A/N: Hey, guess what! I'm not dead. Sorry, guys. It's been crazy, what with school starting back up, working twice the thankless hours at the menial jobs, losing some more mobility (I actually use a cane now! It's so damn classy), and running a whole bunch of role playing games. Oh, what about the months before all that whirlwind of chaos hit at once? Sorry, guys, it looks like I'm just a jerk after all. Well, look, it's Gwendal! And he's… moping. It's kinda what he does. Enjoy.

I woke up with a splitting, vicious headache. The sour, mildly revolting taste of last night's brandy filled my mouth. How much had I wound up drinking? It wasn't like me at all, whatever the circumstances. And what time was it? And why did I smell Gunter's hair? Much as I loved that scent, much as it was burned into me, I probably should have been smelling sweat and alcohol. Leftover from a dream? I didn't remember any dreams. Given their pattern lately, that was a mercy.

I made myself open my eyes, ready to snap them shut again in case of midday sunlight. My vision took a moment to stop swimming. My head was half off my pillow and my hair was loose, so I stared dully into an expanse of black, stark against the sheets. A moment later my eyes fell on the sharp line where the burned tips of my inky hair were replaced by silky, shimmering waves the color of a spring dawn.

I sat bolt upright, ignoring the reeling in my head the best I could. I knew blind panic for a moment, though it was panic mixed with an irresistible excitement. Oh, the mere thought was idiotic. But so delectable, and as sensible as I liked to be, the thought of finding my way into his arms just as I found myself so despicably engaged was thrilling. But after the brief madness passed, I noted that we were both fully dressed and he, at least, was almost as elegantly tidy as ever, allowing for a slight case of bedhead. Knowing myself in my shameful, lusty dreams, I'd probably have torn his robes off, raked his hair in every possible direction, and left his lovely, entrancing throat covered in love bites.

Right.

I was starting to remember the night before a bit more clearly. Sitting with Gunter, mostly in silence, while he held me loosely and let me be. Maybe more because he didn't know what to say than because he knew I needed to turn things over in my mind. I'd refilled my glass more than a few times. The mostly empty bottle on my nightstand stood mocking testimony to just how many, and how thoroughly I deserved this headache. He'd had a few, too.

Well, I'd only seen him have two, actually. Perhaps my Gunter was a bit of a lightweight. I watched him sleep for a minute, staring shamelessly, eyes travelling over his lithe form, his flowing hair, the face perfectly serene (if just a little flushed). He'd been there all night for me.

In a moment of madness I leaned down to kiss him and stopped short about halfway. What on earth had gotten into me? Yes, the fact that Gunter had spent the night in my bed was making me tremble, stirring thoughts I knew better than to entertain, but he'd fallen asleep there amid brandy and brooding. His sweet tending had raised my spirits a lot, and his gentle, devoted friendship made me love him all the more. Nothing more, and no reason to risk everything we had on a (perhaps still slightly drunken) kiss.

Gambling on the depth of his dreams, I did it anyway.

Maybe it was because of the kiss Dirk had stolen from me, to erase for a moment the memory of his hot, invasive mouth against mine. That explanation sat better with me than others I could think of.

At least I was sane enough to allow myself only the briefest peck. His lips were thin but perfectly curved, delicately smooth and cool. At first, barest touch, they felt like fine lacquer, but the slightest pressure and his lips yielded, parting just a bit. He tasted of perfect bliss and hopes realized, and also more than a little of mid-shelf brandy.

Fortunately he didn't wake up, lost in the lovely, lovely dreams that Gunter must have, and I straightened without losing myself the dearest friend I'd ever have. And now at least… Oh, God, I'd kissed him. Brushed just the least bit against the silken moist lips I loved, and that would have to last me a lifetime. Now at least when my hateful husband laid claim to me I'd be able to remember Gunter's mouth and be calmed.

I rolled out of bed. By now my injuries had improved immensely, and I barely limped, but my head disapproved enough of the sudden movement that I tottered anyway, holding onto the bedpost to keep my footing. I dressed carelessly. There was no one at the moment that I really had to impress. Clearly it didn't matter much to my fiancé.

Jacket on but unbuttoned, I leaned my forehead against the mirror inside the wardrobe door, collecting myself for a moment. It was time to grow up. Thinking back over the past few days, over all the time since arriving at the castle, I'd been behaving like a child, making and breaking resolutions, telling myself over and over again that I finally knew my own mind, that I'd changed, that the world had changed… When I was a child, I reasoned as a child. Time to put aside childish things.

