A/N: Thank you for the review! I'm glad you're liking the story so far :)
...-...
The healing tonics were helping.
Cullen was sure of that, though, how much they were helping was still to be determined. The lowlander woman's black eye had begun to fade, and many of her smaller scrapes were disappearing, too. However, with all the travel, Cassandra was not optimistic that the woman's hip was going to heal correctly. They'd done their best to set it before they'd started moving, but there was no way to avoid jarring her occasionally. Cullen had persuaded the Shadow Wolves' healer to take a look at it, but they'd simply said that they'd probably need magic to make sure she could ever walk normally again.
Thane Blackwall had mentioned that their augur, while a necromancer, did know one or two healing spells—rather he'd assured them that if the augur could be found in time, he would meet them and heal them before turning his attentions to their prisoners. He'd also said the man would likely bitch to no end about having to waste his magic healing when there were other more apt mage healers at the keep, but Thane Blackwall had assured everyone he would do what was required of him.
His priorities, however, would be the prisoners, particularly whichever one was worse off, leaving their current healer to tend to the other until he was done with the first.
It had occurred to Cullen before this that perhaps if they could get the lowlander woman healthy enough, then the healer and augur might take her wellbeing more seriously.
Now, Cullen was sure that they just needed to make sure she was better off than the chevalier. They were about two days out from the hold, so the augur was likely waiting for them there. If the chevalier was in worse condition, the augur was likely to kill and raise him first for information. While that went on, perhaps Cullen could persuade Mia to help him recruit one of their healers to help the lowlander.
Surely, once she was better, they wouldn't just snuff her out.
That night, after they'd made camp for the evening, Cullen had explained everything to Cassandra, wanting her input.
"You want—in two or three days—to somehow miraculously heal the woman on the brink of death to the point that she is healthier than a man who can ride a horse and talk coherently."
That had been all she'd bothered to say. It had been all she'd needed to say, really.
In truth, it had been impractical for Cullen to get so ridiculously attached to the lowlander woman, like he had. Cassandra was right. He didn't know anything about her…and what he'd seen… Maybe it hadn't been what it had seemed.
He was thane. He had his responsibilities to his clan, to his people. Even if she wasn't dying, she was the Shadow Wolves'. Be it prisoner or guest, she would have ended up staying with them, as she was somehow entrenched in the problems surrounding their clan. He couldn't afford to waste his time and resources and affections on some foreign woman doomed to die in another clan's land.
He didn't even know her name.
Despite telling himself this, despite knowing that it was pointless to be curious about her, he still found his mind wandering towards her. Whenever he found himself glancing back her way, he would ride over to one of his people, discussing what sort of preparations would be needed to get back to their territory.
Thane Blackwall insisted that the Red Lions come stay at the Wolves' keep for a few days so that they could rest their weary souls and give their wounded time to regain their energy after being healed. Despite the unease in his people, Cullen finally agreed on staying three days. Thane Blackwall told him Mia would be thrilled, and Cullen hadn't known how to react to that.
It was rather obvious, though, that that had been part of Thane Blackwall's plan. He did seem devoted to his wife. The few times Cullen had seen them together before, Thane Blackwall had seemed ready to give Mia the world, if she so asked for it.
He was fortunate Cullen's sister was so practical, or Thane Blackwall would have ended up a broken man.
The next two days passed slowly. Well, the days themselves weren't so bad, but the nights… By the Gods, it was like time stopped. Cullen would lie awake, trying to focus on his responsibilities. When he got back he would need to check on food stocks, see that the hunters were doing their jobs instead of slacking off, make sure that their boundaries hadn't been tested by other clans while he was away, and….
And on and on and on. At some point, the tasks would simply repeat themselves, a never ending spiral.
Inevitably, his mind would wander to her, and then he would go over his plan to talk with Mia. Thane Blackwall hadn't exactly seemed disinterested in talking about sparing the woman, but…on the one occasion Cullen had tried to discuss her fate since being told she was not his to protect, Thane Blackwall had been a bit too interested in why Cullen cared so much.
If he couldn't even explain it to Cassandra, there was little point in trying with Thane Blackwall.
Mia was really his only option.
When they finally reached the Shadow Wolves' keep, Cullen and Cassandra were offered rooms of honor within the hold, though he was reluctant to let his people be separated—Thane Blackwall assured him the other six of his warriors would be housed nearby, but he still didn't feel right splitting up. Despite everything, there was still a lot of bad blood between the two clans—something rather evident as they'd walked into the keep with the others. There were so many dark glares and suspicious whispers.
