Liila ran her tongue over her back teeth as she drummed her nails against her teacup. "So to say Prince Renathal has attempted to steal your medallion before would be somewhat of an understatement?"
"He's tried enough times that it's become somewhat of a bore, in truth. Though I do admire his tenacity, if nothing else," the Countess replied from across the table, delicately cutting into her meal. She took a second to savor the taste before motioning with her knife toward Liila's plate. "Do try the dumplings. I had them made without meat, since I know how unsettling it can be for you."
Looking down, Liila carefully cut into one of the dumplings—each was large enough to be a meal in and of itself for her—and then tried some of it. She let out a hum. "Apple?" When the Countess nodded, she took another bite. "It's divine."
The Countess let out a pleased chuckle.
After another bite, Liila turned her attention back to her host. "So how am I to take this?"
"Pardon?"
"You've been researching me," Liila replied.
For as long as she could remember, the taste of meat reminded her too much of blood and left her sick to her stomach. It brought back memories of her time in captivity, and made her nightmares worse.
However, she had no problem with others eating meat and tended to simply quietly curate her own meals instead of insisting that others cater to her. And she'd definitely never told anyone except for her closest friends the reasons why.
"I would say the research is finished," the Countess replied, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a napkin and then settling back in her chair. She hadn't eaten much. "You see, my power does not just come from my medallion."
Liila idly wondered just how much it was that the Countess actually knew about her. She didn't taste any poison, though she chose to finish her meal as a mirror to her host. "You're a rogue?"
With a laugh, the Countess appraised Liila with amusement. "I wouldn't call myself that, no." She paused a moment and then tilted her head. "Do you like the dumplings?"
"I do."
"Good," the Countess replied. "I should hate to be a poor host to someone so prolific as yourself."
"I'm curious," Liila said, taking a sip of the tea that had been provided. The Countess was drinking wine. It was another little thing that the venthyr had learned about her—Liila rarely drank anything alcoholic. She wondered if the Countess knew the why for that as well, or if she had only picked up on Liila's habits from her time in the Shadowlands. "Theotar could have told me that you'd be waiting on the other side of that mirror, yet he didn't. I wonder why."
The Countess laughed. "He has always loved his mischief. I must say, court is dull without him."
Her tone was measured as though talking about an acquaintance. However, Liila doubted so casual a connection would have resulted in a secret mirror between their homes.
Liila considered asking if the Countess was the one who had once been soulbound to Theotar, but instead opted not to. As it was, Liila was already at the venthyr's mercy, and it wouldn't do to have the Countess change her mind about this proposition Liila had yet to hear.
A favor in exchange for the Medallion of Desire.
Considering how the Countess reacted to Liila's hesitation before sitting down, she didn't doubt the creature considered their deal already made and would be in poor spirits should Liila learn the details and try to turn it down.
"House Iremoore is planning to depose me," the Countess said, filling the silence between them. "Such plots are hardly novel occurrences. However, I've had some…difficulty determining who it is that they are coordinating with. You find the culprits and help me keep order, and I will give you what you seek."
If the Countess was really so good with information, it left Liila doubting that she could really not know. However, Liila wasn't about to speak out against it.
The deal seemed almost too easy.
That meant something was either being hidden or bound to go wrong and lead to complications.
"House Iremoore," Liila repeated.
"I'm sure Theotar's people can assist you, should you need directions."
Her dismissal clear, Liila nodded politely, slipped out of her seat, and headed back through the mirror.
No sooner was she back in Thornhill Manor, she could hear a screechy voice demanding her attention. Bogdan intervened and insisted that a small stonefiend wait, but the little creature was having none of it.
"Maw Walker, I have a message! From Prince Renathal!" The little stonefiend raised their voice as they emphasized who their message was from, and Bogdan finally gave up, giving Liila an apologetic shrug.
Liila took the scroll and unrolled it. The way the venthyr around her seemed appalled that she used her hands to do so was not missed, though she pretended she didn't see their looks of horror.
My Dear Maw Walker,
I do not wish to alarm you, but I must speak with you before you leave Sinfall today.
Your Humble Prince,
Renathal
Liila stared at the message for a moment and then up to see that the stonefiend was already hovering a few feet closer to the door. They stopped in their retreat when she caught them.
"When were you supposed to give this to me?"
The stonefiend stilled and nearly dropped out of the air as their wings stopped. Recovering, they made a move to bolt, but Elena caught and brought them over to a small table, well inside the manor.
The messenger was not pleased.
"Answer the Maw Walker," Bogdan snapped.
"As soon as I found her—you!" the stonefiend hissed back, gaze turning toward the exit.
Liila glanced down at the message again.
She'd woken earlier than usual, thanks to another nightmare, and had decided to get a head start on their plans to recover the Medallion of Desire. She'd spent the morning wrangling keys and finding staff and preparing to sneak into Redelav Tower, only to find the Countess waiting for her once she was through the mirror.
This message was no doubt intended to be delivered around the time she generally woke up, Prince Renathal not realizing that she was already on the other side of the realm.
She considered heading back to Sinfall. If Prince Renathal had wanted to talk to her that morning then she was already late.
On the other hand, it wouldn't do to keep the Countess waiting when there was a plot to kill her. Liila doubted that if she botched this agreement the Countess would be willing to part with her medallion on such peaceful terms again.
Hopefully, Prince Renathal understood that she had already headed out and didn't think she was snubbing him.
They were friendly enough that he would know…wouldn't he?
"Maybe you can help me…what's your name?"
"Scotch," the stonefiend replied after eyeing her for a moment, already not liking where this was going.
"I need to find something in House Iremoore. If I waltz in, I'm going to have to carve my way through everyone, and all the screaming and shouting will alert nearby houses as to what I'm up to. It'll be a mess." She held up a finger and pointed at Scotch. "But, I doubt a stonefiend delivering a message would cause much of a fuss. What do you say?"
