageous to do so.¡± I sighed. ¡°Do you really think I would have tipped Naltheme off?¡±


    ¡°Well, Hallen told you, which rather defeats my intended point.¡± Melody laughed when my lips thinned in annoyance. ¡°I was going to break it to you after the party, when the Lady of Bones was safely ensconced back in her ivory tower.¡±


    ¡°I can keep a straight face.¡±


    ¡°You can,¡± Melody acknowledged. ¡°Perhaps I was in the wrong.¡±


    I sighed heavily and rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen them as much as I could. I turned over the conversation with Hallen in my mind again. What else had I missed? ¡°You were right about Hallen. He wants his soldiers back.¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡± My advisor¡¯s dark eyelashes fluttered slightly as she considered that, a crease appearing between her brows. ¡°Not easily done. Teth tends to hold tightly to anything that might be useful or powerful. Not to mention the King in Black¡¯s edict.¡±


    ¡°If I asked for them, he would give them.¡± It wasn¡¯t a good option and we both knew it. Far too obvious, and the King in Black would no doubt find the principle objectionable if I simply handed them back to Hallen. ¡°He needs a boon.¡±


    It was Melody¡¯s turn to sigh. ¡°He would have to earn one. A difficulty, given he just lost his troops.¡±


    I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, worrying thoughtfully at it. ¡°There are ways to earn such things without a war. In the meantime, I may be able to take them from Teth with the blessing of the King in Black. That would protect them.¡±


    ¡°A move she will not appreciate.¡± Melody ran thin fingers through her silky hair, currently down loose in preparation for sleep.


    My frustration roiled in my chest, boiling just beneath the surface. I moved away from her, over to the oaken writing desk at the corner of my room. ¡°When did this all become politics?¡± I closed my eyes, willing Teth into nonexistence even as she continued to gnaw at my peace of mind.


    ¡°That is the unfortunate nature of ruling a kingdom, Aleyr.¡±


    I let out a hiss of breath and let my hands curl into fists. I ground my scarred knuckles into the hardwood, relishing the discomfort. Normally, I didn¡¯t enjoy physical pain, but sometimes it matched my moods. ¡°Why is it mine to rule, Melody? I tire of being Aleyr who keeps the peace, who warms the throne, who continues to perpetuate this¡­this..this thing!¡±


    ¡°Have a little faith, Aleyr. We can¨C¡±


    ¡°Faith in what?¡± I demanded sharply. ¡°In Him?¡±


    A crease appeared between her brows. ¡°People follow you, Aleyr. They place their trust in you, because you understand them, living and undead alike. Do you truly think they would prefer any other in your place?¡±


    ¡°Then they are fools.¡± I pressed my fingertips to my temples. ¡°Everything I have done¡­what do I have to show for it? A kingdom that is perpetually on the verge of shattering just based on the selfish egos of its rulers and a love that died a thousand years ago, leaving nothing. No blood, no body, nothing!¡±


    ¡°Aleyr,¡± Melody said gently, trying to soothe me.


    ¡°The only reason I have not surrendered everything I have for them to fight over like rabid dogs chasing scraps of meat is spite.¡± As if of their own accord, my fingers touched the ring bonded to my bone, the once molten gold lumpy and uneven. ¡°If the King in Black still loved me, Melody, he would have let me pass. Not inflicted this relentless existence and the management of a kingdom he cares nothing for.¡±


    It was rare that such moods struck me, but when they did, they were typhoons. It was difficult to sweep them away, and Melody knew that better than anyone. ¡°I¡¯ll fetch Haven, Aleyr. You¡¯re tired and need rest.¡±


    ¡°I could sleep for a century and feel the same.¡± I sat down in the carved oaken chair that matched the desk. ¡°Nothing has meaning any longer, Melody. Only ashes and absence.¡±


    She approached cautiously, but came close enough to smooth a hand down my back. The touch was comforting in its tentative way. ¡°It will get better, Aleyr,¡± she soothed. ¡°Think of the people who rely on you, who put their faith in you. You can make their lives better. Isn¡¯t that something meaningful?¡±


    I sighed even as I turned her words over in my head. ¡°I break things, Melody,¡± I said quietly. ¡°That is all I have ever done. Do not ask me to mend them.¡±


    Melody was quiet for a long moment, still letting her hand rub up and down my back. ¡°I know you spend more time at war or preparing for it than any other living thing,¡± she said softly. ¡°Perhaps it is time to put down the sword and let another take that place.¡±


    All at once, the hardness returned. ¡°No.¡± I looked down at my fist, remembering for a moment the splash of crimson on the floor from Shira¡¯s hand. I uncurled my fingers, revealing a similar scar. ¡°Have a good night.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to send for Haven?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Melody knew a dismissal when she heard one. She bowed her head and departed, leaving me with thoughts like daggers pressing into my flesh. Strange that such things could undo me so effectively. I tried to regather myself, recapture the steel that was the Frostborn. My feelings were irrelevant, after all. The King in Black had created the Eternal Kingdom and it would endure by his word. Everything I had done was with his name on my lips, emblazoned on my heart. What room in that cold calculus was there for something as fragile and mortal as simple Aleyr?


    If anything left in you is human¡­

 13 - A Lesson on Swords

    Shira¡¯s luminous eyes flashed with caution as she wrapped her fingers around the grip of a wooden training sword. She watched my every movement with the wariness of a frightened cat. Despite that, however, I again saw the spark in her eyes.


    I leaned my own wooden sword against the side of my neck, a much more casual version of a basic guard from the shoulder. ¡°Vex has taught you something about movement. Show me the warrior¡¯s star.¡±


    Even at the mention of Vex, the spark burned hotter. Shira hesitated a moment, but then let her feet carry her: in angles, in spirals, in direct lines and less predictable paths. It was better than I had expected, but slow. Fortunately, practice and development of reflexes would help that. She clearly didn¡¯t really know what to do with the sword, so she held it out in front of her as if warding me off.


    I flicked my wrists, tapping her sword with my own once she had demonstrated every movement. ¡°Enough.¡±


    Shira eyed me with that same caution, clearly awaiting my judgment.


    I prowled around her, tapping her ankle sharply with the training sword to correct her stance. ¡°Workable. Clearly you were paying attention.¡± I tapped her hands with the tip of the blade. ¡°Spread these apart. One on the pommel, one near the crossguard. You would do well to remember too that you hold a sword, not a hammer.¡±


    Her brow furrowed as she looked over at me with an unspoken question.


    I stopped and stood beside her, showing her how I held the blade: with a firm but sensitive grip. ¡°A cut is not the bashing of a stick. Everything must be in alignment: the edge, the hilt, your hands, your body, your mind.¡± With that said, I showed her a simple cut and the delicate wringing motion of my hands on the hilt. It was almost a flick of the blade, barely showing the power I knew how to generate with the rest of my body. ¡°Do you see?¡±


    Shira adjusted her grip and tried the motion. It was sloppy, but on the right track, so I inclined my head in a slight nod. The motion would tighten with repetition¡­and when she was corrected by the blades themselves. In my experience, a messy grip could easily end in a broken finger, which was a mistake one only made once.


    ¡°Today, we are going over different positions of defense. Each has a strength and a weakness, opposed by another. Every strike you make should begin in a guard and end in a guard.¡± I stepped back away from her, taking a stance directly opposite to her. ¡°I am your mirror. First, Yanen: the fool¡¯s guard.¡± I settled into position, weight balanced evenly between my feet with my knees slightly bent, the blade angled with its point at the floor. ¡°Most who do not know the sword start here, but it can be deceptive. There are many options for strikes, if you are quick and clever.¡±


    Shira let go of her sword with one hand, fingers flicking with a question. I watched the delicate movements with hawkish intensity, trying to pair them to the signs that Melody and Vex had been teaching me. Off to the side sat La¡¯an, the rune-bound barbarian warrior there to translate. He watched with interest, a faint smile on his scarred face. He chuckled a little and gave a voice to the silent signing. ¡°She says that is not how Rusan knights fight.¡±


    ¡°Which is why they die. Understand that the tradition I teach you is about power, control, and precision.¡± I advanced towards her much faster than she anticipated. She jerked her sword up in response, but I was already inside her reach, trapping her hands against the grip and wrenching the sword away. The moment she started to retreat, I hooked a foot behind her heel and pulled, using her own disturbed balance to slam her against the floor. She landed hard on her back, gasping for breath, and I stood over her with my wooden practice sword pointed at her face. ¡°You should always either have the initiative or be seeking to reclaim it with the mahann, the master-strikes. If your foe can think of nothing but defense, he has no option to plan an attack.¡±


    She fumbled to get up and I stepped back to give her space, tossing the sword I had taken from her onto the floor beside her. The mats were thick enough on the floor that a collision wouldn¡¯t hurt as badly as when I had learned on cold stone. It was a gentler introduction to the ground than she would have gotten from a proper Luth¡¯alen warrior, but I considered myself more refined in technique.


    ¡°Guards are not static. You do not stay in them, not for more than you must. Think of them as checkpoints between strikes.¡±


    Shira nodded, gripping the sword again as I had shown her.


    I assumed the fool¡¯s guard, blade lowered. ¡°From here we begin. I am your mirror. There are four basic guards, and many secondary ones that you will find yourself striking from. We will focus on the four first, until you have mastered them. When I tell you to freeze, you will hold your position so I can check it.¡±


    For being a priestess with no martial training, Shira had a quick eye and a sharp mind. She followed my movements, changing the position of the blade as smoothly as she could to mirror me. I stopped her at each one, adjusting her position with rapid taps when an elbow was out of place or her feet didn¡¯t match the rest of her body. She was doing better than anticipated, no doubt partly due to Vex¡¯s enthusiastic cruelty. Scratches from claws decorated her cheek and neck, along with a fair amount of bruising.


    ¡°There is Yanen, the Fool. Jagga, the Ox. Nalhr, the Plow. Haast, the Sun.¡± Each in turn were simple enough: the fool held his sword to the floor, the ox kept the blade horizontal beside the face with the point toward the enemy, the plow from the hip horizontal and angled slightly up, and the sun held the blade above the head or at the shoulder, point angled back. ¡°Do you see how moving between guards, there is already the beginning of cuts or thrusts?¡±


    Shira nodded, watching me with a growing fascination as she struggled to copy the fluidity of my movements. I walked her through each guard on both sides, demonstrating that each was a mirror of the other. As our blades moved in a shadow-boxing dance, I could almost see her starting to grasp at the pieces of philosophy that guided Luth¡¯alen swordwork.


    She was quick enough a study that I found myself smiling faintly¡­a problem if ever there was one. Every time I caught the expression, I wiped it from my face. This was a time for focus and gravity. A blade was not a light matter.


    ¡°When you draw your sword, Shira, it is a commitment,¡± I said, slowly increasing the speed of the changes as her confidence grew. ¡°To bare steel is to promise blood.¡±


    La¡¯an sat with his chin on his fist, watching our movements and offering suggestions to Shira. For such a large man and ferocious man, he kept his tone as gentle as a church mouse¡¯s squeak. ¡°Even,¡± he advised, watching her feet. ¡°You should be ready to move in any direction at any time, which means even weight. And relax your shoulders.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Shira flicked a finger at him and he laughed. That was a word I knew: how?


    ¡°Watch Lady Frostborn. Does she seem tense?¡±


    I let my blade rest against my shoulder so she could observe me better in stillness. My torso angled away, my feet spaced evenly and lead foot two lengths ahead. I kept my whole body loose and relaxed, shoulders at their natural positions and my spine straight. ¡°You should be comfortable and confident.¡± I flicked my blade out, batting at her sword when her grip turned more towards a hammer¡¯s. ¡°Remember, there are no accidents. Everything is done with intention and control. You are a storm held by an iron will.¡±


    It was a philosophy I had long ago tried to apply to my life: to move with purpose at all times, to keep my mind and body perfectly aligned, to move in unexpected ways that forced others onto the defensive when it was advantageous for me, to be relaxed and ready rather than tense with anxiety. If I could keep my focus, my strikes never faltered.


    Shira shifted her grip obediently back to where it should have been, keeping her middle knuckles aligned with the true edge of the blade.


    ¡°It is an extension of you, another limb,¡± I coached as we began our movements again. ¡°Do not think of it as alien. You are the sword, the sword is you.¡±


    The priestess nodded and again let me walk her through the guards. Creases appeared in her brow as she tried to focus on technique, trying to coordinate her body so that everything was in the right place at the right time. It was a look I recognized, one I had once worn and so had many of those I trained.


    Shira let go of the sword, fingers dancing in the air again. I¡¯m slow.


    ¡°Yes, you are slow,¡± I said without waiting for a translation. I wasn¡¯t gifted with a knack for languages, but I surmounted that with sheer effort. ¡°Once you are correct every time, smooth in your movements every time, then you will find you are faster. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.¡±


    She nodded, but I could tell her right shoulder was hurting her. I made a mental note to chastise Vex about going for joints. La¡¯an must have spotted it too, because he looked at me. ¡°Perhaps a demonstration?¡±


    I rolled my shoulders and flashed him a smile. ¡°If you are brave enough.¡± I gestured for Shira to sit. ¡°I taught La¡¯an everything he knows.¡±


    ¡°But not everything she knows,¡± he said with a chuckle, unfolding from the bench. He stood well taller than me and certainly bulkier. La¡¯an gently took the practice blade from Shira with a bow of thanks and then approached me.


    ¡°You may learn my secrets by watching. That is as close as you will get to a lesson.¡± I looked him up and down, calculating his reach as naturally as I could judge the distance for my own strikes. I was at something of a disadvantage just by virtue of his strength and height. ¡°Shall we try half speed, so she can see the movements?¡±


    ¡°Only if you promise to use half force, Lady Frostborn.¡±


    I grinned at him. ¡°Very well.¡±


    La¡¯an gave the wooden training sword a few test swings, getting the weight of it into his own calculus, before focusing on me and moving out into the center of the training room. ¡°I expected you to attack while I was getting ready.¡±


    As soon as he started to speak, I was in motion across the mat. He was quick enough to throw out a strike in an attempt to force me to hesitate, a simple cut from the shoulder. I met it with absence, stepping around the cut and snapping my blade down at an angle, wrists crossing as I cracked the true edge against his hilt. Had we been in battle, I would have cut through his hands. Instead, I made certain to hit the crossguard instead of his fingers. It was ilahr, the Crooked Strike. La¡¯an tried to dance backwards and recapture the blade that I had almost knocked from his hands, but I hounded him ruthlessly.


    I was used to fighting faster and stronger. In some ways, La¡¯an was almost too easy after sparring with Vex and other undead. He had raw power just as they did, but I had footwork and he didn¡¯t have the stamina to keep up. I wove nimble patterns around him, avoiding or deflecting his cuts and thrusts instead of meeting them head on. My movements were conservative, focused. I didn¡¯t have to move far to get out of his way: it just had to be enough for the strike to miss, sometimes by less than an inch. Poor La¡¯an was still something of a bear, relying on his strength to carry him. It was more than enough to deal with most foes. His blows struck at my legs to hinder my movements. It was a valiant effort, but I spiraled around him, deceiving his sense of distance to creep within his reach.


    La¡¯an realized how close we were and smashed out with his hilt, but I slipped low and hit him in the solar plexus with my shoulder, using a lower center of gravity to send him sprawling. He tried to turn it into a roll, but I pursued, thrusting straight into his face when he tried to come up onto his feet. I pulled back with flawless control, tapping him in the center of the throat with the tip of the sword just enough for him to feel it. ¡°Dead.¡±


    ¡°You said half speed.¡±


    I stepped back, allowing him space to get to his feet, blade still at the ready with a wolfish smile. ¡°Do you want full speed?¡±


    The burly barbarian laughed and lowered his training sword. ¡°Does it take undeath to put a scratch on you, Lady Frostborn?¡±


    ¡°It helps.¡± I had experimented with many different fighting styles over the years, but Luth¡¯alen bladework was my center, the core of what I knew. It was not seen often outside the halls of the thanes, particularly these days. The tradition was uncommon, as most of the people who originated it now preferred spears and shields or axes. Which made sense: those were easier to learn, if less elegant.


    Shira¡¯s fingers wove complicated patterns in the air when we looked over at her. It was too much for me to understand, but La¡¯an grinned in answer. ¡°Luth¡¯alen truthfully is more than just a style of swordplay. It teaches grappling, fighting in armor, dagger work, shield work, even spears,¡± he explained. ¡°The only gap was in mounted combat, but I assure you that Lady Frostborn is quite dangerous there.¡±


    I rolled my shoulders to keep them loose, then stretched out my arms. ¡°I merely added what fit. Rusan chivalry has its uses, particularly with the lance.¡± Wood rested against my temple almost as an afterthought, the training blade still in a loose guard. ¡°And I much prefer their armor. It hinders less.¡±


    Shira blinked in surprise and signed her next question.


    La¡¯an turned his gaze to my armor, the suit of plate displayed on a simple rack. ¡°She says she thought the plate was more of a problem.¡±


    ¡°It gains its strength not from thickness, but shape.¡± I motioned for La¡¯an to set aside the training blade as I set mine down and then beckoned for Shira to come see my armor. ¡°Mail all hangs from the shoulders, but plate is fitted to every part of the body to distribute force of impact and weight both.¡±


    The priestess cautiously approached, stopping in front of the set of smoked steel covered in scars. It stood in a locked case. I checked it before every battle for signs of tampering, but the lock reduced the risk. Courtesy of Brydris, the display case could engulf in flame any who failed to open it correctly.


    ¡°It has its disadvantages,¡± I admitted freely. ¡°Mostly that it takes expertise to repair and it can be hot on the road, though the weather magic makes that less of an issue. Ember usually tends to replacing pieces and mending what needs mending. You will meet her when you are ready to be fitted for your armor.¡±


    Shira looked over at me with wide eyes.


    I glanced over, eyes tracing over her form. ¡°When you have more muscle and have learned how to move properly. For now, I think that is enough. Study the guards and the cuts or thrusts that are the transitions between them. This training room is always open to you.¡±


    It was not an offer I gave everyone nor took lightly. Shira nodded, looking back at the armor. She seemed particularly focused on the visor, the empty eye-slits that showed only shadow.


    Very briefly, I wondered what she saw.

 14 - Learning Signs

    My grasp on Shira¡¯s signing expanded by leaps and bounds when I focused the entirety of my attention on it. Over the course of a long life, I had learned many languages and used my body in many ways. Following quick movements of her hands, the posture of her body, the curving of her lips as she shaped the words soundlessly, all these things were relatively simple. Any complicated concept could be broken down and Vex was quick to whisper in my ear when I could not understand. I spent many nights sitting in front of a mirror, motioning with my hands and letting Melody guide me if I fumbled.


    The challenge and novelty of it kept me preoccupied, shut away inside the Winter Palace instead of engaging in the petty squabbles that were so common in Sanctum¡¯s political arena. They were so busy clawing at each other¡¯s eyes that it took them time to realize the absence of my cold disapproval and cutting words.


    They were a world away from my solar, however. Currently the dinner table stood stripped of its tablecloth, occupied by bandages and a large basin of freshly boiled water. The cloying, earthy smell of the healing ointments Haven favored filled the air and I sat patiently as Haven stitched up the wound on my bicep, fortunately shallow enough that it had done no damage to tendon or ligament, nor really much of the muscle. I was familiar enough with Vex¡¯s claws to know how to slip the worst of them.


    Shira watched us from across the table, brow furrowed. Something about Haven¡¯s relentless gentleness and good manners seemed to unnerve her more than Vex¡¯s cruelties. I felt another pass of the needle through my flesh and poured myself a cup of tea with my other hand, careful to keep my left arm perfectly still for Haven¡¯s work.


    He isn¡¯t like the others, Shira signed finally, apparently unable to restrain her curiosity. She was out of a dress at the moment, wearing the gray gambeson with a red sash of one of my trainee guards. Melody and I had agreed that it was for the best to camouflage her, to raise fewer questions since she was not really one of the servants.


    ¡°True enough, though you say that as if all undead are the same,¡± I said as I lifted the cup to my lips. ¡°Not all wights are like Vex. Nor are they all like Haven. Individuality does not end with life.¡±


    My response only frustrated her further. The stories of undead say otherwise, that they know only hate and hunger.


    I sipped and then returned the cup to its place. ¡°Undead like Vex tend to make more of an impression. They seek it out. There are plenty within Sanctum who would much rather concern themselves with their own affairs than terrorize mortals.¡±


    ¡°It would be impolite,¡± Haven said absently, utterly focused as he knotted the last stitch. He had already cleaned out the wound with spirits and the willowbark tea would ease the pain. It was important to keep such things clean and well-tended, something Haven was always single mindedly attentive to. He focused on taking care of me the way Vex focused on torturing mortals.


    A faint smile touched Shira¡¯s lips at Haven¡¯s response, probably because it was so very in keeping with his appearance of propriety and manners. How many kinds of undead are there?


    ¡°Many. Some naturally occurring, others created.¡± I swirled the tea in my cup thoughtfully, studying it as if reading the leaves at the bottom like some fortune-teller. ¡°The lesser undead are prolific in the Eternal Kingdom, each variety lending its use to those above. But where a necromancer operating in your lands would likely only be able to sway the most feeble ghouls, those who rule here can command the loyalty of far more dangerous things.¡±


    If I am going to be here long, it would make sense for me to know more about them.


    I nodded slightly as I watched her fingers dance. It was a reasonable request. ¡°The most common form of undead are ghouls: little more than rotting corpses given animation, enough to move around, devour, and attack. Ghasts are more coordinated, using a low cunning and pack tactics. Both deteriorate over time away from the one who raised them. Wights on the other hand, are much more independent. They are as intelligent as a human on their own, and a wise necromancer would not part them from that intelligence. They are, like all undead, unable to experience emotion.¡±


    Shira¡¯s brow furrowed as her fingers shaped her next comment. Vampires seem able.


    The comment surprised me, more because it was the first time Shira had even come close to referencing her torment at Varys¡¯s hand than anything else. I considered my response carefully before giving it. ¡°Vampires preserve far more of themselves than lesser undead, but make no mistake: what they show is a shadow, a twisted reflection of an actual emotion, a parody. They fly into rages over ego and vanity because that is what they did in life, but all they truly feel down in their core is lust for blood and power. Crocodile tears.¡±


    ¡°Detestable creatures,¡± Haven muttered as he finished bandaging my arm.


    I smiled at him. ¡°You say so because you have standards.¡±


    An echo of my smile appeared on Shira¡¯s face, but vanished after a split second when she realized it was shared. Are there other greater undead besides vampires?


    ¡°Of course. The more sophisticated form of your basic haunt, a spectral undead, are the shades. They spend little time outside of Sanctum. Intelligent, and particularly dangerous because they can possess the dead and living alike. There are also revenants, undead created to serve a singular purpose, creatures of dark magic who cannot be destroyed except by completing their task. Then there are death knights. They have no seat on the council, but they fill a similar function to the chivalry of Rusa: lesser nobles with significant skill in battle who serve as intermediate commanders. You will not see them outside their armor.¡±


    Shira absorbed that thoughtfully before asking her next question. I expected an inquiry into the King in Black and lichdom, but she surprised me. Which are you?


    ¡°I am not undead.¡± I gestured to the wound on my arm. ¡°Cut me and I bleed just as you do.¡±


    The stories of the Withered Rose go back centuries. Are you saying that the Beloved of the King in Black is not the same woman?


    We were in dangerous territory. I had not forgotten that she was fundamentally still an enemy. ¡°Have you paid no attention to your own people¡¯s prophecies?¡± My voice was particularly dry and contemptuous, not towards Shira, but towards the fortune-telling of her people¡¯s prophets. ¡°So long as I endure, the King in Black will.¡±


    Haven hesitated when he heard that tone, rinsing his tools in the boiled water laced with an antiseptic.


    Shira¡¯s brow furrowed. How does a human woman live centuries?


    For a moment, some yearning to tell someone how the years weighed on me flared in my chest. I crushed it effortlessly, choosing a much simpler answer. ¡°Not easily.¡±


    I looked at the wight as he resumed his work cleaning up the mess we¡¯d made. A few droplets of blood had hit the table, but hardly anything. I took a leftover piece of bandage and dipped it in the water Haven was using before wiping away the small clotted bits. Then I put a hand on the wight¡¯s shoulder.


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    He stopped his cleaning, turning to face me. ¡°My lady?¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± It was simply said, but heartfelt. ¡°You take such good care of me.¡±


    ¡°Of course, my lady.¡± He bowed his head and collected everything together. ¡°Do you require anything else?¡±


    ¡°For the moment, I am fine.¡±


    Shira watched our interaction with a sort of fascination. She didn¡¯t sign again until Haven had departed, leaving us alone in the solar. It is strange.


    I arched an eyebrow. ¡°What is?¡±


    She hesitated a long moment, clearly weighing her answer. It came as an uncertain, almost trembling flicking of her fingers. To see the Butcher of Stonepoint care so much about anyone.


    I sighed, looking down at the bandage. The perfectly wrapped, methodical symbol of Haven¡¯s love-without-love reminded me that I could still feel something besides anger and bitterness. ¡°Seldom do stories and the people they are about match.¡± I eased myself up from the chair, admittedly sore from my bout with Vex. Her new wrestling techniques were much harder to combat than the style I had become accustomed to from her. An excellent challenge, but one that left me with more than my fair share of bruises.


    Conflict raged in Shira¡¯s eyes. I see what Melody said, she finally signed. You have many faces.


    ¡°But only one heart.¡± The scurrying of feet drew me away from their conversation. There was the young man who had broken my tea kettle, looking very much in a panic. I reached for Woe. Using the blade would tear open Haven¡¯s careful stitches, and I was weaker than usual, but that was a problem I could easily overcome. ¡°What is the meaning of this interruption?¡±


    ¡°Lord Varys is here. He has demanded entry, my lady,¡± the young man said, falling into a bow so deep that he almost tumbled over.


    A dry amusement tugged at the corners of my mouth even as a shudder of fear ran through Shira¡¯s still form. ¡°Has he now?¡± I said. ¡°What business brings him here?¡±


    ¡°He refused to say. The Sashes have barred him entry, but he and his entourage look like a war party.¡±


    I looked at the young man, trembling in his fear. Obviously he was no local. ¡°Fetch Vex and La¡¯an. Tell them to have a contingent of Sashes waiting in the wings of the main hall.¡± Command came to me effortlessly after all these years. As much as I despised Varys and had no interest in feeding his little temper tantrum, he was probably here because Rhandiir had sent him.


    The young man scurried off to do as I had asked. The Winter Palace had no throne room for keeping court, as I did most of my business either in my study or here in the solar, but the main hall was grand enough to receive a guest and about as far into the palace as I intended to let him get.


    What should I do? Shira¡¯s fingers trembled with fear.


    ¡°This will be an important lesson for you,¡± I said firmly. ¡°We must all come face to face with the things we fear.¡±


    She shook her head emphatically. I¡¯m not ready!


    Now my voice and eyes turned cold. ¡°I am not interested in delaying or hearing excuses. When I give an order, I expect it to be heeded. Take one of the light steel trainers and put it in a regular sheath. Carry it with you.¡±


    You won¡¯t even give me a real sword?


    ¡°If combat starts, you will retreat,¡± I said flatly. ¡°I can handle Varys and his spawn. I do not expect you to fight, but the appearance of threat will likely be enough.¡±


    Without waiting for an answer, I strode towards the main hall. The training room was on the way, allowing Shira to duck in and grab one of the lightweight metal training swords, as dull as the wood. She slid it into a spare scabbard and then belted it on, knotting the belt as she¡¯d seen La¡¯an do many times. If she could master her fear, her disguise would work.


    Varys was waiting for us, accompanied by three spawn that looked more like street thugs than knights. His long white hair hung loose, cascading across the gilded and endlessly engraved pauldrons of his plate armor. He was not alone: either the boy had run particularly quickly or Vex had gotten wind of the stink of vampire.


    ¡°I am not interested in you, wight. Where is your mistress?¡± Varys¡¯s fangs were bared in a contemptuous sneer.


    My second crossed her arms, her expression some combination of bored and unimpressed. ¡°Attending to matters more important than you. I think the garden had a few aphids that needed to be squished.¡±


    I held up a hand, motioning for Shira to stop. We were still in the side hall leading from the solar, but had an excellent view of what was happening. I felt my fondness for Vex so intensely in that moment.


    Varys stepped into Vex¡¯s space, clearly trying to physically intimidate her. ¡°Tell me where Frostborn is.¡±


    The wight laughed, exposing her needle-like teeth. ¡°You know, Lord Varys, you aren¡¯t the only one with fangs,¡± she said, black eyes narrowing even as she spoke with a false sweetness that grated on him more. ¡°Do you really think I¡¯m going to fear yours? Get out of my face or I¡¯ll start pulling out those pearly whites. A vampire tooth necklace would be a fine gift for my lady.¡±


    Shira tapped my shoulder. I saw a new respect for Vex in her eyes and the spark of resistance that stiffened her spine. Should we intervene?


    I stepped out into the hall just as Varys¡¯s hand twitched towards his sword. He had vampire speed, but Vex had honed her reflexes well. She caught his hand, twisting it artfully until he howled in pain, just short of breaking the joints. There were certain techniques that the wight was much better at than I and locks were certainly one of them. She could get someone by a finger and break a whole arm.


