(Publishing one chapter a week until the end of Part 5)

Chapter 120: Sweet Sorrow

"They're here."

Ovelia nodded, though she did not look back at Delita. She was looking at herself in the cracked bedroom mirror, pressing smooth a faint crease in her green dress. She almost didn't recognize the woman looking back at her.

"Let's go," she said, turning on her heel and leaving the bedroom behind her. Delita kept pace a step behind her, her red cloak folded in his hands. They walked like that all the way down the creaking stairs, the very picture of a dignified queen and her subdued attendant, until finally she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and saw the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought back a smile. That was all it took to set them both off, cackling so their laughter echoed through the empty manor.

The Royal Retreat was a sad, shoddy place, lacking so much as a groundskeeper since the death of King Denamda IV over 20 years ago. The roof was cracked in several places, so you would wander into a room and step into a puddle without knowing it was there: everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, and several rooms were conspicuously empty, plundered by one opportunist or another over the decades.

It was the best place Ovelia had ever lived.

Delita had managed to finagle it so his Black Sheep were in charge of guard duty (in no small part because Ovelia had gone to other captains who might have been given the job, and convinced them to take more lucrative, prestigious jobs at Goltanna's side). And mysteriously, the farther they traveled from Zeltennia, the fewer Black Sheep remained with them, dispatched on various errands or taking long-delayed leave. Once the spartan crew aboard the Syldra had unloaded some old furniture at the Royal Retreat, it was just the two of them.

For the first time in years, there was no one keeping her imprisoned, telling her where she could and couldn't go. She and Delita were free to kiss each other in broad daylight, to walk hand-in-hand along the murmuring surf of the gentle beach, to curl naked against each other in the sunken bed with its fresh linen sheets, and not fear that anyone would discover them. For the first time in her life, Ovelia was truly free—to love who she wanted, and do as she chose, with no one to tell her otherwise.

Free, and aching with anticipation, for the friends she hadn't seen in so long.

They approached the dock, as the ship approached from the other end. Delita unfolded her red cloak, and set its comforting weight on her shoulders. She caressed his knuckles with one hand. "Thank you," she whispered.

He squeezed her hand, and took his place at her side. The sleek shape of the Syldra swelled slowly as it approached: its sails were furled, as its humming engines propelled it along, leaving little ripples in its wake. Its patchwork metal-and-wood hull had been nicely painted to better blend the two materials, and the gilded pattern gave the whole ship a scaled, serpentine look, helped by the two fierce yellow eyes painted just beneath the prow.

She took in the ship, then lifted her head to the people standing on the deck. Agrias, Lavian, and Alicia stood in front, and her heart cracked a little at the sight of them. Their months apart had not been kind to them: there were fresh scars on every visible inch of Agrias' skin, and Alicia's right hand was short two fingers. There was weariness in the lines of their face, and in the circles under their eyes...but their gazes were just as fierce as the yellow eyes on the ship's bow, and twice as proud.

The Syldra coasted to an easy stop, as anchors splashed down around it. A crewman deftly set a gangplank down between the ship and the crumbling pier, and Agrias led her Lionesses down. Behind her came Mustadio, Ramza, and Radia. As one, they knelt in front of her, heads bowed.

"Your Majesty," Agrias began, but Ovelia never heard anything else. She had almost forgotten the sound of her guard captain's voice—that deep resonance, like a cave full of hidden depths. Ovelia was kneeling in front of Agrias before she was conscious of doing so.

"You're alive," Ovelia whispered, tears streaming down her face.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Agrias replied, and when Ovelia kissed her cheek, she felt tears upon her skin.

She reached out with her free hands, and pulled Lavian and Alicia close, and soon they were bawling, too, all of them crying and clinging to each other, these three dear women who had stood by her through so much, who had made themselves enemies of Ivalice and Church alike on the off-chance they could save her, and it was only now that she was holding them that she really felt how much she'd missed them all this time.

Through the haze of her tears she vaguely saw that Delita heading down the shoreline away from the house, to the little meadow on the other side of the rocks. He was leading Ramza and some of the others away, with Val quietly corralling the separate group from the back. Idly, she wondered what Delita was playing at...but he had his reasons, as he always did. And right at this moment, she was too overwhelmed with gratitude and relief to care too much.

