Epilogue
King's Landing was a dangerous place to travel at night, so it was often said. Far better to stay inside where you were safe, it was always advised. Of course, such advice was only useful to those children who had a secure home to hide inside from the night's dangers.
Before she had met Lord Titus, Barba had spent her life living dangerously, but nothing had prepared her for the depravity of a city like King's Landing. For the first few months, she had dutifully stayed in her chambers. Even her plan to rob Lord Titus and flee the city became reduced to a daydream which became less plausible with each passing week.
Still, she had not survived as a girl by becoming complacent. Life did not reward those who peaceably accepted whatever they were given. She had seen that for herself when the Blackfyre Rebellion had destroyed her home and her family.
Lord Titus was a good man, or tried to be. That mattered little, however. Papa was a good man, from what she could recall. He had done his best to protect his family. He had ended his life on a boat, where he never should have been in the first place.
She had not worked up the nerve to begin stealing until after the first year with Lord Titus. She had dreaded what he might do if he caught her at it, and where he might send her. Over time, she realised how determined he was to defend her and the other wards.
He was also far more lax than most when it came to transgressions. He never once allowed his wards to be beaten. He either didn't know or didn't care that one of the older girls would regularly sneak out to dally with squires. She had eventually run off and left just three months after Barba had arrived. Barba, who'd shared a chamber with her, had been utterly bewildered that someone would run away from Lord Titus.
The silverware and other trinkets clinked softly as she slipped out of Maegor's Holdfast. She'd wrapped each one in its own rag to muffle the sounds as much as possible.
It was all too easy. Servants came and went at nearly all hours. Who would look twice at a young scullery maid? Many of them were close enough to Barba's age that she wore their clothes easily.
She had perfected her route out of the castle, keeping to the lower levels were servants were prone to walk. So long as she dirtied her face, kept her head down and spoke only when addressed, few paid heed to her.
When she'd first brought stolen goods into the city, she had tried to approach the inns and pot shops of Flea Bottom. That had gone about as well as anyone might have warned her, until she'd encountered Redfoot and his cronies.
She'd heard several stories about who Redfoot was and how he'd gotten that moniker for himself. The most-repeated one was that he'd nearly been caught stealing when he was a lad. His shoes were so worn that they'd fallen apart as he ran from the goldcloaks. The streets of King's Landing hadn't been kind to him; he'd left a trail of bloody prints on the cobblestones, and yet he'd still escaped capture. Even if the story wasn't true, it served its purpose. There was no surer way to earn respect in Flea Bottom than to commit a crime and get away with it.
Redfoot never stayed in one place too long, but Barba knew where one of his lairs stood. Keeping to the shadows, she slipped down Aegon's hill with her ill-gotten gains.
A boy of about thirteen was lounging on the sad excuse for a porch. He went by Ferret among the street urchins of Flea Bottom. Barba liked him not at all: he was a lewd braggart who reveled in tormenting any girls that he could. Barba had once heard that he and his friends had stolen a head from the wall spikes and forced any girl they caught to kiss it.
As always, he sneered at Barba when he caught sight of her. "Well well! Little princess is back!" He splayed his arms and legs apart, as if preventing her from going inside.
Barba loathed Ferret, but she was not fool enough to provoke him. She had learned such lessons a long time ago in the Riverlands. "Where's Redfoot?"
Ferret's smirk widened. "Tell you what, I can't well remember. Y'know what fixes me wanderin' mind though?"
Barba grimaced as Ferret pulled apart the laces of his threadbare breeches. "Ferret," she pleaded, "really?"
"Aye, really," he snapped. His eyes were alight as he sensed her fading resistance.
Barba sighed, then put down her bag of loot. Slowly, she approached Ferret where he sat on the steps and knelt down.
Ferret was still grinning when Barba lunged with her fist, right between his legs. No sooner had a shriek of agony begun to leave his mouth than she punched him a second time.
