Author's Note: I've finished the revisions for this chapter. Two new POVs added and significant revisions made to the original POVs, so definitely worth a re-read if you've already looked it over.

1/Kaeleer

Lilith hadn't come back. 'Nelle counted the days since her friend left for Hayll, and knew that something had gone awry. She should have returned over a week ago if everything had gone as planned. Granted, a delay didn't necessarily mean trouble. Any number of little things could have added a day or two. Maybe a whole week. But no matter how many times she'd repeated that to herself, the longer her friend stayed in Hayll, the more nervous 'Nelle became.

I should have tried harder to convince Lilith to let me go with her. After all, Sapphire is no match for Meredith's Gray. Then again, 'Nelle wasn't entirely certain Lilith didn't have another Jewel to back up the Sapphire. True, she'd only ever sensed a Birthright Jewel whenever her friend was around. That doesn't mean she hasn't been masking a Rank Jewel, though.

When Lilith got back, 'Nelle intended to ask her about it…right after she threatened to strangle her for scaring her this badly.

And after Papa is finished scolding her.

He was bound to be angry when she told him where Lilith had gone- with both of them. 'Nelle wasn't looking forward to that part. Not one bit. But if anything happened to her friend while she was there and someone had to go into Hayll to rescue her…Papa would be furious. 'Nelle didn't want to contemplate his reaction should the worst happen- if Lilith got herself killed and wound up in Hell among the demon dead.

*When is the Lady coming home?*

'Nelle looked over at Haedyn and admitted that her Papa wouldn't be the only one who would be furious. If Lilith came to harm in Hayll, Taenne and Haedyn would be most upset. They were never happy about her going to Hayll without them. Hardly surprising behavior for Warlord Princes. Especially when those Princes also happened to be Arcerian.

"She'll be home soon."

*You said that before* Taenne growled.

"I know, and I promise that when I'm done yelling at her for being late, you can have a turn."

*Is dangerous to go to the damaged territory alone*

"She's always comes back all right. This trip is just taking a little longer, that's all."

Haedyn padded over to her and laid his head in her lap. 'Nelle obliged him and scratched his ear. The cat purred loudly, but she knew he was still worried about Lilith. He sat back on his haunches. *Find out why?*

"Not this time. She said she wouldn't be able to leave messages at the Keep like before."

*Go find her?* Taenne suggested.

"You know you can't do that," 'Nelle replied sharply, worried that they might actually try to go to Draega. "Hayll is even more dangerous for the both of you than it is for Lilith."

And that was true. 'Nelle's friends in Terreille had told her horror stories of what happened to blood males in Hayll. Especially in Meredith's court. Valinna, her Black Widow advisor, was especially dangerous, even for a Red-Jeweled Arcerian- or two. Lilith would never forgive 'Nelle if either of them were hurt because she hadn't been able to keep them in Kaeleer.

Haedyn's tail twitched ominously, as did Taenne's. The latter finally agreed, *Will wait for a while longer*

"Good- glad to hear it. We all are in this together."

*The Strange One can help* Haedyn suggested.

'Nelle supposed she could walk to Halaway and visit with Tersa. She hadn't been able to give her news of Lilith's whereabouts the last four times she'd been there, but it wouldn't hurt to try again. At least that was more productive than sitting in her room pacing and worrying. She called in a pair of shoes to wear, stood and gave the cats each a pat on the head.

"I'm not sure if she will be able to tell us anything, but we can ask."

On the way to the front entrance hall, 'Nelle passed footmen and maids going about their duties. The Hall employed enough people that it could almost be considered a village in and of itself. Probably why she hadn't ever felt the need to find her own place. Maybe someday, but for now, she felt content to live in the home where she'd grown up.

'Nelle had just laid her hand on the door handle when she heard, "Going somewhere, witch-child?"

Then again, there are those times when living here comes with its disadvantages. She turned around and shrugged. "Just down to Halaway for the afternoon, Papa."

"That's every day this week. Unusually frequent- even for you. Any special reason?"

"I'm just visiting friends."

"A friend in particular?"

Mother Night, it was like she was still ten years old sometimes. Didn't matter that she was a grown witch and could manage her personal life for herself. Any time she took a lover, Papa got all edgy about it. Which, in turn, made them edgy. Not many males were up to the challenge of dealing with her family. Since having her Virgin Night, 'Nelle had only known a dozen or so short term partners. A few months or even a year or two, and then feelings would wane and they'd part company.

It was fun and exciting for a while, but now…I dunno. Maybe Lilith's right about sticking with platonic relationships.

'Nelle shook herself out of those thoughts, realizing with more than a little chagrin that she hadn't answered the question. "No, Papa. No one in particular."

If he didn't believe her, he didn't let on. Instead, he let his gaze fall to the pair of furry males trailing after her. "You're taking the cats with you?"

"They offered to stand escort for the afternoon."

"Try to keep the village in one piece, witch-child. I don't want Lady Mitzah in my study again so soon after the last time."

"It's been months since that happened!" He merely stared at her. It wasn't quite like Uncle Lucivar's stare, but she still felt the urge to fidget. 'Nelle released an exasperated sigh. "Yes, Papa. We'll be good and won't cause trouble."

"Thank the Darkness."

