Author's Note: First off- my sincerest apologies for having delayed this chapter. Well, more than delayed. It's been three years since I last posted an update. But I'm back. Hopefully I can keep all three of my current active projects updated on a more regular schedule from now on. And on a second note, there'll be some adult themes going on in this chapter...so Readers beware.

1/Terreille

The warm summer afternoon sun rose high overhead, warming the back of Tarine's shirt as she bent over the freshly turned soil. More like roasting it. She'd come out here after lunch to clear her head- and some weeds- after the audiences of the morning. And to keep her from worrying about whether Isaac had made it to Gwynn's district safely. Had she realized that temperatures would be close to sweltering, she might have changed into something more suited for the heat. But she was too stubborn to go back inside now.

Could be worse, she told herself with a mild grimace. I've heard rumors about the deserts of Pruul. Sand so hot it burns like witchfire.

Compared to that, summer in Hayll was relatively mild. Tarine reminded herself that several times as she tossed a handful of leafy stems into her basket and scooted to the next patch. Taking care not to uproot the flowers planted by the witches of her court, she set about clearing away the recent crop of weeds. It always amazed her how quickly they crept in to overtake the garden. Hadn't it been only last week that she'd gone over this plot?

A droplet of sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled to the end of her nose. It trembled there a second or two until she swiped it away with the back of her hand. Only afterward did she notice the gritty smear of dirt across her knuckles. No doubt she had a matching one across her face now. Tarine paid little heed to both, more interested in getting the bed weeded. Not like anyone was going to see her and complain.

That thought had barely formed when a shuffling sound from the direction of the residence suggested otherwise. Someone had come out here looking for her. Howe was training with some of the other warlords in the First Circle, and Braetyn was interviewing candidates for an assistant. Leaving just one member of her Triangle left to keep tabs on what she was up to this afternoon.

"Lady," a baritone voice from above addressed her warningly. "You shouldn't be out in the sun this long during the heat of the day."

Right on cue.

"I feel fine, Joscelin," she replied with glancing up.

Her First Escort didn't say anything, but Tarine knew he was still standing there. Her mind pictured him there with his arms crossed and a disapproving scowl. One of his favorite pastimes- Joscelin excelled at delivering a lecture without so much as uttering a word. He was worse than Raenel. Well, almost. No one could match Raenel for the stare of silence. But Joscelin's was damn close. Eventually, she could bear the weight of it no longer, and pivoted so that she could see him.

"I really am fine," Tarine insisted.

"You've been out here the better part of two hours, Lady. The First Circle all agree it's long past time you should take a break."

You mean you decided I should take a break, and the rest of them weren't willing to argue with you.

She wouldn't say so aloud, but she knew it was true. While not quite as stubborn as a Warlord Prince, Joscelin was close enough. He was the only Prince in her entire court. One of the few left in Draega at all. Raenel brought him to her district shortly before Tarine set up her court- a victim of Lady Jaemie's twisted coven bitches. Or perhaps of Jaemie herself. Raenel never said and Tarine hadn't the courage to ask him. Didn't really matter; Joscelin's scars- visible and not- told her a story of brutality and suffering that he certainly hadn't deserved.

Scars that still haunted him- especially in those early days. At first, she hadn't understood why her friend brought him to her district, given how wary he was around witches. Queens in particular. And with his Purple Dusk jewels, Tarine was equally wary about what he might be capable of doing. But she couldn't bring herself to send him away, either. The few times she tried, the words felt…wrong. He needed to stay. Tarine didn't understand why. Even stranger- she could tell that Joscelin felt the same way, and was equally confused. Perhaps more so.

This is, until Raenel got around to explaining how Queens chose their courts.

When it came to choosing hers, Tarine knew that he belonged in her Triangle. Which side was not quite as easy to sort out. Braetyn was the obvious choice as her Steward. But Howe and Joscelin had been more difficult to place. Both were more than qualified to stand as her Master of the Guard. Who should take the remaining side…that was the bigger problem. Tarine hadn't felt a bond with Howe that felt strong enough for him to serve her as a Consort, but she couldn't in good conscience ask Joscelin to assume that role, either.

Raenel had been the one to solve their dilemma. She explained the nuance- not to mention the advantages- of offering him the title of First Escort instead. It came with the same responsibilities as Consort. Except one. Arguably, the most important one; the First Escort lacked an obligation to serve in the Queen's bed. An arrangement that suited both of them just fine…at first.

Lately, she'd gotten the sense that the role of First Escort wasn't enough anymore. Vague impressions that struck Tarine at rare moments at first, but increasingly frequently in the last two or three years. A look, a word- sometimes not even anything that tangible- would leave her wondering. She'd meant to ask Raenel about it when she was here, but forgot. Joscelin had been on assignment away from the Queen's residence during that time, and had only returned yesterday evening. And with Prince DeSade complicating things, the subject slipped her mind.

Best not even think of Prince DeSade.

Joscelin had been furious when Howe and Braetyn told him what had gone on while he was away. He'd stated point blank that she should have called him back the second Vrede's true identity was discovered, and Tarine couldn't repeat what he'd said about having invited the Warlord Prince into the residence. In that lecture, he'd been extremely vocal. And not even knowing that Raenel had been here had mollified him.

