Some cut content from two sequential scenes in Chapter 24, revolving around Rum and Ellyn's meeting with the Prince and Princess and their discussion afterwards.

A Clandestine Meeting

It's well past nightfall when I stand from a bench in the gardens, stretch, and glance up at the tapestry of bright stars above us.

"Rum, darling, I think we've been stood up."

"I can't say I've missed their company." He replies lightly, taking my hand as he stands and then tucking it into the crook of his elbow as we start to walk.

I pull the Veil over my eyes and whistle for the hounds; they appear in a swirl of shadow to either side of us, and on silent command they put their noses to the ground to find the prince. They lead us to the royal apartments, a section of the castle called Perivida's Keep that I haven't stepped foot in since the night I killed Pellamos Pellinore. As soon as we enter the Keep I feel Rum's magic settle across my skin like a blanket, filling the air around us for as far as I can sense. There's a not-so-distant rattle of metal, and we round the corner to find two guards sprawled across the ground, dead asleep; at the far corner of the corridor two more are slumped against a wall and each other.

The hounds stop in front of a door next to yet another pair of unconscious guards; these ones are in the gold-and-green of the Pellinores' guards, but I realize now that there's a notch cut into the plumes on their helmets that I also saw on the prince's two guards during the Solstice Ball. I point that out to Rum.

"So the prince has a modicum of intelligence after all. A shame he's never applied it to his dealings with us."

"You think he wants to be able to tell which are his so he can sniff out spies, or do you think it's so his guards know who's who in a fight?"
"I wish I could say both, but that might be too generous."

I shrug and pass a hand over the door, and it unlocks with a soft click. I leave Skriker and Padfoot guarding the door as we let ourselves in to a cozy antechamber with a sitting area, small unlit hearth, and a window overlooking the city below. I flick a hand to draw the curtains, then snap at the hearth to bring a fire roaring to life. Rum, meanwhile, crosses to the door to the rest of the apartment and knocks chipperly. I join him, and in the second of silence that follows I tap into lycanthrope hearing and close my eyes to listen.

"They're still up." I narrate. "They're talking- I think they're getting dressed now. Someone's coming to the door."

Rum takes one of the armchairs, and I set one forearm on the back and lean against it, my thigh resting against his arm on the chair's as we wait. The door bursts open and bounces off the stone wall with a muted bang. Peleus is dressed only in an untucked linen undershirt and breeches, sword in hand, primed for an attack.

"The hells are you doing here?!" He demands. "Where are my guards? What have you done?"

"Calm down. They're asleep, not dead."

"Murderers aren't known for knocking." Rum adds flippantly.

Peleus stares at us, breathing hard, knuckles white on his sword. The outrage is slowly draining from his face, and uncertainty is rising in it's place.

"Peleus?" Genevieve calls from behind him, just coming into view over his shoulder, and Peleus steps back and half-turns just on the other side of the doorway, trying to keep his wife back from actually entering the room.

"The warlock and her consort." He explains quietly. "Let me deal with it, Gen, please."

After nearly two years of all the things people usually call Rum- warlock, demon, Dark One-

it takes a heartbeat to realize that I'm the warlock. I raise an eyebrow.

"That's Lady d'Corbin to you, your Highness."

Rum shakes his head and tuts. "Their manners are getting worse by the minute, dearest."

"Aye. Maybe he's his father's son after all."

Peleus's head whips around at that, bristling at me for the mere suggestion. Genevieve sets a hand on his arm; he looks back to her and calms a fraction, but her eyes are locked firmly on us, face cool and collected.

"What do you need so urgently that it demands a visit at this hour, with this kind of-" Her gaze flickers briefly to the handmaid as she decides how to word it, "- secrecy?"

"If the hour isn't to your liking, Princess, you should've met with us after dinner. I don't have time to waste, so I don't appreciate it being wasted for me."

Peleus sets his shoulders. "A meeting with the prince is a request, not a command."

I ignore the statement and it's false bravado. "I have some questions about what happened the other night."

"That was ugly business that I wanted no part of-" He begins immediately, his uncertainty flashing to fear and shame.

"Good. Because I don't care about your part in it as much as I care about Gwydion's and Pelagios's."

There's another flare of fear across his face. He's jumpier tonight that he was sneaking through my crypts. Not so brave without his guards and a magician at his back.

"I have nothing more to say on the matter-"

"Pelagios ordered you to silence, did he? I'm curious, how did he react when he found out you got caught red-handed?" His face starts to harden, and I sigh dramatically. "You wanted to know who I am to Pelagios, yeah?"

"Not if the price for my curiosity is treason. If my father finds out…"

Treason? Pelagios really did go all word of the King on him.

"I won't be telling him, you have my word on that."

Curiosity and caution war on his face. The sword-point drops slightly, and he exchanges a look with his wife. "What do you need to know?"

"Whose idea was it to steal from me, Gwydion's or your father's?"