With that, he headed to his study and she was free to continue on her way. 'Nelle counted herself fortunate that he wasn't in a mood to ask questions. A few days ago, Papa had noticed her lack of enthusiasm at the dinner table and his probing had nearly gotten her to reveal the reason. 'Nelle was determined not to be put in that situation again. She had to stay focused. Had to keep buying time.

And maybe if I convince them that I'm not worried, I'll believe it myself.

2/Terreille

Dahlen crossed the street, headed for The Double Barrel. Since arriving with Raenel a few weeks ago, he and the others had come to think of the tavern as their favorite place to gather. Well, favorite wasn't quite the right word- more that they felt less conspicuous when surrounded by other groups. Meeting in public still felt strange after so many years of having to keep their interactions secret. But then, a lot of what they'd experienced here felt strange.

I wonder if any of us will ever become used to witches treating us with respect.

After the audience with Lady Gwynn, the six of them had been settled at the main boarding house. Paeter had brought up the uncomfortable subject of marks; no one else had wanted to broach it for fear they'd be asked to 'serve' in exchange. After all, bedroom work was the only skill they had to trade. To their surprise, the Queen arranged for lodging and meals to be paid out of the district tithes for a set time. No repayment required. Just the condition that they would either take up a trade in the community or decide to leave once that period ended.

A fair deal. They'd made some progress in doing the former in the weeks since. Several members of the community took the time to escort them around. Touring Guild Street and the market square had given the group a sense of the various opportunities they'd find the district. Dahlen hadn't seen anything that sparked his interest, but a few of the others were more enthusiastic.

He ducked inside the tavern and raised a hand in greeting to Paeter, who was waiting for him at one of the smaller side tables. As he sat down, he queried, "No one else, then?"

"Cassel said he'd be here soon, but the others are all busy this afternoon."

"Busy doing what?"

"Jemal mentioned something about meeting with the district guards. Vaughn and Jaeren were going back to Guild Street."

"Given that he was the most pessimistic of all of us about this whole deal, I'm surprised to see Jaeren so eager to join this community," Dahlen remarked while signaling to Sorena, who was waiting tables today.

"I'm not," Paeter replied.

Sorena approached the table, and yet kept an arm's length away. All of the witches had been doing that these past few weeks. Not out of fear or disgust as Vaughn had initially proposed, but as a courtesy. Giving them the power to decide if they wanted to allow a witch inside their personal space. Dahlen was grateful to have that choice. Although he felt safe in this district, he wasn't entirely comfortable with anyone other than Raenel.

"Can I get anything for you, Warlord?"

"A flagon of ale and whatever the kitchen is serving for the midday meal, if you please."

"I'll put that in straight away." She turned to Paeter. "Anything for you?"

"The same, thanks. We'll be joined by one of our friends, and he's asked us to order on his behalf. I expect he'll appreciate whatever we're having."

"Of course."

The witch hurried off in the direction of the kitchen. From this vantage point, she reminded him of Kareal. The same height and build. Even her hair- shorn close to the jawline instead of grown out long in the style favored by most Hayllian witches. His thoughts strayed from the present conversation as he recalled in exact detail the lover he'd had to leave behind. An ache formed in his chest.

"You've got that look again," he heard Paeter say.

"I can't help it." The serving witch returned with their ale. Dahlen took a long drink and set it down again. "I miss her, Paeter. She was only mine of that one day, but…I miss her."

"I know. I feel the same about Fawne."

He nudged the tankard back and forth in front of him before summing up the courage to ask, "Do you wish you'd asked her to come with you?"

Paeter thought for several moments. Around them, the tavern was alive with conversations of the other patrons. None of them paid their discussion any attention. Dahlen raised the mug to his lips and drained a good measure of ale as he waited in nervous silence for his friend's answer.

"Yes," Paeter admitted at last. "If I'd known about this place, I would have asked her to leave that wretched hall with me."

"I almost asked Kareal, but…"

"But?"

"What would I have to offer her for the risk she'd be taking? If the bitches ever caught us, Kareal would pay just as much as I would." He finished his drink and sighed. "I couldn't ask her to endure that. Not after just one night together."

Paeter looked as though he was going to say something, but then their meal arrived. Carved pork slices with roasted peppers and caramelized onions on thick slices of sourdough bread. Deep fried potato wedges filled the rest of the plate. He thanked the witch and ordered a second flagon of ale. She'd delivered it and gone before his friend deemed it safe to speak again.

"You focus too much on the time spent."

Better than dwelling on the other reason I couldn't ask her to come with me.

He merely shrugged. "It's a moot point now."

"We could ask Raenel's help to get them out for us."

"It's too dangerous. What if she's seen by one of the coven bitches? It'll ruin the plan she and DeSade worked out to make Meredith believe she was dead."

"And how dangerous is it to leave Fawne and Kareal to the whims of the coven," Paeter countered in a grim undertone. "How long before one or both of them wind up in the clutches of Meredith's pet warlords?"

As much as he wanted to deny that it could happen, Dahlen knew the man was right. Keeping their heads down and trusting to luck would only work for so long. Especially now that the Rings were gone. With no pleasure slaves around, the bitches would be looking for new outlets for their twisted entertainment. Meredith already had a reputation for abusing her housekeeping staff; things were almost certain to get a whole lot worse. Could he really leave Kareal to those monsters?

