The Room wouldn’t form at all. There was only blackness and a hint of the grey walls somehow visible in the blackness. Felitïa kept trying. Kept trying to pull up the black walls. Kept trying to push out whatever was stopping her from doing it.

For she was sure now something was stopping her—and it wasn’t exhaustion.

Or rather, it was partially that, as she was also now certain someone or something was stopping her from sleeping.

It was an ingenious plan, really. It had completely disabled her, stripping her of the abilities she held most dear—her telepathy and magic—and she was completely unprepared to face the world without them. They were like air to her. Without them, she couldn’t breathe. She could only suffocate.

She opened her eyes and looked around the tiny cell again. There was only the stone platform along the wall that doubled as both bench and bed, a pan to relieve herself in, and nothing else but the door of iron bars. The cell was one of a few in a small outbuilding along the wall surrounding Lord Belone’s palace—Danel Belone’s palace now.

She took occasional looks around the cell, hoping each time she’d notice something about it which would give her some sort of idea. An idea for escape maybe? An idea for how to restore her abilities and let her sleep? She didn’t know what she was looking for. Just hoping something would present itself.

She closed her eyes again, tried again to form the Room. Again it refused.

Last night had been a trap, like she’d suspected. She’d arrived at the library to find Plavistalorik was not there, but others were.

Danel Belone sat at the table, flipping the pages of a book. A man with greying brown hair and a scarred face stood behind him, dressed in the armour of the Red Knights. Two Red Knights stood at attention in the corners of the room.

Danel closed the book as Felitïa entered. He motioned to the scarred man. “There you are. I told you the Isyar’s name would lure her here.” He looked at Felitïa. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you the past couple months, your Highness. I know you’ve made a couple requests to speak to Plavistalorik.”

Felitïa sighed and walked farther into the room. The trap was sprung. No point trying to get away now, but maybe she could still learn something. “Okay, Danel, you’ve got me here. What’s this about? And why are there Bloods here?”

“We prefer Red Knights,” the scarred man said. “Bloods is a slur.”

Felitïa took a seat at the table across from Danel. She didn’t look at the scarred man. She had a good idea who he was, and she wasn’t about to show him any sort of respect, not even eye contact. “When your organisation starts treating people with respect, I’ll consider treating you with respect, too. Not before. Danel, why are there Bloods here? Your father won’t approve.”

Danel smiled at her. “My father passed away an hour ago. May Nature guide him and All-Father embrace him. He was a good man, and I will miss him.”

Damn it. The moment she’d seen the Bloods, Felitïa had suspected this, but it was still disappointing to hear it confirmed. Worse, the fact the Bloods were already here meant Danel must have known his father was going to die. Possibly even knew when. Mitchal Plavin—assuming the scarred man was Mitchal Plavin—wouldn’t have come all the way here without certainty.

“You don’t look very upset,” Felitïa said. He wasn’t either. There was a slight sense of regret coming from him, but mostly there was excitement, some nervousness, and some anger. That anger grew as Felitïa spoke.

He slammed his fist on the table. “He disappointed me.” He glared at Felitïa. “I heard about his plan to disinherit me. I blame you for that. Since you first came here a year ago, and especially in the last couple months, you’ve spun a web of lies around him. He even believed you’re a wizard, yet I’ve never seen you perform a single magical trick at all.”

“That’s because they mostly are just tricks.” Mitchal Plavin walked up to the table. “Intelligent people like us see right through them, so they avoid using them around us. Some of my associates tell me, your Highness, that you are a fabled being they call the Will-Breaker. Your Lordship, as Will-Breaker, she is supposedly capable of bending men’s wills to her with a single glance. Supposedly, she could force us to our knees with just a thought. Care to demonstrate, your Highness?”

Felitïa wondered if she had the concentration for a spell. A simple sleep spell. A tilt of her head, a partial closing of her eyes, and a slight flexing of her finger, and Mitchal Plavin would topple to the floor. He’d likely wake up instantly again, but it might shut him up. But she hadn’t been able to manage a spell in weeks. Was Plavin responsible for that? Someone working for him? Had it been done for a moment just like this, to make her look a fraud?

“You see, your Lordship? She won’t even make eye contact with me.”

Danel laughed. “I can’t believe my father never so much as asked for a simple demonstration.”

“She has one power, lad: a way with words. Words can be powerful when employed effectively.”

Felitïa did it. She half closed her eyes, tilted her head, and flexed her finger just a little.

Nothing happened.

Gods damn it! What was wrong with her?

“So what happens now?” Felitïa asked.

“We throw you in jail for the time being,” Mitchal said. “Don’t worry, your Highness. You’ll be treated with the utmost respect. You are still royalty after all, albeit disgraced royalty. We will send word to Arnor City and wait for their directive for what to do with you.”

“And if they order you to let me go?”

