The wind barely touched Reed's flushed face, already wet with sweat. The air seemed as thick as ether and the sounds around him grew quiet. He heard only his own ragged breath and saw only the kreyghar before him. His name was Marcus and he was tired too. The sword whistled just a centimeter from Reed's face. Reed dodged with unexpected ease, switching his leading hand. His body was tired from the weight of the unfamiliar iron armor. Yet for some reason his body continued to maintain its agility even though Reed almost missed several strikes. The fight against the man from the Wasps seemed like a walk in the park compared to how Marcus wielded his sword.

  The Tournament of Golden Swords looked promising. Reed possessed almost every skill required of a good guardsman but he stumbled at the very last and most difficult stage. He had reached the home stretch and the castle gates had almost swung open for him when the King's son suddenly announced that the final trial would be a duel. Reed had disliked duels since his days in Bradenmain. He was a poor swordsman and his daggers were called a "dirty trick" and taken away until the end of the competition. The rules forbade many of the techniques Reed was used to, which were dirty, underhanded, and deadly.

  The crowd of kreyghars was a mean audience. They were shouting, and after so much time Reed’s head was already pounding from their screams. They distracted, dazed, and irritated him. And Reed couldn’t assess the situation if he was irritated. Involuntarily, he remembered how ten years ago he had almost fallen into slavery again and back then the kreyghars had shouted just the same. And Meredith had been there then too. Just as she was now, hiding in the crowd. She still had not spoken to him but she had come anyway, as if she were the only one who alone cared whether Reed could get into the castle. He knew she was near and felt her gaze on him although he did not try to catch it. The knowledge alone was plenty.

  Marcus was wiry, a bit taller, and slightly more pleasing to the crowd. This was particularly because of his ears. According to Maró’s legend, Reed was one-third elf, but even that third did not save him from contemptuous looks. Although it did help him avoid being disqualified before the Tournament of Golden Swords began. As a native of Forfield and the son of a blacksmith and a servant of the Church of the Three, he could not simply be kicked out. And the successful phrasing of "non-consensual affair" in his fake biography was made up to explain the ears, so it was enough. Some cast looks of pity at him and Reed asked the Mother to give him patience and not to knock out the teeth of those so “pitiful.”

  Marcus started circling just as Reed had done when fighting for a place among the Wasps. Then followed an accurate thrust and Reed, to his great surprise, parried it. They had been dancing like this for too long, and Reed’s hands were already trembling from the weight of the sword, but he parried the blow.

  The kreyghar looked at Reed almost imploringly and he was sure his own gaze was the same. Marcus raised his sword, exhaled, and lunged. Reed lunged too, gathered himself, and then dropped to the ground trying to slide under Marcus's arm. Fine pebbles slowed the slide and Reed fell while the sword whistled in dangerous proximity. The crowd roared, chanting the Marcus's name, who looked slightly confused.

  The kreyghar raised his sword again for a strike and Reed was already tired of playing. He wanted to finish quickly, breathe out, and shed the tension of the day. Reed did not dodge as he had done before. Crossing his forearms, he locked onto Marcus's sword arm and wrenched him forward, stepping pivotally to the side. In one fluid motion, he was at Marcus's flank, still pinning the arm. Marcus stumbled, pitched forward, nearly slamming face-first into the mud.

  He only managed a short cry before Reed struck the extended elbow with a hard, open palm. Something crunched quietly and Reed wasn't sure if it was the grinding of plate or the snapping of bone. The second strike followed instantly, driving straight into the shoulder joint. Marcus screamed and dropped his weapon.

  Reed, still pinning Marcus's arm, tore the helmet off his head and then snapped a knee up, driving his shin straight into the man's face. Reed heard the bridge of Marcus's nose crack, a sound followed instantly by a flood of blood over the man’s mouth and chin.

  Without lingering, Reed dove his left arm beneath Marcus's trapped limb and hauled it upward. Marcus’s shoulder got forced tight against his own jaw. Reed took a breath and braced his forearm against the man’s throat. With his right elbow anchored on his opponent's shoulder, he cinched the hold. He could have strangled the kreyghar then and there by trapping the arm within the choke; Marcus had already been stripped of any hope of escape.