When the yelling subsided, he'd refused to talk to her for the rest of the day. They'd eaten dinner in icy silence. Literally. Despite the warm summer evening, the persistent chill of Joscelin's temper lingered in the air throughout the meal. This morning hadn't been much better, honestly. But after her meeting with Isaac, Tarine saw Howe haul her First Escort into his office. Whatever he must have said during that private conversation seemed to have thawed that anger. Still, no sense riling him up again intentionally.

None of this is really helping to solve your original problem, is it?

Tarine held in a sigh. No, no it isn't.

2/Terreille

She paced the cramped, barren attic room, sidestepping to avoid colliding with Danella, who was doing the same. Just as they had been doing for the past two days. The pacing didn't help any, but sitting still proved to be unbearable. Having never experienced safframate before, Maeren had only second hand accounts of what to expect; now she realized just how much they hadn't been willing to tell her. Maybe if they had, she'd would have been more prepared for just how merciless the drug could be.

Although the safframate's effects were waning now, Maeren recalled vividly how intense they'd been early on. The first day had been by far the worst, in terms of physical discomfort. Immediately after she'd ingested the drug, her body had been seized by uncontrollable spasms and hypersensitivity. As if she'd held herself on the edge of release for too long, and couldn't cross to the other side of it. But as excruciating as that was, Maeren thought she might be tough enough not to let it get to her. So long as nothing made it worse, she and Danella would come through all right.

And then Meredith had loosed her pet warlords on them. She'd listened in horror as the bitch gave them permission to please themselves however they saw fit, knowing for them that the experience would be nothing short of torture. Those two monsters would have been eager to wring every last drop of pain imaginable and Maeren wouldn't have been able to stop them from doing it. Under the influence of the safframate, she might have even begged for it. Even if she didn't really want to be mounted.

I've intentionally dosed blood males with this for my own pleasure. The thought came to her, unbidden. I've inflicted this torture on scores of them and never gave it a second thought.

Not a truth she wanted to face, but face it she did. Accepted the guilt of having forced others to endure degradation and suffering that she couldn't face herself. Bethaeny had spoken about safframate a few times before she and Ettia left for Dhemlan, expressing the desire to ban all use of the drug. She'd called it a perversion that the Blood needed to rid itself of if they ever hoped to be a free society again. Maeren hadn't been quite ready to agree with her then; she agreed with her now. Whole heartedly. No one should ever experience this- especially not for the pleasure of someone else.

How fortunate for them both that Meredith called off that part of the punishment. Maeren suspected Valinna had something to do with that. She certainly didn't believe that the Queen had had a change of heart of her own accord. And while she still hated the Black Widow, in that moment, she'd been eternally grateful to be spared the horror of what Meredith's original plan. Maeren couldn't help thinking about others who hadn't been quite so lucky. One in particular came to mind.

None of them had known the witch's name. Hell's fire, none of them could even recall having seen the witch around the hall before that evening when Meredith hauled them into the large room she reserved for her demonstrations. She hadn't been a part of the coven, and at the time, Maeren had no reason to pay attention to the housekeeping staff to know if she came from their ranks. But she'd felt a twinge of guilt when she'd stood by as Valinna dosed the witch with not just one, but two spoonfuls of safframate before handing her over to Grael.

As cruel as Larkin and Othar were, neither of them could have matched Grael. He would have torn the witch apart, just for the fun of it. But he never got that chance. Fawne and Kareal had filled in the blanks about how the Prince got involved, though neither had stuck around to see Grael come to his well-deserved end. Not that it spared the witch any. As tame as Larkin and Othar were compared to Grael, the latter stood firmly in the shadow of Alexander DeSade. The Prince had been a law unto himself, and delivered pain to witches with creative viciousness that terrified even Meredith.

That poor witch had disappeared into his suite, and was never seen alive thereafter. Maeren shuddered to contemplate what he'd done to her in the days before Meredith discovered he was missing. And how much worse it had to have been for her after being dosed with safframate. DeSade would've been especially vindictive when given the opportunity to torture a witch in the ways he'd been tortured. It would have been hell.

"Maeren?"

Glad for a reason to shake free of those thoughts, she glanced over to Danella. "What?"

"How much longer do you think this will go on? I- I…I'm not sure if I can hold out much longer."

Despite being close in age, the witch looked up to Maeren as a leader. In times like this, she didn't feel all that qualified- or deserving- of that responsibility. After all, her decisions were what got them into this mess. But those doubts wouldn't help either of them, and so she gave Danella the best answer she could.

"Not much more- another half day, maybe. By evening, we should be out of the worst of it."

I sure hope so, anyway.

"Suppose Valinna comes before then," the witch whispered. "I don't think I'll be able to withstand an interrogation, Maeren. I'll crack under the pressure and betray us all."

Danella wasn't the only one worried on that score. And Maeren had no doubt that Valinna would be back before they shook free of the safframate. Since she hadn't done it while the drug was still waxing, the Black Widow must be biding her time for another reason. Likely waiting until they were completely exhausted from fighting against its effects. Too exhausted to resist her tactics for drawing out information about their group. A plan that seemed likely to succeed.