I loved Gunter, even began to understand him. That would never change. I was duty bound (and honor, and affection bound, too) to my mother and brothers, even Stoffel and Raven, reluctantly the Bielefelds and Anissina, and I would serve and protect them all. I was a power in Shin Makoku, beholden only to the Maou, and that duty I would embrace wholeheartedly. Love, family, and country. Those I would take with me. Everything else belonged to the child Gwendal and I would have to leave behind.

As I straightened and finished I heard a yawn and a squeak from the bedsprings. Gunter was sitting up, shaking his head disgustedly and then covering his eyes, hiding from the too-bright sunlight. "I apologize for that, Gwendal."

"No need. There's plenty of room in the bed and you were a great help last night." Gunter looked more hung over than I was. Rather readily overcome was my White Tiger. I smiled a little. Wryly. "Thank you."

"Er… you're welcome." He lowered his hands and his eyes met mine. "You're taking this very well."

"How else can I take it?" I was chagrined by all the carrying on from the night before. There'd been nothing to warrant such a scene. "He's a hateful, spoiled idiot, but I'm sure I can deal with him, and my marriage will bring us unity, stop the worst of the infighting at court. It's well worth a little discomfort."

"That's not exactly what I… Never mind. A little, perhaps. This effort on your part is nothing less than heroic." He stood, swayed just a bit, and stepped toward me. "You needn't be so stoic, you know." His delicate hand settled on my shoulder. Lovely. "…Are you certain there's no one else?"

"No one."

"You don't need to keep secrets, Gwendal. You know that, don't you?"

I closed my eyes a moment, breathing deep. "You're a bit of a romantic, aren't you, Gunter?"

"In my lonely way, maybe." He sighed. "It just seems as though it'd explain a bit. But no explanation needed for finding such a worthless fiancé a torment, is there? I won't bring it up again."

How could anyone be so clever and so oblivious? Gunter was rather severely lacking common sense. And he was a romantic, though more often applying those sensibilities to politics than people. I smiled a tiny bit, but it didn't quite reach my mouth. The impulse didn't travel all the way. Perhaps I just meant to smile. I felt as though I'd forgotten how. "Thank you. I suppose you'd better get back to your daughter?"

"Oh, she'll be wandering the grounds quite happily. I don't usually see her before lunch. She likes her solo adventures in the morning. I did the same thing when I was her age."

"It looks to be close to lunch."

"Ah." He shrugged sheepishly. "Then maybe I had better go. If you're feeling well enough, come along to practice. I have students from Conrart's age up through a few decades older than I am, and just about everyone learns and teaches at least a little in turns. It may get your mind off things."

"It may." I bowed to him slightly. "Thank you."

"The pleasure's mine. I'll probably see you for at least a few minutes at lunch. Not that I'm very hungry. I've never held my alcohol well." He smiled again and waited a moment. When I didn't inform him of any disgrace, he left. I think I heard him trip and fall in the hallway. Which might or might not have been the brandy's fault. Sweet Gunter.

I'd go. Come hell or high water, unless I had a case of the plague to tend to I'd appear at Gunter's practice. In the meantime, lunch. And undoubtedly a rather annoyed Dirk. I wondered how hard I'd yanked his hair. Pretty hard.

Good.

No, that way lay only grief. I was going to have to get used to him. Resenting him for all my life—all our lives was a good way to give myself ulcers. On top of the ones already proudly bestowed by Anissina. He had wrong-footed me, manipulated and frightened me. He was a bully and a brat, and now that the shock was worn off, I would no longer be afraid of him. Or hate him. He wasn't worth that, the childish boor.

"Hi, Gwendal."

I jumped. I almost yelped, but at least I had some tiny shred of dignity. It was one thing to assure myself over and over that my dreadful fiancé was no more than an irritation and an act of god that I could do nothing but endure. Quite another to face the man who'd left me sobbing and frightened as a child the night before, whose hands I could still feel.

No fear. I did not concede. Forcing myself every fractional inch of the way, I turned to face Dirk, raised my eyes to his. He was, I reminded myself, not more than half a head taller than I, rather wider in the shoulders… Intimidating, but not a monster. I raised an eyebrow, and made sure to just drip disdain like Anissina's bedroom leaking oil under the door. "Yes?" He would not be allowed to scare me. More.