  Marcus thrashed, gasping for air as he swallowed blood and tried to reach Reed's head with his free hand, unable to break free. Reed leaped slightly, wrapping his legs around the kreyghar's ribs in a body triangle and tensed every muscle. Soon, Marcus’s face turned a deep, mottled red, and he collapsed forward. Reed went down with him, remaining locked onto his back, afraid to loosen his grip.

  He was dragged off as soon as it became clear that the kreyghar would not get up on his own. Pulling away from the guards, Reed saw that Marcus was breathing and let out a shaky sigh of relief. He had been so close to strangling him and breaking all the Tournament rules, which would have ruined the mission.

  He removed his helmet, searching for Meredith in the crowd. She smiled, then suddenly winked, and Reed’s blood ran cold. The secret behind his successful combat maneuvers was revealed. That was why he had dodged when he was no longer able to and struck much harder than he was capable of, while Marcus had missed and stumbled with outrageous frequency. Meredith had helped Reed win the unequal fight so seamlessly that even he had not noticed at first.

  She continued to smile and Reed could not look away. Her amusement was nothing like what he was used to, as if she were reveling in her own mischief. He turned away when he heard his name called. Maró had decided to keep the nickname the same so that Reed would not falter in unexpected situations. They had simply given Reed a disgusting kreyghar surname. Grimacing with contempt, he wiped his sweaty face with his palm and headed to meet the captain of the Royal Guard.

  ***

  The victory was not absolute but it commanded respect. First, Reed spoke with the Captain, then with the advisor, and only then was he granted the honor of seeing the King and his son. Reed stood in the center of the hall and had to raise his voice so that the King would hear him. Taking a step closer was considered an insult. Same as addressing the King first or looking him in the eye. Reed had to kneel on one knee and remain with his head bowed until the King allowed him to rise. Otherwise, it was also an insult. Even the Captain of the Guard did not look the King in the face.

  Truth be told, Reed was seeing such luxury for the first time. The combination of red velvet with gold trim caught the eye. It made him want to examine every detail but he had neither the time nor the patience for that. He needed to see everything at once in the brief moments he was given. Bright sunlight poured through the high windows, glinting off the gilded chandeliers, candlesticks, and the tassels of heavy curtains which were now neatly drawn back.

  The thin frames looked so fragile that Reed would have been afraid to touch them even if he were permitted. He looked at them and wondered how such windows did not shatter into small fragments at the first gust of wind. Yet, surprisingly, this marvel continued to stand, letting light into this magnificent crimson and gold hall day after day, allowing people like him to admire it.

  The floor of white marble looked imposing and Reed was even afraid to take an extra step. Only the Mother knew how much this marble cost as Reed had probably never seen such money in his life. The royal throne generally matched the overall atmosphere, being just as red and pompous. It looked incredibly vast and even without looking at King Arden's backside warming that expensive scarlet velvet, Reed could see the intricate carvings on the armrests and legs.

  King Arden was old. He was, probably, one of the oldest kreyghars Reed had ever seen. Arden wore long, straggly, grey hair and a gaudy golden-red suit with a high collar and silly girlish lace on the sleeves. His wrinkled hands clung to the armrests of the throne as if the strength of his grip distanced him from the cold of the eternal Darkness, which already loomed over this wretched creature. Heavy rings with expensive stones, the names of which Reed did not even know, shifted awkwardly on his flabby, thin fingers, looking more like the legs of bald, livid spiders. Arden moved his dry, thin lips with difficulty, pushing words out of his toothless mouth like uninvited guests. The look was completed by a crown with complex weavings of gold threads and red stones.

  For some reason it seemed to Reed that this was not a king at all as there was none of that majesty in Arden that is usually attributed to kings. He was more like an ancient pretender or a great, universal deception, for if this was what kings looked like, then they were certainly not in their place. Reed could have snapped him in half if he wanted to. Killing such a man was like hitting childrenю It would be too simple and even slightly humiliating, for the forces were obviously unequal.

  Someone else always fought for the King while he cradled his unwarranted self-importance, and that too was humiliating. Reed wondered if those who died for the King ever thought about how meaningless their sacrifice was. Not to mention that this human wreck lived better than most of Emeron, including those who had to give their lives for him. Just because he was lucky enough to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Why did no one ever think that Arden did not deserve his place?