Dosing us with safframate will be the least of what Meredith and that Black Widow bitch do to us if that happens.

"We have to stay strong," she murmured, having nothing else to say. "Just keep you barriers tight, mind blank, and stick to the story we told Meredith."

Danella sank to her knees, cradling her head in her hands as a choked sob wracked her. Her whole body shook and tremored with each breath. Maeren went to her, kneeling in front of the witch and covering her curled fist with her hand.

"It'll be all right. I promise."

Of course she was lying. Nothing about this was going to be all right, and she certainly couldn't promise they'd make it though. Not and expect to keep it. The way she saw it, their best hope would be a quick execution; take all the blame and try to keep Valinna's focus on them to save the rest of the group. Really, it was cruel of her to give Danella any hope, but she couldn't bring herself to say they were doomed.

Just as well the witch didn't believe her. She raised her head to meet Maeren's gaze, expression bleak.

"We're dead, and you know it."

"Yes," she admitted with a weary sigh. "We are. I'm sorry, Danella. It's all my fault."

3/Terreille

Tarine weighed her options. Having been through this before with her First Circle, she knew that they wouldn't give up on this. If she sent Joscelin off, one of the others would find a reason to come out and pester her about taking a break. Six of them were at the Queen's Residence today, so it'd be a never-ending cycle. She wouldn't get anything done in the garden, accomplishing little more than frustrating everyone.

Which is the opposite of what I had in mind in coming out here.

Raenel had given her advice for situations like this. For someone who wasn't a Queen and had never ruled a court of her own, her knowledge on the subject never ceased to amaze. More than once, Tarine had been tempted to ask how she came to acquire that vast trove of knowledge, but she didn't think the witch would answer. Just like Raenel had avoided discussing her involvement with DeSade. Friends they may be, but that friendship had its boundaries. She didn't think it wise to cross them.

So what had the witch told her to do?

Not anything Tarine had expected her to say, that's for sure. She'd been hoping for a magic phrase in Protocol that would let her do what she wanted, but was highly disappointed when Raenel had advised just the opposite. She'd said that unless she had good reason to oppose her First Circle, Tarine should take the hint when they came to her with their 'polite wall of stubbornness', as Raenel put it. Well, Joscelin sure had the stubborn part down to an art form; he was still working on polite.

Pulling weeds would not be on her friend's list of good reasons, she warranted. With a reluctant sigh, Tarine rocked back onto her heels. He must have sensed victory, because she could almost detect a smile. The first glimpse of one she'd seen in over a day. That doesn't bode well. But even in defeat, she still had some room to maneuver. Raenel had told her that, too. So before Joscelin got his way, they would work out a compromise she could live with.

"All right, I'll take a break for a while. But-" Tarine added quickly- "I am not going back inside. I can't sit in that stuffy office when it's so nice out."

He didn't argue, raising her suspicions immediately. Knowing him, he'd already anticipated Tarine's counter offer. Meaning he already had some plan to address it on his terms. And sure enough, Joscelin's reply confirmed that he still held the upper hand.

"I thought you might say that. Braetyn and I arranged to have Dana send out a tray of something from the kitchen. We've set it up in the shade."

Tarine's gaze followed his sweeping gesture. Sure enough, while she'd been preoccupied with the garden they'd moved the bench under the largest tree in the courtyard. Next to it sat a low table, laden with a pitcher of lemonade and an assorted tray of her favorite 'nibbles'. Although part of her was annoyed to be pulled away from what she wanted to do, she couldn't deny that she was pleased. Her court cared for her well-being, and not just because she was the Queen they'd agreed to serve. For that reason, Tarine felt a since smile turn up the corners of her mouth.

"I think we've got a deal, then."

She attempted to rise, but before she got her feet under her, Joscelin was at her side to offer his hand.

"Allow me," he insisted.

Like the strange looks, gestures like this puzzled her, too. Over the past year, he'd taken upon himself to extend above and beyond the required interactions between Queen and Frist Escort. In particular, anything that would require physical contact of any kind. Tarine sensed this change meant something, but tried to keep herself from making assumptions on what she might hope it meant.

"Thank you," she replied in an effort to clear those thoughts. Just stick to the safety of Protocol. "The assistance would be welcome."

Joscelin helped her to stand and escorted her to the bench. When she was sitting comfortably, she though he might withdraw back to the residence. He didn't. Didn't sit next to her, either. Uncertain what she ought to do, Tarine debated extending an invitation for him to join her. But maybe she shouldn't. She didn't want to make him think he had to stay. For the hundredth time, she wished Raenel were here.

"There is one thing, Lady."

Now she was glad not to have said anything. Joscelin's tone indicated that whatever this was, it wasn't likely to be personal. She swallowed back the tiniest stab of disappointment and prompted him to deliver his message.

"Oh?"

"I know you said no paperwork, but…"

She squeezed her eyes shut and resisted clapping her hands over her ears.

"Don't say it."

