Oathbreaker: A Dark Fantasy Web Serial

Arc 4: Chapter 19: All The World's Troubles

Arc 4: Chapter 19: All The World's Troubles

I remember little of what transpired next. There was some talk of tribute paid by Talsyn, “reparations” for past transgressions. The delegation from Graill made a fuss, until the Farram princess’s advisor took her aside for a private talk which ended with her storming out of the chamber, her expression furious. She left the gathered court with the faint memory of her cloak’s silver bells singing ominously.

I left early as well. My mind became a chaos at the revelation in that chamber, at its implications.

Calerus and Hyperia Vyke, the children of King Hasur Vyke, the last great clan of Recusants left in the land, had been at Caelfall. They had been part of Orson Falconer’s heretical council. They had participated in the slaughter of the villagers there, the desecration of holy ground, and the restoration of Yith’s physical body.

I had known, from Karog, that the Council had been Hasur Vyke’s guests. Now, I had very good reason to believe that he wasn’t only their ally, but that the old king of Talsyn had been the power behind that dark gathering all along.

The wizard Reynard had been the mastermind behind the Fall, binding demons to himself, courting and coordinating with malcontents across the land, turning both the Briar and the more savage or desperate changelings against Seydis, conspiring with the knight-captains. Rhan Harrower, formerly King of Duranike, had been the great champion and general of the Recusant armies.

But it had been the cunning, aged lord in Talsyn who had been the true leader of the Recusants. Reynard had never seemed to care for his feudal allies beyond their use as a dramatic distraction, and Rhan had been a soldier more than a strategist. But Hasur Vyke had coordinated the traitor armies from his mountainous bastions in the north, proving a canny and vicious adversary.

We’d never managed to beat him, only settled into an uneasy stalemate. Talsyn hadn’t had the strength to fight all of the Accord after the war had stalled, but neither had the Accord been willing to engage in a costly siege on the fortified valleys where House Vyke made its abode.

So Talsyn had sat, a brooding threat in the subcontinent’s heartlands, quiet but unbowed. There had been rumors that many noble houses still firmly Recusant had taken refuge in King Hasur’s lands.

And now his children were here, making homages of peace even as the monster they’d helped give flesh still lurked somewhere in the city. Only days after a dark godling of the west had made an attempt on the streets. Had it been a test of the capital’s strength?

I had warned Umareon.

I needed to talk to Rose.

“Alken!” Emma caught up to me as I stalked through the halls, heading toward the Empress’s bastion. “Slow down. What’s the plan?”

“The plan is to let Rosanna know there are snakes in this pit with us,” I growled. “And do everything I can to get those Recusants tossed out into the cold.”

Or on a chopping block, I thought darkly. What was their plan? Why had they made themselves known to the court?

“That seems like a very good way to draw attention to yourself,” Emma said primly. She fell quiet as we passed a pair of guards in Forger livery. “Remember that the Emperor doesn’t know you’re here, and probably wouldn’t take kindly to the knowledge.”

I slowed down at that, considering. She was right, damn it.

No one knew Alken Hewer and the Headsman of Seydis were the same person, save for a handful of individuals I trusted. Few knew my face, either, not here in this rainy northern country. If my identity were exposed to the gathered nobles in Garihelm, it would be a case of an obscure warrior of a disgraced and traitorous order making a surprise reappearance. I doubted most would remember my name, or find it very significant beyond my connection to the Table and some feats during the war. My status as an excommunicate would likely put shade on Rosanna’s faction, especially since I had once been her personal champion.

On the other hand, if anyone did somehow discover I was also the Headsman, it would be a wholly different story. In that case, it could lead to summary trial and death, and disgrace for Rosanna Silvering. They would call her a tyrant, and believe all my actions as an executioner for the Choir done on her own orders. Not every head I’d claimed had been a known Recusant.

Some of them hadn’t been Recusant at all. I thought of Leonis, and Irene.

No matter what happened, I wouldn’t drag my queen down with me. So I paused. I breathed. I thought it through.

“I need to warn Rosanna,” I said, glancing at Emma. “She won’t be able to do anything official on just my word, not without proof, but she can have spies on those two back in the throne room, do her own investigation.”