Mitchal Plavin shrugged. “Then we’ll let you go. However, as there’s about to be a change of leadership there as well, I suspect they’ll order your execution. You will be given an execution befitting royalty, of course.”

Danel looked up at him. “A change in leadership in Arnor City, too?”

Mitchal Plavin held up his hand. “Nothing for you to worry about, your Lordship. Just know that we are looking to bring order everywhere, not just here.”

Danel nodded. “Ah, of course. I understand.”

So Danel wasn’t in on everything. He was probably just a tool. Interesting. It could mean he wasn’t a Darker like Plavin.

“What about Nin-Akna?” Felitïa asked.

“She’ll be arrested first thing in the morning,” Danel said. “Then publicly executed in a day or two. She needs to be made an example of.”

Felitïa nodded. “I see. Well, you’d better show me to my cell, shouldn’t you?”

Mitchal Plavin motioned to the other two Bloods. “Escort her Highness to a cell. Remember, she is royalty, so treat her with respect.”

The two Bloods had walked to either side of her, but had otherwise not forced her in any way. They had led her through the palace and across the grounds to the cell where she was now.

The Room in her head collapsed as soon as she entered the cell. She could also no longer sense the feelings of the Bloods or the palace guards on duty in the jail.

That was how she finally knew for certain whatever was happening to her was external to her. It happened too suddenly to be anything else. Which meant whoever or whatever was responsible was nearby at that moment. Unfortunately, that last bit of knowledge didn’t help her locate it.

Hours passed. It had to be daylight outside by now. She’d made no progress with her head.

The sound of booted feet on the wooden floor came from outside her cell. A moment later, a Blood passed the door, pulling Anita along with him.

“Your Highness!” Anita called. “They’ve got Akna! They’re going to execute her!”

The Blood dragged her past, but she continued to call out.

“We have to help her! Please! We have to do something!”

Felitïa stood up, walked the couple of feet to the door, and peered out. The Blood was only a couple cells down. A jailer hurried past to unlock the door.

Felitïa tried again to put them to sleep, and again it didn’t work. She sighed. “Don’t worry, Anita. I’ll figure something out.”

They were hollow words. She had no idea if she could figure anything out. Despite Mitchal Plavin’s assurances, she had no doubt he intended to have her killed. Lidda Plavin’s actions last year were proof enough of that. She suspected locking her up like this was just a show for Danel Belone.

And unless she determined what was wrong with her and how to reverse it, she could do nothing to prevent her execution, or to stop the same from happening to Nin-Akna, Anita, or anyone else.

Felitïa stood by the cell door for a few minutes, listening to Anita crying in the other cell.

No, she couldn’t give up like that. There had to be something she could do. She went back tot he bench-bed, sat down, and tried again to bring up the room.

Just blackness greeted her.

So she tried again.

And again. And again. And again…

She wasn’t sure how long it had been, but eventually, voices interrupted her attempts.

“I demand to be allowed to see my daughter and her Highness!”

“Let her,” another voice said. “She has Lord Belone’s permission.”

“Very well,” a third voice said. “But make it quick, and we’ll be watching.”

A moment later, Siba appeared at the door to Felitïa’s cell. “Your Highness, I trust they’re treating you well.”

Her make-up was tear-streaked, and she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Felitïa rose and curtsied. “They are. My Lady, let me offer you my sincerest condolences on the passing of your husband.”

Siba forced a smile, but dabbed at her eyes again. “Thank you, your Highness.”

“Mother, is that you?” Anita called out from her cell.

Siba turned in Anita’s direction. “Yes, dear. I’m here. I’m just talking with her Highness briefly, and I’ll be right with you.” She sniffed and dabbed her eyes again.

Felitïa approached the door, pressed up as close to it as she dared. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

Siba turned back to her. “As do I, your Highness.”

“There might be,” Felitïa said quietly.

Siba lowered her voice similarly. “Anything. Danel’s out of control. I fear he poisoned Feodor.”

“Unfortunately, I think there’s a good chance of that,” Felitïa said.

“What do you want me to do?”

“This could be very dangerous for you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Then I need you to get word to a man in the city named Agernon. Tell him I need his help.”

“Of course. What’s his last name?”

“He doesn’t have one. It’s just Agernon. He’ll be easy to find.”

Siba nodded. “I’ll do it. You have my word. I’ll find a way.”

“What are you two talking about?” one of the jailers yelled. “Speak louder.”

“Of course,” Felitïa called back. “My apologies. We didn’t think you’d want to hear about...how should I put it?...a woman’s monthly issues. Lady Siba is helping me with them.”

“Good gods, move on to your daughter!”

Siba smirked. “Well, if you want to deal with the mess. Apologies, your Highness.”

“No worries, my Lady.” Felitïa returned to her seat. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to be at your husband’s funeral.”

“Thank you, your Highness.” Siba curtsied, then moved to Anita’s cell.

“Oh mother, they’re going to execute Akna!”

“I know, dear.”