Besides, he had not taken everyone. Mustadio was still with her. So was Radia. Both had tears in their eyes, too, though they were trying hard not to show it.

"What are you waiting for?" Ovelia asked, half-crying, half-laughing. "Your Queen demands your attention!"

Radia laughed, and darted into the growing hug, ruffling her hand in Ovelia's hair. Mustadio approached more hesitantly, smiling as he came. Somehow, stumbling and crying and laughing and clinging to one another like an errant current might sweep them away, they wound their way down the scrubby path back to the house. She set them down on the battered sofa and chairs in the salon just off the kitchen, and uncorked the wine bottle on the leaning table in front of them.

"No glasses," she said. "So we'll have to make do."

She took a swig from the bottle, and offered it to Agrias. Agrias, her eyes red but dry, started to reach for the bottle, but couldn't quite seem to lift her hand all the way. "My lady-" she started.

"Too slow," Radia said, snatching the bottle from Ovelia and taking her own swig.

"Radia!" Agrias exclaimed, as everyone else laughed.

"If the Queen is willing to allow this egregious breach of protocol, who am I to deny her will?" Radia asked. She offered the bottle to Agrias with a cat's smile. "Or are you willing to defy your Queen?"

Agrias glowered at Radia, snatched the bottle, and took a small sip.

"Captain, you're wasting it!" Alicia said, grabbing for the bottle in turn.

"I thought it was very proper," Mustadio said, smiling at her.

"Do you, Mus?" Lavian asked, with a wry smile at Mustadio.

Ovelia beamed at all of them. This odd house, with its broken roof and its shambling furniture, had been a place of such strange, wild emotions, all this week. The ease of her relaxation, without having to manage the expectations of the nobles around her, or fear the eyes of the Church. The lazy lust, where she and Delita could simply have one another, without any fear of who might discover them. The agonizing mix of dread and anticipation, hoping desperately to see her friends again, terrified something would happen to them before they arrived. And now, with all of them around her once again? It was just as good as she'd imagined. Her heart felt full to bursting

"You seem different," Radia observed, passing a mostly-empty bottle back to Ovelia.

"I feel different." Ovelia took the bottle but did not drink. She swirled the dregs idly. "I never imagined I could...be like this."

"Like what, Your Majesty?" Agrias asked, sitting very straight on the opposite side of her.

"Like that," Ovelia nodded at her. "Like a Queen."

Agrias' thin blonde eyebrows arched high. "I cannot speak for anyone else, Your Majesty," she replied. "But I never doubted it."

Ovelia beamed at her. "Thank you, Agrias."

"She's not the only one!" Alicia added.

"It was part of what made it such an honor to serve you, Your Majesty," Lavian said, resting a hand on Alicia's shoulder.

Somehow, Ovelia's heart felt fuller still. "You-" She started to say something self-deprecating, and stopped herself. She trusted these women, who had risked their lives for her, over and over again. If they saw something in her worth fighting for, who was she to deny it?

And besides...she was different. The games of politics and influence she played in Zeltennia, the oh-so-gentle persuasion here, the veiled threat there...she hadn't known she had a talent for it, but she did. She might be a puppet queen, but she danced well.

She was a puppet queen, and they didn't know it.

The warmth inside her flickered, like a candle in danger of going out. She loved these people, and they loved her. And it was all based on a lie. On the blood they thought flowed through her veins On who she was supposed to be. Not who she was.

Didn't they deserve to know?"

"Your Majesty?" Mustadio asked. "Are you alright?"

Ovelia jerked out of her churning thoughts, found her friends were watching her with concern in their eyes, and that warmth in her flickered even more. After everything they'd been through, they still cared so much.

"Fine," she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Your Majesty, what's wrong?" Agrias asked.

"Nothing," Ovelia insisted. "At least...not compared to what you all have been through to get here." She shook her head. "Lionel and...and Riovanes..."

"Not to mention Limberry," Alicia muttered.

"Limberry?" Ovelia repeated.

Agrias nodded. "Yes. We went there to try to rescue Alma."

The warmth in her heart went out. "Alma?"

Agrias looked stricken. "Apologies, Your Majesty, I spoke carelessly-"

"Why does Alma need rescuing?" Ovelia asked.

