There was a foul smell in the air. Quilla couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. It seemed to be a mixture of the horrid sludge they were cooking in the kitchen and...something else. Flatulence maybe? Somebody in the common room must be doing a lot of farting. If they were eating what she had in front of her, she wasn’t surprised.

She peered down at her bowl of what was supposed to be stew. It had the appearance and consistency of thick mud, and as best she could tell, there was very little meat or vegetables in it. However, her spoon could barely penetrate it, so maybe it had more than she could tell. She hadn’t tasted it yet, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. So she let it sit there getting cold.

It was cold in the tavern too. There was a meagre fire burning, but the building was so draughty, it didn’t help much. That was fine. It fit her mood. As she’d repeatedly observed this winter, the cold was the perfect mirror for her life. She could add shitty “stew” to that now, too.

They were only in this tavern because it was dirt cheap. It wasn’t like they had been able to leave the Palace with much in the way of money, and they couldn’t advertise who most of them were, so there was no way of acquiring more money. They were stuck taking what very little they could afford.

Annai wasn’t taking it well. The princess was sitting across from Quilla in the booth in the corner of the common room. Her head lay on the table, her own bowl of stew pushed aside. As was usual for her these days, she was sobbing quietly. Quilla couldn’t really blame her—she’d had her own bouts of sobbing and crying—but it did get annoying when it was so constant. Gabby had snapped at Annai more than a few times, telling her to suck it up until they could get somewhere safe to properly mourn.

So many had died. Death was nothing new to Quilla. It hadn’t even started with Garet; that had just been when it had started to affect her. But now, it had gotten so much worse: Tianna, Thilin, the King and Queen, and who knew how many servants and soldiers at the Palace? Probably Zandrue and Rudiger, too. How many more would die before it was all over? Would it ever be over?

Annai stirred and looked up for a moment. “I hate this place. It stinks.”

The thing that made Annai’s constant sobbing so annoying was, she interlaced it with complaints about their current situation, as if Quilla—or Gabby, Pastrin, whoever—could do something about it. How dare they make her wear such “crude rags”! Why did they have to stay in a rat-infested inn?

Those “rags” were a plain woollen kirtle and a thick, but shabby, fur robe over top.

“I get that it can’t be our regular clothes,” Annai had complained to Gabby, “but surely it could be something better than this. I look like a sewer rat!”

“No,” Gabby had said. “We can’t spare the money, and even if we could, it would still be no. You are the most recognisable of all of us. You used to make regular public appearances in the city. People know you. However, people notice clothes before they notice anything else. If you look like a sewer rat, they won’t look at you twice.”

Annai had then burst into tears and wailed for some time.

They had also dyed Annai’s hair. Well, not exactly dyed. Gabby had simply rubbed charcoal and soot into Annai’s hair to darken it. All the while, Annai screamed in protest. The overall result wasn’t great. The soot was slowly falling out, which meant it was smudged all over her face, and any place where her head lay for any length of time was left darkened and dirty. Even now, there was a small pile of dirt on the table around Annai’s head.

Gabby had agreed they could get some actual dye, but that was going to take awhile. So Annai had to put up with it for now.

It was odd. Seeing Annai like this should have pleased Quilla. The princess was finally getting her comeuppance. Yet Quilla could only feel sorry for her. The circumstances that had led to this were not something Quilla would have wished on anyone.

But she was stuck in the same circumstance. As were Gabby, Pastrin, Ned, and Hang.

Annai mumbled something, her cheek still plastered against the table.

“What was that?”

Annai lifted her head. “I said, when’s Gabby getting back?”

Quilla rolled her eyes. Annai had asked that question a few times now. “I told you, I don’t know. Whenever she’s done.”

“I hate this fucking place.” Annai put her head back down and returned to sobbing.

The main door of the tavern opened, sending a blast of frigid air throughout the room. The booth Quilla was in was about as far from the door as one could get, but it still reached her. Annai groaned.

Two men stomped into the tavern, their pinkish armour clanking. The one in the lead held a helmet in one hand and a roll of parchment in the other. He was a tall, thin Folith with thick, but short dark hair and a handlebar moustache. He reminded Quilla a little of Lamaën, though the resemblance was only superficial. The man behind him wore a helmet. Both had red capes.

There hadn’t been a lot of noise in the tavern, but what little there was stopped as the men moved into the middle of the room.

Quilla had never seen a Blood in person before, but she’d heard all about them from Rudiger and Zandrue. This couldn’t be good.