    ¡°You abuse my lady¡¯s hospitality, Varys,¡± Vex said, her own sneer forming as she watched him try to escape the joint lock. The moment he tried to move his arm out of it, she switched positions with lightning speed, catching him in another. ¡°I think perhaps a lesson is in order.¡±


    ¡°Vex, release him,¡± I ordered as I approached at a casual saunter. The spawn shrank back instinctively, the hands on their own swords suddenly falling to their sides. ¡°Lord Varys, I find your manners somewhat lacking.¡±


    ¡°I came with an important message. Your thrall was an obstacle,¡± the vampire lord spat, trying to regain his dignity as my second released him. If glares could kill, Vex would have been in the deepest pit of hell.


    I crossed my arms casually, ignoring the twinge in my arm as the muscle there flexed. ¡°Deliver your message, then.¡±


    He looked past me, glancing at Shira for a moment. Just as I anticipated, there was no recognition on his face. ¡°An assassin gravely wounded Luka. Poison burns in his veins even as we speak. His Majesty would like this remedied and the person responsible brought to him.¡± Varys¡¯s indifference to Luka¡¯s plight hung heavy on every word.


    Normally, I would have rebuked him for pawning off the task that the King in Black had clearly assigned to him. No doubt he saw rat-catching as beneath his dignity. I, however, knew an opportunity when I saw one. ¡°I am not in the habit of refusing His Majesty. Are there any leads?¡±


    ¡°Before the delirium set in, Luka said it was a human. Other than that, nothing.¡±


    I looked over at Vex. ¡°Send Haven and Anstydir over to Luka to attend to his poisoning and learn what they can of its nature. I will see to the rest.¡±


    She bowed courteously. ¡°At once, my lady.¡±


    Varys smiled, baring his fangs. ¡°I am pleased you are so accommodating, Lady Frostborn.¡±


    ¡°Your business here is concluded.¡± I spoke as if he had not said a word, cold and indifferent. ¡°You will leave now.¡±


    He left without a bow or nod of respect. I paid no attention, my thoughts already churning. For someone to be able to poison a creature as careful as Luka¡­well, they knew their craft better than most. They were either already running for the border or lingering in Sanctum for news of the spymaster¡¯s death, ready to attempt again.


    I turned to face Shira. ¡°I think it¡¯s time we paid Luka a visit.¡±

 15 - Poisonous Dreams

    Shira shivered when we stepped out into the supernatural chill, pulling her gambeson¡¯s collar up to better guard her throat. The training sword still sat in her sheath as a plausible threat, something to draw attention away from her. Few walked down the Street of Broken Sky without obvious weapons and those who did were perhaps the most dangerous¡­and drew the most attention.


    As we walked, people subtly changed their courses around me like minnows sensing a shark and flowing respectfully far from its teeth. It was still day, if barely: the dying ember of a sun so weak it could barely pierce the clouds was slipping behind the horizon even as it clutched for its last hour of life. I wore no steel armor, only a thick gambeson and my sword ever in its faithful place at my side. Layers of quilted wool and silk could turn many a cut and I knew the streets of Sanctum better than most.


    We were close to the Alabaster Spire, a great floating tower of shattered ivory glass anchored to the east and west by two mammoth bridges guarded by heavy fortifications. Beneath it was the shattered obsidian remnants of the molten stone crater formed by the King in Black¡¯s ascension, a break in the earth that was more than six hundred feet deep at its center. I turned my eyes towards it for a moment as we walked, a painful longing striking me like a subtle knife sliding slowly between my ribs.


    I looked at that tower and thought of the man I had loved so fiercely, even knowing it was a feeling that could never be returned.


    Shira tugged at my sleeve to draw my attention. How is it floating? It is huge! Her fingers flicked swiftly, cold forgotten for a moment.


    Her curiosity and awe at such a sight was rather charming. It forced me to look again at the tower, not as the seat of the King in Black, but as a marvel of magic and architecture. ¡°It has been that way since the Apotheosis. When the old god of magic, Arvuin, was murdered, some of his power exploded outwards and shattered the tower. Surely a priestess knows that story.¡±


    She frowned at me. Much of that lore is lost to the lands beyond the Eternal Kingdom. Besides, stories are nothing compared to the truth.


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°And you expect the truth, do you?¡±


    You were there.


    ¡°Many who were present yet live as undead in the city. Ask them.¡± I picked up speed as I walked, heading down Coldheart Promenade towards Luka¡¯s estate. The grand promenade was lined by twisted, black trees reaching claw-like branches towards the sky, coated in rime with hanging icicles. This was a large, public thoroughfare patrolled by the Eibonguard. No one was going to assault us here in the open.


    Shira had to hurry after me, one hand on her sword to keep the training blade in its sheath. It was just a little loose, not the same dimensions as the real thing, but it was convincing enough for our purposes. Unfortunately, she still had the wide-eyed look of a foreigner and flinched away from undead passing on the street.


    Before she could tug on my sleeve to draw me back into conversation, I caught her wrist in an iron grip and pulled her past cluttered street stalls hawking reagents and talismans. Luka made his home near the intersection of the Dark Mothers¡¯ Path and Coldheart Promenade, which meant the endless stream of acolytes and worshipers were perpetually in my way. My distaste for religious folk did not end with the followers of Light.


    It shouldn¡¯t have surprised me that Shira picked up on my contempt immediately. We stopped under crowded eaves to let a procession pass, made up of masked figures representing the different aspects of the goddesses.


    You don¡¯t like them, Shira signed with furrowed brows. Surely you honor them, if you serve the King in Black.


    How little she knew of them. ¡°The Dark Mothers were content to sit back and let their own followers be burned at the stake for thousands of years. They enjoy their prominence by the King in Black¡¯s grace and tender their respect accordingly.¡± A priest glanced our way, saw me, and immediately fixed his attention back on the procession. ¡°When they forget their place in the natural order, I remind them. They would have nothing without His Majesty.¡±


    But they are the gods of death.


    My smile was thin and sharp enough to cut like a razor. ¡°They are carrion feasting off a corpse slain for them.¡±


    Shira shuddered. Are you always so grim, Lady Frostborn?


    ¡°I find it discourages them from wasting my time.¡± I turned to face her completely, arching an eyebrow. ¡°It is rather unfortunate that a vow of silence is not part of their initiations. It would make mediation so much more pleasant.¡±


    They can still make rude gestures.


    The comment, just a flash of flicking fingers, almost made me laugh. Her timing was perfect, but I knew better than to let someone through my walls so easily. I had done it before and it had brought me no end of pain. ¡°And what does a chaste, virtuous priestess know of rude gestures?¡±


    Shira didn¡¯t take the bait in the way I expected. My brother was a soldier. The tension between us that had eased for a split second at her joke was suddenly thick enough to cut with a knife again.


    ¡°At Stonepoint.¡± My memory carried me instantly back to that moment in the solar with Melody, when Shira had snapped. What had she signed? That I had no right to take the lives of poor conscripts away from them, of course. It wasn¡¯t their fault that their commander had chosen their deaths instead of surrendering his fortress. ¡°He died there, didn¡¯t he?¡±


    Shira nodded, the bitterness of an old pain resurfacing. Not like you think, she added in sign. You were the opportunity.


    I pondered those words carefully. ¡°Elaborate.¡±


    Why? Her motions were sharp and angry, fingers like daggers slicing the air. For your amusement?


    ¡°I do not find death amusing.¡± I crossed my arms, meeting her glare head on. ¡°Satisfying at times, but we all have people we would rather see in the ground. What happened? Clearly you wish to speak of it, if you brought it up.¡±


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    Someone had to be to blame. Shira¡¯s eyes welled with tears, bright even in their hurt. Lord Gwydion told everyone that the reason you had captured so many was that someone stabbed them in the back from within. He weeded out his least favorite captains, charged them with conspiracy, and had them drawn and quartered.


    ¡°Your brother was one of those captains.¡± When she nodded, I felt the roiling cauldron of anger I called a heart near a boil. ¡°How unfortunate I did not extend to Lord Gwydion the same when he knelt in my tent. Perhaps a simple beheading was too swift for him.¡±


    Shira looked down at the ground, fingers still slowly shaping words. Emrys was a good man. He wouldn¡¯t have wanted revenge.


    I let one hand rest on Woe¡¯s hilt. ¡°And what about you?¡±


    I was in the cloister. It was months before I knew. They brought nothing to me, and he was all I had.


    Part of me wanted to reach out and at least put a hand on her, anything to offer comfort. I knew what it was like to lose people dear to me, in a variety of ways. All the same I kept my distance. ¡°I am sorry.¡±


    She looked up at that, clearly suspicious of my intentions. The hostility in her posture faded after a moment. My sincerity was not hard to read. I do not understand you, Lady Frostborn. How can the butcher of countless thousands feel anything at all?


    I thought back to the last chosen one I had killed, half-trained and carrying the hopes of a world on his shoulders. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said softly. ¡°When you think of the enormity of it, it is nothing. When you feel the blood coursing down your hands or deal with those left behind¡­then it is intensely personal.¡±


    Shira nodded slowly, though the furrow in her brow remained. I miss him, she signed with movements so subtle I almost missed them.


    Grief was something I knew well. ¡°We should attend to Luka. If what Varys said is even half true, he is in danger and in pain. Haven should know more about the nature of the poison and Anstydir will be searching for clues.¡±


    She took the out I had provided with a faint nod of gratitude. Haven knows much of medicine. His healing is most impressive.


    ¡°As one would imagine, there are no laws in the Eternal Kingdom about dissection of corpses. That has taught him a great deal about anatomy and the nature of death. Not to mention how many wounds and diseases he has treated over the course of a very long time.¡± I picked up the pace towards Luka¡¯s estate.


    Thick thorn hedgerows surrounded the estate like a wall, tall and infested with dark magic that made them a true danger to anyone trying to climb them. Shira and I passed under a wrought iron arch bearing the head of a wolf with jaws spread wide open. The manor house itself was old and in disrepair, though everything structural was tended to. Gardens ran wild across the grounds with nettles and sharp, twisted pieces of stone. There were no trees, leaving a broad and open space people would have to cross once they made it through the gate or over the hedgerows. I knew that several very good archers in Luka¡¯s employ kept watch for the uninvited.


    How had someone gotten so close? Even the most dedicated of assassins usually succumbed to a poisoned arrow through the heart.


    For a lord, he does not tend his house, Shira observed, pausing to look around.


    ¡°He¡¯s more beast than man most of the time. Besides, this suits his purposes well.¡± I caught a hint of movement in the manor¡¯s tower and held up my left hand so they could see the gleam of the ring. No arrow flew as we approached the door. I slammed my fist into the hard wood in a powerful knock.


    It was a few moments, but then Anstydir opened the door. Shira shrank back at the mere sight of my favorite investigator. I couldn¡¯t really blame her.


    Anstydir looked clearly wyrm-blooded: a tall and imposing man with dull patches of black scale breaking out across his umber skin. He reached out a hand with clawed fingers to clasp mine in greeting, engulfing my hand in his huge one. With a height that meant he ducked through doorframes, Anstydir was a danger even without taking his magic into account. He was very much unlike most of his brethren in his taste in spells. He preferred subtlety and utility. More than that, my friend had mastered the art of arcane recalling. It was a rare discipline that allowed one to reveal the secrets of an item with touch alone, giving hints of the ones who had used and made it.


    ¡°Have you learned anything?¡± I asked as we stepped inside, dragging Shira along with me by the wrist.


    The wyrm-blooded stepped back to allow us entry, hungry yellow eyes with slitted pupils giving Shira a once-over before returning to me. ¡°There were two. One who poisoned Luka¡¯s wine, one who distracted him.¡±


    ¡°Varys made it sound like an assault.¡± I looked around as I spoke. The stone walls were covered in a slight slime, oozing dark down the stacked granite stones. Plenty of tracks disturbed the dust on the floor, some bestial and others clearly humanoid. The house was always busy, day and night, particularly up in the rookery. After all, Luka had to keep his fingers eternally on the pulse of all things, internal and external. He was the best informed creature in the city, even when one included the King in Black.


    Anstydir shrugged. ¡°Considering Lord Varys could not be bothered to investigate himself, my lady, I think one should take his interpretation with a grain of salt.¡±


    I smiled faintly. ¡°The master of understatement still, I see.¡±


    He gave me a slight bow, his grin showing draconic fangs. ¡°I know it pleases you, my lady.¡±


    Together, we made our way up creaking stairs towards Luka¡¯s bedroom. ¡°Has Haven said what the poison was?¡±


    My investigator nodded dutifully. ¡°A rare concoction typically used in Suzail to remove particularly sturdy rivals. Wolfsbane, hemlock, and a pinch of vaendal.¡±


    ¡°Here I thought the petals of a vaendal flower could slay a dragon,¡± I murmured. ¡°Yet Luka lives.¡±


    Anstydir shrugged. ¡°He is tougher than most, particularly in beast form. Though that said, it is not certain he will last the night.¡±


    I pushed open the door to Luka¡¯s room. Heavy, labored breathing filled the air with growling as the sides of the dire wolf Luka had shaped into heaved. Haven stood beside the bed, healing instruments and medicines spread on every flat surface out of reach of the spymaster. ¡°Haven, how does he fare?¡± Losing Luka would mean not only losing a powerful ally, but damaging the security of the Eternal Kingdom. What would we do without his many eyes, many hands?


    The assassins had chosen the right target.


    ¡°Poorly, my lady.¡± Haven was perfectly calm, but jagged claw marks were visible through rips in his shirt. He noticed my focus on his injuries and shrugged slightly. ¡°The purgative did not agree with him.¡±


    ¡°It looks more like he didn¡¯t agree with it.¡± I strode forward to the edge of the bed, looking down at the wolf¡¯s glazed, hooded eyes. ¡°Will he live?¡±


    Haven bowed slightly in greeting to myself and Shira before looking back at his patient. ¡°I have done what I could. The hemlock and wolfsbane I can handle, but the vaendal is a slow and dreaming death to everyone I have ever heard of who has consumed it. He is in delirium now. That is not a good sign.¡±


    ¡°Luka,¡± I snapped.


    The wolf shifted slightly on the bed. ¡°I see her.¡± The words came as a breath, a sigh, as he changed his physiology to allow speech. ¡°Covered in blood, in ash, with smoke all around¡­¡±


    I frowned. ¡°Who do you see?¡±


    The glazed eyes rolled towards me. ¡°The one who will destroy us all.¡±

 16 - A Silent Secret

    I looked to Haven as Luka¡¯s glazed eyes continued to roll, seeking something no one else could see. ¡°Do they often spout nonsense?¡±


    ¡°Vaendal flowers have hallucinogenic properties even as they kill,¡± Haven explained calmly, apparently unfazed by the strange prophecy Luka was trying to deliver through his heavy breaths. ¡°As we said, he is in delirium.¡±


    ¡°Wreathed in flame, wreathed in ash... The heat! The heat!¡± The spymaster thrashed on the bed as he spoke in his beast form, claws whipping dangerously close to my head. I retreated back alongside Haven and Shira, giving the poisoned Luka more space.


    Anstydir crossed his arms, powerful muscles flexing under his dark, partially scaled skin. The wyrm-blooded man kept his eyes on the thrashing, delirious spymaster, even as he asked his question. ¡°Do you think there is any truth to it? Does vaendal open the mind, Haven?¡±


    ¡°To Fate?¡± I said scornfully. ¡°Do not be ridiculous.¡±


    Haven started to wash his instruments in the basin of steaming water nearby, positioned safely out of reach of the bestial Luka. ¡°Vaendal is a poison, from the root to the bloom. There are some in Suzail who say one may safely inhale the vapors of a tea of its leaves and see into eternity, but that is a tale as likely to be true as any other elvish drivel.¡± The wight sniffed disdainfully. ¡°Besides, if his condition is this grave this quickly, clearly he consumed some of the petals.¡±


    Anstydir grunted at that, slitted pupils flicking towards the cup sitting on the table beside Haven¡¯s many remedies. ¡°Well, shall I read it? Lady Frostborn is present now.¡±


    Haven glanced over at me, his black eyes still lowered slightly in deference. ¡°Perhaps it might give us clues to a curative. I think the purgative was administered too late to be fully effective. My lady?¡±


    I inclined my head to Anstydir. ¡°Do it.¡±


    Shira¡¯s fingers flicked a question as she watched with fascination. Read what?


    ¡°Anstydir is a master of arcane recalling,¡± I explained for her. ¡°He can learn much of people and things with  a mere touch. It is a rare and undervalued talent.¡±


    The towering man gave Shira a broad grin that showed draconic fangs and sent a shudder of fear through the priestess. ¡°Lady Frostborn is not among those who fail to appreciate its uses.¡± He picked up the cup, rolling it slowly between his palms. The simple cracked ceramic gave no sign that anything magical was occurring, but Anstydir¡¯s strange golden eyes rolled back into his head, eyelashes fluttering like that of a dreamer. The tiny expressive muscles in his face twitched and spasmed as the impressions on the object unfolded in his mind¡¯s eye.


    I waited patiently. Anstydir would speak when he was ready. For such magic, the mind always had to accommodate, and that took time.


    ¡°I see Luka.¡± The wyrm-blooded man inhaled sharply. ¡°No suspicion. He took the cup when it was offered without hesitation. He knew this person, trusted them.¡± His face spasmed into a snarl. ¡°The one who carried this was an archer. I feel the calluses on his hands. Fear, carefully controlled. His eyes watch Luka¡¯s face. The horror that spreads across it as the poison sinks in. Luka lunges for him, but collapses before more than a glancing blow. His claws catch the assassin¡¯s arm just as the archer makes it to the door.¡±


    I turned to face the door to Luka¡¯s room, noting a splash of dark on the stained floor. Blood. That was useful. I opened the door and looked down the hall, still listening to Anstydir.


    ¡°They entered through the passage below. No one was in the house but Luka. They listened, checked. Before, the cobbles of the Dark Mother¡¯s path. Hooded, wary, always checking behind. Two. Male. Human. Fresh gravedirt under their nails.¡± Anstydir inhaled deeply. ¡°The smell of ha¡¯adis and blood.¡± His voice rose in pitch, almost like someone else¡¯s entirely. ¡°No, no room for doubt now.¡±


    I scowled at the mention of ha¡¯adis, but said nothing. Anything could break his concentration.


    ¡°It freezes like ice in blood,¡± the wyrm-blooded man growled, face contorting in pain. ¡°Pushing forward. The slugishnesss is coming on. Hurry. Hurry. The poison must be delivered first. The death of the beast is the first step. They will rip each other to pieces when he is gone, blinded and cut at the wrists.¡±


    I turned abruptly and stalked towards Anstydir. ¡°Give me a face,¡± I commanded.


    Lines of concentration formed in his brow as he delved deeper and deeper into the remaining impressions, hunting for an identity. ¡°The hands are scarred. A missing forefinger on the left. Black ink beneath the skin of his palm. The last gasp of an ancient hate. Then, more fear. The beast will devour us.¡± Anstydir twitched abruptly, a shiver that started at the base of his skull and ran through his entire body in a cascade. His eyes rolled back to their normal position and he fumbled as he tried to set the cup back down.


    ¡°Haven, help me,¡± I said brusquely, catching the towering Anstydir before he could fall. Together with Haven¡¯s unholy strength, moving him to sit in a chair was relatively easy.


    ¡°I am sorry, my lady,¡± Anstydir said through his daze. It would take his mind time to right itself. ¡°That was all I could parse out. The effects of the ha¡¯adis complicated matters.¡±


    What is this word? Shira signed at me, noting my scowl.


    ¡°Ha¡¯adis is a poison, concocted by alchemists from widow¡¯s respite, a flower that grows in the cemeteries here in Sanctum. It¡¯s one of the few plants that thrives despite the blight. Unlike vaendal, its progression is slow. Also unlike vaendal, it is very much native to the Eternal Kingdom¡¯s schools of poisoning.¡± I looked over at Haven, who nodded in confirmation. I wasn¡¯t as confident in my herbal knowledge as I was in his. ¡°The assassins poisoned themselves, likely so that if Luka suspected anything, he wouldn¡¯t have long to interrogate them. If they are human, I doubt they are still breathing. It takes an alchemist of great skill to brew it.¡± I looked over at Anstydir. ¡°You said Luka trusted the one who gave this to him?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, my lady,¡± Anstydir said, his voice clearer as he looked over at me. ¡°And if the smell of ha¡¯adis and blood did not alarm him¡­¡±


    ¡°It was someone he expected to come bearing those smells. Either an alchemist or their servant, both probably part of his own network.¡± I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. ¡°Luka trusts very few people.¡±


    ¡°That at least narrows the field,¡± Haven said in his mild way. ¡°As will the appearance of a corpse.¡±


    ¡°And it means that Luka¡¯s own spy network was infiltrated without his knowledge,¡± I muttered darkly, looking over at the thrashing beast on the bed. ¡°Either it is a new occurrence or we have a very, very large problem. He will be fortunate if the poison kills him. I have half a mind to smother him where he lies.¡±


    Anstydir shrugged. ¡°We could take his head to Naltheme.¡± He didn¡¯t seem bothered in the slightest by Shira¡¯s horrified expression.


    ¡°His mind is more useful to me when he is alive. Dead, the numbers and details of questions I can ask is limited, even with the spells of the Lady of Bones at my command. His cursed blood does not allow for transformation into intelligent undead either.¡±


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    ¡°So what do we do, my lady?¡± the wyrm-blooded man asked.


    ¡°Find a different spymaster?¡± I said sourly. I rocked back on my heels, puzzling over everything. This was not my strong suit. ¡°I thank you for your time, Anstydir. Your expertise is always illuminating.¡±


    ¡°There will be bodies, my lady,¡± Haven pointed out. ¡°We could speak to the servants of the Dark Mothers who tend the graveyards and ask if they will watch for any matching the description that Anstydir who might be overcome by ha¡¯adis.¡±


    A stab of dark humor hit me. ¡°Three heads are better than one?¡±


    Haven nodded. ¡°You could question all of them.¡±


    ¡°I would rather eat my armor than ask those parasites for anything.¡± I again pinched the bridge of my nose between thumb and forefinger, fuming at Luka in the privacy of my own thoughts.


    ¡°The alternative is ghouls consuming the flesh of the assassins before Naltheme can speak with their souls using necromancy,¡± my servant reminded me gently. ¡°It was His Majesty who wanted this resolved.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°I know.¡± I pulled off my signet ring, the one bearing the emblem of a withered rose, and dropped it in Haven¡¯s palm. ¡°Deliver this to Melody with a request that she obtain the bodies. She will need it if she is to convince them to part with their sacred charges. Tell her that if they will not willingly surrender them, to imply very heavily that I will disassemble their clergy one limb at a time.¡±


    Haven accepted the ring with a bow. ¡°I am certain she will be more tactful, my lady.¡±


    ¡°Undoubtedy.¡± Tact would probably go further, but I knew they would want something in return for their assistance. If they learned of the significance¡­well, I could practically feel their clergy salivating at the idea of having the Withered Rose owing them such a substantial favor. ¡°Perhaps I should send Vex and Brydris with her.¡±


    Haven arched an eyebrow. ¡°Does Vex know the meaning  of the word ¡®tact¡¯, my lady?¡±


    ¡°I am certain she has had it described to her once or twice.¡± When his eyebrow stayed elevated, I sighed. ¡°This is more for Melody¡¯s safety than my desire to rile up the clergy, I assure you. We will not be the only ones looking to acquire those bodies and I trust those two as the most capable defenders I can provide for her.¡±


    ¡°As you say, my lady,¡± Haven said with a bow.


    I reached out, touching the hem of his tattered shirt. ¡°When you return home, have someone see to those wounds as well,¡± I said firmly.


    There was no softening of Haven¡¯s features with fondness or gratitude, only the placidity he used to mask his hunger. He could not feel such things any more than the steel of a dagger could. ¡°Of course, my lady.¡±


    ¡°What of Luka?¡± Anstydir asked, drawing my attention away from my faithful wight.


    ¡°I will stay with him until he succumbs or recovers enough that he can be moved to the Winter Palace,¡± I said firmly. ¡°I have kept such vigils before for those I liked significantly less. There is a chance that someone will come by to ensure he has succumbed, since his assassins will be unable to.¡±


    ¡°Please be careful, my lady,¡± Haven said as he ran a loop of cord through my signet ring and put it around his neck under his shirt. ¡°If they mean to destroy the Eternal Kingdom, they would be most pleased to poison you as well.¡±


    I gave Haven my scalpel smile, cold and sharp. ¡°I would like to see them try.¡± My sword hand almost itched at the thought. Battle would be sweet relief from all of this complication.


    Anstydir scratched the edge of the patch of scales on his chin thoughtfully. ¡°I should stay as well. There are undoubtedly other objects that may reveal more of the assassins.¡±


    I gestured to the blood spatter. ¡°Would that assist?¡±


    The wyrm-blooded sorcerer considered it carefully. ¡°It could be used to locate the assassins, by one knowledgeable in the Seventh School. That is less my area of expertise.¡±


    I took the letter opener, a slim dagger, off Luka¡¯s desk and approached the spatter. It was easy enough to chip a blood-stained piece off of the wooden doorframe, aged as it was. ¡°Who would you recommend?¡± I asked as I wrapped it carefully in a handkerchief.


    Anstydir shrugged. I knew full well that the wyrm-blooded sorcerers were least inclined to share their secrets, particularly with each other. The hunger for power and knowledge that burned in them, fueled by draconic greed, seldom allowed for friendly relations. Even Anstydir and Brydris could barely stand to be in  the same room as each other, and their interests hardly overlapped. ¡°I could not say, my lady. I spend little time near the Mirrored Hall. My talents are beneath them, or so they say.¡±


    Shira glanced down at the wrapped bundle in my hand before hesitantly  flicking her fingers in sign. I could do it.


    Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. ¡°Last I heard, priestesses were forbidden to use the arcane. Unless things have changed?¡±


    My grandmother was not a priestess, Shira signed. Her fingers twitched nervously between words. She passed many years ago, but tradition was very important to her.


    I studied Shira very carefully, trying to parse out both the truth of it and the motivation. The nervous energy in her grew worse and worse the longer I looked in silence, my arms crossed. She glanced down at the floor, unable to meet my gaze. ¡°You are an exceptionally poor liar,¡± I said bluntly after a long moment.


    She looked up at me with wide eyes. I can¡ª


    I stepped in and caught hold of her hand, effectively silencing her even more than her vow did. ¡°Oh, I believe that you can. But that story about your grandmother¡­let¡¯s not pretend.¡± I studied her intently, watching the fear play across her face. ¡°You have the gift, don¡¯t you? It¡¯s why they sent you away and silenced you. How typically Rusan of them.¡±


    Shira didn¡¯t answer aloud, but the flicker of shame across her face betrayed her.


    Delicately, I released her hand. ¡°You prayed and prayed to get rid of it, but it stayed, stuck in your mind, in your soul. They wouldn¡¯t dare let you speak, not if words of power might come out.¡± I carefully unwrapped the shards of wood and offered them to Shira. ¡°Most are not suited to the Art. You should relish being more precious and rare than any jewel. Do this favor for me, Shira, and you may name your price.¡±


    She hesitated as she looked at the wood. I expected her to ask for the ability to leave Sanctum, but again her answer surprised me when her fingers flicked. I want a real sword.


    I smiled. ¡°Done. I will have Ember craft you something suitable when this is resolved. You of all people know I am a woman of my word.¡±


    Shira covered the bloodstained pieces of wood with her palm. Her lips moved as if speaking an incantation, but no sound came out. Beneath the cloth, a sudden heat flashed across the skin of my own palm as magic infused the fragments. They pulsed with power for a split second, but then it faded. Her talent was novice level at best, but it was there. That was more than I expected. Besides, being able to cast silently was an unusual ability to say the least. Most mages in Sanctum relied on their words of power being spoken.


    ¡°Who taught you that invocation?¡± I asked.


    She hesitated for a long moment, then signed her answer. My parents said I met the devil in the woods.


    ¡°How kind of the devil.¡± I glanced over at Anstydir. It was hard to read his half-scaled face, but I could tell by the way he pursed his lips that he was impressed. ¡°So, did you see our assassins?¡±


    In this, she seemed confident when she flicked her fingers. Their bodies lay on slabs, attended to by a man in dark robes wearing the mask of an old woman.


    I sighed, knowing full well that the only people in Sanctum who dressed so were the clergy of the Dark Mothers. ¡°Delightful,¡± I muttered. The urge to find Varys and stab him for pawning off this endeavor was only growing stronger the more unfolded. I turned and paced over to the chair near Luka, undoing my swordbelt so I could sit with Woe across my lap. ¡°Let us see if he lives or dies. Anstydir, search the house. Shira and I have much to discuss.¡±

 17 - The Passing

    As Luka¡¯s ravings faded into whimpers and his ragged breathing grew shallow, the reality of his death marched into my mind like an unwelcome army. He could not be as easily replaced as most in the King in Black¡¯s service. Even Naltheme, prized for arcane knowledge and rare as a diamond in the rough, was ultimately more expendable. The King in Black could find another apprentice, but a shapeshifter with Luka¡¯s patience, intuitive shrewdness, and experience was unheard of. He was an aberration among the fangwardens, one of the reasons he was so often resented by the Shadeclaw and other powerful pack leaders. They couldn¡¯t get a rise out of him the way they could out of each other, didn¡¯t have his savvy with people, and certainly not his subterfuge, a suite of skills he¡¯d elevated to an artform. He was also a powerful ally in the King in Black¡¯s court, one who could be relied on to take a long and unselfish view.


    Beyond the practicality of it, though, I felt a twinge behind my breastbone. I had laid many, many friends into the grave over the years. My heart had grown largely cold to the grief of death, but I would miss Luka. His cursed blood resisted the unlife granted by our master: his soul and animus were too closely bonded, wrenched into the Beyond by the draw of the chaotic energies that had birthed his condition. His body could be animated like a puppet of flesh if a spellcaster focused on it, but true undeath was impossible without rewriting the Fundamental Laws of magic. Even if the King in Black could make an exception with the power at His disposal, the Laws always reverted after a time to what they had been at the moment of the Apotheosis. It would have been a waste of power to attempt, as sensible as assaulting the tide with a sword.


