AN: AN: Edited version completely changes the end of the chapter! If you happened to read this within the first, oh... 30 ish hours of it being up, the end of this chapter has changed. (Ever read something you've written and decide that it's trash? For reference, this chapter went from about 6k to over 9k. So... yeah. Sorry for the distraction, I promise not to make a habit of it! No more sleep-posting.

No TW apply... I think? If anyone spots something I missed, please don't hesitate to reach out! Stay safe, everybody.

My third and final day in Aroughs felt much more high-stakes than it had any right to. There is a chance I was too invested in the goings-on. However, my interest would serve me well; both politically and personally.

My body demanded sleep much earlier than the previous night. As hard as I found it to force myself to rest with the building still abuzz with activity, I needed to be at my peak for the coming day. A ball I could handle half asleep; a double homicide, less so. I shucked off my formal dress, let Harold twist ribbons into my hair then, and helped him tie the mass up in a smooth scarf. I collapsed atop the mound of cushions like a languorous feline, arcing my back until every inch of me could be swaddled in comfort. Somewhere beneath me, a quilt and downy mattress beckoned, but my hands were too stupid to reach them. My eyes shut and I buried my face in a velvety pillow-

A yank from beneath, the whole world tilting on an axis until I was sliding away, my stomach lurching, everything going black with panic, falling through empty space to my certain death-

I shot up so quickly that I had to slam a foot down to keep myself from toppling to the floor. I hissed, jarring my knee as I over-extended it. The floor was, in fact, neither rotating nor retreating from me. My heart beat hard enough to crack a rib, cold sweat prickled my neck, and my hands shook.

Katana snaked into my mind and body like a comforting hug from within. Another attack, and so soon after the first. What triggered it?

Her mental voice eased me enough that my vision flickered back to clarity. I'm not sure. I licked my lips. It was just a fit of pre-sleep vertigo! I've experienced similar things since I was a little girl… My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

There's no sense in judging your body for trying to protect you. It doesn't know that you are safe.

Well, I wish it would get on the same page as the rest of me. This could prove to be a serious liability.

I think that there is nothing you can't do. If we must convince you one muscle and bone at a time, then we will.

I eased back onto the bed, this time laying aside the decorative pillows to tuck myself in properly. If Galbatorix discovers this new flaw, he'll try to beat it out of me.

Then he will not discover it. Katana's hatred for the man was tucked far beneath her apparent calm, but it still glowed white-hot. It was both heart-warming and terrifying to see her in the light of an avenger; a defender. One thing we'd never really been able to do was protect one another- from him, from the world, from ourselves, from each other. Apparently, physical death had only increased her resolve to pay Galbatorix back for everything he'd wrought in our lives.

I smiled to myself as I eased off to sleep. Elrun ono.

-:- -:- -:-

The guests of Aroughs did not gather for breakfast the next morning. From the gossip I'd picked up the previous evening, most of my fellow noble ladies intended to spend the first half of the day preparing for the second half. Great feasts were rare spectacles; dancing, music, and enough food to feed the entire city all enjoyed by the elite of the elite. To show up to one looking anything less than perfect would be career-ending.

. As much as I would have enjoyed a quiet morning, I could ill afford to waste time. This was my last day to grasp the weed I'd found in this garden before it spread and spoiled the whole construction. I whipped my mane into a haphazard bun, tossed on a dress in which I could move easily, and ventured off into the estate. I didn't need to go far before I found a maid diligently replacing the candles in a chandelier, slippered feet perched at the peak of a round stool. "Excuse me," I called up to her, "would you spare a moment to guide me towards Lord and Lady Halstead's chamber? I need to speak with them."

The girl- for she was no more than that- glanced down and nearly fell from her perch. "Your Highness!" She fumbled one of her candles and nearly toppled forward as she tried to curtsy.

I caught the taper and grasped one of her tiny hands. "Easy there! My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you alright?" She stared at my fingers like they could transform into serpents. Once she'd regained her balance I let her go and offered the candle. She blinked, ignoring my offer. I coughed and asked again, "Can you guide me to your masters?"

She shook her head, dipping her eyes down to the hem of her dress. "My Lady has instructed that no one should be allowed to disturb his Lordship." She was clearly nervous and embarrassed; both by her fall and her refusal.

"Of course. I imagine the seclusion is due to his failing health. That is the very reason I need to speak with The Lady; I may be able to ease her husband's discomfort." Still, the girl chewed her lip. I sighed and added, "If you could offer me directions, I guarantee they will never know how I obtained them."

She risked a fleeting glance at my face, eyes wide with relief. The maid then rambled off a series of instructions. I thanked her, gently coaxed the candle back into her hand, and set off for my impromptu interview.

-:- -:- -:-

The Lord's bed chamber was surprisingly far from his wife's; secluded in a narrow hallway deep within the palace. Good for security, less so for lighting and presentability. It seems that Lord Halstead is much more pragmatic than his son.

If that lout even is his actual son. Katana liked my hypothesis even more than I did- mostly because it reeked of drama.

We shall learn soon enough. I cast my mental web slightly wider, brushing the very fringes of Harold's thoughts. He wasn't comfortable reaching out to others, but he could defend his mind well enough and tolerated the occasional instruction from me. The Bramblebays are still accounted for?

Harold's mind felt like un-felted wool compared to the crisp clarity of Katana's thoughts. I dimly heard, Lord Bramblebay is taking lunch with some of his peers. His wife and her two serving girls are in their rooms.

