XI. The Servant of Justice

It had been a frighteningly simple plan, made possible by an anonymous helping hand. A side door left unlocked, the colors of the House of Mór over their armor, and a few well-placed knives had gotten them to exactly where they needed to be.  Alexej Blaha was a wolf of a man, lean and muscular with sunken eyes and a grizzled beard. He was considered himself Leyan even though he'd been born in Yssan territory, which gave him every reason under the sun to hate the Crown, a hatred fanned by the loss of his own son. He was a creature with nothing left to lose and few animals were more dangerous than those.

The blood of the real guards was still hot on the floor down the hall when he pushed open the door to the nursery. What had happened next was nowhere in the plan. He should have known something was wrong when he saw the door standing partially open, the frame cracked and smeared with mud.

There was a hulking figure shrouded in moss and rotting cloth standing over the crib as he stepped in, smelling of some fetid swamp. The infant prince began to cry and the creature extended a menacing claw towards Alexej and his men. "YOU ARE NOT WELCOME IN THIS PLACE," it said almost ponderously. Then he felt a strange tingle, a charge to the air. Suddenly he was blind and deaf as agony raced through his being, the reek of burning hair and seared flesh filling his nose. He went rigid and hit the ground as stiff as a board.

Alexej stayed still on the ground for at least a full minute, until the after-flash had faded enough that he could make out at least shapes. Curls of smoke were rising from his armor, the chaimail glowing a dull red from the demon's sorcery. His limbs felt like gelatin as he tried to stand, not aided by the fact that his ears were still ringing. He picked up the hunting knife that he'd dropped and struggled up to his feet, swaying like a drunk.

Desperate men were hard to stop.

"I DO NOT WISH TO CONTINUE TO DO YOU HARM," the demon said in that same, thoughtful tone.

He could barely hear it through the buzz and the child's crying. All of Alexej's hair was standing on end. "Give me the boy!" he shouted. "This is not your concern, demon!" If it hadn't shocked the living daylights out of him, he might have considered wheeling and dealing. Now? He was going to force the matter.

Then he heard a soft, malevolent voice with crystal clarity, the last thing he ever heard. "Stay away from my son." His bones snapped beneath his armored skin as Seva wrenched the life out of him with one hard pull. His mouth opened as if gasping, but only blood came out. She went to hit the demon  with the stolen power, but then she realized that it was holding her baby to its chest with one clawed hand.

Seva had never been more afraid and angry in her entire life. That thing was going to hurt her child. Power was humming through her body. "Put him down!"

The antlered head lowered and cocked slightly as if the demon was studying her. "SEVA ESSEN, QUEEN OF YSSA. I RECOGNIZE YOU FROM THE DESCRIPTION OF THE DAUGHTER OF THE VOID. YOU ARE INDEED QUITE AESTHETICALLY PLEASING, WITH IMPRESSIVE SYMMETRY FOR A HUMAN. THE BOY IS SAFE. I HAVE NEUTRALIZED THE THREAT."

"Thou art a threat! Put him down!" Her voice was a scream, but she couldn't help it. She was terrified of it just clenching its hand and crushing her son.

The demon approached her, his bulk quickly becoming more and more menacing. Before she could even think, he was holding her squirming, crying son out to her. She had to let the spell fail and the power dissipate to take him safely, which was probably the demon's intent. She did it anyway, pulling Devyn in tight to her chest. Seva felt the sobs of relief building, but the threat in front of her kept them away. "What art thou?" she whispered.

The demon cocked its head the other way. "A GUARDIAN SPIRIT. I AM OROBAS, HORNED KING OF THE MERE. I CAME HERE TO WARN. WHEN I WAS UNABLE TO LOCATE HOLLAND, I PROCEEDED HERE TO INCONVENIENCE THE MEN WHO INTENDED TO DO YOUR INFANT HARM."

Seva glanced down at the bodies. Orobas's bolt of lightning had killed almost all of them instantly. Only the ringleader had survived that initial attack. She'd never once heard of a demon calling itself a guardian spirit., but if ever there were to be one, it would be this one. "Holland?" she said weakly, grasping at straws.