Danel wasn’t planning to wait long before executing Nin-Akna. Could Siba get word to Agernon before then? It was unlikely, but it was unlikely she’d get word to Agernon at all. Felitïa couldn’t rely on that. She had to come up with something else.

She closed her eyes again. The Room would still not form.

So she tried again. And again…

* * * * *

It turned out, despite her sleepiness while being dragged here, Akna still couldn’t fall asleep.

They’d locked her in a stable of all places, in one of the stalls. The horse had been removed, but they hadn’t cleaned it out. The Knights had tried to force her to sit in the horse shit. She’d refused, so they’d punched her a couple times and left her cradling a bloody nose.

At least a palace guard had brought her some clothes a short time later. They weren’t her jerkin or skirt—just a shift and a kirtle—but they were something. The guard had actually turned out to be fairly nice. His name was Cantin and he had talked with her a little. In a different situation, she might have liked him.

“I’m really sorry you’re stuck in here,” Cantin said. “I can’t say I like what the new Lord is doing. These knights from outside the province. I mean, it’s just not proper, is it?”

Akna sighed. “No, it isn’t.” While he was kind of nice, if he really disapproved of Danel’s leadership, he could let her go. Though to be fair, what would she have done if the Ninifin queen had turned out to be like Danel? She had sworn an oath. Would she have broken it? She wasn’t entirely sure. Of course, she could always ask him. “I don’t suppose you could just...I don’t know...let me out?”

He stepped back from where he’d been leaning on the stall door, and groaned. “You know I can’t do that, Nin-Akna. Especially now. The new Lord is threatening all kinds of executions. I’m really sorry, but I just, well…”

“Pretend I broke out. Tell them I got the jump on you or something. I’d be willing to knock you out or maybe rough you up a little to make it look good. I’d go easy on you, of course. I wouldn’t do anything serious or permanent.”

He groaned some more. “I’m really sorry. I get the impression the new Lord Belone will be even more likely to execute people because of incompetence. I feel terrible, but I just can’t.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Akna said. “I had to ask, you understand.”

“I understand. I might be able to sneak some extra food in to you, though.”

Akna shrugged. “Sure. Great.”

He nodded. “Okay, I’ll do that.”

He didn’t talk to her again for the next couple of hours, so she spent the time plotting how she could overpower him and get out. This stable wasn’t designed to hold prisoners. She didn’t know why she was being kept here—probably because she was too low class for a real jail or some bullshit like that—but she could take advantage of it.

The real problem would be getting across the grounds and out of the complex. She had little doubt she could get past Cantin—he’d be easy—but without at least a spear, she wouldn’t stand much of a chance in a fight. She could take Cantin’s sword, she supposed, but swords had too little reach. She’d be giving up her main advantage over these Arnorin warriors.

The question became, could she sneak out? She supposed the answer was ultimately irrelevant. If she couldn’t, she’d die and it would all make no difference. But if she could… She just needed to wait for an opportunity to jump Cantin or whoever was put on duty to guard her overnight, as that was probably the better time to make her escape.

Yes, that would be her plan then. She would jump the night guard, make sure he went down silently. Then she’d sneak out. Piece of cake.

If she could just convince herself that was true.

The hours passed by slowly.

“Excuse me,” a voice eventually called out.

Cantin, who had been sitting on the floor across from Akna’s stall, jumped to his feet. “My Lady!” He bowed.

Anita’s mother came forward. “I’d like to speak to the prisoner, please.”

‘Of...of course, my Lady,” Cantin said.

“Thank you.” Lady Siba approached the door to Akna’s stall. “I don’t suppose we could have some privacy, could we?”

Cantin shuffled his feet. “I...um...I suppose, my Lady, but I can’t go far.”

Siba waved her hand. “I would never ask you to shirk your duties. Of course, you shouldn’t go far. Just over there. You’ll still be able to see everything we do.”

“Of course, my Lady. That will be fine.”

“Well, go on then.” She waved him away.

Cantin bowed again, and retreated to where Siba had indicated.

“I’ve spoken with Anita and Felitïa,” Siba said. “I’m working on a way to get you out of here.”

“They’ll know you’ve come to see me,” Akna said. “They’ll be watching you, and me.”

Siba nodded. “I know. I expect no less, but I have to do something. Danel is out of control, and Mitchal Plavin is a tyrant.”

“Mitchal Plavin?” Akna was certain she’d heard the name before, but couldn’t place it. Possibly someone Felitïa or Anita had mentioned.

“Commander of the Red Knights and uncle of Lady Lidda Plavin of Plavin-Tyl.”

“Guy with a couple long scars on his face?”

“That would be him. He’s been trying to bring his Red Knights here for the last year. Feodor always refused, but somewhere along the line, Danel started hero-worshipping him. I’m not surprised he’s let them in, but I worry about the fact they were already here and ready for Feodor to die.”

“Yeah, I’d say they had advance notice,” Akna said.