"I… wanted to apologize." His hands were shoved in his pockets and he suddenly looked quite a lot like Conrart being brought to justice for theft of pastries from the kitchen. If he'd just started digging his toe into the ground and explaining how it was really Josak's idea all along, and were quite a bit shorter, the resemblance would have been uncanny.

"Did you indeed?" Had his father decided attempted rape was overplaying his hand? I didn't let myself be softened by the almost adolescent chagrin he displayed. He might just be a decent actor.

"Didn't realize how much it was really bothering you." Incomplete sentences. How impressive. I much preferred scornful pity to fear, actually.

"Oh?"

"Mmm. Hey, a lot of my conquests complain, but they're okay once they relax. But… I don't know. You've got…"

"A rudimentary sense of right and wrong?"

"Inhibitions. Remind me to try and get you drunk next time." Oh, foolish boy. That hadn't even worked for Gunter. "So I'm sorry. I didn't, uh, hurt you. Did I?"

I thought about claiming otherwise, but it would just have backfired when I had no bruises to show and looked like a wimp as a side effect. "No." But for the creeping phantoms of his fingers that seemed still to be sliding over me. "Your apology is accepted, provided you make some attempt at being a gentleman in the future."

"Deal." He punched my shoulder. I merely looked at him for a moment and he took a slight step back. "Yeah. Oh, and… blue eyes are fine, you know." What in Shinou's name was he supposed to mean by that? "Going to lunch?"

"Yes, I intended to."

"Oh. I… ate already. See you later, then." He turned around, paused, and turned back. "You believe me?"

"What?"

"That I'm sorry."

"…Not really, no."

He sighed. "Just asking." Dirk turned again. "I am." He retreated down the hall.

I almost smiled as he walked away. Gwendal the child really was put away! But as soon as I stopped hearing heavy footsteps retreating toward the guest rooms, I found my exhilaration melt away and my breath catch horribly. I was afraid of him. Just better at hiding it. The grown-up Gwendal, it seemed, could exist only in public. Alone, I was still my same inconstant, unhappy, over emotional self.

I stood still as stone until the half-healed burns on my legs began to ache. Maybe a minute, maybe ten. I shook my head and continued down to lunch, thinking as clearly and carefully as I could through my lingering upset.

Had his father sent him to patch this up? Did he himself feel he'd gone too far and was risking his chance at a plain half-black husband to do his bidding and share his bed? Or, remote as the possibility was, did Dirk actually feel some remorse for what he'd done… what he'd tried to do to me?

Not bloody likely. If he meant to self-delude into thinking his "conquests" quickly relaxed and willingly let him have his way, that was his affair, but he must have been opposed before.

I stepped out into the dining room. It was, as usual, a buffet-style meal. A few eyes rose as I entered, but not nearly as many as yesterday. Apparently my misadventures were already old news. Or they'd just gotten tired of looking. After all, I couldn't be fun to gossip about.

I was, at the end of the day, boring.

Halfway to the table, I almost fell when I felt surprisingly strong little arms lock around my waist. I looked down to see Wolfram hugging me with all his strength. It was very sweet, and I felt a little better. I leaned down and picked him up. "What was that for?"

"Conrart said I should. But he's not the boss of me." Wolfram stuck out his lower lip stubbornly. His expression softened after a moment. "You don't look so good."

"Hmm, you know, I was feeling a little under the weather. I'd better sit down and eat lunch." I set him down and he walked beside me to the table. As we walked I noticed in passing as he was waved to or smiled at simperingly by everyone we went near. The cute little baby prince. His royal mother's favorite, pretty, pliable, and easily courted by the judicious application of toy horses and shiny marbles. Wolfram already had a rather more than healthy ego, except where his father and (Bielefeld) half brothers were concerned. This kind of attention was going to go to his head fast.

Wolfram and I sat together on a long sofa, eating rolls stuffed with sliced chicken. Finally there was a seasonally appropriate meal, and cold tea to go with it. Wolfram had his with about three spoons of honey, I with a little squeeze of lemon. Conrart turned up to sit with us, settling on my other side followed by his little cohort, some of them the children of nobles or knights, some servants… My little brother was a natural leader. In spite of his heritage—in direct defiance of it, he called people to him, even if it was only to eat chicken sandwiches and practice fighting with wooden swords.