"APOLOGIES, SHE MUST HAVE NEGLECTED TO INFORM YOU OF MY PRESENCE IN THE ARGENT FOREST." Obsidian eyes gleamed in the light coming through the eastern windows as they focused on a new arrival. "GREETINGS ONCE MORE, FIONN MÓR, KING OF YSSA. I APOLOGIZE FOR CAUSING AN UPSET. I MUST REQUEST YOU LOWER YOUR WEAPON. I DO NOT WISH TO HAVE TO TAKE IT FROM YOU."

Seva felt her husband's hand on her, but this time she didn't resist when he pulled her into him. "Is Devyn alright?" Fionn asked hoarsely as he gripped his sword tightly, keeping it between then and the demon. His eyes were fixed on Orobas and his fair skin was ghostly pale. Then again, she was no different.

"Scared, but not hurt," Seva said. "The demon...saved him."

Fionn lowered his blade cautiously. "We thank you for your intervention, demon. Why have you come to this place?"

"TO WARN," Orobas said. He peered over their heads at the people rapidly approaching. "AH, IT WOULD SEEM THAT THE WOMAN I REQUIRE HAS ARRIVED."

"Orobas, please tell me that you didn't murder those guards," Holland said through a tight jaw.

Orobas pointed at the charred bodies on the floor. "ONLY THE IMPOSTERS. THEIR LEADER WAS NOT AMENABLE TO MY REQUEST THAT HE CEASE ATTEMPTING TO DO THE BOY HARM."

Holland was inarticulate for a moment, the anger so fierce it barely allowed thought, let alone words. Someone had tried to hurt Seva's son? "Who?"

"A FASCINATING QUESTION. I HAVE BEEN CONSIDERING IT SINCE I OBSERVED THEIR INITIAL MEETING IN THE WOODS A FEW DAYS AGO. THEY ARE SEDITIONISTS OF A SLIGHTLY MORE WESTERN EXTRACTION THAN TAMARIS, FROM WHAT I UNDERSTAND, BUT THE MAN THEY ANSWERED TO WAS NOT LEYAN NOR A SEDITIONIST."

"Who was he?" Fionn demanded. "Speak, demon."

Holland sighed. "Less academic in your answers, Orobas. His Majesty appreciates directness."

"I WAS UNABLE TO VISUALLY CONFIRM HIS IDENTITY. HIS VOICE, HOWEVER..." The demon paused for a moment and then a different voice came out from beneath the rags and moss. "...and once you are inside the palace, well, I'm certain you'll do what you feel called to do."

It was eerie hearing Laenus's voice come out of Orobas. Holland was too angry to find it particularly unsettling, however. She'd never thought Laenus would strike that low...but then again, she'd never expected him to turn on her either. He'll do whatever Saraqael tells him to, like a good Immortal, she thought bitterly. But would she have been any different, were their positions reversed? She liked to think so, but disobeying a Prince of Iron...she wasn't certain she could do that herself, even now. That was what frightened her more than anything about the idea of confronting Saraqael.

"Did Naris know?" Fionn demanded.

Seva bit the inside of her cheek hard to stop herself from snapping at him. She focused on rubbing Devyn's back and calming his fluttering little heart. His crying had sputtered out, but he was still making little worried sounds despite her humming.

"THAT IS UNCLEAR. HE GAVE NO INDICATION OF ANOTHER CONSPIRATOR BESIDES THOSE PRESENT. IN THE ABSENCE OF PROOF, ONE MIGHT BE WELL WITHIN THEIR RIGHTS TO ASSUME THE NEGATIVE. HOWEVER, I MAINTAIN...DOUBT."

Fionn took a moment to process that. "She would never," he said quietly. He looked back at the guards who had frozen in the doorway. He pointed at one. "You, call together the court. I will have an answer from Laenus now."

For once, Holland and Fionn were in perfect agreement.

Fionn continued, "The rest of you are to protect the Queen and our son. Lady Penitent, I expect you at Court in half an hour with that demon."

"My lord, I would request to be present at the questioning," Seva said softly.