"I suppose we've nothing to lose in asking."

For a time, they ate in pensive silence. Then the door opened to admit Cassel. The Warlord scanned the room until he saw them and he ambled over. Quite the change from his condition when they first arrived. Dahlen was sure he made it out of the hall on sheer determination alone. But a few weeks of rest and decent food- not to mention additional healing sessions with Raenel- had speeded his recovery from Geara's vicious attack.

"I see you've already ordered on my account."

"That we did, but you'll have to forgive us for not waiting."

Cassel laughed. "Wouldn't dare." He sat in the remaining empty chair and tucked into his own meal. "I lost track of time talking with Turrin."

"What about?"

"This and that. I was wondering if there'd be anything I could do for the Lady."

Dahlen exchanged a quick glance with Paeter. To him, that sounded as though Cassel was interested in working at close quarters with the Queen. Finding work among the artisans and craftsmen in the district was one thing, but serving the Queen directly was a whole other matter. He had to wonder if his friend had really thought it through.

"You aren't serious," he protested in mild shock.

"I am. I know it sounds crazy, but from the moment I saw her, I just…I dunno. It's like I belong here- with her." Cassel shook his head and waved off the subject with his hand. "I don't expect you to understand."

His friend was right. He did sound crazy. But when he expected to hear Paeter agree to that effect, Dahlen was caught flat-footed for a second time.

"I do. Because I felt the same way."

"I don't believe what I'm hearing. The both of you are talking about serving a Queen."

"Yes, we are, Dahlen. But it's not the same as what it meant to serve Meredith. This is something else."

Obviously. Even if he didn't understand why they were willing to sign their lives over to Lady Gwynn, Dahlen knew she would never ask the kinds of 'services' Meredith and her coven had demanded of them. Nor would she let any other witch. But if they did offer up their services, they would be agreeing to stay on permanently. He wasn't sure if they could leave the district without her permission.

"You'll feel the same way one day," Cassel assured him. "Sometimes, it just takes longer, I think."

The words sounded as though they made sense, but Dahlen knew he'd never sign on with Lady Gwynn. He was willing to contribute to this community- wholeheartedly- and help wherever he might be needed. But he would not bind himself to this place or its Queen. He couldn't. Because he knew the day was coming when Raenel would be leaving.

And when that day comes, I need to be free to go with her.

3/Terreille

"This can't possibly work the way you say."

"I promise you it does," Lilith replied distractedly, her attention focused on repairing a stack of Craft books and Protocol primers. Constant use had worn the bindings to the point pages were falling out. But she'd happily spend the hours needed to fix them if it meant that the Old Ways were returning to Hayll. Lilith only lamented that she could not smuggle more copies into the territory to meet the demand. "It absolutely does."

"Raenel, be serious."

"I've seen it firsthand. Trust me, I'm serious."

"Fussing? They have rules about fussing?"

The exasperation in Gwynn's tone prompted Lilith to close the book she held and look up. The young Queen was obviously skeptical about the passage she'd found…or one of the warlords had found, more likely. Lilith's marks were on Ellard or Turrin. Didn't matter who discovered that bit of Protocol, she supposed that now she would have the fun of explaining it to Gwynn.

Like so many other things I've had to explain over the past half century.

When Lilith came to this section of Draega a half century ago, it had been little more than a dirty slum. Violence and intimidation made it dangerous for anyone to walk freely in its streets- even in daylight. For most, it was kill or be killed. Or worse. Which made it the perfect place for her to settle in and start working. Meredith and her pet Queens would see it as unworthy of their interest, leaving Lilith to work quietly and unnoticed as she undid millennia upon millennia of damage done to Blood society in Hayll.

Trouble was, she hadn't really known how to begin.

And then she stumbled upon Gwynn. Young, terrified Gwynn. She'd been just leaving adolescence behind at the time, but that didn't matter to the Blood males who had her trapped in a back alley. They were out for her blood. A Queen's blood. Lilith couldn't entirely blame them, given what they'd experienced of Queens. And yet she wasn't going to stand by and let them unleash all that hatred on an innocent target. So she gave them a choice:

Live to rebuild the Old Ways…or die.

Some wouldn't, or couldn't accept the offer. Rather, most, to Lilith's disappointment if not surprise. But enough people had taken her offer to teach them the Protocols they'd all forgotten. Enough to build that first community. Fifty years later, Lilith was helping well over two dozen places like it remember what the Blood were supposed to be. A lot of work, and most of it spent travelling from one community to another- especially in the early days. Almost never found her way back in Kaeleer.

But that all changed when she'd met 'Nelle. Happened quite by accident. Lilith had gone to the Keep to do some Craft research in the library, expecting to be there for an afternoon. Then 'Nelle rounded a corner and saw her, turning an afternoon into three days. The Keep and then the Hall to meet the rest of the SaDiablo family. An experience that would've sent most running from Dhemlan, never to return. But Lilith gravitated towards their strong personalities.

Probably why I couldn't stop myself from visiting them every few weeks ever since.

Which means 'Nelle ought to be beside herself with worry by now. Overdue by nearly a month and no word sent along to let her know how I'm doing. She couldn't risk it. Couldn't afford any of the SaDiablos- Daemon in particular- discovering what she was doing in Hayll. That was one fire I don't want to light until I absolutely have to.