"Braetyn thought you would want to see this. It's a letter from Nataline." At the name, Tarine's eyes snapped open. Joscelin produced a rectangular, white envelope from his jacket, which he laid on the table next to her. "You haven't heard from her in over a month- maybe two."

"In truth, it's been almost four."

Nataline had begun her training in Tarine's district seventeen years ago. Learning Protocol and the things she would need to know to take over a district of her own. Which she had. Raenel found a community in one of the western districts that was willing to learn the Old Ways of the Blood. Nataline became their Queen, and had been holding onto the district for the past five years. It was good- they needed a strong presence in the west. But it meant they hadn't seen one another since she left. They'd only managed to send letters to one another on occasion.

Tarine snatched at this one eagerly, ripping open the seal as the envelope fluttered to the ground. She paid it little mind, focused on the pages inside. Not as many as she'd hoped. Once she'd properly read the first paragraph, she understood why.

What are you getting yourself into, Nataline? Meeting with Valinna and Meredith? Infiltrating Olivia's court?

Very dangerous work. Aside from Raenel, very few witches dedicated to reviving the Old Ways of the Blood ever ventured into districts governed by Meredith's coven. Maybe a handful, and only when the circumstances were dire enough to merit taking such a risk. But a Queen? She'd never heard of one leaving the sanctuary of their protected pockets of the city. They really couldn't afford to lose one if she were to be discovered by Meredith or her pet Queens.

Tarine read on, increasingly alarmed at what her friend had to say. She'd left her younger sister to lead the western district in her absence, planning to be in Olivia's court for at least a month or two. Possibly more. It was too long. Surely Nataline knew that the longer she remained with that bitch, the more likely it was that she'd be found out. Had Raenel approved of this plan? She couldn't decide whether she wanted that answer to be yes or no. In the end, she could do nothing about the situation. Not even write back to express her concerns.

"Tarine?"

She glanced up to see Joscelin hovering over her, concern evident. An unusual expression for him. Not wanting to worry anyone, she did her best to smile as she folded the letter.

"I'm fine."

A beat of silence passed.

"Don't ever play cards," he remarked wryly.

Confused by the abrupt change of subject, Tarine found herself asking, "Why?"

"Because you can't lie worth a damn."

4/Terreille

Olivia sat across from the newest addition to her court, trying her best not to scowl. The last two days since Lady Nataline's arrival had been trying ones. The young Queen was always underfoot. Always watching. Listening. And when she'd said this morning that she was writing a letter to 'a friend', Olivia would have bet a hundred gold marks that she was sending a report back to Meredith.

You insidious, ingratiating spy, she cursed at the witch in her mind. Eager to take over my court as fast as you can, no doubt.

Oh the chit played her part well enough. She fit right in with the rest of the court, spending time listening to Rachel and Desre complain about the lack of decent blood males after the controlling rings fiasco. And she'd sounded so humble when she'd asked Olivia to teach her the workings of her court and district. Couching it all with the claim that she'd 'love to be of use'.

Which is how they came to be in Olivia's private salon this afternoon. She'd wanted to refuse the witch's request for information, but she couldn't afford to appear uncooperative. Not until she knew how to oust this viper poised to strike the second she was vulnerable.

Best get on with this.

"You said you wanted to learn more about managing a court."

"Yes. I know it's some time yet before I'll have the opportunity to rule one of my own, but I want the best start I can before that day comes."

"Very admirable. You've read the necessary Protocol books, I assume?"

Nataline nodded vigorously.

"Oh yes. In fact, I re-read them all before coming here."

Oh well wasn't that wonderful. Little miss overachiever. Meredith and Valinna must have been practically salivating when this one came along. It was a wonder they bothered with this ruse at all instead of just replacing her outright. But Olivia wasn't impressed in the least, and showed no reaction to the chit's bid for praise. What she really wanted to do was roll her eyes, but she settled for bland indifference. Nataline's enthusiasm faded, and she settled back into her seat.

"Well, then you will have read about the mechanics of a court."

"I did." A pause. "I notice that your court doesn't have more than a First Circle."

So, the bitch liked to play petty games. She hadn't gotten the response she wanted and was informing Olivia of her displeasure. Subtle. Very subtle. Like an avalanche. Olivia had heard and played all these games before, and let the insult roll off her like water over a duck's feathers.

"You'll find the outer districts rarely need more than one. We have less territory to control compared to Meredith's central court."

"I see."

Yeah, I bet you do.

"Lady Olivia," Nataline began. "I was wondering how often you meet with your entire court. I've been here two days, and aside from the evening of my arrival, I've not seen a formal gathering."

Not a question that Olivia was in any hurry to answer. Truthfully, she rarely- if ever- met with her court. She had little reason to, much less the desire. Meredith had whittled at her territory to the point where she didn't have all that much to rule. A dozen city blocks, maybe. Not all that demanding, especially when half of the buildings were vacant. Their former tenants had either fled for had died in the purge.

Or were casualties in the struggle to create this court.

