Thankfully, Furis was able to heal Tylenna, and was absolutely furious about it. He continued to lecture her about how irresponsible it had been to split up, and if they had been together like he had originally wanted, this wouldn’t have happened.

  For once, Ulfnar was in 100% agreement. He had gotten complacent and sloppy. Even though he always worried that there was an assassin around every corner, the fact that he hadn’t encountered one yet made him careless, and it had nearly cost him not just his life, but Tylenna’s as well.

  At least they had escaped with their lives.

  And because they’d been discovered, they were now packing all their worldly belongings onto a cart. Not that Ulfnar had much; he had Lina and a pair of daggers, that were now gone. He’d fled so fast after the fight that he left them behind and was smart enough to not go back for them. The town guard had already discovered the bodies and were out looking for the dastardly “cutthroats and cutpurses” who committed these “most heinous and foul murders.” What was he going to do? Go up to one of the guards and ask for his daggers back? Of course not!

  “What do we do now?” he asked as he lifted yet another trunk of Tylenna’s clothes onto the cart. Why did she have so many clothes?

  “The plan hasn’t changed, Ulfnar,” she replied. “Careful!”

  He couldn’t quite get the trunk high enough and it slipped out of his hands, crashing to the ground. Fortunately, no one besides Furis and Harnfoot had seen. It was still early, and not many townsfolk were out and about yet.

  ‘Watch what you’re doing! You almost hit me with that trunk,’ Lina said. He ignored her comment.

  “Seriously? But the baron has already left.”

  “Don’t be such a nanny, boy!” Harnfoot shouted. He came over, and for a second, Ulfnar thought he was going to get slapped. Instead, the man picked up the trunk with one arm and put it on the wagon.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Tylenna said, “and I think the best option is to send you to the Spires as you are and tell them you’ve killed me.”

  Ulfnar walked over to where she was standing, packing up another trunk of her clothes. She shied back at his approach. Since the attempted assassination, she had been nervous around him, and he wasn’t sure why. Did she think he was going to hurt her? He saved her life, for Laryn’s sake!

  “There’s a slight problem with that. You’re not dead. How would I prove it to them.”

  She held up her left hand and showed him the golden signet ring she wore. He hadn’t noticed the complex weave of tattoos that ran up and down the fingers of her hand before. They were curved lines that twisted and intersected, starting at her wrist, and running all the way up to the tips of her fingers.

  “With this.”

  “The ring? You think that would be enough? Larella is smart enough to know that you could have just given me that ring.”

  She smiled. “I know. That’s why you’re taking the finger with it.”

  “What?” He shifted uneasily. Did she just suggest cutting off her finger? At least it was the pinky and not her thumb or something. Her whole hand would be even worse. Still, he wasn’t sure he could even do that.

  “Take the finger,” she said. “I’ll have Furis heal the wound.”

  “That won’t make it grow back,” Furis commented as he was putting two more boxes on the cart.

  “Even better,” Tylenna said. “Those who are of the Spires make a big deal out of the Tilanka—the hand tattoos. In fact, one of ways they greet each other is to present both hands, to show their family tattoos.”

  ‘This woman is crazy,’ Lina said. She wasn’t wrong.

  It was a horrible idea. He was nauseated by the idea that he would have to carry her severed finger around, never mind going to their equivalent of the Royal Palace and showing it to the archduke.

  “If someone of the Spires is disgraced in any way, one of the punishments is to cut off a finger. The bigger the disgrace, the more important finger they take off. The pinky, where the signet ring is worn is the most important. There is no way someone of the Spires would allow that finger to be removed.”

  “And you are?” He wished he’d paid more attention to his lessons when they were teaching him about Tambrynese culture. He’d never heard of any of this.

  “Of course! I will never rule, and never want to. To me, the pinky is just an accessory, same with the signet. I won’t need it.” She reached into her skirts and pulled out a dagger. She held it out to him hilt first. “Come here, Furis!”

  He was astounded at her courage. Just the thought of losing a finger scared him, and here she was offering him the knife, knowing full well how important fingers were in the Spires.

  “Where will you go? If I’m going to tell Lady Larella I killed you and you’re found, I’m as dead as you want them to believe you are.”

  “I will go to Gavinholm Isle.” She said.

  “Gavinholm Isle? Why there?” There wasn’t much there but a city under the control of crazy mages. Travel to the interior was forbidden under penalty of death. But it was outside the reach of Tambryne. It would be a safe place for her. And if they believed she was dead, it was safer for him.

  ‘She will be safer there,’ Lina said.

  He took the dagger.

  “Our plans are in motion, Ulfnar. It’s time to fetch my queen!” She placed her hand on the barrel beside her. Furis came to stand beside her nervously. His hand glowed with a faint blue light. Ulfnar placed the blade of the dagger on the knuckle of her pinky.

  “Wait.” He hesitated. There was another reason he didn’t want to do this. Once it was done, they would go their separate ways. She would be out of his life—possibly forever. His heart ached at the thought of being away from her. Why?

  Because he was in love with her.

  ‘Told you,’ Lina said.

  “Stop wasting time,” she said. “Do it.”