    When the King in Black had killed the god of magic, the Laws had frozen, trapped in that instant. Naturally, the newly ascended god-lich found it fascinating, a problem truly worthy of unlocking¡­whatever the cost.


    He seldom had to pay His prices. They settled on my shoulders instead.


    Shira sat silently beside me, brow furrowed as she watched him die. Even as an enemy, she seemed to feel some sympathy for his fevered pain. The last stages of the dreaming death were agony, though not prolonged long. He would likely pass in the next few minutes.


    ¡°It¡¯s true, then.¡± The floor hadn¡¯t creaked to alert me, but the voice was instantly recognizable as a colossal problem.


    I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, ignoring Shira¡¯s wide-eyed look of alarm. The last person I wanted to deal with right now was Luka¡¯s incendiary daughter. ¡°That entirely depends on what you have heard,¡± I said bluntly, taking a split second to formulate a plan before rising and turning to face her.


    Riyd was seldom predictable on a good day. I had no expectation that she would be now, which meant preparing for the worst. However much the fangwarden hated her father¡¯s reputation and meddling, she also loved him with a violent protectiveness. ¡°Varys said that he was poisoned.¡± She prowled into the room, golden eyes reflecting in the low light like a wolf¡¯s. ¡°That his killer would be close by, watching to ensure he passed.¡±


    I made no effort to conceal my contempt for Varys¡¯s very poor attempt. ¡°He was poisoned, Riyd. If I had wanted him dead, I would have gutted him like a fish. Besides, he still breathes. Varys can take his insinuation and choke on it.¡±


    Riyd¡¯s temper flared, nails becoming true claws. The teeth she bared sharpened as her shape began to shift. ¡°As if you could have bested him in a true battle! You¡¯re human, Frostborn,¡± she snarled. ¡°Weak.¡±


    ¡°And you are Luka¡¯s daughter!¡± I snarled. Instead of retreating or giving ground, I moved directly into Riyd¡¯s space. Anything else would tug at her predatory instincts and I wanted her focused entirely on me. ¡°I assume he taught you to mind whose words you trust!¡±


    She was absolutely right: if she shifted forms and struck, my bones would snap like twigs. I wasn¡¯t even wearing armor. Riyd was a very real threat, but I was long past the point of seeing death as a thing to fear. My fingers darted up my left sleeve as she grabbed Woe¡¯s hilt, forcing me back and depriving me of my feared weapon.


    Riyd swiped, but I was inside her distance, robbing her strike of much of its power as we collided. It still would leave deep bruises on my shoulder. Her forward momentum slammed me against the wall, her breath hot against my face as her visage finished its transformation. She never saw the slim misericord leave my sleeve.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool, Riyd. If you¡¯re going to throw my life away with his, fine,¡± I said. I pressed the knife delicately against her ribs, knowing she would feel the burn of the silvered blade even through her fur. ¡°But allowing Varys to have the last laugh at our expense is a bridge too far for Luka¡¯s daughter, surely. For such a misstep, I¡¯d be obliged to leave you a proper wound to remember me by.¡±


    Riyd¡¯s whole body tensed reflexively at the touch of the hated metal. She knew how excruciating and debilitating a silvered wound could be. No doubt she was feeling the same horrible itch in her old arrow wound, a sympathetic pain that never really ended. Even a sliver of silver burned like white-hot needles under the skin. It was surprising that Luka¡¯s own assassins hadn¡¯t used it. Vaendal was a strange, exotic choice. Then again, Luka was more careful than most. He wore a ring that warmed abruptly in the presence of silver, always useful when someone passed him a cup.


    I knew I had her undivided attention. Even furious, she wouldn¡¯t risk killing me until the knife was dealt with. I had a reputation for being fast. Our fates balanced at the edge of my knife, her eyes displaying the war inside them to terrifying effect while I kept the pressure of a final blow readied.


    Her bestial features receded back into the striking beauty she¡¯d inherited from her mother.¡°If you lie, Frostborn, I will devour your heart myself.¡± I knew it was a vow she would honor with enthusiasm.


    ¡°I did not harm your father, nor did my companion,¡± I said smoothly, keeping the knife against her ribs. Riyd hadn¡¯t noticed Shira yet, too fixated on me, but that was likely to change as she calmed. ¡°I have nothing to gain from your father¡¯s death. He was my ally and our spymaster. The Eternal Kingdom is lesser without him. Go be with your father in his last moments.¡±


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    Riyd released me immediately, gaze turning towards the bed. ¡°Does the old man even know I¡¯m here?¡± She tried to speak harshly, to hide her pain, but I heard the subtle crack in her voice.


    ¡°His senses may be confused, but his spirit will know once he is free of them,¡± I said, tucking the knife back up my sleeve. It was easy to forget when faced with her fury that Riyd was still a young woman, more than just a force of nature. I gave her a firm nod of reassurance, well aware that putting a hand on her might infuriate her again.


    Riyd stepped over to the bed, ignoring Shira when the priestess recoiled out of her path. ¡°Father?¡±


    I grabbed Shira and gently pulled her towards the door, which needed no convincing. ¡°We will be in the hall, Riyd,¡± I promised. ¡°Say whatever you need to say. We will wait:¡±


    Shira looked at me with frantic eyes, shaking her head vigorously. We should run, she signed with trembling fingers.


    ¡°What do wolves do when rabbits run, Shira?¡± I muttered, examining Woe¡¯s hilt. Those razor sharp claws had sliced right through the wrapped rayskin grip. It would need to be redone before I waded into another battle. ¡°Varys is going to regret that little manipulation.¡±


    Will you kill him? Shira signed, a hint of hope in her eyes.


    Part of me most sincerely wanted to, but I knew Rhandiir would object strenuously whatever repercussions fell on Varys¡¯s head. He was far too attached to his spawn. ¡°It is not in everyone¡¯s best interest for anyone to know Riyd ever took his lie seriously,¡± I said reluctantly. ¡°For a variety of reasons, I think it might be better to let the worm think he was ineffectual. Though convincing Riyd of that might be impossible. Her pride and temper are a potent combination and will only be magnified by her grief. Varys may have already inked his own death warrant. Besides, every general in the forces of the King in Black may only duel with His approval.¡±


    My silent companion¡¯s eyebrows raised at that final statement. Even the Withered Rose?


    ¡°Even I. Though the value of a united front is something of a laughable notion at this point, when Varys attempts to sow discord so blatantly. Even without a duel, there will have to be a response, something so punishing that it will either cripple or kill him. But first, there is a power void to fill.¡±


    He will think he is getting away with it.


    I smiled my sharpest, coldest smile. ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    Shira shuddered in dread. No doubt she had heard of that particular smile, usually seen only in the glow of a burning temple¡¯s flames.


    If Varys had to live, he would regret his misstep with a visceral pain worthy of silver in accursed flesh. Vampire or not, I could make his unlife very unpleasant for him. Better yet, he had done most of the work himself. ¡°The King in Black will wish this brought to his attention,¡± I said. ¡°Both the matter of a new spymaster and Varys ignoring His edict.¡±


    Riyd stepped out of the room, blinking her golden eyes hard to clear them of tears. ¡°He is gone,¡± she said, voice cracking on the third word.


    I turned to face her. ¡°He and his wisdom will be missed. I am sorry for your loss, Riyd.¡± To creatures who valued family above all else, losing her sole remaining parent was quite the blow. ¡°If there is anything I can do, name it and it will be so.¡±


    My sincerity touched something inside of Riyd. She lowered her gaze.¡°See that those who did this suffer a torment worthy of their crime, Frostborn.¡±


    ¡°Those who delivered the poison are already dead. When I find their mastermind, I will treat them in accordance with that wish,¡± I promised. Torture was not something I enjoyed, but she would want nothing less. ¡°Unless you wish them subject to your own mercies?¡±


    ¡°I would kill them too quickly,¡± Riyd said bluntly. ¡°Though I think I might like to watch.¡±


    Shira shifted uncomfortably even as her fingers danced in question. What now?


    ¡°We go to the King in Black. Riyd, I could use your testimony regarding Varys¡¯s ploy.¡±


    The fangwarden nodded. ¡°With great pleasure, Frostborn. How is your shoulder?¡±


    It was as close to an apology as I would get. ¡°Fine.¡± The truth was that it ached already from the jarring blow. ¡°You should take your father¡¯s body to the proper place. We will meet you at the audience chamber.¡±


    We? Shira signed with wide eyes.


    ¡°Indeed. It will be an education.¡± I doubted He would pay Shira any mind except as a passing curiosity. ¡°I wish to arrange for a tutor as well.¡± When she looked at me with confusion, I stared straight into her eyes. ¡°Arcane potential is never to be squandered. Whatever the origin, you have it. That is not a skill I can instruct you in.¡±


    Shira hesitated for a long moment, weighing that against the teachings of her god.


    I sighed. ¡°It is a tool. Just as a sword may preserve or end a life, so too can magic.¡±


    The priestess nodded slowly, but looked unconvinced. I knew I would have to force the issue, but now was not the time or place. I touched the ring on my finger, focusing on my connection to Him.


    The effect was slow, creeping shadows painting lines on my palm. What do you desire, my rose?


    An audience, I answered in my thoughts. It is a matter of great importance.


    There was a pause before the black script undulated into new words on my palm. As you wish.

 18 - The Audience

    I stopped outside the door to the Innermost Study, letting my eyes trace over the arcane patterns etched into the bone doors, each ward stained into the carvings with life-blood that had been neatly wiped away to leave only dark lines where it had seeped into crevices. It was an intricate and power-bound scrimshaw, done with a particularly macabre hand. I recognized them as wards, but my knowledge of magic was effectively secondhand. It required a gift, a spark, that I lacked. I would never know the feeling of casting a spell, of being able to comprehend everything that the King in Black or even Naltheme knew, of being an equal.


    Truth be told, however, I had never desired the spark of magic. I could reshape the world in other ways, even if it was a struggle. Besides, I found the ability to spell nonexistence with the lifting of a single finger bothered me on a level. The King in Black used it only when required, but the others were not so parsimonious with their power. Their self-indulgence with their abilities seemed to cheapen it somehow.


    Shira shivered at my side. I knew she had heard enough stories of the King in Black that she likely had no expectation of surviving. Perhaps it had been cruel of me to bring her, but the immediacy of Varys¡¯s attempt to have Riyd kill me meant seeking an audience immediately. I didn¡¯t have time to leave her at home and even the entry level of the Tower was not a place for the living to be left unattended, even with the edicts that would have preserved her life. For one, Varys was not barred entry.


    I glanced over at her. ¡°Venture into the conversation only if you are spoken to. If the Lady of Bones is present and asks you anything, I will answer. If the King in Black asks you anything, answer him truthfully. His Majesty does not tolerate lies.¡±


    She signed nervously, fingers twitching. Will he understand this?


    ¡°He will understand.¡± Even if in life He hadn¡¯t known Rusan sign, one of the boons unlocked after ascending to godhood was a celestial¡¯s comprehension of languages. He put it to immediate use, ever expanding His collection of magical lore now that even secret scripts no longer presented a barrier to His understanding. ¡°Mind your manners as well. He is to be addressed as Your Majesty at all times.¡±


    Shira bobbed her head anxiously.


    ¡°Good.¡± I placed my left hand against the door, ring burning with cold like a brand. The twisting lines of sigils on the door seemed to writhe at my touch as the magic responded to its own. Then they melted into the ivory, dissipating momentarily to allow us access. I pushed and the door split down the middle, opening without a sound. Needing no invitation to enter, I stepped in, drawing Shira along in my wake.


    The Innermost Study was a mammoth, labyrinthian room that extended in space well beyond what even the giant size of the tower should have allowed. There were no shelves, only neat rows upon rows of books floating in the air, carefully arranged according to some byzantine sorting system that mapped perfectly onto the King in Black¡¯s memory. He was as obsessed with His collection as a wyrm with its golden hoard: removing even a single book absent permission was a crime punishable by worse than death. The books extended out and upward seemingly into infinity, lit by flickering blue-orange flames in fixed positions absent any sconces that cast a strange light throughout the room. His desk occupied the center of the study, the main workshop for experimentation mercifully lost amongst the shelves. With both His Majesty and Naltheme ever pushing the boundaries of magic, particularly necromancy, their experiments could be grisly beyond what Shira likely had the stomach for.


    I focused on the desk. It was an exotic variety of wood, Madyan irontree, that had come at no small expense. At the time we had been at war, but I had scraped together every coin in my personal belongings to have it made for Him. By the time it was complete, the northern lands had been free of Rusan control for ten years. The surface gleamed with mirror smoothness even though the grain was wild and knotted, kept religiously polished and oiled. It was the only reminder of our love He seemed to still treasure the way I prized so many of the scraps left over. The only ornamentation was in the carving itself, almost endlessly intricate geometric patterns. In life, the King in Black once adored the Madyan sense of aesthetics. Now beauty meant nothing to Him, but still He kept it.


    Loyalty was something He still prized, and this was a physical reminder of my own.


    The King in Black sat in His chair at the desk, hood pulled up as He read over several sheets of parchment covered in sloping hand. He preferred to keep all distractions, even the little flickering of illuminating flames, out of His vision when engrossed. Naltheme sat across from Him, her nails drumming a little staccato pattern of impatience across the desk. I knew that meant He was examining her handiwork and she was waiting for a verdict or an insight.


    What did it say about me, that I no longer felt the pang of jealousy I once had? Naltheme so easily captured His attention and could share a part of the world with Him that I never understood. Perhaps the uglier emotion had just given way to resignation, as so many others had.


    The click of my boots¡¯ hard soles against the floor drew Naltheme¡¯s attention quickly, as she was less absorbed. ¡°Why, Lady Frostborn, you look positively on the warpath,¡± she said, flashing me a smile. ¡°It must be serious for you to intrude so.¡±


    ¡°My Beloved may pass wherever she wishes.¡± The hollow chill of the King in Black¡¯s voice froze Shira in her place behind me. He lifted his head, eyes burning with those icy blue flames, and placed the notes down on the surface of his desk. ¡°We will revisit this discovery at a later time, Naltheme.¡±


    For a split second, I caught the change in the Lady of Bones¡¯s pale expression: a flash of irritation and envy. Clearly she was proud of whatever she had found and did not appreciate the immediacy of the interruption or coming second in His Majesty¡¯s attention. It was not often that she was brushed aside for my sake, whatever our respective roles might have suggested. ¡°Of course, Your Majesty,¡± she deferred. ¡°Shall I take my leave?¡±


    The offer was no doubt symbolic, as Naltheme would want to know what was going on, but she¡¯d made a mistake by making it. ¡°I am certain His Majesty would prefer you in your studies,¡± I said calmly. ¡°Your time and mind are far too valuable for anything else.¡±


    The King in Black leaned back in his seat, skull face half-hidden by the cloak¡¯s hood. He knew that meant I wanted a private word. ¡°You are excused, Naltheme.¡±


    Naltheme inclined her head gracefully, hiding any frustration with a masterful mask of acceptance. ¡°Thank you, Your Majesty. Shall I accompany your companion outside, Lady Frostborn?¡± I knew she was trying to place Shira when she looked past me, but even frightened, she still bore little resemblance to the bruised and battered thing Varys had dragged into his tent.


    My voice cooled several degrees. ¡°That will not be necessary, though your considerate offer is appreciated. As I said, your time is precious.¡±


    My liege¡¯s apprentice rose to her feet, giving the King in Black a deep curtsey. ¡°Thank you for your time, Your Majesty. I will be in the lower laboratory if required.¡±


    He gestured graciously with a bone hand and she stepped past Shira and I, exiting through the door. I waited until the doors were closed completely behind us, trusting in the powerful wards of silence on the door to protect our conversation. ¡°Luka is dead, Your Majesty, as are the hands that poisoned him.¡±


    ¡°A significant loss.¡± There was no grief or feeling in His voice, only an acknowledgement that this would set back a great many endeavors. ¡°Yet this is not news I expected from your lips.¡±


    The corners of my lips twitched, an involuntary hint of a scowl. ¡°I imagine not, considering it was Varys tasked with investigating the assault. The worm not only insisted that Your Majesty had commanded I investigate, but used the opportunity to try and sic Riyd on me. She was quite certain I was responsible for her father¡¯s death, courtesy of his insinuations.¡±


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    Silence was sometimes louder than words when it came to the King in Black. The flames that burned in His eye sockets flickered a moment. While undeath removed emotions like anger and impatience, displeasure was not unheard of. ¡°You are unharmed?¡±


    ¡°I sustained a minor injury to my shoulder, but Riyd responded to my honesty. If she is not kept away from Varys, they will kill each other,¡± I said, more out of concern for her than anything she¡¯d do to Varys. The prohibition on dueling without the permission of the King in Black was punishable by death, and Luka wouldn¡¯t have wanted his only child following him into the grave. ¡°I request only clemency for her, Your Majesty. She lashed out at me only because she was misled.¡±


    ¡°Rhandiir¡¯s spawn will account for this injury, my rose.¡± The King in Black tipped his head down, eyes vanishing beneath the dark cloth of his robe. ¡°And Luka¡¯s assassins?¡±


    ¡°The direct agents poisoned themselves before delivering him a drink mixed with vaendal, the dreaming death. They are dead. I requested that one of my agents recover their bodies from the Dark Mothers¡¯ priests. I find it more concerning that Luka was friendly with them, or at least trusted whoever had sent them. With what we learned, I believe the alchemist who brewed both the poison used on the assassins and the poison used by them was a native of Sanctum, probably someone who worked with Luka on multiple occasions before.¡±


    ¡°Foolish, to presume the dead will hold their tongues in Sanctum.¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°I think they were more concerned about what Luka could have wrung from them if they remained alive. Even necromancy has limitations. The awoken dead still possess the power to be cryptic, even if they cannot lie, and rising undead often experience distortions of their memories.¡± It was a phenomenon I had observed many, many times, even if I didn¡¯t understand the cause the way He did. The only undead I had ever met with perfect recall of their life before was seated in front of me, and even then sometimes I wondered.


    ¡°True.¡± He steepled his bone fingers. ¡°With sufficient casting and the right questions, a careful interrogator could still glean enough.¡±


    ¡°Anstydir is clever and capable. He would need only scrolls and reagents to accomplish such a thing,¡± I said smoothly. ¡°If it would please Your Majesty, I could requisition one of your scribes and the necessary components. I would prefer to keep the investigation under my control until we know the identity of the alchemist and who else they might be close to within circles of power.¡±


    He weighed that thought carefully. ¡°I would prefer not to make you more of a target, my rose. A response directly from you might accelerate whatever plans they have already in motion.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps Varys should have considered that, Your Majesty,¡± I said dryly. ¡°If they have half a brain, they already know that I entered Luka¡¯s estate, even if they didn¡¯t see me leave it. News of my continued good health will travel quickly to anyone paying attention, so they¡¯ll be inclined to correct Varys¡¯s failure. Likely in a more competent fashion.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Whatever you require is yours, as always.¡±


    I bowed my head in gratitude. ¡°Your generosity is always appreciated, Your Majesty. With that in mind, may I make a second request?¡±


    ¡°Name what you desire and it will be so, my rose.¡±


    I briefly toyed with the idea of requesting Varys¡¯s head on a plate, but other things were more important. ¡°I need the services of a diviner for an extended length of time. They don¡¯t have to be a master of the art, as long as they can competently teach.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± The question came sharp and piercing. We both knew lessons would be wasted on a student without potential, and I certainly had no shred of arcane talent in my soul.


    ¡°I have a prospective student for them,¡± I said smoothly, hearing a sharp intake of breath from Shira behind me. I made a mental note to have Melody come sit with her and explain that hiding her feelings was going to be an integral part of surviving in Sanctum. If we didn¡¯t arrange for some lessons on deception, Teth would eat her alive, probably literally.


    He raised His head, burning eyes fixed on Shira. ¡°A prospective student of the Art is rare. You have no marks of trial by fire, nor the bearing of a local. Who are you?¡±


    I turned to watch her hands, hoping she would have the sense to answer without trying to lie.


    Shira¡¯s fingers quivered so badly as she signed that her gestures were almost incomprehensible. My name is Shira, Your Majesty. Lord Varys took me as a prisoner in the last war.


    ¡°His appetites and self indulgences are growing more and more egregious.¡± I couldn¡¯t help the sharpness in my tone. Whatever I thought of Shira¡¯s divine background and patron, Varys¡¯s predations were far below what I would stoop to. ¡°I took her from him.¡±


    ¡°Rusan. How interesting. What is the source of your magic, Shira?¡±


    She shook her head slightly, making the sign for uncertainty. It was a more honest answer than either of the ones she¡¯d given me, most likely. I¡­I never¡­


    The King in Black cocked his head slightly to one side. ¡°You fear your own power,¡± He observed. ¡°For many who study magic, that is the beginning of wisdom¡­and the collar that chains them.¡± My liege looked in my direction. ¡°It would be better if she was trained where her education could be properly overseen.¡±


    ¡°I will keep her from straying, Your Majesty. A tutor and books will be everything required.¡±


    He considered that for a long moment, burning eyes searching my face for hints of motive. ¡°I will not deny you, my rose, upon one condition: you will not insert yourself into the judgment against Varys or act in retaliation.¡±


    It meant sacrificing my ability to act as the sword carrying out His justice against the vampire, potentially denying me even the ability to kill Varys if that was what the King in Black decided should become of the worm. However, if that was the price to pay for sheltering Shira from Naltheme and the other viciousness among apprentices, it was likely worth it. ¡°As you wish, Your Majesty.¡±


    He gave me an acknowledging nod and gestured in dismissal with one hand. ¡°I can tell that you grow weary, my rose. Go seek rest. I will provide you with what you have requested and issue my judgment in the morning, after I have summoned Riyd and had a full accounting of Varys¡¯s misdeed.¡±


    Fatigue and pain both gnawed at my mind, though I hadn¡¯t realized the full extent until that moment. It had been a long day, my shoulder still throbbed from Riyd¡¯s glancing blow, and Shira looked like she was going to faint. At least I had achieved what I intended to from the audience, which meant it was time to return to the Winter Palace. ¡°My gratitude for the gracious gift of your attention, Your Majesty.¡±


    Shira followed me out of the Innermost Study so quickly she almost stepped on my heels, reaching for my sleeve as we passed through the door. I wasn¡¯t certain if it was for security or my attention, so I turned once the door had closed again. Thankfully, Naltheme was nowhere in sight.


    The priestess gave me a searching look. Why? she finally signed.


    I was honestly too tired to try and parse which part of the interaction she was asking about. ¡°Elaborate,¡± I snapped.


    Why protect me when you could have had revenge on Varys?


    That was a knot I was too tired to untangle even for myself, let alone her. It was much easier to just default to my usual explanation for why I did things. ¡°I have my reasons.¡± When the questioning look didn¡¯t vanish from her face on its own, I chased it away by frowning. Shira flinched away from me, releasing my sleeve with the hand she hadn¡¯t used to sign. ¡°That is all I wish to say on the matter.¡±

 19 - A Time for Quiet

    Relief washed through my body as we entered the Winter Palace. All the concerns and dangers bound up in Luka¡¯s death and the ambitions of the others could wait at least a few hours while the King in Black deliberated and laid plans. I was home, as comfortable in these halls as in my own skin. Shira relaxed next to me. This was no home to her, but at least it was safety compared to the treacherous streets of Sanctum and the danger of predation by undead. She knew my word was law within the Winter Palace and our accord afforded her my protection.


    Haven awaited near the door like a faithful hound, bowing his head at my approach. His claw wounds from Luka had already vanished, visible only as faint and quickly fading scars. Undeath certainly had its advantages. ¡°Welcome home, my lady.¡±


    I smiled despite the weight of the day. ¡°Thank you, Haven.¡±


    He held out my signet ring to me, no doubt returned by Melody. ¡°Everything in the house is in order and all affairs that can be settled today are settled. I took the liberty of preparing a guest room and a bath for Master Anstydir. He anticipated that you would wish to speak to him in the morning. I thought it prudent to keep dinner warm for you and our guest.¡± His button-like eyes turned towards Shira meaningfully before returning his gaze to my face. ¡°Also, Ember requested your attention when you wish to give it.¡±


    I took the ring and slipped it back on my finger. Sometimes I wanted to hug the wight and never release him. ¡°My gratitude. Would you kindly show Shira to dinner? I will join her when I have finished speaking with Ember.¡±


    Haven bowed his head and padded off towards the solar and adjoining kitchen with Shira on his heels, while I turned on my heel and headed for the armory. The broad set of double doors leading out to the drilling square were open and on the far side, I could see the glow of the furnace in her workshop, half left open to the air. It was cut of the same spellwrought stone as the palace, but not so different in construction from the average village blacksmith¡¯s quarters. I would have given Ember a kingdom¡¯s ransom for her knowledge and expertise, but she preferred only to have a place where she could work her art undisturbed. The smithy stood alone, surrounded by the palace walls, but directly adjoining no other building. She liked her privacy.


    No hammer blows rang out from the smithy as I approached, a sign that Ember was on to more delicate work or perhaps resting. I knocked on the door before entering, drumming a familiar pattern with my knuckles so she wouldn¡¯t hurl a tool at me, thinking I was some intruder.


    ¡°Ladyship.¡± The greeting was coarse and simple a few moments after I stepped in, like the surface of pumice, and delayed by distraction. ¡°Just about finished.¡±


    Ember sat at her workbench, laboring away at whetstones and steel. I knew when to give her space, taking a seat on a simple, heat-scarred stool by the door. The forge was still burning, enough to make the room almost unbearably warm even with large slats in the wall allowing for air flow, molten salt slowly cooling in one of her quench troughs. While magic I knew almost nothing of, I could rattle off the name of every tool in the workshop, and appreciate the artistry to every choice she made.


    The smith was my height while sitting, stripped down to a light shirt, light pants, and a heavy leather apron scarred from use. Burns were not a concern to her: her skin was a dull, ashen gray except for the delicate threads of golden veins in her wrists and neck, hair the color of charcoal left in a messy knot at the back of her neck. The elemental fire magic that had shaped her ancestry left her with eyes glowing like stirred coals. Her craggy features scrunched with focus as she worked, breath steaming out of her body with each puff.


    Like Haven, Ember had been with me since the beginning. The only difference was that I had lost no part of her, something I would forever be grateful for.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t often you ask me for one of ¡®em.¡±


    I smiled a little and crossed my arms as she finished up, wiping oil off the blade using a rag. ¡°Is that a complaint?¡±


    She snorted, steam curling up from her nose. ¡°Hardly. Just sayin¡¯. Good thin¡¯ the measures weren¡¯t yours, or I¡¯d have worried for Woe.¡±


    ¡°The day I put aside my mother¡¯s blade is the day they put me in the ground.¡±


    ¡°Mebbe so, Ladyship,¡± she acknowledged, wiping down her project. There was a frank practicality to Ember that I had always adored. She set aside the blade, clearly meant for one of my guards by the emblem on the strong of the blade, and pulled over a piece of charcoal and a sheet of parchment normally used to test the edge of blades. ¡°Specifics?¡±


    ¡°A longsword in my people¡¯s style,¡± I said, approaching to stand beside her. ¡°It is a gift.¡±


    Ember furrowed her brow as she started a design. ¡°Not big, from the height and span you gave.¡±


    ¡°No. She will need technique and speed. I need a blade that will not break. I was also hoping you still had some of the azha¡¯ael ore left for an alloyed steel.¡±


    The smith looked up from her work, startled. ¡°A gift an¡¯ a half! That ore took Luka¡¯s folk eight months to smuggle out of Suzail, Ladyship. Elves don¡¯t like parting with their starstone.¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°We can always acquire more. It has properties that would be useful to someone who can learn magic.¡±


    Ember narrowed her eyes. ¡°This is for that slip o¡¯ a mute, ain¡¯t it? What¡¯s to stop her from plunging it through you in your sleep, ey?¡±


    ¡°That would be quite the move.¡± I smiled faintly. ¡°Do you think she¡¯s that bold?¡±


    The smith cocked an eyebrow at me. ¡°I seem to recall another slip o¡¯ a gel who barely said two words. She had no problem reshapin¡¯ the world at the point of a sword.¡±


    I crossed my arms and leaned against the worktable. ¡°She wants to learn.¡±


    ¡°An¡¯ it don¡¯t figure in that there¡¯s a why that you might not like?¡± Ember huffed thoughtfully, exhaling a stream of steam at me. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time, Ladyship. They don¡¯t make ¡®em like you no more.¡±


    ¡°I am not asking her to be me, nor to serve or agree with anything I have done. If she wishes to kill me, she is welcome to try. Whatever she does with the skills I give her, it will be her choice. If you don¡¯t want to make the sword for her, Ember, you are by no means obliged to.¡±


    Ember picked up the piece of charcoal again, studying my expression thoughtfully. She shook her head after a few seconds. ¡°Stubborn as a rented mule.¡±


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    I smiled faintly. ¡°Worse.¡±


    ¡°True ¡®nough.¡± Ember drew a long, perfectly straight line to the length of Shira¡¯s measurements for a proper blade on her parchment. ¡°S¡¯pose it takes that to do what you do. So tell me ¡®bout the mute.¡±


    I uncrossed my arms, approaching to stand at Ember¡¯s shoulder as she began her sketching. ¡°She observes a great deal more than she lets on. It¡¯s obvious in lessons that she¡¯s paying more attention than Vex gives her credit for. I think the oversight is due to her passivity, but with some work, she could easily turn that into baiting an enemy to make a mistake.¡±


    ¡°Mm. Magic?¡±


    ¡°So far, she has only demonstrated an aptitude for divination.¡± I watched as Ember profiled out a slender, wickedly tapered longsword with a single central fuller. ¡°She¡¯s Rusan, also.¡±


    Once the blade was sketched out, Ember started on her design for the hilt. A simple crossguard and teardrop-shaped pommel with a grip at the right length completed out the basic outline. ¡°I¡¯ve a thought for an emblem, Ladyship.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I arched an eyebrow at Ember.