"Let us hope they do not decide to assassinate you," Cassandra muttered in his ear as they found their ways to their rooms after they finally decided that rejecting the Wolves' hospitality would make more trouble than not. Without waiting for an answer, she'd disappeared behind the curtain leading into her room. He'd stared after her a moment before echoing the action, feeling as though a proper bed would be a wonderful change from sleeping in a tent.
It was too early to sleep, though, and likely too dangerous to wander the keep.
And besides all that, he needed to speak with—
Arms were abruptly around his neck, dragging him backwards and choking him.
"You came back!" Mia's voice rung in his ears. He managed to untangle himself from her before she could strangle him. As he turned around, carefully rubbing his throat, Mia rolled her amber eyes, hands resting on her hips. "Please. Like you couldn't have tossed me over your shoulder if you wanted."
"I don't think the pack you run with would appreciate me throwing their Lady into a wall," Cullen offered, shaking his head when Mia scowled at him and punched his arm. "I'm here to be abused for three days. Use them well."
"Oh, I plan to," she smirked. Her dark blonde hair fell to her shoulders in curls that were looser than Cullen's. "You and Cassandra and the others will have dinner in our hall tonight. That should make it clear to everyone to leave you all alone while you're here."
"Good," Cullen nodded. He hesitated before looking her over carefully. "You know…they won't all be happy to talk with you. It'll likely be the same as when we came up."
When they'd reached the Shadow Wolves' hold before, they'd been there a few days to plan for their sabotage of the attempted raid, and most of his people had simply ignored Mia all together, unless she took the most direct approach, calling them by name and asking them a question.
Even then, they'd answered as quickly as possible before finding a reason to be elsewhere. If she'd run off to the Silver Fennec or the Spindle Web clans—or any of the other dozen of clans they occasionally met with—there likely would have been jokes and mild chiding before everyone accepted her role within the other clan and chose to continue to hold her like a distant cousin.
However, having gone to their enemy had left far more members of his clan with grudges than he would have thought. It hurt her, he was sure, though she held her head high, allowing for everyone save Cullen to keep their distance.
She would not lose her brother.
Though…she was expected to choose her clan over her kin. All brides were.
That thought made Cullen a little uneasy as Mia straightened his leathers, mouth twisted to one side as she clucked at him, insisting that he keep his gear looking proper, especially as thane.
At that, he lightly caught her hands, and pulled them away from him. "I handle myself just fine, Mia."
"I wasn't trying to…" she trailed off, scowling. "You know, the Shadow Wolves really aren't so bad. I think we could just get past everything, if we tried."
"Just get past it?" Cullen's voice dropped slightly. He managed to bite back an angry rant, instead simply drawing in a deep breath and holding it. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Mia had crossed her arms, glaring toward one of the walls.
"Fine. No peace talks," she paused, turning to eye him with a critical look. "For now."
"We've been working together, haven't we?" Cullen grumbled, taking a seat on the bed that had been made up for him.
Mia plopped down beside him, uninvited. "It's a start. But if we really want to move on, we need to address what happened twenty years ago."
"And I won't do that without my augur, skald, and master of the hunt present," Cullen replied. "If you wish to address things, we can…set something up. It won't happen while I'm here now, though."
"Then let's set something up," Mia insisted. "You'll need to get home, and probably spend some time managing your hold…" She drummed her fingers against her knees, doing the math in her head. "What about the end of spring, just before it gets too hot for long trips? That gives both clans time to accept peace talks are happening, and to really decide on what needs to be said to get everything into the open."
"Why do I feel that you already know exactly what you plan to say?" Cullen asked, rubbing his face with both hands. He was suddenly so tired.
"Cullen, we could do so much if our clans worked together."
"And we could have done a great deal together if you hadn't left us," Cullen muttered, before he could stop himself.
Mia flinched at that, though a brief frown was all that dawdled. After a short pause, she finally shrugged. "Blackwall is a good man, and he should have been given a chance to prove himself when he asked for me. You'd see that if you weren't so blinded by the stories you've been told."
"Save it for the end of spring." Cullen ran his fingers through his hair and then lightly shoved her.
While he'd expected her to be annoyed, she'd caught his last comment, and instead a flicker of hope lingered in her eyes as she watched him.