"I do not know for sure, but I do know that Gwydion's interest in Corbin Castle predated my father's orders to- well, you know."

Well, Alastar's going to feel vindicated at least. "Predated by how long?"

"A year and a half, maybe two?"
I start to stiffen and force myself to relax before it's visible, but it must have been enough for Rum to feel, because his head moved the smallest fraction as he fights the urge to look at me. That timeline- did I draw him here? He came when I was experimenting with the Venedotian's Standing Stones?

"What did he ask your father for?"

Peleus shrugs. "His blessing, I assume, to trespass on what was then Crown property. I wasn't privy to their conversation myself. I'd only met the man in passing before the solstice."

Blessing my ass. "Uh-huh. And what'd he ask for this time?"

"King's blood. Gwydion said that your castle was protected by powerful blood magic, and that he would need the power of a king's blood to counter it."

Still bullshit, but skewing alittle closer to the truth this time.

"If the esteemed Master Envoy only needed king's blood," Rum begins with barely-contained venom, "What excuse did they make for bringing Sisyphus? Even you would have to realize that he wouldn't need gallons of the stuff."

The prince blinks at us. "What?"

"Sisyphus is a king." I pause and amend, "Or he was, before he died."

"I knew him only as Sisyphus Basileus of Ephyra. Though I suppose he did mention something about it that night, didn't he? Right before you, well…"

Something from the depths of my memory, from my time with the Jolly Roger, catches on 'Basileus'. "Listenoise doesn't do much trade around the White Sea, huh? Basileus is Hellenese for King."

"Oh. Well, I suppose my father didn't know. I can't imagine he'd have involved me if he had known that Gwydion could use another's blood."

Genevieve's lips press into a narrow line when he says that, glancing at me to gauge if I'm as skeptical about that line of thinking as she is. We share a look, and her expression tightens.

Peleus continues, "Gwydion suspected that we could encounter ghosts and spirits. I'm told that Sisyphus claimed to be able to see and restrain such creatures. He was exchanging his services in return for asylum in our country."

"Hmm. And how far into the crypts did you get?"

"It would be hard to say without seeing it again, or knowing how far it expands. Gwydion used my blood to pass the first barrier." I blink dumbly at him, trying to hide more obvious signs of my unadulterated shock. He got past the first barrier? But they were in front of it when we met- "He tried a second barrier, but something went wrong. He said someone had been alerted to our progress and ordered a retreat. It was a mad dash. We lost each other in the corridors and found eachother again at the first barrier-"

"He was alone down there?" I snarl, gripping the back of Rum's chair, knuckles white as my skin crawls. The only other barrier in the crypts was across the Vault entrance- and that one wasn't blood-magic, just a strong ward and an alarm. My mind races. "How long? What was he like when he came back? You know what, just walk me through it. Turn by turn, every single detail from entering the crypts to seeing me-"

"Lady d'Corbin," Genevieve cuts in, "Just how many answers are expected from us in exchange for the single one we ask of you?"

I grind my teeth, annoyed by the interruption even as some distant part of my mind is impressed that she has the sense and the guts to interrupt my interrogation of her husband. I spend a few heartbeats in thought, weighing the information I already have and the possibility of getting no more out of them after they have what they want. I'm confident now Pelagios was only an opportunistic co-conspirator in this, as he was when he sent Nidhad's goons after my sword. I still wonder if he knows the full details of our families' common distant ancestry, or if Gwydion gave the 'king's blood' excuse to father and son alike. Still, on all but the specific details of the heist, I have most other answers I came for.

If only we could get our hands on Gwydion again. I'm sure Rum would love prying the information out of him.

"Alright." I decide. "You wanted to know who I am to Pelagios, yeah? I'm his sister. Pellamos was my father. My mother was a descendant of the old de Corbin lords."

"His-" Peleus stares with wide eyes. "You're my-?"

"I'm no one to you. You're almost as much a stranger to me as your father is."

"I had heard tell that King Pellamos had a handful of bastards." Genevieve murmurs. Her expression shutters, eyes sharpening, "But if you have no relationship to speak of with the king, why did he create a province for you?"

"From what your husband has told me, I think he wanted to do that with or without me. I was just available and willing to pay for the privilege."

Her eyes flicker briefly to Peleus, suppressing annoyance, before returning to me. "And what did you pay?"

"That's between me and him."

"Do you owe him loyalty? A debt?"

Rum scoffs. "Loyalty can't be bought, dearie. And if it could, he couldn't afford it."

I suppress a smile at that and add, "Something tells me that Pelagios inspires more fear than loyalty- which means he inspires nothing in us."

"Nothing, Lady d'Corbin? Not even animosity?"

I flash a sharp-toothed grin. "Well, you know how siblings are."

"No, I don't." Peleus says, and for a second there's open anger and grief on his face. "I loved my brother and sister."