The lead Blood turned up his nose and scowled. “Where is your message board?”

The barman laughed. “You think people here can read, asshole?”

“I can,” Annai mumbled, but Quilla hissed at her to be silent.

“What did you call me?” the man with the moustache said.

The barman laughed again. “You hard of hearing? Get lost or I call the Watch!”

The Blood smirked and motioned with his helmet to the other. “We are the Watch.”

The helmeted Blood moved towards the barman, drawing his sword.

The barman backed up against the wall of bottles behind him. “Hey, hey! I didn’t mean no offence! Just having a bit of a laugh. I’m sorry!”

The Blood ran his sword through the barman’s chest. The barman gurgled up blood, then went limp. As the Blood pulled his sword away, the barman slid down to the floor.

A couple of patrons in the tavern gasped. One near the door jumped to his feet and ran out. Most of the others looked ready to do the same, but held their place as the Bloods were in their way.

Annai sat up. “Did he just—?”

Quilla shushed her again.

The helmeted Blood returned to the middle of the room, wiping his sword and sheathing it.

The one with the moustache surveyed the room. “There are going to be some changes in this city. By order of Prince Malef, the enforcement of law and order has been given to the Red Knights. You Eloorin will learn to respect your betters. When asked a question, you will respond with courtesy. When told to do something, you will do it without hesitation. Follow these simple rules and you will be treated with dignity. Do not and...well, let the events just witnessed be a lesson in what will happen.”

He held out the parchment roll to the other Blood, who tore a length off it. The helmeted one then took a hammer from his belt and a nail from a pouch. Then he went over to the wall beside the door and nailed the parchment there.

“Here is a list of the rules you will now follow,” the one with the moustache said. “If you cannot read it, find someone who can. That is all.” He nodded to the other Blood. “To the next one.”

The two of them stomped out of the tavern, slamming the door behind them.

When they were gone, everyone in the room jumped to their feet. Several ran from the tavern. Others ran behind the bar and started grabbing bottles. A couple began fighting over the lockbox, while a man and a woman, each wearing a greasy apron, ran out of the kitchen and then out the main door.

Quilla and Annai stayed put.

After a few minutes, the tavern cleared out. Quilla and Annai were left alone, with only the wind blowing through the door that the last person to leave had left open. Quilla pulled herself to her feet to go close the door, but a robed figure walked in, and Quilla sat back down.

The robed figure pulled the door shut, then lowered her hood. Gabby looked around the room. “What the hell happened here?”

“Bloods,” Quilla said.

Gabby groaned. “A ship full of them arrived a few hours ago. They’re causing all sorts of problems, though I didn’t realise they’d made it this far from the docks already.” She ripped the parchment the Bloods had left from the wall, and scanned it as she walked over to Quilla and Annai. She nudged Annai. “Squeeze up.”

“Those are the rules we’re supposed to follow,” Quilla said.

Gabby squeezed into the booth. “They’re enacting a curfew, even including Foliths.”

“Sounds typical of them, from what Rudiger and Zandrue told me.”

“I can’t believe Malef let them in here,” Annai mumbled.

“He didn’t,” Gabby said.

“What do you mean?”

“She means Lidda Plavin did it in his name,” Quilla said.

“He still let her.”

“He probably didn’t have a choice.” Quilla looked back to Gabby. “How are the others?”

Gabby tossed the parchment aside. “Safely on a ship for Lockanith.”

“We should have gone with them,” Annai mumbled.

Gabby rolled her eyes. “Annai, we’ve been through this already.”

Annai sat up and wiped her eyes. “I don’t care! I want to go to Lockanith. I want to see Cerus!”

“Annai! I’ve—”

“No!” Annai slammed her hand down on the table. “We should all be going to help Cerus, not just Pastrin and Nedwin.”

Gabby leaned in towards Annai, almost hovering over her. “No, we shouldn’t. Cerus is a target. You realise that, right?”

“Of course I do. That’s why we have to help him.”

“No, that’s why we can’t. Cerus and I are the only ones ahead of Malef in line for the throne. But they don’t know that I’m alive. If I go to Cerus, I reveal myself. I can’t do that.”

Annai sat up, and pushed Gabby back. “Oh, so you’re just going to let Cerus die so you can have the throne?”

“No! But Cerus is a big boy. He knows how to look after himself. But if he does die, then yes, I have to survive to stop Lidda Plavin from getting the throne.”

