White Phoenix: Thank you for the kind comment, and thank you for the advice: i'll try and make the chapters longer.

Bambolieblue: Thank you :-) i'm glad you like the plot enough to call it 'original'.

Chapter 5

Pages struck staffs in the field behind her as she strode across to the courtyards. Horses stamped, a rider commander called orders to trainees. The hot sun shone down on her, infused her black hair with a glow as she brought her hood down from her face, the hem of her cloak sweeping the way behind her.

Sir Myles' study was handsome and well furnished: she heard the murmur of voices even before colliding with the two guards posted outside the door: she even recognised these two guards. She gave them a grin. "Let me by, boys."

One of them raised an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

So he didn't recognise her.

She shed her cloak, her uniform fresh and stark: black shirt and trousers with a red sash around her belly that hid the bandages around her grievous belly wound.

His eyes widened. "Lady Serrina!"

"Sneak," the other said warmly. "How've you been?"

"Busy," she said curtly, stepping forward again. "Now I must speak to Baron Cooper. If you please."

Uncomfortably, suddenly awkward, one of them shuffled his feet. The other scratched the back of his neck with his coarse hand. "Ah, no. Milady."

She frowned, suddenly angry. "What makes you think you can refuse?"

"The king's command."

She'd not heard the door open. She twitched her head around and pivoted to face Baron Cooper. "Hmph. So there you are, sir."

"Lady Serrina," he said in a lukewarm way, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"The murder of the king of thieves," Sneak replied coldly. "That is why I have ridden all week all over the country, to find you."

George's eyes widened. "Dead!" he breathed. "That old wolf of a devil! I'll be damned!"

"I need to tell you for what he was killed," Serrina continued ruthlessly. "Why we were attacked and slaughtered: my sister, the king and our hostess. His last order to me was to give this information to you, to speak it to you and to order you to do whatever you deem necessary with the information, now that he can no longer manipulate it!"

"Then tell," George said brusquely, ushering her into the study again, closing the door. "Tell us."

"You, sir," Serrina said, "but not him." She pointed at Sir Myles. "I do not acknowledge him as part of what I pay homage to."

"He is my father in law," George said sternly as Sir Myles regarded them quizzically. "Lady Serrina, you are not petty. Do not start now!"

"I have been petty ever since last week," Serrina said quietly. "A word that I said to my twin ended in her death. I shall not utter that which may end in your father in law's death. I only respect the credence of a good knight and a good thief. I am petty."

"I assure you, I'm not likely to get involved directly in any fighting," Sir Myles gave her a kindly smile. "And I do get plenty of warning about hundreds of things. I'm sure someone will say if they plan to kill me."

She tossed her head arrogantly, turned to George and spoke directly to him.

"I am to inform you, Baron Cooper of Pirates Swoop, that there is an heir to Conte. That a girl was born eight months after the fall of Duke Roger, borne by a common woman faintly known as his mistress. That this girl has Gift of some sort, and that Roger's former supporters gather and surround her, like wolves surrounding a lamb!"

"An heir!" George spoke harshly, hazel eyes wide. "Impossible!"

"Not impossible," Serrina corrected. "She was kept a secret by her mother and her uncle. Her uncle died last month and his manservant admitted to a thief that there's a child hiding within the Conte buildings."

She paused for breath, exhausted suddenly. Then continued.

"Her mother is practically insane, has been ever since Duke Roger's death. The child roams Conte's buildings like a wild child." She swept her arm down to rest against her belly surreptitiously, stood up straight.

George whistled hard between his teeth. "Damn it, Alanna's going to kill me for not learning this sooner!" He rounded on her. "Is this why the man was trying to talk to me? Could I have learned this sooner if I'd trusted that he wasn't just trying to get into favour with me?"

"He did try to contact you to offer you the information," Serrina admitted, her voice catching: she was paling. "But only at a price. A high price. He'd have made you pay through the nose for something like this: gifts never came from him for free."

"Too right," George agreed bitterly, grabbed his cloak. "Take me to where she is, Sneak. Sorry, I mean Serrina."

Serrina's voice came out strange. "I'm sorry sir, but I'll have to wait a bit."

"That's an order," George said sharply, turned to look at her, then lunged forward, catching her as she collapsed.

The bandage wrapped around her chest was several inches thicker. It was wet and dark now, smeared across George's hand as he carried her from the room, calling for healers to hurry.

She was dying. So much blood: why did she ignore her body? How much it ached?

A grieving daughter cannot be trusted to know their own wounds, she thought bitterly as darkness wrapped around her mind.

From that darkness billowed the cloak of the Black God: the being was magnificent in calm cruelty: she feared him.

Beside him stood Lasha. She held the Black God's hand like a child might hold their father's hand. Tearing her hand free, she ran to Serrina, knelt and cradled her head in her hands, cold tears of the dead sliding down her marble cheeks. "Serrina Sneak! It is not your time!"

Serrina parted her lips to speak, but no sound came to her: weakness swept harder over her body, maybe because of the pain of seeing her dead twin.

"You must hang on!" Lasha snapped at her. "We cannot have you here! Not you, me and father! Not all of us!"

Serrina raised her eyes slowly to her sister then shook her head limply.

"Father and I shall watch over you," Lasha promised in her soft voice with a hint of command. "The challenges you face alone are immense, sister. Your first challenge is to protect Kyra."

"Kyra..." Serrina's lips moved, her voice barely came out. "Conte..."

"Yes," Lasha said. "Kyra of Conte. You must protect her. She is in danger from many. She is a child: she does not know the cruelty she's facing: you must face that cruelty with her, for you know cruelty."

Bleakly, Serrina finally looked away from her sister, lay back as lightning lanced through her and tore her away from her twin again.

She opened her eyes and stared with pain at the woman who had saved her life: violet eyes and copper hair with a thread of grey. Alanna of course.

And she did not look amused.