Liila drummed her fingers against her arm as she paced slowly in the main hall of Thornhill Manor. With Bogdan's help, they had formulated a harmless message that would allow Scotch as far into House Iremoore as possible in order for them to look around for any signs of who the Iremoores might be conspiring with.
If the stonefiend could find evidence that they could carry, they were to take it and leave with it. If they couldn't, they were to note where it was in the house, and come back. Bogdan was confident that Florin could cause a scene outside House Iremoore that would allow for Liila to slip into the building without being seen by the neighbors.
There had been talk of trying to get Liila a disguise, but she was just too small. Without a proper glamor, like the type the Accuser had used on her before, there would be no passing as a venthyr herself.
Instead, she would have to time her dispersion just right so that she would be nothing but a shadow passing into the house.
And then she'd have to find her way past those who weren't distracted.
All in all, it would be considerably better if Scotch could get the proof they needed.
"You are going to wear out the rug at this rate," Bogdan said, frown in place as Liila turned to pace the other way.
She levitated and couldn't help a small half smile when the venthyr sighed.
"I had not heard that the great Maw Walker had such fragile nerves."
"I don't like having to wait."
Dumitra nodded and leaned against the wall near the way upstairs. "Or wonder if that Scotch fellow was actually a Sinfall fiend and not one of the Sire's."
Liila stopped, floating in place. "You think he could have been?"
Even as the venthyr grinned and Bogdan commended her for getting Liila to still, the sound of frantically flapping wings caught everyone's attention.
To say Scotch flew like a bat out of hell was somewhat of an understatement, fitting as it was, considering where they were.
"I got it!" the stonefiend was hauling almost a book's worth of letters, and clearly suffering from it. Their little wings flapped madly as they tried to stay in the air with the heft of the letters.
Liila automatically headed toward the door. "You don't have people following you, do you?"
"No!" Scotch sounded most offended to have been asked. The stonefiend dumped the letters on the table and practically collapsed beside the pile. Somehow, they managed to regain their composure quickly and sat beside the papers as though they were about to turn to stone. Were it not for the way their eyes followed Liila as she moved closer, she might have thought they had. "I got one of the gargon excited. They knocked over a bunch of candles. Everyone was busy putting out the fires when I left."
They sounded so proud.
Before Liila could tell Scotch they'd done well, Bogdan was admonishing them for that very pride. As the stonefiend's wings wilted, Liila gave them a wink and a well-hidden thumbs up.
By the time Bogdan and the others looked at her, she was inspecting the notes. Bogdan took to assisting her go through some of them.
Just as he let out a triumphant laugh that he could recognize the handwriting of one of the notes and that the Countess would no doubt be able to as well, Liila froze.
Inquisitor Vilhelm still resists his reeducation. I fear we may need to give up on him entirely. I know Madame Iza is fond of him, but surely she can find a replacement?
A
"Who would A be?" Liila said, showing the note to Bogdan.
"Lord Andre, the head of House Iremoore, I'd imagine…" Bogdan replied.
"Definitely," Dumitra said, leaning over Liila's shoulder with ease. "Inquisitor Vilhelm…wasn't he one of the Accuser's?"
Liila looked at Scotch. "Did you see anywhere where someone could be held captive—" faint laughter from the venthyr around her and the 'no duh' look from Scotch told her that the answer was 'obviously'. "We have to free him."
When Liila had still been following Sire Denathrius' orders in hopes a quick resolve to get the Winter Queen her anima—despite her growing suspicion that something was clearly amiss in Revendreth—she had been told to aid Lord Chamberlain in bringing down the Accuser. His idea had been to use the Accuser's sinstone against her.
The only trouble was that it had been guarded with wards kept up by underlings.
While Lord Chamberlain had talked on and on about what was to be done, puffed up like the pompous fool that he was, Liila had simply dispelled the wards around the sinstone.
It had worked, albeit only for a few meager seconds before the wards were back in place.
She'd dispelled it three times during Lord Chamberlain's monologuing, and he'd never noticed once. Echelon had. The stoneborn had looked from the vulnerable sinstone to Lord Chamberlain and back, frown firmly in place. When the wards had come back up, Echelon had made a motion for Liila to not bother to dispel it again.
And so Liila had followed directions to find sinstones for the two inquisitors who were warding the one they needed. With so many warning her not to listen to the Master, she had decided to try to do what she could to cause as little damage as possible, ducking out of sight of most of the venthyr on the grounds and fighting as few as she could.
The inquisitors had not been optional.
While she had considered just knocking them out, that had proven impossible. Inquisitor Stelia had been far too formidable, quick with interrupts and her own spells. In a moment of frustration, Liila had feared the inquisitor…right off the platform she was on.
Liila had chosen not to peer over the edge. Bad things happened when people did that, and she had been in no mood for that, especially with Temel hovering beside her, commenting that this was going to be on her own sinstone.
The venthyr had fallen into the Endmire, and Liila had headed off, hoping to get to the Accuser's sinstone before the inquisitor could recover.
Since it had worked so well with Inquisitor Stelia, she'd done the same for Inquisitor Vilhelm, and let him fall down to the lower levels of the Halls of Atonement. She'd levitated his gargon as they went over the ledge—gargon were so cute and loyal—and figured that that would be enough.
And it had been.
She'd wondered if the falls had killed them or not. She'd hoped not—especially after learning the truth of everything going on in Revendreth, but had thought that perhaps they were dead, considering they were nowhere to be found in Sinfall.
After all, if they'd survived, surely they would have regrouped with the Accuser.
Now, though…
Inquisitor Vilhelm had not deserved what she had done to him. None of the Avowed had.
She couldn't fix what she'd done to most of them, but if she could help the inquisitor now…
"Do you know if this inquisitor is in House Iremoore?" Liila rephrased her question.
"There was someone in the basement," Scotch said.