Silence settled between them, nothing else to be said by either for the time being, at least in regards to their clans.
Cullen tried to think of how to bring up the lowlander, abruptly feeling a little awkward. Mia picked at her nail, without paying any real mind to it. "So how're Branson and Rosalie?"
"I haven't seen them since you asked me last, so I wouldn't know," Cullen replied, not meaning to sound as harsh as he did. He coughed into his hand. "I assume things are going well, though. I hope."
"Right." Mia murmured. She'd begun to drum her fingers again. "So I heard you handled yourself well during the raid."
"I'm still breathing."
"They said you took down six chevaliers total, plus a handful of others before that."
"I wasn't counting." He eyed his sister, trying to steel himself. When they were growing up, she'd always made a point of teasing him whenever she so much as thought he might have an interest in anyone. However, she'd always listened when he dared to bare his soul—much the way Cassandra did now—and she'd always been there to watch out for him.
Of course, that had been before…
"I wanted to talk to you about something important," he began, still not sure how best to breach the subject.
Crossing her arms, Mia inspected him for a moment before inching closer. "Is it the prisoner you're so infatuated with?"
"I'm not…" Cullen hesitated. "I just don't think she deserves to die."
With a low hmmm thrumming in her throat, Mia swung her foot up and down slowly so that her boot made a soft thudding noise as her heel hit the ground. "Why?"
"Because…she's…" He'd meant to give some quick explanation, to think of a word or two that would make sense. But this was Mia. Instead, he regaled her with the events that had led up to the lowlander's 'capture', and how he couldn't get her out of his head.
Mia stopped thumping her boot on the floor after listening to the story, weighing the options. "If you want, I can go talk to the augur. Dorian's always been a friend. He was going to wait to deal with them until tomorrow, anyway." If necromancy bothered Mia any, she hid it well. Hopping to her feet, she smiled down at him and nodded with her head. "Come with me. He was going to flip through some of the books before the feast to get an idea of what we're looking at."
As Cullen followed her out, his brow twitched together. "I thought you were going to deal with the lowlanders before falling back on the books."
"Oh, Dorian loves to read," Mia offered, a smirk in place when she looked back at Cullen. "You'd think he was a lowlander himself, the way he covets any and all of the silly tomes we come across."
The walk was rather short. There were two main halls leading away from the thane's throne room, one to his personal quarters and guest quarters, and one to what Cullen assumed was reserved for spoils from raids. As they started down the second hall, Thane Blackwall's voice interrupted them.
"Mia, love." Even as Cullen turned, his fellow thane was there with them, arms curling around Mia as they practically melted into one another. Mia giggled like a little girl as he nuzzled her nose with his, looping her arms around his neck and catching his lips with hers in a rather passionate kiss.
Cullen crossed his arms and glanced down the hall and then around the throne room. It was rather spacious, with a large, wooden throne between the two halls' entrances, directly across from the main entrance to the building. Theirs was a less permanent hall than the Red Lions'. Cullen's hold was nestled against some cliffs, with two caves. One was large and winding, which had been converted into an armory and provisions area—it was hard for raiders to get to, which helped immensely. The other was smaller, but had a perfect, Gods' made seat at the back—a proper throne, his father had always said. It was no wonder that his ancestors had made it the throne room, with the thane's lodging built a short walk away, just up a small incline and against the cliffs.
As he glanced at his sister and her husband to see that they were still quite involved with one another, he couldn't help but note that the Red Lions' hold was better. He peered around the throne room one more time before coughing into one of his hands rather loudly.
With a soft, 'Oh,' Mia pulled away a little, cheeks flushed, though he doubted that was from embarrassment. She stayed entwined in Thane Blackwall's arms, looking up at him as he quirked a bushy eyebrow.
He addressed Cullen, his voice a bit warmer than Cullen had ever heard it. "If you wanted to look at your take, you should probably wait to see how much room will be in the trunks. I don't know that we've finished emptying them."
"We were going to talk to Dorian, actually," Mia interceded. "I think I agree with my brother. We should at least try to talk to the lowlander woman before giving up on her."
"I'm sorry to say, but I believe it's a bit late for that," Thane Blackwall said, his voice dropping slightly. "He's already working with them."
"But he said he was going to wait until tomorrow," Mia argued, distraught as she straightened up a little in her lover's arms.
With a sigh, Thane Blackwall shook his head. "You know he works in time constraints. When he heard the lowlander's health was failing, he had to get started early."