Good. Alert Katana if the situation changes; she will contact me after that. Don't make it clear what you're about. I released my connection to him, and I could tell even from afar that he was glad of it. Briefly, I wondered if my mind was as unpleasant to contact as my mentor's.

My partner noticed the distraction and batted it away before it fully took shape. We spend too much time thinking about him.

What choice did he give me? I shook my head. But, you're right. Focus.

I rounded the last corner and slowed my stride. A round, elderly maid sat hunched over her knitting in a fine wooden chair. Rheumy eyes met mine, then darted back down to her project.

I strode within a foot of the woman before speaking."I need to speak with Lady Halstead."

The wooden needles clicked together as she hummed. Then, in a croaked voice, she said, "Oh… no, that you cannot do. My Mistress asked me to tell visitors to go back the way they came. My apologies, Miss."

I shut my eyes, battling frustration. "Can you deliver a message?"

Her only response was to diligently *peter* away, klick klacking in practiced rhythm. When she reached the end of her row, she stuck her needles into a roll of tawny yarn and eased to her feet. Her change in position did little to alter her height, stooped as she was. "Aye, if it be urgent enough. What is the message?"

"Tell her that her son has desperate need of her in the lower parlor." From the few interactions of theirs I'd seen, she was indulgent of his whims to a fault. If anything would be deemed important enough to disturb the lady, it would be this.

The woman's expression soured, but she bowed her head again, fit a heavy iron key into the door's lock, and moved haltingly into the room. I waited long enough that she was likely to be out of the way before following behind her. My unwitting guide turned to look at me and she frowned mightily, "Please, you mustn't intrude here-"

"Peace, Mazalin." Lady Halstead sat on a cushioned stool pulled close to the canopied bed, her rich dressing gown cinched around her tiny waist. Heavy, red curtains were pulled closed save for a tiny gap near to the lady. The only hint that the bed was occupied was the telltale rasp of tortured wheezing. "We would not dare attempt to command our most honored guest."

The woman, Mazalin, widened her eyes in disbelief. "Begging your pardons, Majesty. I didn't know-"

I lifted a hand. "It is nothing. Thank you for your assistance, and I ask that you continue your previous duties while I speak with your mistress. It is a matter of some delicacy."

She bowed as low as she physically could- an odd mannerism for a female servant- and shuffled back out the door. Once the portal had snicked closed, Lady Halstead smiled- the first pleasant expression I'd seen on her. "Forgive her protectiveness; she has tended to my lord husband since he was a babe. This ordeal is as painful for her as it is for me, if not more so."

I chose a seat on the lady's side of the room as far back from the bed as possible. "Is she well? She moves with excessive care."

"She was injured as a young child and her legs have bothered her ever since. It has worsened in recent years- she's all but retired now- but she insisted on assisting me with Ardwin." She reached behind the curtain of the bed, pale hand disappearing into the shadows. "Is that the subject you wanted to discuss, Your Highness; the wellbeing of my former housekeeper?"

I shook my head. "No, it is not. I actually had two subjects requiring your attention." The lady seemed unmoved by my words so I continued, "The first is actually about a different former servant of yours; a certain Serae Bramblebay."

That certainly earned a reaction. Lady Halstead snapped to her most regal posture, tugging the curtain fully closed and turning a wary stare at me. "This is not a suitable place for such a conversation-"

"No…" The interrupting voice was bone-chilling; phlegmmy and weak as a drowning man's. "If she has… come… there is no use," a frail and pockmarked hand tugged the curtain aside, "no use hiding from her."

Lady Halstead pursed her lips in disquiet but spoke no further. Instead, she lifted from her seat and helped the dying man sit straighter against his pillows. She bade me come closer and stepped to the side, hands folded in front of her as if in supplication. I moved to her former seat. The stool's cushion had been worn nearly flat from its occupant's fierce dedication.

The skeletal form in the bed was difficult to look at directly. His cheeks were hollowed, paper-like flesh drooping in ribbons. The heavy lids were swollen and engorged until his eyes were hardly visible. His mouth hung open like a stray hound, crusted foam pilling at the edges of his purplish lips. Truly, he looked as though he'd already been deceased for some time. It was hard to superimpose my memories of the man over this wretched creature; a proud and handsome leader of men. I gathered my thoughts, pieced on an unflappable mask, and said gently, "It is an honor to lay eyes on you again, My Lord. It has been quite some time."

"It has." He grinned ghoulishly. "Forgive me, Princess, if I don't stand on… ceremony." He chuckled (rather, coughed). "I can longer stand."

"We are beyond such formalities." I laid a hand over his. I could have sworn I saw a smirk pass over his lips. "I apologize for troubling you during your rest, but it seems you have something to contribute to our conversation?"

The man nodded. "We both do. But I know that my Jermina would never break… silence on her own…"

I glanced back at the woman and she lowered her head, still silent and grave. I risked rephrasing my question, "Then you are also privy to the information Lady Bramblebay possesses?"

"Aye." Ardwin Halstead seemed to sink farther into his pillows. His voice carried the strain of true despair. "Please, love… tell her. My strength fails me."

At her husband's heartfelt plea, the lady's cool mask crumbled. "No good can come from it-"

"We are not able to deny her."

I blinked. On a hunch, I re-doubled my connection with Katana. Something is desperately wrong here. They're acting in more grave a manner than even adultery would warrant.