Emma nodded, her full mouth pursed in thought. “And?”

“And I’ll coordinate with Lias,” I added. “There’s a conspiracy here, and it’s too big for me to handle alone.” Some problems you couldn’t just take an axe to.

Emma rubbed at her chin, humming softly. “Well, you wounded Yith, so if they planned to use him I imagine that set them back. Further, I can’t see that group laying siege to the whole city. There were, what, a little more than a dozen of them?”

It had been a small group. Even still, my thoughts lingered on the pit-eyed Prince Calerus, with his course voice and sneer. The Emperor had said the Vyke heir intended to participate in the tournament. Deflection? Or had that been genuine? If so, then why would that be important?

My thoughts were interrupted by heavy, clopping steps against the marble floor behind us. Metal-shod boots or armor, I guessed. I turned, going on guard, and blinked as I saw a figure I recognized approaching us from the direction of the court.

Clad in layered brown robes secured with frayed rope like a monk, the cowl hung low to obscure all features, a figure as towering as the Lord Steward stopped a short distance away from us. I took in more details in a moment — the figure’s hunched shape, the way they hid their hands in folded sleeves, and the hint of blunt feet beneath the hem of the robe.

Not feet at all, I realized, or armored boots as I’d thought. Cloven hooves.

The one who’d been in the drains with Parn and the other changelings.

Not a changeling at all.

I dipped my head to the immortal. “Iries vaasa, Ar Seydii.”

Emma threw a glance my way, her brow furrowing in confusion.

The cowled, hunched head shifted a fraction. “You know me?”

“Not exactly,” I said in the common speech. “But I sense what you are. I did in the undercity, too, I think. You’re Sidhe. One of Tuvon’s people.”

The cowled head dipped. In the same moment, the sleeves unfurled to reveal four fingered hands tipped in something like brown keratin. The figure doffed his hood, revealing a silver-white cervid head, wizened by the passage of ages and set with two darkly blue, heavily slanted eyes.

An elf. A very old elf. Once he’d removed the cowl, likely sewn with some glamour of obscuration, I felt his aura like a sudden ray of sunlight through deep cloud. The corridor seemed brighter in that moment.

He bowed low, murmuring in a musical voice. “I greet you, Ser Knight. I regret only that I could not do so properly before.”

I dipped into a respectful bow as well. I didn’t bother correcting him over calling me a knight. The Sidhe would always see me that way, so long as I had the aureflame in me.

“I am Oradyn Fen Harus,” the elf introduced himself. “Here for the summit as a representative of my lady.”

An Oradyn, I thought, reappraising the old faerie. “I saw Lady Maerlys this past winter,” I told him. “I did not expect the Seydii to be represented at the summit.”

The faerie's tapered eyes crinkled. “Our fates are conjoined, mortal and immortal, for better or worse. Many of both my folk and the Wyldefae have gathered under the light of Maerlys Tuvonsdotter, and she wishes to know how these proceedings turn out. I am her eyes, her ears, and her voice, if necessary.”

“And your business with the changelings?” I asked, more from curiosity than suspicion.

The oradyn shrugged, his inhuman height and heavy garments making the gesture dramatic. “Even if many of my folk disown them, they are our children, born of the love many of us have long held for mortals. It would be ill for one in my position to pay them no heed.”

I nodded slowly. “What can I do for you, Fen Harus?”

The deer-like head dipped again. “Quite simply, I wished to bid my greetings. It has been many years, if brief by the way we mark time, since I have seen an oathsworn Knight of the Alder Table who maintained his sanity. Further, I wished to speak to you in your official capacity, Headsman.”

I stiffened, which the oradyn did not miss. He held up one of his hoof-like hands. “I shall not out you to the Accord, Ser Alken. Remember that my lady is the Choir’s high priestess, and very likely to one day take her late father’s position as a nominal Onsolain. Your role is considered sacred to us, if ungentle. I understand it is not so for your people?”

I was quiet a moment before answering. “That is correct.”

The elf’s alien blue eyes blinked once. “But I am being rude!” He turned and gave Emma a bow. “I have not been introduced to the young lady.”

Emma shuffled, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. I introduced her. “This is Emma Orley,” I said. “My apprentice. My squire.”