"When was he called?" Cullen demanded, forgetting that he wasn't in his own hold.
Though Thane Blackwall seemed irate by Cullen's tone, he simply shrugged. "Not too long ago, but—"
"We can stop him," Cullen insisted, already starting toward the exit. He paused when he remembered he wouldn't know where to go. As he looked back, Mia was already dragging her husband after him. "At your leave, thane."
Thane Blackwall let out a bark of a laugh and shook his head as he picked up his pace to stride to and past Cullen, Mia following on his heels. "You know you can't claim her, seeing as your man, Jim or whatever his name was, caught her first."
"I never said I was going to," Cullen muttered, matching the thane's stride so that they were almost even, giving Thane Blackwall just a breath of a lead.
Though the Wolves' thane shook his head, he didn't say anything else. Cullen could feel Mia's gaze from behind him, making the hairs on the back of his neck raise, though he kept his gate confident, head high. He ignored the looks the other Avvar gave him, the way their gazes went from warm to cold as they looked from their leaders to him.
He felt the augur's hut well before they turned the bend in the path to see it. He'd always been able to sense magic well, part of what had led to his legend-mark. The Gods were stirring, likely talking to the augur himself. That almost made his steps falter.
After all, he would never interrupt his own augur. Whatever the Gods were saying might be far more important than…whatever it was Cullen was trying to do.
Be the woodlands hero she'd called him?
As they drew closer, the sense of magic in the air disappeared abruptly. Just before they reached the door, it swung open. A man with a swarthy complexion stepped out into the light, frown somehow emphasized by the moustache on his upper lip, ending on either side in a slight, stylized twirl of his whiskers. The Shadow Wolves seemed to have a thing for lowlander beard styles. As soon as he was outside, he stepped to the side, allowing another person to follow.
Cullen nearly tripped when he realized it was Cassandra. She bowed her head to him, and then stood up straighter when she saw both thanes were approaching.
Thane Blackwall stopped just in front of them, eyes narrowed. "I thought you were called here for one of the lowlanders."
Lightly tugging on a leather glove, the augur—Dorian arched his brow, letting out an indignant huff. "I was."
Thane Blackwall's gaze darted to Cullen and then back. "So why is there a Red Lion with you?"
"I was lost," Cassandra replied. She'd never been one to let another answer on her behalf. "I wanted to check on our people, and must have taken a wrong turn. I did not wish to seem like I was scouting your hold, so when I found your augur, I asked for help. Dorian was kind enough to let me stay with him, even when he was called to tend to the prisoner."
"As she says," Dorian nodded. He paused, glancing at Cullen and then bowing, "Dorian Ar Aquinea O Wolfkeep Corpseflame. I assume you're Thane Magicsbane, as you look so much like your lovely sister." He gave Mia a quick smile before looking back at Thane Blackwall, temporarily forgetting Cullen. "I'm afraid the chevalier has expired."
A silence settled over the five of them for a short spell.
Crossing his arms, Thane Blackwall shifted his weight. "The chevalier? Not the woman?"
"That is what I said."
"How?"
"As you know, I was looking through our precious bounty recovered from the raid," Dorian replied, sarcastically, "By the way those books are in atrocious condition. Half of them have their leather bindings coming up at the corners. It is a travesty that such works be treated so—"
"Are they worth a great deal?" Thane Blackwall interrupted.
"Not that I could tell, though I'm not exactly an expert on what lowlanders value in their literature. I think they're nature journals of some kind. The one I flipped through talked about migratory patterns of falcons, I think it was, and what have you—"
"If they don't matter, I don't care how they were treated," Thane Blackwall snapped. He pointed toward Dorian's hut. "What happened with the chevalier?"
"Right, right. Well, he was tied up quite well, and the guards were outside the hut rather than in it and... It's a pity, but he must have tried to get out of his bindings while I was gone. All that wriggling about and he pulled open an injury that wasn't tended to as well as previously thought," Dorian shrugged. "He bled out before I could return."
"I see." Thane Blackwall tilted his head to one side, inspecting both Dorian and Cassandra. "Which injury?"
"One on his side," Dorian crossed his arms. "It was tended to only superficially. Likely in poor lighting it would have looked fine; I heard you only tended to him at night." Abruptly he paused and let his gaze wander toward Cullen. "Or was that the otherthane with the other prisoner? Tch," he shook his head. "With all the stories going around, it's so hard to keep track."