  In Reed's head wandered an idealistic thought that a crown, a throne, and their privileges must be deserved, earned with blood and death. So why was this thing sitting on the throne then? Why was it more important than other people, though it stood out for no merits at all? Arden had not won wars and he had not made Forfield better. He had done nothing at all, he just existed. What an amazing, pompous, and vastly overblown uselessness. And this was exactly what Reed thought when he realized what kind of person sat before him. Killing him should not even considered as a crime.

  "Where are you from?" The King did not think it necessary to raise his voice to be heard. It was up to everyone else to strain to hear him.

  "From Famord, a village near Clover."

  "Whom did you serve before?" Arden mumbled.

  "Lord Danton Villon," Reed replied without raising his head.

  "Why did you leave?"

  "My master died. Old age and smoking had weakened his heart. He died in his sleep."

  The King hummed and fiddled with the ring on his index finger while examining the papers on his desk.

  "Long ago?"

  "No, Your Majesty, quite recently."

  "Convenient, isn't it?" There were strange undertones in King Arden's voice.

  "Death is never convenient, Your Majesty."

  Arden laughed and only then the others present chuckled along.

  "Rise." He waved his hand lazily and Reed stood up, feeling how the blood drained from his face and a sticky fear crawled over his skin. "And you decided to try your luck here?"

  "Why settle for little if you can take everything allowed?" Reed chuckled nervously.

  "Indeed. Who taught you?"

  "My mother's brother. He served a lady in Saisen."

  "Good, you may go."

  King Arden waved his hand again, scratched his beard, and no longer looked at Reed. Leaving the hall, Reed turned to the Captain in the golden cloak who was waiting for him near the exit.

  "When will I know if I passed?" Reed asked cautiously.

  "You have already passed since you were admitted to His Majesty. His Highness the Prince liked the duel. You have three days to finish your business outside the castle. After that, the castle will become your home."

  "Thank you."

  "Good luck." The Captain nodded.

  On unsteady legs, Reed walked to his horse. As if in a dream, he checked the saddle and mounted. He could only breathe freely once the castle stayed behind.

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  ***

  Reed was able to hit the road only after nightfall. Swapping his gleaming guardsman’s plate for his familiar armor, he set out. He would have left earlier but he was afraid of being recognized. Now his face was known to many, far more kreyghars than Reed found comfortable. In the gathering dusk he spurred his horse onward while anger seethed in his chest like a second heart. Meredith should not have helped him.

  The wind whipped his hair while anger and anxiety whipped his soul. Maybe he was not even truly angry but was simply searching for an excuse to speak with her. Perhaps even to reconcile. He desperately wanted to talk to her again, to laugh, and to admire her face when she looked at him, but Meredith no longer looked at him. At least not the way he was used to or the way he wanted. Reed feared that his kiss had pushed him over an edge after which Meredith would be lost to him forever. And though her lips had said otherwise, he was still afraid. For he truly was not at all as she had imagined, considering what he intended to do in the King's castle.

  Reed weighed the possibilities as soon as he left the reception hall. He knew that not only the advisor would die as this was necessary to survive afterward. All that remained was to speak with Meredith and Maró, take his poisons, and set out on the long journey where there was absolutely no room for Meredith. Perhaps they would even see each other for the last time. Reed sincerely wished it wouldn’t be like that but he did not dare ask for more. Meredith would soon realize that she had not really loved him at all and Reed would soothe his soul and stop tormenting himself with meaningless dreams. Perhaps.

  He arrived closer to noon. The sun was already beating down and his face was damp and Reed felt dirty after hours on the road. The horse snorted tiredly for he had driven it too long. With a firm step he headed into the hideout, passing the sentry. His face was stony and his heart was pierced by pain split with anger. For he did not know how to talk to Meredith. Meeting Maró in the corridor, Reed waved his hand, showing that he was not ready to talk yet. The mage did not have time to say anything and only clicked his tongue in annoyance.

  He burst into her room like a whirlwind. Blazing with indignation, he glanced at the carefree Meredith, who only after a few moments deigned to raise her eyes to him. Her eyebrow rose and an expression froze on her face similar to the one she hid behind when visiting The Wild Grove.