“Ah!” The elf nodded. “I have heard of her. Many of our people have.”

Emma blinked. “The elves know me?”

“The scion of dread House Carreon, turned a new leaf and taking the name of her nobler blood?” Fen Harus’s eyes crinkled again. “Indeed. Your bravery in the face of the machinations of the Iron Realm gave us something very like hope, in these dire times. You have my respect, my lady.”

He bowed. Emma’s face had turned red, a look very much like fear but far more complex fixed onto her stubborn, highborn features. “I…” she swallowed, and returned a hasty bow. “Thank you, ser elf.”

“Ser elf!” Fen Harus chuckled. “Ah, just call me Fen. Both of you. We are not in court, and there is little need for ceremony here.”

I glanced around the empty hall. I had a feeling we wouldn’t have privacy for long. “How can I help you, Fen?”

“Yes.” Fen coughed, shuffling on his cloven hooves. “Well, to put it bluntly, I have been ordered to extend to you an invitation.”

I tilted my head to one side. “An invitation?”

“Indeed.” The towering fae watched me with those eerie eyes. The pupils were a pale green set within a deep, dark blue which reminded me of the last remnants of daylight once the red of dusk has faded. “When you are not presently occupied on the Choir’s business, my lady would like to see you in her own domain. She has aught she wishes to speak of, though I am afraid those words must come from her own lips, and not mine.”

I studied him a moment, not wanting to give offense with bluntness. I remembered the madness in Princess Maerlys’s eyes, the hatred in her seething, whispering voice pushed through scorched lungs. That burnt visage still haunted me.

I settled on honesty, at the least. “I don’t believe that would be safe for me, Fen.”

“Hm.” The elf’s demeanor shifted then, from friendly courtesy to something more fixed. “It is true that my lady holds no small amount of resentment toward her father’s knights. However, I believe she understands that you, Ser Alken, did not wield one of the blades which slew his body. I can assure you safe passage into our sanctuaries.”

Safe passage in, sure. What about out? I didn’t let my skepticism show on my face. “The Lady Maerlys understands that I cannot know when the Choir will call on me? When any task is done, there may be no time at all until the next.”

“When your task here in the city is done,” Fen Harus told me, “I feel quite certain you will have time to make this journey. It is my lady’s fervent wish that you accept.”

A coldness crept into me. They know. Maerlys and this old ambassador know I’ve been given a name.

I suppressed my sudden unease and spoke as calmly as I could. “When I am not presently held by obligation, I will be glad to… entertain your lady’s request.”

I’d always been bad at fae talk. If I said the wrong thing, especially with my oaths still imprinted into my soul, it could bind me.

Fen’s eyes crinkled. “Well said. I think you will wish to visit us. Remember, Ser Alken, it was to Man and Eld both that your oaths were sworn.”

He handed me something then — a leaf small enough to fit into my palm, wrought from pure gold, with a strand of dimly shining ginger hair tied to the stem. I knew who the hair must belong to.

This must have been made before the Recusants disfigured her, I thought. I recognized it as a token of safe passage into Seydii lands. A precious gift, rarely given to mortals. I bowed to the oradyn again before pocketing it.

He bowed then, first to me and then to Emma, before setting his deep hood over his cervid features and turning away. The proceedings in the audience chamber were coming to an end, and people were beginning to move out into the halls in groups. The towering elf, easily the largest and most imposing presence in the corridor, moved through them easily as a carp through a school of minnows. I suspected glamour, to make unwelcome eyes slide off him.

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“What was that?” Emma asked, frowning at the faerie lord’s back.

I sighed. “Trouble. Let’s go.”

I started to turn, but Emma lingered, her eyes narrowing as they fixed on something. I followed her gaze, but only saw nobles and other officials flooding into the corridor, and a few palace guard. “What is it?”

“That knight.” She nodded down the hall. “Doesn’t he seem familiar to you?”

I followed her gaze to one of the guards who’d moved into the chamber, and recognized the young soldier who’d guided us into the palace. He was a Storm Knight, one of the elite guard of House Forger, with a bolt-crested helm and a long surcoat and proud cape of livid blue, sewn with gold motifs pinned beneath one pauldron. He chatted with an older man in the uniform of a palace servant, and still wore his helmet.