  “Kiss me first.” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He bent over and pressed his lips to hers. Her lips were warm and soft. Everything faded into twilight. In that moment, what he was about to do didn’t matter. The fact that he might never see her again didn’t matter. They were the only two people in the world, sharing one life—with a kiss. They’d spent many nights together, but they had never kissed until now. His body filled with warmth, and, for the first time in an exceedingly long time, joy.

  He cut.

  ***

  Filliya was already looking better. Davinya didn’t know what sort of poison or magical spell had been used on her, but he had clearly been reversing it. She still couldn’t talk; her vocal expressions were still limited to grunts. She was beginning to be able to stand on her own and walk again and looked to be putting on some weight.

  She had made great progress, but Alfyn could change his mind on a whim, and if he tired of Davinya, one or both of them might end up dead.

  Davinya had learned from the king that Aeolwyn had brought an army with him, and they were camped about a mile away from the capital along the Camulan road. If she could manage to get Filliya out of the palace and take her there, both of them could be free of Alfyn.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  She’d waited until after nightfall to sneak to Filliya’s room. Her plan was to sneak out through the servant corridors. Tindelle, the servant who was there when her father died had already stashed some servant uniforms in Filliya’s room and was waiting outside the palace to take them to Aeolwyn’s army.

  It was a good plan.

  She’d waited until it was late enough that most of the servants were gone. She’d left after Alfyn fell asleep and made her way down the corridor and up the stairs to the Filliya’s rooms. They weren’t her original rooms—Alfyn had decided that it was better for her to be higher up and closer to the sea where she could get fresh air.

  Tindelle had snuck her a key to the room, and she arrived without incident. The room was dark, and her sister was sleeping. Davinya could see her sister’s chest rising and falling from the faint light the small candle she brought cast. She hurried over to her bed to wake her.

  “Filliya,” she whispered. “Wake up.”

  She’d quietly told her sister the plan the last time she was here, hoping that, even if Filliya couldn’t speak, she would understand. Davinya thought she’d seen a light in her eyes, which she took as agreement.

  Filliya wouldn’t wake up. What if there was a sleep spell on her? Would Davinya have to carry her all the way through the palace? There was no way she was strong enough to carry her sister, and despite her progress studying magic, she wasn’t powerful enough yet to use magic to do it.

  “She won’t be waking up tonight,” A deep voice said softly.

  Davinya jumped so hard she hit her head on the bed’s canopy. She leapt back and held the candle out like a weapon. Sitting in a chair beside the window was the shape of a man with a beard. She could make out no other details.

  “Who are you?” She asked.

  “I am called Jor Wiret, Your Highness.”

  Jor Wiret? For some reason that name sent chills down her spine. Jor wasn’t a name; it was a title. Jor Bashi had told her that the word Jor was given to a certain group of mages who’d done something amazing or reached a certain level of power. He hadn’t specified who awarded the title and had been extremely cagey when she asked. He only told her that she would learn of it when the time was right.

  “What are you doing here?”

  The shape shifted in the chair, leaning forward. “I was sent here by the king to keep watch over Princess Filliya. Her condition, while still precarious, has been improving. He wanted to ensure it stayed that way.”

  The door opened and the room flooded with light. Her brother Alfyn strode in. Just looking at him made her sick. He had been parading her around all week as though she were his wife. What she had done in private was one thing, being seen with him in that way was sure to spread rumors that they were lovers.

  “Davinya!” he said with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “She was trying to wake the princess, Your Grace,” Jor Wiret said before she could defend herself. With the large lantern that Alfyn brought with him, she could finally see the mage seated on the chair. He was a middle-aged man wearing a long black robe fringed with dark blue. The amorphous shape of the robe prevented her from getting any indication of his size. If he had any distinguishing facial features, they were all hidden behind his long dark beard. His whole body seemed to be covered in a dark aura.

  “I had a terrible dream, and I wanted to make sure she was alright,” she lied. “What are you doing here?”

  He smiled that greasy, sinister smile of his. The one that made him look like he’d either stepped on something foul or was planning to hurt someone. It put Davinya on edge. She tried to back away from him as he approached.

  “I was coming to ask Jor Wiret about Filliya’s condition. He seems to be the only mage who has been able to divine her condition. He has started the long, slow process of healing her.”

  Healing her, or killing her? She wondered if there was a reason she had never met this mage before. Was he the one who had killed their father? Had he somehow found a magical poison that Jor Bashi couldn’t detect?

  Alfyn stood beside her and looked down at their sister. He reached out and stroked her cheek. Rage bubbled inside of Davinya. If he thought to take advantage of her, she would cut his throat—consequences be damned.

  “She looks so peaceful,” he said. “I’m glad she’s getting better.”

  “It won’t be long now, Your Grace,” Wiret said.

  Alfyn turned to the mage and then back to Davinya. “Have you met Jor Wiret yet?”

  “We’ve just been introduced,” she said. There was something odd about the mage, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was his eyes. They were sunk deep into his skull and appeared to have no whites. They were just…dark.

  “Excellent. He is my new Royal Mage.”

  “What?”