The boy writhed on the ground, clutching his grimy groin whilst Barba stood up and gave him two kicks to his ribs for good measure. "Where is Redfoot," she yelled. "Tell me or I'll stomp your balls flat!"
"The playhouse," Ferret whimpered. "The playhouse by the Dog and Duck!"
He was still writhing about and sobbing as Barba went on her way. She worried what sort of revenge he might try to inflict upon her, but she knew that Redfoot wouldn't allow it. She had regularly provided him with loot from the castle, worth far more than anything Ferret had ever stolen. Besides, Ferret would not want this story getting out, so like as not he would keep it to himself and hate her silently. Well, he already hated me, and now he knows what I'm ready to do if he tries something again.
The playhouse, as Ferret had called it, stood just outside of Flea Bottom. Its proper name was the Black Septa, for whatever reason. Far as Barba could tell, it was an upjumped brothel which aspired to provide other sorts of entertainment. Mummers performed there, as did dancers, singers, and jugglers. Occasionally, they hosted actors who performed plays.
Four burly men stood outside the playhouse's entrance, armed with iron-shod cudgels that goldcloaks might have carried.
"One groat," one of them growled as Barba approached.
Wordlessly, she pretended to rummage through her belongings, looking increasingly desperate. Finally, she feigned surprise and relief as she pulled out two half-groats from her clothing. She had learned long ago that nothing deterred a robber more than if he thought you were desperate and poor.
"You'll have to stand," the man told her sourly. "Full house tonight."
The guard had not been exaggerating; it was a very busy night for the Black Septa. Barba could not guess how many were in attendance, but it seemed as if almost every seat was full.
The play had already begun, but Barba was unsure when. Actors stood on a stage which was surrounded by the audience on three sides.
The playhouse was much bigger than Barba had supposed. The seats in front were mostly beneath the stage, while those on the sides were on a second floor which included seats and standing room. A third level also existed.
As she tried to slip through the crowds, looking for Redfoot and keeping a firm hold on her bag, Barba found herself so distracted by the play that she began to watch.
It appeared to be set in the Riverlands during the time of the First Men. The Fisher King had died, and two of his sons by two different women were vying for the throne. Both sought the support of Lord Mudd, a valiant hero who had triumphed in a great war to the west. He'd even brought back a queen of House Casterly and her three sons. In memory of Mudd's fallen sons, he ordered the sacrifice of Casterly's eldest son, even as she swore vengeance upon House Mudd and all who carried that name.
The play went on in this fashion. The Casterly queen was married by the Fisher prince who was chosen to succeed his father, and from there, she set her vengeance into motion. Mudd's only daughter - newly married to one of the Fisher princes - was ambushed by the Casterly queen's surviving sons. Her husband was slain before her eyes before she herself was dragged away to be raped. To ensure that she could not name them as her attackers, the brothers cut out her tongue and removed her hands. Moreover, two of Lord Mudd's sons were implicated for the murder of their goodbrother. They were executed, and Lord Mudd seemingly went mad in response to these injuries against his family. However, his madness was only feigned. He concocted a terrifying vengeance of his own, culminating in a grievous massacre. Lord Mudd, the Casterly queen, her sons, and the newly crowned Fisher king were all slain in gruesome fashions. Lord Mudd's surviving son was chosen as king, whereupon he gave a speech declaring that he would begin a new dynasty and ensure that their enemies would never rise again.
The whole play was a ghastly spectacle. Several times, the stage was stained with blood and gore, to the point that more than one actor nearly lost their footing. The crowds loved it all; they jeered when Mudd's daughter was dragged offstage whilst her clothes were torn off, and some even laughed when the brothers mocked her lack of hands and tongue. They cheered and shouted so loudly during scenes of violence that the actors often needed to wait for the noise to subside before they could continue giving their lines.