Admirable, and more importantly, happy. Conrart had found a niche. It was his choice what to do with it, but he'd have all his little friends at court as well as the ones in the village outside the capital where he and his father had established homes for all the half-humans. And Wolfram was the court's darling. He'd have the best tutors to deal with his uncommon magical skill and all his young whims fulfilled. My brothers were happy here. And while I sat between them peacefully, I could be, too.

Gunter didn't turn up until servants had begun to collect up the plates and sparse leftovers, Giesela in hand. I waved, but I had nothing I knew how to say to him. I wanted to tell Gunter about Dirk's odd behavior, at least, but as I wasn't sure what to make of it myself, I kept silent. I hated to speak until I was sure. Being wrong rankled like nothing else.

He sat on the couch beside ours and Wolfram and Giesela, along with a couple of Conrart's friends, began gossiping about some very important matters involving a see-saw. Anyone who looked at us would have seen the loveliest tableau of peace and contentment. Even I could see it. He smiled at me.

My little bit of peace was interrupted by a cough from behind. A young servant in the caste's livery was standing in a clumsy imitation of a soldier's attention. "Lord Von Bielefeld, I'm to tell you that… That, um, the quarantine is in effect."

"Excellent." One worry put aside. I dug in my pocket for a coin or two and dropped a silver piece into his hand. "Well done."

"I'm also to tell Lord Von Christ, but… Well, I guess you heard."

"Thank you, Dakaskos." Gunter reached across to pat him on the head. "Now I can relax. And I should head out to the training yard and start setting up. I'll be seeing Conrart, I know. Gwen?"

"Cerrtainly." Wouldn't miss it for the world.

I didn't head out to the yard for almost an hour. I spent a while picking out light, loose, maneuverable clothes to practice in, making sure my boots wouldn't rub the still-tender spots too hard, tying back my hair… That took all of fifteen minutes. Then there was a lot of dithering and staring balefully at my reflection.

Walking across the grounds, I found myself hyperaware of my surroundings, focused on everything at once. I shouldn't have been so nervous, of course, but I would be showing myself at my worst while Gunter was at his best. Yes, I'd improved with a sword to the point of basic competence, but it wasn't natural. Easier to keep my mind on the cart of flour barrels that had been delivered this morning, Anissina stealthily dismantling part of a fountain for parts, a couple of cats baa-ing at each other in the garden…

There was quite the little crowd assembled in the practice yard. Gunter was sparring a tall, lithe young man with blank hair to his waist. There were a few other matches going on, notably between my brother and a little redheaded girl I took to be his legendary girlfriend. Most of the crowd was watching Gunter. And I couldn't blame them.

I walked up in time to see the match concluded. It was close, I could tell. Closer than I'd expected. The man sparring was very good. I didn't recognize him immediately, but up close I realized he was Raven's nephew. He was a few years older than I, proud scion of a nobly impoverished family, landed but not quite noble. His much younger sister Elizabeth was a friend of Wolfram's, but while we saw her often he had been off in the wars.

In a general sort of way, I liked him. He'd gotten much better with his sword since I had seen him last, but I felt only the slightest resentment. Most of my resentment was seeing that his eyes had failed to lighten since childhood, and he was still a grand, rare, and impressive double-black, just like his uncle. Damn it all.

"Gwendal!"

"Gavril." Oh, and his name sounded entirely too much like mine. I seemed to be remembering more and more reasons he rubbed me the wrong way.

"Amazing I haven't run into you yet."

"I didn't realize you were at the castle. I'm surprised Conrart didn't mention."

"Oh, you already know each other?" Gunter smiled. "Well, that's good. Quick round of introductions for the new student." He took hold of my shoulder, pulled me into the center, and fired off a round of names I'd never remember. Nothing like having two dozen people staring at me.

Despite initial mild embarrassment, I found I enjoyed Gunter's practice for its own sake as well as the time spent with him. Though some of the attendees had no titles at all, a common discussion topic was integral to the whole affair, and when I wasn't being defeated in sword fights, I could happily talk history and tactics with a couple of old, bearded knights, the Wincott heir, and the castle's wine steward.

I'd have been happy to chat with Gavril as well. He had plenty of field experience. But he seemed to be entirely too busy casually receiving compliments from Gunter. Not that I had any right to comment. I was engaged, after all.

Damn him and his handsome suavity. And doubly damn his ability to use a sword in Gunter's presence without falling on his face.