Should I send Harold to you?

What good would it do? Rather, tell him to ready us for a hasty departure.

Tread carefully. This family tree has deep roots.

I recentered myself and pivoted to more fully face Jermina. "Does the matter concern your son?"

As soon as my question hit the air, the lady crumbled into my previous seat. Haltingly she replied, "In a manner of speaking, Majesty." She gathered her strength and whispered, "Please, keep what I am about to tell you in the highest confidence. I have suffered beneath this burden all these years for the sake of that boy; my only boy." Glittering tears dropped from her miserable eyes. "He can never know. It would devastate him."

She has no idea that he already knows, I thought in astonishment. I was shocked that the chubby cherub could hide anything from anyone, let alone his own mother. "Very well. I promise that, so long as it poses no danger to me, I will keep your secret as my own. Speak freely."

Jermina took a shaky breath. "It was the sixth year of my marriage to Ardwin. Serae was my handmaiden and she accompanied me most nights. She was at my side when my first child breathed his last." She sniffed hard and clutched at her handkerchief. "But, mere days after his burial, we were given a miracle. A woman approached Serae for help with a child bundled into her arms. Serae then brought the pair to me."

I sat straighter, dates running through my head. If I'm not mistaken, this must have been right around the time of Torix's ascension.

"As soon as we brought the woman inside the palace, we were struck by the scent clinging to her; the reek of burnt meat. The poor creature was badly scalded; it was a miracle she had survived her injuries as long as she had. Many of the burns were already infected and weeping fluid. There was little we could do for her; save easing her pain. As she lay dying, she grasped Serae's hand and begged her to care for her ward. Then she was gone."

Understanding bloomed quite naturally from her story. "And you, a grieving mother, did not hesitate to care for an orphaned child."

"Yes." She sighed, "In fact, we had not yet even announced our tragedy to the court. Ardwin and I consulted on it and decided it would be best for the boy to raise him as our true-born son. It was difficult for me, my poor little one had only been gone a few days… and yet, when I held that boy, I had no qualms about the deception. The few servants who were privy to the details were sworn to silence- though, of those, only Mazalin and Serae are still among the living."

The sight of the woman's devotion and agony made me deeply uncomfortable. Naked emotions were viewed as the height of weakness in Galbatorix's court… sincerity of this depth was unheard of. And in all that time he is still an only child. No wonder they were desperate to keep this secret. If his adopted status was revealed, it would bring their family line to a certain end. And it would cause one of the most powerful cities in Alagaesia to collapse in on itself.

Is that enough of a reason? Katana asked.

I didn't need to consider. Something still seems out of place. Serae isn't likely to share this information, loyal as she is.

Perhaps the soon-to-be ruling lord was afraid the Bramblebays would use his secret to extort him?

Maybe there's more to this than just matters of inheritance. I sighed deeply, relaxing through sheer willpower. "I understand the choices the pair of you made. It makes no difference to the crown whose blood runs in Aroughs, so long as the balance of power remains intact." Jermina looked at me with a feverish hope. I smiled gently. "Let this matter rest and soon be lost to time."

"Sooner than…we thought…" another hacking cough interrupted the ailing lord. His wife darted forward, chalice of water in hand and clean kerchief at the ready. I leaned back so as to be out of her way. When he recovered from the fit, he wheezed, "My thanks…. Princess…" He took a moment to gather his strength. Though his voice was still weak, his tone was clearer than it had yet been as he said, "Prayel is my heir, as surely as if he shared my blood." Another cough, "I'm afraid.. He isn't ready… but we haven't much choice now."

I blinked away the sudden dryness in my eyes. "On that somber note, there is another reason I called upon you."

He tried to laugh and failed grandly. "If you were hoping for a sport hunt like those I once held, I must disappoint you. When next… I ride… it will be with my ancestors."

"And what a glorious hunt that shall be. But no, my lord, I came to offer my skills as a mage." I glanced at his wife's back. The grief-addled woman was beyond predicting. She may take the offer with ill humor, but the offer still needed to be made; decency demanded it. "I won't insult your intelligence by claiming the ability to heal you. However, I can lessen your pain."

"He has already refused all manner of medicines for that purpose," Jermina whispered, adding under her breath, "stubborn old man."

"All of those potions… addle the mind. I intend to keep my faculties… until the last."

I nodded, empathy for the resilient old goat tinting my conjured aloofness. "I could not possibly agree more. However, the spells at my disposal will only block your mind's ability to register the pain. For a healthy man, they are exceedingly dangerous- people could take grievous wounds and be totally unaware- but in a case such as this…"

The lord's eyes twitched as they closed entirely, lips smacking together in a sticky mess. His wife wiped the spittle, as tenderly as a love-smitten girl would caress her lover's cheek. "In that case… I cede to your wisdom, Princess."

The keen historian will note a familiar element in this spell. Many decades after this it would be taken to a whole new level by two mages; a fascinating young woman whom I would meet in the coming years and my be-loathed mentor. The results of their research would not appear until the Varden's uprising; the creatures nicknamed by our enemies as "the laughing dead." My more conventional application did not remove every level of feeling from a person; rather it only dulled the extremes of their physical awareness (this had been used medicinally for ages).

It takes a frightening mind to do harm through healing alone. That kind of mental agility is what separates a strong mage from a truly gifted one. I consider myself clever enough to get by, yet even I have been blown away by what far "weaker" magicians can accomplish. This is as good a time as any to reiterate a golden rule of our world: Never. Underestimate. Magic.