Bogdan carefully put a hand on Liila's shoulder, as though concerned with appearing overly familiar. "Shouldn't you take this to the Countess first?"
"If she gives me the medallion, I won't have time to go get the inquisitor," Liila murmured. Surely the notes for the Countess would be safe here for a little while longer. "We're going to need that distraction after all."
Lord Andre lay in a pool of his own blood, body twisted awkwardly from where he'd fallen. Liila wiped some of her own from her mouth and then cast a quick heal on herself.
Scotch was supposed to have kept an eye on things from the hall, so that Lord Andre had surprised her was a bad sign all around.
She'd have to find out what had happened to him on the way out.
For now, however, Liila rifled through Lord Andre's pockets, taking a few more notes and a set of keys. Even as she tucked the notes away and examined the keys, she grimaced at herself.
Since coming to Revendreth, she'd had to reevaluate some of her behaviors. She'd never been big on killing those she didn't need to, but the fact was she did kill people, and based on the sinstones she'd read, the reasons for her doing so didn't matter.
She'd be lucky if she ended up here, in Revendreth, should she ever manage to die for good.
As she moved to the back of the room and opened door to head down into the basement, she wondered how the Arbiter decided who went where. Judging from some of the people in Maldraxxus, it was clear that those who committed crimes weren't always sent to atone.
Some were allowed to commit more atrocities.
While others were sent to Bastion, their actions considered a service.
What drew the line? What made one worthy of redemption, worthy of having the cosmos turn a blind eye, or worthy of being exalted for their actions.
Was there some cosmic scale? Did some actions negate others?
From what she understood, there were infinite afterlives, with people only occasionally being sent to the main five she had encountered. What got one sent to a different afterlife?
Were the people she'd lost in those? She certainly hadn't found them in the current afterlives, and she'd looked.
When she'd first arrived in Bastion, and then Maldraxxus, she'd asked about her former guild leader and his wife, Gorgon and Sham. She'd sought them out, thinking at first that obviously they would be rewarded for their service in fighting the Legion.
Then, when she'd found them absent in Bastion, she'd been relieved that they would not have to forget.
It had been with fear she had asked about them in Maldraxxus, trying to assure herself that if they were there, as orcs, they would likely love the whole culture.
However, neither warrior nor shaman were anywhere to be found.
Only the fact that Warbrave Oro was in Bastion kept her from scouring the Maw for them. He had died after they had, so they couldn't have been cast down there. They had done far too much good.
Hadn't they?
"You."
The word was weak, barely more than a scratched whisper, but it was enough to draw Liila from her thoughts. She recognized the venthyr chained to the wall in an instant, though she was not the one Liila had come looking for.
Instead, Inquisitor Stelia leveled her with a stony glare, skin taunt and sallow, lips chapped and teeth bared in what was likely supposed to be a sneer, though it looked more like a grimace of pain. A single chain had been twisted around each wrist and her neck and then looped back to be locked firmly into place. Any movement on her part would make the chains tighten.
She was stripped down to her undergarments, and dark bruises smattered her skin. While Liila hoped the inquisitor hadn't been here for all the months since their first encounter, she had a feeling from the disdain on the creature's face that it wouldn't have mattered.
Liila was the reason this venthyr was here.
With a glance around the room, she found Vilhelm. He was chained to the far wall, unconscious and in worse condition than his fellow inquisitor, especially as his sagging body served to tighten the chain around his neck.
"I'm here to help." When Stelia scoffed, Liila ignored her, rummaging through her things for her spell book. "Don't trust me, if it helps, but I'd say you have nothing more to lose at this point." She flipped her book open and let the shadows surrounding her dissipate. "This will not be pleasant."
For all her warning, if her healing spells were as unsettling to Stelia as they were to most venthyr, the creature made no show of it. Perhaps she was simply in too much pain to register the dissonance—Liila did use some of the anima she had found to enhance the spell—or perhaps she was simply set on not showing any weakness. Liila could respect that.
Liila flipped through the keys that had been on Lord Andre's body until she found one that fit the chains.
"You were right about Denathrius," Liila said as she helped unloop the chains holding Stelia. As the venthyr slumped down the wall, saying nothing, Liila handed her a small vial of anima and then moved to Vilhelm.
"What has become of the Accuser?"
"She's grumpy as ever," Liila replied, casting her healing spell on Vilhelm and then waiting to see if he would wake up. When he didn't, she reached to feel for a pulse and then stopped herself, realizing that there wouldn't be one even if he was fine. "Happy to have the Curator back, though."
"The Curator—they found her?"
"And Prince Renathal," Liila replied. "Lord Chamberlain is dead. The Fearstalker is dead. The Countess may be an ally—she's how I learned of you."
Rather abruptly, Liila wondered if this hadn't been part of the Countess's grand plan. If she was truly as knowledgeable as she seemed, she must have known that the inquisitors were being held captive.
And that she'd send Liila hunting around the house that held them…
As Vilhelm's chains grew slack, he abruptly lunged toward Liila, claws swiping through the air.
She shifted into shadows and moved away from him, reforming just out of reach. His attack had been a desperate one, and he quickly succumbed to his injuries, falling to his knees.
Stelia had moved like she might attack, too, but paused, watching Liila with narrowed eyes.
"I get that you have every reason not to trust me, really I do. And if I'm honest, it's so tempting to fear the both of you again, which I can do, at the same time." Glares met her words. "But I would rather get you out of here before the rest of the house starts a manhunt."
Stelia eyed her and then relaxed her stance a little. "I suppose we won't stand much chance against House Iremoore on our own."
Vilhelm seemed most displeased by the idea, but nodded. "And we can even things later."
Liila took a step toward him and offered him a vial of anima. "How fast do you think you can move?"
"Fast enough," Vilhelm murmured, wiping his mouth and tossing the vial away. Even so, when he stood, it was on shaky legs.
