Author's Note: I'm back! Sorry for not updating through the year, but as soon as school started my schedule was packed with dance practices, homework, and helping my Dad finish our house. I will be updating more frequently now (I hope) because my dance practices are over until I have dance camp in August and school is almost finished! So, I'm editing before I add because my ideas on how this needs to go have shifted slightly, and Katja's character has changed slightly as well- she will be swearing more often and using worse language. I know that this ISN'T the part of the story that you've been missing, so I'll shut up and let you read now.

When we finally reach the castle, we're rushed inside to keep people from seeing us. Not quite sure why- Bastian is well known and Volke is… well… not. Either way, not a surprising thing for either of them to be there, not even with a boy and a young woman. At least I'm not wearing my gypsy costume anymore- instead I have a long shirt with loose sleeves and baggy trousers, dark grey mottled with black. Better for sneaking than all black unless it's night time. They don't check us for weapons, which is stupid; I have my knuckles in my pocket and a knife hidden in my boot as well as my personal dagger in a forearm sheath- hence the loose sleeves. I'm sure Volke has at least that many weapons on his left arm. I don't understand why he carries so many, it's almost ridiculous. He doesn't even need weapons. He is a weapon. His teeth are sharp like a wolf's and his hand to hand combat skills are insane. All these knives he's carrying… it's redundant.

Still no weapons checks as we enter the audience chamber- it's like nobody cares whether or not we have hidden weapons. I know the queen can see possible futures, but there has to be a way around it- like winging your assassination instead of having a plan. In that respect I would have the advantage over Volke- but only that respect for that one assassination.

Once inside, Bastian wastes no time greeting Sothe and Micaiah in iambic pentameter that I now know is well thought out. Micaiah gives me a strange look, and Sothe gives her a concerned one, and I glare at both of them before Volke gives me an almost imperceptible shake of his head. All in all, lots of staring and uncomfortable looks for and from everyone.

As the inevitable finally happens and they start with all of the pointless talking, I move to one of the walls and stand beside a tapestry. Sothe was a thief once, so the tapestries confuse me- so easy for an assassin to hide behind, so hard to move to get at whoever's behind. They have no place in an audience room, or in the castle in general, I don't care how good Micaiah's foresight is. No one can trick death forever, no one can stave off the cold grip of eternal sleep through fortune-telling or anything else.

Why am I so morbidly fixed on assassinations right now?

"Have you figured it out yet?"

I snap out of my reverie at the sensation of a knife lightly tracing my skin and glance over at Volke; damn, that man is good. I have no idea how long he's been standing beside me, but his presence is reassuring, considering he's a cold-blooded murderer. I don't look at him, instead staring straight ahead, and he does the same. I lean against the wall with one leg relaxed and my arms crossed- and he does the same. It's scary, really, how similar we are sometimes.

But wait- figured it out? Obviously I've missed something, because he's waiting for me to say yes or no. I sink into logic: tapestries where they don't belong, no pillars, open space, hardly any guards around. Not an ideal place to be for audiences… which are usually held in throne rooms. No thrones here. I run the passages through my head, comparing them to the dimensions of the castle- and I remember feeling as though we were getting deeper and deeper underground. The passageways couldn't have been sloped- wait- they could have been just slightly, and then… yes… the dimensions don't fit inside the castle, we're outside of it…

"We're not in the castle anymore, are we? This must be Ashnard's secret chamber- I didn't think anyone had found it. Begnion certainly didn't." I speak in a hushed tone, uncomfortable with the echoes that normal volumes create. Volke had used the same tone, which hardly surprises me.

He nods.

"Begnion didn't find it because they didn't know where to look. Micaiah found it with her foresight after the Goddess War, when Pelleas gave her the throne. It's just outside the castle, completely underground, probably miles under it. Ashnard was so paranoid that he only ever met with the Four Riders under here."

I nod in return. I really hate it when he tests my knowledge like that, mostly because I'm terrified that I'm going to answer wrong. I don't want him to feel as though he wasted his time training me, even though he did. In truth I'm a waste of space as well, but I am currently to infatuated with life to give a damn about the waste I'm spacing- damnit!- the space I'm wasting to off myself.

"So, whatever happened to our puppet king?"

"I don't think this is the time or the place to discuss that."

"Why not? Is he sick or visiting his parents-" I groan as a dull ache resonates from my temple. I hate headaches…

Volke gives me a concerned look, actually turning his head to face me for the first time in this entire conversation. I rub my temple with my fingers, but the pain is already starting to fade away.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm fine!" I snap. My voice echoes around the hall, and even though they had ceased speaking a minute or so ago, the three in the middle of the room look at me for the first time since I was introduced. I drop my head to avoid making eye contact and to hide my pained expression. Bastian and Micaiah look concerned while Sothe simply holds his deadpan. Maybe he can't actually move his face- maybe it's paralyzed and he always has this unimpressed, slightly aggravating expression on his face-

"Katja, Micaiah wanted to ask you some questions. Are you alright to continue?"

I don't look up, partly because I want to seem disinterested and unfazed by what just happened, but mostly because I'm waiting for the heat in my cheeks to die down before I show people my oh-my-Goddess-I-want-to-die face.