I couldn’t be certain, but it seemed like he kept throwing furtive looks our way.

“Hm.” I tried to place him, but nothing came. “No, he doesn’t seem familiar. Why?”

Emma shook her head, her brow furrowed. “I don’t know… I swear I’ve seen him before. If I could just see under that helm, perhaps…”

I snorted, beginning to walk again. “If you want to court him, I won’t stop you. He seems close to your age.”

Emma caught up to me, and didn’t say anything for a long while as we navigated the proud, arched corridors of the main citadel. I stepped out of the path of a stocky man with leonine black hair, a clericon by his monkish garb. He murmured something I didn't catch before vanishing into the throng, probably an apology.

Then, in a somewhat tight voice she said, “You do know that I prefer the attentions of my own sex, right?”

I stopped in my tracks, taking that in. Some pieces, clues both subtle and obvious from across the span of months, began to click together.

“Damn,” I said, shaking my head. “I missed it.”

Emma sighed. “It’s no wonder it took so long for Catrin to get into your trousers.”

I began to walk again, annoyed at that comment — especially after the night I’d had. “I don’t want to hear that from a seventeen-year-old.”

Emma matched my pace, moving quickly to keep up with my stride. “I turned eighteen two months ago!”

“You did?”

My squire groaned. “How are you simultaneously so competent in some regards and so oblivious in others? It’s maddening!”

I shrugged, and we walked awhile.

“Are you…” Emma’s demeanor shifted. I sensed a more vulnerable quality creep into her speech. “Is this a problem?”

I frowned. “Why would it be a problem?” I caught her troubled eyes out of the corner of my vision.

Emma coughed. “Well, you’re a… you know. And a lot of folk see that sort of thing as abnormal, even sinful.”

I thought about it a moment before speaking. “You know they say God used to have relations with Her own attendants? Most preosters won’t teach you that from scripture, but I lived in Seydis. I saw that sort of thing all the time among the elves, and among knights. Hell, Faisa Dance is one of the richest people in Urn, and she’s a famous sapphic.”

“So you don’t disapprove?” Emma asked me.

“Don’t see why I should. Love is love. Who am I to judge?” Especially since the only three women I’ve ever been interested in have been a possibly tyrannical queen, a demon, and a hemophage respectively.

Who was I to judge, indeed.

Emma hummed thoughtfully. “It’s not like I have no interest in boys. I just find them…” She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Less enticing. To be honest, I didn’t even realize for certain where my desires skewed until after we came to the city. You remember that red haired girl from the first day, the innkeeper’s daughter?”

I did, after a moment. “Sure.”

I caught Emma’s eye out of the corner of my vision, and her self-satisfied smirk. It became my turn to groan. “You didn’t.”

“I think I left her with quite the infatuation, the poor dear.” Emma let out a dry chuckle. “Still, that was the first time I experimented.”

I felt a knot form in my chest at her choice of words. “I know it’s almost tradition for nobles to toy with commonfolk, Emma, but you should be cautious. You have enemies. The crowfriars, yes, but all of mine too. Best not to give them tools.”

“I wasn’t toying with—”

Emma’s voice had turned defensive. I cut her off. “Are you still seeing that girl? The innkeeper’s daughter?”

She fell quiet. Her expression turned remote, the lids of her hawkish eyes narrowing slightly. I’d known her long enough by now to recognize the show of cool disinterest as a defense mechanism, a cover for nervousness. “No. It was just that one time, for fun.”

“Then you were toying with her,” I said, letting a slight growl slip into my voice. “You said it yourself — she’ll probably never forget you, the highborn lady who swept into her life. For you, it was a bit of fun. Did you consider how she feels?”

I didn’t realize, until I’d begun to speak, that I felt angry with my squire. Emma must have sensed it in my voice, because some of the color drained from her face.

“I… didn’t think about it.”

“Do next time,” I told her, my tone hard. “Think about the consequences, both if someone decides to make your plaything a victim and for the sake of their own heart.”

Emma’s amber eyes flashed. “And what of Catrin, hm? Have you considered your myriad enemies might make her a tool against you?”