Fionn was quiet for a moment, but then gave her a tight nod. They had both almost lost their child. She had as much right to preside as he did. "Sir Sadeghi, I charge you with the defense of my son."

Ardashir gave a deep bow. "With my life, Your Majesty." He gripped the penitent's arm tightly as they backed up to allow Fionn to leave. "Promise me that you'll keep your temper? Assaulting him will only cloud the matter." The knight sounded legitimately worried that she might murder the man on sight.

It was a reasonable concern, Holland supposed. "I will," she said softly as Fionn passed them. "Justice will have its day."

"Good," Ardashir said softly. "The flames of vengeance burn the hands that carry their torch."

Holland gave him a little nod before looking up at the demon. "Orobas, are you willing to testify?"

"I CAN AGAIN RELEASE THE VOICE THAT I CAPTURED. BEYOND THAT, I HAVE NO WAY OF RENDERING ASSISTANCE."

"That should be enough," the penitent said. She looked at Seva, her face softening. "I'm so sorry."

Seva shook her head as she passed her son to Ardashir. Devyn wiggled in distress, but Ardashir was good with children. He would be fine. "I could kiss thy demon," she said. "Even if he did nearly stop my heart with fright."

"I WOULD HUMBLY REMIND SEVA ESSEN, QUEEN OF YSSA, THAT I DO NOT HAVE LIPS."

"Thou hast a cheek," Seva said, feeling herself crack a small smile. "Grateful or no, I had no intent of locking lips with thee, demon. 'Twould have prompted a stir of envy in a heart dearest to mine."

It wasn't until they were past the guards that Holland murmured, "I resemble that remark," in her ear. It was a brief joke that drew Holland's attention momentarily from thoughts of how she was going to deal with Laenus. He couldn't be allowed to continue whatever it was that he was doing.

Half an hour later, as Laenus protested his innocence before the eyes of Yssan nobility and the royal couple, the answer finally struck her. Orobas's replayed words hadn't fazed Laenus, even if they had scandalized the court. Half were angry with Laenus's treachery, half were angry with the sorcerous trick, and all of them were terrified of Orobas.

"I would never hurt His Highness," the Immortal said emphatically.

"But you have no problem hurting him through agents." The penitent's voice had knives in it.

Laenus turned to look at Fionn and Seva, both on their thrones. "I am innocent of these accusations!" He shook his head slightly, as if he couldn't believe that Holland say these things. "This is spite and nothing else. She has no proof other than the conjurations of her pet demon, and Yssan courts have never accepted sorcery as evidence."

Holland's face could have been carved of stone for all the expression it had as she looked at Laenus. "He is a liar," she said coldly.

"That is not your place to determine, Lady Penitent," Fionn said warningly.

"Agreed," Holland said. "I would ask the gods to serve as judge. I demand trial by combat. That is my right as a knight."

Laenus's blood went cold. "You suffered no wound and there is no fealty holding a penitent to any lord on whose behalf you could claim wound," he said. "You are out of line."

"I am a servant of justice," Holland said, looking at Fionn and Seva instead of him. "Penitents may serve as the champion of any cause, regardless of whether or not there is feudal obligation. I would exercise that right, if the Crown would establish there has been an injury." There was no way that even Fionn could or would say there had been no wound, not when his son had been the intended target.

Fionn looked over at Seva, searching her composed expression for a moment. As ruined as their relationship was, Devyn was their son. In this, they were in perfect accord. Someone was going to pay. At this point, Fionn didn't particularly care who. The King of Yssa looked back at the pair of Immortals in front of them. "There has been a wound," he said coldly. "I, Fionn of Mór, King of Yssa, hear your invocation of justice, Lady Penitent. By the divine right to rule invested in me, I grant your petition. The matter will be settled on the field of honor. May the gods in their infinite wisdom grant the righteous victory and punish the wicked. As is custom, you have one night under guard to prepare and make peace with the gods. The trial by combat begins at dawn."

Holland bowed deeply to the royal couple. "As you command."

Laenus did the same, albeit grudgingly. He looked over at Holland once he had straightened up again. "You will not live to regret this, Ilex."