“Princess Felitïa wants me to contact a man named Agernon. Do you know him?”

Akna nodded. “He’s the one I’ll go straight to if I get out of here.” It was primarily because of Corvin that she was planning to go there, but Siba didn’t need to know that.”

“Good.” Siba glanced over at Cantin. She nodded to him when he saw her. She turned back to Akna, reached into her fur coat, and pulled out a handful of tiny bottles—ones like the bottle the sleeping draught had been in.

“What’s going on here?”

“Damn,” Siba muttered.

A Red Knight had entered the stable and was marching towards Cantin. “What are you doing over here? You’re supposed to be watching the prisoner.”

“Lady Belone asked me to stand back,” Cantin stammered. “I can still see them. I’m watching.”

“Get back over there!” the Red Knight barked. “Lady Belone, his Lordship, your son orders you to attend to him.”

Siba turned calmly to face the Knight, moving her hands behind her back. “Of course. I will head there with you immediately. My business here is done.”

Akna snatched the bottles from Siba, and held them behind her own back.

The Red Knight waited while Siba walked towards and past him. Then he followed her out.

Akna quickly dropped the bottles into the feeding trough on the inside of the stall door.

Cantin returned to Akna’ stall. He leaned against the top of the gate. “I think I’m going to have to stay right here from now on.”

Akna nodded. “I understand, and let me say, I’m truly sorry.”

He looked at her blankly. “For what?”

She grabbed him by the ears and slammed his head down into the top of the stall door. She shoved him away and he toppled to the floor. “That.”

Waiting until night wasn’t going to cut it any longer. Akna wasn’t willing to risk Anita’s mother getting herself killed trying to break Akna out. Akna needed to do it now, and on her own.

She retrieved the sleeping draughts from the trough. Four bottles. She could use them to help in her escape. She’d have to find a way to get them into guards’ drinks, though. How she’d do that she had no idea, but she could figure that out along the way.

She climbed over the stall door and bent over Cantin. She unstrapped his sword belt and put it on herself. She didn’t like swords, but there wasn’t much other option. She considered taking his clothes and armour, and trying to blend in, but he was taller and thinner than she was. It would never work.

The sword belt secure, Akna hurried over to the stable doors. Cold blasted her as she opened them a crack. She’d forgotten how cold it was outside. It was cold inside too, but body heat from the horses made it more bearable. The greater cold outside was going to be much more difficult to ignore.

She glanced around. Surely Cantin had something warm. Sure enough, a heavy cloak hung from a hook on a nearby post. Akna grabbed the cloak and threw it over herself. It wasn’t a good fit, but it would help keep her warm, and with the hood up, it might help her avoid notice.

With the cloak tied as securely as she could get it, she peered through the crack in the stable door straight towards the side of the palace. She looked to either side, but there was no sign of anyone. However, the wall around the palace grounds was behind her and there were bound to be soldiers on it.

Akna took a deep breath and slipped outside. The biting wind made its way under her hood and hit her face. Some of it crept down her neck and through the thin fabric of her kirtle and shift. It wasn’t bad though, and she could handle it. On the other hand, her bare feet stung in the snow. She should have taken Cantin’s boots. No, the improper fit would have hampered her movement too much. She was going to have to bear the cold and risk frost-bitten feet. The quicker she got out of here, the better.

That was the problem, though. The cloak might stop people recognising her from a distance, but she still wouldn’t be able to just walk out the main gates.

She walked slowly along the side of the stable to the corner and peered round at the wall surrounding the palace grounds. The nearest guard patrolling it was quite some distance away, but moving in her direction. Akna estimated maybe a minute until he passed her. There was nobody out in the grounds that Akna could see from this location.

She turned around and went to the other corner of the stable. The main gate was in this direction, and there were a lot more guards there. Her best hope was the other way.

She returned to the other side again and waited for the guard on the wall to pass the stable. Then she waited awhile longer, while her feet went numb in the snow. She couldn’t stay like this for long, but she needed an idea how frequently the guards passed by on the wall. It was about five minutes until the next guard came in sight and another minute or so until he passed.

The wall didn’t look easy to climb. The sides were reasonably smooth with few handholds. However, the stable was bound to have rope and tools she could use. She could also take a moment to warm her feet in some straw.

Provided no one came to check on her in that time, but that was a risk no matter what.

She returned inside the stable and began looking for what she needed. As she’d predicted, rope was easy to find. There was no grapple, however, so she settled on improvising something. At bare minimum, she needed something that would hold long enough for her to climb up this side. If necessary, she could jump down the other side. It wouldn’t be a pleasant jump, but the wall wasn’t so high she was likely to kill herself.

It only took her a few minutes to put together a makeshift grapple from a couple of old horseshoes that she then tied to the end of the rope.

Cantin moaned and started to stir.