Agrias closed her eyes. "Alma Beoulve joined us in our journey to Orbonne. I regret to inform you that she was taken from us, despite our best efforts."

So many questions, all at once. Her friends had been at Orbonne, no doubt when Father Simon had been killed. Alma had been with them, and been taken. Why had they allowed Alma to join them? What had happened at Orbonne, that Father Simon had to die, and Alma Beoulve had been kidnapped?

Had Delita known? Had he known, and not told her?

"You were there?" she asked. "When Father Simon..."

"I was."

Ovelia looked at Radia. She was massaging her chest, and staring ahead at nothing in particular. "They were looking for the Virgo Stone," Radia said. "They'd left him alive. But I guess Wiegraf had different orders."

"Wiegraf?" Ovelia's voice cracked. Wiegraf, as in the man who'd once commanded Radia? Wiegraf, as in Delita's dear friend, who had taught him so much?

"He killed Simon," Radia continued. "Wounded me. Went after Alma. Ramza killed him, and then..." She closed her eyes. "Then he changed."

Ovelia's brow furrowed. There were currents of terrible meaning in Radia's voice: currents Ovelia didn't understand. "Changed?"

"Into a Lucavi, your Majesty," Mustadio said softly.

Every fresh revelation left her reeling. The warmth inside her was gone. Alma, allowed to join them, and taken from them: Delita's dear friend, revealed to be Simon's killer. And now...Lucavi?

It was impossible. Demons from legend, loose in Ivalice. But there was too much pain in their voices, too much exhaustion, to be doubted. And even if there hadn't been, she didn't believe anyone in this room would lie to her.

"Your Majesty..." Agrias began, her brow furrowed. "Did you not know?"

Ovelia shook her head. "How would I?"

Agrias hesitated. Radia didn't. "Val knew about them. I thought she heard about them from Delita."

A heat like fire in her cheeks. A cold like frost in her veins. The two swirled together into something sharp and bright and terribly familiar. That lethal feeling must have shown on her face, because she saw the others react to it: Agrias, Lavian, and Alicia looked taken aback; Mustadio looked afraid; Radia looked impressed.

"Yes, of course," Ovelia said, and rose to her feet. "I believe he is helping prepare supplies for Captain Faris. I should probably make sure he isn't wasting time."

"We will accompany you," Agrias said, rising to her feet beside her.
Before Agrias could get much farther, Radia caught her wrist. "Think she could use some time with the others, same as we got," Radia said softly. "You want to bring them back to us?"

Ovelia nodded. Agrias' strong jaw tensed, but at last she nodded, and sat back down. Ovelia gave Radia a grateful look, and turned to go.

With every step, the waves of frost and flame crashed inside of her. This was almost the same fury with which she'd struck Delita in the church, and it was almost the same despair with which she'd looked down the Zirekile Falls.

Lucavi were loose in Ivalice. Val knew. So did Delita.

She rounded the rocky corner where the shed was hidden, right before the long meadow of grass running along the beach, saw mostly strangers spread out around the shed and its high stacks of boxes. Three figures stood at the center: Val, off to one side, watched Delita and Ramza, glaring at one another.

Ramza. He looked still more different than the first drawing Alma had shown her, different even than when she'd last seen him almost a year ago. His shaggy hair was longer, hanging down to the nape of his neck. His shoulders seemed even broader beneath his patchwork armor. And the ferocity in his glare matched the fury in her heart.

She'd missed him. She was surprised at how much. The cold and the heat inside her softened into something easier to bear.

On a whim, she plucked a blade of grass from her feet, and blew on it the way Ramza had taught her. The high, reedy sound rang over the low mutter of the surf. They all looked up at her.

"I'm disappointed, Ser Beoulve," she called, approaching him with a smile. "You run away at the mere sight of me?"

Ramza smiled back at her. "As a heretic, my wicked soul shudders in the presence of Ivalice's one true queen."

Ovelia laughed, and took his hands in hers. She remembered the last time she'd seen him, sleep in her eyes and dawn just barely brightening the horizon, as he'd been preparing to set out and help rescue Mustadio's father. It hadn't worked out the way they'd planned...but they were still alive, all the same.

"You came back," she said. "Like you promised."