Her expression was calm. "I am ending what you began." She brushed past him, heading over to the side of the room where Ardashir, Khagra, and Vladan were waiting.

"Looks like it's your turn," the orc said softly, her face the picture of worry. "He's going to be more of a challenge than Olon."

"And you won't have your armor," Ardashir said. "This is a test of luck and divine favor as much as skill." He sighed. "Gods, Holland...this is going to be ugly. You both have boons. It's entirely possible that you could both die."

Vladan nodded. "A worthy fight," he said, chuckling a little bit.

The knight did not look terribly amused. "It's not playing hit for hit, Vladan. The charge is a capital offense. Death is the punishment."

The anthroparion shrugged his furry shoulders. "A fight is a fight. Holland wins fights. Just how it is."

"Thanks, brute," Holland said, flashing him a preoccupied smile. "I need to go prepare and pray. Ardashir, if I fail, I need you to tell Orobas to protect Devyn. He'll keep the boy safer than I ever could. Then, I need you three to protect Seva. Understood?"

"Yes," Khagra said. She reached out and gave Holland's shoulder a brief squeeze. "But let's not aim for it."

Holland nodded and walked over to where the guards were waiting. It was traditional, to prevent a party from fleeing or cheating. Was it wrong that she found a strange relief in the situation? Finally, she could put things to an end and clear her head of the old shadows before facing the Princes of Iron. A clawed hand reached out and stopped her before she could join her guard. The smell of vegetation and earth told her immediately who it was.

Orobas put his featureless face close to hers and spoke. "GRIEVE NOW. WHOEVER WALKS OFF THAT FIELD, YOU WILL DIE."

"I know," Holland said quietly. She saw Seva go pale at the demon's pronouncement. "Thank you for protecting Devyn."

"IT WAS NEEDED," Orobas said. "I MUST RETURN TO THE ARGENT FOREST. MORTALS ARE OFTEN INCONSTANT. THIS GOODWILL IS NOT LIKELY TO PERSIST AND I HAVE NO DESIRE TO COMBAT ANY HERE. THERE ARE OTHER FOES TO FIGHT."

"Will you be at the field?" Holland asked softly.

"NO. I MIGHT BE CONSTRUED AS INTERFERENCE. BESIDES, YOU DO NOT REQUIRE MY PRESENCE. YOU WILL HAVE MY THOUGHTS."

"I understand. Fare well until I see you again, Orobas." She gave him a faint, pensive smile before walking over to her guards. She saw Laenus doing the same. He could probably overpower them, even if there were five, but she was certain that he wouldn't. Laenus hadn't been able to lay her shadow to rest even after she'd been cast into the sea, maybe because it hadn't had the finality of a true battle. He'd never gotten to see the life in her eyes flicker out, he'd never seen her body fall to the ground and stop moving. He'd never seen the earth close over her. Breaking her on the saltire had been a victory, maybe even a satisfying one, but it hadn't been an end. He needed this.

She did too. For years, she'd carried around anger and pain like an invisible weight on her shoulders. She tried everything to get rid of it: burying it, locking it away, screaming it out, venting it on enemies, among dozens of other things. Sometimes she would feel better for a while, but in the end, it always came back. And then there was the fear—Holland remembered waking up those early nights, terrified of the bonds that had held her to the saltire and being unable to protect herself. The creaking of the rigging on the ship that had taken her across the Sundered Sea made her think of it constantly those first few months. That had faded with distance and time, but she could still feel a tremor of fear deep in her stomach, lurking beneath the betrayal. All of it—the fear, the hate, the pain—had become a part of her identity. She defined herself as, in some ways, not-Laenus. Not-betrayal, not-manipulation, not-envy, not-pride...but also not-sensitive, not-fearful, not-vulnerable. She had hated all of him, the soft parts as much as the parts that had broken her body. She'd forgotten not only who she was, but who he was.

She felt the heartbreak sink in when she made it to an empty room with the knights. Two stayed at the door, one went to be below her window, and the other two moved in with her. There was a bed, a wash-basin on a table, and a small bathroom. Holland sat down on the edge of the bed and covered her face with her hands.