Liila cast a second heal on each of them before starting back up the stairs. "If we can go around the back of the house, we can hop the fence to get to Thornhill manor. You can get patched up there."
Neither responded. She glanced over her shoulder twice to make sure they were managing to follow her, and each time, both looking like they were contemplating murder.
She couldn't blame them.
Of course their exit wasn't a simple one.
Two of Lord Andre's house members were waiting for them in their lord's study, both with vengeance in their veins.
To say the fight was a mess would have been an understatement. Between spells flying and claws slashing there wasn't much of anything that hadn't been knocked over by the time the Iremoores fell.
The sounds of others rang down the hall, and Liila scowled. She'd hoped to avoid having to fight the whole damned house.
Before she could try to talk strategy with the others, the sound of glass shattering filled her ears. Looking back, Stelia was already helping Vilhelm out the window. Despite the heavy frown still in place, she offered her hand to Liila as the other inquisitor dropped outside.
"Go on ahead." Even as Stelia gave her a suspicious look, Liila took one of the nearby candles and started lighting things around the room on fire. Perhaps a second round of fires would keep the rest of the house distracted while they escaped. When she had a decent blaze going, she checked at the window to see that Stelia was gone, and started toward it.
And stopped.
She couldn't leave yet.
Shifting to shadows, Liila went back into the hall, checking toward the front of the manor for signs of Scotch. Just as she turned to go back, thinking that perhaps they'd bolted as they had originally wanted to, she saw a small figure laying awkwardly on the ground just inside the nearest doorway.
Scotch.
They were inanimate.
Worse, one of their wings had been broken off when they fell from the air—or were flung into the wall.
She slipped into the room as the shouts beyond grew louder, closing the door just enough that no one would see her as she tried to tend to her accomplice.
Her attempts at healing them and pouring anima on them did nothing, and, hearing shouts, she hoisted the stonefiend up under an arm. They were heavier than they looked, and they threw her balance for a second, even as she tried to gather up the pieces of their wing.
From the sounds down the hall, it wouldn't do to try to make it back to the study—both the flames and people aware of them would make that nearly impossible.
Instead, Liila set this second room on fire and then broke another window. She narrowly avoided a gardener who was called away as panic rose higher from inside the house—the flames were doing a fantastic job of covering Scotch's snooping in Lord Andre's study.
She searched the area for the inquisitors before wending through the shadows up to the top of the wall and then dropping over. When she was sure no one was following her or looking her way, she slipped around behind Thornhill manor and inside.
"I was just coming to look for you, Maw Walker—" Bogdan's voice cut off as Liila set Scotch onto the table and then laid out the broken pieces of their wing beside them. The venthyr didn't need Liila to ask before he was arranging the pieces she'd gathered to see if the wing was whole. "We can revive them easily enough, though we'll want to take them to a stoneshaper before we do that. Better to let them sleep through injuries like these."
"I thought stoneborn didn't break easily," Liila murmured, wincing when she realized she had missed a few pieces. She considered going back, but with the house on fire as it was and the pieces as small as they were…
Even if the house wasn't an angry, burning hornet's nest, she doubted she would have been able to find all the right pieces.
"Scotch will be fine," Bogdan assured her. "I'll see to it that they get sent to Sinfall."
"You went back. For a stonefiend."
Vilhelm sat in a high-backed chair, leaning heavily to one side, as he stared across the room at Liila in mild disbelief.
"Scotch is the only reason we knew you were there, so be nice," Liiila muttered, without thinking. The indignant laugh from both inquisitors reminded her that she had effectively feared them both off cliffs. It was little wonder that they'd be surprised.
At least they'd made it to the manor.
Liila drummed her fingers on the table for a moment, considering what should be done next, and then looked at Bogdan to find him holding out the notes that she needed to take to the Countess.
"I'm sure her ladyship will be most pleased with your extra efforts to put a stop to this plot against her," Bogdan offered as Liila took the papers.
She somehow doubted that.
With a nod to Bogdan, she started toward Theotar's mirror, only to stop and walk back to Bogdan. She rifled through her bag and pulled out a few more bits of bottled anima she'd forgotten to turn over to the foreman the day before. As she set them in the butler's hands, she motioned with her head toward the two inquisitors, and then headed off to see the Countess.
The Countess, it turned out, had been amused by the whole arson bit.
She had lauded Liila, explaining that people were saying it was an accidental fire that had simply gotten out of control, and that the Countess would easily be able to come for Lord Andre's accomplices with no one being the wiser.
All in all, things had gone…well.
The Countess was pleased, the Medallion of Desire was in Liila's possession, the inquisitors were saved, and Scotch would be fine.
It did make her wonder where arson fell on the list of sins, along with other types of vandalism both petty and otherwise. And if the venthyr she had cut down in service of the Countess would count as murders she would need to atone for someday, or if the great cosmic scale would decide them insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
It felt almost cruel that she could potentially reach an afterlife where she didn't have to pay for all the lives she'd taken over the years. Good causes be damned.
When she returned to Thornhill manor, Bogdan and the others had already taken the inquisitors away to rest until they were strong enough to fly to Sinfall. While Stelia could have made the trip, Vilhelm was lucky to have made it over the wall.
Liila had offered to heal them again, but Bogdan had assured her that they would be fine, that she needn't interrupt their rest, and that she needed to get the medallion to safety. The inquisitors would bring Scotch when they could.
Everything felt like it was wrapping up a little too neatly.
She couldn't help but wonder if House Iremoore might not figure out what had happened and send people after the inquisitors. Would Bogdan and the others be able to fend off an attack? They were close to the guards around the Old Gate, but they would have to go through considerable enemies to even call on their aid…
Well, perhaps not.
After all, the Redalav merchants seemed to dislike Liila as an outsider, but they hadn't attacked the manor yet.
For the fraction of a day that they'd held it.