Akna hurried over to him. She didn’t want to seriously hurt him, so she took one of the sleeping draughts and poured the contents down his throat. He coughed and gurgled for a moment, tried to stand up, then collapsed again. He tried to prop himself up once more, but then fell fast asleep.

The stuff certainly worked fast, for which Akna was immensely grateful.

She returned to the stable door, and gritted her teeth for when her feet hit the cold snow again. Then she hurried out and to the corner.

She waited until the next guard had passed, then looked around. There was no one out on the grounds to see her, so she moved up to the wall. She waited another half-minute to make sure the previous guard was far enough along that he wouldn’t hear the grapple.

When she felt it was safe, she stepped back a couple feet, pulled out enough length of rope that she could still spin it, but also get enough momentum for the throw. She spun the grapple and rope a couple times and then released it. It flew over the top of the wall and hit the other side with a thud. She pulled back on the rope until the grapple caught hold of something—probably one of the battlements—and a few tugs didn’t bring it all tumbling down.

Akna looked along both lengths of the wall and then behind her. There didn’t seem to be anyone who had noticed. One benefit of this freezing weather: it kept people inside.

She gave the rope one more hard tug just to be sure, then started to climb as fast as she could. This was the most vulnerable part of her escape.

When she reached the top, she didn’t waste any time before looking over the opposite side. The ground was covered in a thick layer of undisturbed snow. That should help cushion a jump, though it was impossible to say what was under the snow—dirt, rocks, or something else. A bit farther out was the edge of a copse of trees. She would be exposed getting to it, but if she could get there, she would be safer. She began pulling up the rope.

The next guard on patrol was already in sight. That guard started to run, pulling out a bell and ringing it as he went.

That settled it. She had to jump.

She unhooked the grapple, and tossed it and the rope off the side. She didn’t want the guards using it to help them follow her. Then she climbed onto the battlement.

“You! Stop!” The guard had stopped and tossed aside his alarm bell. He had taken out a crossbow and was loading it.

Akna leapt off the battlement, and rolled as she landed. The snow got all up inside her cloak and clothes, but otherwise, the impact was gentle. She got to her feet and took off just as a crossbow bolt shot through the snow where she’d just been.

Running through the snow wasn’t easy. She zigzagged as much as she could, stumbled several times, and fell face-first into the snow a couple times. A few crossbow bolts swished past her. Another sunk into the snow beside her. Another tore her cloak. Yet another slammed into the tree beside her just as she reached the copse.

She ducked behind the tree and took a moment to catch her breath. No further bolts flew at her. Overall, there had been fewer than she had expected. She should count her blessings. She also shouldn’t stop for long. They’d be after her on foot soon.

The question was, where to now? She needed to get moving before her feet froze and she couldn’t move anymore.

The city. She could lose them in the city, then get to Agernon’s.

She wove through the trees to the far side of the copse. Getting to Agernon’s from here was straight-forward. She knew the way well. It was just a quick trip through the noble district, then across town. The problem was going unnoticed. Her haphazard clothing would draw attention in the noble district. She didn’t look like a noble, a guard, or a servant, but it was a risk she had to take.

She stepped out of the trees and walked into the street, trying to move confidently, as if she was supposed to be there. Foliths had a way of ignoring people if they behaved like they were supposed to be there. Foliths would just assume they were servants on an errand.

The snow was better packed in the street. It made it easier to walk, but it was still blisteringly cold and it stung like hell, but she ignored it. If she didn’t react to it, maybe no one would notice she was barefoot. Even servants didn’t go barefoot. She looked at no one, and avoided eye contact.

She made it a block without any issue.

Then there were yells in the street behind her. She made a point of not looking back, kept moving forward, and acted like it had nothing to do with her.

More yells followed, and then the clanking of metal armour and boots. People on the street ahead of her moved aside, some of them pointing at her and yelling, “Over here!”

Shit.

She ran, nearly slipped on the slick ground. A man on the street tried to grab her, but she wove around him. Most others stayed out of her way, content to let the guards chase her. Even with the snow to dampen it, the sound of their boots rang down the street.

Up ahead, a group of the City Watch turned in her direction.

Not good.

She weaved to the side, towards a horse-drawn wagon stopped in front of the gate to an estate. There was no sign of the driver. That was good.

Akna ran straight for the horse, fumbling at the sword at her waist. She ran between the horse and the gate, and stopped for a moment, still working at the sword. She managed to untie it from her belt. Then she screamed as loud as she could into the horse’s ear, and whacked the horse in the side with the still-sheathed sword.

The horse screamed and bolted. The wagon creaked and bounced as the horse pulled it over the wooden stoppers that had been placed at the wheels to stop it from rolling. Akna dove over the low wall of the estate as crates tumbled off the wagon, and the horse and wagon careened into the street.

Akna took off across the grounds. People were running from the house in her direction. One had a crossbow.