Ramza smiled. "Well...if I hadn't, Alma would kill me."

Ovelia's smile darkened, and she squeezed his hands. "Agrias told me about her."

Terrible pain in his green eyes, so like his sister's. "It's my fault, I couldn't-"

"Always so quick to take the blame." Ovelia squeezed his hands again. "We'll get her back, Ramza. And while we're at it, we'll put a stop to all the demons threatening Ivalice. The Hokuten, the Nanten, the Church..." She looked straight up at Ramza, but was fully aware of Delita in the corner of her gaze. "And the Lucavi, too."

She felt a moment's guilt, seeing the relief in his face. He didn't know she was using him as a cudgel against Delita. But Delita knew: she saw the pain and the guilt in his face, a flash of raw emotion he couldn't hide. He looked wild, and desperate. She was glad to see him that way. She wanted him to know how it felt.

"How much do you know about them?" Ramza asked.

"Only what Delita deigns to tell me," Ovelia replied. "So as you can imagine, not much."

"We share that in common," Ramza laughed, and shot his own angry look at Delita. Ramza had changed more than in his appearance: she wasn't sure he'd ever showed such naked emotion in their brief time together.

Ovelia heard the low hum of a caravan behind her. She turned to see a large, ornate war caravan floating down the beach, with Captain Faris walking along in front of it. She gave Ovelia a jaunty wave. "A pleasure to see you, Your Majesty!"

"You too, Captain." She looked around the stacked crates. "These all for you?"

"Good Ser Delita has found it in his heart to offer us a full resupply."

"His generosity is truly boundless," Ramza remarked dryly.

Delita grimaced. "Can your crew handle the rest?" he asked. "We've business to discuss."

Faris gave an airy wave, and Delita set off down the beach again. On the way, she learned the names of the people she hadn't met before. She knew Beowulf from Alma's stories, but Rafa, Malak, and Meliadoul were entirely new to her.

"You're the ones who kidnapped Alma?" Ovelia demanded, looking between the two dark-skinned youths.

Malak winced. "Technically, Your Majesty, we just kidnapped her kidnapper."

"My brother," Melia added.

"Yes..." Ovelia looked at those familiar flint eyes. "Forgive me, Templar, but I'm not a fan of your father."

"That makes two of us, your Majesty." Melia's eyes darkened. "Especially if he's one of the Lucavi."

"How many does that make?" Ovelia asked, without looking at Delita.

"Four that we know of," Ramza said. "We defeated Elmdor, Wiegraf, and the Cardinal, but there was at least one more present at Riovanes."

It took all her self-control not to show her shock. The Cardinal had been one of them? Had Delita known?

"Do we know what they want?" she asked.

Ramza hesitated. "We know they want the war to escalate. They gain something from the dead."

"Did one of them tell you that?" Delita asked.

"Not exactly." Ramza's voice was very strange. Delita looked over his shoulder at him.

"This is all fascinating," Val put in, as they drew closer to the house. "But we should really address the matter at hand."

"The end of the war?" Ovelia asked.

Delita nodded. "Bremondt's here for Reis, but the only reason he can bring this many Church resources to bear in hunting for her is because there's another operation here in the Archipelago. They'rve excavated some old Ydoran weapon they plan to use at Bethla Garrison. I don't have all the details."

"Does Inquisitor Zalmour?" Melia asked.

Delita and Ramza's heads snapped towards her. "The Inquisitor?" they said together, and then shot each other uncertain looks.

Melia nodded. "I was allowed to sit in the Confessor's Conclave. My father and the Templar were to search for Virgo and protect the remaining Stones from..." She gestured at Ramza. "And the Inquisitor was sent here with orders for Bremondt." She gave Ramza a wry look. "He really doesn't like you, by the way."

"You tried telling the truth," Delita put in. "What did you expect?" Ramza shook his head, and Delita continued, "It's not just Bremondt. I'm guessing Zalmour will be delivering intelligence and orders to half of Ivalice...all under the guise of hunting heretics." He grimaced. "It's a good plan, but this business with Lucavi changes things. If it's as you say...if they gain something from the bloodshed...then they're not likely to let the war end here, are they?"