Part of her wanted to wait there, to see what would happen and to be ready to fend off an retaliatory attacks, but then she did need to return the medallion. And having it in the manor would probably result in an attack sooner than just having escaped prisoners and rebels on the premises.
That was what finally got Liila to head out.
The medallion was too important to dally with, and despite the Countess putting it in an enchanted box that would mute its presence, the more venthyr she crossed paths with, the more likely it would be noticed by someone.
Redelav district was already a flurry of activity, with heightened security around the houses and patrolling the streets in response to what had happened at House Iremoore. While it would have been the fastest route regularly, Liila doubted she could get through all that mess and to the mirror on the eternal terrace without being noticed and running the risk of bringing all the houses on her at once.
Going by foot would likely take her several days, if she tried to avoid all the heavily populated areas, and that would give time for word to spread of what she was carrying. Even if she staved off attackers, proof of her cargo would come back to bite the Countess and ruin any potential allyship.
And so she'd opted to take a bat from the Old Gate to Sinfall.
It would get her back to Sinfall by midnight, and then she could give Prince Renathal the medallion and find out what had been so pressing this morning that he'd wanted to see her immediately.
As she flew, it gave her time to think, and that only led her down the rabbit hole, wondering more and more why he had sent her that message.
Perhaps he wanted to discuss the Ember Court? Though, she couldn't see why he would send her a message asking for her attention when he would very likely see her around Sinfall soon enough.
His letter had said he didn't wish to alarm her, yet she couldn't stop herself from wondering what had gone wrong. Surely, if it had been something good, he would have been more direct.
She must have done something wrong, in order for him to want to see her with such urgency.
A faux pas perhaps?
Again, though, if it was something simple, why call her to see him? Why did he need to see her that morning?
Had it only been this morning?
After the day she'd had, it felt like so much longer.
She hadn't done anything had she? She felt like she was treating him with the utmost respect…
Perhaps she was being too friendly?
Her heart sank a little at the notion. He had been a bit more distant the last couple weeks, after the meeting with the other Harvesters, but…
That hadn't been because of her, had it? Surely, he would have said something.
Unless… unless he didn't consider them friends in the way she did. The realization that she did think of him as a friend was somewhat of a surprise, and it was made worse by the immediate crushing sensation that filled her.
She was getting too personal with him, wasn't she?
Why hadn't he said anything?
He was a prince after all. He likely dealt with people getting too cozy around him and having to put them in their place all the time. The thought that he might be planning to do so to her was even more distressing.
She liked being able to talk to him, to listen to his plans and call him on them when they sounded terrible. She liked seeing his smile, rare that it was, and just listening to his voice…
She liked him.
By the void, she liked him.
Perhaps her dreams hadn't been so off after all.
This was...mortifying.
Worse, he must have noticed already.
Closing her eyes, Liila reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose as she squeezed her eyes shut. He must have noticed and now he had to politely turn her down. After all, he was an immensely powerful immortal being, and she was some trivial mortal that would be in and out of his life in a blink.
And she couldn't even make it to the afterlife the traditional way. And even if she did, how likely would she be to end up in Revendreth? And if she did, she'd be another soul to torment, so what hope could she have of harboring any sort of flicker of feeling for him when he'd have to oversee her torture. If she didn't go to Revendreth, where would she be? She'd never see him again.
Any fondness she had for him needed to stay at that. Fondness. There would never be anything more between them. How could there be?
When she saw him, she would be sure to let him know that she wasn't some simpering fool that he needed to worry about. She would not get distracted from their cause. She had a healthy respect for him and he needn't worry about her making things complicated with girlish crushes.
As she nodded to herself, adamant that she could stick to her plan, a little part of her whispered her dream to her, allowing the cold caress of the wind to get confused, for just an instant, with the part of her dream where he had brushed back her hair.
No.
No, no, no.
Liila wanted to scream, though she doubted her bat would appreciate that, what with its large ears and all.
Instead, she forced her mind elsewhere, reaching into her robes to feel for the thin box the Countess had given her. Perhaps it was paranoia on her part, but she hadn't wanted to just set something so powerful in her bags. What if she got robbed?
The Countess had been sure to show her the medallion before closing and sealing the box, but even so, Liila found herself wanting to examine the box again.
As though pulling it out while she was hundreds of yards in the air would be an even remotely intelligent thing to do.
Liila settled for feeling the box under the folds of her robe on her chest, and then scowled at nothing in particular.
This was a miserable day.
In an attempt to keep herself preoccupied, she looked around, wishing the flight would go a little faster.
They were flying over the Endmire, almost to Banewood.
She wanted to cry.
Or be the first priest to invent a long-term haste spell. Of course she'd never learned that feather trick.
Though, even if she had, she doubted that it would work on a flying creature.
Would it?
As she tried to think if she had ever actually seen something use one of those priest feather spells on a mount, something sharp slammed into her shoulder. The impact almost sent her tumbling from her bat. Instead, Liila hunched lower and cast a quick heal on herself.
The stoneborn who had attacked her was already circling back.
She'd barely cast a shield on herself, before a blade sliced through part of her robe and clear through her bat's wing. The creature shrieked. One wing severed completely, it plummeted, writhing and making it impossible for Liila to stay in the saddle. She slammed against its remaining wing as it flailed in agony.
The reins caught around Liila's hand, tethering her to the falling beast.
Liila couldn't very well heal what wasn't there anymore, but she tried to levitate the bat and then herself when another attack took off the creature's other wing.
Another attack sliced into her leg and she cursed. Of all the days the Stone Legion had decided to start attacking them—
She managed to cast a few quick spells on her attacker. The stoneborn screeched and fell back.
It hadn't been the one to first strike, though. How many were there?
The world was spinning and moving too fast for her to try to count.
She tried to pull her hand free as the ground rushed up to meet them. It was too close. And closer every second. The bat, still shrieking, was kicking her as they fell, clawing through her robe, as though she were one of its attackers.