Barba was stunned, remaining where she was as the crowds began to disperse, but also enthralled. She wondered how much of it was true, what the meaning was in such a bloody tale. Before she could reach any conclusions, she recalled her first purpose.
It was impossible to find Redfoot in these crowds, especially when they began to leave the playhouse. Will he leave too? What if he finds a whore for himself instead?
She had no wish to make her way to the brothel part of the playhouse. Instead, she shuffled out with the departing throngs, trying to ignore when straying hands grazed her form.
Suddenly, shouting broke out nearby.
"Get your hands out of my pocket! Get your bloody hands out of my pocket, you doxy bitch!"
Barba gave a cry as a hand seized her shoulder. "Here's another one! Another pickpocket!"
She did not think twice. Dropping her bag of loot, she turned and struck her attacker between his legs. As he released her with a cry, she darted forward as fast as she could.
The others might have also seized her if it weren't for the sudden arrival of the men who'd stood outdoors. Their ironshod clubs were laid about indiscriminately, causing the crowds to panic and recoil from their onslaught.
Barba darted between the new arrivals and made for the front doors as fast as she could.
It was not long before she stood in the open air again. Still, she was surrounded by angry men and women, and she had not lost her instincts living with Lord Titus. It was easier to run downhill than uphill, so she instinctively fled downward without thinking of where she was going. She went down one street, then another, confusing her trail to lose any pursuers.
Only after she'd left the Black Septa far behind, and she was sure that nobody was chasing her, did she collapse to the ground and try to catch her breath. The loss of her loot was a bitter one, but she had at least escaped.
She did not know what the hour was, but she felt weary. She shouldn't have taken this long. Bloody Redfoot, she cursed silently when she stood up again.
Back to the Red Keep, then. She couldn't retrace her steps; even if she hadn't run in blind panic, she had no wish to go near the Black Septa again.
Barba thought of Miru as she tried to make her way out of the maze that was Flea Bottom. She smiled sardonically to herself as she recalled what she'd told the younger girl. This will be the longest trip to the privy that I've ever taken.
She was still thinking that when the first pair of hands seized her.
Her arms were yanked behind her back. When Barba opened her mouth to scream, a dirty rag was thrust into her mouth. A large hand prevented her from spitting it out, until a second rag was roughly secured over her mouth.
Barba tried to scream and kick at her attackers, but it was no use. She felt her arms being bound by rope which was also looped around her body.
The men capturing her were silent, even when her feet struck them. When her arms were secured, they bound her legs together and covered her with a large sack.
Barba's muffled voice was shrill, and her cheeks were stained with tears as she tried to squirm. She felt the men pick her up and sling her over a horse and tie her to it. As the horse began to trot, she could only lie in place, utterly helpless and terrified out of her wits.
She had no idea what was happening, who these men were, what they wanted from her, or where they were taking her. She bawled into her gags, bumping up and down with the horse, feeling its legs moving back and forth beneath her.
An eternity seemed to pass her by as she lay on that horse. It was difficult for her to breathe whilst trapped in the sack, especially since she could only use her nose. If it weren't for a few holes in the worn material, she might have suffocated. As it was, she felt herself growing lightheaded, which only heightened her panic.
Finally, she felt the horse come to a halt. Two pairs of hands untied her and carried her wriggling form in midair.
It was the most terrifying sensation that she had ever experienced. Almost no light was coming through the holes in the sack. Her bound body swayed back and forth, even as she could hear the men's boots thudding against the ground. The noises seemed to echo, as if they were going through a tunnel. Other sounds resonated in the area: the heavier breathing of the men holding her, water dripping in the distance, her own muffled sobs.
After a considerable time, there was a new sound: Barba's whimpers were answered by a small chorus of misery and terror.
She was still contemplating this new noise when the men put her down and pulled the sack off of her.
They were in some sort of dungeon, with a large cage before her. The only light came from two or three torches which were ensconced on the wall. Several ragged-looking girls were inside the cage, sitting or standing as they stared listlessly at Barba and her captors. Two guards were lounging about, scowling as they watched their companions untie Barba and remove her gag.