After I eased the ailing lord back to his rest, his wife patiently and politely "requested" that I leave them in peace. I was glad enough to be out of there (grateful I am that, however my life will end, it will be nothing like that). The whole mess still left me with a sour feeling in my gut, but I had no more promising leads into exactly why….

Until later that evening.

"My lady, this might be my crowning accomplishment!" Harold clapped his hands twice and bowed, "You've never looked better."

"A low bar to clear, but I am grateful for the praise." I curtsied to dear Harold, skirt pooling elegantly around my feet. The dress was simple in construction and very minimally adorned with black ribbon, but it was still one of the most extravagant gowns I owned. There was no finer fabric in the empire; blueish-emerald silk that glinted teal along the rose brocade. It fit me to perfection and was sturdy enough to hide the needle-like blade secured next to my busk. The gown was comprised of three separate pieces; underskirt, overgown, and stomacher. As old-fashioned as the silhouette was, the matching fabric disguised the construction rather well. The sleeves were tight to the elbow, then opened into yawning trumpets lined with black.

Harold carefully scanned the adornments we'd brought along with us. "Black pearls would suit the ensemble best, I think."

I glided to his side, velvet slippers nearly silent on the stone floor. "I would prefer something that can hold energy. Who knows what the evening might entail?" I skimmed the selection. Most of my pieces were subdued; I wasn't overly fond of gaudy jewels.

And then I saw it; a glint of light that seemed to come from within a heart-shaped pendant. Cheeky little bastard, I laid down more colorful curses in the privacy of my own mind.

Katana rushed to inspect the source of my sudden anger. I wonder when he snuck that into your bags? I felt the combined repulsion and amusement behind her words.

A better question is why he would bother. I lifted the silvery chain and let the pendant twirl at the end. Every scrap of candlelight refracted through its depths into shivering iridescence.

A test?

A challenge. I stared at the object in irritation. By not confronting me directly, the man had, once again, changed the game before I'd even realized we were playing. Either it would sit silently in storage- from my ignorance or arrogance, it mattered little- or I would take it back. Either way, it was out of his hands. A wave of apathy overcame me. If I have to share his reputation, I may as well reap the benefits when I can. I re-fastened the stone around my neck. It rested perfectly in the hollow of my collarbones, a cool weight I felt every time I inhaled. Simple as it looked, it contained enough stored energy to raze Aroughs to cinders.

Katana, obviously, disapproved. For tonight, I accept that it's wise to use whatever resources you may. I hope we reconvene on the issue when we go home.

'Home' is a rather strong word, isn't it? I fingered the chain and grimaced. I swear to you, we will speak more of this soon.

Good.

I curled a section of my gleaming waves around a finger until the end returned to its curl. Harold frowned, "A lady should have their hair up at a formal event."

"A married lady, yes. Luckily for our schedule, I am still a maiden in the eyes of the court." I winked. "And in any case, I have no intention of bending to these yuppies." I liked that I could conceal my pointed ears and the squareness of my jaw in a light froth of auburn. With every trick I learned, I saw less of Galbatorix's face in the mirror. It was slim comfort, but I had nothing more substantial with which to replace it.

A voice outside of the door interrupted my musings. "My lady!" Our host's grating tenor was the least welcome sound I'd experienced all day; including his father's ghoulish coughing. "I've come to offer you an escort for the evening, as is my responsibilty on such an occasion as host."

Harold and I made expressive eye contact. The tradition to which he refered was meant for maidens who were too young to yet be courted but were old enough to enjoy a ball. A hosting, adult noble might extend an invitation to such a lady so she may join the festivities with the escort then accepting responsibility for her safety. It was largely a superficial gesture to make children feel included in the silly games we played. To ask someone who not only outranked him but also out aged him by at least a decade was bold to say the very least.

At least I'll know where he is. I answered before my pride forced me to rebuke him, "A most gentile and magnanimous offer, my lord. I will gladly make use of your hospitality." Harold swallowed his chuckle dutifully and opened the door for me.

The foppish man in the hall was truly a sight to behold. Violet cuffs on his indigo jacket clashed badly with mustard yellow leggings… the pieces were richly dyed and of fine materials, but the complete lack of coordination was staggering! He extended an arm with perfect manners and a charmless smile, "Shall we?"

It took all of my acting skills to touch him without showing disdain on my face. "We shall."

-:- -:- -:-

For all his faults, Lord Prayel Halstead was intimately familiar with how to craft an incredible party!

Before the meal had even begun, a trio of harpists (a boy with a handheld instrument, a woman seated with a larger harp leaning on her shoulder, and an old man leaning over a massive creation) serenaded the gathering guests. The dining table had been moved and added upon until three edges of the room were lined with tables and chairs, all facing a central floor cleared for dancing. Several servants- including the young miss I'd spoken to earlier in the day- circled the room with trays of chilled, sweet, wine. Rather than glide about the space and stir the hornets' nest prematurely, I ventured to the seat I knew was destined for me; directly at our host's left side.

Every guest was dressed to the absolute peak of their wealth and taste. Gems glittered at throats, chests, wrists, fingers, hats, shoes...every surface that could be adorned had been. It seemed as if they all meant to carry their fortunes away on their persons like thieves in the night! And what excellent targets they would make for robbery. Between the already omnipresent intoxication and general lack of awareness in the room, it would be an easy feat for a skilled sneak. I'll have to pitch the idea to Felice. If one of them could infiltrate a fancy party like this… they could eat for a month on a single ring!