    ¡°Rusans still reckon spiders are seers.¡±


    I smiled faintly. ¡°Appropriate for her waiting and watching as well. How long will it take you to finish it?¡±


    Ember sucked her lower lip between her teeth thoughtfully, looking from the design to the piles of ore and iron sand in the back of her forge. ¡°Starstone¡¯s a bugger to work with, even blended. Two weeks at best, Ladyship.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Ember. I appreciate you indulging me.¡± I gave the smith a deep bow of my head. ¡°There is no one else I would trust with this.¡±


    ¡°Question, Ladyship.¡± Once I¡¯d gestured for her to speak, she forged ahead. ¡°What¡¯s her name? The mute, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Shira.¡±


    ¡°She a pretty thin''?¡±


    I frowned slightly at Ember, whose eyes seemed calculating, even if gentle. ¡°I don¡¯t understand the reason for the question.¡±


    Ember shrugged. ¡°Just wonderin''.¡±


    I knew when the smith was being obtuse, but I wasn¡¯t going to fight her on it. At least, not now. ¡°Varys certainly thought so. Thank you for your time, Ember. I¡¯ll leave you to your work.¡±


    She bowed respectfully and I departed for the solar, where dinner was set at the small table. Shira had already started eating by the time I arrived. The fare tonight was more my people in style: roast venison on the bone with a root vegetable stew and fresh baked sourdough bread. Sanctum had no growing season or wild game, but enough magic that it didn¡¯t matter. Any food could be conjured in the kitchens. The only downside was once the mind knew it wasn¡¯t the real thing, the flavors seemed to fade a little.


    Shira looked up warily when I approached.


    ¡°If it offends you, I will dine elsewhere.¡± I figured the gesture of courtesy wouldn¡¯t be amiss, well aware that my presence probably still turned her stomach.


    Shira shook her head and flicked her fingers. I do not object.


    ¡°Very well.¡± I pulled out a chair and sat down, shoulder still aching from Riyd¡¯s love-tap. A meal and a night¡¯s sleep followed by a long soak in hot water sounded like heaven. ¡°I assumed you would have preferred more distance. Breaking bread with the devil seems out of character for a priestess.¡±


    Shira looked down at her food, expression hardening. So is becoming a weapon, she signed.


    I tore off a piece of bread and ladled some of the stew into a bowl. ¡°A sword is a weapon. A person is something else altogether.¡±


    And what is the difference?


    ¡°A blade cannot think, cannot choose, cannot feel. It is an extension of its wielder¡¯s will.¡±


    Shira looked back up at me, eyes piercing. And you are the King in Black¡¯s sword.


    ¡°I have the power to choose, just as you do.¡± My words kept the frosty indifference I had long worn as an armor around my heart, but I felt the comment as the jab she no doubt intended it to be. ¡°Something you have benefited from directly.¡±


    Yet you do such evil and feel nothing, all because He willed it. How can I think you anything but steel?


    ¡°Are we so different?¡± I challenged, resting my forearms against the table as I leaned forward. ¡°After all, at least I have use of my tongue. You let a goddess and her myopic peons muzzle you in more ways than one.¡±


    Shira¡¯s eyes flashed. I chose my vows out of devotion, she signed, scowling openly at me. I do not expect the devil to understand loyalty.


    It wouldn¡¯t have normally stung me, but I was tired, grieving Luka in my own way, and still simmering with annoyance about Varys. I slammed my left hand down on the table as a fist, voice tight and controlled as I tried to pretend I couldn¡¯t feel the way the malformed band of gold dug into the palm of my hand. ¡°Do not presume to tell me what I know nothing of,¡± I spat, rising to my feet. Before she could flinch away again or look to her own defense, I turned away. ¡°It betrays your own ignorance.¡±


    I strode out of the solar, more for her comfort than my own. My temper calmed slightly as I strode down the halls towards my quarters.


    ¡°She is young,¡± Melody said from behind me as I reached the doorway to my room. ¡°And a stranger still.¡±


    I blew out a sigh, recognizing the gentle reproach without being challenged by it. ¡°You think I was too harsh,¡± I said, turning to face her.


    The spy was holding a tea tray, two cups already poured. ¡°I think you¡¯re hurting,¡± Melody corrected gently. ¡°Tea?¡±


    I opened the door to my room and gestured for her to step in. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡±


    Melody seemed untroubled by the sharpness in my tone, leading the way with the tray. ¡°You never do.¡± She settled the tea set on the low table by the window in the living room portion of my private quarters. ¡°I am sorry, Aleyr.¡±


    ¡°You were not responsible for any of it.¡± I knelt on the thick rug and looked down at the tea. I really didn¡¯t feel like talking, but Melody had a gift for coaxing words out of people. It made her an effective spy and an frustratingly talented confidante.


    ¡°We will all miss him.¡±


    I gave Luka¡¯s memory my full attention for a minute. Melody was right: I would miss him. Perhaps not machinations or being pulled into disputes between the fangwardens, but Luka had always been one of the few who appreciated the long view, who cared about things other than himself. I would miss the smell of wet wolf that followed him, the harsh bark of his laughter, the dependability and calm following wherever he went. Luka understood, in a way few others could, what the King in Black meant to me. He knew what it felt like to love so deeply that the world could burn, so long as his beloved smiled.


    ¡°I remember when Redda died,¡± Melody said softly, as if she knew exactly where my mind had gone. ¡°You nursed him through a pain no one else could understand.¡±


    ¡°We used to sit up talking and drinking until dawn.¡± It ached to know I would never have the chance again. ¡°I suppose that counts for something.¡± I looked down at the cup of tea. As much as I knew I needed to keep my wits about me, the temptation to ask for something stronger was there. I picked up the small cup and lifted it slightly. ¡°Luka, I hope wherever you are, your sorrows are over.¡± A lump started to form in my throat, but I swallowed it down. ¡°Rest well, old friend.¡±

 20 - Questions for the Dead

    I knew sorrow was a poison as vicious and deadly as the dreaming death Luka had consumed, one I could not afford to let work its evil in me. I was up early the next morning and done with drills before dawn. Technique did not become perfect by accident, after all. Shira was only slightly later to rise, though more because Vex had fetched her than her natural inclinations. From where Anstydir and I were standing in the antechamber, I could hear the wight hounding the priestess across the mats in the training room with a vicious glee, the clacking of practice swords audible through the open door. The sound of at least a defense gave me some hope the lessons were sticking.


    I turned my attention to the large wyrm-blooded man as he unfurled the first scroll. The smell of myrrh and other fragrant reagents made me think of death. Hardly strange considering the subjects of our interrogation. ¡°How many questions do we have?¡±


    The priests had given us the two dead assassins, though not without a price: a currently unnamed favor. I relished it about as much as I would have enjoyed licking a boot. ¡°That depends on how cooperative they are.¡± Anstydir studied the script on the scroll. ¡°They cannot lie, but as you are well aware, my lady, they can be somewhat less than transparent. The spell can compel four questions from each of the dead before they are destroyed.¡±


    I crossed my arms, lips thinning in frustration. ¡°Destroyed? I was under the impression you could cast this multiple times.¡±


    ¡°What His Majesty sent is a more sophisticated and powerful spell than what you and I had discussed.¡± Anstydir offered me the scroll to see for myself, but I waved it away. He seemed to take no offense, well aware that magic was not within my expertise. ¡°They would have been able to lie and we would be limited to only what the corpses knew. This allows us access to the soul. The only complication: it is damaging to the corpse when an unwilling spirit is forced back into the body in such a manner. A¡­tax of sorts, preventing the rest of the holy dead from being disturbed overmuch.¡±


    I scowled. ¡°They were sanctified?¡±


    Anstydir shrugged his massive shoulders, clawed hands spreading the scroll. ¡°So I was told. Shall we begin, my lady?¡±


    I uttered a curse under my breath for the followers of the Dark Mothers. They¡¯d probably sanctified the corpses out of spite, knowing I was the one requesting the bodies. I intended to have words with the high priestesses, diplomacy be damned. ¡°Very well. The cup-bearer first.¡±


    Anstydir began to speak in a language I could not understand, but recognized immediately. In my experience, almost every mage besides the King in Black relied on the True Speech, whether casting a spell or scribing one. As the language of all things, from the fiery pits of Hell to the vaunted Heavens and everything between, it could either make or unmake. Mastery of it required more than just rote memorization or knowledge, however: it took will, aptitude, and a certain special imagination.


    As he spoke, a cold wind seemed to emanate from the first man¡¯s body in a rush, a soft gasp spilling from unfeeling lips. A dull, chill blue glow suffused through his veins, giving him a distinctly unnatural hue and light. His flesh seemed waxen and pale, not sallow yellow from the after-effects of his own self-induced poisoning.


    ¡°You may ask the questions,¡± Anstydir said quietly, his brow furrowed with focus. ¡°It is fighting me and the spell requires more concentration than anticipated.¡±


    I nodded, marshaling together my thoughts as I looked at the dead man. ¡°What is the name of the person from whom you obtained the vaendal you used to murder the King in Black¡¯s spymaster, Luka?¡±


    The lips parted on the corpse and started to move. Even without the breath, a voice came clearly, bitter and angry. ¡°You dare to disturb my rest and expect an answer, witch?¡±


    Anstydir flexed his clawed fingers and the spirit in the body howled, feeling the invisible chains of the spell¡¯s power tighten around it.


    ¡°Yes, I do, by hook or by crook,¡± I said coolly. ¡°You are compelled. Speak.¡±


    ¡°I do not know the name of the one who gave us the poison,¡± the corpse all but spat, glassy eyes unfocused. It was fortunate that the spell prevented outright falsehoods, because there was no way I would have been able to tell. ¡°I can only call them brave, for risking everything to help us.¡±


    ¡°Are they a man?¡± I asked. Phrasing these questions was more difficult than interrogating a live person, without the ability to easily ask clarifying questions.


    The corpse¡¯s face contorted as it fought against Anstydir¡¯s control. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Why did Luka trust them?¡±


    ¡°They performed many tasks faithfully for him over years, those vital enough to require a delicate touch. No doubt that is why the beast believed them a good little slave.¡±


    ¡°What was the purpose of assassinating Luka?¡±


    ¡°There are only a few capable of holding together the Eternal Kingdom, and fewer still able to police the forming cracks. Luka was more exposed than you, so he became the natural choice.¡± With the last question answered, the binding of the spell shattered and the hateful spirit evaporated. The body stayed slack-jawed and empty-eyed a moment before crumbling into ash.


    ¡°Onto the next?¡± Anstydir asked as the scroll disintegrated.


    I nodded and waited patiently as he again read off the words of power from the second scroll. The other corpse twitched in much the same way the first had, lips moving when it was ready to speak. ¡°Who gave you the orders to kill Luka?¡±


    This spirit was subdued when it spoke, no doubt well aware that this could become unpleasant for it. ¡°The grandmaster of my order.¡±


    ¡°What order?¡±


    ¡°In life and in death, I serve the god Erelim as his blade.¡±


    ¡°Why are you cooperating?¡± I asked bluntly. Erelim was better known as the bane of all unholy things, whether undead or evil. His avengers were quick to punish any who strayed from what they considered to be the righteous path. It was surprising he was willing to stoop to subterfuge, but with his chosen dead, perhaps he was feeling appropriately desperate.


    The spirit was quiet for a moment before speaking. ¡°I had¡­misgivings. It is one thing to slay a monster, but I overheard the discussion of the second target.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°Who is the second target?¡±


    ¡°They said a priestess of Ishal had been taken by the enemy, someone too dangerous in their clutches to be left alive. It was¡­decided¡­a lesser evil for a greater good was unfortunately necessary.¡±


    I grabbed the corpse by his jaw and wrenched his lifeless head to face me, but the spirit was already fleeing as the fifth question for him burned on the tip of my tongue. I hissed in displeasure as it too crumbled into ash. ¡°Anstydir¡­¡±


    ¡°I am sorry, my lady. That is all we can ask of them.¡±


    I sighed and dusted the ashes off my hands. ¡°Very well. I would ask that what was spoken by them does not leave this room without my express consent.¡±


    He inclined his head in a nod. ¡°Of course, my lady. What would you have me do?¡±


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    ¡°Find Luka¡¯s second, Graysa, and put together a list of every alchemist or herbalist who worked closely with Luka¡ªincluding her, so do not provide her with the reason. She will know them. Do not exclude any men because of what the spirit said. Our quarry may be masquerading as someone they are not when not meeting with clandestine allies.¡± I squared my jaw, debating mentally how much I wanted to tell Shira. She wasn¡¯t likely to believe me. ¡°I will speak with La¡¯an and the other Sashes about tightening the defenses here.¡±


    Anstydir rose to his feet. ¡°The Winter Palace has always been one of the most secure places in Sanctum. Only a fool would try anything within.¡± He cocked his head slightly. ¡°Your hostage is the one they seek? I do not recall you having a fondness for Ishal¡¯s servants.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t wrong. Normally the mutual hatred led to conflict readily resolved with my sword. I matched his gaze with a midwinter gale¡¯s intensity. ¡°Speak of it to no one.¡±


    ¡°Understood, my lady,¡± Anstydir said respectfully, bowing his head. ¡°I will send a servant to collect the ashes for the priests of the Dark Mothers.¡±


    I nodded and headed to the training room. Vex was still chasing Shira around the mats, wooden training sword in one clawed hand. The wight grinned savagely as she pursued the priestess, who struggled to defend herself with the parries I¡¯d taught her. Her form might have started well, but it was clear she was tiring from the constant activity: her movements were sloppy and obvious. ¡°Vex, enough!¡±


    The wight sprang back from her charge, training sword still in a loose guard from the shoulder. The wooden blades were meant to be heavy to strengthen muscles until steel felt like a feather. Unfortunately, even a love tap from one could leave nasty bruises or crack bones. Shira¡¯s cheek was blooming with a bruise already, an angry red quickly turning purple. The priestess watched Vex with an intense focus, eyes narrowed slightly with dislike even as her breathing came in pants.


    I focused my attention on the wight. ¡°I want you to accompany Anstydir in his efforts, Vex. He will fill you in with the salient details, but I will remind you that I want answers, not corpses.¡±


    ¡°Of course, my lady,¡± Vex said with a deep bow. She returned the training blade to its place on the wall rack. ¡°Fresh, wriggling little answers, only slightly chewed.¡±


    I stepped out of the way of the door. ¡°You¡¯ll have to hurry to catch him before he departs. Thank you for your diligence.¡±


    ¡°Of course, my lady.¡± Vex loped out of the room, grinning with enthusiasm as she headed towards her hunt.


    Shira eyed me cautiously, lowering her training blade. Her fingers danced in sign. What of me?


    ¡°I promised you a blade,¡± I said, striding over to the armory door. Ember was still carefully measuring out iron sand and starstone ore, that sword nowhere near completion. I intended to give it when Shira had come much closer to mastery. In the meantime, I had another that would do just fine: plain steel, unadorned, and scarred from use. It had been La¡¯an¡¯s when he was a boy, so it would suit her small stature.


    Shira set aside the wooden blade carefully and limped after me.


    Lit by sun falling through narrow windows, the armory was clean and perfectly accounted for, everything in its place. My armor stood on its rack behind its enclosure, surrounded by the armor and shield racks used by my personal guard. ¡°We will fit you for armor in a few months. In the meantime, the sword will be yours.¡±


    Where and when can I carry it? Shira asked with hand motions.


    ¡°It is yours to do with as you please, though it will be peace-bonded at official occasions, as is customary,¡± I said, stopping at the end of a rack of older blades. I picked it up, checking first the condition of the worn scabbard before drawing the blade itself. It was clean and sharp, perfectly functional if not at all impressive to look upon: the sword of a two-bit hedge knight, if good quality steel. ¡°Remember that you are subject to the laws of the King in Black. Any injury or death you cause may be addressed by his adjudicator.¡±


    You?


    ¡°You had best hope I am who he chooses,¡± I said coolly. ¡°The only real alternative is Heca.¡±


    Shira frowned slightly. Who is that?


    ¡°You will see her in action today, at Varys¡¯s hearing. That will tell you everything you need to know of her.¡±


    She hesitated, the question of what would happen to her tormentor clearly on the surface of her mind. The King in Black decided something?


    ¡°Indeed.¡± There was a certain pleasure in knowing the vampire had a torment waiting for him. ¡°His Majesty is seldom slow to communicate his displeasure, though he is thoughtful about it. We will be departing to observe.¡±


    Will he die?


    ¡°No, though he may wish it. Also, Riyd will be joining us.¡±


    Shira looked wide-eyed at the announcement, no doubt remembering the fangwarden¡¯s attempted assault on me. Is that safe? she signed.


    ¡°She will be more focused on Varys than us,¡± I said with full confidence. I returned the sword to its scabbard, then held it out to Shira. She still wore gray with a red sash, a passable trainee guard on first inspection. Riyd and I would be more than adequate protection against any assailant, but I was already picking a few additional less-than-obvious guards in my head. Melody had made certain that the Red Sashes had obvious security and the clandestine variety as well, tools for various occasions. It would be exceptionally foolish for anyone to do anything in the Executioner¡¯s Square, particularly in the presence of the King in Black, but idiots could be found anywhere.


    Anything else I need to know? Shira asked with a few flicks of her fingers after accepting the battered old sword with something approaching reverence.


    ¡°You will be posing as one of my guards. No one should interrogate you, but if anyone speaks to you, defer to me,¡± I said calmly. ¡°Only His Majesty should know otherwise.¡± I beckoned for her to follow and headed for the gates of the main courtyard.


    Riyd awaited us, prowling back and forth on the smooth paving stones. Even in human form, she maintained an almost feral air, golden eyes wolfish in their intensity. The fangwarden looked up at our approach. ¡°Lady Frostborn,¡± she greeted tersely, eyes flicking from me to Shira for a moment. Then her attention refocused on me. ¡°Shall we?¡±


    ¡°So eager to see Varys put in his place?¡± I said with a faint amusement as the tall, flame-haired wild woman looked for the opening of the gate impatiently.


    Riyd¡¯s lip curled with a mixture of contempt for the vampire and eagerness to see him suffer. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen Heca crush a tick before.¡±


    I almost grinned at that. ¡°Regrettably, it is not an execution.¡±


    ¡°More¡¯s the pity,¡± Riyd muttered. ¡°Has your tag-along met the Executioner yet?¡±


    Shira shook her head nervously. Heca?


    Riyd raised an eyebrow, clearly unfamiliar with hand-speech. I nodded, however. ¡°That is the title she prefers to use,¡± I explained for Shira¡¯s benefit.


    Is that not your role?


    ¡°I am His Majesty¡¯s sword,¡± I explained. ¡°Heca is His flenser.¡±


    Shira shuddered slightly at the thought and seemed paler than before. What manner of creature is she?


    ¡°At the center of Executioner¡¯s Square grows a great tree. For more than a thousand years, it has been used as a place of execution and a torturer¡¯s implement: the Tree of Anguish. Heca is its dryad.¡± I watched the gates open and La¡¯an approach with two other familiar Red Sashes in street clothes following a discreet distance behind him.


    The priestess looked horrified. But dryads are peaceful creatures!


    I sighed slightly. It hadn¡¯t been my choice to change Heca, but she had certainly twisted and warped over centuries of misery and exposure to Sanctum¡¯s dark magic. ¡°You will find her very much unlike others of her kind. The tears and blood of the condemned water her roots.¡±


    ¡°Not to mention the iron nails driven through their flesh into her bark,¡± Riyd said, amused by Shira¡¯s shock.


    That¡¯s monstrous!


    ¡°It is,¡± I admitted freely. ¡°But that was decided upon long ago by the only one whose word truly matters here in Sanctum.¡±


    Is nothing sacred here? Shira demanded in sign, glaring daggers at me again.


    I shrugged and turned my back to her, adjusting how Woe hung at my side. If we were fortunate, I wouldn¡¯t have to use the blade in the course of our outing. Then again, knowing that assassins were apparently seeking Shira, I felt our odds of an uninterrupted journey were significantly less.

 21 - Before the Tree of Anguish

    The Tree of Anguish dominated Executioner¡¯s Square, a great gnarled oak with a trunk the size of a tower. Its roots tumbled over paving stones and wrapped hungrily around the slab of stained white marble known as the Headsman¡¯s Plinth. Sanctum¡¯s citizens thronged the square, voices hushed in the presence of so many of their generals as they jockeyed for places where they could see the raised platform with ease. Wind rustled through the pale leaves, more gray than green, and the dark, almost black bark of the oak bore obvious scars from the iron spikes driven in deep during the torments visited on those who violated the edicts of the King in Black.


    The area directly around the Plinth was cleared back about ten feet before the crowd, allowing generals and people of import within Sanctum the closest seats. Instead of making our way there, I guided Shira and Riyd up onto one of the great roots, to a sheltered alcove created by the natural twisting of the exposed wood. With the assassins¡¯ mastermind still in the wind, caution warranted an unexposed back. It also had an unobstructed view of both the Plinth and the rooftops to the south and east.


    ¡°Do you know what His Majesty intends for the parasite?¡± Riyd took her seat on the rough bark, pleased with the perch. Her natural predatory instincts preferred such positions, the easier to pounce from.


    I sat down on the root and leaned back, comfortable against the knot that protected us from behind. ¡°I do not. I expect that the precise nature of his punishment was left to Heca to decide.¡±


    Varys stood on the Plinth out of his excessively embellished armor, dressed in a fine silk shirt and gold-accented pants, lip curled with disdain as he looked towards the crowd. It was clear from his posture that he thought he would be getting out of this unruffled. To no one¡¯s surprise, Rhandiir stood near him in the open spot around the Plinth with Lady Teth and General Maric in attendance as well. As Varys¡¯s sire, Rhandiir would no doubt voice an objection. The other two never passed up an opportunity to see blood.


    All at once, the tree¡¯s leaves rustled in a shudder and a hush passed over the crowd like a shadow. They were natives of Sanctum and knew what that motion meant: the Executioner was present.


    Heca stepped out of her tree like an impassive queen, bare feet finding easy purchase as she descended roots that moved like steps between her and the Plinth. Beside me, Shira sucked in a sharp breath, no doubt horrified. The taint to the dryad was obvious: slim and regal in bearing, the skin that should have been as brown as her tree¡¯s bark was deathly pale, with dark veins of iron-taint visible in her face, bare arms, and lower legs. Instead of leaves, a wrap of dark, rotting cloth covered her from collarbone to mid-thigh, and her eyes betrayed the poison of iron too, metallic silver in their glow rather than the green of thriving life. Scars of puncture wounds littered her exposed skin, even her face.


    Shira grabbed my arm with one hand and signed with the other. How is she still alive? Iron is death itself to fae!


    ¡°The ambient magic in Sanctum preserves her and her tree.¡±


    But the pain she must be in¡­


    I felt a twist of something unpleasant in my stomach, a regret defying description. ¡°It is excruciating,¡± I acknowledged. ¡°A lesser will would have been driven to madness.¡± I knew Heca channeled her pain into the kind of calculated, infernally precise malevolence that Varys wished he could achieve. But mad? Hardly. I had met few so very in tune with the reality of the world around them.


    ¡°Why have I been summoned?¡± Varys demanded as soon as Heca¡¯s feet touched the Plinth.


    Roots surged up onto the marble slab, coiling around Varys¡¯s legs like vengeful serpents to yank him down to his knees. He hit hard, letting out a yelp of pain and surprise.


    Riyd grinned savagely. ¡°He should know better than to speak so to the Executioner.¡±


    Heca¡¯s eyes flashed and her voice projected out over the crowd like the crack of breaking branches. ¡°You will speak when you are addressed, penitent.¡± The acoustics of the square were designed to catch and magnify her voice, so even some in the crowd shifted uncomfortably.


    ¡°Lady Executioner, if I may¡ª¡± Rhandiir started.


    The dryad looked down at him. ¡°You may not, Lord Rhandiir.¡±


    His jaw clicked closed immediately. While I had to play politics with the vampire lord, which frequently required listening, Heca did not. She was of one purpose, one that could not be bent or bargained with. To challenge the Executioner was to directly defy the King in Black.


    Heca looked out over the crowd, her eyes sweeping over the assembly until they found me. She bowed her head politely once, a recognition she extended to no other. ¡°Varys Gaersiath, you have been charged by order of His Majesty with dereliction of duty, contributing to the death of Spymaster Luka and an injury to His Beloved.¡±


    Varys¡¯s jaw dropped open in shock, eyes wide. It wasn¡¯t a farce: clearly he hadn¡¯t been expecting to be held responsible in any way, shape, or form for Luka¡¯s death. ¡°I did not¡ª¡±


    The roots around him twisted savagely in a symphony of cracking bone and exploited joints. With a vampire¡¯s regeneration at his disposal, Varys could hardly expect tender mercies. The more pain one could take, the more Heca would provide. He howled in agony as each root dug and ripped with a frightening precision into pressure points and nerves.


    Heca looked down at him with a dispassionate eye, like a scholar evaluating a common specimen of bug. There was no hatred on her face, but neither was there any gentleness or regret. ¡°You abandoned your obligation to His Majesty¡¯s will and justice, Varys Gaersiath. What do you have to say in your defense?¡±


    The roots loosened their hold enough that Varys could respond. ¡°I gave the task to one better suited to rat-catching,¡± he hissed.


    ¡°So you decided you knew better than His Majesty, and instead of bringing a concern to His attention, you took it upon yourself to place His Beloved at risk and abandon Luka to his fate?¡± Heca leaned down, the leaf-like susurrus of her voice caught and projected to the crowd. ¡°Or perhaps you were hoping to be rid of two rivals at once?¡±


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    ¡°Surely failure is its own punishment,¡± Rhandiir called, desperately angling to save his progeny. These were serious accusations, the kind with lethal consequences. ¡°And this humiliation is adequate, no?¡±


    Heca¡¯s eyes flashed as she looked towards the elder vampire. ¡°I find you suffer from a crippling lack of imagination, Lord Rhandiir.¡± She looked down at Varys. ¡°You are fortunate, Varys Gaersiath, to have enjoyed the protection that His Majesty extends to all his subjects here in the Eternal Kingdom. You have wanted for nothing in your time here, yet His generosity was not enough for you to preserve His protections for those His Majesty holds most valuable. Clearly you have forgotten the immense benefits bestowed upon you by His Majesty at His most gracious. A reminder, then, will be most instructive. He has sheltered you from your most hated foe. Let the embrace of that enemy remind you of His Majesty¡¯s mercy in preserving you¡­and the consequences of your hubris should your straying continue.¡±


    Riyd leaned forward in her seat beside me, watching eagerly. On my right, Shira shrank back against the rough bark of our perch.


    Heca raised a hand, her words a whisper of power. I looked up instinctively and saw the clouds that perpetually shrouded Sanctum begin to swirl directly above Varys. Before anyone could react, the clouds parted and beautiful, golden sunlight poured down on Varys in a torrent of radiance.


    He screamed as every inch of exposed flesh, mostly his face and neck, burned. Blisters and then blackness formed across his face, followed by clouds of smoke rising from the screeching vampire. As he thrashed, he bared more and more flesh to the sun, which began to ignite as well.


    Rhandiir recoiled back, both in horror and fear of the sunlight. Teth retreated quickly as well with an instinctive cringe. At my side, Shira gagged and closed her eyes, covering her ears. Even I found it gruesome, though I gave no sign.


    Heca waited until Varys was almost dead before raising her hand again and uttering words of power. The clouds closed again, granting the vampire his life. He was still a blackened wreckage of a creature, but his regeneration would slowly begin again in the absence of the sun. ¡°His Majesty grants you life, Varys Gaersiath. Waste it at your own peril.¡± The dryad turned to look at Rhandiir as the roots uncoiled from the twitching mess. ¡°You may come to claim your spawn, Lord Rhandiir. His Majesty wishes only for you to instruct him better, lest you too require a remedial lesson.¡±


    The threat hung heavy in the air. Rhandiir looked more cowed than insulted. He wasn¡¯t a stupid creature and knew the King in Black did not make idle threats.


    Heca stepped back off the Plinth, but instead of retreating into her tree, she followed the twisting roots with fey grace until she reached Riyd, Shira, and I. ¡°Was that satisfactory, Lady Frostborn?¡± Heca asked in a voice like dry leaves rustling, the question for me alone. The strange projection to her voice was limited to when she stood on the Plinth or was significantly irritated.


    I gave the dryad a firm nod. ¡°It was more than I was expecting. Hopefully the lesson is sufficiently instructive.¡±


    ¡°His Majesty takes such offenses seriously. If His word is not obeyed, chaos would reign.¡± Heca¡¯s gaze flashed to Shira, noting the priestess¡¯s fear. ¡°You are not a face I recognize from Her Ladyship¡¯s typical entourage.¡±


    ¡°She is new to Sanctum.¡± I gestured to the dryad. ¡°Shira, this is the Executioner. Heca, this is a pupil of mine, Shira.¡±


    Heca gave a polite nod of her head. ¡°Be welcome in this place, Shira. It is rare for Her Ladyship to instruct. You will benefit greatly from her tutelage if war is your intended home.¡±


    I fear it will be, Shira signed, still clearly unsettled from the display earlier. I am sorry for your suffering, Lady Heca.