Barba could have tried to jump up and run away. It would have been a futile attempt, however. The four men would have caught her, beat her, maybe worse. They seemed to sense her languidness, for they pulled her up to her feet, opened the cage door, and shoved her forward. The door slammed shut behind her with a definitive clang, causing her to cry out. When she looked back, the men locked the door and walked away, melting into the gloom.
Barba began crying again as she knelt on the cold ground. She wished she were back in her chambers with Miru, awaiting Lord Titus' return. If I make it out back, I'll take Lord Titus' name, she fervently prayed to the gods. I'll call him "Father". I'll never run away again. She trembled from the cool air, utterly despondent as she sat in the cage.
"Barba?"
A young woman was looking at her from a corner of the cage. Barba recognised her in turn when she stared at her through the gloomy torchlight.
"You're Cayn's friend," Barba exclaimed. "Bessie!"
Bessie beckoned her over. They crouched together, knees touching as they faced each other.
"What is this place?" Barba whispered.
"I don't know," Bessie replied. She looked filthy, and her pale face was worn from weeping.
"How long have you been here?"
"I don't know that either," Bessie whimpered. More tears leaked from her eyes. "I can't see the sun from here, I have no idea how long I've been gone!"
Barba wept with her. Hearing someone recognise her had given her a fleeting bit of hope and relief, but it was for naught. The terrible truth was that they were both trapped in the same hell, possibly for the rest of their lives.
"What happened to you?" Conversation was the only way that Barba could keep herself from completely falling apart.
"I was out in the city," Bessie whispered. "One of the other maids was going to have a baby that she didn't want. I went out to find a wise woman to buy her some moon tea." Her breathing increased, as if she were reliving what she had endured. "They snatched me off the street! Dragged me off like I was under arrest, brought me down here…"
"But why?" Barba nearly screamed her question. "What do they want?"
Bessie shook her head; her lip was trembling as she wept afresh. "They tell us nothing. They just feed us, watch us, and take us away one by one. The gods alone know where, but them girls they take… they never come back."
So seized was Barba with despair that she could scarcely breathe. Screaming did little use; it only caused one of the silent guards to return and thrash the cage with a mace until she went silent.
At first, she refused to eat. The guards simply dragged her out of the cage and forced her to eat and drink, beating the resistance out of her each time. Finally, she became complacent and ate when she was fed. She would huddle next to Bessie and whisper together, speaking of anything except their predicament. She craved those few moments where she could earnestly forget where she was, that it was a bad dream, or a temporary setback. Lord Titus would appear, just as he'd done in Maidenpool, and find her shivering in a cell.
He had been appalled when he stared at her. She had heard the outrage in his voice, demanding what she was doing there. When he'd learned the truth, he had pulled coins from his purse and thrown them at the gaolers' feet, demanding that Barba be released. He will find me again. He did it once, he can do it again.
Recalling that memory, Barba was jolted from her lethargy. She still had her purse hidden beneath her clothing. She pulled out her coins and held them in her hand.
"That won't save us," Bessie whispered morosely. "The guards won't even talk to us! We can't bribe them."
Barba agreed, but she couldn't sit and do nothing. Lord Titus might come looking for me, she thought desperately.
She waited until the men returned with another girl. She was a screamer, and she fought desperately after her bonds were cut. The girls in the cage cried out as they watched her be beaten by the silent guards.
Even as all this happened, Barba frantically scratched a message into the wall which formed the fourth side of their cage. Bessie did the same beside her, sobbing quietly as she did so.
The girls were taken away in groups of four. It was exactly as Bessie claimed; they never came back, and the guards refused to speak of them, no matter how badly Barba and the others begged for news.
Barba and Bessie were both chosen together; each was held by a guard, as were two other girls. None of them resisted, having long ago learned the price for defiance. Besides, leaving the cage was a blessing, and it filled Barba's heart with as much hope as foreboding.