Our host clinked his glass goblet. My fellow party-goers claimed seats along the table, many wrapping up their conversations my surprise, the seat on his right was not taken by his mother, as had been the custom for all past meals, but instead by a boy- no older than thirteen- with a mop of golden curls, dusting of dark freckles, and pair large brown eyes. He leaned forward, buzzing with excitement, "Can I have an extra honey cake, Father?"

The lord grinned indulgently. "Is my aging a good enough reason to spoil you? Ah, please, not those kitten eyes… alright then, one extra. But you must be a good lad and bring one up for your sister after dinner is through."

"I will!" the boy chirped. He scooted forward, tucked his legs beneath him, and leaned until he could make eye contact with me over the table. He waved at me, all aglow with youthful innocence and joy.

I waved back, indulging the moment. He doesn't strike me as the paternal sort.

He doesn't act like a married man. Katana snarked.

Widower. If I remember correctly, his wife died in childbed while laboring with their youngest. Luckily the child survived; most difficult births don't end so well- I realized too late what I'd just thought.

Like a thunderhead enveloping the moon, a wash of heavy mourning clouded our link. Katana snapped the emotion tight to her core as soon as it arose, but we both felt it all too keenly. I weathered the convoluted wave of emotions that churned through her, unflinching and unjudging; she still grieved for her un-made hatching as strongly now as she had fifteen years ago. If the rest of Alagaesia knew, they would no doubt grieve with her. As it was, she had only me to shoulder the burden at her side. Mor'ranr waise medh ono, fricai.

The storm stilled to a bitter mist. She wordlessly acknowledged me and shrank back from our link, mentally exhausted and ill of mind. If you have need, I will be here. Then, like smoke on the wind, my voice was the only one in my mind.

I zoned back into my surroundings in time to lift a goblet and toast to whatever the man beside me had just said. I probed the liquid with magic and swallowed. The wine went down as smooth as the finest cider. Throughout the course of the meal, I indulged in as many as I considered prudent… and then one more for good luck.

We were served several courses of fancy foods. There were salads of delicate spring greens circled in boiled quals' eggs. Then, after these came glittering orbs of mosaiced egg, aspic, and foie gra. Then a tall, corseted meat pie accompanied by thick pastries bearing towers of roasted vegetables. And, as a finale, fresh cream that had been dyed, iced, and shaped into flowers, fruits, and birds. I nibbled politely at the extravagant fair (for all my years of court life, I still had a fairly simple palette).

Finally, it was time to venture from the table and start the dances. Once the bustle of the room increased, I noticed the very subtle intrusion of one extra party guest; my mysterious little assassin. For the moment he was content to drift along the edges of the room making polite conversation, but he could only be here for one thing.

I meandered to Lady Bramblebay and struck up a conversation about the first thing I noticed; a broach on her collar.

"A gift from my- … from Lady Halstead. It was a token of her blessing on my wedding day."

"That was most gracious of her." Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a familiar face; our assassin had entered the mix. He held a pair of goblets though he was clearly not drinking from either. A brick of gold to the dragon who can tell me what he's laced them with.

It was a pathetically obvious bid for Katana to pull out of her shell. It worked like a charm. That liquid-fire you call seithr oil. And you'd better pay up.

What does an eldunari need with gold?

Gift it to Shruikan. He likes shiny things. I marveled at that. Last I'd heard, the two weren't speaking, let alone gifting each other things.

Before I could ask more about the situation, Lord Bramblebay joined his wife. His cheeks looked like two glossy red apples, centered by a dopey smile. "It's a beautiful night for a feast! Good music, good drink, and plenty of beautiful ladies," He lifted his wife's gloved hand and kissed it twice.

She giggled and tapped his arm, "Please dear, behave yourself. You haven't the tolerance you once had." He pouted very much like a child and she sighed. Serae winked at me and smiled, "This is precisely why men need wives. Leave them alone for but a moment and they drink themselves into toddlers."

"And to think; those same toddlers run our world," I added.

She giggled politely. "I would never dare say it was a universal rule of course. Still, it baffles me that our king is unwed. He is still human, is he not? I'd think a throne was a powerful tool for alleviating loneliness."

I wish he was lonely. Of course, I could never say that. Instead I shrugged and sighed, "He is faced with the same turmoil all riders inevitably are; we are much longer-lived than other humans. Any joy we could find in a partner would inevitably be undone by the pain of losing them."

I felt the lady's sincere contrition. "Forgive me. I did not realize-"

"Few do. And how could they? There are few of us left in the world, and we are a reclusive bunch." Our conversation eased into more trivial matters; namely fixated around Lord Bramblebay's extensive knowledge of wine. I know where to find a gift for Mommy next spring.

Won't it be rather difficult to purchase wine from a corpse?

Katana's observation clanged in my head like the peal of a cracked bell. Even as I chewed it, I spotted the figure of my unwilling informant reclining against the wall. If I were one wit less observant, I may not have noticed his movements at all.

"My good Lord and Lady!" Lord Halstead the younger bounced up beside me, gleaming horsetail a mess of fly away and breath saturated with wine. His son was tucked up in his arms, head resting on his father's shoulder in a doze. "I hope tonight's festivities have been enjoyable?"