Mia took this opportunity to step up beside her husband, and motioned toward the Augur's hut. "How is the woman?"
"He's got you on his side already, hasn't he?" Dorian asked, smirk widening as he looked from her to Cullen and back. However, even as Thane Blackwall took a step closer to him, motioning for him to talk, he sighed. "She already holds one of the Lady's hands. Even with a healer mending her body, she may be too far gone. A mind can only take so much abuse before it gives up."
"But you can heal her?" Cullen asked, standing a little taller.
Dorian's brown eyes brimmed with amusement, making the skin around the corners of his eyes crinkle with delight. "It's true then. The great thane of the Red Lions fell for the first lowla—"
"Dorian," Mia lightly clasped his arm. "Enough."
"If I may," Cassandra offered, even as Thane Blackwall opened his mouth to speak, "My thane believed that the woman would be cooperative, so if she was healed, could she not prove more useful alive than if she were dead?" She paused, motioning toward Dorian. "Perhaps she will be persuaded with a bit of benevolence…if she is not already willing to aid you."
Rather than answer right away, Thane Blackwall stared at Cassandra and then turned slowly to Cullen, his bushy brows raised. He started to say something, but Mia lightly gripped his arm, leaning up and whispering something in his ear. He let out a dry, humorless laugh before reaching out and clapping a hand down on Dorian's shoulder. "Let's step inside a moment, shall we?"
As Cullen and the others entered into the hut—it was large enough for them, with ample room for a fire pit in the center of the main room—Thane Blackwall turned to eye him and Cassandra. "Dorian, how likely is it that the chevalier was helped along with his injuries?"
"I'm sorry," Dorian gave his thane an annoyed look, "I was under the impression that I played with dead things, not healed living ones. Animating a corpse and knowing which piece of muscle attaches where are a bit different, my dear thane. I don't generally care how they die, so long as their vocal cords are intact." He paused, swelling with a bit of pride as he glanced at Cassandra and Cullen. "It makes it easier for the Gods to talk through the body."
Cassandra and Cullen exchanged a look.
"I just find it odd that the man who was doing so well would simply keel over right around the time that one of the Lions was wandering loose through our hold."
With a shrug, Dorian made a flourished motion toward the back room. "There could very well have been foul play, but it would have had to have happened before you reached the keep. Our guards would not have simply let someone in with our prisoners."
Thane Blackwall turned to eye Cullen, gaze narrowed. "How'd you do it, then?"
"Excuse me?"
"I overheard you talking with your chief warrior here. Make sure the lowlander woman is healthier than the chevalier, buy her time and get her healed." He tilted his head back, appraising Cullen with a most suspicious light in his eyes. "I'd say she's healthier than a dead man, wouldn't you?"
"I…" Cullen frowned. His intent had been to heal the woman, not hurt the man. Though, in retrospect, causing harm to the chevalier would have likely been easier…
"My thane had nothing to do with what happened to the chevalier," Cassandra insisted. "And, before you can ask, neither did I."
"Love," Mia whispered, wrapping her arms around one of Thane Blackwall's. "I know the warriors Cullen brought with him. There's no way any of them could have snuck through the keep, past the guards, injured the chevalier enough that it could be excused as an accident, and then snuck back out."
Even as another brief silence fell over them, Cassandra finally spoke up. "My thane mentioned once that he thought the lowlander woman was watched over by a God. Perhaps he is right. The Gods work in strange ways, do they not?"
"Hmm." Thane Blackwall twisted his mouth to one side, considering it. "I suppose nothing is impossible."
"None of the Gods who have spoken to me mentioned favoring her," Dorian said, glancing toward one of three small doors leading from the main room. It was blocked with a curtain hanging across it, and Cullen wondered if that was where they'd taken the woman. "I would imagine a mortal's champion would wish to make themselves known as quickly as possible, so that no mistakes could be made on our part."
"You could ask them for a sign," Cullen offered, shifting his weight a little.
"Could I?" With a scowl, Dorian put a hand over his heart. "Thank the Lady you are here to tell me such things, Thane Magicsbane. For surely, I would have no idea, otherwise."
Catching Dorian by the shoulder, Thane Blackwall stopped him before he could continue his rant. "Thane Magicsbane has been a great help this last week, and were it not for his agreement to come with us, there's a decent chance we'd have lost to those chevaliers. If he wants a sign from the Gods, let's ask them to give us one."