  “Hadn’t you heard?” Alfyn asked. “I have dismissed Jor Bashi. I can’t have a mage who is unable to heal whatever this is.” He gestured towards Filliya.

  He turned and walked back to the door. “I will leave you two to get acquainted. I’m sure you will want to learn all you can about your new teacher,” he said before walking out.

  A chill ran down her spine. Jor Bashi’s warning echoed in her head. Beware my replacement. She would not take the dark path. She had to resist.

  ***

  Lord Longinus disliked how spartan the general’s office in Fort Camulan was. The chair had no padding, and the room had no decoration. How was anyone to know your status in a room such as this? How would they show proper awe and deference?

  They wouldn’t. They would assume you were a commoner or a pretender beneath their station, and act like it. It must be extremely difficult for Prince Aeolwyn to keep his men in line when his office was no better than a horse stable.

  The prince needed to do better. But he wouldn’t get the chance here. Fort Camulan now belonged to the Courageous Order of Heavens. And thanks to all the hard work that the young prince-general had been doing, they were going to have a hard time taking it back. Especially once Longinus finished the massive walls that Aeolwyn had started construction on.

  The only question was—what now? He’d finally conquered the fort. He had an excellent place from which to defend Laryndor from the monsters beyond the heavens. But it wasn’t enough. The monsters in the sky would be powerful and clever. They would know enough to pick the divided nations apart and pit them against each other.

  When the assault came, Laryndor needed to be a united front against them. And it was up to Lord Longinus to unite them. If the kingdoms of Laryndor refused to put aside their petty squabbles over power, land, and glory, then he would do it for them.

  With Fort Camulan captured, it was now time to turn his attention to Teorton—the capital of Camulan. All the arduous work Child Fraius had done greasing the wheels of the nobility was about to come to fruition.

  He would allow the young king Alfyn to have his shining moment in the sun. He would allow his coronation to proceed. But after? Well, the king was going to find ruling much more difficult than he intended.

  The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs shook him from his thoughts. The interior walls of this office were so thin, he could hear everything that was happening. Most of the fort was made from stone, but, for some reason, they had decided to frame the general’s office from wood. Not only did that leave it vulnerable to attack—in a place where the fort needed to be protected the most—but it also meant that whoever was on the other side of the door could hear every conversation the general had. In fact, they could probably read the words to the general’s private missives!

  A knock came at the door shortly after.

  “Come,” he said.

  The door opened and Commodore Tyrec entered. He placed his hand across his chest and bowed formally. “Your Radiance,” he said.

  “Please sit, commodore.” He gestured to one of the pair of empty chairs across from his desk. Like the rest of the office, everything was constructed of plain, unornamented wood. He didn’t understand how someone, especially a general, could live in such filth.

  Tyrec nodded and took a seat. The man looked tired, and slightly annoyed. The prisoners weren’t taking to their new situation very well. They tried to fight their traitorous brethren at every opportunity, both the knights who had helped defeat them, as well as the soldiers sent by Alfyn. Longinus hadn’t decided what to do with them. They were still loyal to their king and believed they had retaken this fort for him.

  So far, he’d been using Tyrec as an intermediary to distribute orders, but he had other plans for the commodore. He wasn’t sure about Captain Flint, the replacement that Tyrec had offered up. Although Flint passionately hated Prince Aeolwyn, Longinus still had his doubts about his loyalties. Were they truly to Lord Longinus, or was that a ruse to turn Fort Camulan over to King Alfyn? Perhaps a Charm spell was in order. He didn’t like to use magic to compel loyalty. He always felt loyalty earned was more fervent than loyalty forced. But in this case, it was important to be sure.

  “Please send Captain Flint up when we’re through here,” he said.

  “Of course, Your Radiance.”

  “I want to commend you on a plan well executed Tyrec. This was exceptionally conceived and performed to perfection. You have earned a boon from me.”

  Tyrec smiled and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I am unworthy of such an honor.”

  He was just being modest, Longinus noted. He had earned his position and wasn’t afraid to show it. His chosen manner of dress exemplified it. His overuse of extravagantly embroidered coats and a costly golden cutlass showed the esteem he held himself in. He needed to be more modest, in Longinus’ opinion.

  “You are worthy, and I will grant it to you. But first, I have another task for you.”

  “I am at your command, Your Radiance.”

  Tyrec smiled eagerly. Now that the fort was captured, the commodore had no more interest in it. His first love was the water, and especially, the sea. He was clearly uncomfortable having sailed upriver to get here. The Kanesh river was known to be treacherous to the deeper hulled ships that Tyrec preferred. He would be pleased to get them out of river marshes and back into the open sea.

  “I want you to return to Teorton. It is time to activate our sleepers in that city. As soon as the coronation is complete, I want the city to be aflame with unrest.”

  “It will be as you command,” Tyrec said.

  “Excellent. That is all.”

  Tyrec stood, bowed again, and left. Longinus barely saw him leave. He couldn’t help the exited feeling in his chest. His plans were finally coming to fruition. The men he’d sent into Tambryne would soon have control of there, and in less than a fortnight, Teorton would be in flames. The nobles would be begging for someone more competent to take control, and Longinus had chosen the perfect candidate.