Swords, fortunately, did not dominate practice forever. I soon found myself quite able to converse intelligently (or at all) when Gunter set his sword down and began coaching a couple of youngsters in unarmed combat. I'd deduced just from feeling his hands that he must know some boxing, but imagination could never do him justice.

He wasn't a master, like he was with the sword. I didn't doubt that he might fail to impress someone whose technical knowledge surpassed mine. But just as with his sword, he moved so smoothly, gliding. He was so fast. And so… Oh, in a minute I'd be drooling. His training clothes were the same delicate purple as most of his belongings (some people just really liked their family livery), but far from the usual heavy, rather shapeless robe, his gii was on the form-fitting side. And, Shinou help me, open about midway down his chest, loosened by activity.

He also had his hair braided with a weight at the end. He used it as a rather wicked flail. I saw a few bruised cheeks and earned one myself. Actually, I earned several in that fight. I just couldn't take my eyes off him long enough to dodge a swing. So in the end, it went exactly the same way as the only other bout with Gunter I'd had.

Hardly a fact to resent. "Interesting tactic. Where did you pick that up?"

Gunter smiled at me as I dusted myself off. He'd landed a solid kick right above my ankle that had sent me toppling to the ground almost before I knew it had impacted. "A prisoner, actually, from a ship we took over years ago. I can't help but feel it's a bit of a dirty trick."

"It's effective." Frankly, I wouldn't like to use such acrobatics in a real fight, but Gunter didn't seem to want anything more to do with real fights, disavowing his military time as he'd taken to doing. And I didn't want Gunter in the way of a sharpened sword. All well and good. "Limited application, though. There aren't many with hair as long as—"

Bells rang out. From the city, not within the castle. A general alarm. Could mean an enemy attack force, an insurgence from within, a natural disaster, a massive accident… But I knew from the first bone-thrumming chime that it meant plague. Beside me, Gunter covered his face in his hands, coming to the same conclusion.

Our safeguards hadn't been put in place fast enough. Someone had jumped quarantine, or it was already out before we got the message to the towns in question. It had moved fast across the country. Spreading like wildfire.

I barely noticed Gavril extending a comforting hand to him. Or I noticed, but couldn't invest more than a fleeting moment in enraged jealousy before I bolted for the castle. Mother wouldn't handle this well. If I didn't step in immediately, it would be Evert or Stoffel directing this disaster.

They were both already in the throne room when I arrived, and Evert was still obviously holding a grudge from the night before. "Nice of you to join us, Gwen." He'd obviously arrived just this moment himself. "Pity your little barricade seems to have failed."

"May we please recriminate later? Mother, has it reached the capital yet?" Not that, ultimately, we had any right to more protection than any other city. But it was a definite strike at the country's morale.

"It's close, Gwen, and I've heard that this illness can jump on the wind as well as being carried…"

"Probably not true." I hoped. I wasn't a healer. "We've got time to prepare, then, get a task force together, organize the healers, set up a sick bay. If I can borrow a few messengers, I can get word out to the citizens about symptoms and who's most susceptible."

"Yes, yes, do that." Mother sighed. "And… close the gates. Unless it's an absolute emergency no one leaves."

"Or enters." We had to be firm about that. One refugee dying at the gates would be better than the whole city succumbing.

I didn't really think they were listening, but I kept talking to keep myself sane. "Shortness of breath and flu-like symptoms followed by a very high fever with common hallucinations. Occasionally leading to blindness or crippling. The first sign is a gray tinge to the complexion. The disease progresses very quickly. The very young and old are generally infected first."

"Yes, Gwendal, we could read this out of half a dozen books in the library." Stoffel sighed. "Messengers will be sent. There's not much we can do for now." I wasn't sure how to read my uncle, but it was pretty clear I wouldn't be allowed to have much to do with whatever measures we took. I went back outside and almost walked straight into Gunter.

"Has it arrived?"

"Not yet." I swallowed. "All reasonable precautions will be taken, or so I'm led to assume." After a moment, I met his eyes. Gunter was a bit pale and his eyes troubled, but he seemed collected.

"I'll prepare whatever information I can." He nodded serenely. "It's doubtful we'll have long to wait."

I nodded back and took my leave, watching as he moved toward the library. The weight in his braided hair made it swing like a pendulum, back and forth across his body, every slim curve of muscle I could spot… Enough. I'd keep that image to sustain me while the world exploded in crisis in all directions.