    Heca glanced down at one of her pale hands, metal-poisoned veins easily visible through her almost translucent skin. ¡°I thank you for your concern.¡± She looked up at me, an unspoken question on her face. ¡°You have found a most rare soul, Lady Frostborn. There are few who would comment upon my condition in such a manner besides yourself. I hope you keep her.¡±


    ¡°I intend to preserve her as best I am able.¡± I leaned forward slightly. ¡°I have a favor to ask, Heca.¡±


    ¡°You need only name it, Your Ladyship.¡± Heca was never concerned with requests from me, knowing that they would not countermand the authority or desires of His Majesty. The other generals were far more self interested, and as a result, she seldom paid them any courtesy.


    ¡°The mastermind of Luka¡¯s assassination is still alive. If I bring them to you in the same condition, I would appreciate your expertise in obtaining what they know. They worked with servants of the god Erelim.¡±


    Heca dipped her head. ¡°So long as they are still alive, I will gladly assist. If they perish, my talents are far less useful.¡±


    Shira looked over at me uneasily, no doubt thinking of Varys¡¯s fate. She had more reason to trust servants of an allied god than either Heca or I, especially knowing both of our reputations now.


    ¡°And when they have given their answers to Lady Frostborn¡¯s satisfaction, I hope you treat them in the ancient and accustomed manner,¡± Riyd growled from the other side of me. ¡°I would be present for it as well.¡±


    Heca tilted her head slightly, regarding Riyd with her strange eyes. ¡°Of course,¡± the dryad said. ¡°For love of your father, Riyd, I would promise nothing less.¡±


    The dryad had always maintained a soft spot for the fangwardens, especially Luka. They served as protectors of the land in a way the undead seldom cared to. Besides, with all the iron coursing through her own veins, no doubt she had some sympathy for Riyd¡¯s wound from silver.


    Riyd rose to her feet and bowed, a show of respect she gave few others. ¡°Thank you, Executioner. I have his funeral to put into order. He must be buried beside my mother.¡±


    ¡°Riyd, notify me when you intend to bury him,¡± I said. ¡°I would be present as well to pay my respects.¡±


    The fangwarden wasn¡¯t surprised, but I saw a brief flash of gratitude across her face all the same. ¡°It is usually a clan affair, but this I will do,¡± Riyd said. ¡°He always appreciated you, Lady Frostborn.¡±


    I flashed her a barely-there smile of reassurance for a split second. ¡°And I him.¡±


    Riyd said nothing more and shifted forms into an eagle. She took to the sky, soaring away with swift wingbeats.


    ¡°There will need to be a new spymaster,¡± Heca observed. ¡°His Majesty wished that I provide you with the name of His choice, considering it impacts you most directly.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± I asked, a knot forming in my stomach.


    ¡°Medesicaste.¡±


    My hopes sank at the mention of Melody filling that role. It would be dangerous and demanding, painting a target on the back of my closest confidante. More than that, it would remove her from my inner circle by necessity. ¡°His command or His request?¡±


    Heca¡¯s stare fixed on me. ¡°He has decided.¡±


    ¡°Then so it will be.¡± Nothing and no one was beyond the King in Black¡¯s reach. I had no friend or possession He could not take if it pleased Him.


    Her message delivered, Heca gave me a graceful bow and stepped away, bare feet never faltering on the rough bark of her tree. I grit my teeth in the silence, trying to stem the feeling of hurt and resentment. He does what is best for the Kingdom, I reminded myself.


    A decidedly cold comfort, even to one as duty-bound as I.

 22 - A Vision of Broken Fate

    I wrapped my arms around Melody¡¯s shoulders, squeezing my old friend firmly as we stood near the exit of the Winter Palace. Haven and Vex were the only ones watching. ¡°If anyone moves against you, tell me. I will scatter their ashes to the four winds.¡± My voice stuck in my throat before breaking free, thick with tearless grief.


    ¡°I am much more worried about you, Aleyr,¡± she said, a mixture of fondness and sorrow in her dark eyes. ¡°I fear my absence leaves a chink in your armor.¡±


    I released her reluctantly. ¡°You are irreplaceable, Melody, but I am not concerned for myself. This heart of mine could chip a diamond.¡±


    She sighed and adjusted my collar. ¡°Hardness of heart is what I fear most for you, Aleyr. Do not let my absence turn you to stone. You have people who care still. Take good care of them.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± I promised.


    ¡°We will still be around each other. I expect you to visit often for tea,¡± Melody said firmly. ¡°This is a change, but not the end of the world.¡±


    I nodded, even though I knew the world beyond the Winter Palace would do its best to destroy Melody, no matter her spycraft and skill at diplomacy. Would I even recognize her in a decade or two? ¡°I am your ally, through thick and thin.¡±


    She smiled delicately. ¡°I know. I am most grateful for you, Aleyr. Take good care of Shira for me.¡±


    I bowed my head, squeezing her hand before letting go entirely. ¡°I will.¡±


    Watching the door close behind her as she departed in the company of the Eibonguard left a knot of anger and grief in my stomach beyond description. My closest friend and confidante, sacrificed to the needs of the King in Black. My anger and hurt were selfish and unescapable.


    ¡°Melody is a better spy than even Luka, my lady,¡± Vex said as she approached me. ¡°And a fast ally in court.¡±


    ¡°Which paints a target on her back,¡± I said bitterly, covering my eyes with my hand. ¡°If anything or anyone harms her, Hell itself will shudder in horror at what I inflict on the one responsible.¡±


    Vex and Haven both knew I was not in the habit of making idle threats any more than the King in Black did. ¡°We will have to find you a new handmaiden, my lady,¡± Haven said, changing the subject. ¡°Shall I choose from the household staff?¡±


    ¡°That would be best.¡± I turned on my heel with military sharpness, headed for the training room where Shira waited. ¡°Vex, I want your report on Hallen¡¯s men.¡±


    ¡°Of course, my lady.¡± The female wight followed on my heels, leaving Haven to handle the domestic front. ¡°Most are alive and tormented rather than turned. A few are Teth¡¯s spawn, mostly the command staff. As far as their combat readiness¡­they¡¯re on half rations and suffering heavily under Teth¡¯s idea of discipline. Poor little morsels.¡± Genuine sympathy was alien to Vex¡¯s nature, but her dry feigned version was at least some recognition of their plight.


    I turned to Vex outside the training room door. ¡°Tell His Majesty I wish a boon in exchange for his requisition of a new spymaster.¡±


    Vex arched an eyebrow. ¡°Hallen''s people?¡±


    ¡°Precisely. Do you think you can convey the message sufficiently diplomatically?¡± I asked, bitterness rolling across my tongue.


    Vex nodded. ¡°The leech queen will be angry.¡± She respected Teth far more than Varys, but not enough to discard her dislike for the vampire nobles.


    ¡°Good,¡± I said viciously. ¡°I hope she whines to His Majesty excessively.¡±


    ¡°She will do more than that.¡±


    I just wanted to break something with my hands. ¡°She is welcome to try something.¡±


    Vex recognized the dangerous mood. She knew I was goading Teth with this demand, begging the vampire to take a first shot so I could vent all of my rage on her and her spawn. It wasn¡¯t entirely a blind provocation, even if much of it was coming from my wounded heart: Naltheme and Teth would both need to learn the cost of trying to be my replacement if Melody was to have a safe tenure. She would likely be the first place they would strike at if they were wise, but doing so risked His Majesty¡¯s displeasure, which would force them to either be more subtle or choose a more direct target. ¡°And what of Hallen?¡±


    ¡°He will do me a boon if he wishes control of his units again,¡± I said bluntly. ¡°I expect him to make an appearance if His Majesty grants my request.¡±


    ¡°Understood, my lady,¡± Vex said, bowing deeply. She kissed my signet ring. ¡°I will convey your message and return.¡±


    I softened for a moment. ¡°Thank you, Vex. I know this is not a simple task.¡±


    ¡°But for you, my lady, I will do it with delight.¡± Vex¡¯s black, shark-like eyes regarded me with an almost canine loyalty. ¡°Teth is not likely to react for some time. She knows the long game favors her.¡±


    I sighed, some of the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. It was more resignation than relaxation. ¡°She will start conniving immediately, but you have a point,¡± I said more calmly. ¡°Fortunately, she relies on those less subtle and tight-lipped than herself. If she aims any machinations at reclaiming Hallen¡¯s units, she will likely have to leverage General Maric, which puts her at an immediate disadvantage even if he is remarkably useful. Technically, she is his subordinate.¡±


    Vex used a sharp claw to pick at a piece of something unmentionable lodged in her needle-like teeth. ¡°Which means this request makes an enemy of him as well, my lady.¡±


    ¡°Maric has the least invested in getting rid of me out of all of them. He isn¡¯t interested in becoming my replacement.¡± I sighed and ran fingers through my hair. ¡°How many fates have I broken, Vex?¡±


    The wight cocked her head slightly as she looked at me. ¡°Countless, my lady. Between splintered prophecies and shattered armies, you have altered the destiny of every nation, every person. Why do you ask?¡±


    I looked down at the misshapen gold ring melted into my finger. I missed Melody already, dry eyes prickling slightly. ¡°I wonder sometimes if by breaking theirs, I have fixed my own,¡± I said quietly. ¡°It certainly has an inertia.¡±


    ¡°You could do anything you wished, my lady,¡± Vex said with full confidence. ¡°I have seen you set your mind to the impossible and achieve it.¡±


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    I smiled faintly at Vex, hiding my pain behind mask-like amusement. ¡°Then it was not impossible, was it? Merely improbable. Thank you, Vex. Do not let me delay you further in your duty. I would have an answer regarding Hallen¡¯s men as quickly as possible, and His Majesty will take some time deliberating. Take a contingent of guards with you in case Teth tries anything.¡±


    ¡°Are you concerned for my safety, my lady?¡±


    I absolutely was, but I knew Vex would slip the guard if I betrayed that. She was rather catlike in her own way. ¡°I am quite confident in your abilities, Vex, but if I recall correctly, that light blue is your favorite doublet. Vampire ichor stains like nothing else. Someone will need to hold it for you if the stabbing starts. Take La¡¯an and maybe a few others so Teth sends enough to make it a proper sport.¡±


    Vex grinned widely at that. ¡°Of course, my lady.¡± She sauntered off down the hall, whistling to get La¡¯an¡¯s attention.


    I opened the door to the training room, half lost in my own thoughts. The crack of dulled metal against rolled reed mats wrapped around a central post told me precisely what Shira was doing: cutting drills. We¡¯d worked on the guards ad nauseam last practice, but to build muscle and technique, I¡¯d given her some drills for the basic strikes. ¡°It¡¯s not a hammer, Shira.¡±


    She glanced over her shoulder and stopped, pivoting on her feet to face me. It was a much smoother transition than she would have made weeks ago. The young woman was dedicated and a quick study. How did you know my alignment was off? she signed.


    ¡°The sound.¡± I approached, picking up one of the light metal trainers. I stepped up to the opposite side, knuckles aligned correctly, and tapped the wrapped mats with a lightning-fast strike. The sound was ever so slightly different. ¡°When you hold it like a hammer, you lose precision. Some of those were only glancing blows.¡±


    At least I am improving.


    ¡°True enough, but you have a very long way to go.¡±


    Why did Melody leave? The eyes watching me were obviously accusing.


    The dryness of a bone-cold desert settled into my tone. ¡°His Majesty requested it.¡±


    And you just let her go?


    The reminder I could not protect my friend sent welling bitterness flooding up my throat, forming a knot of jagged thorns. Even swallowing hurt. I breathed slowly, gently easing air around it. ¡°I did.¡±


    Shira¡¯s fingers flicked with sharp accusation layered on her questions. Do you give Him everything He desires?


    ¡°You seem to be laboring under the impression I have a choice,¡± I said bitterly, my pain crawling out in those words. ¡°One does not deny the Lich-King of the Eternal Kingdom anything.¡±


    Something in the young woman softened. There is always a choice, Lady Frostborn.


    I stepped closer to her. ¡°You have a great luxury, Shira. You do not have to measure every choice with the horrors of a mistake that could destroy a kingdom weighing upon you. You do not have to consider the fates of hundreds of thousands or more hanging in the balance. Yours is not the power over life and death. Yes, there is always a choice, but the consequences for yours are very different than for mine. I hope you never have to sit with that sword dangling over your head, for your sake.¡±


    A poor justification for cruelty.


    ¡°Cruelty?¡± My jaw tightened for a moment before I could speak again. ¡°Consider yourself fortunate that I am far more judicious in its application than Varys. If I am cruel, it is the necessary sword wielded with intent and precision.¡±


    She gripped the training blade more tightly and I wondered for a moment if she intended to bring it to bear on me. A foolish notion, even with Woe still in its scabbard at my side. That doesn¡¯t make it better, she signed.


    ¡°I disagree. Is it better to ravage the whole of a kingdom or concern oneself only with those who fight in opposition?¡±


    You burned many temples of the Gods of Light.


    ¡°Who sent half-trained children to slay me!¡± I snapped, voice almost betraying itself with a crack. ¡°Do you think I enjoy butchering them? They should have stayed in their homes and lived their lives. Instead, they were lied to and goaded to their deaths.¡±


    Shira¡¯s fingers fell still as she looked at me, like she was seeing me for the first time. Not as Aleyr the monster or Aleyr the regal presence, but something else entirely.


    ¡°Of course I hate the temples and the gods they serve,¡± I said bitterly. ¡°None of them are worthy of those they fling onto the chopping block. They spin their prophecies that make boys fight to the death when I give them every chance to yield, and call their slain little lambs heroes when they are really victims!¡±


    Sidon¡¯s son¡ª


    I grabbed her hand tightly before she could finish signing, a mixture of anger and sorrow playing across my face. ¡°Even him. Even knowing his parentage, I begged him to surrender. He told me I was a fiend and a liar who offered false mercy. I wounded him and he forced himself to continue until I killed him. But it wasn¡¯t his fault¡ªit was the fault of Sidon and every other who sent him unprepared to his doom.¡±


    There is no shame in having lost, my own voice whispered in my ears. Yield. Quit the field. Heal and come back stronger. If you continue, you will die.


    No! The edge of desperation in his voice cut me: the need to be what his people wanted, to earn the approval of his father, to obey the dictates of his god. I know the treachery you speak with, viper! The doubt you sow!


    Go home. Go home to your green fields and your pastures and your family. Throw down your sword and I will be mercy itself to you. I do not wish to kill you.


    Liar!


    And then he¡¯d made his foolish charge, yelling bloody murder, even with a wounded leg and wounded hand. A simple sidestep and thrust had been enough to end him.


    Hush, little one, it is all over now. It is not your fault that you failed. You did your best. I am sorry.


    Shira let out a gasp and I released her hand abruptly, noting how she¡¯d paled. I narrowed my eyes at her. ¡°You heard  that, didn¡¯t you?¡± I had forgotten she had some trace divination magic. Untrained, she might have gotten a glimpse of more than I wished.


    The priestess nodded, still stunned a little from the vision.


    ¡°It would be better if you learned to control that.¡± I released her hand. ¡°Not everything is for you to know.¡±


    Shira nodded again almost numbly, her shoulders bowed slightly under the weight of the echoes of my grief. I took the training sword from her nerveless fingers, an effortless disarm, and hung it back on the wall of the training room. It was at least a full minute before she was ready to sign something again.


    Melody was right about you, Shira signed. And I did not see it.


    ¡°I am a woman of many faces,¡± I said, recalling what I¡¯d heard Melody tell her.


    But only one heart, she signed. She bowed stiffly, as would be expected. May I have some time alone?


    I nodded and gestured to the exit with one hand. ¡°You may go anywhere in the Winter Palace you please. I ask only that you do not leave its walls. Sanctum is a dangerous place.¡±

 23 - Long Shadows

    Not for the first time, visions of His ascension plagued me in the night. It should have been a point of pride: a glorious rise of one god from the ashes of another, a violent rebellion against the ones I hated so virulently put into motion after more than a decade of striving tooth and nail, a final sacrifice crowning all the others as if it could make everything I had endured worthwhile. And yet¡­and yet¡­I envied them, the chosen ones sent to end me. They had the luxury of a normal life, of contentment, of tilling fields and raising children and growing old, albeit a future they were robbed of by Light and myself alike.


    And even then, in defeat, they had the one thing He had denied me, most coveted of things: an ending.


    Every sacrifice will be worth it, my rose, He promised me when He was still only him: a man of flesh and blood, whatever his ambitions, the warmth sharing my bed. Now I slept on the drafty floor below the window, knowing full well that whatever my normal rationale about being used to the hard ground of the campaign trail, nothing was harder than facing that bed and all of its ghosts.


    I loved them too much to endure their sting, those echoes left behind. They wound around me like chains, biting like vipers, forged by our actions. Sleep allowed no room for escape. The devastation of seeing Him bathed in the light of the blue Flame of Truth, His flesh burning away into ash in the wind as undeath and godhood embraced Him at once, turning away to face His own meteoric rise and leaving me in His shadow¡­


    That was the moment you lost the boy beneath the apple tree forever.


    My eyes flicked open in the darkness of my room, catching the glint of steel and the gleam of eyes above me. In the low light cast by the last coals burning in the grate, I saw Shira struggling with herself, knife poised over my heart. My hand still curled around Woe¡¯s hilt. In a moment, I could extinguish her as I had all those who had tried to kill me before.


    She froze like a little bird in winter at the coldness of my gaze. I let go of my sword and used both hands to seize her clenched hands, pulling the blade close, until I could feel the coldness of its needle tip through my shirt, until a pinprick of blood started to well.


    ¡°Do it.¡±


    Shira tried to flinch back, but my hold was iron. I held her in place when I felt her grip spasm to release the blade. I knew I could make her my murderer easily. A sharp pull of my hands, a slight twist of my torso, and the blade would go right between my ribs. I was only mortal, only flesh and blood. A blow to the heart would kill me as surely as it would her.


    Her eyes welled with tears and her lips parted, but no sound came out. Even in a moment of terror, her vows remained. How could a woman of such conviction quaver at the ugliness of this moment? I couldn¡¯t fathom it.


    Maybe that was the difference between us. She still believed in something of the Light.


    I released her hands and the blade dropped from nerveless fingers. I snatched it up effortlessly as I rolled, knocking her onto her back. I pinned her body with mine, holding the dagger to her throat. She struggled like a mouse in a cat¡¯s claws, but I was the better combatant by miles. ¡°You were foolish to squander that chance, Shira. Thousands of knights, priests, and kings would have given their immortal soul up just to have it. Even your peace-loving goddess would have taken it in a heartbeat.¡± A gall of bitterness dripped from every word. ¡°Nothing to say in your own defense, priestess?¡±


    Shira struggled against my hold, trying to twist free from the pin. We were a tangle on the floor and now she was putting up enough of a fight that maintaining a hold on both wrists of hers with one hand, even slender as they were, was a challenge. She managed to slip me with one hand, striking me in the cheekbone with a hammer-fist, just like I¡¯d taught her.


    She might as well have hit stone for how far it moved me. The dagger stayed tight against her throat, the wicked edge a whisper of cold not quite firm enough to break the skin. Even with her struggles, I was careful to control that. I always made it my policy to kill only with intention, not out of negligence.


    ¡°Why did you stop?¡± I demanded. ¡°You had everything your goddess could ever ask of you clutched tight in your hands!¡±


    A fresh trickle of tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. I couldn¡¯t tell if she was realizing the magnitude of her failure or just certain I was about to slit her throat. I pushed myself up carefully, without pressing the knife any tighter to her throat, and then threw the blade as hard as I could. I heard it clatter against the door on the far side of the room. My anger faded like a summer storm dispersing when she started to fully cry, sobs croaking out of her never-used throat.


    Hell¡¯s fire, but I hated the tears of the innocent. They had a way of twisting at the last dregs of a heart I had.


    ¡°Stop it!¡±


    Raising my voice only made it worse and I cursed myself.


    Aleyr, you absolute brute, I could almost hear Melody chiding me. The poor girl¡¯s been through enough between Varys and Vex. She doesn¡¯t need you tormenting her too.


    The thought made my chest ache. I let her go, moving off of her so she could scramble back, hitting her back against the foot of the bed. A knock sounded on the door, polite and precise.


    ¡°Not now, Haven,¡± I called, trying to decide how I was going to handle the hot mess in front of me.


    ¡°Are you alright, my lady?¡± The door remained closed, but I knew the wight had his hand on the knob, ready to enter.


    I sighed, both exasperated and comforted by his presence. ¡°Fine, Haven. The girl had a fright. That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Understood, my lady. Shall I put the kettle on?¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± It would keep him diverted for some time, since he¡¯d have to rekindle the ovens and heat the water. I set Woe to the side and sighed, studying Shira in her distress. The sobs seemed to rattle her entire body like a leaf caught in a sudden gale. I reached out and she froze again in fright, but this time I just tucked her hair back behind her ear so it wasn¡¯t hanging in her face. ¡°If your concern is death or worse, you can put it out of your mind. I have no intention of harming you or you would be dead already.¡±


    Her hands shook too much to clearly sign, but the tears only came faster now. It was as if the floodgates had opened and nothing short of an act of some deity could close them.


    I rubbed absently at the small cut on my sternum. It stung and bled a little bit more into my shirt. Fresh bruising was starting to well on my cheek as I attuned to the ache in my head. It had been a surprisingly solid hit, probably because I hadn¡¯t tried to go with it at all.


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    Soothing people was really more Haven¡¯s domain than mine and so I kept my silence and stirred up the coals in the fireplace until the tears finally started to peter out. Eventually, her hands started to move, still trembling slightly as they flicked and danced in the shaping of words without sound.


    I¡¯m not a murderer.


    ¡°Not like me, you mean,¡± I said coolly, watching her face carefully for any sign of deception. She wasn¡¯t lying, but there was something else going unsaid. ¡°Do not take me for a fool. I know you have divination magic now. What did you see?¡±


    I expected a lie. Instead, her fingers shaped something else entirely. A future.


    ¡°Whose?¡±


    Shira shook her head, the tears suddenly welling again.


    ¡°That terrible?¡± I supposed I couldn¡¯t be surprised, not when my past contained horrors she had little conception of. I held out a scarred hand palm up, misshapen ring glowing in the light of the fire. ¡°Show me. Those tutors have to be good for something.¡±


    She shook her head again and pointed at my other hand, the one without the King in Black¡¯s ring. I scowled. Whatever snippet of future she¡¯d managed to glean, she apparently wanted to keep from His eyes: a recipe for disaster.


    Please, she signed, movements jerky with desperation. You¡¯ll understand.


    I ground my teeth in irritation, but switched hands. Her fingers grazed mine and suddenly we were somewhere else entirely.


    ¡ªa battlefield, not so different from the last, except I was lying on my back in a spreading pool of hot blood. A sword transfixed me through the chest, but instead of pain there was only creeping numbness.


    Shira held my head and shoulders in her arms, cradled against her breastplate, blood smeared across the symbol of Ishal worked into silvery steel. Tears streaked down her face, rolling across my bloodied knuckles where my hand met her cheek. Seeing her tears hurt me more than my wounds.


    ¡°Hush,¡± I heard myself say, voice distorted with pain. ¡°It had to be this way. We both knew this had its price.¡±


    She started to shake her head, but the black creeping into my vision was quickly robbing me of my perception of everything. I looked down at the blade through my chest and realized distantly that I knew that battle-scarred, rayskin-wrapped hilt better than the back of my own hand.


    Woe.


    I sagged back into her hold more and turned my eyes back to hers, quickly becoming the only thing I could see. Death¡¯s presence enveloped me like a lover¡¯s embrace with a cold kiss against my unfeeling lips. I lost myself in Shira¡¯s eyes of blue, the same color as the wildflowers that grew on northern slopes, once upon a time¡ª


    I recoiled like I¡¯d been bitten. Not from the pain, but the intimacy of the moment felt so jarringly present compared to the absence I¡¯d endured for centuries. I was no more certain than Shira what truth there was to the vision. Divination magic was finicky at best. After all, I¡¯d destroyed certainties time after time with every prophesied champion I¡¯d cut down. This could mean nothing or everything.


    ¡°It seems you may have a chance to correct the mistakes of others.¡± My words came blunt and forceful as a smith¡¯s hammer.


    I¡¯m not a murderer, she signed again. Not a justicar.


    I picked up Woe and rose to my feet. ¡°It is a possibility. One I would be foolish to ignore.¡±


    She tensed, waiting for a wicked blow from the scarred steel. Instead, I kept the blade in its scabbard and leaned it against my shoulder, hilt settled against my cheek. Her fingers flicked anxiously. What are you going to do?


    ¡°I could use a cup of tea.¡± I held out my right hand to her to help her up, the one without His ring. ¡°Beyond that? I will break it, as I have broken every other gods-given vision of my end.¡±


    By killing me?


    I shrugged. ¡°If you become a champion of Light, Shira, and bow to the whims of its gods and kings, I will offer you the same I have offered every other Chosen One destined to slay me: to turn away from that appointed fate or die. I would never deny you the power to choose your own destiny.¡±


    She reached out timidly, placing her hand in mine as she signed with the other. Even after¡­? Her gaze flicked towards the discarded knife.


    ¡°If I made a habit of taking every attempt on my life personally, I would stand as an island in a trackless expanse of sea. Besides, you lost your nerve.¡± My expression hardened. ¡°The next time it is yours to take a life, I hope you will not hesitate. Sanctum will devour the infirm of purpose.¡±


    Why do you stay, Lady Frostborn? You speak of this place and so many of its denizens with contempt.


    ¡°My name is Aleyr,¡± I said curtly. The moment she was on her feet with my assistance, I withdrew from the warmth of her hand. ¡°That or Frostborn will do.¡±


    That¡¯s not an answer.


    I raised an eyebrow as I regarded her in the firelight. ¡°And where would the Beloved of the King in Black be welcome in this world of ours, except at His side? Shall I run to Rusa and let them burn me on a pyre? Flee to the Free Lands and decorate a pike with my skull? Permit leopards to devour me in Madya, hang my corpse in thorns in Suzail, be drawn and quartered in Azov, or hacked to pieces in Haldaerk? Name me a place where my very epithet is not the vilest of curses, the worst of fates one could wish on another, and I will consider it.¡±


    If you changed your path, Aleyr, you could¨C


    I held up my left hand, the ring a flash of reflected flame in the firelight. ¡°You fail to understand, priestess. I am His. If anyone should understand the power of a vow, it is you.¡±


    Shira didn¡¯t shrink from my gaze this time, meeting it head on. He demands everything and gives nothing. How can you love Him when he cannot even return the emotion? You are a means to perpetuate His rule, a thing, an object to him. At least Ishal rewards her faithful with love and protection.


    It would have hurt less if she¡¯d stabbed me, but this was an old wound that I knew well. ¡°Does she?¡± I asked softly. ¡°Where was that love and protection when Varys held you?¡±


    She shuddered slightly at the reminder, eyes flickering closed for a moment as she tried to push away the thoughts of those horrors. She has not abandoned me, not even here.


    ¡°Beware of gods bearing gifts. You will find that in the end, they take with two hands and leave you scrabbling for their crumbs. As true of mine as of yours.¡± I took a deep breath. ¡°Perhaps He has forgotten me. Perhaps I am reduced to only our bond, but I remember the love that set kingdoms ablaze and birthed a god, and I will be faithful to it until I am no more. I do not feel things by half measures, Shira. It is everything or nothing.¡±


    You are like a woman walking through a world of light with her eyes shut, cursing the gods for her blindness, Shira retorted with the sharp movements of her fingers.


    I fought down the bitter tide of anger as best I could. ¡°Where were they when I cried out for them in bondage? Where were they when my innocence was taken from me? Where were they when I buried my children, one after another? At least He picked me up and dried my tears. As far as I am concerned, the Heavens are worse than empty: they are crowded with locusts fattened on prayers that devour all and return nothing.¡± When she stopped, stunned into silence, I pointed at the door. ¡°Go. Haven has tea for you. I tire of talking and have no patience for your replies.¡±


    Shira was wise enough to quit the field, leaving me alone in my bedroom, surrounded by the ghosts of memory.

 24. The Mystery of Steel

    I made no mention to anyone, especially Haven and Vex, of Shira¡¯s failed venture into assassination attempts. While as wights they would feel no anger, both could be protective in their way. I could easily see either of them rectifying my more merciful disposition in their own manners. Besides, there were more pressing matters for me to concern myself with: an agent of the god of righteous retribution still prowled Sanctum and would be looking for an opportunity. If I left that matter alone too long, it would fester like a wound. Fortunately and unfortunately, I was no longer the only one looking into it.


    Melody set her cup of tea down with a thoughtful sigh, a few strands of dark hair escaping from her perfect bun. ¡°We have had reports of cult activity in the Streets of Broken Sky, Aleyr,¡± she said. Her tone was not accusatory, friendly to a fault, but I knew her presence in an official capacity at the Winter Palace was not going to go unremarked upon.


    Varys¡¯s little leech nose was already probably quivering in anticipation of revenge.