  "Why?" he asked shortly, loosening the collar of his armor. It was hard to breathe, whether from anger, the heat, or because of Meredith.

  "Why what?" She blinked innocently, setting aside a sheet of handwritten paper. She crossed her arms over her chest and deigned to turn around.

  "Don't play a fool," Reed growled, exhaling angrily. "You were helping me there."

  "Don't get worked up." Her voice was colorless, almost lifeless, and she looked away again. "And anyway, what makes you think I did anything?"

  "I felt it."

  "Well, you are welcome then," Meredith snapped, shooting him a somber look. "Anything else?"

  "Fool!" he shouted, sweeping a clay tray off the table. His hands trembled and he was ready to break a hundred more trays if it would help wipe that indifference from her face.

  "Hey!" She jumped up, clenching her fists. "Go smash your own dishes, you hothead!"

  "Do you even realize how much your help could have cost us both?" Reed growled, stepping on the shards of the tray. Meredith stood very close, breathing heavily with her lips pursed. She was angry. "What if someone else had noticed?"

  "Not 'us,' but me personally for one. Secondly, no one noticed."

  "If I noticed, then others could have as well. Are you looking for a trip to the gallows?"

  "What do you even care?" She shouted, backing away.

  "You..." He faltered, cutting himself off mid-sentence. He exhaled, trying to calm his anger. "I care about you, Meredith."

  "Thank you, Reed. I'll be more careful next time," she replied, exhaling. Her anger vanished and she was cold once more, like the snows of Kaldfell. She called him by his nickname on purpose and Reed only smiled, although that pointed coldness echoed with pain in his chest. "I will take your visit as a sign of gratitude."

  Reed snorted nervously and ran his fingers through his hair. He could not just leave. Not now and not like this.

  "Stop it, please," he almost groaned, closing his eyes. Meredith only grimaced in response.

  "Stop? You are the one who came here shouting and breaking my dishes! I bought those myself, by the way!"

  "I'm not talking about that."

  "Then what are you talking about?"

  "You are as cold as the Darkness itself. Stop punishing me for that time."

  Meredith raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  "Really? And am I not doing what you wanted? Am I not staying away from you? You strove for this so much. Or did you hope that everything would be as it was before? It won’t, Reed."

  He exhaled tiredly, sat on a chair, and covered his face with his hands.

  "I am leaving to the castle today," Reed said quietly. "I don't know for how long. I don't know when we will see each other again and I certainly don’t know if I will return. I don't want to say goodbye like this."

  "You want too much," she snorted, folding her arms over her chest.

  Of course. Reed expected nothing else from her. Meredith would remind him of everything he had ever said. That was exactly why he liked her so much. Reed approached, not knowing what to say, and ran his gloved fingers along her bare shoulder. Her skin broke out in goosebumps and she shuddered.

  "Anything else?"

  "I don't know." He smiled awkwardly, pulling his hand away. "I don't want you to be angry."

  "Leave me and I will stop."

  "Dita..."

  "What?" She snapped as their eyes met. Hers were blazing with life and his were cold, almost lifeless. "Stop tormenting me, Hector. It will be easier for both of us."

  "I will not be able to pretend I don't know you," he said quietly. "If you want, I will leave when I am finished."

  "For good?" she asked softly.

  "Yes."

  "I don't want that, but it is hard for me to see you and know that you desire something else while to you I am no more than an old memory."

  She turned away and although Reed could not see her face, he knew exactly what expression was there.

  "I never said that to you."

  "You don't always need words to speak."

  "I know. And I didn't say that to you."

  "I am not stupid, Hector. You will not deceive me."

  He knew that his silence gave her reason to confirm her conclusions but the words felt heavy, refusing to leave his lips.

  "I am leaving this evening," he blurted out, grimacing. It was not at all what Reed wanted to say but he lacked the courage to say anything else. What irony, what a cruel joke.

  He stopped right at the door.

  "Goodbye, Dita."

  Silence was the only answer. He could no longer look at her. Meredith was angry and she did it so exquisitely that it felt like an art. Or perhaps she herself was an art to him. Strangely enough, he liked her even like this.