What was Laenus thinking? He had to be feeling something. Hope? Fear? Anger? Regret?

..."The Divine Prince wants me to do what?" Ilex asked coolly, raising an eyebrow at the messenger. He was a young man, to her eyes barely older than the boy he had tugged along with him.

"Train him, Immortalis," the young man said, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously as he tried to read her expressionless face. "He's supposed to be an Immortal too."

Ilex looked almost blankly at the boy. He was probably eleven or so and a little twig of a thing in his patched, scarecrow-like clothes. He'd probably only had his boons for a year or so, because he still hadn't built much muscle. That, or he'd been babied. She was already keenly aware of the fact that her time was about to be wasted. She was supposed to take this fragile little thing and make an Immortal? She wasn't certain he could handle even ten minutes of the training regimen she went through every day without snapping in half. She waved a hand at the servant, banishing him without a word. "Who are you?"

She must have sounded forbidding, because she saw a shiver through the boy's frame. His dark eyes were wide. "Laenus," he said.

She shook her head. "No," she said. If this boy was going to be an Immortal, he could go through the flames just like she'd had to. He would probably hate her by the end, if he even managed to survive. She would either break him or make him into something that would endure. "You earn names."

"But—"

"You earn words," Ilex said sharply. She pointed to the bucket of soapy water and brush nearby. She'd been intending to scrub the training room's floor herself, to keep her hands busy as she collected her thoughts, but this would serve just fine as a first lesson. "Get to it."

"But—"

She clipped the side of his head with an open hand, enough to sting and knock him off balance but not enough to leave any lasting hurt. It was a love tap compared to the power that she could generate when she was actually trying. "Now."

It was three weeks of scrubbing before she let him get a full sentence out. It didn't matter whether or not the floor was already clean. She kept him constantly moving from the time his eyes opened in the morning to when they shut at night. His only breaks were three meals a day, and only then if he didn't take too long. There was always something that needed doing. "When do I get to swing a sword?" he asked.

"When you're told to," Ilex said, slicing thin strips off a piece of paper to test the edge of her sword. She'd just put a clean edge on the last six inches.

"When's that?" the boy pressed.

She raised an eyebrow at him and he immediately fell silent. He knew that was not a pleased look. "If you want to swing a sword, you'd better prove you're ready."

That seemed to spark a fire in his eyes. "I will," he said boldly.

For the first time in a long time, Ilex laughed. "We'll see about that," she said with something approaching amusement...

..."Ilex, are you okay?" a frantic, cracking voice said, barely audible over the roar of the battle. He was just starting to turn into a man, so his throat occasionally was unkind, particularly under stress.

She levered herself up. There was a long, thick arrow-shaft protruding from her left side. She'd slammed into him with her shoulder, knocking him aside and taking the arrow that had been going straight for him. "Pay attention, idiot!" she snarled with uncharacteristic anger. She ripped out the shaft and drove it into an enemy's armpit the moment he raised his arm. It was a good, vicious, lethal blow. They were surrounded and running out of time. If Laenus was fully trained, this would have been child's play, but currently he was more hindrance than help. The few legionnaires who had been cut off with them were starting to fall. Their square was breaking under the onslaught. It had been an excellent move by the Oameni. Ilex congratulated them silently as she pushed her shield into Laenus's arms. He was only lightly armored—he was supposed to just be running messages. His only weapon was a long, spike-like misericord designed to punch through armor and bone.

Laenus nodded, understanding. He slipped the heavy shield onto his arm and took up a stance guarding her back. It took both arms for him to hold it up against heavy blows. For all his inexperience, however, he was fast and had good movement. She trusted him to keep up. Holland tightened her grip on her sword, taking a strong guard as the woad-painted figures charged in. They just needed to survive this rush and then push back. If they didn't punch their way out, they weren't going to survive.

