If anger hadn't been dominating her at the moment, she would've been terrified. Waiting in the count's bedroom, completely unsure of what would happen once he arrived and found her there. His dogs would notice before he even reached the doors; they would growl, warn him of the danger, and he'd call for the guards, and she'd be arrested if not outright killed. But she had acted on impulse, driven on sheer rage, and she found herself breaking into the palace and waiting in Lucio's obnoxiously ostentatious room.

Lilyann's boots clicked softly on the wooden floor as she paced in the back corner, well away from the door to give her some time to react if someone came in attacking. Of course, pacing wasn't helping prepare her for such an attack-she wasn't even looking at the door. She was staring at the floor, going over in her head what she would say. "Let Kyla go, or I'll kill you." "What are you doing with my aunt?" "If she dies, so do you." So many different directions this conversation could go.

A jiggling of the door handle made her jump, and she froze, any plan she had for this moment gone in her fear. The door swung open, and Count Lucio strolled in and lit a few candles, completely oblivious to her standing in the corner. Well... for a moment.

He stopped just a few steps from his bed and whipped his head around to where she stood.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Lilyann swallowed, feeling it drag against her throat, all the way down to her stomach, and she took a deep breath to center herself, searching for that anger that gave her such confidence.

After having sat in the dark for so long, it took a bit for her eyes to adjust, and she finally was able to see him properly. He was dressed in blue and gold, adorned with heavy chains and jewels; paired with his hard expression, he looked like a count, specifically like one that would cut her down with little thought.

"Lilyann Sabela," she said, taking a few steps forward and out of the shadows in the corner.

His shrewd stare turned to one of mild amusement and curiosity, and after looking her up and down, he chuckled.

"You're Kyla's niece," he said. "Certainly share some resemblance, though she would never have the guts to break into my bedroom."

His eyes didn't leave her, even as he moved toward his desk, and she certainly didn't take hers off him.

"So," he began, pouring himself a drink while watching from the corner of his eye, "how'd you do it? I want to know who to punish."

"I hexed the guards," Lilyann said, not going into the specifics.

"Weak-minded bastards," Lucio muttered into his goblet. "Well, what do you want?"

"I want you to leave my aunt alone," she replied through gritted teeth. "You're killing her."

"I thought she was looking a bit pathetic lately," he scoffed. "What's wrong with her?"

She balled her fists at her sides. "You are," she hissed. "Whatever you have her doing, it's too much. She's draining herself."

"Hmm." He placed his drink down and turned to face her fully, leaning casually against the desk, though she noticed his fingers twitching on his hip. "See, now, I can't just let her go. She made a deal with me, and I don't take those lightly."

"What deal?"

"Uh uh uh." He shook his head. "That's between me and her."

The candlelight bounced off his sharp features, making him look older and more imposing. Lilyann clenched her jaw and attempted to pull any magic in the air to her to try and match the intimidation wrapped around him. Whether it worked or not, she couldn't tell.

"You don't care if this 'deal' kills her?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It's not my fault if she can't hold up her end of it."

Heat pooled in her cheeks at his complete lack of empathy, and she could feel the magic gathering in her fingertips, threatening to release.

"But," he said, tapping his chin as if in deep thought, "if you were to take up her half of it... I suppose I could find it in myself to let her out of the deal."

"What do I have to do?"

His thoughtful look turned into a dangerous, conniving smile.

"Can I take that as a 'yes, I'll do whatever you want,'?"

Nearly every part of her being warned against anything the count offered, but her need to protect her aunt spoke a bit louder. Instinct told her that short of killing the count or fleeing Vesuvia, this was the only way she could save Kyla, and Kyla always said to trust one's gut. Her fists unclenched and her shoulders sagged, defeated.

"I don't trust your 'whatever you want,'" she spat, getting in one last defiant remark before saying what she knew she would regret. "But I'll do what it takes to get Kyla out of your deal."

Lucio clasped his hands together with a loud clap. "Great! Since it looks like Kyla's outlived her usefulness anyway, I have a feeling you're going to be much better at the job than she was."

"Are you going to tell me what the job is?"

"First," he said, turning back around to his pitcher, "I think a friendly drink is in order."

He reached under the table and produced a second goblet and filled them both higher than was socially acceptable. Remaining next to the desk, he held one of the cups out to her, forcing her to step closer to take it.

"To new... whatevers," he said, raising the goblet to her.

Rather than clink it, she simply brought it to her lips and took a long swig, earning a chuckle from Lucio. After downing the bitter and sour yet somehow pleasant wine, she put the cup down, harder than was necessary, and glared at Lucio.

"Now will you tell me what I'm doing?" she asked, her tone sharp.

"So impatient," he tsked. "Assuming the rumors I've heard are right, you're pretty powerful, so you could probably hold your own in a fight." He took another drink before continuing. "I'm thinking about sending you into the Colosseum."

She narrowed her eyes. "Kyla wasn't fighting."

"No, she wasn't," Lucio agreed. "She was cleaning up after the fights-well, trying to. See, Muriel is great at what he does: killing. But I have a few deals of my own made, and I'm trying to get them taken care of, and unfortunately, dead bodies aren't what my... patrons... are looking for."

Helping herself, Lilyann grabbed the pitcher and poured herself another drink. Since she'd made it this far without so much as a threat, she figured the count wouldn't actually do anything to her. And the more he spoke, the more the fear she held shifted to irritation and hate.

"My patrons want hearts," he continued, ignoring her brazen move. "And the bastards are picky. Dead hearts aren't good enough, so your aunt was trying to repair them enough to be 'living.' And she managed to do it sometimes, but obviously, she's not strong enough to keep going. Plus, it wasn't as successful as I wanted it to be."

After finishing her second cup, Lilyann sighed. "So, what exactly do you want from me? Am I fighting these people but not killing them?"

"That's exactly what I want from you!" he said with a smile. "I'm thinking you fight them, make it look like a real good, bloody fight, but rather than actually kill them, you just magic them to look dead."

"I 'magic them to look dead,'" she repeated, deadpan.

He nodded with a dumb grin on his face. "I think it's a great idea! It gives the people what they want, and it gives me what I need. We pull them out of the arena like we would a normal dead body, and we take them to Valdemar who'll take the live hearts out. Everyone wins."

She furrowed her brows. "Except the people I'm 'not' killing."

"Do you ever go to the Colosseum?" he asked. "The only people I have killed are the ones sentenced to death for crimes. If I killed people willy-nilly then Vesuvia would try and overthrow me."

"You're having me do what Muriel does?" she asked, a hopeful note escaping her voice. "Are you finished with him?"

"Oh, no, no," he said. "He's a fan favorite. And I love his brutality and vicious killings. He's just not leaving me with enough to give my patrons, so I'll split the executions between the two of you. The people will love a new face, and they'll get to keep the old one. Really, there is no downside to this plan."