  "Hector." Meredith caught him by the arm just as he was nearly out. "Forgive me."

  That brief word fell from her lips almost soundlessly, yet Reed heard it anyway. Meredith's cheeks flushed for she did not want to show her weakness. Reed smiled.

  "You are not the one who should apologize." He gently caressed her palm, which was still gripping his forearm.

  She looked at him briefly and when she spoke, her voice grew husky because at that moment Meredith was struggling with herself.

  "I am angry with you," she confessed quietly. "And with myself."

  Instead of an answer Reed slammed the door shut, stepped closer, and embraced her, letting Meredith wrap her arms around him. Both were silent but each knew what this embrace was truly dedicated to and its true meaning was far from what had happened at the tournament.

  "I am not driving you out of my life. You are leaving on your own. Again. What are you running from, Hector? From me? Or from yourself?" she whispered, squeezing him tighter.

  "From everything," he said with a smile, running his fingers through her hair. He leaned in close to her ear and only after a few moments was he able to say, "I’m so afraid."

  "Everyone fears monsters in the dark until they are given a lantern, for in the light they are but pathetic shadows that gain strength in ignorance." She was reciting some literature Reed didn’t know but it didn’t bother him. She was always smart.

  Reed smiled, felt himself flushing and then asked, "So are you my lantern?"

  "Only if you are ready to see the light," she said, pulling back to look Reed in the eyes. A tired smile flickered across her face, replaced by sadness.

  "You will always be my light, Dita," he whispered. Reed exhaled and his heart skipped a beat when he allowed himself to pull Meredith closer. Reaching around him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and moved to his neck and Reed shuddered. Her soft, thin fingers traced the line of his jaw, brushing a strand of hair from his face. Meredith smiled.

  "Then do not fear the shadow."

  Reed pressed a light kiss to her palm. Meredith blushed and lowered her eyes but Reed could not stop looking at her. He stroked her cheek, urging her to raise her head. Reluctantly, as if against her will, Meredith obeyed. She let out an awkward, nervous breath. Reed smiled as he leaned in. Their lips were so close that he could feel her breath against his skin. He needed only to lower his head to kiss her but for some reason he held back, lightly brushing the tip of his nose against her hot cheek instead. He waited for Meredith and he was still afraid. She bit her lip, ran a gentle hand across his palm and then slowly reached for him.

  Reed caught her lips lightly, without his former force, greed, or persistence. He wanted to be more assertive but he allowed her to lead the kiss, keeping it careful and slow. Because of this his heart beat with an uneven rhythm. It felt like his first adventure or his first fight. Back then his hands had trembled just like this and his heart had raced, but now he found the madness pleasant.

  Meredith's tongue brushed carefully and clumsily against his lips and Reed parted his own, moving to meet her. She mirrored his every move until she grew bold enough to offer her own while Reed barely breathed as he tried to memorize her scent, the warmth, and the taste of her lips. His hands tightened around Meredith's waist and he did not dare move not to break the moment. As long as she led, Reed was certain she was kissing him willingly, perhaps even enjoying the moment as much as he was.

  Suddenly Reed broke the kiss. Meredith sighed in disappointment but she did not remove her hands from his neck. He grimaced and explained, " Maró is waiting for me."

  Meredith nodded silently and licked her lips.

  "And then you are leaving?" She looked like the absolute embodiment of awkwardness. Meredith was afraid to even look at Reed but continued to touch him, and for some reason he was sure the fear was not about him.

  Reed nodded briefly in response.

  "Tomorrow evening I must be in the castle."

  She pursed her lips and looked around nervously.

  "Will you... come to say goodbye?"

  A smile bloomed on his flushed face and Reed leaned in, leaving a light kiss on Meredith’s cheek.

  "Of course."

  ***

  "This will not be quick," Reed snapped, bursting into the already familiar room. Not a trace remained of the fire that had made his face and lips burn. Only his eyes, still slightly confused, betrayed him. "This is serious."

  "How serious?" Maró asked, looking up from his papers. Tallis sat in her usual place with her arms folded on the table, staring intently at Reed as if trying to find something in him that he had not yet found himself. Others whose names Reed had not bothered to remember were animatedly discussing something.