Concentrating as best she could, Liila summoned shadows and used them to slice through the reins. One of her fingers snapped as the leather finally snapped free.
She cast another levitate on herself, only for an armored shoulder to slam into her between her shoulder blades. It sent her spinning.
Liila was halfway through her levitate spell when a blade slammed into her stomach.
It withdrew just as she hit branches. They were thin enough that they did nothing to slow her fall.
Not that there was much of a fall left.
She wasn't sure if she heard the crack when she hit the ground, or simply felt it.
Red danced around and through her vision. Pain lanced through her consciousness, scrambling any coherent thoughts. The scent of blood was overpowering.
The fall hadn't been enough to kill her.
Unfortunate, that. Her curse would have at least numbed the pain a little while it brought her back.
Instead, she fought to conjure even the simplest thought as large, blurry shapes dove toward her.
The world wavered, blood bubbled in the back of her throat. Panic welled inside her, and despite having been through worse, she couldn't quell it. It made it harder to think. Like she needed more obstacles right now.
Darkness stretched out over her, blocking out the sky.
Wings.
With the last of her energy, she threw her hand up to guide shadows toward her nearest attacker.
As the stoneborn flew through them like they were nothing, Liila tensed for the impact.
Instead, a blur slammed into the creature in the last second. The stoneborn's claws raked through her robe as it was sent tumbling into the ground near her.
She could hear shouts, crashes.
Her vision swam.
If one of them would just deal the killing blow, they'd be in for one nightmare of a comeback.
Yet know final blow came.
She gasped for breath, trying to conjure a healing spell. As she managed to twitch her fingers, a face finally came into view, close enough that she should have easily been able to see it with perfect clarity.
As it was, she barely recognized the dark blue creature that loomed over her. It bowed down, face close to hers as it clicked its beaklike mouth, four eyes blinking down at her.
The anima gorger sniffed her and then licked her face, pausing to make a strange gagging sound at the taste of her blood.
"H-he—" Liila didn't have the energy to form words.
The creature stared at her another moment before it abruptly disappeared from sight.
None of her senses wanted to work, and so she fought within her little bubble of an existence to cast a meager renew on herself.
When it finally went off, she wasn't sure if she should have done that at all. With each little cut it healed, it brought a thousand more screaming to life.
The gorger leaned over her again, chirping and clicking at her before it finally held out an orb of anima over her.
When it hit her, she couldn't say that she felt better. She didn't feel worse, per se, but it was an…odd sensation. Like she was being filled with something that didn't quite belong. It wasn't wrong, but it wasn't right either.
Was this what the venthyr felt when she healed them?
Even as she shuddered against the strange sensation, the anima gorger's clicking and chattering came into focus, clearer than before.
Liila focused her attention on creature as best she could, carefully moving an arm up to pat its face. The action alone made dozens of aches scream out, and her arm fell back quickly.
"Thanks, Nibbles." She didn't recognize her own voice as she tried to comfort the creature.
The tone of its chirping changed at the words.
Almost a month prior, Liila had found the creature in the mire, though at the time, it had been considerably smaller. Small enough to be cute. Cute enough to be offered food. Smart enough to recognize her and come back for more each time it saw her.
When it was a wee little thing, barely coming up to her knee, she had named it Nibbles, for the way it initially nibbled on the grasses she found it.
It did not nibble anymore, but did recognize the word.
And it had decided that Liila was friend shaped. Before, Liila had worried that once it got a certain size, Nibbles might decide to nibble on her.
Yet here it was, defending her from attackers and chattering away as she lay there, clearly distraught that she was injured.
Nibbles was a good sort.
So many were, when given a chance.
As much as it still hurt, Liila reached to feel that the medallion's box was still in her robes and then pressed her hand to her chest and cast a stronger healing spell. It didn't feel like it did much, either, but her movement was definitely coming easier.
Before she could will herself the strength to sit up, Nibbles slipped a hand under her and started to pick her up. It dropped her back the second she let out a sharp cry, its chirping frantic.
Hitting the ground again, even from barely a foot off it, was not pleasant.
"I just…need a minute."
She wasn't sure how long her minute actually lasted—each time she healed herself, she seemed to make things worse. It wasn't until she cast a heal and abruptly felt all the breaks and cuts in her legs that she realized why she'd been having so much trouble.
A broken back.
No wonder it was hurting more. She was regaining feeling where there hadn't been any.
It didn't help that that panic from earlier wouldn't settle in her mind. She wasn't worried about this. Painful as it was, the worst case was that something would come and kill her and then she'd be on her feet a lot faster than how things were currently going.
So why couldn't she shake that terror about what had happened?
She sucked in a slow breath and looked up at Nibbles. "So how's your day going?" She waited for it to chatter at her for a moment. "Mine could be better. You're getting pretty impressive though. Soon you'll be the lord of the Endmire."
While it didn't know what she said, it seemed to recognize her tone as a compliment, because it puffed up a little, clearly proud of itself.
It began to pace around her after that, sniffing the air and occasionally coming over to nudge her and check if she still let out yelps at being touched. When she was able to sit up, the gorger dragged her over to a rock to lean against before resuming its watch of their surroundings.
As Nibbles was making its nth circle around her, it abruptly straightened up, sniffing the air. Then it hissed.
"Maw Walker!"
Nibbles moved closer to Liila, between her and the one who had called out to her.
Nadjia.
Amdist the yelling and hissing, Liila stumbled to her feet despite the protests from every nerve in her body. She held her hands up, making a heart shape with them. "Nibbles, no! Friend shaped! Friend shaped!"
Instantly, Nibbles was ducking back to check on her. Nadjia stopped where she was, a few yards away, sword brandished, both bewildered.
Liila pointed at Nadjia and then made the heart shape again.
