%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Campfire Creative >> Fiction >> Fantasy >> ID #1758740 |   |
| |||||||||||||
| [Introduction]
The Emperor's Chosen Blessed are those who fight in the Emperor’s name; For when they die they carry his will up to Heaven; They touch the face of God; They draw his eyes to the Empire; So that others may be blessed by their sacrifice. Amen.   |
 .Wolfie.  Part One 1.1 Torturer’s Chamber “What is coming?” he asked. “I don’t know,” Corey told him. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips and he watched it drip to the floor. A hand gripped his jaw and wrenched his head back. He could see cold, dark eyes watching him from across the room. That was the man asking all the questions. The one holding his jaw was just the one trying to make him give better answers. He was the one with the point of his knife pressed against his sternum. He could feel the pain of it and the stinging pain of lines already drawn across his skin. His lips were cracked and bleeding and his head throbbed with the blows already delivered. A shiver passed through him and left him shaking in the chair. He tried to close his eyes and he wondered if rescue was coming. “Do not lie to me,” the man across the room said. His voice was hard and cold and carried the promise of terrible things to come. “You were with them. You know my brother lives and you know what he plans. Now you will tell me.” “I don’t know,” Corey said again. They were the only words he had to cling to. The man was quiet. He was quiet for a long time and he shivered again, but not from the cold. His head lolled to the side and the only thing keeping him upright was the chair he was bound to and the fierce, hard grip on his chin. A hiss of breath left his chest as the torturer took his blade and drew it along his ribs. Bright, stinging pain was left in its wake and he felt warm blood running down his side. There was only one way this could end and that was in his death. He knew it, and he feared it. “The man you protect is no longer the Emperor,” the man finally said. “You swore an oath once to be the Emperor’s Chosen and you are a traitor to that oath by not telling me what you know. You deserve a traitor’s death.” Corey shivered at the words and he kept his eyes closed so that he wouldn’t have to see the tray of torture instruments that awaited him. “Tell me what you know.” “I am going to die anyway,” he said quietly. He tried not to whimper, because he’d been taught better. He was one of the Emperor’s Chosen and he needed to be strong. He needed to earn that title and he snapped his mouth shut. “Not if you tell me what you know,” the man said. There was sound on the stone floor as he crossed over to the chair and Corey felt fingers grip his hair. His head was yanked back off his chair and his gaze was forced up into the dark eyes looking back at him. There was a crackle as he lifted his other hand and he couldn’t stop the whimper that left his throat when he saw dark magic crackling across his fingers. “If you speak willingly, you can have a place here. You could be reinstated. If you don’t… well, I will likely destroy your mind with what I intend to do to you. But either way, I will know all you know.” “I am no traitor,” Corey whimpered. He felt tears running down his face and he felt shame at them. The man’s voice softened, the hand in his hair softening out. He pet him like he would a dog and he kept his eyes closed and tried to stop the shivers from wracking his body. “No,” the man said gently. “You are just a soldier, following orders.” He sighed and straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then tell me how you became a part of the guard. Tell me how you came to know these men that you would die to protect. Surely you can tell me that much, Ser Temple?” He wanted to tell him no. He wanted to tell him that he didn’t know anything and that he wasn’t a traitor because he needed both of those things to be true. Another chill passed through him and he whimpered when he felt the knife twist against his skin. “I can tell you that much,” he said quietly, and he damned himself for doing it. 1.2 Lockhaven Keep “Again,” Gideon Crowe said. He stood at the edge of the ring with muscled arms crossed over his chest and his gaze focused on the men in the field. Dark hair was pulled back out of his eyes, his face a mask of severity. He watched the two men inside the wooden fence as they circled each other with swords at the ready. They fought with broadswords today and both were covered in sweat from the strain of it. They were dressed in leather practice gear and both were covered in dirt and sweat. Miren was winning but that was no surprise to anyone watching. Tristan was smaller and faster and if they were dueling with rapiers he would have won then times over by now. Maybe not against Brayden, but still. Jethro stood to Gideon’s right, his position mimicking his Captain’s. He was a beast of a man. The arms crossed over his chest the size of hams. Tattoos covered the top of his shaved head and an earring hung from his left ear. He was still dressed in practice gear even though Gideon had already run him through exercises this morning. He had barely broken a sweat. The man to Gideon’s left was the opposite, a thin, lanky man named Alain who needed more training than anyone with hand to hand and blade combat. His aim with a bow was unmatched however, and he wasn’t shy about boasting about it. “You’re a slave driver,” Tristan called over at him. He circled back away from Miren, his usual quickness slowed by the heavy weapon held in both hands. The words were muffled by the metal mask on his face but they brought a smirk to Gideon’s lips anyway. “I tell you, you’re just as bad as Duncan. No wonder you’re his second. He leaves and you turn into him.” “Could be worse,” Alain said. He smirked at Tristan as he leaned on the fence, his red hair falling into his eyes. “He could have made you fight Jethro over here. But no, that’s honor that was reserved for me.” He rubbed at his sore shoulder as he said the words. “Yeah, but at least you get to bed his sister as compensation.” Alain turned red and Gideon heard a rumbling noise in Jethro’s throat at the words. Tristan didn’t notice or care, his head tilting to the side as he looked at Miren. The metal bars on his helm made it hard to see his face but Gideon had no doubt he was smiling. “Hey, you don’t have a sister do you? Preferably someone younger than me, but I’ll take older if she’s pretty enough. Maybe a blonde?” “My sister is only six,” Miren growled. “And you better stay away from her if you don’t want to lose something.” Tristan sighed and glanced back at Alain. “See? You still get it better than me.” “Quit whining,” Miren told him. His voice was rougher and deeper thanks in part to the scars on his throat. A dog had tried to rip it out once and now it was dead, killed with his bare hands, if the rumors were true. “You’re just mad because I’m winning.” “And you’re just mad because I always beat you at seven hand,” Tristan shot back. Miren paused in his steps and lifted his blade to point it at Tristan. “You always win because you’re a dirty cheat, Gottfried.” Tristan was fast, even if he wasn’t strong, and as soon as the blade was pointed at him he was moving. He slammed his blade into the side of Miren’s and knocked it aside before he kicked as hard as he could at the other man’s chest. Miren stumbled back as the blade started to slip from his grasp and Gideon wasn’t surprised when it landed with a thump point first in the ground. Tristan swung his down at the man but he wasn’t expecting Miren to charge him. His shoulder met hard with Tristan’s midsection and they both went over into the dirt with a sharp, startled cry. Tristan flailed underneath him as his hands gripped his head and slammed it into the dirt. Gideon winced at the sound of it. Tristan struggled to try and kick the bigger man off of him but there was a reason most people called Miren a mad dog. He had no finesse, no grace, but he was strong and a scrapper and Gideon had seen him take five cross bolts and keep going once. The man should have been dead a thousand times over but someone must have been watching out for him. He growled as he slammed Tristan’s helm against the dirt again. “Help!” Tristan yelled. “He’s going to murder me!” “That’s enough,” Gideon called. The man hesitated for a moment with his hands still gripping the metal helmet as Tristan flailed and struggled to get free. “Miren,” Gideon said louder. “Let him go.” Miren snorted and then released the littler man, pushing himself off of him and back to his feet. “See?” he said. “What did I tell you? You little shits from Lowport are all nothing but dirty cheats.” He was smirking even as he said it, a hand reaching out to help Tristan to his feet. The man grumbled something but he took the hand anyway. “It’s not cheating,” Tristan said. “It’s just smart fighting. Right Gideon?” “That’s Knight Captain Crowe to you, Gottfried,” Gideon said. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips and no one else but the Chosen would have caught it. “And it’s not smart if you still lose.” The man laughed and gave him a mocking salute. “Fair enough, Knight Captain Crowe,” he said. He reached up and struggled with the helm as he tried to get it off. It was bent in places and Miren had a smirk on his face as he shoved by him, knocking him off balance as he headed towards the edge of the ring. Tristan’s face was red and streaked with dirt when he finally got it off his head and he watched Miren’s retreating back. A smirk crossed his features and he tipped his head to the side. “But is it still losing if I’m the one taking home all his hard earned coin?” “Not if you’re not alive to spend it,” Jethro said. Tristan frowned while he thought about that, running a hand along his jaw until he finally grinned and pointed at Jethro. “No, I still think I’m the winner,” he said. Alain laughed and clapped the man on the back. “When is Duncan expected back with fresh blood?” Miren asked. “The Knight Commander,” Gideon corrected. “Will return within the week.” He’d thought today but if the Knight Commander had returned then he hadn’t made his presence made to Gideon. He expected that he would but if he’d returned with new recruits he might be busy settling in or dealing with the Emperor’s business. It was stupid to even consider that Duncan had met with bandits or raiders because there were few who were even close to his equal in battle. If he’d been attacked they would meet a nasty, brutal death. “That just gives us more time to prepare a proper welcoming,” Tristan said, grinning wickedly. Gideon glanced at the sinking sun and then looked back at the men. “You’re dismissed. The rest of you have the night to yourselves. Alain, Miren, I expect neither of you will be too hung over for guard duty at dawn. Jethro,” he said, nodding his head at the man. “Make sure Cathis and Errol are awake to take over for Nicos and Palmer.” “Yes Captain,” Jethro said. He saluted and took off at an easy pace across the field. Alain groaned but saluted and Miren did the same before heading back inside the keep. Tristan stuck by his side, ducking his head to look up into Gideon’s face. “So should I expect your brother at our game tonight, or is he otherwise occupied? Because that’s the only excuse I’ll accept.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at the last question and Gideon ignored the sinking feeling he felt at it. He would have preferred it if his brother was drinking or gambling away his coin. He would have almost preferred it if he were spending it on prostitutes or serving girls or almost anyone else. It would have saved him a headache that he didn’t need. It was a selfish thought, but one he couldn’t help. He worried about Brayden, whether he needed his concern or not. “I expect the second,” Gideon said. Wenston 1.3 Lockhaven Keep – East Wall Sinking his thin, long fingers into the cracks between the stone blocks, Brayden couldn’t help but think that this wall had gotten taller since the last time he’d scaled it all the way to the top. The ground had gotten farther away, the sky had gotten much closer, and the wall had gotten much tighter, a lot less room for his cramping hands to find places to grip. He had nothing to catch him if he fell, he had no rope to help him down. And if he were any lesser of a man, he might have thought he was in a world of trouble. Except Brayden Crowe wasn’t a man to admit he was in over his head. Mostly because even if it seemed like every odd was stacked against him, he always found a way to get out. His mother had told him once it was a gift from the Lady Reverent herself. He’d never been a particularly religious man, but he would have to agree that there was someone out there shining a light on the him. Or at least a light on the escape route whenever he needed it. Hoisting him up a little further, he was only a few arms-lengths away from reaching the balcony he’d been scaling this wall for. He paused for a second to turn and look over his shoulder. The courtyard stretched out down below. Lockhaven Keep was well guarded and many of the nobles spent countless hours in the courtyard, discussing all the uninteresting things that nobles discussed on a regular basis. Outside the walls of the keep was the city of Lockhaven. Beyond the boundaries of Lockhaven were the farmsteads and lumber mills. Mount Hollowind overshadowed the city and far beyond the wilds somewhere was the deep reaches, a smoldering land of fire and blight. The Caspian Sea spread out on the other side of Lockhaven, it’s port a bustling wave of commerce and villainy. This was home. Brayden knew the lands like the back of his hand. He was gifted in this aspect. Two guards below in the courtyard were the only patrol that Brayden had been keeping an eye on in his ascent up the tower wall. One of the guards’ weaknesses, which he’d pointed out to the Guard Captain many, many times, was the helmets they wore. Standard issue uniform, practical and useful in combat. It’s only flaw was the immense blind spot. Guess the blacksmith who’d first crafted the helmets hadn’t expected the guards to have to look up. Unless the guards tipped their heads back to actually look at the tower, Brayden would never be spotted by them. Grabbing the edge of the balcony with one hand, Brayden tensed when he felt his foot slip a little in the crack of the stones. He glanced down at himself and then up at the railing of the balcony. He narrowed his eyes in concentration and figured how much momentum he’d have to give himself to get up there without falling to his death. Brayden leapt, his other arm coming up to grab the stone railing. He got one foot planet and hoisted himself up with no problem at all. Flipping over the railing, he landed in a crouch on the other side, his head ducked as he looked down into the courtyard. He hadn’t been spotted and a slow grin spread across his lips, hidden by the mask and the hood he wore to conceal his features. It had been easy getting in here. Too easy, and he’d have to make sure to let people know. “And what do we have here?” a sultry voice asked from behind him. He tensed, his hand tightening around the hilt of a dagger strapped to his sides before he forced himself to relax and turned to look over his shoulder. A woman dressed in a billowing, soft and wispy dress stood behind him. Her gold hair hung down about her shoulders and a thin silver headdress encircled her head. Brayden stood slowly and tipped his head to the side as he watched the woman fold her arms over her chest and wait for his answer. He shrugged a little and brushed his fingers along his shoulder, looking bored and distracted. “I am a thief, my lady,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “I have come to do thieving things.” A soft brow rose at the words and she looked him up and down, the corners of her lips turning upwards slightly. “Oh?” she asked. “Thieving things?” she scoffed a little and swayed her hips at him. “Would you care to explain what you mean by that?” “I am here to steal something,” Brayden told her, stepping into the richly decorated room. A silk laden bed sat against the far wall. The woman stood in the middle of the room and didn’t look at all disturbed by his presence. Brayden reached up to his hood and pulled it back, revealing his own wheat colored hair, pulled back, though a few strands always managed to escape and fall about his face. He pulled his mask down, revealing a blemish-free and ruggedly outline face. “Something rare,” he continued, taking a few more steps towards her and the woman looked continually unimpressed. “Something sought after by every talented, roguish, brilliantly masterful thief in the empire.” The woman smiled, but ducked her head away as he came to stand in front of her, hiding it from him. “This…thing, must be worth a heavy price,” she said, turning to face him again and when she did, he bent forward, their faces nearly meeting. She didn’t pull back and didn’t look disturbed. “A very, heavy, price,” she whispered. “Tell me what it is you’ve come here to steal, thief.” A grin spread across Brayden’s face and he leaned further forward, his lips hovering over hers. “A kiss, my lady,” he told her and then continued moving forward as their lips pressed together. The woman didn’t pull back. Instead, she pushed herself into him, intensely kissing him back. After a moment, she broke into a laugh and pulled back, one of her slender hands coming to touch her lips. Brayden stepped back a little, reaching forward to take her other hand and bring it to his mouth. “I have succeeded.” “Brayden, you are such a fool,” she laughed. She pulled away from him and walked over to the balcony, peering out at the courtyard below. He watched her for a moment before he leaned against one of her bed posts. She was beautiful. She was sweet and witty and capable and he knew he was the lucky sot who’d managed to win over her heart. Unfortunately for both of them, she was also the Emperor’s daughter. And a relationship between the two was strictly forbidden. Turning around, she looked at him with that sweet, tender smile on her face. “You climbed the tower, just to steal a kiss?” she asked, laughing a little before she walked over to him. He bent again to kiss her and she reached up, running her hands down the sides of his face. When she pulled back, she shook her head. “You could have just come through the door.” Brayden shrugged. “Where would the fun be in that?” he asked. “I thought women loved dangerous men.” She laughed again, shaking her head. “You are a fool,” she repeated and it made him smile. He bent forward, grabbing the sides of her head and she grabbed his wrists. “Lady Gisaine,” he said sternly. “Though you call me a fool, there is one thing you must always remember.” Unable to move from his grasp, she smiled at him and looked disinterested again. “And what is that?” “A fool though I may be,” she said, leaning forward to kiss her again. “I will always and forever be your fool.” .Wolfie. 1.4 Lockhaven Keep – Barracks There was no duty without sacrifice. Gideon always remembered his father telling him that before he would ruffle his hair and then leave for months at a time. Maybe he should have been bitter about them, but those words stuck with him for all of his childhood and through his adulthood. It had driven him to be the best and the strongest when he’d first joined the guards and he had always taken the sacrifices without question. He believed in his faith and his duty and the years had made him cling to those things with a calm sort of desperation because it didn’t leave room for things like doubt and regret. If he started thinking like that he’d never come back. He didn’t go to his father’s funeral. He wondered if his mother had ever meant it when she said that she forgave him for that and that he would have understood. He had his duty and he’d chosen that above seeing his father’s corpse one last time. It had paid off. He was Knight Captain now and there were advantages to that. His mother was proud of him. He thought his brother was proud too, but it was impossible to say with Brayden. Maybe the best he could hope for was that his brother thought it was funny instead of pathetic and boring. He was Commander Callum’s second in command and all the responsibility and headaches that came with it. All he’d had to sacrifice was everything else. All he’d had to do was make duty his life. He wondered what Elena would say about him now. He thought about that while he climbed the stairs, while the rest of his attention was focused on the stones and any traps that might have been left for him. Brayden liked to test all of them, his brother most of all. He watched for any signs that something had been left to slick the stairs or something hidden in the walls. He pulled the latch to his room and nudged the door open with his foot. He crouched afterwards and looked for a trip wire because even if that wasn’t his brother’s style it didn’t mean he wouldn’t sink to that just to mess with Gideon. There were advantages to being Knight Captain. Better pay, better liquor from the cellars if he wanted it, and one of them was that he got his own quarters. He accepted that unashamedly because he liked his own space to think and sleep and just be alone. Gideon was a private man, always had been, and he’d worked hard for that small amenity. It gave him more time to think about the wife and son he had to bury just to get here. There was no duty without sacrifice and he’d learned that better than anyone. There was no tripwire waiting for him. There was nothing on his bed when he ripped back the furs. Once he’d found a snake waiting for him. Not a poisonous one, but it still made him glad that he searched his room over before he closed his eyes at night. He’d grown up with his little brother playing tricks on him and getting older just meant that his brother’s tricks had gotten sneakier. He had just gotten colder. He didn’t think he’d cried when Elena died. He hadn’t cried at her funeral and he hadn’t cried afterwards when Brayden and Tristan had gotten him drunk. He’d just sat there and felt dizzy and lost and the next day he’d sold his house. There was no duty without sacrifice. He lived and breathed those words. He must have been distracted because he didn’t check his fireplace before he lit it. The logs caught in a burst of fire and knocked him back on his ass on the cold stone floor. It wasn’t deadly but it definitely warmed him up fast and spat ashes and embers onto his clothes. He cursed as he brushed them off onto the floor and he should have known by the vague smell of alcohol that something was wrong. He snorted and ran a hand over his face as he watched the fire roar and he couldn’t get himself to stand up. The knock on the door startled him but he didn’t turn around. The sound was loud and solid and he heard footsteps afterwards. That meant it wasn’t his brother. Brayden would have been silent and sneaky and Gideon wouldn’t have heard him until he was sitting right beside him and probably dropping a spider down his shirt. He’d done that once when they were still teenagers. That the man didn’t wait for an invitation made him think it was either Duncan or the Emperor. The creak of leather made him lean towards the first and it sealed it when he heard the chair behind him creak and then the sound of a match being lit. “That’s an awfully bright fire,” Duncan said dryly. Gideon snorted. “Maybe I was expecting you,” he said. He let out a quiet laugh. “I doubt that,” he said. Gideon smirked and looked over his shoulder at the man. He was sitting in one of the leather chairs behind him, his elbows resting on his knees and a pipe in his hand. Smoke rose up in front of his face and obscured his features. He wore old scars and a thick beard, his hair pulled back in a ponytail and his cool eyes watching Gideon carefully. He said nothing about his Captain sitting on the floor in his room and Gideon was grateful for that. He felt a vague sense of embarrassment for having been seen like that. He was a private man and always had been. His regrets were his own. “Miren is hoping you brought him fresh blood,” Gideon said. “I hope you gave them fair warning.” He pushed himself to his feet and moved back into the chair next to Duncan’s, turning his attention back to the fire. He gingerly reached a hand up to run it over his face and he wondered if he’d singed his eyebrows in the process. Brayden would probably be disappointed if he didn’t. Duncan smiled. “I did,” he said, nodding his head. “Perhaps not fair enough about your brother though. I’ll assume nothing untoward happened in my absence? The Emperor hasn’t been murdered or his daughter kidnapped by an assassin?” Gideon leaned his head back against the chair and he wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d been trying not to think about this latest headache because he didn’t know what to do about it or if he should even do anything. He was supposed to be able to congratulate his brother on finding a woman that could put up with him. Instead he was just trying not to tell him how much worse this would make it for him when it was over. “No fresh troubles to speak of,” Gideon answered. Duncan nodded his head and stuck the pipe in between his lips. He still had dust from the road on his clothes and Gideon wondered if he’d even made it to his own quarters yet. He frowned when his gaze went to a fresh cut on the man’s jaw and he straightened up in the chair. “And you?” he asked. “Were your travels uneventful?” The Commander’s face didn’t change expression and that in itself was something of an answer. He put the pipe between his lips and drew in a breath of smoke before puffing it out between his lips. “If you call mercenaries uneventful,” he said. “Mercenaries?” Gideon asked. Duncan nodded his head. “We were attacked,” he said slowly. “I do not think it was a random raid.” Gideon lifted an eyebrow curiously but Duncan didn’t say anything more for the moment. He looked distracted as he stared into the fire and for a moment Gideon was thinking about his usual mantra. He wondered what Duncan had sacrificed for his duty and what they would both continue to give up. He wondered if he’d ever had to bury a wife and a son and if he’d cried for them as Gideon had not cried for his own. “You think someone wanted you dead?” Gideon asked cautiously. Duncan smirked and then sat back in the chair. “I believe there are those in this city that would happily see me dead should the opportunity arise. And the opportunity arose.” He looked down at the stones it off puffed on his pipe again. “We lost three of the new recruits in the attack. The ones that remain are settling in the barracks now. Their training begins tomorrow.” “Understood ser,” Gideon said. He nodded his head and looked away from the man’s face. It was hard and cold and too much like looking in a mirror. It was the acknowledgment that duty was sacrifice and there was nothing to be done for the three dead men. After a moment Duncan sighed and pushed himself to his feet. He clapped Gideon on the shoulder as he passed him and let his hand stay there for a moment. “I have a bad feeling,” he said. The words drew Gideon’s eyes to his face and he was looking out the open door into the darkened hallway beyond. He felt the chill blow in and he wasn’t sure it was all from the air outside. “This attack showed boldness. I do not like it when enemies of the Emperor grow bold.” The fingers around his shoulder tightened for a moment and then he smiled down at Gideon. “Watch your brother, Crowe. He treads on dangerous ground.” “I am well aware, ser,” Gideon told him. He smirked afterwards but the smile never reached his eyes. “I know you are,” Duncan said. “I’ll see you at dawn, Captain.” Wenston 1.5 The Salty Pig “You ever fought a Redholme, Miren?” Tristan asked, rocking back in his chair as he looked at the thick, sloppy playing cards in his hands. He had one foot propped up on the edge of the table and the other was stretched out in front of him. His hair was loose and messy and his face a little red from one too many pints. He had a concentrated look on his face and it always looked a little odd and foreign on Tristan when he got those looks. Tristan’s eyes came up when the man sitting across from him didn’t answer. “You look like the type who would take on a Redholme.” Miren’s eyes rose lazily up from the cards in front of him, his face expressionless except for a slight look of annoyance he always wore. He gave Tristan a once over before his gaze floated back towards the cards in his hand. “I have never fought a Redholme,” he said lowly. Tristan snorted and narrowed his eyes. He let his foot fall from the edge of the table and his chair rocking back to the floor jetted him forward. He pointed a finger at Miren. “Why not?” he asked. “You scared of them?” “Why would I be scared of wildfolk?” Miren asked and nodded his head towards Tristan’s cards. The man looked down at his hand and then grinned, laying it down on the table. Miren took one look at it and threw his own cards down in a rage, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest as Tristan leaned forward and pulled all of the coins on the table towards him. “The Redholme are larger by nature, but it doesn’t mean they can fight.” Alain laughed from where he sat on the other side and he was already three ales ahead of the others, but for some reason he was always the last to show it. He had his hands folded behind him head as he sat there lazily but at Miren’s comment, he shrugged a little. “I don’t know. The Redholme have some interesting weapons. Large sticks, mostly, but still interesting.” At the bar, Brayden smiled. He’d been standing there since the others had come in and not one of them had noticed his presence. Granted, he was wearing a dirty cloak and filthy tunic with a few rags stuffed into the stomach to make him look heavier than his normal lithe frame would seem, but this was just one of his many ways he tested the guards. If he was an enemy, all he’d have to do was slip something into their drinks and there would be three less of the emperor’s chosen in the world. “I have fought the Redholme,” he said, his voice low and smooth as usual. He turned to look over his shoulder and he’d gained the attention of all three. Miren had his eyes narrowed because the man didn’t like Brayden’s tests. He hated them in fact and Brayden tried to involve the man as little as possible. But he didn’t test or trick the others to be cruel or mocking of them. He tested them because he wanted them to be alert and ready and strong. He tested them because there were other people like himself out there in the world who would use any method available to get rid of some of the most prominent of the emperor’s guards. Turning around, he leaned against the bar, his elbows braced back on it and he looked at them nonchalantly. “More like a Redholme. Sascha, his name was. Stood taller than a house with arms as thick as trees and legs as strong as oxen. I would not underestimate them.” The others were quiet a moment before Tristan sat back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh yeah? Bet he had brass balls too.” Brayden shrugged. “No. Cannon balls,” he told them before he pulled the hood of his cloak down and grinned, shoving off the bar to come over to their table. Alain was laughing and Brayden couldn’t tell if it was from the ale or the joke. He pulled the rags from beneath his tunic and threw them on a bench to the side before he sat down, eyeing Miren who still looked angered by the trick. “I think you should play a new game. Tristan has been swindling you the past two rounds.” Tristan spluttered on the ale he was swallowing and Miren’s fierce gaze turned towards the other man, who gave a nervous, high pitched laugh before shaking his head and opening his mouth, but floundered like a fish for the right words. “I…he’s…it’s not true,” he blubbered. A low growl came from Miren’s throat and he pointed a finger at him. “When the minstrels tell your tale, after you are dead and gone, you will be nothing more than a cheat and a liar.” Tristan pouted and put a hand to his chest. “That pains me, Miren,” he told the man, who just shook his head and shoved his cards away from him, signaling he was done with this game and with Tristan. “I bet you would miss me if I were dead and gone.” “No,” Miren answered quickly and it caused Alain to laugh again. Brayden smiled as well, leaning against the table as he surveyed the other patrons. He was always on the watch for others. Constantly guarding himself and the people he cared about. And these men were some of the people he cared about most. Them, his brother, and of course Gisaine. “If I am a cheat and a liar in the minstrel’s tales, then you will be known as Miren the Blackhearted,” Tristan said with a nod, solidifying his answer. Miren snorted, but looked almost as though he wouldn’t mind that nickname. Tristan pouted again when it didn’t have the desired effect he was looking for. Alain sat forward, signaling to the bar wench for another ale. His gaze moved to Brayden and he shrugged. “And what of you, Brayden?” he asked. “When the minstrels are telling our grandchildren’s grandchildren what kind of men we were, what will they say of you? Will you be a thieving fox? A trickster? A romantic fool?” he waggled his eyebrows and Brayden smirked. “None of these,” Brayden said lowly, smiling at the wench with the busty dress on as she came over and set a pint of ale down in front of all of them. Brayden sniffed at it and then looked up. They were all looking at him curiously and he just grinned. “I will be known as the Brayden Crowe, the man who tamed the moon.” His words caught mixed reactions from them. Miren simply frowned, Tristan looked utterly confused, and Alain grinned like he thought it was funny, but apparently everything tonight was funny to him. “And how do you propose you’ll do that?” Tristan asked. “I have already succeeded,” Brayden informed them, leaning in and he watched as the others leaned in too, expecting some deep, dark secret. Brayden spoke lowly to hold the effect. “You see, in order to tame the moon, you must first master what it desires the most. The night. I am a man of the night. I find passage in darkness and shadow and the moon wants nothing more than to mirror her sister sun and illuminate the dark corners and shadowy crevices of the world. So when I own the night, when I control the darkness and the shadows, I offer them to the moon and she can fulfill her deepest, most grandiose desires. She’ll know such pleasure and euphoric melancholy that when she returns to her rest, and the sun is out to play, she will dream of me and the night I control. Her want, her need will be so great that every chance she gets, she will seek me out and before long, she realizes that she has come to depend on me, that I am her greatest ally and deepest addiction. And that, my friends, is how you tame the moon.” The others were all staring at him and Brayden glanced between each one of them, the smile on his face growing before he finally leaned back and shrugged. “Or perhaps I will just be known as the man who tricked Duncan.” At that, Miren snorted and both Alain and Tristan broke into a laugh. Tristan shook his head. “Now that’s a story,” Tristan said. “It’s true,” Brayden told him. “One day, I will trick him. You’ll see.” Miren shook his head. “That’s impossible.” Brayden grinned slowly at his friends and then shrugged nonchalantly. “Then I will be known as the Crowe who did the only thing more impossible than taming the moon.” .Wolfie. 1.6 Lockhaven Keep Something brushed over his stomach. The touch was feather light but he felt it even through his dreams. His hand snapped out, fingers wrapping punishingly around a woman’s wrist while he rolled over on top of her. There was a small gasp of pain when his other hand wrapped around a slim throat. He could feel her heartbeat thrumming away beneath his fingertips. It was quick and panicked like the wings of a hummingbird while pale green eyes looked up at him from a heart shaped face. He could take away her life in a moment and he could see that reflected back at him in her gaze. “Gideon,” she whispered. His face softened slightly when she said his name and he forced his hands to relax. He let her pull her hand from his grasp and she pushed herself back on the bed until she hit the headboard. He stayed where he was, watching as she lifted soft fingers to her throat. “Elena.” He said her name quietly and the words that followed were all too familiar. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t move closer. She watched him with lidded eyes and he stared back at her with the same cool expression he always wore while he waited for her to say something. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. It wasn’t the first apology he’d made. She swallowed hard after a moment and then she looked down at the quilt on their bed instead of at his face. “I know,” she said. “But that’s not good enough, Gideon.” The words startled him but the only sign of it was the slight widening of his eyes and the clenching of his hands in their sheets. His breath hitched in his throat but she still wouldn’t meet his gaze, her fingers pulling the blankets up to her chest. Gold locks spilled around her shoulders and shadowed her face and he thought she wanted it that way. “You never relax. Even when you sleep, you never relax. You never stop being a soldier, even when you’re supposed to be my husband.” Gideon felt something unfamiliar clenching at his chest as he stared at her but he couldn’t place the emotions. He forced them down and turned his back to her, moving to the edge of the bed to start gathering his clothes. There was sunlight coming through the window and that meant it was past time to return to the Keep. “You knew what I was when you married me,” he said quietly. “Vigilance is part of being a soldier and I do not apologize for it. But I am sorry if I hurt you.” “So that’s it?” she asked. “By the Gods Gideon, do you even love me? Do you even love our son?” Her voice cracked as she spoke and he glanced over his shoulder at her. She had a hand pressed across her mouth and her eyes were filling with tears. “Of course I love you,” he said. He looked away from her as he pulled his boots on because he never knew what to do when she cried. “Then say it,” she told him. It came out a broken sob. “I need to hear you say the words.” A sigh left his lips as he pushed himself to his feet. He walked around the side of the bed, his hand cupping the side of her head as he pulled her towards him. His eyes closed as he pressed his lips against her temple and beneath his fingers he felt her tremble. He wondered if she was afraid of him and the unfamiliar feeling clenched at his chest again. “I love you,” he said quietly. “Both of you.” Then his hands fell from her skin as he went to get his shirt and then his blade. He didn’t look back at her as he did because of what he might see looking back at him. It wasn’t until his hand was on the door that she spoke again. “More than your duty?” she asked. He looked back at her then. He didn’t know it would be the last time he saw her, still naked beneath the sheets she held to her chest. The sun came in through the window and set her skin and her hair ablaze with golden light. She was beautiful and sweet and he kept her on the outside looking in. He kept her at an arms length and in his heart he knew she had always been too good for him. Then he met her gaze and her eyes glistened with tears that he put there. More than anything, his mind answered. “I have to go,” he said. Gideon woke just before dawn with a quiet gasp of air and his eyes sliding open into darkness. These moments were always the worst, when this feeling followed him from sleep into the waking world and he couldn’t stop it from crushing his chest and choking his heart. He awoke only to cold sheets and a cold duty, no feather light touches across his stomach or warm breath across his neck. There was only the regret. It clung to him and swamped him in its chill and in these moments he couldn’t shake it or push it aside. He wished a thousand things. He wished he hadn’t left her that morning, kept her some place safer, or never married her at all. He wished he’d just told her that he’d loved her more than he had the right and it had destroyed them both. He let out a breath and forced the thoughts away. His eyes closed and he tried to forget them because he knew better than anyone there was no point to regret. There was nothing he or any man could do to change the past. It wouldn’t bring the dead back to life or change the mistakes he’d made. Elena was dead, Matthias was dead, and he lived on. Duty required sacrifice. Gideon dressed quickly in the chilly predawn air and the cold helped to wipe away the lingering memories and dreams that clung to his skin. The fire had long since died and gone out, leaving only cold and burned husks of wood behind. It was still dark outside when a servant knocked on his door to bring him breakfast. He put a hand around his blade before he opened it anyway, in case there was some surprise waiting for him in the hallway. A young man with a tray in hand was all that greeted him but he watched out the door while the man put it on his table anyway. He never did relax. He never stopped watching for dangers in the shadows and it wasn’t just because he was one of the Emperor’s Chosen or because he had Brayden as his brother. It was because that’s who he was. He was a soldier, not a man, and he thought it an important distinction. Duncan was waiting for him in the courtyard and Gideon straightened and saluted when he saw him. Duncan smirked and returned the motion before Gideon settled into place next to him. They waited in an easy silence for the others to show up and Gideon wondered what kind of men Duncan had brought back with him. They sky beyond the wall was still gray and a fog still lingered across the courtyard from the night. It wasn’t until the first fingers of light began to seep across the grounds that the men arrived. Nicos and Palmer were first, striding in from the east hall and laughing about something. “Commander,” Palmer said cheerfully. “You’re back from the wild wastes.” He had a cocky smile on his face as he saluted Duncan and got one in return. “Wastes, maybe,” Duncan said. “Not as wild as you’d expect.” “Welcome home, ser,” Nicos said. He moved into position next to Palmer and saluted them both. Gideon tensed when Jethro opened the doors because he came in leading strangers. There were three of them and he studied them quickly before they made it across the courtyard. One looked like he’d been soldiering before, or at least a mercenary of some form. He had brown hair and a stocky build, five matching scars on his jaw. Maybe claw marks, maybe something else. The second man was taller with broad shoulders and a face that looked like it had been carved from marble. There was a vague look of disdain on his face as he surveyed the courtyard and Gideon found his eyes narrowing at that. He wore a gold sun around his neck and he wondered if this was one of the church’s men who thought he was getting a promotion by joining the Emperor’s Chosen. If so he was in over his head because their training was vastly different from any of the church’s soldiers. The last was just a kid. He looked nervous and his clothes hung on him awkwardly as he followed Jethro into the courtyard. He had blonde hair that kept falling in his eyes and he was rubbing at his arms like he was still cold. Duncan waited until they were all in line in front of him and he glanced over at Gideon. “Tristan?” he asked. “Last night was his off night,” Gideon said. Duncan snorted in dry amusement and Gideon kept his eyes ahead and his voice low. He studied the three that Duncan had brought back with him and he wondered if they’d be able to make Emperor’s Chosen out of them. “Cathis and Errol had nightshift, Alain and Miren should be on duty now. Assuming they’re sober enough for it.” Duncan nodded his head. “Soldiers,” he said, raising his voice. “This is Knight Captain Gideon Crowe. He is my second and he will be training you. Obey his orders as if they are mine, because they usually are.” Gideon nodded his head at the new recruits and tried to ignore the smirk Palmer was barely fighting back. Duncan watched them with a smile before stepping down in front of them. “The men next to you are Palmer Thane, Nicos Valoran, and Jethro Kines. Should you become one of the Emperor’s Chosen than these men will be your brothers in arms. You will be responsible for watching their backs as well as the Emperor’s.” The church’s man frowned, turning his head to look at Duncan. His words were biting and he had an accent that spoke of Corvalis. “What do you mean ‘should we become one?’ I didn’t come all the way here just for a maybe,” he said. Duncan moved over in front of him and he kept the smile on his face. “You were brought here to become one of the Emperor’s Chosen but until we place the sword on your shoulder you can still leave and we can still ask you to.” He turned to look over his shoulder at Gideon and he gestured at the man. “Gideon, meet Stephen Wrede, formerly of the Church’s Blades.” “A pleasure,” Gideon said dryly. He ignored the glare he was getting in return. Duncan snorted out a laugh and then gestured to the man with the scarred face. “This is Barrett Kinley.” Gideon was surprised when the man saluted him and he nodded his head in return, keeping his arms behind his back. His gaze focused on the kid as Duncan moved to stand in front of him. He was struggling to hold still, but he kept licking his lips and looking down at his feet like he wasn’t sure he was standing correctly. “And this is Corey Temple,” he said. Duncan smiled at the kid and it seemed to relax him slightly. Then the east door was bursting open and Tristan was hurrying into the courtyard. He was struggling to get his left boot on and his hair was a mess. There were dark circles under his eyes and he stumbled against one of the pillars as he yanked the strings closed. Something like panic raced across his features when he lifted his head and saw Duncan watching him with a raised eyebrow. “Commander!” he said, wincing at how loud and surprised his voice was. “No one told me you were back. Ah, welcome back, ser.” He grinned and it faltered when he didn’t get one in return, his gaze sweeping the courtyard. “You’re late,” Gideon told him. His voice was cold and hard and Tristan winced again. “Now that’s not fair,” he said. “Your brother was in the same place I was and I don’t see him here either.” He hurried to get into line but no sooner were the words past his lips when there was a quiet, almost inaudible thump. There was a flash of steel and then a startled squeak from Corey Temple when a blade was suddenly pressing itself into his throat. His eyes went wide and he tried to move but Brayden’s hand fisted in his hair and yanked his head back, baring his neck to the blade. “You should know better, Tristan,” Brayden said calmly. “Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not there.” “Help!” Corey said with a panicked cry. “Gods, he’s going to kill me!” He tried to reach a hand up to grasp the one holding a knife to him but Brayden just clucked his tongue and pressed it harder against his neck. “He’s not going to kill you,” Duncan said calmly. “Not on purpose, anyway.” Wenston Brayden wasn’t sure what the kid was doing here. The other two he could see why Duncan brought them. He had his questions about the Church’s Blade guy, but he’d get along fine and so would the other. But the kid. Duncan must have seen something in him that Brayden wasn’t seeing. He looked more like a victim than a soldier. If Brayden had to bet coin on it, he’d say the kid wouldn’t make it through training. Either he’d quit or be killed. He wasn’t sure which one was worse. At Duncan’s words, the kid stopped squirming, but Brayden didn’t pull his blade back from the boy’s neck. He lifted his head slightly to look over the kid’s shoulder at Duncan, who had a calm and unreadable look on his face and Gideon, who just looked like Gideon. In honesty, Brayden couldn’t say why the two of them let him get away with half the things he’d done. Why they kept him in the emperor’s elite guard. If it was any other commander, he was sure he’d been kicked out a long time ago. Maybe they just had a fond appreciation for his talents. “Let this be your unofficial first lesson,” Brayden said quietly and he kept his eyes on Duncan, who raised his chin in interest as to what Brayden was about to say. He turned to look at the side of the boy’s face and he could see sweat budding on the boy’s forehead and he was practically trembling beneath Brayden’s grip. “When you are the weakest man in a room, show no fear,” Brayden whispered, his mouth close to the boy’s ear. “Do not fidget or sweat or be the first to look away. I know just by looking at you how your story will end. You. Gutted on the ground.” “Brayden,” Gideon said and Brayden’s eyes trailed to his brother almost lazily. He grinned and then removed the blade from the boy’s neck. Corey Temple coughed and his hand went to the small knick on his skin that wasn’t even bleeding. He stumbled away a few steps and turned to look at Brayden wide eyed. Brayden studied him a moment, twirling the knife in his hand as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Then he flipped it into its sheath and went to stand next to Tristan, who rubbed his hand over his face and gave a slightly chuckle before straightening up. Brayden smirked at Duncan. “Welcome back Commander,” he said flippantly. Duncan held his hand out towards Brayden, turning to look at the new recruits. “This is Brayden Crowe,” he said and then trailed off, looking at Brayden like he was wondering how to introduce him. He finally settled on, “Be thankful he is on your side.” The Church’s Blade, Stephen, cleared his throat. “And what rank are you, ser?” he asked, his chin held high as he looked down at Brayden, who lifted a brow at the pious man. Stephen was regarding him with what looked like disdain on his face and he wondered if the man really knew what he was getting into. The Emperor’s Chosen wasn’t like the Church’s Blades. They did what was necessary to protect the emperor. It wasn’t always the nicest way to do things. Brayden had killed his fair share of people whose crimes would have normally gotten them time in the stocks. “Rank?” Brayden asked lowly, he tipped his head to the side and pretended to really think about it. “I suppose the same as you. I’ve never been formally promoted.” Gideon sighed and it was one of those sighs where Brayden knew he was testing his brother’s patience. He grinned as he looked over at him and he didn’t miss the way Duncan was smirking at him as well. “Brayden’s role in the Chosen is a specialization in stealth and secrecy.” “A thief,” Stephen said and Brayden tipped his head to the other side. This man wasn’t going to make it. He could tell. He was too self righteous. Brayden shrugged nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest and bringing a hand to his mouth to chew on one of his fingernails, the air of flippancy. “Call it what you like,” he said calmly. “Wars aren’t won on the battlefields. They’re only fought. The true victory lies in the shadows.” He gave Stephen a pointed look. “Through treaty or hemlock, take your pick.” “Assassin,” Barrett said, the first time the man had spoken and his voice was deep and gravelly. Brayden turned his attention to the man, but he didn’t look like he was laying down judgment, just making an observation. “That is such a strong word,” Brayden said, looking towards the sky. Duncan cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, cutting them all off. Brayden rolled his head to the side, still tipped back and looked towards Duncan and his brother. “Introductions have been made. It is time you learn what we here in the Chosen are truly tasked to do.” Brayden smirked and his eyes moved back to Corey Temple, who swallowed thickly and let out a slow breath, still fidgety and nervous. Brayden kicked dirt at him. “You may want to take notes,” he told the kid, who just looked back at him with wide eyes. 1.7 Torturer’s Chamber “That’s how you met the Crowes?” the man asked, pacing on the opposite side of the room. Corey nodded his head, letting out a shaky breath, eyes traveling to the silent man next to him, knife still in hand and pointed at his chest. Corey shivered and his head swam with fatigue and pain. He was tired of this and he was terrified because he didn’t know if anyone would come for him. He didn’t know who was left to do so. “Yes,” Corey said when the man didn’t ask him another question after that. “That’s how I met all of them.” The man nodded his head, taking a few steps forward and leaning over him. “And the Knight Commander? You met him first when he came to your village?” Corey nodded again and then paused, his eyes trailing over Corey’s face. “Tell me more of Kinley. He joined the Chosen the same time you did.” “He did,” Corey whispered, holding back a small whimper afterwards at the sudden flare of pain from the wounds he’d sustained. His eyes went toward the ceiling before they came back to the man interrogating him. “He was already with the Knight Commander when he came to my village to recruit. I never knew where he came from.” The man nodded again, like this wasn’t news to him. He looked over at the silent torturer next to Corey before he sighed, coming closer and pulling a stool over to sit down next to him. “That’s it? You know nothing more of Kinley’s origins?” Corey shook his head and gasped as he felt the knife sink a little into his stomach. “I swear!” Corey cried, feeling tears leak down his cheeks and he hated them. “Alright,” the interrogator said. “So you were recruited from your village. And you became a Chosen. How did you make it through your training? Why did they choose you to stay?” Corey tipped his head back, whimpering a little at the memories and he closed his eyes a moment, praying to the Gods they would forgive him for speaking. For giving away their past to this mad man. “I do not think they intended to.” 1.8 Lockhaven Keep “I think Duncan needs to retire,” Brayden said quietly as he stood next to his brother and watched as Jethro and Stephen circled each other in the ring. Gideon had his arms crossed over his chest and at Brayden’s words, he lifted a brow and turned to look at him. “Why would you say that?” he asked. Brayden grinned, not looking at his brother. If there was one thing he loved about Gideon, it was that the man always valued Brayden’s opinion. He valued his skills and talents and he never underestimated him and Brayden wanted to tell Gideon many times thank you for that, but he wasn’t quite sure how to get it across. So he showed his brother thank you in the only way he knew how, and kept testing his awareness of his surroundings. It was going to save lives one day. Maybe Gideon’s life. From people who would want to kill him. Brayden shrugged as he leaned against the wooden fence lazily. The others were lined up around the circle, watching the fight. Brayden had to admit, Stephen the Pious had some skill with a blade. Still didn’t mean he thought he had what it took to be in the Chosen. “Look at the state of the recruits he’s brought back,” he said, glancing over towards Corey Temple specifically. The boy still looked nervous and Brayden shook his head because he could tell the kid would be a slow learner. “This is really the best this land has to offer?” Gideon smirked, watching the fight in the middle again. He shouted out, “Aim low, Wrede,” and Stephen did just that, but Jethro was still stronger and able to block whatever the man could throw at him. Gideon’s voice lowered and he said back to him, “Are you speaking of all the recruits, or just one?” “All,” Brayden said before he was really sure he meant it. But then he snorted and said, “Kinley’s alright. Quiet. Hard to read. But Wrede’s too righteous. He’ll question orders. And Temple…send him home to his nursemaid.” Gideon surprised him by actually chuckling. Brayden turned to look at him and grinned, sticking his tongue between his teeth and turning back to the fight. Stephen managed to get beneath one of Jethro’s blocks and the loud twang of his sword hitting off Jethro’s practice mail echoed through the circle. Both men stepped away from each other and Stephen looked smug while Jethro just flicked at his mail like it had somehow betrayed him. “Duncan knows what he’s doing,” Gideon said at last. Brayden shrugged. “Of course he does,” he said. “Duncan knows all.” Instead of riling his brother up, Brayden was surprised at Gideon’s quiet words of, “He’s worried about you.” They managed to sober Brayden quickly and he looked down at the wooden fence he was leaning on. He had one foot propped up on the bottom rung and he picked at the wood with a fingernail. “Needlessly,” he said quietly. Gideon nodded and stayed quiet for a moment before he added, “I’m worried about you.” Brayden snorted and lifted his head, half watching the fight and half thinking about the cause of his brother and his Commander’s worry. He wondered what she was doing now and if she thought about him as much as he thought about her. He’d go again to see her tonight. He’d go every night if he could. “Shall I parody a parrot in my response or mesmerize you with my extensive knowledge of poetic verse?” Brayden asked, looking over at Gideon, who glanced at him with a questioning look. Brayden shrugged. “How many ways can I say ‘needlessly’ before it grows mundane and methodical? I have to keep you interested.” “Just…” Gideon trailed off, pausing to yell an order at Stephen before he leaned back towards Brayden. “Just be careful,” he told him quietly and that apparently was going to be the end of their conversation about the matter at the moment. Brayden sighed. “Always.” .Wolfie. 1.9 The Salty Pig “Drink it,” Miren said. He shoved the pint of ale into the boy’s hands and then settled in the chair next to him. His eyes were narrowed and serious as he watched him and when Temple didn’t move at first he reached out a hand and pushed it up towards his face. “Come on Temple, you want to be one of us you’re going to have to learn to drink like one of us. Now prove yourself boy-o.” Corey Temple made a face and then he took a swallow of the ale. Hi slips puckered afterwards as he settled it back down on the table and Gideon wondered if he’d ever been drinking before. He already had two empty pints on the table in front of him and he was starting to sway a little in his seat. He licked his lips and looked disgusted as he stared at the ale in front of him. He shook his head and looked up at Miren with a frown. “Do I have to do this?” he asked. “What am I proving?” Tristan snorted from across the table. “That you can’t hold your liquor,” he said. He winked at the kid afterwards and for his part Corey didn’t look amused by it. Then he sucked in a breath and steeled his face and took another long swallow of his ale. Palmer crowed cheerfully and clapped the boy on the back. “You keep this up Temple and maybe you’ll find yourself a spot with us after all. Already got a leg up on Ser Stephen the Pious.” He mock scowled and looked over at Brayden, gesturing a hand at him. “Ser thief, I should warn you that any attempt to steal my blade can only end badly, as it is firmly lodged up my asshole.” Brayden chuckled and waved a hand dismissively. “Keep your blade. I would hate to take it from what has been its home for so long.” Corey spluttered and coughed up his ale at that, earning laughter from Miren and a slap across the back. Gideon watched the exchange with veiled amusement threatening to curl his lips. He had half of a pint in front of him but that was all he would be having tonight. He barely drank, rarely smoked, and never gambled. He wasn’t a betting man because that was luck and chance and he didn’t put stock in those things. He didn’t like anything he couldn’t control. He leaned back in his seat, lacing his fingers behind his head and just listened and watched. Sometimes he participated. Sometimes he let himself smile at their jokes and let himself feel like more than an outsider. There was an unspoken distance between him and those around him and he let it remain. His gaze wandered the Pig and he couldn’t stop himself from noting the exits in the place and watching for glimpses of danger in the shadows. He was always on guard, always prepared for the attack that would inevitably come. His eyes went to Barrett Kinley as the man made his way back to their table, a pint in his hand before he settled on the other side of Brayden. His brother was smiling and laughing but he had a glint in his eyes that Gideon recognized. He was analyzing, probably Kinley more than Temple. Tristan whistled lowly, tipping back in his chair as he did. His head was turned over his shoulder and he was looking towards the entrance. The mug of ale was stilled just before his mouth. “Well will you look at that?” he said. Gideon followed his gaze and lit upon the three who had just made their way into the tavern. Even with the hoods pulled up and shadowing their faces, it did nothing to hide their slender builds or the grace in their movements. He wondered if they were aware of the hush that fell over the room at their entrance. “Dark elves,” Miren said quietly. “I wonder what business they have here?” “I don’t understand,” Corey said. “Are elves uncommon in the city? In my village they used to come and barter all the time.” “You see elves,” Tristan told him. “But not like these.” He watched the three of them as they scanned the crowd and he heard the laughter and the drinking start again with a clatter of glasses. “These are from the dark woods. They do not welcome men to their lands and do not travel to ours.” The one in the lead reached up and pushed her hood back, a mane of hair so pale it was almost white spilling around a darkly tanned face. Her hand moved to rest on the knives slung around her hips by a belt adorned with pouches. She was dressed in pale gray leather with black buckles and it was bare of dust and dirt that the rest of them suffered. For a moment the elf’s eyes lit upon them, her eyes narrowed and scrutinizing each of them in turn before she moved to the next. It was quick and calculating and he found his own mind mirroring Miren’s question. He wondered what they were doing here. He wondered what her name was and then her head turned like she’d been called, focusing on a darkened corner of the tavern. The three of them moved easily through the crowd and he watched them go, running a hand over his mouth as he did. “That woman’s a killer,” Brayden said. “Probably an assassin.” His voice was low and quiet but the words drew the focus back to the table. Gideon glanced over at his brother and he didn’t question the judgment. He was probably right. He wondered who needed an elven assassin and he suddenly wished he were back at the Keep with his eyes on the Emperor. “What do you think she’s like in the sack?” Tristan asked. He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, earning a slap upside the head from Palmer. “She looks like she’d be mean. And pushy. I think I could enjoy both of those things.” “I think you have about as much chance of finding out as I do of getting my post back,” a man said. Tristan jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder and Gideon bit back a smile because he’d watched his approach from the bar. Joe Roth pulled a chair over, smiling at the table and he thought the smile was only on his face because he’d been at the bar for the last few hours. He wondered if he even knew where he was anymore. “Any chance of you Chosen fellows buying an old guard a drink?” he asked. Corey Temple watched him curiously and the boy was trying not to fidget or look anxious but Gideon thought he was failing. He hated to admit it, but he wondered if his brother was right. He wasn’t thrilled with what Duncan had brought back from recruitment. The boy was fair with a blade, but he didn’t have the fortitude and he had seen too many like him cut down before their time. “I don’t know Roth,” Palmer said. “You sure you want to be caught socializing with us? What might the rest of the guard say?” Roth snorted and pulled a pipe out of his jacket. “They’d say I was kissing ass to try and get transferred to your crew.” Miren shrugged his shoulders and lifted his ale up, gesturing towards the bar wench. “And why not?” he said, looking back at Roth. “It’s not all assassination attempts and bloody battles.” He laughed afterwards and took a swallow from his ale. Gideon surprised him by agreeing. “We could always use good men who know their way around a blade.” Roth laughed and shook his head, holding both his hands up before he went back to stuffing tobacco in the end of his pipe. “Easy fellows. I appreciate the support but the missus would never forgive me if I did.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair, grinning around the table at them. “Not that it’s not tempting mind you. To tell my boy I’m one of the Emperor’s Chosen? He’d worship me as a hero for the rest of my life. However long that lasted anyway.” He clucked his tongue before he shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “No, I’m afraid I’m stuck with the guard. Even if it’s all gone to shit after Captain Davins got murdered.” Brayden leaned forward slightly at the words, an easy smile on his face that belied the calculating look in his eye. It was almost enough to make him smile. His brother had an eye for what was hidden in the shadows and an ear for what wasn’t being said. It was a gift and Gideon valued it. “Would you call that murder?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow curiously. “Unfortunate yes, but I thought it was just a street thief that panicked when Davins tried to take him in.” Roth snorted and waved his hand at Brayden dismissively. “Of course that’s what you heard. Sounds better than somebody setting up the Captain of the Guard to take a knife in his belly.” He seemed to realize what he’d said after it was out of his mouth and he shook his head, trying to wave it off. “Ignore me. Ale makes me drunk and I’m already bitter, what with my patrol being taken away.” “Your patrol?” Brayden asked. “You mean the west end of the Keep?” Gideon let him, watching Roth curiously. The other men were listening with half an ear but Miren noticed Temple not drinking and shoved another mug in his hands, gesturing at his mouth. Roth laughed and pointed a finger at Brayden. “You do pay attention, don’t you boy-o?” Gideon’s brother grinned and gave him a small little bow at the table before he leaned back in his seat. “That was my post. Has been for years. Now all of a sudden we have a new Captain and he wants to give all the easy Keep duties to his favorites.” He snorted and shook his head. “Now all of a sudden I’m back to doing patrol work in Lowport, trying to keep thieves from killing prostitutes and prostitutes from killing thieves.” “Lowport’s not that bad,” Tristan grumbled. Roth laughed but it lacked amusement. “It is when you’re used to the Keep.” Palmer laughed and clapped a hand on his shoulder but he was the only one. Gideon was frowning and he was watching Brayden out of the corner of his eye because he still had that curious, calculating look as he watched Roth from across the table. Then Miren snorted and waved a hand at Tristan. “Yes it is,” he said. “Admit it, all this talk of prostitutes is just making you miss your mother.” “Almost as much as I’m missing yours,” he shot back. He grinned when Miren’s face fell and tipped back in his seat, draining the rest of his pint. A snarl curled Miren’s lips and he looked like he wanted to launch himself across the table at the man. “Trust me, she’s nothing to write home about,” Palmer said. Miren’s glare moved away from Tristan to him but Palmer just grinned wider and then gestured his pint across the table. “Now Brayden’s mother, she’ll keep you up all night.” He whistled lowly and shook his head. His hands came out to make an hourglass shape in the air and Gideon wondered if he remembered that he was Brayden’s brother and still sitting at the same table. “Legs of a goddess that woman.” “Is that so, Palmer?” Gideon said dryly. He lifted an eyebrow at the man and he saw his smile falter. Brayden chuckled and glanced up at his brother. “Oh I don’t know,” he said. “I think she’d be happy to hear that.” Wenston 1.10 Lowport – The Sullied Walk It was always easy to find Pock. He was unique in stature. A scrawny little thing with short greasy hair and a face that looked like someone had pulled his skin too tight. He was boney and dirty and if one couldn’t see him in a crowd, there was always the smell. It was piss and vomit and mud and shit. The man had never been married or even courted and Brayden didn’t have to be told twice why. He was foul and vile, but he was the best source Brayden had within the boundaries of Lockhaven. Tristan would get upset if he ever found out Brayden thought the man fit in well in Lowport. He usually set up shop in the Sullied Walk, a dank, dark place in Lowport where all the shadiest of merchants did business. People were murdered there, robbed there, and solicited favors of an unsavory kind in the dark spots of the walk. Sometimes Brayden thought he felt a little too comfortable there, but he tried not to let it bother him. He always knew what side he was on. It wasn’t late into the day and all of the merchants were still set up when Brayden made his way to the walk. He wondered if the others ever got mad that he didn’t go to practice most times. Or maybe they just liked that they didn’t have to compete with him. He usually found a way to beat every opponent in the ring. The only one he really had trouble with, was Gideon himself. Probably because his brother knew him better than anyone. Duncan always joked that people should be glad Brayden was on their side, but Brayden knew, they should really be thankful Gideon was. Pock was in his normal spot. He stood in a recess of the stone walkway, a small table set up next to him with a chest open up on it. He had several dead ravens tied to the front of the table and he’d tied the feet of multiple animals around a pillar next to him. Brayden smirked, because even though some of the things the man sold were useful, most were trash. Utter trash. Silently, he moved towards Pock’s set up and listened to the man as he proclaimed his wares to the few other people moseying around the Sullied Walk. “Behold!” Pock yelled, his voice heavily accented with the poorer districts of Lockhaven. “My box of wonder! I have a cure for every ailment, a ward for every evil, a beacon for every good, and a charm for every luck. Whatever it is you’re looking for, your greatest desires will be met within my box of wonder! An itch in the back of your throat? Try my Dragon’s Breath tonic! Hair too thin atop your head? Chew these blackroot stalks! Husband incompetent in the sack? Lace his wine with my own special miracle fix.” Brayden grinned as he slipped in unnoticed beside Pock and plucked a large bird feather from his box. “Miracle fix?” he asked and just gave Pock an amused look when the man jumped a few feet in the air, startled, and whirled around to look wide eyed at Brayden. “Are you promising an elongating cure or coffin fodder?” Pock sighed roughly and pointed a finger at Brayden. “It depends on who I’m selling it to,” he squawked and it made Brayden chuckle. Pock snorted, reaching out to grab the feather from Brayden’s hand, only because Brayden let the man, and placed it back in his box. “You here for supplies, Crowe? Or just to harass an honest businessman?” “Harass an honest businessman,” Brayden said, leaning against the pillar that held the animal feet, and then lifting a brow at Pock. “You seen one anywhere?” “Hardy har,” Pock said, glaring at him but Brayden knew it was all in jest. The man turned to watch a wealthier citizen walk towards them and he shooed him with a gesture of his hand. The man turned up his nose at Pock, but Pock didn’t seem to mind or notice. He faced Brayden fully and leaned against his makeshift vendor stall. “Well? You restocking? I’m fully stocked. What you need? Wolfbane? Hemlock? Kudu? Nightshade? Doll’s eyes? Oleander? I’ve got it all. Pick your poison. Literally.” Brayden smirked. “Business has been slow. I don’t need your wares today.” He paused as he glanced inside the chest and tipped his head to the side. “Is that Monkshood?” Pock glanced down and looked a bit nervous, but grinned to cover it up. “Why yes, it is. How’d that get in there.” Narrowing his eyes, Brayden reached for the coin pouch strapped to his side. “I told you to keep that out of the city,” he said lowly and Pock gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll buy it before someone else does, but you bring it back again, and I’ll lock you away myself.” “Right-o,” Pock said. “It’s just that Monkshood catches the best prices.” Brayden grabbed the bundled weeds from the chest and stuffed them into his pouch, his eyes still narrowed at the man. “Because it can be the most widespread. Enough in a water supply can plague the city for months. Keep it out, Pock. I mean it.” “Yes ser, captain, ser,” Pock said, giving Brayden a mocking salute. Brayden snorted in amusement and it made Pock grin, back on friendly and good terms. “I’m just glad you let me keep my other wares out there.” “Because I know you’ll report to me if someone of poor countenance purchases those wares,” Brayden said, lazily leaning against the pillar again and glancing around the Sullied Walk. He lifted a curious brow at a man and woman in the corner of the walk. He had her pinned against the wall and they weren’t being discrete about what their intentions were. He thought maybe he should tell them to take it inside, but he overlooked a lot of things here in Lowport. He needed his supplier to stay in business and keep informed. Pock nodded. “You’re the only good guy the bad guys will deal with,” Pock nodded. “I need one more thing,” Brayden said and Pock started pulling the dead ravens from the table and shoving them in the chest, apparently closing up for the day. He glanced at Brayden and nodded, listening. “Information,” Brayden said. “Information’s not cheap,” Pock said. Brayden smirked and pulled another coin from his pouch, tossing it into the chest with his other wares. Pock picked it up and studied it before pocketing it. “What is it you’d like to know?” Brayden leaned closer, his voice lowering. “What have you heard about elves in the city?” Pock paused, his hands freezing in place as he looked over at him. “Elves? Here? I assume you mean the elves of the darker nature.” Brayden nodded. Pock glanced around the walk and then leaned closer to Brayden, which set off Brayden’s curiosity. “I might have heard a thing or two. Like maybe these elves aren’t just here to visit old friends. Like maybe these elves were asked to come here. Like maybe these elves will have heftier pockets when they leave than what they had when they came.” The words made Brayden frown and he tipped his head in thought. “Dark elves aren’t cheap,” he said quietly. Pock shook his head. “Not at all.” Glancing at him, Brayden chewed the corner of his mouth. “Someone in power brought them in. Someone with the wealth or power to do so.” He shook his head. “What are they here for? Who would seek dark elves to do their dirty work?” Pock slammed his chest closed and grinned at Brayden. “That’s your job, Crowe. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an old widow to swindle.” Brayden smirked and watched him walk off. He shook his head and then went to go find Gideon and the others, surely in training still. .Wolfie. 1.11 Lockhaven Keep Gideon stood at the edge of the practice ring with his arms crossed over his chest and his brow furrowed in annoyance. He watched Nicos swing his blade down in an arc towards Stephen’s neck and the man barely got his own up in time. The sword glanced off Stephen’s blade and skidded along the shoulder of his metal practice armor, jarring his right arm brutally. He swore to Lady Reverent as he struggled to back off but Nicos was unrelenting, gripping his blade with both hands as he brought it up towards the man’s chest. It slid across his sternum with a loud, brutal scraping and next to him Jethro winced at the sound. Nicos moved back, holding his blade up as he did. He left Stephen standing where he was, his chest heaving and his eyes dark beneath the helm as he glared at the other man. He disliked the look. He disliked that when Nicos went to salute the other man didn’t do so. The man had skill with a blade but that wasn’t enough and he felt doubt and unease in his chest as he wondered again why Duncan had picked the men he had. He glanced over at Temple and the man just looked nervous and embarrassed. Kinley stood next to him and he was watching everything with curiously lidded eyes. Gideon still hadn’t figured him out and he wondered if his brother would have anything more to tell him. He got the impression the man was weighing them just as carefully as they were weighing him and that made him like him more. Out of all of them, he was the most likely to work out. Out of the three of them he was the only one Gideon himself would have chosen. He wondered what Duncan knew that he did not. He turned his attention back to Nicos and Stephen and he didn’t uncross his arms or return the salute. “Again,” he ordered sharply. “And Stephen,” he said as the men moved back into position. “You need to take the offensive. Stop letting Nicos control the fight.” “I am not letting him do anything,” Stephen snapped. His voice lowered and he almost didn’t catch it but he heard the words as they were muttered beneath his breath. “Let’s see you in this cursed ring.” Gideon’s eyes narrowed slightly but he said nothing else. Next to him he heard Jethro growl lowly and his hands tightened on the wooden beam. Gideon could understand the feeling. They watched the two as they circled each other in the ring and Gideon wasn’t sure if he was pleased or disappointed when Stephen did as he said, immediately swinging down a blow towards Nicos. The man moved to the right, using his blade to try and block the sword. The heavy practice weapons glanced off each other and this time when Nicos followed through with an answering swing Stephen managed to block it, shoving forward with his blade and driving the other man backwards. Nicos stumbled on the soft earth and Stephen kept shoving, their blades sliding together as he drove him down into the ground, his back hitting it with a hard crash of steel. Stephen didn’t stop, bringing his blade back and then slamming it down across the other man’s chest plate. There was a loud bang as metal crashed against metal and then Stephen’s sword was skidding off to land point first in the dirt. Stephen sucked in a breath and then turned around, jutting his chin at Gideon. “Again?” he snapped. Gideon’s fingers dug into his arms and his teeth ground together in his head. He heard Nicos groaning as he tried to sit upright, a giant dent in his chest plate. He was sucking in desperate gulps of air and Jethro cursed as he jumped the wooden ring, moving to Nicos’s side. “You alright?” he asked, hands going to the buckles at his side to try and get the practice gear off. He threw it to the ground and pulled at the other man’s shirt. Nicos shoved his hands away in annoyance, rubbing at his chest afterwards. “I’m fine,” he said. There was annoyance in his voice and more in the glance he shot Stephen. Jethro gripped his arm and hauled him upright and Gideon didn’t miss how gingerly he was moving. He didn’t miss that Stephen was still waiting for him with his jaw jutted and when Gideon didn’t answer he finally snorted and started to pull the helm from his head. “Again,” Gideon said shortly. The three of them paused and looked at him and he was aware of Corey Temple already staring. He ignored it, pulling himself over the wooden fence and holding his hand out towards Nicos. “Your blade,” he said. “Gideon, what are you doing?” Jethro asked. Nicos didn’t question it, passing his blade over to his Captain. “You’ve got no gear on.” “He won’t hit me,” Gideon told him. Then he nodded his head at the edge of the ring. “Clear out.” “What is this?” Wrede demanded. He took a step back as Gideon entered the ring, the blade held down in front of him as he positioned himself in front of the man. Stephen snorted, the challenging look off his face. He glanced back at Jethro as he helped Nicos clear out of the ring and when the man didn’t offer him any support he looked over his shoulder at the other two recruits. Temple just looked confused and worried and Kinley smirked and shrugged, leaning casually on the railing to see how this played out. “You wanted to see me in the ring,” Gideon said. “And now I am.” The man continued to stare at him in confusion and he held out a hand gesturing at the blade Wrede still held in his. “Again,” he said. He saw the man’s face contort at that and Tristan had once told him that he could hear him saying that word in his dreams. “I’ll not attack a man not wearing any gear,” Wrede said. He took another step back, keeping his sword pointed away from Gideon. He wondered if it was actually his sense of honor at work or if he was afraid to fight him. He hoped it was the first. “No?” he asked. His grip tightened on the blade. “Then will you defend against one?” He pushed off the ground quickly, swinging the blade with force towards the other man. Stephen let out a startled noise as he brought his own blade to block it, stumbling back under the assault. Gideon felt tremors run up his arm as steel clashed against steel but he had long sense grown used to the sensation. He shoved hard at the other man, shoving until his blade was lifted above his head and kicking him hard in the chest. Stephen stumbled again, his back striking the wooden beam around the ring and his eyes wide. “You are here to be one of the Emperor’s Chosen,” Gideon told him. “It is an honorable post that requires a dishonorable man.” “What do you mean?” Stephen asked. Gideon turned his back on him, returning to the center of the ring while Stephen straightened himself out. Jethro and Nicos were watching from the edge and their expressions were opposite in nature. Nicos had a smirk on his face, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed as he watched Stephen. Jethro looked concerned and agitated and he imagined the man disapproved heavily. It was almost enough to smile as he turned around to face Stephen again. “We protect the Emperor above all else,” Gideon told him. “That means eliminating threats to his reign, whether face to face or in the dead of night with a blade across his throat. You may have to kill unarmed men. This is a duty, greater than any others, and it requires sacrifice greater than any others.” He tightened his grip on his sword and waved his hand at Wrede. “Again,” he ordered. The man’s face contorted and he shook his head, circling away from Gideon. “I am no fool child like the one standing behind you,” Stephen said. “I am here to protect the Emperor, but I fail to see why you believe that requires sacrificing honor.” Gideon’s eyes narrowed and he was moving as soon as the man was finished speaking. He swung his sword up towards his chest and Wrede dodged to the right to try and avoid it, bringing his sword down to crash against Gideon’s. Wrede didn’t expect him to keep moving, his shoulder slamming hard into the other man and knocking him off balance. He tried to bring his blade up but Gideon dropped his, wrapping his hands around Stephen’s and wrenching the blade from his grasp. He shouted as he found his back pressed against the wooden ring again, his own sword held lengthwise across his throat. The blade of it pressed tightly against his skin. “It requires sacrificing everything,” Gideon spat. His heart was thundering in his chest and he was vaguely aware of the wide, fearful eyes watching him. “Starting with your pride.” He threw the sword down on the ground afterwards and he wasn’t surprised to see his brother standing at the edge of the ring when he turned. He wore an amused expression on his lips and Gideon couldn’t tell if it reached his eyes or not. “Do you feel better?” Brayden asked. Gideon snorted but a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. “A bit,” he admitted. Brayden laughed as he followed him to the water trough, leaning against it casually while Gideon splashed water across his face to try and wash away the dirt and the sweat. He ran a hand across his eyes to clear them before finally looking up at his brother. He had a distant look on his face, his thumbs hooked in his belt and his eyes focused on the practice ring. Gideon followed his gaze, watching Stephen lean heavily against the ring and begin stripping his gear off. His hands were slow and his movements ginger as he tossed the chest plate to the ground. “Do I even want to ask what you’ve been up to, and would you tell me if I did?” Gideon asked. He ran his hands over his head, forcing his hair back out of his face as he focused back on his brother. The man laughed and lifted an eyebrow at Gideon. He was quiet for a moment and Gideon found that more troublesome than anything else that might have come out of his mouth. “I inquired around about those dark elves we saw last night,” Brayden said after a spell. His voice was low, the words only for his brother. “The word on the street is that someone with the coin to spend has hired them for a job here in the city.” He tilted his head to the side and gave Gideon a meaningful glance. Gideon’s face fell and immediately the smile was wiped from his face. He tuned back towards the fighting ring. “Jethro,” he called. The man looked over his shoulder and Gideon gestured a hand at him to come closer. The man frowned and trotted across the grass towards him, glancing between the two of them. “Double the guard, effective immediately,” Gideon ordered sharply. Jethro widened his eyes and then glanced at Brayden. “What have you heard, Crowe?” he asked. Brayden smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Why do you assume this is my doing?” “Jethro,” Gideon snapped. The man flinched under his name and then saluted quickly, hurrying off towards the barracks. Gideon lifted his head and focused on the men still by the practice ring. “Recruits, you are dismissed. Nicos, go find me Duncan.” The man saluted quickly and he didn’t question orders. He hurried into the Keep to find the Commander and the three recruits watched him curiously before giving awkward salutes and making their way towards the Barracks. “It could be nothing to do with us,” Brayden said quietly. “It could just be a noble hoping to steal something or a rich merchant eliminating the competition.” There was no force behind the words but Gideon found it interesting that he felt the need to say them. “It could,” he admitted. “And if it is then I will be grateful.” Wenston 1.12 Lockhaven Keep – the Gardens “Are you ready for another?” Brayden asked. He sat cross legged in the lush green grass. A handkerchief lay out in front of him with an assortment of leaves and twigs and such. Beside him, Gisaine sat with her legs folded beside her. He could tell she wanted to sit closer, wanted to lean her head against his shoulder, but they were both very aware that the Keep’s gardens weren’t the most private of places. And this had to look like nothing more than a lesson in poisons and trickery. Gisaine smiled, her fingers twirling a blade of grass. Her blonde hair fell about her bare shoulders, her forehead still adorning the silver circlet. She wore a green dress today, dark and soft velvet with gold trim. It looked beautiful on her, but in reality, everything looked beautiful on her. He told her so every chance he got. She tipped her head to the side, her hair falling almost to the grass. “I am ready,” she said lazily, the smirk on her face sending Brayden’s own face into a bright grin. “Close your eyes,” he said and as she did, he picked up a small bundle of leaves, rubbing them to get the scent flowing before he held it in front of her face. “This one.” Her face rumpled and she tipped her head to the side, leaning forward a little to get a better whiff. He kept the leaves away from her face, not wanting her to inhale or get it too close to her skin. He was very familiar with poisons of all kind. He trusted that he knew how to handle them and knew how to administer them and though this leaf could be touched without risk of consequences, he would never put that small chance of his error on Gisaine. He wouldn’t put her at risk. Not for anything. “Wormwort,” she said, opening her eyes and focusing on the leaves in front of her face. She let out a small whine and looked over towards him, pouting. “Wintersbane.” Brayden grinned, bringing the leaves back to his handkerchief and picked up another. “Wintersbane is less potent than Wormwort. But the smell is more putrid.” He held out his new bundle of leaves. “This is Wormwort. Far more deadly and harder to detect.” Gisaine inhaled the scent of the leaves and sighed, her shoulders falling and she clasped her hands in her lap. “I am no good with poisons,” she said. Brayden nodded, putting all of the leaves back and wrapping them up firmly. “You are right,” he said, glancing at her playfully. “You’re not.” Gisaine scoffed and shoved him in the shoulder. He laughed as he tilted to the side, catching himself before he fell completely over. “It takes time.” Leaning closer to him, Gisaine reached her hand out and ran her finger around the hilt of the short sword at his side. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t let their hand stray so close to his weapons. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t be here trying to give them lessons on how to save their own lives. “But I have some skill with a blade,” she said lowly. Lifting a brow, Brayden tried not to laugh at her. “Oh?” he asked. “If I seem to remember correctly, and I often times do, the last time I tried to teach you how to brandish a sword, you nearly decapitated Harlan.” The laugh that escaped those lips was beautiful and sweet. Gisaine lifted a hand to cover her mouth, her eyes going to the entrance to the gardens. There were two guards there, keeping an eye on things. Brayden was well aware of them, and he was also aware the helmets they wore prevented them from really hearing their conversation from all the way over here. It didn’t mean he trusted them or dared to steal a kiss. “He should not have snuck up on me,” she said. Brayden smiled, grabbing one of his short swords and pulling it out. He handed it to her hilt first as he stood up. She glanced at it and then up at his face, looking somewhat surprised. “What? Right now? I am in my finest dress, Brayden,” she scolded him, but climbed to her feet. “It would be a shame for you to get such a pretty thing dirty,” he said. “You would just have to take it off.” Gisaine gave him a look and he chuckled, pulling his own short sword and positioning himself. He watched her grip the sword and do the same. He would never admit it to her, but she was good. She learned fast and paid attention and seemed to have a natural knack. He didn’t doubt she could defend herself, but she should never have to. That’s what he was there for. “I must warn you, Chosen,” Gisaine said, jutting her chin and he smirked at the playfulness in her eyes. “I am fairly accurate and deadly with this blade.” Brayden snorted. “Oh? Well, why don’t you show me, my lady?” He was surprised when she actually came at him after that. He turned that surprise into motivation and dodged out of the way. She must have had complete faith that he would dodge away from her, because she wasn’t holding back. He met every blow she sent at him and he couldn’t help but think that she really had been practicing. She was a lot better than she was when he’d first taught her. “So, now I know what you do in that tower room of yours all day,” he quipped. She grinned viciously and came at him. He parried the blow and gave a weak one of his own. She easily swatted it away with her sword. They went at it like that for a few minutes before Brayden finally let Gisaine knock the sword from his hand and he stood still as she brought the blade up to his throat and held it there. “You win,” he told her. “You let me,” she said, but she was smiling. Brayden shrugged. “Of course.” She laughed and pulled the blade back, grabbing the other one from the ground and handing them both back to him. He sheathed them both and held his hands on their hilts to keep himself from reaching out and brushing her wild hair behind her ear. “I must say, you are far better than some of the recruits Duncan brought back. Maybe one day you will join the Chosen.” “Oh, my father would adore that idea,” Gisaine said. She shook her head and they started walking back towards the Keep’s interior. “And they can’t all be bad. There must be some with potential.” “Hardly. A saint, a mute, and a boy who wets himself whenever there is the chance of bloodshed,” Brayden said and his voice was more bitter than he meant for it to be. Gisaine laughed, shaking her head. “Come now,” she scolded him. “Everyone starts somewhere. Surely there was a time when you did not know the things that make you such a great Chosen now.” Brayden tipped his head to the side, mocking a thoughtful expression. “No, never,” he concluded. It made her laugh again and shove him in the arm. He grinned as they reached the interior and out of the sight of the guards. As soon as they were alone, Gisaine grabbed his shoulder and shoved him against the wall, coming in to bring her lips to his. The move surprised him and then he kissed her back, hands finally coming up to run through her hair, like he’d wanted to all afternoon. “Do you love me?” she asked as she pulled away. The question caught him off guard, but so did the immediate response in his head and the lack of doubt in his heart. “Always,” he said. “You are the reason I wake in the morning, the inspiration to keep breathing and moving and living.” It made her smile, which made him do the same. “Stay with me tonight,” she whispered lowly. The smile faltered on his face and he looked down at the floor. “The risk is too great.” “It is worth it,” she demanded strongly, her arms wrapping around his waist. “Please,” she begged. “Bed me tonight.” Brayden watched her face for a moment, his heart pounding loudly in his chest and he hated and loved that she had this effect on him the way nothing else did. He was always in control of his emotions and his surroundings, except when she was around. “Is this truly what you want?” he whispered. “Truly,” she agreed. “I want you. I love you more than anything. And you are the one thing my father will not let me have. So at least give me this?” He leaned forward to kiss her, his hand moving to the back of her head to hold her there. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers. “Tonight, I am yours.” .Wolfie. 1.13 Lockhaven Keep Gideon stood in full uniform outside of the Emperor’s bedroom. He kept both hands clasped behind his back, his feet spaced evenly apart and his head up. His eyes stared at the opposite wall but he was aware of the thick shadows and wary of any movement he might see in them. Duncan stood on the other side of the door as he had for the last few hours. Miren and Tristan were inside of the room to watch over the Emperor while he slept. There were regular guards patrolling the hallway in front of them and he thought they were trying harder because of Duncan’s presence. “Sometimes I question how your brother comes across this information,” Duncan said quietly. He waited until the guards were at the other end of the hallway before he spoke, tilting his head slightly to glance at his Captain. Gideon didn’t have an answer for him but he had long since stopped questioning where his brother came across his information. He suspected he was better off not knowing. “Were he anyone else I would find him greatly suspect.” “Harsh words,” Gideon said. “Especially after how many times he has proven himself.” “He has,” Duncan agreed. “Which is why I am standing here.” He smiled afterwards, glancing over at Gideon. He opened his mouth but shut it again when he saw the guards passing by them again. He waited until they were out of earshot before he spoke again. “You saw these elves yourself?” At Gideon’s nod he snorted, looking back at the wall. “Three assassins, all for one target?” The words were thoughtful and Gideon recognized the tone. Duncan already had his own assumptions, he was trying to ascertain Gideon’s. “You think there are three targets,” he said. “They may not have all been assassins.” “They may not even be assassins,” Duncan said. He smirked as he glanced over at Gideon and he broke position for a moment to lean his shoulder against the wall. Gideon didn’t move. He kept his hands behind his back and his gaze focused on the wall across from him, but he listened. “They may have been bartering. Perhaps they heard great things about the Salty Pig’s ale and wanted to try it for themselves.” There was a low chuckle afterwards and a smile threatened to pull across Gideon’s lips. “You don’t really believe that,” he said calmly. Duncan chuckled again and waited patiently for Gideon to give him the answer he was waiting for. He let out a sigh, tipping his head back against the wall. He watched the guards pass in front of him again and then he spoke quietly. “Three targets,” he mused. “The Emperor, his daughter, and his brother?” Duncan smiled at him. “Good,” he said, returning to position. “When I finally retire I think I’ll be able to sleep knowing my command is left in capable hands. Now, should we alert the guard or put our own men on it?” Gideon smirked and lifted an eyebrow curiously. “Do we have enough men for that?” Duncan let out a laugh, drawing the guard’s eyes towards him. “That’s why I brought in recruits.” “You did at that,” he said, his face falling. Brayden’s words lingered in the back of his mind and he wondered again why Duncan had picked the men he had. They had nothing in common and weren’t exactly what he had expected to find. He expected Duncan to bring back soldiers, maybe mercenaries looking for a second chance. Miren was one of those. He swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the wall. “Why did you pick them?” he asked lowly. “Why those three?” He didn’t expect Duncan’s answer but it came quickly and with a hard tone. “Conflict breeds vigilance,” he said. “Agreed,” Gideon said slowly. He glanced over at his Commander and he had schooled his expression into blankness. “But you chose them just to cause conflict? No offense, but I’m sure you could have come up with easier ways.” Duncan shrugged it off, glancing over at Gideon. “That’s not the only reason, but that’s part of it.” Gideon didn’t say anything to that, snorting and keeping his eyes on the wall. He could feel Duncan studying him and then a slow smile spread across the man’s face. “All of you need to be shaken up once and a while. It keeps you from becoming complacent.” Gideon’s eyes narrowed at that and he glanced over at Duncan. “I am never complacent.” “Well, perhaps you’re the exception then.” He laughed to himself and Gideon wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. He kept his gaze on the opposite wall, a frown wrinkling his brow. The guards paced in front of him again and he wondered if he had become too complacent. His gaze followed the two men and he realized he couldn’t recall their names. There was a point where he knew everyone in the Keep’s guard, now most of them were strangers. Ever since Captin Davin had passed the regular guard had been reorganized and restructured and he should make a point of finding out who these men were. Those were things he should know. “I chose Wrede because he is a Church’s Blade,” Duncan said after they passed by again. Gideon lifted an eyebrow at that because so far the man’s training had seemed more of a hindrance than anything else. He wondered if he had overreacted but he dismissed the thought immediately. It was well and done. “He understands duty and honor and sometimes we must have a voice of conscience. I chose Kinley because I see in him a soldier looking for something to fight for.” Gideon snorted at that and he wondered if the man’s summation of Kinley was accurate. It was hard to say with how little the man spoke. “And the boy?” he asked. “I am pained to admit it, but Brayden’s right about him. He is a fearful child.” “He is,” Duncan agreed, the smile still on his face. “That’s why I want him with us. He is not unskilled with a blade, just untested. There is potential in him, and I can think of no better place to test the bounds of that than to have him as one of the Chosen. Besides,” he admitted. “He reminded me something of myself. We cannot all start as you did.” “So why did you choose me?” Gideon asked. He had never asked the question before but it was off his lips before he thought about it. Duncan looked at him curiously, something like a smile playing along his lips. “I didn’t. You choose us.” The door opened next to them and they both immediately stiffened, hands going to blades and eyes focusing on the doorway. Tristan stood there, leaning his head out the door as he looked between the two of them. Gideon had always thought the man looked odd in full uniform. It was more professional and polished than he looked every other minute of his life. It was ruined by the short, sloppy salute he gave Duncan. “Ser,” he said, clearing his throat. “Has the guard changed?” Duncan frowned and returned the gesture. “What do you mean?” he asked. Tristan shrugged and looked slightly uncomfortable. He glanced over at Gideon but the man wasn’t looking at him. He kept his gaze focused on the hallway and the pacing guards because vigilance was everything. “I thought Cathis and Errol would be relieving us for the night and… well, they’re not here yet. Did the guard change? Are we working double duty tonight?” “No,” Duncan said. There was no amusement in his tone and he sounded slightly annoyed. He glanced up at Gideon and jerked his head at him. “Go to the barracks, find out where our soldiers are. If they are hung over, sober them mercilessly.” “Yes ser,” Gideon said. He saluted swiftly and then turned on his heel and headed down the hallway. His boots thumped loudly against the carpeted stone, his head looking straight ahead as he made his way towards the barracks. He kept his hands behind his back but they were clenching into fists. The prideful part of him hoped the regular guard hadn’t heard Duncan’s words. It was an embarrassing thought, that two of the men were late because they’d had too much drink. It had been a rough week on all of them but that was no excuse and not one he would accept. If that was the case, he would not wake them gently. He followed the stairs down, the candles flickering at his passage. He should have caught this himself. It was well past first watch and Miren and Tristan had been holding fast long past the point where they should have been getting rest themselves. He almost smiled as he wondered how long they’d been in there arguing over who should ask their Commander or their Captain whether they were to stand there all night. It was no surprise to him that Tristan had drawn the short straw. He was quiet as he made his way inside the barracks and silence greeted him. A frown creased his face at the faint outline of Errol lying in his bed and he softened his steps as he walked over towards the man’s bunk. He was all set to wake him. His hand settled on his shoulder and his mouth opened to yell something to startle him from his sleep but he paused as soon as his fingers touched his shoulder. Chill seeped through the man’s shirt and he stilled with his fingers wrapped around his upper arm. “Errol?” he inquired. He rolled him over onto his back, eyes straining to see in the darkness. The man didn’t wake and he didn’t answer him. He stalked quickly over towards the wall, pulling the torch off the wall and turning to hold it high above his head. The fire flickered and danced next to him, casting orange light down across the ground and the bed sheets. It lit upon the man’s pale face and his dull, empty eyes. It set the dark blood on fire as it glistened up off his skin, most of it around the gash around the man’s throat. His blonde hair was splattered with his blood, his hands falling limply to his side. It didn’t look like he’d even had time to wake. He’d died in his own blood in his sleep. Gideon swallowed hard and lifted the torch higher as he turned. The fire light danced across the floor as he moved around the beds and it illuminated the bare feet sticking out between two bunks. Cathis lay dead on the ground, his blade in his hand and his sheets twisted around his legs. Blood pooled across the floor from the multiple stab wounds in his chest. He had fought. He had lost. Wenston 1.14 Lockhaven Keep – The Barracks The early morning light glowed dimly, birds chirping to usher in a new day and thought he could get used to waking up beside Gisaine. He’d woken her before he’d left, because if he hadn’t, he’d never hear the end of it. She’d told him sleepily to come back tomorrow night and he’d promised her he would. Then he’d left her naked beneath her sheets. It had been her first time and he was trying to figure out what that meant. He loved her with all of his heart, he had for a while now. But he had a moment of doubt where he wondered what he was doing because he could never have her. They could never be married or start a family or even make their relationship public. Gideon knew and he was certain Duncan knew, but that could be about it. Still, it had been wonderful. She was wonderful. She was amazing and everything a woman should be and though he’d never do this, she made him think about giving it all up and running away with her. The temptation was great, but he’d never do that. Not to the Chosen and especially not to his brother. Not after what had happened with his own family. Coming up on the barracks, Brayden slowed as he heard commotion and talking. It was still very early and Gideon had doubled the guard duties, so he hadn’t really expected there to be much of anyone in the barracks at this time, except for a few who were sleeping. He silenced his steps and slipped through the doorway. There was a small crowd in the main hall and he was a little concerned to see some high ranking guards there. His eyes went pass them, though, to Gideon and Duncan, looking grim on the other side of the room. Leaving the barracks, he rounded the building and slunk in through the opposite door, sneaking up quietly on his brother and Commander. He got next to Gideon and with his voice lowered, whispered, “What did I miss?” It gave him some small satisfaction when Gideon jumped a little, but that was soon wiped away when the both of them turned to look at him and he caught the looks of concern and grief on their faces. His stomach dropped and he looked again towards the guards in the middle of the room. If there were guards involved, something had to have happened. And not something pleasant. “Brayden,” Gideon breathed and he didn’t miss the relief that flooded his brother’s voice. “Where have you been?” Glancing from Gideon’s face to Duncan’s, he averted his eyes back to the commotion and simply said, “Out.” He jerked his head towards the guards. “What happened?” “Cathis and Errol,” Duncan gave. Brayden’s heart immediately skipped a beat and his head whipped back towards them, looking between the two. “They are dead.” “How?” he asked, looking towards the doorway to where he knew their bunks were. As he watched, Jethro stepped out and his face was bitter and drawn. The big guy had been the one to train Cathis. And Errol had been with the Chosen for years. His brother had been as well, but had died two years ago of illness. It had been a great loss, and the last they’d suffered. Until now. Gideon shifted from one foot to another. “Murdered. In their sleep,” he said, his face serious and eyes never leaving Brayden’s face. It didn’t take a wiseman to know what his brother was telling him. Assassins. His mind when to the dark elves in the Salty Pig. It seemed the most likely. He knew of no one else in the city who would have been able to get the drop on the both of them. “Cathis resisted, but he didn’t have time to even pull himself fully from bed.” “Method?” Brayden asked quietly and his brother knew what he was asking. “Throat slit,” Gideon’s voice was cold and dangerous and Brayden frowned as he went on. “The other stabbed, lungs and heart. Precision wounds.” Brayden stayed quiet for a moment, letting that sink in. He realized he hadn’t answered his brother and when he glanced back at Gideon’s face, his brother was watching as Jethro approached them. He came to stand in front of them and nodded his head at Brayden, who returned the gesture solemnly. “Guard Captain Drake is in charge,” Jethro reported. “He’s in there now.” Jethro shook his head. “Why would they go after Cathis and Errol? What would someone have to gain from that?” “I do not know,” Duncan said before Gideon could answer. All of them were cut off a moment later as Guard Captain Drake suddenly emerged from the room. His decorated armor fit him tightly and he scanned the room, eyes locking on them before he motioned for a few guards to follow him and they stalked over. The four of them stood their ground as the guards came to stand in front of them. Brayden was surprised when the Drake turned his full attention towards him. “Brayden Crowe, you are under arrest for the murder of Guardsmen Cathis and Errol,” Drake said, formal and cold. Brayden couldn’t quite keep the surprise off his face and he knew he wasn’t the only one when Duncan suddenly stepped forward, in front of Drake. “Guard Captain,” Duncan said, voice calm. “I would like to hear your reasoning for accusing Brayden of this.” Brayden tipped his head to the side to study Drake for a moment and he was somewhat surprised when Gideon repositioned himself so his shoulder was in between Drake and himself. He bit off the smirk that wanted to cross his face because his brother didn’t need to be protective. Brayden was a big boy and could take care of himself. But it didn’t mean that he still didn’t appreciate it that his big brother felt the need to look out for him. It amused him even more when Jethro mirrored the position on the other side. “He is a known assassin,” Drake said and Duncan gave the man a look saying that wasn’t enough. Drake continued with, “He’s someone these two would trust. From what I’m told, you doubled the guard based on something Crowe reported, causing there to be only two guardsmen in the barracks at a time.” Jethro growled low in his throat and Brayden knew they must have tricked that bit of information out of him. “And none of you can vouch for his whereabouts last night.” “Brayden didn’t do this,” Gideon said firmly. Drake looked at Gideon with his head tilted to the side. “And I am to believe you? His brother? You don’t have a sliver of doubt in your mind that he was not involved. Knowing what he’s capable of?” “There’s no doubt,” Gideon answered without hesitation. Duncan cleared his throat. “What of the reports of elves within city limits?” Drake narrowed his eyes at Duncan and grit out, “They are emissaries. Asked to come by the emperor and his brother.” Brayden frowned at that and he caught a glimmer of doubt pass across Duncan’s face. Gideon stood still, his face very impassive and Brayden was concerned that he couldn’t read the look on his brother’s face. “Are you positive they are not assassins?” Brayden asked. Drake turned his glare to him and then motioned for his guards, pointing a finger at Duncan and the others. “Get out of my way or be arrested for hindering the apprehension of a criminal.” At first, they didn’t move. But then Duncan sighed and stepped out of the way, nodding his head at the others to do so. Jethro looked forlorn as he stepped back and for a moment, Gideon didn’t move. But Duncan reached out a hand to put on Gideon’s arm and Brayden couldn’t be sure if Gideon moved on his own or because Duncan pulled him, because in the next moment, the guards rushed forward and grabbed him and turning him before they shoved him against the wall and pulled his arms behind his back. Letting out a harsh laugh, Brayden tipped his head to the side, his cheek pressed roughly against the stone. “Don’t get too rough, boys. I may enjoy it,” he grit out as they pulled his arm up painfully, tying his wrists together with course rope. “Brayden,” Gideon said. They pulled him back away from the wall and started shoving him back out towards the Keep. He saw Tristan and Miren walk in then and their eyes widened when they saw his hands tied behind him. “We’ll prove you didn’t do this,” Gideon told him. Brayden nodded, giving his brother a smile. “I know,” he told him, because he did. Gideon wouldn’t leave him to this. They would surely be looking to tie a noose around his neck. “Just find who did.” .Wolfie. Part Two 2.1 Torturer’s Chamber Blood trickled off the end of his nose to the floor below. He could hear it dripping steadily to the stones, the only sound he could hear at the moment. His torturer and his interrogator had abandoned him for the moment, leaving him in solitary darkness. It pressed against him and held it in its embrace, still bound brutally to the thick wooden chair. He could feel stinging wounds blazing out from his chest in long fiery lines and he wondered if he was going to bleed to death before the whole story was told. He sucked in shallow breaths, the air metallic and hot on his tongue. His vision wavered as he focused on his own blood pooling out around him. Corey Temple could not say how long he sat in darkness. He had no concept of time anymore. He had no idea how long it had been since his capture or how long he drifted in and out of consciousness. Dreams flickered brightly in his mind, dreams of the torturer’s knife and his brands and he wished he could say those were the worst. No, the worst were the ones where he dreamed of rescue. He dreamed they came for him and pulled him out of the shadows and it made it that much worse when he awoke still bound to that chair. He awoke to a sudden, stinging pain upon his chest. His eyes wanted to snap open but they were heavy and thick and he could barely manage to peek out at the man crouched in front of him. His torturer met his gaze, a needle in his fingers and black thread dangling from its end as he sewed him back together. Ever pierce stung him and reminded him of the wounds already in his skin. “You’re awake,” a familiar voice said. He tried not to wince at the sound of it but he felt himself flinching away from the needle and the man who lingered in the shadows. There was quiet laughter afterwards and then footsteps on the stones. “Good.” “As you say,” Corey responded. His own voice sounded unfamiliar to him, rough and full of pain as it ground from between his lips. “I do say.” A shadow fell over him as the man’s footsteps paused in front of him. He gestured with his hand and Corey heard the quiet snap of the thread being broken as the man tied off the wound. The torturer pushed himself to his feet, moving around behind him and resting his hand in his hair. He gripped it tightly and yanked his head back so that he could look up into the gaze of his tormentor. “You have been very cooperative thus far,” the man said. “Now tell me what happened to Brayden Crowe.” Corey closed his eyes at the words. He tried to shut them out but they stung regardless. He wished he were stronger. He wished there weren’t tears sliding from beneath his lids and that he weren’t so terrified. A hiss of breath left his throat as he felt heat by his face. His eyes snapped open and he saw a blazing brand wavering before his eyes. “Brayden Crowe,” his tormentor demanded. He let loose a whimper, shrinking back against the seat as terror gripped his heart. He imagined himself blinded, his eyes burned out of his head and he hated the knowledge that he would tell the man anything he wanted to know to keep that from happening. “They took him into custody,” he said. His eyes crushed closed but he could still feel the heat of it before him. When he didn’t say anything else he felt the fingers tighten on his hair. “And then what happened?” Bitter tears leaked from beneath his lids. The man shook him and forced his eyes to open. His vision blurred as he focused on the man questioning him and he wondered if anyone would come for him. He wondered if they were all dead and he bit back the sob that thought threatened to bring out in him. “That’s when everything fell apart.” 2.2 Lockhaven Keep There were three parts to the Keep’s dungeons, none of which were commonly used. The first consisted of a cellblock on the first floor, bars and stone walls keeping the criminals contained. Each had a straw filled pallet on the floor and a latrine in the corner. The second part was deep underground these, cut off from the outside world. No sound could rise up from their depths and there were no windows to the outside world. The stairs led straight down to a circular torture chamber and Gideon was more familiar with it than he would admit in polite company. A hallway stretched out from these, thick wooden doors holding in the worst of the worst. Brayden was being kept in the first level. He had no doubt that Guard Captain Drake would have happily stored him behind closed doors where he couldn’t see the light of day ever again. Either that or hang him from the gallows and Gideon felt his anger rising even thinking about it. Duncan had supplicated himself to the Emperor but they’d been denied any leniency in this matter. They were told that they were too close to the matter and a nicer cell for the younger Crowe was the only thing they’d been granted. It was bullshit. Gideon wasn’t one to get mad or show unnecessary emotion, but he was angry now. Two of his men were dead and he couldn’t help but think that if his brother wasn’t behind locked bars he would already have answers for him. He knew who to talk to in the darkened corners of this city and who to question about the death of two of the Emperor’s Chosen. There was a sensation building in Gideon’s chest that he disliked. He felt like he was caught in a trap but he couldn’t see the edges of it closing in around him. There were too many coincidences that he didn’t like all piling on top of each other. The guard on duty glanced up when Gideon walked in, his expression immediately darkening. “You’re not allowed in here,” he said. He sat at a wooden desk, a key ring hanging from his belt and the door to the cellblock shut and locked behind him. He had been slumped back in his seat, playing a card game on his desk but he gathered the cards up quickly when he saw Gideon. He straightened in his seat and rested a hand on his sword. The reaction was curious and Gideon wondered what Drake had been telling his men. “On whose authority?” Gideon demanded. The man swallowed but jutted his chin out at Gideon. “Captain Drake’s.” “Stand up,” Gideon said. He snapped the words out and the man obeyed on instinct rather than conscious will. He pushed himself to his feet and hesitated afterwards like he wanted to sit back down just to prove a point. Gideon didn’t give him the chance. His boots thudded loudly on the ground as he walked over to him, his head up and his hands clasped behind his back. “What’s your name?” The man shifted nervously, lifting his chin to try and meet Gideon’s gaze. One hand still rested on his blade and Gideon didn’t like what that signified to him. He wondered what kind of shape his brother was in. “Guardsmen Benedict Orwell, ser,” he said. “Guardsman Orwell, while you may have one of the Chosen in custody it in no way puts your Captain or your guard in charge of me and mine.” The man’s face darkened at that and he kept his eyes on Gideon’s face while he spoke. “Were you one of the Chosen you would find yourself swiftly out of a job for not only playing cards while on duty but mouthing off to the Knight Captain and failing to salute when a superior officer entered the room. I think ten lashes would be a sufficient punishment, don’t you?” The man’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No ser,” he said. “I’m sorry, ser.” “Apology accepted,” Gideon snapped. “Now open this door.” The man scrambled to do as he said, giving him a sloppy salute before he turned towards the door. The keys jangled in his hand as he opened it and he held it wide for Gideon as the man passed through into the cellblock. It was dark, dim light trying to make its way in from outside but it couldn’t chase away the musty, moldy dankness of it. Orwell closed the door behind him and Gideon wondered if he should have been more concerned about the key turning in the lock and shutting him in. It was easy to tell which cell was his brother’s. A guard stood on either side of the metal bars. There were two of them in total, dressed in full gear with blades at their sides. They were standing too close to the cage and he imagined if Brayden had wanted to escape he could have done so easily. They kept their eyes straight ahead as he approached, barely even glancing at him. His hand gripped a chair seated near the exit and dragged it over with him to set it in front of his brother’s prison. The sight of it made his eyes narrow and anger sink deeper into his chest. Brayden was sitting on a pallet on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him and his elbows resting on his knees. He rolled his head to the side to see his visitor. A slow, tired smile made its way across his lips when he saw Gideon. He didn’t return it, though he thought he should if only just for his brother’s sake. He straddled the chair and rested his arms across the back of it, studying his brother as he sat behind bars. His clothes were dirtied and there were dark circles under his eyes but he kept the smile on his face despite it all. “Well,” Brayden drawled. “I suppose we both knew this day would come sooner or later.” That almost put a smile on Gideon’s lips but he was finding little about this funny. “Agreed,” he said. It drew another laugh from his brother before he let his head tip back against the wall. “But never for such a crime.” “Does Duncan think I did it?” he asked abruptly. The words startled him but he didn’t let it show on his face. “No.” Gideon spat the words harsher than he meant, but it just made his brother chuckle. There was no doubt in his voice because there was none in his heart. He knew what his brother was capable of. He knew it better than most and he knew that his brother had done some dark deeds in the Emperor’s name. It didn’t matter. There was nothing of evil in his soul and it would nothing short of that to murder men he’d called brothers. “None of the Chosen do. It’s only Drake and his fool crusade that think you capable of this.” Brayden lifted an eyebrow at Gideon. “I don’t suppose they could hand the investigation over to you then?” he said. A smile tugged at his lips. “They think I’d bring bias into it,” he said. He laughed again and Gideon wondered sometimes how his brother could do that. The years between them had made them into different men and an outsider would never have guessed them related. “Not you,” Brayden said with a grin. “If you thought I did it then blood wouldn’t stop you from stringing me up in the gallows.” “Perhaps,” Gideon said. He hesitated for a moment because he didn’t like the next words but he thought they needed to be said and he never shied from what needed to be done. “It would help your cause if you could tell them where you were that night.” “Out,” Brayden said simply. It was a familiar answer and it told him all he needed to know. “You were with her.” Gideon’s voice was quiet because he was more than aware of the two guards standing next to him. He wouldn’t say her name but it was unnecessary. He sighed when Brayden didn’t answer him, running a hand over his mouth. He tried to fight back the frustrations that clawed at his back. He didn’t approve but he had accepted because his brother was a grown man who could make his own decisions. Beyond that, his brother had been happy and that was something he would never begrudge him. “I was out,” Brayden said again. “You are trying my ability to come up with suitable synonyms to entertain you with.” He tilted his head to the side and smiled sadly at Gideon. He didn’t like the look. He liked even less the next words that came from his brother’s mouth. “I’m afraid I can supply you with no other alibi than the one I have already given you. I was out. Let it be.” “You also told me I worried needlessly,” Gideon said. He kept his voice calm but he felt his temper starting to slip from his grasp. “Yet here you sit. Brayden…” he trailed off, unable to tell his brother that he should end it with Gisaine. “I am sorry, brother,” Brayden told him. “I know how this looks. But I’m afraid that’s all I can give you.” Gideon snorted and ran his hand over his eyes with a bitter laugh. “You are a fool.” Wenston Brayden tipped his head back, chuckling low in his throat. He brought his legs up, his head tipped back against the wall as he stared at the opposite edge of his small prison cell. He’d always joked with Gideon that one day he’d see the inside of these cells. But in all honesty, he’d never thought it would actually come true. There was more to all of this than what they were seeing and he was sure if Gideon and Duncan didn’t figure it out soon, he wouldn’t live to see the end of the week. “I have been hearing that a lot lately,” Brayden said with a small smirk on his face. He found it interesting that the people who knew him best were calling him a fool. Perhaps he was the only one who didn’t think he was one. Perhaps he was the one with the covers pulled over his eyes. Brayden rolled his head to look at his brother and he looked centuries tired than he had a moment ago. He wished he could just come out and say where he was, because that’s what Gideon wanted from him. That would clear him of all charges, but it would bring down a whole new wrath upon their heads. He didn’t rightfully care what happened to him, but the consequences for Gisaine were not something he was willing to put her through. He would gladly take whatever punishment if it meant she could stay happy and safe. He’d never come out and admitted to his brother that she was the girl he was seeing. Gideon had gathered that on his own and Brayden had been somewhat surprised that his brother had been able to deduce that. He thought he’d been careful, but apparently not enough to hide it from those who knew him best. He would not actually say the words to his brother as long as he could, because if he was ever asked about it, he could truthfully say that Brayden had never admitted it to him. Plus, there were two guards standing on either side of him who he had no doubt were listening very closely. “Have you informed Errol’s wife?” Brayden asked and Gideon’s eyes came back up to meet his. Gideon kept his arms crossed over the back of the chair, that intense look still on his face. It darkened a bit at the question and Brayden wondered if his brother was thinking of Elena. They’d never really talked about it a lot after her death. He’d taken Gideon out to get drunk and the day after that, it was as though Gideon had moved on. He hadn’t really been the same after that. Any time Brayden had tried to get him to talk about it, it was like Gideon would shut down. So he’d stopped trying after a while. But he knew it was still sore. “I visited her this morning,” Gideon said grimly. “And I sent a courier to Halla to inform Cathis’ sister. That was the last place I knew she lived.” Brayden nodded. “She’s still there,” he said and Gideon just accepted it. It still made Brayden smile the way his brother just accepted the information Brayden gave him. He was glad his brother trusted him well enough for that. Maybe that was the only thing that kept Gideon here, because the more Brayden thought about it, the worse this was looking for him. “Where have you looked so far?” he asked suddenly, changing the topic. Gideon sighed. “We have little to go on,” he said, his voice grave. “We were on double guard, leaving only Errol and Cathis in the barracks.” Brayden nodded. “Which was my doing,” he added not so helpfully. Gideon’s face darkened. “We’ve established that,” he snapped. “Also that we cannot vouch for your whereabouts or deny that you possess the skill to pull this off.” Brayden shrugged absently and he could see Gideon’s temper starting to flare. “We have no other leads and no motive for someone to kill Errol or Cathis.”The words made Brayden pause, his head tipped to the side and Gideon must have seen it, because he leaned forward towards the bars and said, “Tell me what you’re thinking.” “You are looking at this as though their deaths were the end goal,” Brayden said lowly. He glanced back at his brothers face and Gideon was frowning heavily, looking off distantly before he focused back on his younger brother. “You’re right,” he said. “We should not be looking at why someone would kill Errol and Cathis, but what the death of two Chosen would lead to.” Brayden nodded, pushing himself to a standing position and he leaned against the wall next to the bars. Gideon stood up as well, pushing the chair back to its spot and standing in front of the cell with his arms crossed over his chest. “Me behind bars for a start,” Brayden said. “Yes, but if that was their goal…” Gideon trailed off. Brayden smirked. “What do I have that other Chosen do not?” “Information,” Gideon said immediately and Brayden knew his brother was coming to the same conclusions he was. Gideon tipped his chin up and looked thoughtful. “They want you off the streets and away from your informants. Something is happening that we’re not aware of and they want to keep it that way.” Brayden snorted. “Then perhaps you should visit Lowport. The scum of the earth often know secrets only those overlooked by all could know.” Whatever Gideon was going to say in response to that was cut off as a commotion came from beyond the locked door. Gideon turned to look, but at the voice that suddenly sounded, Brayden felt a small spike of anxiety course through him. This was a foolish move. And to think, she called him the fool. “Let me through, I demand to see your prisoner!” Gisaine’s voice was loud and commanding. Apparently whatever the guard on the other side of the door said to her didn’t do anything to dissuade her from entering. In the next moment, the door was opening and it was Gisaine who held the key. The guard was rubbing at a sore spot on his head behind her and it made Brayden smirk. Stalking down the hallway towards Brayden’s cell, she came to a stop in front of the first guard she came across, one hand pointing a finger at him and the other waving in Brayden’s direction. “I demand to know why one of the Chosen is behind bars.” When the guard didn’t say anything, Gisaine reached up and grabbed the chin guard of his helmet, pulling his head down so he was looking at her. Brayden bit his tongue to keep from laughing. She had no fear, this girl. “I am speaking to you,” she yelled. “He is suspect in a murder,” the guard said simply. “Who would accuse him?” she yelled. “By putting him behind bars, you are taking away a man who would gladly forfeit his life to protect my father. You are an accessory to my father’s lack of security!” The guard looked a little speechless at first, but Gisaine was apparently done with him, instead turning to give Gideon a blazing glare. “And you!” she yelled, coming over to stand in front of Gideon, who raised an eyebrow curiously. “You would just stand here while one of your own, your brother no less, is behind bars accused of murdering men he holds dear?” Gideon opened his mouth and managed to get out a calm, “My lady…” but that was all he managed. “How dare you all just stand here while this injustice is served!” she shoved pass Gideon, who Brayden couldn’t tell if he looked annoyed or amused. Gisaine came up to the bars and grabbed hold of them. He didn’t miss the way the guards tensed, in case he tried to pull anything. “I will do whatever it takes to see you freed, Chosen.” Brayden smiled at her and leaned against the bars, his head resting against them. Gisaine looked as though she wanted to do the same. “You must trust my brother to enact justice on this event, my lady,” he said smoothly. He was somewhat surprised when Gisaine’s voice broke as she said, “They will see you hanged if they find you guilty.” “Then trust they will not find me guilty,” he told her quietly. Gisaine’s face wavered for a moment before she took a step back away from the bars and steeled herself. Brave girl. “I must speak with my father,” she said and turned, giving a glare to the guards and Gideon again before she marched back off. Brayden smirked as he watched her go, but when she was out of sight, he felt it slip off his lips. He rested his head against the bars a moment and hoped he hadn’t just lied to her. His eyes rose again to meet Gideon’s, who was watching him closely. “I already grow weary of this cage,” he told him and he meant for it to be a joke, but it fell flat because too much truth was behind the statement. He something hard settle onto Gideon’s face and his brother nodded. “Then Lady Gisaine was correct, I should not just stand here,” he said nodding at him again. “I will be back, brother.” Brayden gave him a sad smile. “Be careful,” he called. He saw Gideon turn to look at him curiously. “You know not what you walk into.” .Wolfie. 