  "As serious as it gets. To get close to the advisor and survive, I need to become one of their own. To become one of their own, I need time. I will be passing information to you."

  "Why?"

  "Did you just join the resistance yesterday?" Reed snarled, giving the mage a skeptical look. "Get ready. It won’t be easy. The more you know, the easier it is to manage and survive."

  "I didn't ask for this and I will not pay."

  "I've heard that already. I'm not doing this for you, so don't take too much comfort in it."

  Reed sighed and sat down. Maró watched Reed, studying him once again. He no longer thought Reed was an idiot although he certainly had not expected him to take the matter so seriously. Maró had needed someone whose death would trouble no one. Someone to be used as cannon fodder. But Reed did not intend to be cannon fodder. One way or another he was the one who would do the work and nothing could be changed now.

  "Put me in touch with your contact in the castle," he finally demanded.

  "I cannot. No one knows who he is. Even I don't know. If he deems it necessary, he will find you himself."

  "Fine. I’m leaving today and everything begins now. I will stay in the castle until the King dies. If I die, you will owe the money to Meredith."

  Maró nodded without subtext or double meanings. "Thank you. For both the advisor and the King."

  "What can I do? I've been feeling generous lately." Reed grimaced.

  They shook hands. Tallis was surprisingly silent and she did not even attempt to tease him or throw a gibe. Iris stood in the very corner as she always did. Catching Reed's gaze, she smiled faintly and he returned her smile as he said goodbye.

  "See you," Reed said, walking away. Several voices answered in return and with that, his path began.

  Only the poisons remained to be collected. He could not take them all even though he really wanted to. Taking too many was always a risk and he would have to hide his goods somewhere. He planned to sew secret pockets but for now he was more preoccupied with what to take. Iris found Reed busy with this task in his shack. She entered quietly, looking around stealthily as if she were planning something terrible or feared being overheard.

  "Hi," she said softly, her hands trembling.

  "Are you alright?" Reed asked, looking over his shoulder. Iris shrugged. It was clear that something was tormenting her but he could not understand what it was.

  "Y-yes... but that’s not the point. Reed, I..." She faltered, breathing heavily. It was clearly something serious.

  "Hey," he said softly. "What is it? Who...?"

  "Do not trust my father," she blurted out in a single breath.

  "What?!"

  "You heard me. Be careful, Reed. There are ears everywhere and nowhere is safe."

  He only nodded, stunned by her statement. Iris hesitated and then rushed out of the room like she had been scalded. Not that she’d surprised him. Reed already understood that trusting Maró would be foolish. Especially for him. Everyone who lived there played their own game and Reed was no exception.

  ***

  Meredith waited for him at the exit. She was not in the mood but no longer because Reed had infuriated her. He led the horse behind him, a foolish smile playing on his face. Seeing him, Meredith brightened but sadness remained in her eyes. When they passed the sentries, vanishing among the trees, Reed stopped. Meredith remained silent, fidgeting with the edge of her dress sleeve, which she always did when she was nervous.

  "I must go," he said, his voice barely audible.

  "Why do we always have so little time, Hector?" Meredith asked, ignoring his words.

  He only shrugged. "Because life is often stingy with pleasures."

  She murmured gloomily, hugging her shoulders. Reed leaned in slightly, leaving a light kiss on her cheek.

  "I will return to you even if I have to fight through the eternal Darkness. Only if you wait, for otherwise I will have nowhere to return to."

  Instead of an answer Meredith threw herself at him like a whirlwind, clutching him as if he were her last hope in life. Reed caught her by the waist, gently taking the initiative. They had to stop because today Meredith stirred him far more deeply than he could endure. Had she gone just a little further, Reed would not have been able to restrain himself.

  "I will wait," she whispered, not taking her eyes off his lips. "Remember me even if I am not around."

  "I can no longer forget you," Reed said, pressing his lips to her cheek one last time.

  Then he jumped onto the horse and, before rushing away, said, "I am doing this for you."

  Meredith blushed slightly but did not answer. Her face spoke for her. When Reed disappeared among the trees, she was still looking toward the spot where she had recently seen his silhouette. Then she placed her hand against her cheek, trying to hold back her tears.