My smile falls, my free hand flexing as I resist the urge to clench it into a fist. "I know how you feel, lad. I've lost more than one brother to more than one king."

He meets my eyes, for a second surprised and distrustful at my genuineness. Determination settles on his face, leaning a certain glint to his eyes that tells me he knows my answer before he even asks, "How did you live with it?"

"I killed them."

Husband and wife share a look. Peleus sets his shoulders.

"You are new to the Council, Lady d'Corbin, but you are one of our own now. Let us sit. There are things you should know about these past years for our country."

It's late in the night when Rum and I leave the Prince and Princess and step back out into the gardens, and the wind now carries a sharp biting cold that stabs needle-points into my face. I trot us towards the secluded spot we've been using to teleport from and weave a silencing spell to hide our conversation.

When it's complete I say, "I'm impressed by how many eyes and ears the boy's got. He knows alot about his father's dealings for someone who wasn't included in them."

"I wouldn't be so certain they are his."

"Aye, you've got a point there. He's the heart, she's the brains."

Rum flashes a teasing smile. "Sound familiar?"

"What, us? Darling, I've been reliably informed I don't have a heart. If you're the brains, I'm the brawn."

"No heart? You, little wolf, are all bark and only occasionally bite."

"Just because I only occasionally bite you," I shoot back with a grin, "Doesn't mean that anyone else would get off so easy. And they don't usually enjoy it."

He hums an acquiesces, then adds, "And how can you be the brawn when I'm more powerful?" I scoff, because the first thought in my mind is, Because my powers don't come with a giant off-switch attached. "What?"

"I'll tell you later. Maybe." I glance pointedly around our surroundings; even with a silencing spell, I wouldn't risk mentioning the Dagger in the Pellinore's castle. "And I'm the only one of us with combat skills- and ones I have the muscle memory for, not just magical knowledge. If you ever go somewhere without magic-" I pause mid-sentence when I see the pain and anxiety flash across his face, tightening his eyes and straining his smile, and realize that his mind has gone to the Land Without Magic. I squeeze his arm and soften my voice. "Sorry, Rum. I didn't mean it like that."

"Why apologize?" He snarls. "It's true. I'd be helpless and crippled without magic."

"Aye, so helpless that you burned down a Duke's castle and killed a Dark One."

"Oh yes, because killing a suicidal man took so much courage and skill. If he could've flung himself from a cliff, we wouldn't be here." I grimace at that image, and though there's old bitterness and pain still blazing in his eyes, he pauses. "That… was crass of me."

I hum an acknowledgement and move on. "He saw something in you."

"He saw desperation."

"He didn't need desperation. He could've found someone who wanted the power, or revenge." Old grief seizes my heart, and I mutter, "Or someone who loved him enough to help him." Rum glances over and covers my hand with his, and I take a breath and continue, "He wanted someone who... I don't know. Would fulfill the role, or appreciate the gravity of the situation, or at least not cut a warpath across a continent like Gorgon did."

And maybe, after having a family of his own, he thought that Rum having Baelfire would anchor him to humanity, help him keep his sanity and his priorities.

Rum only shakes his head. We reach the secluded, overgrown curve of our little corner of the gardens, and I reach for magic and teleport us to the depths of Corbin Castle. The ease and warmth between us drains away as the smoke clears to reveal the halls of the crypts, and focus rises up to take its place. We stalk the path from the stairs to the Vault with the hounds at our side, using Dyrwyn's blaze as a torch. Scenarios are piecing themselves together in my head, crystallizing into a jagged-edged, hole-spotted approximation of what happened, building to create paranoid scenarios of what Gwydion could have done in the brief time he was alone down here.

We reach the entrance to the Vault, and I pace in front of it while Rum leans against the statue to watch me.

"So he used Peleus to dismantle the first barrier-"

"No, he didn't." Rum points out, voice tense. "He used Peleus to get them all through the barrier. Without destroying it or leaving evidence that it had been altered."

Ice creeps up my spine. "Blood-y hell, he's good."

"He's experienced, specialized. Likely powerful."

"But not specialized enough to avoid the alarm?"

He frowns. "If he meant to activate it…"

"Why would he do that? Trying to lose the rest of them?"

"There's no need to share the spoils when you walk away empty-handed."

I cross my arms and mirror his frown. "That's a risky play. Cutting his time down to seconds, before he's even gotten into the Vault… If I didn't want to share the loot, I'd deal with that after the fact before I'd risk getting nothing at all."

"Not everyone can be as clever as you and I, dearest." It's a joke, trying to lift my mood even as he still looks troubled. He looks up and back at the statue thoughtfully. "Alastar would have told you if someone breached the Vault, wouldn't he?"

"I mean, he would, but he wouldn't have to. My barrier over it was still intact."

"Then it seems the Master Envoy gambled and lost."

"...Yeah."

Still, I can't shake the unease crawling under my skin.