2.3 Lowport – The Blood Bucket The tavern was called the Blood Bucket. Their claim to fame was ale that was the color of rust and after sundown a pint of it was only a silver piece. Gideon had been there before but only in an official capacity to bring in a man who’d been making threats against the Emperor. It wasn’t the sort of place he visited with any frequency, thanks in part to its location in Lowport. The district was a cesspool of crime and disease and poverty and he had long since given up any illusions of cleaning it up. The best they could do was try and keep some semblance of peace, but there was no denying that street justice ruled here, not the Emperor’s men. He was aware of eyes watching him as he made his way through the streets. Rough men with blades at their sides kept their gaze on him as he passed and it was nothing he hadn’t expected. Whether or not they recognized him by name he could not carry himself as anything less than a soldier. The beggars asked him for nothing and shrank in on themselves as he passed. He could hear the hawkers crying out their wares from the Sullied Walk and moans from an alley next to him. The Blood Bucket was located close to the docks and it carried with it every smell associated with that. The stench of salt water and dead fish rose from the waters next to it and mingled with the stench of piss and vomit that rose from the darkened corners. The inside was loud and dimly lit, the corners thick and shadowed for unsavory deeds. The serving girls wore next to nothing and he had no doubt that they offered more than ale to their favored customers, for the right amount of coin. The man behind the bar wore a patch over his eye and was busy wiping something like blood off of the counter in front of him. His brother’s words stayed with him as he lingered in the doorway. He knew what he walked into, he just didn’t like it. Gideon pushed his way through the crowd, keeping one hand on his coin and the other on his blade. The feeling of being watched never faded and he was beginning to wonder if that had begun since he’d entered Lowport or since he’d left the Keep. The bartender didn’t glance up as he approached. He finished wiping off the counter and tossed the cloth over his shoulder with no regard for the red liquid soaking through the fabric. Gideon settled on a stool towards the wall, a few seats down from an old man who looked and smelled like he’d already had too much. He smelled of the sea, his hair and his beard white and matted. He was working diligently on draining the mug in front of him and every time the serving woman walked by he slapped her on the ass and crowed. “I tell you,” he said. “When I was Captain I had hundreds of women like her. Got washed up on the southern wastes for three years once in my youth, lived like a king.” His eyes watched the woman walk away, grinning toothily at the sly smile she cast over her shoulder. Then another man was dragging her into his lap, pressing sloppy kisses against her chest before pouring ale down his throat. The bartender snorted and slid another mug onto the counter in front of him. “Sure Cappy,” he said, before moving down towards Gideon. He rested his hands on the counter and studied him with his good eye narrowed. “You need something?” Gideon smirked at that, because he could appreciate directness. “I hear if a man’s looking to buy information this is the place to go.” The bartender’s lip curled in a sneer. “Depends on who the man is and what he’s looking to buy.” “What does it matter who the man is?” Gideon lifted an eyebrow curiously but he turned his gaze away from the bartender. He scanned the crowd, watching a man howl as he won at a game of cards. He was grinning as he dragged the pot over in front of him and judging by the look on his fellow’s faces he wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy it. He wondered if he should interfere. He wondered if it would matter in the long run if he did or if he would just get a knife in his ribs for the trouble. He turned his gaze away. “I was under the impression that enough coin could get a man just about anything he needed in Lowport.” “Coin don’t matter if it’s something going to land a man in the dungeons or the gallows.” The bartender sighed and then leaned forward. “Let me give you a piece of advice,” he said. There was nothing nice in his tone. Rub some dirt on your face, roll in your own filth for a few days, and rut with a whore or two and maybe then you’ll at least smell like you belong here. ‘Cause no one in this place is going to want to say a damn thing to a man like you, no matter how much coin you flash.” The sailor’s head lifted at that and he grinned down at Gideon. Most of his teeth were yellowed and broken and he stuck his tongue out between the pieces. “That’s not true,” he said. “I can tell you where to find the whores.” “Then maybe I’ll take my coin to them,” Gideon said. “Maybe one of them can tell me what I need to know.” The sailor laughed as Gideon started to rise but he paused when he heard the bartender clear his throat. “You’re probably right about that,” he admitted. “The women in this city know everybody’s dirty little secrets. Which means they won’t be talking either.” He smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Makes it harder to stay in business.” Cappy burst out laughing, sloshing his red ale out onto the counter. “Makes it harder…” he said. He laughed again and shook his head before he tipped the tankard back and drained it. Most of it spilled down his shirt, staining the fabric in an all too familiar way. “Someone will talk,” Gideon snapped. He looked back at the bartender so that he didn’t have to think about Cathis and Errol. The man’s wife had wailed when he told her the news. It had been full of anguish and pain and he had said all the words he was supposed to even if they couldn’t bring her any comfort. He had died in service to the Emperor. He would draw God’s eyes to the Empire so that he may see their pain and hear their prayers and he wondered if he still believed those words anymore. The bartender snorted out a laugh and nodded his head at that. “Someone will,” he agreed. “Don’t mean they’ll tell you what you want to hear. Maybe if you tell me your question I can see about helping you out. Maybe I’ll point you in the right direction.” The words were said quickly and they were unexpected, but Gideon didn’t hesitate. He stepped back to the counter, sliding a gold piece onto the surface in front of the bartender. The man palmed it swiftly, biting down on it before he pocketed it in his apron. He glanced around at his patrons before he leaned casually on the bar, eye not meeting Gideon’s gaze. “What are you looking to hear?” Gideon lowered his voice and he felt odd saying the words out loud. “Two of the Emperor’s Chosen are dead.” The man didn’t even flinch and that was telling enough on its own. “Murdered in their beds. I want to know who paid for it.” The bartender licked his lips and he looked considerably more nervous than he had a moment ago. Gideon wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He wondered how his brother could put up with all the shadows and secrecy on a daily basis because he was already frustrated. Brayden, he was not. “I heard about that,” he admitted. “But not until after the fact. Word on the streets is that it was an inside job.” At Gideon’s low growl he held a hand up. “No one from Lowport had a hand in it, I’ll tell you that.” “That’s useless to me,” he snapped. “If you don’t know, who would?” Frustration and anger gnawed away at the inside of his chest but he wouldn’t for a second believe that his brother had a hand in this. There was no doubt in his mind, not even a flicker of it. He knew Brayden hadn’t done this, and to entertain the thought even for a moment was betraying both his brother and himself. The man shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a loud yell and a crash of glass from across the bar and he glanced that way with a narrowed eye. “You fightin’ with knives than you take it outside!” he yelled across the wooden floor. “I’ll bleed you dry you filthy cheat!” a man yelled. He had a grip on the other man’s shirt as he shoved him towards the door. Gideon watched them stumble outside and he wondered if the guard would find a body floating in the waves tomorrow. The bartender watched them go before his gaze returned to Gideon. “Can’t think of anyone at the moment,” he said. Then his brow wrinkled and he ran a hand over his mouth thoughtfully. “There was something else I heard though. Something about dead Chosen. Might be useful. Might not. Hell, might just be drunken rambling. Now, what was it I heard?” Gideon sighed and slid another coin onto the counter. The bartender leaned forward, his palm covering it before he grinned. “That’s right,” he said. “Seems somebody did pay to get a couple of dark elves into the city. Can’t really remember why.” “Your memory seems unreliable at best,” he spat. Gideon felt his temper start to slip. He pulled a third coin out and kept it in his fist as he leaned on the counter across from the man. The bartender glanced at it greedily, fingers toying with the coin already under his fingers and Gideon decided he hated this. The man should have been behind bars. Everyone in this place should have been locked up and forgotten or hung for a multitude of crimes. Maybe himself included. “Tell me what I want to know.” Next to them the sailor was watching with dull interest until he heard a yell from outside and his head turned over his shoulder to look at the door. The bartender hesitated and then nodded his head. Gideon slid the coin over to him and watched as both disappeared into the man’s apron. He glanced around and then leaned forward, acting like he was wiping off his bar again. His voice was low and quiet when he spoke and Gideon had to strain to hear. “Word is someone with coin to burn brought some elves in to pay some fellows at the Keep a visit,” he said. “I got a cousin works at the Salty Pig, and she says she heard them the other night. Says she knows who they’re after.” “Who?” Gideon asked. He kept his gaze focused on the floor so that he could see the shadows to either side. He kept his hand on his blade and that feeling of being watched was getting worse every second. He felt it intensify when the man smiled. “See, we all been waiting to hear that three of the Chosen met the Maker, just didn’t hear about the right ones. Maybe they’re related, maybe they ain’t, but the way I hear it these elves were brought in for three men. The Knight Commander and the two Crowes.” He stepped back and shrugged, not looking at Gideon as he did. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” Wenston 2.4 Lockhaven Keep – Brayden’s Cell There were two possibilities for escape that Brayden could see. And that was only given the circumstances for the here and the now. The two guards outside his cell were one option, though the least likely of the two. Neither held the key to his cell, it was on the man outside the dungeons. But the guards did have pockets, pickable pockets, with snaps, buttons, anything he could get his hand on that he could use to pick the lock. The problem was doing it without them seeing. Picking the pocket would be no problem. But picking the lock would be difficult. He could always disarm and dispose of the guards in the friendliest of manners, of course. The other option, and the one Brayden knew would be painful and difficult, but the most likely, was the small barred window at the top of his cell. It was too high for him to reach standing on the floor, but he was pretty good at climbing walls. There was the fact that the window was barred, that he had to get pass, but the architect who’d designed this room had spaced the bars horribly. Sure, no strong or fat man could get through, but Brayden was neither. He was lean, lithe, and slim. He had small hips and he kept himself that way for a reason, and this was it. His shoulders were too wide, but it was his hips that mattered, because shoulders could be dealt with. Thus the painful aspect of this escape plan. It was second nature to come up with escape routes wherever he was. But that didn’t mean he planned on escaping any time soon. What would that prove? That he was a criminal, so slippery and stealthy that he could escape the Emperor’s dungeons? He didn’t think that would rightfully help his cause in proving his innocence. Besides, he fully believed and trusted Gideon to find a way to get him out of this. And if he couldn’t, if he could gather no proof of his innocence, he trusted Gideon to convince the emperor to stave off the gallows. He had faith in his brother and Duncan more than he had faith in anything. The door to the dungeons opened with an ominous screech and Brayden cracked open his eyes. He lay on the pallet of straw, his hands folded behind his head and feet crossed in a position of leisure and comfort, which he was anything but. There were two sets of footsteps coming down the hall, both more quiet than normal, but the second set a little lighter than the first and barely audible at all. Brayden smirked when he saw Kinley come into view. He’d been visited by a few of the Chosen down here, Gideon was not the last. Jethro had come and so had Tristan, bringing Brayden a souvenir from Miren, which the guards quickly confiscated. But he truly hadn’t expected any of the new recruits to come and visit. He barely knew them and Brayden wasn’t exactly a master at first impressions. Keep people at arm’s length, that was his philosophy. Harder to stab a person in the back. He started to sit up, bracing his elbows on the floor, but paused when he saw who followed Kinley. The skinny, limber figure was cloaked and cast in darkness, but it didn’t hide what Brayden recognized it to be. Elf. Dark elf, to be exact and Brayden’s eyes immediately went to Kinley, the hackles on the back of his neck rising because this man walked with the elves and that meant nothing good. Kinley came to a stop in front of the cell, a small, smug smirk on his face and for a moment he just stared at Brayden. Then Kinley jerked his head to the side and as the guards gave up their position and headed back out into the hall, closing the door behind them, it solidified in Brayden’s mind that Kinley was not all he seemed to be. Clearing his throat, Brayden sat up, bringing his legs up and resting his arms on his knees, back pressed against the wall and head tipped back lazily. He felt dirty and unkempt in this cell, but he supposed it could be worse. “Tell me,” he called to Kinley, voice as calm and fluid as ever. “Was it you or your companion who shied the knife across Errol’s throat and introduced it to Cathis’ belly?” Kinley smirked harder and stood far enough away from the bars that even if Brayden lunged, he would not be able to reach him. Smart man. “Me,” the man said, voice low and gravelly. He kept his eyes on Brayden, but held his hand out to his elfish partner lazily. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t feel much like talking,” he said dryly as the elf pulled a vial from within his cloak and placed it in Kinley’s hand. “So, it was your plan to corner me so you could kill me,” Brayden observed, eyeing the vial but he couldn’t quite see what it was from where he sat. He had his guesses though. Kinley shrugged, walking closer to the bars and Brayden thought he was just tempting him now. But he didn’t know what the man held in his hand and the risk was too great. There was a wide space between Brayden and the bars from where he sat. “You and your brother. He’s dead by now. But that’s all I’ll give you, I said I did not want to talk,” he said simply, smirking at Brayden. “Sorry.” Brayden snorted, and though he highly doubted Gideon was dead, there was still that fear in his chest that maybe Kinley wasn’t lying. “No you’re not.” The man didn’t answer, instead throwing the vial into the cell where it smashed open onto the floor. Immediately, blue smoke started to rise and Brayden’s eyes widened because he recognized this method. It was one he’d never used himself. He preferred quick and painless to slow and excruciating. Kinley gave a small wave to him from the other side of the bars before nodding to the elf and motioning for them to leave. Pulling his tunic up to cover his nose and mouth, Brayden stood quickly, immediately grabbing hold of whatever nook or cranny he could find in the wall, hauling himself up towards the barred window at the top of his cell. It took him a moment and the room was quickly filling with awful, acrid smoke. He could hear coughing from a cell a few down from his and he cursed Kinley for the innocent bystander, though if he was in a cell, Brayden somehow doubted his innocence. The Emperor didn’t usually condemn innocent men, until now. Grabbing hold of one of the bars, Brayden felt the smoke burning at his eyes and even through the tunic over his mouth and nose, it started to burn at his throat and lungs. He coughed, wretched really, and shook his head because there wasn’t much time before it ate away at his lungs. Positioning his feet against the wall, He held onto the bars with both hands and closed his eyes, loosening his left arm before he suddenly jerked himself backwards. There was a loud pop as his shoulder dislocated. He stifled a cry by biting his lip and then he was pulling himself forward because time was crucial now. He managed to balance himself and used his good arm to push his limp one through the bars, getting his shoulder out before his head followed and then the rest of his body. It was snug all the way through and he grit his teeth and his shoulder throbbed painfully, awfully. The bars and the stone scraped at his clothes and his skin and he felt his tunic rip, pulling away from his face. He coughed and hacked but didn’t stop. For a small second, he thought he’d misjudged the width of his hips, but he turned his body painfully and awkwardly, managing to pull himself through. Once that was done, there was nothing on the other side to keep him from falling to the ground. He wasn’t high up, but the fall jarred his shoulder awfully and he let out another cry, bit back by his teeth sinking into his lip. He lay on the ground for a moment, coughing and breathing, his eyes stinging as he watched blue smoke trail and follow him out the window. “Bastard,” Brayden spit out, pushing himself up. He glanced around for a place he could pop his shoulder back into place, but there was nothing easily accessible and any moment a guard could come and find him. He needed to seek shelter first and find his brother, quickly. Maybe he could still stop whoever was going after him. He wondered who else Kinley was in cahoots with. There had been two other elves. The thought made him pause and he grit his teeth, forgoing his sudden urge to find Gideon, his mind going to the Emperor and Gisaine. He sucked in a breath, coughing afterwards and he cursed at just how much his lungs hurt from such little amounts he’d inhaled. He gave a silent apology to Gideon, though he thought his brother would understand, because he’d probably do the same, and headed towards the Emperor’s quarters. .Wolfie. 2.5 Torturer’s Chamber “So that’s how he escaped,” the inquisitor said. “Yes.” Corey nodded his head, his eyes focused on the stones beneath his feet. They were splattered with his blood in a circle around the chair and he wondered how he was still breathing with so much of it no longer in his body. His breathing was shallow and raspy, his voice harsh from speaking so much. He told the man all their secrets and he wondered if there would be forgiveness for that. He said things that they had no business knowing, things that he shouldn’t have known but did. He gave them all of it. “The man is more dangerous than we thought,” the inquisitor said. The words were quiet, spoken more to himself than to Corey Temple. He paced slowly in front of his chair, a hand over his mouth in thought. The persistant motion made him dizzy just to watch it and he closed his eyes, feeling the throbbing, pulsating pain spreading throughout his limbs. A hand on his jaw brought his head back up. The inquisitor hadn’t asked him anything else but the torturer kept him ready in case he did. There was no rest, no solace here, only more pain until his words dried up and there was nothing left to tell. “Tell me, ser Temple,” the inquisitor said abruptly. He turned to Corey and crouched in front of him. He didn’t touch him, because he never did. He left that to the man next to him, the one with the rough hands and the sharp blade. Yet Corey thought he was more afraid of this man. He was afraid of what he would ask and he was afraid of his own tongue because he knew he would answer him. Dark eyes, like black holes in his skull, bore into Corey and he studied his face carefully while he formed the question. “The Crowes. Do they still live? I know what the rumors say, but tell me truly.” The question hurt to hear. Corey bit down hard on his lip and looked away. He told himself he wouldn’t answer this question, not yet, not when the memories he called upon still had them both alive and unbroken. “I will not,” he said. His voice broke and scraped painfully from his throat when he said it and he felt the answering sting of the torturer’s blade against his flesh. The inquisitor snarled and then stood up, turning his back on him. “Tell me what happened next,” he said. Corey swallowed and looked down at the ground. “You know what happened next.” 2.6 Lockhaven Keep The day Elena and Matthias had died, Gideon had been torturing a man. He could still remember every word the man had said, every cut he left on his skin as he demanded to know his darkest sins. Seamus Chorde had been paid by a noble to slip something into the Emperor’s wine and he had been caught with the poison still in his fingers. They’d left him in the dungeon overnight to try and weaken his resolve and in that time his brother and his partner had gotten wind that the mission had failed. He’d gotten angry and desperate and he’d struck out at the man who’d taken his brother into custody. Gideon hadn’t been home. He’d been the one to find their bodies. He’d walked into his house and he’d smelled death before he’d even gotten the door all the way open. There was a particular stench to it, something cold and rotten and it had stuck in his throat and choked off the air to his lungs. He’d known before he’d seen their bodies but he’d gone into the house anyway. He’d followed the trail of blood to their child’s room and he’d seen the two of them lying stiff and cold on the floor where they’d been left to bleed to death. She’d been stabbed so many times. There were cuts on her hands from where she’d tried to fend off her attacker, more of them on her chest and a hole piercing through the back of his infant child’s chest and into his mother. Blood had covered the floor, cold and thick by then because they’d been dead for hours. They’d died alone and in pain and he hadn’t been there to stop it. There had been no outward reaction to their deaths. He had taken it in and then he’d closed it off in a dark corner of his heart while the rest of him went cold. They’d found Nathan Chorde and they’d strung him up in the gallows beside his brother. That was the end of it. He felt a similar numbness as he made his way back to the Keep. In the back of his mind he wondered if his brother and Duncan were already dead. He chose not to believe it, but it didn’t stop that frosted over part of him from bracing against the thought of it. He had to be prepared for that eventuality, because they were in a dangerous line of work and any one of them could be called to lay down their lives for their Emperor. Errol and Cathis had already done so and that sin should not go unpunished. His first reaction was to go to the dungeons and free his brother. He was a master of his trade but they’d trapped him effectively like a rat in a cage. He was not helpless, but he was a target and Gideon didn’t think he would ever be free of the urge to protect his brother. Even when he had grown into adulthood and no longer needed him he couldn’t shake it. The urge to find Duncan was a close second to that. The man had trained him and even if he were in no immediate danger, Gideon thought he needed his guidance. Both of those thoughts were born from selfishness so he did neither. There was only one reason to strike out at the Emperor’s guards, and that was to prepare for a strike against the Emperor himself. That dark certainty sat heavy on his back as he entered through the gates of the Keep. The guards shut the doors behind him and he couldn’t help but find it ominous when they barred the doors for the night afterwards. He shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have found it odd that they did not salute him because the guard was being shuffled every day now but he’d spent all of his moments watching darkened corners and waiting for attacks to come and all his instincts warned him of one now. “Ser!” The shout came as soon as he strode through the doors of the Keep and he glanced up the stairs to where Corey Temple hurried down to him. He saluted quickly before falling into step next to him because Gideon couldn’t get his pace to slow. The boy had to hurry to keep up. “Commander Callum’s been looking for you, ser.” “Good.” Gideon snapped the words out without glancing over at him. “Go back and tell him I’m on the way to the throne room and that he should meet me there as soon as he can. You know how to use a sword boy, you may want to arm yourself with one.” Corey’s face fell and he hurried to try and get in front of Gideon. “Ser, he said to tell you Palmer’s dead.” The words made him pause halfway up the stairs, his head turning to look at Corey. The boy swallowed hard, trying to hold his head up as he returned the gaze but he just looked scared and nervous. Palmer was dead. He wondered if it had been assassins or something else but mostly he just wondered who was going to tell that girl he was seeing in Champion’s Row. “How?” he asked. “Head smashed in, ser,” Corey said. He paled just saying the words and he looked down at the red carpet beneath them. It was better for soaking up blood. “He went to visit Brayden and when they wouldn’t let him in he started a fight…” He trailed off and Gideon looked away, running a hand over his mouth. He could picture that easily but it was no way to die. “The guards say the blow was an accident.” He paused and lowered his voice. “I don’t think Duncan believes it.” Gideon snorted. “As well he shouldn’t,” he said. It was enough to get his feet to start moving again because if he didn’t then there could be a lot more bodies. “Return to Duncan. Tell him he’s a target, if he doesn’t already know, and that the Emperor’s in danger.” “Yes ser,” Corey told him. He took off up the opposite stairway and Gideon wondered if he would be the next to die. He wondered if he had family who would miss him when he was gone and if even Duncan would know who to contact. There were too many dead men around him already. That cold feeling was settling deeper into his chest with every step. She was quiet when she struck. He would say that for her. The blade buried itself in the wooden door where his head had been a moment before. He was already turning and pulling his blade from its sheath with a hiss of metal. The second blade glanced off the steel and skittered off onto the floor by his feet. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair before the third blade was slashing out towards his face. He took a stumbling step backwards as he brought his sword around to block it. She was quick, quicker than him and possibly quicker than even Brayden. It was hard to judge because he had no time to think, only to move. He threw his back against the wall as he deflected another blow, steel screaming against steel. Fiery pain burst in a line across his skin as her second blade slid past his ribs. It thudded into the wall and he threw himself forward afterwards, his shoulder striking her hard in the chest. There was a soft gasp for air as her back slammed against the stones. He got a better lock at her after that and he recognized her from the Salty Pig. She wore the same pale gray leather and a black hood. Pale blonde hair fell around a face with cool eyes and a controlled expression. She lashed out at him with the blade in her right hand and he barely managed to deflect the blow in time. It traced another red line across his forearm. He managed to catch her hand with the next one, twisting her wrist and slamming it against the wall. It loosened her grip on the slim blade in her hand but didn’t stop the second one from seeking his ribs again. He turned with the blow, throwing her towards the opposite wall and slashing out with his own blade as he did. She let out a quiet hiss as it ripped through the pale leather and splattered blood onto the stones below. She didn’t flinch, coming after him again. The point of her blade just missed his eye and left another cut across his cheekbone. He gave her one in return across her shoulder but neither of them managed to land any substantial hits. They traded blows in the small, cramped hallway and he gritted his teeth against the pain of each fresh cut. She was going to bleed him to death before he managed to kill her and if there was poison on those blades of hers than he would die a slow, horrible death even if he did manage to win. The thought strengthened his resolve because death wasn’t something he could afford. He had his duty and he would not fail. He managed to catch her around the arm the next time she struck at him, twisting and shoving her hard against the wall. He had to drop his sword to do it but he grabbed her roughly around the back of the neck, forcing her head into the stones. He used her body to pin her there, yanking her arm around her back and gripping tightly to force the blade from her hands. It clattered loudly to the ground. “Who sent you?” he demanded. He didn’t really expect an answer but he asked the question anyway. He was aware of the harshness of his breath and the stinging lines she’d left all over his skin. Later he would assess his wounds. “Ai’jh pai thos,” she spat at him. “Kai sai caer.” “I don’t speak Elvish,” he said. He slammed her against the wall again. “Now tell me who sent you.” The door behind him opened and his eyes flicked to the side in time to see Duncan hurrying through the archway with Corey on his heels. His eyes widened when he saw Gideon but his focus was on the elf. His boots were loud on the floor as he hurried over to his position. “Your fellows are dead,” he said to her. “If you tell us who sent you then you don’t have to join them.” She snarled out a curse and then she was twisting in Gideon’s grasp. She kicked against the wall, forcing him back against the opposite stones. Her hands moved quickly, a blade appearing in her hands a second before it slammed deep into his thigh. He hissed in pain and he felt her slipping from his grasp. Duncan hurried forward, his sword out its sheath before he even reached them but she didn’t try to fight him. She ducked and rolled underneath his sword, pushing herself towards the open door and out it. Temple watched her go with wide eyes, his back pressed against the wall and anxiety in his gaze when he turned to look at Duncan and Gideon. “And you say I’m a target?” He said the words with dark humor and Gideon took his hand gratefully. “I believe we all are,” he said. Wenston 2.7 Lockhaven Keep Brayden stopped short of the emperor’s quarters when he heard fighting. The distinct sound of metal clashing against metal as swords were drawn and brought down against each other. He heard grunts and curses and when he peeked his head around the corner, it was as if the Keep had broken out in a full on war. The only problem was, he couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad. It was mainly guards fighting guards. And that scared him more than he liked to admit, because that meant someone had infiltrated the guards enough to get them to split down the middle. He only wished he knew what the motive and desired outcome was. He’d have to find out once the Emperor was safe. Turning around, he knew of a back way into the Emperor’s quarters. He was certain most of the Chosen knew about it, the ones who had been in service for long years. It was a secret to most of the Keep’s staff. Gisaine had been the one to show Brayden and he was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to know. He’d told Gideon, who’d told him to keep his mouth shut about it because he wasn’t supposed to know. Brayden had been flippant about it and had asked his brother what other secrets he was keeping. Pausing in his steps, he heard the sound of people approaching and he grit his teeth, crouching low on the ground. He hadn’t taken the time to stop and pop his shoulder back into place. The arm was useless to him and it was starting to throb, his hand numb now. If he didn’t get it back in soon, it may not get back in through all of the swelling. He knew it, but he’d been desperate to get to the Emperor. Only the road ahead of him was blocked and he had to find his secret route. A mixture of strangled relief and annoyance crossed his features when three figures rounded the corner, Duncan at the front, who halted abruptly when he caught sight of Brayden crouched, in his dirty street clothes and face pale and sweaty from the smoke he’d inhaled. He’d stopped coughing for now, but only because he was trying to be quiet. His lungs still burned and throat still was raw. Behind Duncan, Gideon limped and bled, but his eyes were alert and wild as he caught sight of Brayden. And Behind him, Brayden snorted because the last person he thought would be with his brother and commander was Sniveling Corey Temple. “Oh good,” Brayden said, voice hoarse and he coughed afterwards, but kept the brazen grin across his features. “You’re still alive.” The emotions that passed across Gideon’s face maybe Brayden grin wider. It was relief, worry and fear. He didn’t so much like the last two, because he told Gideon countless times not to worry about him, but this time he’d given his brother reason to. Unintentionally, but Gideon never distinguished between what was intentional or not. “Brayden,” he said, limping forward a few steps before he caught himself and stood still, putting his emotions aside in the same fashion he’d been doing for years. Since Elena. “How do you fare?” he demanded with a forced coldness to his voice. Pushing himself to stand, the action harder to perform than he cared to admit, Brayden grinned at his brother and shrugged with his only working shoulder. “Poisoned, bruised, my pride smarting a little – all in all fairly well, considering.” “Poisoned?” Duncan asked, glancing behind Brayden. Nodding over his shoulder, Brayden answered Duncan’s unanswered question first. “The guards wage civil war behind us. We will have to find an alternate route to the Emperor.” He turned back to smirk at Gideon. “Don’t worry, I have a tolerance to wormswort.” He paused and tipped his head to the side. “And if it’s not wormswort, I promise to last at least until we get the Emperor to safety before I die.” “How did you get out of your prison cell?” Corey Temple asked, sounding bewildered. “I bet a rat I could chew through the bars faster than he,” Brayden said quickly, without hesitation. Corey Temple frowned and opening his mouth to probably protest that notion. “It means he doesn’t trust you enough to tell you his escape route in case he must use it again on you,” Gideon sighed and said the words like he wished he didn’t have to, but Brayden understood. “We don’t have time for idle chatter. We must get to the Emperor.” “You are right, let us proceed,” Duncan said, turning to start heading back the way they’d just come. There was an entrance to the secret passageways in the map room. That would be the quickest access point. Brayden cleared his throat, coughing a little and Gideon paused in his attempt to follow their commander. Brayden smirked. “But we may have to fight, so, a moment, if you will,” he said, taking a few steps to the side and leaning his shoulder against the wall. He looked down at the sword in his hand and then up at Corey Temple, nodding his chin, motioning him to come closer. “Hold this,” he told the kid, holding his sword out. Corey Temple took the sword and lifted a brow at Brayden. “You don’t trust me to tell me how you escaped, but you trust me to hold your sword?” Brayden paused in positioning himself against the wall to study Corey Temple a moment. Then he grinned and pointed a finger at him. “You have potential,” he said. Then his hand came down and grabbed his own forearm, elbow braced against the wall. Gideon seemed to realize then what he was doing and only managed to get out a quiet, “Brayden…” before Brayden was jerking his body against the wall. There was the distinct pop as his shoulder snapped into place and Brayden bit down hard on his lip, stifling out the pained cry that threatened to betray him. Before the room even stopped spinning and before anyone could do anything else, he flexed his hand to get feeling back into it and grabbed the sword away from Corey Temple, who was looking a little paler and in awe of what Brayden had just put himself through. “There,” Brayden said, coughing a little and he didn’t like exactly how wet and painful it sounded and felt. His eyes went to the wound on Gideon’s thigh that kept him limping and he pushed away the thought that they weren’t going to be very good guards for the Emperor. At best, they could stay back and keep people from following too closely. Lay down their lives if need be. Brayden knew he only had a few hours at most before the poison in his lungs would render him basically useless. He wouldn’t die, he hadn’t been lying when he said he had a tolerance for wormswort, but it didn’t mean that he would walk away perfectly healthy. It was going to be hell tonight and he knew it. “Let’s go find the Emperor,” he told his brother, who was watching him worriedly. Gideon nodded, not calling him on it and he was grateful. They all turned and hurried towards the map room. Brayden wondered, as they entered, if he should see the Emperor to safety and then find Gisaine. He hoped she was well. Somehow, he figured she could take care of herself. .Wolfie. “Oh, I meant to tell you,” Brayden said. “Kinley’s the one that tried to kill me.”Gideon was standing by a map of the Empire. He was holding it aside while Duncan felt along the walls and there was the sound of scraping stone as he found the release. He pressed it into the wall and there was a quiet click as the passageway opened. At his brother’s words his head turned and even Duncan stilled, glancing back at Brayden with something dark on his features. They probably stung him as much as they stung Gideon. The Chosen were like family and it was a sore blow that someone they’d offered to let join them had turned traitor, especially on his brother. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly. Brayden snorted and lifted an eyebrow at Gideon. “Well, I’m sure it could be some other man wearing his face who admitted to killing Errol and Cathis before throwing poison into my cell but I wouldn’t bet coin on it.” The smile lingered on his face but it was strained and pained, likely from the poison in his lungs and his assuredly sore shoulder. Gideon would have offered his to lean on if he’d thought his brother would accept. They were both in sore shape. Duncan ran a hand over his face and then turned his back on them, pushing his way into the passageway. “Errol and Cathis were his doing,” he said, more to himself than either of them. “It’s been a while since I misjudged a man so sorely.” Gideon made sure Corey went first and then he rested his hand on his brother’s elbow as he urged him into the darkened hall. “He had us all fooled,” Gideon told his Commander. He didn’t think he needed the words but he said them anyway because perhaps it would stave off the guilt settling in his own chest. He would have picked him too. He’d judged him a soldier, not a murderer. Dust coated the floor and the walls of the passageway and it was dark as they made their way along it. Gideon kept one hand on the wall and it was more for guidance than the bloody wound left in his thigh. It throbbed painfully and he felt foolish for letting her land such a hit. He didn’t like being taken off guard and he didn’t like that she had escaped. Assassins didn’t usually abandon their missions until the target was dead or they were. They didn’t stay in business long otherwise. They did their best to stay quiet as they followed the passageway, but Gideon could hear his brother’s ragged breathing ahead of him. He tried to stifle it and he was usually good at that, but it was some measure of just how badly he’d been hurt that Gideon could still hear him. It sounded harsh and painful and the more his concern grew, the more he locked it away where it couldn’t hinder him. “Stay silent,” Duncan ordered. He said the words over his shoulder and Gideon was sure they were more for Corey Temple than for he or Brayden. He pressed himself against the wall as the man pressed his eye to the wooden panel to look out. It must have been clear because in the next moment he was pushing it aside. It let out into a servant’s closet just down the hall from the Emperor’s room and they heard a squeak when they stepped into it. A woman was curled in the corner, shivering as she pressed her apron to her mouth. “Ser Callum,” she hissed when Duncan appeared, her eyes going wide and filling with tears. A desperate sob left her lips as she reached for Duncan’s arm. “Oh thank the Lords you’re here, it’s been madness.” “Shh,” he whispered softly. His finger pressed against his lips and she bit down on hers hard to try and keep any more words from escaping. Duncan gave her a quick smile and then pushed himself to his feet, moving over by the door to the hallway. He drew his blade slowly from its sheath, his gaze narrowed and focused as he pulled the door open a fraction. Outside of it they could hear the clang of steel, followed by a desperate cry that was swiftly cut off. Gideon braced himself to find more of his fellows dead and his hand tightened around his own blade in response. If they were gone he could do nothing for them but send them company. Gideon glanced at his brother as he waited for Duncan’s signal. His lips were pressed tightly together in determination but he always knew when someone was watching him. They quirked up in a smile as he flicked a glance over at Gideon. “Needlessly,” he said softly. Gideon snorted and bit back a laugh at that, turning his head back to the door. They heard the pounding of feet in the hallway outside followed by angry shouting. Duncan waited until the last set was just past their position and then he shoved the door open with his shoulder. Gideon caught only a glimpse of fearful eyes glancing back before Duncan’s blade was cutting through the rear guard. He rushed into the hall after his Commander, Brayden and Temple hot on his heels. His gaze swept the bloodied passage quickly, trying to take stock of their situation. There were dead guards all over the ground. Some of them he recognized, most he didn’t. Their blood was on the walls, their blades lying not far from their limp fingers. The worst of it was that he had a growing certainty that they were the enemy. He couldn’t tell anymore, but he remembered Roth’s words about the guard changing and a part of him thought he should have seen this sooner. Shouting came from up the hall and he moved as quickly as his injury would allow. The man Duncan had cut down was wearing a guard’s uniform and so was the one that Gideon thrust his blade into, the man’s back still facing him. It was an honorable duty for dishonorable men. He did not forget those words as he slammed the side of his blade into another man’s helm. Next to him his brother moved past like a shadow, his blades slicing across throats as they tried to cut a swath through the battalion. He didn’t question Duncan’s certainty that they were the enemy, because he could hear fighting from outside the Emperor’s door. There was a mighty roar followed by the sound of something smashing against the wall and when he cautioned a glance he saw Jethro tossing a guardsman’s body into the fray. Nicos stood next to him, long sword in his hands and blood on his face. The guard hadn’t expected an attack to come from behind and it was almost sad how easily they cut through them. Gideon smashed one man’s head against the wall before driving his blade through the slits in his armor. Blood trickled from between his lips as he died and he dropped him to the floor, moving past him to the next man. Out of the corner of his eye he watched his brother but even injured he was quick, ducking beneath a blow that should have taken off his head and ramming both blades into the man’s sides. There was a startled cry behind him and when he turned Corey Temple had his back pressed against the wall, trying to turn a guardsman’s blade aside with his own. His face was pale and eyes frightened as he swung his blade. Another cry left his lips as he ducked to the side, tripping on the bodies on the ground as he retreated. He landed hard, blade skittering away from him. The guard advanced on him, lifting his sword to bring it down in a killing blow. Gideon thought it was more desperation than planning but Corey reached out and grasped the edge of a fallen shield, swinging it with all his might towards the man above him. The blow caught him across the jaw, snapping his head to the side and it glanced off the wall with surprising force. Gideon stepped in then, grasping the man’s sword arm as he thrust his sword into his chest. He gasped in pain as the blade was twisted to try and end his suffering swiftly, and then Gideon was pushing him away. He didn’t allow himself to think on the knowledge that this man should have been fighting at his side. The guard had been compromised by someone and he wondered what the ultimate goal was. He wondered if they just wanted chaos or if they hoped to seize the throne. But politics were not his concern. “Commander!” Nicos shouted. There was relief in his voice as he spotted Duncan. Their Commander was dispatching one final man with a twist of his blade, driving it up into his heart. Blue eyes went wide with shock and pain and then the guard was slipping to the bloody stones next to his fellows. There was no expression on his face as he stepped away, turning towards his man. “Valoran, Kines,” Duncan said shortly. “It’s good to see you both alive.” Something like a smile flitted across Nicos’s face but then he dropped his head to stare at the floor and it reminded Gideon that Palmer was dead. “Is the Emperor within?” “Yes ser,” Jethro told him. “Miran and Tristan are with him, haven’t seen any sign of Alain. Or Stephen,” he added. Duncan accepted that with a nod of his head and then stepped past him, rapping on the door with a firm hand. “Miren,” he called. No one answered immediately and Duncan smirked, hand still curled around his blade. Down the passage they could hear the sound of fighting echoing off the stones and Gideon wondered if he could take another round. All the wounds that elf had left him with had reopened and there was blood making his hands slick. “Miren, it’s Duncan. You can open the door.” The silence stretched on and then Gideon heard Tristan shout from the other side. “Bullshit,” he called. Brayden snorted and shook his head, leaning heavily against the wall next to him. He stared up at the ceiling and looked more focused on breathing and staying conscious. Gideon didn’t like it. “If it was Duncan than he’d ask for me, ‘cause everyone knows I’m his favorite.” Brayden laughed at that, the sound shallow and raspy. “The hells you are,” he shouted back. His voice was rough but unmistakably Brayden. “I’m the favorite. Just because you’re jealous is no reason to lock us out here in the cold.” No one responded for a moment and then they heard the thud of the bar being lifted and the door was pulled open. Tristan stood there with a blade in his hand as he studied them and then he finally stepped aside to let them in. “I’m not jealous,” Tristan said. Brayden laughed and then it turned into a cough that he fought to hold in, a tight fist pressed to his mouth. Gideon rested a hand on his arm and he wasn’t surprised when his brother managed to smile and roll his eyes at him, following Duncan into the room. Miren stood back by the Emperor’s desk, his arms crossed over his chest as he stood behind the man himself. Emperor Thaddeus Rivain Valencourt IV sat slumped in a wooden chair, dressed more simply than Gideon had ever seen the man. His crown rested on an open journal next to him and his head looked bare without it. Age had been kind to him, wings of gray just starting in his blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard on his jaw. Duncan headed straight for his side, motioning behind him as he did. “Bar the door.” He snapped the order and then lowered his voice to speak to the Emperor. “Your Grace, we need to get you out of here.” The man shook his head dully, still staring at his crown. “To what end?” he asked. His voice was gruff and broken and he finally lifted his head to look at the Commander. “This is as my brother wishes it. Am I to deny him that, I, who have denied him nothing?” “The Viceroy?” Nicos asked. He glanced over his shoulder at the words, dropping the bar into place across the door. Tristan was on the other side helping him but even he looked shocked and surprise. Gideon let himself feel nothing. Not the throbbing wound in his thigh or the sting of betrayal that his Emperor must have been feeling. Betrayed by a brother. He could not fathom it. “Yes,” Duncan told him, his voice colder and harder than Gideon had ever heard it. “You are to deny him this. Now let us go.” The Emperor stared at his face and then he nodded slowly again. “And my daughter?” he asked. Duncan tensed and he kept his head turned towards the Emperor but Gideon caught the flicker of his eyes as he looked towards Brayden. Gideon thought the words harsh even as he spoke them. “We can do nothing for her. Our duty is to the Emperor.” Wenston 2.8 Lockhaven Keep – The Hidden Byways Jethro had Brayden’s arm slung across his shoulders. It made for an awkward travel arrangement, given Jethro was at least twice Brayden’s size, maybe three times. Not in height, but in girth. And it was all muscle. Brayden wouldn’t have allowed this, because he didn’t need help walking, except he’d proven himself wrong when just moments after they’d slipped into the hidden passageways, his knees had given out and he’d slumped painfully against the wall. Jethro hadn’t hesitated. He hadn’t stopped to ask permission and no one had ordered him to do it, but he’d grabbed Brayden’s arm and slung it across his shoulders and now they were walking together as they brought up the rear of the group. It was a testament to the bond of brotherhood the Chosen had with each other that they didn’t leave one of their own behind. People could argue that they just wouldn’t leave Brayden behind, because he was Gideon’s brother and arguably Duncan’s favorite, but Brayden knew otherwise. If it was any of them that was falling behind, they’d help carry them as far as they could. Even if it was Corey Temple or, hells, Stephen – they were Chosen now. And being Chosen meant more than any bond they’d ever feel in their entire lives. The passageways were dark and silent, save for their footfalls and Brayden’s labored breathing. Even the Emperor was moving quietly, though Brayden had rarely seen the man is such a morose mood. He wondered if he was thinking about his daughter. Brayden sure was. He’d been certain Gisaine could take care of herself. She was confident and skilled and amazing, but if she had to go up against the entire Guard and the Viceroy? He posed the idea that the only thing to save her now would be that the Viceroy considered her among some of his closest family. He had no children and he’d doted on Gisaine as if she were his own. Brayden prayed that would be enough to save her life. Ahead of them, Duncan was leading them through the passageways with the Emperor behind him and Gideon sticking close to the Emperor’s side. The two of them would be the first to lay down their lives for the man and Brayden hoped today wouldn’t be that day. Tristan and Miren followed them and for once Tristan was keeping his mouth shut. Behind them was Nicos and Corey Temple, who was still wide eyed and out of place. They slowed when they reached the doorway that lead to the main hall. Duncan turned and motioned for them all to stay still and quiet. Brayden tried to stifle his labored breathing, but it came out rasping and grating on his lungs. He felt lightheaded and if he could see himself, he figured his lips were probably twinged with blue. He was pale even in the faint torchlight. Duncan looked through the peephole into the main hall and then he was waving at them to follow him as he slid the panel aside and slipped out into the hall. They all followed and were headed towards the doorway to the courtyard, where Lockhaven and freedom lied beyond, when they heard the sound of rushing feet coming swiftly to the hall. Gideon and Duncan made eye contact and Brayden didn’t miss the look that passed between them. It was an understanding. An understanding that above all else, the Emperor came first. “We will buy you time, Commander,” Gideon said and the words hung ominously for a moment before Duncan nodded. He reached forward and clasped arms with Gideon. “Goddess watch you,” Duncan said quietly before he turned and ushered the Emperor towards the exit with a quiet, “Let us go, your Grace.” Gideon turned around and made eye contact with Brayden for a moment. Brayden grinned for him, but it was strained and painful as he was unable to even stand on his own two feet. “Try not to die,” Brayden told him. Gideon just smirked and pulled his sword, heading towards the sound of running. Jethro tugged Brayden towards the wall and Brayden reached out to grab it, using it as support to stay on his feet. He turned and nodded to Jethro. Then Brayden’s eyes went to Corey Temple, who stood and looked confused. Brayden smiled at him and said quietly, “Stay close. Fight hard. We may live.” It didn’t look as though the words comforted the kid even a little. “Anyone want to make a quick motivational speech before we all get gutted and strung up?” Tristan asked, his sword held out in front of him. He had a smile on his face and it was genuine. Miren came to stand next to Tristan, a wild look on his face and Brayden could almost picture the man foaming at the mouth like the mad dog he’d come to be nicknamed after. “Your mother is offering her services at a discounted rate this evening,” he said, a wicked, wild grin on his face. Tristan let out a laugh. “Not exactly the motivation I was going for…” Jethro and Nicos stepped up on either side of their comrades and Jethro added, “Motivation enough for me. And afterwards, drinks at the Pig.” “Brayden’s buying,” Nicos added. Brayden smiled to himself, tipping his head back against the wall and it was harder and harder to hold it up. But he managed to rasp out a throaty, “I do not believe I have the coin for that much ale.” “Fine,” Tristan pouted and all of them tensed as there was a pounding on the doors to the room. “Gideon’s buying.” Gideon, for his part, stood still for a moment before he stepped up and stood in the middle of them all, his sword held out and eyes never leaving the door. He didn’t smirk and he didn’t smile, his face the utmost epitome of concentration. But his words belied his attitude. “That’s fair,” he said, voice sure of himself. “Rounds on me.” None of them got a chance to reply as the doors were kicked in a moment later. Brayden recognized the uniforms immediately. The Viceroy’s Elite, although there were far more of them than there should have been. Brayden wondered how long the Viceroy had been planning the usurp. How long had he been doing it right beneath their noses? They should have seen it sooner. They may have been able to prevent the countless deaths that happened just today. Errol, Cathis, Palmer. The guards who fought amongst themselves, for either side. How many more were going to die? Would the Chosen be wiped out? He didn’t let his mind wander as the sound of swords clashing against each other started filling the air. He tried to watch out for his comrades, but his head kept lolling. The poison had taken hold of him sooner than he’d expected. He was propped up against the wall, his legs locked and the angle was the only thing keeping him up now. He saw watched them fight and felt his own sword in his hand, but hanging uselessly limp at his side. Gideon fought like a mad man, because he knew the longer they fought, the further away Duncan could get the Emperor before the Elite had a chance to follow. Tristan and Miren fought back to back while Jethro took on four Elite at once. Nicos stuck close to Corey, who was surprising holding his own, though his motions were wild and frantic. It didn’t take long for one of the Elite to break away from the line of Chosen blocking them and he started to come at Brayden. Managing to bring up his sword, he parried the first blow that would have bit deep into his neck, deflecting it to the stone wall he was leaned up against. The blow knocked him off balance and he tilted to the side, crashing to a sitting position and the sword falling limply from his hand. He growled at his own weakness and looked up at the Elite, who had his sword raised up and ready to bring down against Brayden. The arrow came out of nowhere, piercing through the Elite’s neck and instead of the sword falling to Brayden, the man tipped to the side and fell, dead before he hit the ground. Brayden stared at him a moment, his vision wavering in and out. He looked towards where the arrow had come from and instead found a blur running towards him. He tried to fend it off, but then a hand was tightening around his arm and pulling him upright. A familiar cocky voice said, “Hello, thief.” “Stephen,” Brayden said, grinning at the man as he came into focus. “Didn’t know you could shoot.” “Not every war is won on the battlefield,” Stephen said, throwing his own words back at him, but it made Brayden laugh. “Some are fought from the safety of the sidelines.” The man grinned afterwards and Brayden snorted because he was the last person he’d expected to come to their rescue. .Wolfie. It was strange to Gideon how much like a dream this felt. His blade fell and cleaved a man’s head from his body and in the back of his mind he kept thinking that the dead man at his feet could have easily been him. They were the Viceroy’s Elite, men sworn to the Emperor’s brother just as the Chosen were sworn to the Emperor. They followed the orders they were given without question and Gideon wondered if he wouldn’t have done the same in their position. It didn’t slow his blade any but he felt no satisfaction when the men died before him, comfort only in the knowledge that the longer he fought the more time he bought the Emperor.They were quick and well trained and he barely deflected a blow sent towards his midsection. His hand wrapped around the man’s wrist and he brought the pommel of his blade back into his helm. There was a loud clang as the metal bent beneath the blow and then he used his boot to push him backwards. His blade swung down and cut deep into his neck, more blood staining his steel. It was splattered across his face and slick upon his hands and he’d lost track of how much of it was his. They were outnumbered and outmatched. He knew it and he was sure the other Chosen knew it as well. Next to him there was a roar as Jethro rammed his blade through a man’s chest and then used his body as a battering ram against the one standing next to him. He could hear the clash of steel as Miren and Tristan fought together and he felt the spray of blood as Nicos fought beside him. A glance over his shoulder showed his brother still pressed against the wall, but even as his eyes flicked back to his position he could see Stephen standing over him, serving as protector and guard. An arrow flew past him, a feathered plume appearing in an Elite’s eye. A man came at Gideon in the next moment, both blade and shield held in front of him. He knew he was at a disadvantage, because he didn’t wear any of the armor that his fellows did and he was already covered in cuts and weakness. His leg held for now, but only because he demanded that it did. He could feel the skin and muscle ripping with every motion he made but he pushed it aside and ignored such weakness. If he lived, it would heal, if he did not than it didn’t matter how deep the cut. He turned the man’s thrusting blade aside with his own but then the shield was slamming hard into his shoulder. Gideon braced himself against the assault but it sent jarring pain running up his arm and his feet slid on the bloody stones beneath him. He ground his teeth together in his head, gripping the edge of the shield and swinging his blade towards the man’s side. The Elite yanked his shield back to deflect the blow and then he swung it out like a weapon, bashing it into Gideon again. It rattled up his arm and into his chest and he felt himself lose his footing, stumbling back away from the Elite. His bones rattled from the blow but he lifted his blade anyway, prepared for the next attack. It never came. The man hefted his shield and then a blade suddenly appeared through his neck. His eyes went wide and blood bubbled up between his lips but he was dead before he hit the ground, his shield clanging loudly on the stone floor. Nicos stood behind him, yanking his blade out and giving Gideon a cocky smirk. His victory was short lived. The attack came from behind. Gideon was already moving forward when he saw the man, but the blade was already thrusting forward into Nicos’ side. It slid through the gaps in his armor and he jerked in pain, his mouth opening in a sharp gasp. Gideon grabbed the man by the back of the neck, yanking him backwards and slamming his own blade down as hard as he could through his throat. The man let out a pained noise, falling to the ground and Gideon’s blade going with him. There was resistance as his sword scraped against bone and he twisted the metal in his hands, cutting away the man’s life. Next to him Nicos gasped and stumbled, falling to one knee and using his sword to try and keep himself upright. “Jethro!” Gideon called. The man roared as he threw a man into his fellows, knocking them back with the body, but at Gideon’s call he turned his head towards his Captain. Gideon had already moved, taking up a stance above Nicos, holding his blade and guarding the man like he would his own brother. In a manner of speaking, he was. They shared a bond of blood because they had all shed it for each other a hundred times before. “Get Nicos out of here,” he ordered sharply. There was a clang of steel as another man came after him and behind him he could hear Nicos taking in shallow pants of air. Jethro obeyed the command, hurrying across the hall towards Gideon. He crouched next to the man and Nicos gave him a wry smile as he slung an arm around his waist. “Don’t retreat on my account,” he said. He gritted the words out through clenched teeth, sweat breaking out on his forehead. One of his hands was pressed against his side and there was too much blood on his fingers. “I will hold,” Gideon said. He took a step back as the two retreated, trying to fill in the holes in the line. Another arrow whipped past, taking out a man ahead of them and dropping him to the ground. Down the hallway Gideon could hear the pounding of feet. Jethro looked warily at the Elite and then back at Gideon. The look in his eyes claimed this would be the last time they met. “May the spirits guide your blade,” he said, before hefting up Nicos next to him. “And also yours,” Gideon said. He shifted his stance to put himself between Jethro and Nicos and he thought about telling him to take his brother too. He glanced over his shoulder again and the man had his back pressed against the wall, his lips turning blue and his eyes half closed. Even injured as he was he smiled when he saw Gideon watching and saluted him with his bloody knives. The door banged open before the two men got to it. He caught a glimpse of red hair and a bow strung tight before Alain was letting out a shout and jerking his bow to the side. The arrow flew through the air too close to Jethro’s head and buried itself in one of the Elite instead. “By the Gods, you can’t just sneak up on a man like that!” Alain shouted. He spat a curse and wiped a hand across his face and Gideon didn’t miss that there was blood on his skin and a shoddily patched wound on his neck. “Since when does Jethro sneak anywhere?” Tristan shouted over his shoulder. Even as he said the words he was burying his blade up to the hilt in a man’s side and then kicking him back into the next attacker hurtling towards him. There was the loud pounding of feet as the regular guard thundered down the hall towards them and Gideon felt a sinking feeling in his chest. They couldn’t hold out forever, not against these odds. The guards were broken and most of them looked tired and worn but he saw Captain Drake in their lead. The Elite were retreating to join their ranks. “Go,” he snarled over his shoulder. Jethro nodded his head and Alain moved without question, taking the other side of Nicos. Gideon jerked his head at Tristan and Miren and the three of them retreated towards the door, forming a small broken line barring the outside world. He heard the scraping of feet and out of the corner of his eye he saw Corey Temple with an arm around his brother as he helped him stand. Brayden looked less than pleased but he didn’t argue and it was some indicator of just how badly hurt his brother was that he allowed it. “Surrender,” Captain Drake ordered sharply. “Swear your allegiance to the true Emperor and you will be spared.” Gideon held his blade and his head up at those words. “My allegiance is already to the true Emperor,” he said. His voice was calm and cold but there was anger in his chest. “You side with a traitor and when you die it will be a traitor’s death.” Captain Drake’s lip curled in a snarl and then he pointed his blade at Gideon. “Then you die now,” he said. Gideon didn’t wait for him to order his men to attack. He lunged forward, blade swinging down and cleaving the first man he could reach. His blade bit deep into his neck and he yanked it out brutally afterwards. His muscles were burning from swinging his sword so long but he would rest when he was dead. Over his head he could hear Captain Drake shouting the order to attack and the guard threw themselves forward, joining with the Viceroy’s Elite to try and kill the Chosen. Gideon wondered again if this was a dream. They couldn’t hold out long and he knew it. There were too many of them and his men were already tired and hurt. Even as he thought it he saw Tristan take a blade along the side, a hiss of pain leaving his throat before Miren through himself on the man that did it. He used his sword like a club, bashing in the man’s helm before whirling and throwing himself at the next attacker. Corey Temple kept one arm around Brayden and the other held his sword out, trying to block blows and keep them both alive. Brayden had one of his blades out but his arm was trembling as he tried to hold it up. If they stayed here they were dead. Gideon swung his sword and landed a heavy blow into a man’s chest. He yanked it back before turning his head to the side and the word that left his lips was one that would have stung his pride if he allowed himself to feel such things. “Retreat,” he ordered. He had to shout the word to be heard above the clanging of steel and the sound of men dying but once it was spoken it echoed around him. He prayed Duncan had gotten the Emperor safely away. There was nothing more they could do without laying down their lives here and now and that was an unacceptable end to the Chosen. They wouldn’t die at traitor’s hands, not here. Corey and Brayden backed out of the hall first, moonlight falling upon their faces as soon as they were out into the courtyard. Stephen followed closely, still loosing arrows into the guard as he retreated. His Church’s Blades training had come in handy, Gideon would give him that. Tristan and Miren stayed on either side of Gideon as they backed away, both of them fighting with everything they had left. Gideon ducked quickly to grab a fallen sword from the ground as they retreated through the doorway. Tristan and Miren grabbed each of the wooden doors and Gideon tried to keep the men off them as they yanked it closed. Once it was shut he jammed the fallen blade into the rungs. It would buy them a few minutes at least. “You three, take off through Lowport. Tristan, you know the district, you know where to go to disappear.” He turned quickly, sheathing his blade and hurrying to Brayden’s side. He hated the fear churning in his gut because his brother was in poor shape, his skin pale and his hands trembling. He managed a cocky smile up at Gideon before he turned to Miren. “Perhaps you’ll find time to visit Tristan’s mother while you’re there,” he said, his voice a rasping hiss. Wenston 2.9 The Hunter’s Pass Brayden couldn’t keep his head up. It kept flopping to the side to rest on Gideon’s shoulder and the world would darken unexpectedly into a place where all he could hear was his own ragged breathing. He was trying to stay sharp minded for his brother, because things had gotten very bad very quickly, but he wasn’t doing a very good of that. He kept slipping away and when the world came back into focus, he would only catch glimpses of it moving by him. He didn’t know where he was anymore. But if Gideon was here, he trusted his brother to take care of this until the poison’s effects were out of his system. He thought Gisaine was probably dead. As soon as he thought it, he pushed it away, because that was a dark path he didn’t want to go down right now. Not until they were some place safe. Some place where he could feel his heart break without the danger of the Viceroy’s Elite chasing them. He thought about the others. He thought about Gideon telling them to retreat and he knew for a fact that had been hard for his brother. But it took a real leader to know when dying in battle was a worthy death or a foolish one. The world tipped and tilted around him and the next thing he knew, he was being propped up against a tree, Corey Temple kneeling at his side with wide, scared eyes and he wondered what they’d done to get stuck with the kid. He would have preferred Stephen over the kid, but maybe he was looking at it from the wrong side. The kid would probably survive being with them, more so than he would if he’d gone off on his own. Gideon’s rough hand gripped the side of his face and tipped his heavy head backwards. Brayden’s eyes met his and it took a lot of effort to concentrate on his brother. “Stay with us,” Gideon demanded. A cocky grin spread across Brayden’s blue lips and he let his eyes slip close for a moment. It must have taken a longer time to open them than he thought, because he brother tapped the side of his face. “Come morning, I will be right as the summer rain,” he rasped out, coughing viciously afterwards. He bent forward and Gideon crouched in front of him, offering his shoulder to lean on as his lungs revolted against the poison in his veins. When the coughing fit passed, Gideon leaned him back against the tree and Brayden grinned up at him. “I must be losing my touch.” Gideon smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Must be,” he agreed, then looked towards Corey, who was watching the exchange in silence. “Stay with him,” he told Corey, a no-joke tone to his voice. “A wagon is stopped up ahead. I am going to try and commandeer it.” “You mean steal,” Brayden hissed, grinning ear to ear, despite himself. Gideon let out a sigh. “It is a necessary evil,” Gideon told him. Brayden chuckled tiredly, his head tipping to the side and he didn’t want to admit how grateful he was that Corey scooted closer, allowing Brayden’s forehead to rest against his shoulder. He felt Gideon’s hand on the back of his neck and his brother said, “Stay here and stay quiet.” Then he squeezed Brayden’s neck and rose, walking ahead of them down the path. Brayden watched him go. They’d stripped of any clothing that marked them as Chosen. It was odd to see his brother out of uniform and in plain clothes. Brayden had never really taken to wearing the uniform. His special talents didn’t really leave room for it. But Gideon had been a solider through and through and he knew this was hurting his brother more than what Gideon was letting on. Everything they’d worked for, everything they’d established to keep the Emperor safe – to be overthrown by someone they least expected. It had to be eating away at him. Brayden brought a shaky hand up and fisted it in Corey’s shirt as soon as Gideon was out of sight. “Help me up,” he rasped. Corey’s eyes widened a little, his hands coming to rest on Brayden’s arms as he started to push himself up. “But the Captain said…” “Don’t call him Captain anymore,” Brayden told him and was pleased when, despite his arguing, Corey helped him gain his feet. The world tipped and tilted around him, but Brayden managed to stay standing. “That will get him killed out here. We are not Chosen anymore, they all died in the castle. Understand?” Corey swallowed and nodded. “I believe so, ser.” “No more ser’s either,” Brayden said, letting Corey sling one of his arms across his shoulders to keep him upright. “Now, follow my brother.” Corey made a face. “But Gideon said to stay here,” he protested. Brayden grinned at the kid, his breathing further labored by the effort it took to stand. “He did,” Brayden affirmed. “But he’s not a thief. I am. He’ll need help.” Corey, thankfully, stopped arguing and just sighed. Brayden was surprised when the kid actually grumbled beneath his breath as he helped him walk up the pathway quietly. It made him want to laugh, because the kid was reminding him a lot of Gideon, when he’d been younger. Once Brayden got a good look of his surroundings, he knew where they were. It was a not-so-popular, but well trodden path used by hunters and merchants from the outlying villages to do trade with Lockhaven. He’d been out this way often. Mostly to get the more hard to come by ingredients for some of the poisons he concocted. The thought made his face fall, because he had a whole stash of poisons and supplies in Lockhaven that were now useless to him. And he wasn’t planning on going back to retrieve them any time soon. As they got closer to the wagon Gideon was talking about, the sound of voices suddenly made Brayden stop in his tracks and guide Corey and himself off the road. They crouched in the brush and listened. He could clearly hear a man’s voice yelling, “You stay away from my trade, brigand!” Gideon’s voice was calm as he responded, “Your trade is of no interest to me. It was your cart I was after,” he said and Brayden rolled his eyes because Gideon had always been a terrible thief and now he’d gone and got himself caught by the wagon owners. Turning to Corey, he motioned for the kid to stay where he was. Corey frowned but his eyes widened as Brayden pulled a short sword from his side. He pulled himself up, ignoring how his body protested and how his head swam. He made his way through the edge of the forest, staying covered and he paused to survey the scene. Gideon stood next to a wagon full of supplies. It looked like produce. Perhaps they were farmers. There were two men standing across from him, one with a crossbow in his hands, aimed at Gideon. The other had a pitchfork. A third man, more of a boy, stood off to the side and Brayden smirked because that was his target. “My cart?” the man with the crossbow asked. He was an older man, somewhat rugged, but intelligent enough. “I’m sorry to say, it isn’t for sale.” Gideon sighed and opened his mouth to answer the man, his hands held up in a defensive stance, but no one got the chance to say another word as Brayden came forward and grabbed the boy by his hair, yanking his head back and pressing the short sword to his neck. The boy let out a yell and it drew everyone’s attention towards them. Brayden kept himself ducked behind the boy’s body, so as not to make the shot easy should the man choose to risk aiming the crossbow their way. “If I were you, I would reconsider aiming your weapons at my brother,” Brayden called out to them, his voice hoarse and pained and he couldn’t catch his breath afterwards. He was somewhat surprised when the man didn’t hesitate, his eyes going wide and he unhooked the arrow from his crossbow, setting it down and holding up his hand towards Brayden. “Easy now, let my son go,” the man said. Brayden frowned at him, because no one gave up that easy. The boy in his arms tipped his head to the side to look back at him, his eyes wild and scared and Brayden met his eyes for a moment. “Brayden,” Gideon called and it seemed to snap him out of his thoughts. He let the sword drop from the boy’s neck and the kid instantly took off running towards his father, who pulled him behind himself, keeping him blocked from both of them. Gideon took a few hesitant steps towards Brayden, eyes still on the farmer, but the man was making no motion to go for his crossbow again. Brayden felt his knees start to shake and a wicked cough tore itself up from his lungs. He bent over and Gideon, forgoing the others, hurried and caught him before he could tip forward into the dirt. He lowered them both to kneeling positions and the coughing fit left him wheezing and trying to suck in air afterwards, but he was unable to get enough into his lungs and his throat seemed to be getting tighter and tighter. “Is he sick?” the farmer called. Gideon’s arms tightened around him and his brother turned to look at the farmer, as surprised as Brayden was at the question, and the concern that laced it. Gideon seemed to think about this for a moment before he called back, “He’s been poisoned.” The farmer frowned, chewing on his lip. Then, he finally sighed and said, “You need a ride somewhere?” .Wolfie. 2.10 Eastern Highway It wasn’t until Gideon was seated and the cart was rumbling up the path that it finally caught up to him just how tired he was. He sat in the back of the wagon in between crates of vegetables and he forced himself to keep his eyes open. Corey and Brayden sat on the other side of him and it was purposeful, so that he could keep his eyes on both of them. The man who’d wielded a pitchfork at him held the reins in his hands and he was driving the cart into the rising sun. Gideon wondered if he’d been fighting all night. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him and it was making his thoughts slow and his eyelids heavier than he liked. Now that the Keep was behind them and there was no immediate sign of the Viceroy’s Elites chasing them, he wondered what came next. He wondered if the Emperor had made it to safety and if any man could keep him alive and in good health it was Duncan. The man fought like none other that Gideon had ever met and probably would again. The thought of him dying seemed foreign and he didn’t entertain it for more than a moment, but for that moment he wondered what he would do with himself if he was truly gone. The Chosen had been his life. He had made it that way a long time ago, made those choices that brought him to Knight Captain and now it was all nothing but ash in his mouth. Another wore the Emperor’s crown. At least three of his men lay dead and Nicos may have joined them at any point in the night. Gisaine may have been dead and at that he focused on his brother. Brayden had said nothing of the order to leave her behind, but Gideon wondered how heavily it weighed on his mind. They didn’t talk about what Gisaine meant to him, because the words once spoken couldn’t be taken back. If it was love it would hurt all the worse. He knew if it was Elena he would have left her. But he never would have forgiven himself for it. He still hadn’t. He fought to keep his eyes open, stretching out his wounded leg. He no longer wore the uniform of the Chosen and maybe never would again. His head rested against the back of the wagon, occasionally bouncing against the wooden slats and it was possibly all that kept him awake. He wondered if he should seek out Duncan or just stay hidden until the man called on him. He tried not to think on it. If he did then he would sink into that dark regret he kept locked away and it would do him no good here. For now they just had to survive. Later he would allow himself to feel that pain, when he had a moment to close his eyes and feel all of the painful failure that was clinging to his back like a black dog. Later he would think on everything they had lost and while those thoughts were ones he would have rather left untouched, they always came back to haunt him when he closed his eyes. “What’s he poisoned with?” the boy asked. Gideon glanced at him as he leaned curiously into the back of the wagon. He was young, probably younger than Corey Temple and he still had the bright eyed, innocent gaze of youth. “Quiet, Paul,” his father said. The farmer sat next to him and while his crossbow was still within reach, he wasn’t aiming it at him. Gideon wasn’t used to the kindness of strangers and he felt odd depending on it. If it had been him alone he wouldn’t have accepted but Brayden was in poor shape and it scared Gideon more than he allowed himself to admit. Brayden would either recover or he wouldn’t. Gideon knew too little about poisons to be any aid to him and even if he did it was past that point now. “My brother got poisoned once,” the boy said. He ignored his father and kept talking, his gaze locked on Brayden as he studied him. His breathing was still shallow and raspy in his chest but he thought it sounded better. He prayed it did. “He got bit by a snake out behind our farm. Made me suck the venom out of his arm. That what happened to you? You get bit by something?” “No,” Gideon told him simply. “Different kind.” The boy glanced over at him and he started to open his mouth before he thought better of it and closed it again. Gideon hadn’t taken his hand off his blade. He didn’t think he’d need it, but he couldn’t help it. The silence stretched on before the kid shifted in his seat. “Are you mercenaries?” he asked. Brayden snorted out a laugh and it was the first sign that he was awake. His eyes were closed, his head resting against Corey’s shoulder. At the words he straightened up, leaning against the wooden wall of the cart as he forced his eyes open. They were lidded and tired, dark circles beneath them but the smile on his face wasn’t tinged with blue any longer. “Maybe,” Brayden told him. The boy’s eyes widened at that and he sat forward a little more. The grin on Brayden’s face widened and then he closed his eyes. “Maybe we’re ex-mercenaries with hearts of gold who got hell for trying to retire.” The kid thought about that for a moment, chewing on his lip as he studied Brayden and Corey. Then he shook his head, pointing a finger at Brayden. “I doubt that,” he said. “Mercenaries would be better at thieving.” Brayden chuckled at that and Gideon tried not to take offense, his gaze narrowing at his brother because he was sure the laughter was directed at him. Then the boy grinned at Brayden. “Maybe you’re a runaway prince,” he said. “Gram said she met one of those once, from one of the Southern Tier kingdoms.” The man snorted and slapped his son lightly on the back of the head. “You know better than to listen to your Gram’s stories,” he said. “She’d have you believe she took on a Redholme barehanded. Woman’s full of stories, don’t make them true.” Paul frowned and rubbed the back of his head before looking at Brayden again. “Well?” he pushed. “Are you a prince?” Brayden smirked and Gideon thought he was enjoying this too much. “Maybe,” he said again. “Are you?” he asked. “Like an exiled prince?” Paul’s eyes widened and he moved farther to the edge of his seat. His gaze was focused on Brayden who had that lazy smile on his face as his head rested against the wooden panels. His breathing was still loud but when he coughed it had lost that wet ragged sound and it made Gideon hopeful. Next to his brother Corey Temple was swiftly losing his battle against sleep, his head slipping and coming to rest against Brayden’s shoulder as his eyelids fell shut. “Maybe,” Brayden said again. Gideon sighed and ran a hand over his face, trying to keep himself awake. He was surprised Brayden was, but his brother had dozed on and off since leaving the Keep. It had been touch and go for a while and he’d been more terrified than he chose to admit. As much as he told himself he would deal with it if it came, losing Brayden would not be an easy thing. “No,” Paul said after a moment. “I don’t think you’re a prince either. I can’t picture you with a crown.” Brayden chuckled in response and Paul just chewed on his lip as he tried to think of where they’d come from. “Maybe you’re witches.” The farmer sighed before cuffing his boy upside the head again. “Be quiet son,” he said. “You listen to too many of your Gram’s stories.” The man turned his attention back to Gideon and he studied him for a moment like he was trying to work his way up to something. He licked his lips and shifted on the wooden bench. “You boys have somewhere to go?” he asked. His voice was quiet and tentative like he wasn’t sure he wanted to be asking the question. “You can leave us in the nearest town,” Gideon told him. “We’ll find our way.” He wasn’t sure how, but by then Brayden should be feeling better. As much as Gideon was not a thief, his brother excelled at it. They would do whatever it took to get as far away from the Keep as they could and he would figure out the rest as it came. He didn’t like it, but there was nothing about this he liked. Duncan could be dead, the Emperor with him, and even if they yet lived he didn’t know what happened next. Perhaps there would be no getting the Emperor back on his throne. Maybe this was how the Chosen ended, and if it was he would have preferred the quick death. The farmer thought on that for a moment and nodded his head slowly. “But do you have somewhere to go?” he asked again. Gideon didn’t like the question. He liked the answer even less because then he would be forced to think on how much they’d lost and the nothing they had now. He had little coin on him, only whatever he’d taken to the Blood Bucket with him that night and even as he thought it that time seemed years ago instead of hours. “No,” he said finally looking out the back of the wagon. “Our farm’s in Otterville, on the east side of Mount Hollow,” the man said. “We could always use a few extra hands around the place if you boys wanted to stay on for the season and help us out. We normally start hiring out about this time.” He didn’t reject the offer but it stung his pride even so. “We’re no farmers,” he told the man. He just shrugged. “Don’t need to be. Just need to be strong and follow orders. You look like you could handle that, big fella.” The man smiled at him afterwards and Brayden chuckled at words. His eyes looked closed but Gideon wasn’t fooled. His brother was listening, even with his hands trembling slightly and all his effort on evening out his breathing. Gideon watched him and Corey and thought that they needed some place to lay low for a while. Even so, the prospect of accepting this man’s charity felt strange and foreign. He nodded his head slowly and looked down at his callused and bloodied hands. “We do owe you for the ride,” he said. “Then it’s settled,” the man said. Gideon realized he hadn’t even caught his name and he wondered if he was losing his touch as well. Maybe if he’d paid more attention to all of those little warning signs he could have done something sooner and the Emperor would be safe. “You’ll come to Otterville with us. Might have to make a few stops along the way, but we’ll get you there.” Gideon nodded and kept his head down. Somewhere behind him the Keep was in shambles and he wondered what the Viceroy had told the rest of Lockhaven. Maybe he’d branded the Chosen as traitors. He wondered if Tristan, Miren, and Stephen had made it out of Lowport. He wondered if they’d found their way onto a ship or out of the city or if they’d been cornered in some back alley and executed. If they were, no one would think anything of it in that district. He wondered if Jethro had gotten Nicos to a healer or if the man had died on the way. His hand ran over his mouth as he contemplated what forces the Emperor would send after them. Maybe it was foolish of him to expect the Elite, but more assassins? He could see that. He wondered if he should be watching his back for an elf to put a knife in it sometime soon. “Maybe you’re assassins,” Paul said. “Are you assassins?” Wenston Part Three 3.1 Torturer’s Chamber “Otterville?” the man at the other side of the chamber asked. He leaned against the wall casually, showing piqued interest in the story. Corey tried to focus on him and keep that interest satiated, because if the man was interested, then he’d want to hear more and he wouldn’t think Corey had outlived his usefulness. The pain was immense and awful, but he wasn’t ready to give in to the alternative yet. There was still hope that someone was out there who would come for him. “That’s where the Crowe’s ran off to?” “Yes,” Corey hissed breathlessly, his voice hoarse and body weak. The man shook his head, shrugging off the wall to pace the chamber with his hands laced behind his back. He shook his head, turning to look straight at Corey. “It can’t be. We searched Otterville in the first week. We saw no signs of them.” Corey let out a small, pained laugh, despite himself but it was such a pathetic sound the man didn’t even get mad. Corey was thankful for that. He thought Brayden had been rubbing off on him too much. He wasn’t one to really laugh in the face of danger, especially when danger held such a big knife. “I know. We hid when you came. We were right under your noses.” The man’s face darkened and for a moment, he said nothing, just staring at Corey. Then he stalked across the room and gave the boy a vicious backhand, snapping his head to the side. Corey felt a cry tear its way up his throat and then the man was gripping his chin and yanking his head back into place. The man’s face was red with fury and anger and spit flew from his mouth as he screamed at him. “Impossible!” he screamed, fingers digging into Corey’s jaw painfully. The man snarled and shoved his head away, taking a few steps back to regain himself. He let out a slow breath. “Tell me what happened next.” Corey licked his cracked, dry lips, suddenly remembering how terrified he was. “There’s not much to tell,” he said quietly. “We stopped along the way to pick up supplies and we made it to Otterville without trouble. The Crowes both recovered quickly and the farmer set us to work. After you came and didn’t find us, we farmed, that’s all we did.” “I don’t believe you,” the man said, narrowing his eyes. “You were there six months and all you did was farm?” Swallowing thickly, Corey let his head fall back and he felt emotion clog his throat. He hoped they would forgive him for letting this man know their plays. “We were only there for three,” he whispered. “Teague came then.” The man paused, his eyes widening slightly. “Teague?” he said lowly. “He went to Otterville?” The man’s eyes averted and he shook his head. “I’d not known where he’d gone off to. He found you then?” “He found us,” Corey whispered. He shut his eyes for a moment, remembering the man and what he’d done. The hand that gripped his jaw had his eyes opening again. The man interrogating him stood over him, his face dark. “Where is Teague now?” he asked, his voice dark. The man with the knife sitting next to him brought it up to Corey’s arm, placing it against his skin but not drawing blood yet. “What happened in Otterville?” “I’ll tell you,” Corey whimpered. 3.2 Otterville – The Winters Farm “You know,” Gideon called, his voice trying to sound annoyed, but Brayden knew his brother better than that. He glanced down at Gideon from his perch on the tree branch where he had a leather-bound book sprawled across his legs and an apple in one hand. His brother was leaning against a hoe, his arms crossed on the handle. His face was red from the sun and the work and sweat soaked through his shirt. It was the most humble Brayden had ever seen his brother look, but he’d gotten used to the look over the past couple of months. “I’m standing here in the heat, wondering why it is you’re up there in the shade with not a drop of sweat on you.” Brayden smirked down at his brother. They’d been in Otterville, working off their debt for the past couple of months. Brayden wasn’t sure at the beginning whether the arrangement would work or not. They weren’t farmers, him especially. But the Winters had been incredibly understanding and hospitable. Paul was a good kid, who had a strange fascination with Brayden that he found both amusing and helpful when he wanted to get out of doing manual labor. The kid’s father, Wilhelm, was a good man. One of the best men Brayden had come across. He hadn’t thought men of his kind were still around and he found it interesting that he’d only come across him outside the walls of Lockhaven. A good man, strong heart, open mind. That was hard to come by. “You look a mite warm, Gideon,” Brayden called down to him and he saw his brother shake his head, reaching an arm up to wipe across his forehead. It left dirt smudged across his skin. He was more rugged looking than he’d been months ago. Brayden would almost buy him as a simple farmer, if he didn’t know better. “Perhaps you should rest a bit?” Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “A rest is something I cannot afford,” he said lowly. “Since it has come to my attention I am doing the work of two men, while you rest for the both of us.” Quirking his head to the side, Brayden felt a small smile try to tug up the corners of his lips. “That sounds like a fair trade.” Gideon grumbled and Brayden could only catch snippets of the curses he was slinging his way. He snorted and nestled back against the tree, biting into his apple and yelling out through a mouthful, “I’m telling mother you said that.” “Oh piss off,” Gideon snapped back and it made Brayden laugh. He crossed his legs at the ankles and turned the page of the book. Gideon paused in what he was doing again and Brayden could practically feel the look he was giving him. “What are you reading anyway?” he demanded. “A love story,” Brayden told him absently. “About a noblewoman and her roguish lover who run away together to escape her bastardly uncle.” He paused afterwards and the feeling of his brother watching him intensified. He glanced down at him before he sighed and let his head fall back against the tree, looking up at the budding leaves shading him from the sun. “Today I would have brought her lilies,” he said before he could stop himself. The words hung there for a moment and Brayden felt the smile slipping from his face. They hadn’t spoken about it much. Just a few words, Gideon asking if he was alright, Brayden asking if his brother thought she was still alive. The conversation never really got beyond that point and Brayden hadn’t gone out of his way to try and find the answer to that question. “Brayden…” Gideon said, his voice suddenly less irritated and more pained sounding. “I should have gone back for her,” he said, cutting his brother off. He sat up, closing the book in his lap and glancing down at Gideon with a sigh. He slapped the grin back on his face and shrugged. “Ah well, there is no point in this morose attitude now. She is either dead or moved on and married to a nobleman now.” He swung down from the tree gracefully and walked over to his brother, the book tucked under his arm. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Come now, it’s supper time. And after summer, I’ve got important resting to do.” Gideon snorted, allowing him to change the subject, for now at least. He knew that look in his brother’s eye. It meant they would be revisiting this topic sometime in the future. “After supper, you are chopping wood,” Gideon told him. Brayden made a face and turned to walk back to the farmhouse. “Chopping wood?” he asked, his back to his brother. “That sounds counterproductive.” .Wolfie. The kitchen smelled of cooking stew and fresh baked bread when they walked into the house. Corey stood at the counter with a knife in hand and he was slicing the bread into loaves, steam rising up in front of him as he did. Gram Winters stood next to him at the fireplace, a ladle in hand as she stirred dinner and Paul hung over them both, looking for scraps to steal. His hand reached for the stew and there was a loud crack as Gram slapped his knuckles with her ladle. “Not until dinner, boy-o,” she told him fiercely.“Ow,” Paul whined. He rubbed at his knuckles and pouted at his grandmother. She ignored him, not even looking over her shoulder as she went back to stirring her soup. She lifted a ladleful out and blew on it carefully before tasting it and smiling in satisfaction. “But I’m starving Gram. Wasting away. Look, see?” he asked, poking at his stomach. “Skin and bones.” “That’s not true at all,” Brayden said cheerfully. Paul jumped at the sound of his voice because he hadn’t heard Brayden approach and his head whipped over his shoulder. Brayden mussed his hair as he passed. “You’re getting fatter every day.” Gram laughed and turned to look back at Brayden. A warm smile split her face and she gestured a hand at him to join her by the fire. “Would you like to try some, shadow prince?” Gideon snorted at the name but some point early on the two of them had started exchanging bullshit stories until the old woman had decided that Brayden was her new favorite. He wondered sometimes, how it was his brother always managed to have that impression on people. They either adored him or wanted him dead. “Would I?” he said, grinning. He dropped the book on the table as he strode over to her. “I’m appalled you think I could say no.” The smile on her face widened as she offered the ladle to Brayden. Her gray hair was pulled back in a tight bun at the base of her neck and Gideon still hadn’t figured out how old the woman was. He wasn’t stupid enough to ask. He shook his head at them, fighting back a smile at the pout on Paul’s face as he went to the washbasin to get the dirt off his skin. In the beginning men had come through the town searching for them but they’d hidden and the searchers had left empty handed. There had been no sign of anyone looking for the since then and the longer it went the more Gideon wondered if anyone else was coming. There had been no word from Duncan, no signs that the Emperor still lived. It was possible the man just didn’t know where to find them and if that was true than when this season was over Gideon would search him out himself. And if Corey or Brayden wanted to stay here he wouldn’t fault them, though he doubted his brother would be anymore content with this life than he was. It was good work, honest work, but it wasn’t what he’d trained all his life for. Gideon was a soldier, and he felt like he was living someone else’s life at the moment. Every day that passed by he questioned what they were doing and what should come next and he hated that doubt even more than he hated the regret. Word had finally spread that the Viceroy had taken command of the Empire, after the Emperor’s Chosen had turned on him and murdered him in his bed. They were lies, but they stung even hearing them. Dinner was always loud and chaotic in the Winter house. Besides Paul, Wilhelm had a son named Karl and a younger daughter named Gwen who made puppy eyes at Corey every time she saw him. His wife had been dead three seasons now. Gideon watched them all with a strange detachment as he sat back in the wooden chair. Gram sat at the head of the table, Wilhelm at her elbow and his girl and Karl next to him. Corey, Brayden, and Paul sat across from them and Gideon sat at the end, just listening. Brayden was in the middle of a story and Paul had that hero worshipping look in his eye like he did whenever he spoke. “I swear,” he said. “It was as big as this house, with three heads and jaws that could swallow you whole.” Karl snorted and flicked a pea at his brother. “There’s no such thing as hydras,” he spat. “Bullshit there ain’t.” Gram pointed her spoon at the boy and Karl slunk a little deeper into his chair at the narrow eyes glare he was getting. “They’re real and they’re nasty. You just be grateful that your Gram knows how to kill them.” “How’s that Gram?” Paul asked. He sat up straighter in his chair and Gideon heard the heavy sigh from his brother who was too old for kid’s stories anymore. His sister wasn’t listening to any of it, her chin resting in her hands and her eyes watching Corey as he ate quickly and heartily, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth. She giggled as crumbs fell down the front of his shirt. “You feed ‘em kids like you, you know, the ones that are just skin and bones?” She grinned at Paul and he wrinkled his nose at her in response. “That way they choke on the bones. That’s how you kill a hydra.” Brayden nodded his head gravely. “It’s true. Sacrifice for the greater good.” Wilhelm laughed at that and shook his head before he pushed himself to his feet. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of his mother’s head before he turned and looked at Gideon. He studied him for a moment and he’d been unusually quiet today. Gideon wondered what it meant. Then the man nodded his head towards the fire, giving him a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come sit and smoke with me for a minute,” he said. He was already pulling his pipe out as he walked away and Brayden gave him a curious glance. He lifted an eyebrow in question and Gideon shrugged his shoulders, rising to his feet to follow the man. Wilhelm settled close to the fire, stirring it higher for a moment before he took his seat. The table behind them was still quiet but after a moment Gideon heard his brother begin to speak again and the conversation resumed. He listened with only half an ear as he sat down next to Wilhelm, running a hand over his mouth. “Is something amiss?” he asked. The man had never asked what they were running from and Gideon ha never offered, but he kept waiting for the question to come. He didn’t believe it wouldn’t. The man shook his head, stuffing tobacco in the end of his pipe before he used a stick from the fire to light it. He sucked in a plume of smoke before he puffed it out into the air and then glanced at Gideon. “Someone was asking questions about you,” Wilhelm said. The words were quiet and the man didn't look up as he said them, but they were heard. Gideon nodded his head, watching the fire flicker and eat away at the logs. Behind him he could hear laughter as Brayden traded stories with Gram Winters, and he couldn't tell which one of them was more full of shit. "Is that so?" Gideon said the words calmly and coolly, but they rang in his head. Wilhelm nodded his head. "That's so," he said. "Over in Killigan. That’s where Mara’s family was from and I still keep in touch with them a bit. Said they were looking for two men, matched your description word for word.” He hesitated and then looked down at the floorboards, scuffing his boot against them. “Said they used to be Chosen, until they turned on their master. Man asking about these fellows said they were mad dogs that bit the hand that feeds. Said they’d turn on anyone for enough coin.” Gideon was quiet for a moment. He tried not to let the words hurt but they did. He'd been branded a traitor. It was nothing he didn't expect but it stung at his pride even more than the rest of this did. Months now of pretending to be something other than a soldier and it had never been him. It was the kind of life Elena had wanted but he hadn’t been able to give her that because he could never stop being a soldier. Even if he did a farmer's work and wore a farmer's clothes they felt like the lie they were. "That so?" he asked again. His voice was rougher than he meant for it to be thanks to the vague anger churning away in his gut. Wilhelm nodded his head again. “That so.” Laughter echoed over his head and he glanced over his shoulder for a moment, eyes lighting on Corey and Paul as they sat across from Brayden. He smirked and then finally looked over at Gideon. “You seem like good boys,” he said slowly. “There anything you want to tell me? Anything you think I should know?” Gideon looked down at his hands, fingers running over the scars on them. They’d been welcomed so easily into this house and there was a quiet sense of guilt that he would bring something down on their heads. “Can’t lie about something you don’t know.” Wilhelm laughed at that and stuck the pipe back between his lips. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I suppose that’s true.” He chuckled quietly to himself and shook his head, smoke curling up in front of his eyes. "You're good boys," he said again. "That middle brother of yours is a little lazy but the younger one cooks well enough to make up for it." Gideon smirked at that and glanced over at Brayden. He wasn’t looking their way but he wondered how much he’d heard. "You been a lot of help these past few months." "Just paying back a debt," Gideon told him. He laughed and reached over to pat Gideon on the shoulder. "Son that debt was paid off a long time ago. Anyway, the way I see it I'm just helping out a couple of boys who are down on their luck. Lady Reverence smiles on that sort of man you know." A smirk pulled at Gideon's lips and he tipped his head back as he looked over at the man. "Is that so?" he asked again. Wilhelm laughed and then pushed himself to his feet. "That's so." Gideon watched him for a moment and he was already turning his back to walk towards the table when he cleared his throat. "What did the man look like?" he asked. He wondered if it was Kinley or maybe Duncan trying to get his attention. He hoped it was that one. Wilhelm paused and looked back at him, his face carefully blank. Gideon wore the same cautious expression on his own. "The man asking all these questions. Do you know what he looked like?" Wilhelm shrugged his shoulders, turning back to stand facing Gideon. "Not sure," he said. "Didn't talk to him myself.” He hesitated like he didn’t want to say anymore and then a smile quirked his lips. “But they say he was a little… odd. Said he had these tattoos running over his skin that look like they’re glowing out of the corner of your eye. Rumor is he’s a witch man.” Wenston Brayden helped Gram and the kids clean up the dishes after supper. And by help, it just meant he carried Gram’s things for her and let the kids do most of the work. He knew who to schmooze around here and he had to admit, Gram was a force to be reckoned with. He’d come to care for the old bitty. She was a spitfire and could bullshit with the best of them, which just so happened to be one of Brayden’s favorite things to do. Once everything was cleaned up, everyone retreated back to their rooms to get ready for bed. The Winters had given them a room all their own. They’d never corrected Wilhelm when he thought Corey was their brother. They’d taken what they’d been given and there was a bunk in the corner where Corey and Brayden slept, Brayden got the top one. Gideon slept on a bedroll in the other corner of the room, which he’d taken out of his own accord. Brayden had tried to tell him not to be such a self-sacrificing bastard and make Corey sleep there, but as usual, Gideon didn’t listen. Corey immediately set to work washing his hands and face in the basin set out for them. Gideon closed the door behind them, giving a polite smile and nod to Wilhelm as the man stoked the fire before retiring to his own room. Brayden pulled his belt off and then leaned against the table in the middle of the room, watching his brother as he went to his bedroll and stood over it, lost in thought. Smirking a bit, Brayden said, “So, a witch man, eh?” he called. Gideon turned with a raised brow to look at him. “You heard that,” he observed, instead of asked. Brayden nodded. “Yeah, heard all of it.” He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, one hand scratching at his chin. “I don’t know whether to be offended or delighted that Wilhelm knows me well enough to call me lazy. And to do it within earshot.” “You are lazy,” Gideon shot back, pulling his own belt off before he turned and sat on his bedroll, his back against the wall and his legs crossed in front of him. He chuckled a little at the look Brayden gave him, and then they both fell back into silence. Corey dried his face off with a cloth, standing near the bunk as he watched the both of them. Gideon finally sighed beneath both of their scrutiny and said, “I doubt it was a witch man.” “They tend not to stray too far from the wilds,” Brayden nodded, knowing what his brother was thinking. Corey frowned. “What are you talking about?” he asked, looking confused and young. “A man was asking about us over in Killigan,” Gideon explained. “It’s been declared the Chosen are traitors who turned on the Emperor.” Corey’s eyes widened before his face fell and Brayden felt a twinge of sympathy for the kid because he’d been called a traitor basically his first day on the job. If Duncan had waited a week more to go on his recruitment crusade, Corey would still be at home with his family and not in this predicament at all. Corey licked his lips and looked up at Gideon, looking to him for answers, as what had become customary over the past couple of months. Corey wasn’t exactly a fighter, but he had spirit and heart and Brayden could tell Gideon was starting to like the kid. He protected him fiercely, and not just because he was Chosen. “They think it was a witch man?” “That’s what was said,” Gideon nodded, eyes coming over to Brayden. “But it sounds more like a magi.” Brayden nodded. “And tattoos that glow? Most orders don’t like to show themselves off like that. It could only be one from a handful of orders.” “And an order that will involve itself in politics?” Gideon asked in a knowing tone of voice. Brayden shouldn’t be surprised that Gideon already had a theory. Snorting, Brayden leaned against the wall and then sighed. “The Ravens.” Gideon nodded, running his hands over his face and he suddenly looked ages more tired than he had been. Brayden’s mind went to work instantly. A Raven? After them? He didn’t think the Viceroy would get that desperate. “What does that mean?” Corey asked quietly, like he was ashamed he didn’t know. Brayden watched his brother look over at the young boy and there was a surprising look of patience and wisdom on his face. He found it interesting the way Gideon treated Corey. He wasn’t just a recruit anymore. He wasn’t even another Chosen. Brayden didn’t know what to think of it. The amusing thing was, he wasn’t even sure Gideon knew what to think of it. “It means,” Brayden said, before Gideon could open his mouth, “That if this man catches up to us, we’re going to be in a world of hurt.” Corey’s eyes widened and he got that scared look back on his face. Gideon turned narrowed eyes to Brayden and he just returned the look to his brother. Corey swallowed and he’d gotten a bit better at overcoming his fears. “What do we do?” he asked. The room was quiet for a minute and Gideon looked like he was thinking hard on it. Brayden didn’t envy his brother’s position. Even unofficially, Gideon was a leader. He was in charge of making the tough decisions and Brayden was never one to do that. It’s why he never received a formal rank within the Chosen. “I could go to Killigan,” Brayden said after a while and Gideon’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing. “No,” he said firmly and looked like that would be all they discussed of this option. Brayden frowned and shoved off the wall, coming to stand near the table. “Gideon,” he said firmly back and his brother gave him an intense stare. “There are only a few villages in between here and Killigan. It won’t be long before he comes here and you’ll know what will happen when he does.” “Then we leave,” Gideon growled. “If he’s a Raven, he’ll know we’ve been here,” Brayden protested back, quirking his head to the side because he didn’t understand why his brother was being so reluctant. Gideon knew these things, he didn’t know why he needed to tell him these things. “If he comes and we’re not here, he won’t hesitate to murder everyone in Otterville.” Corey sucked in a breath, but Brayden didn’t spare him a glance. His eyes were locked on his brother’s. “It’s too dangerous,” Gideon said and the words sounded foreign coming out of his mouth, but it made Brayden realize what had gotten into his brother. They hadn’t been in any real danger since coming to the Winters’ farm. But the last time Brayden was on his own, he’d gotten poisoned and he’d come really close to dying that first night. Gideon was getting protective. “It’s more dangerous to not know what’s coming our way,” Brayden said quietly. Then he smirked and jutted his chin at his brother. “That whole poisoning thing was a fluke,” he said. “Trust me to do this, Gideon. I’ll be back in a matter of days with answers.” Gideon still looked like he wanted to protest, so Brayden went for the low blow. “We can protect them better if we know what he is.” Gideon sighed. “Sometimes I wish I had a sister.” Brayden laughed before he could stop himself. “I’ll take that as consent.” .Wolfie. 3.3 Outskirts of Otterville “I dislike this,” Gideon said. He held the reins to the horse the Winters had let Brayden borrow and the trust they’d been granted from the entire family was more than Gideon had any right to expect. They didn’t know their true names or where they’d really come from and yet no one had pushed for answers and Wilhelm hadn’t questioned where Brayden was going when they’d asked for the horse. It intensified that sensation of guilt that the Crowes might bring trouble back to their doorstep and he fought to ignore it. Maybe more than anything that was why he was actually letting Brayden ride off on this fool crusade of his, whether he liked it or not. “Are you getting soft on me brother?” Brayden asked. “This show of concern for my health is making me doubt yours. Have you come down with something? Do you need to spend some time in bed?” He grinned down at Gideon, already mounted with supplies on the back of the beast. He held the reins loosely in his hands and let it dance impatiently on the road. Gideon had insisted on walking with him to the edge of town. It wasn’t out of fear, he just wanted to see his brother off properly. So he told himself. “Hardly,” Gideon snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched his brother with narrowed eyes. He tried not to think that Brayden would ride off and he’d never see him again. He had made a thousand choices like this before, sending men into dangerous situations. His brother was no different. “But I know your penchant for getting into trouble. I won’t be there to get you out of it.” Brayden snorted and patted the horse’s neck in a comforting manner. “I wonder if you haven’t forgotten who you’re talking to. I’ve gotten myself out of plenty of tough situations without your help. The shadow prince, remember?” “Just because an old woman names you such doesn’t make it so.” Gideon snapped the words out and then looked away down the road. His fingers were digging tightly into his arms and there was an unfamiliar feeling in his chest that he disliked. He wondered if this simple living was making him soft. He was a soldier and this was what had to be done. If his brother was killed in the process then he would take knowledge from his sacrifice and he would move past the loss as he had always done, with a cold heart. “I will be fine, Gideon,” Brayden told him firmly. The smile on his face had softened and it made Gideon’s scowl deepen. But there was no doubt in his brother’s words and he finally let out a sigh, running a hand across his mouth before he nodded his head. He knew better than anyone his brother’s capabilities. A simple intelligence gathering was well within his talents. “The Viceroy didn’t send a Raven just for the two of us,” he said, changing the subject. Gideon recognized the narrow eyed look he was getting as Brayden tried to read him. “Rivain still lives,” he said slowly. “That would be my guess,” Gideon responded. “I can think of no other reason for him to send a magi after a few renegade soldiers.” He kept his eyes down the road and he wondered if he expected to see the magi ride in at any moment. There was only dust and a few stray birds searching for crushed berries. Behind them the town was starting to get as loud as it ever did, the quiet laughter of a woman echoing off the buildings to his ears. It was as quiet a town as Gideon had ever seen. The most excitement they’d gotten in years had been when the soldiers came through searching for the Chosen and that had been months ago now. He tried to imagine a Raven set loose in this place and he didn’t like the images his mind’s eye conjured up. None of them were pleasant. The man would rip this town apart and leave it burning if he managed to sniff out any scent of the Crowes in this place. And he would too, of that Gideon had no doubt. Even if he didn’t find them, they’d know they’d been here. It was poor repayment for the charity they’d received thus far and the honor he had left demanded that they find a way to stop that from happening. “Well then there’s hope for all of us, isn’t there?” Brayden said the words cheerfully and suddenly Gideon was thinking of the quiet question his brother had asked him, about whether or not Gisaine still lived. He hadn’t been able to give him a straight answer at the time because he honestly didn’t know. He’d wanted to tell him yes, because he recognized his brother’s pain when he saw it. Gideon nodded his head and then looked down at his dusty boots. He looked more and more like a farmer every day. He wondered if Elena would have been happier if that was what he’d been, instead of one of the Chosen. “I believe Gisaine lives as well,” he told his brother. Brayden was quiet a moment and for that moment he couldn’t get the smile plastered back on his face. Gideon watched him swallow hard and then look off down the road, his eyes closing for a heartbeat as he took in the words. “Truly?” he asked quietly. There was hope in that single word and Gideon felt himself stiffen at the sound of it. “Truly,” he told Brayden. His stance shifted unconsciously and his words took on a steely tone. “Even if the Viceroy feels no bond of kinship with her than he will keep her alive as leverage against Rivain. I do not believe he would destroy such an asset out of spite.” Brayden gave him a cocky smirk. “See? Going soft. That was almost comforting.” “It doesn’t mean I think what you had with her was ever a wise idea,” Gideon told him, harsher than he meant. The cocky smirk wavered and for a second Gideon caught a glimpse of something steely beneath the joking façade his brother usually wore. Gideon found it curious and concerning at once. Not that it mattered anymore. Even if Gisaine lived and wasn’t a prisoner in the Keep, he didn’t want to take bets on the odds of either of them ever seeing her again. The Chosen were fractured and there was only a sliver of hope that the Emperor still lived. “No one ever said I was wise,” Brayden told him, forcing the smile back across his face. “Handsome, dashing, courageous, yes, all of those things, but wise?” “Someone else must have known about your relationship with her,” Gideon said. He kept his voice carefully cool because this was uncertain territory between the two of them. “Don’t tell me you haven’t considered that. Someone knew where you were the night Errol and Cathis were murdered or they wouldn’t have been able to frame you as they did. Perhaps it was only Kinley, more likely it was the Viceroy himself. They used that against you and it will happen again, should the opportunity arise.” Brayden grew quiet and all traces of a smile were gone. “That was unnecessarily cruel, brother,” he said softly. “What’s done is done and I will likely never see her again so you can put your mind at ease.” Gideon sighed and moved closer to the horse. He gripped the reins in one hand and his expression softened as he looked up at his younger brother. “I do not say them to be cruel,” he said. “It is our burden. It is the sacrifice we make for our duty. You know this better than anyone. Our enemies will strike us where we are weakest.” He felt Brayden’s eyes studying him and his voice was still quiet. “Like Elena.” “Yes.” The word came out harsher than he intended for it to and he couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes afterwards. The silence stretched thick and awkward between them and Gideon ran a hand over his mouth as he tried to bury his emotions. “Get gone,” he finally said. Brayden snorted out a laugh and pulled back on the reins, trying to let the awkwardness between them fade. “I’ll bring you answers soon enough, brother,” he said. “Until then, trust that you have the best man on the job.” He gave him a mocking salute and it was the closest thing to respect he’d ever gotten from his brother. It was easy for him to admit that he was the favorite out of all the Chosen, and as much as he disliked any form of favoritism in such a position he’d found himself doing it thoughtlessly. The day Brayden wore the uniform was the day they put Gideon in the ground because it was the only reason he would put it on. “Just bring yourself back in one piece,” Gideon told him. Even as the words left his mouth he knew they weren’t something he would have said a few months ago. Any information on this magi could be more valuable than one soldier’s life but it wasn’t just any soldier. It was Brayden and he wondered if he could really handle losing his brother if that day came. He didn’t know the answer. “See?” Brayden turned the horse down the road and grinned cheerfully over his shoulder. He turned around before he said the next words but Gideon heard them anyway as they were shouted back down the dusty road. “Going soft.” Gideon snorted and just watched his brother’s retreating form as he road into the rising sun. The day was just starting and it would give him plenty of sunlight to make the ride to Killigan. If all went well he would be back within a few days and they would know what they were dealing with because none of Gideon’s theories were good ones. The only bright spot in all of this was that the presence of a Raven meant the Emperor and Duncan were likely still alive and that gave Gideon the dangerous sensation of hope. Wenston 3.4 Killigan The sun had just finished setting when Brayden reached Otterville. He’d rode all day, with only a few stops to ensure he knew the most likely routes a man would take to get from Killigan to Otterville, especially if he was searching for someone. He hadn’t stumbled across any magi or even anyone that looked like magi. It had been all in all an uneventful ride, which was somewhat of a disappointment. It had given Brayden too much time to think about Gideon’s words. He was a fool for not seeing it before. Months had gone by and the thought hadn’t crossed his mind once that someone had known about his and Gisaine’s relationship. It was true. How else would someone have known Brayden wouldn’t have an alibi? But who could have known that he’d be with her that night. He’d never spent the entire night with her before. How could someone had known that he would then? He knew what the most obvious solution was. But he wouldn’t consider it. Not ever. She’d never do that to him, to her father. Who else could there be? The guards who’d seen him with her that day, that was the more likely. At least in Brayden’s mind. All signs pointed to her, especially if he found out she was still alive like Gideon thought she was. The thought churned his stomach, in more ways than one. If she was involved, it was the deepest cut he’d ever been given. If she wasn’t, then she probably thought he was dead or hated him for not coming back for her. The chances of ever seeing her again were slim anyway. To see her, they’d have to get her father back as Emperor, and that wasn’t going to be an easy task to do. And even if they did succeed at it, they’d still have to keep their relationship a secret. He didn’t see it working out – even if they were both alive and the empire got its happy ending, Brayden and Gisaine would not. Tying his horse off in the stables, he looked around the quiet village and pushed all those thoughts aside. He was here to find a Raven, not reminisce or fall into melancholy over a future he couldn’t have. At the far end of town, he could see a tavern and there were people coming and going. He smirked to himself because if there was one place to get information, it was always the same place to get ale. Brayden pulled his hood up, hiding his blonde hair from the world and keep his face shaded. Wilhelm had said the Raven gave out their description. He wasn’t quite sure how the man was describing them, but he wasn’t going to take chances on some drunkard getting lucky and identifying him for the man he really was. He needed to lay as low as possible and work his own magic in the tavern. It was bustling inside. He snorted because the tavern could make the Pig look like a nursery. It rivaled some of the places in Lowport and he was surprised to find such filth and degradation in a small village like Killigan. But he supposed even the commoners had to have their fun? He scanned the tavern and there were a few possible sources of information he could see. There were two drunkards in the back that were so far gone he thought he could swindle them of their small fortunes. The tavern keep was a round, red faced man who looked friendly with everyone. And there was the barmaid running back and forth between the tables as she served everyone their ale. He smirked, because he knew which route to go. Settling in at a table in the back, he pulled his riding gloves from his hands and set them crisscrossed on the table. He kept his hood up, but placed his feet up on the bench, mud flaking off onto the seat. He pulled a pipe from a pouch on his belt and used the candle on the table to light it. He wasn’t a pipe smoker, but he never did any of his normal mannerisms when he was trying to remain inconspicuous. He sat back and waited after that. It took a while, because of the crowd, but the barmaid finally came over to his table and breathed out a sigh, like she hadn’t had a break all day and she probably hadn’t. She smiled politely down at him and asked, “Can I get you something?” Tilting his head so she could see his face beneath his hood, he gave her an award winning grin. He knew he’d caught the fish when her smile grew wider and her cheeks blushed a little. “What do you recommend, love?” he asked, disguising his voice as something deeper and more gravelly. It sounded natural. He’d used it many times before. “Well,” the barmaid said, reaching up to push some of her hair behind her ear. “The Knight’s Weed brew is our most popular,” she said, smiling coyly at him. Brayden nodded, keeping the smile on his face. “Then I will take your word for it,” he said. “It takes a fine woman to know the finest things.” She giggled a little at the words and nodded, turning around and heading to the bar. He snorted when he saw her swat away another customer who reached out to ask for a refill. As she came back to him, he leaned back on the bench and smiled at her when she set the pint down in front of him. He sipped it and kept the straight face even though the ale was some of the worse he’d tasted. He wanted to chuckle as he thought again this place would fit right in down in Lowport. “Thank you, love,” he said, tipping his pint at her and leaning back. The barmaid went back to work after that, but Brayden kept his eyes on her and made sure to smile whenever she looked over, which she did often and it made it all that easier when the tavern started to die down and she came over. She slid into the bench next to him and gave a tired sigh. “You’re not from around here,” she said, smiling at him. He shook his head, but didn’t answer her. She nodded her head and played with her apron. “What brings you to Killigan?” “I’ve been tracking someone,” he said, as nonchalantly as he could. “A strange man. Would seem very out of place in a town like this.” She stiffened and went quiet. Brayden glanced over at her and nodded, like her reaction surprised him. “I see I am on the right trail.” The girl looked a little nervous, her eyes going to the tavern keep before she leaned towards him and lowered her voice. “Is he a man with tattoos? Ones that…glow?” “It’s a sight you don’t easily forget, is it?” he asked, not answering her question. Her eyes widened and she looked around the tavern, leaning even closer and Brayden smirked because her chest was pressed up against his arm and he thought she knew it. “Are you his friend?” “Men like that don’t have friends,” he told her. That seemed to solidify something in her and she nodded her head, leaning up to put her mouth close to his ear, talking so quietly he had to strain to hear her. “You’ll want to talk to Barley. He actually spoke to him. Something’s wrong with that man. He’s not natural, that one.” Brayden smiled, turning his face to their lips were close and the girl gasped. He knew he had her completely enthralled. He was good at this. “Where can I find Barley?” he asked. She let out a small, shaky breath, followed by a moan and it made him wonder if he’d even consider this if he knew Gisaine was dead. He thought the answer would still be no. “He’s in the back,” she whispered. “Last room on the right.” “Thank you, love,” he whispered, tipping his head to peck her on the cheek before he slipped off the bench. He saw her fall forward, catching herself, a frustrated look on her face. He just winked at her and the frustration turned into something a little more sexual. He turned around and snorted at how simple that was. Heading into the back, the tavern seemed to grow darker the closer he got to the last room on the right. The other rooms around it were empty, devoid of life and light. He paused outside the door and frowned because this felt unnatural and he reached for his belt, feeling the knife strapped there in case this was a trap. He reached a hand up and wrapped lightly on the door. There was no response at first and he waited a moment before knocking again. A quiet, gruff voice called, “I’m here.” Brayden frowned and decided to take that as an okay to come into the room. Opening the door, he paused in the doorway. There was little light in the room. One candle was burning dimly in the corner and he could see a man sitting at a table with his back towards the door. He had his head down and in front of him was a plate with what looked like a meal that was a day or two old, flies crawled around on the meat. Brayden eyes scanned the room quickly and then he focused back on the man whose face he couldn’t see. “You must be Barley,” he said, closing the door behind him. The man didn’t answer at first and Brayden let out a slow breath, considering his options. “I’m here,” the man said again and it made Brayden pause, tipping his head to the side. He chewed his lip for a moment before he came forward carefully, rounding the table with a wide berth and he got a glimpse of the man’s face. His eyes were hollow and sunken, his face gaunt. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, almost nothing but skin and bones. He had a fork in one hand, with a piece of meat stuck onto it that he lifted to his face, but he never managed to get it into his mouth. He just pressed it to his chin before it fell back to the plate and the man’s eyes didn’t blink, just stared at a spot on the table. Running a hand over his mouth, Brayden knew there was something not right here and he thought it had something to do with the Raven who’d come through town. He sat down on the edge of the bed, watching the man for a moment. He wasn’t sure how to go about this, actually. “Barley,” he said firmly. The man’s face didn’t flinch and his eyes didn’t blink. He didn’t react at all to Brayden’s voice. “Barley, I need to know about the man you spoke to.” “I’m here,” Barley said again and Brayden felt a sigh escape his lips. He looked around the room again before he stood up and grabbed the fork out of the man’s hand, taking the plate and putting it atop a dresser at the other side of the room. Then he walked back and crouched in front of the table so the man’s eyes were staring right at his face. “The Raven, Barley,” Brayden said sternly. That got something out of him. His eyes flickered and seemed to focus on Brayden’s face and something cold and sinister passed through Brayden’s spine. He straightened a little, but didn’t stand up. “I need to know about the Raven.” “He’s looking,” the man whispered, his lips moving, but not in time with the words coming out of his mouth and Brayden swallowed. This man was dead. He’d probably died a long time ago and there was something unnatural keeping him alive. “Searching.” “What’s he looking for?” Brayden asked, though he already knew the answer. “Crows,” Barley said quickly, this time his lips didn’t even move. “They’ll peck your eyes and eat your tongue. Crows. Crowes.” Brayden swallowed and leaned forward, snapping his fingers in front of Barley’s face. The man’s eyes moved to his again. “Is he a Raven? Did he give you a name?” “Teague,” Barley said, the name a drawn out hiss on his lips. “Raven Teague.” Brayden nodded, confirming that it was a Raven looking for him. They were the worse of the magi. The most deadly and inhuman. “Where did he go? When he left Killigan. Where was he going?” “Teague,” Barley said again. Then, without warning, his hands came up and made to grab the sides of Brayden’s head. Brayden caught the man’s wrists before they could and he growled at the unnatural strength, but it faded just as quickly. “He goes to Otterville,” he said, sending a spike of fear through Brayden’s chest. “He goes to Otterville to hunt the crows.” .Wolfie. 3.5 Otterville – The Winters Farm Sleep did not come easily to Gideon that night. His body was tired from working in the Winter’s fields all day but his mind was racing. He wondered how Brayden fared. He wondered if he’d caught wind of the magi and more importantly if he’d gotten himself into trouble. He lay on his bedroll in the corner, fingers laced behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He hated moments like this. When he wasn’t moving or doing something to keep his thoughts at bay the dark regret always found him. It reminded him of what he’d lost. “Gideon?” Corey’s quiet voice echoed across the room at him. “Are you awake?” It was soft and hesitant and he tilted his head to the side. He could barely see the boy in the darkness, the pale moonlight doing little to illuminate the room. He’d been quiet in the days and weeks since they’d come here and Gideon felt a strange sense of responsibility for him. The boy had no one else. “Yes.” His eyes strained to try and see into the shadows. Corey lay on his side, his back to Gideon and the sheets were pulled up to his neck. There were times when Gideon saw him shaking in his bed but he never cried and he never asked to go home. The silence stretched on and Gideon started to wonder if the boy had just wanted a reassurance of his presence. He’d probably gotten used to Brayden sleeping just above him and now that spot in the room was deathly silent. Gideon tried not to stare and feel the pressing concern about his brother’s health and well being. He would either return with information or he would die a horrible death at the hands of a magi. If it was the second than Gideon was sure he would follow shortly after and yet somehow the thoughts didn’t ease his anxiety any. “Are we in danger?” Corey asked. The question startled Gideon from his thoughts. “Yes,” he said quietly. He looked back at the ceiling, eyes following the familiar pattern of the wood grain. He wondered if it scared him just how familiar he was becoming with this house and the people in it. The Chosen had been his family for so long that he felt removed from how normal folks lived. “We are always in danger. Accept that truth and don’t let the fear devour you when you do.” His eyes closed and he let out a breath. “That’s what it means to be the Chosen.” Corey didn’t say anything to that. He heard the bed creak across the room and then it grew quiet. After a while the boy’s breathing deepened as he fell into sleep. Gideon was almost jealous of that. He could never relax, not even when he slept. Elena had told him that enough times and he wondered if there would ever come a night again when she wasn’t on his mind. He wondered if he wanted that. Even when he was swamped with regret some part of her remained if only just in his memories. He may have buried her body and the body of his son but they had never left him. They haunted his nights and his dreams. And so of course he dreamed of her. They were broken, fragmented pieces of memory. Her hair fell around her face like a halo of gold, eyes bright and vibrant like chips of emerald. She was smiling at him and he thought she had the most beautiful smile. It was unrestrained, more like his brother than him. Gideon didn’t do anything without restraint. He was always vigilant, never complacent, but when she smiled it made him forget that he was just a soldier. His thumb ran across her lower lip and it parted beneath his touch, her eyes watching his carefully. “Yes,” she breathed up at him. A hesitant smile played upon her lips and he felt one tug at his own. When she saw it she let loose a soft, girlish laugh that she tried to cover with her hand. He reached up and pulled it from her mouth and then he was kissing her. “Yes,” she told him again. Yes, she would marry him. Yes, she was his. Feather light touches brushed his hair and it was enough to snap him awake. He caught her wrist before she got the blade to his throat and he bucked off the ground, rolling them over onto the hard wooden floor. His other hand went around her throat, pinning her. For a moment Gideon was stuck somewhere between wakefulness and dreaming. Blonde hair spilled out across the floor but it wasn’t Elena’s and it wasn’t her eyes staring up at him. These eyes were a strange golden hue, more animal than human, and the skin was a dark tan. Her ears were pointed sharply, body slim and movements made with a feline grace. Her lips were parted in surprise as she looked up at him but there was nothing of fear in that gaze. There was a knife gripped tightly in the hand he had pinned to the wooden floorboards and even as he watched her other hand reached for the one at her belt and ripped it from its sheath. He rolled away from her as she lashed out with the blade and he felt it whistle through the air behind him. He moved into a crouch, eyes flicking behind her to the bedroll and the sword he kept hidden beneath it. Adrenaline was swiftly burning the fog from his mind and he tried to assess the situation quickly. A lump formed in his throat as he wondered if Corey was still alive in his bunk or if she’d slit his throat and left him to be found in a puddle of his own blood. She didn’t give him time to check. She slashed out towards his face and he barely managed to move his head out of the way of her steel. A burning line traced its way across his cheek and his hand snapped out quickly to grab her wrist, twisting it in his grasp. She didn’t give him time to pull the same move twice. She moved with him, ducking beneath his arm and landing a knee in his gut. He grunted at the pain but tried to keep his focus on those nasty blades of hers. One hurtled down towards his neck and he lifted his arm quickly to try and deflect the blow. It buried itself deeply into his forearm and he growled at the pain. He lashed out with his elbow and managed to catch her across the cheekbone. He heard it make contact and her head whipped to the side, slipping to one knee for a moment. It drew the blade down his forearm and he couldn’t stop the hiss of pain that drew from his lips. His other hand reached out to grip her wrist, ripping the knife from his skin while his fingers dug brutally into her skin. She snarled and lashed out with the other blade but this time was expecting it. He moved with the blow, grabbing her other arm as they spun and slamming her hard against the wall. It barely loosened her grip on her knives but it cracked her head off the wood. She struggled and kicked out at him but if she was faster than Gideon was stronger. He pinned her there, gritting his teeth against the pain as she slammed her boot down onto his foot. He just tightened his grip on her wrist, twisting her hand and trying to shove her own blade back against her throat. Those strange gold eyes blazed out at him as he inched it closer to her skin, sweat breaking out on her forehead as she tipped her jaw back and tried to avoid the knife. It wasn’t until it pressed against her throat that she spoke. “Do it,” she hissed. There was a slight accent to the words but he heard them anyway and it made him pause. It didn’t loosen his grip but he didn’t push it any farther into her neck. There was no fear in her eyes but they glistened with some other emotion. “What?” he asked, frowning in confusion. “Do it,” she said again. “My life is yours to take, just end it swiftly.” Gideon stilled and for a moment he didn’t move. It wasn’t the first time an assassin had asked for a quick death instead of a slow death by torture but there was something subtly different about her asking. He snorted and dug the knife in a little deeper. A spot of blood appeared on her throat but she didn’t flinch. If anything she tilted her head to make it easier for him. “You want to die?” he asked. “Yes,” she told him, and he appreciated the honesty at least. She leaned her head forward and the motion surprised him, even if he showed none of it on his face. It dug the knife in deeper and there was blood trickling down the side of her neck now. Her fingers were white around the hilt and he wondered if she’d try and do it herself. “You live,” she spat. “I failed my cadre and now they are dead and I still live.” She leaned forward and spat the words in his face. “I am already dead to all who matter. Finish the job.” She tilted her head back and rested it against the wall, watching and waiting with lidded eyes. He kept the point of the knife pressed against her throat but he didn’t know what to think of this. He knew next to little about the dark elves. His contact with them had been limited, all he knew was that as assassins they were some of the most expensive because they were among the deadliest. She had proven that herself. He still bore scars from his last encounter with her and he wondered how many more he would have from this one. The wound on his arm was already bleeding thickly onto the ground. “Why not just kill yourself?” he asked. “I will not dishonor my ancestors as well.” She said the words like it should have been obvious. She was still watching him, blonde hair falling around her face as she waited for him to end her life. Her eyes slid closed and her breathing was steady and controlled. He tilted his head to the side and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Corey’s steady breathing. It settled it for him. “No,” he told her. Her eyes snapped open at that and she focused on his face, scanning it with quick sweeps. He didn’t pull the knife from her throat, but he didn’t push it any farther in. “I want answers from you. I’ll not be your executioner.” “My life is yours to take,” she said again, quieter this time. “You would truly let me live?” He hesitated at that, studying her carefully. She was an assassin, sent to kill him twice now and if he’d been any heavier of a sleeper than he would be already, he had no doubt about that. “For now,” he told her. She had been honest with him, so he gave her the same courtesy. Brayden had told him enough times he was a poor liar anyway. “Answer my questions truthfully and then we’ll see.” She scrutinized him with a narrowed gaze, blood still running in a thin rivulet down her neck. “Then I swear myself to you,” she said abruptly. She tipped her head up and the next words were said with a dark finality. “Your word is my will. Your life is made sacred in the eyes of the ancestors. My life is yours, to do with as you wish until you see fit to release me to join the ancestors. This, I, Piressa Daechiril, do swear to you, Gideon Crowe. Do as you wish with me.” Gideon stared at her for a moment afterwards and had she done any other than meet his gaze he wouldn’t have believed the words. But she didn’t blink and she didn’t flinch and he finally pulled the knife from her skin, releasing her wrists as he stepped back. “That’s a dangerous thing to swear,” he said calmly. “Now let’s talk.” Wenston 3.6 Eastern Highway – Moreau Pass There was an unusual fear clenching at his gut as he spurred his horse faster and faster across the dirt highway towards Otterville. He didn’t so much think it unusual that he was afraid, because only a coldhearted bastard wouldn’t be scared if they knew a Raven was headed towards his brother and closest thing to a family he had left. It was more the intensity of the fear he found unusual. He’d thought he’d come to terms with the idea of his brother dying a long time ago. It was a distinct possibility that it could happen one day. It’s just that Brayden always thought he’d go first. He’d been trying to prepare for that not to be the case, but nothing could prepare him for the thought of Gideon dying at the hand of a Raven. And not only Gideon, but Corey. Corey and the Winters. Gram, Paul, Karl, Wilhelm, little Gwen. Brayden had made the dire mistake of starting to care for these people. Mistakes like that only made it that much harder when the past caught up to them. He didn’t like the state the Raven, Teague whatever his name was, had left the man Barley in. It was unnatural and wretched and Brayden had done the man a favor and slit his throat quietly and calmly before he’d left. He hoped the same courtesy would be given to him should he ever fall victim to a malady like that. It wasn’t a sickness. It was a waking death. And now the thing that had caused such a wretched state of being was heading towards Gideon and the Winters and Brayden didn’t know how much of a head start the Raven had over him. He should have left the night Wilhelm had told his brother about it. He shouldn’t have waited for the morning. He should have known better. He should have known time never smiled on the Crowes. He wondered what he’d do if he caught up to the Raven. They weren’t like other magi. They looked human in the right light, but look closely and it was easy to tell they had given up their humanity a long time ago. They’d dealt with the Underlord, or so the story went. They’d looked death in the face and had told him they’d do his bidding. Brayden didn’t question the story, because he knew for a fact that people were born magi. And he also knew that not all Ravens had been born that way. They had to get their power from somewhere, why couldn’t it be the Underlord? Brayden was on the outskirts of Otterville when he caught up to Teague. He didn’t realize it at first. He hadn’t exactly been expecting to meet the Raven on the highway. He expected to get to Otterville and find the bodies of the people he loved. Or Gideon standing in the middle of the town, champion over a fallen Raven. Either way, he expected to deal with this once he got to Otterville. He didn’t expect to deal with it in the middle of the damn forest. His horse spooked when he tried to cross a stone bridge and Brayden pulled his horse to a stop because Wilhelm had given him one of the best he had and nothing spooked this horse. Not even the snake they’d encountered on the way to Killigan. He knew something was wrong and he patted his horse’s neck as his eyes scanned the trees to make sure the Raven didn’t have the high ground before his gaze went to the bridge and focused there for a moment. He could see a faint line of pebbles placed across the bridge and if he hadn’t been on the lookout for traps, he’d never have spotted it. Sliding down off of his horse, he tied it off to one of the trees and crept to the edge of the bridge, crouching down just before the pebbles and tilting his head as he studied them. It wasn’t a trap he knew how to disarm because it wasn’t of earthly powers. There were tiny spots on each of the pebbles, dark and blotchy and he knew blood when he saw it. He thought these pebbles were meant to alert Teague if anyone came this way. The Raven was good. Brayden would give him that. Walking off of the bridge and to the edge of the river, he waded through the murky waters, not wanting to alert Teague to his presence. He got to the other side and wrung out his clothes before continuing. He stayed off the road and kept to the trees as he made his way towards the edge of the Winters’ fields. He could see the stone fence keeping the forest at bay and he crouched there for a moment, hidden by the shade of a tree as he scanned the outer walls. He heard no screaming or anything from the farmhouse and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. He came to the conclusion it was good when he caught sight of a figure crouched a little further up the wall. The man had a shaven head, with tattoos coloring most of his skin in various patterns and designs. When the sun hit them just right, they did look like they gave off a glow and even as he watched, the man lifted a hand to the breeze and his fingertips developed a light glow before he brought them to his nose and sniffed. Brayden made a face and his hand went slowly to the hilt of his short sword at his side. Teague sniffed the air loudly at that moment and Brayden froze when he saw the Raven tense, the dark tunic concealing him mostly from sight and he wasn’t sure if Gideon knew of the man’s presence or not. He had to be on the lookout for suspicious characters, but Teague was blending in remarkably well. It took Brayden just a few seconds to realize he was made. And he knew this by Teague’s head suddenly turning and his eyes meeting Brayden’s own without having to search for anything. The Raven had known exactly where he was and that was the reason so many people with the right coin could hire them out. They were hunters by nature. Sniffers. They could track anyone and anything. “Crowe,” Teague hissed, his face suddenly conforming into something dark and wicked, teeth pointed and ears curling up to a point. “Creepy,” Brayden greeted back, nodding his head before he was rolling out of the way of a crashing branch that would have snapped his back right in two if he’d stood in his spot any longer. He rolled to the side and came back to his feet and his eyes widened when he saw that Teague wasn’t coming after him, but had leaped over the stone fence and was running across the fields towards the Winters’ home. Growling low in his throat, Brayden did the same, chasing after the Raven. He wasn’t going to let the man hurt the Winters. Or his brother if he could help it. Maybe Corey, if someone was dead set on getting hurt today, but hopefully not. His heart skipped a beat when he caught sight of Paul and Gwen playing in the fields. Teague was headed straight for them and Brayden did the only thing he could think of. At the same time he yelled for Paul to run, he pulled back his arm and hurled his short sword through the air at the moving Raven. There was a small glimmer of satisfaction in his heart as it cut into the Raven’s leg and the man let out an ear shattering, piercing howl before it tumbled to the ground. Paul and Gwen looked up and the noise, fearful looks on their faces. “Get inside!” Brayden screamed at them, pulling his other short sword and running at Teague. He didn’t wait to see if the children listened to him, lunging at the Raven, his free hand going for the hilt of his sword’s twin, still embedded into the man’s leg. The Raven was fast and limber. It growled and as soon as Brayden had both swords in hand, it kicked out with it’s legs, wiry and inhuman as its feet connected with Brayden’s chest. He stumbled backwards and didn’t let it distract him, bringing his swords up to intercept the claws that had appeared on the man’s hands that were coming at his face. “You’ll die,” Teague growled, voice deep and demonic. Brayden grinned and ducked beneath a blow, but let out a laughing hiss as claws raked up his back. The Raven was too limber and animal like for Brayden to truly keep up with, though he was doing a pretty good job. “Not before you,” he spat back, challengingly. To his surprise, the Raven laughed and leapt backwards, flipping back before landing in a crouch on the ground. Brayden started to go after him, but the ground began to shake beneath his feet and he paused as all the stones in the field started to roll towards a central spot between Brayden and Teague. He took a few steps backwards as the stones rolled on top of one another and then formed the structure of a man, three times the size of Brayden. Swallowing thickly, Brayden, held his swords out in front of him, eyes darting between the Raven and the rock monster. This was going to be harder than he thought. .Wolfie. Dawn found Gideon sitting on his bedroll, his back pressed against the wall and his sword close at hand. He bound the wound on his arm with linen strips, pulling them tight with his teeth before he rested his arms across his knees. The elf sat across the room from him, legs folded gracefully beneath her. He’d bound her hands in front of her with thick rope and they rested in her lap as she waited for a word from him. He’d woken Corey up as soon as light came through the windows so that the boy wouldn’t have to be in the room with them. He didn’t know if she meant her oath but he meant it when he said he needed answers.He studied Piressa carefully and she returned the look, mirroring the cool expression on his face. He didn’t trust this. A Raven showed up and the next night an assassin finds her way inside the house? It was no coincidence, and now that the sleep fog had burned off his mind he wondered if it was worth it to keep her alive. If she wanted death so badly, perhaps he should give it to her. “Tell me who it was that hired you,” he demanded. The words were short and clipped and he didn’t relish the thought of torture. “A man named Kinley,” she told him. It wasn’t the answer he expected but it wasn’t surprising and he nodded his head to let her know she could continue. “He came to our clan and asked for our best. I imagine your Viceroy is the one who supplied him with the coin, but it is not my duty to question such things. It was an honor for our cadre to be chosen. You are still bleeding.” Gideon snorted and didn’t even look at the poorly wrapped bandage around his arm. The cut had been deep, but it hadn’t severed the muscle and that was all he was concerned with. “I am aware. What were your orders exactly?” “Kill the Knight Commander, kill the Knight Captain, kill Brayden Crowe. The manner of your deaths was unimportant, only the timing was specified. You were allowed to see us in the Salty Pig that night because then you would question why elves were in the city instead of why the guard was changing beneath your nose.” She answered his questions with a cool, businesslike tone and he was almost surprised how swiftly the answers came. They had been used. They had been played and tricked and he felt a snarl curling his lip. Then her head tilted to the side. “Will you allow me to bind your wound?” He frowned at that. “No. Just because you swear yourself to me with words does not earn you my trust. There were three of you, correct?” He didn’t flinch hearing that he and Duncan were targets. It was something to be expected. But hearing his brother’s name on a kill list made his hands curl into fists. “Yes. Myself, Daeanu, and Lathion. I was the head of our cadre and their lives were my responsibility. When it was believed Brayden was dead Lathion joined Daeanu in his attack on Knight Commander Callum. He killed them both. I do not ask for your trust, but you have bandaged that poorly.” She nodded her head at the wound and he couldn’t tell if that was true concern she voiced or simple statement. Her mannerisms were strange and shuttered. It made it hard for him to gauge her responses and whether or not she was telling him the truth. Brayden would have known. He would have caught the subtle tics that Gideon missed because he was the best at that. He wondered if his brother had found the answers he sought or if he had found the Raven instead. The thought made his blood run cold because they were the nastiest of magi and he didn’t relish the thought of Brayden taking one on by himself. The fear stayed with him no matter how hard he tried to ignore it and he forced himself to remember that his brother had only left yesterday. He fought back the urge to glance towards the window because he didn’t dare take his eyes off the elf, at least for the moment. “It will heal,” he told her firmly. The he leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he watched hers carefully. “Tell me this truly, or your life ends now. What about the magi, the Raven? Do you travel with him?” She leaned forward in response and he caught the challenge in that small motion. “No.” The word was hard and cold but she didn’t flinch or look away when she said it and it made him more inclined to believe her. “I know only that he searches for the Emperor and the Crowes that spirited him away. I simply used the opportunity that your brother’s absence presented me with.” Gideon snorted and lifted an eyebrow. “You mean the opportunity to kill me.” A small, smug smile pulled at her lips. “Or die in the attempt.” Gideon sighed and sat back, a growing frustration building in his chest. Outside he could hear Paul and Gwen playing in the fields, their laughter echoing in the open window. “And what of the Emperor? Any signs of him?” “I do not know. I was not seeking him. I was seeking you and the death that promised, either yours or mine.” At the look he gave her she let out a quiet sigh, leaning away from him and resting her back against the wall. “All else, who sits on your throne, who guards your nobles, are human concerns, and therefore of little interest to me” The frustration reached a peak and he pushed himself to his feet, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at her. She just kept watching him with that same cool gaze and he found it interesting that not once had she glanced at the knives he’d taken from her. He was almost willing to believe her words, but he wasn’t in the business of taking things on faith. “Why should I trust anything you tell me?” he demanded harshly. “Why should I believe you won’t stick a knife in my back as soon as I unbind you?” “You may believe as you like. As I said, my life is yours to do with as you wish.” Her eyes stayed on his until a breeze drifted through the window. It stirred the curtains and tugged at her hair and her eyes closed, face turning into the wind. “The Raven is here.” His head was turning to the window before he could remind himself that he wasn’t meant to trust her but the danger didn’t come from her. He heard the loud yelling a second after the words were from her lips and he recognized his brother’s voice when he heard it. The sound was followed by Gwen’s sharp scream and then he was moving, his blood like ice as he did. He grasped his sword and her knives from the ground before he stalked forward, fingers curling around her arm and pulling her upright. “Let’s go,” he ordered. She didn’t fight, letting him push her head of him out the doo rand into the house. Gram stood by the doorway to the outside, arms wrapping around Gwen and Paul as they burst in through the door. They were shaking, Gwen clinging to her grandmother’s skirts for protection. “By the Lords, what is it children?” she asked. Her head tilted to the side to look out the door and by then Gideon was next to her, shoving Piressa out the door ahead of him. “Stay inside,” he said. Gram’s eyes were wide as they met his but there was no fear in them. The ground rumbled beneath him as he set foot on the earth and all the air left his lungs in a rush. Stones rolled across the field and gathered themselves into the shape of a man, right in front of Brayden. His eyes darted past it along the stone wall but he caught only a flicker of movement, no sign of what had summoned it. Still, any doubt that it was a Raven searching for them was killed when he saw the unnatural thing rising in front of Brayden, rumbling as it took shape. It turned towards his brother and he cursed beneath his breath when it did. The fear that had been dogging him for the last two days intensified and he let the elf’s blades clatter to the ground as he pulled his sword from his sheath. He released her arm and was already moving towards the stone monstrosity as it swung a huge fist down towards Brayden. His brother tossed himself to the side, ducking and rolling into a crouched position. The stone smashed down into the earth, spraying dirt and smaller chunks of rock through the air. The rock shifted and rumbled as it turned something like its head towards him. It didn’t matter. Brayden was already bolting across the field towards the stone wall. Both of his blades were out and he was focused on the Raven that crouched there. Gideon got a look at him as the light shifted, a glow emanating from his skin where the sun hit it. He looked only vaguely like a man anymore and his movements were like an animal’s as he crouched there and waited for Brayden to reach him. The rock monster moved to follow and that was when Gideon struck. He swung his sword out towards its arm, aiming for the gaps where stone met stone. The metal screamed as it dug into the construct, but it severed nothing. The sound of rock grinding together echoed in the air and the earth rumbled as it turned. He kept his grip on his blade but it screamed again as he yanked it from the stone limb, sparks flying into the air. He heard the rushing of wind and he threw himself backwards as another fist came hurtling towards him. The brunt of the blow missed him but all the air left his lungs as he caught part of it in the chest. It knocked him to the side, the skin scraping off his elbows as he landed hard on the ground, rolling with the hit. His chest felt tight as he forced himself upright, the monster already gearing up for another attack. He kept a grip on his sword as it swung its fist towards him again and he thought it was a wonder the blade didn’t break when he used it to try and deflect some of the blow. This one missed him as he staggered backwards but he felt something like despair sinking into his chest. Behind the monster he could hear the sound of his brother’s short swords as they glanced off the Raven’s claws. He shot a look in their direction but he caught only an impression of quick movement before the rock monster was bringing both fists down. The blow missed Gideon, but the ground rumbled beneath the stone as it struck earth and it was a battle just to keep his footing. The wound in his arm throbbed painfully and his teeth were already rattling together in his skull. A snarl left his lips and he swung his blade out towards the monster again, but he knew it was a move of desperation. The sword skidded along the hard surface of its skin and then it was swinging its fist around again, catching him hard in the side and knocking him off his feet. He slammed into the ground and he coughed into the dirt as he tried to drag himself to his knees. He didn’t expect the hands that gripped his arm, pulling him upright and trying to draw him away from the rock monster but somehow it didn’t strike him as surprising that she’d slipped her bonds. “Well,” he said. “Any suggestions? If so this would be a good time to prove that oath of yours is more than just hollow words.” “Something binds it together,” she said. “Find the focus and you can destroy it.” Then she shoved him hard and he landed in the dirt as a fist landed on the ground behind him. “And if you want suggestions, then I recommend learning to dodge.” Wenston 3.7 Torturer’s Chamber Corey’s hands shook as he sat there and he wasn’t sure it was all because of the torture his body had been put through. He wasn’t look at either man who was inflicting pain or interrogation at him. He stared at a spot on the wall, where the rock crumbled loosely and he could remember the Raven’s monster with vivid detail. It had been the first time he’d ever seen magic firsthand. He’d heard stories, horror tales mostly. But he’d never actually seen it and he remembered the monster as a horrendous, awful thing that had him just about as scared as the Winters children had been. “I did not think the Crowe’s capable of beating a Raven’s elemental,” the man at the other side of the chamber said, more to himself than to Corey. He rolled his head to look at the man, but his vision blurred in and out and the man continued before he could say anything. “And what of Daechiril? I do not believe you when you say she simply resigned herself to Crowe. He had to have persuaded her somehow.” A small sigh left Corey’s lips and he swallowed thickly, giving a small shake of his head. “No,” he rasped. “It took a long time for him to trust Piressa,” he said and winced at the use of her name so informally. He saw the man’s face darken at it as well. “Siding with us was her own choice. She wanted to atone for her failures.” “Then she should have come to see me!” the man yelled and stalked across the room. He pointed at the man sitting next to Corey and his blackened eyes widened as the knife came up and started to draw a line down Corey’s chest. He gave a cry, trying to sink back into his chair to get away from the burning touch. Tears slipped down his cheeks and the man stopped asking questions for a while, instead letting the torturer continue with his bloodletting. When the room started to spin, the man with the knife stopped what he was doing and the other came forward, grabbing Corey’s chin and giving his head a shake until Corey was focused on his face. “Tell me about Teague. How did the Crowe’s beat him in Otterville?” “They didn’t,” Corey rasped, his voice hoarse and ragged, breathing shallow. He saw the man’s face darken and he was quick to add, “They only beat his monster.” 3.8 Otterville – The Winters Farm When Brayden fought, he became aware of his surroundings in only the most distant sense. Whenever he tried to explain what came over him while he fought, he could never quite understand that part. A true fighter would use the environment to their advantage, and Brayden often did. But in a fight, it was always his opponent he was most aware of. Everything else just seemed to fade out. Until he needed it. So the rock monster in the middle of the field faded away into fog. He was distantly aware that he could hear his brother’s sword screeching against rock and there was a detached feeling of anxiety resting in his chest. But all of that he was only aware of on the outsides of his mind. For right now, all he cared about, all he could focus on, was the Raven in front of him. He was fast and he was vicious. He didn’t hold back and he wasn’t afraid to take a hit, even if it left him bleeding or wounded if it meant he could land one. The Raven was a fighter with little regard to his well being, so long as the hit wouldn’t cause death. Those were the most dangerous fighters and Brayden had only ever come across those types a handful of times. He knew before he even locked blade to claw with this Raven that this fight was not going to be easy or pretty. It was going to end with one of them dead or incapacitated. But he didn’t have much of a choice because beyond the rock monster, beyond Gideon, there was a farmhouse with a family that had taken them in as their own and there was no way he was going to let this Raven touch a hair on any of their heads. Every time Brayden brought one of his short swords down against the Raven, he would block it with his clawed hands. Blood was beginning to stain both of their hands, most of it from the Raven, Brayden’s sword slicing deep cuts between his claws and on his hands. Some of it was Brayden’s, when the claws would slide up the blade and dig at Brayden’s hands and wrists. It made the blade slick in his hands and the fight harder by the minute. Twirling, he kept one sword high and aimed the other low, lashing out at the Raven’s stomach. The creature leapt backwards and swatted at the high sword with his claws. Brayden followed that up with a lunge, both blades aimed at its chest. The Raven let out a screech of annoyance and flipped to the side, hands tucked ear its chest and feet flailing as he turned head over heels. When he landed, he flung his hands out at Brayden and it felt like an invisible force slammed straight into his chest, knocking him backwards. He didn’t fall, only stumbled back a few steps. “Neat trick,” Brayden growled, lunging forward again. He swiped at the Raven’s feet with one blade while shoving the other towards his face. The Raven leapt over the one aimed at his ankles, but the other struck a line across his face and Brayden tried to follow through on the attack, but the Raven pushed at the air again, shoving him backwards, a bit weaker this time. When Brayden came at him again, the Raven suddenly held up both hands, glowing slightly blue and Brayden felt as though hands had closed themselves around his wrists and forearms. It stopped him in his tracks and he had one hand held high above his head while the other was down at his side, blade aimed towards the creature. The Raven grinned viciously and that’s when the whispering started. It sounded as though a million voices at once were caught on the wind blowing in his ears. He could hear the rock monster in the background and Gideon’s sword, along with another. His mind went to Corey, but then came solidly back to the fight at hand when the voices in the air all began to speak at once, saying the same thing, telling him to do something and the strange thing was, he found himself doing what they asked. His hand lowered and he tried to stop it but the sword in his hand was suddenly at his own throat. He felt the cold steel press up against the skin on his neck and the Raven let out a chirping laugh, showing its sharpened teeth to Brayden before it raised its own hand and drew a line across its own neck. Brayden let out a grunt as he felt his sword start to pull across his skin, blood trickling down his neck. It took every ounce of willpower he had to stop himself from slitting his own throat. His hand shook, cutting into his skin and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t withdraw his blade from his own throat. The whispering grew louder and more intense until it was the only thing he could hear. The Raven’s face the only thing he could see. Everything else faded away and he grit his teeth, let out a pained gasp as the sword pulled a bit further across his throat, blood seeping down his neck, staining the collar of his tunic. The blow came out of nowhere and the look on the Raven’s face would have brought immediate satisfaction to Brayden if it hadn’t felt like the world dropped beneath him. A sword swung at the Raven from the side, slicing a long, thick tear across his arm, nearly severing the limb. The Raven screamed and immediately the invisible hands holding Brayden in place dropped away and he felt his knees give out. He fell to his hands and knees, one hand immediately coming to his neck to try to hold his blood in place. He felt it start to seep through his fingers even in such a short amount of time. The Raven lashed out at his attacker and Brayden heard a soft cry, but the Raven didn’t follow through, instead turning and running on all fours, one arm severely damaged, across the field. Brayden thought dimly they should go after him, but there was still the matter of the rock creature behind him. “Brayden?” came Corey’s voice and Brayden lifted his gaze to the kid’s face as he stood over him, a slice across his cheek from where the Raven had struck him. He had his sword held out, the Raven’s blood dripping from the end of it. His worried gaze was turned to Brayden and he crouched down next to him. “Are you hurt badly?” he asked. “No,” Brayden told him, sitting back and pulling his hand away from his neck. It was gloved in red but he turned to look over his shoulder at his brother, who was still engaged in combat with the rock creature. He frowned at the elf who wielded dual blades, fighting by his brother’s side. He frowned and looked to Corey. “What did I miss?” he asked. .Wolfie. Gideon had never fought an elemental before. He’d fought his share of assassins and rebels and the occasional bandit but he’d faced little in the way of magic, even as one of the Chosen. The Emperor had the Viceroy, and the Viceroy had his own magi that handled any of their own that tried to work curses or send horrific constructs after the Emperor. He was familiar with them to a point but the stone construct was beyond even his realm of experience. Later he would blame that for how badly he was getting slammed around.Every muscle he had was bruised and there were new cuts added to the ones Piressa had already left him with. The monstrosity had none of that human weakness and he couldn’t help but feel outmatched. It would keep going until he was dead and no matter how many cuts he managed to rend in the stone surface, it didn’t feel any of them. His blade would dull before he destroyed it this way. He tried at first to keep an eye on Brayden, but that plan went out the window when a solid fist pounded him into the dirt again. He was distracted by his brother and the fear that the Raven would shred him when he wasn’t looking. It was nothing he could afford. He pushed it out of his mind, because he had practice doing that at least. He was good at staying numb and staying in control. Brayden was the best of all of them and if he couldn’t manage to kill the Raven than they were dead either way. If he failed then Gideon would follow and if he won then hopefully the magi’s death would take his construct with him. No matter what, he did neither of them any good if he got himself killed. He focused his attention back on the monstrosity and rolled out of the way when another blow landed in the dirt next to him. It sprayed up into the air and into his eyes. He hurriedly blinked it away. Piressa fought next to him but she was doing less damage than he was. It was apparent to him early on that she was just trying to distract the elemental from shattering all of his bones, rather than trying to land any substantial blows on it. Every time her blades skidded along the stone surface it would draw the rock monster’s attention and then Gideon would hack away at it with all of his strength. The system worked well at keeping them alive if nothing else, and he couldn’t deny her proficiency with those blades. She was quick. She could have given Brayden a run for his money though his brother would be offended if he ever heard him say that. The elemental never managed to land a blow on her because she was moving before it even got close. She ducked beneath stone fists and her feet were light on the ground. He never heard her make a sound and a part of him wondered how he was still alive. He felt some small satisfaction when he finally managed to wedge his blade in between the stones of its arm. There was a scraping, screaming sound as he slammed his other fist against the hilt. Rocks slid against each other as whatever passed for its head turned in Gideon’s direction as the stones cracked and wind whistled through the gaps. As soon as the blade wedged them apart the stone arm fell to the ground, one massive fist landing next to Gideon’s feet. He didn’t know if the thing felt pain but he imagined something like anger as the monster focused its all on him. Its head ducked to the ground and it charged him, stone feet slamming hard against the ground as it hurtled towards him. He threw himself to the side, tucking and rolling into a crouch as it hurtled by. Its stone feet caught on the dirt and it stumbled as it tried to turn, spilling forward with a thunderous rumble. It shook the ground beneath him as it landed and he lost his balance, falling back into a sitting position on the ground. It had only one arm to try and push itself up with and the stones scraped and rattled against each other as it did. Before it even got halfway there Gideon felt fingers on his arm, pulling him up. “Tell me brother,” Brayden drawled. There was humor in his voice but it was strained and Gideon tried to look up into his face, the sun behind his head making it hard. “How do you intend on killing a rock monster? Do you intend to hack at it until it surrenders?” “That was the plan,” he admitted, squinting at his brother. He could see Piressa approaching from behind him, Corey on the other side with his blade in hand. There was blood on it and he hoped it was the Raven’s and not Brayden’s. He finally got a look at his brother’s face and there was blood all over his neck, leaking from the wound he was trying to hold closed with one hand. “How do you fare?” Brayden sighed. “I am well,” he said. Gideon named it a lie but he had no time to call him on it. The monster creaked and shifted as it struggled to get back to its feet. The rocks shifted and moved to try and replace its missing arm and as one of them shifted he caught a glimpse of something glowing and blue within its chest. Then it was turning, its attention focusing on him once again. He tensed, waiting for it to charge again and instead it reached down and grabbed a fallen stone from the ground. It lifted it above its head and then the monster was hurling the rock with all its strength in their direction. Gideon couldn’t stop the curse that spilled from his lips as he shoved his brother to the opposite side of him. Behind him he heard Corey Temple let out a startled shout and he caught a glimpse of the boy scrambling backwards with wide, fearful eyes. The rock whistled through the air and slammed heavily into the earth, spraying dirt and chunks of rock against his skin. It came after him again before the rock had even hit the ground and he grunted in pain as he tried to deflect the next blow it swung at him. His blade scraped against its stone surface and he felt the motion run up the steel and into his arm. Another fist lifted and slammed down towards him and he dodged to the side to try and avoid it. There was the sound of metal screaming against rock as behind it his brother jammed his blades into the gaps, trying to damage it in any way they could. Next to him Piressa did the same and later he would think more on that. He didn’t trust her but he couldn’t deny that she hadn’t tried to put one of those blades in his back. Not yet. He wondered if this was just a trick and if it was it was a good one. The ground rumbled as it kept charging Gideon and he moved backwards as quickly as his feet would take him. It kept coming, feet pounding against the ground and he knew he would be the first one to stumble. His foot caught on a rock even as he thought it and he barely kept his balance. A rocky fist struck him hard in the chest even so and he grunted as it knocked him backwards. He struck the ground hard and in the back of his mind he was disgusted with how many times he’d landed here today. He heard Brayden cursing and then his brother was leaping on the back of the elemental, his blade jamming into the space between a rock that passed for its head and another for its chest. That finally managed to distract it and it whirled, fists swinging as it tried to shake Brayden off of it. He caught a glimpse of something glowing blue within its chest as it did. The monster reached back and Brayden dropped off its back before it could catch him. He left one of his blades in its neck but it didn’t seem to notice, turning and focusing its attention to him. It rumbled as it lifted its arm up and then slammed its fist down towards Gideon’s brother. The blow never even came close, even with blood loss making him slow. Brayden threw himself out of the way, tucking and throwing himself into a crouched position with one blade still in hand. Piressa’s blade skidded off the elemental’s back as it turned towards the younger Crowe and then Corey was charging it, swinging his sword down with all his strength on its arm. The blade glanced off its stone surface and the shock ran up his arms into his shoulders. Gideon saw his face contort in pain as he struggled to hold onto the sword and then his wide eyes were looking up towards the monster. It swung its fist around and caught him in the side. It sent him flying and Gideon jolted because he almost hit the side of the Winter’s barn. He just missed, landing on the hay inside with a loud thump. He heard a quiet groan afterwards and the monster must have heard it as well because it was charging off after him, fists swinging by its side as it followed. “Damn it Corey,” he heard Brayden hiss beneath his breath. Gideon snorted because despite the words he thought his brother was getting fond of the kid. “He reminds me of you,” he said. The elemental left holes in the dirt as it charged after Corey. Both of them were hurrying across the field after the monster but he felt his brother’s glare on the side of his face. “Hardly,” he said. “He’s a young Gideon. I would swear by it.” Gideon scoffed but didn’t answer because the rock monster was stomping through the doorway and he could see Corey trying to get himself upright. There was blood running down the side of his head from a nasty gash and his eyes were wide and bleary as he looked up at the construct. Gideon could hear the whimper even across the barn and it made him break out into a run. He jammed his blade into its back as hard as he could and that drew its attention if nothing else. It slid between the stones and then it stuck there. He kept his grip on its hilt but then the monster was turning and he heard the scream of steel before it broke in his hands. He was left holding a hilt and there was a dull pain at that. He’d had that blade for years. It had been presented to him by the Emperor himself when he’d been named Chosen and now it was broken off in the back of a Raven’s summoning. Somehow that seemed fitting. Brayden went after it with his short swords and tried to draw its attention away but the monster was either getting stupider or smarter because it wasn’t falling for those tricks anymore. Even when Piressa threw a knife at it from the doorway all it did was clatter off its stone skull and land with a thump in the dirt. Gideon backed up as it came towards him, throwing the useless hilt off to the side and looking desperately around for something he could use as a weapon. Wilhelm’s tools were all hung on the wall and he scanned them quickly before he ripped a hammer off the rack. He heard Brayden snort out a laugh at that before he stabbed the monster. It finally turned, slamming a fist down at Brayden and Gideon didn’t waste time. He pulled the hammer back and swung it with all his strength at its back. The blow struck the broken chunk of blade he’d left inside it and he heard the sound of stone cracking and splitting before suddenly the elemental was bursting apart. One of the rocks struck him in the shoulder and he stumbled back. His breath was harsh and ragged in his chest as he lifted his head, blinking away the dust and bits of rock that flaked through the air. Corey sat wide eyed and scared in a pile of hay. Piressa stood just inside the door unscathed and Brayden stood shakily before him. His brother’s eyes met his and he smirked, jerking his head over his shoulder. “So,” he drawled nonchalantly. “Who’s the elf?” Wenston Gram had insisted on sewing the cut on Brayden’s neck shut. He sat in a chair by the fireplace while she did it, holding the needle over the fire before plunging it into his neck. She’d gotten him to drink some home brewed dandelion wine before she started, to help him relax and though Brayden was normally one to hold his liquor, he had to admit, the wine was probably some of the strongest stuff he’d ever had. It left his head feeling fuzzy and he told himself it was because of the liquor and not because of the blood that now stained his tunic lying across the room. He had to borrow one of from Karl, who was about Brayden’s stature, slim and lean. He barely paid attention to the needle slipping in and out of his skin, his head leaned back against the chair as he watched across the room Gideon and Wilhelm. The man sat rigidly, a frown on his face and Gwen in his lap, his arms around her as she batted her eyes at Corey. He hadn’t asked yet what that thing was or who they were, but Brayden didn’t doubt the questions would come soon. They’d put his family in danger, he had a right to know. Piressa stood against the wall on the other side of Gideon, her arms crossed over her chest and her face impassive as she watched out the window. She’d been quiet and all Gideon had said to his question of who she was, was that she was with them now. He’d have to ask him later. He didn’t want to start something in front of Wilhelm and the children. “You’re lucky, boy-o,” Gram said suddenly, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He turned his head slightly to eye her and she was tying off the hardened thread in his neck. She grabbed some pale cloth and started wrapping it around his neck. She made sure it wasn’t too tight and he couldn’t help but think she was fairly good at this medicine stuff. He wondered what she’d done to learn it. “Any deeper of a cut and you would have been bled dry.” Brayden grinned and he saw Gram lift a brow at him, though a small smirk formed on her lips because she always enjoyed their banter. “If you want to talk about luck,” he said, head rolling to the side to eye Gideon, who sat almost as rigid as Wilhelm did, though probably not for the same reasons. “You should talk to my brother. I’ve never seen someone get so beaten on by a rock.” Brayden frowned playfully and added, “Except for that time in Lourdes. Golems are tricky.” “Not if you know how to handle them,” Gram said without hesitation and Brayden couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. He bit it back instantly and gave Gram a guilty look, but she had an equally guilty look on her face that told him she probably knew how potent her dandelion wine was. She pointed a finger at Brayden’s face. “But you are correct.” Her attention turned to Gideon. “You should be more careful.” Grinning ear to ear and for some reason finding it the funniest thing in the world, Brayden looked straight at Gideon and said, “Yes, please do be more careful.” Gideon didn’t seem quite so amused. His eyes narrowed slightly at Brayden and then he was turning towards Wilhelm. “I apologize for bringing this to your family,” he said, his voice grave and sincere. Wilhelm lifted his head a bit and then nodded. Turning to look at his mother, Wilhelm said, “Why don’t you get the children to bed.” Brayden looked back at Gram and they exchanged a knowing look. He closed his eyes as Gram patted him on the arm and rose, going to gather the children. “Come now,” she said, corralling Paul and Karl. Karl went to his father and plucked Gwen from his arms. She looked tired and sleepy and as Karl carried her, she gave a wave to Corey, who sat on the other side of Gideon. He smiled a bit and gave her a small wave back and it almost made Brayden laugh again, but he managed to hold this one back. As soon as they were out of earshot, Wilhelm sighed, rubbing his hands along his knees like they were hurting him. He looked into the fire and Brayden moved his gaze back to Gideon, who just seemed to be waiting for the man to say or ask something. Knowing his brother, Gideon was probably feeling guilty over things he had no control over. “So you are the Chosen,” Wilhelm said at last, his words quiet, like he thought there may be ears outside his home listening in. For all they knew, there probably were. The Raven had gotten away. Brayden had wanted to give chase to the man, but they’d all been hurt in the battle, except for the elf woman, and they needed at least a night’s rest before tracking the man down. Which they were going to do. Letting him lead an army back here wasn’t an option. Gideon licked his lips, seeming to contemplate the question, but Brayden knew he was just weighing the options. Would it be smarter to tell the man outright who they were or keep their charade up. He must have decided the first, because then Gideon was nodding. “We were,” he said, putting emphasis on the word, “were.” Wilhelm nodded again, like this wasn’t a surprise to him. He turned his head to look straight at Gideon. “They say you betrayed the Emperor.” “They lie,” Brayden answered for his brother and all their gazes came to him. He just shrugged and rolled his head back on the chair so the fire was warming his face. He was feeling a mite tingly and the wine was really getting to him. He wished Tristan was here, because he would probably be about passed out on the floor with just one cup of it. The thought made a sudden pain wrack through his chest because he wasn’t even certain Tristan or any of the others were still alive. He tended not to think too much on it. Gideon cleared his throat and sighed. “We did not betray the Emperor,” he said. “But I cannot risk your involvement in the details.” Wilhelm seemed to think on that for a moment before he glanced over at Piressa. “And her?” he asked. “Swore herself to me,” Gideon told him. Brayden snorted and could feel the elf’s gaze on him. He waved his hand distractedly at her. “She’ll turn on you,” he said calmly. Piressa made a small noise in her throat and said calmly, “You know not the ways of my cadre.” Brayden scoffed and rolled his head back to the side to glare at her. “I know enough,” he spat at her. “I will never trust you at my back. Or my brother’s.” “Your life is of little consequence to me,” she told him flatly and Brayden saw his brother’s face darken, but it just made Brayden laugh. He shook his head and nestled back into his chair, eyes going to Corey, who was sitting quietly and looking uncomfortable. “She’ll go for you first, just to let you know,” he told him and Corey’s eyes widened, glancing over at Piressa and then Gideon. “She will have already deduced you are the weakest link by your remarkable display of getting pummeled on the battlefield today.” “That’s enough,” Gideon said sharply. Brayden turned to glare at him and Gideon just glared back. Then he turned to Wilhelm and said, “We will be leaving in the morning to track down the Raven and ensure your family is safe. Once he is killed, we will come only to tell you of our success and then we will leave. I will not risk your family further.” Wilhelm’s head quirked to the side, studying Gideon for a moment before he promptly pushed himself to his feet and waved Gideon closer. “Come with me,” he said and Brayden raised an eyebrow. Gideon looked confused for a fraction of a second before he rose without question. Wilhelm walked out the door and Gideon went to follow him, but paused in the doorway, turning to look at the three left in the room. “Play nice,” he said simply, then followed Wilhelm out. .Wolfie. Gideon followed Wilhelm out of the house, shutting the door behind him. The air was already cooling outside as the sun set beyond the field but it was still bright enough to illuminate all the damage done. The ground was destroyed. It had been ripped and shredded by the Raven’s elemental and he could see the broken barn door as they headed towards it. There was blood splattered across the stone wall and much of it was Brayden’s. The wound had cut deep and his brother was lucky indeed to be alive.There was guilt lingering in his chest but he pushed that aside as he always did. They’d had no other choices at the time. The Emperor had been dethroned, they’d been driven from the Keep and they’d had no more than a coin between the three of them. They had to stay alive and Gideon had made the choices to keep them that way. It had put the Winters in danger and he had accepted those dangers with a hard, cold detachment. Yet now that they’d brought a Raven to their doorstep he was no longer sure he’d done the right thing. They should have left. Better to steal and beg their way than to bring destruction down on them like this. “Your brother should learn to hold his liquor better,” Wilhelm said. He smiled over his shoulder at Gideon but he didn’t return it. He was surveying the damage done as he followed the man across what was left of his field and now that it was over all he could wonder was why they weren’t all dead. His muscles protested with every step and he imagined his skin was littered with bruises. “He usually does,” Gideon said. Wilhelm led him towards the barn and he ducked through the hole left in his door. Gideon wondered if that had been left there before they killed the elemental or afterwards. “Better than most, in fact.” The nostalgia hit him quickly and painfully as he said the words. It made him think of nights at the Salty Pig while the Chosen got drunk and rowdy and sang a little bit too loud and laughed a bit louder. They’d been family once and the loss hurt him more than he’d allowed himself to feel in months. He thought about Errol and Cathis who’d never even had a chance and Palmer who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. If Nicos was dead then he was dead protecting Gideon and the sacrifice wasn’t worth it. He wondered if Tristan and Miren had made it out alright. They’d had Stephen with them last he’d seen and he wondered if the man had stayed with them or if he’d gone back to the Church’s Blades. Maybe it was too late for him. Maybe the Viceroy’s men had already caught up to them. Would he have heard of their deaths out here, or would he never even know? Wilhelm chuckled and nodded his head. “He doesn’t usually drink my mother’s wine.” Gideon snorted and ran a hand over his mouth. “The way it loosens his tongue that is for the best.” That drew another laugh from the man even though Gideon did not return it. “That boy’s tongue is loose enough without it. I’ve never seen a man able to keep up with my mother’s bullshit the way he does.” He grinned as he gripped the rungs of the laughter but he hesitated before climbing. He glanced back at Gideon and studied him a moment before nodding behind him at the house. “Is he wrong though? Are you sure you can trust her? Your brother seemed certain of where her loyalties lie and they are not with you.” Gideon didn’t have to ask who the man was talking about because the thoughts were already on his mind. He didn’t trust her. She may have helped them against the Raven’s monster but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t put a knife in his back the first chance she got. Even if she meant her oath and swore her life to his, it didn’t mean she would hesitate to kill his brother or Corey. If he let her live then he would have to speak with her about it. He wondered if it wouldn’t be better to do as she asked and slit her throat here, but if there was one thing he did believe it was that she had meant it when she’d asked for him to kill her. She would have accepted her death then. He believed that if nothing else and that was what gave him pause. “I never said I trusted her,” he said simply. Wilhelm waited for more but Gideon said nothing else. He had always kept his own counsel and if her life was his then he alone would decide what to do with it. If she spoke truly then she could be a useful blade on his side. If she was lying then he would kill her himself and next time he wouldn’t hesitate. When Gideon left it that Wilhelm finally nodded his head, his mouth quirking to the side in a smile. “Well,” he said. “Good enough. The elven ways are strange and I know little enough about them, but that one is dangerous.” “I am aware.” Wilhelm laughed quietly at Gideon’s response and he didn’t understand why. The man shook his head and then climbed the ladder up into the loft of his barn. Gideon followed after him and he was halfway up before he became distantly aware that he’d never asked where they were going or what their purpose was. The man had given him an order and he’d followed it without question because that’s what soldiers did. For a moment it made him wonder if Duncan was truly alive out there somewhere and if he was not then Gideon should have been trying to find the other Chosen already. He thought in the back of his mind that maybe all this time he had been waiting for orders. He had been playing the farmer and keeping his head low while he waited for Duncan to tell him what he was supposed to do next. It didn’t matter now. The choice had been taken out of his hands. Once the Raven was dead then he would look for any sign of the Chosen, even if that meant returning to Lockhaven. Whether or not the Emperor lived, the Viceroy could not stay on a throne won in blood. Wilhelm headed across the wooden floorboards, taking a lantern off the wall. He paused to light it before holding it over his head and scanning the corners for whatever he was seeking. “We used to get bandits out this way,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “None of them ever came here, but some of the other farms got hit. So I took all the important things and stashed them out here.” Gideon lifted an eyebrow. “No one ever robs barns?” The man laughed like he’d made a joke, kicking hay aside off onto the floor below. If Gideon looked down he could see the broken pieces of the elemental lying scattered across the ground, as well as the shattered chunk of blade that used to be his. “They do, but not for valuables,” Wilhelm said. “Man robs a barn, he’s looking for a horse or food or just some place to sleep for the night. Though if they’d just ask nice like I could give them the second two for free.” He smirked and shot a glance back at Gideon as he said it and he was surprised at the heat that rose to his cheeks. He crossed his arms over his chest and didn’t say anything to that. Whatever the man saw on his face made him laugh again and then he was crouching in front of a chest, hidden beneath the straw. “I appreciate all your family has done for us,” Gideon told him. It was more than they’d had any right to ask and if it got them killed then he would remember them with regret. Just as he remembered Elena. As soon as he thought that he buried the thoughts because now was not the time. Later when he closed his eyes he would allow emotion but not now. Wilhelm rustled in the chest and then he sat back on his heels, a sword in his hand. “Here,” he said. “You’ll need this more than I will. Got no skill with a blade. It was my father’s. He was a soldier in the Emperor’s army and he carried it until the day he died.” The man held it up to him and Gideon stiffened, shaking his head. “I cannot accept this.” Wilhelm scoffed and stood, pressing it into his hands. “Aw come now,” he said, grinning at Gideon. “How are you supposed to beat the next monster thrown at you if you’ve got nothing to throw back? You going to fight it with your bare hands?” He chuckled and shook his head, stepping back and leaving the blade in Gideon’s hands. Wilhelm watched as he pulled it from its sheath, holding it up in the flickering light and studying it with a careful eye. It was a simple blade made of steel, small scratches and dings already marring it surface but it was good, strong metal. He hefted the weight of it in his hands and he thought it was lighter than his sword. The smile faded from Wilhelm’s face as he watched Gideon but he didn’t notice at first. He gave it a practice swing, testing the weight of it. It needed sharpening, but it was a good, strong blade and one he would have chosen for himself. It wasn’t something he had any right to take but the man was right and he couldn’t face something like the elemental with only a knife. He slid it back into its sheath and Wilhelm finally cleared his throat as he did. “It’s not the blade of a Chosen or anything,” he said. “But it’s a soldier’s blade.” Gideon glanced at the man and he wore a look of uncertainty as he waited for Gideon’s reaction. “Those are the only ones worth carrying,” Gideon said. Relief spread across Wilhelm’s face and he smiled. “I will find a way to repay you.” “Get ride of that witch man and we’ll consider it even,” Wilhelm told him. He smiled and clapped Gideon on the shoulder before moving past him towards the ladder. Gideon followed behind him, resting the blade across his shoulder as he climbed down one handed. They didn’t say anything else on the walk back, not until they were almost the door and Gideon stopped him. “Someone else may come looking for us before we return,” he said. Wilhelm didn’t give anything away and Gideon felt guilt tightening in his chest as he said it but he needed to warn him. There was no telling what other powers the Raven had or if there was anyone else helping him. He doubted it, but it needed to be said. “If anyone does come then tell them whatever they ask and do not lie. I’ll not see anymore harm come to your family for trying to protect us and there are men who will know if you deceive them.” Wilhelm looked up at him and then nodded slowly. “Can’t lie about something I don’t know, right?” he asked. The words were familiar and Gideon nodded his head. They could be leaving them open to more danger by leaving them here, but it had to be done. Duty required sacrifice. Wenston 3.9 The Eastern Highway – Southern Crossroads “Do you think they’ll be okay?” Corey’s quiet question broke the silence that had been looming between them since they’d left the Winters farm. They’d waited until just before sunrise and they’d left before the family had gotten up. It had been the most logical move on their part, though not the easiest. They had become like family the last few months and to leave without a word in the morning, Brayden wasn’t sure the children would understand. He could picture Gwen weeping over Corey and though it was a little sad, it brought a smile to his face as well. He would miss Gram. The old biddy had been a force to be reckoned with and he met few people with spirit like hers. The Winters were a good natured people and that alone reminded Brayden why they left when they did. They needed to protect them. They needed to hunt the Raven and ensure the Winters weren’t caught harboring fugitives. Above and beyond that, Brayden thought they also deserved to have a benevolent Emperor. But that was still a long ways away. He wasn’t even sure the Emperor or Duncan were alive yet. They’d have to find out when the Raven was dead. Gideon walked ahead of them, with Piressa at his side. Brayden worried over the fact that he couldn’t tell if Gideon kept her so close to keep an eye on her or because he really trusted that she’d bound herself to him. He didn’t think it was smart to keep her around. He thought the smartest thing would be to kill her and be done with her. The risk of her being a spy or turning on them later was too great. But it wasn’t what Gideon wanted. And that meant Brayden would have to keep both eyes open and watch her every move. He wouldn’t let her take Gideon by surprise. That was his job. “I do not know,” Gideon answered solemnly and Brayden glanced at his brother. His shoulders were rigid. He was bruised and moved stiffly, but he knew part of his rigid stance was due to the guilt he felt over bringing this war to the Winters’ doorstep. He carried that weight on his shoulders. Corey nodded his head, walking beside Brayden. They still wore simple clothes, all of them, though Brayden had a vest that he’d concealed many daggers in. He didn’t want to admit where he’d gotten them either. And he had no doubt Piressa had weapons hidden on her as well. He knew an assassin when he saw one and he’d come to realize she was the same elf they’d seen in the Salty Pig. It made him mistrust her even more. “We should head towards the sea,” Piressa said, holding a hand to her eyes and shielding them from the sun as she gazed down the long dirt road. They were coming up on the crossroads and pretty soon they’d have to choose which way to go. The Raven wasn’t making it easy for them to track him. “He would go to the ports for shelter.” “He’s not an elf,” Brayden snapped and it drew Piressa’s eyes to him, blazing glare. “He would seek shelter in Hollowind.” Piressa narrowed her eyes and turned back around, saying calmly, “He is not a human either.” “More human than elf,” Brayden said calmly back to her. “He would seek assistance with his wound,” Piressa said, not turning around again to look at him. “There is a Raven sect in the port city. He would go there.” Brayden smirked, shaking his head. He saw Corey glance between the two of them, looking rather nervous. “Ravens normally stay and travel with their sect,” he said. “This one travelled alone and is most likely an outcast. When outcast, they make camp in the wilds. He would return to what he is most familiar with. He would go to Hollowind. It is what I would do.” Gideon sighed slowly and Brayden watched the back of his brother’s head. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking. A part of him hoped he was changing his mind about bringing her with them. He doubted it though. He truly couldn’t’ understand his brother’s reasoning for keeping her alive in the first place. “That means nothing to me,” Piressa said, finally turning to look over her shoulder at him again. “You haven’t shown me you possess exemplary survival skills. I have only seen you bleed.” Corey made a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh and Brayden glared at him. Then he turned his glare back to the elf. “And yet I managed to escape your brethren when he poisoned me in my jail cell,” Brayden said lowly to her. “And which of the two of us are still standing?” Piressa’s face darkened and it looked like she was about to say something more, when Gideon held up his hand. They’d come to the crossroads where they would have to choose a path to take. One path led them forward towards the port cities and one path led them towards Mount Hollowind and the deepest, darkest parts of the forest. Brayden knew which way to go, even if Piressa thought they should head elsewhere. “Enough,” Gideon said, turning around and looking at all of them. Brayden met his eyes for a minute and didn’t back down when Gideon gave him a warning stare. “We must choose now, which way to go,” he said. “I maintain the port city is the most likely avenue a Raven would take,” Piressa said before they could say anything further. Brayden shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I am telling you, Hollowind is our answer.” Gideon studied Brayden for a minute and Brayden realized there was something like disappointment festering in his chest that his brother was even considering listening to this elf over him. He’d never questioned Brayden’s judgments before. Brayden frowned at him and quirked his head to the side. “Have I done something to make you question my capabilities?” he asked lowly, not quite able to keep the hurt out of his voice. Gideon’s eyes widened a little, like the words surprised him and that confused Brayden even more. Then Gideon was shaking his head. “No,” he said firmly. “I am only contemplating what is in the port city that you are after.” He aimed the statement towards Piressa and she frowned at him. Brayden felt relief seep through him, glad that his brother hadn’t started to doubt him. “The Raven’s nest,” she told him. “I am not out to deceive you. There is a great abundance of his kind there. He would go to those that would help him.” Gideon nodded his head, eyes narrowed in concentration. Then he looked over at her and said quietly, “You compare the Raven to what you would do,” he observed. Piressa nodded. Gideon shook his head slightly. “Then if Brayden is right and he was outcast by his clan, he is a lot like you. Would you return to your cadre, knowing you’d failed?” The elf’s eyes didn’t leave Gideon, but she remained quiet for a moment, her face slack. She blinked suddenly and looked away, steeling herself before she shook her head. “No,” she answered. “They would never accept me.” “So where would you go if you were outcast and injured?” Gideon asked. Piressa sighed and nodded her head towards the path that lead up the mountain. “My camp,” she said. “To lick my wounds.” .Wolfie. 3.10 The Hallowed Woods The road darkened as it ran up the mountainside, the trees growing thicker and larger around them. Their branches twined together and cast dark shadows on the road ahead. Even the fluttering of birds’ wings were muted, the canopy thick and oppressive above them. A fog lingered on the ground and it swirled around their feet as they walked, swallowing their footprints after they passed. A sign was nailed to one of the trees naming it the Hallowed Woods and Gideon wondered how it had gotten its name. There was a sense of foreboding as they passed by the sign and headed up the path and it lingered as the woods grew ever darker. He kept his hand on Wilhelm’s blade and claimed it was in preparation for the worst and not for the small comfort it brought him. Piressa walked next to him and he kept track of her movements out of the corner of his eye. She watched the path before them and seemed unconcerned that Brayden was at her back. Her face was a cool mask and revealed nothing of her thoughts or emotions. He wondered again at the wisdom of keeping her alive when there was more than reason enough to end her. “Once the Raven’s dead, we’re not going back to stay, are we?” Corey asked abruptly. He’d been chewing on his lip and Gideon imagined the question had been weighing on him for some time. He glanced up when he asked and he didn’t look hopeful. “No.” Gideon said the word simply before he looked away. “Well, you could probably stay if you wanted,” Brayden said. He smirked as he did, his hands at his side and within easy reach of his knives. He glanced over at Corey as he spoke and Gideon couldn’t tell if the next words were meant to be playful or cruel. His brother was hard on the boy, more so than he deserved sometimes. “I’m sure we’ll find someway to manage without you.” Gideon shook his head before Corey could respond. “He stays with us,” he told his brother. While he was sure the Winters would keep Corey on without argument, it put them at greater risk than they had already. Temple was one of the Chosen now. Brayden chuckled and tipped his head up to study the dark canopy above them. The sunlight had already been swallowed by the forest and it bothered Gideon just how dark it had gotten. If he hadn’t already been convinced this was where they’d find the Raven then he was now. He always had and likely always would accept whatever Brayden told him as truth, but he’d let them argue it because he was still trying to decide how much he could trust the elf. But the hurt in his brother’s voice had taken him off guard. “I’m noticing you developing this habit of picking up strays, brother,” Brayden said. Corey looked down at the ground and looked vaguely embarrassed but Piressa shot a look over her shoulder at him, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t suppose the next one could be something smaller, like a kitten maybe? It’s less likely to wet itself or stab you in the back when you’re not looking.” “Why would I concern myself with stabbing you in the back when I could easily stab you in the front?” Piressa’s eyes narrowed in a cold stare. Corey snorted but if he was laughing then he hid it behind his hand. Brayden tipped his head to the side as he looked back at Piressa. “I’m sorry, who are you again? Why are you here?” “I swore an oath,” she said, turning back around. Gideon watched her as she did and he found it interesting how little emotion played across her face. Not even when Brayden egged her on, quickening his step so that he was next to her. His head tipped to the side and his eyes were narrowed as he watched her. “And what was that oath exactly?” he demanded. “Because you say it’s to my brother but I’m pretty sure you were dealing with the other side before you found us. So what’s the job now? Find the Crowes and wait until the perfect time to slay them? Or better yet, follow them until they lead you straight to the Emperor and then kill them all? Am I getting warmer?” The words gave Gideon pause. He wondered if that was her goal in this, to find the Emperor and bring about his end. He ran a hand over his mouth and even the possibility made her survival not worth the risk. Oath or not, she was one elf that could be a danger to the Emperor and he had killed men for less. The realization made him feel cold and tired but none of it showed on his face. He hadn’t even told his brother that she’d been sent to kill him twice now, because he knew what Brayden would tell him if he did. Her eyes narrowed as she waved a hand dismissively at Brayden. “My oath is to Gideon alone,” she said. The words were said with the same finality with which she’d sworn it. “I need not explain myself to you.” “Oh, so you’re on a first name basis now? I hadn’t realized you two were so close.” Brayden chuckled, turning to walk backwards. There was a smile on his face but the way his eyes narrowed belied the emotion. A glance back showed Corey trailing behind them, his eyes wide as he watched the exchange like he was torn between being amused and being afraid. A sigh left her lips and lifted an eyebrow at him. “And what would you have me call him? Big Crowe, and you, little Crowe?” Gideon lifted an eyebrow at that but said nothing. Behind him he heard Corey snort as he bit back a laugh and Brayden shot a glare past Piressa at him before he looked back at her face. “I wouldn’t have you call him anything,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “I would have you dead and buried underground already.” He tilted his head to the side and a wicked smirk pulled at his lips. “Or at least buried underground. The dead part can come afterwards I suppose.” The mist swirling around their feet was growing thicker and Gideon disliked that he couldn’t see where he was walking anymore. He glanced around because he didn’t like how the words bounced off the trees around them. The woods were thick and dark and the feeling of foreboding grew worse every moment that passed. “My life is not yours to end,” Piressa spat. Brayden grinned at the annoyance in her voice and just shrugged. “That’s never stopped me before.” A snarl curled her lip and Gideon saw her hands go to rest on her knives. As soon as she did his brother tensed almost imperceptibly and he had no doubt that he had more than one at the ready to let fly if she made a move. “Then I dare you to come and claim it.” It happened so swiftly that he almost missed it, but in the next step he felt something dark brush over him and it made Gideon pause in his steps. All the hairs on his arms stood on end and he glanced around the woods, looking for some sign of whatever had happened. Brayden had been walking backwards in front of them but he stilled as well, frowning as he looked to Gideon. There was a quiet gasp from Piressa and her hands didn’t leave her knives, but they were no longer meant for his brother. “What was that?” Gideon asked. The woods around them were quiet and dark and he suddenly disliked that he could no longer see the sunlight or the entrance to this path. There was only the dark forest around them and his skin still felt like something was crawling over it. Corey shivered behind him and he didn’t argue when the boy crowded closer, his eyes wide and scared. The elf shook her head, turning in a slow circle. She looked as surprised as they were but he wondered again if she wasn’t in league with the Raven. Maybe she’d meant to lead them away from her ally. “A spell has been triggered,” Piressa told him. “A spell,” Brayden snorted. He shook his head and smirked at Gideon. It didn’t quite reach his eyes and he couldn’t blame him. Magic was dangerous territory and if Gideon was afraid of anything it would be that. There were forces at work that he didn’t understand and he had no way of fighting against. Something made of flesh and blood was something that he could fight, but magic was beyond his control. “Well, I suppose we were due for something interesting to happen today. At least now we know which way our Raven went, don’t we?” His grin turned smug as he glanced at Piressa and she just looked coldly back at him. Gideon glanced over at her. “What manner of spell?” he asked. Even as he did he remembered how dangerous it was to become too reliant on her opinions about anything. She could still turn out to be a traitor. He probably should be cutting her throat now and he thought it bothered him more than anything that she might not fight it if she did. If she allowed him to kill her, then wasn’t that proving that she had meant her oath? But if he let her live then he was giving her a chance to prove herself a traitor. She just shook her head. “I do not know.” “You don’t know, or you don’t want to tell us?” Brayden asked. Her eyes narrowed at him and Gideon finally sighed, holding up a hand. “Enough,” he ordered. He felt his brother’s glare move to him and he returned it in kind. Piressa nodded her head, biting off her response before it left her lips. “Let’s keep moving. It may have just been a spell to alert him of our presence. If so, then we shouldn’t give him more time to prepare.” Wenston 3.11 The Hallowed Woods – Endless Road “So what does this oath entail, exactly?” Brayden asked. They’d been walking for hours now and it had been mostly in silence. Brayden had kept alert, watching for any signs of what the spell they’d triggered could have been, but so far, he had nothing. The forest had just stretched on and was dark and misty. He couldn’t see the sun through the heavy haze in the sky. Something was amiss, but he didn’t know what it was. Piressa was walking beside Gideon again and Brayden wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet. He’d been completely against it when Gideon had told him she was coming with them. If she was lying, she’d die. He didn’t care what Gideon said. The moment he found out she had lied to them, he would slit her throat. But if she was telling the truth, Brayden knew there were ways to exploit an oath like the one she’d given Gideon. They could use her to their advantage. “My life is his to do with what he wishes,” she responded and Brayden turned down his lips, raising a brow at the fact that she’d actually answered him this time. Maybe she was sore that he’d been right about where they would find the Raven. Nodding, Brayden grinned and said, “Does this oath expire with time? Or should I expect to see you at his bedside when he is old and withered?” Gideon snorted at the comment and Brayden knew exactly what was going through his brother’s mind. He wouldn’t be around that long to become old and withered. “If the oath is not fulfilled before then, yes,” she said again, her voice dry and flat and Brayden stared at the back of her head because she sounded distracted. He noticed she was watching the trees and he glanced at them, because this wasn’t simply her watching out for the Raven. He saw nothing out of the ordinary at first but then he paused in midstep, Corey having to dodge to keep from running into him. The kid let out a small noise and it made the other two pause, turning around to look at them. “We’ve been here before,” Brayden said lowly. Piressa nodded, looking up at the canopy and back to the thick forest around them. “Yes,” she said. “Twice now.” Brayden let out a sharp breath, because if she’d noticed it before and he hadn’t, that was a fault on his part. It angered him that something like that would slip pass him without him knowing. Gideon frowned, looking between the two of them. “What do you mean?” he asked. “We’ve gone in circles,” Piressa said. Brayden ignored both of them, going over to the edge of the dirt road and crouching down, his hand resting on a log there as he surveyed the ground and everything around him. This wasn’t natural and it wasn’t a good sign. The mist was thick and heavy and as he looked through the trees, it clouded his vision of anything beyond the layer of trees. And it was quiet. He’d noticed that early on. No animal sounds. No birds or insects. Nothing. “But the road has been straight,” Corey said, sounding nervous and scared. “We haven’t even turned.” Gideon sighed. “The spell,” he said lowly. “He has trapped us on an endless road,” Piressa said and Brayden stayed tense, but didn’t glance at her as she came over and crouched next to him, looking at the same things he was. “The mist blocks our sight,” she said quietly, seemingly having put their differences aside for the moment. Brayden nodded. “I know what lies beyond it,” he said back to her, turning to eye her. She had her eyes narrowed at the trees and even if she was against them or deceiving them, he doubted she was affiliated with the Raven and she probably wanted to get out of a sorcery spell like this just as much as they did. Standing, Brayden turned to look at Gideon. “Don’t move from this spot,” he said. Gideon frowned, probably not like being told what to do, but Brayden had already moved on to Piressa. “No tricks while I am away,” he told her and she glared up at him. He just grinned and then turned towards the trees, taking off into the forest. “Brayden!” he heard Gideon curse behind him. He didn’t respond. Running through the trees, he kept his eyes forward and out for any sign of movement or things out of the ordinary. But he was fairly certain he already knew how this was going to end and what lay in front of him. Sure enough, a few moments later, he caught glimpse of three figures standing on a road in front of him. He cursed beneath his breath, because it meant Piressa’s words were true. This was an endless road. Gideon, Piressa and Corey stood on the road, their backs to him. He had run off on one side of the forest and was now approaching from the opposite. Gideon must have heard him, because he drew his sword and turned quickly, eyes widening when he saw who it was emerging from the trees. “By the gods,” Corey whispered. Brayden smirked as he stepped back onto the road. Piressa stood from her crouched position and they exchanged a look, passing an unspoken truce between them until they were out of this mess. “Well, I hope no one was in a hurry to get anywhere,” he quipped, looking back and forth along the road. “I have heard stories of this,” Corey said, looking between them. “But I never thought it was real.” Gideon sighed. “We will find a way out,” he said and Brayden smiled because he’d said it with such conviction that it made him wonder how anyone could question Gideon at all. Gideon looked deep in thought for a moment before he turned to Piressa. “What have you heard of how to break this spell?” he asked. The elf shook her head, blonde hair falling around her shoulders and for a moment she looked almost resigned. But then she looked straight back at Gideon and said, “Only that it cannot be broken.” “Nothing is unbreakable,” Brayden said, still looking around the trees. He paused for a moment, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he thought he’d just seen a hanging vine move when there was no breeze. He watched it a second and when it didn’t move again, he passed it off as nothing more than a trick of light and shadow. That was, right until Corey let out a strangled cry before his feet were pulled right out from beneath him. The boy fell flat to the ground on his stomach, a loud whoosh of air being knocked out of his lungs. Brayden drew his blades and was moving even before Corey started to be dragged along the ground. He heard Gideon curse and follow him. But what surprised him the most, was that Piressa was right alongside of him, her own knives drawn and chasing after the vine that was wrapped around Corey’s ankle. Corey’s hands clawed at the dirt and panicked noises were coming from his throat as he was pulled backwards towards the edge of the forest. He was moving fast, but Brayden was faster. He leapt forward, bringing his blade down on top of the vine. It severed immediately and Corey stopped being dragged, laying still in the dirt and breathing heavily. Gideon bent and helped him sit up. “Are you hurt?” he demanded and Brayden would think about that being Gideon’s first concern later, right now, he was standing between the trees and Corey, trying to see what had caught the boy. “I’m alright,” Corey’s answer was shaky and he looked pale with fright just sitting there. “Good,” Gideon said. “Draw your sword, you may have to fight.” Corey swallowed and nodded, standing up with Gideon’s hand at his elbow. He drew his sword and Brayden had to give the kid credit. Not everyone would have been able to stand up immediately after that. He had gotten scared, but he’d gotten past it quickly. All four of them tensed when a low rumble sounded from the forest. Brayden’s eyes widened as he saw one of the trees bend unnaturally and then uproot itself completely from the ground, moving a ways further into the forest before settling back down. It stayed still and quiet after that and Brayden licked his lips, his short swords held out in front of him. “That tree just moved,” Corey said, sounding a little dazed. “It is the Mallorn,” Piressa said. “Living nature. It is an ancient evil.” Brayden smirked. “Of course.” .Wolfie. They tried everything.Brayden jammed one of his daggers in the middle of the road and then they tried walking back down the road. Gideon hadn’t dared hope that they would just walk out of the mist and the forest and back to the crossroads so he was not disappointed when they found themselves back at his dagger. He just nodded his head and then ordered all four of them into the woods. He kept his hand on his blade the whole time, listening for a rustling of leaves or a creaking of wood to alert him of an attack. None came, at least not then, and when they stepped out of the brush and back onto the fog covered path the dagger remained in the same place. “What do we do?” Corey asked quietly, and the question sounded small and weak. He was pale and shaken but he kept his blade out as Gideon had said and kept one eye on the woods around them. The front of him was covered in dirt from where he’d been dragged across the road and he had scrubs on his elbows. It was just one more thing to add to their list of injuries and he tried not to feel badly for it. But he couldn’t stop the frustration and the guilt warring in his chest for leading them into this trap. Gideon sighed and then crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes looked up the pathway and the fog obscuring the road ahead and behind. It covered everything, filling the gaps between the trees and helping dim the sun. He was no longer even sure whether the sun still sat in the sky somewhere or if they were just lost somewhere in the faerie realms. “Tell me what you know of these spells,” he said, glancing at Piressa. She waited calmly at his side and wore no expression on her face. He couldn’t figure her out. He would have thought she would allow Corey hurt, but she’d gone after him just as swiftly. “There were sorcerers among my clan who knew how to work such spells but I know little about them,” she admitted. “I thought all elves knew magic,” Brayden said. He had a smirk on his face but Gideon didn’t miss how warily he moved when he went to retrieve his dagger. Around them the forest creaked and that it did so without wind made Gideon’s hand return to his blade. His eyes watched the tree line for signs of the Mallorn. Whether or not it was the only one still remained to be seen. “We split up,” Gideon said. He didn’t glance over at them, watching for any movements in the brush. “Brayden, you take Corey and head back down the road. Piressa will stay with me and we will keep heading up the path.” No one said anything for a moment and he finally looked over at his brother. He had his eyes narrowed and all of his attention was on Gideon. He wondered what he was thinking and it bothered him that he couldn’t tell. He hoped it wasn’t doubt. He didn’t trust the elf enough to leave her alone with either of them and he wanted to test the bounds of this spell. After a moment Brayden sighed and nodded his head, gesturing back down the road. “Come on Corey. Keep that sword of yours out, just point it away from me.” As soon as his brother was moving Gideon was too. He nodded his head at Piressa and the two of them started heading up the road and deeper into the mist. Her hands were loose at her sides but they were within easy reach of the hilts of her knives. Her footsteps were light and silent on the ground and if he didn’t see her out of the corner of his eye he would doubt she still walked next to him. The fog swallowed up his brother and Corey faster than he liked, the sound of their footsteps and the sight of their retreating backs disappearing into the shadows. That was the only change Gideon perceived. It seemed the darkness just grew thicker as they walked. “You are a singularly stubborn man,” Piressa said after a moment. Gideon didn’t look at her but he snorted at the words. “Is that so?” he asked. “I do not say this as a criticism,” she said. The tone of her voice softened and he wondered if she was aware of the change. “Merely an observation. We are trapped in an unbreakable spell. All those I have heard of being caught in such a curse have died slow, tormented deaths of starvation or madness. Yet when you say we will escape it, I almost believe you.” “I do not intend to die here,” he said. The words were sharper than he intended but he meant them just the same. Around them the trees creaked and his eyes narrowed, hand tightening around his blade. The fog swirled around their feet as they kept moving and a part of him felt as though he were moving through a nightmare. Even their words did not carry far before they were swallowed up. He hoped his brother was still out there but he dared not call for him. He did not allow fear but there were reasons enough to be scared. The Raven had caught them well and truly in this trap and he ground his teeth together in his head. “What we intend and what we accomplish are rarely the same things,” Piressa said quietly. Her words were but a whisper but they carried their own weight all the same. He wondered if that was a hint of regret he detected but it was impossible to say with her. She kept her emotions close and he still wasn’t sure if she was grateful to be alive or wishing that he had slit her throat open the night she’d come to do the same to him. She was too much of an uncertainty and that made her dangerous. “And what is it that you intend?” he asked. He cautioned a glance over at her but her eyes were on the trees, as his should have been. “Will you stab me in the back the moment I show it to you or do you truly mean this oath of yours?” A sigh left her lips. “Your word is my will, Gideon Crowe,” she told him. It still felt strange to hear his name on her tongue. It still felt even stranger to hear his name without a ‘Captain’ in front of it. “I will tell you as many times as you desire to hear it but I doubt you will believe me until I prove it to you through my actions. As I have noted, you are a singularly stubborn man.” “I should kill you and be done with it,” he said. The words were cold and he wondered if he meant them. Next to him she grew quiet and said nothing for a moment. He kept his gaze on the trees but his shoulders tensed and he watched her out of the corner of his eyes. The traces of amusement and emotion that had lit her face were gone, replaced by a hard mask. It was as familiar to him as looking in a mirror. “That is your choice,” she told him, just as coldly as he had spoken to her. “But if that is your desire than I ask that you do it swiftly and drag this out no longer.” He nodded his head at that and his eyes picked up movement ahead of them on the path. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when his brother and Corey took shape in the fog. “I do not trust you,” he said. “As you say, I am a stubborn man.” He glanced at her with a narrowed gaze and he thought carefully on his next words. His hand rested on his sword as he watched her face and if she was aware of it then she showed no sign. “I believe your oath,” he finally said. It was as much an admission to himself as it was to her. “I do not intend to see you dead unless I believe you have broken your word to me.” She nodded her head and then they were meeting Brayden and Corey in the middle of the path again. “Well,” his brother drawled. There was a smirk on his face but the wary look on his face belied it. “Imagine meeting you two here.” Gideon sighed, running a hand over his mouth as he turned his head back towards the trees. As much as he hated to admit it, he was running out of ideas. He disliked Piressa’s words, about dying of starvation or madness, but he could see easily how it could happen. The shadows between the trees were thicker and he frowned when he thought he caught movement among their branches. The vines shot from the trees without warning, moving like striking snakes as they lashed out towards them. Corey let out a startled yelp and swung his sword awkwardly through the air. It sliced through the vines aiming towards him even so. The broken ends struck him in the chest and his eyes were wide as he stumbled back, feet slipping on the dirt. He landed hard on the ground, the sword still held out in front of him and feet kicking at the stumps he’d cut from the vines. More had come from the other side, lashing out towards Brayden and trying to wrap around his neck. He was quick, dodging easily out of the way and bringing his own blades up to slice through the vines. Piressa’s knives were on the other side, cutting them down. There was something like a slithering sound as the vines retreated back into the forest and a rumbling sound followed afterwards. Gideon was already moving, fog shifting about his feet as he moved over Corey. “Are you well?” he asked, eyes on the tree line and his blade held out before him. The sound of branches creaking echoed around them and he saw his brother tense. “Yes,” Corey said. He kicked another vine away and struggled back to his feet. “Sorry.” Gideon didn’t get a chance to ask what he was apologizing for. The earth rumbled beneath them in the next second and then there was a cracking sound as roots sprung up from the dirt around them. He bit back a curse as they ripped past him, one slicing through his calf and another barely missing his sword arm. He heard Corey’s strangled pain cry behind him but he didn’t get a chance to see how bad it was. He got a distant impression of his brother and Piressa dodging out of the way before the roots closed in around him. They curled in like clawed hands, scraping over his skin and trying to drag him down towards the dirt. Above his head he saw the vines snake out again and his brother’s blades flashed through the air, cutting most of them down before they could reach their targets. It didn’t stop one from slithering around Corey’s neck and lifting him off his feet into the air. The Mallorn was at the edge of the tree line, vines slithering off its branches like pet snakes. Even as he watched the bark cracked and opened like toothy jaws and he swore those knots of wood looked like eyes staring over at him. Then the roots were yanking back into the ground and leaving jagged cuts along his skin as they did. They threatened to crush him right into the dirt and he swung his sword in a wide arc, cutting through the gnarled wood to get himself free. Brayden was already charging at the ancient tree, launching himself up on one of its branches and then turning to slice his blade through the vine holding Corey above the ground. He fell with a thump, gasping and gagging as he pawed at the green wound around his throat. Something cracked and made a strange, groaning sound as the Mallorn turned its attention to Brayden, thick limblike branches reaching for him. He scrambled back along the branch and then Piressa was there, knives cutting off pieces of it and leaving them to fall to the dirt. Wenston Brayden had fought some pretty strange things in his lifetime, but he had to admit, fighting a moving tree had to be one of the strangest. Of course, probably no stranger than fighting a rock giant. Though he thought this would rank right up there with one of Gram’s stories. The old bat would probably say she’d fought one of them in her youth. He’d come to realize there wasn’t a thing she didn’t fight. He’d made up a creature once, just to see what she would say, and of course she’d fought it and knew how to kill it. He loved that old woman. Scrambling backwards along a branch, he kicked out at the vines that threatened to wrap themselves around his ankles. He brought his twin short swords down and severed them, buying him a few moments. He spared a glance towards Gideon and Corey first. His brother was keeping Corey behind him, a new wound bleeding from his calf and he narrowed his eyes at it. The next time Gideon said something about Brayden losing his touch, he was going to remind him of all the wounds he himself had sustained in the past couple of months. Turning his attention to Piressa, he watched the elf hack away at vines that were trying to coil around her arms. She managed to fend them off and then her eyes came up to meet his. He grinned. “So, elf,” he said, the word said with disdain and he saw her face darken. “You are familiar with this creature, you must be familiar with a way to beat it?” He turned to hack at a branch moving towards him like claws. Below, he heard Gideon’s sword crack through thick wood and behind that came Corey’s weaker swing, but at least the boy was fighting. Piressa sighed, but called out anyway, “The Mallorn fear fire.” Snorting, Brayden swung himself up into the branches above him when the one he stood one was pummeled by the Mallorn. He perched there, crouching and watching the beast. “I suppose you wouldn’t happen to have any flint hidden some place on your body? Perhaps in your bodice?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he turned to look at her and she was giving him such a nasty glare that he laughed, despite the dire situation. “What?” he asked, shrugging. “I’ve hidden things in far strange places.” Her eyes flicked to something behind him and Brayden moved without thinking. He whirled, throwing himself to the side and bringing his blades out at the same time. They sliced through two vines shooting out at him. He tumbled to the side, finding his footing but losing it just as quickly on the thin branches. He fell backwards, hand come out to grab the branch, but losing one of his blades in the process. He heard it clatter to the ground. “Brayden!” came Gideon’s sharp warning. Swinging up quickly, he narrowly dodged the sharp point of a branch aimed at his back. He growled and switched his one remaining short sword to his dominant hand before he stood and ran along the branch, letting out a yell as he leapt off the end of it and held the sword above his hand, plummeting towards the trunk of the Mallorn. He heard Gideon curse and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Piressa moving quickly, going for his brother. He didn’t have time to see what his brother was fighting off. His sword sunk part way into the thick wood. The entire Mallorn shook, leave falling around him, the earth seeming to shake. Brayden braced his feet on the trunk, both hands around the hilt of his sword, the only thing keeping him from falling down to the earth and possibly being trampled by the roots. “I have had just about enough of you, beastie,” Brayden growled, kicking at the tree as it tried to open its grotesque, unnatural mouth and swallow him up. Brayden yanked on his sword and it took a lot of strength, but he finally pulled it loose. He flipped backwards and landing on his feet on the ground, immediately dodging a root that threatened to stomp down on him. Running backwards, he braced a foot on another tree and pushed himself back and the Mallorn, his sword sinking into a round opening above the creature’s mouth, which Brayden assumed must work as an eye. His word sunk in easily, to the hilt and the Mallorn bucked up, roaring so loud it rumbled the trees around them. Brayden jerked his head to the side when a branch swung down at him. It missed, but he hissed as he felt the stitches Gram had put in his neck pull and break open. He could feel blood start to trickle down his neck and he knew this fight needed to end very soon. Pulling his sword free and dropping to the ground again, he ran quickly, scooping up his other short sword. He turned and immediately fought off the roots that stabbed out at him. He was aware of Piressa getting back into the fray, up higher in the trees, her blades slicing at some of the Mallorn’s top branches. When they fell to the ground, they seemed to wither and the leaves dried up quickly. “Ba’thi soren vail!” Piressa suddenly spat out, her hand slamming against the Mallorn’s trunk. White snakelike light spread out from beneath her fingers and the Mallorn roared violently again, the branches slowing in their pursuit of Brayden. He saw the Mallorn swing a thick branch at Piressa and she flung herself back, but it caught her ankle and she tumbled down a few branches before catching herself on a low hanging one. Not wasting another moment, Brayden threw himself forward, bringing both swords towards the remaining eye of the beast. One sword sank deep and he pushed the other one between the eyes. The Mallorn moved more violently and viciously than it had a moment ago and Brayden looked over at Piressa. “What did you just do?” he demanded. Piressa spared him only a glance before she flung herself back at the creature. “A prayer of cleansing,” she told him. “You made it angry,” he shot back at her. The elf made a face. “Was it not angry before?” There was a fierce yell from behind him and Brayden turned to watch Gideon charge at the Mallorn with his sword. Corey was at his heels and the two of them swung at the thick trunk of the creature. Gideon had a new bleeding cut along his cheek and he supposed that had been what had drew Piressa’s attention earlier. He wasn’t sure how he felt that she had responded when he had not. He just had faith in his brother’s abilities. That’s what he tried to convince himself of. “Do it again!” Brayden called to her. For a moment, he was almost fooled and thought he saw a smile cross her lips. But then she was turning and she ran towards the Mallorn, pressing her palm against its trunk again and shouting the same words, this time able to keep her hand there longer. The white tendrils of light spread across the trunk and Brayden watched it snake its way down towards him. He withdrew one of his short swords and when it reached the Mallorn’s face, he shoved the sword back in, on top of the light. He didn’t get quite the reaction he’d expected. The bark around his sword cracked and broke away and the white light shot out at him. He turned his face away as it hit him and in the next moment, the light was shooting out of the rest of the cracks in the Mallorn and then the Mallorn blew apart, white light at its core, exploding outwards. Gideon managed to get an arm around Corey and pulled them both to the ground. Piressa flung herself upwards, sheltering behind a branch. But Brayden clung to his swords and braced himself. He was flung backwards, back out onto the road. He hit the ground and rolled, clear across the road before he slammed up against a tree and rolled onto his back, blinking as he looked up at the canopy. His head was spinning and there were spots dancing in front of his eyes. “Brayden?” he heard Gideon call, confused and then he heard his brother let out a sharp hiss. “Brayden,” he said and he heard him rushing across the road. Brayden just lay there for a moment, frowning because between the branches of the trees above his head, he could see the sun. The mist was starting to dissipate and he let out a slow breath as Gideon skidded to a stop next to him, kneeling and bringing a hand to his face. “Can you hear me, brother?” he asked, worry etching his face and Brayden blinked up at him, still not used to this worried side of him. “Ow,” was all he said. .Wolfie. “You are not immortal,” Gideon said harshly.“Since when?” Brayden managed a laugh and winced afterwards. He was scraped up with a growing lump on the back of his head and fresh blood staining the neck of his tunic. Gideon was less than gentle when he gripped his brother’s jaw, turning his head to the side to get a better look at the wound. The stitches had pulled loose on his neck and his eyes narrowed when he saw that. Brayden had a smirk on his face, hand rubbing the back of his head gingerly. “I’m fine brother,” he said, snorting out another laugh. “Truly. Is all this newfound worry still about that one time I got poisoned or are you going soft on me?” “You offend me.” Gideon frowned and pushed himself to a standing position. He ignored the question completely because he had no answer for him, at least none he wanted to give. The truth he was trying to come to terms with was that he was not in fact prepared to watch his brother die as he’d once thought. “If you are fine then get to your feet, Crowe,” he said. He smoothed his face into a cool, emotionless mask, erasing all traces of brotherly concern in favor of something hard and determined. Brayden chuckled again and then used the tree to pull himself to his feet. “Ah, now that’s the Gideon we all know and love,” he said playfully. He wavered as he stood and Gideon stopped himself from reaching out to steady him. He had never been one to coddle his men, he shouldn’t start now. Brayden held still for a moment and then held his hands up. “You see? Right as rain.” Gideon shook his head, turning his back on his brother as he walked back into the road. “Have you always been this reckless?” he asked. He kicked at the broken pieces of the Mallorn before he glanced over his shoulder at Brayden. His brother just shrugged, cracking his neck before he followed Gideon. “Yes,” he admitted. “But I used to have Tristan to distract you from the worst of it. Now I have only Corey here.” He smiled as he said it but the words carried a dark undertone neither of them would touch. They didn’t talk about whether or not the others were alive. They didn’t talk about who they’d lost. Gideon kept his back to his brother but he felt his shoulders stiffen even so. Did any of them even still live, or were they all that were left of the Chosen? Corey stood to Gideon’s left, awkwardly rubbing at his arms as he stared down at the broken roots and vines that were scattered across the road. He’d handled himself well, even if he wasn’t a true soldier by any means. If he thought he could do so safely then he would leave Corey with the Winters and say his goodbyes. It would make for a better life than the one he was faced with now. He was surprised when Piressa stepped up next to him, fingers wrapping around his jaw and pulling his head towards her. He was already reaching up to grasp her wrist and he heard the hiss of his brother’s blades before he even knew what she was doing. “You are no immortal either,” she said. The words were cool, calm as she used a torn strip of linen to wipe the blood from his cheek. “I am aware,” he said sharply. His other hand came up to grasp her other wrist, pulling her hand from his cheek. It didn’t escape his attention that he hadn’t heard his brother put his blades away. Piressa didn’t flinch. She watched his face patiently and made no sign to pull her arms from his grasp. “Why did you not tell me that you knew magic?” he asked. She arched an eyebrow at him, an almost amused smirk toying with her lips. “I am an elf,” she said, shooting a glance past him to Brayden. “All elves know a little magic.” Then her eyes went back to his. “And you never asked.” “Any other important secrets you’d like to tell us?” Brayden asked cheerfully. He walked past Gideon a little ways, picking a fallen knife off the ground before he flipped it around in his hand. He sheathed it deftly somewhere in his vest and Gideon had never asked where he had procured either of those things. Just as he had never asked his brother where he acquired his poisons or who his contacts were. He had always been an agent unto himself and yet Gideon’s trust in him had never wavered. “None that I would say to you..” Piressa said the words to Brayden and he chuckled in response. “But you do have secrets,” he noted, pointing a finger back at her. Gideon ducked his head to try and draw her eyes back to his. She turned away from his brother, focusing on his face as she waited for him. “Keep no more secrets from me,” he told her. The words were said with a dark finality and he kept his grip on her wrists until she nodded her understanding. She understood that he would do what he had to and if she endangered them by hiding things he would be forced to handle it. Only then did he release her, taking a step back before he wiped his sleeve across his cheek. It came away bloody but it would scab over quickly enough and he wasn’t concerned with it. The cut on his calf was the same, bloody, but not deep. “So,” Brayden said. “I don’t suppose you have any more elven magic tricks up your sleeve?” They formed a loose circle in the road and Gideon tried not to think that none of them seemed anxious to keep walking. He looked over to the trees and he could see the broken chunks of the Mallorn lying across the path, veiled in fog. He could see how men could go mad, passing through the same stretch of woods over and over again. “Maybe that cleansing spell of yours again. See if you can get us out of this road.” “It is a prayer, not a spell,” she said. Her eyes moved to Gideon and she waited until he gave a slight nod of his head before she inclined hers to Brayden. “I will make the attempt, but I make no promises.” Piressa stepped past them on the road before she closed her eyes, holding her palms together in front of her chest. “Ba’thi soren vail,” she said. The words were quieter this time, more like a prayer than a curse. A subtle wind blew past them, toying with her hair before it pushed at the fog. The mist rolled slowly back before her feet and all the while white light curled around her fingertips. She started to walk forward, eyes still shut and palms still pressed together. Gideon glanced at his brother and they exchanged a look before Brayden shrugged and smiled at him. “Worst that can happen is we trip over the Mallorn, right?” he said. Corey snorted out a laugh and then the three of them followed her in silence. She kept her hands in a prayer position, the light illuminating her face strangely and the fog parting in front of her. It was startling when Gideon realized he could smell rain on that soft breeze. Gideon was tense as he followed behind her and he tried to ignore the sensation of hope pulling at his heart. The fog was thinning before them and he thought he could see sunlight up ahead, spilling through the canopy above them. It wasn’t until they saw the bend in the road that he finally let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Brayden laughed in relief and grinned over at Gideon. He allowed the smile to pull at his lips but it stayed a small thing, even after the reached the curve in the road and saw it change and grow broader up ahead. He glanced over his shoulder and fog still rolled out of the darker part of the forest, eating away at the road beneath it and swallowing the woods around it. “If we never have to do that again, it will be too soon,” Brayden said. He clapped Corey on the back as he did, and the boy had an answering grin on his face. “If Gram was here she would have been able to tell us what to do as soon as we were trapped,” Corey said. He and Brayden pulled ahead and Gideon trailed after them, glancing at Piressa as she pulled her hands apart and let them fall to her side. The light faded from her fingertips and her eyes slid open, going to his as they did. She looked up at him and a smile pulled at her lips. Brayden chuckled, running his hands over the cut on his neck. “Of course she would have. She would have told us how to escape the trap and beat the Mallorn and I wonder if the old biddy wouldn’t have been right about all of it.” “I wish my grandmother was like her,” Corey said. “Mostly she just drinks and yells before she passes out.” “Sounds like mom,” Brayden said, shooting a grin over his shoulder at Gideon. “I’m telling her you said that,” he told his brother. He snorted and struggled to keep the answering smile off his face. They still had the Raven to find and whatever other traps he’d left them but they’d escaped the endless road and as far as he knew it had never been done. He wondered if it was the fog that held them trapped there, like prisoners in the faerie mists. He could understand how a man could go mad in a trap like that, wandering forever and getting nowhere. Brayden waved a hand carelessly over his shoulder. “Tell her whatever you want. You know she won’t get mad. I’m the favorite.” There was nothing faked about the broad grin on his face and Gideon shook his head at his brother but couldn’t argue it. He had an infectious laugh and an easy smile. Both men and women wanted his brother, either as a lover or as their best friend. Gideon kept his eyes on the road and the woods it wound through as they walked. He had no desire to be caught unawares again. As much as he hated to admit it, perhaps he was growing soft. He’d been complacent for too long and he had sworn to never be that. He found the forest around them to be a startling contrast to the one they’d escaped. It grew brighter as they walked, sun creeping through the canopy at every chance. It illuminated the road ahead of them and perhaps that was why Brayden saw the trap this time. He stilled immediately, holding a hand out and stopping Corey dead in his tracks. The boy let out a quiet noise when he did because he hadn’t been paying attention to the road. He stumbled and glanced over at Brayden, watching him with a confused expression on his face. “What did you find?” Gideon asked, stepping up next to him. “The road here has been disturbed recently,” Brayden said. Gideon didn’t question the words but he glanced down at the path, trying to see what his brother had. The road was clear of footprints, clear of any kind of tracks and even as he realized that he thought that must have been what gave it away. Someone had covered signs of their passing on purpose, but only for a short stretch before the road grew rocky and studded with old tracks again. Brayden crouched near the edge, fingers running through the dust. “Another trap?” Gideon asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, scanning the woods to either side and then back to the path in front of them. Even as he watched his brother nudged something hidden in the dirt, and he caught a glimpse of bleached white bone in the sunlight. Brayden tilted his head to the side and then Piressa was crouching next to him. Her hand ran over the dust, revealing dark lines and more animal bones. “A hex circle,” she said quietly. Wenston “What is a hex circle?” Corey asked the question Brayden was thinking. Magic was something he knew very little about. He didn’t like that Piressa knew more about it than he did, because that meant they were relying on her for information and at any given moment, she could lead them astray and trap them. He didn’t like his life being in this elf’s hands. He didn’t like it being in anyone’s hands, but there were a few people he’d come to terms with having it.Piressa didn’t answer him at first, instead her eyes slowly scanned the trees. He did the same and didn’t catch anything out of the ordinary, only that the woods had gone quiet again and he hoped they wouldn’t get stuck on another endless road. But then Piressa was speaking lowly. “It is a magi’s boon,” she whispered. “It can be used for many things. It is an area of space that bends to the will of the magi. He can use it to trap, to kill, to spy, to hear – whatever he tells it to do, it does.” “Kind of like Corey, only more useful,” Brayden said and he heard the boy sigh behind him. “What does this one do,” Gideon asked, crouching on the other side of Piressa. She shook her head. “I know not,” she gave honestly and her eyes stayed scanning the trees and not leaving them. “But if this hex circle is active, it means the Raven is near. He needs proximity to make it work.” At those words, Brayden resting his elbows on his knees, staying crouched. His hands hung limply in front of him, but he could draw his blades at a moment’s notice. He focused intently on the world around him, listening and anticipating movement or sound that could give away where the Raven was hidden. He hadn’t seen anything as they walked, which meant the magi was skillfully concealed. Leaning a bit towards Corey, Brayden whispered, “You should pull down your trousers and give him a show, if that is the case.” “Or you could,” Corey snapped back and Brayden raised an eyebrow, turning to look up at him. The kid looked like he hadn’t meant to say those words exactly and Brayden just snorted, turning back around. He could imagine the forlorn look on Corey’s face, but in honesty, Brayden thought the kid was getting sassier the longer he was with them. And that confidence would be what brought him around to being a good soldier and possibly even a decent Chosen. “Quiet,” Gideon hissed at the both of them and Brayden glanced over at his brother. Gideon was a whole other story. He wasn’t sure what to do with him right now or how to react to him anymore. He wasn’t used to his brother being worried or so openly protective. He was protective, but he’d been a lot better at hiding it before this whole thing with the Emperor happened. Maybe that’s what was getting to his brother. Maybe Gideon was feeling betrayed and lost and like his whole life had been turned upside down. Brayden was better at dealing with it. Or at least he liked to think that he was. He had his brother and he had Corey, whatever good that was, and those things could be enough for him. He missed the others, but Brayden had always had a sort of detachment from people. It wasn’t meant to be a cold thing, it was just how he was and he didn’t think people always picked up on it. Corey gulped and crouched down next to Brayden, looking between him and Gideon. “What do we do?” he asked quietly. Brayden waited for his brother to say something, but for a long time, Gideon just stared at the hex circle and seemed to be trying to think of something. It made Brayden wonder if he missed Duncan. The man had always been like a father to the Crowes. Especially since their own had long since disappeared. He’d left one day when they were children, Brayden barely remembered the man, and he just never came back. They had their mother, and Brayden wondered how she was handling all of this. Probably better than both of them. She was almost as strong as Gram. Turning to Brayden, Gideon said lowly, “Draw him out. We make our stand.” Brayden smirked at his brother and nodded before he stood up. The others remained crouched and Brayden took a few steps backwards, lacing his fingers together and stretching his arms out in front of him. “Draw him out, he says,” he grumbled, and he heard Gideon sigh behind him. Then, he cleared his throat and called calmly but loudly, “Raven Teague!” his voice echoed off the trees and he saw a flock of birds take up from the top branches of a tree, flying off into the sky. “You are a coward and a cheat.” “Teague?” Corey whispered to Gideon behind them. Brayden didn’t have to turn around to know his brother shrugged. He’d never told them he knew the Raven’s name. Scratching at his bloodied neck, Brayden sighed and yelled again. “I met the man Barley. He’s an empty husk and I bet you carry his soul with you.” Brayden eyes snapped towards a spot in the trees where he thought he saw movement, but he couldn’t be sure. He quirked his lips to the side. “And the barmaid in Killigan,” he whistled lowly. “I bet you remember her too. Or maybe not. Do Ravens still lust for a busty woman?” He heard his brother sigh behind him again and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “This is your plan to draw him out?” he said dryly. “Just wait,” Brayden told him over his shoulder. “I have a way of getting under people’s skin.” “Truer words have never been uttered,” Piressa said and it made Brayden laugh. Holding his hands out to the side, Brayden kept taunting the hidden Raven. “Teague! We beat your elemental and escaped your endless road. We spotted your hex circle and a mere, sniveling boy almost severed your arm. Do you truly think you are a match for our mercenary group?” “Mercenaries?” Corey hissed. Brayden opened his mouth to explain to Corey the meaning of a mercenary when a sudden voice caught on the wind, bouncing around the trees and Brayden couldn’t tell which way it had come from. “Crowe,” it said, low and scratchy. It almost sent shivers down Brayden’s spine. Gideon stood up quickly, his sword drawn and standing at Brayden’s side. Piressa came up behind him, her back to them and she pulled Corey up to do the same so they were watching all sides at once. Brayden rested his hands on the hilts of his short swords but kept scanning the trees. “Teague,” Brayden called again. “I have a riddle for you.” He paused and didn’t get an answer. Then he yelled, “What is the difference between a raven and a crow?” The voice on the wind sounded again and it was low and ominous. “The life span of crows are far less compared to that of a raven,” it said. “Shall we test that theory?” Brayden smirked. “Humorous as your answer may be,” he said coyly, his eyes catching a glimpse of movement in the trees. “It is not the answer to my riddle.” Brayden tightened his hand on the hilt of his short sword and with the other, reached into his vest to grab a throwing dagger stashed inside a hidden pocket. He’d stolen it while in Killigan. “I was going to say Raven’s smell like shit,” he called and threw the dagger without another warning. It whistled through the air and Brayden grinned when he heard the piercing screech as it sunk into flesh. “Because I can smell you from here.” .Wolfie. 