Gunter was right, of course. The first case of Grey Plague was identified in a milliner's twelve year-old daughter on Heimdal Road half a mile from the castle, only two days later. Those were a busy two days for me.

My uncle and stepfather successfully kept me out of official preparations. They didn't do a poor job, that I could see, and employed all their servants and guards appropriately. Keeping me out of the planning was sheer, unadulterated pettiness. I spent most of the rest of that first day sulking, ashamed as I was to admit it. They were unjust. I was petulant.

By the next morning, though, I was tired of hopeless moping, and the reports from the countryside, carried by Flybones and relayed by scrying, were increasingly frightening. Local healers keeling over, whole families being stricken at once, and already talk of localized edicts forbidding funeral rites in favor of mass graves. At least Mother let me read those.

Too many cups of coffee and an hour spent staring out a window brought me to a semblance of a plan. Not to save Shin Makoku, not even to save the city. Thanks for my power-mad adversaries, that was denied me. But to protect who I could. Over lunch I located both Dakaskos and the redheaded maid (Lazana, her name turned out to be) I'd rescued from young Lord Rochefort and gave each of them half my list of names and a message to repeat. I didn't know who'd answer my summons. I made sure to include my full title. Maybe some would come for Cecilie's son, some for Florian's, some only for Lord Von Voltaire, and maybe, just a few, for Gwendal. I'd need them all.

I hadn't had high hopes, but when I walked into the room I'd chosen for my appointment, it was full. It didn't look like anyone had refused. I'd chosen a large parlor and there still wasn't room for everyone to sit. I'd expected Gunter, and how could I have been surprised by my dear fiancé? Adelbert Von Grantz was chatting with Gavril. Delicate as a little posy, but oddly intense, Suzanna Julia was perched on one arm of Griesela Geigenhuber's chair. Anissina was cross-legged in the middle of the table, knitting away at some sort of pointy hat, while Von Gyllenhaal was uncomfortably crammed onto a tiny window seat beside one of a half dozen knights whose names I couldn't match to faces.

Fortunately, public speaking was one thing that didn't intimidate me. "I'm glad to see so many responding to my request."

"You've intrigued us, Von Voltaire." Adelbert saluted me with a mug of tea. It seemed Lazana had arranged for refreshments as well. I reminded myself to thank her. Should have thought of it myself.

"That was my intention." If not swayed by the good of their countrymen, then maybe curiosity would do it, after all. "Well, I don't doubt everyone in the room knows the situation. Shin Makoku's currently being overrun by plague. It'll no doubt hit the capital as it's hitting everywhere else. The Maou, with help from her husband and brother, has been securing the countryside as well as possible." I hoped. Everyone hoped. "And of course travel's ill-advised at such a time. For better or for worse, court has become a trap."

"Gwendal, must you be so overdramatic?" Dirk had claimed the best chair in the room and had his feet up on the Ottoman so no one could sit there. Of course. I resisted the urge to throw a biscuit at him.

"If the time comes, Dirk, when I am overdramatic, I'll be sure to let you know." In this crowd, I could glare him down. He looked almost meek. "What I'm proposing is that those of use least likely to be stricken, and most likely to survive if we are, form a task force for the good of the city. I'll be sending messengers outside the castle walls to attempt to organize the young and healthy Mazoku. And humans as well, if they volunteer." I made sure to emphasize every word of that sentence. Neither excluding them nor pressing them into service was going to be tolerated. And human immune systems tended to be a bit weaker, or so I'd read.

"To do what, Gwen?" Anissina chimed in. Whenever I made plans she tended to poke holes in them until airtight. In retrospect, I should have spoken to her before, so as not to go through the routine in public. Damn. At least this one I could answer.

"The majority of us have at least the raw ability to heal and the strength to back it, so we can assist the professionals. In addition, we can tend to the afflicted, organize sick bays, and move victims around efficiently. And unless anyone has a better idea, I'll be splitting the rest of the city into quadrants, so four of us will be heading up the volunteers in those four areas and reporting to me. The rest should be sufficient for the castle inhabitants and staff."

"I'll head one." Gavril raised a hand. "Happy to. Good idea, Gwendal."