They went down one of the corridors, turning one way and another until they came to a door. One of the guards opened it, revealing a room whose like Barba had never seen before.
The room was longer than it was wide. It had two doors on opposite ends. It was well-lit with candles and torches, but the flames were a myriad of colours. Green, blue, and purple flames were in abundance, rendering the girls speechless. Shelves and tables lined the walls, heaped with books or ingredients. There was a cauldron over a lit hearth near the centre of the room. A deep basin half full of water was in one corner of the room. Steam rose up from the water; it was a bath which a king might consider himself lucky to have.
A beautiful woman sat in the bath, undeterred by the water's heat. Her silver-gold hair gleamed in the firelight, reflecting the various colours. She arose when the girls and guards entered the chamber.
Shiera Seastar. Barba stiffened with alarm. She recalled Lord Titus' loathing for this woman. Why is she capturing us? What does she want from us?
"Welcome, my dears," Shiera called, smiling sweetly.
"Lady Shiera!" Bessie cried out in amazement and relief. "Gods be praised!"
A small giggle left Shiera's lips. "I don't believe I've ever seen anyone so pleased to see me before!"
She stepped out of the bath, walked to the nearest table, and took up a large flask made of Myrish glass. "I must apologise for your treatment. There has been a grave misunderstanding."
"Oh thank the gods," Bessie sobbed. "We tried to say so! We begged these guards for mercy!" She indicated the men who stood by, looking as stone-faced as ever.
"I'm sure you did," Shiera agreed sympathetically. "These poor devils, though… they've had their tongues removed. A necessary act, but it did you no favours, I'm sure."
Barba shuddered. Something is wrong… She kept that thought to herself as Shiera approached with the flask.
"Here, girls," Shiera urged quietly. "You must be thirsty."
She offered it to the first girl, who drank it without question. She passed it to Bessie, who drank as well.
"No thank you," Barba murmured politely when Bessie offered her the flask.
"No?" A look of concern was on Shiera's face.
Barba didn't like this. She suspected a trap, even as the fourth girl hesitated to take the flask from Bessie.
Shiera sighed. "As you say, child. It could have been a simple matter."
The guards suddenly seized Barba and the other girl who'd refused. Barba clamped her mouth shut, until a guard pinched her nose. When she could not hold her breath any longer and gasped for air, Shiera took the flask and poured a sweet-tasting liquid down her throat.
Bessie and the other girl who had already drank were strangely complacent through all this excitement. Similarly, Barba was released where she was after she'd swallowed a sizable amount.
"What's happening," she screamed. "What are you doing to us?"
Shiera sighed as she took the flask back to the table. "You are part of something greater than yourselves, girls. There would be less trouble if you embraced it rather than resisted."
From the corner of her eye, Barba saw Bessie and the other girl collapse to the ground. They lay as limply as if they were puppets, or corpses. But Barba could see that their eyes were awake, blinking away furiously as the only sign of their distress.
Suddenly, she could not open her mouth. It was closed shut like a vice, so that she could only breathe through her nose. Her arms and legs lost all their strength, and she too fell to the ground. Pain exploded across her body as she hit the stone floor, but she could not even scream to express it.
She could see, hear, smell, and feel, but she could neither move nor speak. She could not even cry out as a guard picked her up and stripped her of her clothing. The other girls were similarly silent, even as they were stripped, carried over to the bath, and put into it so that they sat upright. Their heads were above the water, but that was no comfort. Barba and the others could only look about them, blinking their eyes and staring. Gods… what's going to happen to us? Gods, please save us!
Shiera returned to the bath, grinning mischievously. "It really is amusing how some of you react when you enter this room. Some girls beg me for help, some beg for mercy. I've accused them of crimes, I've told them their families sent them here… When this one seemed so thrilled to see me, I thought I would try and be benevolent for once." She sat next to Bessie and kissed her playfully on the cheek. "A valiant effort."