    I fought the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose between thumb and forefinger. The problem with Melody serving as the King in Black¡¯s left hand was that she could read me like a book. ¡°You know as well as I that devotees of Erelim were responsible for Luka¡¯s death. This is the only district of the city where human servants of the idiot god could pass without being consumed. It is the natural hiding place. What of it?¡±


    Melody circled the lip of her cup with her index finger, as transparent as a bloody block of granite. ¡°You needn¡¯t be so defensive. I¡¯m on your side. It doesn¡¯t matter where the cult sits in the city, only that it is excised like the cancer it is.¡±


    ¡°You know that¡¯s not true,¡± I said pointedly. ¡°I am not deaf to Varys and Teth spreading rumors of my corruption.¡±


    ¡°You did snipe Hallen¡¯s men from under her.¡± Melody¡¯s habit of sounding maddeningly reasonable hadn¡¯t changed. ¡°And Varys is still sour that you stole Shira quite literally from under him, even if he doesn¡¯t know what became of her. You might as well have touched a lit candle wick and cursed it for burning you.¡±


    ¡°What do you want me to do, Melody?¡± I demanded. ¡°Break down every door in the district? Drag every suspect to Heca for torturous examination? I am not responsible for maintaining His Majesty¡¯s peace, only prosecuting His wars. If you want to take the Eibonguard through my district and shake it until the enemy falls out, you are more than welcome to.¡±


    ¡°I fully intend to,¡± Melody said softly. ¡°But when the rats go to run, I want them to have a place to go. A place we¡¯ve prepared for them. A trap, baited and set.¡±


    A sourness settled into my stomach. ¡°What did you have in mind?¡± I wished for something stronger than tea even as I swirled the contents of my cup.


    ¡°I want La¡¯an and a few other human members of the Red Sashes to drop as friendly names in a more subtle fashion. Let them think there¡¯s a crack they can wriggle into.¡±


    While scheming wasn¡¯t secondary to my nature, I had lived a long life. ¡°I have a counter offer,¡± I said bluntly. ¡°Hallen needs to prove his loyalty and he is currently teetering on the edge of disgrace. Use him as your crack.¡±


    ¡°I need someone I can trust not to actually crack.¡± Melody¡¯s riposte was flawlessly diplomatic in tone. Still, I could tell she was weighing the idea carefully and favorably.


    ¡°He will not dare while I hold his men. They are more valuable to him than some assassin of Erelim.¡±


    ¡°You think he can play the role convincingly?¡± Melody asked, arching a delicate brow. ¡°Hallen is a man accustomed to war more than the niceties of politics and the intricacies of spycraft.¡±


    ¡°He has survived the court long enough to have gray hair. Give him some credit. Besides, who would you prefer to risk?¡±


    Melody smiled faintly. ¡°Point taken. Hallen it is. Though, if Teth and Varys catch wind, they will use it to destroy him utterly before the King in Black.¡±


    ¡°Not if you and I tell His Majesty of his cunning and bold action to trap an assassin at our behest, marking himself a worthy enough servant to be rewarded. Perhaps even with command of his own elite troops again.¡± I set aside my cup and lifted a stylus, dipping it in ink even as I pulled over a sheet of paper. ¡°I trust that you will not abuse a writ from me?¡±


    ¡°Only if absolutely necessary for your own good,¡± Melody teased. ¡°You know, Aleyr, I¡¯m beginning to think I¡¯ve rubbed off on you.¡±


    ¡°Merely a temporary confluence. Your mind for intrigue is greater than my own.¡± I scribbled a simple message and then closed it once the ink had dried, dripping a candle onto the meeting of the fold and sealing it with my signet. The withered emblem of a rose pressed well into the soft red wax. ¡°Give this to Hallen and find the assassin.¡±


    ¡°The bearer of this note comes to you with a request in my name, for my favor,¡± Melody said, reciting the contents from memory with an impish grin. She had a knack for reading even my scribbles upside down and backwards at a frightening speed. ¡°He will be hard pressed to refuse.¡±


    ¡°I am not accustomed to being refused, least of all by men who owe their lives and men to me.¡± I held out the writ to her. When she went to take it from my hand, I drew it back for a moment. ¡°There is one more little wrinkle you should be informed of, Melody, but it has to stay between us and only us.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± She held out her hand for the writ.


    I placed it on her open palm. ¡°Shira was the second target after Luka.¡±


    Melody¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°I assumed it was you. Surely followers of Erelim would seek to rescue a captive priestess of Ishal? They are allied gods, and closely so.¡±


    ¡°Anstydir and I interrogated the two assassins that died by poison.¡± I mentally patted Anstydir on the back for not betraying that information to anyone, even Melody, who would have most certainly asked. Then again, she had been simply my handmaiden at that point. ¡°They believe she is too dangerous as a captive to be left alive.¡±


    ¡°Do you know why?¡±


    I shook my head. If Shira and I were really to someday come to blows, surely they would want her alive. Perhaps their pet prophecy had something about a hero¡¯s fall in it this time.


    ¡°An important question to answer.¡± Melody turned her teacup thoughtfully, dark eyes focused on my face as if I contained the solution to this riddle. ¡°Heca and I will inquire, discreetly. If we turn up anything, I will inform you.¡±


    I smiled, though the expression twisted with pain. ¡°In the King in Black¡¯s service, Melody, you can only have one master.¡±


    ¡°Aleyr, for me not to inform you of a threat to your interests would be against our understanding.¡±


    A sigh slipped from my lips, smile fading. ¡°You will inform me only if the King in Black permits, Melody. Whatever friendship we have cultivated over these past thirty years, it is inconsequential to Him. Just as He took you from me, He will turn you away from me.¡± It ached deep in my soul. ¡°There is only one god, only one master, in the service of the King in Black. You are my peer now, Melody, not my handmaiden.¡±


    Melody hesitated a moment, then reached out and wrapped delicate fingers around mine. ¡°I am still your friend, Aleyr.¡±


    I regarded her sorrowfully. ¡°There are no permanent alliances in the Undying Court, only permanent interests. His Majesty will demand nothing short of your absolute loyalty, even if that means you incur my displeasure or slight me. I have seen it over and over again, played across centuries. Naltheme was the little girl I pulled from the pyre, and now she is His apprentice and my rival. Teth, a bosom-friend turned into a blood-drinking leech with no thought except how she can replace me. Maric, once my squire in life, now holds no nostalgia for those days, consumed by earning the approval of the King in Black in undeath.¡±


    A brief flicker of hurt flashed across Melody¡¯s face. ¡°Can I not convince you that this will be different?¡±


    ¡°I know Him better than anyone. He will warp any tool to His purpose, trusting that I will follow blindly along in lock-step, the same dutiful Beloved I have ever been.¡± My expression stayed blank, almost mask-like, but I felt my stomach sour at the thought. ¡°My apologies, Melody. You know how little I can protect anything, even you.¡±


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    She sighed and gave my hand a squeeze. ¡°I know.¡± She had seen me try to gainsay the King in Black with Naltheme, albeit a confrontation that had occurred behind closed doors: here in the Winter Palace, in my bedchamber.


    You cannot do this! She is a child! Let me have one thing of my own, love. Let me keep her, protect her, teach her. Let me be a mother to one who has no one in the world!


    The ring on my hand burned with cold at the memory of his withering indifference to my pleas. I wondered some nights if he knew what he had stripped from me. And yet, no matter how I fought, it made no difference in the end. Even encased in agonizing cold on the floor, tears freezing to my face, I had eventually ceased the struggle. Strange, how craven and resigned a supposedly fearless champion could be. That was the pain that had motivated both Melody and I to send her son far, far from the Eternal Kingdom for an apprenticeship, somewhere where no one knew his name or nature.


    Shira was not wrong in her estimation of Sanctum. It was a prison where no one walked freely, whatever their rank or privileges, so long as they stood in His shadow. Perhaps the windows of the Winter Palace were not barred, the gates were not sealed, but I was most certainly collared and leashed. I had envied Luka¡¯s freedom in life, his many jaunts in beast form beyond our borders. Now I envied his freedom in death.


    Melody squeezed my hand again, the one without His ring. ¡°He will find me harder to warp than they were,¡± she said firmly. ¡°I am here for you, Aleyr.¡±


    I looked at her, those dark eyes so earnest that they cut my heart. I knew she was wrong, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to continue saying it. ¡°I hope so,¡± I said quietly, even though the place where hope sat in my heart was as vacant as an unlit hearth. ¡°I must bid you a fond farewell now that our business is concluded. Shira is waiting for me in the training room, Melody. I promised I would drill with her instead of letting Vex run her in circles today.¡± I squeezed her hand back. ¡°I consider you my closest friend. The Winter Palace will always, always be open to you.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Melody smiled at me, tinged with melancholy. ¡°The Withered Rose does not revoke her love.¡±


    ¡°Much to her misfortune,¡± I said, letting go of her hand. I drained my tea and then stood up. ¡°Happy hunting, Melody. Be careful and stay well.¡±


    She bowed her head and waited until I had risen to rise herself. She walked out with Haven as an escort and I took a moment to compose myself once I was alone. All of this was not what I wanted, but what could I do? He always had His way, one way or another. Deep down, a swell of terror whirled like a maelstrom when I thought not just of Melody¡¯s loss, but of Shira¡¯s. If He ever learned of that vision, He would snuff her like a candle flame whatever my feelings on the matter. There was no feeling in Him, let alone a sense of mercy or tolerance.


    I had protected Melody for thirty years, kept her from His sight, and still surrendered her when she needed my protection most. Perhaps it would have been worth the torture to try refusing, but wouldn¡¯t it have been worth it?


    No. It would have been a performance. Perhaps Melody would have appreciated it, but it would have ended the same. You can defy Him as easily as a vampire can challenge the sun.


    I took a long route to the training room, taking my time to put my composure together like armored plates. Shira waited kneeling on the mats in the center of the room, her training sword laid out in front of her. Her eyes were closed, hands folded over her heart in prayer.


    The urge to lash out boiled up for an instant, but I curbed my tongue before she could feel its cut. If she wanted to place her faith in Ishal still, foolish as that was, how could I take that from her and stand to look at myself in the mirror without thinking of my own sacrifices to my own god? I announced my presence by closing the door behind me. Her eyes snapped open as the hinges creaked closed, immediately dropping her hands.


    She still regarded me like a kicked hound, but I refused to play the villain for the moment. ¡°How was conditioning with La¡¯an?¡±


    He was gentler than Vex, but I still ache, Shira admitted with flicking fingers.


    ¡°The majority of the aching will fade.¡± I¡¯d made the executive decision that the rest of body hardening would be La¡¯an¡¯s duty, not Vex¡¯s. The wight would accidentally break Shira, not understanding pain as a creature incapable of feeling it. ¡°Even I get the occasional sting from it. Did you stretch afterwards?¡±


    Shira nodded. Haven also made sure willow¡¯s bark tea was waiting for me.


    ¡°Good. Today we are talking about laerthalu¡¯ur: the mystery of steel.¡± I set Woe aside in its place and picked up a light training blade. Shira was wearing a gambeson with a training helm next to her, and I was similarly attired, though my helm hung from my belt since I¡¯d been pulled away half-prepared to meet with Melody.


    What does that mean? Shira signed, confused. She had never trained as a warrior, so the principle likely was an alien one.


    I laughed despite everything and held out my training blade, taking a guard stance with the point of the blade angled out towards her. ¡°Meet me in a bind.¡±


    She furrowed her brow, but caught her blade against mine, true edge against true edge. The blade tapped against mine, a sign she was still so nervous that her hands were shaking.


    ¡°Relax,¡± I said calmly. ¡°This is much more difficult if you are tense and you will betray yourself further into the exercise.¡±


    Shira loosened up her shoulders and relaxed as best she was able, turning the tapping into a faint quiver.


    ¡°Close your eyes and push into my blade.¡± The minute she obeyed, I met her with a press back, just enough to provide resistance without overpowering her. ¡°Focus on the feeling in your hands.¡± I changed the pressure gradually, first increasing until she was almost forced back, then yielding progressively until she was almost losing contact with my sword. Then I started to vary further with different intensities of each, sudden and changing like a summer storm. ¡°Do you see how much you can fathom by touch?¡±


    Her eyes opened and she let go with one hand, pulling back. I feel the changes, but I don¡¯t know what that has to do with anything.


    ¡°If I meet you hard in the clash and bind, what does that tell you?¡±


    She worried at her lower lip with her teeth. You mean to overpower me?


    ¡°It could certainly mean that, and often does. Whatever the case, I have an intention for your weapon by using mine: I can push you or pull you like this.¡± I knocked her blade to one side, then caught it with the other and turned my sword so that the flat of the blade slid against her edge, an attack towards her face with a press that forced her blade out of the way. She stayed still, letting me demonstrate. ¡°What about if I am soft in the bind?¡±


    You¡¯re weaker.


    ¡°Perhaps. Shall we find out?¡± I motioned for her to raise her blade and we met in a bind again. This time I let her push into me, but when she went to copy what I had done, I moved off-line and broke blade contact altogether, hitting her with a switching strike from the other side. Her blade met absent air and mine tapped gently against her cheekbone with the edge of the blade.


    So it could mean anything? Shira signed, exasperated.


    ¡°My point is that it means not one thing in particular, but that it could mean very many things, which is why you should pay close attention to it. Combat is like a dance: rhythm and sensation are as important as visual acuity and living on the balls of your feet. The important thing is that you know how to capitalize on each and every sensation of steel.¡±


    You said my shaking would betray me later.


    ¡°Whether I am pushing hard or yielding softly in the bind, the movement could be either genuine or a deception. The separation between a good swordsman and a great swordsman is quite simple, in my experience. Someone who is merely good fights by using technique and prowess, whether strength or speed, maybe even both. The greats, however, fight by getting inside the heads of their opponents.¡±


    Shira eyed me cautiously. Is that how you are able to compete with undead?


    I laughed, letting my training sword rest against my shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s the only way the living can compete. If it were merely a test of speed or strength or skill, even a vampire as young as Varys would stomp me into the gutter.¡± I touched my temple with my index finger. ¡°But here, I can be every bit their superior still, especially if I know what drives them, what they expect, what they want. The same is true with mortal opponents. Many I fought expected me to be weak because I was a woman, so I would play to that stereotype until the moment I could punish them for their hubris. If they knew my reputation and expected a brute, I could lumber about and then use that yielding to displace and strike with speed. If they expected aggression, I could switch to defense to throw them off-balance or if they expected defense, do the opposite. The point is that if you are only what you appear, you will lose.¡±


    A principle you¡¯ve taken into many domains, Shira observed shrewdly through her sign-speech. A woman of many faces.


    ¡°You may find that many of the lessons of battle serve you well off the field as well. Deception is a valuable tool for survival in many avenues, especially swordplay. If your opponent can be beaten here,¡± I tapped my temple again, ¡°then beating him with a sword is infinitely easier. But be warned: the converse is true as well. If he can deceive you or dominate you mentally, you face an exponentially more difficult battle.¡±


    The stories said you won through cruelty and magic, not simple trickery.


    ¡°I assure you that trickery is seldom simple.¡± I grinned a little. ¡°Shall we make a trickster out of you, Shira?¡±


    She adjusted her grip on her sword to include both hands and nodded eagerly. For all her gentle nature and native fear of me, she was still eager to learn on every occasion and I welcomed the distraction from the real world. Besides, I wanted her well-equipped before she had to contend with any of the dangers of Sanctum, including the servants of a god of Light. Melody¡¯s shaking would buy me time, but not forever.


    Zealots would come for Shira eventually. My task was to prepare her as much as possible so that she would survive.

 25. Jumping at Shadows

    Even under the weakness of Sanctum¡¯s cloud-shrouded sun, my apple sapling seemed to thrive. Whether it was the careful tending I gave it or the sweet nothings I whispered to its leaves as I worked around its roots, ever weeding and tending, I could not say. Shira watched me with it on many occasions over the weeks that followed Melody¡¯s visit, clearly puzzled by the time and attention I gave to the young tree. Any time I asked  her why she frowned so much at my arboreal tending, she would only answer, Never have I seen a lady dirty her own hands with soil.


    Swiftly, though, she was coming to understand that I was not, in the strictest sense, the regal figure she had once seen attired in silks and painted like a queen for a party. Even aside from my martial inclinations, I let few inside the Winter Palace give me more than the barest amount of  bowing and scraping due.


    Out in the Streets of Broken Sky, I knew that Melody worked her own, special variety of magic: people were disappearing and mostly reappearing as she followed various lines of inquiry with ruthless, calculated efficiency. As sweet and pleasant as Melody could be, she had another side, one I knew well: smooth as silk, cold as steel. I imagined that those who did not resurface were among the countless lost to Heca¡¯s tender mercies. His Majesty¡¯s flenser took her duties as seriously as His sword did.


    I knew it would come to a head one way or another. Even with Hallen as a potential ally, the cult of Erelim¡¯s followers in the city would become desperate. What I failed to anticipate was how quickly, but then again, I was removed from the noose fastening itself around their necks. Training Shira and my apple tree consumed most of my attention, as well as rekindling the morale and spirits of Hallen¡¯s remaining elite troops. Teth kept her spawn as was custom, but the rest had suffered greatly at her hands on half rations and forced marches. I didn¡¯t even have the heart to drill them, not while they were regaining their strength inside their section of the barracks alongside my own Red Sashes.


    Why do you dote on a little apple tree? Shira finally signed one morning, still attired in the gambeson and sash of a trainee guard. It was safer for her if people glossed over her, unaware of her clerical inclinations. She watched me from the bench nearby as I carefully judged the amount of water in my bucket before starting to water around its roots.


    ¡°The rains have been insufficient,¡± I said. My little tree knew it was spring somewhere, growing with surprising speed and vigor now that it was out of its confinement and properly planted in the garden. ¡°It needs about five gallons every week, and we have only had sprinklings here or there. These buds require moisture to produce. Surely you spent at least some time in a garden as part of your cloister.¡±


    I heard Shira huff in frustration and looked up again from my work, the faintest hint of a smile on my lips as she scowled. I understand the practical concerns of raising a tree. I do not understand the motivation.


    ¡°It was a gift.¡±


    The path to the Beloved¡¯s heart is through an orchard? Perhaps the Gods of Light should use apple-wood spears.


    I grinned at that, even knowing part of the joke was probably meant to be a barb. ¡°A fine jest. Perhaps I should confound you more often.¡±


    You are always confounding¡­and evasive. Why do you not tell me the real reason?


    ¡°What difference does it make?¡± I retorted, carefully allowing the water to absorb on the first pour before I started my second. Only a fool dumped all five gallons at once: I had always learned to halve the measure and go gently around sapling roots.


    Before Shira could reply, clearly annoyed, I caught the sound of a falling piece of roof tile just as it collided with the ground beside me.


    ¡°Inside. Now.¡± My tone brooked no argument as I straightened. Shira knew better than to disobey, retreating rapidly. I had left Woe sitting beside the bench where she sat, a good twelve feet away. That wasn¡¯t close enough, so I grabbed the next best thing: a three-pronged pitchfork from the wheelbarrow beside the roses.


    A hooded figure attired in leather armor dropped into the garden behind me as I grabbed my makeshift weapon. Farming implements could be every bit as dangerous as any true weapon, if you knew what you were doing.


    They moved well, clearly a trained killer, and I felt my vulnerability acutely without armor. Allowing them close would be foolhardy at best.


    ¡°I know you,¡± the man said, drawing a lethal looking shortsword while eyeing my pitchfork with a mixture of amusement and caution. ¡°Aleyr Frostborn, Beloved of the King in Black. To end you would end the reign of darkness in this world.¡±


    I laughed at the absurdity of the claim. ¡°Perhaps it would end the King in Black, but darkness lives in every soul. Even yours, assassin.¡±


    ¡°Where is your captive?¡±


    ¡°You wish a priestess of Ishal? If you can walk over my body and those of my guards, you may claim her.¡± I lunged with the pitchfork, driving him backwards in a frantic evasion married with a difficult parry.


    I twisted deftly, using the curved prongs of the pitchfork to bind up his weapon. He released it and seized the haft of the pitchfork, trying to pull it from my hands. Again I twisted, forcing his blade into his face before it could fall to the earth. He recoiled, but pulled my weapon with him.


    I moved forward with elegant steps on the neat brickwork path of the garden. Every movement, I tried to push him further back. Soon he would be against the wall with nowhere to run.


    He knew it too. The assassin jumped, landing with his feet on the pitchfork haft, and tried to sprint down the length of the weapon at me. I hurled it away and drew the seax worn horizontally across the back of my belt. He stumbled and fell awkwardly, but landed with his feet under him. I retreated towards where I¡¯d left Woe, the shorter blade held out in front of me. I could always switch to a reverse grip if I needed it. That was unlikely, though, given he had no heavy armor on.


    He moved faster than he should have been able to: not undead, but likely alchemically enhanced somehow. The distance between us vanished as a blade seemed to appear in his hand, no doubt from his sleeve. ¡°You have no armor or sword to save you here, Frostborn.¡±


    I sneered at him. If he thought I needed either, he was a fool. His blade made a wicked arc, but I recoiled back in time, the barest graze of a blow across my cheek slicing skin. Crimson splashed down my shirt, down onto the stones, and I saw his eyes widen. I grabbed his wrist as it passed, keeping my own blade close to my body, and then wrenched savagely on his joint.


    His blade hit the floor and I pulled him in close, twisting harder on his wrist until bone snapped in a sickening symphony, all the way up his arm and into his shoulder. We were face to face, his expression white with fear and confusion. ¡°You¡­bleed¡­¡± he gasped. ¡°How is this¡­¡±


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    ¡°Oh, sweet thing, did you mistake me for undead?¡± I crooned. I struck low with my seax, hamstringing one leg. ¡°That explains the hallowed blade.¡± The markings on the blade were unmistakable, a gleaming holy symbol worked into the steel that would have sent any vampire reeling. Wights were more resilient to such things, but a proper hallow could burn even them. ¡°You should have stuck with vaendal.¡±


    I turned him in almost a pirouette, cutting his throat as he faced away. A shove sent him staggering and then collapsing to the ground.


    It wasn¡¯t really a surprise that they¡¯d assumed. A singular figure enduring over centuries without the blood of an elf made undeath the natural conclusion. I clearly wasn¡¯t a wight, but vampires could hide their fangs. It made sense for the Beloved of the Lich-King himself to have taken to undeath as well to escape her mortal frailties.


    I turned, finding myself face to face with Shira. She had picked up Woe and drawn the blade, though her eyes were more focused on the crumpled body of the man than me. I held out my empty hand and she placed my sword¡¯s hilt on my palm, surrendering it. He was seeking¡­me?


    ¡°It seems your presence here has not gone unremarked upon.¡± It irritated me, like sand ground into my flesh. I pointed Woe¡¯s tip at the fallen dagger. ¡°And with a rather unconventional weapon for one of Sanctum¡¯s own.¡±


    The god Erelim wished to end you.


    I glanced up at the blue sky. ¡°He would be better served sending a thunderbolt than some two-bit cutthroat. But, then again, I suppose we all make do with what we have.¡±


    Shira¡¯s brow furrowed. He is a god of justice. To send an assassin seems¡­


    ¡°Distasteful? It is far more expedient to kill me than drag me to some foreign court to face the penalty for my many crimes,¡± I said dryly. ¡°Besides, what punishment would be meted out except a gruesome death? Consider the dead man a holy avenger if it helps you sleep at night.¡±


    He seemed surprised that a hallowed blade did not harm you. Truthfully, I am as well.


    I returned Woe to its scabbard, then cleaned off the seax with a discarded outer shirt from when I¡¯d grown too hot earlier. Once the blood was wiped away, that blade went back to its sheath and I held a hand out to Shira. ¡°Prick me and I bleed, the same as you.¡±


    But how have you survived these many centuries?


    The lumpy, misshapen gold ring on my left hand burned cold at the reminder. ¡°By being difficult to kill.¡± It was true, but it was not the entire truth. What could I tell her? That I had been the focus of the King in Black¡¯s power in the ritual that granted him immortality? That I was frozen, just as the Laws of Magic were when he shattered the old god who had written them? That Death had to be guaranteed his due some way, somehow? The irony of the twist of Fate making my mortality into the catalyst for another¡¯s freedom from it was not lost on me.


    ¡°How much do you know about liches?¡± I asked bluntly. The King in Black was not the first to walk that forbidden path, but he had certainly risen the highest, gone the furthest.


    Almost nothing.


    I smiled tightly, humorlessly. ¡°Consider yourself fortunate. Necromancy concerns itself in many ways with the body, but at its highest levels, it is consumed by matters of the soul. Better to have no part in it if you have the option.¡±


    Shira frowned at me. Strange advice from one who has given their soul to it.


    ¡°Quite the opposite,¡± I muttered under my breath. I drew in a sharp inhale as La¡¯an and several other guards advanced into the garden, their blades drawn. ¡°Perhaps a more immediate response would have been better?¡±


    ¡°Apologies, my lady,¡± La¡¯an said. ¡°There was a diversion elsewhere in the Winter Palace. By the time we realized what it was, this one had slipped the net.¡±


    ¡°A certain someone would have boxed your ears for such foolishness,¡± I said sharply, reminded acutely that I needed a proper replacement for Melody. With that spot vacant, I would be relying on the wights I held closest and La¡¯an, all of whom had their blindspots. ¡°Where is Vex?¡±


    ¡°Interrogating the captive.¡±


    ¡°I suppose I can forgive the delay if you managed to take one alive.¡± I shouldered Woe and motioned for Shira to follow. ¡°Bring me everything the dead man carried and a full report. I will liberate our captive from Vex before she eats him.¡±


    La¡¯an bowed his head respectfully. ¡°It will be done, my lady. Last I saw them, Vex was dragging the man to the lower levels.¡±


    Shira followed me down the hall. Where would Vex have taken him?


    I belted Woe back on as I walked, knotting the leather belt in my customary fashion once it was cinched closed. ¡°There are holding cells here. These are not the first assassins to breach the Winter Palace, nor will they likely be the last. What I¡¯d like to know is how his accomplices entered. There are wards.¡±


    Why am I not in a cell?


    I sighed and reached out, catching her hand in its motion and turning it over so she could see the angry scar across her palm. ¡°You chose a different path, Shira. You are my student, not my prisoner.¡±


    Her luminous eyes looked conflicted, but she didn¡¯t pull her hand away from mine, using the other to sign. So if I wanted to leave?


    ¡°I would order a horse and provisions, give you a writ of passage, and send you on your way back to Rusa. You would be not even half trained, but you would be free of this place and my odious company.¡±


    Your company is not odious. Conflicting, yes. Sometimes harsh, certainly, but you are surprisingly patient most of the time.


    ¡°So are certain varieties of plague.¡± I released her hand and turned away, only to feel her fingers at my sleeve.


    Is that truly what you think of yourself?


    ¡°There is a reason Vex and Haven are my closest company, Shira. They can tolerate my darker moods and rough custom,¡± I said bluntly. ¡°You will find my manners are valued by few, and I am beloved only by one.¡±


    Shira¡¯s brow furrowed again. La¡¯an and the other Red Sashes speak of you with great respect and admiration.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± I acknowledged. ¡°Yet even they fear my hateful temper, or at least being on the receiving end of it. You will find that my legend, my shadow, drowns out most of the good will even my kindness sows. I know what woman I am at the end of the day, Shira. We must all keep accounting of our acts, and mine have fashioned me into a monstrous villain. Wouldn¡¯t you agree, priestess of Ishal?¡±


    You throw that title in my face because you want me to bite back and confirm your perception of yourself, Shira observed. Yet if you find yourself so monstrous in your evil acts, why do you not atone?


    ¡°There is no atonement for a woman like me. Even if I wanted it, no god or man would offer it.¡±


    Because you embrace hellfire. Do you not fear the final accounting?


    I smiled, but there was no humor to the expression. ¡°Why should I? The hells know their own.¡±


    I think you¡¯re wrong. There is always a chance for redemption. Shira studied me as we walked. I can see it, even if you can¡¯t.


    Shira¡¯s vision of me dying played through my thoughts. I remembered the touch of her warm hand against my face as the world grew cold and distant. ¡°You see shadows, Shira,¡± I said quietly. ¡°I understand it is common enough in seers. They lose touch with reality, mired in visions of possibility.¡±


    It is real, she insisted. Perhaps one day, you¡¯ll understand that.


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±

 26 - Fire and Ash

    I ran a cloth across Woe¡¯s surface, paying special attention to the inscription in the blade, still readable despite the scars. They were the lessons of my mother, instilled as if my own blade was speaking to me: Do not draw me without reason. Do not wield me without valor. The ignorant saw runes on my sword and thought them dark magic, but the markings only reminded me of my own beginnings. I wondered what she made of me now, looking down at the world from heavens I would never know.


    Maybe it was magic, a communion with the dead even I could access. I imagined her disappointment with me like a slap across the face.


    Perhaps I always fought courageously, in service of something greater, but was it good? When I lived in my memories or anger, it seemed so. As soon as those coals burned cold, however, I wondered.


    Soft-creaking footsteps on the mats stirred me from my reverie. I knew without turning that it was Shira, unheard of this late. Normally she slept until dawn from sheer exhaustion alone. ¡°Is something the matter?¡± I asked as I stood and turned, still carefully wiping down Woe.


    Restless, Shira signed with flicking fingers. Vex said I was fortunate she seized the other assassin. She said he was searching the palace for me.


    I sighed, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. Unlike Anstydir, Vex could be very catlike in her idea of following my instructions. I had requested that she not disclose the nature of the conversation with my new captive to Shira, but clearly she hadn¡¯t understood why enough to preserve my peace. I needed to watch my words more carefully with her. ¡°Did she say why?¡±


    Why would any assassin seek out someone like me? They needed help, someone on the inside.