3.12 The Hallowed Woods – Eastern Pass Gideon had to hand it to his brother. He wasn’t lying when he said he had a way of getting under people’s skin. The Raven burst from the tree line only a moment after Brayden’s blade found him. Gideon didn’t make it more than a step towards him before he ripped the knife from his side and brought it down hard into the ground. Blood seeped into the dirt and the Raven snarled words Gideon didn’t recognize. They were harsh and violent and as soon as they were spoken the earth crackled and his blood seeped into the ground, racing towards them like a river carving a path. It headed straight for them and Gideon let out a hiss as he sidestepped quickly. The blood didn’t change course, racing past them to the hex circle left on the ground. As soon as the river of red touched the edge of the circle it erupted upwards like flames, following the lines of it etched in the dirt. The Raven laughed when it did and the sound of it echoed off the trees with maniacal glee. Brayden was faster than Gideon, feet already carrying him across the road towards the Raven. His short swords ripped out of their sheaths, slashing down with precision towards Teague. The Raven threw himself backwards, flipping on one arm. The other was bound against his chest, blood still staining his flesh from where Corey had managed to land a blow on him before. “When I am done with you then you will wish for Barley’s fate,” Teague hissed at his brother. He dodged beneath the flashing blades, clawed hands lashing out towards Brayden’s stomach. By then Gideon was already joining his brother’s side, bringing his blade down towards the Raven’s head. The magi abandoned the attack on his brother, throwing himself to the side and scrambling up the bark of a tree with unnatural speed and unnerving grace. Even with a wounded arm, he was quick. “By throwing insults at me from a tree?” Brayden asked. Gideon barely caught the motion of him pulling another blade from his vest. The ground rumbled beneath them and Gideon cautioned a glance behind him. The earth was splitting where the hex had been drawn into it. Piressa had an arm out and she was forcing Corey back away from it, throwing Gideon a worried look. He felt unease growing in him but he turned back towards the Raven, hoping to end him quickly. The Raven cackled and didn’t have to say another word. The earth rumbled beneath them again and then there was the sound of cracking thunder both above and below them. The sky darkened as though the sun itself was dimming and the earth trembled under his feet. He heard a sharp gasp from behind him and then Piressa’s voice, fear darkening her tone. “Gideon,” she called. A circle of red still outlined the hex circle but the inside was broken and fractured. Even as he watched a huge, clawed hand rose from its depths, catching the edge of the earth and dragging something up from within it. He saw horns rising into view followed by a mangled, gruesome face as the beast crawled into the light. It was as big as the rock monster, with hollow eyes that glistened darkly as its head swiveled, searching for a target. Above them the Raven cackled, trees rustling as it leapt to the next tree over. “Sometimes I think you are too good at what you do,” Gideon said to his brother. He shifted his stance, keeping his blade ahead of him as the ogre took a rumbling step onto the pathway. Its huge arms swung at his sides, its hands almost as big as him. “You said draw him out,” Brayden shot back. Piressa was still forcing Corey backwards, her blades in her hands and eyes locked on the ogre. It seemed to decide they were the closest and easiest targets and Gideon hissed a curse as it turned its massive head towards her. One hand shot forward, grasping at her with thick fingers. She spat something in elvish, leaping backwards and lashing down with both of her knives. They drew thin lines in the ogre’s flesh and it let out another roar, lifting its hand and swinging it out in a backhand. Piressa shoved Corey backwards with a hard push before she ducked, knees scraping over the dirt as she rolled back into a crouched position. The ogre stomped forward with swift movements, hand swiping out at her again. The blow managed to catch her this time, slamming her hard against a tree and Gideon could hear her harsh inhalation of air as all the breath was knocked from her lungs. The ogre snorted and then its fingers were reaching for her, already curled around her torso and starting to lift her from the ground. Gideon’s blade sunk deep into its forearm and the roar that followed split the sky with anger and hurt. The trees shook next to them but he dropped the elf as his gruesome head swiveled to focus on Gideon, black eyes dark and glistening. “Get the Raven,” he ordered sharply, barely glancing at Piressa. He saw her nod out of the corner of his eye and then she was moving away from him, footsteps light on the dirt as she raced across the path towards Teague’s position. Corey was scrambling to his feet behind the beast, his sword wavering only slightly as he held it before him. He didn’t dare glance over at Brayden but he saw him out of the corner of his eye, pulling a blade from his vest to fling it at the Raven. There was a cry and then an answering thump. Gideon stayed only distantly aware of them, his attention focused on the ogre in front of him. All of its attention was on Gideon, its nostrils flaring as it scraped its feet against the ground. He sucked in a breath as the massive horns lowered towards him but he didn’t flinch and there was no fear on his face. There was no room in him for fear or panic or worry. He was a soldier. It charged at him with frightening speed, earth trembling beneath each thump of its feet. He sidestepped it quickly, bringing his blade down towards the beast and he gave himself no room for satisfaction when it drew a blood line across its shoulder. An answering roar met the blow and it skidded to a stop past him. He was already moving, blade slashing out in an arc towards the ogre and cutting deeply into the flesh of its back. It howled and arched forward against the pain of it, swinging one massive arm back towards him in a backhanded blow. He barely managed to duck beneath it, rolling across the ground and skidding to a stop in the dirt. Its head swiveled towards him and there was dark hate staring at him from those black eyes. Corey chose that moment to strike at it, slashing down towards its side with his blade. It drew another bloody cut and Gideon lunged, thrusting his sword towards its stomach to try and keep the monster focused on him. It snarled and butted its head towards him and he barely managed to avoid the blow, horns whistling by his face and barely missing his skin. He heard the sharp scream of the Raven before he heard its feet thudding against the ground. He didn’t dare look away from the ogre because it was bringing one fist down towards him but he heard the magi getting closer and he wondered where his brother was. Gideon rolled out of the way at the last moment, blade held up before him but the Raven wasn’t aiming for him. There was blood trailing down its skin from a thousand little cuts and one massive ones that had its arm reduced to a bloody stump. Sharp red lines were drawn all over its flesh, mixing with the faintly glowing tattoos and making it look more and more like a creature and less like a man. Its clawed hand was outstretched and it used its remaining arm to grip tightly to the ogre’s hand moments after it slammed into the dirt. Gideon felt the vibration through the ground with the blow but he kept his balance, even if Corey across from him did not. The boy slipped on the dirt, hand outstretching to catch himself on a tree branch before he fell. The Raven yanked itself up onto the ogre’s fist, his feet carrying him up its arm before he swung onto the back of its neck like he was riding something as simple as a horse. His good hand wrapped around one horn and he grinned savagely down at them, teeth sharp and jagged in its mouth. Gideon barely heard his brother and Piressa come up next to him but he felt her touch on his arm. He shrugged it off, pushing himself to his feet and watching the ogre as it turned its head towards him. “Kill them,” the Raven hissed into its ear. Something like a grin creased the monster’s face and it was morbid and awful when it settled there. Gideon shifted his stance, blade held before him and he barely heard the two assassins as they spread themselves out on either side of him, flanking the ogre. Piressa’s blades were coated in blood but none of it touched her skin. The Raven moved quickly, hand suddenly thrusting out towards Brayden. Gideon felt the brush of dark magic as it struck his brother, knocking him backwards with a sharp blow. He didn’t fall, turning it into a back flip, but the ogre was already charging. Its head was down, horns pointed towards his brother as it came at him. Brayden twisted and dodged the sharp horns but the monster’s forehead caught him hard in the chest and flung him down into the dirt. Gideon heard the sharp gasp as he struck the ground and for a moment his brother didn’t move. He told himself that it wasn’t fear and panic making his veins run cold because Gideon didn’t feel such things. His brother had given him a distraction and he used that while forcing himself to remain cold and detached. He threw himself at the ogre, blade coming down towards its back in a sharp thrust. It dug deeply into the monster’s flesh and he felt it scraping against bone as it did. It roared and twisted, momentarily forgetting its assault on his brother. Corey hurried across the ground behind it, dropping to one knee at Brayden’s side with wide and panicked eyes. Gideon couldn’t spare them his attention. He kept his hand on his blade, twisting it deeper into the monster’s flesh. Above him he could hear the Raven snarling something and then a blade was whistling through the air and embedding itself in his shoulder. His head lifted and focused on Piressa and then his hand was reaching out and making a twisting motion in the air. Gideon heard her gasp. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her feet lifting off the ground, hands going to her throat. He could see Brayden struggling to get to his knees, one hand pressed against his chest. He could see Corey with a firm hand around his forearm as he tried to help him upright and he could see the Raven laughing as it twisted its hand into a fist. He was aware of these things in a distant sense and he didn’t allow himself to feel fear for those he’d placed under his protection. He just ripped his sword out of the ogre’s back and then rolled beneath its swinging arms, thrusting it up into its chest with all his strength. It slid between its ribs and he heard the thing howl loudly and painfully as it pierced something, blood seeping out around its wounds. In the back of his mind he was just thinking that he hoped this blade didn’t break too. Wenston Brayden drew in painful breaths, one hand pressed over his chest and the other braced firmly against Corey’s supporting hands. He knelt in the dirt and watched his brother skillfully duck around the ogre and slice his sword into the chest of the beast, drawing thick blood from its tough skin and soaking his arms in the process. Piressa hung in the air, her hands clawing at her throat and for a moment, Brayden thought about leaving her there because it would solve a lot of problems. But she had, after all, gotten them out of the endless road. He stood, shakily, and he would think about why he kept getting the raw end of the deal with these creatures. Ever since they’d been betrayed. Maybe the poisoning had been a turning point. He wondered when he’d lost his touch. He drew his arm back from Corey and picked up his swords again, gritting his teeth. He hissed to Corey, “Get the elf,” and didn’t wait for a response from the boy before he took off across the clearing towards the fray. Gideon dodged out of the way of a mighty foot that came crashing down where he’d been standing a moment ago. The dirt was thick and wet with the ogre’s blood and the Raven sat atop the creature, his hand outstretched and attention fully on Piressa as she gasped and choked in his invisible grip. Brayden knew all too well how that felt. The ogre was turned towards his brother, moving slower and looking weaker and he had no doubt in his brother that he’d take it down in the next moment or so. He could hear Corey rushing over towards Piressa to try and help. The Raven’s eyes narrowed at Corey and Brayden saw the man’s hand reach out to try whatever trick he was doing with Piressa on Corey, but he never got the chance. Leaping up, Brayden’s foot caught on the ogre’s massive knee and he launched himself upwards, onto its arm and he just climbed up the creature like he had practice with this sort of thing and he didn’t waste effort trying to try and fight the Raven atop the ogre. He held his swords out to the side and full on tackled the Raven, who turned his head at the last moment and only had a chance to widen his eyes before Brayden collided with him and the two of them were toppling off the ogre, rolling down its body and landing with consecutive thumps in the dirt. The ogre turned towards them, but Gideon let out a growl and yanked his sword from the ogre’s chest, following Brayden’s style and using the ogres own knee for leverage, leaping up and shoving the sword straight into the side of the ogres neck. It gurgled and blood spewed from its mouth. Gideon grabbed onto one of the ogre’s horns and pulled his sword free, taking advantage of the ogres painful roar to shove his sword straight into the ogres mouth. It stopped roaring immediately and Gideon pulled the sword free, hopping down off of the beast and taking a few steps back to watch it tumble over, like a falling tree. Brayden rolled out of the way, keeping himself from being crushed by the toppling ogre and then he was moving, having no time to revel in the small victory as the Raven was already scrambling to his feet, turning and holding a hand out towards Brayden, surely intent on pulling whatever magic he could against him. Slicing out with one of his swords, the Raven didn’t have time to pull his hand back and Brayden cut it clean from his body. The Raven let out a screech and Brayden kept moving forward, dipping his shoulder to strike the Raven in the gut. The creature howled in pain, blood from its severed limb staining Brayden’s tunic and splattering across his face, but Brayden paid it no attention. They fell to the ground both of them and without a working arm, Brayden easily overpowered the Raven, rolling him onto his stomach and climbing onto the Raven’s back, pressing his palm against the Raven’s forehead and pulling his head back, his neck crooked at an awkward angle and his blade pressed against his throat. “Wait!” Teague cried, his voice oddly more human than Brayden had heard it before. It was enough to stay his blade, if even for a moment. Brayden took a second to glance around at his companions. Gideon was standing over the fallen ogre, watching Brayden and when their eyes met, they both looked towards Piressa and Corey. The elf was standing up, rubbing at her throat with an annoyed look on her face. Corey, much to Brayden’s amusement, was trying to tend to her, but she kept swatting him away. Knowing his friends and brother were safe, Brayden turned back to the Raven he had pinned to the ground and he leaned down, growling at the man, “Wait for what?” He pulled back harder on the Raven’s head and the man grunted beneath him. “For you to curse me?” “I wish to bargain,” Teague said, eyes tilting upwards to try and get a look at Brayden’s face. Brayden snorted. Gideon didn’t give him a chance to answer the Raven. He stalked across the clearing to their side and pointed his sword down at the Raven’s face. Behind them, Piressa and Corey came a bit closer, neither of them having put their blades away yet. “There is no bargain you can make that will spare your life,” Gideon said coldly. Teague hissed as Brayden pressed his blade a little harder, drawing blood in the process. He glanced up at Gideon and his brother gave him a look, but didn’t look displeased. “Information!” Teague cried. “I have information to trade!” “We don’t need or want your information,” Brayden hissed, leaning down as he said the words. “The Chosen!” Teague cried. “They are a broken order, scattered pieces across the land. I was tasked with hunting them. You are not the first I found.” Brayden tensed, his eyes immediately shooting up to meet Gideon’s and he saw his brother’s face darken, his lips curling up into a sneer. Then he stalked forward and crouched in front of them, shoving Brayden back so he could grab the collar of the Raven’s shirt, yanking him up. Brayden kept his blade pressed against the Raven’s throat, not trusting him, even incapacitated as he was. “What have you done?” Gideon snarled, his sword aimed straight at the Raven’s eye. Brayden could feel the Raven shaking beneath him and it gave him some small satisfaction to know the man was scared. He should be. Gideon didn’t play around when it came to the safety of the Chosen or the Emperor. The Raven licked his lips and said, “My life for my information,” he said to Gideon. “Give me your word.” Letting out a frustrated growl, Gideon said, “You have my word.” The words brought a surprised gasp from Corey and a noise of disapproval from Piressa. Brayden didn’t react either way, just holding his blade there and waiting for Gideon to get the information. If Gideon wanted to give the man his word that he’d let him live, that was fine. It didn’t mean Brayden had to do the same. The Raven nodded slightly. “A Wayfarer’s inn, a lodge to the north. It wreaked of Chosen. I was going there after I disposed of you.” Gideon growled and shook the Raven slightly, “Who were they,” he said. “Give me names.” “I know no names,” the Raven cried, eyes on the sword pointed at his face. “They were neither Crowe nor Rivain. You were always my priority.” Gideon seemed to mull this over for a minute before he nodded and stood, sheathing his sword. Brayden watched him as he looked back at Corey and Piressa, running a hand over his mouth. Then he sighed and dropped his hands, walking over to them. “Very well,” he said. Brayden watched him, turning to look over his shoulder and follow his brother’s form. Gideon paused when he was in front of the others and then turned his head, not quite looking back towards them. “Brayden,” he called quietly. Brayden lifted his chin in response. “Dispose of him.” He gave a curt nod and beneath him, the Raven gasped. “You gave me your word!” he cried just before Brayden slid his sword across his throat, blood leaking out into the dirt, the Raven’s life along with it. He barely heard his brother’s quiet words. “I sacrificed my word long ago.” .Wolfie. 3.13 Otterville -- The Winters’ Farm “Sunlight,” Gram said. “That’s all you needed. Not fancy elf tricks.” “Of course,” Brayden said. He smirked at the answer and then it turned into a wince as Gram continued stitching his neck back closed. He sat at the table, a bottle of dandelion wine held in one hand while the knuckles turned white around the bottle. It was the only sign that he was in pain but Gideon caught it even so. “I just figured I’d let her do something to feel useful.” He shot Piressa a wink and she just snorted in response. She stood by the window, arms crossed under her chest and a cold look on her face. She had been quiet all on the walk back, fingers rubbing at her neck whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. It had been a slow trek back, all of them hurt and bruised beyond belief. Corey had limped but he hadn’t complained or asked them to stop. For his part Gideon had ignored the pains of his body, shutting them away where he couldn’t feel them anymore. “So the Raven is dead?” Wilhelm asked quietly. He stood next to Gideon, teeth worrying at his lip and eyes watching his face. There was the sound of laughter from the next room over and for a moment Gideon’s eyes went past him. Corey sat on the floor, Gwen’s arms around his neck as she played with his hair and a broad grin on her face. She’d thrown herself at him as soon as they’d walked in the door and Gideon had almost smiled. Paul sat across from them and Karl stood over all three with a forced, grumpy look on his face. For a moment he wondered which one of them his own son would have been like and then he pushed it aside. “Yes,” he told Wilhelm, turning his attention back to the man’s face. His next words were cold and he didn’t allow himself to think how easy it was for him to break his word to the magi. He had barely hesitated. “Raven Teague is dead and will threaten your family no longer. We think he was working alone, but as I said before, if anyone else comes here looking for us, do not lie to them.” Wilhelm nodded his head and looked away from him, glancing over his shoulder at his children. A small smile played on his lips at the sight of them and then he looked back at Gideon. “Then I won’t ask where you’re going.” Gram clucked her tongue at Brayden as she tied off the thread. “You must be blessed by Lady Reverent herself, boy-o.” He grinned, toasting her with the bottle of wine. “So I’ve been told,” he said, before tipping it back and taking a long pull from it. He put the cork back in it afterwards and maybe his brother would be sober enough to hold himself up. Maybe it would be smarter to wait another day, but the sooner they left the less danger the Winters were in. He’d already brought enough trouble to their doorstep. They had spent too much time here. He had been waiting months for signs of Duncan and he had finally realized just how foolish that had been. He had been waiting for orders that weren’t forthcoming and it wasn’t how the Knight Captain was supposed to act. If Duncan was dead than it was his duty to the Chosen to pick up the pieces. He would spare no more thought on self-recrimination or doubt. He would do what he had to do now to either see the Emperor back on the throne or at least see the Viceroy dead. Wilhelm was quiet for another moment and Gideon realized he was stalling. He knew they needed to head out but for a moment he couldn’t get himself to go pull Corey away from them or stop his brother from enjoying his wine in the open doorway. It was Gram that finally broke the silence. She pushed back away from Brayden and then went to wash her hands in the basin by the door. “You boys are welcome to stay another night,” Gram said. The words were firm, and she glanced over her shoulder at Gideon as she did. He didn’t miss how pushy the statement was or that she didn’t include Piressa in the invitation. Gideon ran a hand over his mouth to hide his smirk and just shook his head. “No,” he said. “The sooner we leave, the better.” “Of course,” she said, waving a hand at him. “Wouldn’t want your bruises to heal before you go and get new ones.” Brayden laughed and then pushed himself to his feet. He took a moment to crack his neck and Gideon lifted an eyebrow at how his brother wavered on his feet. “Don’t worry about us, Gram,” he said. There was a broad grin on his face as he went to stand by her in the doorway. The sunlight spilled across them, skin illuminated in the gold glow. They still had a few hours of light left, enough to put a few miles between them and the Winters. “Really, what can they send that’s worse than what the Raven threw at us?” “Do you really want an answer to that?” Piressa drawled. She cast a glance over her shoulder and Gideon didn’t miss that her words were a little harsh thanks to what the Raven had done to her. Her fingers lingered on her throat and as she turned back around she glanced at Gideon. He met her gaze and wondered what other secrets she had that she wasn’t telling him. “Yes,” Brayden said. He gestured a hand at her, the smile still on his face though Gideon had a hard time telling if he was faking it or not. “In fact, I think you should tell me every answer you can think of.” “Well, if you’re really set on leaving tonight then you’ll need something for dinner later. And keep that bottle of wine, I’ve got more.” Gram let out a sigh and then reached out to muss Brayden’s hair. He laughed at the motion and then winced as it jarred the lump on the back of his head. Gideon pretended he didn’t see it because then he would be tempted to take them up on their offer and stay here for another night. He had been thinking like just a man, like just Gideon for too long, and now he had to start thinking like the Captain again. Just a man wasn’t good enough. It wouldn’t get them through whatever came next. Brayden lifted the bottle in a toast to her. “If you insist,” he said. Gram chuckled and then went about the kitchen, gathering together food and supplies for them. Gideon rubbed the back of his neck as he watched her, apples and bread getting thrown in the sack. She added flint and a pan in with them and he wondered if she was going to include the whole kitchen. She walked over and shoved it against his chest when she was satisfied and then headed into the other room to start getting clothes together for them. “Out of the way, children,” Gram said, nudging Paul out of the way with her foot as she headed for the chest. The smile stayed on his face until he realized what she was doing and then he looked out into the kitchen, his face falling. He pushed himself to his feet, walking out towards them and he shifted awkwardly as he looked right at Brayden. “You’re leaving?” Brayden turned his head away from the window and Gideon saw the struggle he had to keep the smile on his face. He laughed weakly and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, boy-o. The winds of fate call, and we must heed her.” He managed a small, graceful bow and Gideon snorted because the way his brother was moving he thought he should take the wine away from him. Paul sniffled and then he was hurrying across the room, throwing his arms around Brayden’s waist. His brother looked surprised at the motion and even more so when the boy squeezed tightly. He patted him awkwardly on the back, looking up to Gideon for help. He didn’t know whether he should laugh or cry at the sight so he did neither, shrugging his shoulders and keeping his face carefully blank. “I’ll miss you,” Paul said. “You’ll have to come back and tell me stories.” Brayden laughed weakly and patted him again on the head. “I will kid,” he said. “Stories even your Gram won’t believe. “Don’t count on that,” she called from the next room. 3.14 Torturer’s Chamber “That was the last time we saw them,” Corey said. The interrogator leaned against a wooden table across from him, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Corey carefully. He had stopped paying attention to the man a long time ago, his eyes on the floor and the blood stained across the stones. He wondered if all of it was his or if someone else had sat in this chair before him. He wondered if the Winters’ were well or if someone within this very Keep had sent someone after to kill them all while they slept. He closed his eyes against the image of Gwen or Paul with their throats slit open but the image haunted him even so. A quiet sob left his throat and his head slumped against his chest. He was so tired. His throat hurt from speaking and his skin throbbed with the cuts littering his flesh. He had been carved up and cut to pieces before they put him back together and he realized once he’d begun talking that he would do anything to keep the pain from coming back. He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t tell them this much or this many secrets but they spilled from his lips when the knife began to carve at him, in the desperate hope that one more word would still that blade. A sigh left the man’s lips and then he pushed himself upright, coming over to stand in front of Corey. “So that was how Teague met his end,” he said. He ran a hand over his mouth and then nodded his head, crouching before him. Corey let out a sob when he felt the man’s fingers grip his chin. “I need more,” he said. Corey shook his head because he’d known these questions were coming and he didn’t want to tell them what came next. A growl left the man’s lips and he lifted his jaw up to meet his gaze. “Tell me about the others. Did you find them at the Wayfarer’s Inne?” “No,” Corey whimpered. “We didn’t find anything.” He tried to jerk his head from the man’s grasp but his fingers were hard and unyielding. He snarled and then stood, wrenching Corey’s face up towards him and spitting into his face. “You are lying,” the man screamed. “Tell me what you found.” “No,” Corey whispered. He shook his head and tried to hold out, even when the blade buried itself beneath his skin. The interrogator released him, taking a step back. He snapped his fingers at the torturer, drawing his dark gaze up to his face. “I need answers,” he snapped. The torturer nodded his head and then he walked over to the table, taking a pair of jawed metal tools off the wood. The interrogator’s gaze lingered on Corey and he snorted out a laugh before he walked away from him, footsteps loud and heavy on the stairs. “Call me back when it talks.” Wenston Part Four 4.1 Torturer’s Chamber The pain was bright and vivid as it woke him from a restless darkness. It weighed down his eyes and kept him from lifting his head where his chin rested against his own chest. It took him a while to get past the pain and start to assess his surroundings. They’d moved him, that was one of the first things he noticed, even before he opened his eyes. Maybe not to a different room, but definitely to a different position. His arms were strung up above his head, metal biting deep into his wrists. His shirt was gone and his leggings were torn and bloodied. There were shackles around his ankles, but he doubted he could even swing his legs up to try and hurt anyone if he tried. He was completely drained of energy and spirit. There was a slow, steady dripping sound and when he finally managed to pry his eyes open, he saw it was his own blood dripping into a puddle beneath him. He wondered how much longer he had until he died. They’d asked him about the Wayfarer’s Inn over and over again and he’d held out until he’d lost consciousness. He remembered them trying to wake him, but he couldn’t even open his eyes. He’d wake for seconds before falling back under again and he hated now that he was starting to wake again. It was safer when he was unconscious. It was safer when they couldn’t make him talk and he couldn’t talk in his sleep. He closed his eyes and tried to feign it for as long as he could. His mind went to little Gwen and he hoped that by telling these men about the Winters he hadn’t just declared their death sentence. He didn’t think the Viceroy would care too much about a poor family of farmers, but the Viceroy was a corrupt, power hungry man and Corey prayed that the family would stay safe. Or he’d see them in the afterlife where they could punish him for his loose tongue. “He’s awake,” he heard a voice in the room say and it made his face fall, even when he tried to prove them wrong. Footsteps across the floor were the only warning he had before a hand grabbed his chin and shook him hard. The room spun and his eyes cracked open. His interrogator was back in the room and he looked straight into Corey’s eyes. They were now face to face instead of Corey tied down to a chair and the man looked even more menacing like this for some reason. “You are going to tell me about the Inn,” he said. “Did you find the other Chosen there?” Corey took in a harsh breath and whispered through cracked lips, “I will not tell.” The man sighed, but instead of grabbing other devices or instruments, he walked over to a basin in the room that hadn’t been there before. Corey watched him warily as he dipped a cup into the water and he felt his throat nearly close as he realized how parched he was. The man came back over and sipped the water in the cup before smacking his lips and holding it out for Corey to see. “Tell me, and I will let you have a drink,” the man said calmly, smoothly. Corey stared at the cup and closed his eyes. “I can’t,” he said, feeling tears slip from beneath his eyelids. The man shushed him softly and patted his cheek with too gentle of a touch. Corey opened his eyes and the man was looking at him kindly. “They will not fault you for wanting a drink of water.” Letting out a soft cry, Corey shook his head. “Gods help me,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you.” 4.2 The Wayfarer’s Inn “This could be a trap,” Brayden said lowly. They’d found the Inn right where the Raven had said it would be. It was a beat up, run down establishment with a stables out back and just outside the bounds of the town of Roseville, a town named after the thick stone walls covered in thorny roses that surrounded it. The Wayfarer’s Inn was just outside the walls, set back in the woods. It looked almost empty and deserted and Brayden guessed it didn’t see very many visitors, due to its inconvenient location. It seemed like the type of place a Chosen would choose. Not a lot of traffic. They stood on the path that led to the Inn. They’d stopped just short of it to assess the building itself in case they needed to make a hasty exit. It would be too hard to disappear into the woods if need be. Gideon stood in front of them, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Wilhelm had let him keep it and Brayden wondered if the man knew how much that meant to his brother. He hadn’t been gifted many things in his life and to be gifted a sword must have been a great honor for his brother. Piressa stood next to him. “I am inclined to agree,” she said, looking at Gideon, though her words sounded forced. Brayden snorted. She’d been fairly sour to him since they’d defeated the Raven. Probably because there was no immediate danger that forced them to work together at the moment. “If it is, it is a lousy one,” Gideon said. Brayden shrugged. “I could scout ahead,” he said nonchalantly, eyeing one of the windows, but he couldn’t see anything through the thick glass. “No,” Gideon said and started forward again. “I am starting to think you not only got yourself poisoned, but cursed with ill luck.” The words made Brayden snort, but he couldn’t deny he felt as though he’d been slipping lately. Maybe it was just because he had been fighting with other people, when he was used to remaining in the shadows and fighting when he only had himself to worry about. They walked up the porch to the front door and Gideon opened it without hesitation, though his hand never left the hilt of his sword. Once the door opened, they were instantly met with the sound of a familiar song coming from the back of the Inn. Brayden’s eyes were drawn there first and he lifted a brow when he saw a minstrel with a lute in his lap sitting on top of a stone fireplace. There was something bubbling in a pot beneath him, but he didn’t look like he cared, singing out an off key, odd song. But Brayden would recognize it anyway. He snorted out a laugh and whispered, “How dreadfully inconspicuous.” Gideon sighed, his hand falling off the hilt of his sword and instead going to his forehead like he suddenly had a headache. Brayden grinned, eyes scanning the rest of the patrons in the room. There were a couple of men sitting by themselves in the corner, playing cards. A man sat near the fire, listening to the minstrel and there were two women entertaining another pair of men in the opposite corner. None of them caught Brayden’s eye, but the bartender did. The huge man had grown a beard and long hair and now looked more like a Redholme than a man. He was intimidating and frightening and Brayden wondered why he hadn’t gone hairy sooner. No one would think of fighting a man that looked that terrifying. Not that the bald head hadn’t had a similar effect. But this was worse. He bit off a laugh, because they were hardly the Jethro and Alain he’d last seen all those months ago. “Oh by the Gods,” Brayden yelled out, sounding annoyed and irritated. He saw Jethro’s head snap up at his voice, recognizing it immediately. Alain’s song stopped and he saw his eyes widen as he looked at their small group. “Are you still singing that dreadful tune?” Alain looked caught off guard and shocked at first, his mouth floundering and eyes surprisingly bright. It had been long, too long since they’d seen each other. But then the man’s face broke into a grin and he shrugged. “There hasn’t been a loud mouthed asshole around to teach me a new one,” Alain yelled across to them and then jumped down, throwing his lute aside without a second thought as he came over and clapped Brayden on the shoulder. Brayden just shook his head and forwent the shoulder clap and threw his arm around the man’s shoulders in an embrace. “I missed you, you damn fool.” .Wolfie. The three of them made their way between the tables, settling in at the bar Jethro stood behind. The man was studying them like he was trying to decide whether or not he was dreaming, but when they finally settled into the stools a bright grin stole across his face. He shook his head and then held an arm out for Gideon, one he clasped firmly. It was odd to see the man again after so long but suddenly it was as if no time had passed at all. These men had been like his brothers once, and as much as he tried to ignore it he felt a swell of relief just knowing they were still alive. “Gods Captain, it is good to see your face.”“Not mine?” Brayden said, his eyes wide and offended. He held his arms out to the side before gesturing at his face with one hand. “I am the prettier brother after all. And the favorite. But not even a word of hello from you.” He clucked his tongue with disgust. Jethro snorted but he was grinning even as he shook his head at Brayden. “Pretty faces often hide empty heads,” he said, pointing a finger at him across the bar. “In fact, I believe I heard an echo in there just by speaking the words.” Brayden just laughed and there was an answering smile on Jethro’s face as he started filling them each a mug at his bar. He slid a mug across towards Brayden and then another towards Corey, pointing a finger in his face afterwards. “I must say, I am surprised to see you again, Temple, was it?” “Yes ser,” Corey said. He stayed standing, looking more nervous than he had facing the Raven. Brayden didn’t miss it, leaning his head back to look at the boy. “Little Corey here’s been trying his best,” Brayden said, slinging an arm around his shoulder and forcing him into the stool next to him. There was a mocking grin on his face and Corey didn’t miss the tone of it. It seemed to ease some of his anxiousness. “If nothing else he makes for a decent distraction.” Corey snorted and lifted an eyebrow at Brayden. “Such as cutting through that Raven’s arm?” he said. After the words were out of his mouth his face turned red and he looked down at the bar but they were already past his lips. Brayden’s eyes narrowed at him. “I swear, next time I’ll let you get eaten by the tree.” Gideon sighed. “Enough,” he said. “And you two, no more Captains, no more sers.” His voice lowered when he said it, shooting glances at both Jethro and Corey. Both of them should have known better by now. Jethro nodded his head, his expression sobering as he slid a mug over in front of Gideon. He ignored it, pushing it aside with one hand. “Tell me what happened after that night.” Alain chuckled leaning against the bar on the other side of Corey. “I missed you too Captain,” he commented. At Gideon’s raised eyebrow he turned his chuckle into a cough and tried to hide it behind one fist. “Sorry. Gideon. Ah, we fled,” he told him. “Took off through Champion’s Way, but too many people saw us. Nicos was hurt, the guard was everywhere and we couldn’t tell who was on our side anymore. We made it to a healer, but…” Alain trailed off, shaking his head. Jethro cleared his throat, leaning forward to continue their tale. “The Elites’ found us. Didn’t take them long either. They broke down half the doors on the block before they got to ours. We had no choice but to run.” Jethro and Alain grew quiet and Gideon watched them both as they recalled that night. It had been chaos, all of them just running for their lives and he felt the familiar guilt settling into his chest. He should have done more to stop it. He should have seen it coming but he had missed all the signs. Maybe he had gotten complacent, but never again. “And Nicos?” he asked quietly. Alain ducked his head and he couldn’t meet his eyes. It was Jethro that cleared his throat, eyes locked on the bar as he shook his head. “We couldn’t… he was hurt too badly.” He paused, licking his lips and staring at the scratches in the counter. It took him a moment to get himself together, hand running over his beard before he finally forced his eyes back to Gideon’s. His voice was quiet and small, shame and guilt lacing the words as he whispered them across the table. “We left him there. The Gods damn us, we left him.” “There was nothing else you could have done,” Brayden said quietly. He was the only one who spoke for a moment because everyone in the room probably believed the man was dead or worse now. Jethro nodded his head but didn’t look like he believed it. “Any word from the others?” Gideon asked him quietly. The man shook his head, and it was still odd to see him with a beard on his face. Someone had woven braids into it and Gideon wondered who. Alain’s red hair had grown longer and he had it pulled out of his face, calluses on his fingers from a lute instead of a sword. “None. You are the first we’ve seen since that day. We’d begun to think we were the only ones left.” He paused and glanced around the Inn before he leaned closer to them, arms braced on the bar. “What does it mean that you’re here?” Jethro asked quietly. “Do you know where Duncan or Rivain are? We’ve heard nothing but dark rumors.” As soon as he asked the question Gideon felt the distant sensation of disappointment. He didn’t allow it to fester but he’d hoped that Duncan was either here or had contacted the men already. He shut it away and allowed himself to just be grateful that two of the Chosen were alive and well, because it was more than he’d known in months. They had served under him, been his brother’s in arms, and it eased some broken part of him to know that they were still alive and well. “We have heard little but the same,” Brayden said. He smirked afterwards, lifting his mug of ale and gesturing at Jethro with it. “You were the first we’d heard of, and from a Raven’s mouth.” He grinned, even as Alain spluttered in response. “A Raven?” he demanded. His eyes were wide and they shot from one face to the other, scanning hurriedly for answers. Brayden chuckled but refused to answer and even Corey wore something like a smirk on his face, toying with the mug in his hands. He hadn’t tried it yet, just studying it and listening. “Where have you been hiding that you ran afoul of a Raven?” Brayden shrugged. “We were farming. Working very hard at it too.” “Don’t lie,” Corey said, glancing up at Brayden’s face with a smirk. “You did very little work at all.” Jethro laughed, and it was a loud, booming sound that echoed in the small tavern. It drew every eye to him and Gideon shot a glare over his shoulder to try and convince the men to go back to their card game. Even so, the sound of it was infectious and he heard Brayden chuckling quietly. Alain joined in, and Gideon thought after a moment they were just laughing because they felt like they needed to. “That sounds exactly like the Crowe I know,” he said. “Tell me, who did you charm to get your way out of work?” “Ah, you do me a disservice ser,” Brayden said, grinning across the counter. “A better question would be, who didn’t I charm?” He gave his best winning smile and Gideon just snorted and shook his head at his brother. Alain chuckled and slapped Brayden on the back before going back to his ale, his lute forgotten on the stool next to him. Gideon glanced over his shoulder at Piressa but she was the only one not seated. Her hands rested on her blades, eyes scanning the rest of the tavern. “Have a seat,” Gideon told her quietly, nodding his head at the stool next to him. She looked back at him and then over at the others, hesitation showing on her face before she hid it behind that cool mask of hers. She had spoken little since the Raven except to argue with Brayden and he almost asked her if she was alright. The others grew quiet as she slid gracefully into the stool, one hand remaining on her blades and her eyes still watching his back. After a moment Alain sighed and then he was leaning forward, arm braced on the counter. “Alright,” he said. “I will ask it, since no one else seems willing to. Who is she?” He lifted an eyebrow at Piressa and Jethro glanced at her before his gaze returned to Gideon. “She has sworn herself to me,” Gideon told him firmly. He met Jethro’s gaze and whether or not he trusted her, he chose to believe her oath. He wasn’t sure why, only that he had heard the despair in her voice when she had begged him for death and he thought a part of him could understand that. Her men were dead, her duty failed and broken, and she had come after him only to see an end to her dishonor. He wanted to believe that didn’t involve sticking a blade in his back. Brayden snorted and glanced over at her. “We are still waiting to see just what that oath is worth,” he said. He met Gideon’s gaze and didn’t shy away from it even when it narrowed into a glare. “It is worth more than the word of a Crowe,” she shot back. Gideon didn’t know if the words were meant to be directed at him but he didn’t allow himself to feel the sting of them. He was not an honorable man. He hadn’t been for a long time and it was just one more thing he’d had to sacrifice for his duty. If he would sacrifice Elena than what was his word to a Raven? Jethro leaned across the counter, pointing a finger at her. “Watch your tongue, elf,” he spat. “Or you’ll lose it.” “You will treat her with respect,” Gideon said. His voice was calm, but he was surprised at how quickly the words came to his tongue. He was not unaware of the way Brayden’s eyes narrowed at the comment but he had no explanation for his brother that he was willing to give. Instead he turned his gaze away, glancing over his shoulder at her. She sat stiffly in the stool, glare focused past him towards his brother. “I expect the same from you,” he told her firmly. She inclined her head towards him, no expression on her face as she finally met his gaze. “As you say.” “Well,” Alain said after a moment. “I think this calls for more drinks.” Wenston “So I told the old fool, lookit here, you can’t bring your dog into this here establishment,” Alain was saying, waving his hands around wildly, a testament to the amount of ale he’d drunk since they’d walked in. His face was red and Brayden wondered if this wasn’t the first time they’d been able to relax and actually feel happy since they’d split up that day. It probably was. “And you know what he says to me? He says, son, this ain’t my dog, this is my horse. And I look at that old fool and I say, well if that’s the case, let him pull up a stool.” Jethro, Brayden and Corey both broke into raucous laughter as Alain told the brunt of his joke. Brayden raised his mug as he leaned against the bar and they all clinked their mugs together, taking deep swills of their ale. Brayden slammed his back down on the counter and just grinned at the two of them. He’d missed them. As much as he’d convinced himself he would live and move on if he found out the other Chosen had been killed, he realized that no matter how much he tried to convince himself, he wouldn’t have been able to take it. Or at least it would have been the hardest thing that had ever happened to him. Discounting if he found out Gisaine was dead and gone as well. And discounting if anything ever happened to Gideon. Glancing down the bar to his brother, Gideon sat a few stools away, looking over a map Jethro had given him. He wasn’t sure what his brother was looking for, but he’d grown quiet and contemplative while the rest of them caught up and drank together. Piressa sat next to him and Brayden felt the smile falter on his face. He didn’t like her. He didn’t trust her and he thought his brother was a fool to do so this easily. He’d surprised him when he’d told them all to treat her with respect. “So, do you own this place?” Corey asked. Brayden’s eyes moved from his brother to Corey and the grin spread back across his lips. Corey’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes glassy. The kid was keeping up with them pretty well, mug for mug, but it wouldn’t be long before he was snoring on the floor, Brayden was sure. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have suggested it, due to the fact they were being hunted. But tonight was different. Tonight Brayden figured they just needed to live like they once had. Jethro stood up behind the bar, puffing out his chest. “I am indeed the proprietor of this establishment,” he said in a mockingly humble voice, patting himself on the chest. Alain laughed, slapping Corey with the back of his hand. “He doesn’t know what the word proprietor means, I guarantee.” Brayden snorted as Jethro narrowed his eyes at Alain and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t think I’ve gone soft and won’t wring your neck,” he growled. Alain held his hands up in a mock surrender and before they could continue, Gideon looked up from the map he’d been studying. “Do you have a cache?” Gideon asked. They all turned to look at him and Brayden studied his brother for another moment. He recognized that look on his face. It was Knight Captain Gideon. He was plotting and scheming and Brayden thought he knew what he was thinking. He was probably thinking that the Inn was a fairly decent central point for trying to get in touch and rebuild the Chosen. It was hidden and had very little customers. The stables out back were a good place to hide and there was a loft above them that Jethro and Alain had turned into their bunks. It would be easy to make this their base of operations. Jethro cleared his throat, walking over to Gideon and grinned. “We put a few things away in case you or Duncan came calling,” he said lowly. “Want me to show you?” he waggled his eyebrows. Gideon smirked a little and nodded, rolling up the map and handing it over to Alain. He turned and motioned for Piressa to follow him. Brayden snorted at that and he didn’t miss the way Gideon turned to give him a look, but he just held his mug up to Gideon and his brother could read it in whatever way he wanted. He knew they would talk about it later. The three of them walked out the back to look at whatever supplies Jethro and Alain had been hoarding away. Brayden looked towards Alain, who sat on the bar and then sighed, looked back to Corey and him. “You fool bastards have pretty good timing, you know?” he said, chuckling as he sipped his ale. Brayden raised an eyebrow at him. “Whatever do you mean?” he asked. Alain just shook his head, looking around the room, but the other patrons were long gone, either to bed or leaving for the night. He leaned in closer and motioned for Brayden to do the same. He snorted, but then did as Alain asked, Corey doing the same. “The big man’s been upset lately,” he said quietly. “He’s been wanting to go back to Lockhaven after some disturbing rumors made their way to him.” “Rumors?” Corey asked, hiccupping afterwards and it made Brayden chuckle. Alain nodded drunkenly. “Rumors,” he confirmed. “Apparently, the Viceroy’s been making some noble friends. Been doing business with them and not all of its been in the empire’s best interest.” Brayden nodded and waited for Alain to sip at his ale again before he continued. “And one of these nobles went through Lockhaven, with the Viceroy’s blessing, and used the city as a field of opportunity to build his own damn harem. Started taking the women and young girls that stuck out the most to him. And rumor has it, he even took sweet Bianca.” Brayden stiffened, eyes narrowing. “Jethro’s sister,” he said. “Aye,” Alain nodded. “He’s been itching to go back there or at least send a letter to see if the rumor’s true, but we could never risk it.” Alain shook his head, a forlorn look crossing his face. “When I think about Bianca in the hands of some snooty noble, it sickens me,” he spat. Brayden knew it was more than just Alain’s friendship with Jethro that had him all bothered. Alain and Bianca had a relationship on more than one occasion with each other, much to Jethro’s chagrin. The look on Alain’s face made Brayden’s heart skip because he was picturing what he’d do if it were Gisaine. It made him think about exactly how much they’d all lost. Family, friends, their homes, their names – everything was gone. They couldn’t even go back to see if their family was safe or not. The Viceroy had destroyed everything they had. “Well,” Brayden said, shrugging a little. “We could always pay the noble a visit.” Alain laughed, shaking his head and leaning back. “What? And make ourselves known to the Viceroy again? The moment we open that gate, you better be ready to take on the Viceroy’s army, because he’ll send everything he has after us.” Brayden shrugged. “He’ll have to find us first.” .Wolfie. “This is everything we’ve managed to get our hands on the last few months. Plus the horses out back.” Jethro gestured his hand towards the back of the stables, his motions a little erratic but his feet steady. The man was good at holding his liquor, the only sign that he was drunk was the slight, glazed look to his eye and the overly sloppy smile on his face. He led them up into the loft where he and Alain had been staying these past few months. Gideon took stock of the place while they walked, his mind automatically nothing the entrances and exits. It was isolated and private, the perfect place for fugitives.He led them towards the back, Gideon and Piressa following close behind. He snorted when he saw a shield hanging on the wall, a few blades hung next to it by nails pounded into the wooden slats. There were a few crates and a chest shoved in the corner and Jethro grinned as he crouched by the chest. “We wanted to be able to hold out if we ever got cornered here. Blades, arrows, bolts, you name it.” He smirked as he pulled out a small wooden case. “Your brother should go through this when he’s sobered up.” Gideon took it from him but didn’t open it. He recognized the make of it because he’d seen one similar to it before, though this one wasn’t quite as well made. “Poisons,” he said. He snorted and handed it back to the man. “Where did you get it from?” “This wasn’t the first place we stopped,” Jethro said. He settled the case next to his knee, turning his attention back to the contents of the chest. “We tried Seaholme first. The assassin found us within a week. So we killed him and took what he had. Haven’t really messed with it, but if we ever got trapped up here we figured some of everything would be a swift way to go.” “Not necessarily,” Piressa said. “Some poisons cancel each other out. The wrong combination could have you dying in slow agony.” Jethro snorted and cast a glance over his shoulder at her. She’d said it as a statement of fact, no emotion in her voice. “Yes well,” he drawled, sighing and looking up at Gideon. “That’s why we had a backup plan. That crate behind you has got pitch in it.” He grinned at that and Gideon cast a glance at the crate he was talking about. It almost brought a smile to his face when he lifted the top of it and saw the carefully packaged bottles of it. “You’d burn the place down first,” he said. It wouldn’t take long, not with this much pitch and a stable made of wood. He let the crate close and crossed his arms over his chest. “What else have you got?” Jethro shrugged, pushing himself to his feet. “Me,” he said. “Alain.” The grin was still on his face but it wavered slightly and he turned to look out at the stables. “We’ve got the Inn. We’ve got weapons. Armors harder to come by out here, but we’ve got bits and pieces of that. Anything else you need, I’m sure we could acquire it.” He shrugged his shoulders, turning to look back at Gideon’s face. He was studying him carefully and he wasn’t sure what the man was looking for. “It’s a start.” He nodded his head, glancing past him towards Piressa. She wasn’t paying attention to either of them, eyes sweeping the weapons on the wall. Her fingers ran over a set of throwing knives there and Gideon swore he caught a hint of a smile there. Jethro shifted on his feet, suddenly tense and his voice gruff. “Ser, now that you’re here I’ll be leaving for a few days.” Gideon frowned, focusing back on Jethro. “For what purpose?” he asked. It surprised him after he spoke the words just how sharp his voice was, how his hand wanted to go straight for his blade and his mind went first to betrayal. None of the Chosen had turned on them and yet he was braced for more knives in his back and more death to be visited on those he trusted. Jethro shook his head, waving his hand at Gideon to try and erase the suspicion he’d heard in his voice. “It’s my sister, ser,” he said. “Rumor says she’s in trouble and I just want to go make sure she’s alright.” Gideon relaxed only slightly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He felt something like guilt for his initial reaction because he knew Jethro, knew that no matter what he would never betray the Chosen. The man had been his Lieutenant in all but name and he had trusted him with his life on more than one occasion. He’d been there to watch Nathan Chorde hang and he’d been there when the Church’s Priestess had said the final goodbyes as Elena’s body was set into the dirt. They all had, even if he hadn’t asked for it. “What does rumor say happen to her?” he asked, his voice softening. He could understand that kind of fear. Jethro’s face contorted in pain and then again in anger. “They say,” he spat. “That a damned Marquis named Gilbert has the Viceroy’s favor, and that he’s taken any woman who’s caught his fancy to his estate outside Lockhaven. They say my sister is among them. If this is true…” He shook his head, hands curling into fists. “Ser, I cannot leave her in this man’s hands. Not Bianca.” “Calm yourself, Jethro,” he said gently. “If what you say is true then we will handle it. There’s no need for you to go after her by yourself.” Jethro nodded his head, some of the tension leaving his shoulders and relief etched on his face. “Thank you ser,” he said. Gideon snorted at the words, running a hand over his mouth as he considered their position. If the Marquis had taken her and they went to take her back then they would be starting the war again. The Viceroy would know for a certainty that they lived and that they hid from him no longer. They would have to make the strike worth it. If they went after Bianca then it wouldn’t be enough to simply take her from his hands. They would have to leave something to strike fear in the man’s heart. “You say this man, this Marquis, has the Viceroy’s favor?” He glanced at Jethro and the man nodded his head, his eyes distant. Gideon had no doubt that his mind was with his sister and what may have become of her. They’d lost everything the day the Keep fell, though Gideon had little to lose. He still had his brother and that was the only thing he had left to mourn. At most he had lost his title and as hard won as it had been, it was a small thing compared to the others. The rest had lost family, friends, loved ones, their homes. Even Brayden had lost more than he. He had lost Gisaine, and he could tell the blow still hurt. “Yes ser,” Jethro told him. “Bastard has his blessing.” His fingers dug into his arms, knuckles turning white with barely restrained anger. He could easily picture him tearing the city apart piece by piece to find her. Gideon nodded his head slowly. “Good,” he said. Jethro glanced at him and after a moment a slow smile creased his face. Behind him, Piressa watched with a curious look on her face but he didn’t respond to either of them. He clapped Jethro on the shoulder and nodded his head back the way they’d come. “Let’s head back to the others. When their heads are more sober then we will plan our strike.” Jethro laughed and it was honest and relieved. “It is good to see you again, Captain,” he said, slapping him on the back. Gideon almost stumbled beneath the blow. “And you, Jethro,” he said, fighting back a smile. The man laughed again and then led them back through the loft, guiding them beneath dimly lit lanterns. Gideon followed at a slower pace, eyes sweeping the grounds around them as his mind turned. It was an easily defensible position. It would serve them well in the days to come, though something like doubt overshadowed that thought. He assumed they would follow him back into battle. It was not in his nature to ask. “That man will get you killed,” Piressa said. The words were calm and quiet as she walked at his side, eyes focused on Jethro’s back. Gideon snorted and didn’t spare her a glance. “That man has saved my life,” he said shortly. He kept his voice low as they followed Jethro back into the bar, pausing in the doorway so that his words wouldn’t carry. There were still a few strangers in the bar, though none of them seemed interested in their business. “And the death of a Marquis in the Viceroy’s favor is a good place to start.” She laughed quietly and it was light and sincere. The sound of it surprised him and he frowned at her curiously. “I don’t mean that. It is a good place to start,” she told him. “I mean he cannot stop ‘ser’ing and ‘Captain’ing you. Corey is doing a better job of it.” He frowned and turned his attention to the bar. Alain had his lute back out and he was playing something bawdy and off-key. It had Corey shaking with laughter, his hands gripping the bar tightly as he tried to stay upright. Brayden had an arm slung across the boy’s shoulder as he watched Alain with a wicked grin but his gaze slid past him when Jethro resumed his place behind the bar. It was as if he was looking back in time to the Salty Pig and he felt his chest constrict. “Jethro has had less practice at it,” he said. “As have I.” She nodded her head, her expression softening as she glanced up at him. Her eyes swept his face and he had no insight into her thoughts. Then she tilted her head towards the remains of the Chosen. They gathered around the bar and he lingered in the doorway instead of joining them. “You should drink with your men,” she said. “While you all still live.” His eyes narrowed and he turned to look at her. Her back was resting against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest as she studied the Chosen. “Is that a threat?” he asked, his voice lowering and his hand settling on his blade. “No,” she told him. Her voice was soft and pained and it surprised him. “It is a regret.” The response eased some of his suspicions, but not by much. He looked back at the bar and for a moment his brother’s eyes met his. There was something dark, concern and mistrust mingling when his gaze moved from Gideon to Piressa and he did not fault him for it, even if he had no explanation for him. What would he have done if all of the Chosen had died that day and he still lived? Would he have thrown himself on the mercy of his enemy’s blade? “You miss your cadre,” he said. “Miss.” She spat the word out onto the floor, but he didn’t believe the disdain and hate was meant for him. “Such a weak term. Things, memories, innocence, I miss these things. To say I miss my cadre is to dishonor their very memory. I died when they died, I wait only until my oath is fulfilled so that my soul can join them where they rest with the ancestors.” He frowned and looked over to her. Her back was stiff, eyes lidded as she watched the Chosen from across the tavern. “Then why swear yourself to me?” he asked. “If you had refused to answer my questions than I would have killed you.” “I was afraid you would not,” she said. The answer surprised him and he let out a quiet scoff. She shook her head, blonde hair spilling around her shoulders. “Understand, if you had refused either to kill me or accept my oath than I would have been bound to the man who hired me.” Her voice grew quiet and he heard something like despair in the soft tones of it. “Better my life tied to yours than his.” It made him wonder if she had told him truly about Kinley hiring her or if there was more to that man than he had assumed. He had judged him a simple soldier and it had been a long time since he had been so mistaken about a man. Gideon watched her face as she spoke and he wasn’t sure what to make of her. He wasn’t sure whether he should believe her because if she was a liar than she was an exceptional one. The words sounded like truth and he found himself wanting to believe her. “That is a lot of faith you put on a man you tried to kill,” he said. “Make no mistake, if I believe you to be a danger to my men or the Emperor than I will kill you myself. There is nothing I would not sacrifice for my duty.” “I am learning that,” she said. Her expression smoothed and he couldn’t tell if there was disdain in the words or respect. It mattered little to him but he found himself wanting to know the answer either way. She sighed after a moment and then started walking across the bar back towards the Chosen. “You should have a drink with them,” she said over her shoulder. Gideon snorted and then followed her. “Forgive me if I seem suspicious that you would encourage me to drink without a mug in your own hand.” The words carried and Brayden glanced up as they grew nearer, watching the elf suspiciously as she crossed behind him. She smiled at him as she leaned against the bar and he was surprised at how sincere it was. He settled on the stool between her and Brayden, watching her with a carefully shuttered expression. He couldn’t get a read on her, couldn’t tell if she hated and reviled him for holding her life in his hands or if she was content to wait for her death at his side. “That,” she said, raising her voice and shooting a glare over at Brayden, “is because I am afraid your brother will slip something in my glass when I am not looking.” “That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said, elf,” Brayden said cheerfully. It was enough to make Gideon smile. Wenston Brayden sat at a table in one of the backrooms of the inn. The sun would be rising soon and the others were still asleep. Gideon had told Brayden of the supplies Jethro and Alain had gathered and before everyone was up, he’d gone out to survey the items himself, having found the box of poisons Gideon had mentioned. It wasn’t as extensive as his collection had been, but it would do. He spread out the leaves and vials and powder on the table, making sure he knew what each of them was. It was a good assortment. A good variety and he could put these to use. He thought maybe he’d start with the Marquis who had Jethro’s sister. They hadn’t talked about a plan yet, but figured they’d wait until morning when they were all sober enough to be rational. Gideon hadn’t ended up drinking much with them, but he’d at least had a couple. Corey had gone off and slept in a room with Jethro and Alain and no one had really questioned it. The kid had been out of his mind last night with the ale the two of them were forcing down his throat. Brayden was proud of the kid for holding it so well and even prouder that the two of them had included Corey like he was one of their own. Which he was now. He hadn’t gotten the ceremony, or the official swearing in, but he figured Corey deserved to be a Chosen. As well as Stephen, if the smug bastard was still alive. The door to the room opened and Brayden spared his brother a simple glance before looking back down at the poisons in front of him. Gideon looked tired, but was already fully dressed and washed up for the day. He wasn’t surprised he’d come and sought him out first, before the others. He held his tongue when asking where Piressa was. The elf had slept in a room of her own, and Brayden had made sure he could see her door from his while he slept. He wouldn’t stop keeping his guard up around her. Not until he knew for sure, and he wasn’t sure that day would ever come. Closing the door behind him, Gideon stood in the doorway for a moment before walking across the room to stand at the other side of the table. “Will these suit your needs?” he asked, his voice formal and cold and Brayden knew something was on his mind. Smirking, Brayden glanced up at him as he placed a few leaves off to the side. “Depends on what your orders are, ser,” he said, mockingly. Gideon frowned and pulled a chair over, sitting down and giving Brayden a dirty look. Brayden held up a hand before his brother could really say anything. “I know, no sers.” “I know what you’re thinking,” Gideon said. A laugh escaped Brayden’s lips that sounded more like a scoff and he paused with his fingers over some crushed Wintersbane, which brought back memories of that day in the garden when Gisaine has asked him to bed her. He shoved them away quickly and gave his brother a playful look to mask it. “Do you, now?” Gideon looked at the poisons spread across the table, not meeting Brayden’s eyes and he thought that was more concerning than anything that was about to come out of his brother’s mouth. “You think I’m making a mistake keeping her around.” Brayden snorted and took a quick mental stock of everything on the table before he started repacking it into the hand crafted box. He missed his own box. He missed his own things and the people he worked with in Lowport. He missed Lockhaven, but he would have to make do with what they had out here. “That’s not true,” Brayden said quietly, smugly. “I’m actually thinking what it means that she seems to always be on your mind lately.” The face his brother made had Brayden’s hand stilling as he set the box down on the table. It looked like protectiveness, but he never thought Gideon would have shown that towards an elf who’d once tried to kill him. Gideon sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking tired. “I know you don’t trust her.” “You’re right,” Brayden interrupted. “I don’t.” “I’m not asking you to,” Gideon snapped back, voice irritated. Brayden sat back in his own chair, arms crossed over his chest. “All I’m asking is you respect my decision to keep her here.” Brayden mulled the words over, lips quirked to the side as he studied his brother. He nodded, giving a shrug but he couldn’t help the growing frustration in his chest. “Alright,” he said at last, though it sounded petulant and young. “I just wonder if we would be having this conversation if Duncan were here.” “He’s not,” Gideon snapped and it was harsh and cruel. Brayden watched his brother’s face soften and not for the first time, he wondered if Gideon was really as alright as he portrayed himself to be. He’d lost a lot. And sometimes, he wondered if his brother even realized it. Maybe he thought he could deal with it. Maybe he thought that it was all part of this sacrifice he kept talking about. “No, he’s not,” Brayden agreed quietly. Gideon’s face darkened and he tipped his head to the side to look at Brayden with an odd look. “I don’t care for what you’re implying, Brayden,” he said lowly. Brayden shook his head. “I’m not implying anything,” he said. “My words mean only what you want them to mean.” He grabbed the box off the table and flipped it in his hand before crossing his arms back over his chest, box still in his hand. He smirked and changed the subject, seeing his brother was getting angry. “What are we going to do about the Marquis?” he asked. For a moment, he didn’t think his brother would let it go that easily. But then Gideon sighed and studied Brayden’s face. “We use him to send a message to the Viceroy,” he said. “The Chosen are still out there and we will stop at nothing to see the true Emperor restored to power.” “Strange that we’d be sending messages like that when we don’t even know if the Emperor is alive,” Brayden said, tipping back in his chair, grinning so his brother knew he wasn’t mocking or ridiculing him. Gideon snorted and stood up, apparently ready to get on and explain his plan to the others. “Once we start this war, brother, there will be no turning back.” “I’m aware,” Gideon said, putting the chair back in its place before he turned and leaned against the wall to look at Brayden. “We’ll grow our numbers if we have to. We’ll find allies and we will see this done.” Brayden nodded and waved his hand towards the door, motioning for his brother to lead the way. As Gideon turned his back, Brayden chewed his lip a moment before he called out quietly, “If at any time I feel she has become a threat to you, I will end her,” he said darkly. Gideon paused in the doorway, but didn’t turn back around to look at him. Brayden added, “I wouldn’t need you to forgive me, but I hope you would understand.” “If she truly was a threat,” Gideon answered quietly. “You would not have to ask for forgiveness.” .Wolfie. Corey looked as though he was going to throw up.He sat in a wooden chair, his head resting on the table in front of him and one arm thrown over his eyes to try and block out the light. Alain sat next to him, his elbows resting on the wooden surface as they tried to hold his head up. He was in better shape, but not by much, his hair mussed and dark circles under his eyes. Brayden was watching them both with a look of amusement on his face, his feet kicked up on the table and fingers laced behind his head. “You’re disappointing me Alain,” he said cheerfully. “I thought you could hold your liquor better. Temple I understand, but you?” He clucked his tongue in disgust. The man cracked one bloodshot eye to glare across the table at him and then made a rude gesture with one of his hands. Corey groaned and the arms around his head tightened, burying his face desperately against his forearms. “You talk too loudly,” he said. His voice was a harsh whisper and he winced when Brayden laughed loudly in response. Jethro snorted but he had a smirk on his face as he rounded the bar. He set a steaming mug next to his elbow and patted him on the back. “Drink this, boy,” he said. “If you feel better in an hour we’ll see about getting you some food.” Corey groaned again and one of his hands moved to press against his stomach. “Don’t talk about food,” he said. “What is that?” Alain grumbled. His hand reached over and pulled the mug in front of him, frowning at the contents. He sniffed at it gingerly before taking a swill of it. Corey didn’t even lift his head, not even when Alain set it back in front of him and gestured his hand at Jethro. “Hair of the dog? You got some of that for me?” “You know where it is. You can get it yourself,” Jethro shot back. Alain scoffed loudly and took another pull from Corey’s glass instead. Gideon watched this from his spot against the bar, though Jethro paused on his way back to the kitchen. “You need anything Cap- Gideon?” he corrected quickly. There was no one else in the place but the sooner he fell out of that habit the easier it would be when it actually mattered. Gideon shook his head in response, eyes on his brother and his thoughts dark and distracted. He was rolling his brother’s words over in his head and as much as he tried not to let them bother him they had struck at the heart of his doubts. He was no Duncan. If the man were here he had no doubt they would already be halfway to taking back the Empire and Piressa would be dead. He knew that for a certainty because Duncan wouldn’t think her worth the risk. He would have learned everything he could from her and then he would have killed her. It was what Gideon should have done and he knew it but he found himself hesitating even so. She had her uses. She had helped them against the Raven and his monsters. And she was on his mind. “You need anything, elf?” Jethro asked, his tone strained. Gideon glanced up at the comment and it didn’t surprise him that he hadn’t heard her footsteps on the stairs but it did surprise him how quickly his gaze went to find her. She was washed and dressed, hair pulled over one shoulder and blades already strapped around her hips. She looked ready for war. “No thank you, human,” she said. Her tone was dry, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. The man nodded his head, his shoulders tense as he passed by her into the kitchen. They all looked at her the same, with mistrust and suspicion and it was not unwarranted. “I could use some breakfast.” Brayden shouted the words after the man, tipping his chair back with a grin on his face. Across the table Corey groaned, lifting his head to glare at Brayden. “Did you have to yell?” “I’m not yelling,” Brayden shot back, a little louder than normal and the grin widening across his features. “This is my normal speaking voice.” Corey kept glaring at him, his face pale and circles under his eyes. Brayden chuckled and then took the mug from Alain, shoving it into his hands. “Come on kid, drink up. It’s the only cure we’ve got for you and you’ve got to be at your best.” “Why?” he asked. He struggled to sit upright but he did as Brayden asked, putting the mug to his lips. He grimaced at the taste of it but he swallowed it down anyway before he focused back on the other man. “What’s going on today?” “We’re going to kill the Marquis Gilbert,” Gideon said calmly. Corey coughed and spluttered at that, putting a hand over his face after he did so. Alain sucked in a quiet breath and immediately all semblance of a smile was gone from his lip. He looked sharp and aware, his gaze focused on Gideon and he understood how quick the man’s reaction was. Bianca meant almost as much to Alain as she had to Jethro. “Ser?” he said curiously. Gideon shook his head, staying against the bar as he waited for Jethro to come back out. The man did so a minute later, a pot of something in one arm and wooden bowls in the other. He tossed them on the table and Brayden was the only one who smiled when he took a bowl. Corey shook his head, leaning back in his chair and covering his mouth with his hand. Alain glanced at it but his attention was on Gideon, a question still written on his face. Jethro didn’t even glance up, dishing himself a bowl of porridge and kicking back in his chair. “We’re going to save my damn sister, that’s what we’re doing,” Jethro said gruffly. Alain snorted and glanced over at Jethro. He still looked hesitant but Gideon’s expression didn’t change as he watched him. “Gideon, I’m all for rescuing Bianca if she’s in trouble, trust me, but we don’t even know if he has her. All we have are rumors.” His gaze was bleeding as he looked up at his former Captain and he looked like he didn’t want to be the one to say the words. Next to him Jethro had a tight grip on his wooden spoon, a dark, shuttered look on his face. “Rumor is enough for me,” Jethro growled. Alain’s face fell and he let it fall into his hands, running his fingers over his eyes. “I’d rather kill that bastard on the chance that rumor is true than leave my sister in his hands for another minute.” “I know, Jethro, but…” he hesitated and licked his lips, his voice lowering. “We do this, we can’t go back.” “Go back where?” Jethro said. “Where do we have to go back to? We’ve already lost everything. Why not start giving some of that back to them?” His voice was growing louder, anger and hurt lacing the tones as he finally threw his empty bowl the table. He tossed his wooden spoon in after it and then sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know that,” Alain said. He frowned, running a hand over his face and his voice quiet and broken. Gideon felt strange just watching them because the feeling of nostalgia was gone, replaced by something like guilt. They were all just trying to get by in the best way they knew how and he wondered if any of them wouldn’t rather call it quits. It wasn’t an option for him, that much he was certain of, but the others? He wasn’t sure anymore. “I’m just saying, are we ready to go down that path?” Jethro sighed and finally leaned forward against the table. “Well that depends,” he said quietly. He tilted his head to the side, focusing on Gideon, his gaze dark and serious. “Captain. What are your orders?” Brayden chuckled at that, kicking back in his chair and looking up at his brother. “Yes Captain,” he drawled. “What are your orders?” He couldn’t tell if that smirk on his face was genuine or if it was a mocking thing. It bothered him that he didn’t know anymore. He had always trusted Brayden to do what needed to be done without question and he was no longer sure if he had the same trust. “I want to know the layout of the estate first,” Gideon said. Alain studied him carefully before his shoulders slumped and he finally nodded his head. Gideon took that as acceptance and he turned around, picking the map off the bar behind him and then walking over to spread it out on the table. “If the map is to be trusted than it’s set back outside of Lockhaven, here,” he pointed a finger at its surface as he spoke, “which means we’ll have the forest as cover. I want to know all the entrances and exits, I want to know guard patterns, I want to know who goes in and out of this place. I want to know where he’s keeping his prisoners.” There was no sound from behind him but he felt more than saw Piressa as she came to stand next to him. She peered over his shoulder at the map and Brayden shifted slightly in his seat, fingers toying with a dagger as he sat forward and looked at its position. He looked thoughtful and Gideon wasn’t sure what was going on in his mind. Perhaps its proximity to Lockhaven. It wasn’t far outside the city and it would be a risk going that close again. “So when do we strike?” he asked, smirking up at Gideon. “If we see the opportunity then we will strike tonight.” He said it without hesitation, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes watching Brayden’s. His brother just nodded, looking back down at the map and tracing the road to Lockhaven with his fingers. “Otherwise, just watch and wait, get as much information as we can on what’s going on at that place.” “Bianca won’t be able to go back home after this,” Alain said, glancing up at him. “No,” Gideon agreed. “But then, none of us can.” He straightened, his back stiff and his shoulders tense and he wondered just what he was asking of these men. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced around the table and he wondered if he still had the right to command them. The Chosen were broken. He was no one’s Captain anymore. He cleared his throat and kept the hesitation off his face. “I understand completely what this kind of attack will do. The Viceroy will come after us stronger than he has so far. It will show him the Chosen still live. But I do not intend to die a quiet death after a quiet life.” Wenston 4.3 Estate Du Coleur It was deep into the night by the time they reached the estate. They’d veered off the main road just before the estate had come into view and tied their horses back away and out of sight of the road, in case anyone happened to come by. There was a bluff, a base chasm of Mount Hollow, that overlooked the estate and they found their way up to the bluff to assess all of the things Gideon wanted to know before making a decision on what to do. From this higher vantage point, they could see the estate in its entirety. It was extremely large and set back in the forest, not travelled by anyone who didn’t have business there. The perfect place for a Marquis who wanted to make a living in the slave trade or simply keep the women for himself. There were three stories and if Brayden had to guess by how many windows there were, probably just over a hundred different rooms. He imagined more than half of Lockhaven could live in this one estate. It had its own chapel that was set apart from the main building and even a guard house. Its stables sat out back with three or four dozen horses and there were servant quarters further back. A large garden and hedge maze spread out behind the estate, right up to the base of the mountain. There was an orchard and farmland and Brayden thought the Marquis was doing fairly well for himself. It was larger than the Emperor’s Keep. “Man knows how to live,” Alain said quietly. They were perched on the bluff. Jethro leaned against a rocky face behind them, his arms crossed over his chest and his face dark. Gideon stood in front of him with Piressa ever at his side and Brayden was done warning his brother about her. They’d argued enough and so long as Gideon knew that Brayden wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if he deemed it necessary, then he wasn’t going to talk to his brother again about her. Alain, Brayden and Corey lay on their stomachs at the edge of the bluff, looking down at the estate and surveying everything about it. Brayden pointed towards the main gate. “There’s heavy guard at the gate,” he moved his finger to point out each of his observations to them. “Three patrols that circle the outer walls and two more in the gardens and hedge. There’s a constant, slow stream of servants walking between the servants quarters and the main building. And he has hounds near the stables.” “We’ll have to stay downwind of the hounds,” Alain said. Brayden nodded. “The wall near the far side would be the least conspicuous point of entrance.” Gideon stepped forward then, crouching down between Brayden and Alain, looking at all of the things they’d pointed out. He kept quiet for a moment and Brayden just let him think. He knew how he’d handle this, but Gideon was the leader and even if normally Brayden would speak his mind and give him suggestions, he wasn’t sure Gideon would be receptive of his suggestions. He hadn’t been about Piressa. “We need to know where he keeps the prisoners,” Gideon said at last. “They would have their own bedrooms,” Piressa said coldly. Gideon and Brayden turned to look at her, Gideon to listen and Brayden to glare. His eyes moved to Jethro, who had tensed at the words. Piressa either didn’t notice, or more likely, didn’t care. “They are high class prisoners. Treated more like guests, but confined to their quarters. He would be under the illusion they love him and he would do everything to convince them of that.” Jethro growled low in his throat. “Not Bianca,” he snapped at Piressa. Alain sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “She’d hold out,” he whispered. “Then he would spend the most time with her,” Piressa said. She didn’t flinch when Jethro let out another growl and shoved off the rock face, starting to pace. She watched him though, her face emotionless. “To him, it would be a challenge to break her.” Jethro stopped suddenly and pointed a finger at Piressa, his face turning red. “Enough out of you, elf,” he spat. “Settle,” Gideon said calmly and Jethro turned his heated glare on him before visibly backing down. Gideon’s gaze went to Piressa. “There’s no need to rile him.” “I give him the truth,” Piressa said, frowning a little. Gideon sighed and turned back around to look at the estate. “The truth is if Bianca is in there, she will be free tonight.” He stood and turned, brushing himself off. Brayden, Alain and Corey did the same, knowing Gideon had made up his mind about what they would do. Gideon looked between all of them before he nodded, seeming to solidify his plan in his mind. “Piressa, you will go ahead, get the women ready to escape,” he said. Brayden narrowed his eyes but kept quiet. She could betray them tonight if she wanted to. Gideon was putting far too much trust in her. “Alain, Jethro, relieve the guards of their duty and secure an exit for us.” The two of them nodded and Brayden smirked at his brother’s choice of words. “The front gate will be open for you, ser,” Alain nodded. He quirked his head to the side. “Although, their uniforms look a little snug.” Gideon gave him a pointed look. “Make it work.” Alain snorted and nodded. Beside him, Jethro was silent as he stared down at the estate. Gideon continued. “Corey and I will infiltrate behind Piressa and meet any resistance inside.” “Are you sure little Corey is ready for a task like that?” Brayden asked, smirking as Corey’s eyes narrowed at him. Gripping Corey’s shoulder in an unusual show of support, Gideon gave Brayden a glare. “He has proven himself among us,” he said and by the tone of his voice, he was still mad about earlier. Brayden just shrugged and tried not to think about what it meant that Gideon was trusting an elf and a child but wouldn’t give Brayden’s advice the time of day. Corey, he could deal with. But he needed to know why his brother was defended the elf so feverishly. “Besides,” Gideon went on. “We don’t have much choice.” Brayden frowned at that and Gideon continued before Brayden could ask what that meant. “Our main priority are the prisoners,” he said, waving his hand at all of them and Brayden didn’t miss the emphasis he put on our. He pointed a finger at Brayden. “Yours is the Marquis.” Lifting his chin slightly, Brayden smirked and he could feel the weight of his box of poisons in a pouch at his side. He felt the knives hidden in his vest and the short swords at his hips. He had countless weapons hidden in his clothing and on his person and his mind instantly went to which one would be the best to use. “Do you want subtlety?” he asked, unable to keep the grin from turning up the corner of his lips. Gideon shook his head. “No,” he said. “I want them to know who did this. I want them to know they aren’t invincible.” Brayden nodded. “Understood, Captain,” he said and then slunk away from the bluff before Gideon could say anything more. .Wolfie. Gideon hadn’t realized just how much like a dream it had all felt until he was thrusting his blade down hard into a man’s neck. One hand gripped his uniform tightly so that he could quiet the body’s fall to the ground and it gave him a moment to meet his gaze and watch his eyes slowly glaze over. He was young, maybe younger than Corey, and certainly not old enough to know what he was dying for. His mouth gaped and his hands grasped at Gideon’s arms so he did the merciful thing and twisted his blade to quicken his death. The body jerked in his arms and Gideon let him slump back against the wall, pulling the blade from his flesh.It was jarring for him. It shouldn’t have been but the last time he’d killed a man he’d been escaping the Keep and suddenly it was as if he’d never left that night. He felt as though he were waking from a dream, the Winters’ and their farmstead nothing but a fading memory in the back of his mind. The sensation was gone within a moment, the old familiar walls snapping back into place as he turned away from the corpse, but the cold that settled over him lingered even as he walked away. Corey was fighting with the second guard, his sword held up in front of him and trying to keep the other man’s blade from his neck. His eyes were wide as he kicked out at the man, catching him hard in the gut and shoving him back a pace. Gideon didn’t hesitate, one arm wrapping around the guard’s head so that his hand could cover his mouth. He sunk his blade deep into his side, angling it up towards his heart and he felt him jerk in his arms. Blood trickled out between his lips and stained his hands and it was nothing that he shouldn’t have been used to. He pushed the body against the wall next to the other and nodded his head. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. Corey swallowed hard and hurried to follow him, his footsteps too loud on the carpeted floor. Gideon had tried to keep their entrance as silent and inconspicuous as possible. The longer it took for anyone to realize they were there than the easier time they’d have escaping. That was really the only question he had, just how many bodies they would leave behind. His feet carried him swiftly up the stairs, Corey trailing along behind him. In the back of his mind he wondered how the others fared and the thoughts came with a strange detachment. He allowed himself no doubt, no fear, because those things would just slow him down and he couldn’t allow it to impair his judgment. He had given his orders and his men had never failed him before. The only thing he needed to concern himself with was getting to those rooms and seeing the prisoners set free. He couldn’t allow himself concern about his brother. There had been a point where he never would have hesitated to send him off by himself to murder a man. It was where his brother’s talents lay. He was as much one of the Chosen as any of them, but he worked better by himself and they all knew it. Gideon wanted the Marquis dead and this was the way to do it. It didn’t mean that a little part of him hadn’t wanted to bite his tongue instead of sending him off alone to handle the Marquis. It was the best use of his talents and he tried to remind himself that instead of letting the panic win. They found two dead bodies at the top of the hallway, their throats slit open and blood in a puddle on the ground. It was soaking into the carpet and staining their skin. Gideon stepped over them, barely sparing them a glance as he hurried down the hallway. It was empty for the moment but he didn’t know how long it would stay that way. He heard Corey hurrying after him and a part of him felt proud of the boy for how he’d been handling himself so far. He was scared but he wasn’t allowing it to cripple him and maybe there was hope for him yet. Gideon would either turn him into a soldier or he would bury him as one. There were paintings and tapestries hanging on the hallway, ornate metal fixtures holding flickering candles against the wall. Gold leaf covered each door and adorned the handles of them and it was only a small demonstration of the man’s wealth and power. It made him all the more certain with every step that the man had to die. He had flourished under the Viceroy’s rule, and if he hadn’t been a part of the original coup than he was profiting from it. For that alone Gideon would see him dead. The door opened as he grew near and he saw Piressa within it, holding the door open with her foot. Her eyes found his immediately and he felt himself tense because maybe this was the part where she turned on him. A smile pulled at her lips when she saw him but he didn’t return it. She pushed the door open wider and he could see her knives in hand, blood staining the edges. “Did you find them?” he asked, voice low and sharp. “Yes ser,” she said. She nodded her head to the left as he pushed himself inside the room and he felt something like relief when he saw them. The room was just as lavish as the rest of the estate, pillow piled upon the floor and filmy curtains draped across the glass windows. There were furs draped on the carpet and a fireplace that was blazing brightly. He could see a table set up with meats and cheeses and probably anything else they asked for would have been brought to them, so long as they lived his lie. His gaze scanned the women quickly, eyes searching for any sign of Bianca and he felt disappointment in his chest when he realized that she wasn’t among them. It was possible the rumors were wrong, but he couldn’t discount that Piressa was correct about the Marquis. If she was, then Bianca was close to him and there was little he could do for her now. “Get up,” he ordered. “We’re leaving.” His head turned over his shoulder. “Temple, help those that need it.” Corey nodded his head and made his way past Gideon into the room. Most of them were already rising, and they were a strange sight wearing thin dresses and nightgowns. Only a few remained seated, the rest obeying him without question and it mattered little to him if they did so because they wanted free of this estate or because they weren’t going to argue with an armed man. He didn’t need their respect or their fear, only their obedience. “My lady,” Corey said awkwardly, helping one blonde woman to her feet. “Who are you?” one of the women asked. There were tears on her face, arms wrapped around her shoulders as she crouched on the floor and she made no move to rise. Her eyes flicked past him into the hallway and then to the blood on his hands. There was panic growing in her gaze and a small sob left her lips. “Where is Gilbert?” “It doesn’t matter,” the woman next to her hissed. She grabbed her by the arm and tried to haul her upright. “Let him rot.” The woman whimpered and pulled away. “I don’t want to go,” she sobbed. “I want to stay with Gilbert.” “You may stay if you like,” Gideon told her coldly. Corey glanced at him but said nothing, moving to help another woman to her feet. She glared at him before returning her gaze to Gideon. “But there will be nothing here for you. The man will be dead by dawn.” A wail left the woman’s lips and Piressa moved swiftly without being ordered to. She crouched down in front of the woman, slapping a hand across her mouth and pointing her blade at her eye. The woman gasped behind the hand over her lips and her eyes widened with surprise and fear. “Silence,” the elf hissed. “Or I will find a way to silence you.” She swallowed hard and then nodded her head. Piressa pulled her hand away slowly, waiting to see if she would try to make another noise but she kept her mouth shut. Gideon didn’t ask her how she intended to silence the woman if she didn’t. He turned his attention to the others, scanning them quickly. Piressa was hauling the last woman to her feet and the others were already standing, watching him nervously for whatever came next. “Was there one among you named Bianca?” he asked. The woman next to Corey nodded immediately. Her eyes were narrowed and there was anger on her face as she spat the words onto the ground. “Yes,” she said. “The Marquis was intent on taking her tonight. She is with him.” Gideon nodded his head and let nothing show on his face. “Then we move. Piressa, you have the rear, Temple, to me.” He led them back out into the empty hallway, blade at the ready and Corey on his heels. The boy kept glancing over his shoulder, reaching out to rest a comforting hand on the blonde’s elbow. She smiled gratefully back and Gideon would have to speak to him about that later. They would be comforted when they were home and safe. It was their duty to see them there, nothing more. Piressa followed at the rear, knives in her hands and her eyes focused on the women to make sure they kept moving. The one was still crying, and a girl with dark hair had wrapped her arm around her shoulders as she helped her walk. Gideon was prepared to fight their way out. He expected that someone would find the bodies and they would run into trouble before they made it to the front gate. It was why he hadn’t put his sword away and why he wished Corey wasn’t paying so much attention to women in tight corsets and more on which way they were going. What he hadn’t expected was the man that ascended the stairs in front of him, his eyes narrowed and a short sword held in one hand as he studied the corpses on the floor. His head lifted when he heard footsteps and his gaze landed on Gideon, for a moment something like surprise making its way across his face. “Crowe,” he said. Then his gaze flicked past him and his lips parted in a smile. The sight of it made Gideon’s shoulders tense and he fought the urge to look over his shoulder. “And Lady Daechiril. What a pleasant surprise.” “Kinley. You are a dead man,” Gideon said. The words were calm and controlled but he could feel anger burning inside his chest because this was the man that had tried to kill his brother. This was the man that had brought death down on Errol and Cathis. The man ignored him, his eyes still on Piressa. Gideon finally stole a glance over his shoulder and she was closer than he’d thought. He hadn’t heard her move but she’d made her way back to his elbow, hands still on her blades and gaze shuttered as she watched Kinley’s face. He couldn’t read her, couldn’t tell if this was the moment his brother had been waiting for. “You owe me a body, elf,” he said, his gaze scanning her in a way that made Gideon’s teeth grind together. “I don’t care which of yours it is.” Piressa smirked and then she turned her head towards Gideon. He wasn’t surprised when she moved, one hand suddenly grasping the back of his neck and the other pointing a blade at his throat. It didn’t surprise him, but it hurt worse than he thought it should. “I wondered how long it would take you,” he said. He felt the prick of her knife at his neck and then she smiled. She took a step forward, voice lowering as she put her lips by his ear. “Trust that I am yours,” she whispered. Then she was turning on her heel, throwing the knife behind her towards Kinley. Wenston 4.4 Estate Du Coleur – The Marquis’ Study Brayden slipped in through an open window, disguised by the darkness and shadows. He fell silently into a crouch just inside the window and surveyed the room. It looked as though he’d climbed straight into the Marquis’ study. A lavish desk was set up with shelves of maps, scrolls, books and an assortment of scholarly devices lining all of the walls. There was a table in the middle with a miniature model of Lockhaven and his own estate. Small iron soldiers and horses littered the table and Brayden snorted softly. It looked as though the Marquis thought himself more a general than a Marquis. A sconce burned dimly in the corner of the room and Brayden stood when he deduced the room was empty. Glancing around, there were two doors to the room and if he listened closely, he could hear noise on the opposite side of one of them. It was too faint to make out but he thought he could hear voices and one sounded female. They were arguing. Starting towards the door, he paused midstep when a scroll on the desk caught his eye. It had the Viceroy’s seal stamped into the wax. Brayden’s eyes narrowed and he hoped Jethro and Alain would forgive him if something happened to Bianca, but he needed to know what correspondence the Marquis had with the Viceroy. He went to the desk and pulled the wax away from the scroll, unrolling it and quickly reading the finely scribbled calligraphy on the paper. It was mundane and pointless at first. The Viceroy thanking the Marquis for his contribution to support the guard. A comment on the Marquis’ latest foray into Lockhaven, pointless mutterings. At least now Brayden could recommend they be aware they may be facing a much stronger guard than they had been before. He almost tossed the scroll away when he caught sight of a name near the bottom, the last few lines of the message. The Viceroy was inviting the Marquis to attend the wedding of his niece, Lady Gisaine. It felt as though the very wind was knocked from his lungs when he read it. A mixture of emotions coursed through him and it was all he could do to keep from crying out loud as the relief and the despair clashed all at once. Relief that Gisaine was alive and well, despair to find out that she was betrothed. Betrothed to a noble, no less. The Viceroy was marrying her off, probably in a political arrangement. Shoving the scrolls away, Brayden braced himself, but he couldn’t quite quench the rage and anger burning in his gut. He growled to himself and pulled his short swords out of their sheaths at his hip. He stared at the door where the voices were raising and he knew without a doubt that he would not fail tonight. And once the Marquis was dead and Bianca was safe and they were done here, he would deal with it then. He would deal with the breaking heart in his chest afterwards. Stalking to the door, he pushed it open and took only a moment to view what was happening on the other side. A man, who he assumed was the Marquis, was standing near a lush feasting table. He had a young woman shoved against the table, her face pressed against the thick wood. Her clothes were still in place and she was fighting the man, though a trickle of blood slipped down her chin from a split in her lip. He hadn’t taken her yet. She was a fighter. Just like her brother. The two of them froze when Brayden kicked the door open and it was enough of a distraction to give Brayden everything he needed. He was moving before either of them seemed to register he was a threat, or in Bianca’s case, a savior. He dashed across the room and slashed his short sword out at the Marquis. The man gave a shrill cry as the blade sliced through his cheek, cracking against his teeth and cutting a line back from the corner of his mouth. The Maqruis released his hold on Bianca, who immediately kicked backwards, catching him in the groin before she hurried away to a safe distance and turned around, glaring with all the heat of one of Jethro’s kin. Brayden didn’t give the Marquis time to scream or react. He grabbed the man’s wrist and spun him around, placing his sword again the man’s throat and growling out, “Marquis Gilbert Coleur?” The man spluttered like he was trying to come up with a lie and that answered Brayden’s question in and of itself. He grinned viciously and cracked the man hard in the side of the head with the hilt of his short sword. The man crumpled to the floor, but didn’t fall unconscious. Brayden sheathed his short swords and watched as the man tried to crawl away, towards the bed, leaving a trail of blood from his sliced open mouth. “P…please ser,” the man cried pathetically. Brayden shook his head, stalking forward and he grabbed the man’s shoulders. “There will be no mercy for you, Marquis,” he said lowly. The man cried out as Brayden pulled him back to his feet, ushering into a chair near the feasting table. He shoved him down into it and pulled his hair back to hold him in place while at the same time yanking the chair back so it sat at the end of the bed. The man shook in terror and tried to stand up, but Brayden rounded so he was standing in front of him and kicked him in the knee. The pop and the snap was loud in the small room. Gilbert started to cry out, but Brayden hit him hard in the face, knocking him to the side and stunning him. He turned and went to the feasting table, grabbing four of the carving knives off of it. He paused, his eyes raising to look at Bianca, who stood by the door in her flimsy dress, her hair falling messily about her shoulders. She was watching him with wide eyes, but there was no fear in them. “Avert your eyes, my lady,” he said, expertly keeping the anger out of his voice, cool and calm. Bianca’s chin rose defiantly. “I am not afraid,” she told him. Knowing there was no point in arguing, and actually finding it commendable, he nodded and turned around. The Marquis was still bent over, but low sobs had started coming from his throat. Brayden walked back over to him and tore a piece of the fabric that hung from the canopy of the bed off, shoving the Marquis into a sitting position and tying it around his mouth. It stained with blood instantly and the Marquis sobbed through it, shaking his head in fear. He was sniveling and pitiful and Brayden found himself glad that he was about to end this pathetic life. A part of him knew it was wrong. Not wrong when it came to the cause they were fighting for, but there should be no joy from taking another man’s life. But Brayden couldn’t help it. He was good at this. He could even sometimes say he enjoyed it. He thought back to Duncan’s words he often said about just being glad Brayden was on their side. He wondered what his life would be like if he wasn’t in the Chosen. He wondered what kind of a man he would be. He was almost afraid of the answer. Brayden pointed one of the knives at the Marquis’ face, holding the other in his hand while he held down the Marquis’ wrist against the arm of the chair. “I want you to fully understand the reason you are dying here today,” Brayden said and his words made the man sob heavily. Brayden backhanded him across the face until he had his attention again. “It is not because of your greed and lust. Not because you kidnapped women, one of whom happened to be the sister of a dear friend of mine. And it’s not because you’re a sniveling pockmark on the world.” Brayden slammed the knife down onto the Marquis’ hand, pinning it there. The Marquis screamed behind the gag in his mouth and behind him, Brayden heard Bianca gasp, but she remained quiet and he wouldn’t tell her again to avert her eyes. He grabbed the man’s other wrist and held up another knife, pointing it at his face again. “You are dying today because of your kinship with the Viceroy.” Brayden slammed the knife down into the man’s other hand and it elicited another scream. Brayden took the next knife, pointing it again at his face. “Who, just so we are all aware, is indeed not the true Emperor. Even though he thinks he is.” He waved the knife around, blasé about his movements. “High and mighty Viceroy. Well, I happen to think he needs to be knocked down a peg or two, would you agree?” The Marquis nodded, tears streaming down his face and staining the cloth around his mouth. Brayden nodded. “I’m glad you empathize with my predicament,” he said and without warning, he slammed the knife down into the Marquis’ left eye. The man screamed before he started to choke and twitch violently. Brayden shoved the knife in as far as it would go and then twisted it, causing the man to jerk and then go still, his head falling backwards. Standing up straight, Brayden flipped the other knife in his hand, looking at the man’s now dead body, hands pinned to the arms of the chair and bleeding heavily onto the ground. He scratched at his chin and sighed. “He needs to feel fear,” he whispered. “Fear, despair – he needs to know what it feels like to lose everything.” Then he slammed the other knife down into his other eye and stepped back. He listened to the blood drip to the ground for a moment before he reached forward and untied the cloth from around the man’s mouth. His mouth was wide, agape in death. Pulling a small pouch from a pocket hidden near his ribs, Brayden plucked a black crow’s feather from the pouch and placed it gently on the man’s tongue. Then he pocket the pouch again and sighed, patting the man’s cheek before he turned around. Bianca stood still in the doorway, looking a little pale, but still her eyes held no fear. Smirking, Brayden wiped his hands off on a cloth on the feasting table while he watched her. “Bianca,” he said and she tipped her head at him curiously. “You are looking lovely this evening, my lady,” he said. It didn’t surprise him when she snorted and gave him an annoyed look. “Crowe,” she spat, but there was relief and playfulness in her voice. “You had better be here with my damn brother.” Brayden laughed and nodded his head, holding an arm out for her in a gentlemanly manner. She gave him another look before taking it. “I am indeed,” he said collectedly. “We shall meet him at the front gates. Along with dear Alain.” He didn’t miss the way her eyes lit up at the mention of his name. “Are you ready to leave? Or do you want to take a moment to gather some memories for nostalgia purposes?” “By the gods, just get me out of here, you fool,” she laughed at him. .Wolfie. 4.5 Estate Du Coleur – Main Hall The blade didn’t kill Kinley. His eyes widened when he saw the glint of steal and it was almost worth it just to see the smug, confident smirk drop from his face and be replaced by a momentary flash of fear. He hadn’t expected it and maybe that was the only reason why the knife still embedded itself in the soft tissue of his shoulder instead of his heart as he believed Piressa had intended. A curse left his lips as his hand reached up and curled around the handle, ripping it from his flesh in a spray of blood. Piressa was already moving, pulling another knife from the band of them around her waist as she lashed out with the other hand. It sliced through the air near the man’s face and if he hadn’t backpedaled as fast as he did it would have taken out an eye. His foot slipped on the blood staining the floor and for a moment she had the advantage, swinging a blow towards his temple. Kinley’s hand snapped up and grasped her wrist, turning on his heel as he used her momentum to throw her hard against the wall. His other hand wrapped around her neck, fingers tightening on her windpipe. “Traitorous whore,” he spat. “You owe me.” “Sharas’an,” she said in return. “I owe you nothing.” Her knife came down hard into his forearm, breaking his grip on her throat. It drew another curse from his lips and he released her wrist so that he could draw his own blade, twirling it up into his grasp before he thrust it towards her midsection. She barely managed to dodge out of the way, kicking out at the man to get him away from her as she retreated, knives held before her and eyes narrowed as she watched him. Kinley let her, pulling a second blade out and advancing slowly on her. He left bloody footprints in his wake. Gideon shifted the blade in his hand, casting a glance over his shoulder at Corey. The boy had his sword out, licking his lips nervously as he looked between Gideon and the man blocking their way. The kidnapped women were still behind him and the contrast was startling. Some of them were crying while others looked ready to fight their way out. “When I give you the word,” he said lowly. “Get them to the front gates. Alain and Jethro should already be in place. Whatever you do, see them safely out of here.” “Yes ser,” Corey said, nodding his head. His face was pale but he stiffened under the words, his grip hard on his blade as he strengthened his resolve. It was good enough and Gideon turned his attention back to Kinley. “You were to kill me a Crowe,” Kinley said. “I grow weary of arguing over it. Do it or die.” He showed no sign that he cared if Gideon still stood there or not. Everything about the man had changed from the time of Gideon first meeting him to this moment. The way he carried himself was fluid and graceful, the look on his face one of confidence and disdain. “No,” Piressa spat. There was something like anger on her face and then she was moving, lashing out with one of the blades in her hand. He blocked it with an arm, swinging his own blade around towards her midsection. She kept moving forward, twisting so that the blade just missed her and slicing towards his neck with the other knife. He blocked that blow, catching both her hands high and then shoving her towards the wall and Gideon was moving even as he heard her back strike the stone. He gripped the man by the back of the head, intent on burying his sword in his side, but Kinley was faster than he’d given him credit for even with a dripping wound in his shoulder. He twisted as soon as he felt the fingers close around his skull, thrusting out with the short blade in his hand and trying to gut Gideon where he stood. He felt the burn of a knife as it cut a line through his skin but it didn’t go as deep as the man wanted thanks to the kick that Piressa lashed out towards his stomach. It knocked him off balance and Gideon used the opportunity to slam his head against the wall, hand gripping his arm hard and shoving him against the stones. “Go,” he ordered loudly, saying the word over his shoulder. “Hurry,” he heard Corey say. “No, don’t look back, just head for the doors.” Gideon didn’t dare look over at them but he heard the answering footsteps as they made their way past him to the stairs. He hoped he wasn’t lying to the boy. If Jethro and Alain hadn’t secured the front gates then he was sending Corey straight to his death. He told himself that was a decision he could live with but he wasn’t sure it was the truth. “Go with them.” He said the words to Piressa but she didn’t answer except to suck in a harsh breath and then he couldn’t focus on her anymore. Gideon still had a grip on the back of Kinley’s head and he went to slam it against the wall again. He went abruptly slack in his arms, dropping straight to the carpet and slipping from his grasp. The man rolled himself up into a crouch, blade in hand as he caught the arm of one of the women. She was the last one, foot just touching the first step as he yanked her back. His blade went to her throat and Gideon stilled immediately as she cried out. There were tears already staining her face, hands trembling as the man pressed his steel against her skin. Her eyes were wide and desperate as she looked at Gideon. Kinley smirked and took a step forward, shoving her in front of him like a human shield. “Let’s talk, Crowe,” he said. He could hear Corey’s footsteps on the stairs as he scrambled back to the top, his blade out and despair on his face as he saw Kinley with his arms around the woman. Gideon just shook his head at the kid, gesturing his hand to keep going. Corey looked wide eyed from him to the woman and then he nodded, turning and ushering the rest of them back down the stairs. It didn’t escape his notice that Piressa made no move to do so, sticking close to him as they watched Kinley pull the woman back down the hallway the way they’d come. “There’s nothing to talk about,” Gideon said. His hand stayed around his sword and he forced himself to stay cold. She was one woman. If the man thought he could hold her hostage against getting all of them out then he was sorely mistaken. It didn’t matter that she was someone’s sister or lover or friend or just as easily could have been Bianca. “Let the woman go.” “Please,” she whispered. There were tears streaming down her face and she sobbed as she tipped her head up towards the ceiling. Her dress was torn and ripped, the hem of it stained in blood. “I never asked for any of this. I just want to go home.” “Quiet,” Kinley snapped at her. Then he nodded his head at Gideon. “Listen, I just have a question for you.” “And what’s that?” Gideon asked coldly. The man smiled. It looked strange and eerie on his face. He was still backing up and Gideon didn’t want to let him get away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Piressa pulling another blade from her hip and he wondered if she would be fast enough to kill Kinley and not the woman. He didn’t think even she was that talented with her knives. The man was almost to a set of open doors and the smile on his face grew broader as he leaned over the woman’s shoulder. “Is this enough sacrifice yet?” Gideon started moving forward as soon as he said the words and Piressa was already throwing her blade with deadly precision but it didn’t stop the knife from ripping across the woman’s throat. It didn’t stop her scream or from the blood that poured from her skin and it didn’t stop Kinley from shoving her into the knife’s path and ducking inside the room. The doors slammed loudly behind him. She was gasping by the time Gideon got to her, fingers wrapped around her throat and trying to hold the blood in her body. It wouldn’t help. The knife had ripped a jagged line across her skin and she was already shivering as her body shut down. She was already dead. He knew it and she probably knew it too, even as she cried and shook. Piressa crouched next to her, pressing one hand over the woman’s and drawing her knife with the other. He didn’t have to watch to know what she was doing, because it was what he would have done. Instead he went past her to the door, trying to open it behind Kinley. It didn’t budge, the lock rattling as he yanked on it and he couldn’t stop his lip from curling in a snarl. He took a step back and then slammed his foot against it. The door rattled beneath the blow and the second one cracked the bindings. The third one had it slamming open against the wall. There was no one inside. He wasn’t surprised but he did a quick search anyway, his sword held tightly in his hand as he strode into the room. He knew enough to look up before he did but the man wasn’t braced against the ceiling anywhere. The window was open and the wind was blowing through it, cooling the sweat on his skin as soon as it touched him. The man was gone and he didn’t like that he still lived. The words were burying themselves under his skin and he forced himself to stay cold and ignore it. Piressa was still crouched by the woman when he went back into the hallway but she looked up as he reappeared. Her gaze was softer than usual, watching him carefully with one hand still resting against a bloody throat. “Gone?” she asked quietly. “Gone,” he affirmed, his voice sharp and cold. “It is time we were the same.” She nodded and closed the woman’s eyes before she pushed herself to her feet. There was blood on her hands she didn’t bother to wipe it off as she followed close behind him, making their way down the stairs. Gideon didn’t look back and he didn’t allow himself to think anymore on it. He didn’t allow himself to wonder what that woman’s name was and if he could have saved her if he’d moved faster. He didn’t let himself think that she was just one more sacrifice because that word tasted bitter and cruel right now. They caught up to Corey at the door, the boy pressed against the wood and peeking outside. He was watching for guards and Gideon thought it was a smart thing to do. Later he would commend him for it. Later he would think just how relieved he was that Piressa hadn’t turned on him and maybe he would think on what it meant that he was beginning to look for her at his shoulder. Now he just pushed past Corey, ripping the door open and letting in the night air. “We need to move,” he said sharply, and he wouldn’t deny that a little part of him hoped someone tried to stop them on their way to the front gate. Wenston 4.6 Estate Du Coleur – The Front Gate By the time Brayden and Bianca made it to the front gate, Jethro and Alain were already positioned there, dressed as guards. Jethro looked out of place especially, due to his size and his vast amount of facial hair. Maybe Brayden could convince him to get rid of it, because he was used to the man being bald and tattooed. Not grizzly and wild looking. The two of them turned sharply as Brayden led Bianca up to them and Jethro was the first to move. He hurried towards them and Brayden didn’t miss the way Alain took a step forward, but seemed to catch himself, hanging back while he watched the large man hurry to Bianca and hold the sides of her face, making her look at him. “Bianca,” Jethro breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you hurt? Did he touch you?” “I am fine, Genga,” she said. Brayden recognized the name as being one of an ancient warrior. He also knew it was what Bianca called Jethro, always having compared him to the great warrior as they grew up. The funny thing was, Brayden didn’t know this because either of them had told him, he knew this through his contacts he’d had in Lowport. He’d gathered information on almost all of the Chosen. He would have started gathering information on Corey, Stephen and Kinley. It was a shame he hadn’t started sooner. Maybe he would have seen Kinley’s betrayal. Jethro pulled Bianca into a hug, holding her head to his shoulder for a moment before he finally released her. She smiled up at him and then her eyes went pass him to Alain, who stood awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck. “Alain,” she said and the man’s gaze came up to meet hers, flickering to Jethro, who had his eyes narrowed at him. The big guy surprised them all by nodding his head towards his sister and Alain grinned before he hurried forward, following Jethro’s lead and giving her a warm welcome back, only Alain’s was a little more intimate. He kissed her immediately and Brayden smirked when Jethro just sighed as Bianca kissed him back vigorously. Then she pulled away and rested her forehead against his. “I thought you both were dead,” she whispered. “For all purposes, we were,” Alain told her. She nodded, and then tipped her head up to kiss him again. Brayden looked to Jethro. “Gideon?” he asked, inquiring about his brother. Jethro seemed to snap back into the task at hand and shook his head. “They haven’t come out yet,” he said. For a moment, Brayden’s mind went to the worst. It went to Piressa betraying his brother by slitting his throat while his back was turned, or the guards overwhelming him and Corey or any combination of awful things that could happen to him. But his fears were satiated a moment later when the doors to the estate opened and Gideon was the first one out, his sword drawn. He let it down when he saw them and then waved behind him, a procession of women filing out afterwards. Corey and Piressa brought up the rear and Brayden noticed the blood that stained the elf’s hands. He would inquire about it later. Gideon came over to them, eyeing then all and when he seemed appeased that they were all in good health, he looked straight at Brayden. “The Marquis?” he demanded. “Taken care of,” Brayden confirmed. Behind him, Bianca added, “Rather poetically.” Brayden just smirked, not taking his eyes from his brother, who gave Bianca a curious look and then looked back at Brayden. There was something in his eyes that Brayden didn’t like. Something like fear or disappointment and he wondered what had happened up there. “We need to move,” Gideon said, not explaining further. He pushed pass all of them to the gate and started ushering the women out. He pointed to Jethro. “Lead them to the horses.” The big guy nodded and headed out front, hurrying the women along. Alain and Bianca followed after them and Gideon jerked his head to motion for Corey to do the same. Brayden lingered a little, catching his brother’s desire to speak to him alone. When the others were on their way, Gideon turned and looked straight at him. “Kinley was here.” The words sent a chill down Brayden’s spine and his thoughts were brought back to the poison that had wracked his lungs when the man had tried to poison him. He felt that lingering rage building with the knowledge of the wedding he’d gathered from the estate and it was all he could do to keep from letting it show on his face. Gideon studied his face for a moment before he finally added. “You two make sure he doesn’t follow us. He’s wounded, but not badly.” Then Gideon paused and said, “Did you find anything of interest?” “No,” Brayden said and it was a little too quick of a response. He knew it in the way both Gideon and Piressa were looking at him, but he shrugged it off and grinned. “But at least the Viceroy will know we are coming for him.” He turned and glanced around them, looking for any sign of Kinley or other guards. There were none. The estate was quiet except for the hounds barking in the distance. Gideon watched him a moment longer before he turned to Piressa. “Cover the west, Brayden will take the east.” “I do not trust her to be alone with her former master,” Brayden said plainly. Something dark passed across Gideon’s face and he surprised Brayden with how viciously he answer. “Well I do,” he snapped and it made Brayden pause, watching his brother. Gideon seemed annoyed and he couldn’t quite tell if it was with Brayden or how quickly he was defending the elf. “She fought for me tonight,” Gideon added. “Do not question my judgment.” The words stung more than they should have, Brayden thought. Perhaps it was because he was already sore over Gisaine or because it had to do with Kinley, but the words pierced him and he tried to not let it show on his face because he wasn’t one to be verbally berated or wounded. His feelings didn’t get hurt and he was frustrated that Gideon seemed to be doing it so well lately. “Forgive me, Captain,” he spat the title into the dirt and his eyes flicked to Piressa, who for her part, looked at least a little uncomfortable standing there. He looked back at his brother and said detached and cold, “I will follow the east path until you are clear, and then I have business to attend to.” Gideon’s face darkened again and he looked confused. “Business?” he asked, his voice suspicious and accusing and Brayden didn’t like it one bit. “Yes,” Brayden told him, heading for the gate, intent on following the path and making sure they made it away safely. He turned around and walked backwards to address his brother. “I will return to the Inn in two days time,” he said. “What business do you have?” Gideon demanded, looking frustrated. Brayden shook his head. “Business, Captain,” he again spat the word. “I would tell you trust met, but it seems your trust has been shattered in me and placed instead in your elf.” Something like hurt flashed across Gideon’s face and Brayden knew it was a low blow. He continued before his brother or Piressa could say anything. “So instead of trusting in me, trust in my loyalty to the Chosen. I will return in two days. You can berate and ridicule my judgment then.” He turned and hurried off into the trees and tried not to feel guilt at his words. It didn’t’ quite work. .Wolfie. 