"Thank you. Now, before anyone else assigns themselves, keep in mind you'll be putting yourself at considerable risk. We're all strong enough to fight this off, theoretically, but you'll be exposing yourself to the plague. Constantly. Anyone who wants to avoid that may leave and we'll not think the less of you." I felt obligated to tack that on at the end.

Fortunately, no one left. Two knights, a girl from Bielefeld territory and one of the castle's own, took a quadrant to head, as did Von Gyllenhaal. The others were already planning out what steps to take. I just had a few special assignments to make.

"Lady Wincott?" I wasn't sure if there was protocol for addressing someone blind, since obviously a bow would be invisible. I did it anyway, for good measure. This was a delicate situation. She hadn't actually been on my list of invites. Perhaps she'd been told by a friend. "I'm not sure what you were thinking of adding to—"

"Oh, don't worry, Lord Von Christ." She smiled charmingly. "I'm actually trained as a healer. Letting my father know I'll be assisting a powerful lord's endeavor to save the city will be very helpful in convincing him not to fret when I join in in the infirmiry."

"Normally I'd shrink from confronting your father on such a matter, but considering our need, it's an honor to have you." I smiled. A brave young woman. "I'm simply somewhat worried for your health." How was I supposed to say she was probably too young to risk exposing herself?

"I may have some growing left to do, but I'll take all the risk myself, thank you very much, Lord Von Voltaire." Another innocent smile. What a little she-wolf this one was. I conceded defeat. Well, that was something of a load off my shoulders…

The door opened behind me. I turned to find Conrart and some of his his cohort. That redheaded girl, the Bielefeld twins, Josak (when on earth had he gotten here?), and Wolfram and Giesela hanging back a bit. "Gwendal? Is the meeting over?"

This was going to get ugly. "What did you hear?"

"That you're getting everyone young and strong enough to help together. And all of us are helping."

"No. You are not." Once more I cursed the legal adulthood of age sixteen. Conrart was a child, physically if not mentally, with his partially human mind and upbringing. "Every one of you is highly at risk." I knew he'd kick and scream the whole way. If he couldn't be the hero, Conrart just wasn't happy. "If you try and insinuate yourself, I'll have Mother lock you in your bedroom, and you should know better than to lead your friends into danger."

"They know what they're doing. I know what I'm doing. We're helping!"

"Yes, Gwen, can we please?" I didn't know which twin was speaking. There were subtle differences, but it was too much work to remember which of them it was that had the pointier nose or the slight widow's peak.

"No, Mael or Maddox, you may not." Brat and slightly less of a brat brat. They were probably only here because they didn't want Conrart to upstage them. And my stepbrother's use of the nickname didn't soften me.

"Gwen!" Wolfram, I supposed, was allowed to call me that, but I wished he wouldn't in public. He grabbed onto my hand. "Come on, Gwen. I'm so good at magic, and so is Giesela. We'd save a whole bunch of people!" I glanced over and was glad to see Gunter already talking his daughter down. Good, one less for me to deal with.

"Wolfram…" I picked him up. "This illness attacks little kids first. You'll be in a lot of danger even if you stay out of the way. If you get sick, Mother will cry."

"But I never get sick!"

"Wolf, you're such a little liar." He had a cold half the time. "The best thing for you and Giesela to do is stay out of the way as much as possible. This really is for grown-ups to deal with."

"I'm not that little!"

"End of discussion, Wolfram." I put him down. Conrart was still glaring, and his young lady (Emily?) as well. "As it is for you. Hello, Josak."

"Hi, Gwendal." He waved. A sweet kid, tiny and skinny, easily spooked. "Chose a bad time to come and visit, huh?"

"Yes. But we'll look after you." I'd never like Conrart's father. Lord Weller, even in memory, rankled. But I'd learned an odd affection for his town's worth of followers, all the human husbands and wives and their half-and-half children. I tried to look after them, feeling being there for Weller's death and witnessing it all was essentially a promise. "And I suppose you want to help, too?"

"Well, I'll help Conrart."

"Here's your job. Hold him back if he decides to go gallivanting off on a rescue attempt that'll get him the Plague."

I stood and turned. Oh, by no means was it the end of the argument, but I'd finish it later. "I think, for the time being, we've discussed all we need to. Once the plague hits we'll be busy again. Quadrant captains, please come with me to dispatch messengers as needed."

The rest of the day was bureaucratically busy. I had my force assembled, and now I needed to learn, quickly, how to coordinate effectively. It was enough like leading troops that I wasn't entirely lost, but coordinating dozens of disjointed, youthful Mazoku from all walks of life provided plenty of its own challenges.