Meredith and Valinna had praised her for her ruthless culling of dissenters at the time, touting it as a necessary cost of rebuilding Hayll. Lately, Olivia was starting to question that approach. What good was it to be in charge of a ghost city? The glory her Queen had promised to all who'd rallied to her banner hadn't really come. Draega was in greater decay than it had been after the purge. Nearly all of the great mansions and halls of generations past crumbled to their foundations and the Hayllian race continued to shrink, its bloodlines diminished or outright failing.

So what did I do it all for?

Questions that she couldn't answer; ones she dared not voice aloud- not even to herself. Nataline, meanwhile, sat patiently waiting for an answer to her question. Only one thing to do.

"I hadn't intended to hold a full meeting until you were more settled into the routine," Olivia lied. "But I could arrange for one in a few days if you would find it instructional."

And since the conniving witch had maneuvered her into that, she'd have to figure out what excuse she could give that would warrant calling in her court. Even more challenging, she'd have to keep Desre and Rachel from whining about it. Those two would be all too happy to tell this new Queen that she was incompetent in the hopes they might get better treatment from a change in leadership. A worry for later.

"Did you have any other questions," she felt obliged to ask.

"Just a few- at least for now. I'm sure in the coming months, I'll have plenty more." Olivia mentally grimaced at the thought of putting up with this for months. Nataline did not notice her dismay, and continued with her first inquiry. "About the blood males…"

"What about them?"

"I was wondering how you control them with the loss of the rings. Lady Desre and I spoke at length on the subject, but she wasn't all that clear on how they remain subjugated."

At least this was an easy subject.

"The few darker-jeweled males we had were already broken. They can be caged and handled by the use of safframate alone, even without the rings. Most of the others wear light jewels. They, too, respond well to doses of safframate and can be punished with a well-aimed blast from our darker jewels."

"And how many do you have at present?"

"Seven in total." She forced a smile. "I should show you to their wing of the residence, as well as our supply of safframate, so that you may have full use of them as well."

"You're very generous, Lady Olivia."

"Not at all. Anything else?"

"Well, I was wondering about the tithes a district like yours might expect."

Now we get to what you're really after. She'd thought questions about the blood males had to do with satisfying her own physical appetites, but she'd been wholly mistaken. Obviously, the witch was sizing up what assets she stood to gain when she took over. Well, I hate to break it to you, but if Meredith said she was handing you a choice morsel in her territory she sold you a pretty song and little else. I've nothing of value here. Maybe the fastest way to get rid of this nuisance was to tell her the truth.

"My territory is home to a bakery, a tannery, two weaving shops and a tavern. They pay a quarterly tithe to the court, which is collected here in person."

She didn't mention just how much that tithe worked out to be. An omission not lost on Nataline. When she realized that information was not forthcoming, she frowned slightly, but did not ask to know outright. Instead, she changed tactics.

"I would have thought even a district of this size would have more businesses to support the court." The witch thought for a moment or two. "I wonder if it's a matter of proper incentive."

"I have tried to entice would-be shopkeepers and artisans to this district. Most of them prefer the central district- or the ones on the eastern and southern districts."

Like Jaemie and Julaene's, she added resentfully. The former boasted an entire block of semi-skilled craftsmen. Once upon a time, she and Jaemie's positions had been reversed. Olivia had been the one in favor, and everyone looked to her as the standard for their courts. But that was before a tragic accident struck down Meredith's prized protégé while they were visiting in her district. The Queen's retaliation was swift. Every advantage she'd had went to Jaemie. Now whenever she wanted something special, she always had to make the trip into her rival's territory.

"They don't want free rents on the buildings," Olivia continued, blotting out the bitterness of the past. "They're not interested in lower tithes. If you think you know a way I haven't thought of, by all means, tell me."

"I think a different sort of incentive altogether might work where those others have failed. You've heard of the Queen's newest directives?"

She had. This obsession with weeding out spies from Dhemlan didn't sit easy on Olivia's mind. It was a strawman threat, and everyone knew it. Dhemlan wasn't sending spies here. If they really wanted to interfere with Draega, they had the numbers and the power backing them to wipe out Meredith head on. No need to skulk around spying and spreading dissent. Even if Meredith didn't know that, Valinna would.

So, they're using this as a smokescreen to cover up what they're really up to.

To Nataline, she voiced none of those thoughts. Perhaps the chit believed the lies Meredith had fed her; maybe she only played along to get what she wanted out of the scheme. Either way, showing doubts of any kind would be a grave mistake. And so she played along, too.

"Naturally. I and my court are committed to rooting out any suspected collaborators with Hayll's enemy."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"And you think this has some connection with generating new business?"

Nataline laced her fingers and laid them in her lap. Her silence raised the hairs on the back of Olivia's neck with an uncomfortable prickle. She did her best to ignore it, holding the witch's gaze as if nothing were wrong.

"I would think you could sufficiently motivate the less industrious inhabitants of your district to pursue gainful employment…if you made a demonstration decrying a few of them as Dhemlan spies."

A hundred years ago- hell, maybe as little as fifty- Olivia might have listened to that proposition without any qualms of implementing it. She'd done as much or worse in the early days. None of it bothered her then.

It bothered her now.