“She already has it!”

“Not legally, she doesn’t.”

“That’s why we have to go to Cerus, to plan how to take it back!”

Gabby slammed her hands on the table. “Gods damn it, Annai! How many times do we have to go through this?”

Annai burst into tears and banged her head down on the table.

“For crying out loud! Suck it up and stop crying for just a little while!”

Annai turned her head just a little and spat at Gabby. “They’re dead!”

“Yes, I know. They were my family, too. You think I…?” Gabby looked about to slam her fists on the table again, but held back. She stood up, turned away, and began pacing the room.

“Fuck you, Gabby! Fuck you!”

Quilla leaned over and patted Annai on the shoulder, then slid out of the booth.

Gabby turned to face her as Quilla approached. She wiped a couple tears from her eyes.

Quilla had been about to tell her to go easy on Annai, but changed her mind. “You okay?”

Gabby nodded quickly and sniffled. “I’ll be fine. I just… I’m barely keeping it together, Quilla, and she acts like… It’s not even that she thinks I don’t care. She doesn’t even treat me as part of the family. He was my father, too. Her mother may not have been mine, but… Thilin, the others. I loved them!” She wiped more tears from her eyes.

Quilla put her arms around Gabby, who soon put hers around Quilla, and they hugged each other tight. Gabby sobbed for a short while, before pulling away and wiping her eyes. She gave Quilla a forced smile. “Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

Quilla glanced back at Annai, who was still sobbing on the table. “Maybe we should have let her go with them.”

“We’re better off in small groups, and I couldn’t split Pastrin and Ned right now. And Hang…”

Quilla nodded. “I know.” Hang and Gabby were the only experienced warriors. Pastrin and Ned had had basic training but, like Annai, hadn’t kept it up. Hang had to go with them to provide protection. “What about us? With the Bloods here now…”

“We have to get out of here as soon as possible. We’ll start searching for a ship to take us to Porthaven first thing tomorrow.” Gabby gave Quilla’s arm a gentle squeeze, then headed back to the booth. “We’ll get you to your son.”

“I have no intention of going to Felitïa,” Annai said.

Gabby threw her hands up. “Fine. Don’t. Go wherever you want, Annai, but go on your own. Quilla and I are going to Quorge. You can come if you want. I don’t give a fuck either way. Quilla, let’s find a room we can fortify for ourselves overnight.” She stormed through one of the inner doors.

“Be right with you!” Quilla went over to the booth and looked at Annai, who was sitting up again, tears dripping from her chin and jaw.

“I thought you hated Felitïa.”

“My son is there. I need to see him. And it’s not that I hate Felitïa…” Quilla sighed. Her thoughts about Felitïa these days were confused and jumbled. “We had a disagreement, and believe me, we’re going to have words about that, but… I don’t actually hate her.”

Annai scowled and crossed her arms. “I do.”

“You don’t even know her.”

“I spent two months on a ship with her. That was more than enough.”

“Fine, hate her. But Gabby’s right. We need her help.”

Annai groaned, but a moment later, slid out of the booth. “Fine, I’ll go to Quorge.” She looked down at herself. “Gods, I look awful.”

Quilla nodded. “Yes, you do.”

Annai stared wide-eyed at her for a moment, before snorting. She immediately wiped the slight smile from her face, covering it by wiping her nose. She stared at Quilla for a moment. “Don’t think that means I like you.” She turned and went through the door Gabby had left through.

Quilla followed. It was going to be a long trip to Quorge. She wasn’t sure she could put up with Annai the entire time. They couldn’t even be sure Felitïa would still be there by the time they arrived, but if Felitïa was gone, they would just follow to wherever she’d gone. That would be even more Annai to put up with. At least Gabby was going to be there too.

Though it would fall to her to keep the two of them from killing each other. How fun.

Getting to Corvinian would make it worthwhile, though. She wasn’t going to force Corvinian to come with her or even acknowledge her as his mother. She was just going to be there so he could get to know her. Then if he later changed his mind about her, all the better.

Of course, they still had to get out of Arnor City, and with the Bloods here now, Quilla had a bad feeling about that.

* * * * *

Rudiger’s leg ached. It ached all the time, but it was particularly bad at the moment. He desperately wanted to bend his knee, but the splint prevented that. It prevented virtually any movement other than wiggling his toes. The physician had said if he didn’t keep it perfectly still, the bone might not set properly and he’d be left with a permanent limp or worse, not be able to walk at all.