"Raenel, are you paying attention?"

That'd be Gwynn, reminding her that she still had to explain the finer points about fussing. "Sorry, my mind wandered."

"Well, if you'd like to wander back, maybe you could tell me why any of this makes sense."

"Oh if you're wanting it to make sense then you are asking the impossible," Lilith laughed as she crossed the room and took a seat. "Fussing is one of the irritating, irrational male things that is meant to drive witches crazy."

"One of?"

"My darling, you've only scratched the surface of Protocol, even after a few decades of study. As I've said before- Blood society as a dance. Fluid and dependent on the interplay of its partners. Protocol provides the steps that rule the dance and keeps it balanced."

"How does that explain why there are pieces of it that say I have to put up with this?"

"There are ways to ensure you don't have to, but my advice is to grit your teeth and bear it."

Gwynn stared at her if she'd lost her mind. "Why?"

"Because it means you've selected males that truly serve you. Your First Circle needs to be committed to protecting you as their Queen, and fussing is an extension of that protection." While the young Queen didn't look all that convinced, Lilith saw this as a perfect time to segue into a related topic. "Speaking of Courts- I think it's time you selected yours."

In truth, Gwynn had been supported by an unofficial court for a handful of years now, even if she didn't realize it. Lilith already knew which three warlords would make up the Queen's Triangle. While they would continue on under the current circumstances as long as needed, the time had come for their positions to be recognized for what they were. Lilith only hoped that when she brought the subject up this time that Gwynn would be more receptive.

"No," the witch protested as she shook her head. "I can't do that. We're not ready yet to face Meredith or her coven."

"Did I say that's what you were going to do?"

"You said that I was going to…"

"Select your court. That's not the same thing as sending Meredith an open invitation for war. I've spent time in Shalador Nehele talking with the people there about how their Queens ruled in secret under Hekatah and Dorothea's rule."

"Oh."

"I've already tested their techniques in other districts. It works. I think they will work well here, too, until you are ready to take on Meredith."

A speculative look from Gwynn, who put down her Protocol book. She leaned against the windowsill and crossed her arms. "And when might that be?"

If all went according to plan, two years. Although perhaps she could cut that down to a year- or even six months- if she took more direct action. Given the turn things had taken with Alex' rescue, speeding things along might be for the best. But Lilith couldn't say any of that to Gwynn without inviting too many questions. So she tossed her gaze upwards and pretended to contemplate the possibilities.

"Couldn't tell you, exactly, but it'll depend mostly on all of you. Defeating Meredith will take strong courts."

"If you're talking about Jewels…"

"Oh there's no doubt that Meredith and her coven possess superior Jewel strength," Lilith countered quickly. "I'm talking about the kind of strength that comes from a well-matched court where Queen and her First Circle form a partnership committed to one another."

"And you think that I can do that?"

"I'd stake the survival of Hayll on it."

4/Terreille

Kareal tossed Arren two corners of a bedsheet and they set out to fold it with the same meticulous precision as the previous ten already stacked in the basket beside her. In a hall this size, laundry was a never-ending task. But not an unpleasant one when compared to most of her other duties.

"Another one done," Arren said after they'd completed the last fold. "How many more to go?"

Kareal checked the pile. "Six, give or take."

"Then I suppose it's off to polish and dust for the rest of the afternoon."

"Whose suites are you cleaning today?"

"Idrina's, and then Geara's. You?"

"Bethaeny and Chenoa."

"I'd gladly trade you."

The words were spoken lightly, intended to be taken as a joke, but Kareal couldn't find the humor. Not whenever Idrina's name came up. She hadn't forgotten the look on that bitch's face when she'd demanded Dahlen come to her suite. Nor had she forgotten the tone of his voice when he'd bade her goodbye the following morning. He may have said there wasn't time to make that farewell in person, but Kareal suspected his decision to use a psychic thread had more to do with what happened the night before.

If I'm ever asked to do anything for her, I'll poison the bitch.

"I'll pass, thanks."

Arren grimaced in sympathy. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"It's fine," she insisted while grabbing another sheet. "I'm just glad I've never been important enough to deal with Meredith or Valinna."

Like Fawne.

"Or the Prince, for that matter."

Now there was a topic best left undiscussed. Kareal hadn't forgotten her unsettling encounter with DeSade, and Dahlen hadn't done her any favors when he told her what had really happened the morning he and the others fled the hall. To know the Prince was out there- without a Ring and no one to stop him- had kept her awake several nights over the past few weeks.

"I mean, especially now when he's confined to his suite with that witch. At least before, they'd arrange for one of us to go in while he was out servicing the coven or whatever. Or have they just put any cleaning on hold until he's done with her?"

That witch had to be out of her mind to free him. He could have torn her apart.

According to Dahlen, though, DeSade had done no such thing. And while she got the sense he wasn't entirely happy with the Prince, he made it clear that Raenel had managed to survive the safframate with his help. Kareal knew what 'help' meant in that context, and found that detail to be the one she had the hardest time believing.

"Kareal?"

She snapped back to the present with an inward breath. "Sorry, distracted for a moment."

"What do you think?"

"About?"

"DeSade- what do you suppose he's done to that witch? I mean…two weeks. I just don't know how she's still alive."