The entered the battered salon. Mustadio was flipping through an old book that looked slightly familiar to her, though she wasn't sure how that could be. She could hear her Lionesses clattering around in the half-empty kitchen. While Delita, Ramza, and Beowulf were busy fetching more chairs for everyone, Radia meandered back into the room, and smiled at her. "Nice place, Your Majesty."

Ovelia shrugged. "It's a step-up from the farm house."

Radia chuckled softly, then gave her a once-over. "You alright?"

Ovelia shrugged again. "Are any of us?"

Radia shook her head. "Guess not. But if there's anything I can do..."

Ovelia smiled at her. "Same to you, Radia."

Everyone gradually filed into the room again, Alicia and Lavian carrying trays piled high with snacks. Delita and Agrias were the last to enter the room, and stopped to stare at one another from their respective doorways.

"Ser Heiral," Agrias said stiffly.

"Dame Oaks." He gestured for her to sit: she shook her head a fraction of an inch, and marched to Ovelia's side. Delita's mouth twisted, somewhere between a smile and a frown.

"We have several huge problems to solve, and not a lot of time and resources to solve any of them," Delita said, when everyone had settled in. "The Hokuten and Nanten are both aiming to crush each other at Bethla Garrison, assured by their allies in the Church that they have a secret advantage over one another. The Church is going to crush both of them, though we don't yet know how how. The Lucavi want people killing each other for reasons I don't understand-" He glanced briefly at Ramza, who said nothing. "-and before we deal with any of that, there's the Cardinal who wants to kill you hunting your dragon girlfriend-" he looked at Beowulf. "-not to mention the angry Inquisitor out for your heretic blood." He looked back at Ramza.

"It's quite a clusterfuck!" Val said cheerfully.

"Says the heretic leading the heretic rebellion," Beowulf grunted.

Another piece of the puzzle slid into place. Ovelia tried not to let her satisfaction show on her face.

"I haven't been this close to Reis since she was changed," Beowulf said. "I'm not planning to let her slip through my fingers."

"There's a reason she's here, Wulf," Delita said.

"There's a reason Bremondt's here, too," Beowulf replied. "I'm not taking any chances."

"Is his ship really that dangerous?" Ramza asked.

"It must be," Mustadio muttered. "If they could bring Workers back online, they could certainly refurbish old Ydoran weapons and armor."

"We've only got the Syldra to help us," Val put in. "And even if Aunt Faris was willing to risk her ship, I'm not sure I'm willing to ask it of her."

"A captain's job is to risk their ship!" Faris called, stepping into the room with her coattails flaring dramatically behind her. "But I won't risk it without a worthy prize."

"I won't lose her again," Beowulf growled.

"And I won't lose my ship if I can help it, Wulfie," Faris grunted.

"Easy, Beowulf," Ramza said, placing a reassuring hand on Beowulf's. "We'll get her back." Beowulf nodded stiffly, and Ramza looked back to Delita. "The Inquisitor is coming here?"

Delita nodded. "I didn't know it would be him, just some luminary of the Church. A state visit, one way or another, so it won't look too suspicious if anyone hears of it."

"And if they hear about us?" Alicia asked.

"We've gone out of our way to make sure they don't hear about you," Val said. "The Syldra is charted under half a dozen fake names on half a dozen fake voyages. No one should put it together."

"Maybe they should," Ramza said.

Silence in the room. Delita glared at Ramza. "Telling the truth worked out for you so well last time, you plan to do it again?"

Ramza was quiet for a moment. His green eyes, so like Alma's, were hazy with memory and doubt. Finally, he said, "Malak died."

Ovelia blinked, and looked at the young man standing against a wall near his sister and Melia. The color had washed out of his cheeks. "What does he mean?" Ovelia asked.

Malak took a shuddering breath. "Exactly what he said." His sister squeezed his shoulder. Malak nodded, and continued, "I died on the rooftop of Riovanes castle."

He started to tell his tale, but he hesitated halfway through, so Rafa joined in to help him, and when Rafa hesitated Ramza took over, and when he stumbled the others joined in. In fits and starts, the people in the room told her everything they had seen and been through since the Cardinal had taken her prisoner in Lionel Castle: of the battle at Golgollada Gallows, the trap laid with her name; of Gaffgarion's death, and the Cardinal's transformation into a poison-spewing monster; of Father Simon, and Inquisitor Zalmour, and Alma; of Riovanes, and Wiegraf, and the Grand Duke; of Elmdor, and Limberry, and Argus; and even, a little, of Beowulf Daravon and Reis Duelar.