I stopped in my tracks, the tails of my coat swinging a moment with the suddenness of my halt. We stood in an empty hallway, the echoing din of the scattering court still half-audible in the near distance. There were few windows, and the alchemical lamps provided a hazy light. Somewhere, waves broke against the island’s high cliffs.

Emma took a step away from me. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, shifting to put her hands behind her back and stand straighter, a swordsman’s at-ease. “That was uncouth.”

I took a deep breath before turning my face to my squire. “I have considered that. Catrin can take care of herself, and she chose to get involved, but you better believe I’m always considering the possibility she might be hurt on my account.”

I let steel creep into my tone. “Everyone I let get close to me is a wound waiting to open, Emma. I never forget that.”

The young noble considered that, her lips pressed tight with some uncertain emotion. “Then why do you?” She asked me. “Let people close? Why put your heart at such risk?”

I softened my voice, sensing her question to be genuine rather than challenging. “Because being alone, even among plentiful company, is a kind of hell. I won’t pretend like it’s not selfish, or weak, but I’ve been alone. It’s much worse. It makes a monster of you.”

Emma’s avian eyes narrowed as she stared at the floor, considering. “I see. However, I didn’t feel anything for that girl in the inn. I just found her pretty.”

I nodded. “And if she’d died? If some creature of Orkael or ally of House Carreon had interrogated and slain her, to get to you?”

Emma lifted her face to meet my eyes. “I don’t think I would have felt much. I would have been bothered, but not for long, and not severely, and likely only because I would have taken it as a slight.” Her shoulders slumped. “Does that make me a monster?”

I knew the girl’s fears at being like her ancestors were raw, as haunting to her as my ghosts. “That’s not something I can tell you,” I told her honestly. “Know yourself, and know what you want to be. If that seems monstrous to you, then remember it.”

She nodded. “I shall.” Then, on a less serious note added, “This doesn’t mean I have to swear some knightly vow of celibacy, does it?”

I snorted. “That’s for you to decide. Every oath is made to the self as much as to any lord or god.”

“I see.” Emma cleared her throat and shuffled again. “Well, that was… educational. And uncomfortable.”

I started walking again, making my way to the Empress’s bastion. “The important lessons often are.”

“You’re certain of this?” Rosanna demanded, her tone clipped. “You saw both of them at this gathering?”

I nodded. I stood in the Empress’s private study. Kaia Gorr and Emma Orley stood near the door, one on guard and the other listening. We had decided it best to have all hands on deck for this. I hadn’t wanted the First Sword present, but Rosanna seemed to trust her.

“Did you see their faces?” Ser Kaia asked. She scratched at her squared jaw, the motion causing strands of her undercut hair to fall over one eye.

I shook my head. “No.” I folded my arms and blew out a breath. “I understand nothing official can be done without evidence, especially not on my word, but I wanted you to know. I believe they’re a danger.”

Rosanna laced her ringed fingers together over her desk, narrowing her eyes in thought. “I hardly need anyone to remind me that House Vyke is dangerous. Even still, this is disturbing news. How do you know it’s them?”

I hedged. “A very strong intuition.”

Rosanna looked at me. She had an awakened soul as well, and didn’t flinch or wince at the visible aura in my eyes. “Your powers?” She asked. She knew that Alder Knights gained preternatural intuitions.

I shrugged. “Maybe. All I can say is I’m certain. They move the same, talk the same. Hell, they showed up in court with essentially the same disguises.”

“And if you’re wrong?” The Empress’s bodyguard asked.

Emma glared at the knight. “Are you just here to play devil’s advocate? I’ve met a devil, and I find them quite banal.”

Ser Kaia shrugged, her scarred face bored.

“Peace,” the Empress murmured, and both of the other women fell silent. My queen’s emerald eyes remained fixed on me. “You are certain?”

I nodded. “I am.”

Rosanna pursed her lips. “That is enough for me. Even still, I’m not certain there’s much I can do about it, not officially. As you say, we have no evidence.”

“Assassinate them?” Ser Kaia suggested.

Emma blinked, looking at the royal champion with sudden appraisal.

Rosanna shook her head. “If the prince and princess of Talsyn die in this city, or if any harm befalls them, Hasur Vyke and all remaining Recusants will declare war. There are traitor Houses scattered across the land still, many of them posing as members of the Accord, biding their time. My spies are certain of this.” She paused a moment and added, “Lias was as well.”