Nibbles hesitated and then looked toward Nadjia. It hissed, but instead of attacking, looked back at Liila. The gorger pointed with a giant hand at Nadjia and then made the same shape with its hands that Liila was making.
When she nodded, Nibbles let out a few low clicks and moved closer to her, staying near her side.
Even as Liila turned to tell Nadjia it was okay to come over, if she was careful, she found that her soulbind was already in front of her, carefully easing her back to sit on the rock.
"You're training the gorgers."
"Not really, it's—"
"Shut up," Nadjia snapped. She rummaged into her bags, pulled out bandages and then looked at Liila. She inspected her a moment before all but throwing the bandages on the ground. "What in the Master's devious machinations happened to you?"
"One of the Master's machinations, I imag—"
"Stop talking so much," Nadjia interrupted, pulling out a flask of water and beginning to clean and bandage Liila's neck. "You are…is there an inch of you that isn't…What happened? Did—" She straightened up, looking around. "Where'd that beast go?"
"Probably back to wherever he goes when we're not conquering the mire together." She winced and cast another heal on herself. Her mana wasn't coming back quickly like it should have been.
"You're poisoned. You know that, yes?"
Liila merely let herself groan.
That explained a lot.
Broken back and poison…
No wonder this was taking so long.
It would have been so much easier to just die and come back…
"Don't you have any—why are all your potions broken?"
"The stoneborn killed the bat I was on. Nibbles saved me."
Abruptly, Nadjia was in front of her, tilting Liila's head back just enough so that she could look her in the eyes. "Stone Legion attacked you midflight?" When Liila nodded, Nadjia let out a string of curses, most of which Liila had never heard before.
That in itself was impressive.
"Nadjia?" An unfamiliar voice interrupted Nadjia's rant. "Have you—Oh. I see you found her." A gargon loped up to them as a venthyr followed suit. A hopebreaker, judging by his armor. He'd barely made it to Nadjia before she had him by the arm and was dragging him over to Liila. "Do you have—anything that can help with this?"
The hopebreaker let out a soft gasp of horror as his gaze settled on Liila and then infused her with a bit of anima.
It did next to nothing.
As he frowned apologetically, he inspected her with the same scrutiny that Nadjia was doing. Nadjia helped her out of her robe—there was no choice on Liila's part as to whether she could keep it on, and in all honesty, there wasn't much of it left—and then each venthyr took to bandaging an arm.
The hopebreaker did so with more precision and efficiency than Nadjia did, and he wrapped bandages around her torso after studying her a moment and then deciding everything needed wrapping. Nadjia took to cleaning off the blood and dirt from her before her other savior bandaged her up.
Liila cast another heal, this time focusing just on her leg. When it actually felt better, she let out a sigh. The end of this was coming. Slowly.
Perhaps she could persuade them to save whatever they had left of their first aid supplies before she became a mummy.
"So what are you doing out here?" Liila asked, to which Nadjia gave her the most annoyed look she'd ever seen.
"I'm here to save you, you…absolute dolt!"
Liila abruptly realized that the terror she couldn't quite shake wasn't hers.
She winced. "You…you felt when I hit the ground."
"It was like my back snapped in half," Nadjia hissed. "I fell down. I fell down." She shuddered. "I still feel like I've got glass in my limbs, but I know there's nothing wrong with me."
"I'm so sorry—"
"Why would the Stone Legion even care if you're taking a stupid bat?" Nadjia hissed. "Denathrius hasn't given a damn about anything we've done. It's all a joke to him. So why now? Why are you suddenly worth the effort…"
While Nadjia was ranting, Liila reached over and tapped the slender box that she'd had tucked in her robes. Nadjia had carelessly tossed it beside Liila when removing her robes. "It's from the Countess."
For a moment, Nadjia didn't seem to understand what Liila was saying—she would have been more direct if not for the stranger with them. She didn't want to risk him deciding his loyalties were to the master. However, the second it clicked, Nadjia's face blanked.
"Do you think you can be moved?" She had one hand on Liila's back. Even as she spoke, she moved away to gather Liila's bag which lay on the rock beside her from when Nadjia had searched it for healing supplies. She shoved the Countess's box into Liila's bag with enough force that she could hear more glass breaking. "I'll carry you. I'm sure someone's got something back at Wanecrypt—"
"I have to get back to Sinfall."
"Right, but you can't go back if you're dead. Which I've told you not to do, many, many times."
"We can cut you a path," the hopestalker offered. He patted his gargon's head and the beast let out a low growl. "There's a new mirror near the stalker's lodge. I can get you there. We'll probably run into others on the way who can keep creatures at bay."
Nadjia's scowl was a fierce one as she caught Liila when she tried to stand up. She paused and looked up, scanning what they could see of the sky. "I'm sorry if this hurts." With that, she handed Liila her bag and then hoisted Liila and her things into her arms. "Let's go."
Liila drifted a little during the trek through Banewood. She came to multiple times, occasionally healing herself, occasionally feeling the latest attempt to use anima to heal her wounds. Sometimes there was one hopebreaker with them, sometimes more.
However, by the time they'd gotten to the mirror, they were alone with the original venthyr who had helped them. He went all the way to the mirror with them before dismissing himself. When Liila asked about him, Nadjia muttered that he was one of the ones to whom Liila had returned a sinstone.
When Liila woke up, she was warm. Fur tickled her cheek, and she snuggled down underneath it, pulling her blanket a bit closer.
For once, her dreams hadn't been horrible. Instead, they'd wound around in murky, shapeless twists that left her feeling relatively rested.
Nothing ached, and as she settled in, her mind pulled on her recent memories.
Nadjia had caused a bit of chaos in Sinfall upon their return, demanding healers—venthyr and otherwise—as she swept through the corridors. Liila had remembered seeing Prince Renathal's face, twisted with horror as Nadjia had shoved Liila's entire bag into his hands.
Then there had been healing and something had made her so tired…
She'd gotten up after that, though, hadn't she?