Ovelia's anger was gone. So was her relief. So was her joy. Her eyes were hot and sticky, though her tears had long since stopped falling. Her friends had gone through so much. Had faced such terrible dangers. It was nothing less than a miracle that they stood before her. God must have protected them.

You still believe in God? After all this?

Why not, when Lucavi stalk the land?

"Argus," Delita repeated.

Ovelia looked up. She had rarely heard such pain in his voice. He wore that pain on his face, in hollow circles underneath his eyes. He was staring at Ramza like a lost child looking for answers. "Argus," he said again. "And he...apologized?"

Ramza shrugged. "He'd been through Hell, or so he said. And he...he was afraid it was coming for Ivalice." He swallowed. "I think he meant it."

"Tyrants, demons, and now undead, too," Faris grunted. "We're living in a fairy tale."

"Or a nightmare," Val said softly.

Silence in the room again. Everyone looked exhausted, with what they'd said, remembered, and heard. Finally, Ramza cleared his throat. "So I want to talk to him. Zalmour."

Delita shook his head. "You'll put all of us at risk."

"We can hardly be more at risk than we are now," Ramza said. "I believe he'll listen to us."

Delita shook his head. "Saint above, Ramza..."

"You have to speak with him anyways," Ramza said. "We need to know what they're planning for Bethla Garrison. I'll take my chance to convince him, too." His eyes were burning with determination, and Ovelia felt a flicker of warmth in her heart again. "This war was bad enough on its own. But if there's even a chance they could bring that Hell to Ivalice..." He shook his head fiercely. "We have to try."

She had only seen Ramza look that way a few times...but on each of those occasions, he'd saved someone's life. Besides, he looked an awful lot like Alma, with that much brightness in his eyes.

Delita rubbed his temples. "You always have to make things difficult, don't you." He sighed. "Alright. We'll try."

"As will we," Faris put in.

Val looked up. "You're sure?"

"I am rarely sure, sweet Valerie," Faris answered. "But Cardinal Bremondt is the exact kind of person we've been fighting against all this time. Besides..." Her eyes gleamed. "There may be a worthy prize at the end of it, if we play our cards right."

Delita rubbed his temples again. "We'll have to be careful. We'll have to quick. And we'll have to be very, very lucky."

"We've fought armies and killed demons," Beowulf said. "We can do this."

Delita closed his eyes a moment, and took a deep breath. "Alright," he said, one more time. "One final piece of business, then." He glanced at Ovelia. "If you don't mind."

Ovelia could not quite bring herself to answer him, but managed to nod. Delita nodded back, and looked at Agrias. "Dame Oaks. Your sword was broken by Meliadoul, yes?" Meliadoul and Agrias both nodded (Melia guiltily, Agrias stiffly). "So the sword you wear now...it's Wiegraf's?"

"It was well-suited for the Bursting Blade," Agrias replied.

"It is a fine sword," Delita agreed. "I don't believe it ever had a name, but it's of Ydoran make. I would wonder if you would consent to trade me for it."

Agrias' brow furrowed. "Why would I do that?"

"Well..." Delita fingered the hilt of the sword at his side. "Wiegraf's blade never had a name, but this one does."

"When did you get a named sword?" Ramza asked.

"Officially, I don't have one," Delita said. "If I was seen with this sword, it would be taken from me. And I might well be executed." And with that, he drew the sword from his side.

The silence in this room had a different quality to it: everyone of them was transfixed by the marvelous sword Delita held in his hand. The blade was silver, and wickedly sharp: it was more triangular than most swords Ovelia had seen, harsh edges gradually tapering to a needle-thin point. Large glowing runes shone brightly all along its borders, surrounded by their own halos of microrunes. The dancing of magic and light across those runes and the fine silver metal of the blade made it look like he was holding a sword of translucent crystal, with glowing silver water swirling in its depths.