4.7 The Wayfarer’s Inn By the time they returned to the Inn the sun had already risen and hung bright and blinding above them. Their small processional was quiet but for the jingling of the reins and the quiet clomps of their horses’ hooves. They’d made sure the kidnapped women made it safe inside Lockhaven and after that they’d parted ways swiftly, before any guards thought to raise the alarm. Afterwards they had slipped back into the forest and started making their way towards Roseville and safety. Gideon let Jethro take the lead so that he could hang back and watch their rear, a part of him hoping that his brother would change his mind and join back up with them. He didn’t. It didn’t surprise him but it intensified the hurt already lingering in his chest and his expression darkened even as they followed the road towards the tavern. While he was a part of the Chosen, his brother had always acted on his own and even when the Keep’s guards had tried to use that against him and call him a murderer, Gideon’s faith in him had never wavered. He wanted to swear that it didn’t now, that he felt only fear and concern that his brother would go off by himself like this. Only that wasn’t all because things had changed in that time. They weren’t at the Keep anymore and they weren’t at the Winters’ farm. They were all that was left of the Chosen and Gideon was trying to step into Duncan’s shoes and carry that burden. It stung bitterly that Brayden didn’t trust him to do so. He was one to talk about shattered trust when he would tell Gideon nothing of his plans and question his judgment at every opportunity. These were his thoughts on the ride back and it wasn’t until they turned off at the tavern that he realized his knuckles were white around his reins and his teeth were grinding together in his head. They led the horses inside the stables and then Alain was swinging his legs off and leaping to the ground. “Welcome to our humble abode, my lady,” he said. He bowed at Bianca, a smile on his tired face as he then extended a hand towards her. She still sat on the back of her horse, eyes sweeping the stables and the loft above it. Jethro glanced over at the two of them as he hauled himself off the back of his beast, but he seemed simply grateful that his sister was alive and well. “Anything we have is yours.” She laughed quietly, sliding her hand into Alain’s and letting him help her down. She kept her fingers twined with his even after her feet were on the ground again, trailing after him as he led his beast into a pen. “For the moment I would be grateful just to sleep.” “There are rooms inside the tavern,” Alain said, a wicked grin on his face. “I would gladly show you to one.” Jethro growled low in his throat and the man cast a glance over at his friend. He coughed quickly and tried to hide the smile. “Of course only so that you could sleep. After which I would return here. To the loft. Alone.” Jethro sucked in a breath and then just clapped Alain on the back with a hard blow. “Captain,” he said. “Should we set up a watch?” Alain’s face fell at that, glancing back at Gideon. “Get some sleep,” he said, waving his hand at them. “I’ll wake you if there’s any trouble.” He pulled himself from the back of the horse, leading it into a stable next to Alain’s and then reaching for the reins of Corey’s beast. The boy looked dead on his feet, and more than once Gideon had spotted him nodding off in the saddle. His head lifted when he heard Gideon speak but he didn’t manage more than a weak smile, letting him guide the animal into its stall. Alain sighed gratefully and the smile spread across his face again as he ushered Bianca inside the tavern. Gideon doubted he would do as he said, the way his lips found her neck as soon as they were out of Jethro’s line of sight. He could hear her quiet laughter and it was bright and alive. He wondered about the woman Kinley had killed. He wondered what her name had been. “Are you sure, Captain?” Jethro asked. His hand was already around the rung of the ladder, ready to pull himself up into the loft, but he hesitated even so, glancing back at his Captain. “Should I wait with you until the others get back?” Gideon shook his head, starting to unbuckle the saddles from his horse and brush him down. His jaw was tight as he spoke and he couldn’t stop the anger from affecting his tone. It was done, and he hoped his brother found whatever damned thing he was after. “Unless you plan on staying awake for the next two days I wouldn’t recommend waiting until Brayden returns,” he snapped. Jethro’s face fell and his eyes narrowed with confusion and concern. Gideon waved a hand before the man could ask any questions. Especially not ones he didn’t have answers for. “And Piressa will stand guard with me whenever she gets here.” By the look on Jethro’s face those words didn’t comfort him any. He stayed where he was, one foot on the ladder and his gaze on Gideon as he worked on getting the horses settled and fed. Behind them Corey was already stumbling inside the tavern, one hand braced against the wall to keep his balance. “Captain,” Jethro said lowly. He hesitated another moment, running his hand over his beard before he sucked in a breath and said it. “I’m not sure keeping her around is a wise idea.” “I’ll take your concerns into consideration,” Gideon told him coldly. Jethro frowned at that but then he nodded his head. “I’ll come relieve you in a few hours, ser,” he said. Gideon listened to his footsteps on the wooden boards but he didn’t look up from his work. He unsaddled all the horses and brushed them down and he didn’t allow himself to think or to fear or to feel anything. There was still the possibility that they’d been followed and he needed to be alert and aware in case an attack came, not angry and hurt from the sting of simple words. When it was done he made his way inside Jethro’s tavern. It was dark and quiet, a closed sign hung on the door for the day because they hadn’t known how long it would be until they got back, if they came back at all. The chairs had been turned upside down on top of the tables and the windows shuttered. He grabbed one of them and set it up between the door and the window to the right, cracking the wooden shutters and resting his blade across his knees as he settled down to wait. It gave him too much time to think. It gave him too much time to hear his brother’s bitter words ringing in his ears and to feel doubt curl through his veins like poison. It had meant something to him to be Captain, and his brother said it like a curse. He didn’t hear footsteps on the porch but he heard the quiet rattle of the door when someone tried to open it. He slid to his feet, moving the chair to the side with his foot as he waited to see who was here. The door handle moved again and then he heard the click as someone unlocked it and slid silently into the building. He moved as soon as their foot was through the door. His hand reached out to grasp her arm, forcing the blade up under her throat and pinning her against the door. She let out a quiet exhalation of breath but didn’t cry out or fight back. “Gideon,” she said quietly. Even as he heard her familiar voice he saw the sunlight hit her face, lighting upon tan skin and pale blonde hair. She stayed where she was, pressed against the door with his sword to her throat until he pulled it back, drawing his chair back over next to the door. “Any trouble?” he asked, settling back into position. She shook her head, hand going to her neck and testing to see if he had broken skin. Her hand came away bloodless and then she turned, shutting the door behind her. He saw her slide something into a pouch at her hip and he wondered if it was what she’d used to pick the lock. “No sign of Kinley,” she said. He nodded at that and wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. It would be easier if they’d managed to kill the man. “They sent guards out to find you but they are headed the wrong way. Others were sent to Lockhaven but they’ll be hard pressed to find where you went after that, I think.” “Good,” he said shortly. It was enough for now. He wouldn’t relax his guard but it was some relief that they were looking the wrong way. He nodded, watching her as she moved to one of the tables and pulled a seat down. She turned it right side up and settled into it across from him, arms draped gracefully across the back of the chair. She was watching him, studying him carefully, and he wasn’t in the mood to be picked apart at the moment. “Is there something you need?” he asked coldly. “You shouldn’t be angry with your brother,” she said. He frowned because those were the last words he expected and for some reason that made her smile at him. “That he distrusts me should reflect only on me, not on you. Do not let it hurt you.” He snorted and turned his head away from her. He let his gaze focus on the cracked window, a sliver of sunlight found his eyes and he could smell the wind as it whispered through the cracks in the wood. He wondered where his brother was. He wondered if he would see it as reflecting badly on only her and the thought was almost laughable. Gideon was the one who was trusting an assassin. “How much did Kinley offer to pay you for my death?” He shot a glance at her when he asked the question, anger lacing the words. “Enough,” she told him simply. A dark smirk pulled at his lips at the answer but it faded just as quickly because he found nothing to smile about at the moment. The truth was he rarely did. “But it wasn’t about the coin.” She tilted her head to the side, trying to find his gaze. There was a smile on her face and he still didn’t understand why. “They say the Chosen are the best warriors in the Empire. It was a challenge I couldn’t pass up. To defeat a man of such skill would prove my own worth among my clan.” Gideon rolled his head against the wall and he tried to pretend he wasn’t exhausted. He was too tired to be having this conversation and he didn’t know why he let it continue. “And to lose against him?” he asked. “What does that prove?” Her chin rested against her arms as she watched him and the smile lingered on her lips. “That you are worth swearing myself to.” Gideon chuckled at that, unable to help himself. “So you swear yourself to me instead of Kinley because you can beat him in a fight?” She shrugged her shoulders, blonde hair spilling around her face and he wondered suddenly what he was doing. She had been the enemy. She had put a knife to his throat while he slept, put another through his leg, and left a nasty cut on his arm that was still trying to heal. She would have killed him just for the challenge and he wondered why he still believed her when she said she was his. “Your worth is greater than his. You’re bleeding.” He snorted and lifted an eyebrow at her but she was looking at his stomach. He glanced down and saw the cut Kinley had left across his side, frowning when he did. It had scabbed over on the ride back but it was bleeding again now, soaking through his shirt and staining his skin. She pushed herself out of the chair when he didn’t move, coming over to crouch before him and pull the linen from his flesh. Her fingers brushed over his stomach when she did and he tensed at the brief contact. She looked up at him but her eyes were narrowed with concern. “You should learn to dodge,” she said. He snorted, reaching down to pull her hands from his flesh. Her skin was soft beneath his rough soldier’s hands and then he was letting her go. “I am aware,” he told her. Then he let his head tip back against the wall. He was tired, and he was surprised at how much his body was starting to ache. He wondered distantly if he’d been poisoned and it almost made him laugh with dark amusement. “If it were up to Brayden alone than you would be dead. That we differ on this is what reflects badly on me.” “Then I am glad I swore my life to you and not to him.” He felt her fingers brush his stomach again and he didn’t fight back this time. He sucked in a harsh breath when they touched the edge of the wound and sharp pain lanced through his stomach at the contact. “This is a shallow cut,” she said softly. Her fingers gripped his chin and pulled his head down to hers. “He has poisoned you.” Wenston 4.8 Lowport – The Sullied Walk Brayden pulled his hood tight around him. If at all possible, Lowport looked more dank and scum-ridden than it had the last time he’d been here. There weren’t nearly as many hawkers as there used to be. Now, mostly, there were people lying around, lounging or sick or begging. Orphans and whores and disfigured or sick men ran around Lowport and it had been bad before, but this was so much worse. He wondered if Tristan would stick up for his home now. The thought sent a spike of pain through his chest because he wasn’t even sure if Tristan was alive. Miren, Nicos, Stephen – he didn’t know if these men lived. They’d been lucky enough to find Alain and Jethro and that should be enough for Brayden, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t because Duncan was still out there and Gideon was trying to hold things together and as much as he believed his brother could do this, Brayden didn’t think he could do it all by himself. Gideon was smart. He was strong and tough and he thought things through. If he wanted to believe that an elf he’d just only met wasn’t going to betray him or stab him in the back, then Brayden should believe it too. But the Crowe’s didn’t work like that. How could he not challenge a skeptical scenario? If they got too complacent and both agreed on everything, how would they look at things from both sides? Gideon was snapping at him, getting angry at him, but maybe it was just because they were out of practice with how they worked with each other. Either way, Brayden thought it would be wise to give his brother some space. He’d return from this foray and he’d listen to what his brother said and not question him because maybe that’s what Gideon needed. Maybe he didn’t need a brother or a soldier who challenged him. Brayden had never seen it as a bad thing and he wasn’t sure what had changed now that Gideon did. It was easy to find Pock in Lowport. Nothing about the man had changed except for the wares he was trying to sell on the street. He was still scrawny and his face drawn and gaunt. He had a loud, fast voice and faster hands and it made Brayden smirk because at least some things didn’t change. There was a small group gathered around the man as he tried to sell them junk and trinkets he claimed were magical. Brayden leaned against the stone wall and just watched for a while, finding himself relaxing slightly at the familiarity of the scene. After a bit, the crowd started to disappear and Brayden made his way down and behind Pock, hauling himself up onto a small half wall and letting his legs swing down in front of him. “I think I have a crick in my neck,” Brayden said and he saw the man turn sharply to look at him, his eyes wide. “You got something to help cure that?” Pock laughed loudly and it made Brayden grin from beneath his hood. “A good, swift kick in the head, that’s what,” Pock told him and then turned to hold his arms out to the side. “What’s this? You go rogue and leave me hanging for months without my best customer and now here you are with no coin in your hand? I thought we were closer than that.” Brayden snorted. “I was playing hard to get.” Pock scoffed at that and Brayden held up his hand before the man could say anything further. “No names,” he told him and it managed to sober the man’s face a little bit. “How’ve you been, Pock?” “You just said no names,” the man countered playfully. Brayden sighed and Pock just laughed. “I found a new shady character to deal with,” he said. “Real uptight arse, if you ask me. Heard he was a Chosen, but only as a spy to the Viceroy.” “His name wouldn’t happen to be Kinley, would it?” Brayden asked lowly. Pock nodded. “Yeah that sounds like him.” Nodding, Brayden narrowed his eyes and spoke firmly so the man knew he wasn’t joking. “If you tell him you saw me here, best supplier or no, I will end you.” “How cheerful,” Pock griped and waved his hand dismissively at him. “Never you mind that. “He don’t pay me for information. Just supplies.” Brayden smirked and then nodded. “That’s why I’m here,” he said. “I need information on a wedding.” “Ah,” Pock said, starting to gather his things for the night. “You must be referring to the dear Lady Gisaine.” When Brayden didn’t say anything, Pock gave a lopsided smile. “She’s marrying Count De Montague’s son.” A frown stole its way across Brayden’s face. “From Essocks?” he demanded. Pock nodded. “The one and only. The Viceroy wants to annex the territory for trade routes. Would give him direct access across the sea. Not to mention access to one of the largest and worse armies ever known. Essocks ain’t known for its hospitality if you know what I mean.” Brayden did know. He’d been to Essocks once. Across the sea, it was one of the largest territories that threatened Lockhaven. Ruled by a dictator with an iron fist, the Count De Montague had usurped the former dictator and turned Essocks from a trade territory to a militaristic city state. Brayden had gone there once to track down a threat to the Emperor. He’d seen what they did to prisoners over in Essocks. It wasn’t pretty. Leaning back against the wall, Brayden nodded and glanced up towards the Keep. He could see the tower from here, but not Gisaine’s window. He wondered what she thought about the marriage and it almost made him smile when he could practically hear her yelling what a stupid idea it was. But there was still the part of him that needed to know how Kinley had known he would be with her that night. He needed to know if Gisaine had betrayed him. And if he found out she had, he wasn’t sure what he’d do after that. He doubted he’d be able to trust anyone ever again, even someone close to him. The thought startled him because he wondered if that’s how Gideon felt. He wondered if he’d broken Gideon’s trust and this was how his brother felt now. If so, they were going to have to have a chat when he got back. “The wedding is going to be a big thing,” Pock went on, oblivious to Brayden’s inner thoughts. “Lady Gisaine’s off getting dresses and such. I think the Viceroy just wanted to send her away because he was sick of hearing her fuss at him.” Brayden smirked at that, even though his heart felt like it had dropped out. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t in Lockhaven anymore and that meant he couldn’t climb her tower to go see her. “Excited bride,” Brayden said lowly. Pock snorted. “Define excited.” Brayden chuckled and then pointed to the basket in front of Pock. If he couldn’t go and visit Gisaine, he would make use of his time here in Lowport. There were an assortment of things he’d been missing since leaving and he was going to stock up while he was here. “You’ve got any crow feathers in there?” .Wolfie. 4.9 The Wayfarer’s Inn Elena used to sing. It was a quiet thing, just below her breath, but she would hum words to their son while she tried to get him to sleep. Matthias had been a difficult baby. He woke several times a night and Brayden would have laughed at the side of Gideon holding this tiny bundle as he tried to convince his child to go back to sleep. He’d had no talent at it, usually just making the child cry harder and then Elena would come in with her soft hands and her quiet words and she would sing until the babe fell asleep against her shoulder. He remembered that so clearly, the moonlight on her skin as she cradled their son and smiled over his head at Gideon. Everything about that night stuck in his mind with painful clarity because they were the last memories he had of them. He’d opened the window while she rocked Matthias because it had been a warm night and the breeze was gentle and comforting. He remembered smelling rain on the wind, and he had thought then that a storm was coming. It had, but not until the next night and by then his wife was already dead on the ground with blood in her eyes and Matthias in her arms, both of them cold and silent. “I’m sorry,” Piressa told him softly. “This will hurt.” He was on his back in his bed, head turned to the side to stare out the window and the scent of rain lingering on the quiet breeze. It was so familiar that it made his breath hitch in his chest. Her hand slid into his and that finally drew his gaze her face. He tried to blink the memories and the sweat from his eyes and focus on what was happening in the here and now but his mind was swimming and distant. He couldn’t remember what he’d been doing or why she apologized. He was only distantly aware of the pains of his body, aware that he ached everywhere and he couldn’t stop trembling. There was warm blood on his side and he remembered with a vague certainty that he’d been wounded. It was a small slice, deep enough to make him bleed but little else. He’d been hurt worse before, but rarely with poisoned death on the blade and that finally helped pull his mind out of the darkness. There was a hot brand in one hand but she was hesitating and he didn’t know why. “Do it,” he ordered. He was surprised at how raspy and harsh his voice sounded, even to his own ears. She nodded her head, letting out a slow breath before she stood over him. He wasn’t aware anyone else was in the room until hands settled on his shoulders to hold him down. “Do as he says,” Jethro told her, gaze focused on the elf. The pain of it was excruciating. White hot pain lanced behind his eyes at the iron brand seared his skin. He could smell his own flesh burning. He clamped his jaw shut, biting back the agonized scream that wanted to leave his lips because Gideon didn’t scream, even when his nerves were firing and his skin on fire with the brutal pain of it. He shut his eyes and tried to remember to breathe. He blacked after that. It overtook his mind in a dark blanket and he just drifted. He had fractured dreams of Elena, the way her lips parted under his and the taste of her, sweet and soft. He always tried to be gentle with her because there was that lingering fear in the back of his mind that he was going to break her, one way or another. Only then he remembered her eyes, dead and cold, and he remembered that he already had, and it was strange because he thought it had broken them both. He tried to ignore the thought because it led him nowhere. He couldn’t allow emotions, no regret, no guilt, no anger, because he had made those sacrifices willingly for his duty. He was the Emperor’s blade, and there was no room in that for anything else. When he woke again he heard voices. They were distant and muffled and it took a long time for him to hear anything but a quiet buzz in the back of his mind. “I’m going to check on Alain and Bianca,” Jethro said. His voice was cool, unwelcoming and suspicious and it was strange to hear from him. “If anything happens to him before I return, I swear to you elf…” “You will slit my throat open gladly, I am sure.” She said the words coldly, emotionlessly. Jethro snorted. “With a smile on my face.” Gideon heard the door shut but he couldn’t get his eyes to open yet. He tried to take stock of his body and he became aware that he was shaking, his skin cold even as sweat trickled from his forehead. He had been poisoned before, by his brother no less, but never anything fatal. Once Brayden had given him something that had him vomiting for hours but as much as it pained him to admit it, it had taught him valuable lessons. He learned to recognize the smell and the taste of such things, to know when his food didn’t taste right. This wasn’t the same. He felt feverish and weak, every muscle aching and sweat pouring from his skin. Throbbing pain lingered in his side with every breath and he forced his eyes to open so he could examine the wound. His head rolled to the side, vision blurring and muscles trembling as he forced himself to sit up. There was white linen wrapping his side, his shirt gone. The bandage was only spotted with blood, so at least he hadn’t bled to death. His hand reached down to touch the edge of it and he hissed at the sharp pain that lanced through his stomach. It burned along his veins and he felt himself grow dizzy. “Leave it be,” Piressa said. “If it reopens you’ll likely bleed to death.” He lifted his head at her words, squinting as he tried to focus on her. She crouched next to the fire across the room, glancing over her shoulder as she studied him. Her gaze lingered for a moment and then she turned back to the flames, pulling a kettle from within its coals and pouring it into a cup. Steam rose from inside it as she stood gracefully, crossing the room to return to his side. “How do you feel?” she asked. She settled on the edge of the bed next to him, cup held between her hands as she waited for his answer. He closed his eyes and tried to assess, tried to think about the question. He was trembling just holding himself up on his elbows and it occurred to him that if she wanted him dead, now was the time. It should have been more concerning to him that he was at her mercy. He was on the verge of delirium, body shaking with fever and side throbbing with pain. He hoped that meant the poison was running its course. Brayden would have been able to tell him. “Hurts,” he said, his tongue thick and mouth dry. He wondered why he told her the truth. “I know,” she said. He felt her fingers settle on the back of his neck and they were cool and soothing against his feverish skin. She brought the cup to his mouth but he pressed his lips together, frowning over the steaming liquid at her face. She sighed, a mixture of annoyance and amusement playing on her face. “I need you to drink this,” she said. “It will help.” He hesitated and then reached up to take the cup from her, drinking it quickly. It burned his tongue, the taste of it bitter and laced with something like mint. “What did I drink?” he asked, grimacing at the taste as he handed the cup back to her. “It will help rid your body of the poison faster,” she said. “And it will ease your pain. Do not ask me what’s in it.” He snorted something like a laugh and it turned immediately into a wince when it jarred his side. Her face fell and she turned to place the cup on the table next to him before placing a hand against his chest. She eased him back down against the bed and it concerned him how easily he went. He was weaker than he liked, shaking against the sheets and sweat pouring off his skin. He wasn’t used to sickness or weakness. It left him unprotected, and unable to protect others. “Who stands watch?” he asked her. “Alain and Bianca,” she told him. Her hands were surprisingly gentle when they moved over his head, brushing the hair from his eyes. She turned to the side, still speaking to him lowly and softly as she got a wet cloth from the basin of water. He shivered when she laid it upon his forehead, cooling his heated skin. “I believe Jethro and Corey will relieve them for the night.” “And my brother?” he asked. He thought he shouldn’t have been so comfortable with her here, that she was the enemy and had tried to kill him twice over. Yet he couldn’t deny that it helped ease his mind when she ran her fingers through his hair. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “But it has only been a day.” He nodded and he tried to let it be some comfort. He disliked that they’d left on bad terms, liked even less that he had responded so angrily to his brother. Usually he kept a tight grasp on his emotions. He didn’t allow himself to get hurt or angry or feel despair. He allowed himself nothing. Yet he defended her with a fever he couldn’t explain. Brayden was right. She shouldn’t be trusted, and yet whenever the matter came up he was unyielding on it. “Any sign of Kinley?” he asked. “None,” she said simply. Her voice cooled at the mention of him and he couldn’t help but wonder if she wished she had killed him then or if it was still her intention. If she wanted to earn his trust that would be the way to do so. He wondered if he would ever be able to take anything on faith again or if he would be looking for knives in his back for the rest of his life. Her fingers lingered on his skin and he was having a hard time telling who she was. The fever sent another shiver down his spine and he gritted his teeth to try and force it aside. Every time he closed his eyes it was a battle to remember where he was. He almost told her that he missed her and then he had to remind himself that it wasn’t Elena because she was dead and buried. He shouldn’t have had to try so hard to remember that they weren’t the same. “You don’t need to stay with me,” he said. “But I am glad to,” she responded without hesitation. He cracked an eye open at her and it drove him mad that he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She was cool and mysterious and he knew nothing about her, save that she swore she was his. “Why?” he asked, unable to keep the suspicion from his voice. “Because of your oath?” “Yes,” she told him plainly. “What good is my oath if you are dead?” He studied her face and he wondered why he believed her when she said the words. He wondered what had stayed his hand that first night that she had come back to kill him. He had wanted to know about the Raven, but when he had learned what she knew than he should have killed her. It was what Duncan would have done. “I assume you would be free then.” “No.” She shook her head and her expression grew more shuttered, her eyes distant as she kept up the steady motion through his hair. Then she took a breath and she hardened her expression, gaze returning to his. She pulled the cloth from his head, turning it over to drape the other side across his skin. A chill ran down his spine and then she was pulling the blankets up over his chest. “I have told you before, to my clan I am already dead,” she said coolly. “I am yours now.” He snorted, closing his eyes for a moment because the room was starting to tip around him. He wondered what had been in that cup of hers, and if that was to blame for how distant and dizzy he felt. “Most men dream of hearing that from a beautiful woman.” Gideon said the words without thought but after they left his lips he stilled, eyes opening to land on her. Her blonde hair hung over one tanned shoulder, her body lithe and graceful. She was beautiful. She was graceful and deadly and it surprised him every time her fingers brushed his skin because they were soft and gentle even so. Her mouth quirked into a smile. “Oh?” she asked. “But not you?” He shook his head, closing his eyes as if they could shut out the thoughts. “I didn’t say that.” “No, you didn’t,” she agreed quietly. He didn’t dare look at her, keeping his eyes shut and focusing on his uneven breathing. He didn’t allow himself to think on it again. He could spare no time for such thoughts, especially not for an elf and assassin who may turn on him yet. Even if she were not either of those things it was nothing Gideon could afford. The Chosen were broken and it was his duty to put them back together again. “So what is that you dream of then, Gideon Crowe?” He felt her fingers return to his hair and he found the touch too comforting, too familiar. He couldn’t allow anyone to get that close. “I want only to be a good soldier,” he told her coldly. He shifted in the bed and he felt her hand settle on his chest to try and still his movements. He ignored the touch, bracing his hands against the mattress and pushing himself into a sitting position. It pulled at the wound in his stomach and he let out a quiet hiss, resting a hand over the white bandage around his side. It stung painfully and he gritted his teeth, dragging himself back against the headboard. Her hands moved to his arms to steady him. “You should be lying down,” she told him. He snorted and ignored her, pulling his knees up so that he could brace his forearms on them. The room was tilting around him, sweat running down his forehead and after a moment he heard her sigh, shifting closer so that she could wipe it from his skin. “And when that is done?” she asked. “What happens when you are the soldier you want to be?” “Then I die doing my duty to the Emperor. There is no room in that for anything else.” The words were cold and familiar but for some reason they tasted bitter. “And what of you? I doubt you care who wears the Emperor’s crown. What is it you hope to gain from this?” Piressa frowned when he reached up to pull her hand from his skin, trembling fingers wrapping around her wrist and setting it back in her lap. She watched him carefully and he leaned his head against the wooden board, waiting for her answer. She finally sighed, shaking her head. “Nothing,” she told him. “My duty is simple. I follow your will until I am released from my oath. I can hope for nothing greater now. I cannot return to my clan, dishonored as I am.” “Do you wish I had killed you?” he asked. His eyes were lidded to keep the sweat from running into them but he felt as though the fever was worsening. He tried to ignore it. He’d had years of practice ignoring when he was in pain and he put it to use now. It was nothing. It was only a distant sensation trying to distract him and he could afford no distractions. Piressa stilled, eyes on his face as she considered the question. “I did,” she said slowly. “But I will not regret that you did not. There is still pleasure to be had in the small things. Like hearing a man such as you call me beautiful.” “You know you are,” he said. He forced his voice to stay cool. That brought a smile to her face and he wasn’t sure why but he found himself wanting to return it. It was honest and amused, not like her dark, mocking smiles that she directed at Brayden. It gave him a small thrill of pleasure that he could recognize the difference, and that she saved these for him alone. “Yes,” she agreed. “But it is still nice to hear it said.” He snorted and closed his eyes and after a moment she leaned forward, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead. “You should sleep,” she told him. Gideon shook his head, reaching up to pull her hand from his skin again. “I don’t wish to sleep.” He meant to let her go afterwards but her hand stayed in his and it helped keep him connected to the world around him. It hurt less when his eyes were closed but it felt more distant. He felt like he was dreaming and he wondered if he was already dead. “You should even so,” she told him. When he didn’t answer she sighed in frustration. “When you awaken the pain will be less.” A small, bitter laugh left his lips at that. “The pain will be different. It is rarely less.” Piressa was quiet for a moment and he forced his eyes to open so he could remind himself that she was there. She was watching him carefully, eyes sweeping his face. “We have a legend among my clan. It is said that deep within the dark woods there lives a great mother spider. Day in and day out she weaves her web, our lives written into each gossamer strand. Should anyone find her than they could see everything that lies before them, all the lives that cross into theirs and everything that awaits them.” She paused, reaching forward to brush dark hair from his eyes. “Do you know how the legend ends?” she asked. A chill passed through him and his hand tightened on hers compulsively. She squeezed back, reminding him that she was there and as much as he hated it he was grateful for the comfort. He shook his head, watching her face as she spoke. “No,” he told her. She smiled bitterly. “In death,” she said. The words were cold and quiet. “Anyone who finds her becomes trapped by her web, and then she devours them.” She shook her head, fingers running along his jaw before she tilted her head to look into his eyes. “We cannot see what is to come. We do not know the pattern our lives have left behind us until after it is done. It will kill us to try.” She was quiet for a moment and he just watched her, his thoughts on Elena. “Would you like to hear the legend about the crow?” He snorted, tipping his head back to the ceiling. Another breeze ran through the window and he thought he could smell the storm coming. He felt like a fool for being waylaid like this. If they had to run he could do nothing to help. He would die here or later in a torturer’s cell and he wondered if that was what became of Nicos. “Does it end in death?” he asked quietly. She smiled and then pulled the rag from his forehead. He was beginning to shiver again and she pulled the blankets around him, her fingers brushing his skin as she did. “All legends end in death,” she said. Gideon turned his head to the side to focus on her and he felt himself smile back. “Tell it to me then.” Wenston 4.10 Torturer’s Chamber The man standing in front of him patted his cheek when he started to drift off. Corey jerked against his restraints, still hanging with his arms above his head. The world was practically a blur around him, but surprisingly, the water had helped. They’d let him have sips and he’d spluttered and coughed on it, but it seemed to reinvigorate him in spite of it. “The Marquis Coleur,” the man said. “That’s where it began.” Corey nodded his head slightly. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Gideon often said it was our first strike against the Viceroy. We didn’t know until later just how Brayden had left the Marquis. We didn’t know how gruesome he made it.” The man nodded, hand rubbing at his chin. “Tell me how you chose the others,” he said suddenly, eyes coming up to bore into Corey’s. When Corey didn’t respond, the man sighed and backhanded him. It jerked Corey’s body to the side, arms being yanked painfully against their bonds. “How did you choose the others?” he repeated. “Was there someone on the inside?” Corey shook his head, lips trembling. “No,” he whispered. The man stepped forward, gripping Corey’s jaw in a vice-like grip. “Tell me,” he demanded and Corey shivered beneath the tough. He wondered how long he’d been in here. He thought about the real question the man wanted to know. Were the Crowe’s alive. Was Duncan alive. He wanted to know these things and these were the questions he wouldn’t answer. But this? There was no great harm in this one. “We came across the names on accident.” 4.11 The Eastern Highway Brayden spurred his horse forward, but in honesty, he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to traverse the road. He may have to worry his brother and not return in the two days he had originally said he would. He wondered if Gideon would send out the cavalry or if he’d just count his losses and move on. As soon as he thought it, he felt guilty for the thought because his brother would never do that to him. They may disagree on things, but Gideon was all Brayden had and some days Brayden thought he was all Gideon had. The storm was bad and threatening to keep him from getting back to the Inn on time. Thunder rolled in the sky, lightning lit up the gray clouds and the rain came sideways. It pelted against him and he pulled his hood and cloak closer into him to try and keep himself dry, but he was failing miserably. He’d have to stop soon, because even if he could make it through this weather, his horse may not. The road was getting muddy and rocky and he didn’t want to risk his horse. He’d stocked up on poisons, as much as he could from Pock. He had a full pouch of crow feathers and some other assorted items he’d bought in Lowport. Pock had promised not to tell anyone he’d been there, but Brayden knew if someone came along with the right amount of coin, Pock would sell him out in a heartbeat. He’d travelled by Tristan’s home to see if the man was there, but it was empty. Not even his mother was there and that scared Brayden more than he cared to admit. The house had been barren and empty for months, it looked like. There’d been no sign of the other Chosen, but Brayden hadn’t expected there to be. He tried to keep his mind of Gisaine, but it kept going back to her anyway. He wondered not for the first time if this marriage was something she wanted. In his heart, he doubted it. But in his mind, he wondered how long she’d been lying to him. How long she played him for a fool. And a fool he was. But perhaps people did foolish things when they thought they were in love. He frowned at that, and wondered if that’s the reason Gideon was protecting Piressa. It would make sense. Brayden wasn’t sure how he felt about it and he thought he should ask Gideon about it when he got back. A smile crossed his lips when he thought about the Marquis and the look on the Viceroy’s face when he’d find out the man was dead. He could picture that smug bastard’s reaction and it would probably cause an uproar in Lockhaven over it. Rumors would probably start that the Chosen were coming back to slaughter innocents. He wondered how many people would believe that. Probably more than he liked. Brayden pulled back on the reins of his horse when he spotted something up the road, through the rain. He squinted against the water assaulting his face and he saw it was a lone man on a horse, trying to get the beast to go further, but his mare wasn’t cooperating. Brayden tilted his head to the side because the man was dressed nicely and it was odd for someone so nicely dressed to be out here alone. Unless they were a courier. Smirking, Brayden trotted his horse forward, coming up next to the struggling man, who didn’t even seem to notice him until Brayden cleared his throat. The man nearly jumped out of his seat and off the horse. He whirled around to look at him wide eyed. “Pardon me,” Brayden said politely, yelling to be heard over the wind and thunder. “You look to be in a spot of trouble.” “My horse is skittish!” the man yelled back. “I’ll get him moving, you can move along.” Brayden snorted, amused at the obvious brush off. “You ride a mare,” Brayden called to him. “What?” The man demanded, looking annoyed. Brayden pointed to the horses back legs. “Your horse is female. So, you’ll get her moving, not him.” The man looked down at his horse and then back up at Brayden, brow furrowed. He was sopping wet, water soaking his hair and dripping from his nose and ears. Brayden pointed ahead of them. “There is a cave not too far up from here,” he yelled. “Perhaps we should wait until the storm has passed.” Looking forward, the man seemed to think about it for a moment and when thunder struck and his horse nearly dumped him, he finally nodded wordlessly to Brayden, who reached over to take the reins and lead them towards the cave. He knew the cave had been there because he’d seen it on their way out of Lockhaven the first time. He’d been poisoned then and barely conscious, but it didn’t stop him from observing things. Trotting into the cave, Brayden and the lone man hopped down from their horses, shaking themselves off. Brayden glanced back into the cave, but it was too dark to see if anything else was inside. He didn’t hear anything but their own echoes bouncing back at them. He turned to the other man, who had a pack held tightly to his chest, like he was protecting it with his life. He probably was. “What brings you out this way?” Brayden asked, sounding chummy and flippant. “My business is my own,” the man spat at him. Brayden lifted an eyebrow, but nodded. He ducked his head to look out of the cave. “Well, Business,” he said, and the man gave him a dirty glare. “It looks like we will be stuck here for a while. Might as well make yourself comfortable.” The man glanced around and then sighed, sitting down against the wall of the cave and looking miserable. “Great,” he said, sounding petulant. Brayden smirked. He would find out what was in that pack. He had to. It bore the seal of the Viceroy. .Wolfie. 4.12 The Wayfarer’s Inn “Legend says that two white crows once sat on each shoulder of the Great Lord Skaldis,” Piressa said. “They were his messengers and his spies, flying across the world and returning to tell him of what they had seen and heard.” Gideon drifted in and out while she spoke to him. He hadn’t wanted to sleep and he’d tried his hardest to fight it off but the effects of the poison worsened before they got better. His fever grew worse, his body shaking uncontrollably as he lay on the mattress. He could smell sickness and sweat lingering in the room with him and even when he managed to keep his eyes open he lost his sense of when and where he was. He had feverish dreams but he couldn’t tell which ones were real and which ones were pulled only from his mind. At one point he awoke to Jethro and Piressa shouting at each other and he wasn’t sure why at first. “You’re probably the one poisoning him, elf,” Jethro snarled. The words were harsh and angry and he could barely see through the blackness clouding his vision and the sweat that kept rolling into his eyes. He felt as though he were burning up, his skin on fire and the throbbing pain in his side splintering out through his veins. Jethro stood on the other side of his bed arms crossed over his chest and eyes cold. Corey stood in the doorway behind him and looking nervous and scared. “I want you gone.” Piressa sat on the edge of the bed next to him, her eyes narrowed at the man. Gideon felt her shift and a part of him grew fearful that she was doing as she said and leaving. His hand came out and grasped at her wrist and she started at the sudden contact, looking down at his face. “Don’t go,” he told her, his voice rasping and harsh. “Tell me what happened to the crows.” “Gideon,” Jethro said. The man stood stiffly over him but he didn’t take his eyes off Piressa. She shifted so that she could take his hand, the other moving across his forehead and he let his eyes close. Above him he heard Jethro sigh. “Do as he says.” “One day the crows overheard Ferrin, Skaldis’ brother and favored general, plotting against him. When Ferrin saw them, he grew panicked and desperate, scared that the crows would tell of his treachery. He took his bow and he put an arrow through each of their hearts.” She spoke quiet and low, hands moving over his head as she did. He was barely aware of the words, only that her presence eased some of his pain and he wasn’t coherent enough to think more on that. He just listened to her and the raging storm. “When Skaldis found their bodies, lying dead and cold in the wilderness, he called on the Shadow Lord himself to return them to the life,” she said. “The Shadow Lord obeyed, on the condition that Skaldis take up his scythe and forfeit this life. In return, his crows were lifted from the Underworld they were no longer white. They were shadows, untouchable by death but no longer living. They told their lord of his brother’s treachery and full of righteous vengeance he set out to find his brother. Ferrin fled when he heard of the deal his brother had made, knowing that should he be found, he would be taken to the darkest pits of the Underworld.” She paused in her telling to wipe the sweat from his brow. He was shivering, his muscles cramping painfully beneath his skin. It was an effort to get his eyes open again, head tilting to the side to try and focus on her. “How does your legend end?” Piressa smiled, hair falling around her face as she looked down at him and fingers still twined with his. “Skaldis searches for him still, striking down the treacherous and the vile as he does. His crows remained his loyal servants, able to pass between life and death at will. It is said the crows are an omen and that any who see them will be the next soul that Skaldis takes.” Gideon snorted, eyes closing. “I like that legend better,” he told her. A quiet laugh met his words. “I thought you might.” He fell into sleep again, the storm raging outside and another raging beneath his skin. In his dreams he was in another house in another time and when he walked through the door he could smell death and blood on the wind. The stench of it lingered when his eyes opened into darkness but it was his this time, not his child’s and not his wife’s. He wasn’t sure if that was any comfort and he wondered if the reason he’d let Piressa live was because in the back of his mind he wished she would send him to join them. If she left his side at all then he was either too hurt or she too silent for him to notice. When he finally woke again the storm had passed and the world seemed quiet and still around him. Grit scraped over his eyes when he opened them and he could see the sun starting to rise through his window. It spilled gold across the floor and illuminated the elf curled in a chair next to his bed. Her legs were kicked out on top of the mattress beside him, elbow resting on the arm of her chair and holding her head up. He closed his eyes and tried to take stock. He wasn’t covered in a sheen of sweat any longer. He felt sore and weak but the shaking had stopped. The wound in his side still protested when he tried to sit up and he put a hand gingerly over the linen binding it shut. The sheets beneath him stank of whatever death Kinley had coated his blade with and he was suddenly desperate to be out of this bed and out of this room. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been holed up in here. A day, at least. Maybe two. As soon as he thought that he felt something like fear because if it had been that long than shouldn’t Brayden have been back? He pushed himself out of the bed, ignoring how much effort it took just to do that. His arms shook as he held himself upright and he sucked in a breath before he tried to climb to his feet. The world tipped around him as soon as he did but he put a hand on the headboard to keep standing until it passed. His legs trembled as he forced himself over to the window and undid the latch. “You’re awake.” He heard the quiet words behind him, still groggy and sleepy, but he didn’t turn around. He leaned against the window, breathing in the fresh air, still damp from the storm that had passed through the night before. “How do you feel?” Piressa was quiet as she crossed the room to his side, hand resting on his elbow as she came to stand next to him. Her head tilted to the side as she tried to look up into his eyes, the back of her hand pressing against his head to check for fever. “I am well,” he told her. It was enough like the truth. He didn’t feel sick anymore, just unsteady and his side would take time to heal. He reached up to grasp her wrist, leaning his head back away from her touch. He felt a vague sense of embarrassment for allowing her so much familiarity with him but he could not lie and say he hadn’t been grateful for the comfort. “How long?” She hesitated at the question and it made him frown. “Two days,” she told him. He nodded, elbows still braced against the window. There were birds in the trees across from him, already singing loudly in the dawn light. He almost didn’t want to ask the next question. Either Brayden had returned and simply hadn’t come to see him or he wasn’t back yet at all. As much as it would have hurt if it was the first, he would have preferred it. “And my brother?” he asked her lowly. “There has been no sign of him,” she said. The words were quiet and gentle but it didn’t ease their affect any. He had sworn he would return in two days. It was unlike his brother not to keep his word and he couldn’t help the worry that ate away at him. Kinley could have caught up to him. He could be rotting in the Viceroy’s dungeon. He could be dead in a ditch on the side of the road. A thousand things could have happened to his brother and none of them were pleasant to think on. No matter what harsh words had passed between them and how cold Gideon tried to keep himself, Brayden was still his brother and he didn’t know if he could handle losing him. He would rather Brayden run off and abandon this cause than he would see him dead. “I see,” he said quietly. Gideon stayed by the window for a moment, breathing in the fresh air and trying to get his emotions under control. He didn’t know where his brother had gone but the safest guess was Lockhaven. He let out a breath and then pulled away from the window, crossing to the washbasin to run water over his face and his arms. When that was done he turned to the bed and started tearing the sheets off. “Are you sure you are well?” Piressa asked quietly. He glanced over his shoulder at her and she had stayed near the window. Her arms were crossed over her chest, eyebrow lifted curiously as she watched him strip the bed. He nodded his head, dumping them in a pile on the floor. He would clean them later, but he could still smell the sickness and poison that lingered on them. “Well enough,” he told her. His shirt hung from the bedpost and he paused to pull that over his head. He could still feel her gaze on his skin and he was fighting hard to ignore it. Something had passed between them while he lay poisoned and wounded but it was nothing he could allow himself to acknowledge. Yet he did owe her, and he paused, the words hesitant and unsure because he wasn’t used to saying them. “I thank you,” he said. “For all that you have done for me.” “If you would learn to dodge as I said than it wouldn’t be necessary.” She smiled playfully to take the sting from her words. There was a moment where he almost rose to the challenge that presented. He almost smiled back at her and were he still feverish he may have told her the first response that came to mind. But he had allowed too much already and if he allowed this to continue he would forget that he couldn’t afford to let anyone close. He would forget that she had tried to kill him twice over. Instead he kept his expression cold and blank. “It won’t happen again,” he said, and then nodded his head to the door. “Let’s go.” The smile faded from her lips but she nodded her head. Her feet carried her across the floor and he followed behind her as she opened the door so that she couldn’t see anymore of his weakness. But she paused in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder at him. One of his arms was next to her head, braced against the doorjamb. “If it does I will be here,” she told him quietly. He hesitated, unsure what to say in response to that. He felt almost feverish again, his blood burning beneath his skin as she looked up at him. “Then I will be grateful for your presence,” he said, just as quietly. The smile that graced her lips was as brilliant and brief as a shooting star, and then she was turning her back to him and leading him down the hallway. He could hear voices already coming from within the tavern and he tried to focus on those instead of on her. He turned his thoughts to Brayden and he wondered again if his brother had simply abandoned them. The thought stung painfully but the had hardly left on the best of terms. Perhaps he had gone to find Duncan on his own. Jethro stood behind the bar, bulky arms resting on the counter and his shoulders tense. Alain sat on the stool across from him, Bianca to his right and Corey on his left. They all wore similar expressions of fear and worry. “The whole city doesn’t believe it,” Bianca said, her voice quiet. “But it’s safer to believe than the alternative. You weren’t there, it was chaos afterwards.” “You’re talking about Lockhaven,” Gideon said. Jethro’s head turned over his shoulder at the sound of his voice and Corey’s head lifted from the bar, a smile spreading across his lips. A relieved sigh left Alain’s lips and Bianca wore a similar smile. “Captain,” Jethro said. He crossed the room to grasp his arm, scanning him for injuries. “How do you fare?” Gideon snorted and clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder as he pulled away. “I am alive. Tell me about Lockhaven.” Jethro chuckled but he kept a hand on Gideon’s shoulder until he settled into a bar stool. As much as he hated to admit it, just walking down the stairs had taxed him. He leaned heavily on the bar, not looking back as Piressa hopped up on the bar next to him, crossing her legs at the knee. Jethro shot her a glare and she ignored it, her expression smoothed into a familiar, cold mask. “It hasn’t been the same since the Emperor disappeared,” Bianca said. She directed the words at Gideon, and he was sure the others had already heard it. “No one was allowed in and out of the Keep for a week afterwards, no one knew who was alive or who sat on the throne. The guards declared martial law just to keep the peace because even they didn’t know who was giving the orders. When the Viceroy finally came out and proclaimed the Emperor dead, slain by the Chosen, no one could even believe it at first?” “But they believe it now?” Gideon asked. He kept the bitterness out of his voice but not out of his heart. The Chosen were sworn to the Emperor and the Emperor alone, to declare them murderers and traitors hurt him more than he liked to admit. “It’s dangerous not to,” Bianca said. “Anyone who spoke out against it disappeared or found themselves hung without trial. Half the old guardsmen were hung as traitors, replaced by mercenaries and hirelings.” She shook her head in disgust. “Anyone with enough coin can do whatever they like anymore. The Marquis wasn’t the first, he was just the richest. He deserved what he got.” “It warms my heart to hear you say that.” A voice interrupted. Gideon felt sudden relief at the sound of it, glancing over his shoulder towards the door as it pushed open and Brayden sauntered in. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, fighting back a grin just to see his brother alive and well. He wore a familiar blue uniform, a bag slung over his shoulder and a cocky grin on his face. “What do you think?” he asked, gesturing at his chest. “Is it my color? I think it brings out my eyes.” Gideon just snorted in response. “You’re late.” Wenston Brayden shrugged, the grin ever on his face as he made his way across the Inn towards the bar where they all sat. He noticed two things as he crossed the short distance and before he actually reached them. One, was Piressa’s close proximity to his brother. She sat on the bar just next to him and he didn’t miss the cold, blank look she gave him as he’d entered. The second was that Gideon looked unwell. He was too pale and his eyes were sunken and he held himself too gingerly. Brayden made a mental note of these things as he slung his pack across the bar.“Contrary to popular belief,” Brayden said, leaning against the bar and reaching over to ruffle Corey’s hair. The boy swatted his hand away, but he didn’t miss the relieved look on their faces. Apparently, they’d been worried. He felt momentarily guilty, but pushed it away quickly. “I cannot control the weather.” “Excuses,” Gideon said and Brayden grinned at him because his brother was smirking and apparently whatever bad air that had been between them was gone. At least for now. He studied his brother a little closer, now that he stood next to him and his concern grew because Gideon looked sick. Either just starting or just ending. Corey leaned forward, trying to peek into the pack Brayden had brought with him. “Where did you go?” he asked. “I was picking flowers,” Brayden told him nonchalantly and he snorted at the look on the boy’s face. Brayden didn’t answer him and had no intention to, instead leaning over the pack and opening it so they could see inside. “I did, however, come across something interesting.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gideon wince when he tried to lean over to see and Brayden turned to face him outright. “What happened to you?” he demanded, all traces of amusement gone. Gideon paused, lifting a brow at him. “It was nothing,” he said. Jethro snorted and Alain and Bianca both glanced at each other. Brayden didn’t buy it for a second. He got his answer from the most unlikely person. Piressa looked at him plainly and said, “The blade Kinley used to strike him was poisoned,” she said. At the words, Brayden stiffened, his eyes moving from her face to his brother’s. “He has mostly recovered.” “It was bad for a while,” Corey said quietly and the look Gideon gave him silenced the boy. Brayden studied Gideon for a moment before turning back to Piressa and aiming his questions at her. “What kind?” “I am unsure,” she admitted. “But his blood was thinned. He wouldn’t stop bleeding.” “It could have been tonka bean,” Brayden said, more to himself than the others, eyeing Gideon as though he were studying a specimen instead of his brother. Gideon sighed. “I am recovered,” he said and Brayden snorted. “Let us focus on what you’ve found.” Brayden wasn’t quite ready to let his brother off that easy. He turned back to the pack, but pointed a finger at Gideon’s face. “I have been too lax in my lessons,” he said. “I need to start slipping things in your soup again. You should have recognized you were poisoned and said something, instead of questioning me and my motives.” Gideon scowled but Brayden just grinned and pulled a bound and sealed scroll out. “These are scrolls from the Viceroy to nobles in his favor.” He watched as the others pulled the scrolls from the pack, opening them and starting to read through them. He handed one to Gideon and Piressa and watched as they leaned over the scroll, pouring over the words. Brayden took the opportunity to watch his brother. He’d have to keep an eye on him if he’d been poisoned with a blood thinner. Gideon would have to take it easy for a while or risk bleeding out. As Gideon pulled another scroll over to him, Brayden could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He could see the plan forming and he was probably thinking the same thing Brayden had thought when he’d read these scrolls. It had been easy to get the courier to part with them. He hadn’t even had to use violence or threaten the man. It had turned out, the courier had some family across the sea he hadn’t seen in a while and was looking to take a vacation. Brayden had offered to help him out, by taking his letters to their recipients for him. In exchange for a small fee, which Brayden now had in his pocket. The scrolls, for the most part, were mundane correspondences. Thanking the nobles for funding improvements to the guards or offering them services or incentives for proving their loyalty to the Viceroy. Brayden had made sure none of them mentioned anything about Gisaine’s wedding. He wasn’t ready for Gideon to know that or to deal with what it meant yet. The pain had grown in his heart as he’d made his way back here and had time to think about it. He didn’t want her to get married. He didn’t want her to be a traitor or to have used him. He loved her. It would destroy him if it had all been fake. “Here,” Brayden said, digging through the pack until he found the scroll he was looking for and handed it to his brother. “I believe you’ll especially like this one.” Corey set his scroll down and looked at Brayden with narrowed eyes. “Come on,” he said. “Just tell me where you went.” “I was slaying a dragon,” Brayden said, again without hesitation and he heard Corey give a frustrated growl. Beside him, Jethro chuckled and slapped the kid on the back, almost knocking him clear across the bar. Brayden pointed to the scrolls the rest of them had been looking though. “We now know which nobles have been bought by the Viceroy.” “There are a lot here,” Bianca said softly. Beside her, Alain glanced her way and then moved closer to show some form or support. Not that Bianca needed any. She was a tough woman. But it didn’t look like she minded having him so close. Brayden glanced at Jethro to see how the big guy was taking it, but the man seemed to just be ignoring it fully. Gideon glanced up at him after he’d finished reading the scroll he’d handed him. “Essocks?” he demanded sharply. Brayden nodded and Jethro frowned, looking between the two of them. “What about it?” he asked. Gideon handed him the scroll to read, but summarized out loud what it said. “The Viceroy was writing to one of his Marquis that the guards had trailed some of the Chosen to Essocks, but lost the trail once they were there.” “Do you think it’s Duncan?” Alain asked, looking suddenly hopeful. Brayden didn’t miss the way his brother’s face steeled and he wondered if maybe the problem his brother had with him wasn’t that he didn’t trust Brayden, but that he was tired of being compared to Duncan. Brayden hadn’t forgotten the door he’d opened with his comments about Duncan not being here. Maybe they’d hit a little closer to home than he’d meant. He needed to talk to his brother alone. They had to clear this up before it became something irreparable. Gideon was quiet for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t know, but I doubt it. We must believe that Duncan is still with the Emperor and I do not think the Viceroy would include his brother in the title of Chosen.” “Maybe it’s Tristan,” Alain said, looking even happier. “Or Miren.” “Stephen,” Brayden added as another possibility. Gideon nodded. “I think it is worth going to Essocks to find out,” he said. He pointed to the other scrolls. “And then we’ll deal with the rest of these.” Corey sighed and they all turned to look at him, confused. The boy had a pitiful look on his face as he all but pouted at Brayden. “Can you please just tell me where you went?” he begged. The others chuckled and Brayden just grinned. “I was visiting your mother.” .Wolfie. Gideon moved to a table to go through all of the letters and missives his brother had brought him. There was a bag full of them and he went through each one trying to determine one thing, and that was which ones were going to become execution orders. There were men he recognized on each of these papers. There were relatives of the Emperor and nobles that he’d called friends. Every one of them had kneeled and sworn their allegiance to Rivain at one point or another and these were the men that had either sold him out or turned a blind eye. All of them were dead men. He didn’t know how long it would take, but he would see them ended.Piressa sat in the chair next to him, silent and observant, watching his hand move as he made a list of names on a sheet of parchment. Every once in a while he would pause because his fingers would start trembling and he would have to lay the pen down against the table until it passed. He tried to ignore it, because he disliked being weak or showing signs of it, but she noticed even so. Alain had taken up his lute again and he was sitting by the fire, strumming away at it as he sang to Bianca. She was laughing at something he’d said, hand lingering on his knee as she watched him play. Jethro was at his bar trying to ignore them. Gideon glanced up when his brother slid into the seat across from him, a smile on his face. It was somewhat forced, his eyes scanning his brother’s face carefully. He’d abandoned Corey at the bar, still trying to weasel out of him just where he’d gone and why. Gideon hadn’t asked. He never did. If it was important his brother would tell him. He didn’t miss how Piressa tensed next to him, a cautious and blank look on her face. “So,” Brayden drawled, glancing at her and smirking. “Just how bad was it?” He didn’t want her to answer but she did anyway. “This morning is the first time he’s made it out of his bed in two days.” Gideon let out a quiet sigh, shooting her an annoyed glance. She was either oblivious to it or just didn’t care, though he imagined it was the second. “Really?” Brayden said. He chuckled and it masked the worry that flashed across his face for a moment. “You know, I understand it’s going to take a while for you to get back into the swing of things, but honestly, now you’re just being sloppy.” A sigh left Gideon’s lips and he chose to ignore them both. He slid the list over in front of his brother, watching his face as he scanned the names. “How many of these could you carry out alone?” he asked. He kept his tone carefully neutral to mask his concern. Brayden looked up at him for a moment like he wasn’t ready to let it go but then he glanced at Piressa and snorted at the question. He picked up the list and studied it with narrowed eyes. Gideon could see the wheels turning in his head as he did, considering the question. “Well, probably all of them,” he said, shooting him a grin. “Some would take more planning than others, but it’s nothing I couldn’t handle.” Piressa let out a quiet scoff at that, a frown on her face that drew Brayden’s attention. “What, elf?” “At least one of those men is an Archmage,” she told him. “You did not do so well against the Raven.” Brayden’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t have the element of surprise then. I do now.” Gideon held up a hand to stop them and he tried to ignore that it was shaking. “Enough,” he said. “Nothing is certain yet.” He ran a hand over his mouth and focused on his brother and he hated that he had to ask the next question. He hated the doubt that lingered with him and he tried to hide the hurt it brought with it. “If I ask it of you, will you follow my orders?” Gideon asked him carefully. Something like pain flashed across Brayden’s face and then it was gone. “Of course,” he said. “It pains me that you have to ask.” Gideon looked away, unable to meet his eyes. He heard Brayden sigh. “Care to give me a moment alone with my brother, elf?” She stiffened and glanced over at Gideon for confirmation. At his nod she rose from the chair and then her hand settled on the back of his neck for a moment. The touch was familiar and comforting and he knew it shouldn’t have been. He shouldn’t allow her to get close but he let her fingers brush over his skin even so. “I am here if you need me,” she told him, her voice carefully cold. He listened to her footsteps retreating back to the bar and he tried not to look at her because she was a distraction that he didn’t need. Brayden snorted and it drew his eyes back to his brother’s face. He was watching him with a mixture of curiosity and concern and it made Gideon’s eyes narrow because the last few times they had spoken they had fought. “It isn’t what you’re thinking,” he snapped immediately. Brayden lifted an eyebrow and Gideon looked down at the letters. “She has made herself useful.” Brayden kicked back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head as he looked across the table at his brother. There was a smug, teasing smirk on his face and nothing good ever came of that. “And is one of those uses warming your bed?” he asked. “You go too far.” Gideon snapped the words harshly, eyes narrowing at his brother. “What was it you wanted?” He waved a hand in the air, sitting forward and bracing his elbows on the table. “In a moment,” he said. “Tell me why you’re still keeping her around. I do not ask this to rile you or question your judgment. I am just trying to understand. She tried to kill you, as you recall.” He was watching Gideon carefully and he sounded almost serious for once. His eyes were narrowed, scanning his face as Gideon tried to keep his temper under control. He looked past his brother to the bar at Piressa and he wished he had an answer. “I recall,” he said. He let out a sigh, shaking his head and focusing back on Brayden. “If you think I am making a bad call, than by all means, question my judgment. I trust your eyes to see what I miss.” His brother grinned and opened his mouth and Gideon spoke hurriedly before he could interrupt. “But I ask you, in this matter, let it lie. She has sworn her loyalty to me and I believe her.” Brayden watched him with narrowed eyes and he could tell his brother wasn’t happy about it. He didn’t expect him to be, but he hoped he let it drop. “Fine,” he spat after a moment. Then he pointed a finger back at her. “But I don’t like her.” “I doubt she cares for you much either,” Gideon said. Brayden glowered at him until he saw the smirk on Gideon’s face and it broke, an answering grin on his as he shrugged. He accepted the answer for now, because he knew his brother and his curiosity. It would be too much to hope that he would never broach the topic again. He tried to keep his voice neutral as he spoke, looking back down at the letters instead of his brother. “Did you find these at the Marquis’ estate?” He caught the way his brother shifted at the question. It was small and subtle but it cemented in his mind that he’d found something while they were there and it still stuck with him. For a moment he thought about the woman Kinley had killed and he tried to push it from his mind. The words lingered with him, because they were a mockery of everything he believed. Duty was sacrifice. He had come to accept that. “No,” Brayden told him. “The only letter I found was from the Viceroy, something involving donations to the guard, mentions of his late night excursions and a wedding invite. Nothing of import.” Gideon lifted an eyebrow at that because his brother had said it too quickly and too casually. He was smiling back at Gideon and it was a fake thing plastered across his face. “A wedding invitation?” he asked. “Who is getting married?” Brayden shrugged like it was no big deal. “Gisaine,” he said. “Do you really believe Duncan is still with the Emperor?” “Yes,” Gideon said simply, and nothing else. He stilled as he watched his brother and he felt the anger from that night fade. It explained why his brother had acted so defensive with him. It probably explained where he’d gone. Brayden wasn’t looking at him, his head turned to the side and Gideon could see the play of emotions there. Hurt and doubt waged over his features, even if it was only for a moment. “Is it by choice or by force?” Gideon asked quietly. Brayden shook his head. “I think force,” he said. He licked his lips and looked down at the table, fingers wandering across the letters. He wasn’t reading any of them, just spreading them out with idle hands. “I hope. I…” he hesitated, pain etched on his face. Then he smirked and shrugged it off. “I won’t know until I ask her myself. So you don’t think the Emperor’s in Essock?” “No,” he said, letting it drop for now. He had to because the alternative was that the man was dead. He would never have abandoned his duty or left Rivain’s side by choice. “When we find one, we will find the other.” The words were firm and unyielding. Brayden was quiet for a moment and he didn’t ask what his brother was thinking. He shifted through some of the papers idly and Gideon kept his hands flat because they were beginning to tremble from use. It was a stupid mistake, one Duncan wouldn’t have made, along with so many others. “Why did you ask me whether or not I would follow your orders?” his brother asked. Gideon snorted and tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Because Duncan isn’t here, and I am only your Captain.” Brayden winced at that, glancing up at Gideon’s face. “I meant nothing by those words,” he said quietly. Gideon shook his head, holding up a hand to stop his brother. “It doesn’t matter,” he told him. “I apologize for my anger. I should not have taken it out on you. You are right in saying Duncan isn’t here. I am. Whether that will be good enough remains to be seen.” Wenston Part Five 5.1 Torturer’s Chamber “Essocks,” the man said, pacing back and forth across the floor. His hands were clasped behind his back and his eyes were narrowed in thought. Corey hung there and he couldn’t feel his arms anymore. Blood trickled down his skin and it was hard to hold his head up against the pounding pain striking him behind the eyes. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out. His body had already betrayed him and his mind was threatening to do so. The man hadn’t asked him in a while what he originally wanted to know and for that, Corey was glad. He wasn’t sure if he’d still be able to hold out. The man paused suddenly and turned to look at him. “The Count De Montague,” he said simply and Corey glanced up at him. The man was just watching him for any reaction and Corey tried his hardest to keep any recognition off his face, but he already figured the man would be able to break it out of him if he tried. “We thought the Chosen had something to do with what happened to his son. We know the connection now.” Corey licked his lips. “It wasn’t like that,” he said hoarsely and he almost asked if he could have another drink of water. “It was arranged that Jacquies Montague would marry Gisaine Valencourt,” the man said harshly, walking forward to stand in front of Corey. “She has connection to Crowe.” “Yes,” Corey admitted. “But we didn’t know that at the time. That was between him and his brother only. We didn’t find out until later.” His voice grew desperate and pleading and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he didn’t want what happened to the man to fall on the Chosen. The man narrowed his eyes, a low growl escaping his lips. “So, you went to Essocks and found the rest of your comrades.” “Not all of them,” Corey whispered, ashamed to be admitting it. “And then you went after Montague.” “No!” Corey protested more vigorously The man lifted an eyebrow before reaching out and gripping Corey’s chin hard, leaving bruises on his already battered face. “The Chosen sought out and killed Jacquies Montague. We all know this. You killed that man.” Corey shook his head, tears slipping from his eyes at the memory. “No,” he whispered. “We tried to save him.” The man’s eyes narrowed and he let go of Corey’s chin. “Start at the beginning,” he demanded. Corey only nodded. 5.2 The Wayfarer’s Inn They decided to wait a few more days before actually leaving for Essocks. They’d made up various excuses for waiting, but the main unvoiced one was to let Gideon get most of his strength back. It took a while. He’d been fatigued and weak that first day and the second day had seemed worse, although he’d been in better health. It was just that his body had to get used to moving again. Brayden tried not to feel guilty that he had noticed his brother had been poisoned right away. It didn’t really work. The guilt ran deeper the more he thought about it. He hadn’t been focused that night. His mind had been clouded by the news of Gisaine’s marriage and it was a fools move. He needed to concentrate on the here and the now, instead of the life he used to have. It was easier said than done. Gideon hadn’t asked any more about it, but it didn’t keep him from glancing at Brayden worriedly when he thought he wasn’t looking. Brayden wanted to tell him not to worry, that he wouldn’t allow himself to be distracted or influenced by it anymore. It had been a rude awakening when his brother had asked if he would follow his orders. It had been a painful question and Brayden was still hurt his brother even had to ask. Of course he’d follow his orders. Had he ever not? Sure, he’d questioned him, but disobey him? Never. The thought had never crossed his mind either. Not until Piressa, at least. The Inn had been fairly quiet as of late. Not many travelers came through. Alain and Bianca stayed close to each other and even Jethro seemed to be calming down about it because he saw how tender Alain was with her and how doe eyed she got around him. Brayden thought that once this was all over, Alain would marry her. He could see it. They all could, even if Jethro wanted to deny it. They were good for each other. And having Jethro as a brother-in-law would be good for the man. “We’ll have to return to Lockhaven to find a ship to take us across,” Gideon said. Brayden rolled his head to the side. He was laying on the bar, his hands latched together behind his head and one leg swinging off the side as he looked up at the rafters above him. Jethro had stopped trying to tell him not to lay on the bar. Brayden hadn’t listened the first time and he wouldn’t listen now. There were no customers in the Inn and Brayden liked this spot. “I may know a captain who could fare us across,” Brayden said casually, a lazy smile on his face. Gideon looked up from the list on the table. Piressa sat next to him and Brayden hated to admit it, but he was growing accustom to her being ever present at his brother’s side. Hells, Brayden had even gotten her to laugh the other day. He felt some of the tension melting between them. “For a price.” Gideon lifted a brow. “What would he require?” he asked. Brayden shrugged, pushing himself up so he was sitting on the bar, his hands braced on either side of him. “Well, he’s a fan of coin and favors,” Brayden said, grinning. “And since we’re not exactly rolling in coin, it will have to be favor.” “What sort of favors?” Corey asked from where he stood behind the bar. The kid had been helping Jethro keep the place clean and tidy for visitors. He’d been pulling his weight. Ever since the Winters’ farm, the kid had been and Brayden understood now what Duncan had seen in the boy. He wasn’t the best fighter, but he was a soldier and he was loyal. “He may require us to steal something, or dispatch of someone, or simply want to lay with our elf friend over there,” Brayden said, giving Piressa a nasty smirk. She smirked back at him and said, “If he prefers blondes, he could lay with you.” It made Brayden laugh because she was quick with both knife and wit. He heard Gideon sigh, but more out of exasperation than annoyance. Their arguing had evolved into something more like banter. “Can he be trusted not to give us away to the Viceroy?” Gideon asked. Brayden licked his lips. “So long as we follow through on our end of the bargain, yes.” Gideon nodded. “Then when we get to Lockhaven, you’ll visit him and see what he requires,” he said. He glanced over to Alain and Bianca who were sitting quietly by the fireplace. “You two will be staying behind,” he said. Jethro glanced up at that and Gideon continued before he could go on. “Keep your eyes and ears open for signs of Duncan or the Emperor. Do not come looking for us if we do not return.” “Aye,” Brayden said waggling his brows at Alain. “We enjoy being tortured and mutilated and we would not want you to ruin it.” Alain snorted, but Gideon gave Brayden an annoyed look. He just shrugged. “Well, at least I do.” .Wolfie. 5.3 Eastern Highway – Coastal Road The closer they got to the city the more people they passed by. It was midday and there were plenty of caravans and messengers on the road to and from Lockhaven. Gideon tried not to be nervous about that. The more people saw them the more likely it was that they would be recognized and reported back to the guards or the Elites’ or even the damned Viceroy himself. He held himself stiffly, ignoring the slight twinge the scarred knot of nerves on his side sent through his flesh. Whatever Kinley had poisoned him with had passed through his system a few days ago but it had taken too long for him to get his strength back. “What is this Captain friend of yours like?” Corey asked. Gideon glanced over his shoulder at the three of them. Corey rode just behind Gideon, in the middle of the five of them, honestly so that he wouldn’t get lost. Lowport could be a nasty place and no matter how much the boy had been through in the last few months he still retained his innocence. Jethro rode behind Corey and had ignored Brayden’s requests for him to shave his head again. Especially when Bianca had told him that she liked it and braided his beard before they left, her way of saying goodbye. It made him look like a wild man but better that than like one of the Chosen. Brayden rode next to Jethro, the reins held loosely in his hands and his posture calm and relaxed. They hadn’t spoken more of Gisaine but Gideon didn’t doubt that she was still on his mind. Brayden snorted and grinned at the boy. “He’s what you’d expect a ship Captain in Lowport to be like.” Jethro chuckled at that, eyes turning skyward. “Treacherous, greedy, and foulmouthed?” “Don’t forget filthy and lecherous,” Brayden added. There was a smile on his face and were it anyone else Gideon wouldn’t have trusted this man they were taking him to see. “I wouldn’t want to sell Captain Cain short.” Corey frowned, looking over his shoulder at Brayden. “Are you sure he’s trustworthy?” he asked. Brayden outright laughed at that, riding up next to Corey so that he could sling his arm around his shoulder. Corey frowned at the motion, hands gripping his reins tightly. Gideon found it interesting that he seemed more at ease on a horse than he had been with a sword. “Of course he isn’t trustworthy, boy-o,” he said. “Which is exactly why we need him.” “If he were trustworthy than he’d do his duty and turn us in to the Viceroy on sight,” Jethro said. He lowered his voice as he did and his gaze wandered over the passersby. There was a man with a wagon riding up in front of them, crates of produce piled in the back of it. For a moment Gideon thought of the Winters’ and he wondered if they were well. If the Raven had found them there was nothing to say that someone else might do the same, but at least the Crowes were no longer there to put them in danger. “He may do that anyway, if the coin is right,” Piressa said, calm as she spoke, riding along at Gideon’s side. The road wound next to the sea and it was a sharp drop off to the ragged rocks below. From here they could see ships sitting in the Lowport docks. “The same could be said for you,” Brayden said cheerfully. Gideon sighed and ran a hand over his face but he didn’t tell them to stop. Their arguing had turned into something playful and as long as neither of them were trying to gut or poison each other he would take it. It meant Brayden wasn’t asking him to explain why she was still here and why he couldn’t give him a straight answer. “Or you,” Piressa shot back. She was on his mind more than she should have been. He was sharply aware of her presence, whether she was at his side or across the room. There were moments of stillness where he found his gaze straying to her, just studying her face and the way her hair fell into her eyes. Whenever he found himself doing so he forced himself to look away but there was a tension lingering between them that he was trying desperately to ignore. It led to nothing good. Brayden chuckled. “And here I thought I spent all those months on the run just for the fun of it. Doing it for the coin makes so much more sense. I thank you for your insight.” He managed a mocking bow from the saddle, the smile still on his face. “Glad to help,” she said. “I would hate to see you strain yourself.” “Ah well, if you’re sitting on coin than perhaps you could simply buy off your Captain Cain instead of tying ourselves to him,” Jethro said. He smirked at Brayden but there was truth behind his words that Gideon didn’t like. He didn’t like owing favors to anyone, especially a pirate Captain who would hold their lives in his hands. It made him uneasy, and while he would still do what was required, he didn’t intend to turn his back on the man. Brayden vouched for him and that counted for much, but he wasn’t comfortable with it. Essocks was a brutal place and they would all have to watch themselves there. He wondered who they would find in Essocks, if anyone at all. Either Tristan and Miren were most likely, because last he’d seen them they’d fled towards Lowport, but he didn’t discount Stephen. He doubted it was Duncan. A part of him worried that the man was dead, because wouldn’t he have sent word by now if he wasn’t? He would have found them one way or another and taken command of the Chosen as he’d always done. Duncan was a force of nature, and the only person Gideon trusted besides Brayden. “Ah, but then you would get everything for free instead of having to work for it,” Brayden said. He sat back on his horse, lacing his fingers behind his head and looking up at the sky. “I’m trying to teach Corey here the value of hard work.” “I hope you’re not trying to lead by example,” Corey shot back. It drew a booming laugh from Jethro and an almost surprised glance from Brayden as he looked over at the boy. He had a cocky smirk on his face that made Gideon smile because it resembled one of his brother’s. He wasn’t sure if it made him proud. The last thing he needed was two Braydens. “Of course not,” Brayden finally said. He smirked and nodded his head at Gideon. “That’s what my brother is for.” “Don’t involve me in this,” Gideon told him shortly, keeping the smile from his face. Brayden chuckled at that and gestured a hand lazily at Gideon. “And you prove my point.” His eyes closed after that, the smile still on his lips as he tilted his head up towards the sun. It was bright and cloudless and Gideon hoped it stayed that way for when they sailed. They saw more and more people as they traveled, the road widening as they grew closer to Lockhaven. He found himself tensing, eyes watching the walls rise up in front of him. He had seen the city the night they raided the Marquis Du Coleur’s estate, but it felt different somehow. He’d had no time to process that this place had once been his home. He’d lived in Lockhaven for years, even bought a house in Champion’s Way. He would have raised his son here, and now it felt like a foreign territory. This place belonged to the Viceroy now. It was no more his home than Essocks was and he ignored the slight pain he felt at that. “We have very few legends about the sea,” Piressa said quietly. He glanced over at the sound of her voice, and her head was turned away from him, eyes focused on the waters. She’d pulled her hood up over her head some time ago to try and hide the pointed ears that would mark her elven. They were uncommon enough in the city that she might be noticed, but even so he wouldn’t leave her behind on this. She turned, a smile pulling at her lips as she looked at him. “But I can tell you one if you like.” He hesitated. Not because the others were behind him, but because he enjoyed the way she smiled at him. He found himself nudging his horse closer to hers even so, so that he could hear her better and nothing more. “Tell me then,” he said. She smiled and then turned to nod her head at the oceans. “It is said that there are fae folk that live within the sea, that they were once much like our own people. One day, after the Lord Ferrin fled from his brother’s vengeance, he came upon one of these folk on the shore. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever witnessed, and he was drawn by the sound of her singing.” Brayden snorted from behind him. “I’ve heard this one before. It doesn’t have a happy ending.” She shot an annoyed glance over her shoulder and Brayden seemed oblivious to it, his head still tipped back towards the sun. Corey seemed fascinated by how he kept his horse going the same direction with only his knees. “You know elven legends?” she asked. He shrugged his shoulders. “I get around,” he said. Gideon leaned forward to catch her eyes. “Go on,” he said. “What happened next?” She hesitated only for a moment and then nodded her head, eyes watching the road wind ahead of them. “Ferrin fell instantly in love with the nymph Camellia, and she with him. So enthralled was she that she agreed to leave the sea behind and go on the run with him.” She shook her head afterwards, eyes tracing the blue horizon line. “But she grew to miss the sea. It wore away at her like a sickness, and soon not even her love for Ferrin was enough to sustain her through the loss.” “Ferrin saw her sadness deepening and he asked her ‘What can I do to relieve this melancholy?’ Camellia told him ‘I wish only to sea the ocean again, my love.’ And Ferrin told her, ‘Ask me anything else, but I cannot give you that.’ So she smiled and tried to ignore the ache in her heart and said ‘Then give me only your love.’” She glanced at Gideon, who watched her face as she spoke. “But the sadness continued to eat away at her, and Ferrin asked her again what he could do to make her happy. Her answer was the same. And on the thrice time he asked and received the same answer, Ferrin grew angry, and he cursed her.” “He cursed her?” Corey asked, leaning forward in his saddle. Brayden chuckled next to him, eyes still shut. Piressa nodded her head at the sea next to them. “He dragged her back here and threw her in. He said to her ‘If that is what you desire more than my love, than you shall have it. But you shall never feel my embrace again.’ He left her in the ocean she had longed for and she found herself trapped by his curse, unable to leave the waves and set foot on the shore again.” Brayden sat forward abruptly, bracing his arms across the pommel of his saddle. “So she calls to him from the sea, begging her love to return, and instead she guides sailors to their deaths.” There was a grin on his face and then he nodded his head. “We are here.” Wenston 5.4 Lockhaven – The Docks The docks were bustling, as usual. Merchant ships, pirates, explorers – they all stopped at the Lockhaven docks due to its accessibility to other ports. It seemed that recently the guards had loosened their grip on pirate traffic as well. There used to be a day where the guards had to register every newcomer to Lockhaven as well. But now, it seemed they let anyone dock and travel their streets. It may be a reason Lowport had gone so downhill recently. Pirates where making it their haven. Brayden led the way through the streets and as they headed down a case of thick stone stairs that opened up to the wooden boardwalk of the docks, Brayden quickly scanned the ships. He’d spotted Captain Cain the last time he’d been in Lowport, getting supplies from Pock and he didn’t think the man had looked like he was going to sail anytime soon. Sure enough, he saw Cain’s ship docked further on up and from where he stood, he could see the larger than life man himself, dressed in a fancy overcoat with a feathered hat with the feathers of a peacock. He had dark black hair that hung down to his mid back and a beard that went all the way to his chest. He’d braided beads and feathers into it and his skin was darkened from days out at sea. Cain was a force to be reckoned with. Clearing his throat as he led them down there, he looked over his shoulder at Gideon before he stopped abruptly and turned fully around. The others gave him a curious look. “Before we go down there,” Brayden said and hesitated, which caused a sour look to pass across his brother’s face. Brayden just grinned and tipped his head side to side. “Whatever happens, just let me handle it.” “You’re not instilling great confidence,” Gideon told him plainly. Brayden snorted and shrugged, turning back around. “If he draws blood, by all means, stab him,” he said and he heard Piressa scoff. “But otherwise, just leave him to me.” “Are you sure this man is your friend?” Corey asked quietly as they started approaching where Captain Cain stood. “I never said that,” Brayden told him, turning his head over his shoulder, but keeping his eyes on the captain. “I just said I knew him.” He held up a hand, motioning for them to stop. “Wait here.” The others, thankfully, did as Brayden asked. He walked forward and his feet were silent on the boardwalk. But even so, as he approached the captain, he could hear the small click of the man’s sword being unlatched from its sheath. Brayden was fairly certain the man wouldn’t kill him on sight. He’d dealt with him before and he knew how to get the captain to do as he asked. He just had to make the captain think that he had the upper hand. Brayden had never given the man the impression that he could beat him in a fight. “Cain,” Brayden called, louder than what was necessary. “I’d recognize that handsome hat anywhere.” He braced himself, because he knew what came next. He made sure one of his arms was out further than his body, making it easier for the captain. It was the normal way the man greeted him. Captain Cain turned around, quick, but nothing that Brayden couldn’t dodge away from if he wanted to. The Captain grabbed his arm and was flinging him forward with brute strength that Brayden respected. Brayden’s lower back hit some crates and he was bent backwards, the man slamming him down onto the crates with his sword held to his throat and the other holding his arm across his chest. Brayden’s other hand hovered near a hidden dagger in his tunic, just in case, but he didn’t draw it. “Boone,” Cain said the name Brayden had given him when they first met, his voice booming and deep. “I could kill you where you stand.” Brayden grinned up at the man. “You could,” he agreed and then his eyes flicked towards Gideon and the others standing behind him. “But my friends would most likely be upset they came all this way for nothing.” Cain turned his head to look over his shoulder sharply and Brayden was more than proud when he saw Gideon and everyone, even Piressa, had their blades drawn. None of them had come at Cain yet, but their weapons were at the ready. Gideon’s face was puckered into something dark and he knew he would be hearing about this stunt later. An unnecessary risk, Gideon would say. Brayden would just shrug it off. He did a lot of things that were unnecessary. Cain seemed to eye of the them, smirking as he turned back to look down at Brayden, whose back was starting to strain from the unusual position. “This is the first time you’ve brought in the cavalry,” he said lowly. “Not cavalry,” Brayden said. “Business partners.” Cain seemed to think this over for a moment before smiling and pulling his sword away from Brayden’s throat. He yanked him up and Brayden was surprised with the force the man used, nearly yanking his shoulder out of its socket as he flung him to a standing position and turned him around. He slapped him hard on the back, a loud smack ringing out and the motion left his skin tingling afterwards. He winced, but more for show because it made Cain feel like he was in control. “I’m all stocked up on business partners,” Cain said and shoved Brayden back towards the others. He saw Gideon’s eyes narrow and Brayden gave him a look before turning back around and holding his hands out to the side. “What are you talking about?” Brayden said, his voice unnaturally high pitched and desperate sounding. He was good at playing the fool when he wanted to be. “You owe me from that time with the thing in that place.” Cain’s eyes narrowed, but his hand came up to pull on his beard. He pointed his sword at Brayden’s chest and it didn’t surprise him when Gideon came to stand up next to him. He wanted to remind him that he could handle this. “I owe you nothing but a sword in the gut.” Before Brayden could answer, Gideon spoke up and Brayden grit his teeth. “You are going to put your blade away now,” he said calmly. Piressa moved up next to Gideon and Brayden rubbed a hand across his eyes because this was why he hated working with other people. He could do this sort of stuff alone and he should have told them to wait further back. Cain eyed Gideon up and down before looking back at Brayden. “Who is this?” he demanded. “Your wet nurse?” Brayden held up his hands, purposely stepping between his brother and Cain, acting oblivious to the swords still drawn. “This man here,” he said, pointing back at Gideon. “Is Lockhaven’s most prominent thief.” His brother’s eyes flashed to him and Brayden just kept grinning like a fool. “He could steal breath from a dead man. That’s how good he is.” Cain snorted, sheathing his sword. “I don’t believe you,” he said bluntly. “He doesn’t look like a thief.” The man had walked right into Brayden’s trap. He grinned and looked back at Gideon. “Boris,” he said, and if he didn’t know Gideon well enough, he would have missed the look he gave him at the nickname. “Empty your pockets, would you?” Gideon lifted and eyebrow, hesitated with putting his sword away, but then did as Brayden asked. Brayden almost couldn’t contain his laughter at the look on Gideon’s face when he pulled a coinpurse from his pocket which hadn’t been there moments ago. Cain’s eyes widened, his hands instantly going to his belt. He looked down at himself and then glared a murderous look at Gideon. “You dirty son of a whore!” Cain shouted. Brayden snatched the coinpurse from Gideon’s hand and handed it back to Cain before the man could express his outrage. “Just a test of his skill,” he lied easily, pleased with himself. He’d snatched the coinpurse while Cain had him pinned to the crates. “Boris can steal anything you’d ever want or need.” Brayden waved his hands between himself and the others. “We need passage to Essocks. So the question becomes, what is it you need and how can we offer our services?” For a moment, he didn’t think the man was going to bite. But then a slow smile curled the man’s lips. “Essocks eh?” Brayden nodded. “Well, if we’re going to be there…” .Wolfie. 5.5 Lowport – The Screaming Wench “You’re a fool,” Gideon snapped. He waited until they’d made it to the Screaming Wench and settled at a table in the corner. The place was supposedly named after the proprietor’s wife, and if Gideon had to guess he’d say she was the woman working the bar. It was filthy and dirty and there were too many people with too many knives on them, but it was where Captain Archon was and that was exactly who they were looking for. They had a good view of him from where they sat, and the man already looked three sheets to the wind. He was laughing loudly as he played cards with a few other pirates, but his eyes were cold and calculating as he watched his fellows. He was a grizzled man, gray hair held back out of his tan and scarred face by a large black hat. A coarse white beard covered his jaw and he wore a black coat over his bulk. Beneath it Gideon could belts crisscrossing his chest and knives jammed into them haphazardly. The only thing he kept closer than the coin he won was the pint of ale at his elbow, a mug he’d already drained thrice. The barmaid kept it filled for him with a smile on her face, one that faded as soon as she walked away from him. “I had it under control.” Brayden was cheerful and unconcerned. He tipped back in the chair next to Gideon, casually studying their target. Corey sat across from him, the boy looking wide eyed and enthralled. His gaze kept wandering around the tavern and Gideon couldn’t help but wonder if he shouldn’t have left him behind on this one. Essocks would be worse. “The man had a blade to your throat,” Gideon said sharply, not ready to let it go yet. His brother had taken a stupid risk and he needed to make sure that he knew it. Or at least that Gideon knew it. “Explain to me how you were in control of that.” “He wasn’t going to kill me,” Brayden said confidently. It made Gideon’s frown deepen and Brayden sighed heavily. He gestured a hand over his head. “Look, it makes the man feel all safe and secure if he thinks that he can kill me whenever he wants. And in return I get the element of surprise if it ever does come down to that.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Gideon, an expression he did not return. “Besides, if anything I should be berating you for almost ruining a perfect set-up.” “You should have warned me,” Gideon snapped. Brayden sighed again. “If I’d warned you, than you wouldn’t have let me do it.” “Because you acted the fool. It was a stupid risk, one we cannot afford.” He glared at his brother but he didn’t flinch. He waited patiently with one eyebrow raised until Gideon sighed, running a hand over his face and looking away. It was a risk, but the man had done as Brayden thought and asked his favor of them. It didn’t mean he was happy about it. “And Boris?” he asked. Brayden’s grin widened and it just made Gideon’s eyes narrow. “That was the best you could come up with?” “Didn’t we know a Boris?” Jethro asked. He held a pint in his hand and he lifted an eyebrow at Brayden before he took a swig of it. A mug sat in front of each of them because it would look suspicious otherwise, but Jethro was the only one drinking. “Wasn’t he a drunk and a damned card cheat? Didn’t we kick him out?” “Yes,” Gideon snapped. “Yes we did.” Brayden laughed and gave Gideon an innocent grin. “I’d forgotten about him. Honest.” Piressa laughed abruptly and he glanced over her at the sound of it. She was sitting in the chair next to him, a smile on her lips as she studied his face. “What?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders. “I never thought I’d see you so angry over something so petty.” “I’m not angry,” Gideon said. She lifted her eyebrow in amusement and he felt a smile pulling at his own lips. “And it’s not petty.” She laughed again and he fought back the smile, turning his head away from her. He nodded his head in the Captain’s direction as he looked at his brother, expression hardening. “What do you know about the man?” Brayden’s eyes narrowed as he studied the man. “I haven’t dealt with him myself,” he admitted. “But from what I hear he can’t abide cheaters and is overly quick with a blade. Apparently he would rather kill first and not waste his time with questions. He wasn’t allowed to dock in Lowport after an incident saw five men dead, including two of the guard. Apparently his ban has been lifted.” His gaze returned to Gideon and he smirked. “But he’s got the same vices as any of the pirates under his command. He likes gambling, ale, and loose women. We should be able to take advantage of that one way or another.” Corey sat forward, his eyes lighting up with a childlike innocence as he focused on Brayden. “Maybe you could get him to bet it against you in a game of cards. Oh, or you could challenge him to a duel to the death. Pirates do that, right?” Brayden snorted, lifting an eyebrow curiously at Corey. “I think it concerns me just how much glee you’re getting out of this. Do you wish you were a pirate, Temple? Or have Gram’s stories gone to your head?” Corey blushed at that, slumping back in his seat and pulling his arms into his chest. Brayden chuckled and then glanced at Gideon, shrugging his shoulders. “But a man like that, I could see him getting foolish with his bets after enough ale. Maybe Temple’s onto something.” Gideon sighed, scrubbing a hand over his mouth as he looked back at the table. The man poured another mug of ale down his throat, spilling it over his beard before he slammed it down on the table. “Wench,” he yelled over his shoulder. “More ale!” The barmaid was leaned against the counter and Gideon could see her sigh heavily before gesturing for another pint. “And if the man decides you’re a cheat?” Gideon asked. He didn’t have any better ideas, aside from killing the man and taking the key. Cain had told them that he kept it around his neck, and he could see the glint of it from here. Brayden shrugged, pushing himself to his feet. “Then we find out which one of us is quicker than a blade.” Gideon’s eyes narrowed at that but his brother was already sauntering across the tavern, a foolish grin plastered on his face as he fell into a seat by Archon. The man looked him over suspiciously and Gideon was too far away to hear what words were passed, but in a moment the suspicion was replaced by a booming laugh. He watched the man gesture at his table and wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or concerned when they started dealing his brother into the next game. It could end badly. All of this could. He knew it was a worthwhile risk. They needed the key so that Cain would take them to Essocks, but he didn’t feel any comforted by that knowledge. He couldn’t help but think his life used to be simpler than this. He didn’t make deals. He guarded the Emperor and that was all. It was hard to take, just what his duty had become. Once he’d thought he had nothing more to sacrifice. He had been wrong. There was always something more to take away. There was always one more line that had to be crossed in the name of the Emperor and it was sad because the man that wore that title wasn’t even the one Gideon had sworn his life to. “Do you think he’s going to fall for it?” Corey asked. He leaned his elbows on the table, gaze focused on the Captain’s table. It was right in the center of the bar and no one walking in could miss who was in charge here. He had an easy laugh but Gideon had no doubts that the man would be laughing just as freely while he was killing a man. For his part, Brayden had a foolish grin slapped on his own face and he looked casual and at ease as he slumped back in his chair. “Don’t stare,” Jethro said, taking another swallow from his mug. “You’ll draw attention to us.” “We could just take it off his corpse,” Piressa said calmly. Jethro snorted at that, eyes narrowing at her from across the table. The man was still untrustworthy of her, but he’d said nothing more to Gideon and most times he satisfied his discomfort by simply ignoring her. “We could,” he agreed, his voice harsh. “And we could draw a whole new mess of trouble down on top of us for doing so.” “I believe either Brayden or I would be capable of killing the man with the sort of subtlety you’d require,” she said. The words were directed at Gideon. His attention was on his brother and he was trying to ignore the worry squeezing his heart. “I believe that as well,” he said. “And if it becomes necessary than we will do so.” She nodded her head and then then glanced over her shoulder at the man. She watched him for a moment, a grin on his face as he gathered his winnings. Gideon didn’t ask where his brother had gotten the small stack of coins in front of him. He’d probably lifted it from any number of the drunken fools he’d had to pass by to get to the table. Just as he’d lifted the coinpurse from Cain and Gideon some things Gideon would never get used to. “Just get your elf to bed him,” Jethro said. He smirked and lifted his mug in her direction in a mocking toast. She glared back at him, unamused and unimpressed. “That has subtlety.” “I will do it if you ask it of me.” The words were quiet and cold as she spoke to him. Gideon shot a glance at her, one eyebrow lifted. He found himself disliking the thought of it with a sharp intensity. “Your word is my will.” Gideon’s face darkened and he looked away from her and back to the table. He took a long pull from the pint of ale in front of him as he considered what she was offering. He wondered if she would really bed the man at his command and his voice was cold and harsh when he spoke. “I prefer the idea of taking it from his corpse,” he said. Wenston Brayden was a liar by nature. It came with ease and no difficulty. Lies flowed off his tongue and if he really thought hard about it, they defined who he was. His whole life felt like a lie, and maybe that’s why it came so naturally to him. Maybe that’s why he had no doubt he’d be able to get the key from around that man’s neck without having to draw a blade or threaten the man. In fact, he was pretty sure the man would hand it over willingly. It may be going too far to say with a smile on his face, but if he tried hard enough, he could probably do that too. The game he was playing with Archon and another man, Gallagher, was a simple one. It involved cards and a coin pot in the middle and they would take turns drawing and matching up cards to see who could get the most. It was simple because it was a game played by drunks and anything more complex wouldn’t be acceptable. Brayden spent the first few rounds studying the others and slipping cards into Gallagher’s pockets while the man wasn’t looking. The other two were so far gone, he didn’t have to try hard to mask his nimble fingers mixing up the cards and controlling the hands they each got. With Brayden’s help, Gallagher was winning hand after hand and so far, Archon didn’t seem too upset or suspicious about it. “You know what they should put on these cards here?” Archon slurred loudly. Brayden glanced up at him, grinning. If the man hadn’t been a mark, Brayden would have probably found himself liking the guy. He hoped Archon didn’t try anything, because Brayden might actually feel bad about killing him. “Drawings of naked women.” The comment brought an overly boisterous laugh from Brayden’s throat and Gallagher just scoffed and put down a pair of cards, grinning because it was obvious he was going to win this round too. “You don’t think that would be distracting to the players?” Gallagher asked. Archon lifted one of his bushy eyebrows at the skinnier man and then looked at Brayden as if he expected him to back him up. “What do you say? Would you be distracted if there was a big old pair of breasts on your cards? You don’t want to see a lady with her legs spread while you’re picking out your pairs?” Brayden smirked and the vulgarity. “It wouldn’t distract me,” he said, shrugging and drawing a card of his own. “It might only be distracting to those who weren’t familiar with the finer parts of a woman.” That drew a booming laugh from Archon and he reached over to slap Brayden on the back. Brayden grinned and thought he would have a decent size bruise there when this was all over if pirates didn’t stop slapping him. “Them finer parts is the only parts a man needs,” Archon said and Brayden snorted. Archon looked down at his hand and then across at the cards Gallagher had already laid down. He frowned and threw his hand down in forfeit. “I can’t beat your damn hand again.” Gallagher smiled brightly and put his hand down, pulling the coins in the middle towards him. “It must be my lucky day today, boys,” he said. “I ain’t never won this many hands at once.” The words were what Brayden was hoping for and he glanced up at Archon’s face, watching it darken as his eyes narrowed at Gallagher, who seemed oblivious to the scrutiny. “You have been winning an awful lot,” Archon said. “How many hands has he won so far?” Brayden shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, I don’t know. Five or six.” He looked up at Archon, making himself look oblivious. “Why? What are you getting at?” The words made Gallagher still, obviously having been aware of Archon’s aversion to cheaters. The man was half out of his chair, arms around the coins in the middle, pulling them towards himself. “It’s lady luck, Archon,” Gallagher said, a nervous tic to his voice. “That’s all it is.” “Bullshit,” Archon yelled so loud it quieted everyone else in the tavern. His fists slammed down on the table and Brayden jumped a little, just for show. He scooted back from the table as Archon stood up and drew a dagger, pointing it across towards Gallagher. “Let’s see them pockets,” he demanded. Brayden looked between the two of them, his eyes going towards Gideon across the tavern and he saw all of their eye on him. He gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head and he saw his brother’s hand fall away from the sword at his side. “Alright, alright!” Gallagher cried, holding his hands up. He reached into his pockets and Brayden fought back the smirk when he saw the man’s eyes widen in surprise. He drew several cards out of his pocket and looked down at them like he wasn’t sure what they were. He saw the color drain from Gallagher’s face and then Archon was roaring with anger and knocking the table over to get to the man. Brayden scooted back further and he watched Archon grab the back of Gallagher’s tunic, shoving him towards the door. “You’re lucky you’re my cousin, you low life dog sharting son of a reaver.” Brayden lifted his brow at the insult, it was a new one on him. He watched Archon literally throw Gallagher out of the Screaming Wench before he came back over and picked the table up with one hand, slamming it back into place before he sat back down at it and gathered up the cards. Brayden sat there, doing his best to look awkward before Archon looked up at him. “Well?” Archon demanded. “You still want to play, don’t you?” “Uh, yes,” Brayden said, sounding nervous and trapped. He scooted his chair closer and held his hands in his lap, fidgeting while he looked around. “But I’m afraid that was the last of my coin.” Archon paused in shuffling the cards to look at him. Brayden shrugged. “I don’t have much else to…” he trailed off and then did his best to look surprised. “Wait, I do have something.