Gavril carried the first victim to the castle. I'd already spoken to the healers, though not my uncle and Evert, and they'd agreed that the first few should definitely be brought to the castle where the best healers and facilities were. Gavril kept the little girl stable and they managed to cure her within the hour.

But by the end of that hour there were two more, and one was already hallucinating by the time one of Anissina's maids got him into the infirmary. The infection count for that day was seventeen, the last of them Wolfram.

Doing them some measure of credit, it was Mael and Maddox who brought him to my attention. He'd, of course, been defiantly sneaking around (without Giesela—Gunter seemed to have properly put the fear of God in her). Naively expecting him to stay put in his bedroom was all our mistake. I'd been too busy to worry about it, and so, I suppose, had Mother. Who'd ever expect Evert to bother looking after the boy?

I carried him to Mother's room instead of the crowded infirmary. Preferential treatment by all means, but I couldn't help the partiality. He was already feverish and he would have been scared. After I brought a healer to see him, I sat with him most of an hour, feeling terribly irresponsible. Personal feelings again. But at this point the healers were already feeling spent. A complete healing wasn't possible. They'd be back tomorrow. I told him all of that, babbled a few poorly-remembered fairy tales… I even tried to sing, something I probably shouldn't have inflicted on someone healthy.

I only left when Mother came up to relieve me. To no one's surprise, by morning she was sick, too. And I lost the first of my special agents.

One would expect a solid young man like Dirk would be healthy as a horse, but when I sent Anissina to find him after lunch, he was discovered coughing his lungs out and looking very gray about the gills. I couldn't say I was sorry with a straight face.

The days blended together after that. Every room of any size was converted to a sick bay. Recovery was slow, healers were strained to the breaking point, and we lost more every day. Julia almost killed herself insisting on continuing to tend to the sick until she fainted. Anissina I found feverishly pulling apart a gas lamp babbling about an anti-plague engine she was going to make out of moth balls and a bassoon, and I had to fight her all the way to the infirmary. On the way back from depositing my dearest, if most infuriating, friend in her sick bed, I almost walked straight into a gray-faced Raven carrying an unconscious Conrart.

And the chaos in the city. Three quarters of the garrison was ill. People were scared. There were riots. Deaths went unreported, no doubt spreading disease further. My task force shrunk from desertion as well as illness, and I couldn't blame them. Gavril eventually returned to the castle, as all his city help had deserted him, and by then we needed the extra hands.

What kept me sane through it all was Gunter. He usually assisted the professional healers, not as qualified as they but in many cases as talented. He kept so perfectly calm, directing those who were still healthy enough and dedicated enough to be assisting, picking up and covering for me when worry for my sick family, and worry in general, overpowered me for a bit. He made me sleep at least a few hours a night and eat at least two solid meals. An angel. And I was too frazzled and stressed even to really enjoy it.

It was the fifth, maybe the sixth day since the plague had hit, two in the morning. I'd just put little Lazana down—on an old blanket on the floor of the banquet hall. If it filled up we'd need to move into the still scorched ballroom. Wolfram was looking better, but Conrart had yet to wake up, and Mother was babbling about unseen creatures, eyes wide open. It seemed every one of them was especially susceptible.

"I may be at the end of my rope." Gunter had shoved me into bed, and I didn't have the energy to get up again.

He put a mug of sweet-smelling chamomile in my hands. "You've held up wonderfully. I'm sure they'll all look better in the morning."

"Possibly. But a few hundred more will look worse."

"Take your comfort where you can, Gwendal." He patted my shoulder, nose above his mug. It was hot in the room, but the steam smelled soft and comforting. "Your efforts have been nothing short of heroic. You're exhausted. No one will blame you for enjoying your family recovering, even if you haven't saved everyone else yet."

"Small comfort. Gunter…" I bit my lip. I'd been about to say something quite foolish. "You've done more good than I have."

"We've both done what we do best. And my daughter's managed to stay healthy." He turned away and let out a tiny cough.

Enough to get me up in arms. "Gunter?"

"It's nothing. Clearing my throat." He smiled, but weakly. As I opened my mouth to contradict him, his eyes went oddly blank and the cup of tea fell from his hands. It fell agonizingly slowly as Gunter's eyes slid shut and he slumped against me.