I'm getting sick of destroying things. Destroying people. As she studied the young witch across from her, so eager to walk the path Olivia had walked at that age, she felt an overwhelming sense of regret. She'd helped Meredith and Valinna to shape the next generation of Queens, who would only perpetuate the destruction and killing. I wish I'd had another choice all those years ago.

But since she didn't, she was stuck with the consequences of the choice she had made. Not just her, either. Some witch who'd done nothing other than live in her district would suffer the consequences as well. Olivia swallowed the bitter taste at the back of her throat and forced herself to nod.

"Yes, I can see where that would be most effective."

5/Terreille

"It's not," Danella protested.

"I should have been more careful that morning."

"You couldn't know Meredith would be up at that hour."

"No, but we could have just as easily run into Valinna."

A burden she would carry to her death- and after, if she believed that the Dark Realm actually existed. And if enough of her was left to transition to demon dead. Maybe if she did, she'd seek out the High Lord. The Blood of Hayll whispered stories that a powerful Warlord Prince ruled the Dark Realm. Maeren was tempted to find out if those stories were true. If they were, maybe she might try to convince this High Lord that he would be doing Hayll a favor to add two witches to his realm.

While she'd been thinking, Danella had turned her hand palm upwards, and squeezed her fingers reassuringly. They looked at one another in a long moment of silence. Maeren noted the purple crescents that stood out against her light brown skin, and knew she likely looked no better. But in those gold eyes looking back at her, she saw more than just exhaustion. More than just a witch who, like her, had decided to stand up against Meredith's poisonous regime.

She saw a friend.

"You did your best," Danella reassured her quietly. "No one is going to fault you for wanting to do whatever you had to do to take down Meredith. Least of all me."

"You don't regret having cast your lot with us…even knowing how it's likely to end?"

"No. For once, I was a part of something I could believe in. This fight to reclaim Hayll for the Blood- for all of the Blood- it's a cause worth dying for."

Maeren agreed. And now seemed the time to bring up her plan to make their deaths count. To give them the most meaning they could, even though it wouldn't be easy. They'd need courage to endure the suffering and pain that would come next, and had only a few hours to find it. She took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Time to find out just how much Danella was willing to give.

"I think our best option is to admit we're spies from Dhemlan."

The witch swallowed carefully, but she did not argue against the idea. Understanding flickered in her eyes.

"You think if we confess, we can keep the others safe."

"I think it's worth trying. If we fail, at least we can say we tried. And maybe if we do succeed, some of the others in the coven might be turned away from supporting Meredith and Valinna. You saw the way they were all looking at Meredith at dinner."

Danella shook her head, unconvinced.

"Seren and Idrina might think twice, but I don't see them doing more than closing ranks to protect themselves. They won't risk defying Meredith."

Sadly, she was probably right. They'd swayed the most sympathetic members of the coven at this point and weren't apt to turn the rest. The most senior witches had the most to lose and least to gain. Kaeremi and Idrina were solid believers in the status quo, anyway. None of them would become their allies unless they stood to benefit in overthrowing Meredith, and even then, that help would come at a price. Better for their group to eliminate them rather than take the chance of betrayal.

A task for someone else, Maeren thought with dismay. She would have liked to have been there to see real change come to Hayll. I'll have to settle for the place of a martyr.

"You're dwelling on it, aren't you," Danella surmised.

"More like I'm regretting that I hadn't done more before it came to this. That it took me so long to wake up and take a stand." She ran her free hand through her hair. "What about you? Any regrets?"

The witch didn't say anything at first, casting her eyes down before admitting with a tiny shrug, "Maybe one."

When she didn't continue, Maeren prompted her, "Oh?"

"It's nothing."

"Come on, you can tell me. What do you wish you'd done- or hadn't done?"

She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Danella's cheeks flush a bright red. Her long hair had fallen forward, though, so she couldn't get a proper look. Maeren grew concerned that the safframate had gripped her again.

"Danella?"

Her friend caught her lower lip in her teeth and refused to look up or say a word.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry I pressed you," she apologized. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

"No, I-"

She raised her eyes, hesitating on the edge of some internal debate. And then without any warning, she leaned forward to press her lips softly against Maeren's in a kiss. It lasted all of a few second- too short for Maeren to react or think about what just happened. Danella pulled away, retreating behind the curtain of her hair once more.

"Danella," she exclaimed in shock. Maybe it is the safframate. "What…?"

"I've wanted to do that for years."

Or not.

"Years?"

She nodded.

"Almost from the first day I came to Meredith's court. You're so beautiful, Maeren. I know I'm rather plain, and even if you were of the same inclination that you could do better, but since we're about to die…I couldn't help kissing you just this once."

Completely floored, Maeren tried to think of something she could say. No words came to her. None at all. Danella kept talking over her silence.

"I know, I probably should have asked first. And I know it's not exactly…well, normal. Meredith has made it abundantly clear she doesn't condone witches who aren't interested in men. So I don't expect-"

That finally prompted her to react.

"The hell with what Meredith thinks," Maeren cut her off. "It's wrong that you've had to hide what you really want all this time just because she doesn't like it."

"Then…you're not upset?"