As the augur mumbled something under his breath, Cullen happened to glance to the side to see the curtain leading to one of the two backrooms from the main part of the hut had moved, ever so slightly. He was quite certain he'd seen the heel of a boot or shoe of some kind disappear from view into the room, and, without thinking, he followed after. When he reached the curtain, he moved it ever so slightly, pausing when he saw the lowlander woman was laid out on a cot, her breathing shallow, still gaunt and pale.
No one else was there.
"Cullen?" Mia whispered beside him.
He frowned, letting the curtain drop back into place as he turned to her and the others. "I'm sorry. I thought…it's nothing."
Thane Blackwall led them from the augur's hut so that Dorian could commune in peace, and as they headed back to their quarters, Cullen couldn't help but offer a quick prayer that whatever God was watching over her make its will known.
…-…
It was during one of her long dreams with those bears that Katrina turned her head to the side to see Amelia lying with her, hands resting on her belly, rosy cheeks a shade darker from the faint, numbing chill of the air.
Of the two of them, Amelia had always been just a hair heavier than Katrina, though she'd worn it well. She'd always had a thing for sweets. It gave her a beautiful form, swells in all the right places. Katrina was more willowy, too busy climbing out windows and running to ever let her food settle onto her frame.
Amelia reached out and brushed a finger along Katrina's hairline, pausing to draw her finger in a line extending a little onto Katrina's forehead. The pain that had been there, ever present and nagging, flared for just a second before numbing back to a dull throb. So many little aches and pains did that, occasionally flaring up. However, if Katrina tried to think on where they came from or how she'd gotten them, she was typically overwhelmed. "You're a mess, as usual."
Katrina rolled her eyes, reaching up and catching Amelia's hand. She held it, her fingers curled around her twin's. "And you're perfect, as usual."
"Not perfect," Amelia argued. She pouted her lower lip, scrunching her nose up as though to diminish her appearance. "After all, I don't have all those freckles." She pulled her hand free and lightly flicked Katrina's nose. "Now those are pretty. The mark of one courted by the sun."
"A pity the sun isn't a suitable husband," Katrina quipped. "Or I might actually be worth something."
"You're worth everything."
"Not according to mother." Katrina laughed. "I'm the bane of the household."
"Well, I can't argue that."
With a sigh, Katrina turned to stare up. The cave rocks were fading away, and the bears had shed their fur on top of her and left.
"Though I think Michael may have you beat once he grows up." Amelia sat up, running her fingers through her hair and patting her dress back into place.
Katrina tried to reach out to her, but she was suddenly too far away. "I miss you."
"I know," Amelia said, "I miss you, too." As she spoke, she let her hands drop to her lap. There was a tinge of sadness in her voice. "I…I just had to be free. You understand, right?"
"Of course I do."
Amelia hunched forward, hands scrunching up the fabric of her skirts. The cave was gone, and they were in their manor's backyard, standing beside the gate. Without thinking, Katrina went to pick the lock as Amelia kept talking. "Because I…." She stepped through the open gate, out onto an eerily quiet street, and looked back at Katrina, expression desperate, a light in her eyes that had haunted Katrina for just over a year. "I just need to go for a walk to clear my head. Please let me go. You love me, don't you?"
"I suppose even a princess needs to walk off her stress once in a while, though, with the way you are, I doubt you'll be able to walk far enough to shake it all off in a year, let alone an evening," Katrina had said as she left the gate open and headed back inside.
Careless selfishness. How foolish to think this was worth my time. A harsh voice echoed from somewhere beyond her world.
Katrina stopped. She wasn't in her manor's backyard anymore. Now, she was in Amelia's room. She'd tugged loose an old board from the corner. The diaries that had been hidden behind it now littered the bed. Letters and notes poked out from them, some looking older than she was, though they couldn't be. She picked one up, knowing exactly what she'd find inside.
What is this?
"It's proof," Katrina murmured, flipping through the pages until she came to one of the letters. "Proof of what a bastard the Comte is. She was going to expose him, but he…he out maneuvered her…or something. She had no choice, but to run. She's gone, but she can come back." Katrina began to gather all of the journals, careful to keep them in order, despite feeling sure she'd done this before. "I just have to pick up where she left off. I'll show the empress what a monster he is. They'll lock him away, and then Amelia will be free to come home."
Something about her plan felt off. As though it had already failed.
If you seek the empress, then why are you in the woods?