The clash was brutal, even for her. They were coming as fast as she could cut them down, making her bleed for every inch she pushed forward. The legionnaires were dropping even as they tried to cover her back. Soon it would be just her and Laenus. She heard a cry from right behind her. Ilex plunged her blade into her foe's face, buying herself a second or two to spin around and grab Laenus. He'd taken a blade to the stomach. Ilex wrapped an arm under his shoulders and started dragging. "Hold the shield, Laenus!" she barked, ignoring the way his skin was starting to turn white against her dark armor.

It was an ugly run towards allied lines, Laenus only able to protect himself with the shield. She couldn't even do that. She swatted away some of the blows with her sword, but it was an imperfect defense. She had a few more wounds of her own by the time she could finally break free of the enemy, complementing the arrow that was making it so hard to breathe. She limped through the woods with him until she felt the battle-rush fading and her muscles started to weaken. She sheathed her sword and scooped him up, running towards the last position the army had held. She hated missions like this. The commanders too frequently said, "The Immortals are there, they don't need our support." Usually they were right, but this time it was just her and Laenus. One woman and a half-trained boy did not mean they were impervious to the enemy's weapons.

She slid down an embankment with him into a river, her shield long gone. She could get another eventually, so it wasn't a huge loss. There was a hollow space under the overhang, just big enough to hide him. He would be wet and miserable, but alive. He was feverish to the touch, a sign that the boons were starting their work. "I need you to keep quiet," Ilex said as she ripped up his shirt and made an impromptu bandage. She was no healer, but if she didn't put pressure on it, he would bleed out even with his boons. She set about bandaging him tightly, but inexpertly. It was a mess of a dressing, but it was doing its job.

"I'm scared." His eyes were as wide as the first day she'd seen him. It was hard to believe it'd been three years already.

Ilex gave him a stern look. "Don't be. I'm going to lead them away, alright? Stay here, stay quiet, and I'll be back in a while. They're the ones who need to be afraid." She finished knotting his bandage and pulled her hands back.

He nodded. "You'll come back?" he murmured, skin still pale from blood loss. His boons were the only thing keeping him from going into shock.

"Next thing you know," Ilex promised. "I have your back, always. Immortals protect each other. Now I have to go. Remember: be quiet." She pulled herself up onto the bank and sprinted back towards the hunting enemy to draw their attention away from him while he was healing. She could lead them in a hell of a chase...

..."You never smile at anyone," Laenus observed, scratching at his stubbled jaw. Imperials stayed clean shaven unless their duty specifically demanded otherwise, but Laenus liked to push the limit now that he wasn't patchy. She let him get away with a shadow, but that was all.

"And?" Ilex said, adjusting her new gauntlet until it fit almost perfectly. The rest would have to be worn in by use. She'd finally broken her old set beyond repair.

"I don't know," he said with a shrug. "I just thought...it'd be nice to see you happy."

Ilex didn't know how to respond to that. She just raised an eyebrow at him for a moment, though the expression was more questioning than criticizing. "What is the purpose of happiness?" she asked finally, just a touch sharply.

"Does everything have to have a purpose with you?" he snapped, sensing the criticism underlying her words.

"Things without purpose are without value. Things without value are to be discarded," Ilex said flatly. "Happiness is a fever dream for other people to chase. Immortals have purpose."

Laenus shook his head. "It's like they sucked all the joy out of you. I don't want to be that way."

Ilex sighed. These days, he was just shy of insufferable. "And what do you want to do instead?"

"I want to be a father," he announced. There was something bright in his eyes when he spoke that rang alarm bells.

"Laenus," Ilex said cautiously. "Tell me you didn't do something foolish. You take your final boons tomorrow."

"I'm not going to take them," Laenus said firmly. "I don't want to be an Immortal. Ca—"

He was stopped when Ilex grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. "Fool!" she hissed, though more at herself than him. But what could she have done? Told them not to see each other? If Laenus wasn't so strangely sensitive, it wouldn't have been a problem. The boons would fix that, others had advised her. "The pair of you are fools! Where is Camilla?"

He grabbed her wrist to pry her off. He was stronger than her now, but she was very, very angry. "I'm not going to let you hurt her! I love her!"

