The kitchen smelled of fresh bread and stew. Agnes stirred a pot while Bree sliced the fresh bread, still warm enough that steam curled up from each cut. Seren helped pack bowls onto a tray. Dain was attempting to balance three at once.

  The kitchen drain sloshed as the eels agitated the water.

  "Premium intelligence, yesss," Grin's voice oozed from the drain. "Palace movements, Theron-search patterns, very valuable—"

  "Theron sssearching," Sleech cut in, deliberate as always. "Woman with dog and man seen with hyena."

  The kitchen went still.

  Bree's knife stopped mid-slice. Seren's hand tightened on the tray. Dain nearly dropped his bowls.

  Kith's ears flattened.

  "They're looking for us," Kith said quietly.

  "They're looking for everyone who was near that square," Bree said, but her voice was tight. "You can't go up. Any of you."

  "We know," Seren said.

  Agnes picked up her tray. "Come on then. Children will be hungry."

  ***

  They descended into the cavern. The fairy-sun was at the top of the ceiling, the second day. Bright golden light illuminated the soft carpet of moss.

  Children shrieked with laughter, chasing fireflies that zipped just out of reach. By the stream, three small ones crouched around Kwik, giggling as they tickled the eel under the chin. Kwik's tail flicked lazily in the water.

  "Food!" one of the older children called, and the cavern erupted in motion. Children rushed toward the tables, the older ones shepherding the smaller ones, making sure everyone got a bowl.

  Old Nerris sat in one of the alcoves, a child curled against her chest—one of the empty ones, still pale and quiet. A fairy rested on the child's shoulder, pulsing soft blue light. Healing light, maybe. Comfort, at least.

  Seren set down her tray and immediately a cluster of children swarmed her, asking about Stormdrink, about adventures, about everything. She answered patiently, helping serve stew.

  Dain crouched by the stream with two of the younger ones, making exaggerated faces that sent them into fits of giggles.

  Bree watched for a moment, her expression soft. Then she caught Agnes's eye and nodded toward the stairs. Work to do above.

  The children ate. Played. Laughed.

  And in the corner, Cocky paced.

  ***

  Kith noticed.

  Seren and Dain helped settle the last of the children—making sure the quiet ones got food, that the empty ones were comfortable. Kith had been sitting with the younger ones, letting them pet her fur, but now they were eating. Nothing left to do. She crossed the cavern to where Cocky wore a path in the moss.

  "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

  He didn't stop pacing. "Fine."

  "You don't look fine."

  "I'm fine."

  Kith sat down, watching him. "So... when we get to Eldmere. What do you think we should do?"

  Cocky's talons dug into the moss. "I don't know."

  "We'll need a plan."

  "I don't know, Kith."

  She tried again. "How will you convince your people you didn't die?"

  Cocky stopped. His feathers went rigid.

  "I mean—they all think you're dead. I ate you in the street—how do we—"

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  "I DON'T KNOW!" His voice cracked through the cavern.

  The children went quiet. Just for a moment. Then the older ones redirected them, got them playing again. The noise resumed.

  But Kith flinched.

  "Cocky—"

  He rounded on her. "I don't KNOW, alright?!"

  Kith stood slowly. "I'm sorry. I just—I'm trying to help—"

  "You can't help!" The words came out harsh, desperate. "Nobody can help! We need a plan but there's too many—I can't think about all of it, I can't—"

  He choked on the words. Covered his face with his wings.

  Kith reached toward him.

  "Don't," he whispered.

  She pulled back. Stood there, useless. Guilty.

  Then she turned and walked back toward the children. Sat down near Old Nerris, not looking at anyone.

  Cocky stood alone in the corner.

  The fairy-sun shone steady overhead. The children laughed.

  And Merren still hadn't come.

  ***

  The Turnip's dining room hummed with the usual afternoon crowd. Merchants arguing over prices. Those spending their earnings from the morning’s market on ale before they head home. The comfortable noise of people who had nowhere else to be.

  Then the door opened.

  The man who entered wore white. Not the off-white of working clothes or the cream of wealth, but pure, deliberate white. His cloak was spotless despite the dusty streets outside. His boots clicked on the wooden floor.

  The room didn't go silent. That would have been too obvious.

  But conversations got quieter. Eyes dropped to plates.

  Bree, carrying a tray of empty mugs, froze mid-step.

  The man sat at a table near the window. Alone. Watching. Then he stood and began walking between the tables.

  "Excuse me," he said to a merchant. Pleasant voice. Calm. "Have you seen a young woman traveling with a dog? Dark hair, perhaps? The dog is distinctive—well-trained."

  The merchant shook his head quickly. "No, sir. Haven't seen anyone like that."

  The man in white smiled. "Of course. Thank you."

  He moved to the next table.

  Bree's hands shook. The mugs rattled on her tray.

  She turned and walked—not ran, walking would be normal, running would draw attention—toward the kitchen.

  Theron noted it.

  ***

  Agnes looked up from kneading dough as Bree stumbled through the door.

  "Mistress Bree? What—"

  Bree set the tray down. Her hands were shaking so badly the mugs clattered.

  "He's here," she whispered. "Theron. Inquisitor Theron."

  Agnes went still.

  "He's asking about Seren. And… and… and.. Ink." Bree's breathing was too fast. "If he sees me—if he looks at me—"

  She pressed her hands to her face. The family resemblance. He might recognise her.

  If Theron looked too closely...

  "I can't go out there," Bree said. "Agnes, I can't—"

  Agnes wiped flour from her hands. She wasn't a confident woman. Never had been. But she straightened her apron and nodded.

  "I'll handle it."

  ***

  Agnes stepped into the dining room just as Theron reached the bar.

  "Good afternoon, sir," she said, voice steady. "Can I get you anything? Stew's fresh. Bread just came out this morning."

  Theron turned. His smile was polite. His eyes were not.

  "Inquisitor Theron," he said. "Servant to the church. And you are?"

  "Agnes, sir."

  "Ah. Good, good." He folded his hands. "I've had reports of a young woman with a dog. Matching the description of the woman and dog who were seen with the hyena shortly before Eldmere's cockatrice king was killed. Have you seen them?"

  Agnes's heart hammered. But lying to an Inquisitor was worse than telling the truth.

  "They come in from time to time," she said carefully. "But they haven't been in for two days, sir."

  Theron's smile didn't change. "I see. And if you do see them?"

  "I'll be sure to let you know, sir."

  "I'd appreciate that." He reached into his cloak and placed a coin on the bar. Too much for the information. "I'll be stationing a guard at the end of the street. To make it... convenient."

  Agnes took the coin. Her hand didn't shake.

  "Of course, sir. Very thoughtful."

  Theron nodded. Smiled.

  “The other woman who was here when I arrived. She wouldn’t know anything by any chance?”

  “I'll be sure to ask her, sir.” She said confidently.

  “Thank you.” Theron said, as if he'd caught her in a lie.

  She broke out in sweat.

  He turned and left.

  The door closed behind him.

  Agnes stood there, gripping the coin, until her hands started to tremble.

  ***

  In the kitchen, Bree leaned against the counter, trying to breathe.

  The drain sloshed.

  "Jorvan-king gathering ships, yesss," Grin's voice oozed up. "Making ready to sail."

  "Has Eldmere'sss king with him," Sleech added. "Eldmere-king-not-dead-king."

  Bree stared at the drain.

  Another king?

  Agnes pushed through the door, face pale.

  "He's gone," she said. "But he's put a guard at the end of the street. And he thinks you know something."

  Bree nodded slowly. Then looked at the cellar door.

  "We need to tell them."