Barba thought she was going mad. She was trapped in her own motionless body, helpless to flee or fight or even protest. She could only watch as Shiera took up a wickedly sharp blade and cut Bessie's throat.
The light went out of Bessie's eyes as her blood drained into the warm water. Shiera daintily pushed her forward so that she floated face-first on the surface before slowly sinking to the bottom.
"There now," Shiera told the next girl. "That wasn't so difficult, see?" Blood splashed on Shiera's face as she cut that girl's throat too. "As quick as you can blink!"
She's mad. She's a monster. Barba felt tears streaming down her face as she listened to how casually Shiera spoke. How can anyone speak like that whilst killing us?
"I must admit," Shiera suddenly mused as she approached the fourth girl. "I wonder who told my mother of this spell. It was she who left these instructions for me. I don't suppose the Lyseni are known for their magic. Mayhaps it was a travelling witch from Qohor? Or from Asshai? I only wish I'd been able to speak to Mother about it myself." The fourth girl died as she contributed to the steaming mixture of water and blood. "I do wish it would mix together faster," Shiera suddenly complained, pouting petulantly as stirred the bathwater with both hands. "It really is a bother that it takes so long."
"Shiera!"
Barba's eyes flickered to the far end of the chamber, where the second door had opened. She knew full well who had just walked through it.
Bloodraven strode into the room with a practised familiarity, like he'd been here many times before. "You really do love playing dangerous games, don't you?"
Shiera turned to him, unabashed. "I learned from the best, brother."
Bloodraven's jaw twisted. His voice was calm, but Barba could sense how wroth he was. "Even for you… do you have any idea what will happen to you if it's revealed what you did!?"
"Of course I do," Shiera replied silkily as she stood up and turned her bloodstained body towards Brynden. "Just as I know what you'll do to protect me."
A strange light entered Brynden's eyes as he stared at her. After a moment, he spoke again. "Remember that these are no mere servants you've poisoned this time. You had best make sure that Jena and Aelinor do not die, else this scheme of yours will be your last."
Shiera let out a burst of laughter. "I'll grant you Jena, but Aelinor does not matter. You could run her through with Dark Sister in front of Aerys, and he wouldn't even look up from his book!"
Barba did not fully understand what was happening, but nor did she care. She wished she could beg for mercy, call for help, even whimper so that Bloodraven might notice her.
"All the same," Bloodraven replied tartly, "None of the Targaryens will spare you from punishment if the truth is ever revealed. Not even I will be able to stop them in that event."
"Do you really think I blundered into this plan?" Shiera's easy mirth suddenly vanished, replaced with a scornful and arrogant tone. "You have some nerve lecturing me, brother. This will ensure that you are never sidelined again. Baelor will have every reason to keep you on his council when he becomes king. Gods forbid that the Blackfyres infiltrate this castle again." She spoke that last remark with sardonic amusement.
"You underestimate Baelor," Bloodraven snapped. "He is almost as high-minded and self-righteous as that wretched goodbrother of his. And he will teach his sons to be the same."
Barba stared at the two silver-haired figured as one of the other girls' corpses drifted towards her beneath the water.
"Don't be absurd," Shiera declared dismissively. "You said yourself that Titus is not long for the council, did you not? And now Baelor will be distracted by poor Jena, so your work is all but achieved. Not to mention those sons of his will remember who saved them. They'll remember who can save them again, too. And if not..." She gave a simple shrug.
Surprise gave way to outrage on Bloodraven's face; he looked ready to yell at her, but Barba's desperate wish was suddenly granted. The pale man's eyes flickered over to the bath, only for him to do a double take. A frown darkened his face as he approached her. "I know her."
"Do you?" Shiera teased. "She seems awfully young for you."
Bloodraven did not pay heed to her jest. He was still staring at Barba. "That is one of Titus' little urchins."