Love. By the Seven, she wanted to punch him. "I'm not going to hurt her, idiot boy! I might scalp you, though," Ilex snapped. "Where is she? Is she still in Arcem Tenebris? Who else knows?"

"Yes, she's still here. We're going to leave together. Cordus knows," Laenus said.

Cordus was his best friend, a common legionnaire, but Ilex knew his type: jealous. If he knew, Laenus was not safe. She released him and grabbed her sword. Fear flashed in his eyes. "You have to leave. Now. Cordus has probably already told someone. Just go. Don't stop for anything, don't look back. Take my sword and go straight to the stables with her. If anyone asks, you're running an errand for me. Don't stop until Arcem Tenebris is just a memory. You know where the Immortals' supply caches are. I can't see you out. It would draw too much attention. Now go." She pushed the weapon into his hands. It would be a delay if he went back to his quarters to fetch his own.

"Ilex, I can't tak—"

"Go! If this is really what you want, go!"

He bolted obediently with her sword and scabbard, understanding the magnitude of the risk only because he'd never heard her voice sound so strained and anxious.

If he was lucky, she was never going to see him again.

When the others came to fetch him that night, she lied for him. It was the first time in her life she'd ever told another Immortal anything but the truth. And then, a few days later, she stepped into the training room to see her sword hanging at its usual place on the wall. Ilex felt an unfamiliar feeling building in her eyes. She stayed there, staring at her blade, until it hurt. She turned at the sound of feet. "You're late for formation." It was Laenus's voice, but some of the inflection was missing. She looked over and saw the black burns around his throat that would someday turn into a scar perfectly matching her own.

Obedientia est vitae.

"Where's Camilla?" she asked quietly, searching his dark eyes for any hint of recognition.

He looked at her uncomprehending. "Who? You're late for formation," he repeated. "Getting deaf in your old age, Ilex?"

She wanted to shake him and shout, but there was nothing she could do. He was an Immortal now, like he was supposed to be. He had a purpose. She just suddenly wasn't certain it was the right one. Why hadn't she gone with him and made certain he made it out the gates? Yes, it would have drawn attention and put everyone at risk, but that had to be better than this.

"I'll be right there," Ilex said, grabbing her sword off the wall. "Laenus, if you were going to have a child, what would you name them?"

He gave her a confused look. "We can't have families, Ilex."

"Humor me." She buckled on her sword, her eyes lingering on the floor. It was hard to look at him for some reason.

He shrugged. "Gaius or Gaia, I think," he said. "They'd be named like everyone else, not like us, I assume. If you're going to waste time, I'm leaving." He turned and padded out, completely ignoring the servant girl who had just dropped the dishes she was carrying.

Ilex turned around to look into Camilla's hurt eyes. She was a pretty thing, a year younger than Laenus, with the mahogany skin and curly hair of Ethilir. Her family had strayed into Imperial lands as traders and never left again, but they had arrived too recently to have mixed very much. They didn't have the supernatural hand that altered Immortal blood. "I—" Camilla started to speak, but she was too stunned to finish at first. Ilex closed the gap between them, grabbing the girl before she could run after him. "He left me to become like you." The anger was growing in the servant girl's voice.

"Never," Ilex said quietly, holding the girl even as she started to struggle. "Laenus loved you, Camilla."

"Why didn't he—"

"That's not him," Ilex said. "That's an Immortal. He just looks like Laenus."

Camilla suddenly went still. "He doesn't remember..." she whispered, horrified. She twisted to look at Ilex. "It comes back, doesn't? It can come back?"

Ilex shook her head. "Never," she said quietly. There was a faint twisting feeling in her chest, but that was all.

It never came back...

..."I would have done anything for you!" Ilex screamed in anger, struggling as two Immortals drug her bodily off Laenus. There was a horrible pain in her chest, like nothing she'd ever felt before.

"Invicta, you are under arrest for the crime of treason by order of the Divine Prince of Arcem Tenebris, Eldest of the Seven. In a week's time, you will be punished accordingly by breaking on the saltire," Laenus said as he picked himself up off the ground. She'd done a good job of beating his face into a mess, but he could still talk just fine despite his split lip and swelling nose.