"No."

And she wasn't. Surprised? Yes, most definitely. But not upset. And now that the surprise had worn off, curiosity took its place. What would it be like to be with another witch? Finding out the answer to that question gained appeal as the seconds ticked by. Maybe that was on account of the safframate.

Maybe it isn't.

Valinna would be here for them soon; they'd likely be dead before tomorrow's sunset. No matter how long, though, once they left this room they could expect only pain and agony. So why not spend these last few hours alone experiencing whatever comfort and pleasure they could give one another? It was reason enough to convince Maeren to cast reservations aside, returning Danella's kiss with one of her own.

"Maeren!" she protested, jerking backwards.

"Shhh."

"You don't have to-"

Maeren brushed the wispy strands away from Danella's face and moved closer. Her heart beat loudly in her ears. A heady mix of excitement and nerves. Danella remained still, almost as if she dared not breathe. She didn't protest when Maeren's fingertips skimmed up her arms and around her shoulders to the eyehooks at the back of her dress. They were so close to one another that their noses were almost touching. She undid the catch, causing Danella to draw in a gasp.

Against her parted lips, Maeren whispered, "I know."

6/Terreille

Frances peeked out into the hall beyond her room. To her relief, she neither saw nor heard anyone, so she slipped quietly into the corridor and Craft locked the door behind her. She'd wanted to stay there all day, but knew she had to get something to eat. With the hour well past dinner, she expected most of the coven would have finished already. Frances was in no mood to see them- not even Melanie.

Jaemie's pet warlords finished with Daenor yesterday, discarding her broken shell when they got no more sport out of using her. To add insult to injury, those butchers had left her in the coven's own corridor. Just so they would all be sure to see her first thing in the morning. Frances would never forget the sight as long as she lived. Not the damage done to Daenor's body, but the horrifying moment when she realized the witch was still alive.

Melanie had attempted a cursory healing, but she was ill-equipped to do much. Or perhaps was too frightened at what Jaemie would do to her if she found out she'd tried to heal the witch at all. They were expected to appear at breakfast, anyway, and so they'd left Daenor as they'd found her. Sitting at the dining room table, Frances barely touched a thing, sure she would heave up every bit of it if she thought too much on what she'd seen. The others did not appear to be affected, although their conversation was somewhat subdued. Luckily, Jaemie herself wasn't in attendance.

No one saw Daenor again until sometime towards evening. Only this time, she was dead. Used a sharp-edged piece of glass from a broken vase nearby to slice open a vein. Frances had been the first to find her. As terrible as that was, she was grateful that the witch's suffering was over. Death was her final escape from this nightmare. If the Darkness was kind, it had been a quick one.

Only one thing bothered Frances about Daenor's death. She'd gone to fetch Melanie to move the body to where it could be properly cared for, not having the strength to do it on her own. But by the time she got the Healer's help and returned…Daenor's body was already gone. Frances might have thought she imagined seeing her there, but the witch's blood had soaked into the carpet.

So where was she?

Discreet inquiries told her no one else had taken the body. Even Jaemie was somewhat unnerved that Daenor had simply vanished, as it spoiled some plans she'd had. Frankly, all the better for that. Frances had no desire to find out what the Queen wanted with the witch's corpse. But it did make her question just what happened. Bodies didn't just vanish. Whispers among the servants offered up an unsettling theory in just two short words: Demon dead.

Could she have transitioned to become demon dead after everything she went through?

Frances had never known anyone to become demon dead. Most of the Blood thought it was a myth, told to scare children into behaving. The demon dead hunted anyone who disobeyed their parents, ruled by the most terrifying demon of them all. The High Lord. She still shivered at the sound of his name, even though she knew it was all made up. The dead didn't live on in some spiritual netherworld. Dead was dead.

She shook herself out of those thoughts, telling herself that she needed to keep alert if she wanted to avoid the coven. So far so good. Frances rounded a corner, encouraged that she didn't hear voices at the opposite end of this hall. Meaning that chances were good no one was still in the dining room. With a sense of urgency, she hurried to the door and eased it open.

Empty.

The meal sat out yet, not yet cleared away by the servants. They were accustomed to the routine by now, and never put anything in the cold box until late evening. The coven was known for having appetites at odd hours. Usually after an intense session of playing with their captive blood males. So the staff found it far easier to leave the evening meal available to them to avoid being berated- or worse- if anyone was forced to go hungry.

As Frances picked over the dishes, her thoughts turned down a familiar road.

I could just grab everything that wouldn't spoil on a day or two journey and vanish it. Enough to get me to the border with Dhemlan. Or even Askavi.

The last two days had strengthened her desire to run away. Frances did not want to experience Daenor's fate, and the longer she stayed here, the more likely it became that she would. And if she did, she wasn't sure she'd have the courage to end her own life- no matter how unbearable it might be. Choosing to die was too difficult of a decision for her to face.

Frances was not the sort to embrace challenges or difficulty. Hadn't she come to this court seeking an easier life? It hadn't exactly turned out as she'd planned, though, and now running away seemed the easiest path. But every time she'd almost worked up the nerve to go through with the plan, a little voice in her head whispered that she'd never get away with it. Jaemie or one of the others would find out.