"All that and more, dear Prayel. You've got a knack for such things." Lord Bramblebay's use of the familiar name and genuine praise seemed to slide right off the younger man's phony exterior. Luckily, the older lord was too far gone into his cup to notice. His wife, however, tightened her lips. "You're a capital entertainer!"

A showy, blinding smile washed over Halstead's facade. "You do me far too much credit! Please, I want to introduce all three of you to my old friend from Belatona. It won't take but a moment," he took the goblet from the Bramblebay's hand and set it on the table next to his wife's. "After that, I'm afraid I must excuse myself for a spell. My little one," Healstead patted the child's back, "must be put to his rest."

I was less than enthralled by the prospect, but there was no graceful way to refuse. I stood and politely chittered away with this irrelevant lordling. Though, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the assassin's movements. He rested his tainted goblets next to his targets', then he lifted the more innocent vessels and ferried them away. A well-executed swap, but still a colossal risk. People mix up their goblets at affairs like this all the time! I'd seen an innocent man drop dead due to an identical oversight some thirty years ago. He has skills, but he's still green as a spring onion.

Katana was displeased by the imagery. In this case, isn't that a good thing?

For me, absolutely. For his employer, less so.

True to his word, Lord Halstead made his introductions and then his excuses as he ferried his drowsy child from the gala. I hid my distaste behind a mask of aloof ambivalence. I fully believe that he only brought the child with him so that he would have a plausible reason to leave. He doesn't have the stomach to behold the consequences of his orders.

A coward to the last. Katana agreed.

I hated those nobles most of all; the kind who commanded bloodshed and anarchy from the safety of their gilded cages. Even Galbatorix, negligent as he could be, was never afraid to dirty his hands… beyond a fault. What must it be like, to still be squeamish at the thought of death?

Humanizing?

Says the lizard.

Careful. I may not have claws anymore, but I'm not totally impotent!

I ticked time away with Katana as I meandered back to our corner and waited for my previous conversation partners to similarly extricate themselves. I leaked energy into one of my many latent spells; sure enough, the wine hid a sweeter and viler liquid within. My jaw tightened. It's a miserable way to die. Imbibing seithr oil was more akin to drowning in one's own liquifying innards than to poisoning. It was an execution method saved for the most loathsome; most detestable creatures. I had inflicted it exactly once, and then only because the man had richly deserved it.

A chord inside of me resonated with that thought. "As they deserve," I had told Mahkek all those [years/days/hours/centuries] ago. The words had formed from the churning pit of grief, guilt, and self-pity brought on by the evening's revelations, but I had paid them little thought since. Katana… what the hell am I doing?

My partner paused, pondering my despondent tone more than the words themselves. I presume that this isn't a sudden fit of amnesia…

Nothing has changed. I blinked back sudden vitriol. Love him or loathe him, I'm still acting like Galbatorix's pet!

We're here for Antebellum-

No, I mean… I tried to sort out my tangle of emotions in vain. This is exactly what he would do; squeeze two innocent people for information and then leave them for the most miserable kind of death. Though the situation had changed, the result had not; I was still preparing to watch innocent people die, and with no more emotion than I would have shown my hair-care! The realization made me ill. They're good people and they don't deserve to die.

You seem sick at hear, fricai. Katana stayed neutral, calm as a mirror pool. What will you do?

I considered the goblets with a sour expression. Resolve this situation my way. I am sick; sick and tired of prancing around in the shadows. I know the cure… but it might make a bit of a mess.

As always, I follow your lead.

I smiled humorlessly to myselfm lifting the two murderous potions gingerly. I caught the eye of my unwitting assistant and shook my head in warning. He blinked hard and slipped through a glass door to the garden. Whether you want to or not?

Finally, you understand.

-:- -:- -:-

Lord Prayel Halstead's room was even easier to infiltrate than his hired assassin's had been. Where the father had prioritized safety and peace, the son had placed himself on an exterior wall on the ground floor, conveniently close to the gardens, kitchens, and housing for female servants. A coward and a lech. I wonder if he has a single redeeming quality?

He can't be worse than Balor or Beren?

They are of the same breed.

His lock was enchanted against magical opening. I set the cups down, plucked my trusty throwing needle from my stays, and sent a silent blessing to Felice for teaching me her tricks. The lock popped open and I made myself at home.

The moon hadn't moved much farther in the sky when he entered his front-most chamber. The click of his hardened boots screamed money and arrogance; there wasn't a single stealthy bone in his body. I waited until he was halfway through the room before stepping into the doorway and tossing up a blanket ward against intrusion or escape. He was halfway through the velveteen buttons on his waistcoat when he noticed the two goblets glinting ominously on a table.

"Pardon the intrusion, My Lord, but I needed a private word with you."

His back stiffened. He turned slowly, face set in a mask of dread like a man facing down the gallows.

He had every reason to believe that he might soon be doing just that.

"Highness, forgive me for my state of undress. If you give me but a moment-"

"I came to address your intentions for Lord and Lady Bramblebay." My frankness made the foppish man recoil. In no mood to entertain his obviscations, I continued speaking in a crisp, matter-of-fact timbre. "You invited a certain young man- one who's family name is neither known nor recorded- to the feast tonight. While there he swapped those cups for identical ones. Conveniently, he did this immediately after you had left the scene."

