The men came marching in, two by two, by two by two. Into the capital, into the heart of the country. The Stormwings that jealously guarded the palace fell to the ground, one after the other. The man who had promised them all failed to protect them at the vital moment, and so they fell without protest. At the vital moment, he was searching for a lost jewel, the jewel that cinched his claim to the throne. The jewel that was the Queen of Tortall.

The men had come at last, led by a mere boy of fifteen, an extraordinary boy, to be sure, but a boy all the same. The boy that was Prince Liam of Conté, who had slipped inside the palace already.

The men were coming, ready to do whatever it took to get their country back. Men hardened by resentment, toughened by anger.

They were not needed.

A pretty girl and a boy ran through the maze of corridors, flanked by a surly-looking guard.

Two royals and a Lioness.

They were not needed either.

At the last moment, somebody else had come through for Tortall, somebody not even the greatest seer in the Mortal Realms could have predicted. Somebody not even Shakith would have spared a thought for.

Not even she had considered it.

*

"Do you have any idea who I am?" I demanded of the guards, dimly aware that my rumpled and dishevelled appearance was not helping me in the slightest.

"Yes, miss," the guard on the door confirmed, seemingly pleased that he was doing me such a big favour.

I narrowed my eyes at him, ignoring his shorter, fatter counterpart for the time being. Even though I had no time, there was no time for this. I had a black-robe mage on my tail, and they weren't letting me past. "Then let me go through," I suggested, as sugary-sweet as I could manage.

He still didn't show any signs of obeying. I felt a sharp prick of - pity? guilt? after he collapsed. Whatever it was, emotion was not as sharp as the prick of my dagger, nor as lasting. The thump he made was echoed seconds later by the other guard's fall to the floor. I didn't have time to marvel at the crimson blood staining the floor, though. I had things to do. No time.

"Ozorne!"

The Emperor - hah! - turned at my call. Sweat beaded on his forehead, making the make-up that he appeared to have turned to once more patchy. Black lines had trickled down his cheeks from his eyelids, giving the impression of tears. "She's loose, we have to find her," he informed me authoritatively.

Daine. How gods-blasted typical. I get the throne for him, I pretend to be Kalasin, yet I get locked up, and he doesn't bother to visit. But even the Realms of the Dead themselves would be turned upside-down should precious Veralidaine Sarrasri be misplaced.

"No," I said coldly. "We are not going anywhere."

I wasn't entirely sure what I was there for. Vague ideas of a refuge, a safe haven, came to mind, but I ignored them, struggling to remember what I had come for.

"Don't be silly, Princess. Now, think, where could she have gone?"

"Numair took her," I replied dismissively. "She is no longer your concern."

He waved an imperious hand at me. Oh, his arrogance and conceit had certainly swollen since our last meeting. "No, Draper will have gone after Veralidaine."

I ran my tongue over my lower lip, trying to process this information. "So, you're not looking for her?"

"Yes, yes, I am!" he said angrily, impatient for me to keep up. I felt as though wool had filled my head, replaced my brains. I felt as though I was wading through treacle. "The Queen, Thayet, is missing!"

He wasn't looking for Veralidaine. Relief swept through me, leaving me giddy. Veralidaine meant nothing, she meant - Slowly, my brain caught up with what he was saying. Anger, fiery and furious, raged inside me. "The Queen?! Now you're after the Queen?!" I let out a harsh laugh, not taking any notice of any response he might have made. More laughter rose to my lips. I was powerless to stop it. Tears ran down my cheeks, and my sides ached.

"Princess-"

"Isis," I grounded out, enunciating carefully. All humour fled instantly. "Isis. My name is Isis. Not Princess, not Kalasin, Isis!"

He took a step back. I could see him mentally debating whether he should call the guards now or not. It did not matter to me when he decided to shout for them. They were dead, and would not come, no matter how appropriate the time, or how much they were needed. "Isis," he repeated.

I licked my lips carefully. "Ozorne." I watched him wince at the familiarity. I was nothing but a commoner to him. It was then that the realisation sunk in. "I don't - I risked my life - everything for you, and I don't mean anything to you, do I?" He merely blinked at me, apparently unsure as to what my meaning was. I was trembling now, but my voice remained steady as cool, calm reason reached me. "I got you this throne. I did everything you asked me to do, and more, and yet - I'm nothing to you. All those days, I waited for you to come for me, to say that my punishment was over. You never came. You didn't have the slightest intention of coming, did you?"

He shrugged at me. Silently, I pleaded with him to lie for me, to lie so I'd know that I was important enough for him to keep in his favour. "I was busy."

That stung. Probably about as much as the final powder that was hidden in a pocket of my dress would sting his organs, shrivel them up, cause him agony, but not let him die for a whole week. I stopped myself reaching for it, barely, as a much more fitting punishment came to mind. "I could have helped you, you know. I could have restored you to the throne of Carthak. I could have given you an empire like no other."

He squirmed slightly, but his eyes were alight with greed. I enjoyed the sensation of making a grown man squirm, for all he was a fool. "We could still-"

"We could have toppled the gods, you know," I continued. We couldn't have. It was all lies. Lies to make him think that I mattered. Lies to make him think that I was helpful, that locking me away had been a mistake that he would regret for the rest of his life. "It's a shame, really."

"We can still-"

I shook my head. "No, we are done. Forever. It's a shame, though." I glanced up at him, fumbling for the dagger tucked into my sash. The last thing I had stolen from Kalasin.

"It's a shame to spill blood on this carpet."