Or worse…suppose she did succeed, and managed to get to Dhemlan or Askavi. What then? She had very few marks to call her own- no one she could trust to take her in. And even more terrifying, she had no idea if either territory was any safer than where she was now. So she stayed put, cursing herself a thousand times a day for being such a coward.

A sound at the door rattled Frances so badly that she nearly dropped the serving spoon she'd been holding. Heart in her throat, she clutched in so tightly that the noodles fell back into the casserole dish below. In through the door strolled Liara and Elora. Aside from Jaemie, those two were the very last witches she wanted to see right now. They were engaged in lively conversation; Frances hoped they'd be too preoccupied to notice her.

They weren't.

Elora must have seen her first, and descended like a vulture. Frances tried not to cringe away when the witch circled around so that she was between the table and the only way out. Liara blocked any hope of escaping from the side. Both witches smiled, the look in their eyes anything but friendly.

"Why Frances. So nice to run into you," Elora remarked. "I was just telling Liara that I hadn't seen you all day. I do hope you weren't unwell."

"No, not unwell. But I was attending to my wardrobe- culling outdated clothing, organizing what remained- and lost track of time. I only just realized the hour and came to grab dinner before it got any later."

When she'd been young, Frances had been a terrible liar. She stumbled over the smallest of fibs she'd tried to pass of as the truth and almost always messed them up. Months in Jaemie's court had cured her of that shortcoming, and now blatant lies like the one she'd just told came to her as second nature. If they didn't, she would have been easy fodder for these two.

They bought the excuse. Directing them to the talk of fashion and other empty pursuits that piqued their interest worked every time. Of course, it also gave them the opportunity to sneer at her own lack of style. Frances was willing to accept their derision over the alternative.

"You really ought to cast all of it aside and purchase a whole new wardrobe," Elora told her with a sly wink to Liara. "You're starting to give the rest of us a bad name."

Elora would think nothing of discarding everything she had to purchase new clothes. Her family had inherited a great deal of wealth in the tumult following the purge, being one of the Hundred Families of Hayll. Oh they had been only a minor branch in the days of Dorothea, but when the purge swept most of the major houses away, Elora's relations were quick to claim the spoils. And to elevate their family name. She never let anyone in the coven forget it- least of all Frances.

Frances pasted an apologetic smile on her lips as she replied, "Would that I could, but I'm afraid I don't have funds to make such a drastic change all at once."

"Oh, right. You're the charity case," Liara snickered.

Maybe someone of stronger character would have risen to defend herself. Frances did not, taking the abuse with mute resignation. Elora pretended to take pity, puckering her brow in a ridiculous imitation of concern. She slashed a look to her friend and tsked loudly.

"Now Liara, that's not the way we should treat a Sister. We should be doing our best to elevate her to show the coven to its best advantage."

The other witch caught the game immediately, and adopted a marginally contrite expression.

"You're right." Liara thought for a moment or two before she lit on an idea Frances knew wouldn't bode well for her. "And I know just the way I can make a proper apology."

Now Elora's interested piqued.

"Oh?"

"I should make a present of my latest toy from our excursion the other day. To show that I meant nothing by my insensitive remark."

No. Please not that.

Frances didn't want any part of whatever game they were playing. Especially when it involved the fate of someone else. She certainly didn't need- or want- a bed partner. Her lack of funds had saved her from that dilemma when they went to the market quarter two days ago, but if Liara gave her the blood male she'd acquired, there was no way she could refuse. Not without arousing suspicion; witches didn't turn down blood males, no matter the reason.

Well, minus one reason. But she'd had her moontime only a week ago, and couldn't fake that it had come again so soon. No choice.

"That's very generous of you, Sister," Frances thanked her in as humble a tone as she could manage. She tried one last tactic to deflect this unwanted gift, hoping it worked. "I only hesitate to accept in knowing that you would lose the use of him."

Worth a try, but Frances knew it meant nothing to the witch. Liara had probably grown bored with him already and was ready to move onto a new partner. She'd pass it off as if it were a hardship, but she likely had found a better option to suit her interests. Pawning off her unwanted goods was a trivial matter- especially if she thought she could make Frances uncomfortable in the process.

Sure enough, Liara's reply confirmed that suspicion. She tossed her hair with a careless shrug, smiled wanly and sighed.

"I will be sorry to lose him, but it's worth the sacrifice. After all, I can well afford to obtain another. Why should I be so fortunate when one of our coven sisters is unable to enjoy the lady's privilege for herself?"

The matter was settled. No wriggling out of taking the poor warlord Liara no longer wanted. Frances had no idea what she was going to do with him, but she knew the only acceptable response she could give at this point.

"I am so very grateful for you to think of me, and will remember your kindness."

Liara flashed an insincere smile.

"Excellent! I shall have him sent to your suite this evening. No sense wasting the night, is there?"

With that, the two of them waltzed back out, laughing to one another even as the door closed behind them. Frances held her half-filled plate in one hand, having lost all interest in food. Mother night, what was she going to do?