"This sword dates back to the founding of Ivalice, after Ajora's Judgment," Delita said, into the stunned silence "It has had many names, and appears in many stories. My favorite of those stories dates back to the Fall of the Ydorans, and the flight of the young Princess of Lesalia, Garnet Til Atkascha, from the depredations of greedy warlords. She was kept alive by her loyal bodyguard, Dame Beatrix, who wielded this sword to cut down her enemies and help her claim her rightful throne. Since then, the sword has often found itself in the hands of the best of the Lionsguard." He lowered the sword reverently, held its flat in one hand, and offered it to Agrias. "It is sometimes called Save The Queen."

Agrias' mouth hung slightly open. "You...how did you..."

"The sword went missing in the Nanten attack on Lesalia," Delita said. He paused, then added, "Well. Technically the sword went missing before the Nanten attack on Lesalia. But records are so confused..."

Agrias shook her head. "I am unworthy-"

"You followed your liege into certain danger," Delita said. "You risked life and limb, time and time again, to protect her from her enemies: the mightiest armies of mortal men, the strongest swords in the Glabados Church, and the Lucavi themselves." He knelt in front of her. "If you are unworthy, then no one else has ever been fit to bear this blade."

"He's right, Agrias," Ovelia said, and took her guard captain's hand in hers. "I owe you my life, and more besides."

"Besides," Delita added. "I'm not giving it you. I'm trading it to you."

Slowly, Agrias unbuckled the sword at her side, and set it down at his feet. Reverently, she took the silver sword in her hands. Today had been full of surprises, but the way Agrias looked as she took Save The Queen in her hands might have been the most surprising of all. Agrias had looked intimidating from the first day Ovelia had met her: the combination of earnest zeal and ferocious determination always left her looking some fierce statue standing guard outside a church or castle. But the wonder shining in her eyes now softened the harsh angles in her face, so she looked like a child getting presents on Saint's Day.

"I am not worthy," she whispered. "But I am...grateful."

"He's right, Captain," Lavian said, placing a hand on Agrias' left shoulder as Alicia placed a hand on her right. "There's no one worthier."

Rapt silence in the room. Delita broke it by retrieving the blade Agrias had discarded, offering her his own unbuckled belt and sheathe in the same movement. "Perhaps we should take a break?" he suggested. "Everyone should find their quarters for the evening. We can make dinner and..." He gave a rueful look to Ramza. "Figure out exactly how we're going to pull off this damn fool plan."

"The rooms aren't in the best state," Ovelia said. "But I imagine they're a sight better than what you get as heretics on the road." She rose to her feet. "Let me make sure they're ready for you."

Agrias flushed. "Your Majesty, I couldn't possibly-"

"After everything you all have been through," Ovelia said dryly. "I think I can sully my hands with a bit of bedmaking."

She kissed Agrias' forehead, and left the room, striding down a damp and dusty hallway. There were some brief words behind her, and then a figure stepped into the hallway behind her.

"Ovelia!" Delita called, in a carrying whisper. She ignored him, sped up even as he hurried after her. "Ovelia, wait! Ovelia-"

From the corner of her eye, she saw his hand reaching for her. She batted it away as hard as she could. "Don't touch me," she hissed, whirling to face him. "Lucavi. And you knew."

"I..." he stammered. "I didn't...I suspected, but..."

She saw the hurt in his eyes, and the fear, and the pain. More than any of that, she saw the guilt.

"You have played this game better than I have, Delita," Ovelia said softly. "But I have played this game longer than you have. I have measured the worth of my life, and my comrades' lives, to serve my kingdom. You lied to me about what you wanted. You lied to them about where I was. And I can live with all of that." She leaned forwards. "But you suspected what the Cardinal was. You suspected the danger they were in. You didn't tell them. And you didn't tell me."

The guilt and hurt in his eyes had deepened. She was glad to see it.

"You disgust me," she whispered, and strode away from him. This time he didn't move to follow her.

When this day had started, she had felt as giddy as a child looking forwards to Saint's Day. In her reunion with her friends, she had felt such relief and joy as she had never felt before. And now, she felt despair deeper than the black malaise that had seized her in the basement of Lionel Castle, when she had learned that she was just a puppet queen.

There had been joy, these last few months. The joy was gone now. Delita was exactly the cruel manipulator she'd always feared he was. She never should have trusted him. She could never trust him again.

She was glad he didn't follow her. She didn't want him to see the tears dripping down her face.