I nodded. I’d hunted down more than a few of them, delivering the Choir’s doom, “Strange he sent both his children,” I said. “Or has he had more?”

Rosanna shrugged. “Not that I’ve heard, but who knows what’s going on behind those mountains? If he did send both of his heirs for this, then it is either a genuine show of good will and trust…”

Kaia and I both snorted at the same time.

“…Or he is daring us to do something,” Rosanna finished, arching an eyebrow.

Emma frowned. “You believe King Hasur intends both of his children to be sacrifices? An excuse to declare war, with all Recusant support?”

A long, dark silence fell over the room.

“It’s a stretch,” I said, glancing at my queen. “I’ve never met the Condor of Talsyn. Do you think he’d do it?”

“We’re talking about the same man who ordered his knights to throw pitch over Maerlys Tuvonsdotter and set her aflame,” Rosanna reminded me.

Kaia spoke up. “He’s a right fucking bastard, he is.” She winced and added, “Sorry for my cussing, Your Grace, but felt like it needed saying.”

“There’s something else,” I said, drawing all their attention. “The Council of Cael, which I’m now pretty certain is just a front for Talsyn… They’re allied with Yith, who’s been in this city for most of a year. I don’t understand the nature of that alliance, or the purpose in Yith murdering members of the renaissance movement, but I can’t imagine it’s all unrelated.”

I’d learned very little from Kieran before the boy had met his end. I had to hope Lias would have something for me next time we met.

Rosanna stood, adjusting her elaborate garments. She still wore the robes of state she had in the court, with some of the more ostentatious pieces like the cape of mist and towering crown missing. Even still, in that tower room, she seemed every inch the monarch.

“The siblings will be watched,” she said.

Ser Kaia nodded, her armor clinking as she took a straighter pose. “They won’t even be able to so much as scratch their asses without me knowing about it, Your Grace.”

“And you will continue the hunt for the demon,” Rosanna told me.

I hesitated only a fraction. Then, nodding I said, “I have some leads.”

Inside, my guilt boiled. Umareon’s orders echoed in my thoughts, and the weight of Faen Orgis remained a constant reminder at my hip.

“I will speak with Alken alone.” Rosanna nodded to her First Sword. “I will see you once you’ve delivered my orders, Kaia. Choose men you trust.”

The knight delivered a surprisingly good salute, then departed. I caught Emma’s eye and tilted my head to the door. She left as well, looking troubled.

Rosanna moved to the window, her train sliding across the floor almost like the tail of a slow-moving serpent. "We are treading on brittle ice, Alken."

I nodded, unable to argue.

“Lisette tells me you seemed out of sorts when you departed the cathedral." Rosanna's eyes flicked to me. "Did you learn anything of value from the gods?”

I watched her a moment. When I didn’t answer, she turned to face me.

“When you rescued me that night,” I said, “brought me into this keep, we agreed it best you not know about my other work.”

Rosanna’s eyes narrowed. “You also said you would tell me everything if I ordered it.”

“I did,” I agreed.

My queen watched me a moment before sliding her eyes back to the window and the lashing waters beyond. More ships moved into the bay, fresh arrived across the Riven Sea. From some coastal realm of Urn, or from the wider west, I couldn’t say.

“I must be able to trust someone, Alken.” Rosanna stood there, framed in the window and the gray sea. “I must be able to count on someone. You were that person, once.”

“I was a pain in the ass, and we both know it.” I smiled softly. “A good sword, but not much for anything else.”

“You undersell yourself,” Rosanna said, shaking her bejeweled head. The motion made the gems in her black braids, red and green and cerulean, flash briefly. “I could always speak to you and get honesty. Empathy. You understood my heart, even when others saw only my machinations. Even Lias was more a partner in crime than…”

“A friend?” I finished.

Her faint smile matched my own. “Yes. I love Lias, but I also know him for what he is. You never sought power, Alken. That hasn’t changed, has it?”

“When I’m not doing their work,” I told her after a moment’s thought, “I sleep in a cottage, sharing space with a tired old man and fetching water I have to get from a river to boil. It’s not a comfortable life, being Headsman.”