"Perhaps a thief-"

"An assassin, and one hired by you. I have come here to call you to account. You will either explain yourself to me here and now, or you may explain the matter to Galbatorix and his counselors." It was a bluff of course- I neither needed nor wanted Torix's help- but the mention of the man's name had [and has] a profound effect on any that hear it. Halstead quailed beneath the threat, but still kept his lips tight. I sighed. "I infer that it has somethign to do with your parentage-"

Whatever I'd expected, it was most certainly not the sudden, icy snick of a dagger leaving its sheath. The facade of a doughy, frivolous man practically molted off him and a cornered beast took his place. If he had faced down anyone else in the city he would have probably gutted them before they understood their danger.

I was less than impressed.

Normally I would have dispatched the cretin then and there- attacking a rider or royal were both punishable by death anyway- but I despaired at the thought of Harold scrubbing blood out of this particular gown. I waited patiently for him to close distance with me, then grasped the blade in my bare hand. My wards clashed against some spell woven onto the implement; it was like trying to hold greased ice.

"Die!" He sputtered.

"Stop," I countered. Bored with his persistence, I snapped the blade off from the handle, tang shattering into splinters of razor-thin metal. Then I buried it the wall behind him with a casual toss. He stuttered forward so I braced a hand on his shoulder to slow his momentum. "That's quite enough of that. Be a good boy now and have a seat, if you please. I didn't come here for violence but I will be happy to oblige you if this continues."

My patronizing tone sapped his bluster like a physical blow. He staggered back a step and collapsed into a chair. I was suddenly reminded of a different nobleman, a king, staring at Galbatorix with a combined look of horror, awe, and grim acceptance. I shook off the memory and rested my hands on my hips. "Thank you. Now, a full account if you please. Why did the Bramblebay's have to die?"

Silence.

I frowned. "Still being difficult? As you wish, but this may be painful." I brushed a teasing thread of thought against his mind. It was defended well, as all nobles of import were taught, but he and I both knew how a direct contest between us would end.

"Demons woman, enough! I'll… tell…tell all-"

Woman?! He's just digging this hole deeper and deeper…"Now, now, I'm not the one who pulled a knife." I sighed and rubbed my temple. Again, he hesitated. I snapped, "For every time you force me to repeat myself I will remove one of your fingers. Speak quickly or be silent and let me listen to your thoughts; it makes no difference to me."

He vaulted into a recounting of his story. Much of it was the mirror of Lady Halstead's but I suspected the devil was really in the details of this tale. "Mother adopted me as her own after my nursemaid died. She carried me from my home-"

"From Illirea?" I purposefully emphasized the old name of the city. It was only a hunch but, between the timeline and the poor woman's burns, I considered it a pretty safe one.

"Yes."

"How old were you when you came to Aroughs?"

"Six."

"Old enough to remember the life you led before coming here?"

He swallowed hard. "Please-"

I took a step forward, grabbed one of his wrists, and touched the tip of my throwing needle to the base of his pinky.

"Yes!" He shouted, bullets of sweat streaming down his face and staining his gaudy purple suit. "Yes, I remember my parents and my siblings. I remember…our home-"

I dropped his limb back to the armrest. "Am I correct in guessing that you are the last of an extinguished line?"

Tears pricked his eyes and hate curdled his face. Finally, he seemed to wrest forth an inner calm as he lifted his chin. Despite ashen face and shaking hands, he still seemed to be clinging to some measure of dignity. "I am Prince Sendigh, last son of the late King, and rightful heir to the Broddring Kingdom." His eyes were stone-hard; as if he were challenging me to refute the words.

I… laughed. It wasn't a conscious choice; it just bubbled out of me. This little fool… a prince? What a joke of a king he would make! Even Galbatorix is better suited to it, and he's raving mad! I fell back from him, rib-shaking laughter sending an ache through my belly. "By your own tone and actions, I presume that you consider us equals?"

His expression soured further, wounded pride overtaking common sense. "Hardly! You are the bastard of a mad usurper-"

"I am a rider," I countered, mirth fading with his arrogant proclamation. "And I also happen to have your life in my hands at the moment, so I would advise amending your tone."

"Spare me the speech. You and I both know how this must end." He slumped back in his chair, chest heaving like he'd just sprinted a no-man's land under a heavy rain of arrows. "Exactly the same way it ended between our fathers."

Curiosity got the better of me. "Why keep Antebellum at arm's length? It was for her benefit that I came here in the first place."

He winced. "Because the Bramblebays yet live." At my shocked expression, he shook his head. "They aren't even aware themselves of what their knowledge unlocks… but the right ears in the wrong places would've ended my life as surely as you now will. Everyone knows Antebellum is a longtime associate of yours."

I nodded, conceding his point. I probably would've reached the same conclusion in his place. That thought brought me no particular comfort. Unspoken, a shadow flitted across my mind and my heart turned to lead, he has a son. As casually as possible, I asked, "Who else knows of this?"

"I've told not a soul. Not even Mother is aware that my memories of life before her are intact; it would only have brought her grief." The real affection in his voice was shocking.

A murky crossroads materialized in front of me. I knew, had personally witnessed, what Torix would have advised: complete anihalation. The thought made me even sicker than the near-murder of the Bramblebays.

You could leave him living as a pawn? Bind him with oaths and have him serve you-

Oaths are imprecise in matters like this. And who knows the harm he could cause if this information spread. The last thing the Empire needs is yet another civil war!

So his life is forfeit. But what about the hatchling?