"You lied about me! To everyone! I trusted you, Laenus!"

"You've outlived your purpose, Invicta," Laenus said with a little shake of his head. "Things without purpose are without value."

Having those words—Saraqael's words, but also her words—thrown in her face somehow made it worse. She still remembered vividly the last time she'd ever said them: the night he left to meet Camilla, the night he became an Immortal.

"Things without value are to be discarded." His tone was goading, mocking. He wanted her to try and break free. "Isn't that right?"

"What did I do to you?" Ilex asked softly, but her question was more to herself than him. In that moment, she hated herself. This was her doing as much as his, she was certain of it...

Maybe she was angry because that was easier than being guilty. Holland was stirred out of her memories by the sound of a door opening. She lifted her head. She wasn't certain how long she'd been sitting on the bed, but it was still day out and she wasn't hungry. "Seva, you're not supposed to be here," the penitent said.

"Aye," the queen acknowledged as she stepped in. The knights were keeping their vigil by the doors, watching to make certain there was no magic. She walked over and sat down beside Holland. "But I wanted to thank thee for this. Devyn could not ask for a finer champion."

"This is the only way to stop it," Holland said. "Naris may be a servant of Saraqael, but she's also fundamentally selfish. If she doesn't have someone to take the risk for her, she won't do it. Without Laenus, she won't be able to do anything more than what she's doing now. Not until after it's all over."

"I'm sorry," Seva said softly. "The hate may run deep, but I ken he was dear to thee once."

"I'd forgotten it." Her hazel eyes were thoughtful. "I...I don't know what happened." She sighed. "I suppose that's not true. I buried the good in him, so I wouldn't have to look at it and try to reconcile it with what he did to me." Holland rubbed at her eyes with one hand. "He wasn't always this way. The boons change a person. I don't care what saint you were before—you're a demon when it's done. Orobas's gift took centuries to work me out of it."

Seva nodded a little bit. She reached out and took Holland's other hand in both of her own. "'Tis strange to hear thee speak of centuries. I forget that thou art sustained by sorcery beyond the limits of men." She meshed their fingers together and gave Holland's hand a soft squeeze. "Mayhap he was not always this way, but thou art not doing it of wickedness either."

"Part of me is," Holland admitted. "I could have forced him out of Yssa. It would have been more difficult, yes, but not impossible. Instead, I forced him to fight me. Maybe because that's the only way it feels like that old world will end. A death is the only cure, and I couldn't ever give him anything but the best. I'd say he would do the same, but he's demonstrated otherwise."

"And after this, what then?" Seva asked.

"The Princes of Iron." Holland's eyes were fixed on the dark horizon. In a matter of hours, twenty-five years of that hanging specter of old pain would be gone, one way or another. "And after that...well...we'll see, won't we?" She wasn't optimistic that there would be an after. She wanted to hope, needed to, but she'd seen the armies of the west at work too many times to take victory on faith.

"Promise me that I did not find thee just to watch thee leave a last time," Seva murmured softly, her voice inaudible to the knights. They didn't object. Her presence wasn't technically allowed, but if it stayed brief and benign, they wouldn't care.

"I can promise that I'll do my best," Holland said gently. "Nothing more. I would never want to break my word to you."

"Thou art too honest, methinks," Seva said softly. She kissed Holland on the cheek, keeping it chaste and brief. She hated that she couldn't kiss her lover good-luck properly. She whispered, "I love thee."

Holland pulled her into a tight hug. "I love you too." The words were spoken so quietly that the sentiment almost went unheard, but they were close enough that Seva caught it.

Seva didn't want to pull away, but she knew she had to before they pushed too firmly on the unspoken boundaries. Yssans most certainly had a double standard. If she was seen unfaithful to Fionn, it would cost her the crown and throw Devyn's legitimacy into doubt, even if it was with Holland. If she'd broken a vow once, the thinking went, she'd be all the more likely to do it again. Holland seemed to sense the risk too, because she forced herself to let go.

"We will speak again after," Seva said softly as she stood up.

Holland's hazel eyes were soft. "I hope so."