Grabbing another sheet, Kareal sidestepped the question. "I try not to think about it."

"Yeah, but-" Arren studied her closely for a moment. "You know something, don't you?"

Hedging wasn't going to work at this point, and Kareal doubted the witch would believe an outright lie, even if she could manage one. But she did have one last option that she hoped would deflect Arren from asking any more questions.

"All right, I might have some information about the Prince. But it's not exactly safe to talk about it, if you get my point. Are you really sure you want me to tell you?"

"How dangerous?"

"Meredith and Valinna have been keeping secrets from the coven. What do you think they'd do if they found out you knew what they've been hiding?"

"I see."

The tactic worked, and the witch didn't press any more about DeSade. They worked in silence, finishing up the last of the linens. Kareal divided the stack in half and vanished her portion. Arren did the same, and then ventured to ask, "I know I probably shouldn't pry- but have you heard from Dahlen at all?"

I almost wish you'd kept asking about DeSade.

"Not since the day he and the others disappeared," she answered, hoping her tone didn't betray how much her heart ached with every passing day. "Why?"

"No reason. I just thought since you and him…you know…that maybe you've had word of how they're doing."

That makes two of us.

In truth, Kareal had hoped he would send for her once he'd shaken the coven's trail. She didn't care if it meant leaving Draega. Or Hayll altogether, for that matter. Aside from Fawne, she had no real ties to this province after her parents died. And it wasn't like her skills as a housekeeper wouldn't be of use wherever they ended up; people always needed someone to take care of their undesirable chores.

But two weeks had gone by with not a single word from him. If Meredith didn't rage daily about not having located the missing pleasure slaves, Kareal might have worried that Dahlen and his friends had been recaptured. But they were still out there, leaving her to invent reasons why she hadn't heard from him. Like not wanting to put her at risk by sending a message. Or maybe he'd had to leave the city and was too far to contact her on a private psychic thread.

Or maybe once Raenel won him his freedom, he realized he wasn't as interested in a witch like me as he'd thought.

Not something she intended to tell Arren, but a discussion she might be willing to have with Fawne. After all, her friend was going through the same thing with Paeter. Couldn't hurt to ask for her advice. But later. Once the evening meal was done and all the coven witches would settle in their rooms. Unlikely to be interrupted with any summons then.

"Sorry, I guess I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Don't be sorry. I'm just glad that they got away, even if it means he's lost to me. At least Idrina won't be able to hurt him anymore."

"Do you-" Arren stopped short and bit her lip. "Never mind."

"What?"

"No, I've already put my foot in my mouth once. Besides, I ought to get going before lady bitch summons me."

"Arren."

The witch fussed with her skirts and then finally relented, "I was just hoping to get your opinion on something that I've been mulling over for the last few weeks. You and Fawne were the only two who could give me any insight- you in particular." Oh this can't be good. "Do you regret having taken Dahlen as a lover? I mean…was one night worth it?"

"Yes." Kareal meant it. Didn't even need to think about her answer. But she did have to wonder why Arren looked crestfallen. "Why?"

"Cassel."

She couldn't suppress a look of surprise, or keep it out of her voice when she said, "Oh. I didn't know you and him-"

"We weren't. I mean, he was always kind to me, but it never went beyond that. Once or twice I thought he might have been interested."

"And you? Were you interested?"

Arren blushed, which was answer enough. Then she sighed with genuine regret. "Doesn't matter now, does it? He's gone like the others."

She wouldn't say something stupid like there could be a chance of seeing Cassel again. False hope wouldn't be of any help. Nor would words of sympathy, no matter how well-intentioned. But it was all she had, and so Kareal opened her mouth to give it, anyway. And then she felt a tap on her barriers.

"Oh hell's fire," she cursed. "I have to go. Lady Bethaeny is waiting."

"I wish you luck with it. And thanks. For you know…listening."

With a nod, Kareal assured her, "No problem."

All in all, she didn't mind tending to Lady Bethaeny. Especially in the days since Meredith dosed Raenel with safframate. Something had shifted in the witch's attitude. Kareal didn't trust her any more than the others, but she had begun to wonder just how many of the coven witches were rethinking their loyalty to the Queen's vision for Hayll. Those thoughts kept her well occupied until she reached Bethaeny's suite. She rapped politely on the door.

"It's open."

Kareal let herself inside. As always, she suppressed a sigh at the disaster that awaited her. Sure enough, a disaster it certainly was. Clothes had been strewn everywhere. Shawls and the like draped haphazardly on chairs in Bethaeny's small parlor room, trailing to the floor. No less than six pair of shoes lie scattered here and there. Six.

I was just up here two days ago.

The Lady herself was curled up in the window seat, staring out into the barren courtyard below. She didn't stir or show any sign that she was aware of Kareal's presence. Unusual. Well, unusual except for the last two weeks. The witch's naturally bubbly personality had been subdued- if not completely buried- beneath a veil of pensive melancholy.

The sitting room could wait while Kareal tended to her other duties first. Until she dealt with the linens, she didn't have any hands free to tidy up, anyway. Maybe if she had a Jewel darker than Tiger-eye, she could afford to vanish it all. But expending even that little bit of Craft wasn't wise. Too easy to drain herself by the end of the day, and she couldn't afford to walk around this place without even some protection.