“I see.” Rosanna took a breath and turned to me. “You know that I will have to disown you, should all of this come to light?”

“I know,” I told her calmly. “You should.”

A furrow touched her pretty brow. “It’s that easy for you to accept it? I… expected it to be painful. For both of us.”

“It will be,” I said. “I’ll try not to let it come to that, but I understand our situation. I’m not so much a child that I’d hate you for choosing the Accord over me.”

I had hated her for it, once. But I am sometimes a child.

Rosanna turned before I could see her expression. I saw her shoulders rise and fall once as she steadied herself.

“I do have a request,” I said in a softer voice. “If you’d hear it.”

She turned her head to one side without fully looking at me. “Of course.”

I took a deep breath. “If something should happen to me, I want you to take Emma into your service. Let her squire for Ser Kaia, or maybe Ser Moonbrand.” I knew the old captain, and he’d make a fierce knight out of the girl.

Rosanna’s lips turned down as she spun to face me. “Have you discussed this with her?”

I let my silence answer for me. My queen sighed.

“Alken, I have respected your wishes to keep that girl’s identity secret, but I am no fool. I know she’s gentle born, and that her identity is very likely dangerous. I can help, but I would ask for some trust in turn. Who is she?”

I considered telling her. Then I shook my head. “Is that an order?”

Rosanna’s eyes flashed with sudden anger. “Damn you, Alken. Do you truly trust me so little?”

“I will not let her be a tool,” I said in a calm voice. “If she chooses to tell you herself…” I shrugged. “That’s her choice. Will you help her?”

An angry furrow marred the center of Rosanna’s brow. “You can be very selfish.”

No point in denying it. I watched her, waiting.

Finally, Rosanna made an angry scoff, spinning away petulantly. I recognized the show of frustration from when she’d been a girl, and in that moment long-away years came back in a rush. I felt bad, for not trusting her, and glad to recognize her.

“Fine. If aught should happen to you, I will take your ward under my wing.” She lifted a finger. “Do not let anything happen to you. I can hire necromancers.”

I laughed. “If they can manage to grab my shade before something else does, I’ll be glad.”

Rosanna sighed, running a hand over the swell of her belly in a gesture that seemed more to comfort herself than the life growing inside. "We've started to get reports from the countryside. We weren't the only place attacked by that creature in the storm."

"Damn." My eyes went to the window. "How bad is it?"

"We know of at least three ogres who landed in the countryside that same night," Rosanna told me. "Two have been slain, the third driven into the hills, but not without cost. Villages were lost, and one larger township was assaulted. We believe there were more of the beasts. The clericons say the storm broke off the coast of Lindenroad."

"Bleeding Gates," I cursed. "There could be more of those things scattered across the north."

Rosanna nodded. "We are expecting more reports from the Bairn Cities and other regions which may have been effected in the coming weeks." She rubbed at her temple.

"Invasion?" I asked.

The Empress shook her head, setting her braids to swinging. "It remains to be seen. I think the attack would have been more coordinated if it were. Still, the timing of all this seems..."

"Grim," I said.

Rosanna shook her head, exasperated. "The situation is being monitored. As for other business, Lisette is back with the Priory. The Grand Prior has been too quiet since that scandal the night you saved Kieran and Laessa. I want to know what he’s up to, but she’s yet to report back.”

My heart skipped a beat as I asked, almost without thinking, “You want me to check in on her?”

I sensed an opportunity there. Best to have it done.

“Actually,” Rosanna said, turning again to face me. “Laessa Greengood would like to speak to you.”

I frowned. “What for?”

The Empress shrugged. “Better she tell you. She simply made the request, and I promised I would pass the message on. See the girl. When done, see to your other tasks as you see fit. I have Kaia watching those Vyke twins, and Lisette keeping an eye on the Inquisition. I think it best to leave you to your own hunt.”

Her regal features hardened. “Find that demon. If it has something to do with Hasur Vyke’s plans, then we must remove it from the board. Find it, and destroy it.”

I turned, dipping into a shallow bow as I did. “I will not leave this city until it is done.”

I had two heads to claim. A fallen priest who courted Hell, and a monster who’d been there the day our world had been engulfed in a fire of madness.

They would both taste the bite of my axe.