"In the woods?" Katrina frowned. She hugged the diaries she'd been holding to herself, looking around in confusion. Who was there? There hadn't been anyone when she'd found the notebooks… "I'm here because…"
The world shifted again. She stood near a wall of her father's study, arms empty. In front of her, she could see herself holding those very books she'd just had, all but shoving them into her father's arms as the flames from his fireplace next to his desk cast eerie shadows across everything.
"She left because of this!" Katrina's past self cried, shaking the books and then dropping all but one, flipping it to a page and pointing desperately. "He was a monster! He was going to keep her from us, from everything she loved, just because she found out the truth about him. He wasn't going to just let her go. He was going to make her suffer, like a caged animal, every day for the rest of her life!"
"Your sister abandoned the family because she was weak," her father snapped, kicking one of the diaries into the fire. He nearly kicked Katrina as she dove down to protect the rest of them, barely managing to stop short. "We are not going toe to toe with the Comte."
"Why not?" she'd demanded. "You read his letters!" She'd pointed to the desk. "You have to know exactly what kind of a man he is!"
"It's because I know that we're not getting involved!" he hissed. "He's powerful, with more connections than we could dream of having, especially with—"
Katrina stared at the scene. It had frozen there, the color slowly bleeding out, leaving only shades of gray behind. She could feel someone standing beside her, and her shoulders slumped as she finished her father's sentiment. "Especially with me around to burn so many bridges."
Her father moved in time with her words, and she could see herself cringe back from the contempt in his voice. It had always been there, the fact that her temperamental, ill-thought out actions got more than just her into trouble, but no one had ever said it. Somehow, with those words, it had all come crashing into focus.
Regaining his composure, her father straightened his tunic, turning his back to where Katrina still sat on the floor, arms spread to gather any diaries he went after. "You will not say a word about this to anyone."
"I will."
He looked back. "One word, and you're not a Trevelyan anymore. I will not let you drag this family into a war with such an influential Orlesian noble just for the honor of a sister who abandoned the family."
Katrina's past self had swallowed hard and then quietly begun to gather the diaries. The scene froze again.
With a long sigh, Katrina crossed her arms, her memories beginning to fall back into place. How could she have forgotten this? Her father had given her an ultimatum, the family name or Amelia. Like that had been a hard choice. "I probably should have gotten Clarence on board with my plan before I went to Orlais. I contacted him after, or tried to. When everything went wrong. I don't know that he ever actually got the message, though. And even if he did…I'm not legally his sister anymore, so I suppose he wouldn't be obligated to come to my rescue."
You still went? The voice was from just beside her now.
"I wouldn't be in the woods now if I hadn't," Katrina retorted, breaking out into a grin. Again the world shifted. This time, it didn't bother showing anything other than trees. "You should have seen the looks on the nobles' faces when I crashed that Orlesian salon. I showed the empress herself the things that the Comte had been doing. She promised she would handle the situation." Her triumphant smile slipped. "But I guess…it wasn't enough. What I had. After all, if he'd been tossed in a prison, he wouldn't have been able to send chevaliers after me, now would he?"
She stared blankly at the trees around them. They all looked the same, and she half expected them to start raking at her hair, like they had in the past. "Clarence has a good heart, though. Michael, too. They'll see that the Comte gets what he deserves. That Amelia can come home."
And what of you?
With a half laugh, Katrina turned to look over her shoulder, pausing when she saw the figure standing there. She couldn't quite make him out, and part of her whispered that that was a very bad thing. Another part of her whispered that she likely still had that damnable concussion. "Amelia ran away because she saw no other options. It was forced upon her. I chose this path. I wasn't corralled into a corner like she was."
As she glanced around again, she started to see that things were…off. The trees were literally the same. Her brow raised as she looked down toward her feet. For a moment, she was in her usual shoes, then riding boots, then the boots were covered with dirt, mud, snow, and blood.
Her head began to throb again. It made the world tremble and spin, the trees falling to spires of white, hot pain that manifested in brilliant spikes. She took a step back and felt agony shoot through her hip. The trees fell in flaming pieces, disappearing from the world.
It was too much.
It was all too much.
If you could go back, would you change what had happened?
The figure had managed to avoid the shifting reality, still present, still watching her. The world was cooling, and it numbed some of the pain, making it easier to focus, somehow stretching out to mollify the frantically changing world around them. The figure stood before her, looking somewhat akin to a templar or knight, bound in shining armor, with even brighter eyes shining through the small slit in the front of his helm.