For all the good it does us in the end.

Bethaeny still hadn't budged when Kareal reemerged. Didn't say a word while she gathered up the clothes and straightened the room. Kareal wondered why the witch had even bothered to summon her; she didn't seem to care about the state of her suite. This could have waited for tomorrow, even. She was preparing to take her leave when Bethaeny glanced in her direction.

"Can I ask you something?"

5/Terreille

For such a large city, Draega felt very small. Alex had spent the last few weeks skulking around, listening to tendrils of gossip for any word about his disappearance. Nothing. Nothing about it whatsoever. The lack of pursuit had puzzled him at first, until he understood Meredith's strategy. The bitch would pretend nothing was amiss and hope she or Valinna would recapture him before she had to admit he was lost.

A clever strategy, but fundamentally flawed. Without a Ring, Meredith couldn't force him back under her control. And Alex certainly wasn't going to make it easy for them to find him. Almost immediately after walking out of that wretched place, he'd created an illusion spell to disguise himself as a broken, light-skinned Warlord, Vrede. With a slightly crooked nose and coarsened features, no one would ever suspect he had been an aristo Hayllian pleasure slave.

Including you?

I don't know what you mean, Alex denied.

You didn't adopt a disguise. You ran away from yourself so you didn't have to face-

Don't.

-what happened in that room.

Alex refused to acknowledge that thought, and retreated further into his identity as Vrede. Tried to cement in his mind the Warlord's backstory. He'd been the victim of cruelty and torture, but never inflicted it. No witches screaming or bloodied sheets. No empty eyes staring at him in silent judgment. None of the images that filled his nightmares.

You won't be able to run forever.

The voice delivered those parting words and was gone. Alex took in a deep breath to help regain his self-control before continuing on with his errand. Market day. He was on his way to purchase a few things he needed. The kind of activity that was still a novelty to him these past few weeks; Meredith had never allowed him the freedom to do anything for himself. True, she'd almost always given him whatever material things he requested. But it wasn't the same as being able to choose them for yourself.

Distracted by those thoughts, Alex didn't notice that he'd wandered too close to the edge of the district. He was about to backtrack when he heard yelling around the corner. Then a Warlord came barreling out of an alley, nearly knocking Alex over in his haste to get away. Alex could tell that this Warlord wasn't from here- didn't belong here. Instead of letting the man pass by, he grabbed onto him.

"Lemme go, why don't you!"

He tightened his grip and drawled, "You seem to be in a hurry."

"Yeah, s'pose so. And if you get in my way, it'll be all the worse for you."

Wearing a Summer-Sky Jewel, the Warlord probably thought he held the advantage. And while Alex wasn't inclined to correct his assumption, he wasn't going to back down, either. The man might talk a tough game, but his body language and tone sounded like those of a coward. Alex merely smiled at him.

"I doubt it. So why don't you and I find out what has you running like a frightened rabbit."

The Warlord struggled in Alex's hold, cursing and yelling. Didn't even try using Craft, and Alex had to wonder if that Jewel around his neck was anything more than decoration. They turned a corner to enter the adjacent alley and a chill raced down Alex' spine. He spied a young witch lying on the cobblestones, clothes half torn off and bloody. She was barely old enough to have gone through a Birthright Ceremony.

You bloody butcher, he raged.

Alex jerked the wretch off his feet and dragged him over to a trio of warlords gathered around her. They must have interrupted the attack, and had been ready to give chase. One of them was kneeling next to the injured witch, collecting her up into his arms. The men sized him up. He'd seen them often enough, mostly in the company of the district Queen. From what he could tell, they were good men; Alex hoped that they thought the same of him.

"I think this-" he gave his captive a hard shove forward- "is what you're looking for."

"I didn't do nothin' wrong!"

Two of the warlords hauled the man to his feet and shook their heads grimly. "That's for Lady Tarine to decide."

"I shoulda known- just a bunch of twat lickers, aren't ya?" He jerked his head at Alex. "Even that one."

No one answered his taunts, but the chill in the alley deepened.

"Let's move," the leader of the group said. When Alex hung back, he waved at him. "You, too, Warlord. She'll want to hear what you have to say."

Attention of any kind was the last thing he needed. But refusing would just make more trouble for him, so Alex nodded and followed the men out of the alley. By the time they'd reached the main square, Lady Tarine was waiting for them. She did not look pleased. If this had happened in Meredith's hall, he knew what would have come next. The coven bitches would go to work torturing every male present regardless of their innocence.

But Tarine isn't Meredith, so what will she do?

"Lord Howe, report."

The Warlord gave a brief explanation of the incident. A crowd had begun to gather- silent and watchful. Meanwhile, the accused Warlord continued to shout belligerent threats and insults at his captors. Tarine flicked a sharp glance to one of the warlords, who used Craft to shut him up. By the time Howe finished, Alex noticed that the young witch was now with a Healer. Then Tarine turned to him.

"And you- what did you see, Warlord?"

"I didn't see much of anything, Lady," he told her truthfully. "I was a street or two away when I heard yelling, and then that Warlord ran into me. Seemed best to take him back the way he'd come. That's where I saw the girl, Lord Howe, and the others in the alley. I handed him over to them."