She reached the wall separating it from the next estate. She grabbed the top of the wall and pulled herself up. A crossbow bolt slammed into her exposed arm, between her elbow and wrist. She cried out, and flipped herself over the opposite side.

She rolled in the snow, and hopped to her feet. She clutched at her arm, blood gushing. The bolt hadn’t lodged in, just torn a deep gash. She wrapped the cloak around her arm, tried to keep it tight, but she didn’t have time to tie it properly.

She dashed—stumbled more like—across the grounds. This time, she headed in the direction of the house, not the next estate. She couldn’t let the guards chasing her just follow parallel on the street. She had to mix it up a bit.

She ran round the far side of the house. More yells came from the street, and one from the door of the house. “Hey! What are you doing?”

She ignored them, and ran to the back of the house. There was a garden there, but little growing in it, just a couple snow-draped bushes, and one leafless tree. The wall behind the garden was taller than the ones separating this estate from the ones on either side. Probably to “protect’ the estate from the lower-class district on the other side. Fucking Foliths.

She could probably climb the wall if it weren’t for her injured arm.

But the tree. She might be able to climb the tree. It was taller than the wall and close enough to it that she should be able to jump to the top of the wall. She rushed to the tree.

“Stop!”

She ignored whoever it was.

A bad decision.

She reached for the lower branch of the tree with her good arm. Another arm wrapped around her neck and pulled her backwards.

She kicked out, and both Akna and her assailant fell backwards into the snow. She was on top of him, but he put his other arm around her, holding her down.

Akna gasped for breath, and kicked out again. She hit the side of the man’s foot, kicked at it several times, then brought her foot down on top of his leg.

Finally, he gasped and his grip loosened. She lifted her head a little, then dropped it back down onto his. With a cry, he let go of her.

Akna bounded to her feet and leapt for the lowest branch. She got hold of it with the hand on her good arm, then reached with the other. The cloak unwrapped as she grabbed hold of the branch. It was painful, but she would manage.

The man grabbed at her legs, but she kicked him in the face. He fell back over, and she pulled herself up onto the branch. It only took another moment to climb the next couple branches and be level with the wall. She leapt.

She flew over the other side of the wall, and hit the ground. She sat up, back pressed up against the wall. People on the street stared at her for a moment, but gradually turned back to what they’d been doing. She couldn’t see any guards, but someone was bound to call for one. Wrapping the blood-soaked cloak around her injured arm again, she hopped to her feet, and set off. She moved quickly, but not at a run, so as not to draw too much attention. In this part of the city, she wouldn’t look so out of place.

She hoped.

This area was not familiar to her. Although she’d been in Quorge for a couple months now, she discovered she didn’t know it all that well—considerably less well than she’d thought. She’d spent all her time going between just three locations. They weren’t particularly close together, but the routes she and Felitïa had used had stayed pretty constant. Now that she was off-route, she wasn’t entirely sure how to get where she was going.

She knew the general direction though, and eventually, she reached a street she was familiar with. From here, it would be easy going—again, she hoped. Her arm was going numb; her feet were already numb. She was going to be in terrible condition once she made it to Agernon’s. Assuming she made it.

At least she seemed to have evaded her pursuit. No one had been running after her since she made it over that last wall.

A pair of City Watch passed her. They turned up their noses at her, but didn’t otherwise react. She’d managed to stay ahead of word about her.

She passed through the plaza with the well Felitïa had been so obsessed with those first first few days after arriving in the city. As on previous occasions, there was a line of people waiting to access the well. Felitïa had learned something here—remembered something about her past. At the time, it had seemed important and Akna had been interested. Now, it just seemed a waste of time. Had anything come of it? Had anything come of anything they’d been doing here?

Akna had endured so much at the palace, just so Felitïa could keep studying, and they had gained no answers. Agernon had made no progress with the Staff or Corvin. They had learned nothing perusing the library at the Hall of Knowledge, and almost nothing from the Ninifin secrets. What was the point of it all?

She just wanted to go back to Ninifin, join the resistance, and fight for her home. It didn’t matter if she became queen at the end of it. In fact, she’d prefer she didn’t.

She hoped Anita was all right.

Agernon opened the door almost instantly after she knocked. He ushered her inside. “Close the door. You didn’t lead them back here, did you?”

“Not purposely, but they’ve probably guessed where I’m going. It’s not like I go to many different places in this city.”

Agernon scowled. “You look like shit.”

Akna stumbled over to one of the chairs. “Yeah, well, it’s not like they just let me walk out, you know? Corvin!”

“Fair point.” Agernon hobbled towards her, his cane clacking.

“You heard?” She collapsed into the chair. Her muscles ached; her arm throbbed. She still couldn’t feel her feet.

“Not much. Only that there’s been some sort of coup at the palace.” He peered at her, his gaze moving from her arm to her feet.

“Lord Belone died last night. His son’s taken over and he’s let in some group of armoured warriors called the Red Knights or something like that.”