If you could change what you did, would you?
"Change things?" Katrina asked, her mind a little muddled. "Of course I would. Who wouldn't fix a fuck up? Believe me, this was a good and proper one."
The knight looked as though he was losing interest.
"If I had known he was this bad, I would have just killed the bastard. Consequences be damned, he deserves it." Katrina sat up a little straighter as the knight's gaze snapped back to her. "He's hurt so many people, and nothing has been done. He poisoned his first wife. Not enough to kill her. Just enough that she was bedridden and dependent on him. For ten years. When the head maid tried to tell someone what he was doing, she disappeared. When his guard captain seemed like he was going to talk to someone, the man had an accident during training. People who cross the Comte go missing, and they're just going to keep going missing or dying until he does."
Surely this cannot go unnoticed. The knight knelt before her, that brilliant gaze narrowed. Something in the back of her mind warned her that knights eyes didn't glow, but she couldn't help but feel that he wasn't as out of place as her mind tried to tell her.
"He's Orlesian. So long as he does it without hard proof, his fellow nobles applaud him," Katrina spat, unable to bite back the bitterness curling in her. The world began to turn a dark, dreary gray. "Just like they'll clap him on the back for thwarting my attempt to oust him from power because there'll be no proof that he sent me out here to die. I'll just be another missing enemy." She sunk back down. Her head hurt. She'd tried to play that damnable game, and she'd lost. Some tiny part of her whispered that someone had given her hope—the memory of a man in leathers bubbled up—but it hurt too much to focus on it.
Finally, she just shook her head. "I just wanted justice for Amelia."
So you are a fool.
Brow scrunching together, Katrina narrowed her eyes at the knight. "Excuse me?"
Your world is rigid, unchanging. It takes one with true power to manipulate it at all, and even then, the effects are short-lived at best.
"I wouldn't say that's completely true," Katrina argued. "I have seen plenty change in 'my world'."
But you were never the force behind it.
She wasn't sure what his game was. Was he trying to piss her off? "I could be if I wanted to. And I did start something." Even if it was her own demise.
Can you move a mountain?
"With enough explosives, anyone can." She crossed her arms. "But why waste time with moving a mountain when you can just walk around it and take in the scenery? I mean, what's the point in moving it at all? Did it do something wrong?" She cocked her head, rolling her eyes. "The answer's 'no', by the way. It can't do anything wrong, because it's a mountain. They're just there, and if you can't stand being near them, maybe you should be the one to move."
That was not my point.
"Your point was to say that I cannot do anything. I gathered that," Katrina snapped, indignant. "However, you're wrong. I can do plenty."
Your words hold no power.
"All words hold power."
Can you conjure flame with one?
"Depends on the kind of fire you're looking for."
The man let out a short humph. If you wake up, what will you do?
She had to turn to keep him in her view. "What?"
If you don't die, what will you do?
Katrina had to turn again. This time, she felt a dull pain in her hip. It was a bit too familiar. "I… I was going to try to meet Clarence, but…"
You want to believe he'll be there, but he might not come. You seek to rely on his strength because your own has already failed you, the man said, his voice ringing faintly. If he is not an option, what will you do? What can you do?
"I…" She didn't know what to say. She thought about Amelia and all that had happened, of her sister's smile and the way it had slowly grown weaker and weaker until it was simply gone.
"I'll find another way to nail that black-hearted bastard to the wall!" Katrina snapped. "I'll make sure that he pays for what he did to Amelia! He didn't kill her, but he did. He took away everything that she was until so little of her was left that…"
Anger flickered through her, coiling in her gut, ready to lash out. She clung to it, letting it push back the cold and pain. She pointed down toward her feet, glaring at the strange figure. Her mind felt clearer than it had been in ages. "There's no if about it. I will wake up. And I will find a way to finish what I started. No chevaliers or Avvar or noble bastards will stop me from giving Amelia the justice she deserves!"
She had rather expected him to continue to dismiss her. Even as she blinked, slightly taken aback by the simplicity of his response, the knight stepped up to her, reaching out and running his finger down her forehead, in the same way that Amelia had done earlier, before her dream had twisted.
I will be curious to see how much power is really in your words.
Those dozens and dozens of pains all through her that occasionally bubbled up for attention erupted at once, a sharp, hateful repeating stabbing ache in her hip overtaking the rest of them quickly.
With a sharply hissed curse, Katrina's eyes snapped open.