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple stick the length of his finger and set it down on the table. He grinned up at Archon, who glanced at it and then narrowed his eyes at Brayden. “What the hells is that?” he demanded. Brayden glanced down at it, snorted and acted like he thought Archon was joking. When the man didn’t say anything, Brayden reached forward and ran his fingers down the stick. “This is a guise,” he said simply. At Archon’s confused look Brayden pointed across the tavern at Piressa, who’s eyes widened slightly. “See that elf over there?” he asked. “Well, this is a guise that’s supposed to make you irresistible to women. And I know it works, because I bed that,” he pointed at Piressa, who scowled at him again even though she couldn’t tell what he was saying. “Every night.” Archon watched Piressa a moment before looking back down at the stick. “You really bed that fine thing every night?” “Why do you think I wouldn’t be distracted by naked women on my playing cards?” Brayden asked and Archon smirked. “I’ve got one of my very own. And I could have any I wanted. As long as I have this guise.” Brayden leaned back. “What do you have to offer?” Archon bit his lip for a moment, looking back down at the stick on the table before he reached for the key around his neck. He placed it down on the table and grinned up at Brayden. “That,” he said simply. Frowning, Brayden picked up the key. “What is this?” he asked, turning it over in front of his eyes and looking unimpressed. “Is this even valuable?” he asked and bit at the metal to test it. Archon reached forward and snatched it out of his hands, holding it away from him. “Of course it’s valuable,” he said. “The most valuable thing I’ve ever owned.” Brayden snorted. “I don’t think it’s as valuable as my guise.” Falling right into his trap, Archon’s eyes widened and he slammed the key down onto the table. “I bet it’s more valuable than your damn guise. And you’re going to play me for it right now. Whoever wins takes both.” Brayden sighed, scratching at his head. “I don’t know…” he said. “What would I want with a key that I don’t know what it opens?” Archon pointed a finger at him. “It’s the key to Victory.” Giving it another dramatic pause, Brayden twitched his mouth side to side before sighing and rolling his eyes. “I’m going to regret this,” he said, grabbing the cards and starting to shuffle. .Wolfie. “Behold,” Brayden said. “The key to Victory.”Gideon watched his brother slump into the chair next to him, a wicked grin on his face. He reached a hand up, lifting the metal chain with his thumb so that they could all see the key glinting on the end of it. He studied it for a moment, watching it spin slowly in his brother’s fingers. The only thing that marked it different from an ordinary skeleton key were the tiny runes etched into the gray metal. He wondered what they meant and why the man wanted it so badly, but not enough to ask. It was between pirates. His only concern was getting to Essocks and finding the rest of the Chosen. Jethro snorted, leaning across the table to squint at the key. Brayden left it there for a moment but when he started to pull it back and tuck it safely inside his shirt Jethro grasped it in one massive hand and practically dragged Brayden across the table to look at it. He frowned, lifting an eyebrow and glancing up at Brayden. “Fancy name for such a little key,” he said. “It probably unlocks something even fancier,” Brayden said, his voice somewhat strained. “Also, you’re choking me.” Jethro’s eyes widened and he released it quickly, letting him slump back into his seat. “Thanks,” he chuckled. “Like pirate treasure,” Corey said, his eyes glinting with excitement. Brayden snorted out a laugh but he nodded his head at that. “Probably,” he agreed. Then he glanced up at Gideon, nodding his head casually to the side. Archon was still at his table, a mug near his elbow, but no one was playing him at the moment so his gaze was lingering on Brayden. He didn’t look angry, just deeply disappointed and his gaze shifted to Piressa. Gideon found himself tensing at the way he studied her. “We should probably clear out before the man realizes what he’s lost and decides he wants it back.” “Agreed,” Gideon said. His voice was calm and cold as he pushed himself to his feet, the others following suit. He left a few silver on the table for their ale, most of left untouched. He was happy to leave this place. There were too many people with too many blades and there was a reason Lowport had always had a bad reputation. It concerned him how easily his brother fit in here. He wondered some days why his brother had joined the Chosen at all. That had been Gideon’s dream. He wondered if his brother would have been content with the life of an assassin and truthfully he hoped he never knew the answer. “Smile pretty,” Brayden said. Gideon glanced over his shoulder when he did, but the words were directed at Piressa. She lifted an eyebrow curiously at him as Brayden slung an arm around her shoulders, a wide grin on his face. He lowered his voice, mouth moving close to her ear as he spoke. “At least pretend you enjoy my company, elf,” he said cheerfully. “I’d hate for the old man to realize he’d been duped.” A glance behind them showed Archon still watching them on their way out, a grin on his scared face. A cold, fake smile curled her lips as she did as he said. She tilted her head curiously at him, allowing Brayden to guide her to the door. “Tell me, Boone,” she said through tightly gritted teeth. “Just what did you bet against his key?” “Trade secrets,” Brayden said, casting his grin and a farewell wave back at Captain Archon. The man started laughing and Gideon didn’t want to know why. Then he cupped a hand around his mouth, his voice loud and booming. “Boone,” he yelled across the bar. Brayden grinned, pausing to look back at him with his arm still slung around Piressa’s shoulders. “Bed her once for me.” He had a lecherous grin on his face and he shot her a wink afterwards. Brayden tipped his head back and laughed at the words, pulling Piressa close against his side. “We’ll see if there’s time once I’m done with her,” he yelled back. Archon laughed loudly, probably finding it funnier than it was thanks to all the ale he’d been drinking. As soon as they left the tavern she pulled away from Brayden, brushing his hand from her shoulders. He let her go, lacing his fingers behind his head as he fell into step next to Corey. Jethro brought up the rear, keeping a hand on his blade as he watched their backs. The alleys around them were dark and dangerous at this hour, and they didn’t need more trouble. Piressa slid back to his side but Gideon was watching his brother with narrowed eyes and he found it impossible to say just why he was annoyed. His brother noticed the look and just shrugged his shoulders. “What?” he asked, the grin never wavering. Corey reached over to try and lift the key from Brayden’s shirt and his brother knocked the kid’s hand away before he got his fingers near it. He frowned, turning to walk backwards next to Brayden and looking at him curiously. His nervousness was steadily fading and Gideon had to admit that he was starting to see some of what Duncan had spotted in the boy. “What are we going to with it?” he asked. “Are we going to hand it over to Cain? Without even knowing what it opens?” Brayden snorted and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Now you’re going to stay quiet and let me do the talking,” he said. Gideon frowned at the words, glancing over his shoulder at his brother. “We did the man his favor. Will he hold up his end?” “Probably,” Brayden said. His tone was calm and unconcerned and he shrugged his shoulders in a casual manner. It did nothing to reassure Gideon and he wondered if they could trust the man. Probably not, but they’d be putting their lives in his hands. If he knew who they were than he could easily betray them once they reached Essocks, if not before. Just being in Lockhaven was a risk. There were fewer guards in Lowport but they were there just the same and Gideon was wary of them. He doubted any would be men he recognized at this point, but all it took was one of them to have seen him or Brayden or Jethro and they were made. Gideon snorted, looking ahead of them down the docks. “Sometimes I think you enjoy making me uneasy.” “Of course I do,” Brayden told him cheerfully. “It keeps you on your toes.” He was the only one that seemed completely at ease here and it was opening Gideon’s eyes about his brother. He had done this all the time. As Chosen, probably before, this was the kind of life his brother had lived and Gideon had never known about it. He wasn’t sure if it made him more comfortable or less. “Just don’t attempt to bully the man again, it only makes him harder to deal with.” Gideon glanced over his shoulder at his brother with a narrowed gaze. Brayden was watching him, some of the joviality faded from his expression. He meant the words. “Then he will keep his blade from your throat,” he snapped. Brayden snorted and watched him for a moment before a slow grin spread across his lips. Gideon didn’t know what the smile was for but he looked away. He quickened his steps, moving ahead of Gideon and walking backwards so that he could look into his face. “You know,” he said. “It’s almost sweet how protective you’ve gotten. It makes me feel all warm on the inside.” “You’re a fool,” Gideon told him. It only made his brother smile wider. “Boone,” a woman called. Gideon didn’t think to glance up at the sound of it but when his brother’s head turned towards the voice it reminded him that they didn’t know him as Brayden here. It was dangerous to be a Crowe in Lowport, especially now. It would take some getting used to. The woman who’d called to him was leaning casually against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest and a foot propped up on the crate next to her. She looked bored, cleaning the dirt and blood. from beneath her nails with a knife. “You are Boone, yes?” she asked, studying Brayden with a quick sweep of her eyes. Brayden grinned and gave her a sweeping, clumsy bow. He fell easily into the role of the fool, and Gideon wondered if half these people realized what an act it was. “I am Boone,” he said. “At your service.” Her eyes narrowed farther and then she snorted, shaking her head at him. “Thought it might be,” she said. A sigh left her lips and then she straightened up, jerking her head towards the bay. “Captain Cain said he’d be waiting for you on the ship. He’s in his quarters finishing up some last minute arrangements so that we can set sail tomorrow. Don’t know what the rush is, but that’s why I ain’t the Captain.” She didn’t wait for them to follow, sheathing her knife and heading off down the docks. Brayden hurried his steps to catch up to her, the foolish grin still on his face. “I’ll follow you then,” he said. The woman rolled her eyes, looking annoyed and irritated just to be burdened with their presence, but Gideon wasn’t watching her. He was watching his brother, the way his hands strayed towards the knives he kept hidden out of sight and the subtle change in his posture. It was reaffirmed when he glanced over his shoulder at Gideon. The smile faded until he glanced down at the hand Gideon kept around his blade. Then he smirked and gave him the tiniest nod of his head. Whatever he suspected, he didn’t say it out loud, but Gideon tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. Wenston “So, what’s your name?” Brayden asked, his thumbs hooked into his belt. It wasn’t all for show or comfort, he kept his hands near his blades. He was trying to make small talk with the woman who’d shown up looking for Boone, but his eyes were moving about their surroundings. He had a suspicion. A sneaking suspicion that things were not quite what they seemed. This was out of the ordinary for Cain. The man didn’t prepare to sail. He just sailed. Something was wrong. The woman beside him sighed. “Kate,” she said, annoyed. He glanced back over at her and grinned, trying to play along until he knew what danger they were in. He was up front with her, but he kept his eyes everywhere. He’d brought them to Cain and if the man betrayed them now, it was on Brayden’s head and that was unacceptable. He’d never willingly put anyone but himself into danger. “You need more of a pirate name,” Brayden told her. She looked like a pirate. Her dark hair hanging loosely and beads tucked into some of the strands. She had bracelets that clanged around her wrists and ankles, and a belt that hung low on her hips, looped metal rings that jangled as she walked. There had been a time in his life when he would have found her extremely attractive. But she probably had more diseases than all of Lowport put together. She looked like that kind of woman. “Anyone ever told you, you talk too much?” Kate snapped at him. Brayden grinned. “Nope,” he shook his head. “They can’t get a word in to do it.” His eyes zeroed in on the ship as they started approaching it. There were some crew above deck, tying off ropes and securing cargo. Everyone else must have been beneath deck and Brayden didn’t see hardly anyone on the docks. That solidified in his head that something was wrong. The streets were quiet. It meant someone was here who shouldn’t be. “The Captain downstairs you said?” Brayden asked, hurrying up the dock and boarding the ship alongside Kate. She gave him a foul look and he just grinned foolishly at her. Kate nodded her head and then rolled her eyes, turning to walk over to one of the crew members. Brayden watched her a moment and the two of them just seemed to be standing there waiting. Glancing back at Gideon, the others were just walking up the plank to board the ship. He grinned at his brother. “Boris,” he said and Gideon gave him a look, despite the silent message that had passed between them. “Why don’t you get your pretty self settled for the voyage,” he paused and yelled over to Kate. “That’s what you call this, right? If it’s by sea, it’s a voyage, right? Kate?” The woman looked over to him and her eyes were narrowed and angry. But she managed to keep her voice somewhat calm when she said, “You can call it whatever you want.” Brayden nodded and waggled his eyebrows at her, but she just turned around and put her back to him. He looked back to Gideon, whose hand hadn’t strayed from his sword. “Why don’t you get comfortable and ready for our voyage,” he yelled the word over to Kate. Then he lowered his voice and said, “I’ll go downstairs and give the Captain his key. We should be ready to go.” His voice dropped off at the end and he gave his brother a look. “Maybe I should give the captain the key,” Gideon said, his voice quieter than normal. Brayden waved a hand at him. “Nonsense,” he said. “Don’t know what I’m walking in on,” he said, the words having double meaning and Gideon’s face soured. “He could have his trousers down.” Brayden called over his shoulder and gave a wild laugh for show as he headed down below the deck. As soon as he was out of sight of anyone above deck, he slowed down and just listened. He could hear murmuring from Jethro and the others above and if Gideon was angry about an unnecessary stunt before, he was going to be simply animated about this. Brayden pulled a knife from beneath his vest and flipped it in his hand, purposely making his feet loud on the floor as he walked towards the Captain’s quarters. He saw it up ahead and he could hear creaks in the floor that didn’t belong just to one person. He smirked and tightened his grip on the blade. He reached the door and called out, “Oh Captain Cain, I’ve got a present for you,” and he pushed the door open. Sure enough, on the other side of the door, there were four guards waiting with their swords drawn. Brayden didn’t recognize any of them, but he recognized Cain, standing in the middle of them. He had a pistol in his hands. Brayden hadn’t seen many pistols in his lifetime. He always thought they were inefficient and useless. Most could only fire once before needing to be cleaned out or refurbished. Most of the time, the shot ruined the pistols, the black powder they used causing its chamber to explode as it shot out a small metal pellet towards its target. “And I have a present for you, Boone” Cain said, his voice sly and slimy. Brayden eyed the pistol in his hand and then smirked as he met the man’s eyes. “Or should I say, Crowe?” Above them, there were several sudden thumps on the deck and Brayden hoped it was his brother getting the drop on the crew and any other guards that had shown up. They could hear running across the deck and shouting and the clash of swords as a battle started to wage above them. “You know,” Brayden said lowly. “I thought we were friends.” “You don’t have enough coin to be my friend,” Cain said. He held out his free hand. “The key, if you would.” Brayden quirked his mouth to the side, looked at the guards. “I think I’m going to keep it,” he said, and then he was moving. His hand flung the dagger into the neck of the nearest guard. Blood spurted out immediately, the guard dropping his sword and instead his hands coming to grip the dagger in his neck, trying to hold his own blood in. Brayden didn’t stand still. He was drawing his short swords after that, meeting the other three that were coming at him. He parried a blow aimed for his head, dashing back out into the hall to keep himself out of the line of fire of Cain’s pistol. He kicked one of the guards in the knee and sliced one sword across his throat. He ducked beneath another sword and threw his elbow back into the guard’s gut, making him bend over at the waist before he brought his elbow up and shattered the man’s nose. He crumpled to the ground. It left only one other guard and Brayden twirled both of his short swords in either hand, eyeing the guard, waiting for him to make a move. The man didn’t end up making one. Because Cain did. The captain stepped out of the room and Brayden had half a second to widen his eyes and try to step out of the way. But then the loud blast of the pistol was cutting off all noise of battle from above. Pain erupted in Brayden’s shoulder and the force of the blow knocked him back against the wall. He lost his grip on one of his swords, it clattered to the stairs as he fell back against them. The smell of the black powder in the air was almost overwhelming and he could hear Cain and the guard coughing. Brayden had practice working through pain. It was what he did. Gripping his one short sword hard, he lunged forward, first slicing it through the remaining guards’ gut. Blood and what were most likely his guts came spilling out and his scream died off in his throat as he fell to the ground. Brayden whirled and slammed his sword towards Cain, who dodged out of the way, causing his sword to deflect harmlessly off the door frame. Cain was drawing his own sword and Brayden grit his teeth as sweat started to break out on his forehead from the pain in his shoulder. He could feel blood trickling down his arm and he growled because he wasn’t sure he could beat Cain injured like this. So he kicked out at the man, catching him in the gut. Cain stumbled backwards and Brayden turned, hurrying up the stairs. As he broke out onto the deck, there really was a battle waging. Gideon and the others were engaged by a dozen or so guards. Brayden jumped sharply to the side, waiting for Cain to emerge from below. Sure enough, the man came charging and Brayden growled as he swung his sword at the man. It tore a vicious slice up Cain’s back and the captain roared, turning and coming at Brayden. He didn’t make it far. A slight whistling was all the warning the captain had before a dagger found its way into the back of his head. Brayden leaned against the crates, breathing heavily and watched as Cain’s charging form slowed. His hands dropped to his sides and the man’s eyes were on him, but he could see the moment they went lifeless before he dropped to the floor. Brayden stared at the knife in the back of his head for a moment before looking up and seeing Piressa hurrying over to retrieve her knife. Pulling it from his skull, she looked up at him, eyes going to his shoulder before returning to his face. “Great plan,” she mocked. Brayden grinned, strained and pale. “He tricked me,” he said. “Not playing fair is supposed to be my thing.” .Wolfie. 5.6 The Fallen Whore Gideon caught the man’s blade arm in one hand, the other driving a sword up through his armor and into his chest. He twisted it once to make it quick and then ripped it back out, leaving a spray of blood upon the deck. There were a dozen or more guards on the ship. Half of them had already been waiting for them, the other coming up the plank after they’d arrived to try and block their escape. He wasn’t surprised or even disappointed. They’d known the danger when they entered the city and he was simply accepting of it. There was a clang of steel as Corey blocked a blade hurtling towards his side, his brow narrowed in concentration and sweat pouring down his forehead as he tried to keep the steel from hitting him. Gideon didn’t give the guard another chance to strike him, grasping him by the back of the neck and ramming his blade deep into his side. The man gasped, blood trickling from his lips as he fell. He heard Jethro let out a bestial roar and out of the corner of his eye he saw the man pick up one of the uniformed soldiers, hurling him from the ship and onto the docks below. There was a loud crack as he snapped his head off the wooden planks and went still. He did his best not to get distracted by fear or concern. He’d heard the gunshot sound from below and he was aware of the wound in his brother’s shoulder, but he didn’t allow himself to think on it. Later he would lose his temper and tell his brother what a reckless fool he’d been. He would mask his fear with anger and maybe Brayden would allow him to believe it. He was still standing and that meant he was well enough. He wasn’t dead and Gideon tried to keep his focus on cutting down the men around him. Being taken alive wasn’t an option. They would be tortured until they broke and the Chosen would die in the dungeons of the Keep. Two men came at him at once and he deflected one blade and turned the man wielding it into his fellow. There was a scream as the other guard brought his blade down and cut through the man’s arm and then Gideon was shoving him forward. They slammed into each other and it bought him enough time to thrust his blade up through his ribs, the steel scraping against bone. It was a good, soldier’s blade, and it didn’t bend or break, even when he ripped it out and then swung it in an arc towards the other man’s head. He heard the man coming up behind him but even before he was turned all the way around he heard the whistle of steel and a sharp gasp from his throat. He turned just in time to see his knees hit the deck, hands grasping at the blade sticking out of his throat. Piressa stood close to Brayden but her smile was directed at him before she looked away. He knew what the thunder of footsteps upon the dock meant before even one of the guards came into view. The cavalry had arrived to take over. He wondered who they would send. He wondered how many men he would recognize when they came to take them. “Your Captain is dead,” Brayden snarled. “Who is in charge of the ship now?” Gideon glanced over his shoulder to see his brother standing next to the woman named Kate. He had one of his short swords pressed firmly up under her throat, and if she noticed that his other arm hung weak and almost useless at his side than she made no sign of it. There were a few crewmen standing behind her but Piressa had her knives out and stood in between them and Brayden. “The first mate,” she said. She glanced down at the ground and one of the bodies lying there, a smirk pulling at her lips for a moment before it faded. She licked her lips nervously and tried to look back at Brayden. “But since you killed him, I guess I am.” He nodded his head, pressing his sword harder against her throat. “Well Captain Kate. Order your men to haul anchor.” “They’ll name us traitors,” she hissed. Her eyes widened, gaze flicking past Gideon to the docks below. Two lines of city guard were moving in quick succession towards the ship and he let loose a snarl, stalking across to the plank. He shoved his foot roughly against it, knocking it free from the boat and sending it clattering onto the boards below. He should have moved away from the edge, but for a moment he stayed there, watching the guard line up in formation, their Captain striding out ahead of them with a nasty grin. “Gideon Crowe!” Captain Drake shouted. The man had a strut now, confidence and arrogance in his motions. He had a blade in his hand and when he lifted it the second line of troops lifted bows, pointing them towards the ship. Gideon stiffened, hand tightening around his sword. “You and your men are charged with murder and treason by will of the Emperor. Submit now.” “You are under the mistaken impression that I care,” Brayden hissed. His voice was low as he spoke into Kate’s ear and she swallowed nervously as a thin line of blood appeared across her skin. “Order your men to haul anchor.” “That is not the will of the Emperor!” Jethro shouted back. His face was contorted in anger, his foot still planted on a body of one of the guards. There were dead men all around him, half of them probably killed with his bare hands. His face was flecked with blood and there were cuts on his arms, but he didn’t seem to notice them, lifting an arm to point it at Captain Drake. “You follow the will of a traitor to the crown and you will die a traitor’s death!” He reached down after he spoke, ripping the sword from the dead man’s hands and then hauling it back and throwing it with all his strength at Drake’s chest. The man’s eyes widened for a second with panic and he stumbled as he dodged out of the way. The sword left a bloody slice along his arm before clattering to the docks and for a moment he looked shaken and uneasy. Gideon saw the moment he pushed it aside, turning his head towards the Chosen and narrowing his eyes with anger. “Fire,” he ordered, his voice harsh and cruel. Gideon’s hand shot out, grasping Corey around the arm and hauling him towards the deck. He heard the whistle of arrows through the air and he heard one of the crewmen scream. He turned his head and saw it pierce his eye, his body falling to the ground afterwards. “This is your last chance to surrender!” Drake shouted. “Submit now or die here.” He heard the clattering of the wooden plank as two guards moved forward to try and get it back into place. He stayed crouched, keeping Corey down in case they loosed another volley of arrows. The first one had been shot straight at them. He had no doubt the second one would rain death upon them from the sky and there would be nowhere to hide on the open deck. He shot a glance over at Jethro and the man was pulling an arrow out of his arm, but he looked more annoyed with it than pained. Brayden had crouched when the arrows loosed but he kept his firm grip on Kate. His arm was shaking at his side and Gideon didn’t like how pale and uneasy his brother looked. He hid it well, pressing his blade against her throat and his mouth to her ear. “I’m not going to ask again, Kate,” he said. “Man’s probably going to kill you all anyway.” “Damn it all to Hells,” she spat into the ground. Then her head turned over her shoulder, focusing on the few crewmen left up here with her. Gideon imagined the rest were below deck. “Draw anchor. Do it you bastard sons of a Redholme whore.” “Aye, aye, Captain,” one of them said, scrambling to do as she said. Two of them hesitated and then hurried to follow. “Guardsmen!” Captain Drake yelled. “Fire on my command.” The ship creaked as the three men shoved against the spokes to raise the anchor. He felt it already beginning to drift away from the docks and he heard Drake curse as the plank slipped and fell into the water. Behind him Brayden was lifting Kate by her arm, shoving her towards the helm of the ship. “Get us out of here, Captain,” he said, dry humor in his voice. She shot a hateful glare over her shoulder at him and if it bothered him he didn’t show it. Gideon kept one hand on Corey, pressing him down against the deck as he listened for Drake’s orders. The boy was digging his fingers into the wood, looking up with wide scared eyes. “Fire!” he shouted. At his command Gideon heard the arrows loose and the rushing of the air as they arced into the sky above them. He pushed Corey back against the rail, the arrows thudding into the deck in front of him. He heard the crewmen at the anchor shout in surprise and fear, ducking their heads beneath the spokes as the arrows fell. The ship creaked around them but the masts were still tied and it just floated listlessly away from the docks. It gave them too much time. Drake would catch them. Piressa seemed to think the same and she pointed one of her knives at the crewmen. “Keep pushing,” she ordered, before turning towards the mainsail. Gideon watched as she hooked her hands in the ropes, climbing them with ease and loosening the sail. She tucked her knife in between her teeth as she did, fingers yanking quickly at the ropes. “Again!” Drake shouted. Corey flinched at the sound of it when the arrows thudded into the wood around them, but the ship was tilting and their aim was off. As soon as the volley was over Gideon turned, pressing him against the railing. “Stay here,” he ordered. Corey nodded his head, glancing through the bars at the men still lining the docks. Gideon pushed himself to his feet, gaze going to Jethro. “Do what you can to help her get this thing going,” he snapped, and then he hurried quickly towards the helm, where his brother still had Kate at the point of his blade. He grinned when he saw him, but it was weak and fading fast and Gideon had recognized the signs of it. There was still blood trickling from his shoulder and he was pale and weak. He reached up to grasp his brother’s hand, the one still holding the knife. “Get us to Essocks,” he said to her. “And you leave in peace with the ship.” She hesitated, glancing at Gideon’s face before giving him a shaky smile. “Sounds fair,” she said. Brayden let out a breath and then his hand fell from her throat. She relaxed immediately, shoulder slumping forward with relief and her hands loosening on the helm. Gideon was already moving forward, sliding an arm around his brother’s shoulders as he started to sink towards the deck. He tried to keep him upright but he was wavering on his feet, his eyes glazed and his breathing shallow. “Told you I had this all under control,” he said. “You’re a fool,” Gideon told him. Brayden let out a laugh that was far too weak. “So I keep hearing.” Wenston Brayden honestly didn’t remember the first couple of days aboard the Fallen Whore. He’d laughed a little hysterically when he’d found out the name of the ship. Then they’d holed him up in one of the cabins below deck and from there, it was bits and pieces. He knew he was hurt, that was painfully obvious every time he woke. Gideon was almost always there. There’d been only one time he woke up and he wasn’t, and he’d been completely alone with voices arguing in the hallway. At one point, he thought he remembered asking for Gisaine. He’d been greeted with a woman’s touch, running something cool and wet across his forehead, but he didn’t think it was Gisaine. She’d had dark hair, instead of golden. A voice in the back of his mind whispered the name, Kate. It had made him wonder again if Gisaine had ever truly loved him. He supposed it didn’t matter. He’d been truly and honestly in love with her. When he awoke on the third day, things were a little more coherent. Gideon had been slouched next to him in a chair and it had made Brayden feel a little guilty because not even a week before Gideon himself had been bedridden and Brayden hadn’t been there for his brother. But not here Gideon was, watching over him and Brayden wondered what life would be like without his older brother. He was afraid of the answer. Brayden wasted no time tying the laces of Gideon’s boots together as a surprise when his brother woke up, because even if he was keeping vigil, the man needed to know to stay alert. Piressa came in halfway through, pausing in the doorway, her silent footfalls not waking Gideon up. She glanced at Brayden, leaned out of bed and trying to tie the laces with one hand, because the other was tucked up against him in a sling, wrapped tightly next to his body to keep him from jarring his shoulder. Brayden gave her his best innocent look and she just smirked, rolling her eyes as she sunk into a chair on the opposite side of the room. Finishing his trap, Brayden laid back on the bed and tried to look natural. He gave a real wince when it jarred his shoulder and then he yawned loudly. Gideon jerked a little, his eyes first going to Piressa and when he too quickly assessed her as being non-threatening, he turned to look at Brayden. Seeing his eyes open, Gideon’s own eyes widened and he leaned forward in his chair. “Brayden,” he said, relief and worry mingling in his voice. “How do you feel?” “Slow,” he said with a smirk. Gideon snorted at the word and Brayden’s smile slipped from his lips because the word was the truth. “You can yell at me now and get it over with,” he told Gideon and his brother just lifted a brow. “Go on,” Brayden reached over and nudged his knee. “Tell me how reckless I was and how my plan was a fool’s plan and whatever else you want to yell at me about.” Gideon quirked his mouth side to side before he glanced over at Piressa, who was watching him curiously. Then Gideon shrugged and said, “We should be arriving in Essocks shortly after nightfall.” Brayden narrowed his eyes at his brother. “You’re delaying the reprimand.” “Yes,” Gideon said and he had the audacity to look a little smug. Scoffing a little, Brayden reached behind him to reposition the pillow so he could sit up a little. He wasn’t surprised when Gideon’s hands found their way to him, helping him as he did so. He winced again and decided he’d much rather be stabbed than ever be shot again. He looked around the room and said, “Where’s Corey? He’s usually fussing and doing everything I ask. My own little peon.” “You peon loses his lunch whenever he comes beneath deck,” Piressa answered and Brayden couldn’t help but laugh at that. Of course Corey would get sea sick. The boy had a heart of iron, but everything else about him seemed weak and reserved. The laughter made Brayden move a hand to his shoulder but he didn’t stop, just trailed off into a chuckle. Leaning back further into the pillow, Brayden looked up at the ceiling and slowly started to feel his mood sink. “I never trusted Cain,” he said and he saw his brother stiffen a little out of the corner of his eye. “But he gave me no sign he knew who I was.” Gideon sighed. “Kate said Cain didn’t know until after you’d left to find Archon,” he told him calmly. “Someone in the docks recognized you.” Brayden nodded and didn’t look at either of them. “I should have seen it,” he said quietly. It surprised him when Piressa responded with, “You could not have known.” Brayden rolled his head to the side to look at her and saw his brother do the same, a curious look on his face. “Your plan would have worked if Cain were not approached after you left.” A slow smile spread across Brayden’s face. “Is that a compliment, elf?” he asked. Piressa laughed and it actually sounded genuine. “I wouldn’t go that far, human.” Brayden leaned back again, feeling himself growing tired. He felt Gideon adjust the sling around his arm and he looked up at his brother, who still had that puckered look on his face. “Gideon,” Brayden said and his brother stilled, looking down at him. “I know it’s killing you,” he said seriously. Gideon lifted a brow, thoroughly confused and Brayden kept his face straight when he said, “Just yell at me a little.” The corners of Gideon’s mouth twitched upwards, but it fell away immediately and Gideon pointed a finger at his face. “You’re making stupid mistakes,” he said and they weren’t quite the words Brayden expected. The smile slipped from his face because he’d braced himself for Gideon to tell him he was reckless and taking needless risks, but he hadn’t expected him to call him on his mistakes. “You claim to have always been this reckless, but I do not remember you getting injured this often or this severely.” “This?” Brayden asked, moving the arm in the sling. He kept the wince off his face this time and shrugged painfully. “This is nothing. It will heal.” “It wouldn’t if it had gone through your head,” Gideon snapped, real anger tinting his face red. Brayden licked his lips and waited for his brother to continue. “You need to start trusting us with information. Don’t leave us behind to go off and face danger on your own. Your secrets are going to get you killed.” Brayden watched his brother for a moment, his heart heavy and he could feel Piressa’s gaze on him and was aware of her presence in the room, but for a moment, he felt broken beneath his brother. Gideon questioned his trust before and he could feel that’s where this was coming from. He looked away from his brother and said quietly, “I tried to see Gisaine,” he said and Gideon froze, staring at his face. “She wasn’t there and I spoke to an informant and found out who she was marrying. It’s a man in Essocks and I had hoped to pay him a visit while we were here.” Gideon nodded, probably knowing that Brayden didn’t normally open up like this with his information or his plans. He asked tentatively, “To what ends?” Brayden sighed. “I hadn’t decided yet.” He gave his brother a quick glance and then said even quieter, “She is all I think about, Gideon. I cannot draw a single breath without wondering if she truly loved me back or if I was a fly caught in her web.” The room was quiet a moment and Brayden didn’t look at either of them. He wasn’t sure what he felt about Piressa having overheard this, but it was too late to take the words back now. “You never told me you loved her so,” Gideon answered at last. Brayden smirked. “I did not want to place that burden on your shoulders,” he said and then turned to look his brother square in the eye. Gideon was looking warily at him, like he was unsure how to proceed. “You are right, I have not been thinking clearly and have made too many mistakes,” he said. “I will follow your lead and do only as you ask me to do.” A curious look of pain crossed Gideon’s features and he shook his head, hand coming out to rest on Brayden’s good shoulder. “That’s not what I want,” he said. “I have come to rely on your skills and opinion and I do not want you to be just another soldier beneath me. When I asked if you would do as I ordered you to, I did not mean it like that. I need you here, Brayden. I am sorry, but your mind cannot be elsewhere. I need you with us. Fully.” Brayden nodded. “I am now, Gideon,” he said. Gideon watched him a moment more before he nodded and stood. “I will find you something to eat.” Brayden held out his hand, stopping Gideon before he could go. “Wait,” he said and Gideon looked down at him lying on the bed. “Did you ever find out what the key was to?” Gideon gave him a look. “I had more pressing matters at hand.” Brayden nodded, leaning back on the bed and he felt his eyes getting heavy. He smiled when he felt Gideon’s hand rest on his head for a moment, but his brother said nothing before he turned around and started to walk away. The loud thump and sudden curses coming from Gideon’s mouth made Brayden grin and start laughing. .Wolfie. Gideon stayed with Brayden until he fell asleep again. He watched him for a while afterwards, sitting in the chair at his bedside and taking a breath for the first time in days. It eased his mind somewhat, being able to speak to his brother and see him sitting up and eating on his own. For a while he’d felt something like panic, watching him lay there unconscious and feverish with a bullet hole in him. The weapons were rare enough but a single shot from one was all it took, and he didn’t like how close he’d come to losing his brother over it. Both the Crowes and the Chosen had almost been ended in one fell swoop.Piressa followed him from his room, her footsteps silent as she pulled the door shut behind her. She had spent enough time at Brayden’s bedside but he couldn’t tell which of the Crowes that was for. Whether it was out of true concern for the younger brother or just an unwillingness to leave Gideon’s side, she had been there even so and he was glad for it. She followed close as he made his way back up on deck, the smell of saltwater and sea air assaulting his senses as he did. It was a clear, cloudless night and if Kate told him truly than they would make it to Essocks within a few hours. He thought she would honor their accord, but he was still careful not to turn his back on her. He would be happy to be free of this ship and the trap it represented. If she wanted to betray them than she would do so in Essocks and he didn’t know if they would escape it again. “Does it hurt?” Piressa asked him. He paused in his steps to glance down at her. There was a smug smirk on her lips as she looked at his forehead and his fingers reached up to brush over the lump his brother had graced him with. He snorted and let his hand fall. “It’s barely a bruise.” The smile on her face widened and she tilted her head back in a challenge. “I meant your pride.” Gideon’s eyes narrowed as he studied her for a moment, the moon casting bright silver light across the deck. It glinted off the waters and illuminated the mass of land he could see rising towards them. “You are teasing me,” he said calmly, keeping the smile off his face as he moved past her. He rested his hands on the railing, watching the ship cut through the waters. “Yes,” she told him with a quiet laugh. He snorted and chose to ignore it, not even glancing at her as she moved to stand next to him. Her back rested against the railing, arms crossed over her chest as she watched him curiously. “What are you thinking?” He sighed and almost didn’t answer her. Most of what he was thinking was his brother’s words to him, and he didn’t like the doubts that had cropped up between them. They had never been particularly close, but they had been brothers and that was enough. They had wanted different things but at the end of the day they knew they could call on each other to get through the worst. Now that the worst had come and they were testing the strength of that bond. “I am thinking that I should know my brother better by now.” “I would venture that you know him better than anyone,” she said. The words were tentative, questioning without pushing. “You would be right,” he said quietly. “But in this matter I was ignorant.” He paused and shook his head, more in annoyance with himself than anything else for things he should have recognized and hadn’t. “Brayden has always been free with his affections. I did not believe his relationship with the Lady Gisaine was anything more than a simple dalliance. I did not expect that he loved her.” She was quiet next to him, and he thought for a moment that perhaps he was being foolish trusting her with so much. Gideon didn’t speak his mind to anyone but he found himself answering her even so. “And now that you know he does?” she asked. Gideon’s voice was quiet and sad when he spoke. “I fear for him.” He had thought when they were at the Keep that there was no way for his brother’s relationship with Gisaine to end anyway but badly, but now those concerns were intensified tenfold. He wanted to tell his brother that she was no traitor, and that if she swore she loved him she had meant it wholeheartedly. He wanted to say these things and he wanted to believe them because that was what a good brother would do. As a soldier he could only think that his brother walked a dangerous line. She could very well have been an instrument in the Emperor’s betrayal. If they found her and Brayden trusted her she could betray him still. He should tell him to leave this man in Essocks be, but he already knew he would not. Sentimentality always seemed to win where his brother was concerned. If Brayden wanted to go after him he would allow it and even help. No matter that it was a distraction they couldn’t afford. Even as he thought it, Piressa shifted closer to him, pointing into the sky above him. “We call that one Askaya,” she said, a smile on her face. “She is Princess of the Dawn, the first star to appear and the last one to leave.” Gideon snorted and he lifted his head to look at the star she spoke of. It shown brightly above his head, guiding them towards Essocks. “Next to her is the Lord Skaldis,” she said. “His crows sit upon his shoulders, keeping watch over our lands.” “Ah, see to us that is Genga,” Gideon said. “You see his hammer?” She frowned, giving a small shake of her head and he smiled, pointing his hand towards the cluster of stars. She moved to stand in front of him, back to his chest as she tilted her head back towards the sky. “The ones you call crows, if you drew a line between them would form the head of his hammer.” A warm smile graced her lips abruptly and she turned her head to speak to him. It occurred to him as she did that he now had an arm on either side of her and her face was very near to his as she tilted her head back. “I see it,” she said. There was real pleasure in the words and he found himself smiling in return. She was so close that he caught the scent of her, something wild and sweet like honeysuckle after a rainstorm. “I have heard of him before, but I do not know any of his legends.” “I would tell it to you if I could remember it,” he said. He lifted his head to look past her at the waves and thought distantly that he should be moving away from her. “Brayden is a better storyteller, skills he learned from our mother. I was always my father’s son.” “Your father was a soldier then?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Gideon nodded his head, focusing on the memory of his father instead of the woman that was too distracting for his own good. He wondered where Corey was, because he’d spent most of his time above deck while Jethro watched the crew below. Still, he didn’t pull away. “To his core. Fought in the Corvalis March a few years back. I never wanted anything other than to follow in his legacy.” It was the truth. The man had barely been home, coming and going as the Empire demanded, but Gideon had never resented him for it. Duty was sacrifice, and he had understood that at a young age. His father hadn’t been an uncaring man, but he had been hard and uncompromising and had taught his son to be the same. Gideon was made in his image and there was nothing about that he regretted. “I find it interesting then, that you and Brayden are so different,” Piressa said, a smile on her face. “Brayden and my father never really got along,” Gideon said. He regretted the words after he said them. “Your father? Not ‘our’ father?” she asked. “No,” Gideon said shortly. He bit his tongue and refused to say anything more on the matter. Perhaps if it was only him than he would have told her because there was no great harm in it, but she knew enough of his brother’s secrets. He had no right to give away anything more of his brother than had already been granted to her. “I see,” she said. The silence stretched on as she waited for him to say more but he kept his lips sealed and his gaze away from hers. After a moment she sighed. “But you won’t tell me more than that.” He smirked. “No,” he agreed. He was surprised when she didn’t smile in return. She leaned back, bracing her hands on the wooden railing. He was surprised when her fingers brushed over his and it drew his gaze to her face. She was studying him, hand running lightly over the scars on the back of his hand. Years of swordplay and battle had made them rough and callused, and the gentle touch was a sharp contrast to that. “Because you still believe I will turn on you,” she said, and he didn’t like how sad she sounded when she did. His hand pulled out from beneath hers as he reached up to grasp her chin. He drew her face to his and it surprised him how much it bothered him that he may have hurt her. “Because I believe you are dangerous,” he said lowly. He gave her a teasing smirk afterwards and his heart lightened when she gave him an answering smile. His hand lingered on her face for a moment and he knew it was foolish and dangerous but he found himself attracted to her even so. It was an effort to let her go, fingers going to the chain around his neck and lifting the key up before her. “Do these mean anything to you?” he asked. “You are teasing me,” she said, a challenging smirk on her face. When he didn’t respond she let out a sigh, lifting her fingers to catch the key. She turned it over in the bright moonlight, squinting at whatever was etched on its surface. “They are runes of binding. They could belong to anything, but it makes me think that whatever this unlocks is very, very dangerous.” He nodded, closing his fist around it and tucking it back into his shirt. “Something perhaps better kept out of pirate hands?” he said, glancing casually over his shoulder. Kate was at the helm, arms draped casually through the spokes as she guided the ship. Piressa kept her voice low, gaze following his. “I would say so.” He pushed away from the railing, putting distance between them and he wondered when it had gotten cold. He had been distracted, worried over his brother as he was, but now they were running out of time and Essocks was fast approaching. “Then perhaps we should take stock of the ship and see if we can uncover what it is,” he said, starting to turn on his heel. “Gideon,” she said quickly. He was surprised when her hand caught his and he glanced back at her, one eyebrow raised. “I am yours,” she said, her eyes lidded as she spoke. She pressed his hand to her cheek and her skin was soft and smooth. “Never doubt it.” Gideon swallowed hard, thumb running over her cheekbone before he pulled his hand back. “As I said. You are dangerous.” Wenston There was someone in the room. It was the first thing he became aware of when he woke. Even before his eyes opened, he knew it wasn’t his brother or Piressa or even Corey or Jethro. It was a strong presence in the room and Brayden thought it felt like the Raven. Only a hundred times stronger. His arm was still tucked up against his side, in a sling and bound to his chest. His other hand was laying atop the blanket and it would be too obvious if he slid it beneath the covers to grab for his knives. He wasn’t quick enough to make a move, the wound in his shoulder slowing him down considerably and he didn’t even know who sat there. So he kept his eyes closed, his face turned away and accepted the fact this person had the upper hand at the moment. At least until Gideon and Piressa came back. “If you are here to kill me,” Brayden said lowly, not opening his eyes or turning his head. “Get it over with.” There was no answer, but he did hear a slight shifting noise and then an odd metallic clank from across the room. He frowned a little and opened his eyes, at first just staring at the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see someone sitting there on the other side of the room in the corner. He rolled his head to the side and his eyes locked onto the stranger. His eyes widened only slightly at the sight of him. He was no man, or if he was, he was like none Brayden had ever seen before. His skin was the palest, almost ashen gray. Blue lines were carved into his skin and now they were glowing steadily, a soft blue. He had white hair that stuck up at odd angles and he was bigger in stature, muscled. He wore a sleeveless black vest and pants and Brayden noticed his hands were bound in front of him with heavy irons that restricted his movement from moving his hands more than a few inches from each other. The most curious thing about the man was the contraption around his face. An iron mask covered the lower part of his face and his jaw. It stopped just beneath his nose and latched in the back of his head. It fit him snuggly and there was one small opening that must have slid down to his mouth to allow him to eat. It didn’t look like the man had been free of the iron mask in some time. Brayden watched him a moment. He had no weapon in his hand, but he was fairly certain this was a mage of some sort and he probably wouldn’t need one if he wanted to kill him. He wondered where he’d come from and how he’d gone days without running into Gideon or one of the others. Maybe he’d dropped down from the sky and it wouldn’t really surprise Brayden if that’s what had happened. “Are you here to kill me?” Brayden asked simply. The man tipped his head to the side curiously and then lifted his bound hands to point at the corner of the room, near the ceiling. Brayden frowned a little and looked up there, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He quickly looked back to the masked man and his eyes looked sad as he looked up into the corner, seeing something that Brayden was not, obviously. His hands slowly fell back down into his lap and he lifted his head again to look at Brayden. Giving a small, nervous laugh, Brayden pushed himself up into a sitting position. His shoulder was pounding and painful and he wondered if he could trust the elf to give him something for the pain. Maybe she’d just poison him and say he died from the wound. He wondered if Gideon would buy it if she did that. As soon as he thought it, he realized that he no longer believed she would actually do something like that. Or at least he was finding himself hoping that she wouldn’t. Clearing his throat a little, Brayden asked, “Where did you come from?” The man lifted his hands again to point to the corner of the room and Brayden frowned, not understanding what he kept seeing or was referring to and he almost laughed when he thought maybe it really was that the man had dropped down out of the sky. Suddenly, the man stood up and it was so abrupt it made Brayden jump. He turned around and grabbed his chair, stalking across the room and Brayden tensed, his hand going for the blade tucked down next to him. But the man just set the chair down next to the bed and then reached into one of his pockets, pulling out a deck of playing cards tied together with a string. He undid them and it was uniquely talented to do it with his hands bound together. He started dealing immediately and Brayden just watched the man’s face for a moment. “So…” Brayden tried and licked his lips. He watched the man finish dealing the cards and pick up his hand. “Did you just stop by to play a few hands?” He wasn’t sure what sort of answer he expected to get, considering the man couldn’t open his mouth to talk. But the man reached across and picked up Brayden’s cards, shoving them at him. Brayden took them tentatively with his one arm, watching the man and not looking at what his cards were. The man started to play and Brayden spared his cards one glance before laying them on his chest and throwing one on the table to play. The sound of footsteps in the hallway had Brayden breathing a sigh of relief and in the next moment, the door opened. Gideon and Piressa were stepping back in, but Gideon paused when he saw the man sitting next to Brayden’s bed. His eyes immediately widened and his hand went to his sword, drawing it at the same time he demanded, “Who are you?” The man didn’t even turn around, putting another card on the pile. Brayden looked between Gideon and the man and flinched when the man got impatient with him for not playing and grunted from behind his mask, waving his hands Brayden’s way. Brayden swallowed and picked up a card, putting it on the table. Piressa had her daggers drawn, but her face was puckered into a curious look. She took a few steps to the side, tilting her head to try and get a look at the man’s face. When she did, her eyes widened. “Dareth be’th nin,” she hissed, taking a tentative step backwards. Her eyes shot to Gideon. “He is one of the Omens,” she said, as if the words should have any meaning. Brayden frowned and made sure to play his card after the man played his. Gideon frowned at her. “Omens?” he asked. Piressa nodded and said, “An Omen of Death,” she said and at the words, Gideon stiffened, looking back at the man with a sudden rage in his eyes. “He is a Banshee. They are powerful creatures.” Brayden wasn’t sure it was the best timing, but as he looked between the man, Piressa and Gideon, he suddenly started laughing. They all turned to look at him, including the newly found Banshee, who, if anything, looked amused at Brayden’s laughter. Brayden threw his good arm up and shook his head, leaning back against the headboard. “Playing cards with an Omen of Death,” he said, his laughter turning a little maniacal. “The gods surely have a foul sense of humor.” .Wolfie. 5.7 Torturer’s Chamber “A Banshee,” the man repeated. Corey nodded his head and afterwards he couldn’t get it to lift again. His toes were barely touching the ground and he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. He spun there slowly while blood trickled down his arms and eventually made its way to the puddle on the floor. He wondered how there was anything left in him. The pain was everything. His throat hurt from speaking and every word from his tongue rasped like it was being dragged forcibly from his chest. Sometimes they were. His lips were split and bloodied and in the back of his mind he found himself just praying for another drink of water, just one more to ease the pain. The man made a noise and then he was stalking across the floor, backhanding Corey with all his strength. He heard a cry pull its way from his lips as his head snapped to the side. Light and shadow warred in his vision afterwards and he would be lucky to black out, so that he couldn’t speak anymore and spill anymore secrets from his lying tongue. “You’re lying to me,” the man snarled. He grasped Corey’s jaw firmly, yanking his head back around so he could look at him with blazing eyes. “Banshees are legends.” “It’s the truth,” Corey said. His voice was rasping and ragged and a sob left him afterwards. More tears threatened to follow but he bit down hard on his lip to try and fight them back. The Crowes never cried. He wouldn’t either. “I swear it.” The man’s lip curled in disgust and his fingers dug painfully into his jaw. “Banshee’s are child’s tales.” “It’s the truth,” he said again. He felt wretched and awful as he hung there in the darkness. The man studied him for a moment and then nodded his head at the torturer. “Take him down,” he ordered. The man moved to do as he said and Corey felt pain slash through his arms and his hands as the pressure loosened. His knees cracked painfully off the stones as he fell, unable to hold himself upright. The man had to grab him by the arm to drag him back to the chair he’d started in. The Inquisitor just watched, arms crossed over his chest and a dark look on his face. “You expect me to believe all this?” he demanded. His voice was cold and angry, the words bitten off sharply. “That they just happened to stumble upon a Banshee?” Corey heard himself laughing almost hysterically. “Perhaps the gods orchestrated it then.” He didn’t see the man pick up the knife but he felt it when it jammed down through his palm, pinning his hand to the chair. He heard himself let out a startled, pained scream before he bit it back, his head falling back against the chair and tremors wracking his form. “Tell me what happened next,” the man demanded sharply. “Tell me your child’s tale and I will decide if it is the truth.” 5.8 The Fallen Whore “An Omen of Death,” Gideon repeated. His voice was strangely calm but his heart was racing as he watched the man, banshee, whatever he was, play cards with Brayden. His brother had his head tipped back against the headboard still, a smirk lingering on his face with morbid amusement and a bullet wound in his shoulder. Gideon felt icy fingers wrap around his heart and then he was moving forward, pointing his blade towards the man’s throat and his voice a low growl. “Get away from my brother,” he said. Piressa let out a hiss before moving in front of him, one hand coming to rest on his arm and trying to force the blade down. “Gideon don’t,” she said. “I just told you they were powerful.” If he didn’t know better he would think that was fear in her eyes as she shot a glance over her shoulder at the Omen. Even still he didn’t budge, keeping his blade pointed towards the Banshee’s neck. The Banshee didn’t flinch. He didn’t look over at Gideon and he didn’t raise his head from their game of cards. He flipped another and waited for Brayden to play his. All the while his hands were bound, mask tight over his face. “What does it mean to be an Omen of Death?” he asked, his eyes not straying from the Banshee. “He is a creature of magic,” she told him. “He could destroy this ship with a whisper.” “Not very good at cards though,” Brayden said casually. He grinned across the table at the man as he spread his cards on the table. Gideon’s gaze flicked to the creature, waiting to see his reaction. He laid his own hand on the wooden surface and Gideon couldn’t read his expression behind the mask. He gathered his cards up calmly, shuffling them back into the deck with practiced ease before placing it square in the middle of the table. Then he pushed himself to his feet, still uncaring of the sword pointed at his neck. Gideon stiffened and he felt Piressa’s fingers tighten on his arm, shaking her head at him. The Banshee was quick. He was moving before Gideon had time to respond and he heard himself let out a panicked yell as he suddenly pushed his hands down on Brayden’s wounded shoulder. His brother’s head tipped back and he let out a strangled, pained sound as the Banshee’s fingers sunk right through his skin, the runes on his flesh glowing bright and blue. It was over in a heartbeat, and then the Banshee was pulling his hands back, something small and bloody in his fingers. He dropped it into Brayden’s open palm and then sat down in the chair next to him, reaching for his cards once more. “Are you alright?” Gideon demanded. He moved Piressa aside with one hand, forcing his way to his brother’s bedside. Brayden was pale and shaky, sweat pouring down the side of his face and his eyes glazed with pain. He looked up at Gideon, blinking heavily to try and focus on his brother. There was fresh blood starting to seep through his bandages and Gideon felt a snarl curling his lips, not waiting for his brother’s response before he turned to the Banshee and raised his blade. ”What did you do to him?” “It’s a bullet,” Brayden said behind him. His voice was harsh and uneven, grunting as he pushed himself into an upright position, but it drew Gideon’s gaze back to him. He smirked, holding up whatever the Banshee had left in his hands. It was a small chunk of metal, not even the size of Gideon’s pinky. “I think it was my prize for winning.” “Then what do you get for losing?” Gideon asked darkly. He stayed in between the man and Brayden but he didn’t seem concerned. He only changed expression when Brayden took too long to take his cards, then he looked up with annoyance. “I only lose when I want to,” Brayden said, shooting Gideon a smirk. It didn’t ease his mind any. Piressa took a tentative step forward and it felt odd to see her nervous about anything. It made Gideon tense, his shoulders stiff and his teeth gritted as he stood between his brother and the Banshee. He watched her step closer, head tilting to the side as she studied the Omen, eyes wandering over the mask. “The runes on this are the same as the ones on your key,” she said quietly, gaze flicking to Gideon. He almost missed it but the Banshee paused for a split second, going completely still at the words. He was looking down at his cards, fingers grasping one and starting to pull it from his deck and he froze like that for a split second. “So he is what Cain was after,” Gideon said. The blade lowered slightly at that, but he didn’t relax. Those words kept him nervous, the thought that an Omen of Death was playing cards with his brother. Brayden could laugh about it but he hadn’t seen himself. It was occurring to him more and more that no matter how prepared Gideon thought he was for losing his brother, if that day ever came he didn’t know what he would do with himself afterwards. “I think you should set him free,” Piressa said abruptly. Gideon frowned, glancing at her face. Her gaze was flicking between him and the Banshee, watching him toss cards on the table against Brayden’s. His brother was watching her as well, but he said nothing. “A dangerous suggestion,” Gideon said. “He is not meant to be caged,” she said. “He may even thank you for it.” Brayden chuckled, tossing another card on the table between them. He was slumped heavily back against his bed and Gideon didn’t like how weak he looked again. The blood soaking through his bandage had slowed and stopped but he didn’t dare check his brother’s wound with the Banshee still sitting across from him. “Sure?” he said. “Why not? What’s the worst that an Omen of Death can do?” Gideon snorted and the tip of his blade fell as he considered it. The man could be useful. He was magic itself, power reverberating in the air around them. He could turn dangerous if he were set free and do as Piressa said. He could destroy the ship with a whisper. His eyes traveled the iron mask and then he glanced at Piressa, who stood tense and motionless in the room. He wondered what else she wasn’t telling him that had her so scared of the Omen and she still wanted him free. He wondered when her opinion had started to matter to him and then he let out a sigh, sheathing his blade. “Keep your knives on him,” he ordered her. The Banshee didn’t move, didn’t change position at all as Gideon walked around behind him. He could see where the key fit into his mask and he hesitated for a moment after he pulled it from beneath his shirt. He glanced over the Omen’s head at his brother and Brayden met his gaze for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders. Then he tossed another card on the table and continued their game. Gideon sighed and then he pushed the key into the lock, snapping it open and stepping back quickly. There was a loud crack and a ripple of power through the room that even Gideon could feel. A blue glow raced through the metal and then the Banshee was stilling again. He reached up with his cuffed hands, pulling it slowly from his face and Gideon’s hand went to his blade again in case this went badly. Piressa still had her knives out but he didn’t know what good either of them would be. The Omen pulled the mask from his face, dropping it to the floor with a loud clatter. There were scars around his mouth like this wasn’t the first time someone had tried to silence him and Gideon wondered who could have even caged him. “I’m not bad at this game,” the Omen said abruptly, tossing a card on the table. “You’re just cheating.” Wenston “Cheating?” Brayden squawked, pointing at his chest. “Me?” The Omen didn’t respond to him, simply continued to play his cards. Gideon had taken a step backwards, his sword held out in front of him. Piressa still had her daggers drawn, but she wasn’t aiming them at the Omen. Considering how fast he’d moved before, he didn’t think even she would be able to keep up with him. This wasn’t a man. This was a creature and more than that, it was an Omen. Brayden hadn’t heard much about them before, but the little he did know, they were a power more than a race. Gideon shifted slightly, glancing at Brayden before his eyes moved back to the Banshee. “How did you get here?” he demanded. “I took the stairs,” the Banshee said and Brayden smirked, watching his face for any sign that he was joking, but he didn’t think he was. He answered the question with the truth, plain and simple. He snorted and gave his brother a look before throwing the next card onto the table. His brother made a face that was almost comical before he took another step forward, trying to get the Omen to look at him. It didn’t. It just kept watching the cards being played. “Okay, why did you come to my brother’s room,” Gideon asked, looking like he was trying to remain calm. “I smelled death,” the Omen said and the words made Brayden pause, his hand over the table where he was just about to lay down the card. The Omen glanced up at him and Brayden gave a somewhat nervous laugh. “Death?” he asked, laying the card down. He sat back on the bed. “My death?” “Yes,” the Omen said, his voice neutral. Gideon stiffened at that, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword and Brayden didn’t miss the way he moved a little closer to the bed, in case he needed to get between the Omen and Brayden. He laid a card down. “Death was coming for you.” “Was?” Brayden asked. The Omen nodded, waiting patiently for Brayden to play a card, but he suddenly didn’t feel much like playing anymore. “You would have gotten better for a few days, but the metal in your flesh would start to poison your blood. You would have deteriorated quickly and died painfully and sick.” Brayden’s eyes widened a little and he looked up at his brother, who was glaring daggers at the Omen. “Oh?” Brayden asked, his voice trembling a little. “Well, thanks?” The Omen leaned forward, waving his hand at Brayden’s hand of cards. Brayden picked one and laid it down on the table. “It was not my choice to save you,” he said. “Only to give you the chance at life.” Gideon growled low in his throat and after the Omen put down a card, Gideon reached over and grabbed Brayden’s wrist, stopping him from playing. The Omen looked at Gideon’s hand like it was offensive, but didn’t look up at his face, only watched for Brayden’s card to be played. “Explain yourself,” Gideon said. “What do you mean give him the choice?” “If he won the game, I would save him,” the Omen said. “If he lost, he would die.” Brayden felt his heart skip a beat. He’d cheated on the first game, and the Omen knew it, but he’d allowed him to do it anyway. They’d been playing for his life and Brayden was suddenly glad that he always had a desire to win. Brayden swallowed. “And what are we playing for now?” “Entertainment,” the Omen said. His eyes finally rose to look up at Gideon when he didn’t let go of Brayden’s wrist. “If the game is unpleasant for you, we can stop.” Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “Please,” he said politely. The Omen nodded and then started scooping the cards up. He reached over to take Brayden’s from his hand and put them back into the deck, tucking it into his pocket. Gideon finally let go of Brayden’s wrist and he leaned back against the pillows. Piressa came to stand next to Gideon, her hand touching his arm gently and Brayden didn’t miss it. He’d have to goad his brother about it later. She looked at the Omen and said, “What is your name?” “Victory,” he said simply and Brayden snorted. “The key to Victory,” he said quietly. There was the sudden sound of booming footsteps outside the door and not a moment later, Jethro was shoving the door open. “Captain,” he said, breathlessly. “Kate says…” he cut himself off, eyes going to Victory and immediately his face grew shuttered and defensive. “What is this?” Corey had been on Jethro’s heels and he looked wide eyed at the creature. Gideon sighed, the situation quickly growing out of his hands. Brayden smirked, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to figure out this predicament. He wasn’t sure what to think about Victory. He was powerful and would be a very useful tool against the Viceroy. But Brayden wasn’t sure they’d be able to control or even contain that sort of power. “It’s alright,” Gideon said, holding up his hand to Jethro, telling him silently not to push. Jethro nodded and eyed the Omen up and down. “Victory,” Gideon said calmly. “I have released you from your bonds. What do you intend to do?” The Omen frowned a little and he looked back at Brayden, who lifted an eyebrow curiously. “Show me how you cheated the cards,” he said, completely ignoring Gideon’s question. Brayden snorted and held up his good hand. “It’s all in the fingers,” he said, waving them and at the same time pushing a coin up out of his sleeve, making it seem like it magically appeared in his hands. He saw Omen’s eyes widen slightly, like a child’s, and Brayden kept waving his fingers, making the coin disappear again. Gideon cleared his throat. “It would be respectful if you answered my question,” he said, his tone strong and a little annoyed. Piressa’s hand squeezed his arm slightly. “Gideon…” she whispered his name. Victory scooted a little closer to Brayden’s bed, dragging the chair noisily across the floor. “Show me again.” Hesitating only slightly, Brayden started the trick again, only this time moving the coin and a button around his fingers. It wasn’t difficult after so many years of practice. When Brayden had been a kid, he’d put on magic shows for his friends. He was always trying new tricks on Gideon, who never seemed to appreciate them. He remember his mother would laugh and encourage him, though. “Victory,” Gideon said again, sternly. “I have no intentions,” the Omen said at last. “I have no future and no path. I simply am.” Brayden studied the creature for a moment before he pointed at him. “You know, that hand trick of yours could be useful with where we’re going and what we’re doing.” Gideon’s eyes shot to him, giving him a highly disapproving look. Brayden just winked at him. “I pledge to no cause,” Victory said. Brayden smirked, “Is that so?” Victory nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Well, I’ll play you for it,” Brayden said. “You win, you can go your own way when we dock. I win, you stay with us and help our cause.” Victory frowned at him, but then reached into his pocket and pulled out the cards again. “You deal.” .Wolfie. 5.9 Essocks - Dockside “Well,” Kate said. “I wish I could say it’s been fun.” They gathered on the deck of the ship while it docked, but she didn’t look like she was interested in getting off it. She stood in front of them with her arms crossed over her chest and a puckered look on her face as she studied the docks. They were loud and filled with people, even at this hour, lamps burning on wooden posts as they went about their business. The ship next to them was busy unloading cargo and he could hear shouting down the docks from them. The place was dark and utilitarian, the city run by the military and not by politicians. It was a dangerous place and they would have to watch their backs even more so than usual. Brayden smiled at Kate, one arm still bound up in a sling and the other resting on Corey’s shoulder. It was the first time in days that they boy didn’t look green, but his feet were braced firmly and he looked anxious to get off the ship. For the moment he served as Brayden’s personal crutch, holding him upright. “You know you’ll miss my smiling face and my charming wit.” “Hardly,” she spat. Her voice lowered as she leaned forward to point a finger in Brayden’s face. “You Crowes have brought me nothing but trouble. So I’m going to take my new ship and what’s left of the crew before you bring me death too.” “You’re not staying in Essocks?” Gideon jerked his head behind him at the docks. She scoffed and her gaze moved from Brayden to Gideon. “The Guard Captain of Lockhaven knew you were headed here,” she said. The words were a warning as much as anything and not ones he enjoyed hearing. If Drake knew they were here than eventually someone would come looking for them, if they weren’t already on their way. Kate shook her head, glancing back at the waters. “No, I think it’s best if we disappear for a while. Besides, there’s a storm coming this way. I’d find shelter if I were you before it hits.” Gideon nodded his head and didn’t question the words. “I thank you,” he told her. He was no pirate, and if she said there was a storm on the way he believed her. Still, he wondered where they would be able to hide without drawing attention. He glanced at the Banshee out of the corner of his eye and he felt his shoulders tense. It made him uneasy. She snorted out something like a laugh and jerked her head at the docks behind them. “Don’t thank me,” she said, waving a hand at him. “Just get off my damn ship.” A smile pulled at her lips at those words. Gideon scoffed and then turned on his heel to do as she said. Jethro led the way down the plank, eyes scanning the docks and the people covering them. The Banshee trailed after him and there was curiosity in his gaze as he watched the ship next to them. Gideon felt a chill run down his spine and he’d almost hoped his brother would lose the game against it. An Omen of Death traveled with them. It would be useful but it was also dangerous and was unsure if it was worth the risk. “Don’t forget who got you that ship,” Brayden said playfully. He shouted the words over his shoulders, arm still braced on Corey as they boy started walking down the wooden plank. Gideon didn’t miss the slight wince on his brother’s face as the movements jarred his shoulders and he tried to ignore the cold feeling in his chest as he thought that his brother had been on his way to death’s door. The only reason he wasn’t was because of a Banshee straight out of legend. It was luck and nothing more. Kate laughed and called after them. “It was Captain Cain and his poor choice of friends. Watch your back, Boone.” “You too, Captain Kate,” Brayden called back. He gave her a mocking salute with one hand and then dropped it back on Corey’s shoulder. Gideon waited for them on the docks, arms crossed over his chest as he studied the people moving around them. He disliked being out in the open like this, especially with so many people around them. It made him grateful it was after nightfall. “We should find someplace to hole up until I can start making the right connections,” Brayden said. Gideon snorted and kept his eyes on the buildings set back away from the docks. There were guards at every corner, hands resting on their weapons and gaze focused straight ahead of them. They were well trained, probably better trained than the Lockhaven guard had ever been. “You mean Guild connections,” he said, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice. His brother shrugged, unrepentant as always, and Gideon wondered not for the first time if his brother wouldn’t be the head of such a guild if he weren’t following after Gideon. He wondered if he wouldn’t be happier. “Only way to get things done around here.” “The Guild?” Corey asked. “Not so loud, boy-o,” Jethro told him. “The Guild is the power here. The military controls the city, the Guild controls the crime.” “It’s refreshing just how naïve you are sometimes,” Brayden said cheerfully. Corey frowned at him and at the hand that ruffled his hair afterwards but the words were more playful than mocking. “The criminals and the guard have a nice, working relationship here.” Brayden said. “They police their own. Somebody steps out of line or rips off the wrong person, they don’t ever make that mistake again. In return the military gets a nice fat purse at the end of every month. Everyone wins.” Jethro snorted. “Not everyone,” he said. One hand tugged on the end of his beard as he studied the shadows, as if speaking of the Guild would bring them. Gideon didn’t wonder if here it would. They were a fact here, not to be ignored or trifled with. Gideon thought then that he disliked Essocks. “Not the poor bastards getting robbed because he didn’t pay his fees to the Guild that month.” “The role of victim is a chosen one,” the Banshee said calmly. Gideon tensed when he spoke, unable to shake the uneasiness he felt whenever he was around. Piressa shifted closer to him, her hand settling on his arm in response. Brayden’s eyes found his a moment later, a smirk on his face before he nodded his head. “We should move,” he said. Gideon nodded his agreement and they turned their back on the Fallen Whore, heading off down the docks. They had to avoid sailors and crewmen unloading their ships as well as merchants that were still out hawking their wares by lamplight. Calls for curative potions to ward off scurvy and seasickness rang out around them. Yet it did strike him that he saw none of the whores or thieves that crowded the streets of Lowport after dark. Only rough men with blades guarding their own. “And you’re going to try and get in with them?” Corey asked. His eyes were wide as he took in everything around them. Jethro brought up the rear, the Banshee just behind Gideon and he tried not to feel too anxious at that. Brayden had won his game of cards and the Banshee had said he would serve their cause. He would be useful and he tried to think only of that. “Try?” Brayden put a hand to his chest, a mock, hurtful expression on his face. “It pains me that you doubt my abilities so.” “I am not sure the Essocks’ Guild will be receptive to your particular brand of charm,” Piressa said dryly, glancing over her shoulder. A slow smirk spread across his brother’s face at that and he shrugged his shoulders, hand going to the wounded one after he did. “Well, maybe you should try your charms then.” His smile turned wicked and his voice was a slow, amused drawl. He tilted his head to the side as he studied Gideon. “What do you think brother? Are they up to the task?” Gideon’s eyes narrowed at the words and he glanced over his shoulder at Brayden. The smile didn’t fade and he tried to ignore the faint embarrassment it caused in him. “I think we should find suitable lodgings,” he snapped. “I’m sure you do,” Brayden said. He laughed again and Gideon shot his brother a glare before turning his head away. He didn’t respond to the implications because he was trying not to think on them. He was trying not to think about her. “I would say we want the Dancing Blade, then,” Brayden finally answered, nodding his head towards the eastern end of the docks. “It’s considered neutral ground. That and they have an amazing dark ale.” He smirked at that. “I could do with a pint right about now,” Jethro said. “Death is coming,” the Omen said abruptly. He paused in hi steps, causing Corey to run into the back of him and if Brayden hadn’t lifted his arm away he would have done the same. The Banshee didn’t even seem to notice, his face turned out towards the waters. He cocked his head to the side and his eyes closed, nostrils flaring. “It comes on the winds of the storm.” Jethro snorted and shook his head. “How you two keep finding these people is beyond me.” Brayden shrugged, watching the Banshee. “I think they find us.” Wenston 5.10 Essocks – The Dancing Blade They found the Dancing Blade further up from the docks, in one of the slower parts of town. It wasn’t the fanciest of places, but it wasn’t the raunchiest either. A wooden sign hung out front, displaying a dagger surrounded by ivy and thorns. This had been one of his stops when he’d come to Essocks before. And he wasn’t lying about their dark ale. Although he wasn’t sure drinking would be the best option right now. They had to stay on their toes now. Kate had been right, Drake would be on their heels. “Here we are,” Brayden announced as they came up on the tavern. He still had his arm resting on Corey’s shoulder, and he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but his legs were shaking. If anyone asked, he’d say he was having trouble getting rid of his sea legs. Gideon, who’d been walking behind them, stopped and looked up at the sign. “Charming,” he said dryly. Brayden just grinned as he spurred Corey forward and they pushed the rickety door open. Inside, there were a few people scattered here and there. A man with a lute and another with a clay pipe horn were playing songs while a minstrel sang cheerfully to a crowd that didn’t reciprocate his enthusiasm. Brayden snorted and he nodded his head towards one of the tables. “Grab a seat,” he said. The Banshee sat down, his eyes on the minstrel and his head bobbing side to side with the tune. He was a curious creature, but Brayden found him fascinating. Useful and powerful and now pledged to their cause, thanks to some slight of hand. He knew his brother didn’t approve of having the Banshee, but didn’t that sound familiar. Piressa sat next to Gideon, her eyes making sure to watch Victory warily. Jethro sat down as well, scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble. He made note of a few men in the corner who were dressed darkly with hoods. They seemed to be sticking to themselves and smoking. “Uh, uh,” Brayden tsked as Corey went to go find a seat. “Walk with me to the bar.” The kid gave him a look, but Brayden just grinned at him and Corey did as he asked. Brayden didn’t like that he had to rely on Corey so much just to walk a few feet to the bar, but at least the kid was doing as he asked. When they reached the bar, Brayden pulled his arm from Corey’s shoulder and slapped the counter, using it instead of Corey to remain standing. The bartender turned around at the noise, wiping down a mug and he looked like he was about ready to yell, when his eyes suddenly widened at the sight of Brayden. “Beecher!” the man yelled cheerfully and them gave a jovial, booming laugh. “Well I’ll be,” Brayden said, his voice completely changed from normal, using his Lowport accent that he’d studied years to get perfect. “If it isn’t Doc McKee.” He sang the last part, as if it were part of a song. The bartender laughed, setting his mug down and coming over to stand in front of them. He held a hand out and Brayden grasped it like he would an old friend. “How have you been, Beech?” Brayden shrugged, jerking his head towards his shoulder. “Seen better days, friend,” he grinned and then turned to Corey, reaching over and clapping him on the shoulder. “Look, Doc,” he said, leaning in a little closer and lowering his voice. “We’ve run across some trouble lately. This here?” he squeezed Corey’s shoulder. “Is Gamlet Hamell.” He stopped short, like he was waiting for the bartender to say something. Doc, just lifted his brow, giving a small shake of his head. Brayden tipped his own to the side, sounding incredulous when he said, “You know, the Cardinal of Jordan’s son?” Doc looked still confused for a moment before he suddenly put on a fake look of understanding and looked straight at Corey and said, “Of course, forgive me your lordship, I didn’t recognize your name.” Then he gave a small, courteous bow and as his head was down, Corey’s eyes came to look at Brayden who just gave him a sly smirk. “Yeah, yeah, Doc,” Brayden said, leaning forward and pushing the man’s shoulder back up. “No bowing or lordships, eh? Like I said, we ran into a bit of trouble and Gamlet here needs a place to stay for a little bit. The problem is, I don’t have the coin to pay you.” Doc waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, there will be no charge for you of course, Beecher. Only thing I ask is when you get back to your Pop, you tell the Cardinal that good old Doc McKee set you up with a nice bargain, eh?” Brayden grinned and turned his head to look at Corey, who was looking a little flustered and he almost floundered with his words, but then bit them off and nodded his head, his face looking serious. “Your hospitality will be noted,” he said and Brayden almost lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He was impressed. He didn’t take Corey to be such a good liar. He had some talent after all. “How about some hot meals?” Doc said. “We make a good beef barley!” He didn’t even wait for Corey to answer, just turned and headed towards the back room, yelling for someone to start up the stoves. When someone yelled back, Doc’s eyes narrowed and he threw his cloth onto the counter, storming back there and shouting. Brayden snorted and clapped Corey on the shoulder. “Well, well,” he said. “Your hospitality will be noted? I’m impressed.” Corey turned to give him a look. “Do you know people everywhere?” he asked skeptically and Brayden just grinned, turning him around and pushing him back to the table, his hand staying on Corey’s shoulder and they slid into chairs as they got there. “Of course I do,” Brayden said. He glanced at Gideon, who had a serious look on his face as he looked down at his hands. Brayden looked at the others and the Banshee was the only one who seemed to be enjoying himself. Before he could ask, Gideon said lowly, “Those men in the corner are watching us.” Brayden stuck his tongue in his cheek, smirking as he leaned back casually, tipping his chair back and putting his hands behind his head. “I know,” he said. Piressa shot a glare at him. “Let me guess,” she said. “Friends of yours.” “I wouldn’t say friends, exactly,” Brayden said. “And not of me. Of Beecher’s.” He tipped back forward in his chair and then turned to look directly at the black clad men in the corner. He heard Piressa take in a sharp breath at the bold move and he saw Gideon stiffen slightly. One of the hooded men turned their head to look at him and Brayden could barely make out the face beneath the mask. He didn’t think he would recognize him if he did. He may know who they worked for, but he never met them personally. Brayden gave a nod of his head to the man and after a moment, the man raised his mug in a silent greeting to Brayden. “Who are they?” Corey asked, hushed. Brayden just smirked. “Church’s Blades.” .Wolfie. “You’re boring,” Brayden declared.They sat around a table at the Dancing Blade, the minstrel still playing in the corner for a steadily thinning crowd. Empty bowls of beef barley sat near the edge and more empty mugs of dark ale. The man who ran the place, Dock he thought his name was, had brought it out for them and they hadn’t refused, but Gideon hadn’t touched his pint. The Church’s Blades hadn’t moved from their spot in the corner and they hadn’t made any move to approach them, but Gideon could still feel their eyes lingering on their table. He was wary of them, but not as much as he would have been of the city guard or the Guild. They had their own rules, and those were the rules of the Church. They cared little for what anyone else had to say, including the Emperor, and there had been tense meetings with the High Priestess on the matter on more than one occasion. Their gods did not give them the right to act outside the law and it was a matter on which they disagreed on. Brayden was playing against the Banshee, Corey, and Jethro, and even if he hadn’t been cheating he would have still been winning. He was doing so only because the Banshee was watching his hands carefully, like a child trying to figure out a magic trick, and his brother probably thought it funny to try and fool his eyes by palming cards and stacking the deck. Brayden’s eyes were on the Omen with a grin on his face, but he directed his words at Gideon, casting him a playful glance as he did. “How so?” Gideon asked. He lifted an eyebrow at his brother and then his gaze slid past him to the Church’s Blades. They were drinking quietly in the corner and he wondered what their business was here and if it was the same as theirs. Brayden chuckled, laying a pair of cards on the table before drawing a new one. Corey let out a sigh, his face not hiding his losing hand and he stretched forward to grab a card of his own. “When was the last time you played a game of cards with us or drank a pint, or hellfire, even bedded a woman?” He waggled his eyebrows at his brother at the last one. “You’re boring.” Gideon snorted and refused to rise to his brother’s challenge. “We can’t all be as interesting as you, Beecher.” Brayden laughed, eyes going to the Banshee. “Sadly true,” he agreed, and a grin stretched across his face as he watched the Omen slip a card from his sleeve and into his hand. He laid his pair down on the table in front of them, glancing up at Brayden with a curious look, trying to gauge if he’d spotted the deception. Gideon had no doubt he did, but he let it slid in favor of goading him some more. He wondered if his brother wasn’t slightly drunk. “You however, aren’t even trying.” A frown creased Gideon’s brow and he found himself getting irritated despite his intentions. “There have been some other things on my mind, small, minor matters,” he said dryly. “But I’ll endeavor to be more entertaining for you.” “There will always be important things for you to do, brother,” Brayden said. “It doesn’t mean you have to be boring doing them.” Gideon snorted and didn’t answer his brother. He tipped back in the chair, glancing towards the door when he heard the low rumble from outside. The wind was starting to whistle through the cracks in the wood, and he saw the minstrel lift his head and look towards the window. “Damn,” he cursed, turning his head towards the bar. “Doc, I’m headed out. Want to get home before the rain hits.” “Ah, better get running then,” Doc called. He wore a friendly grin on his face as he wiped down the counter of his bar, and he gave a wave to the minstrel as he gathered up his lute. “See you tomorrow night, Flea.” “I don’t know why I bother,” Jethro said, drawing Gideon back to the table. “If you’re not cheating you have the gods’ own luck.” Brayden chuckled, watching him draw a card before looking down at his own. “Why can’t it be both?” “You mean maybe it’s the gods’ own luck that you never get caught?” Piressa said. She sat in the chair next to Gideon and she at least seemed to be relaxing around the Banshee. Every time Gideon’s eyes fell on it he felt that sense of unease and he was slow to pinpoint it. It tasted like fear. He knew little about magic and to have something so powerful in their midst made him nervous. “I would say yes,” Brayden told her, “but it seems to undermine my own abilities.” He grinned at her and then tossed another pair down in front of him, drawing a heavy, resigned sigh from Corey. Brayden gave him a slap on the back before reaching for another card. “So tell me brother,” he said, a little too casually for Gideon’s liking. He wasn’t sure what had started this conversation but he wished Brayden would let it go. “When you are busy staying boring while doing interesting things, are you happy?” “I am content,” Gideon told him. He felt himself getting annoyed but he kept it off his face and out of his voice because there was no reason for it. His brother had to be drunk. “Your concern for my emotional wellbeing is touching, and unnecessary.” There was another rumble from outside and then the rain started, the sound of it pounding away on the roof. The Banshee paused to look outside and Gideon didn’t like that it was seeing things he couldn’t. It had agreed to help their cause and he tried to think of its uses instead of his own misgivings. It had no reason to lie. It had no reason to betray them. “Only unnecessary if we ignore that content is not the same thing as happy,” Brayden said, pointing a finger his direction. Gideon’s eyes narrowed at his brother, as much annoyed with the curious glances that Corey kept shooting him as he was with his brother’s words. Whatever he had intended to say in response he bit back when he caught movement from the Church’s Blades. Brayden didn’t turn to look at them, making no sign that he was aware of the man now making his way towards there table, but Gideon had no doubt he was, and probably had a knife stashed in that sling of his. Piressa shifted next to him, shoulder brushing his and knives ready. The Banshee never looked up, palming two cards off the pile and tossing a pair down in front of him. “Excuse me,” the Church’s Blade said. His voice was calm and respectful, and if anything that made Gideon more wary of him. “Do you mind if I join you for a moment?” He gestured at the chair next to him. “Always room for one more,” Brayden said. “But if you’re hoping to play you’ll have to wait until the next game.” “Ah, perhaps the next one then,” the man said. “May I ask what business brings you to Essocks?” “I could ask you the same,” Gideon said. His voice was cool and calm and it drew the Blade’s attention. He studied him for a moment, eyes still shadowed beneath the dark hood. Gideon kept one hand flat on the table but the other settled on the blade at his side. He shifted in his chair, bracing his foot against the floorboards in case he needed to move quickly. “We are searching for someone,” the Blade finally answered. “One of our own, who went missing a while back.” He smiled and then his head turned towards Brayden. He was still only half paying attention to the man, tossing another pair out on the table. Jethro and Corey had all but given up, Jethro’s eyes locked on the Blade with a cautious and dark look on his face. “Not to appear rude, but I’m afraid I must warn you of the danger you are in by traveling with an Omen of death.” The Banshee lifted his head at that, cool gaze focusing on the Blade for a long moment. Without looking down he pulled two pairs from his hand and dropped them on the table, before letting his gaze shift to Brayden. Gideon was tense and he disliked that the Blade could recognize the Omen on sight, when he’d had no idea who or what it was. “We are aware,” he said. He didn’t know if the words were the truth or not. He would have to ask Piressa to tell him more about the Omen when they had a chance and he wondered in the back of his mind if it wasn’t just another chance to speak to her alone. “I do not just mean his power,” the Blade said, nodding his head at the Omen. “I mean the danger to your souls. His magic comes from an unholy place and he will draw you down there with him if you allow him to.” His voice grew hard and firm while he spoke, and Gideon felt as though he suddenly found himself listening to a sermon. “Just by traveling with him you are consorting with the dark gods, the ones best left unspoken and forgotten. He will leave you tainted and broken at the end of all.” A rumble echoed overhead as the storm grew worse and it echoed the sound that came from Victory’s throat. “You know nothing of my kind,” he said coldly. “Death comes for all things, even the gods you pray to and the gods you fear.” “I have given my warning,” the Blade said, his gaze moving back to Gideon. “Do with it what you will.” He leaned forward like he was going to leave and instead he was suddenly pulling a blade from the sheath at his side. Gideon pushed against the floor but before he could move he felt the knife slam through the back of his palm, pinning his hand to the table. He pulled a second knife from his sheath and went to press it to Gideon’s throat. He barely managed to catch the man’s wrist before he did. There was a flurry of movement as Piressa drew her knives and pointed them at the Blade threatening Gideon. Chairs clattered and fell to the floor as his fellows rose, blades being drawn and as soon as theirs were, Jethro and Corey followed. The only ones who didn’t move were Brayden and the Omen, still sitting there calmly playing a game of cards. Gideon thought he should be more concerned but he felt a distant certainty that if his brother thought he was really in danger the man would be dead before he hit the ground. “Another question then,” the Blade said. “What have you done with our man Stephen Wrede, Chosen?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gideon told him through gritted teeth. His hand stung painfully where the knife had been rammed through it. A little to either side and his fingers would have been rendered useless. “Do not think I don’t recognize you,” the Blade hissed. “I know who you are, and I know Stephen went to join you. I know he did not die in the attack on the Keep, so tell us what you have done to our man. He never would have turned traitor like the rest of you godless heathens.” The man spat on the ground and there was real belief and passion in what he said. “No, probably not,” Brayden said. “Good thing we aren’t the traitors. Do you want to talk, or just threaten my brother some more?” He tossed his cards down on the table and the Banshee looked at them with narrowed eyes. “You win,” he said, folding. Wenston Brayden was relaxed and cool as he gathered up the cards and started shuffling them with one hand. He was fully aware that there was a blade still stuck in Gideon’s hand, pinning it to the table. He was fully aware that there was a blade still aimed at Gideon’s throat and that his brother was holding it away but wouldn’t be able to for long if the Church’s Blade really wanted to. He was aware of the three other Church’s Blade behind him and of Jethro, Corey and Piressa who stood between them and their table. He was aware of all of this and he would deal with it in a moment. He knew the sling made him slower than normal. His muscles were still somewhat weak from laying down for so long aboard the ship and he hadn’t gotten fully back to himself. Plus, he knew the Church’s Blade wouldn’t kill Gideon. If they knew who he was, that meant they knew what kind of power he held. It was far less greater now that the Chosen were outlaws, but it was still there. The Church’s Blade was glowering at Brayden, and he smirked, lifting his head to look at the man. It seemed the Blade was contemplating the intelligence behind sitting down and talking this over with him. If he was a smart man, he would choose to sit. “Wrede is a good man,” the Blade told him and Brayden nodded, not having to be told that. He remembered the man standing over him when he was poisoned and too weak to defend himself. He remembered him fighting off anyone who came his way. “You’ll tell me what you know.” “If you would kindly remove the knife from my brother’s hand,” Brayden said, flipping the cards about expertly in his hand. He glanced at the Banshee who was watching with elated amusement, child-like. The Blade looked over to Gideon, who was gritting his teeth and glaring at the man and if looks could kill, he’d be dead twice over. The Blade suddenly yanked the dagger from Gideon’s hand and Gideon pulled it back. Piressa slowly walked backwards, keeping her eye on the others before she turned and grabbed Gideon’s wrist, pulling his hand towards her and starting to wrap it. “Orders?” Jethro asked, turning his head to the side to ask over his shoulder. Gideon didn’t take his eyes from the Church’s Blade. “I am not overly fond of being stabbed,” he said lowly. “But if this is about Stephen Wrede, then sit down.” Brayden smirked, and waggled his eyebrows at the Banshee when he flipped a card with his index finger before shoving it back into the pile. Gideon nodded his head towards the others. “Tell your men to sit down.” The Church’s Blade turned to the others and hesitated for only a moment before he nodded at them to do as Gideon said. He grabbed the back of a chair and pulled it out, making to sit down next to Brayden. Brayden was moving before the man could say anything. He flung his arm out of the sling, pulling the dagger from the man’s fingers. With his other hand, he grabbed the back of his neck and shoved his head down where it slammed into the table, his cheek pressed into the wood. He twisted one of his arms up behind his back and as the man placed his palm on the table to try and take the pressure off of it, Brayden slammed the dagger home into his hand, just like he’d done to Gideon. Behind him, he heard the other Church’s Blades snarl curses and Jethro and Corey stood in their way. “Don’t,” Jethro barked at them. The Church’s Blade let out a cry and grit his teeth, giving noises of distress and pain. Brayden kept one hand on the dagger in the man’s hand and the other on the back of his neck. He leaned forward, practically laying on the man as he put his mouth near his ear and growled out viciously and lowly, “Draw blood from me and mine again and we’ll see just how appreciative the gods are of your work. There is no force in this world or others that will stop me from bleeding you dry where you stand.” Brayden lifted his head slightly and looked over his shoulder at the other Church’s Blades, who looked ready to try and come through Jethro. Brayden called out to them, “An eye for an eye. For every drop of blood you shed on us, I will return tenfold. Choose wisely if you wish to raise your blade.” He kept his eyes on them and was satisfied when he saw them take a step back and lower their weapons. Turning back to the man he had pinned to the table, Brayden leaned down again. “Now, you’re going to apologize to my brother,” Brayden calmly. The man squirmed, whimpering slightly from the pain and he grit his teeth and said, “What?” “Apologize!” Brayden yelled, pressing down harder on the dagger in his hand. The man let out a cry and then shouted, “I apologize!” he took a trembling breath and said quieter, “I apologize.” Brayden looked up from the man. Jethro still had his back to them, watching the other Church’s Blades, but they’d wisely sat down again and were now watching, concerned for their friend. Corey had turned around and was watching Brayden, a look of fear in his eyes that Brayden knew was directed to him. He wished Corey didn’t have to see this side of him. Gideon and Piressa sat across the table. Piressa had a nasty look on her face that told him she thought the man deserved more than a knife in the hand. It was the look Gideon was giving him that made him pause. It was questioning and concerned and Brayden again thought of Duncan’s words that they had better be glad Brayden was on their side. He wondered now what he would have done if he never joined the Chosen. He was still afraid of the answer. He was afraid of what he might have become. “Do you accept this man’s apology, brother?” Brayden asked, giving his brother and smirk. Gideon sighed. “Let him up,” he said, not really answering the question. Brayden snorted. “Like I said, boring,” he muttered to his brother and then leaned down to the man again. “You are lucky my brother is a far better person than I am. I would have slit your throat here and now.” From across the table, Piressa said coldly, “I still might come back later to pay you a visit.” It made Brayden give a small chuckle and then he yanked the blade out of the man’s hand. The man cried out and Brayden pulled him upright before he pushed him into the chair. He twirled the bloody knife in his hand before holding it hilt first to the man to take back, since he’d been stabbed with his own blade. The man looked at it and then up at Brayden with an incredulous look on his face. He reached timidly for the blade and sheathed it immediately when Brayden let him have it. Pulling his chair back around, Brayden sat down and put his arm back into the sling. He frowned a little at the blood that had started to stain his shoulder, the wound must have reopened slightly, though it wasn’t bleeding badly. Scooting his chair in, he grabbed the deck of cards and placed it in front of the Banshee. “Your deal,” he told the creature. The Banshee nodded, having sat patiently through the whole ordeal without moving or saying a thing. He started to deal the cards, but paused when he got to the Church’s Blade. Brayden turned to look at him and he looked a little pale and out of sorts. “Are you in?” he asked, and the man gave him a look that said he thought Brayden had lost his mind. Maybe he had. Brayden grinned and slapped the man on the shoulder when he didn’t answer. “You’re in.” The Banshee dealt him his cards. Gideon sighed and looked at his hand with disgust before he looked back over at the Church’s Blade. “Start talking,” he said. .Wolfie. “When we heard of what happened at the Keep, we sent a messenger to find out what became of Wrede,” the Blade said. “It was two fortnights before he finally reported back, wounded and scared.” He kept his wounded hand cradled to his chest, the other holding cards that he was barely paying attention to. He was stiff and nervous now, and trying to feign calmness. His gaze kept flicking to the back of Brayden’s head and Gideon thought that if he was scared of his brother it was the first smart thing he’d done. He believed Brayden when he said that he would have killed the man if he hadn’t said Stephen’s name. “They tortured your messenger,” Gideon said. He kept his narrowed gaze on the Blade and he tried not to feel some satisfaction at the blood on the man’s skin. His own hand throbbed painfully and he couldn’t help but think the man deserved an answering wound. Though a part of him couldn’t help but be concerned at the smile on his brother’s face when he did it. “Yes,” the Blade said, nodding his head. Behind him, his men stayed at their table, though their hands were white knuckled around their blades. “They thought he was a spy. They told us that the Chosen betrayed the Emperor and Wrede had fled with them.” “One part truth, one part falsehood,” Brayden said. He snorted and shook his head before laying three of his cards on the table. He adopted a casual, unconcerned attitude but Gideon knew better and he thought the Blade had gotten that point as well. It didn’t escape Gideon’s notice that he wasn’t looking at the man and he wondered if his brother would be more tempted to kill him if he did. “Tell me,” he said, drawing another card from the stack. “Did you believe these lies as blindly as you believe in your gods?” The Blade’s eyes narrowed slightly at that, his gaze locked on Brayden’s face. His hand was sloppily bound and there was blood soaking through it and staining his tunic. “Of course not,” he said. “We believed you kidnapped or killed Wrede because he would not aid you in your treachery.” He lifted his jaw in a challenge. “We know he was alive in Lowport. What have you done with him since?” “If you know he was alive in Lowport than why come here?” Gideon asked. His voice was cold and he couldn’t help the lingering anger in his chest. He disliked being stabbed. He disliked Church’s Blades in general but it was impolitic to say so. “Because this is where the Chosen were spotted and no trace of him in Lowport. I ask again, what have you done with him?” he said. “Would you even believe us if we said nothing?” Brayden asked. He smirked at Corey who wasn’t even looking at his cards. His eyes were wide and more than a little uneasy as they flicked between the Blade at their table and the ones behind them. The Banshee sat next to him, oblivious to it all, focusing only on Brayden’s hands as they manipulated the cards deftly. “No,” the Blade spat. “I refuse to believe it is a coincidence that you are here.” He winced when Brayden moved quickly, drawing his card for him and slapping it down on the table in front of him. There was a smile on his face that didn’t match the anger in his eyes. Jethro sighed, glaring freely at the man. “Can we just kill him and be done with it?” he asked. “I agree,” Piressa said, her voice quiet and cold. Gideon snorted and shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. He heard Piressa make a small, frustrated noise and then she was looking away from the man, reaching for the wounded hand he had resting on his knee. She pulled it into her lap, loosening the bindings she’d placed on it and rewrapping them. He allowed it, even when her gentle touch sent fresh pain lancing through the hole in his skin. “You are right,” Brayden said. The words drew confused looks from Corey and Jethro and he just smirked at them. “It’s no coincidence that we’re here. But unfortunately for you we still can’t tell you where Wrede is or what’s become of him.” “You lie,” the man said, his voice low and bitter. The smile on Brayden’s face widened and Gideon could recognize when it was only there to hide his anger. “I am many things, ser,” he said calmly. He winked at the Banshee as his fingers moved and palmed a card into his sleeve. The Omen grinned at that and it’s fascination with his brother’s tricks eased his mind somewhat. “Including a cheat and a liar on many occasions. This is not one of those occasions. And if you call me such again than I will do more damage to you than a flesh wound.” The man swallowed nervously, his gaze studying Brayden carefully. He looked like he wanted to go for his blade again but after a moment he bowed his head. “Than I apologize. But you must…” he paused at the words, seeing the way Brayden smirked at them. Gideon watched him carefully as he shifted uncomfortably and lightened his tone. It almost surprised him how terrified of his brother he was. It worried him that he thought he should be. “Surely you see how this looks. Our man goes missing in the company of Chosen. We follow his trail and find Chosen, but no sign of our man. If you do not know where he is than you must know something.” “He is not your man,” Gideon finally said. The Blade frowned and looked over at him, a questioning look on his face. “He is sworn to the Chosen now. He is no more a Church’s Blade than I am. Now, if Wrede has fallen into trouble than I would not turn away your assistance, but you will make no more demands, threats, or acts of violence against us.” The man nodded his head slowly, but by the hard set of his face Gideon didn’t believe he took the words to heart. “I understand,” he said quietly. “If it gets our- Wrede found than we will help you in whatever way we can.” “Then you can start by being honest with us,” Brayden told him. “So, let’s try it again… what’s your name?” “Alexander,” he told him. Brayden waited for a last name and when he didn’t get one he snorted and nodded his head. “Alright, Alexander,” he drawled, a wicked smirk on his face. He motioned a hand at the man as he spoke. “Why don’t you try telling us that story of yours again and this time don’t leave out the part where you somehow made the jump from Lowport to Essocks. And try to think of a reason besides ‘it was the will of the Gods.’ I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that.” “It is not a leap of faith to assume Essocks,” Alexander said. “We followed the leads the guards had already left us. They were very…hospitable after the High Priestess spoke to the Emperor about the poor treatment of her messenger. We are here with their blessing. Hardly something we would want to admit to known…suspected traitors.” He sighed afterwards and looked down at his wounded hand. “We have made inquiries around the docks. We were here tonight to meet with a man who claims to know the Captain that brought them here. Then we encountered you and…” He shrugged, glancing up at Brayden. “Does that satisfy you?” Brayden didn’t look at him, tossing a card casually on the table before he tipped back in his chair. There was blood soaking through the bandage on his shoulder and Gideon didn’t like it there. He disliked that his brother had limped in here earlier and that he was still recovering. He glanced at the Banshee but it was unconcerned with all of it, trying to sneakily get a glance at Brayden’s cards. “Almost,” Brayden told him, lacing the fingers of his good hand behind his head. “If you tell me the name of the ship Captain?” The Blade hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Gideon as he did. He missed the way Brayden’s hands strayed towards his knives afterwards. “The man we spoke to claims his name was Captain Martinez. That is all we have learned so far.” Brayden frowned, his expression darkening before he looked up at Gideon. “I’ve heard of him,” he said. “I’ll assume it’s nothing good.” Gideon lifted an eyebrow curiously because his brother seemed less than pleased with the news. The slight pressure on his wrist drew his gaze to Piressa. His hand still rested in her lap, hers holding his and running the fingers soothing over his skin. He was surprised that he hadn’t noticed. It was bandaged tightly, though blood still stained the linen. “It’s not,” Brayden told him. “Martinez likes to deal in human traffic.” It drew a curious glance from Corey and his brother couldn’t even muster up a smile for him this time. He just shook his head, hand running over his mouth. “Slavers,” Jethro supplied, before throwing his cards down on the table with disgust. Wenston The wind was picking up outside and it had already started to rain, pounding against the thick glass windows. Water leaked from beneath the door along with a draft that threatened to put out the lanterns in the inn. Doc still stood behind the bar, but it looked like he was getting ready to turn in for the night. The commotion from earlier hadn’t even phased the man. Beecher wasn’t exactly a boring person. Doc was used to it.Brayden sat at the table still, playing cards with the Banshee, the only one of them who was still interested in playing. Gideon had made Corey and Jethro go sit at the bar and Brayden thought it was an intelligent move, in case the Blades got uppity. They were too fast for Corey. Probably too fast for Jethro too. But at least the big guy had some meat on him and could last a few stabbings. He’d done it before. Alexander sat next to him and he was being very quiet. His comrades behind him were sitting in the exact same spot they had been the whole night and if Brayden had to say one thing about these devout lunatics, it was that they were persistent. He’d never liked dealing with Church’s Blades. They were stuck up, arrogant and if you weren’t with them, then you were against them. No matter what. He didn’t like that finality. It was probably why Stephen Wrede had been such a stick in the mud when he’d first came to the Chosen. He’d barely had time to start fitting in before the attack on the Emperor. But still, Brayden owed him his life. “Your man is late,” Brayden said nonchalantly. He was leaned back in his chair, his feet kicked up. He looked at leisure, but really, his shoulder was aching and he was growing a bit weary from the past few days. He hadn’t been awake this long since before he’d been shot by Cain. Alexander had his hand cradled to his chest and he scowled at Brayden, thinking he couldn’t see him out of the corner of his eye. “He is not my man,” he said. “Simply a source of information.” From next to Gideon, Piressa spit out, “He is your informant, he is your man.” Brayden glanced over at her and she still held Gideon’s hand in her own. Brayden didn’t comment on it, but he wondered why it didn’t concern him as much as it should. As if on cue, the front door opened, blowing open with the wind and banging against the wall. A hooded figure hurried in, shutting the door behind him before pulling down the hood and shaking himself dry, his back to everyone in the room. He had slick brown hair, part of it pulled into a ponytail while the rest hung down to his shoulders. When he turned around, he looked clean cut and groomed and it made Brayden wonder what his business with the Church’s Blades really was. The man lifted an eyebrow as he saw everyone in the inn looked at him. He pulled his cloak off and hung it on a rack near the door before pointing to Alexander. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing guests,” he quipped and it made Brayden wonder if the man didn’t know who they were or just didn’t care. For some reason, he thought it was the latter. Alexander cleared his throat. “We have a common goal and therefore a mutual truce,” he said. “For now.” The man seemed to catch the last part and smirked, striding across the room and grabbing a chair, pulling it up next to the table. Gideon eyed the man once and said, “What information do you have about Captain Martinez?” A laugh escaped the man’s lips. “You cut right to the chase,” he said and then reached into his cloak. Brayden tensed a little and he saw the others grow leery. At the bar, Jethro tightened his grip on his sword. But the man simply withdrew a cloth map and unrolled it onto the table. It was a map of Essocks and the surrounding area. “I wager it is not the Captain you are actually interested in, but the cargo he carries,” the man said, smirking as he looked at each of them. “In particular, a small group of men of certain import from Lockhaven.” Brayden kicked his feet off the table and leaned forward, throwing down his winning hand. The Banshee grinned and Brayden set the cards down in front of the creature before turning his attention to this man. “You are making a lot of assumptions about our intentions,” he said plainly. The man gave Brayden a look and said, “Well?” he shrugged. “Am I right?” “Nevermind our intentions,” Brayden told him. “I’d like to know what yours are.” The man glanced at Alexander and then sighed, smiling at Brayden and he had an honest face. That’s why it didn’t surprise Brayden when he said, “There are certain interested parties who care about the well-being of the former Emperor and his men. When I heard rumor they had come to Essocks, I told the interested parties I would do my best to ensure their safety.” Alexander scowled. “The only man whose well-being we care for is Wrede.” From the bar, Jethro growled. “The men who are missing with Wrede are good men,” he spat and Brayden smirked because if the man didn’t know who they were before, he knew now. He’d never said the word Chosen, but Brayden suspected he knew a lot more than he was letting on. There was something in the way he talked. In the way he looked at all of them. “So you watch your tongue.” “It’s alright,” Gideon said, holding his good hand up to Jethro, who backed down a bit but still looked like he was ready to throttle Alexander. Gideon turned to the mysterious man with the map and said, “When you say interested parties, surely you must know most of Lockhaven consider us traitors and would see us hanged.” The man nodded. “Most,” he agreed and then grinned. “Not all.” The man pointed at the map again. “Captain Martinez owns a jade mine outside of town. Jade, though in itself not much of a commodity, has become a money pit for Martinez due to the fact he uses slave labor to man the mine.” He looked up and smiled at all of them. “If you’re looking for your missing men, you’ll look there. Martinez wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to use men as strong and skilled in his empire.” “Are you willing to show us the way?” Gideon asked. “As soon as the storm passes, I’ll show you whatever you like,” the man said with a polite smile. “If you need supplies, I can offer them too. I have horses and a surgeon if you should like one to look at your shoulder,” he said, rolling up the map and pointing it at Brayden. He snorted and was about to answer when he saw the man pull a band from his pocket to wrap around the map. It had a seal on it that he recognized and Brayden went still as he watched him. Licking his lips, he looked down at the table and his mind was racing. He knew what his heart was telling him to do, but it wasn’t the logical thing in this situation. He cleared his throat. “Is that your family seal?” he asked calmly. The man glanced down at the map and nodded, holding it up for him to see. “It is,” he agreed. “Well known in these parts.” Brayden nodded. “I should imagine,” she said. “I recognize it. It belongs to the Count De Montague.” The man shrugged, still in a light and helpful mood. “And his son.” He frowned a bit and tilted his head. “My family seal is well known in these parts, but not in Lockhaven. Can I ask how it is you recognize it?” Brayden ran a hand over his mouth, his eyes going to Gideon who was watching him with intense curiosity. The others didn’t seem to know why he was talking about the man’s family seal and he doubted his next words would have much impact on any of them save for Gideon and Piressa. “It was on an invitation to your wedding with Lady Gisaine.” .Wolfie. Part Six 6.1 Torturer’s Chamber Corey was lying on his back and there was something dripping into his eye. He blinked and focused on the ceiling above him. There was a leak in the corner of one of the stones and water kept trickling down and falling on his face. He tilted his head to the side and it slid into his mouth, the drop wetting his tongue and soothing his throat. His stomach throbbed and he could feel the stinging lines that the torturer had drawn with his knives and his hooks. They kept discovering new ways to hurt him and he was scared that if they asked him he would tell them what they wanted to know the most. He would tell them if the Crowes still lived. He was afraid of what answer would leave his tongue when it came again. “We searched Roseville ser, but they were long gone,” a man said. His voice was low and familiar somehow but Corey couldn’t place the name to it. He tried to tilt his head to the side but the man stood in shadow, not even entering the room. He stood on the other side of the door, speaking to the Inquisitor within. “We sent out scouts to Otterville, but we don’t expect to find them.” “Keep looking,” the Inquisitor said lowly. He sounded angry, frustrated, and then his gaze was turning over his shoulder to look at Corey. “Continue your investigation and I will continue mine. Dismissed, Elite.” The man saluted and then he was gone, the door shutting loudly behind him. Corey licked his lips and he felt fear run down his spine as the man walked over to him. He had a thoughtful look on his face and then he lowered his head towards Corey. “Are you ready to tell me what I want to know?” he asked. “Are you ready to tell me what forces are coming this way, who else the Crowes managed to gather to their cause? Do they even still live?” He tilted his head to the side, waiting for Corey’s answer. He whimpered and then he shook his head, eyes slamming shut to brace against the pain that was sure to follow. He couldn’t. Not yet. He broke a little more every moment, but he bit down hard on his tongue and swore that he wouldn’t break yet. He heard a sigh and then the man pressed his thumb into a wound in his shoulder. Corey felt a strangled cry leave his lips at that. “Tell me what you did to Jacquies De Montague then,” he snarled. “Did you betray him? Is that how he was killed?” Corey shook his head. “We didn’t,” he whimpered. “I swear.” 6.2 Essocks – The Dancing Blade Gideon was up before dawn the day the storm finally passed. He’d heard the damage was extensive, most of the port ripped to shreds, including half the ships that had docked there. There was wreckage strewn up and down the coast from buildings and boats that had been broken and splintered, goods still floating in the bay. They were lucky that the Dancing Blade was set far enough back away from the waters that it hadn’t flooded like half the businesses on the docks. No ships were allowed in except on official business and Gideon didn’t know how long that would last. They were effectively stuck in Essocks for the time being. There was no relief in that. It gave them time to investigate the mine De Montague was directing them towards, but if Drake showed up then they had nowhere to run. They were trapped, and even if De Montague was sincere in his desire to help, he didn’t know if that meant openly assisting them if the Lockhaven guard came calling. He didn’t trust the situation but he shoved his unease aside because it would only distract him from doing his duty. If Drake showed up with a full complement than they would deal with it. Gideon let himself into his brother’s room without knocking and he saw his hand shift beneath his pillow at the sound of it. He didn’t try to be quiet because they both knew he was already awake. He grabbed a wooden chair and swung it around, positioning it in front of his brother’s bed before he straddled it, resting his arms on the back. “We need to talk,” he said. Brayden didn’t move for a moment but Gideon didn’t buy it. He waited patiently for his brother, watching the back of his head as he tried to ignore Gideon’s presence. His breathing was steady and even and he threw a snore in there for good measure. The silence stretched on and Gideon let out a sigh. “Brayden,” he said. The snore cut off and he heard his brother grumble something under his breath. “This is about that game of seven hand I talked you into last night, isn’t it?” he said. He sighed and Gideon watched his brother sit upright, hand running through his hair and then over his face. He looked tired and he didn’t believe the smile that he plastered on his face. “Alright, I admit it. I cheated you last night. It’s a habit that I’m trying to break, but if you want I’ll give you the fifty silver back.” Gideon snorted and shook his head. “I knew you cheated,” he said. He watched his brother’s movements as he shifted to the edge of his bed and he was still favoring his other arm. “If you want to know why I never play cards with you it’s because you win even when you don’t and I’d prefer not to throw my coin away, so keep it. That’s not what I’m here about.” His brother grinned, standing to walk past him to the basin. He ran water over his face and hands, not glancing over his shoulder as he spoke. “Ah, you need love advice then. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you and the elf spending a lot of time together.” “I spend a lot of time with Jethro too,” Gideon said. His voice was sharper than intended and Brayden shot a look back at him before turning and leaning casually against the wall. He felt heat rising to his face and he pushed that aside because he recognized when his brother was trying to dodge something and he was doing so now. He knew why. They’d been avoiding it for the past few days and it had been easy to do so because they couldn’t go anywhere with the storm raging outside. “That isn’t what this is about.” “Jethro didn’t sit by your bedside and nurse you back to health,” Brayden said. Gideon’s eyes narrowed at that and he bet he had Corey to thank for his brother hearing the details of that. Whatever expression he was making just broadened the smile on his brother’s face. “He’s not the one holding your hand when a blade gets stuck through it. So let’s have it. Are you bedding her?” He flexed his hand at the words, feeling the skin pull tight when he did. It was healing quickly, but he still had to keep it bound because he kept ripping the scab open. Piressa had teased him about it and he found he didn’t mind her teasing. It occurred to him that he hadn’t answered his brother’s question and he shook his head. “No,” he said. Brayden shrugged, a smile on his face. “Perhaps you should be.” It surprised him to hear those words from his brother and for a moment he couldn’t respond. He couldn’t say it hadn’t crossed his mind. She had been on his thoughts more and more lately and as much as he tried to ignore it, he found her both beautiful and captivating. It would only lead to trouble. “I neither want nor need that kind of distraction,” Gideon finally said. The words came easily because they were the same ones he’d been telling himself for days now, but even so Brayden just chuckled at him. He cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice low when he spoke. “We need to talk about De Montague.” That killed the smile on Brayden’s face and he shrugged his shoulders. His voice was cool and unemotional and it made Gideon more worried about him than if he’d sounded angry at the question. “What is there to say about him? He has stayed true to his word and gotten us the supplies we need. Apparently he has managed to step out from under his father’s shadows. Good for him.” “So it appears,” Gideon agreed. He watched his brother move about the room, his movements stiff and tense. He let out a breath and it worried him that he had to ask the next question. “What do you intend to do about him?” Brayden snorted and pulled his vest across his chest. Gideon watched him hide blades in the pockets and even seeing him hide them, he doubted he would have been able to find them all. His brother was the best at what he did, and sometimes that was only just a step above murder. They both knew it, but he had never questioned that every man his brother killed was one who deserved it. This was the only one he doubted on. “It would be rather destructive to our cause if I killed him now, wouldn’t it?” Brayden said the words cheerfully but Gideon couldn’t get himself to smile in response. He watched his brother strap his belt around his waist and sheath the short swords at his side. His shoulder was out of its sling but he still held it close to his chest as he moved. He still hadn’t met Gideon’s eyes and he was still dodging the question. “And Gisaine?” he asked. His brother stilled for a moment, hands stilling in their motions. It was a visible effort for him to start moving again, the smile he put on his face almost painful to witness. “I have no intentions of killing her either.” Gideon sighed as his brother started to head for the door and his voice was quiet and sincere. “Brayden, are you alright?” Brayden paused at the door, his hand resting on the handle but not yet opening it. His voice was cold and almost mean when he spoke over his shoulder and Gideon hadn’t forgotten all the fights they’d been having lately. To be fair, they hadn’t spent this much time together since they were children. “If you are asking me as Captain than you needn’t worry, I am perfectly capable of doing my duty and following your orders. My shoulder has healed well enough and should not be a burden.” He pushed himself to his feet, walking over to rest his hand against the door before his brother tried to leave. It finally drew Brayden’s eyes to his and the look on his face was cold to mask the pain he thought his brother must have been feeling. He had loved Gisaine. The feelings wouldn’t go away in a day, if ever. “I’m not asking as your Captain, I’m asking as your brother,” he told him. “Truly? I didn’t think there was a difference anymore.” He spat the words and Gideon forgave him them as soon as they were spoken. He wouldn’t have called them lies. Brayden shook his head. “Truthfully, no. I am not alright. But I will do my duty.” Wenston Brayden sat by himself for a while, waiting for the others to get everything together. The Blades had been stuck in the inn right along with them and tensions had been high whenever they were around. Brayden didn’t miss how Jethro make Corey stick to him with every moment. He didn’t think the Blades would try anything until after they found Stephen, but it was probably a good idea not to tempt them. The question Gideon had asked him this morning weighed heavily on him. He’d responded with more anger than Gideon deserved and he felt he should have apologized, but he wasn’t sure it would do any good at this point. They’d been fighting more and more and he thought it was because of how much time they spent with each other and not because they actually had things to fight about. Brayden liked to fray on Gideon’s nerves and whether his brother realized it or not, he thought Gideon did too. The room was quiet as they waited for Gideon to come down. He and Piressa were the only ones still not down here and Brayden wondered when he’d stopped worrying that his brother was alone with the elf. He hated to admit it, but she’d proven herself useful and she’d saved both of their lives at least once already. He wasn’t sure it was smart, but the unease around her was starting to subside. Corey and Jethro were at the bar, talking with Doc, who’d been taking their drama fairly well. Brayden supposed his cover was blown with the man, but Doc didn’t seem to be in a hurry to sell them out. Beecher hadn’t been a name slung around here since the first day. He supposed that alias was dead, at least in Essocks. He’d used it elsewhere, but he didn’t plan on visiting the frozen wastes any time soon. “It’s harvest season back home,” Corey was saying to Jethro, who glanced over at the kid with an amused expression for once. Corey had a plate of food in front of him and he just shrugged at Jethro’s look. “I don’t miss working on the farm.” Jethro snorted. “I bet,” he said. “Scrawny thing like you? Probably shriveled in the sun.” Corey shot Jethro a nasty look and it quirked the corners of Brayden’s mouth. The kid was fitting in well. His eyes moved to Victory, who sat at a table by himself laying out cards and Brayden didn’t recognize the game he was playing, which lead him to believe it wasn’t a game. It looked more like he was reading what the cards were telling him and the creature both fascinated and frightened him. A frustrated sigh came from another table further down from Brayden and he turned his head lazily to look at the Church’s Blades. Alexander was getting antsy, Brayden knew. The man wanted to go and get to Stephen and take him back to the Church for whatever reason. He wondered what the man would think when it turned out Stephen was actually a Chosen now and had fought with them instead of against them. He thought he probably knew the answer. He thought Alexander’s days were probably numbered. “Patience is a virtue,” Brayden told Alexander, who glared at him and curled his lips into a sneer. “Don’t speak to me of patience,” he spat back and Brayden smirked, glancing over to Jethro, who’d turned his attention to their conversation. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Brayden look at him. “Testy,” Brayden shrugged. Jethro snorted, but his eyes narrowed on Alexander. The man sighed and leaned forward, tapping his finger on the table to accent his words. “I do not believe you, of all people, are acquainted with virtues.” Brayden put a hand over his chest like he was hurt. He was a little stiff still in the arm and when he moved it, it ached something fierce, but he had most of his mobility back and it had stopped bleeding and started to heal over. “Me of all people?” he asked. “Please, do elaborate.” Alexander’s gaze narrowed. “Your soul is tainted,” he spat. Brayden snorted because that wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. “It’s blackened and scarred by the blood you’ve shed. I know what you are, assassin. The gods will judge you harshly when you leave this plane.” “Well,” Brayden said, kicking his feet up on the table and slinging his arm over the back of his chair. “Good thing I don’t plan on leaving any time soon.” “If the gods demand your death, I would be happy to obey them,” Alexander said lowly and Brayden grinned at the words. Jethro scoffed from the bar. “That sounds vaguely like a threat, Blade,” he said, looking down at the bar before turning to eye Alexander. “So tread carefully.” Alexander shrugged and Brayden thought some of the fear the man had held the first night was gone. He didn’t like it because it either meant that he was forgetting what Brayden could do to him, or he’d done something to make himself less afraid and there were endless possibilities for that. He thought maybe Gideon would disapprove, but Brayden decided then and there that he wasn’t letting these Blades walk away alive. At least Alexander. He hadn’t had much contact with the other three. Footsteps on the stairs brought Brayden’s eyes up to look at his brother and Piressa. Gideon’s eyes came first to him and he wondered how much his brother had heard. Gideon had been adamant on them working together and he would probably get mad if they were slinging insults and threats at each other. But Gideon made no sign he’d heard, though that didn’t mean anything, and went to stand just on the other side of the Banshee, who was still sitting quietly looking at his cards. “What’s the plan?” Jethro asked and it was still a great task for him to stop calling Gideon “captain.” Gideon nodded. “We can either go and buy our men back from Martinez, or we can send Brayden and Piressa in to deal with him.” Brayden smirked. “I don’t think a man that deals in flesh should be able to walk away from us.” “Judgment is not yours to pass,” Alexander spat at him and Brayden tipped his head to the side to look at the man. He was getting mouthy and Brayden was sure now that they intended to betray them. “And yet you’ve passed it on me,” he told him calmly. Gideon glanced between the two of them, his face darkening. “Enough,” he said, holding up a hand and Brayden was glad to see it had healed mostly. He would forever have the scar, however. “In this, I believe we will try to do both. If he does not accept our request to buy our men back, then we will not allow him to live.” “He’s a slaver, Gideon,” Jethro said and they glanced at him. “We’d really let him walk away? Keep his mine?” “We must remember what we came here for,” Gideon said and there was regret in his voice. “To find our men. We should not draw more attention to ourselves than what is necessary. Killing Martinez will surely turn powerful eyes to us.” Brayden smirked, tipping back in his chair. Martinez wasn’t living. And neither was Alexander. Gideon just didn’t know it yet or at least if he did, he wasn’t admitting it. Brayden had no intention of letting either of them walk away and he tried to convince himself it was because killing them would be for the greater good and not because he had frustrations to take out. “And where do you plan on getting the coin to buy back our men, brother?” Brayden asked and he was being petulant and smart, to which Gideon sighed but didn’t call him on. “De Montague has agreed to help with that,” he said flatly. Brayden snorted. “Of course he has.” .Wolfie. 