“Bloods,” Agernon sneered. “Felitïa’s told me of them. They’re the last thing we need right now.”

Corvinian ran into the room. “Akna! You’re okay! I was really worried.”

He rushed to her, but she waved him away. “Get my spears and knives. I’m going to need them.” She had made a point of leaving weapons here and at the Hall of Knowledge in case of emergency.

Agernon shook his head. “Forget the spears. Bring me boiled water—two bucket—and bandages. And a bottle of alcohol.”

“They’ll be here soon,” Akna said. “All I have is a sword I stole from a guard. If I’m to defend you, I need something better.”

“Don’t worry about that. We need to do something about your injuries. Corvinian, go!”

Corvin spun round. “Yes, sir!” He ran to the kitchen.

“I appreciate the concern, but it can wait.”

“No, it can’t. Your feet are frostbitten and you’ve obviously lost a lot of blood. That makes things worse for you feet. If you don’t want to lose them, let me do something. Give me that cloak.”

“But the guards.”

“I said not to worry about them!” He pulled at the cloak.

Akna groaned and untied it. She shifted in her chair so he could pull it out from behind her. “You’re sure?”

“Shush!” he snapped. “Lift your feet.”

She raised her legs and he laid the cloak on the floor under her feet. “Put them back.” He then wrapped the cloak around her feet. “That’s just a start while we wait for the water.”

Corvinian returned with a couple of buckets of steaming water. He placed them beside Agernon, then hurried off again.

Agernon only glanced at them. “Much too hot for your feet still. We need to raise their temperature gradually. We’ll start with your arm. As soon as I have those bandages, that is. Corvinian!”

“Coming!” Corvin rushed back into the room, hugging a bunch of cloth and bandages to his chest, and a bottle clutched in one hand. He dropped the cloth by Agernon and held on to the bottle.

The old man grabbed a cloth and dipped it in one of the buckets. He grimaced from the heat, but let the cloth soak a moment, then pulled it out and wrung it out. He began to wash her wound. As he cleaned the cloth out in the bucket, he spoke to Corvin. “Test the other bucket from time to time. Let me know as soon as it’s cool enough to put her feet in.”

Corvin nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Agernon finished cleaning the wound, and held out his hand to Corvin. “Bottle.” When Corvin held it out, the old man took it, opened it, and poured some of its contents over the gash in her arm. It stung like hell. He handed the bottle back to Corvin, and reached for a bandage.

Banging came from the front door. “Open up by the order of Lord Belone!”

Agernon scowled.

“I told you,” Akna hissed. “Corvin, go get—”

“No! I told you I’ll handle this.” Agernon handed the bandage to Corvin. “Bandage the wound. Make sure it’s tight.”

Corvin nodded.

More banging came from the door. “Open up, or we’ll break it down!”

Agernon rose to his feet. “I’m coming! Hold your horses! I’m an old man and can only move so fast!” He hobbled—even more slowly than typical—towards the door.

Corvin pulled the bandage tight. As soon as he tied it off, Akna tried to rise. Pins and needles shot through her lower legs and feet. She fell back onto the seat.

“Stay put,” Agernon hissed. He reached the door.

More bangs came from the door. “Open up, now!”

“All right, I’m here!” Agernon barked. “Before I open, tell me what this is about.”

“Order of Lord Belone! Open this door now, or we will break it down, and you will be arrested.”

Agernon placed a single finger on the door and traced a small spiral with it. He turned around and started walking away. “Very well. I’m opening the door now.” He banged his cane on the floor, and the door swung open on its own.

A Red Knight stepped into the house, and removed his helmet, revealing grey, thinning hair. His gaze fell on Akna just as the door slammed into him, knocking him aside. Other Knights at the door tried to block it, but it pushed itself closed again.

The Knight—no, Blood; Akna liked that term—steadied himself against the wall. “How dare you! We represent—”

Agernon, moving much more quickly now, ran his finger along the mantel over the fireplace. The spills he kept in a vase there flew out and across the room. The Blood ducked aside, but several still hit him in the face, sticking in him like needles. He cried out.

Banging came from the door again—much heavier banging than before.

Agernon stopped at the far end of the fireplace and turned to face the Blood. “This is your one chance to turn around and fuck right off. Take it or face the consequences.”

The Blood pulled one of the spills from his face, grimacing. He pointed at Akna. “We represent your Lord. That woman is a wanted fugitive. We will take her by force if necessary. Submit now and you may be spared.”

“Be it on yourself. Corvinian, get out of here!” Agernon traced a pattern on the wall with his finger, and slammed his cane into the floor with his other hand.

Corvin jumped to his feet and ran to the kitchen. Akna started to rise, but the chair moved. She fell back into it as it slid across the floor to the kitchen entrance, where it stopped.

The Blood tore the remaining spills from his face, just as the other chair slid across the room and slammed into his legs. It pushed him back against the wall. “You’ll die for this!”