The term brought a pang of Katana's earlier pain back in full force. He's just a boy… but he could grow up to become quite the problem.

Katana paused. Then, in a facetiously innocent tone asked, Do you think yourself incapable of handling him?

I snorted aloud, drawing a raised eyebrow from the lord- no, prince!- in front of me. If I am that incompetent, then I don't deserve any of my titles anyway. "Very well. Then I see no reason why this matter should not end between us two."

His eyes widened, the urge to hope outweighing all his resignation. "You mean…"

"Your son will make a fine lord someday. Besides, creating a power vacuum in Aroughs has no benefit for the Empire at large or me personally. Antebellum will serve as his mentor and masked lord."

He closed his eyes, swiping a hand overtop his horsetail to lessen his disheveled appearance. "I daren't have asked for such mercy."

"Nor expected it," I agreed. I took two steps to the table where the affronting goblets sat in silent admonishment. "If it had been the King that found this morsel, this city would have been bathed in the blood of everyone you've ever known." I lifted the cups and turned. His face was pallid with fear. "But I am no more my father than you are yours." I emptied both goblets into a planter. The murderous liquid was unperturbed by the soil and roots, though it did violently disintegrate a beetle innocently crouched amid the leaves.

He eased out a tortuously tense breath. Then, almost as if possessed by sudden religious fervor, he stared up at me and said, "We could wed!"

I thought my eyes would crust over and fall out of my head they opened so uncomfortably wide. "Why?"

"To legitimize the king's claim! Think of it; he would no longer be a usurper, but a regent for the true bloodline!"

An immortal regent. That's too funny to even make into a joke. I shook my head. "I would rather live in exile than marry for convenience. And, believe me when I tell you this, death is a kindness compared to sharing a household with Galbatorix."

"You could send me into exile! Or arrest me, or-"

"You're embarrassing yourself now." I grumbled.

"It's just… my poor mother. She's already suffered so much… losing Father and me so close together would destroy her."

I groaned. Being a good person was more complicated than I could have imagined. Again, I defaulted to Katana. It seems cruel to harm her needlessly, but I can think of no better solution.

Honesty that only does harm is not noble. Katana parroted my own sentiments back at me with the patience of a sage. Let him bid her farewell; she need not know that it is forever.

"You will go to her tonight. You will tell her that I have given you a crucial task that must be undertaken in secret. Say your farewells to the man and woman who raised you… and then we will complete our business. She will have lived her last years missing you, but not mourning."

He set his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. "What could I possibly say to comfort her?"

I sighed. I am the LAST person to ask about parting words; everyone I've ever lost was ripped from me without so much as a last glance. I considered briefly the things I'd wanted to say; the thoughts that had followed me like ghosts for so many years. Gathering myself to my full height and a distant regalness I said, "Leave nothing unspoken. Express your gratitude for all she's done. Remind her of your love. Forgive any wrongs that may exist between the two of you. The last and most valuable gift you can give someone before you leave them is peace."

He stared at me. Even with only a decade separating us, he seemed far younger. He and I were children at the same time and in the same place. But one of us was ferried off to be raised and loved far from his true potential, the other doomed to serve a lunatic to the bitter end. Which of us got the short end of this situation, I wonder? The former prince ended my musings with a single whisper, "I'm ready."

I listened in to his farewells only enough to ensure he wasn't betraying our arrangement. Either from honor or terror, he followed my instructions to the letter. The moment was heartfelt and beautiful, with many tears and much embracing. Afterwards, we made one last detour; he spun the same tale in a simplified form to his son. The sleepy boy woke enough to be agitated, but a few pats and pecks on his forehead sent him back to his dreams.

He passed painlessly in a magic-induced slumber. I incinerated his body in totality and scattered him among the glorious plants that we'd glided among just days before. I did not grieve him, but neither did I relish the task: it was necessary. His father, as predicted, faded before the week was out. His mother lingered on another two years, devoting herself utterly to her grandson and enjoying many quiet evenings with Serae and her husband.

Antebellum never knew exactly how the tides had turned so favorably but, under the circumstances, it could hardly be anyone but me. She took the rearing of the lordling-in-training very seriously… but not to make him a threat. Rather, she paid careful consideration to making him reliant on her. In a single working relationship,she became one of the most powerful women in the world. But I never let her forget that her influence rested squarely on an un-repayable debt to me; our fates were bound irrevocably from then on. No matter what the task, she would be my ally.

On a lighter note, worry not for our enterprising little assassin! I offered him a much better career path; one that would lead him to some new friends in Teirm. He settled into the family quite nicely, though he and Wolfy weren't the most… harmonious pair.

...

It took me a long time to understand my actions that night. Had I witnessed this same scene a decade before, it might have played out very differently. Years as Galbatorix's favorite blade had numbed me to death, to suffering, to notions of "rightness." Now… everything was different. I came to a fateful decision: I could no longer measure my life on a scale devised by a lunatic. Freedom from him meant freedom from his precepts; the rules I'd followed religiously since I was a little girl, before I had become a rider or royalty. It was adherence to those teachings that first made me his… to undo that damage, I needed to start at the beginning.

I considered the mess in Aroughs a great personal victory. Not the most ruthless nor the most benevolent… but a balance I could face in the mirror. And I was glad for the practice of reshaping my views. Because someone was about to enter my life who would upend all of my preconceptions about humanity… with nothing more than a smile and an offered hand.