So he sat now with it propped up on the table in front of him, forced to rely on servants to stand up or sit down. He had crutches to help him walk, but it was difficult, and the servants still hovered. Lidda had ordered that at least two be with him at all times. He couldn’t even relieve himself without someone watching.

He wished he’d died that day, and not just broken his leg in two places.

No, not really. He didn’t want to die.

But life wasn’t showing a lot of promise at the moment either.

That moment kept playing itself over and over in his head.

He and Borisin stared at the massive dragon in front of them. Nearby, Borisin was trying to rise back to his feet after they’d been knocked over. Neither of them expected to survive, but if they could keep Lidda and the dragon distracted long enough for the others to get away, then it would be worth it.

He thought the end had come when the dragon’s claw hit Borisin in the side, actually lifting the horse off the ground, and sending him flying into Rudiger’s side. The impact knocked Rudiger over, and Borisin landed on Rudiger’s leg, snapping it in two places and pinning him down. As the dragon reared overhead, the pain became unbearable and he lost consciousness.

He was surprised to awake sometime later in the Palace—what was left of it, at any rate. He was in the bed in Felitïa’s apartments—the one he and Zandrue had been using. His leg was raised and already in a splint. And in a lot of pain. Two servants—both of whom he didn’t recognise—sat nearby. As soon as he woke, one ran from the room to summon Lidda Plavin, who arrived shortly after.

“Awake at last.” She was dressed in a purple gown as well as an elaborate purple chaperon similar to the ones the Queen had frequently worn.

Rudiger scowled.

“Do you disapprove of something? Purple is the appropriate colour of mourning. I made certain to bring several appropriate articles with me, ostensibly for Garet’s funeral, though I will confess, I might have already known there would be other deaths to mourn.” She smiled maliciously.

“You disgust me.”

“I don’t really care what you think. I’m the victor here. I have the power.”

“Why am I even alive?”

Her smiled dropped into a frown. “I would gladly see you dead, but first…” She clapped her hands. “I need you to tell me how to use this.”

A guard wearing the House Plavin tabard rather than the royal one entered the room with Slay.

Rudiger looked away. “Figure it out yourself.”

“Oh, I’ve tried. Several of my soldiers have tried to activate that shield you used against Ezuna. They all burned to death. I can’t afford to lose any more, so you’re going to tell me how to activate it.”

“Fuck you.”

Lidda laughed. “You’ll tell me or I’ll kill your horse.”

Borisin was alive? He looked at her.

“Don’t look so surprised. I kept you both alive in case I needed you. If Daemonslayer had been easy to use, I would have then killed you both, but alas…”

Rudiger scowled and looked away again. “I’m not telling you anything. Do what you want to us.”

“As you wish. You, go kill his horse.”

Rudiger looked over to see the guard turn and head for the door.

“Oh!” Lidda said, and the guard paused at the door. “Use the sword. We may not be able to activate its powers, but it’s sharpness will be an asset. Make the death slow and painful.”

The guard nodded and started out the door.

“No!” Rudiger called.

Lidda held up her hand and the guard stopped again. “You’ll tell me how to use the sword?”

“I can’t.”

She rolled her eyes and waved at the guard.

“I mean, I can’t tell you because it only works for me or someone from my family.” He had no idea if that was true, but it seemed likely given it had worked automatically for him and not for the soldiers she had sent to their deaths. “But I… I can use it for you. When I’m better that is.” Gods, this was an act of desperation.

Lidda motioned for the guard to stop again. “How do I know you’re not lying to me? How do I know there isn’t just some command word that anyone could say?”

What should he say? Gods, Zandrue was so much better at this sort of thing. “I...uh...I’ll demonstrate for you. Again, once I’m able. You can watch what I do. Your soldiers can, too. Then you can see if they can duplicate it. They’ll die, but hopefully that will be good enough for you.”

Lidda stood there for a moment, scowling. “And if I’m convinced, you’ll serve me? Use it however I ask?”

Rudiger tried not to look disgusted. “Yeah, sure, whatever you want.”

She smirked. “You see, that’s the part I’m much less inclined to believe. I can threaten your horse’s death to keep you inline for a while, but I have no doubt you’ll be looking for constant opportunities to escape.”

“Then keep me under constant observation. Surround me with soldiers who will kill me the moment I step out of line.”

She shook her head. “I still wouldn’t trust you.”