    Well, at least Vex could halfway follow my instructions. ¡°Did they now?¡± I said dryly, well aware that Erelim¡¯s chosen intended to shove a blade of mercy right through Shira¡¯s heart. The why was the troublesome part, but Vex didn¡¯t need to sleep and had her wily ways of getting information even when I refused to let her play with her food. She could settle for being a nuisance and antagonistic force trying to rile them up. What a pair we made during interrogations: the cruel Beloved and the obnoxious loudmouth guard. I would speak to him properly once Vex had grated away his resolve.


    For her part, Shira seemed to understand much was going unsaid. You know more of their purpose here.


    I sheathed Woe carefully and set the blade aside. ¡°Since you seem quite awake and aware, perhaps I should put you through your paces.¡±


    Shira narrowed her eyes. Must you silence every question with violence?


    ¡°It is a pleasure, not a necessity.¡± I went and picked up two of the training blades, tossing her one. They were wooden and meant to mimic the feel of a real blade, enchanted both to prevent from killing and to prevent from breaking. Magic certainly had its uses, even for the martially inclined, but I had to request Ember fashion them rather than being able to place the enchantment myself. ¡°If you object, all you have to do is win. Then I will be satisfied and you may pester me with questions.¡±


    Shira caught the training sword with reflexive ease, a sign of lessons honed to a fine point. I felt a slight glimmer of pride as I settled into my stance, as comfortable as sitting in a well-loved chair.


    Almost immediately, she surged forward like a diver into the plunge, a beautiful strike from the shoulder bearing down on my immediate parry. Where normally Shira had to be coaxed into ferocity, now she burned like a furnace. I wasn¡¯t certain if it was irritation with me or a desire to know whatever secrets I held, but it was breathtaking. This was the fire I¡¯d seen in her as a smolder. I met her with a wrathful strike, striking hard enough that I almost knocked the blade out of her hands. Instead of waiting for her to regain herself as she retreated, I pursued, hounding her across the mats with switching strikes she had to parry in a flurry.


    She cleared just enough space that my last swing missed contact with her blade and thrust, trying to reclaim the initiative. I stepped off line and snapped my sword down at her hands in a crooked strike, only to have her counter by switching to a high guard. The clack of wood against wood filled the room as we met for the first time, not as equals, but as rivals. Perhaps it was the late hour, but her native caution had given way to a brazenness I had not seen since her agreement to study the blade.


    I spiraled around her as our blades clashed and wound, watching her struggle to read my intentions in the bind. She was following the rhythm, matching my energetic pace with far more ease and grace than she¡¯d shown as a raw beginner. I could see the hours she¡¯d poured into study paying off now. Just as I deceived her distance and circled close enough to make my move, she abruptly broke rhythm, yielding in the bind to leave an opening and striking at my face.


    It almost worked. Almost.


    I switched grip and ducked in the same instant, hooking her blade with my hilt and sending it spinning out of her hand. She spun, continuing her momentum, and hit me in the side of the head with a rising elbow. That was enough to send us both sprawling to the floor with our blades forgotten. I blinked hard, vision swimming for a moment. A very good hit, I thought as consciousness settled back into my body. I was still fighting her despite the blow. I slammed her into the ground while she tried to slip the grapple and clawed at my face.


    It didn¡¯t feel like a training bout. It felt like a challenge. I grinned fiercely, which only seemed to fire her up more. Shira¡¯s luminous eyes blazed with anger just as I caught her in a pin, her arms above her head where they could do me no damage. With my legs tangled with hers, there was no way she could get a proper kick or knee up: I knew better than to give her that opportunity, since I¡¯d trained her how to smash an opponent off her with even only one foot.


    ¡°That was excellent.¡± My breath flowed in and out smoothly still, trained to be steady despite pain. I was going to have a beautiful shiner in the morning and probably a slight concussion. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Shira had no way to express her displeasure except by snapping her teeth at me, still mindful of her vows even in the heat of the moment. Her eyes narrowed at me and she twitched her left hand, trying to sign.


    I considered letting her go, but I knew she was more liable to punch me with that hand than say something. Her body was still restless underneath mine, shifting and searching for a position where she could throw me off. The moment I felt her try to do a hip check, I leaned down harder, using my leg to twist hers until it was impossible. ¡°Give it up,¡± I crooned. ¡°You lost.¡±


    This time, I caught the sign out of the corner of my eye. And make your ego more insufferable?


    ¡°A cheap shot from a caught popinjay. Do you want me to put you into a submission hold?¡±


    She shook her head, lips pursed. As the fires started to cool in my soul, I realized how close we were. I could feel her heart beating in her body like a bird¡¯s, swift and soft. I held her tightly enough to bruise, even knowing her fragility. The suddenness of the realization took me aback and I loosened my hold just enough to make her more comfortable even as I kept control of the situation. Her eyes reminded me more of sapphires than their normal luminous selves, darker and dangerous with the pent up frustration. This was a side of Shira I had yet to see, perhaps because not even she knew it was there. I knew every moment I lingered troubled her more, but there was something fascinating about the tension in her expression.


    What? Her movements were sharp, almost staccato beats against my hand as she signed.


    ¡°I feel as though I have seen a different you this evening,¡± I said, suddenly uncertain of what I was seeing.


    Her lips pressed into a frown even deeper than her previous one. You don¡¯t know me.


    ¡°Do I vex you so?¡± I watched the turmoil cross her face like storm clouds. It was clear that her anger was masking something else, but I didn¡¯t know what it was. I wasn¡¯t entirely convinced that she did either. ¡°Do you concede?¡±


    Do I have a choice? Eyes still ablaze, her signing seemed to be a snappish retort.


    It struck me as strange then, not her frustration with me, but my own reaction. I always went to ice in fights, but this time I felt overheated even without my armor. ¡°You always have a choice, Shira. You can concede, or I can make you. You get to decide whether you prefer merciful and swift or torturous and slow.¡±


    She twitched her hand. I will concede if I must.


    I let go of her and untangled myself in an instant, springing back before she could take a suckerpunch at me. Not honorable, certainly, but she had learned the most from Vex and I. Dirty tricks were to be expected. My world swam slightly at the sudden change in position and I felt dizziness wash over me. ¡°Well done,¡± I said, touching the side of my head where she¡¯d struck. ¡°It is hardly every day that someone rings my bell.¡±


    Shira clambered up to her feet, far less catlike and graceful than I. She wasn¡¯t used to ground-fighting still, despite my attempts to remedy that. Are you alright? Her concern overshadowed her annoyance for a moment. A blink of an eye, but long enough for me to put the pieces together, even slightly addled.


    No matter how angry with me she was for keeping secrets, Shira cared whether I was well or injured. I felt a coldness sweep through me like ice. That care was dangerous, especially if it was discovered. ¡°Fine,¡± I said brusquely, turning and striding for the discarded weapons.


    She followed practically on my heels, fingers flicking in worried motion. It was a hard hit, Frostborn. At least let me look at it.


    I grabbed her by the wrist and wrenched her around, earning a cry of pain as I pinned her against the wall. ¡°Listen to me very carefully, priestess,¡± I said in a low voice. ¡°I do not require the concern of Light¡¯s faithful and you would do well to remember that. Your only fault was not striking harder.¡±


    Shira¡¯s eyes welled up with tears and I immediately let go, feeling a pang in my chest for having caused her pain even though I knew it was for the best. To my surprise, her tears didn¡¯t stop when the physical pain eased. Must you always meet me with ice? This sign with her untwisted hand was plaintive, pleading with me to thaw.


    I evaded her gaze. ¡°Yes.¡± I turned and strode away, ignoring the sob of breath that followed in my wake. All this time, I had thought I was training my end. Now it seemed much less clear than that and I found the whole endeavor a taste of ashes on my tongue. The Beloved could always extend her favor, her fondness, her compassion.


    It was never to be reciprocated with anything other than dread.


    I couldn¡¯t bear the thought of another him, yet here I was playing in the orchard again. I kicked myself cruelly inside, reminded too well of all those lost things crowding around my heart.


    Shira did not follow. I don¡¯t know whether I felt relieved or disappointed. My feet took me through the Winter Palace on a winding route, ending not in the dungeons, but in the kitchens. Haven looked up from his needlework by candlelight, carefully repairing one of my arming coats. I¡¯d lost my finest seamstress with Melody¡¯s departure, but the rough and ready task of repairing my battle garments was more than suitable for Haven¡¯s sturdy stitches.


    ¡°My lady, you look upset,¡± he observed, black eyes gleaming faintly in the candlelight. My faithful wight set aside his work, ready to rise to his feet. ¡°Shall I put the kettle on?¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary, Haven,¡± I said, sitting down next to him on the bench. My head pounded, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. ¡°I just need some time.¡±


    ¡°Of course, my lady.¡±


    I turned in my seat, resting my head against his shoulder as he worked, watching the needle rise and fall through the fabric until an unfamiliar burning started in my eyes. Nothing fell from them, but I felt them there all the same. Why now? Why at all? I cursed Him for leaving me like this, a feeling thing surrounded by the unfeeling world. Undeath would have been better than life, surely, if only for the absence of heartache.


    Haven knew. He always knew. Even when he couldn¡¯t love me, he could still tend to me like the withered rose I wore as a signet. The wight hummed an old, steady lullaby from the days before and let me lean against his rock-steady form as he worked.


    We passed much of the night in relative quiet, until I was finally ready to let him tend to my aching head and usher me not to my room, but to the bedroll in his quarters for nights like these, when the loneliness drowned me beneath its waves. There Haven could rock in his chair and watch over me, while I slept to the creaking of unvarnished wood.

 27 - The Lady of Smoke

    For the next several days, Haven doted on me with the same care and dedication to small detail that I gave my little apple sapling. I could relax into the familiarity of the routine and let it soothe the ragged edges of my thoughts, avoiding Shira all the while. The Winter Palace was large enough that I could stay out of sight, but small enough that I could still keep tabs. La¡¯an was her shadow now that Erelim¡¯s cult moved, which kept her safe and sound without my interference. At least, all of that was what I told myself.


    My unhappiness gnawed at the edges of my fragile peace, revealing it in truth as just another paper mask. Every time I tried to bury it, it merely clawed out of its own grave, nowhere near done with me.


    ¡°Is this actually important or did you just find a new way to make him squirm?¡± I asked, trailing after Vex as she trotted down to the bars.


    ¡°I think you¡¯ll want to hear it, my lady.¡± Her pointed, prehensile tongue lolling eagerly, there was something almost like an excited puppy about the wight¡¯s demeanor, which could only mean unpleasant things lay ahead. Not unpleasant for me, necessarily, but certainly gruesome nonetheless.


    To my surprise, the assassin of Erelim seated in a corner of his stone cell with its deep-seated bars was apparently unmolested. A few bruises to his face from an escape attempt, but considering what evils Vex was capable of, he was practically a spring daisy. The place was clean, though cold, designed to hold prisoners as pleasantly as possible while still keeping firmly fixed in the prisoner¡¯s mind that it was potentially their final destination. There was no outside light, no place to pass messages, only the bare stone and what its inhabitant¡¯s imagination could conjure. Powerful wards of both silence and magic suppression were laid into the stones all around, deceptive in their purpose: we could hear him, but he could not hear us unless we wished it.


    The assassin himself looked a hard enough case that I found Vex¡¯s charming excitement rather confusing. He was almost to his middle-years with a touch of salt grey to his temples, covered in the scars of a warrior despite a rogue¡¯s sinuous grace. He didn¡¯t look pleased as Vex approached the bars, his blank expression transmuting to an actual irritation. ¡°What do you want, monster?¡± he snapped.


    Given he¡¯d spent a week with Vex as a constant presence, literally chattering at him all through the night and day about horrors few could comprehend, I wasn¡¯t surprised that she was finally getting to him. Torture was Heca¡¯s domain, but aggravation was where my second truly hit her stride. I stayed out of sight in the shadows. There was enough of a point to his ears that he might know someone was nearby even through the gloom, but I chose my hiding spot strategically: to hear rather than to see.


    ¡°Why, to tell you we have your accomplice, of course!¡± Vex¡¯s sheer glee was hard to even quantify, but there was an undertone to it that spoke of peeling skin and ripping flesh. Her eyes gleamed hungrily in the torchlight. ¡°She was most helpful in providing the names and locations of your associates.¡±


    The man scoffed. ¡°Lies.¡±


    ¡°Shall we count them off?¡± Vex¡¯s sing-song tone was jarringly at odds with her ravenous nature. ¡°First there were the two little morsels who killed Luka with vaendal: Meiis and Etelar, from the cloister near Suzail. But to do that, they needed a little help from a local, didn¡¯t they, Arthan?¡±


    The transformation those names had on the man was almost magical. He went from disbelief to shock to anger in a three-second span. ¡°Keep their names out of your mouth, creature! You speak of the honored dead!¡±


    ¡°I speak of wriggling little meals for worms. Happy, happy, fortunate worms,¡± Vex said, every word calculated to catch under his skin like a splinter. ¡°Then there¡¯s your partner, Mernos, who Her Ladyship gutted like a miserable cavefish in the gardens, where you sent him looking for something special. And who told you where to look? The same one who told us where to find you! Isn¡¯t it fun?¡± She clapped her hands together as if delighted. ¡°You should have known better than to trust Luka¡¯s own inner circle. Even our rats know not to get caught in the trap. But you¡¯re not our rat, are you? Just a wriggly little morsel destined for hungry jaws now that my lady knows Greysa has been letting you in on little secrets.¡±


    I knew Vex was winding him up for a reason. She never went through such performances without one. I heard the confirmation of what Melody¡¯s source had hinted in the choked sound he made at Greysa¡¯s name. ¡°That bitch sold us out?¡± he demanded.


    ¡°For a mouthful of grave dirt!¡± Vex chirped, black eyes still agleam with hunger. ¡°She told the Executioner everything for His Majesty¡¯s clemency. His Majesty was very grateful, wasn¡¯t he, Greysa?¡±


    I knew my role when I heard it, amused by Vex¡¯s little farce though I was. I let out a low, creaking moan in imitation of the mindless undead I had come to know so well, shifting in the shadows just enough that he knew someone was there without being able to see into the darkness.


    The assassin lunged through the bars at Vex in anger, one of probably the more stupid things he could have done. She caught him effortlessly by the wrist and yanked, slamming his body into the bars. He grunted in pain and I heard her cluck her tongue. ¡°You know, I wasn¡¯t really sure that the Spymaster was right until just now, but thank you,¡± Vex said. Now I could hear the hunger in her voice, ragged and relentless. ¡°And now that we know everything there is to know about her and you and them, my lady has no need for you any more.¡±


    She was about to bite down into his arm when the panic really hit him. It came, as it often did, with bravado. ¡°Eat me, creature, and you¡¯ll burn in the lowest pits of hell when what is coming is through with you!¡±


    Vex cocked her head like an attentive hound. ¡°Is that so, morsel?¡±


    ¡°Erelim and Ishal have sent their people a vision of the end of the Eternal Kingdom,¡± he said, talking faster and faster as he progressed. ¡°It will sweep through this place with cleansing fire that not even the Lich-God can quench. It will unmake everything here, you included.¡±


    ¡°His Majesty has no need to put out fires,¡± Vex said thoughtfully. ¡°That¡¯s what my lady does.¡±


    He laughed, though the sound was high and distorted with anxiety.


    Vex pulled, wrenching his arm in an exquisite sort of agony. He screamed for a moment, but then she let the tension lapse slightly. ¡°What¡¯s so funny, morsel? Share a little joke with me.¡±


    ¡°Already she burns with its fire in her veins. Only falling on her own blade will quench it,¡± he said frantically, hoarse with hysteria.


    Vex let out the croak that was closest to a laugh, but I did not, frozen at the thought of Shira¡¯s vision. ¡°I like your jokes, morsel,¡± the wight said before slowly beginning to twist his arm, probably intending to pull it off. ¡°Tell me another.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°She is the end of your evil, not us!¡± the man screamed. ¡°There are no more Chosen Ones!¡±


    ¡°Vex, that is enough,¡± I said coldly.


    She dropped him immediately as I advanced out of the shadows, looking chastised by my curt tone. The man started to laugh, hints of hysterics bleeding through. Red-rimmed eyes betrayed the fact that he hadn¡¯t slept since Vex caught him, no doubt by her design. ¡°I should have known,¡± he croaked. ¡°A mad wight with a cheap parlor trick.¡±


    ¡°Vex, give him your sword,¡± I said bluntly, already picking up the keyring for the cell. I unlocked the door and opened it, then added the keyring to my belt with a quick, but steadfast knot.


    ¡°Yes, my lady,¡± Vex said, drawing her sword. She slid it in across the stones, landing with the hilt towards the assassin. ¡°Melody will be displeased with you.¡±


    ¡°How thoughtful of her.¡± I stepped into the cell and shut the door behind me. I wasn¡¯t wearing armor, but I drew Woe. ¡°You serve a god of righteous warriors, son of Erelim. Fight or be devoured by the mad wight with cheap parlor tricks. Whether your prophecy is right or your arm is strong and quick, the King in Black is destroyed. I hold the key to your cage.¡±


    ¡°I am in no condition to fight,¡± the man croaked even as he lifted Vex¡¯s sword.


    My lip curled. ¡°At least you will have your chance and go to your god as a warrior worthy of his afterlife.¡±


    It was about as elegant as I was expecting: a simple, straight charge fueled by rage, panic, and desperation. I stepped off line with a pivot, bringing my sword in a wicked arc that severed his head from his shoulders in one powerful blow. I flicked most of his blood off my blade and then dried the rest on the cloth of his shirt. ¡°Disappointing.¡±


    ¡°Why did you give him the chance, my lady?¡± Vex said as I opened the door again.


    ¡°To see what his word was worth. You will tell no one what he said about me,¡± I said coolly. ¡°Not La¡¯an, not Haven, not Heca, not even Melody. Not a single soul. And if the King in Black inquires, you will humbly request that He tender that request to His Beloved. Am I understood?¡±


    Vex nodded, focused on me with something almost approaching concern. ¡°But it¡¯s not true, my lady.¡±


    ¡°Of course not, but even lies are useful to the leeches,¡± I said. ¡°Consume the body. Leave no piece remaining.¡± I¡¯d long ago learned that wights had certain advantages when I wanted to unanchor a spirit without consecration. ¡°I will be in my study if you require me.¡±


    I felt numb walking back up the stairs. It was obviously ludicrous madness, but what if it was true? What if I was the undoing of everything we had worked so hard to create? Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in the moment of the vision with Shira, looking up into wildflower blue. By the time I was halfway to my chambers, the numbness of it all was wearing off, replaced by cold fury. I had broken every prophecy that came my way and this one would be no different.


    I attuned to Woe¡¯s weight on my hip, not certain of what to do next. It depended on what the gods were implying. If it was Shira, that was a matter easily solved. I could harden my heart enough, surely. I had burned a civilization for Him, what was one more priestess of Ishal given over to flame?


    But what if it wasn¡¯t her? What if it was something else? A poison, a spell, a curse from Ishal, my own paranoia or disillusionment?


    I couldn¡¯t afford to go to Melody for advice, not with her serving as His spymaster. Whatever her intentions, that put her too close to powers that would crush Shira on the very notion that it might be something to do with the priestess. ¡°Gods damn it,¡± I hissed under my breath as I unbelted Woe, stepping into my study.


    Melody was there waiting for me, a small tea tray already prepared. I raised an eyebrow. ¡°You made yourself comfortable. I assume you are here about my prisoner.¡±


    My friend looked up, brow creasing in concern. ¡°Aleyr, you sound angry. I hope borrowing Vex didn¡¯t cause offense.¡±


    I forced myself to soften and thaw. As dangerous as any disclosure would be, I could still trust Melody to have my best interests at heart, at least for now. ¡°Headache.¡±


    ¡°I heard Shira rang your bell,¡± Melody said sympathetically, waiting for me to have a seat across the desk from her. ¡°I thought willow¡¯s bark tea would be in order, with Haven¡¯s permission.¡±


    ¡°Did he tell you?¡± I asked, easing myself down into my favorite chair and leaning Woe against the wall beside me.


    ¡°No, she did. She seemed concerned that she had angered you and mentioned she hadn¡¯t seen you much of late,¡± Melody said. It was her habit to catalogue every little bit of information, so I would need to go very carefully.


    ¡°She worries too much,¡± I said harshly. ¡°You all do.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps if you gave us less to worry about, we would not.¡±


    I glared across the table at her. ¡°And how am I to take that?¡±


    ¡°Aleyr, you seem more distant and bitter than usual lately. I worry, Haven worries, even His Majesty has commented on your absence at court.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps He should have considered missing His window dressing before making this mess with Erelim into my problem,¡± I said sourly, picking up a cup of tea. ¡°I have had my hands rather too full to be attending court. Also, Vex wrangled confirmation from my unwanted guest that Greysa was, in fact, the one who provided them with local help.¡±


    ¡°How is Arthan?¡± Melody asked, as if following up on an old friend. She knew better than to challenge me directly when I was in a mood like this.


    ¡°Dead.¡± I sipped the tea carefully, letting it roll across my palate. Willow¡¯s bark was bitter to begin with, but that was all it was. I had learned over centuries to identify more poisons and drugs by taste than was probably healthy.


    ¡°Was that really necessary?¡± Melody said, looking slightly dismayed.


    ¡°Vex was hungry,¡± I muttered darkly, turning away from her to look out the narrow window. It gazed in the direction of the Alabaster Spire at the center of Sanctum. ¡°Given he had nothing more to say than panicked ravings, I expect I was doing him a favor. Where is Greysa, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Experiencing Heca¡¯s attentions to learn if there are any other parts of the cult still extant in Sanctum. You were right to pick Hallen. She tried to turn him and he played the part admirably. His Majesty is¡­satisfied.¡±


    That makes one of us. I sighed, picking at the edge of the teacup¡¯s cracked lip with my thumbnail. This set was my favorite, a little gift from Teth when we were both much younger and on much better terms. It had come a long way from Suzail, but she¡¯d taken it as a sort of prize in battle and gifted it to me some years later after I¡¯d expressed fondness for the delicate roses painted on the porcelain. Since then, it had become something of a memento of days gone by, of a time when my isolation hadn¡¯t choked me to gasping. ¡°Has he awarded Hallen¡¯s troops back?¡±


    ¡°His Majesty indicated that was up to your discretion. A public ceremony is probably in order if this is the case.¡±


    I almost spit on the floor in distaste. Hallen was a solid general, but I would have rather eaten my armor than been part of a public pageantry. It was what the people of Sanctum expected, unfortunately. I couldn¡¯t hide away in the Winter Palace forever, whatever my wishes: they needed a reminder that their King¡¯s rule was alive and well.


    But could I still claim to be that?


    I have broken every other prophecy. I can break this one too.

 28 - The Beloveds Grief

    I couldn¡¯t stay in Haven¡¯s quarters forever. If nothing else, it was craven to hide in my own home. I had just needed time to get my edge back, my comforting cold. Now with my thoughts stirring towards Hallen¡¯s impending visit and the ceremonial changing-over of command for his elite troops, finally back to their strength, I thought I was ready to return to my own quarters. With Erelim¡¯s followers caught like rats in a Melody¡¯s steel trap of a plan, it would be safe enough to maneuver Shira out of my quarters and into something of her own. That in turn would prompt fewer whispers about why she had been permitted to stay in my rooms for so long without Melody around to shape the palace rumor mill to her will.


    Even though I prided myself on keeping only the truly loyal, servants needed something to talk about and it was a point of curiosity. The oversight on my part hadn¡¯t been as problematic when Melody was posing as my handmaiden. She had an almost mystical way with rumors, always aware of just who to drop the right tidbits to in order to keep me protected. Now there was a chink in my armor, something I was very aware of when I heard the whispering in the halls.


    The attention was mostly focused on Shira, of course, not me. Speak the name of the Beloved even in epithets and it might draw her ire, or so the stories went. The priestess had no such reputation to protect her. The Winter Palace was an insular place, separated from the rest of Sanctum, which gave it perhaps a more clannish feel than it needed. Even the guard recruits were not certain how to handle her as one among their number, and her silence made her even more of a target for the cruel jokes and pranks that are common among soldiers.


    Perhaps that was why she treated my quarters so much as a refuge. Whatever anyone¡¯s feelings about her, they didn¡¯t dare bring them there. I let her have use of the space far more than I liked, busying myself in the armory and library while I prepared for Hallen and this grand, stupid spectacle instead of sequestering myself in my chambers. The problem with being out and about in the Palace meant visitors and staff alike felt entitled to my attention and there were only so many that I could menace away.


    Sometimes, however, not even the armory was safe.


    Near midday, the training rooms were always busy, so I knew something was amiss as soon as I rounded the corner with Vex to see an almost deserted hall leading to their doors. The regular guards were present, but no one else. ¡°It seems the mice have all scurried away, my lady.¡± My second spoke casually, but she had one hand on the hilt of her sword. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t there be servants at least dusting in anticipation of Hallen?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps you can hound them down and remind them of their obligation,¡± I said, less concerned. An assassin would have been a breath of fresh air compared to more planning. It was rare for me to have an actual guest, but Hallen¡¯s second had insisted his master had things to discuss with me privately, so there would be a dinner the night before the restoration of his men to his command. With Melody gone, Haven had stepped in, but he had to be reminded of seating configurations, particularly since the leeches would be in attendance at His Majesty¡¯s request. It was meant to be a show of unity, of mended fences, but I doubted that Varys had forgotten why he¡¯d almost roasted in the sun to death.


    I opened the door to the training room. There, fresh contusions and tears on her face, was Shira. She held the armor I had requested Ember make as rusted fragments, clearly damaged by a spell. In that moment, the prophecy no longer mattered, nor did my efforts at avoiding her. I strode across the distance between us with purpose, taking a knee beside her. ¡°Shira, who did this?¡±


    She shook her head, gripping the destroyed armor more tightly.


    ¡°Shall I speak to the guard, my lady?¡± Vex asked sweetly, already anticipating whatever misery I was going to inflict on those responsible. ¡°They would know who left the room.¡±


    ¡°That would be appreciated.¡± I reached out carefully, turning Shira¡¯s head towards me with a firm press of my fingertips on the flesh that wasn¡¯t bruised. Her cheek swelled, one eye was well on track to becoming black, and her lip had split from a blow to the mouth. I understood her silence: no doubt she wanted to avoid the persecution worsening. ¡°This needs a cold compress or it will only grow more painful.¡±


    There had to have been multiple assailants. She was too well trained to lose to one. Shira¡¯s eyes flooded as she looked at me, confused and hurt. I can handle myself, she signed defensively.


    ¡°That is not in question.¡± I inspected the injuries carefully, then glanced down at the armor. ¡°Were you wearing that when this happened?¡±


    She shook her head. Cleaning.


    ¡°It is just armor, Shira. I can requisition you another set with ease,¡± I said, prying it out of her other hand.


    It was a gift. I should have protected it better.


    ¡°It was meant to protect you, not the other way around.¡± I touched the blood on her chin. The anger that was my constant companion roiled at the sight. It clung to my fingertips, still clotting. A fresh battle, then, or at least relatively so. I set aside the destroyed pieces of armor until she had nothing more to cling to, facing her on my knees. Then I pulled a handkerchief out of my sleeve and held it out. ¡°Dry your eyes. We are solving this problem.¡±


    How?


    ¡°Those responsible will be disciplined. I feel it is only right.¡±


    She dried her tears and rose as I did, confusion and concern playing across her face. Please don¡¯t kill them, she signed as Vex entered the room, kicking one young man ahead of her while she dragged his companions by their faces, grinning savagely. They were all too terrified to curse my second, knowing full well what it meant if the wight was the one fetching them.


    Vex¡¯s interest could only mean they faced my displeasure.


    ¡°Here are your miserable little morsels, my lady. Shall I chew them a lesson?¡± the wight said, dumping her captives on the ground in front of me. All three young men were bloody and beaten, though not as thoroughly as they¡¯d struck Shira. The two who had been dragged bore Vex¡¯s claw marks sunk deep into their cheeks.


    ¡°No, Vex. I give you custody of the door. If they flee for it, you will strike them down,¡± I said coldly. I recognized all three, well acquainted with the names of even my recruits. ¡°Before you miserable creatures begin barking, it was Vex who found you out. Shira here has been remarkably silent about who is responsible.¡±


    ¡°Lady Frostborn, this is a misunderstand¨C¡± the leader, Alessandro, started to say.


    ¡°Do tell me what I misunderstand about her injuries.¡± My voice froze him like a midwinter gale. ¡°I would love to know how foolish and blind you think I am.¡±


    All three stared at me in horror, comprehending now the level of my wrath. It was rare for me to feel this cold these days, a feeling normally only the gods of Light could inspire in my chest. If Shira had thought I was icy before, she now had a far more accurate gauge of how frigid I could be. My lips twitched with contempt.


    ¡°Now, unless I am mistaken, becoming a Red Sash is a privilege generously offered, not a right. Given you have greatly abused my hospitality and patronage with this behavior, utterly divorced from the duty and obedience to oaths I expect my guards to honor, I am inclined to strip you of your station and dump the lot of you back in the gutters where I found you.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Alessandro dropped to his knees, a move that Sydell and Tobi copied quickly. ¡°Please, Lady Frostborn¨C¡±


    All three withered under my glare as I cut him off again. ¡°If I wanted excuses or groveling pleas, Alessandro, I would carve them out of your miserable head. You are warriors. I expect you to behave accordingly.¡± They straightened, but kept their heads bowed. ¡°Your lives hang in a very precarious balance, but I will let the wounded party advocate either for or against you. It is her choice to make. I will take her words into account.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a mute!¡± Alessandro blurted out.


    I struck him across the face with a backhand hard enough to knock him to the ground. ¡°Just because you are too arrogant or stupid to learn sign doesn¡¯t mean we all are,¡± I hissed.