"Thank you, Warlord." Tarine's intense gaze slid away from him and onto the man on trial. "Lord Henkel, you have broken the laws of our community and injured one of its members. You will be marked as a threat and exiled from this district of Draega. Return and you will be executed."

"Exiled!?" the man screeched incredulously. "For what? Just a bit of fun with the girl. No real harm done."

"You're lucky that bruises and scrapes- not to mention a broken hand- is all the harm she suffered," Tarine replied coldly. "If you had succeeded in raping her, I'd execute you now." With that, the Lady stepped aside and signaled to the men restraining him. "See to it that he's properly marked and escort him to the borders of my territory."

Alex wondered just what she meant by 'properly marked'. Castration seemed the most likely, but the phrasing she used seemed off if that's what she meant. And then he watched a brazier brought out from one of the local shops- likely a metalworker. Howe called in an iron rod and stuck it into the red-hot coals. Alex saw a sigil on the end of it- a tree broken in half under an eye. A curious mix of symbols.

When the rod was thoroughly heated, Howe removed it from the brazier and turned to where two warlords held Lord Henkel. They'd placed the man's hand palm up on a stone block. By this point, the condemned man was sweating with fear.

"I didn't do nothin' wrong! You can't do this to me!"

No one came to his aid. Few people remained in the square, in point of fact. Most of them had dissipated, leaving the Queen's men to carry out her orders. Howe swiftly pressed the brand against the exposed skin, causing the man to scream loudly. It was over in a few seconds, and then they led him away. All in all, very different from the tribunal parties Meredith arranged to entertain her coven bitches. This actually felt like justice.

"You seem surprised," said an unfamiliar male voice.

Alex cast the man a sideways glance and shrugged. "Haven't ever seen that done."

"Used to happen more often, but not so much these days."

"I'm used to seeing much worse."

"No doubt what you've seen is still going on," the White-Jeweled Warlord admitted grimly. "But not here. Not anymore."

"Why the change?"

The man idly scratched his head as he thought of an answer. Finally, he replied, "She gave us a choice, and we took it. Turned this district into a good place to live- so long as you're willing to abide by the rules."

"Rules," Alex repeated in a strangled tone while tabling any inquiry into the name of this mysterious witch. "What sort of rules?"

"Protocol." At his skeptical look, the man assured him, "It's not what you think. This is different. Raenel brought the books here from her home territory and used them to teach the Old Ways, as she called them, to anyone who wanted to stay here. It was tough going at first, but to see what's become of this place over the past thirty years…the struggles were well worth it."

Thirty years.

Alex was certain he knew who'd given this community that pivotal choice. Lilith and Raenel had to be the same person. If she'd been coming here that long, using an alias was a smart choice if she wanted to avoid detection. Which made her actions a few weeks ago all the more reckless. How could she have let Meredith catch her- let the bitch poison her with safframate? What if he hadn't been in the servant wing and she'd spent that night with Grael? What if…

What if she's dead?

She's not. I couldn't…wouldn't.

But are you sure?

6/Kaeleer

The walk to Halaway didn't take long, and 'Nelle was grateful that Tersa's cottage had been built on the outskirts so that she wouldn't get caught up in all the midday activity in the village square. She knocked, using Craft to ensure that it would be heard. Jolinne, the Black Widow journeymaid currently looking after Tersa, opened the door a moment later. From her expression, she wasn't surprised to see 'Nelle.

But you weren't expecting me to bring the cats along, were you?

Ignoring the witch's nervous glances in their direction, she got straight to business. "Hello Jolinne- is Tersa busy this afternoon?"

"She's been working steadily all morning, but I got the impression it was something for you."

Which explained why she was expected. Perhaps this time Tersa would be able to show her how Lilith fared in Hayll. 'Nelle just hoped it was a positive vision; Tersa's webs could go either way- or both at the same time. If she wanted to know the answer, she'd have to see it for herself, though. Jolinne stepped back to allow her and the cats to pass by. 'Nelle gestured to the stairs leading to the second floor.

"Is she in the workroom?"

"Yes, she is."

She climbed the stairs and approached a large room at the back of the cottage. 'Nelle paused at the door to watch the dark-haired witch standing at one of the tables, frowning at an unfinished web. Beside her sat a number of spidersilk spools. Tersa was always thin, rarely thinking of something as mundane as food unless prompted. Over the past few decades, her hair had begun to silver, but it was still tangled more often than not.

As a child, 'Nelle knew her grandmother was different from everyone else, but not why. Papa had explained it to her when she'd gotten old enough to appreciate what it meant: Tersa was broken. Not just broken- she deliberately walked into the Twisted Kingdom to reclaim her Craft. Still travelled its peculiar roads to this day. It set her apart from the handful of other broken witches living in Kaeleer. Some found her unsettling, but to 'Nelle, she was just Tersa.

That didn't mean she wasn't careful when dealing with the witch. Despite a lack of Jewels, her skills as a Black Widow were formidable. Dangerous, even, if something- or someone- provoked her temper. Mikal told her that Tersa had used Craft to debone a man like a chicken. Ripped his entire skeleton out of his body and left the rest intact. And so she tapped on the doorframe as a show of respect- and caution.

"Tersa?"

She turned at the sound of 'Nelle's voice and smiled. "Welcome, Sister."