Yes.
She'd had a sliver of a dream that the Countess had given her an empty box, and so she had gone looking to make sure that it was there and that her miserable day had not been for nothing.
And she'd wanted to talk to Prince Renathal about the message Scotch had brought her.
Her brow pinched as her mind drew a blank for a moment.
She'd been so tired…
When she got to his room, it had been empty, and so rather than try to hunt him down, she'd sat on the chaise beside his desk, to wait.
Then…
Opening her eyes, Liila sat up a little, her blanket falling away.
No, not a blanket.
A cloak.
Even as she ran her fingers over the fur lining of the collar, a soft, pleased hum sounded from the direction of the desk.
"You slept well, I hope?"
Prince Renathal sat at his desk, one elbow leaning against it, his chin resting on his hand as he watched her.
Liila sat up straighter, embarrassed that she'd been caught napping in his office. A quick glance showed that he'd definitely moved things around while she was asleep—curled up under his coat.
She fought to ignore the burning in her cheeks, instead focusing on anything else.
Like the medallion.
He read her easily. "The Medallion of Desire now rests with the others. I thank you for retrieving it." He hesitated a breath, as though debating what to say before he finally settled on, "I'm glad you returned to us."
"I didn't think things through as well as I'd thought," Liila murmured, shifting around in her seat. It was hard to stay embarrassed. After all, she had almost died. And committed arson and murder and a number of other things all in one day.
All of that far outweighed sleeping in the wrong place.
"I am hardly one to judge," Prince Renathal replied, a laugh on the tip of his tongue, though he held it in. "At least all ended well."
"I suppose so," Liila replied. She pulled her legs up and tucked them under herself, pausing as she wondered if she ought to fold his cloak.
"You can just set that aside," he offered, again reading her so easily.
She carefully folded it so that it wouldn't hang on the ground, and then looked back at him. He did little to hide his amusement.
"You wanted to talk to me this morn—" She cut herself off.
"Four days ago," Prince Renathal corrected. "You've slept through three."
"Three— I slept— You let me sleep in your office for three days?"
"Only two," he offered, flashing her a rare smile, a bit of mischief in his eyes. "You didn't wander in here until after the first day."
"You let me…" There was no sense in giving voice to her dismay again.
"You seemed to need it." Even as Liila tried to think of something to say to that—her mind was one huge blank—Prince Renathal reached out and patted her hand. "Be warned, Theotar intends to lecture you on daring to have a near death experience, and I Nadjia is still furious. With the situation, not you."
"She does tell me to try not to die quite often. Perhaps she thinks I wasn't listening."
He laughed. "Yes, she said so several times while you were asleep, as well."
"They…they felt when I fell?"
"They did."
Liila ran her fingers through her hair, frowning. She supposed that the pain had been exceptional. "They're alright, though?" When he gave her a nod, she sighed, slumping forward and resting her forehead against the armrest of the chaise. "Good."
If this soulbinding was going to affect them like that…
Was the fact that she was soulbound the reason that the fall hadn't killed her?
She'd noticed she'd been more durable after binding with Nadjia, and she had bound herself to Theotar just the night before—
Four nights before.
She sat up, rubbing her face to try to get over the mortifying fact that she had slept in the prince's chambers for two days.
With a sigh, she finally peeked up at him to see that he was watching her with a look she couldn't quite read. Amusement? Appreciation?
Fondness?
Now was not the time to go down that road.
Though it did remind her...
"You wanted to talk to me."
"I did."
"I didn't get your message until I was already helping the Countess," Liila said, sitting up again.
"Bogdan sent me a report," Prince Renathal said, expression brightening. "Scotch will be repaired as soon as they reach Sinfall, and the Accuser has gone to check on her inquisitors." His smile stretched. "She was at a loss for words when she heard who you found. And saved."
"It was the Countess's plan, I think," Liila murmured. "She had to have known they were there."
"Which is good for us," Prince Renathal said, nodding. "It means we have more of an ally in her than she's willing to let on."
"She did give you the medallion," Liila replied. And then scowled and pointed at him. "Which you and Theotar sent me to steal. Like she wouldn't have seen that coming."
Prince Renathal sat back with mock indignance. "My dear Maw Walker, I simply told you to go to Theotar to ask about her. How was I to know he'd stoop to something so vulgar?"
"Like you didn't try it yourself a ridiculous number of times," Liila watched him break out into a grin. Foolish as it was, she was pleased to see him so willing to smile. "She told me about the time you fell off her balcony and landed in the trees. How you were stuck there for almost an hour."
"But of course she told you about that debacle," Prince Renathal said, sitting up a little straighter as though he was offended. "There were plenty of times I was very close. I imagine she didn't go into detail with those. I suppose it's all moot now, since it's finally out of her grasp."
"You know you only have it because she offered it, yes?"
"Must you add salt to the wound, Maw Walker?"
"We keep getting off track," Liila said, unable to keep her own smile at bay, despite the topic she was circling back to. Maybe he hadn't wanted to talk to her about something bad after all. "What was it you wanted to see me about? Or is that moot, too, late as it is?"
"Is it?"
"You wanted to see me before I left, four days ago. It's been a while."
For the first time, Prince Renathal's good humor shifted. It didn't leave, not altogether. Instead, he seemed…
Nervous.
"Is everything alright?" Liila asked, peering up at him, that fleeting moment of hope dying down quickly. She should have known better than to be so foolish.
Prince Renathal arched his brow and opened his mouth to answer, only to close it and frown. In an instant, the frown was gone, replaced with a most formal expression, that was quickly chased off with one that looked more…
Hopeful.
"Maw Walker, I wanted to talk to you because—"
The door to his office burst open, and Theotar waltzed in, tray in hand as Gubbins followed after him, another tray in his hands, full of scones and bread rolls. "My dear Maw Walker, you must be absolutely famished. This must be rectified at once!"