Yes! Barba would have sobbed with relief if she'd been able to move her mouth. All hope within her died when her gaze turned to Shiera.
Shiera barely glanced at Barba before giving an indifferent toss of her hair. "Is she?"
"Are you toying with me again, or did you truly not recognise her?"
She gave Bloodraven another cheeky grin. "Tell me, Brynden, what does it matter? She is not the first of that brood to come here." She gave another giggle. "Frankly, I ought to be paying Titus for his help in harvesting these girls."
Barba felt another urge to scream in horror. She tried to recall the girls who'd run away without a trace. There had been Dorcas, who'd spoken with a lisp due to her missing her front teeth. There was Sage, a dark-eyed sandy Dornish girl whose accent had confounded Barba. There had been Arda, with that sweet smile and generous nature. Is this what happened to them? Is this how they met their end? More tears rolled down her face, landing in the warm water with soft plinks.
"You are the most reckless woman I have ever known," Bloodraven snapped.
"How kind of you to notice," Shiera's teasing smile widened as she circled around Bloodraven. Her pale body was dripping with water and blood, glistening in the firelight. "Anyway, what makes her so special? Do you have a place in that shrivelled heart of yours for this child?"
"If Titus should ever find out about her or the others, he will not rest until you are dead, or he is."
Shiera tossed her head at those words. "Idle speculation, brother. You've become so bothersome since you killed Daemon." She walked back towards the bath.
"If your goal is to astound me," Bloodraven called after her, "then consider me dumbfounded and be done with it."
"And what do you propose I do instead? Let her go? After all she has seen and heard?" Shiera shook her head scornfully once more. "Remind me which of us is the reckless one, brother."
"Have you given any thought to the rumours being told about you? Even your nephews have heard them! Little Aegon was whispering about it to that whipping boy of his just four days ago."
"Let them talk, Brynden," Shiera said dismissively. "I tire of this fruitless debate. We both know how it will play out. I will do exactly as I please, and you will do all you can to protect me. Or have you forgotten what you promised me on the night you took my maidenhead?"
After a moment, Bloodraven glanced at Barba and sighed. "So be it, then." He turned and walked out of the room, much to Barba's dismay and terror.
Shiera sighed with relief as she slipped into the bath, lowering herself until her shoulders were submerged in the warm water. "He and Titus deserve each other," she murmured, as if she was confiding something to a friend. "It really is an adorable sight, the two of them. It is not quite as dramatic as Aegor and Brynden's disagreements, to be sure, but that makes it all the more amusing to me. So petty and hateful, but never important enough to throw the world into chaos over it. In fact, I ought to be disappointed. At least Aegor was man enough to cross swords with Brynden over me."
Even as Shiera rambled on, she approached Barba until their bodies were touching. Shiera gave no heed to the tears on Barba's face, or the fact that she could not speak.
"I suppose it might be different if Titus fancied me as much as Brynden does," Shiera went on obliviously. "There would be some sport in that, at least. Truthfully, I wonder if he really despises me as much as he claims. Poor Orys was so long ago, after all. Or perhaps he loved his old friend a little more than he would admit?"
Barba shuddered as Shiera's body rubbed against her own, unable to shake off the arm which was draped over her shoulders.
"Oh, but I'm almost forgetting," Shiera chortled. "My apologies."
Then, a small knife appeared in Shiera's hand as she pulled Barba closer to her.
"Do forgive me," Shiera urged. "It isn't often that I can speak so openly of these things. But I must return to Jena's side."
Please… The knife's edge was sharp, pressing where Barba's jawbone met her neck, just below her left ear.
"It'll be over soon," Shiera promised softly, planting a kiss on Barba's cheek. "No more pain, no more misery. Lay down your little life and sleep forevermore."
Please don't do it, please have mer-
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End of "The Vulture King"
Titus, Jena, Miru, Cayn, and more will return in "The Unlikely King"