    He stayed on the ground, only daring to look up at Shira. He was smart enough not to make eye-contact with me. It would have been the end of him.


    Please don¡¯t hurt them any more, Shira signed. They¡¯ve learned their lesson. Surely this is punishment enough.


    ¡°Mercy is wasted on morsels,¡± Vex muttered, looking down at the three with a definite hunger in her eyes.


    I reached down and grabbed Alessandro by two fistfuls of his shirt, dragging him up to his feet and forcing him to face me. ¡°Shira recommends that I do you no more harm. She operates under the assumption that you have learned your lesson. It seems her clemency comes without punishment beyond that which you have already endured.¡±


    The relief that flashed across his face made me even more angry, somehow.


    ¡°Would you agree that I have always been a woman of my word, Alessandro? A leader who acts justly and requires just acts from those who follow her?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Lady Frostborn,¡± he said quickly.


    ¡°Then let me be abundantly clear: every cruelty you visit on Shira here will be revisited upon you three times over. No more, no less. Once because it is a violation of your oaths and unbecoming of a Red Sash, once because you have thrown my generosity in my face, and once because you have abused someone who risks her own neck for yours even after you have wronged her.¡± I shoved him backwards into Vex, who caught him with eager claws. ¡°And if this behavior on your part ever escalates, you will find yourself wishing fervently you could have been only rendered into gutter trash. That goes for all of you and your little friends who aren¡¯t here. Get out of my sight before I change my mind and find an unspeakable horror to visit on you.¡±


    The three fought each other to get out of the training room as fast as they could, careening out the door in the flight of those who knew my patience was expended. Vex sighed. ¡°I could have been that unspeakable horror, my lady,¡± the wight said despondently.


    ¡°There¡¯s still time, if they are fools.¡± I knew Shira was watching me carefully, like one would a cobra with its hood flared. ¡°Vex, go amuse yourself. I will take Shira to see Haven.¡± The wight would probably terrorize the three, but I didn¡¯t really care now that my point was made.


    Why are you protecting me? Shira signed when I turned to face her. You haven¡¯t even cared to speak with me for more than a week.


    It didn¡¯t even sting. I was still raging internally at the three. I hadn¡¯t stopped to examine my feelings to determine why I might be angry. ¡°I brought you here. I promised to train you. Your safety is my responsibility.¡±


    I didn¡¯t ask to be made your responsibility! Shira shot back with the flicking of her fingers. Her eyes blazed, but they were tearing up as well. I¡¯m not your property to defend, Frostborn. I¡¯m a prisoner here. They all hate me. You hate me!


    For the first time in centuries, instinct got the better of me. I grabbed her hands, stopping them from signing to buy myself time. The moment I caught her hand with my left hand, the ring melded into my bone flashed cold with magic and a vision opened up before my eyes.


    ¨CShira and I stood in the apple orchard, but it was not as I remembered it: instead, I was the one pinning her against the tree, without a hint of him in sight. There was no book of poetry, but we were so close and her eyes looked dark as sapphires again. ¡°Let me go, Aleyr.¡± Her voice was soft and hoarse from disuse, barely a whisper.


    The moment I let go of her left wrist, she caught me by the front of the shirt and pulled me closer. I wasn¡¯t expecting it at all, especially the way she tilted her head slightly as if inviting a kiss¨C


    I let go of her with both hands, in absolute agony from both the ring and the vision. ¡°I am not Varys!¡± I snarled. ¡°Do not make me into him in your gods-damned visions!¡±


    Shira was still reeling, slammed back into her body by the vision far less gracefully than my mind had returned to mine. Tears flooded down her cheeks. I don¡¯t want you to be Varys!


    I caught my breath, the cold of the ring still eating away at my hand. ¡°You want me to be something I have no right to be. I am your captor and your tormentor, Shira, you have made that abundantly clear. Blurring those lines will only destroy us both.¡±


    All I want is for you to let me in! It doesn¡¯t have to be this way, Frostborn!


    ¡°I am the Beloved of the King in Black!¡± I shouted, feeling the burning in my eyes again. It matched the pain in my chest and the worse agony in my hand. ¡°Get out of my heart, priestess! You have no place there!¡±


    She reached out for me, lips shaping my name soundlessly, but I was finished with the conversation.


    I tore out of the room, ignoring the pain in her expression as the agony worsened in my hand. My flesh was almost crimson around the ring, burning from the cold of it. ¡°Haven!¡±


    He must have come running, because he was there before I realized what was going on. ¡°My lady, what¨C?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t even reply to him, my soul yanked on its tether. The King in Black had felt my distress and assumed it was danger. The summoning spell dragged my body along with my spirit, washing over me with cold necromantic energies.


    I spilled out onto the cold stone within the Alabaster Spire¡¯s Inner Sanctum, gasping for breath in the sudden chill that surrounded me. The King in Black looked down at me, blue fire burning in empty sockets. What happened, my rose?


    For the first time in centuries, I felt my own eyes well. ¡°What does it matter?¡± I said bitterly. ¡°I am still loyal, still faithful, still following the commands you give me.¡±


    A tear started to roll down my cheek, so He rose and caught it with one bone finger. I hated the coldness of His touch, the emptiness of the gesture. Why do you weep? Have I not given you everything you asked of me?


    The words mocked me, though that was not His intent. He had given me oceans of suffering in exchange for my devotion. The little gestures like the apple tree were mere dabbing touches of a novice healer on the axe wounds in my soul. We were alone here, so I felt no need to censor myself. ¡°I need you, Cassius! I need our life or an ending! I cannot content myself with the little meaningless nothings that are all you offer anymore!¡±


    He straightened, imperious now as He looked at me. You knew what the ritual entailed, my rose. The sacrifices we made¨C


    ¡°I never agreed to sacrifice you!¡± I caught my breath in ragged pants, falling to my knees in front of him. ¡°Not like this! I want the boy in the apple orchard, the man I loved dying by inches in my arms again! When you told me the only path to salvation was to cut out the heart of what you loved the most, I thought it would have been mine, and I was going to give it gladly! But it was yours!¡±


    Our fates are decided, Aleyr, the King in Black said coldly. I remind you that you agreed to follow me through even the fires of Hell. Are you so inconstant that you would wish for the destruction of everything we built just because it burns?


    ¡°I gave you godhood!¡± I screamed, blinded by my tears. ¡°I gave you kingdoms, I gave you children, I gave you myself, and you burned it all at the altar of your self! I don¡¯t know where the man I loved is, because I see nothing of him in you!¡±


    Because he is dead, Aleyr. You have lost grips on your reason. We will speak again at the ceremony with Hallen. I expect you to have regained yourself by then. I will return you to the Winter Palace if that is all you have to speak of.


    If he said more, I heard nothing of it, only the resounding echoes of my own grief.

 29 - Too Much Seen

    The presence of so many people in the Winter Palace made for a fine start to a tension headache. I always hated playing hostess, given I cared little for the comforts of the leeches or other court hangers-on, but appearances were everything. Fortunately, I was across from Melody at dinner. Unfortunately, I was expected to attend most of all to the King in Black, seated at His right hand. Normally the arrangement would have suited me fine; however, with our last conversation, I felt the weight of His expectations chafing like an ill-fitted collar. I¡¯d stacked the table to my advantage, at least: Hallen was beside me and Naltheme across from him, leaving Teth the closest of the vampire lords. Rhandiir and Varys probably took the distance as a slight, but they knew better than to say so.


    Better to merely presume my low opinion of them than ask and remove all doubt publicly. A scathing tongue lashing from the Beloved still carried more weight than merely my own displeasure. His Majesty was always watching, always listening.


    I had agonized over what to do with Shira, tempted to keep her out of Varys¡¯s view for her own sake. However, that meant she could end up cornered somewhere out of my sight by him. Thus, with some reluctance on my part, she was playing the part of an honor guard, never far from me and never out of my line of sight.


    The ceremonial changing of command had gone smoothly enough, probably because there was far less opportunity for knives to come out. Dinner had far more chances for them to abuse my hospitality and offend me, or scheme in quiet tones further down the table.


    ¡°Is something the matter, Lady Frostborn? You have been unusually quiet,¡± Teth said solicitously when she settled into her seat. She¡¯d dressed exquisitely for the occasion in a sleeveless ruby gown that exposed the tattoos across her arms and shoulders.


    ¡°Unusually tolerant,¡± I corrected bluntly, watching Varys like a hawk as one of my servants refilled his goblet with blood. She was living, which made her a target, but I would gut him before letting him feed on my household staff. She moved out of his reach carefully, and he was smart enough not to bite or grope with my eyes on him, though I doubted she¡¯d appreciated whatever he¡¯d whispered to her given her pallor.


    ¡°If I didn¡¯t know better, I might think you were worried,¡± Teth said, gesturing around at various members of my honor guard positioned nearby. I¡¯d made them obvious this time, hiding Shira among their number. She was quiet and, most importantly, armed and armored. I¡¯d also positioned her next to Melody, just in case.


    ¡°I find their presence only troubles those who plan on troubling me.¡± The coolness in those syllables seemed to amuse Teth further.


    ¡°Must we needle at each other, Frostborn?¡± Teth said, swirling the blood in her goblet. Her ruby lips formed something almost approaching a pout. ¡°His Majesty must find it so disappointing.¡±


    The King in Black was utterly inscrutable at my side, still wreathed in His customary aura of cold despite the blue flames that danced in empty eye sockets. I knew His thoughts were probably a thousand miles away, turning over some magical quandary, but it was impossible to be certain how much He was listening to the conversation. At least, until I felt the touch of bone across my knuckles. I glanced down to see His skeletal fingers resting on the back of my sword hand. ¡°They are beneath you, my rose,¡± He said near my ear. ¡°Eagles do not snap at flies.¡±


    I nodded in sullen obedience, glancing further down the table to display my disinterest in Teth¡¯s games as I moved my hand to my goblet.


    ¡°At least they¡¯re pretty to look at, Teth,¡± Varys said with a grin, his attention focusing on Shira. I don¡¯t think he recognized her here, so different from the frightened thing I¡¯d drawn out of his tent. A definite hardness settled into her expression when she felt his gaze.


    Anger boiled in me, a roiling cauldron barely lidded. I felt the itch for steel in my sword hand and turned my head towards him, pointedly ignoring Melody¡¯s concern. ¡°Your shriveled little mind must be on its last miserable legs, if lust is the only thought you can contain.¡±


    Rhandiir¡¯s hand shot out to grab Varys¡¯s wrist, but the younger vampire had already stood, knocking his chair back. Apparently he was spoiling for a fight as much as I was. ¡°I will not be insulted by¨C¡±


    ¡°Finish that sentence.¡± Suddenly we were all aware of the presence of the King in Black, a withering cold blooming outwards from Him, snuffing candles along the banquet table. I saw the hand that had covered mine move to point menacingly at Varys.


    Varys stopped, jaw dropping slightly as he realized the magnitude of the misstep. ¡°Your Majesty, I¨C¡±


    ¡°Finish that sentence or I will finish it for you.¡±


    I almost pitied Varys. Almost.


    He coughed and cleared his throat, words coming out nearly in a stammer. Varys was fundamentally a bully, used to punching down at those weaker than him. When confronted with the very real power of the King in Black, he was more inclined to roll over and show his belly, hoping for acceptance of his submission. ¡°...by Lady Frostborn.¡±


    ¡°Those are not the words that burned so brightly in your thoughts.¡±


    Varys¡¯s expression twisted as he fought against the compulsion, but he could only resist for a fraction of a second. His initially intended words spilled out¡­much to his horror. ¡°I will not be insulted by a north-man bitch who whored her way to greatness!¡±


    Teth set her fork down delicately and scooted her chair back from the table slightly, to avoid being caught in the crossfire. Even Melody, normally so level and composed, blanched visibly and leaned back in her seat.


    If I had been angry before, the rage was incandescent now.


    ¡°You do not even begin to understand the power of loyalty and sacrifice, Varys,¡± the King in Black said with a deep, resonating menace. ¡°Nor do you respect the generosity and toleration that has been given to you. You insult my Beloved in her very home, spitting upon her hospitality. I see that Heca¡¯s warning was insufficient.¡± The fires seemed to burn brighter in His eye sockets, and I knew that while the King in Black did not experience emotions like a human, His displeasure was still a thing of legend.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Your Majesty, please, you gave me no chance!¡± Varys dropped to his knees, ready to grovel, but the King in Black had no heart to be moved to pity him.


    That was my role, and I was not about to save the vampire from himself.


    ¡°Observe, all of you in attendance, for thus will it always be to those who slight or harm my Beloved.¡±


    A bright blue flame flashed from the King in Black¡¯s hand directly at Varys. What happened next was gruesome, even by my standards. The vampire screamed as his body began to turn itself inside out, piece by piece. Bones splintered and crawled their way out of his body as he fell to the ground, spattering the stone with his blood. His vampiric regeneration tried to compensate, but the spell far outstripped its pace. The only thing his natural abilities could do was shackle him to life as the magics ripped him apart piece by piece. The screaming seemed to last an eternity, but the following silence was even worse, broken only by snaps and pops and wet twisting sounds as tendons and ligaments were dragged along with his bones.


    The King in Black rose from His seat and stepped around the table, extending a single finger out towards the wreckage on the floor. The flames intensified around Varys and I heard his soul howl as it was ripped from his now disintegrating body, but it would not go to the afterlife. Instead, it flowed into the King in Black¡¯s hand, where it was crushed in a bone fist.


    Agonizing cold flashed through my ring, but it was so brief that I barely noticed it. The silence stretched over the party like a funeral shroud, grim and terrifying in its aspect. All that remained of Varys was a stain upon the floor.


    Rhandiir in particular looked horrified, yet cowed into submission. It was Teth who watched not the King in Black, but me. Her searching gaze sought something in my face, some hint of my own nature or perhaps the connection between the King in Black and I.


    My secrets are not about to become yours, Teth. I gave her nothing to see, expression blank and mask-like. I glanced at Shira once Teth¡¯s attention had shifted back to the King in Black. The young woman looked horrified and sick, her hand gripping her sword. I flicked my fingers in a quick sign at her to stand down.


    She let go of her sword hilt before the King in Black saw and faded into the background once again.


    His Majesty settled back into his seat and raised a hand, gesturing pointedly for all of us to resume the meal. Servants moved forward to relight the candles.


    Yet even if He found the display untroubling, sickness sat in my stomach. Not at the loss of Varys or the display of power, but the knowledge that the ripples of that action would be felt across the Eternal Kingdom. Rhandiir would blame me for the death of his spawn, Teth was clearly after something she thought I possessed, and it all sat in my gut like a lump of hot lead. Perhaps, I realized as my temper cooled, perhaps it would have been wisest to intervene.


    Dinner was an almost silent affair for the rest of the evening, with only Teth and Naltheme able to carry on their conversation. I brooded across from Melody, Hallen seemed like a man poised near a floor covered in eggshells, and Rhandiir¡¯s sour countenance confirmed my suspicions. Maric just tore into flesh and devoured it without concern, a general to his core with little interest in the machinations of the Court beyond his own few schemes.


    When it was over, I retreated into my rooms without His Majesty¡¯s company, dismissing my honor guard with a wave of my hand. Only Shira stayed.


    I glanced over at her. ¡°I do not need your concern,¡± I said bluntly, recognizing her furrowed brow for what it was.


    But your hand¡­ she signed.


    I looked down, turning my palm face up. Just on either side of the golden band molded to my flesh was a blistered burn, like the kind made by winter¡¯s unforgiving maw. Fortunately it only inflicted the palm side of my hand. I had concealed it well during dinner, numb to its cold, but enough feeling was returning to the damaged flesh to render it far more painful now. ¡°It is a triviality.¡±


    Shira shook her head. I will fetch Haven.


    ¡°His skill is not needed,¡± I said quietly, waving a hand towards the shelf that stored healing supplies in my room. ¡°There is salve and bandage here.¡±


    And you will apply it one-handed? Shira moved over to the shelf I had indicated, picking up both.


    She had a point. I couldn¡¯t very well bandage my own hand with anything approaching grace. ¡°And I suppose you will?¡± My tone stayed as caustic as a dragonling¡¯s blood.


    Priestesses of Ishal learn much of the healing arts, Shira signed once she¡¯d set the bandages on the side table alongside the little jar of burn salve. Besides, once you cleaned and bandaged my wounds.


    I sat down at the table and extended my hand, a sigh building in my chest. ¡°Get it over with,¡± I said, knowing full well that the salve would be agony before it soothed. I flinched when she touched my wrist, not because it hurt, but because something about the warmth of fingertips against my skin reminded me of dangerous things. Her brow furrowed with concern, but I shook my head and let her work, stilling myself whether I wanted to or not. There was no sense in squirming.


    How long had it been since anyone but Haven or Melody had tended to me? I realized that I couldn¡¯t remember. The burning of the salve against my damaged flesh quickly pulled me out of that thought, however. I gripped the table¡¯s edge with my other hand, forcing myself not to hiss in pain. The frostbite of the King in Black¡¯s magic was always especially agonizing.


    Shira lingered over my hand, winding the bandage with care. She avoided touching the ring at all times. Then her question came, a flicking of fingers with the hand not resting on mine. What happened when he¡­why did it hurt you?


    ¡°It would be wiser not to ask questions like that. I might have to kill you.¡±


    I saw his soul enter the ring. The priestess hesitated, watching me with trepidation. I saw the energy merge with you.


    I chose my next words with extreme care. ¡°I know you have questions, Shira, but a word to the wrong person about what you have seen will destroy us both, along with many, many more.¡±


    The stories here in Sanctum say that the souls of Shana¡¯ai fueled the rise of the Lich-King: that he used their power in a dark ritual to become what He is, that they were consumed within his phylactery.


    A coldness settled into my blood. Shira was fumbling at the edge of an understanding that surpassed both Teth and Naltheme, but it would mean far more to them than it did to her. ¡°You should know better than to listen to idle prattling,¡± I said bluntly.


    Why did it hurt you, Frostborn? In her luminous eyes, I saw something that worried me much more than accusation: a deep and abiding concern.


    I looked down at my bandaged hand. ¡°Some things are not for you to know.¡±

 30. Burn

    The clash of steel was what I craved. Battle always made more sense than peace and I often found pain more welcome than pleasure. Perhaps it was unwise, though, to push at those ragged verges, raw like scraped flesh. Yet I did it all the same, as only a creature who has never known contentment could do.


    ¡°Again!¡± I barked, hurling Shira¡¯s training waster back at her as she stumbled backwards.


    She caught the blade by the hilt, taking up a stance again. This time, she raised the blade towards the roof, taking a high guard since the fool¡¯s guard had done her no good. Determination and no small amount of frustration sparked in her sapphire eyes. A war played across her face between those darker shades and her own inherent gentleness. Again, she was struggling to find her killer¡¯s edge.


    ¡°You cannot live by half measures and moderation always, Shira. The universe does not deliver all that you desire on a silver platter¡ªif you want something, reach out and take it!¡±


    Shira narrowed her eyes and I saw something click into place in her head. She came at me with the speed of a summer storm, the fury of tempestuous waves, the relentless barrage of a torrent in her blows. It was the best assault she¡¯d ever managed, a combination of feints and thrusts as she tried to force me backwards.


    I retreated just far enough to let her think she had me on the run before abruptly breaking tempo. As she struck from the heights with a wicked cut, I leapt forward at an angle, blade swinging horizontally towards her head. The point wasn¡¯t really to hit: it was to force Shira to defend and place herself at disadvantage while keeping myself protected, my crossguard between her blade and my head.


    She caught me in a bind, trying to wind steel against steel, seeking my face with the tip of her blade. It was quick thinking, but I trapped her blade against the strong of my own weapon, just at the crossguard, and twisted viciously enough to send the weapon flying from her hands.


    Shira didn¡¯t stop, even disarmed. She ducked the sword and charged inside my guard, narrowly avoiding getting her nose slammed flat by my pommel. The young woman hit me low in a grapple, disrupting my center of gravity. I was carried along with her as if by a wave.


    We hit the ground in a tangle hard enough to knock the wind out of both of us. I recovered first, grabbing her wrist as she fumbled weakly for her practice dagger. It felt in that moment almost like there was no separation between us, as if the blazing heat of her fury had collided with my icy self-control, and everything warred on the precipice to see whose energy would destroy the other¡¯s.


    Fingers seized the collar of my doublet and then lips collided with my own. It was harsh and passionate, not at all the demure expectant inclination of a head I¡¯d seen in the vision. Shira kissed me like she was dying and I was her breath, her light, her life. The desperation had an edge of fear to it.


    I don¡¯t know what I was expecting, but that was not it. I bit down hard on her lower lip, tasting a trace of copper as she gasped, flinging her dagger away in the same movement as I rolled on top of her. Sapphire eyes deep and dark with unspoken desires looked at me from beneath hooded eyelids. Her lip would bruise, already bearing the marks of my teeth. Judging by the flush on her cheeks, she didn¡¯t care, wild and half undone.


    My mind struggled to grasp what had just happened. I¡¯d been so careful to push away, but perhaps she had seen too much of Aleyr the woman to recognize the Butcher of Stonepoint, the Beloved of the King in Black. I trapped one of her wrists over her head, but the other hand slipped my grip to tangle in my hair and pull me down into another kiss, no less demanding and ferocious.


    It felt so good, even the wrongness of it. It didn¡¯t matter that it was battering at the last bonds of my fidelity¡ªit was real after centuries of a hollow facade. The spark of competition burned now as an all-consuming fire of desire. From her held position, Shira tried to control the kiss, holding me close as she parted her lips. It would have been easy for me to wrestle control back, but I still knew what Varys had done to her.


    I yielded to the sensation, the temptation of warmth and want and passion. My hold on her other wrist softened and she pulled free, joining that hand to the other in my hair.


    Breath came as a gasp for both of us when the kiss broke. She shifted underneath me, using her hips and her hold on my hair to reverse our positions. Now I had my back against the mats, her lips swiftly seeking mine again. I think she expected me to resist, to push her away and scorn her. I could feel it in the tension of her body against mine.


    I splayed my hands low across her back and hips, holding her more tightly against me, but that was all. I tried to soften my kiss, only to feel a tug in my hair. All the bitterness and contention was still there, and for a moment I understood Shira better than I had since pulling her out of Varys¡¯s tent. Hers was the feeling nursed in secret that had finally broken open like an old wound, full of pain as much as love. I had hurt her so profoundly with every rebuffing comment, with every forced distance, and the feelings had only grown anyway. Maybe she hated me, I didn¡¯t know at that moment, but she had to hate how I could make her feel.


    Everything in me thawed at that realization. I had abused my power over her too cruelly, too blindly¡ªit hurt me to the quick.


    I turned my head abruptly, breaking the kiss. ¡°Shira, you don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Her teeth tugged at my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine. My fingers were probably leaving bruises on her hips, they had dug in so hard.


    ¡°Shira, stop.¡± This time the words came with Frostborn¡¯s cold.


    She recoiled back as if stung, tears already welling in her eyes at the rejection.


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    ¡°Not like this,¡± I said more gently, leaning up into her. This time the kiss was soft and sweet, tender in a way I had thought myself dead to. I gently eased my hand from her hip, loosening my own death grip, and cupped her chin. Salt mingled with the copper taste, and I felt the desperation uncoil in her body, releasing its grip on her by inches even as the tears spilled over. I wrapped my arm around her, cradling her close with a hand between her shoulderblades.


    She broke away, her tears splashing against my cheeks. Her hand quivered like she wanted to sign, but didn¡¯t know what to say.


    ¡°Let me soothe where I have stung,¡± I said gently, thinking of nothing but her. I brushed away the tears with one hand before kissing where her cheek was stained.


    A broken sound tripped over her lips and she trembled like a reed, conflict warring in her eyes between wanting sweetness and wanting everything she could get while she could get it. I had hurt her so, changing from kind to cruel in instants. Why would she expect any different now?


    ¡°I should have protected you,¡± I murmured, eyes softening as I looked up at her. ¡°I was thoughtless with you, too absorbed in my own pain.¡± I kissed her softly, gentle against her bitten lip. ¡°No more.¡±


    I don¡¯t know how long I stayed on those mats with her, kissing away tears and trying to soothe the hurt. It felt like hours and moments at the same time, each one as delicate as spun glass. Her tears faded gradually, but I knew it was not a pain that could be undone in a day. Maybe not even in a lifetime. Still, I stayed and whispered sweet nothings and stroked her hair as if it would make a difference, as if I could heal the bloody past. If there was one thing a long lifetime had taught me, moving too quickly towards joy did not allow grief its season.


    ¡°My lady?¡± Vex¡¯s query sounded from around the corner, from the armory door. We were out of her line of sight, but we wouldn¡¯t be for long.


    Shira froze, and I saw it rear its head again: the expectation that my frigidity would return.


    ¡°Shh, blossom,¡± I murmured to her before clearing my throat and taking a far more brusque tone. ¡°Vex, I do not wish to be disturbed. Can you not handle whatever matter has arisen?¡±


    ¡°The clergy of the Dark Mothers have come seeking an audience. I gathered it¡¯s about the favor you owe them.¡±


    ¡°They can wait,¡± I said sharply. ¡°Favor owed or not, I am not at their beck and call.¡±


    ¡°Shall I offer them your hospitality, my lady? It will only contain them temporarily. They¡¯ve been very impatient.¡±


    I sighed and stroked my thumb across Shira¡¯s cheekbone. Those vultures could wait until the end of the world for all I cared, but they would need to be dealt with. ¡°I have a more important matter in my hands. They can wait.¡±


    ¡°Of course, my lady. Shall I seal the doors to the training room lest someone disturb you?¡±


    I smiled slightly despite myself. Faithful Vex, ever ready to oblige. ¡°That would best, Vex. Thank you.¡±


    I heard her retreat and the doors closed again, followed by the soft click of a lock engaging. Shira relaxed slightly, bringing up her hand to sign. Do you need to go?


    ¡°I meant what I said, blossom. You are more important. This is more important.¡±


    She nodded, relaxing more. Her fingers, instead of signing, combed through my hair and the faintest hint of a smile touched the corners of her lips. This time when she kissed me, it was slow and searching, almost tentative. She drew back after a long moment, fingers coming up to sign. I¡¯m sorry for how sudden¡ª


    I shook my head. ¡°Your fire is the most beautiful thing about you, Shira. But this is about what you need as well as what I desire.¡± When she hesitated, I cleared my throat. ¡°Varys.¡±


    You are not him. I want this.


    ¡°And how do you want it, Shira?¡± I studied her expression, caught as it was in a sort of exquisite torture by the proposition.


    The blush that spread across her face was an education to watch. She leaned down to kiss me, but I pressed a finger to her lips just before they met mine. ¡°I think those clever fingers of yours are more than capable of words. Do you want me to be gentle, Shira? I can play the courtly lover.¡±


    She hesitated, then signed, I¡­I don¡¯t think so.


    ¡°Be certain,¡± I said firmly, almost harshly, and felt a shudder through her body that told me more than her signing had. I hooked a leg around hers and rolled us again, catching my weight on my forearms as I settled above her.


    Her fingers flicked in a flurry. Frostborn¡ª


    ¡°Aleyr,¡± I corrected.


    What about this? She brushed her fingers across the back of my left hand, just below the ring fused with my flesh.


    I stilled, reminded all too well of my last private audience with the King in Black. As much as I had loved Him, that person was gone forever. I had only the dregs of memory, the illusion of His adoration. A bitter grief scorched its way up my throat. ¡°He never loved me as I loved Him. No more ashes, no more cold, no more emptiness.¡±


    Shira signed my name so delicately, watching my face. Aleyr, I don¡¯t want to hurt you more.


    ¡°That bridge has already burned, blossom,¡± I said, the last word lost against her lips. The kiss heated us both with that unquenchable fire and I felt her melt beneath me, her hands knotting in the sides of my doublet.


    I felt again. Perhaps the absence of it for so long was why it hit me in a torrential rush, a devouring hunger for the love I had been denied so long. The part of me that knew Shira was fragile and wounded was a dam barely able to contain the floodwaters, controlling the kiss carefully to avoid hurting her bruised lip.


    She had no such caution, arching up into me as our duel resumed in a very different way.


    I knew it was going to destroy me, even then. Shira kissed me until I did not care, until my lips were wandering down her neck, until the thunder of my own heartbeat in my ears drowned out all the doubts. The soft, pleading sound she made when I reached her collarbone and the insistent fingers in my hair were all that mattered. It had been such a long time since I¡¯d been desired or given over to desire.


    For a moment, Aleyr Frostborn remembered what it was to be alive. I felt again.


    My lips stopped at the scars on her collarbone, twin lines where Varys had drug his fangs across her skin. ¡°We have to stop this, blossom,¡± I said, forcing myself to let go and sit up, knees on either side of hers.


    Why? she signed, expression plaintive and pleading.


    I sighed, touching her cheek with one hand. ¡°Do you really think I would even dream of more than this on the training room floor?¡±


    She turned her head, pressing a kiss to my palm as she signed again. Will there be a later, Aleyr? Or will you turn cold and cruel like you always do? Again, she signed my name so delicately.


    ¡°Midnight, blossom,¡± I said softly. ¡°Come to my room. I have a gift for you anyway. You should know me well enough to know that when I set my mind, I pursue it with intent and purposeful action.¡±


    And your heart?


    I took a deep breath. ¡°We will see, won¡¯t we?¡± I helped her up off the training floor. ¡°Go see Haven for a cold compress for that lip. I apologize for hurting you. I will do all in my power to ensure it does not happen again.¡±


    Promises were such deadly things.