Haedyn and Taenne squeezed in around her knees, not waiting for an invitation. The two of them filled up most of the space. Tersa glanced at them briefly, and turned to the frame on the table. 'Nelle ventured into the room and tried to look casual.

"Jolinne said you might be busy."

"It won't be enough."

Used to Tersa's random turns in conversation, 'Nelle followed it, asking, "How do you know?"

"The web that hides what can't be seen- refuses to be seen. It's already unraveling."

I could be wrong, but I don't think she's talking about this web. All the threads are well-anchored. If she pointed that out, Tersa might reveal the answer. Or it might push her too hard and 'Nelle would learn nothing. For now, she let the topic go in favor of a more productive question.

"Could we stop it?"

Tersa shook her head sadly. "Too late."

"Could we build a new web," 'Nelle suggested after a moment's consideration.

"No, that web was already built. Already gone long ago and spun webs of its own."

*The Strange One talks in circles that go nowhere* Haedyn complained. *Maybe is confused?*

*No* 'Nelle answered the cat quietly. *Tersa is never confused when it comes to visions. It's just our understanding of what she says that gets tripped up*

Haedyn and Taenne shared a look and said no more. 'Nelle didn't blame them for their frustration. She wasn't doing much better piecing together the fragments of Tersa's conversation. A new web that was already gone- long gone- that was supposed to fix an older web that was unraveling right now. It just didn't make sense. She wished that her friend was here to help her puzzle it out.

"Lilith would know the answer," she mumbled.

Tersa faced 'Nelle again, her expression strange and intense. "The threads are different, but the weaver sees the same pattern. It will be the wrong answer."

"Do you mean Lilith…is she the weaver?"

"A weaver," the witch replied warily before focusing her attention back onto the web. She selected one of the lightweight silks and continued working. 'Nelle shuffled a few steps closer for a better view. Strand after strand was added to the web as Tersa worked. She paused for a minute, gave 'Nelle a sideways glance and gestured to the web. "Do you see it?"

"There's something…strange…about that web."

The Black Widow nodded grimly. 'Nelle studied it carefully, hoping that she could see what Tersa wanted her to see. She had completed her official training as a Black Widow decades ago, but even the most skilled in Hourglass Craft had difficulty reading Tersa's webs. A few times, she thought she caught a glimpse of what bothered her about the web's structure. But the next second it was gone again.

Her grandmother waited patiently, scratching Taenne's ears. That's when 'Nelle finally saw it- when she looked at the web out of the corner of her eye. Now she just needed to find the right words to describe what she'd seen. At last, she chose something that seemed close enough.

"It has an echo."

Tersa moved away from Taenne and stood in front of the web again. Head tilted slightly, she contemplated 'Nelle's assessment. "Echoes in the shadows, yes."

"But the echoes are stronger- that's not right. Shouldn't it be fainter?"

"A memory is stronger, sometimes."

An interesting comparison. What kind of memory, she wondered- and whose? She studied the web a while longer, drawing out snatches of its vision. The images she saw were meant to be taken as a warning. That much she understood. Despite having many threads woven in and around one another, the whole thing was supported by a single, slender thread. If the delicate balance of the others changed or were pulled too tightly, the whole web would collapse.

The echo thread was dangerously close to doing just that. If it were pulled just right, the main thread would snap. And yet the shadowed thread told a different story. If that strand were to connect to the main thread, it would share the weight of the web and provide a better balance. But some force 'Nelle couldn't identify was keeping them apart.

"Too soon to tell yet if the threads will bind or sever," Tersa said, as if reading her thoughts.

"If it severs, what happens?"

"The web breaks."

That sounded ominous. Worse than ominous, actually. 'Nelle tried to beat back a feeling of dread by making an idle joke. "It's times like this I wish I were still eight years old and Papa could fix the problem for me."

"The Mirror has already fought to keep one web from breaking," Tersa replied solemnly. "This one doesn't belong to him."

'Nelle grabbed the edge of the worktable to steady herself. Mother Night. That was not the answer she expected to get at all. She wasn't even sure what to make of it. Papa had several names, but 'Nelle hadn't heard anyone call him a Mirror before. She wanted to ask why Tersa had used that title, but the look in the witch's eyes had gone distant. She'd given 'Nelle all she could for today.

*The Strange One has more questions than answers* Haedyn complained unhappily.

*Maybe, but at least now I have something to watch for*

*Shadows, echoes and mirrors* Taenne grumbled.

*I'll admit that I don't know what they mean yet, but I'm sure she's telling me about them for a reason*

While she'd been talking to the cats, Tersa had left the room. 'Nelle shrugged and headed back downstairs. Jolinne was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she laid out some dishes. She looked up at them and 'Nelle felt her assessing Tersa's frame of mind. A perfectly natural reaction any time visitors came to see her. It wasn't easy to keep Tersa balanced, and she didn't envy Jolinne the task.

"I was about to call you for lunch," the journeymaid said cheerily.

'Nelle knew the part she was expected to play in this. It would be much easier to get Tersa to eat if she ate, too. "Perfect timing," she replied. "We just finished, and I'm sure both of us would welcome a meal."

"Why don't you both take a seat, and I'll find something for the Princes while you get started."

'Nelle tried not to sigh aloud as she noted the contents of her plate. Why did it have to be spinach casserole?