Agernon dashed over to the kitchen entrance. “Can you stand?”

There was a crash as the front door splintered.

Akna pulled herself to her feet. The pins and needles tore through her and she nearly fell over.

“Corvinian, help her!”

Corvin took her arm and let her lean against him.

The Blood continued to struggle against the chair, and the front door splintered more and burst open. More Bloods entered the house. The small pot in the fire pit, as well as the vase and everything else on the mantel shot across the room, clattering into them.

Corvin helped Akna into the kitchen. Agernon followed. Once he was past the chair, he slammed his cane into the floor again, and the chair shot back into the front room. There was a thud and a yell.

Agernon waved them to the back of the room. Another clack of his cane, and the door into the back opened in front of them.

“Wait a moment,” Akna said to Corvin as they passed through the door. “I need my spears and knives. “Get them. Please.”

Corvin looked past her to Agernon.

“It’s okay,” Agernon said. “Get them. We may end up needing them. The Staff too! They mustn’t get it. Be quick!”

Corvin helped Akna lean against the wall, and then hurried down the stairs.

The grey-haired Blood appeared at the kitchen doorway, sword drawn. “You’re all under arrest.”

Agernon traced a pattern on the kitchen wall. The Blood raised his arm in front of his face as knives and forks rose from the table and wall where they were hanging, and shot at him. Most bounced off the chain links of his armour, but one knife lodged into his bare hand. Another flew over his arm and sliced his ear.

“Gods damn you!” The Blood rushed forward, other Bloods appearing at the door behind him.

Everything else in the room not fixed down flew at the Bloods. The heavy cooking pot in the fireplace, the chairs, the teapot on the table, dishes, wooden spoons. They battered against the Bloods, most of whom started to back away. The cooking pot smashed the grey-haired one in the head and he fell over. Even the main table itself flipped onto its side and rammed into the Bloods, helping them in their retreat and pushing their unconscious leader with them.

Agernon chuckled. He raised his cane and pointed at the Bloods still fending off attack at the other side of the room. “You really think I wouldn’t have a place I’ve lived in for nearly fifty years defended? I’ll make you shit-heads pay!”

Corvin returned from downstairs with the Staff and two spears in one hand, and a pair of boots in his other. He held the boots out to her. “I thought you might need these.”

Akna took them. “Thank you. Help me put them on.” She’d forgotten Felitïa had gotten her an extra pair to keep here.

Corvin leaned the Staff and spears against the wall, and bent down.

It was getting easier to move on her feet. The pins and needles weren’t gone, but she was getting used to it. She even thought she could almost feel it as Corvin slipped the first boot onto her foot.

The Bloods had smashed through the big, wooden table, though the cooking pot was still giving them trouble. Two, their armour battered and capes torn, managed to slip past and into the kitchen.

Agernon lightly tapped his cane on the floor. One thing not fixed down remained in the kitchen—a ratty old rug made from the fur and hide of a bear. It rose up as the Bloods walked over it, wrapped around their legs, and pulled them down.

Corvin and Akna finished getting her boots on. She took the spears and Corvin took a pair of knives from his belt and held them out to her. She took one. “You keep the other. You might need it.”

Corvin nodded. He put it in his belt and took hold of the Staff.

Akna held out the knife to Agernon, who was still eyeing the remaining Bloods across the room. He shook his head. “I don’t need it. Let’s go.”

Akna nodded and tucked the knife into her belt.

Corvin opened the back door and they all hurried out. Akna and Corvin started down the alley, but stopped after a few feet when they realised Agernon wasn’t with them.

He was still at the back door. His head was bowed, and he was muttering something. When he raised his head, there were tears in his eyes. He traced a pattern on the outside wall beside the door, then turned and walked unsteadily towards Akna and Corvin.

Behind him, the house shook and rumbled. A moment later, the wall cracked and the roof sagged. Then, with a cacophonous crash, the whole house collapsed inwards. Akna couldn’t be sure, but the screams of the Bloods inside seemed just audible over it all. Not that she cared. They deserved it.

Agernon slumped over as he reached them. Corvin caught him before he fell.

Akna looked past him at the pile of rubble where his house used to be. “Sorry about your place.”

Agernon was breathing heavily, gasping for air. “My...my strength is gone. It’s...up to you, girl. Get us to the Hall...of Knowledge. Quick as you can. There’ll...be more soon...and we’re...we’re not dressed for this weather. Boy, support me.”

“You got it, sir,” Corvin said.

Agernon lowered his head as Corvinian put his arm around him. “Fifty years of my life, gone.”

The poor man. He didn’t deserve this. Akna straightened up and clutched the spears tightly in one hand. “Right. We’ll stick to the alleys as much as possible. We’ll move as fast as Agernon can manage, but no faster.”

One thing was clear to her. She was going to avenge Agernon for the loss of his home. She was going to avenge them all.

Danel Belone had to die, and she would be the one to kill him.