"Yeah, sure, ask away," I shrug, "But I'm not going over there."

I can hear Bastian start to say something, but he's interrupted by footsteps coming over to me. Well, well, well, the queen is coming to the peasant- I so love the irony of her asking me for help, since it was probably her "royal decree" that I be caught before I terrorize any more shopkeeps.

"Do you need something, Katja?"

"No," I answer quickly. I don't want to appear weak by accepting any form of charity. I've decided that I don't like the way she says my name, it's too motherly. She doesn't know anything about me- and if my training from Volke holds up, she never will.

"Next question please, it makes me anxious to be away from the boy." Jessob hadn't been allowed into the meeting, instead being taken by two young men named Leonardo and Edward to the soldier's training area. He had some paper and a piece of charcoal, so he could communicate somewhat, and they promised to take good care of him, but…

"I understand completely," Micaiah smiles. Sothe, who has been standing behind her, asks the next question.

"What's going on with the Branded in Crimea?"

"Honestly, I have no clue. Crimea is the most tolerant of the nations, and was the first to recognize that the Branded are people too, putting in place laws to protect them. Gallia was more likely to revolt, because of long memories, but I guess we felt like that would have been a better place to start…"

I had started musing out loud to myself, and didn't realize my mistake when I said it- it just occurs to me now what I've done.

"You're one of them aren't you. That's why I can't sense any possible futures with you in them- you're Branded," Micaiah breathes.

"Yeah," I reply coolly. I don't like her voice- it reminds me of warm blankets and feathers on my cheek. She's too soft, too naïve to fully comprehend the situation, that she let the enemy into the heart of her stronghold. Sothe, however, understands completely.

Moves to pin me to the wall, then grunts as Volke pulls a knife from his left sleeve and whips the blade to Sothe's throat. My hands twitch by my pockets, ready to grab my knuckles if Sothe tries to come at me again.

"If she's Branded, and Micaiah can't sense her, she could be working with them."

"Sothe," Bastian tries to calm him, "If I didn't trust her completely I would not have brought her here."

Sothe doesn't take his eyes off me, just glares at me- I was obviously wrong with my half-baked face paralysis theory, because there's no mistaking the hatred on his face. "She said that last piece as though she knows what the endgame is- she knows something about their strategies, is one of them, and whether you trust her or not means nothing to me."

I bare my teeth at him, growling low in the back of my throat.

"I didn't ask to come here, and if I was going to kill your precious queen, I'd have already done it. I'm not incompetent, and I'm not stupid." The whole thing comes out as a sneer, totally unlike me, and I can feel the bloodlust coming over me- I'm just itching for a fight, and I don't care who gives it to me. Also not like me, I'd rather run than fight most days. It's like I'm not myself…

"I'm not convinced that you're not working with the enemy."

My growl deepens in volume, and the incredible urge to rip his throat open makes it difficult for me to see straight. I don't just want to fight him- if he so much as twitches, I'm going for blood, and only one of us would survive.

And I don't really care who.

"I really don't give a damn whether or not you're convinced. I don't work for you," I emphasize that with a step forward. "But it's safe to assume I'm not going to stab you in the back unless you hurt me and mine. So stay away from me and I'll do the same for you- do we have a deal?"

Sothe grunts and appears to back down and Volke puts his knife back in his sleeve, while Micaiah just stares at me.

"Shouldn't you be freaking out over how your husband could have died?" I growl. Idiot woman has no idea what's going on around her, or-

"I knew Volke wouldn't hurt him."

-foresight. Of course she knew Volke wouldn't hurt Sothe. He would never do that unless he was being paid a copious amount of gold. Sarcasm is a lovely thing to keep the mind occupied, isn't it?

Focus.

"We're obviously not talking about the same Volke. Do you have any more questions for me or am I free to grab the boy and leave? I'm obviously not welcome here anymore, and to be honest I don't want to be here."

I turn towards the exit, planning on walking behind Volke as opposed to between him and Sothe- or worse, behind Sothe with no clear path to Volke- but of course she takes my question seriously.

"I do have one more question- what is your gift?"

I can't help it. It's disrespectful, and Bastian's gonna give me hell for it after, but it just… I can't help it.

I laugh at her.

"The last time I received a 'gift' was before my mother was killed by a group of ignorant villagers. What you have, your foresight and Sacrifice? That is a Curse, given to you through the mixed blood of two corrupt races. Every good power has a devastating side effect, and some powers don't have any good traits. Foresight only tells you what may come, which any decent tactician or logical thinker should be able to deduce fairly accurately. Sacrifice can kill you before you even save the one you're healing- and it doesn't bring back the dead, so you can't even exchange a life for a life. And my Curse," is that everyone around me dies, "Is that I came to see you. Good bye."

This time I do walk out of the room, leaving Bastian to clean up my mess and Volke do whatever the hell he pleases. I don't care anymore- I'm not even sure I did in the first place. All I can think about right now is getting Jessob some food and a bed, and that I probably just screwed over not just the people I care about, but the entire continent.

All in a day's work, I guess.