Rudiger shrugged, and gritted against the pain. His shoulders and arms weren’t broken, but they were heavily bruised. “Kill me then. Keep playing with Slay. Let more soldiers die. I don’t care.”

“I could find someone else from your family. Get them to use it.”

“The ability was passed down from my father, and his father before him. They’re dead. I’m the only one left who can use it, unless I have a kid someday. But I’d have to live for that to happen.”

She stared at him for a moment, then a smile crept onto her lips. “All right. As soon as you can walk, you’ll demonstrate the sword for me. Assuming your use can’t be replicated, you’ll serve me. If you betray me, your horse will die, and then so will you. We’ll also work on making sure you have an heir that I can mould into my service.” She smiled broadly at him. “Rest up, and recover. I’ll make certain you are well looked after.”

That had been two days ago. Since then, he had just sat or lain around in constant pain. He had never left the apartments. Even if he had been able, he doubted he would have been allowed.

He wished he hadn’t added the bit about the power passing through his family. Was she going to attempt to breed him? Gods, what if she expected him to sleep with her? That was a terrifying thought.

“My lord?” One of the handmaids approached him. He didn’t know her name. He hadn’t bothered learning any of their names. They worked for Lidda Plavin. They didn’t deserve names. “His Highness, Prince Malef is here to see you.”

Rudiger’s first instinct was to tell her to tell him to go away, but he doubted Malef would actually go. “Show him in.”

The handmaid curtsied and backed away.

Thankfully, Rudiger was facing away from the door and couldn’t easily turn, so he got the satisfaction of not having to watch Malef approach. The Prince would have to walk around to be seen.

“Rudiger.”

Rudiger didn’t even try to turn his head. “Apologies, your Highness. I’m not very mobile, so I can’t get up and bow appropriately.” He tried to keep the venom out of his voice, but he was fairly certain he wasn’t very successful.

“It’s fine. I understand.” Malef walked round into Rudiger’s view. He looked a mess. He was wearing a military mourning uniform, but it was dishevelled, wrinkled, with several buttons undone. His moustache was untrimmed and the rest of his face had several days worth of stubble. His hair was uncombed and his eyes sunken.

“You look terrible,” Rudiger said, then hastily added, “No offence.”

Malef shrugged. “I know. I’ve had little motivation to keep up my appearance. These have been…” He looked away for a moment and breathed in sharply through his nose. “These have been difficult times.” There was a hint of a tear in his eyes.

For a moment, Rudiger almost felt sorry for him. “Is there something I can do for you, your Highness? I’m pretty immobile so there’s not much I can—”

Malef held up his hands and shook his head. “No, no, Rudiger, I’m not looking for you to do anything for me other than listen, I suppose. I just wanted to talk.”

Rudiger motioned to a chair. “Then talk.”

Malef gave him a small smile and pulled up the chair. He sat there for several moments before saying anything. “I uh…” He rubbed his eyes and face and went quiet again for a few more seconds. “I want to apologise.”

“Apologise? What, for killing so many people? For your father? Your brothers and sisters, not to mention the countless guards and servants? For them?”

“I was not the one who—!” Malef stopped and clenched his fingers on one hand into a fist, then held it over his mouth. “No, that’s...that’s fair. I didn’t want this to happen.”

“You let it happen.”

“I didn’t know. I thought…” Malef rubbed his forehead. “I was in love and I thought she loved me, too. I had no—”

“I tried to warn you.”

Malef covered his mouth and nose, and breathed sharply again. “Yes. Yes, you did. But I…”

Rudiger sighed. “Let’s be honest here, Malef. You let your dick control you. A...uh...beautiful woman—” he supposed Malef must consider Lidda beautiful—“batted her eyelids at you, let you fuck her, and you were putty in her hands.”

Malef buried his face in his hands. “Yes.” His voice was barely a croak, and he started to sob. “I’m sorry.”

“Really?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Then do something about it.”

Malef looked up and wiped his tears with his sleeve. “Like what?”

“Oh, come off it, Malef. You didn’t come here just to give a half-assed apology and make a bunch of excuses. You came here for my help, and as it happens, I need your help too.”

“To do what?”

“What I’m pretty certain you came here to ask me to do. I’m not sure yet how we’re going to pull it off without dying too. But you know what? If we’re successful, I don’t care if we die too. Lidda Plavin is going to die and we’re going to kill her. Right?”

Malef stared at him for several moments, sniffling, then slowly nodded. “Right.”