6.3 Essocks – Soldier’s Highway The storm had ripped the docks apart. It was the first time in days they’d been able to go outside and witness it for themselves and Gideon was surprised at just how much devastation it had left behind. He thought about the Banshee saying the storm carried death on its winds and now he could see why. Almost all of the ships that had been docked at the time had been shattered under the force of the storm that had ripped through, half of them torn right from the pier and thrown out to see. They were still trying to take count of just how many had been killed because most of them were lost to the waters. It would be a while until the city recovered. De Montague had shown up just after dawn as he’d promised, horses in tow and a smile on his face. He had stuck to his word to help them and while Gideon didn’t fully trust the man, he had to admit that if he wanted them imprisoned or dead there would be no reason to waste his time with this. If he was sincere in his wish to see the Emperor back on the throne than he would be a valuable ally and Gideon hoped his brother meant it when he said he had no intentions on killing the man. He still carried his doubts about that. De Montague led their small processional and much to Gideon’s unease, the Blades brought up the rear. The four of them were sullen and quiet and the days stuck in the Dancing Blade hadn’t eased tensions any. It was unfortunate, because their intentions were the same and as much as he disliked them, he bore them no ill will. They wanted Wrede safe, and he could not argue with that aim. “Are you sure you have time for this?” Brayden was asking. He rode just behind Jethro and De Montague, his gaze on the man’s back and his tone mocking. “What with your wedding coming up. I’d think you’d have more important things to do.” The man laughed and his tone was light and honest. “Do you think my betrothed would thank me if I spent this time gathering rare jewels for her instead?” Brayden scoffed at that. “So you think playing the hero is going to impress her?” De Montague glanced over his shoulder at Brayden, the smile still on his face. “Playing the hero? I imagine if that were my intent she would see through it easily. She is an intelligent woman.” He turned away and missed the face Brayden made at him afterwards. Gideon did not. “Aiding your cause aids her, and I do so gladly.” “How noble of you,” Brayden said. He rolled his eyes at the man and there was a sharp, mocking tone in his voice. “I’m sure it never crossed your mind that her dowry just happens to include an Empire.” “It has,” the man admitted, nodding his head. “Hopefully it also includes a father in-law.” “So you admit it,” Brayden spat. There was venom in the words and likely Gideon and Piressa were the only ones that knew the pain behind it. He watched his brother’s back, how stiffly he sat in the saddle and how tightly his hands were grasping the reins. He wondered if he told him truly when he said he could still do his duty. As soon as he thought it he felt a distant pain because maybe Brayden was right and he no longer knew how to be anything other than Captain. “This is as much a political marriage as any other.” Jacquies De Montague sighed but didn’t turn around. He led them up the road and the buildings were starting to thin out, leaving them with rocky coastline and small, stunted trees. “I admit that this is a political marriage, yes,” he said. “A woman such as her will never have a choice in that matter. Whoever she marries will have the keys to an Empire. It is a responsibility and a burden I do not envy her. But to say that I have no feelings for her would be a lie. She is a strong, beautiful woman, and I am honored to marry her. I only hope that one day I will be worthy of calling myself her husband.” Brayden scoffed, rolling his eyes at the man’s back. Gideon wondered again if his brother would be able to restrain himself from sticking a knife in the man’s back. That he doubted it concerned him. His brother worried him at times, more so now that he could not feign blindness to the things his brother was capable of. “Pretty words,” he grumbled. De Montague laughed, glancing back at him again. He was either ignorant of the nasty undertones or was simply choosing to ignore them. Gideon thought it was the second. “Aren’t they? I think I may try and work them into my vows.” “So you do intend to be Emperor,” Alexander said abruptly. Gideon glanced back at the Blades and he didn’t like the dark look the man was giving De Montague. He didn’t forget that Alexander had put a blade through his hand but they could be useful allies in this, as long as they remembered they were on the same side. He doubted the Blades realized that. He doubted they cared to hear it. “I intend to marry a future Empress,” Jacquies told him. “That is all.” He laughed abruptly and turned to look back at Gideon and then Alexander. “There is an awful lot of questioning my motives,” he said. “What have you to say about your own?” “I do not answer to traitors and heretics,” Alexander spat. His gaze moved over them and narrowed at the Banshee. “No?” De Montague said, lifting an eyebrow. “You must have few people to converse with.” Corey chuckled and it drew a nasty glare from both Alexander and Brayden at that. De Montague grinned at the boy and then turned around, leading them towards the crossroads up ahead. There were wooden signs jammed into the dirt, pointing the way to the next town. De Montague stopped at it, turning his horse around to face Gideon. “This is where I leave you,” he said. “The mine is on the westward road. It should be easy enough to find. Martinez had a small barracks built there to house his slaves, he will likely be within.” He spurred his horse forward with his heels, holding out his hand to Gideon. He didn’t miss his brother still glaring at the man’s back, but when he saw Gideon watching he looked away. “Tread cautiously, my friends,” De Montague told him, clasping his hand. “Martinez has ties with the Guild. This could easily turn ugly.” Gideon snorted and almost smiled. He glanced past him at Brayden again and his brother was looking down the road where the mine lay. “Ugly situations are apparently our specialty,” he said. The man laughed at that and nodded his head. “Be well,” he said. “I will contact you at dawn at the Dancing Blade.” Gideon watched him turn his horse and ride back down the road towards Essocks, casting a mocking salute at the Blades as he passed. As much as he was still unsure about the man’s intentions, he found himself liking Jacquies De Montague. He reminded him of Brayden to a point, at least with his quick tongue and light humor. Gideon sighed and then turned his attention to Alexander. “After you,” he said, nodding his head at the westward road. As much as he didn’t want them in the lead, he wanted them even less at his back. He hadn’t thought they would try anything with De Montague with them, but now that he was gone he had no such assurances. Alexander glared at him and then after a moment he nodded his head, urging his horse forward with his men following close behind. They were quiet and sullen and he trusted that even less. He thought about Jacquies warning as they rode, that Martinez had connections with the Guild. It didn’t surprise him, but it made the situation even more precarious. The man was a slaver. He deserved to die and Gideon would gladly see him meet that end, but it would draw too many eyes their way. The Guild, Drake, perhaps even De Montague’s father, and if that happened there was no telling what that might bring down on all their heads. The Viceroy had hired one Raven to track them down, he would have more at his disposal. Even with the Banshee supposedly on their side, he didn’t relish the thought of facing another mage. The life of one slaver weighed against everything they fought for was no choice. He knew it, but he still felt vague disgust with himself. Duty was sacrifice. Even if that sacrifice meant letting wicked men continue to live. “Brayden,” he said lowly. His brother glanced back at him and then dropped back to ride at his side. Jethro and Corey filled the space, keeping their horses between the Crowes and the Blades. They didn’t need to hear his plans. “I want you to find our men,” he said. “I will still meet with Martinez, but if things go badly I want you to make sure Wrede and anyone else gets free.” “Why me?” Brayden said, lifting an eyebrow. “Surely your elf can do the same.” “She doesn’t know what they look like,” Gideon told him. It was true, but it wasn’t his only reason. “She will go ahead and get a mark on Martinez, in case we need to end him quickly. Only if he refuses to deal with us,” he added. “I know what your men look like,” Piressa said lowly. “I observed all of you at the Keep.” Brayden frowned and his head turned towards Piressa. He studied her for a moment and Gideon could well imagine his brother’s thoughts. They had never discussed her full involvement on the Keep’s assault but his brother was an intelligent man, good at reading between the lines, and he had no doubt that if he hadn’t been sure she was sent to kill him before, he was now. Still, he forced a smile across his face and turned towards Gideon, holding out his hand to her. “There, you see, there’s no reason not to switch.” Gideon sighed and then looked directly at his brother. He wondered if he was about to start another fight, but he said the words anyway because he couldn’t risk doing anything else. “If I order her not to kill Martinez unless necessary, than she will follow that order. Can you say the same?” he asked. Brayden’s face darkened and for a moment Gideon wondered if he was just opening this rift between them wider and wider. Then he sighed and jerked his head at Piressa. “Come elf,” he snapped. “We have our jobs to do, don’t we?” Wenston “He only questions you because he is worried,” Piressa said after they were out of earshot of the others. Brayden gripped his reigns so tightly his fingers were starting to hurt. As much as he was trying to convince his brother that he was focused and with him, he hadn’t foreseen Montague. He’d mulled over the idea of paying Montague a visit while he was here, he’d admitted that much to his brother. But now that he was here and he’d met the man, he was loathe to admit the man was a decent man. He could see Gisaine loving a man like that and it was so painful every time Montague didn’t get mad or snap at them. He wanted Montague to be bad. So it would give him an excuse. Leaning forward slightly, he didn’t look at Piressa as he said, “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t feel the need to take advice on my own brother from you.” Piressa gave a small laugh, but it wasn’t a cruel thing. Her voice was softer than usual and he wondered if she pitied him because she shouldn’t. She should not let her guard down around him as much as he should not let his guard down around her. As soon as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. The only way he’d ever follow through on killing her was if she betrayed them. Gideon was right, she had proved useful so far. “Do you feel this woman truly loved you back?” she asked and the question was spoken softly to lessen the blow of the words. He winced anyway because it was the same question he’d been asking himself since the day of the attack. Before that day, he would have said yes and he would have stabbed anyone who had told him differently. Now, he didn’t know how to answer. Instead of answering the question, Brayden sighed. He looked down at the reigns and ahead of them the mine was coming into view. He pulled on the reigns and stopped his horse, tying it off on a tree. Piressa did the same, but she was watching him for an answer. He stayed for a moment beside his horse, looking at the ground. “I wonder sometimes if I only protect the Emperor because it was the first cause to enlist my services,” he said lowly and he saw Piressa still her motions next to her horse. He could feel her eyes on him and he wasn’t sure why he was telling her this, of all people. He wondered if she’d tell his brother. Probably. “I find myself wondering what I would do if I were not sworn to this, and I don’t like the answer. There’s only darkness and blood.” He glanced up at Piressa and she looked just about as surprised as he was that he was telling her this. “Knowing she loved me made me think I could have something other than pain. If it turns out she doesn’t…” he shrugged a little and plastered a smirk on his face, but it faltered and fell immediately. “I do not like what I would become.” Piressa watched him for a moment. “Love is often the most painful blows one can sustain.” Snorting, Brayden brushed his hands off and turned to the mine. “Yes, well, broken hearts are Gideon’s area of expertise, not mine.” “What do you mean by that?” she asked. He shook his head. “It’s not my place to tell.” Then he turned to look at her squarely. “If you let whatever is going on between you two continue, you stay with him for good. Otherwise put an end to it now. He would not survive another heartache like that.” Piressa was giving him a curious look, but Brayden turned and pointed to the mine. “You had better find you mark, elf. Try not to die.” “Same to you, human,” Piressa snapped at him, but there was less bite to the words than normal. He grinned and they parted ways there, Brayden making his way down the hill towards the back of the mine. He could see a hundred or so men with chains on their ankles, digging away and moving buckets of rock down the line. They wore dirty clothes and most of them looked sickly and weary. There were some that seemed to have strength yet in them and Brayden found himself worrying for Stephen. He hoped the man was well and he found it odd he did. The Viceroy’s betrayal had brought Stephen close to the group quicker than he would have been accepted otherwise. There were several overseers walking up and down the line. They had whips in their hands and Brayden’s eyes narrowed when he sat that. He could see the blood strikes on some of the slaves’ backs. If there was one thing that angered him, it was slavers. Brayden pulled up the hood of his black vest over his head. The face mask that covered his nose and his mouth was pulled up as ell and he stayed low in the brush next to the mine. This, this was what he was good at. Staying in the shadows, hiding in plain sight, sneakery and stealth, these were his gifts. He wondered again why he’d opened up to Piressa about his own doubts he had about himself and maybe it was because it was easier to tell her than his brother, because Gideon already mistrusted him. It hurt that he was constantly questioning him, but it hurt more that Brayden realized he had good reason to. He sat and watched the overseers patrol for a moment, gathering the patterns and he found an opening to sneak inside the mine when the overseers passed by him. Leaping up, he darted into the mine. A few of the slaves turned to look at him, but he held a finger to his lips and they turned away dully. Brayden felt his lips sneer, because these men were broken and hopeless. Martinez was a monster and Brayden thought that if he couldn’t kill the man now, once they got the Emperor back on the thrown, he’d come back and pay him a visit. Making his way down the mine, he ducked and hid behind corners whenever an overseer walked by. His dark vest, hood and mask helped him stay hidden and he made sure to check the faces of every man he passed along the way. He was just rounding a corner when he spotted a familiar man standing further up in the mine. The dim lantern illuminated his face and Brayden smirked because even with dirt and grime covering his skin, he still had that fire in his eyes and Brayden felt relieved. Stephen held a pick in one hand and he was hitting away at the rock wall. Beside him, an older man was sitting and trying to keep up with him, but he looked sick with one foot in the grave. Whenever an overseer walked by, Stephen would turn and help the man stand and as soon as they were out of sight again, he’d help him sit. Coming out of the shadows, Brayden went to the opposite wall and leaned casually against it, sure that there were no overseers coming along. “Excuse me,” he said nonchalantly and he watched Stephen jump a little and turn quickly, pick in his hand like he was getting ready to brandish it as a weapon. His eyes were wide, but they narrowed when they saw Brayden, probably trying to recognize him through the mask he wore. “You haven’t happened to see a man around here with a stick up his ass and a misguided sense of honor, have you?” “Brayden?” Stephen asked, a frown marring his face. “So I take that as a no?” Brayden asked, his eyes darting to the side as a shadow started coming up the mine. He ducked back around the corner and he smirked when Stephen turned around and got back to work until the overseer passed. As soon as the man was out of sight, they both turned back to each other. Stephen’s voice was low. “By the gods, Brayden, we surely thought you were dead.” Brayden snorted. “You want to be rid of me so?” he feigned mock hurt, his hand going to his chest. Stephen shook his head, giving an incredulous laugh. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you, thief.” “You as well, Ser Stephen the Pious,” he shot back, mirroring the grin on Stephen’s face. Brayden glanced around and grew serious. “Are there others with you?” Shaking his head, Stephen sighed. “No, I stayed with Tristan and Miren as long as possible, but the captain of our ship betrayed us and tried to enslave us. We were going to escape as soon as we docked, but the captain saw it coming. I managed to hold him off while the others escaped, but I know not where they went.” Brayden nodded. That meant the others were here, probably hiding. “They didn’t come back for you?” “I told them not to,” Stephen smirked. “It would help us stay hidden.” “Fair enough,” Brayden said. “I hope you’re ready to leave. There are some friends of your outside who seem to think we forced you into betraying the Emperor.” The look on Stephen’s face made Brayden chuckle. “Blades are here?” he asked. “Yes,” Brayden told him. “And we should get going before they think I am here to murder you.” Brayden came forward and leaned down to pick the lock on the chain around Stephen’s ankle. Stephen turned to look at the old man next to him and Brayden was about to tell him to not even think about it when there was a commotion coming from one of the side tunnels. Brayden and Stephen turned to look that way and once Stephen’s ankle was free, they ducked down the tunnel. It wouldn’t’ be long before the overseers figured out Stephen was gone, they didn’t have much time. Hurrying down the tunnel, they crouched when they reached the end and Brayden’s eyes narrowed when he saw what was ahead of them. There were a group of men with swords and spears and they were surrounding Gideon, Piressa, Jethro and Corey. Piressa had blood running down the side of her face and Brayden wondered how she’d managed to be overtaken. The Church’s Blades stood freely and he could see Alexander standing with a man who he assumed was Martinez by the fancy clothes he wore. Martinez was giving him a key and then he turned over his shoulder and yelled. “Bring me the man they seek. He has made a worthy trade.” Brayden bristled when he heard the next words. “You’ll fetch a hefty reward when I sell you to the Lockhaven guards.” Sighing, Brayden exchanged a look with Stephen and then ran a hand over his eyes. “Damn it all,” he said. “Do I have to do everything?” .Wolfie. 6.4 Essocks – Martinez’s Jade Mines Gideon wasn’t surprised to be betrayed by the Church’s Blades. He doubted he was even capable of feeling that kind of disappointment again. The whole Empire had been turned upside down by one act of betrayal, and he didn’t feel anything but a vague sense of disappointment when it happened. He had thought it would at least take them longer. They were shown to a study in the Barracks while one of the guards went to fetch Martinez. Gideon could tell the man was a sailor just by looking at the room. It resembled a Captain’s cabin, the desk a heavy wood because those wouldn’t slide when the weather got bad and a huge map hanging on the wall. There were red and blue lines drawn across it, and he guessed it charted places Martinez did business. Thick leather bound ledgers sat on the desk, right next to a bottle of port and a sharpened letter opener. Jethro snorted in disgust as he looked around the study, gaze dark. “The man has done well for himself,” he spat. “Apparently so,” Gideon said. He moved closer to the desk, examining it with narrowed eyes and trying not to let his personal feelings get in the way. They had their duty, and killing a slaver would only bring unwanted trouble down on their heads. The door opened and he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Piressa get shoved through the opening. Her foot caught on the carpet and she landed hard on her knees, steel cuffs binding her wrists in front of her. There was blood running down the side of her face and her eyes were glazed when the man walked in behind her, gripping her by the hair to lift her head. Gideon found his lip curling in a snarl and it was an effort to keep from moving to her defense. There was something dark and angry in his chest and he was surprised at how intensely the feeling struck him, just seeing her hurt. “Whose is this?” the man behind her demanded. He forced his gaze to move passed her to the three men in the doorway. He gathered Martinez was the one with his hand in her hair because he was the most finally dressed, a showy blade hanging at his side and jewelry hanging around his neck. Two of the men behind him were big and muscled, black tattoos on their arms. They stayed at his side, and Gideon imagined they never left. Martinez sighed and then shoved her forward. Her elbows struck the carpet and he put his foot on the small of her back, leaning forward and draping one arm casually across her knee. “Which one of you sent an assassin after me without even saying hello?” “That would be him,” Alexander said. Gideon didn’t glance at him but he already knew the man was pointing his way. He heard Jethro growl next to him, snarling out a curse before he was moving across the room towards him. There was the sound of steel hissing from its sheath and Gideon could already tell what was coming next, even before the words left the Blades’ mouth. He didn’t look at him, keeping his gaze on Martinez. “Captain Martinez, we would like to make a deal with you for these men.” “You traitorous son of a whore,” Jethro growled. Gideon spared a glance and Jethro was staring down Alexander’s blade, no fear in his eyes even as the man pressed it against the hollow of his throat. The other three Blades had their swords out and pointed their way and Gideon’s expression never changed. Corey looked wide eyed and scared next to him, and the Banshee never said a word. “Do not call me a traitor,” Alexander snarled. He pushed in a little deeper and Gideon saw a spot of blood well up on Jethro’s skin. His eyes were dark and angry and Gideon didn’t think he even felt it. “You are the betrayers and your souls will suffer for it.” “Jethro,” Gideon said, stopping the man with his hand half raised. “Stand down.” “Fascinating,” Martinez said. He lifted an eyebrow and then stepped away from Piressa, walking around the room towards his desk. His guards stayed at his side, suspicious eyes keeping a close eye on everyone in the room. As soon as they moved, more men filed in behind him, spreading out along the wall with spears in their hands. “What kind of deal are we talking about?” he asked, settling in behind his desk. “Usually your sort don’t make deals with my sort. What are you offering?” “These three men are the former Emperor’s Chosen,” Alexander said quickly. “And the fourth an Omen of death.” There was no hesitation in his voice and the only thing that Gideon wondered was whether or not this had been his plan all along. Gideon sighed and then he moved forward to grasp Piressa beneath the arm and help her upright. “Are you alright?” he asked her quietly. He was aware of the spears pointed at his back but he ignored them for a moment. She was unsteady on her feet and he kept his hand around her arm a moment longer than necessary. In the back of his mind he was keeping careful count of how many men were in the room and what weapons they had with them. “I am sorry,” she said quietly. Martinez whistled and drew Gideon’s attention. “Indeed? And what is your asking price?” Alexander glanced over at him and Gideon saw Jethro’s hand flex. “We want only one man in your care. Ser Stephen Wrede.” Martinez tapped the letter opener against his lower lip in thought, his eyes narrowed at the Church’s Blades. “I think we might have such a man in our care,” he said slowly. “We may even be willing to part with him.” He ran the point of the letter opener along his mouth and then stood abruptly, nodding his head at the door. “Why don’t we all take a walk?” he said. Gideon felt the point of a spear settle in his lower back and then one of the guards was nodding his head towards the door. They were herded back out the way they’d come into the bright sun and through it all Gideon remained outwardly calm. His thumbs were hooked in his belt and he allowed himself to be led outside. He felt anger burning in his chest and he was surprised to find it had little to do with the betrayal and more to do with the blood on Piressa’s face. It intensified tenfold when he saw the lines of slaves outside and a part of him wished he’d allowed his brother to mark the man instead. He would have been marking him for death. “What are you doing, Gideon?” Jethro asked lowly. His voice was a dark, angry rumble and he knew the man well enough to know that his temper was fraying quickly. Corey stuck close to him, hands rubbing at his arms like he was cold. The Banshee was the only one who seemed unconcerned with spears pointed at him and Gideon wondered for a moment what the Omen was waiting for. He still didn’t know if he would fight if the situation called for it, and he thought it would shortly. He felt Piressa’s shoulder brush his and he fought the urge to put an arm around her and steady her. “We are getting what we came here for,” Gideon told him quietly. “Be prepared for that moment.” He heard Martinez call for one of his guards, passing the key over and telling him to go get Wrede. In a moment they would find out if Brayden had already done his job and he felt something like doubt at that. He had been pushing his brother more and more lately. Sometimes he wondered if the bad blood forming between them was something they would be able to heal when this was done. “Surrender your weapons,” one of the guards said. One of his fellows stood right behind him with thick chains in his hands and another stood to his left with the spear pointed towards Gideon. His eyes narrowed when he didn’t respond and the guard took another step forward, drawing his blade and motioning it at the blade hanging at Gideon’s side. The soldier’s blade that Wilhelm Winters had given to him. “Surrender your weapons,” he said again. “Or we will remove them for you.” “You can try to remove my blade when I am dead,” Jethro spat. “But I imagine it will be hard to pull it from your own heart.” The spears around them bristled and the guards advanced another step, closing the circle around them. “You will remove your weapons now,” the man said. His voice was sharp and angry as he lifted his blade to point it at Gideon’s throat. They heard the pounding feet from within the mine before the man could make his demands again. “Captain!” someone yelled. He ran up to Alexander and Martinez, breathing quickly as though he were either scared or out of breath. Probably both. “The man they’re after, Wrede, he’s gone missing. His spot on the chain is empty.” The guard had turned his head at that and Gideon didn’t need more of an invitation. If Wrede was gone than Brayden had done his job well. All they needed now was a way out of this mess. He hoped Jethro was prepared and that Corey didn’t get killed in the process. He tried to remind himself that duty involved sacrifice but it surprised him how hard that was to remember some days. This was all that was left of the Chosen. To lose any of them would be a harsh blow. The man barely had time to shout before Gideon was moving, grasping his blade hand and twisting the sword from his grasp. He swung it down towards his fellow’s spear, knocking that into the dirt before he landed a slash across his midsection. Behind him Jethro let out a roar, grasping one of the spears pointed at him and wrenching it brutally from the man’s grasp. He slammed the blunted end back towards his face and there was a loud crack as it smashed off his jaw, knocking the guard down to the grass. It gave him time to yank the sword from its sheath and knock away the next spear coming towards him. Gideon shoved the man with the blade forward into his fellow holding the chains and there was a gasp as his blade pierced his stomach. Gideon’s hand shot out, grasping the metal links and then dragging them back around the man’s neck with brutal strength. He heard him let out a gasping, strangled noise as they cut off the air to his lungs. He felt no pity for him. He felt only cold as he choked him, twisting the chains in his hand and giving a final yank to cut off his life altogether. The guard dropped to the ground and over his body he could see Corey on the ground, a hand pressed against his side and his blade in his other hand as he tried to fend off the men coming for him. Piressa had one of her knives clasped in both hands, chains still around her wrists even as she drove it home into a man’s chest. Jethro had cuts all across his torso but nothing slowed him down. He broke spears and knocked men aside like they were toys, his blade smashing down through skulls with brutal strength. The Banshee was the only one still just standing there, men pointing spears at his throat and his eyes calm as he surveyed the scene. He heard Martinez shouting behind him and he cautioned a quick glance over. Brayden stood there with a smile on his face and blood on his blade, one of Martinez’s guards dead at his feet. Stephen stood behind him, pulling his blade from the second while Martinez retreated, his ornate blade out in front of him as he backed up next to the Church’s Blades. Brayden tilted his head at Alexander, who was pointing his sword at him, a scar on the back of his hand. “I warned you,” Brayden said coolly. “What would happen to you if you drew blood from me or mine again.” Wenston “You stand with these men, Brother Wrede?” Alexander said, his eyes wide and genuinely caught by surprise. Glancing away from the men for a moment, Brayden chanced a look at Gideon, who was helping Corey dispatch of the man surrounding him. Once gone, Gideon helped the boy stand up and Corey winced, a slice along his ribs that bled lightly. It wasn’t deep. It would heal. Jethro had more on him but he came to stand next to Corey anyway while Gideon and Piressa moved to help Brayden and Stephen corner the Blades and Martinez. Stephen held his chin up a little and even covered in dirt he looked noble and pious. Brayden would have poked fun at him a little for it, but the man had just gotten rescued from being a slave for months. He guessed he could cut him a break. “I stand with them, Alexander,” Stephen said and none of them missed the absence of the formal title the Blades used among each other. “Then you are a traitor like them,” he said, nodding his head like he’d just sealed Stephen’s fate. Brayden wondered if the man truly thought he was going to live through this. “I am no more a traitor than the rest of them,” Stephen said. “We were betrayed. It was the Viceroy…” Alexander growled and moved his blade to aim it at Stephen instead. “I will not listen to your lies. You will die with the rest of them Wrede. I am sorry to see it come to this.” Something like grief passed across Stephen’s face but then he nodded. “So am I,” he whispered quietly. Brayden didn’t waste another moment. He moved before Stephen did and he had his blades drawn and was slicing them towards the Church’s Blades. Martinez, who stood behind them, growled and pushed the Blades out in front of him to defend himself. Brayden wasn’t going for him first, though. He hoped Stephen wouldn’t miss his old comrade too much. Batting away one of the other Church’s Blades away, he stabbed another in the gut and with his free sword, he caught Alexander across the shoulder. The man cried out and then came forward, with quicker speed than Brayden gave him credit for, and tried to slice a line up Brayden’s back. He dodged out of the way before it could draw blood and rolled to the side. Stephen was going after the other two Blades and Gideon and Piressa were moving forward to help, but Brayden refused to let them. This was his kill. He’d had just about enough of being betrayed. And this man had tried to sell his brother and the people he cared about to a slaver. He was Brayden’s now. Rushing forward quickly, he parried a blow meant to take his head off and then reached forward to grab a fistful of Alexander’s hair. He shoved the man’s head towards the rocky face of the mine and there was a loud crunch as it connected with the stone. Brayden pulled it back and slammed it forward again and he felt the man go limp in his arms. He crouched as the man slipped to the ground and he held Alexander close to him. He felt the man struggle slightly and Brayden placed his sword against his throat. Mouth close to his ear, he whispered, “You’ll answer to your gods soon enough. Alexander’s nose was bleeding and blood trickled down from a cut on his forehead. He said through grit teeth with surprising clarity, “As will you.” Brayden waited not a moment more before he pulled his sword across the man’s throat and Alexander gurgled on blood. Brayden guided him to the ground and stood up, wiping his blade off as he turned to look at Stephen, who with Gideon and Piressa’s help, had taken down the other Blades. Stephen turned and glanced at Alexander’s body, his face marring for a moment and he saw him lift a pendant to his lips and give the man a passing prayer. The only man now to take care of was Martinez, whose back was pressed against the wall of the mine. They stood just outside the cave entrance and the slaves who were within sight had all paused in their work to watch. Gideon was standing before Martinez, his blade drawn and pointed at the man. “You cannot blame a man for trying to make a living,” Martinez said, though his voice trembled. “Let me live and I’ll see to it no one knows you were here. The Church’s Blades will mark you as murderers for killing their own. The Lockhaven guards will know this was you. You’ll be outlaws in every land you step in. I can keep that from happening. No one will know you were here.” Gideon’s face was hard and stoney. Brayden stood still, blood dripping from his blades. He honestly didn’t know what his brother intended to do. He wasn’t sure they could trust Martinez and if they could, he wasn’t sure they should. The man was a slaver. No thought for the well-being of the men in this mine. Lowering his blade, Gideon glared hard at the man. “Get gone,” he said lowly. Brayden felt a certain disappointment settle in his chest because it wasn’t what he would have done. The man didn’t deserve to live and he was pretty sure everyone standing here knew that. Martinez nodded his head, giving Gideon an appreciative smile that just made Brayden want to wipe it off with a blade. When the man turned and ran back into the cave, Gideon stepped to the side and met Brayden’s eyes. Brayden was curious for a moment, not understanding why his brother was looking at him like that until Gideon’s head jerked towards the mouth of the mine. A slow smile spread across Brayden’s face and he didn’t have to be told twice. Lifting his blades, he was running into the mine after the man. He disappeared into the darkness and withdrew a small throwing dagger from his vest to knock over the only lantern in this part of the cave. When it was plunged into darkness, he heard Martinez gasp and Brayden swung down with his daggers at the man. The scream echoed through the caves. Brayden didn’t silence him right away. He severed an arm and cut into the back of the man’s thigh, kicking him to the ground before he dropped one blade and jammed the other home into the man’s back. Martinez’s scream died off into a gurgle and Brayden felt hot blood spray across his face. His knees and hands were covered in it and at last, he jerked the blade against Martinez’s spine and the man went quiet. Standing up, Brayden walked back towards the mouth of the cave. The others were waiting there quietly and Corey had that wide eyed look of fear back on his face. Stephen looked as though he was sending up silent prayers to the gods. Gideon stood next to Piressa who had a dazed look on her face, probably from the wound to her head. His brother was looking at him with a look Brayden wasn’t sure he liked. It was something like worry or disgust. But Brayden shrugged it off and smirked. “He slipped,” he said lowly. “Of course,” Gideon answered and then looked over at Stephen. “Are you well, Wrede?” Stephen finished his prayer and then let his pendant fall back to his chest. He nodded at Gideon. “Yes, Captain,” he said. “Thank you.” Gideon nodded to the man. “The others?” “They are here in Essocks somewhere,” Wrede said. “But I’m not sure where they are hiding.” Brayden sheathed his blades, glancing at Piressa. “How did a man like Martinez get the drop on you?” he asked smugly. Piressa’s eyes narrowed at him and that seemed to clear the dazed look from her face. “It wasn’t Martinez,” she snapped back at him with a bitterness tinting her voice. “There was a woman with him.” Brayden lifted a brow. “A woman?” he asked. “Brayden Crowe,” a sudden female voice called from behind them and Brayden stiffened at the sound of it. He didn’t turn around but looked at Piressa and said, “Well that explains it,” he said. Then he tipped his head to the side and he made sure to keep his hands where she could see them because he knew if he didn’t, he may not be fast enough to stop the blade aimed at his back. “Rosaline Thatcher,” he drawled. “Fancy meeting you here.” The others looked confused for a moment and Brayden gave a small shake of his head to Gideon, who was looking at him intently. From behind him, a woman stepped from the cave. Her blood red curled hair was up in a messy bun on the back of her head. She was older than Brayden, by several years. More Gideon’s age. She had two curved daggers drawn. Her outfit was skimpy and showy, leaving little for the imagination and she looked every bit as good as he remembered her looking. “If I would have known the elf was with you, I would have aimed to kill instead of capture,” she said and came up to stand behind him. He didn’t miss the way she kept herself out of the line of fire from all of them, keeping him in between her and the others. “Who are you?” Gideon demanded. Rosaline chuckled a little, but ignored him completely. Instead, tipping her head to the side to look Brayden in the face. “Brayden,” she said in a scolding voice. “I don’t like men who leave me tied naked to a bed.” Brayden snorted and said sweetly back, “I don’t like women who try to seduce and then stab me.” “Try?” Rosaline asked, her eyes widening playfully. “If I remember correctly, I believe you were quite into it.” Brayden shrugged a little. “Up until the stabbing part.” “Brayden,” Gideon snapped and he looked over at his brother, who had his sword drawn and was looking at him questioningly. Ignoring his brother, Brayden quirked his lips up in a smirk. “What are you doing here Ros?” “I could ask you the same thing,” she shot back at him. “I’ve been hearing a lot of rumors.” Brayden shrugged again. “Anything useful?” A slow smile spread across Rosaline’s face. “What is it worth to you?” she asked, one of her daggers slowly making its way around his back and towards his stomach. She was keeping it just lightly above him, as to not draw blood or even cut through his vest. But she was making it clear she could kill him if she wanted to. It was nothing he didn’t already know. “What will you give me in return?” “What do I possibly have to give you that you could not already take for yourself?” he asked calmly. Rosaline smirked. “Consent to a kiss.” Brayden chewed his lip for a moment, because he saw no way of getting around this. “I have missed you, Brayden,” she whispered lowly. “I know you belong to another. So, for old times?” Brayden hesitated a moment before he leaned over and hovered his lips over hers. She grinned up at him before bringing her lips up to meet his. For a moment, he remembered what this felt like with Rosaline. Then her blade was slicing a thin cut along his stomach and he grunted, shoving back from her. She laughed and Gideon snarled and started to come at her with his blade. Brayden held one hand over the superficial cut on his stomach and with the other, he held up a hand to Gideon. “Hold,” he said and then turned to Rosaline, who was smiling slyly at him. “Sly bitch,” he said playfully. “Cocky thief,” she shot back and it was an old exchange between them. She twirled he blades and then sheathed them at her side. She started walking backwards into the mine. “You should be on your way.” “And my information?” Brayden asked, his hand still pressed firmly over the cut on his stomach. Rosaline just smirked. “Barrett Kinley,” she said. “He hunts you with the Viceroy’s blessing.” “That is nothing I did not already know,” Brayden told her. She grinned and before she disappeared back into the darkness of the cave, she said. “He was my apprentice.” .Wolfie. “Who was she?” Jethro demanded. He asked the words only after Gideon remained silent, his gaze still focused on the mouth of the cave where the woman had disappeared. There was something like anger burning in his chest, both at the woman’s words and her actions. There was blood running down Piressa’s face because of hers and more on Brayden’s stomach and yet she had been allowed to walk away. He disliked it and he disliked the sudden doubt he felt knowing that his brother was more than familiar with her. Brayden just shrugged his shoulders. “An old friend,” he said simply. The casual words belied the tension in his shoulders and Gideon finally met his gaze, his eyes betraying nothing. Brayden was studying him carefully, trying to gauge his thoughts, but he couldn’t have told his brother what they were at the moment. “Gideon,” Brayden started to say, his voice cautious and concerned. He held his hand up and looked away. For a moment his gaze focused on the body of Alexander and it should have concerned him more that he still felt only numb at the betrayal. “Did she poison you?” he asked, glancing at his brother’s stomach. Brayden’s fingers pressed against the wound and then lifted his hand to his face. He sniffed at the blood and put it to his tongue before shaking his head. “I do not believe so,” he said. He pressed his hand back over the slowly trickling wound and for a moment Gideon could only stare at his brother and wonder in the back of his mind if he still knew him at all. He had known what he was asking when he sent him after Martinez, and yet he had done so anyway because the man didn’t deserve to live. But he had chosen his brother because he would make it painful and he would take the decision from Gideon’s hands. “Gideon, we should…” “Good,” Gideon said simply, cutting off his brother’s words again. “It’s time to go. We will speak when we return to the Blade and you will tell me who she was and why she still lives.” The words were firm and cold, no question in them as he turned his back on Brayden to survey the others. Stephen looked tired and worn but none the worse for the wear. The Banshee stood apart from them and for a moment Gideon felt irritated that the man had done nothing. He had taken no injuries but he had given none. “Fine,” Brayden snapped from behind him. His voice sounded petulant and hurt but Gideon didn’t turn to look at him. Corey was watching him curiously, Jethro keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him. The big man was glancing between the Crowes with concern etched on his face. “Come elf. De Montague would not thank us for abandoning his horses.” “I will go with Piressa to fetch them,” Gideon said. He sheathed his sword and then nodded his head at the horses. “Ride back with the others. Perhaps you can have a word with your Omen about what exactly he is offering our cause aside from card tricks.” There was no answer for a moment and he finally glanced back at his brother. “I did as you ordered,” he said quietly. There was hurt in the words and it echoed the expression etched on his brother’s face. It was made worse by the blood on his hands and his face and Gideon wondered just which one of them this sudden anger was for. His brother kept secrets and he allowed it. “I know,” Gideon told him, somewhat more gently this time. Then he nodded his head at the horses tied by the barracks. “Get gone.” Brayden’s face hardened and he nodded his head. “Yes Captain,” he snapped. He pushed past him towards the horses, his shoulders stiff. Jethro watched him go before he turned to nod at Gideon and then made to follow. He made sure they were mounted before he let Piressa lead the way to hers and Brayden’s horses. They took the Blades’ beasts with them, but it would hardly matter when the Essocks guard came out to investigate. Would there be a point trying to hide the bodies? There were enough witnesses who had seen them with the Blades and he wondered if they hadn’t better find some other place to stay until they could track down Tristan and Miren. Perhaps if he’d let Martinez live then he needn’t have worried. He wondered about the woman, Rosaline Thatcher, and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing over his shoulder at the mines. Even if they’d gone after her, they likely never would have found her in there, or found themselves dead just by trying. It didn’t stop his irritation that she had seen them, wounded two of his people, and then been allowed to walk away unchallenged. She was dangerous. Piressa was quiet next to him but when he glanced at her face her eyes were already watching him carefully. The blood on the side of her head was drying but there was more of it than he liked. “Does it hurt?” he asked. She shrugged her shoulders. “Only a little,” she admitted. “I meant your pride,” he said. He kept his tone neutral and it was a moment until she realized he was teasing her. When she did, a smile spread across her lips and she ducked her head. They were coming up the small incline towards the two horses, and he heard the one snort in response to their presence, kicking at the dirt and pulling on his reins. Gideon paused next to them, reaching forward to grasp her jaw and pull her head up towards the light. There was a gash by her temple where Rosaline had struck her and he felt the anger intensify in his chest. He didn’t like seeing her hurt. He didn’t like Martinez treating her as he had and if he was honest with himself then he would admit that it had been one of the deciding factors in seeing the man dead. “It stings a little,” she said, the smile lingering on her lips as she looked up at him. She winced slightly when he used his sleeve to try and wipe the blood from her skin. The smile faded after a moment and a sigh left her lips, her eyes darting away from him. “I was taken by surprise,” she said, her voice dark. “It will not happen again, that I promise. She is fast, but I can be faster.” Then she lifted her head to look at him, genuine remorse on her face. “I am sorry for disappointing you.” Gideon snorted at the words, hand still grasping her chin. He tilted her head up so that he could look her in the eye and his thumb ran over her skin. “I have suffered many disappointments of late, but I do not count you among them,” he said lowly. For a moment it became clear to him just how distracting she was. She let out a quiet, breathy sigh and her lips parted invitingly. He could have kissed her and he thought he would have welcomed it. It just made the temptation that much stronger and it was torturous just how badly he wanted her in that moment. He had to physically force himself to let her go, brushing past her to the horses. She watched him untie the reins and her next words were quiet. “You should not count your brother among them either.” It made his hands still and he glanced over his shoulder at her. She stepped forward to take the reins of her horse and her fingers curled around his shoulder as she boosted herself into the saddle. “No,” he admitted quietly. “I should not.” “But you do.” That studying gaze never left him as he pulled Brayden’s horse from the tree and slung himself into the saddle. He didn’t like thinking like that. He didn’t like this feeling settling in his chest or the thought of distrusting or being disappointed in his brother. He felt sudden regret at how much they’d been fighting lately. They had both lost much, and if his brother wanted to take his anger out on those deserving he could not fault him for it. He was in pain. Gideon sighed and led the horses down towards the road. He kept his head up and his face expressionless but he was finding more and more that it didn’t matter with her. “I have always known what he is capable of,” he said, and once again he found himself picturing the blood on his brother’s skin.. “Is it right that I judge him for it even while using him for those very talents?” “All those fears you have for him are ones he feels as well,” she told him gently. “A Captain may use a man like Brayden for what he is best at, but at some point he will need a brother there to remind him that he is more than a killer.” Gideon snorted at that and shook his head. “You assume I know how to separate one from the other,” he said. His tone was light but the thoughts he carried were not. He wondered if it was Brayden that had changed or if it was him. It was hard for him to remember the last time he had truly lost his temper or allowed himself to feel anything but this numbing calm. He couldn’t afford to feel anything at all and maybe that hurt his brother more than anything. Did he ask him if he was well because he cared about him or because he needed to be sure he could do his duty? “I do not know if I am anything other than a soldier, or if I even wish to be.” She laughed quietly but it wasn’t a mean or mocking thing. Even so, it wasn’t the reaction he’d expected from her. He cautioned a glance over at her and she kept her eyes on the road sloping down in front of them. “You and your brother are more similar than you realize,” she said. “You are both talented liars.” Gideon snorted and lifted an eyebrow at her. “How so?” She smiled sadly and tilted her head to look at him. “He lies to everyone around him while remaining brutally honest with himself, and you lie to yourself while remaining brutally honest with everyone around you. It is an interesting contrast.” “What lies do you believe I tell myself?” he asked. Her voice was gentle when she spoke. “That you are as hard and cold as you pretend to be.” “How do you know that’s a lie?” The question came out harsher than he meant and he wondered if it was just because he didn’t like the thought of it. He kept his gaze on the road, turning back towards Essocks when they reached the crossroads. In truth he wasn’t looking forward to returning to the Blade. He didn’t know what he would say to his brother when he got there. “Because you didn’t let Martinez walk away,” she said. His gaze darkened at that and he still refused to look at her. That had been a foolish thing for him to ask of his brother and it made it worse that he knew Brayden had done so gladly. He used his brother and he worried what that was doing to both of them. He thought about the executioner’s list he’d made and if it was fair to ask Brayden to carry out any of those kills. “Because you care about your men and their wellbeing. Because I would like it to be a lie.” There was a smile on her face when he finally looked over at her and her eyes met his. “There is something between us,” she said quietly. His hands tightened on the reins at that and for a moment he thought about lying to her. It would be easier if he ignored it, if he refused to acknowledge there was anything there or that anything could ever be there. But she had said the words and he found himself answering anyway, with a quiet “yes.” A smile pulled at her lips at that and she nodded, looking forward again. Gideon let out a harsh breath and turned his head away from her to face forward again. “What lies does my brother tell?” he asked. “That he is happy,” she answered. Wenston 6.5 Essocks The ride back was quiet. Brayden sat atop his horse and said nothing as he stared down at the road. The others were quiet behind him and he guessed it was for his benefit because he could tell Jethro and Corey wanted to speak to Stephen. Corey especially. He’d spent more time with the man than any of them, having been with him when Duncan had recruited both of them. Brayden thought about opening his mouth to tell them they could talk, but he didn’t. He didn’t feel like doing much of anything. He didn’t understand the look of judgment on Gideon’s face after he’d gone after Martinez. He’d done as Gideon asked. He’d done everything Gideon had ever asked of him and by doing so, Gideon now judged him? He didn’t understand. What was he supposed to do? Go against Gideon’s orders and face the consequences or follow orders and face worse? He didn’t understand his brother’s indecision. Or maybe he did. Maybe Gideon was just as concerned as he was as to what Brayden was becoming and it just made it clearer to him now that they were spending so much time together and Gideon saw firsthand what Brayden was capable of. Maybe there was a solution to all of that, but Brayden didn’t like it. They needed to stick together, but in doing so he was going to lose his brother over it. “Do I scare you, Corey?” Brayden asked and the question came out of nowhere. He hadn’t even glanced back at the boy. He heard the kid give a small squeak and he thought maybe that was answer enough. Corey had seen several times now the brutality in which Brayden took care of business. Corey swallowed nervously and said, “A little.” The answer was more painful to hear than he thought it would be. He nodded, keep his gaze straight so none of them could see his face. He didn’t expect the boy to continue. “But only because I am still a little squeamish around blood.” Brayden snorted and turned to look back at the boy. He smiled at Brayden and he was surprised to see it was genuine. Jethro rode next to him and was watching Brayden with the same curious look Stephen held. “You are not afraid one day I will turn on you?” he asked. “Or that you travel in the company of a murderer?” The boy frowned and glanced at Jethro, who just kept his eyes on Brayden. Corey licked his lips and then shook his head. “I do not believe either of those,” he said quietly. When Brayden lifted an brow, Corey shrugged. “You have been there for me when I needed you and my only fear is that one day I will not be there to return the favor.” The words were surprisingly more profound than Brayden gave the kid credit for and he smirked at Jethro, who half heartedly returned the smile. Turning back around, Brayden sighed and gripped his reigns. “I am not returning to the Blade with you.” “Why not?” Jethro demanded sharply. “I feel it is not my place,” Brayden said and the honesty of the words were painful. Jethro spurred his horse forward a bit to come up and ride next to him. His voice lowered and he looked solemnly at him. “The Captain is under tremendous strain given the task he is trying to accomplish.” Brayden nodded and didn’t answer. “I believe he is merely misdirecting his anger and stress.” “You carry out death’s will,” the Banshee said suddenly and they all turned to look at him. Brayden had practically forgotten the creature was there. The Banshee wasn’t looking at him, rather taking in the surroundings with a peaceful, calm look on his face. “You all do. It is merely the style with which you do it that your brother is reluctant to accept.” They were quiet a moment before Stephen turned to look at Brayden. “Where did you find this guy?” he asked. Brayden smirked. “Won him in a card game.” He sighed and nodded his head. “Perhaps he is right. I will return to the Blade tonight. Tell Gideon not to worry.” He flashed a grin at Jethro who didn’t return it. “He will anyway,” Jethro said and Brayden laughed even though it wasn’t funny and spurred his horse on ahead, galloping away from the group. He wasn’t sure where he was headed, but he thought he needed a drink. The Blade would have been the best place to go to get one, having the best dark ale and all, but a drink wasn’t the only thing he needed. He needed some time alone as well. He needed to think. There was a small tavern in the heart of Essocks and he headed that way. Tying his horse up outside, he headed inside and was immediately greeted with cold stares and suspicious glances. This was a Guild run tavern and even surrounded by danger, he preferred this over going back to the Blade and being chastised and questioned by his own brother. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He’d never fully abandon his brother, but what gave Gideon the right to judge him for killing a man after he’d just ordered him to do so? Flopping down at a table, he quickly ordered an ale and had it downed before the barmaid could even get back to the bar. He set the mug down and winked at her when she turned around. She snorted and started filling up another one for him. He grinned and thought that it would be easy to get her into bed if he wanted. He shook that thought away immediately. It would help relieve frustration, but it would cause more heartache than it was worth. Reaching a hand up to his shoulder, he rubbed at the wound there and it was starting to hurt again from all the strain he’d put it through today. It was sore to the touch and he wondered if it wasn’t getting infected again. He tried not to be bitter and think maybe Gideon would have been better if the Omen would have just let him rot away. As the barmaid set another mug of ale down in front of him, he wasn’t surprised when a man came to stand next to the table. Brayden didn’t look at him right away. He pulled his mug closer and took a long gulp before setting it down on the table and tipping his head up to look at the man. It was a big guy with a shaved head that reminded him a lot of Jethro before the man went hairy. Behind him there were two other men and Brayden smirked. “Can I help you with something?” he asked. “We don’t like strangers coming in unannounced,” the big man said and Brayden snorted. He hadn’t really come looking for a fight, but maybe he needed one. Shrugging, he took another gulp of his ale. “Well, that’s too bad,” Brayden said and he saw the man bristle. “Because I really have no intention of announcing myself. So unless you want to be friends, I’d say we have a problem, boy-o.” The man cracked his knuckles and Brayden grinned. “You’re right,” he said. “We do have a problem.” The man swung a fist, which Brayden easily dodged. He stood and grabbed the man’s wrist with one hand, while the other went to the back of his head and smashed his face down into the table. He heard chairs slide across the floor all around him and he knew there were a dozen or so Guild members in this tavern who would kill him for less than smashing their friend’s face into a table. He was up to the challenge. Grabbing the back of a chair, he swung it around and it broke against the back of one of the Guild members. He kicked out at another, sending him falling over a table. It broke beneath him and he crashed to the floor. Brayden grinned wildly, but didn’t draw his knives because he wasn’t here to kill people. Gideon would probably appreciate that. Or just yell at him some more. The fight lasted for a while and Brayden was doing fairly well until one of the Guild members landed a lucky blow to his shoulder. It blinded him for a moment, the pain coursing through his arm and it gave the big guy whose face he’d smashed into the table the opportunity to grab Brayden by the neck and slam him back onto a table, his hands wrapped around his throat. Brayden choked and tried to get his legs between the man and himself, but a few others came and grabbed him as the man hauled a hand back and brought a fist down onto Brayden’s face. He grunted and brought his hands up to stick his thumbs into the man’s eyes, but the man was able to lean back away from his hands, being bigger and stronger. Brayden choked as the man squeezed the life out of him and kept hitting him in the face, until he was bloody and bruised. He thought the man would never stop until a loud voice sounded over the rushing of blood in his ears. “Enough!” the voice yelled and Brayden laid limply on the table, his arms hanging out to the side and his legs dangling over the edge. The big man let go of him and backed up. “Everyone out of here, now!” the voice yelled and Brayden frowned, a painful movement that pulled at his bruised and battered face. He laid his head back on the wood and tried to tip his head to see who was there. If it was an assassin, he was doomed and he thought he was in a little over his head. His hand came up limply to try and draw a dagger from his vest, but a hand caught his wrist, not harshly. A man had come to stand over him and he was blurry as he stood over Brayden. His image was upside down but he heard the man snort. “Well, look what the storm blew in,” the man said and Brayden started laughing because now that the man didn’t sound angry, he’d recognize that voice anywhere. “I should have known I’d find you in a place like this,” Brayden said, his voice painful and hoarse. His head was swimming and the man above him snorted again. “You Crowes sure know how to remain discrete,” he said. Brayden shrugged, wincing when it jarred his wounded shoulder. He was a mess. “Tristan,” he breathed the man’s name as he helped him sit up. He didn’t like the way the world tipped and tilted around him and the only thing keeping him from falling off the table and flat on his face was Tristan’s supportive shoulder. “I’d make a joke about your mother, but I’m a little out of practice.” .Wolfie. 6.6 Essocks - The Dancing Blade Gideon grew quiet as they passed back into Essocks and all the trouble they’d stirred up clawed at his back like a black dog. They’d left four dead Church’s Blades, a dead slave lord, and an assassin with unknown intentions in their wake. He was reluctant to even ask De Montague to step in and hide their involvement because even with his aid the Guild would likely find them out. He felt frustration gnawing at him and it mingled with the guilt and concern he felt for his brother. It was an effort to shove those thoughts aside and to remember that his duty was all that mattered. All else had to be sacrificed and the lesson seemed harder every day. The tension he carried in his shoulders didn’t ease any when they entered the Dancing Blade. It was a crowded night and that alone made him uneasy, but he scanned the tables quickly for his men. He found them in the corner, seated around a table with ale and cards in front of them. He could see Stephen’s mouth moving and Jethro and Corey were laughing at whatever he was saying, a wide grin on his face. The Banshee sat across from them and Gideon could see him palming cards from the doorway. His brother was absent. It did not surprise him but he felt his mood darken at that. Both concern and anger waged in his chest and he tried to ignore both of those emotions because he had no room for them. His brother had disobeyed his order. He needed to know why. Jethro glanced up as the two of them made their way to the table and the smile slipped from his face. He nodded his head in greeting and it drew Corey and Stephen’s gaze towards Gideon. Corey looked immediately more nervous and he wasn’t sure he liked the slight stiffening of Stephen’s posture. He made his way to a seat, Piressa following close at his heels. “You had no trouble on the way?” Gideon asked, and it wasn’t the first thing he wanted to say. “No trouble,” Jethro said, shaking his head. He glanced back down at his cards before tossing one on the pile. Gideon nodded his head and watched their game for a moment, arms braced across the back of the chair. They were exceptionally quiet and Stephen kept glancing between Gideon and Jethro with a cautious look on his face. “Then where is my brother?” Jethro snorted and didn’t answer immediately. It stirred the anger in his chest but he kept it from his face, his expression a cold mask as he waited. After a moment Jethro tossed another card down and then set his hand face down on the table. He took a swallow from his mug of ale and then turned to face Gideon, his voice annoyed and frustrated. “Permission to speak freely, Captain,” he said. Gideon frowned but didn’t comment on the use of his title. “Of course,” he said. “Your brother almost left us today for good,” he spat. Gideon’s frown darkened at the words but he let Jethro say his piece. “You treat him as you would a murderer or a betrayer when he is your own damned flesh and blood. As much as he’s always been one of us, he’s always been alone too, and despite that neither you or Duncan has ever questioned his loyalty before.” Gideon stiffened and Jethro seemed oblivious to it, pointing at him. “You need to sort out whatever this bad blood between you is before it infects all of us.” Gideon watched the man as he spoke but he kept his emotions from his face. He kept the fear and concern and anger chained in his chest and refused to let it show. He was aware of how Brayden had always operated and he was aware that ignorance wasn’t something he could afford anymore. Whatever the price of that, he would deal with it. “Is that all?” Gideon asked calmly. Jethro chewed on his lip for a moment and then he gestured his hand at Piressa who sat at Gideon’s elbow. “I think the elf is affecting your judgment,” he snapped. “I think if you’re looking for a betrayer than she’s sitting right next to you.” Gideon still didn’t flinch. “Did my brother say when he would be back?” Jethro’s glare moved from her back to Gideon and then it slowly softened into something frustrated and hurt. “He said he would be back tonight,” he answered. He looked down at his cards and Gideon didn’t think he was even looking at what was in his hand when he tossed another card out in front of him. “He said not to worry,” he added. “If that helps.” “It does not.” Gideon nodded his head and it didn’t escape his attention that both Corey and Stephen were looking down at the table and not meeting his gaze. He found that only irritated him further but he kept his thoughts to himself. An awkward silence fell over the table and it was a while until Corey broke it by asking Stephen what else had happened to him since that night. The man smirked and Gideon listened with half an ear as he told them about Miren and Tristan fighting over a pirate woman on their ship. He felt as detached from it as he always had, though now he felt the feeling intensified. He was worried for his brother. He was worried where he had gone and he didn’t bother to ask them because Brayden wouldn’t have said anyway. It worried him that his first thought was that his brother had gone to visit De Montague and that only fueled his frustration. A traitor and a murderer. That was what his brother believed he thought of him and the first though put dark anger in his chest. He had put all of his faith in his brother and that he doubted that was breaking the little trust he had left to give. Was it not enough that he gave him free reign to go where he pleased and deal with who he wanted? He never asked who his contacts in Lowport were or who the man that ran the Dancing Blade was. He never questioned his intentions, only his actions. A murderer, now that he could understand. He felt true guilt at that, because his brother had done as he asked. He had used him for those skills and he would not apologize for it, but he felt the burden of their deaths on his shoulders. It had not been smart to kill Martinez, but it had been just. Did that mean his brother had to wear a smile on his face while he did it? Perhaps it did. They lingered there in the corner of the Blade but it was some time after nightfall until the place started to die down. Every moment that passed he felt more and more uneasy, his mood darkening and his fingers digging into his arms as he watched the door. “If he said he will return, he will return,” Piressa said quietly. He felt her fingers settle on the back of his neck and he leaned into the touch before he was aware of doing so. They traveled soothingly across his skin and he wondered if she was affecting his judgment. He wondered when he had started trusting her so wholeheartedly and that he could not answer the question made him pull away. There was something between them and he was a fool not to kill it when she’d asked. He couldn’t afford that again. His heart had died with Elena and it needed to stay that way. He stiffened when the door opened and two men let themselves in. Gideon immediately rose from his chair when he realized who they were and behind him he heard Jethro curse. He threw down his cards and the big man was following him towards the door, a laugh leaving his lips. “You son of a Lowport whore, I never thought I’d see you again,” the man boomed. “Woah, take it easy on our friend here,” Tristan said. He held up a hand as Jethro went to wrap both men in a bear hug and his gaze fell to Brayden. Gideon was already studying his brother, taking in the blood on his face and the bruising on his throat. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice harsh and scratchy. His grin was crooked and bloody. “Don’t let me ruin this pleasant reunion.” “I’ve got him,” Gideon said. He slid an arm around his brother’s shoulder, taking the weight off Tristan. Concern welled through him when he felt his brother lean heavily against his side, his head lolling against his shoulder as Gideon tried to guide him towards the stairs. There was blood already soaking into his shirt and that it was his brother’s made his face darken. He wanted to ask what had happened and where he’d found Tristan but he would deal with this first. “You need help?” Tristan called behind him. He heard Jethro tell the man to let them go and he wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or annoyed for that. “I tripped,” Brayden slurred. Gideon snorted because he hadn’t asked his brother where he’d been but here he was answering anyway. There was a grin on his face as he tried to lift his head and it was sloppy and battered. He stumbled as Gideon guided him through the doorway of his room. “Tried to catch myself with my face. Then Tristan happened along and brought me back here.” “You’re a liar,” Gideon told him calmly. He settled his brother down on the edge of his bed and Brayden sunk down into it easily. He managed to keep his eyes open as Gideon went to get the basin by the door, bringing it over and sitting on the edge of the bed. “True,” Brayden admitted. “But not all the time.” He coughed harshly afterwards and Gideon rested a hand on his chest to steady him. There was thick bruising on his neck and he wished he knew who had left it there so he could return the favor. It bothered him just how many times in his life he had found himself cleaning blood off his brother’s face. He was quick, but he wasn’t always quick enough, and especially when they’d first joined Brayden had gotten hurt a lot more. He had too, for that matter. His brother rolled on his side and he let out a heavy sigh. “Do you despise me, brother? Are you disgusted with what I do?” “No. I do not despise you, and there is no room for disgust in what we do,” Gideon told him. He kept his voice calm because as much as he wanted to speak to his brother, it would have to wait until he was more coherent. Brayden snorted at that and lifted an eyebrow at him, wincing afterwards like it pained him to do so. Gideon wet the towel in his hands, trying to wipe the blood from his face. “Then why judge me so lowly?” he demanded, catching Gideon’s wrist. “Do not pretend that you do not.” Despite his own misgivings he felt himself snapping at his brother even so. “Would you have truly let Martinez live?” he asked. Brayden licked his lips and didn’t answer right away, but Gideon didn’t need one. He sighed and shook his head at his brother. His voice was sharper than he intended and he felt guilty for it even as he spoke because his brother was wounded and hurt. “I gave you that order and put his death on my head. Do not fault me for feeling the weight of it when you clearly do not.” Brayden’s face fell and he finally let go of Gideon’s wrist. The words seemed to sober him slightly and he didn’t flinch when Gideon gripped the side of his face to wipe the blood from his jaw. There was a split over his nose that was still bleeding slightly and another above his eye. “Do not fault me for doing as you ordered,” he said quietly. “No. I suppose I should not,” Gideon admitted. “Perhaps I should just be grateful every time you deign to do so.” Brayden frowned and he saw hurt in his brother’s eyes as he pulled away. “And what does that mean?” Gideon sighed and pulled his brother’s head back over to him. He pressed the towel against his nose, trying to soak up the blood and he kept his voice low. “You were to return here and tell me who Rosaline Thatcher is and why she is still alive. She is an assassin, who knows your face and now knows we are in Essocks. She admits to working with Kinley and to wounding Piressa and you. Yet she walks away? These are your secrets I cannot afford. If I acted shortly with you it was because of this, not Martinez.” Brayden reached up to pull his hand from his face, eyes narrowed as he scanned Gideon carefully. He didn’t expect the smile that followed or the slightly delirious laughter that burst from his lips. “So you are angry because someone I know hurt your elf? Ah Gideon, you are in over your head with this one.” Gideon snorted and lifted an eyebrow at his brother. “Are you drunk?” Wenston Brayden woke up alone in his darkened room. Moonlight filtered through his window, blowing the light silky curtains and beyond that he could hear and smell the ocean. His head pounded with the beating of a thousand drums and his stomach seemed to be flopping about. There was a bloody cloth on the dresser next to him and the blankets were pulled up to his chest. He’d been tucked into bed and he closed his eyes, remembering the conversation with Gideon clearly. It wasn’t exactly how he’d wanted to address this problem with his brother. Pushing himself up, he winced at just how sore he was. His face had stopped bleeding, but it had swollen and his jaw felt sore. When he stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, the moonlight illuminated his bruised face and he rolled his eyes because he’d been foolish and childish and he wasn’t sure what he’d hoped to accomplish getting into a bar fight with Guild members. He snorted when he thought about Tristan showing up and of course the man would be a part of the Guild. It was right up Tristan’s alley. Running his fingers over the splits and bruises and knots on his face, his sighed leaned against the dresser. He didn’t know how to fix things with Gideon. He’d disobeyed an order and it probably didn’t help in showing Gideon that he could trust him. He wanted to know who Rosaline was. Maybe it was just that Brayden didn’t want to tell him. As soon as he thought it, he knew it was true and he sighed to himself because if Gideon wanted to know, then he would know. Brayden would give him what he wanted and he’d leave it up to his brother to decide what to do with the information. Opening the door to his room, he walked down the hallway towards Gideon’s room and he didn’t waste time picking the lock. When he opened the door, he wasn’t quiet when he came in and maybe it was just a little payback for when Gideon had done the same thing to him. Piressa was sleeping on a cot at the opposite end of the room and she sat up quickly, a blade in hand. When she saw it was Brayden, her eyes narrowed and he jerked his head to the side, motioning for her to leave. “Brayden?” Gideon asked, sounding a little groggy as he sat up, but he woke quickly when Piressa stood and left the room, giving Gideon a look that said she was there if he needed her. Brayden had no doubt she’d stay within earshot and would listen to every word. “What is it?” he asked, looking out the window to see if they were coming under attack. Brayden snorted and closed the door behind him, turning to grab a chair and mimic Gideon’s earlier motions by placing it near the bed and straddling it. Gideon lifted a brow to look at him. Brayden took a deep breath, staring at the floor and running his tongue over his teeth before he brought his gaze up to look at Gideon square in the eye. “Rosaline Thatcher is the woman I went to when I tried to find my father,” he said bluntly and he saw Gideon stiffen, leaning back in the bed and sitting with his back against the wall, frowning as he watched Brayden’s face and remaining quiet. “She helped me to no avail, but when I was with her, we had an intimate relationship. I left her tied to a bed after she tried to kill me. She’d been teaching me tricks of the trade and she felt she’d given away too many and I knew too much. I escaped only because she let me and we both know it, but we’d never admit it to each other.” Gideon’s face was puckered as he thought about this and then he nodded. “You trust this woman?” “No,” Brayden said with a shake of his head, it made his head pound, but he pushed through it. “She will likely sell us out the moment it becomes profitable to her. So it is best we find Miren as quickly as possible and return to Lockhaven.” “Then why let her walk away?” Gideon asked, looking confused. Brayden steeled his face. “Because if I fought her, I would not win.” Gideon’s eyes widened slightly and Brayden moved on before he could ask. “If Kinley was her apprentice, then he is more dangerous than I had originally thought. He has showed us just a small portion of his capabilities.” They were quiet for a moment and then Gideon nodded his head. “Okay,” he said, like he was unsure how to respond. Sighing, Brayden looked down at his hands folded in his lap. “If Jethro would have let me leave today, I would not have come back,” he said quietly and he heard Gideon take a sharp breath, but he stayed quiet. “I suggest if you ask me to kill someone in the name of the Emperor, you look away when I do it because I cannot feel sorry for the people I kill. I cannot hide what I am, so all I can ask is that you not look.” “Brayden…” Gideon started. “I love Gisaine because she knows what I am capable of, yet she loves me anyway,” he cut him off quietly. “She does not see me as a monster. She is not afraid of me. But she’s not here to remind me of that. I only have you.” He glanced up at Gideon’s face and his brother was just watched him with a cold look that Brayden wasn’t sure how to read. “If the people I care about think I am a monster, then that is what I will become. You look at me with such disdain and mistrust, I wonder what it is I am fighting for.” Gideon’s eyes narrowed and his voice was rough when he said, “You fight for the Emperor.” Brayden gave a small, sad laugh and shook his head. “I have never fought for the Emperor,” he said darkly and he saw Gideon stiffen. “Only for his name. And only because it was what you asked of me.” “You swore an oath to die for the Emperor should your duty call for it,” Gideon told him and his voice was cold and emotionless. Brayden licked his lips. “That I did,” he admitted. He smirked and glanced away from his brother. “You are listening only as my Captain,” he said and he missed the way Gideon’s face fell. “But I am telling you, as a brother, that every time I see the disgust, the disdain, the…disappointment in your face – it takes me one step closer to being the kind of man who cares little for oaths.” He glanced back at his brother and Gideon was looking at him with an intense look and Brayden wondered if he was hearing what he was saying at all. “As Captain, I should relieve you of your duty,” Gideon said and Brayden felt his stomach drop out from under him. The breath left his lungs and he looked down at his hands because it wasn’t what he’d expected from his brother. He hadn’t known Gideon had grown so cold. But then Gideon lifted a hand and put it on the back of Brayden’s neck. He lifted his head and Gideon’s face had softened slightly. “But as your brother,” he said and he leaned forward so his forehead was resting against Brayden’s. It was an uncharacteristically intimate motion from Gideon and it made Brayden’s throat close with emotion. “I need you here.” Brayden let out a small laugh, but couldn’t quite keep the smile on his face. “Because you are incredibly shorthanded.” Gideon snorted. “No,” he said and Brayden glanced at his brother’s face. “Because how else am I going to keep an eye on you?” .Wolfie. “So it is settled then?” Piressa asked.She waited in the doorway for him, arms crossed over her chest and shoulder braced against the frame. Her eyes watched him curiously and he wondered just how much she had heard. He wondered just how much she observed and didn’t say and for a moment he glanced at her and thought about Jethro’s sharp words to him. Perhaps she did affect his judgment. He wondered if he would recognize it if she did, and he thought the answer was no. She waited for him patiently while he washed his face, sunlight just beginning to spill through the window behind him. “For now,” he told her, wiping the water from his skin. She nodded her head, stepping back to let him out of the room. “And what conclusion did you come to?” she asked. “Will you turn your head when you ask your brother to murder for you?” Brayden had already headed downstairs and he hoped the others were still awake. He needed to speak to Tristan at least, because he’d had little chance last night. He’d gone back down to speak to him and the man had been downing pints with Jethro and Stephen. Gideon had just walked away and left them there to celebrate. “No,” he said, sharper than he meant to. He kept thinking about that, about his brother seeing disgust written on his face and he had barely known it was there. It was as much for himself as it was anything else. “I will accept the burden for what I ask of him.” “It would not make you less of a man if you hide your eyes from this,” she said, her voice lowering slightly. “Murder is a dirty business, and if he allows you to keep your honor while doing what must be done it is not a crime to accept it. You need not take every burden on your shoulders, Gideon Crowe.” She tilted her head to smile at him but he didn’t return it. “Do you think I have seen nothing of horror and death in my years?” he spat. The words were harsher than he meant them to be, frustration leaking into his voice. She lifted an eyebrow curiously at that. “I have seen plenty. I have done plenty. I do not need to hide my eyes like a child and pretend I cannot face the consequences of my actions. I will not shy away from what I will ask of him. What disgusts me is the damage done to both of our souls just in the asking. What damns me is that I use him even so.” He kept his voice low as they headed down the hall because he didn’t know who occupied all of these rooms. He felt unease at her saying his full name but it was already spoken and she could not take it back. She was still watching him and he wished he hadn’t spoken the words. They were the selfish ones he wanted to say to Brayden but hadn’t allowed himself to speak. “I find it interesting, the things you say to me and do not say to him,” she said abruptly. He frowned and shot a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. “Do you believe he will think less of you if he knows you are still capable of feeling?” “I do not pretend to know what my brother thinks of me,” he said coolly. She nodded her head, following him down the stairs. “Then I will take it as a compliment.” Jethro and Tristan were already in the main tavern when they came down, Brayden kicked back in a chair next to both of them. There was no sign of Corey, Stephen, or the Banshee, but he imagined they were still asleep. Tristan looked as though he had spent the night under the table, dark circles under his eyes and his hair mussed and ragged. He managed a weak smile at Gideon. “Captain,” he slurred. Behind him he heard the man Doc, let out a quiet snort at the bar, but he said nothing. Gideon thought not for the first time that they had best find some other place to stay, today, or find Miren and a way out of Essocks completely. “Oh Beecher,” the bartender said, shooting Brayden a wink. “The company you keep.” Brayden chuckled and then slapped Tristan on the back. The man flinched under the blow and put a hand to his head. “You are a cruel, cruel man,” he said. He squinted up at Gideon as he pulled a chair around and sat next to him, Piressa following suit. Jethro shot her a glance but he said nothing. The man had already said his piece. “Jethro filled me in on some of what I missed last night,” Tristan said, nodding his head gingerly at the big man. He smirked in response. “And I told him some of what we’ve been up to.” He glanced past him for a moment at Brayden and his brother was watching Tristan’s face. It was strange, the shape of things now, because he had never been told so explicitly that his brother cared little for their duty. He had gone to the Chosen because that was what Gideon had done, and that was likely what kept him here. Gideon nodded his head. “Now fill me in,” he said. Tristan leaned back in his seat, resting a hand against his forehead. “Miren and I managed to get off the boat and into Essocks. We had to swim, but Stephen bought us the time to do so.” His face fell with regret. “We found him, but we couldn’t get to him.” “He is free now,” Brayden said, fingers laced behind his head. “And staying that way.” Tristan smirked at that. “I hope you killed that bastard Martinez,” he said. “He met with an accident,” Brayden said calmly. Tristan’s grin grew wider but it didn’t escape Gideon’s notice that his brother didn’t return it. He looked down at the table and Gideon hated that he knew more about being Captain than he did about being a brother. He’d been a terrible husband and a terrible father. Soldiering was the only thing he’d ever been good at. “Good,” Tristan said, oblivious to the tension and the glance Jethro shot both of them. “Anyway, once we got here we didn’t have a damn thing to our name. We had no gold, couldn’t use our names, didn’t know who we could trust. After the Keep… well, everyone starts to look like an enemy, you know?” Brayden smirked at that and Gideon just nodded his head. “Well, eventually we ended up in the wrong part of town because honestly, every part of town is the wrong part of town here, and crossed blades with a Guild fellow named Weasel. Don’t ask.” He held up a hand at that and Brayden’s grin widened. “Let me guess how he got that name,” he said. Tristan snorted and then pressed his palm tighter against his forehead in response. Gideon heard footsteps on the floorboards and then Doc was sighing and sliding a mug of something in front of the man. “Thanks,” he said, grasping the mug and toasting him with it before taking a sip. Tristan made a face afterwards and then he focused back on Gideon. “Anyway, we fight for a good while and then when he realizes how amazing we are, he gives us jobs. It wasn’t quite as simple as that, but close enough.” He pinched his nose and then downed the rest of the mug, slamming it back down on the table. “None of the jobs were nice or pretty, but we were keeping alive, waiting to hear from you or Duncan. No sign of him then?” Gideon shook his head and he tried not to think about the words too much. There was a part of him that hoped when they returned to the Wayfarer’s Inn there would be some word from Duncan, some sign that he was alive and well. He couldn’t help but think the man would be doing a better job of this. He wouldn’t be losing loyalty at a rapid pace. “None,” he responded. Tristan nodded his head. “That’s too bad,” he said quietly. “At any rate, Miren, being Miren, got himself into a mess of trouble last week. I wasn’t there, I’m not sure what happened, but he got into a scrap with the guards and got himself thrown in the dungeons.” “So he’s in the stocks, or in the Barracks?” Brayden asked, lifting an eyebrow. Tristan shook his head. “As far as I can tell he’s in the Barracks. No word on when or if he’s getting released. No word on whether they know who he is. There’s just been nothing.” He sat forward, a smirk on his face as he rested his elbows on the table. Gideon couldn’t help but think he’d missed the cocky bastard. “But now that you’re all here, he’s as good as freed, right?” Brayden grinned and opened his mouth to say something when the door opened. Gideon glanced over his shoulder in time to see De Montague slipping into the room but the smile that had been on his face last time was missing. He had a dark look on his face as he sauntered over to the table and Gideon glanced at his brother’s face. His own expression mirrored the man’s, likely for different reasons, but whatever he was going to say was gone. “Is this one of your men?” De Montague demanded without preamble. Gideon glanced down as he unrolled a parchment with a poorly inked sketch of Miren on it. Even so, he couldn’t mistake the scars on his neck for anyone else’s. His gaze wandered the poster and focused on the words at the bottom. “Yes,” he said. “He’s one of ours.” “Why?” Jethro demanded, leaning forward to look at it. De Montague snorted and glanced up at him. “Because he’s set to be executed today.” Wenston 6.7 Torturer’s Chamber “So it was De Montague that brought you to the Estate?” the Interrogator asked. Corey nodded his head licking his hurting lips. Blackness was encroaching once again at the edges of his vision and he would have normally welcomed unconsciousness if it took him away from the pain and the present. But he was afraid of waking up to this and the less he was forced to do so, the better. “We were unaware of his full involvement.” Corey sighed. “We wouldn’t have known Miren was set to die if it weren’t for him,” he whispered. “He told us about his father sentencing Miren for a quick execution. A public hanging. The Crowes found it suspicious, but they would never leave Miren to die. De Montague showed us the way and we were prepared to fight for Miren’s freedom. But we weren’t prepared for what was there.” The Interrogator nodded, walking in a calm, patient line back and forth in front of him. He turned to look at Corey, something akin to anger crossing his features. “What happened at the Estate De Montague was a massacre,” he snarled. Corey swallowed thickly. “It was never our intention.” “Innocent blood was shed there,” the Interrogator spat, coming forward and gripping Corey’s jaw tightly. Corey whimpered slightly. “The Chosen lost supporters over what happened.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he let out a shaky breath and then nodded. “I know,” he said quietly. Pain struck deep within his chest as the memories of that day started filtering back in and he felt his eyes start to sting. “We lost more than just support there.” He shook his head, swallowing thickly. “We knew not what we were walking into.” The Interrogator was quiet for a moment before he backhanded Corey harshly, his head snapping to the side and a whimper escaped his lips. “You knew not what you brought with you.” 6.8 Essocks – Estate De Montague Brayden stayed low as he snuck along the stone wall, keeping to the tall grass to try and conceal himself should any prying eyes come his way. He didn’t think there would be, most of the crowd’s attention was on the gallows that had been constructed in the center of the Estate’s courtyard. The rich and curious members of Essocks had all come out to see this public execution and Brayden bristled a little at the thought that it was Miren. He would not want a spectacle made of his death. Creeping along the wall, he came back around to the others, who were crouched just within the treeline outside of the Estate’s walls. Brayden slid in carefully and he felt Gideon’s hand on his back, making sure they all stayed low. His brother hadn’t said much about their talk the previous night, but he didn’t know what he expected Gideon to say. Words meant nothing at this point. They would see when he asked Brayden to kill again. They’d both see how Gideon would handle it. “The gallows are in the courtyard,” he reported to Gideon, who was awaiting news. Behind him, Piressa crouched silently, her eyes scanning for trouble. Jethro sat beneath a tree and Tristan crouched next to him, worrying the bark off of a stick and he knew that he was worried for Miren. Corey and the Banshee sat on the opposite side and De Montague was crouched next to Gideon, listening closely to Brayden’s words. “I saw no sign of Miren or the Count himself.” De Montague nodded. “He normally waits inside with the prisoner,” he said quietly, looking a little ashamed. “He tries to unnerve them. He is…a cruel man.” Brayden snorted and turned back to look at the walls. “He may not live pass today,” he said dryly and he saw Gideon’s face darken but he just smirked at his brother to show he was merely jesting with the words. “He must,” De Montague said firmly and they turned to look at him. He shook his head, his face looking serious and grave. “Not because I harbor any love for him, though he is the man who bore me. But he must remain an ally to the Viceroy and my wedding to Lady Gisaine must take place.” Brayden’s hand tightened around the hilts of his dagger and he looked away to conceal his anger. Gideon spoke before Brayden could, “Your marriage is the least of our priorities.” “It shouldn’t be,” De Montague said lowly and Brayden had to physically bite his tongue to keep it from snapping at the man. The man sighed and then said, “You were right when you said my marriage to her was merely political, though not in the way you were thinking. I bore no ill wishes upon your Emperor. The Viceroy is greedy and arrogant and not the ruler Lockhaven deserves.” Brayden growled and finally couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. “Get to the point.” De Montague snorted. “Gisaine believes her father dead and she would do anything to see the Viceroy out of power. Our marriage is merely a stepping stone for her own rise to power.” The words were slow to sink in and Brayden felt his chest tighten once they did. “She wishes to be Empress?” “She wishes for the Viceroy not to be,” De Montague corrected. “And becoming Empress is the only solution she has at the moment. Through our marriage, she will gain access to our armies and she will use them to overthrow the Viceroy. But if my father dies, rule over Essocks’ armies fall to a different family and her plan will fall through.” Behind them, Tristan snorted. “A crafty lady, that Gisaine. I always knew she had talent.” Brayden smirked at the words but kept his tongue silent. De Montague chuckled a little. “Aye, though if she knew the Chosen yet lived, she would not be required to take such drastic steps. She would be your greatest ally, she still has high favor with the Viceroy and he does not suspect her of treachery.” Brayden licked his lips. “She believes us dead?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “Aye,” De Montague confirmed. “She seems to believe that were the Chosen alive, they would have contacted her by now.” He gave a small, quiet laugh. “She says she keeps her eyes to her window, yet they never come.” The words were like a physical blow to Brayden’s chest and he had to put a hand on the ground to brace himself. He chewed on his lip and two battling emotions waged war in his chest. The first was that she loved him. She loved him and she was waiting for him and she wasn’t marrying out of love, but out of politics and revenge. It should have made him happy, but the second emotion was a deep regret that he hadn’t gone back for her or tried to contact her at all. She thought he was dead. He wondered if she doubted him the way he’d doubted her and he hoped not. He hoped she knew with all her heart that he loved her with all of his. Gideon cleared his throat slightly and then said quietly, “Let us get our man back.” .Wolfie. The executioner came out first, a black hood pulled over his head to hide his face. He headed towards the wooden gallows they’d erected and he heard the crowd of nobles let out quiet titters and even a few cheers. He felt disgust in his chest for all of them, those who thought a man’s death was on display for their entertainment. He had never enjoyed hangings. Even when it was Nathan Chorde and his brother dangling from a rope, he had felt little satisfaction in the act. It wouldn’t bring Elena back to him. There were guards scattered throughout the courtyard, but none of them were paying close attention to the crowd. They looked bored, eyes wandering the crowd with only dim attention. Jacquies De Montague stopped them near the edge of it, turning to face Gideon. “This is where I leave you,” he said. He smiled and held out his hand. “May the Gods’ watch over you.” Gideon grasped his hand and gave him a quiet nod. He owed the man greatly and the danger he placed himself in was no small one. “Perhaps next time we meet it will be under better circumstances,” Gideon told him. De Montague smirked and started to walk backwards. “Perhaps I’ll see you at my wedding,” he said cheerfully. Gideon nodded but he didn’t respond to that. He felt Brayden tense next to him but he stayed quiet and there was something on his face that Gideon couldn’t read. He looked distant and thoughtful, his mind a thousand miles away from where they were now. “Focus brother,” Gideon told him quietly. Brayden started slightly and then lifted his head to watch De Montague as he slipped into the crowd, just another noble come to watch one of the Chosen hang. He situated himself near the front, greeting the man there with an honest smile. Gideon watched his progress just as he kept an eye on the doors. “As soon as the doors open, we move,” Gideon ordered quietly. He glanced over his shoulder at the others, getting curt nods in return. Tristan gave him a mocking salute and he fought back a smile at that. He was glad to have the man back. He was even glad to count Stephen among them. He had almost expected the man to forswear the Chosen and return with the Church’s Blades. For a moment his mind went to the lesson he’d given him, telling him that he would have to sacrifice everything for his duty. He had never expected his words to be so prophetic. He thought about them now and it seemed that no matter how much he lost, there was always something more to lose. There was always something else to be sacrificed in the name of duty. “Spread out through the crowd,” he said. His eyes were narrowed and his voice cold as his gaze scanned the gathered spectators. There were guards situating themselves near the doors, preparing for the Lord and his prisoner. He felt anger and disgust in his chest and he nodded at the crowd. “Get as close to the guards as you can without drawing their attention.” “Yes ser,” Tristan said. There was a smirk on his face and Jethro rolled his eyes and shoved the man playfully in the shoulder. It sent him stumbling and he frowned, glancing up at the big man. He made a face and then slipped away, trying to be inconspicuous as he crossed the courtyard. One of the guards turned his head to watch his progress but then he looked away and that was all the notice they drew. It was almost too easy, and he kept thinking that even as his hand came out to catch Brayden’s arm. “I need to say something to you,” Gideon said. His brother frowned but he kept his eyes on the door. “We go to kill men today and I will ask it of you again when we return. But I cannot let you continue to think that if you see fear or disgust written on my face that it is solely for you. Don’t be mistaken, I fear for you brother.” He paused and glanced up at Brayden. “But the disdain you see is that I ask you to do terrible things knowing full well what it may do to you. I have always known what you are, and I give you these orders even so because that is what duty demands. If that makes you a monster, than what does that make me?” Brayden snorted and shook his head. “Gideon,” he started to say. “That isn’t…” Gideon held up a hand, looking back towards the doors. They were opening and he pushed himself to his feet, hand resting on his blade. “You have said your piece. Allow me to say mine.” He sucked in a breath and tried to keep his voice calm. “I will not turn my head. Do not ask it of me again. Do not doubt me. Do not assume there is anything you could do that would make me despise you.” Brayden was quiet for a moment and he didn’t presume to know what his brother was thinking. He watched the others slip through the crowd, the small processional starting to make its way out of the estate. The guards led the way, spears resting on their shoulders. “I stabbed Du Coleur through both eyes and left a crow feather on his tongue,” Brayden said abruptly. Gideon snorted and then he drew his blade. “A fitting end,” he said. He heard his brother chuckle and he felt an answering smile pull at his lips. His hand reached out and ruffled the back of Brayden’s hair like he’d done when they were younger and the offended noise his brother let out made it widen. Then Miren was coming into view and the smile was gone. The man was barely recognizable. There was blood coating his face, his nose broken and both of his eyes swollen. He stumbled as he walked and the guard behind him just gave him a rough shove with the haft of his spear. Brayden snarled next to him and Gideon felt a similar rage at seeing their own in such a position, especially Miren. The guard shoved him again and he snapped over his shoulder like a wild dog. It earned him a blow across the face and he fell to one knee, the bone cracking off the stone surface beneath him. “Get up,” the man spat, kicking at him roughly. “Get up you whore’s son.” The elder De Montague followed close behind, his arms crossed over his chest and an amused smirk on his face. It was all Gideon needed to see. As soon as their attention was on Miren, they were moving. The others struck from within the crowd and he heard the startled scream as Jethro cut down a guard with one swing of his sword. There was a flash of steel as Piressa sliced the throat of one, already moving towards the guards gathered around Miren. He heard their warning shout and then he and Brayden were there, his own blade swinging down on top of the lead man’s head. There was a loud clang of metal as steel met steel and he felt the vibrations run up his arms into his shoulders. It was a pain he was used to. Brayden cut through the man aiming a kick at Miren and Gideon could tell by the screams that it wasn’t a pleasant thing. He didn’t have to look to know that his brother was making the man suffer and he couldn’t say he was sorry. Tristan was running forward to help the man, his hand curling under his arm and hefting him upright while Stephen and Jethro dispatched the other guards. The Banshee had trailed after them like a lost dog, quiet and unconcerned with what was happening. Corey hurried up behind him blood on his pallid face as he looked at Miren. The man hardly seemed aware of what was going on, until Tristan patted his face. “Miren?” he said worriedly. “Come on you whoremongering bastard, give me a sign you’re in there.” The man snorted and his head rolled against Tristan’s shoulders. “It’s not my fault your mother’s so good at her trade.” Gideon kept one eye on him, the other on De Montague. The man had retreated back between a few of his guards and Jethro and Brayden were keeping their blades pointed towards him. He could tell that his brother wanted to end the man now, but he restrained himself. Tristan let out a weak laugh and patted him on the cheek. “Ah, there he is,” he said. “We’ll just be taking our man and leaving then,” Brayden called. “I’m afraid you’ll have to put someone else up in the gallows today.” He gave De Montague a mocking salute and a smile, starting to back towards Gideon. He didn’t expect the man to laugh. He didn’t expect the man that stepped out of the shadows behind De Montague and something dark settled in his chest at the sight of him. Drake tilted his head back in a challenge and Gideon hated the smile that curled across his lips. It was victorious and nasty and he felt the jaws of a trap closing in around them. There was a curse on his tongue at the sight of it but he restrained himself, even as the man turned his head and barked out a sharp order. “Now!” he shouted. The men came from either side of the estate, all of them in full Lockhaven uniform with swords already drawn. They came in two lines and he heard his brother cursing under his breath. The Chosen pressed together as the soldiers surrounded them. They formed a complete circle, blades pointed inwards and masks pulled over their face. “Some rescue,” Miren drawled. Tristan snorted and kept his hand under the man’s arm. “Yes, well, we didn’t want to make it too easy on you. Thought you’d be mad if you didn’t get a chance to fight your way out of impossible odds again.” Miren grinned and his teeth were coated in blood. “You know me too well.” The sharp click of Drake’s boots echoed across the stone and Gideon’s fingers tightened around his sword. His eyes were narrowed as he watched the man, circling around the outside of the Chosen. He studied them with an arrogant smirk on his face and Gideon didn’t like the way it grew when it focused on Brayden. He nodded at his brother and Gideon let out a quiet snarl at that. “So,” Drake said loudly, the words directed at De Montague, finally coming around to stand in front of Gideon. He felt Piressa move to his shoulder in an unconscious show of support. “You were right. Just as you said, the traitors came for their man.” “We don’t betray our own. And we don’t abandon them either,” Jethro snarled. His face was dark as he watched Drake, his blade still brandished in front of him with blood staining the steel. “A lesson you apparently never learned.” “No?” Drake asked. He lifted an eyebrow at Jethro and then his lips curled viciously. “Then where is Nicos Valoran?” Jethro snarled and Gideon held out a hand to him to stay his sword. He tensed but followed the unspoken order, eyes straying from Drake to the soldiers that surrounded them. Gideon kept his gaze focused on the man, studying the nasty smirk he wore. He realized suddenly that he hated this man, and it was an unfamiliar sensation. “You can tell yourself and your men whatever lies you like,” he said, his voice calm and quiet. “But you and I both know that you betrayed the true Emperor. And when he returns you will die a traitor’s death. It will be slow, and it will be painful, and it will be less than you deserve.” The smirk faltered on his lips. Then he lifted his arm and backhanded Gideon across the mouth, his metal gauntlet striking his jaw in a fierce blow. His head snapped to the side but the rest of him remained still as a statue, arms still crossed over his chest and no expression on his face. Piressa did not maintain the same calm. He was surprised at how quickly she moved, twirling a blade up into her fingers as she went after Drake. There was a snarl on her face and a curse on her tongue as she launched herself at him. Gideon caught her around the waist even as a forest of blades bristled around them. He turned to keep himself in between her and the guards, trying to catch her gaze. Her eyes were focused on Drake, and she struggled against his iron grip, anger on her face as she spat words into the dirt. “Sharas’an,” she spat, lip curled in a vicious snarl. “I’ll bleed you dry.” Drake laughed and it was a cruel, harsh thing. “Oh Galt will have fun with you,” he drawled. Then he lifted his head arrogantly, raising his voice so the crowd could hear. “In the name of the Emperor Bastian Valencourt, you are hereby under arrest for treason.” “Emperor of my asshole,” Tristan spat onto the ground. Gideon ignored Drake. He ignored all of them because he already knew what was coming next and he felt calm settling into his chest. “Piressa.” Gideon said her name quietly. It finally drew her eyes to his and there was a faint smile on his lips even with swords pointed at his back. Her gaze softened at that and her fingers brushed over the mark on his jaw. “Never a disappointment.” She tried to smile but it fell weakly and she shook her head. “Do not speak as if you intend to die today,” she said just as softly. He smiled honestly, his back still to Drake and one arm still holding her. His other shifted to his side, fingers wrapping around the hilt of his sword. Over her shoulder he could see the others gathered in a loose circle around Miren. Jethro stood in front of them, blade already out and a sneer on his face as he looked at the Lockhaven guards. He’d had friends among them once, and Gideon wondered if he even recognized any of their faces. Beside him Corey stood, licking his lips nervously but with a hand on his blade. “I do not,” he told her. “But wasn’t it you who told me that what we intend and what we accomplish is rarely the same thing?” “I do not wish you to die,” she said quietly, and he smirked at the words. There was a familiar calm in his chest and he had felt it before, the day the Keep was taken. There was comfort in the certainty that he could not afford to be taken alive. He would either die here or they would somehow manage to kill a legion of soldiers and escape a heavily guarded estate. It would be the end of the Chosen, but he could not change the decisions that had led them here. He could only deal with the consequences of them. His gaze shifted to Tristan who stood at Miren’s side, one hand under his arm and the other holding his sword out. He had a smirk on his face and he met Gideon’s eyes when they landed on him. “Just like old times, eh Captain?” he said cheerfully. Then he glanced at the Banshee standing there, fingers laced together and eyes calm and lidded. “Well, almost,” he added. Next to him Brayden let loose a dark chuckle, both of his short swords out. He twirled them with an easy grace and then pointed one at Drake. “I’m coming for you first,” he said. Drake’s face darkened at the words and he took an unconscious step back. “No,” Piressa said quickly, her eyes not leaving Gideon’s face. “That one is mine.” Brayden clucked his tongue. “Well then,” he said. “We’ll see who’s faster.” Wenston When the guards moved, so did the Chosen.Brayden wanted to go after Drake, but like the coward that he was, he let his guards fill the space between himself and the Chosen. Brayden growled and he didn’t care what Gideon would think, he didn’t want Drake living pass today. The man was too smug and slanderous to be allowed to keep breathing. “Take them alive!” Drake yelled over the commotion and Brayden snorted. Tristan voice all of their thoughts, “Like hells I’ll be taken in!” Swinging his blade up, Brayden intercepted a blow meant to slice up his arm. He returned the favor, but his blow was less passive. The guards may be under the order not to kill, but Brayden was not. He would not let the Chosen end here today and he would not fail Gisaine by dying without seeing her one last time. He didn’t want her to always wonder what they had. He didn’t want her to doubt he’d loved her with everything he was. Piressa stuck close to Gideon and Brayden hoped she stayed there. He knew she wanted Drake, but he wanted her close to his brother because if there was one thing he no longer doubted, it was that she fought for Gideon with everything she had. She’d had so many opportunities to turn on them, but she hadn’t and Brayden didn’t know what she was waiting for, so the only other solution was to think she was honest when she said she’d devoted herself to Gideon. He snorted and chanced a glance at the Banshee, who was standing behind them with his arms crossed over his chest. He’d thought the creature would be useful, but so far, he’d done little more than be entertained by parlor tricks. A grunt from his right had Brayden’s head snapping towards Corey, who’d just been kicked in the back, forced to his knees. A snarl curled Brayden’s lips and he broke away from the others, charging at the guard who was trying to pull the boy’s arms back to shackle him. He heard fighting break out behind him and he trusted Gideon’s capabilities, but he found himself worrying for his brother anyway. They’d not been having the best of luck lately. Thrusting forward with both short swords, he took off the man’s hands who was trying to capture Corey. The boy fell forward, catching himself in the dirt and he whipped his head around to look at Brayden, who kicked his sword towards him. “On your feet,” Brayden said, giving the kid a cocky grin. “Can’t fight with your face in the dirt.” Corey’s eyes were wide, but a smile touched his lips before he was pushing himself up and Brayden had to give the credit. He had a heart of iron. Brayden glanced back at the others. Gideon and Piressa were back to back, with Jethro off to the side pummeling any guard who came close. Beyond them was Tristan and Miren and even as he watched, he saw one of the guards get in a cheap blow to Tristan’s side. The man gave a soft cry, falling to one knee and would have been struck over the head if Miren hadn’t of roared and pounced on the man who’d struck Tristan. They fell to the ground and Miren proceeded to use his fists to bash the man’s face in until he was twitching on the ground. Tristan smirked when Miren turned back around, but his face was paling and there was blood leaking from his side. “Think what you could do if you actually used a sword,” he said, his voice shaky. Miren growled at him and pulled one of Tristan’s arms around him. Brayden smirked at their odd friendship. Miren was always heavily over protective of those he cared about, but he’d been in fist fights with nearly all of them. Brayden fended off two more of the guards, dispatching of them bloodily before Drake’s voice rang out over the chaos. “Enough! Execute them all! Now!” He heard Corey gasp behind him at the order and then he heard Gideon give a small cry. His gaze whipped towards his brother, who was falling to one knee. One of the guards had gotten close enough to swipe his sword up Gideon’s back. Even before Gideon was fully down, the guard was dead, with Piressa’s blades severing his head from his body. She turned quickly, pulling Gideon back to his feet and his brother’s face was pale with pain. There was too much blood on his back for Brayden’s liking, but it wasn’t a deadly wound. Growling, Brayden turned and grabbed the collar of Corey’s shirt, shoving him towards an opening that led towards behind the gallows, where they could have a moment’s shelter. Corey stumbled, but Brayden kept a firm grip as he shoved him ahead of him. Brayden pushed him to the ground and turned to take on a guard who’d followed them. Hidden from sight, he wasn’t sure who was more surprised when the guard crumpled to the ground before Brayden’s blade even touched him – Brayden or the guard. Behind the man stood the younger De Montague. He had a bloody knife held in his hand and he looked down at the guard he’d just slain before lifting his gaze back to Brayden. “You Chosen sure have the worse luck,” he said with a cocky grin and Brayden was chagrined to find he returned it before he could stop himself. “Lovely home you have,” Brayden shot back and the man just grinned again. “Traitor!” A voice suddenly yelled and they both turned to look at a pair of guards who’d come around the side of the gallows. De Montague sucked in a breath, as the guards came at them. His involvement no longer in question, De Montague struck out at the guards and Brayden followed him, dispatching of one o them easily, his sword slicing a line across his neck. Corey gave a sudden cry and he snapped his head back at the boy, but he was still crouched on the ground, his eyes wide. Brayden realized the boy hadn’t cried out for himself, but instead, for De Montague, who’d just taken a sword to the stomach. Brayden growled and rushed forward, grabbing the guard by the back of the neck and yanking him away from De Montague, who stumbled backwards and then fell. Corey rushed forward to catch him, but they both fell to the ground anyway, De Montague spitting up blood as he did. Brayden kicked the guard in the back of the knee, sending him to the ground, where he hit the man’s head against the stone ground over and over again until he felt the man go limp. He hit it several more times for good measure before he sat up and looked at De Montague. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how a guard, a single guard, had managed to hit the man with such a deadly blow. He hadn’t been watching. He’d turned his back on him and Brayden tried to convince himself it wasn’t because he didn’t care for the man’s life. He tried to convince himself that he hadn’t let the man die on purpose. “Crowe,” De Montague said, his breath coming in short gasps, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. Brayden crouched near them and De Montague reached out to grab a fistful of Brayden’s vest, tugging him closer. “Do not let them know a guard killed me,” he said, trembling and his face going ghostly white. “If they know I am a traitor, they will suspect Gisaine. Do not let them. Please.” The words made Brayden’s heart skip a beat. They were true. Gisaine would be the first person they looked at, especially if she’d agreed and suggested the arranged marriage. “I won’t,” Brayden said quietly and without hesitation, he twirled his blade in his hand and slammed into the side of De Montague’s neck. Corey gave a startled cry, wide eyes raising to look at Brayden as De Montague’s body went into spasms before falling still. He ignored the boy, instead, sliding his arms beneath De Montague’s and dragging him up. He turned to look at Corey. “Stay down, Corey.” “I’m not a coward,” the boy snapped at him and it made Brayden pause. He nodded, his lips quirking in pride as the boy stood. He was a little shaky on his feet, but Brayden would overlook it. For now. Dragging De Montague’s body up the stairs to the gallows, he surveyed the scene quickly. Tristan was leaned up against the outside wall, Miren standing over him and fighting off anyone who came near. Tristan was pale and shaking, too much blood on his side. Gideon and Piressa fought separated from the others. Gideon had one arm pressed against his side and it was due to the wound on his back. He was gritting his teeth, but fighting like a mad man and Brayden wondered if Gideon thought they wouldn’t make it out of here. His eyes turned to Jethro, who was circled by guards and even as he watched, the big guy fell to one knee as one of them struck him in the back of the head. “De Montague!” Brayden yelled over the battle and he saw the Count’s head snap up towards him from where he was cowering near the door with Drake. Drake’s eyes narrowed on Brayden and he just grinned viciously at them both. “Have you had your fill of death today?” Brayden called and then hefted the younger De Montague’s body up, holding his head up. He could hear the Count’s pained cry from across the courtyard. “His blood is on your hands,” Brayden yelled at him. “All we wanted was our man.” Then he kicked De Montague’s body off the gallows and it fell with a loud crunch to the ground below. Brayden saw the Count grab Drake’s arm and shove him towards the fight. He could see his mouth moving, yelling at the man to end this. Brayden met Gideon’s eyes for a moment and he couldn’t read the look on his brother’s face. He wondered if his brother truly thought he’d killed De Montague and he wondered if he’d even have the chance to explain what really happened to Gideon or if they were all about to die here today. “Brayden!” Came Corey’s warning shout from below. Brayden turned sharply and just barely dodged the arrow aimed for his head. There were archers in the window of the estate across the way. He dodged a second arrow, running to the back of the gallows. He jumped from the edge and that’s when the third arrow hit home. Midair he felt a blinding pain hit him in the side, just above his hip. He growled and lost his footing when he hit the ground, crumpling to his hands and knees. He brought one hand immediately to his side, where blood seeped through his fingers. Hands were on his back and he jerked until Corey’s voice came, “Gods, Brayden,” he breathed. But he didn’t have time to say or do anything else as guards rounded the corner. Brayden glared at them, his eyes narrowed and teeth grit and he wasn’t about to let Corey die here for him. Reaching up, he yanked on Corey’s shirt, pulling the boy down harshly to the ground and using the momentum to pull himself to his feet, his blade drawn. The guards came at him and Brayden just braced himself because with the arrow in his side, the bullet wound in his shoulder, the bruises on his neck and face – he couldn’t beat them. He knew it. And so did the Banshee. The scream that tore through the air was ear shattering. It made everyone pause and Brayden even dropped his blades, bringing his hands up to cover his ears. He jammed his eyes shut at the pain the scream caused and he felt Corey grab the back of his shirt, pulling him down and dragging him behind cover. Brayden cringed when he saw the guards drop to the ground, their bodies going into seizures. He glanced back at the Banshee, who looked furious. He opened his mouth and aimed a scream at the archers in the Estate. Brayden’s eyes widened when he saw the building start to crumble beneath the power. “I’ll be damned,” Brayden croaked. .Wolfie. Power ripped through the courtyard as the Banshee let out a third scream, his head turning to face the gathered crowd. It tore through the nobles and Gideon heard an earsplitting wail in response, rising up above the Essocks Estate in a terrible crescendo. They crumpled before it like puppets, bodies convulsing as they hit the ground. The guards around them were crying out in pain, blood running from their ears and their mouths. All Gideon could hear was the screaming.The ground rumbled beneath them and there was a deafening crack as the gallows broke and shattered beneath the force of the Banshee’s cry. The wood split and a large wooden beam fell into the gathered nobles, crushing them underneath its weight. For a moment he saw the noose swinging in the air before that too twisted and fell to the bloodied stones. Gideon crouched on the ground, his head throbbing and warm blood running down the side of his face and down his skin. His back felt as though it was on fire but he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain for the moment. Piressa was crouched next to him and he saw her lips part but he could barely hear the whimper she let out. Her hands were clasped over her pointed ears and he could see blood running between her fingers. He put a hand on the other side of her head and pulled her against his chest as another howl ripped out of the Banshee’s throat and tore across the courtyard. There was a pop in one of his ears and something warm and wet trickled down his cheek in response. His head turned and he could see the others crouched on the ground, hands trying to protect their heads from the fierce magic that tore from the Omen’s mouth. The Banshee was taking another step towards the estate, eyes flicking from window to window. There were cracks in the stones and he saw one of them in the ramparts shift and then slide off the wall. It hurtled towards the ground and there was an answering scream, cut off abruptly as it landed on top of some of the guards. De Montague was on the ground next to Drake, both of them trying to pull their way back inside the building. Gideon didn’t think they would find safety there. The Banshee tipped his head back, hands held out at his sides and Gideon could feel the power crackling over the ground around him. The scream that tore through his lips slammed into the estate again and the building blasted apart beneath the force of it. Rocks flew off to the sides and the building crumpled in on itself, screams and the roaring of falling stone filling the air. Gideon could barely process what was happening. There was dust filling the air from the falling estate and a cough tore its way from his throat. He forced himself to stand, arm still around Piressa as his gaze scanned the grounds for his men. Tristan and Miren crouched close together, both pale and bloodied. Stephen lay on the ground apart from them and Gideon couldn’t tell if the man was still breathing. Jethro had his hands clasped over his ears and his eyes on the Banshee. Corey he found in the next moment as he and Brayden hurried past, both trying to hold each other upright. His brother had a hand pressed over his side and the other wrapped around Corey’s shoulders as he hurried towards the Omen. “That’s enough,” he called. His eyes were wide and he couldn’t tell if it was from fear or awe. The Banshee turned and he heard its voice even through the throbbing in his head. “Death was on its way,” the Banshee said calmly. His head was tilted to the side as he stared at a dying guard on the ground. “I gave it other lives in exchange for yours.” Brayden’s eyes went wide at that and he looked past the Banshee at the estate. There were still rocks tumbling to the ground and the dust was filling the air at a rapid pace. Most of the guards lay on the ground, convulsing in pain. There were only a few who managed to make it as far as their knees and their eyes were on the estate. . “I… thank you,” Brayden said. Gideon could barely hear the words. There was blood running down his brother’s face and more of it soaking through his shirt. “We need to get out of here.” Victory nodded his head and then turned away. “Go,” he said. “We will meet again.” He didn’t wait for Brayden’s response, walking towards the courtyard with calm, even steps. The ground around him still rumbled and crackled with dark energy and there were bodies lying on the stones all around them. The blood was soaking into the very dirt, and he could still hear their screams. Gideon forced himself to his feet, pulling Piressa with him. He kept his blade in the other hand and nodded his head towards the low stone wall they’d passed over to get here. “Go,” he said. “Jethro, get Stephen.” The man nodded, one hand pressed to his head as he stumbled to his side. Stephen didn’t respond when he patted his cheeks but he saw Jethro press a hand to his neck before nodding in satisfaction. He hauled him up over his shoulder and when he did Gideon saw the blood running down his temple and over his eye. Tristan and Miren followed behind Jethro, barely holding each other upright. Brayden still had an arm around Corey but his eyes were on the courtyard behind them. “He’s gone,” he said, glancing at Gideon. He followed his brother’s gaze and there was no sign of the Banshee. Gideon nodded. “We should be too,” he said. “I want Drake,” Piressa said next to him. Her gaze was narrowed and angry as she scanned the fallen bodies for the man. He couldn’t tell which one of them was the Guard Captain but it didn’t matter. He was likely already dead. “No,” he told her. “I need you at my side.” The frown on her face softened and then she nodded her head, hand pressing against the wound in his back. The motion stung, but he didn’t protest it even so. He nodded his head at Brayden and his brother and Corey turned and led the way from the courtyard. There was a loud boom as another rock fell from the estate and landed on the ground and the ground rumbled beneath them. If Piressa hadn’t been with him he likely would have lost his footing. They made their retreat from the courtyard and Gideon knew that they should hurry but he didn’t think any of them could manage it at the moment. They got away from the estate and the cries that still rose up into the sky above it and then stopped by the edge of the road below where they’d tied their horses. The beasts were skittish and tossed their heads in irritation. “What now?” Corey asked. His voice was small and weak and he looked between Gideon and Brayden as he waited for an answer. Gideon tried to think about the question but for a moment all he could do was stare back at the estate behind them. De Montague was dead, and with him went all the support they could have gained to take back the throne. There would be no one left who doubted that the Chosen were traitors. He didn’t know if his brother had truly struck his deathblow or what his reasons for doing so were, but he would ask later. He had to believe there’d been a purpose to it. He would ask when he could think again, when there wasn’t a throbbing pain in his head and he didn’t feel blood soaking into the back of his tunic. Piressa’s hand rested on his spine, trying to hold the blood inside his skin, and he had an arm around her waist to make sure she stayed upright while doing so. The death that they had brought here was worse than the massacre that had happened at the Keep and for a moment he could not stop all the doubt and regret and despair that crowded down on him. He couldn’t see far enough ahead to know what the consequences of this would be. He couldn’t say if it was worth it and that hurt more than anything. He could see smoke rising up into the air and he thought suddenly of Kinley’s words to him, asking if this was enough sacrifice yet. Then he pushed it aside and turned back to the others. Jethro was leaning Stephen back against a tree, crouched in front of him and lifting the man’s eyelids. Tristan and Miren were leaning heavily on each other and with all the blood covering them it was a wonder they weren’t dead. Tristan was already ripping strips of his shirt, trying to bind his side shut with them. “We need to disappear,” Gideon said. He felt his own wounds but he would deal with them later, when they were some place safe instead of crouched in the bushes. “We need some place to lay low until we can get out of Essocks.” “I know a safehouse we can go to,” Tristan said. “The Guild doesn’t use it anymore because ah, they think it’s cursed.” “Sounds perfect,” Brayden said. He snorted and he was watching Gideon’s face. He didn’t know what his brother was looking for but he kept his expression cold and forced himself to turn away from the estate. It didn’t matter now. It was over and done with and he would deal with the consequences of it just as he had everything else. There was no place in this business for doubt or regret, and as long as they Chosen lived they would do whatever it took to see the Viceroy overthrown. Perhaps the man would see that now. They grew quiet as the thunderous sound of horses hooves sounded down the road. They crouched into the brush and Gideon kept his hand on his blade, though if it was troops seeking them he doubted it would matter. He couldn’t help but think he should be already dead. Victory had said as much. They should all be dead and that they weren’t was because of a miracle born of Brayden’s luck. The horses didn’t stop. They thundered up the road towards the estate and relaxed only slightly. There would be more coming, especially if De Montague lived. They were all in bad shape and they needed to disappear. They needed out of Essocks. “Guide the way then,” Gideon said. “Try to avoid the main roads.” “What happened with De Montague?” Jethro asked abruptly. He was still crouched over Stephen but he glanced over his shoulder at Brayden when he spoke. Gideon kept his face carefully calm and he wouldn’t have asked the question now, but it was spoken and couldn’t be taken back. He didn’t expect Corey to answer for his brother, shaking his head and leaning against his horse. “It was one of the guards,” he said. “De Montague fought for us and the guards saw him turn on them. They cut him down. He didn’t want his father to find out.” Brayden was watching Gideon as Corey spoke, concern in his eyes. Gideon wanted to tell his brother it needn’t have been there. Jethro nodded his head and then he was hauling Stephen upright, the man still unconscious and limp in his arms. He didn’t say anything for a while, not until they were mounted and moving slowly along the side of the road. Then he spoke quietly, and the words weren’t ones Gideon expected. “Blessed are those who fight in the Emperor’s name.” “For when they die they carry his will up to Heaven,” Gideon answered. Wenston 6.9 Essocks – The Safe House Brayden rapped on the door three times, paused, and then hit it a fourth. From inside, he heard Corey’s voice call, “Tristan says to tell you you’re not allowed to come in without food.” Brayden snorted at that. He ran a hand over his face and the bruises had faded mostly. There was still a sickly discoloration around his throat and only two small cuts, one on the bridge of his nose and another above his eye, were still visible. They’d had to lay low for a few days to heal up. It had taken Stephen a full two days to wake up and they hadn’t thought he was going to. But the man was a stubborn bastard and once he’d woken up, he was fine and complaining as usual. Miren had rested nearly the whole first day, but afterwards, he’d started chastising Tristan and trying to toughen Corey up. In fact, Miren and Tristan had seemed to deem Corey as their personal entertainment. But the boy had been dishing the insults right back at them and he was fitting in better than Brayden had ever thought possible. He’d go as far as to say that Miren even liked the boy. Jethro never seemed to acknowledge his own wounds, so he’d been fine as soon as they’d gotten to the safe house. He’d helped Piressa stitch up Gideon’s back and his brother had been insufferable since. Piressa was constantly trying to get him to just sit still, but Gideon was antsy and anxious to get going. It was a miracle they’d managed to get Gideon to allow them a few days rest. And they’d only done so when Brayden had played the injured card, arrow wound and all. He didn’t want to admit that he’d only been playing a little bit. His side hurt. He hurt. It was just one big hurt. “Doc sent me with some bread and cheese,” Brayden called through the door. There was a loud thump as the bar on the other side of the door dropped and then it was cracking open, revealing Corey’s skeptical face. “He really will kill me if you don’t have food,” he said lowly. Brayden smirked and held up the sack in his arms, showing Corey the food he concealed. The boy’s face broke into a grin and then he was pulling the door open. Brayden walked inside and he was still moving slow, but he’d had business to see to today in Essocks. He threw the sack on the table and glanced at the others. Miren, Tristan and Stephen were playing a game of cards at a far table while Jethro, Gideon and Piressa were pouring over some maps. Probably plotting the best way to get home. He grinned at them. “You went to see Doc?” Gideon asked as he looked up, eyes narrowing at Brayden. “Yes,” Brayden nodded and hopped up onto the counter. He winced slightly at the jarring of the wound in his side and he knew Gideon had seen it by the furrowing of his brow. He continued before his brother could say anything. “I paid the man back for his trouble.” Corey paused in the middle of the room, a loaf of bread in his hands he was bringing over to Tristan. “With what?” he demanded. Brayden just tilted his head at him and the boy sighed, frustrated. “Right, don’t ask.” He threw the bread on the table and Tristan grinned, slinging his arm around Corey’s shoulders and pulling him down next to him, ruffling his hair. “What do you hear out there?” Gideon asked. Brayden grinned, leaning back on the counter and swinging his legs lazily. “Oh the gossip is flying,” he waggled his eyebrows at his brother. “Lots of different versions on what happened with De Montague. My personal favorite is that the Chosen summoned a dragon to destroy the Estate. But I’m also slightly impartial to the version where we raised the flames of the underworld and loosed devils on the earth. Apparently, we’re very powerful.” Gideon snorted, leaning back in his chair and he winced when his back hit it. Brayden mimicked his brother’s previous look to which Gideon just rolled his eyes. “Apparently.” “Any sign of your Banshee?” Piressa asked, her voice a little bitter and he thought it was because the ringing in her ears hadn’t stopped until yesterday. Brayden gave a small, awkward laugh. “First and foremost, he’s not my Banshee. And secondly, no, I was unable to track where he went.” The elf scoffed a little and gave him an annoyed look. “It is for the best. He was a dangerous thing to tote around.” “Well, you know us Crowes,” Brayden said, leaning forward and putting a hand to his side when it started to hurt from his awkward position on the bar. “We like to pick up the strays.” He winked at her and he heard his brother sigh. Brayden laughed and ran a hand over his face. He was tired. And he wasn’t sure if he meant in the physical sense. He glanced at the window and then said, “Oh, and I found us a way home.” “You did?” Corey asked, sounding more excited than he probably had meant, if the look on his face indicated anything. Miren snorted and threw a card at the kid’s face. Corey frowned at the man and snatched his piece of the loaf of bread out from in front of him. Miren looked surprised that the boy would do something so bold, but then gave a solid laugh, punched Corey in the shoulder harder than what was necessary, and stole it back. Stephen and Tristan snickered at the motion. Brayden grinned. “I did,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe who I ran into at the docks.” Gideon sighed and he figured his brother knew exactly who he’d run into. “If you say Archon, I swear to the gods, Brayden, I am going to wring your neck.” It was so uncharacteristically informal that Brayden couldn’t help but laugh at his brother. He saw the corners of Gideon’s mouth twitch upwards and Brayden felt an answering smile on his own lips. “Would it make a difference if I put a Captain in front of the name?” he asked innocently. “None whatsoever,” Gideon answered. Brayden nodded. “Alright, then cover your ears while I tell everyone else because I rather value my neck.” Gideon snorted and rolled his eyes. Brayden smirked and leaned back again, ignoring the way it stretched the wound on his side. The room fell quiet for a moment before Corey let out a yell when Tristan flicked a card at his face. Corey threw a chunk of bread at the man and Tristan just started laughing and scooted away, but bumped into Miren, who punched the man in the shoulder like he had Corey. “What did you hear of De Montague and Drake?” Gideon asked, his voice a bit more sober. It seemed to quiet the room again and Brayden kept his eyes purposely averted from his brother, smirking at Corey and jerking his head to warn the kid that Tristan was getting ready to flick another card. The kid managed to dodge it and gave a victorious cry that was short lived when Tristan pushed him straight out his chair. Corey landed with a thud and grumbled darkly, cursing at the man as he pushed himself to his feet. Finally turning to look at his brother, Brayden smiled a little falsely and gave a shrug. “Count De Montague is dead,” he said and the words were grave and final. “And a man meeting Drake’s description set sail for Lockhaven yesterday.” Jethro sighed. “He will tell the Viceroy that we live,” he said. “He will,” Gideon nodded. “We will have to be prepared for whatever he sends for us.” Corey glanced up and asked, “Do you think Lady Gisaine will be upset when she hears we killed her future husband?” The words made Brayden stiffen slightly and his eyes moved slowly to Gideon. His brother was looking at Corey and Brayden wondered if it wouldn’t just be easier if they all knew of his affair with Gisaine. Probably not. And he didn’t want to be the one to tell them. It was his burden to bear. Gideon’s eyes moved to meet Brayden’s and there was a small, comforting smile on his face that Brayden returned. “Not upset as she probably should be,” Gideon said and Brayden didn’t miss the hidden message. Gisaine was going to know they were alive. She was going to know he was. .Wolfie. Part Seven 7.1 Torturer’s Chamber There was a man waiting for Corey when he awoke. It wasn’t the torturer and it wasn’t the inquisitor. They were conspicuous only by their absence, and he didn’t know if he should be grateful or terrified because of it. He had told the man everything of what had happened in Essocks, the true telling, not the rumors that had circled afterwards. He knew them too, because Brayden knew them, and Corey knew too many of their secrets. Once it was done they had thrown him into a cell and he thought he had been forgotten. It was impossible to say how long they left him there. He shivered against the cool stones and slept on a pile of dry hay that they had left in there. A hole had been dug in the corner for him to relieve himself and that was all. They didn’t bring him food or water and he could barely feel his stomach anymore. He was wasting away in the shadows and he wondered if he would die there. He wondered if they were trying to give his body time to heal so they could begin again. Cuts and burns and scars littered his skin and he was sure they would only add more. Soon they would start taking pieces off and he tried not to cry out at the thought. He slept with his head against the wall and it was dark when he woke to the door opening. There was the sound of wood scraping over the stones and then a chair settled in the doorway, a man draping himself upon it. He rested his arms on the back, his features hidden by the shadow of a dark hood he kept pulled over his face. Corey stayed quiet, afraid to show that he was awake and more afraid that the man would do something to him if he thought him asleep. Yet nothing happened for a while, the man just sitting and watching him. He couldn’t help but shiver under his gaze, closing his eyes and trying not to think what the man wanted of him. “They are going to break you,” he said abruptly. The words startled him and he flinched as though he’d been struck. He cracked his eyes but he was afraid to open them any farther. The man had a rough voice that reminded him of Miren’s, as though it had become that way through abuse instead of by nature. Like all he had done for a long time was scream. “You tell yourself that you can hold out, that you can buy them a little more time, that you can buy yourself time. You can’t. They are going to win. That is how it will end.” “What do you want?” Corey asked. The words came out like a whimper and he tried to ignore the fear that rose in him. He shivered against the wall, fingers digging into his arms to try and hold the heat in his skin. He tried to pretend the man was lying, but he knew that he was breaking a little more every day. Soon he would tell them what they wanted, the answer to the question they all desired. “Tell me what’s coming,” the man said. He leaned forward on his chair, a sharp intensity in the words and Corey wondered just who this man was. “Tell me if the Crowes still live. Just nod or shake your head. You don’t even have to speak the words.” “I won’t,” Corey told him. He crushed his eyes shut and he wished he were back with the Winters. “You’ll tell them eventually,” he said. “But think of what will be left of you when you do.” Then he heard the chair shift. When he cracked his eyes the man was gone, the chair being pulled from the doorway by the torturer. He shoved it up against the wall and then he was coming into the room, the black hood over his face and thick arms already reaching for Corey. He cried out against his will, a wretched sob leaving his throat and he struggled for a moment against the man’s grip. He didn’t want anymore. He just wanted this to be over. The torturer didn’t care. He dragged him from the room and hooked manacles around his wrist again. The chain rattled as he hauled it upright, pulling Corey up on his toes. There were tears running down his face and he couldn’t stop them, desperation and fear shaking him. The instruments of his torturer were all laid out before him on the thick wooden table and he tipped his head back to the ceiling and wept. He couldn’t stop himself, not even when he felt fingers curl in his hair. “Ser Temple,” the familiar voice said. “Shall we begin again?” 7.2 The Wayfarer’s Road It was a long road back to the Wayfarer’s Inn. Archon gave them passage back to Lockhaven and Gideon didn’t question how his brother paid for it. That was one of those questions better left unasked. Either way, he was glad to be out of Essocks and to put the city behind them. They were wanted men there now, even more so than before. If the man had any idea who they were he never said anything and made no attempt to double cross them. Gideon thought it was mostly because he was drunk practically every hour of the day, yet somehow still managed to captain his ship and take time to play card games against the Chosen and his crew. Brayden stayed back in Lockhaven and Gideon didn’t ask him where he was going or what he was looking for. Essocks had been a harsh reminder of some things he had forgotten, first and foremost that his brother had always acted better as his own entity. The Viceroy’s betrayal had broken him more than he’d allowed himself to admit, and he’d been aiming that frustration and mistrust in the wrong direction. The events at De Montague’s estate had finally destroyed the line he’d been trying to walk. The Chosen were outcast. They were already hunted and reviled, so it mattered little if he did not allow men like Martinez to live. Their name meant nothing anymore, so they were free to do what had to be done. He would not hesitate again. He would not feel doubt or regret because they’d started down this road and there was no turning back until it was done. There was comfort in that certainty. There was a calm, cold determination that had settled in his chest and he held onto that. When his brother rejoined them on the road at dawn he asked him only if he’d found anything useful. It was the only question that mattered. He answered him with a quiet smile and a ‘no’ that told him he’d tried to see Gisaine, to no avail. It had to be some comfort for his brother to know that she was no traitor. He had told Gideon afterwards exactly what had happened with De Montague and he had just nodded his understanding. If the Viceroy discovered that she plotted his destruction than nothing good would happen to her. She would either be executed or married to a man that would both control and destroy her a piece at a time. “So this tavern is yours?” Tristan asked. Jethro rode at the front, Stephen next to him. They were all still a little battered and the worse for the wear, but the journey back to Lockhaven had given them more time to heal. There were still stitches holding his back shut but he would ask Piressa to take them out tonight. His brother still moved gingerly when he thought Gideon wasn’t looking, but he caught it even so. Miren and Tristan rode behind him, with Corey in the middle between the two of them. They were doing their best to harden the boy and Gideon was glad that they’d taken him under their wing. It hadn’t been easy for any of them, but less so for Corey. “It is indeed,” Jethro said, grinning over his shoulder. “If Alain hasn’t run it into the ground in my absence.” Brayden chuckled from where he rode next to Gideon. “I doubt your sister would let him,” he called. Tristan sat up in his saddle, leaning forward with a grin on his face. “Bianca is there?” he asked. Jethro nodded his head and Tristan’s smile grew even wider. “Tell me she brought her friends with her. The pretty ones, like the one with the beauty mark by her eye. Sasha? If you tell me no I will be sorely disappointed in you. What’s the point of a tavern without a busty bar wench servicing me?” Miren snorted at that. The cuts and bruises had mostly healed, though he had a fresh scar running over his lips. “He’d have to pay her more gold than the tavern’s worth to convince any woman to service you,” he said. Tristan clucked his tongue at the man. “Ah, this bitterness does not become you Miren. Just because no one woman will have you doesn’t mean the rest of us suffer the same curse. Isn’t that right, Temple?” He waggled his eyebrows at Corey, nudging him with his elbow as he did. Corey turned bright red and looked away, gazing off into the trees instead of at the other man. Tristan’s eyes widened as he studied him and then he ducked his head. “You have had a woman, haven’t you?” “Of course I have,” Corey spluttered. “There was this girl in my hometown I was… with.” If anything Corey turned even redder and Gideon heard his brother chuckle next to him. Piressa rode next to him and he could see her rolling her eyes. For a while there she’d barely been able to hear anything thanks to the Banshee, and Tristan had made a point of teasing her about it. Miren narrowed his eyes at Corey and then snorted out a laugh, reaching out to slap him hard on the back. “You’re a liar. Balls, Gideon, you would let this boy die in the name of the Emperor without knowing a woman’s touch?” Tristan chuckled. “Perhaps the elf would be willing to bed you, in the name of charity.” Tristan laughed when Corey just ducked his head and turned an even brighter shade of red. He twisted in his saddle to look over his shoulder and he shot her a suggestive wink. Piressa lifted an eyebrow but her expression didn’t change. “Or perhaps you could bed him and satisfy both of your desires,” she shot back. Tristan laughed loudly and he was practically turned around in his saddle now. “And she has a quick tongue,” he said, shaking his head. “I think I fall in love with you more every day.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Be prepared to die of a broken heart.” If anything Tristan’s grin just grew wider. “I would rather die of a broken back.” Gideon smirked but he couldn’t help but glance at Piressa out of the corner of his eye. It was getting worse. Whatever this was between them, he found his thoughts straying to her more and more frequently. Anymore she was the last thought on his mind when he went to sleep and there was both guilt and longing in that thought. It felt like a betrayal of Elena’s memory, yet he wanted her even so. It was nothing that he could afford but when she was around he found it harder and harder to keep that thought in mind. Miren let out a loud snort and it drew Gideon’s eyes back to the front, where the dusty road wound in front of them. Miren’s eyes narrowed at Tristan. He leaned forward to point at him and Corey had to lean back in his saddle to try and avoid getting in the way. “You try and cheat me at cards again and I can make sure that happens,” Miren growled. Tristan let out an affronted scoff and put a hand to his chest. “I would never cheat you,” he said. Then he grinned and slapped Corey in the arm with the back of his hand. “Right boy-o?” “Of course not,” Corey said. Miren turned his annoyed glare to the boy and he tilted his head back, an innocent look on his face as he studied the sky. It was bright and blue, the sun above them as it headed towards noon. They’d been traveling most of the night but there was a vague sense of excitement that lingered with them. They were headed home. It was odd to call the place such, but for now it was what they had. “Unless you’re talking about that gold you swindled out of him in that game against Archon.” “Damn it Temple,” Tristan hissed. “You’re a dead man, Gottfried.” Miren growled and turned his horse to try and cut off Corey and get to the other man. The kid let out a startled shout and a laugh, pulling back on the reins of his horse to try and stay out of it. Tristan let out a yell and slowed the beast down, dropping back next to Brayden who just laughed and turned to look over his shoulder at him. “You’re lucky Archon didn’t catch you,” Brayden said. “Man would have gutted you and tossed you in the ocean for that.” He grinned and drew a line across his neck to illustrate the point. Tristan looked more concerned with what Miren would do to him at the moment. At the front Gideon heard Stephen let out a heavy sigh. “Tell me again why I joined you instead of returning with the Blades.” Gideon smirked and edged his horse closer to Piressa instead. He could hear Miren cursing as he looked back at Tristan but he had no doubt they would sort their differences out. The man had threatened all of them with the exception of Duncan at one point or another but he was as loyal as they came. He didn’t have it in him to stop their joking when they had all been separated for so long. They’d been family once, and then they’d been betrayed. All the Chosen had been presumed dead, their homes taken from them, all that they had worked for destroyed. That they still lived was more than he’d had the right to hope for. He turned to look at Piressa, stiffness still lingering in his back. The blow had been a nasty one but he’d taken cuts like that before. It would heal, much better than the cut Kinley had left on his side. He still had a knot of scar there that would likely never fade. It would be a good reminder of his carelessness and the lessons he should have already learned from his younger brother. It was one of the first rules when it came to assassins. Check for poison. “What do you know about warding spells?” he asked her. She shook her head, blonde hair spilling about her shoulders. She met his gaze squarely and he thought not for the first time that she was a beautiful woman. She had fought for him so passionately and he wondered what he had done to merit such devotion from her. “Only a little,” she told him. “As I’ve said, my talents never lay in the arcane arts.” He accepted that, nodding his head and looking away from her. They were coming around the bend towards the tavern and he felt something like relief as they approached. “Enough to set one?” “Perhaps?” she answered hesitantly. “Enough to attempt it, though I cannot promise success. I will try not to disappoint you.” He smirked and he glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow. There was a teasing smirk on her lips and he knew she was trying to get a reaction out of him. He wondered what she wanted from him, if anything, and why she continued to tease him. Nothing could come of it, but he answered her anyway. “As I have said, you are not among my disappointments,” he told her. “Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it again,” she said. There was a smile on her face and he tried not to return it. It failed miserably and he turned away so that she couldn’t see his lips quirk up at the corners. He focused on Brayden and he felt small embarrassment when he met his brother’s eyes. He had an amused smile on his face and Gideon was glad to see it there, even if he thought his brother was mocking him. Gideon cleared his throat and tried to pretend that she didn’t get under his skin. “Brayden,” he said. His brother lifted an eyebrow curiously and Gideon nodded his head at the tavern coming into view. “When we are settled I want to go over the nobles’ missives with you.” “Oh?” he asked. His tone was curious and his gaze shuttered. Gideon nodded his head. “I want your opinion on where we should strike first.” The words had the intended effect. It was the closest thing he had to telling his brother there was no bad blood. They would both do what they had to do and he had no intentions on turning his head from that. It wasn’t in his nature. A wide grin split Brayden’s lips and he gave Gideon a dramatic bow from the back of his horse. “I would happy to lend my expertise,” he said. The tavern rose up in front of them and Gideon smirked when he saw the two waiting outside. Alain was slouched on the wooden steps leading to the porch, a pipe in his lips and his lute on his lap. His fingers plucked idly at the strings, his eyes lidded and tired. “Haven’t you learned to play that thing yet?” Brayden called loudly. The man looked up, his eyes widening with surprise and a bright grin stealing across his lips. He pushed the lute to the side and then turned his head over his shoulder. “Bianca!” he called. “There’s a Redholme looking fellow here that claims to be your brother.” Then he chuckled and climbed to his feet, studying them all with a happy smirk. The door burst open in the next moment and Bianca was hurtling out of the tavern and onto the porch. Jethro grinned and it was brighter than any that had been on his face since they left. “Genga!” she yelled, throwing herself into her brother’s arms. He laughed and lifted her off her feet with the force of his hug. He swung her around once before putting her down and then she was hitting him in the chest, a mock frown on her face. “What took you so long? I was beginning to worry.” “Well I’ll be damned.” Alain whistled lowly and shook his head. “Look what dragged itself back here after all.” He laughed and came down off the porch towards them. “Tristan, how the hell are you? And how’s your mother?” Miren grinned at the man. “She’s still on her back recovering from the last time I had at her.” Wenston Brayden slowed his horse and it warmed his heart to see the welcoming greeting Tristan, Miren and even Stephen received upon coming to the Inn. It was like coming home and Brayden hadn’t felt that in a while. Even before the siege of the Keep, he’d not felt a place that seemed like home and as he watched Alain slap Stephen on the back and the man’s returning rolling of the eyes, Brayden realized maybe it wasn’t the Inn that was bringing about the feelings. This was his family. He hadn’t been lying to Gideon when he’d said he didn’t fight for the Emperor. He wasn’t sure he’d die for the man, but he’d die for them. He’d die for any one of them. Hells, even Corey and Stephen. They’d proven themselves and their loyalty and he found himself liking the two of them. And he owed Stephen his life. He probably owed it to Corey as well. The kid had helped carry him more than once when he’d been wounded. Slipping down from his horse, he grit his teeth at the pain still lingering in his side. It would go away eventually, but he needed more time to let it heal. He’d sit down with Gideon to go through the missives, but he had to be honest with his brother and tell him he needed more time. In this line of business, sometimes he had to make his body do things that normal bodies shouldn’t. Like popping his shoulder out of the socket to escape a jail cell. He didn’t want to be hampered by injuries if he was going to be going after nobles. He needed to be able to move. Piressa stood and made sure Gideon made it off his horse and Brayden watched them closely. He could see the flame igniting there. He hoped his brother didn’t get hurt. The last time he’d had his heart broken, he’d shut down completely. He practically hadn’t been his brother anymore. He didn’t have to wonder if Gideon still thought of Elena at times. Brayden did and he hadn’t even been married to her. Alain was laughing at something Tristan said, but he paused when he saw Brayden starting to ascend the stairs to go inside. “Oh, Brayden, hold up a moment,” he called and jogged pass the others to come and stand next to Brayden on the stairs. He didn’t miss the way Bianca ducked her head and snuggled up against Jethro a bit more like she was nervous. Alain scratched the back of his head and looked towards the Inn. “Uh, something showed up the other day claiming to be your property.” Brayden lifted an eyebrow at that. “Something?” he asked and he had a feeling he already knew what it was. Alain didn’t get a chance to answer as the door to the Inn opened and Brayden’s suspicion had been right. The Banshee stepped out onto the porch and he was shuffling a deck of cards in his hands. He didn’t even look up at them as he came out to stand in front of Brayden. “Victory?” Brayden asked, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. How had the Banshee known to come here? From behind him, he heard Tristan scoff. “I don’t know whether to draw my blade or hug the thing.” Miren shrugged. “He did save our lives.” “And killed countless others,” Piressa hissed. Victory finally looked up and he had a disinterested look on his face as he met Brayden’s eyes. “I learned a new game,” he said plainly and Brayden tipped his head up, the corners of his lips turning down in confusion. “It’s called Thirteen.” Nodding, Brayden mulled over in his head what it meant that the Banshee had been able to find them so easily. He hoped it was just because he was an Omen and not because someone had sold them out. “I know this game,” he said carefully. He glanced backwards to his brother, who had his eyes narrowed at the creature. Then he cleared his throat and tried to ask casually, “What are you doing here?” “I am still devoted to your cause,” Victory said simply. Brayden nodded again and gave a small smirk. “I think you’ve assisted us more than what was necessary.” Victory paused to look Brayden in the eye. “Do you wish me to go?” he asked and there was an unusual tone to his voice. It sounded something like disappointment. Licking his lips, Brayden shook his head. “No, no it’s not that,” he said. “It’s just you shouldn’t feel obligated…” The Banshee didn’t give him time to finish. “Good,” he said, cutting him off and then turning around. “They say it is impossible to cheat at Thirteen.” Brayden watched his back for a moment. The blue runes etched into the creature’s skin were glowing slightly and Brayden absently reached a hand up to rub at the scar on his shoulder, thinking about the bullet the Banshee had pulled from his flesh. “Oh it’s not impossible,” Brayden said and grinned when Victory stopped mid-step to turn around and narrow his eyes at him. “I can show you how. It’s rather simple.” “Then you can show me,” Victory said and started heading inside again. Brayden chuckled, letting his hand slip from his blade. “Perhaps I could settle in first.” “No,” Victory said and Brayden raised an eyebrow. “You have made me wait long enough for your arrival. You will come now.” Then the Banshee disappeared into the Inn and Brayden stood there for a moment before he scoffed and turned to look at the others. Tristan had a light smirk on his face. “I can’t tell who is holding who’s leash in this relationship,” he joked. Brayden narrowed his eyes at the man. Alain started laughing. “Why Brayden,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “It’s about time you found a partner you can settle down with.” “I didn’t think he was your type,” Miren added, a cruel smirk on his lips. Brayden looked at them all incredulously and he saw Gideon trying to hide the smile on his lips. Piressa wasn’t bothering to hide hers and he thought she was getting too much enjoyment out of this. He turned to look at Tristan, because he was the one who’d started this. “You do realize I know where you all sleep, right?” he asked, the hidden warning not going unnoticed by any of them. “I don’t know,” Tristan said, scratching at his chin. “Big Blue in there looks like he could keep you up all night long.” Brayden vowed silently he was going to get back at the man. Obviously Tristan had forgotten what Brayden was capable of inflicting on him. Stephen crossed his arms over his chest, breaking the joking with a serious question. “Do you think it’s wise to allow him to stay?” They glanced at him and naturally, all eyes turned to Gideon for an answer. Even Brayden looked to his brother. The Banshee had helped them, but he was clearly a dangerous and possibly uncontrollable force. He didn’t think they’d be able to stop him if the creature ever decided to turn against them. Gideon seemed to think it over for a moment before he shook his head. “Probably not,” he said and then something playful crossed his eyes and Brayden almost missed it. “But it’s been a while since Brayden’s been so smitten with someone.” Everyone was quiet for a moment, probably not expecting the joke to come from Gideon. Brayden sure as hell didn’t and he stared at his brother with wide eyes. Tristan broke the moment by bursting out laughing and soon the others followed in a raucous noise. Brayden nodded. “I’ll remember this,” he warned. It only made the others laugh harder. .Wolfie. 7.3 The Wayfarer’s Inn “You’re a liar,” Alain said. The man’s eyes were wide as he stared across the table. Brayden laughed and held one hand out innocently. The other held his handful of cards, and Victory was watching him with narrowed eyes from across the wooden table. He had lost two games of Thirteen already and the Banshee still hadn’t figured out how he was losing. Gideon almost wanted to tell him that it was just the Gods’ own luck watching out for his brother but he thought that would ruin the magic trick. “I swear it’s the truth,” he said. “Ask any man at this table.” Alain snorted and shook his head, but his gaze traveled hesitantly over the gathering of Chosen. Gideon sat at the bar and he pretended it had nothing to do with not wanting a chair with a back on it. He rested his elbows on the counter and watched them with a smile on his face and for once he was actually drinking the pints that Jethro kept leaving next to him. The man was on the other side of his bar, an amused smirk on his face as he watched the others. Bianca stood next to him and she kept fussing over her brother. It just illustrated how worried she must have been for her brother and Brayden’s stories probably weren’t making it any better. “Temple,” Alain said, jerking his head in his direction. Corey blinked and looked up at him, wavering a little on his seat. Tristan and Miren kept pouring drinks down his throat and he was starting to look a little worse the wear for it. “You’ll tell me the truth. How the hell did you end up with a gods’ damned Banshee blowing up the De Montague estate for you?” Corey snorted and he grinned across the table at Brayden. His brother chuckled, more at the red in Corey’s face than anything else. “Obviously it’s because he won him in a card game after the pirate that sent us after him shot him. With a gun.” “You know what I think?” Alain said. He leaned forward and pointed a finger in Brayden’s face. “I think you ran into them at a Lowport bar and then the lot of you got completely blind and robbed. So, in order to avoid the embarrassment you made up this ridiculous story and stumbled back here with a magician you hired out of some gypsy carnival. That’s what I think.” He nodded his head like he’d figured out some great mystery and then kicked back in his chair. “I think if we made the story up it would involve me bedding more beautiful women.” Tristan snorted and tossed one of his cards down on the table. He grinned at Corey afterwards and Gideon thought that the ale he was drinking was ruining his game face. Miren glared at him and then tossed his cards down on the table with a curse. Alain chuckled and tossed a card at his face. “As if your story wasn’t already fanciful enough.” “Ah admit it,” Tristan said. “You’re jealous that you missed all the fun. Pirates, slavers, and facing off with Drake, while you sat here warm and comfortable with a beautiful woman hanging on your arm.” He paused and then frowned. “I think we should switch.” Miren snorted out a laugh and kicked at Tristan’s chair. “That’s because you’re a damn coward.” “I am not,” Tristan told him. “Came for your ass, didn’t I?” “You are both very poor at this game,” Victory said. He looked annoyed at their banter and Tristan just laughed, tossing his cards down on the table. He had a decent hand but Victory just shook his head, laying his own hand down in front of him. Tristan’s eyes widened as he leaned forward and then he muttered a curse, slumping back in the wooden chair. “As I said,” Victory said again, a smug smirk on his face. “You are very poor at this game.” “It’s not their fault they don’t have my talent at it,” Brayden said, tossing his winning hand down in front of the Banshee. The Omen frowned, leaning forward and tilting his head to the side to study the cards. He examined his own hand again and then Brayden’s and he looked like he didn’t understand how such a thing had happened. Corey frowned and held up his hand. “I still have cards,” he said. The others just laughed, Tristan slapping him on the back. Gideon smirked and then pushed himself off his stool. The ale helped numb the pain in his back, but he was unused to how unsteady it made him on his feet as well. “I’m heading off,” he said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. Brayden tipped his head back and looked up at Gideon’s face. “Did you want to go over those missives tonight?” he asked. There was slight hesitation in his voice and Gideon smirked when he heard it. He glanced around the table and Victory was frowning up at him. He felt a shiver run down his spine at that and he wasn’t sure how smart it was to keep it here, but better here than with their enemies. “No,” Gideon said. “We’ll go over them in the morning.” Brayden nodded his head and stretched back a little in his chair. He winced and rested a hand over his side, nodding his head at the table. “Don’t expect me to be ready to go by then,” he told Gideon. “I may heal fast, but not that fast.” Gideon chuckled dryly and gave his brother’s shoulder another squeeze. “I know,” he said. “But I need to have a plan. I’ll see you in the morning.” Brayden laughed at that and even Gideon still wore a smile on his face. He thought it wasn’t just coming back, but that they’d come back with three of their men. It was good to see any of the Chosen still alive and mostly together again. It didn’t mean he forgot the lost. Nicos was still missing and maybe when his brother was feeling better he could talk to some of his contacts in Lowport to try and find what had become of the man. Beyond that, there was still Duncan and the Emperor. He didn’t even know where to start looking. If Duncan didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. The man would make them both disappear because Gideon wouldn’t be the only one looking for them. For a long time he’d expected the man to find him, but the more time passed, the less Gideon waited for that to happen. This was in his hands now, for good or for ill. Piressa rose from her stool without being asked and Gideon didn’t miss how Tristan’s eyes followed her to Gideon’s side. He snorted and shook his head, a wicked grin making its way across his face. “Keep it down, would you?” he called after them. “Where’s the fun in that?” Piressa asked. Tristan crowed loudly in response. There was a cocky smirk on her face as she glanced over her shoulder at the man, her other hand resting on Gideon’s back. He was aware of it pressing against the wound there but he could hardly feel it anymore. He felt a little unsteady and he swore that was the only reason he rested his arm around her shoulders and allowed her to help him up the stairs. After a moment he heard laughter break out in the inn behind him and the sound was familiar and comforting. It was reminiscent of the Salty Pig in better days, and a part of him wondered if he would ever see that place again. The room was as he’d left it, the missives tucked in their roll and hidden under his bed. He’d nailed a map to the wall before he’d left and someone had opened the window to let the cool breeze in. It smelled like summer rain and he breathed the scent of it in as he entered the room. Piressa helped guide him to the bed, hands on his arms as she eased him into a sitting position on the edge of it. “How is your back?” she asked him, hands already pulling at his shirt to try and get a look at it. “Well enough.” He snorted, linen catching on his jaw as she tried to peel it off him. He tilted his head back to help and his heart was abruptly beating very hard in his chest as she leaned over him again. The fingers of one hand rested on his shoulders, head next to his as she leaned forward to look at his back. Her hair was spilling around his face and she was all he could smell. Her hand slid down his skin, feeling the rough stitches beneath her fingers. “It seems to be healing well,” she said. Then narrowed her eyes at him, head tilting to the side to meet his gaze. “Despite your best efforts to the contrary.” “I do not like inaction,” he told her, reaching up to pull her hand from him. “Are you satisfied?” She smiled abruptly at that, hand lifting to rest against his jaw. His breath caught in his throat as she ran her fingers over the rough stubble and scars on his face. He still held her wrist in his hand but the other was resting on her hip and he didn’t remember putting it there. She was standing very close, leg between his knees and head ducked towards him. “Not yet,” she said quietly. He sucked in a harsh breath and his fingers tightened convulsively on her hip. What he wanted was to pull her closer but there was a mantra beating in the back of his mind that this was a distraction he did not need. “You’re dangerous,” he told her. The smile didn’t falter. “Never to you,” she said. He growled lowly at that and he heard her laugh softly, a quiet lilting sound. “Especially to me,” he said. Piressa laughed again but it wasn’t a mocking thing. He felt her fingers wandering over the back of his neck and through his hair, her eyes lidded as she watched him. His nerves felt as though they were on fire, just by the force of her presence, and the aching want of her made it hard to think of little else. “I would never hurt you,” she told him quietly. He should have told her to go then, should have told her that nothing could come of this and that she should find someone else to devote herself to. He didn’t. There were things that he thought he should have been thinking of, that this could only end in pain, that he was betraying the memory of his wife, that she could still be a traitor and he could be giving her the opening she needed to finally stab him in the back. He didn’t think any of those things. He thought that she smelled wild and sweet and then his hand was releasing her wrist, reaching up to grasp her chin instead. “You will destroy me,” he told her quietly. He didn’t give her a chance to respond, tilting his head up to meet hers as he finally kissed her. His hand moved to cup her face, her hair sliding through his fingers like silk as he pulled her closer. She responded passionately, lips parting under his as she kissed him back and the feel of her destroyed any coherent thoughts he tried to hold to. He crushed his mouth against hers, kissing her harder with ferocity and need that he’d been trying to restrain. When she pulled away he could still hear her breath coming in low pants as her lips hovered near his. Her fingers moved along his jaw and his neck and the touch was setting his skin on fire. The taste of honey lingered on his lips and he couldn’t get enough of her. “Never,” she whispered fiercely. “Trust that I am yours.” “I do,” he told her, and he was surprised to find it was the truth. He trusted that, whether he should or not, because of everything she had done for him. Every drop of blood she’d shed for him, every gentle touch she’d left burning on his skin, he believed that she was his, and suddenly that scared him more than anything. He ached for her, and it had been so long since he’d felt that for anyone. He turned his head to the side to press his lips against her forearm to keep himself from kissing her again. “That’s why you’re dangerous.” The fingers of one hand slid through his hair again before moving across his bare shoulders. He shivered beneath the touch and he felt his control breaking. He wanted to kiss her again, wanted to bed her and keep her and it was too much want. It was dangerous. He was all too aware of her knee resting on the bed next to him, hips straddling his waist. “Do you want me to stay?” she asked. The words almost broke him. His arms tightened around her and he heard a noise escape his throat as his body willed him to say yes. “I shouldn’t,” he said, and the words were harsh with need. He shook his head, barely managing them. “Goodnight Piressa.” She stilled, hands pausing in their soft motions over his skin. He didn’t dare look at her face because if he did he may change his mind. It was a struggle to breathe, to remind himself that nothing good could come of this and there were reasons not to let her into his bed or into his thoughts. It was hard to remember any of them when she finally moved, sliding her arms around his shoulders and pulling his head against her stomach in a hug. He returned the motion, arms moving around her slim form as he held her. “Goodnight Gideon,” she whispered. Her lips brushed over the top of his head and he closed his eyes at the motion. Then she pulled away, and he thought it was harder than it had any right to be to let her. Wenston The missives were spread out across the table and Gideon had the list in front of him, looking it over. Brayden hung lazily over a chair, his eyes scanning the missives and in his mind, he was already accessing and planning. He knew which ones Gideon wanted to go after and they were the same ones Brayden thought would strike at the Viceroy the most. At the moment, Gideon had a serious look on his face, but Brayden knew his brother well enough to know when he was faking it and when he wasn’t. He didn’t miss the way Gideon kept stealing glances at Piressa, who sat on his opposite side, looking over the missives herself. He wondered if something had happened between them last night and he found it strange that he kind of hoped it did. His brother needed it. He needed something good in his life, but it was just unfortunate timing that it had to be now, when they had nothing. The only others who were up this early was Jethro, who was cooking something in the background, and the Banshee. Brayden wasn’t sure the creature actually slept or if he’d been up all night playing cards by himself in the corner. He still didn’t know how the creature had found them and he knew it should probably worry him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to actually be worried. The Banshee had helped them and if he wanted them dead, he would have let them die in Essocks. “These,” Gideon said, bringing Brayden’s attention to his brother. He glanced down at the list he had in front of him and then Gideon was sliding it across the table to him. “We’re going after these,” he said and looked up at Brayden, meeting his gaze. Brayden smirked, looking over the names. He knew who each of them were. “Where did you want to start?” Brayden asked, running his fingers along the edge of the paper. He didn’t know why, but he was thinking about Gisaine. He’d tried to go see her when they’d gotten back to Lockhaven, but she hadn’t been in the Keep. Or at least she hadn’t been anywhere that he’d seen and it had hurt when he’d had to leave again without seeing her. Gideon pulled the missives closer to him. “Which of those will be the most dangerous?” he asked. A cocky smirk pulled its way across Brayden’s lips. “Most dangerous or most difficult?” The look his brother gave him answered his question, but Gideon said anyway, “Dangerous.” “Probably the Archmage,” he answered honestly. Piressa glanced over at him and he knew what she was thinking. It’s what she’d told him when they’d first started talking about going after these nobles. He smiled at her and it wasn’t a sweet thing. “Only because you can’t parry a fireball.” From the bar, Jethro snorted. “Deep words,” he said and it made Brayden chuckle. Gideon tapped his finger on the list. “What other ones?” he asked. Brayden read over the list, putting real thought into his answer. He wasn’t sure why Gideon wanted to know which ones would be the most dangerous. There was a difference between going up against someone dangerous and going up against a difficult opponent. Brayden finally pointed at another name. “Baron Fiodore,” he said and then quickly added, “But only because of location. A high tower overlooking the sea. It’s a long way to fall. And I’m not fond of drowning.” Piressa smirked. “You could always use the stairs.” “Where would be the fun in that?” Brayden asked seriously, waggling his eyebrows at her. Gideon nodded and pulled the list back over, leaning back in his chair. He winced when his back pressed up against the wood, but he settled into it and ran a hand over his mouth. Brayden watched him for a moment before he licked his lips and said, “And probably Warren.” His brother glanced up at him but Brayden just looked at the paper in his hands. “Why Warren?” Gideon asked when he didn’t explain further. Shrugging, Brayden said casually, “I may or may not know his wife.” He paused and when Gideon raised an eyebrow, he added quietly, “Intimately.” At that, Gideon’s eyes widened and Piressa let out a small scoff. Brayden just shrugged again and pulled the list from Gideon’s hands. “It was a long time ago,” he told him, clearing his throat and changing the subject. “So, which of these did you want to start with?” “Is it going to be a problem for you to kill Warren?” Gideon asked quietly. “No,” Brayden said, his voice more stern than he’d meant for it to be. “I care little for either of them.” Piressa leaned forward. “Then why say he was dangerous?” she asked, curiosity toning her voice. “He’s not,” Brayden shook his head. “She is. She’s, uh, she’s skilled.” Gideon’s eyes narrowed and he sighed, pulling the list back from Brayden’s hands and waiting until Brayden made eye contact with him. “Tell me,” he said simply. Smirking, Brayden shrugged again and glanced over at Jethro. “Her nickname is the Mistress of Pain,” he said quickly and he saw Jethro glance up with an amused expression on his face before he burst out laughing. Brayden rolled his eyes because he knew that the man would have heard of her before. She was a tavern legend told by all drunks and lowlifes. Brayden looked back to Gideon, not quite able to keep the corners of his lips from twitching up at Jethro’s booming laughter. “She’s especially fond of whips and leathers.” The look on Gideon’s face was unreadable, but Brayden thought his brother just looked confused. He opened his mouth and then closed it, like he was gauging his next words carefully and Brayden thought he should be a little worried. But then his brother tipped his head to the side and said, “And you were…intimate with this woman?” Sighing, Brayden ran a hand over his eyes. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good beating.” He pointed at the list in Gideon’s hands again, feeling his cheeks turn a little red and he wasn’t used to being embarrassed like this, especially not in front of his brother and definitely not in from of Piressa. “Now, do you know where you want to start or not?” Gideon held up a hand. “Just a moment now,” he said, something playful in his tone and Brayden slumped over in his chair. “When did you have your relations with this woman?” “When we escorted the Emperor to the Glenn for the midsummer festival,” Brayden said and pointed at the list for a third time, hoping his brother would just move on. “The list?” he asked. Gideon smirked at him, but he wiped it from his face, probably to bring back out later when he could embarrass Brayden in front of the others. He nodded his head. “Yes, I know where I want to start,” he said and laid the list down, putting his finger over one of the names neatly scrawled out across the paper. Brayden leaned over to look at who he was pointing at and a familiar, cocky grin pulled its way across his lips. “Jeffries,” he said simply. Gideon nodded. “Jeffires,” he confirmed. .Wolfie. “Who is Jeffries?” Piressa asked. She leaned forward in her chair, shoulder brushing against Gideon’s as she pulled the list over in front of her. A smile quirked her lips as she glanced at his face. “Is he on your list of most dangerous men?”Brayden chuckled and leaned back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head. He looked casual but Gideon knew his brother better by now. He could see the thoughts going on behind his eyes as he plotted and schemed. “Hardly,” he told her. “Nor is he the richest or most deserving on the list, though he’s close. He may turn out to be one of the more difficult, however.” Gideon shook his head. “Not if he’s at his own estate.” “True enough,” Brayden said. “We’ll just have to see when the time comes.” Piressa frowned, gaze going between both of them in confusion. “Why choose him first then?” she asked. “The Viceroy would consider him a friend, one of his closest, likely because he also had an overrated sense of self worth.” Brayden snorted and nodded his head at the table. “His death would be considered a personal attack on the Viceroy. Any blow would be worth the time and effort. If he’s at his own estate he’ll be easy enough to get to, but if he’s in Lockhaven, obviously there’s a problem.” She nodded her head and stayed quiet a moment, gaze studying the list and running her fingers across the parchment. “And are you also familiar with his wife’s fetishes?” she asked. A teasing smirk pulled at her lips as she glanced at him. Brayden narrowed his eyes and surprised them both by answering. “I believe she was a screamer,” he said. Gideon snorted and he couldn’t tell if his brother was joking or not but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. Either way, Piressa let out a quiet laugh. The sound of it made him smile and his gaze slid to her again. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her and it only served to remind him of just how distracting she was. He had spent a restless night alone in his bed wishing that he had asked her to stay. “I’m learning more than I bargained for about you, brother,” Gideon said. He stretched across the table to grab more of the letters and he tried to ignore the way the stitches in his back pulled at the motion. He couldn’t quite hide the wince and he tried not to put pressure against it. “When you are healed we’ll scout the estate. If he is there then we will leave the Viceroy a message.” “Do you want it done with subtlety or violence?” Brayden asked. “Violence,” Gideon answered without hesitation. He was already scanning the next letter but he saw his brother nod his head out of the corner of his eye. “Let him know it was us and that we are coming for him, in whatever manner you deem fit.” “What would you like me to do?” Piressa asked. He paused and glanced over at her, a frown on his face. She leaned casually against the back of the chair, head resting in her hand and hair spilling around her face. He could still recall the feel of it sliding between his fingers. “There are a lot of men on that list,” she said, nodding her head at it. “But you have more than one assassin in your arsenal.” Brayden went still next to him, a frown darkening his features before his eyes went to Gideon. Behind the counter he heard Jethro snort loudly but he didn’t say whatever was on his mind. He could imagine what his feelings on the matter were and it wouldn’t surprise him if his brother felt similarly. She had proven herself in front of them, but to send her out on her own was to invite trouble. Yet he still heard her voice in the back of his mind, swearing to him that she was his and would never hurt him. Her eyes watched him patiently and he found himself trusting her more than he should. “I’ll consider it,” he said. She nodded her head but her expression didn’t change and he hoped she wasn’t hurt by it. He knew his brother’s capabilities almost as well as he knew his own, but there was so much of her that was still a mystery. There was a part of him that knew in the back of his mind that she could still turn on them, still be an assassin waiting to stick a knife in his back. “I am at your disposal should you need it of me,” she said, fingers running over the names on the list. “Did you wish me to attempt a warding spell?” “No one will find us,” Victory said abruptly. Gideon glanced over at the Banshee but he didn’t even lift his head. He was dealing the cards out in front of him in a strange pattern, and if it was a game it wasn’t any he’d ever heard of. He watched him for a moment but he didn’t say anything else, fingers laying another card to his right. “You found us easily enough.” Brayden threw the words out casually, one eyebrow lifted at the Omen. Jethro leaned forward slightly at the bar, a rag in his hand as he cleaned his counter down. He was watching Victory. “Yes,” he agreed. “But no one else will.” Brayden laughed dryly and then shrugged at Gideon. “Well, can’t argue with that, can I?” he said, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. Piressa snorted but she was watching the Omen with narrowed eyes and he could tell she still didn’t trust him. “No,” Gideon said, still watching the Banshee. “I suppose you can’t.” He still wasn’t comfortable around the creature either, but he wasn’t sure he would ever rest easy after what had happened at the De Montague estate. He tried to shake it off and then pulled the bag of courier’s letters and missives closer. He frowned when he didn’t find what he wanted underneath it. He let out a heavy sigh and started to push himself to his feet. “I left that map of Corvalis in my room,” he said. “I’ll return in a moment.” Piressa’s fingers landed on his shoulder before he could get all the way out of his seat. “I’ll get it,” she told him. There was a warm smile on her face as she pressed him back down into the chair, fingers lingering on his neck as she stood. He returned it and gave her a slight nod, unable to keep his gaze from following her to the stairs. “So?” his brother said after a moment. Gideon sat back in his seat, lifting an eyebrow at him. “So what?” he asked. “Don’t play stupid with me. You’re a poor liar.” Brayden snorted and then jerked his head behind him at the stairs. “What’s going on with the two of you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Your eyes find her every chance you get.” “It’s nothing,” Gideon said. He knew even as he did that he answered too quickly and a smirk curled across Brayden’s lips. He had to look away, gaze returning to the table and the papers spread out in front of him. For the moment they were the safest thing in this room. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “She is a beautiful woman, as I’m sure you have noticed.” “I have,” Brayden admitted. “But I find it more interesting that you have.” Gideon sighed and he stilled with a letter in his hands. He had no idea what it said. He didn’t even know who it was addressed to. He slumped back in his chair and he ignored the hurt that sent lancing through his back. “It doesn’t matter,” he told his brother. His voice was low and cold and the words were the ones he kept telling himself, over and over again, hoping that he would start listening to them. He sighed again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Nothing can come of it.” Brayden scoffed, lifting an eyebrow at Gideon with a playful smile on his face. “Why not?” he asked. “She seems willing enough.” “A number of reasons,” Gideon said, and he found it an effort to remember them all. “Not the least of which being that we are in the midst of a war. Even were that not the case, I cannot afford any distraction from my duty.” “I see. Yet if I didn’t now better I would say you are already distracted.” Gideon sighed and caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Piressa came down the stairs. Brayden turned his head to follow his gaze and then he grinned broadly at his brother. “For the record I have never bedded an elf. If you will not make the attempt I may just have to.” Gideon’s brow furrowed and his eyes darted to his brother’s face. “You will not,” he snapped. His voice was harsh and angry and he knew as soon as he said the words that his brother had been baiting him. Brayden chuckled, a smug grin on his face and Gideon reached out to shove his brother’s head away from him. The grin didn’t fade from Brayden’s lips. “As I said. You are a terrible liar.” Wenston 7.4 The Imperial Highway It was taking longer to heal than Brayden would have liked. The skin had healed over, leaving him with scar on his shoulder and now in his side. They were just two of many he already wore. What was holding him back now was the residual pain. It was sharp and awful and it would come and go whenever it damn well pleased. He could move alright, but it was the sudden uncontrollable pain that had him worried. If it came at the wrong moment, it could betray his presence to eyes he was trying to hide from. But he’d told Gideon he was ready. It had been three days since they’d decided Jeffries was their first target. His brother would never admit it, but Brayden could tell he was getting restless. Restless and agitated with inactivity. Gideon was never good at sitting around and waiting and Brayden was slightly worried if he made him wait too long, he’d send Piressa in his stead. Gideon had not accepted her offer to help, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t change his mind later. Trust was slow coming with Piressa. He trusted her to be alone with Gideon now, but that didn’t mean he trusted her to go and kill for them yet. And if he was being honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was jealous of the idea of the Chosen, especially Gideon, enlisting the help of another assassin instead of him. He knew it was childish and foolish, but he felt the emotions anyway. “What if he’s not here?” Corey asked. The boy rode his horse behind Brayden, who was leading the way. Tristan and Miren rode next to him and behind them were Gideon and Piressa. Stephen, Jethro and Alain were back at the Inn and Brayden knew the only reason Gideon left Jethro behind was because the man would take over their cause if Gideon were captured or killed. It never bothered Brayden that he wasn’t given a rank within the Chosen. Duncan had said it once that Brayden was his own entity when it came to ranks. He wouldn’t argue. He’d always been given the freedom to do as he wished. So long as he did what he was told as well. “Then we will be visiting Tristan’s mother in Lowport,” Brayden called back, cheerfully. Tristan snorted. “Like she’d let you anywhere near the house.” Brayden grinned. “What are you talking about? I’m her favorite.” “You claim to be everyone’s favorite,” Tristan called back. “Yet I only ever hear it from your own mouth.” “That is only because they don’t want to hurt your feelings, Tristan,” Brayden grinned when he heard the man scoff. He had to admit, it was good to have them all back together again. He felt a small pain in his chest when he thought of Palmer, Cathis and Errol. They still didn’t have Nicos or even know if he was alive. He probably would make a trip into Lowport soon to see if he could find out what had become of the man. And they still didn’t have Duncan. Gideon was doing a fine job of commanding the remaining Chosen, but it didn’t seem the same. Brayden slowed his horse when he hear the neighing of a horse up ahead. He held up his hand and tried to peer down the road. Gideon urged his horse forward and brought it up next to Brayden’s, trying to catch sight as well. “Off the road,” Gideon snapped at the others and they quickly ushered their horses into the forest and out of sight of whatever was approaching them. When it came into view, Brayden felt his whole body tense. “The Emperor’s carriage,” he said lowly to his brother. He saw Gideon’s face darken and then he was pulling his horse into the trees as well. Brayden followed, watching the carriage but listening to his brother to hear what his command would be. As the carriage drew closer, a low growl escaped Gideon’s throat. “There are no guards.” “It doesn’t mean it’s not him,” Brayden whispered. “What is it?” Corey asked. Brayden turned to look at Gideon’s face and he could practically see the gears moving in his head. Finally, he turned so he was facing Brayden, but called back to the others. “The Emperor’s carriage is approaching, unguarded,” he said. “There is a chance it is not the Viceroy, but we cannot pass up this opportunity.” He turned to look at Tristan and Miren. “You stop the carriage by any means necessary.” Then he turned back to Brayden. “Take care of whoever is inside.” Brayden nodded, understanding. “It seems suspicious it is unguarded,” Piressa said. Gideon nodded. “I agree. So take extra caution.” The carriage was quickly coming up on them and Gideon crouched lowly, motioning for Tristan and Miren to go. Brayden moved as well, moving back through the trees and pulling the blades from his vest. He held both in one hand and pulled a small vial out of his pocket, quickly coating the blades carefully. He twirled them once to dry it and then crouched low, watching as Tristan and Miren suddenly jumped out into the road. Brayden smirked when he saw their tactic, pretending to be fighting each other and it looked as though Miren was doing a little more than pretend as he popped his fist against Tristan’s jaw. As hoped, the carriage driver pulled back on the reins, slowing the carriage and eventually stopping. “Oi!” the driver called. “Clear the road.” Tristan was stuck in a headlock in Miren’s arms and he was red faced as he yelled, “What do you think I’m trying to do?” Brayden moved quickly. He came up behind the carriage and stepped up onto one of the spokes of the wheels. He swung himself up and pulled the door open quickly. He was surprised when a blade came out at him, barely escaping it as it stung along his cheek. He started to swing his blade up when he caught the familiar sight of golden hair. It stayed his blade and he immediately drew it back before he even saw her face. “Gisaine,” he breathed out and he heard her gasp, the blade she was brandishing freezing midair as she leaned forward, out of the shadows and her face was in a state of utter shock. She wore a green dress and a small silver circlet on her head. She took a shuttering breath and dropped her knife to the floor of the carriage. Brayden floundered for a moment, wondering if she’d heard that the Chosen had supposedly killed Montague and if she’d be mad. “I…” he started, but it was all she managed. She came at him in the next moment. Brayden was caught by surprise as she collided with his chest. His foot slipped on the wheel and the two of them were tumbling to the dirt. Brayden’s back hit it with a thud and Gisaine fell on top of him, her hands gripping the sides of his head and before he could say anything, her lips were pressing fiercely against his. The ferocity in which she kissed him shocked him for a moment, but then he was dropping his blades to the side, flinging them away because he didn’t risk poisonous blades around her and he brought his hands up, tangling his hands in her hair as he held her against him. He heard feet rushing from the woods, but they slowed and paused and Brayden just kissed Gisaine back because at the moment, she was all that mattered to him. She was here, she was kissing him and that meant she loved him and had missed him and he felt the physical relief in his heart that he hadn’t known had been missing. After a moment, she pulled back, bracing her hands on either side of his head and she lifted herself above him, hair hanging down about his head. “I thought you were dead,” she breathed out and he saw her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Not yet,” he whispered back to her, brushing her hair behind her ear and running his thumb down her chin, keeping his hands on her skin because she was here and he’d missed her with all his heart. He heard Miren snort from next to them, but he couldn’t take his eyes from her. “Well, that’s an attack I’ve never seen before.” “If that’s the way they’re attacking us now, we oughta come after them more often,” Tristan joked. Brayden could even answer. He just pulled Gisaine back down to him and pressed his lips against hers and to hells with what any of the others said. .Wolfie. “Brayden and the Emperor’s daughter,” Tristan said with a low whistle. He tilted his head to the side curiously, a smirk on his face as he did. Gideon was coming from the trees, Piressa at his elbow as he did. Corey followed close behind, and Tristan and Miren already stood in the road, watching Brayden curiously. He seemed to have forgotten their presence, or at least didn’t care at the moment, kissing her again before struggling to his feet, hands holding tightly to Gisaine’s as he helped her up next to him. Even after they were standing he did not release her. Tristan twisted to look over his shoulder at Gideon. “Captain, did you know about this?”“I did,” Gideon said. Tristan snorted and shook his head again, still watching the two of them unashamedly. Their secret was out now, whether his brother had wished it to be or not. Immediately his mind went to what the consequences of this could be, should any of the Chosen be taken. He supposed it didn’t matter now. “You three watch the road,” he said. Corey was still watching Brayden with wide eyes but at Gideon’s sharp order he jerked slightly and went to do as he said. “Tell me Brayden, what is it you have that I don’t?” Tristan said loudly and then started walking backwards up the road, his arms crossed over his chest. Miren followed after with a sour look on his face. “How do you get beautiful women quite literally throwing themselves at you and I’m stuck with only Miren for company?” “Maybe you should whine less often,” Miren told him. He followed the words with a punch to the shoulder. Tristan let out a loud whine but didn’t shove him back, just rubbing at his arm in pain. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Gisaine said. Her eyes were wide and glistening as they studied Brayden’s face and she seemed unaware of the others. One hand reached to touch Brayden’s face and his eyes closed in response, leaning into her touch. His hand rose and pressed it harder to his skin, turning his head to press his lips to her palm. A small, quiet laugh left her lips and then she covered her mouth with one hand. She finally noticed Gideon then, glancing over at him. “Tell me, is my father with you?” “No,” Gideon said. “Commander Callum escorted him from the Keep that night and we have seen neither of them since.” She nodded her head, face falling somewhat at that. She looked back at Brayden, one hand coming up to rest against his chest. “Do you know if he still lives?” she asked quietly. There was hope in the words, her gaze pleading as she watched Brayden. Any doubts Gideon had as to what side she was on were allayed quickly by the words. It could have been an act, but he didn’t believe so. Not after what had happened in Essocks. There was no reason for her to betray her father, not when she was already heir apparent. “Not as a certainty,” Brayden told her. “But we believe he is and we fully intend to see him back on his throne.” He gave her a cocky smirk and it made the one on her face brighten again. There was an adoring look in her eyes as she gazed at Brayden. She smiled and leaned into the touch when Brayden pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Then his life is in good hands.” Brayden smiled and they stayed like that for a moment, her hands resting against his chest and his running slowly up and down her arms. She turned her head to the side, Brayden’s mouth still pressed to her hair. “Tell me Captain, what is your mission here?” “I apologize my lady, but I can tell you only that we still serve the true Emperor. I can tell you nothing of our plans.” He gave her a small bow, but his face didn’t change expression. It wasn’t distrust that made him say the words, only her protection. She frowned at that, stiffening slightly. “Why not?” Gideon didn’t answer her immediately, nodding his head behind her. “Is your man trustworthy?” he asked lowly. The man driving the carriage still held the reins in one hand, but the other was resting on the hilt of his sword. He was looking uneasily between Gisaine and the others but he hadn’t moved yet even though he seemed close enough to hear their words. “He is,” Gisaine told him firmly. He nodded and accepted the answer for the moment but he still wouldn’t trust the man with their lives. The less they said of their intentions, the better. “I could aid you in this,” Gisaine said. “No,” Brayden said quickly. She turned the frown towards him and he tried to soften it by running his fingers through her hair. It didn’t escape Gideon’s attention that they could hardly take their hands off each other, and he wasn’t used to his brother wearing that adoring look on his face. He had met a few of his brother’s women on occasion, but compared to the way he looked now those dalliances seemed only skin deep. He didn’t expect it, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. “The danger to you is too great.” “No greater than the danger to you,” she said. She had her head tipped back and a stubborn look on her face. Brayden smiled at that but shook his head again. “It is more important that you keep the Viceroy’s trust than aid us in this endeavor. This way if anyone asks, you can honestly claim ignorance, and should you hear of it from your uncle you will not be feigning surprise.” Gisaine didn’t look comforted by the words and then Brayden gave her a cocky smile, holding his hands out to the side. “Besides my lady, I am the prince of shadows. I cannot fail.” She snorted and couldn’t hide her answering smile as she pushed him in the chest. “You are a fool,” she told him. “So I have been told,” he said. “Repeatedly.” Gideon glanced behind him at the road that was thankfully still empty. He expected that Corey would warn him if he heard anyone coming but he still felt uneasy being out in the open like this. He turned back to Gisaine, nodding his head at the way the carriage had come from. “What brings you this way, and without guards?” he asked. “I was in Kings Pass,” she told him. “I told my uncle it was to visit Larissa Von Tremont but in truth I thought I could convince her father to take up the mantle of General once again. He still commands the loyalty of the northern legions and if even now if he asked them to fight against my uncle I do not believe they would hesitate for a moment.” Something hard and cold stole over her face and Gideon was surprised at it. There was steel in her backbone, and he saw his brother smile quietly as he watched her. “I remember him,” Gideon said, nodding his head. “He’s a good man, and a great general. His support would serve you well.” His own father had served under him for years. He had spoken well of him, and of his ability. “He is,” Gisaine agreed. “But I had little time to speak to him, let alone convince him to rebel against his Emperor.” She spat the words into the dirt and looked up at Brayden. “My uncle sent me a letter telling me to return to the Keep immediately. He said it was urgent and I fear the worst. I did not want to waste any time with an entourage.” Brayden’s face fell slightly and he ran a hand over his mouth, eyes slanted with concern. His gaze flicked past her for the moment, focusing on Gideon even while he directed his question at her. “Did he tell you why?” he asked. Gideon imagined his brother had a theory. He imagined it was the same one he had. They hadn’t returned from Essocks that long ago. It was enough time for Drake to return to the Keep and for a messenger to get from Lockhaven to Kings Pass. They had yet to ask the question, whether or not she knew of her betrothed’s passing and he doubted his brother was anxious to ask it. She shook her head, a measure of coldness in her voice when she spoke. “My uncle confides little in me. He does his best to keep me ignorant and I do my best to pretend that I am.” Gideon hesitated and his eyes flicked to his brother as he asked her the question. “Are you aware of what happened in Essocks?” Her eyes widened slightly and her gaze darted to Brayden. “No,” she said. “What happened in Essocks?” Her hand tightened around his for comfort and he squeezed it back, offering her a smile that was somewhat hesitant. He didn’t answer right away and she drew his hand to her mouth, lips brushing over his knuckles. “Please, you must tell me.” “Jacquies De Montague is dead,” Brayden said gently. “As is his father.” Her eyes went wide with shock and for a moment her gaze dropped to the ground, her face paling slightly. Yet she didn’t release her grip on his brother’s hand. “How?” she asked softly. “Why?” “Your uncle will tell you that we killed them both,” Gideon said. He kept his voice cool and Gisaine lifted her head, her gaze focusing on him for a moment. “The truth is somewhat more complicated but we have little time for it now. Know only that Jacquies death was not our doing and certainly not our wish.” She nodded her head and accepted those words. “You heard of my betrothal to him then?” she asked Brayden quietly. He swallowed hard and wore a fake smile upon his face. “Yes.” She shifted closer to him and Gideon felt abruptly like an outsider. “It was a political arrangement,” she whispered. “He was a good man, and I mourn his loss. But know that I did not love him, and you never left my thoughts, even when I thought you dead.” “Nor did you leave mine.” Brayden’s breath caught in his throat and his hand cupped her face, pulling her against him in a kiss. She responded eagerly and Gideon turned his head to the side, looking back down the road. It was strange to him to see them together, even though he had already known of their relationship. They had kept it secret while at the Keep and he had always assumed that Gisaine had been taken in by his charms like so many other women. He had assumed it would end with her heart broken and his brother possibly hanging in the gallows. It hadn’t occurred to him just how much his brother cared for her in return. Piressa was watching them with an amused smirk on her face, arms crossed over her chest and one eyebrow raised. He wondered if he should have sent her with Corey but it was done now. He trusted her too easily and he knew it. Gideon snorted and caught her chin in his fingers. It drew her eyes to his face immediately. “Don’t be rude,” he told her quietly. “I apologize,” she told him, a playful smirk on her face. She stepped closer and lowered her voice slightly, though he imagined his brother could hear her even so. “I was just thinking that she would look good as a mistress of pain.” Wenston Brayden couldn’t stop touching her. He couldn’t draw his fingers from her hair or keep them from rubbing at her arms and he wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but he was becoming acutely aware of his brother’s eyes on him. They’d been exposed to the others and that was more than Brayden had ever wanted them exposed to anyone. It had been bad enough that Gideon and Duncan had figured out. He still had yet to find out how, but it didn’t matter now he supposed. The people he trusted most knew now. He knew he shouldn’t worry about it, but he hoped that his trust was not misplaced in them. This was not something that could become public. Not now. Gisaine wouldn’t survive. He would have to watch Piressa more closely, though. Now she held the lives of nearly everyone he held dearest in her hands. She could easily let news of this slip or use it against them and he would have a word with her later. “I have missed you so,” Gisaine whispered as he raked his fingers through her hair and it brightened the smile already on his face. He pulled her against him again, resting his chin on the top of her head and she nestled her cheek against his chest. “I kept watch for you. I thought you would have come back for me.” The words made Brayden stiffen, his hands stilling in her hair. His gaze wandered to Gideon and Piressa. They were purposely not watching, instead looking up the road and watching for signs of anyone coming. He thought his brother could still hear their quiet whispers though and by the steely look on his face, he knew he’d at least heard the last part. “I would have tried immediately if I had been able,” he whispered back to her. Gisaine pulled back and looked up at his face, her eyes wide with worry. “Were you injured in the siege?” she asked. Brayden smiled lightly at her. “I should have come back for you as soon as I recovered,” he answered instead. It did nothing to alleviate the worried look on her face and he leaned his head forward, his forehead pressed against hers. “I regret every day not doing so.” “Don’t,” she said and pulled back and for a moment, his heart spiked because he thought she was mad. But then her hands came up and wrapped around his neck, threading at his back as she looked up into his face. “The risk to the others was too great. I understand that. You were right not to.” The words didn’t make him feel any better and she smiled when she saw that. “You are here now and you are well. That is all that matters to me. You are everything that matters to me.” A slow smile stole its way across Brayden’s lips and he leaned down to press them against hers. “You are very poetic, my lady,” he joked and she laughed, kissing him back hard, her hands coming up to cup the back of his head. Brayden closed his eyes and they stayed like that for a moment. He tried to pretend that they could stay like this forever and he wouldn’t have to let her go. But he knew better. When she pulled back, he didn’t want to let her go, but he did. “What happens now?” she asked, looking up at his face. “Now you must return to the Keep,” Brayden said, the words a struggle to get out. He saw Gideon and Piressa turn their attention back to him and he stepped back reaching up to take her hands in his own and bring them down so they were between them. He pressed his lips to her fingers. “We must keep you in the Viceroy’s good graces. It is where you are safest.” Gisaine looked for a moment like she would argue, but then her shoulders fell and she nodded. “And it is where I will have the most information to supply to you.” Brayden smirked. She was fearless as ever. “We would like to keep you involved as little as possible,” Gideon said and they both turned to look at him. Gisaine narrowed her eyes at his brother, but Gideon didn’t back down. “If it is ever found out you are helping the Chosen, the Viceroy will not spare you. His own blood or not, he will show you no mercy.” “I am aware of the consequences,” she told Gideon solidly. “But you will benefit greatly from having eyes inside the Keep. You know this to be true, Captain.” Brayden smirked as he looked at his brother, because Gideon couldn’t argue with that. “We will not ask that of you,” Gideon said simply. Gisaine scoffed. “You are not asking,” she told him. “And I am not offering. I am telling you. You have my eyes and my ears and you will use them to your advantage. You will use whatever tool you can against the Viceroy. That is your duty as Chosen.” Gideon’s face remained impassive, but his eyes went to Brayden, who simply smirked at his brother because not many people got away with putting Gideon in his place. Brayden reached up to pull Gisaine’s chin around so she was looking at him again instead of Gideon. “Just be careful,” he told her. “I am always careful,” she said back to him, a cocky tone to her voice and it made him laugh. He shook his head, kissing her on the forehead. He lowered his voice with his lips pressed against her skin, “I will see you as often as I am able.” She nodded against the words and he kissed her again before he pulled back and spoke normally. “When you return to the Keep, do not feign ignorance to De Montague’s death. He will see through your surprise.” Gisaine frowned. “You do not trust my liar’s tongue?” she asked, though her tone was playful. Brayden shook his head. “You are not a liar,” he told her sincerely. The words made her smile brightly and she nodded. “I will say I heard rumors along the road.” He nodded his approval of the plan. They stood quietly for a moment, her hands still in his and her face fell as she looked away. “I am afraid to let you go again.” Brayden ducked his head to catch her eyes. “Do not be afraid,” he told her. “You are what I fight for and I succeed with the knowledge that if we win, one day I will be able to come home to you.” She smiled at him and kissed him quickly before she turned to go back to the carriage. He grasped her hand firmly, walking her over there and helping her up into the carriage. She turned when the door was shut to lean out the window. “When will you come to see me?” she asked, sounding desperate. He shook his head. “As soon as I am able,” he told her. She nodded, accepting that answer before her eyes went pass him to Gideon. “Captain,” she called and he turned to look at his brother, who lifted his chin in response. “Don’t let him get himself killed,” she commanded of him. Gideon’s face hardened slightly, but he nodded his head and Brayden’s eyes lingered on his brother for a moment before he turned back to Gisaine, who was eyeing Gideon to make sure he got the point. Then she lowered her gaze to him. “Be careful, prince of shadows,” she whispered to him. “Always, my lady,” he answered her, stepping up onto the carriage spoke to press his lips against hers. Then he stepped back and he felt lonely without his hands on her as soon as he was away. He looked to the driver and gave him a pointed look. “Betray us and I will come for you,” he told him. The driver looked mildly surprised but he nodded his head. “Get her home safely,” he told the man. The driver immediately started the carriage and Brayden watched as Gisaine leaned out the window. She looked horribly sad as he lifted his hand to wave goodbye to her. He let his hand fall when the carriage got a ways down the road but he frowned when it stopped suddenly and the door flung open. Gisaine hopped out and ran back up the road. Brayden jogged a ways to meet her halfway and she threw her arms around him. He embraced her back, kissing the top of her head. “You need to go, Gisaine,” he whispered to her. “I know,” she answered, her voice breaking. She stepped back and pulled a pendant from around her neck. He bent when he saw her intentions and she placed it around his. He glanced down at it. It was a simple thing. A silver pendant with a dragon’s head carved into it. “May it protect you,” she told him and kissed him again before she turned and ran back to the carriage. Brayden smiled as he watched her climb in and leaned out the window, waving to him again. He held his hand up, the other coming up to hold the pendant around his neck. When the carriage was out of sight, he kept one hand fingering the pendant as he turned around and walked back to where Gideon and Piressa were waiting. He didn’t say anything at first, waiting for Gideon to do or say something. When he didn’t Brayden smirked and looked up at him. His eyes went to Piressa instead. “You’re right,” he told her. She lifted an eyebrow at that and Brayden shrugged, pushing pass both of them with a bright grin on his face. “She would make a good mistress of pain.” .Wolfie. They were quiet for a long time after leaving Gisaine’s carriage. Brayden seemed lost in his own thoughts and Gideon allowed his silence because he couldn’t imagine he wanted to speak of it in front of the others. It had been a secret from them for a while now, and he couldn’t help but think it would have been better if it had remained so. The less people that knew of his brother’s involvement with the lady Gisaine, the less people that could hurt either of them with the knowledge. It drove home even more that none of the Chosen could afford to be taken alive. Better to give their lives than to destroy the others with the secrets they held.“So are we going to talk about this?” Tristan asked. He rode at the rear with Miren, Brayden and Corey taking the middle and Piressa riding up front with Gideon. He glanced back at the man at his words, lifting an eyebrow curiously. Tristan met his gaze but when no one answered he looked at Brayden and waved a hand at him. “Anything? You’re dallying with the Emperor’s daughter and not once did it come up at the Salty Pig.” He clucked his tongue at him. “Here I thought we were friends.” “Don’t kid yourself.” Miren snorted and shoved the man in the shoulder. Tristan turned an annoyed frown in his direction, lessened by the bruises that the man had left on him after their fake fight. “We all just tolerate you.” Tristan let out a whine and then urged his horse closer to Brayden. He tilted forward in his saddle so that he could peer at his face and a lecherous grin stole across his lips. “Tell me, how was she? All confined in that tower of hers she must have had a lot of frustrations to work out.” He waggled his eyebrows at him. “Did you tie her up? Play the daring assassin and the kidnapped princess with her?” Brayden snorted and tipped his head up towards the sky. “Tell me Tristan, do you enjoy keeping your tongue in your mouth?” He laughed and it died slowly when Brayden cocked his head to glance at him. He frowned and pulled back on his reins, letting the horse drop back to Miren’s side. “I think you should at least tell her about you and Blue,” he called. Brayden chuckled but then he fell quiet again, his gaze wandering as they followed the road towards Jeffries’ estate. His thoughts were distant and his hand was wrapped tightly around the necklace Gisaine had gifted him with. It was odd to see his brother so wistful, and Gideon was still unsure what to make of it. He hadn’t expected to encounter her here, and he had forgotten just how forceful she could be. He could see why his brother had fallen for her. She matched his wit and his fire well. “I am not used to seeing you take orders from anyone,” Piressa said. The words drew his gaze to her and he lifted an eyebrow curiously. There was playfulness in her voice and she wore a small, coy smile on her lips. For a moment his gaze focused on those lips and he could easily recall the feel of them against his. He had to remind himself to look away. “She is the Emperor’s daughter and his only heir,” Gideon told her. His voice was calm, but it was a battle not to get distracted by her. He kept his eyes on the road and away from her. “Should it happen that her father is dead than she is the one I serve.” “And you could make that transition so easily?” she asked curiously. “Such is my duty.” Then he smirked and glanced back at his brother. “Besides, that woman has a way of getting what she wants.” Brayden chuckled lowly, fingers toying with the dragon’s head. “An understatement at best,” he said. Gideon smirked, watching his brother for a moment and wondering what he was thinking. He had feared betrayal, and Gideon could imagine the kind of heartbreak he had felt at that. It seemed more obvious now what had drawn harsh words from his tongue and reckless behavior. He turned his gaze away, focusing on the path they took the estate. It was located on the other edge of a small town and they skirted around it easily enough. They stuck to the trees and did their best to stay hidden, taking deer paths through the woods towards Jeffries’ home. It was not as opulent as the Marquis Du Coleur’s estate had been, though it was still a sprawling thing. It was a small fortress, stone walls at least three stories high and a stone wall surrounding it. There was a large gate in the front and it was guarded by no less than eight men at a time. There were more patrolling the yard but it did not escape his notice that they never looked up. They observed this from a small rise to the east of the estate, keeping back among the trees so that they couldn’t be spotted by anyone watching from the towers. Gideon kept the others back, he and Brayden approaching it and crouching low in the brush as they observed the patrols. There was another gate towards the back, but it was smaller and had two guards on each side. The stables sprawled in the back and he could see a young boy leading one around its pen by the reins. “What do you think?” Brayden asked quietly. He crouched next to Gideon, his eyes scanning and calculating the ways in and out. He had no doubt that his brother’s mind was on the task at hand, but his heart was with the woman they had said goodbye to. “I think that a distraction at the rear entrance should provide you with ample time to get in and do what needs to be done,” he said, nodding his head at the gate in the back. “The portcullis is small enough that they can’t fit more than a few guards through at a time. We should be able to hold them off easily enough.” Brayden nodded his head, keeping his gaze focused on the estate. “And what if they get smart and send them around the outside?” “Then I sound the retreat and we meet up at the crossroads,” he said. He felt some amount of loathing at that word. He had never liked retreating, but the goal was not to take the whole estate. Only the man inside. “Either way, it should give you what you need.” “It should be more than enough,” he agreed. His gaze followed the patrols, flicking towards the wall and then to the stables. Gideon smirked as he watched his brother’s face and he doubted he would even need the distraction. Then he hesitated and looked down at the grass beneath his feet, his voice lowering. “But that wasn’t what I meant when I asked what you thought.” “I know,” Gideon said, and nothing else. “You think I should end it with her,” Brayden said. The words were hesitant, spoken as a statement but Gideon took them as a question. His brother was studying him out of the corner of his eye, trying to read his thoughts but his face was expressionless. “I think you will do what you like, as you have always done,” Gideon said. The corners of his lips quirked up and he did not say the words harshly, only as a solid truth. Brayden was one of the Chosen, his oaths sworn to the Emperor, but it was not his life and his duty as it was Gideon’s. He understood that more than ever. “In this, my opinion matters little.” “Your opinion matters, brother.” He tilted his head to give Gideon a cocky smirk. “I just don’t always heed it.” Gideon fought back a dry smirk but didn’t turn his head. “As I am well aware,” he said. He kept his voice low so that the others didn’t catch their words, but he could hear Tristan’s laughter over his shoulder. He glanced back and he and Miren were teasing Corey about something. Piressa stood away from them, gaze on the estate. “Then I will say this. As Captain, I acknowledge the strategic value of her position in the Keep, and that a woman in love with you is more likely to tell you her secrets.” Brayden snorted at that. “And as my brother?” he asked quietly. There was some hesitation in the words and it reminded Gideon of harsh conversations that had passed between them. The words still stuck with him, both his brother’s and his own. He was unsure if he still remembered how to be a brother. He had been a soldier and little else for so long that he didn’t know what was left afterwards. “I am glad to see you happy,” he said quietly. He thought the words were the truth and he saw his brother give a small smile at that. Then he looked away, because he could not keep his doubts to himself. “And I worry for your future.” Brayden gave a dry laugh. There was a mocking tone to his voice that said he had probably already thought of all the reasons that he should let her go. It could get them both killed, and even if they lived through this and saw her back on the throne, they could never marry. She was to be an Empress, and his brother was a bastard and an assassin. Though he would never say the first out loud. He was his brother and a Crowe and that was all that mattered. “Ah brother, sometimes you have to live in the moment. Everything ends, but if you spend your life waiting for that ending than you’ll never enjoy what you have.” “Every action has consequences,” Gideon said. “Even something as simple as loving someone.” His voice was quiet as he spoke, and he couldn’t help but think of Elena as he said the words. He had been a fool to marry her. He had known that it was a dangerous life he was drawing her into and he had done so anyway because she had made him happy. Now she was gone and all she had left behind was pain and dark memories. It was not a path he wanted to see his brother or Gisaine walk down. Brayden was quiet for a moment next to him and then he snorted. “You are a killjoy.” “And you are a fool,” he said. Brayden glanced at him with surprise, watching his face to see if he was being cruel or not. Gideon smirked at him and then clapped him on the shoulder, pushing himself to his feet. “That’s why you’re the favorite and I am Captain.” Brayden grinned and then looked over his shoulder. “Hey, Tristan,” he called. “Gideon just called me the favorite.” “He has to,” Tristan shouted back. “He’s your brother. He wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Brayden chuckled and shook his head, turning to walk away. Gideon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, his voice low and serious and he knew his brother wasn’t going to like what he said next. He kept his head down but he didn’t allow his doubts to show. “I want you to take Piressa with you,” he told him. “When you go to kill Jeffries.” Brayden frowned and his head turned quickly to scan Gideon’s face. “What? Why?” he demanded. There was annoyance and concern and his face darkened as he waited for an answer. “I want to know more of what she is capable of. There are a lot of names on that list.” Brayden’s face fell and he could tell his brother didn’t agree with the decision. He didn’t have to. Strategically he would be a fool not to use both of the assassins in his arsenal. It would be better if they could strike in multiple places at once. It would confuse and unnerve the Viceroy even more. “Beyond that, the future Empress has demanded that I keep you alive. In the name of that, I would have her there to watch your back.” “Are you so sure that she will not stick a knife in it?” he asked. Gideon glanced over at the four of them, eyes finding her immediately. She had pulled herself into a tree along the edge, footsteps graceful as she walked the thick branch. Her head turned slightly when she felt his eyes on her, and a small smile tugged at her lips as she gazed back at him. He wondered if she wasn’t affecting his judgment too much, if he was a fool for trusting her. “Yes,” he told Brayden simply. Wenston 7.5 Jeffries’ Estate Brayden didn’t like that Piressa was coming with him. But he didn’t argue further with his brother or deny him what he wanted. He followed orders and he did what he was told. But he didn’t like it and he didn’t like that his side still hurt, and it could still slow him down at an inopportune moment. He supposed he could look at it one of two ways. It may be good Piressa was along, because like Gideon said, she could watch his back. Or, on the contrary, she could use it to her advantage and overpower him. They made their way down towards the estates. Gideon’s plan was to cause a distraction at the back portcullis. It covered them getting in and getting back out shouldn’t be too hard. Brayden trusted in Gideon’s capabilities and the others’ that no one but the guards would be hurt. Once they reached the outer wall of the estate, they crouched near the bricks and waited. Brayden could see Gideon and the others approaching the rear gate and while they waited, he turned to face Piressa, keeping his eyes and ears on Gideon. “You have begun to earn our trust,” he said lowly. Piressa’s head turned towards him and he could feel her eyes on his face. He met them for a moment before turning his gaze back to his brother to watch his progress. “I suppose I have,” Piressa answered tentatively. Brayden nodded. “I am leery about you still to be at my brother’s back,” he told her seriously. “But I have accepted there is nothing I can do about it. Still know, I will not hesitate to kill you should you betray him.” Piressa nodded at him, a solemn look on her face. He continued, getting to the point. “But now I must face the truth that you know of myself and Lady Gisaine, in more than just words, but in sight.” He turned to look at her full on. “Do not betray us, Piressa.” For a moment, the words hung in the air and the look on her face was something he couldn’t read. It didn’t pass by him unnoticed that it was the first time he’d used her name out loud. She nodded her head again. “I know it means little,” she said quietly. “But you have my word that I will not.” Brayden turned back to the wall, hearing shouting coming from the rear gate. Gideon had reached his target, causing his distraction. “Good,” he told her. “I think I would feel bad about killing you.” He didn’t miss the look of surprise that crossed her face, but he didn’t wait to hear if she had a response for him, pulling himself up the wall quickly. She followed close behind and they made their way to the edge of the estate, scaling the wall, towards a window on the third story. Forcing the window open, Brayden sunk into the room, waiting for Piressa to climb in next to him before he closed the window quietly. They crouched as they crossed the room towards the door. He pulled it open slightly, peering out into the hallway. It was empty, no signs of guards or servants. Large paintings hung on the walls and Brayden smirked at them because they all showed Jeffries. The man was vain and full of himself and he would have to tell Tristan the two were alike. Sneaking down the hallway, Brayden peeked into the rooms they passed. He wasn’t sure if Jeffries was even at the estate, but there was no real way to tell unless they actually searched the place. He hoped the man was, because he didn’t want to head to Lockhaven to track him down. It would make the hit ten times more dangerous with the Elite roaming the streets, on the lookout for them. “Here,” Piressa hissed quietly and he crouched, turning to look at her. She stood on the opposite side of the hall, outside a door, peeking inside. She jerked her head towards the door and he crossed the hall to her side, standing over her as she crouched and looked through the door. Sure enough, Jeffries was inside the room. The man stood in front of a fireplace, with a chalice of wine in his hand. He had one arm against the mantle and his back was facing them. Brayden narrowed his eyes at the man, trying to peer into the room to see if he was alone. He froze when he saw someone step out from a washroom at the other end of the room. It was a woman and Brayden smirked because she was topless, wearing only a frilly pair of bloomers. She came to stand behind Jeffries, her hands running over his back and around to his chest. “Are you ready, mi’lord?” she asked, voice sultry and thick with need. Jeffries laughed, tipping his head back. “I will be ready whenever I damn well please,” he told her, shoving her away. She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest, covering herself. Jeffries turned to look at her. “What is the point of keeping you as my mistress if you continue to fatten your thighs,” he growled at her and reached out to slap her on the side of the leg. “You indulge yourself too much. I should return you to your uncle.” The woman bowed her head and Brayden glanced down at Piressa, who had her eyes narrowed and her hands on her knives. He smirked and pulled his own dagger out, the other hand on Piressa’s shoulder, pulling her back. She glared at him, but he just grinned at her and then shoved the door open. He was moving, even as Jeffries turned around to look at him wide eyed. The man dropped his chalice of wine and reached for a dagger hanging from his belt. He managed to draw it before Brayden reached him, but Brayden ducked beneath a swinging blow aimed for his head and brought his own dagger up into Jeffries’ ribs. The man gasped and Brayden quickly circled the man, keeping one hand on the dagger in his side and the other coming up to cover the man’s mouth. Behind him, he heard a body hit the floor and when he turned, he saw Piressa standing over the topless woman, a small trickle of blood coming from the woman’s forehead. Brayden lifted an eyebrow at Piressa, who smirked and him and reached for the woman’s bloomers, pulling out a dagger she had kept hidden there. Brayden snorted and then leaned his head close to Jeffries’ ear. “You have aligned yourself with the Viceroy and for that, you have sentenced yourself to death,” he spat. Jeffries shook his head vigorously, trying to reach back and yank Brayden off of him, but Brayden kicked him in the back of the leg, forcing the man to his knees. He yanked his dagger out of his side and the man cried out behind the hand over his mouth. Brayden brought the blade to the side of Jeffries’ throat. “You die today in the name of the Emperor,” Brayden told him quietly. “And as a side note, I thought her thighs were lovely.” He heard Piressa snort behind him and then he was dragging his blade across Jeffries’ throat. The man gurgled and bucked against him and Brayden just held him firmly, letting him fight and feeling his struggles slow and then stop. He let go of the man, watching him tip forward and hit the floor with a wet thud. Brayden stared down at him for a moment, watching the blood pool out onto the floor. Then he kicked the man over onto his back and flipped the dagger in his hand before he bent down and slammed the dagger into first his left eye and then his right. He pried open the man’s mouth, cutting his tongue out and tossing it over his shoulder before he withdrew a crow feather from his breast pocket and put it in the man’s mouth. Then he stood and sheathed his dagger, dusting his hands off. “Subtle,” Piressa said quietly. He glanced over at her and smirked. The door squeaked a moment before two men came into the room. Brayden had a throwing dagger pulled before the men could fully take in the situation. He threw it at the man closest to him, striking him right in the forehead. He watched him fall to the floor and then glanced at the other man, realizing Piressa had done similar, only her dagger had struck the man in the neck and he was trying to hold his blood in as it spurted out into the room. It didn’t last long and he tipped forward. “Not bad, elf,” Brayden said quietly. “Let us leave this place before more come,” Piressa said, heading to the door and peeking out into the hall. Her face darkened and she closed the door, turning to Brayden. “We need a different exit.” Brayden scowled at the door, turning to look at the window. It overlooked the front gate, but unless they wanted to fight the troop of guards he could hear coming up the hallway, it was their only option. “So much for Gideon’s distraction,” he quipped, heading to the window. He could see the heavy guard outside and knew they would be fighting their way out. Piressa came up to his side. “His plan was to get us in,” she said. He glanced over at her and she smirked. “It’s your job to get us out.” .Wolfie. 7.6 Torturer’s Chamber Corey’s father was a drunk. He’d never told the others because it didn’t really matter, but he’d been beaten a lot as a child and it hadn’t stopped until he got old enough to fight back. In his village he’d always been the best at swordplay, the best fighter, the quickest with a blow. He’d been a big fish in a little pond and he’d been proud of what he made himself. He’d never thought it would amount to much, because he was a farmer’s son and that meant he was going to be a farmer too, but he’d liked to fool himself with dreams of grandeur. He thought maybe someday he’d turn out to be a hero like in all the stories his grandmother told. Then Duncan had come and he’d thought all his dreams were coming true. He’d been nervous and excited until they’d been ambushed on the road and that day all his dreams started to die a slow death. His heroes weren’t the men of legends, they were just men, some of them broken in ways he didn’t imagine a person could be and still be walking around. He’d learned his lessons. There was no such thing as heroes, just the men who did what no one else wanted to and maybe if they were lucky history would remember them well. He found himself thinking of his father as he lay on the torturer’s table. He found himself thinking of his belt ripping lines in his back and he almost laughed because what the old man had done to him was nothing compared to what was happening now. He thought about the others and he wondered where they were and as he did the seeds of doubt began to fester in his mind. He wondered if they were better off without him. He’d always been a weak link, the one they constantly needed to look after. He’d tried his best, but the best of a farmer who liked to play hero wasn’t the best of an assassin or a trained soldier. He wondered if he was going to die down here and a sob left his throat as he thought the answer was yes. Then the torturer tightened the metal pliers around his fingers and he heard the loud crack as the bone in his index finger snapped. A scream tore its way from his throat and when it finally faded it was just a gasping, sobbing things. The pain splintered up his arm and into his head and he couldn’t stop the tears now, wretched gasps and cries leaving his lips. The man moved to the next finger and Corey whimpered as he tightened the metal pliers around his middle finger. “Wait,” Corey cried. “Please, don’t.” The words spilled from his lips unbidden and he cried just as hard at their speaking as he did at the pain. He couldn’t feel his hand. It throbbed in torment, the nerves on fire with agony. He tried to curl his fingers in but the torturer had a brutal grip on him, hand crushing his against the wood as he angled his instrument into place. “What will you give me in return?” the Inquisitor asked. His face was hard, cold, something vicious curling his lips as he watched. He sat in a chair with one leg crossed, his eyes focused with sharp intensity on Corey and one eyebrow lifted. “The truth,” he whimpered, and there weren’t words enough for the damnation and guilt he felt at that. “I’ll give you the truth.” The man frowned and leaned forward on his chair. “What do you mean?” he snarled. “I lied,” Corey told him. Tears leaked from beneath his eyelids and he heard the Inquisitor snarl in response. He kept his eyes crushed shut and he spoke quickly even as he heard the hard footsteps across the stones. He shivered as he felt the fingers dig into his jaw, wrenching his head around and forcing his eyes to open. “About how we got to Jeffries. I lied, Gods spare me, I lied.” ‘Tell me,” the Inquisitor snarled. He motioned at the torturer and he felt the pressure on his middle finger increase. He sobbed and waited for the sound of cracking bone but it didn’t come, the man waiting for his answer before he gave the order. “Tell me the truth.” “It was Gisaine,” he whispered. 7.7 Jeffries’ Estate “What’s taking so long?” Gisaine hissed. She paced in the small study, her footsteps quick and light across the carpet and betraying the nervousness she felt. Gideon watched her with one eye while he kept the other on the cracked door. He was well aware of the guards down the hallway, for her protection of course, and the quickly failing light outside. He tried to ignore his own growing sense of unease because it would serve them little. He had faith that his brother could do what was necessary, but there were certain truths he couldn’t forget. Brayden was injured and still healing. He wondered now if he had rushed his brother because of his distaste for inaction. He’d been shot twice, once by gun and once by arrow, and not enough time had passed for it to heal properly. He was more than aware of stitches running up his spine and the dull ache he was feeling spread throughout his skin the longer he stood. “Perhaps he’s just making it more memorable,” Tristan said dryly. He slumped on a plush couch, his feet kicked up on the table and his fingers laced behind his head. The words drew a glance from Gisaine, but there was no anger in it, just a growing frustration. It had been easy to sneak in. It was hard to say if it would have been so simple were they on their own, but once the guards had seen the royal carriage they couldn’t move quickly enough to obey. It didn’t help ease the nervousness in his chest. He disliked Gisaine’s involvement in it. He had wanted to tell her nothing of their plans. He had wanted them to say goodbye on the highway and go their separate ways because that was the safest thing for her. He had told her it was dangerous and it was his duty as Chosen to protect her. She couldn’t lie about something she had no knowledge of, and the less they involved her, the better. She’d had none of it, and the intensity with which she’d demanded he let her become involved had surprised even him. He was a soldier at heart, and when she ordered his obedience, he obeyed. His brother had smirked the whole time and he swore much of this was his influence on her. She had forced them into this and so here he stood next to Corey, pretending to be her guards while his brother and Piressa murdered a man right under their noses. There were more dangers than he liked, but it was too late now. They had been put in this room to wait for an audience with Jeffries and it was more to their advantage that the man had given his steward strict orders not to be disturbed. It had put the man in a precarious position but Gisaine had been more than gracious and promised to wait at least an hour for him to finish. Gideon had stood by and tried not to feel obvious and exposed. Miren stood by the window and he was supposed to be watching it but he turned to Tristan at the words, a smirk on his face. “Can’t say I took the same care with your mother. She raised her rates, by the way.” Tristan let out a growl and kicked at the table in irritation. “Don’t you ever get tired of calling my mother a whore?” “I’ll stop calling her one when she stops charging me,” Miren spat back. Gisaine let out a sigh and moved to stand at Gideon’s side, her head craning to try and look out into the hallway. They both heard the sound of yelling at the same moment, echoing off the stones. Her voice was low and quiet, barely more than a whisper in case there were any listening ears. “Do you think they’ve been discovered?” she asked. She cast a worried glance at his face. “Where is your faith in me, my love?” Brayden’s voice came quiet from behind them and she gasped before whirling. He crouched on the window’s ledge, a knife to Miren’s throat and a disgruntled look on the man’s face. “You should pay better attention,” he said cheerfully. Then he patted his cheek once before pulling the knife away and jumping down into the room. Piressa followed behind him, feet landing gracefully on the ledge before stepping down onto the couch next to Tristan. “Brayden,” Gisaine said in a breath. If she was aware of the blood on his clothes and his hands she didn’t let it show, throwing herself gratefully into his arms. Gideon kept one eye on the door and the other on his brother, watching him as he held her awkwardly. He was keeping his bloodstained hands from touching either fabric or skin and Gideon found it interesting. She pressed a kiss to his neck and then pulled away, hands around his waist. There was a teasing smirk on her face as she met his gaze and Brayden returned it. “Of course I have faith in you. Note I didn’t say caught.” He laughed and kissed her forehead before looking past her to Gideon. “It’s done,” he said simply. “Unfortunately we were… interrupted” He nodded his head and outside he could hear the sound of shouting growing louder. “Can you make it to the carriage on your own?” he asked, glancing out the crack in the door. His brother didn’t have a chance to respond. As soon as he glanced out into the hallway he caught sight of bright livery and sheathed swords as one of the guards hurried up to the door. He barely caught it before it was pushed open, keeping it from swinging all the way into the room. Gisaine’s eyes went wide and Brayden acted swiftly, pressing his back against the wall next to Gideon. “Do you need something?” Gideon demanded. Gisaine moved to stand behind him, but he imagined it was to be closer to Brayden than anything else. He didn’t dare look behind him and see if Piressa had hidden herself. The guard ignored him, looking over his shoulder at Gisaine. “Milady, are you safe?” he asked sharply. “Yes,” she said, eyes still wide and startled. “Is something amiss?” The man hesitated, gaze going to Gideon for a moment. He saw his lip curl disdainfully and it was a strange reminder of things lost. He hardly looked the part of her guard, wearing scraps of armor like a mercenary and it was likely what this man assumed him to be. Once he’d been Knight Captain of the Chosen, and it reminded him harshly just how far he had fallen. He could claim none of that now. “There’s been… an intrusion,” the man said. “We were simply concerned for your wellbeing.” “If there is reason to suspect that I am unsafe here than perhaps I no longer wish to be here,” she said. “I have waited long enough for Jeffries, I will wait no more.” Gideon was almost surprised at the change of tone, because she sounded like a princess about to throw a royal tantrum. “Perhaps you could have my carriage brought around so that I am no longer put in such dangerous situations.” The man hesitated, his head turning over his shoulder to look back down the hallway. The sound of feet thundered by as more men headed past their room and Gideon watched them go. “Milady,” he said lowly. “I do not think that is either wise or safe.” “If I didn’t know better I would say you just called me reckless and stupid,” Gisaine snapped. “Now get my carriage.” Wenston Brayden stayed perfect still against the wall, pressed firmly between it and the door. It wasn’t the ideal place to hide, in fact, it was one of the worse. But he hadn’t had much of a choice. It had been spontaneous and he had his head turned to the side so he could watch his brother. Behind him, Piressa had ducked behind the couch and it made him admit that she was quick and good. He wondered which one of them would win in a fight, though he’d never express his doubt or question to anyone. And he hoped to never have to find out.The guard at the door sighed at Gisaine as she got snotty with him. It made Brayden smirk slightly, because it wasn’t like her and if the guard would have ever met her before, he would have seen through the act immediately. Gisaine was not only loved by the Emperor and the Viceroy, but by the people of Lockhaven as well. He would even go so far as to argue that the people were more loyal to Gisaine than they were to the Emperor. She was that kind of woman, the one who cared and knew when to stand firm or show sympathy. So far, for as long as Brayden had known her, the only mistake he’d ever seen Gisaine make was falling in love with him. “Milady,” the guard said again, sounding annoyed. “I think it best if you and your entourage stay here.” “I will not,” Gisaine huffed. “Lord Jeffries’ hospitality has been severely lacking and I will ensure my uncle knows of this.” Tristan and Miren stood by the window, with their arms crossed over their chest. Corey was still by the couch and the kid was actually managing to not look like a scared young boy. Brayden only knew the boy was nervous because of his fingers worrying the hem of his shirt. He was being smart though, and not glancing Brayden’s way. None of them were. It didn’t help Brayden feel any less trapped where he was. The guard’s voice lowered and Brayden didn’t like the change in tone. “I mean no disrespect, Milady. It is simply for your own safety.” “I refuse to believe that,” Gisaine continued, unhesitating. “What I believe is happening here, is that Lord Jeffries is holding a member of the royal family against their will. This will not look good for any of you.” Gideon’s chin rose a little and he said, “Perhaps it would be best if you fetched the carriage now.” Pressure was suddenly put on the door and Brayden pressed himself firmly and more tightly against the wall as the door swung closer to him. It was nearly pressing him against there and if it weren’t for Gideon’s hand still holding it and keeping it from opening, the guard would have surely felt him blocking or standing there. “Do you know what I think doesn’t look good?” the guard asked, the tone of his voice lower yet and there was something bitter and wicked there. “That you’ve shown up with a small contingent of soldiers who are clearly not of Lockhaven’s guards.” Gisaine narrowed her eyes at the guard. “What is it you are getting at?” she demanded. “This alone I would not have found odd,” the man said. “But that you’ve shown up with these soldiers on the very night and the very time we find Lord Jeffries dead in his chambers – this is what I think doesn’t look good.” Brayden’s face hardened and he kept his eyes on Gideon, who was eyeing the man, obviously not liking the suspicious tone any more than Brayden was. “You go too far,” Gideon growled at the guard, who didn’t respond to the threat coming from his brother. “I do not like what you are implying,” Gisaine said calmly. “If you are too inadequate to protect the man you serve and now accuse a member of the royal family of not only killing your liege, but enacting treason against the throne – then I will be taking my leave of your presence before your own incompetence brings me the same fate as your master.” Brayden slowly moved a hand to the dagger at his side, hand resting on hilt. Gisaine had thrown away the spoiled princess act, but he doubted the guard would miss it or buy the threats she was throwing his way. Judging by the look on Gideon’s face, his brother thought the same. They would have to fight their way out of this, that much was becoming clear. He wondered what the consequences for Gisaine being with them here would be. He distantly thought that he should refuse to let her return to the Keep. It would be too dangerous because of her involvement here. “I think it is time you come with me,” the guard said and Brayden saw his brother tense. He saw Gisaine step back and gave a scoff as the man grabbed her arm and that was all Brayden needed to see. Gideon didn’t even have time to move, because Brayden was faster than his brother. He always had been. He had no doubt Gideon would have taken care of the guard for grabbing Gisaine, but there was no point in remaining hidden now and he didn’t give his brother the chance. Shoving on the door, Brayden snapped the heavy wood into the guard, who grunted and let go of Gisaine, stumbling to the side from the blow. Brayden shoved pass Gideon, who took a stumbling step backwards and then he was on the guard in a flash. He grabbed his arm first, twisting to the side so the arm was tucked under his own and he quickly brought his dagger down, severing the hand from the man, who let out a piercing scream, but Brayden didn’t care at this point, he could hear the other guards in the hall already approaching before the man even screamed. The man had used that hand to grab his love and that meant he didn’t get to keep it. Jerking his elbow back, he felt it crack the man’s nose and then he whirled and brought his dagger down into the side of the man’s neck. He gurgled and Brayden let him slump to the floor, yanking his dagger out of the flesh and looking out into the hall at the approaching guards. He sneered at them and then slammed the door shut, bolting it quickly. Turning around, he found the others looking at him oddly, even Piressa, who had stood up and had her daggers out. Brayden thought about his brother saying once that he was scared for him and he thought maybe he should be because he hadn’t hesitated to kill this man. He twirled his dagger to hide his doubt or remorse, though he doubted the latter was there. It made him feel a little better when Gisaine came forward and wrapped her arms around his chest again, her face pressed against his shoulder. “Well,” Brayden said. “We need a new plan, Captain.” Gideon’s eyes narrowed at him and he shook his head. “You like making things difficult,” he accused. “It’s what I’m best at,” he answered. .Wolfie. Gideon let out a sigh and then nodded his head in weary acceptance. Outside the door he could hear the pounding of footsteps, followed by fists banging loudly on the door. They were shouting loudly for Gisaine to answer them and her head turned towards them, gaze flicking between Brayden and Gideon. To her credit, she didn’t look half as scared as Gideon thought a woman in her position should be. “You recall the Baroness Talwin incident?” he asked his brother.“If I recall that plan didn’t exactly work,” Tristan said. His hand was on his blade, licking his lips nervously as the door shuddered under another blow. Miren watched it with a smirk beginning to curl across his lips, already pulling the blade from its sheath. Corey echoed his motions, swallowing his fear even as he flinched at the next blow to land on the wooden surface. “It will this time,” Brayden said. He cracked his neck to the side and then jerked his head at Gideon. “Go easy on me.” He smirked at the words and turned his grin towards Gisaine. “An assassin is trying to kill you,” he told her. Her eyes widened slightly but then she nodded her understanding and turned to the door, a loud scream leaving her lips. It was sharp and terrified as she pounded her fists on the door. Gideon was moving even as the first cry left her lips, throwing a punch towards his brother’s face. It landed on his cheekbone and then Brayden was ducking under the blow, slamming his shoulder into Gideon’s stomach and slamming him against the wall. The grunt of pain wasn’t entirely faked but it was more for the wound still remaining on his back than the blow. “Help!” she screamed through it. “Please Gods help us!” “Step away from the door!” the guards shouted. Gisaine let out a sob as she scrambled to the other side of it and he almost missed the adoring glance she shot Brayden even as something large and heavy slammed into the other side. By then Gideon had already fisted his hand in his brother’s collar, throwing another punch towards his stomach. He tried to avoid his side, because he didn’t want to cripple his brother. He still had to escape. Yet he felt dry annoyance in the next moment as a blow caught him in the jaw. Piressa was waiting by the open window, crouched with hands splayed against the stone as she waited. There was a smirk on her face as she watched them but it was wiped off the next moment when the door burst open in a spray of splinters. Brayden snarled at the sound of it and the guards rushed in just in time for the first one to have a dagger thrown towards his head. It landed in one eye with a solid thunk and he crumpled to the ground. The man behind him tripped over his body and the third shouted a warning as Brayden turned and directed another blade down towards Gideon’s neck. It wasn’t as quick as it could have been but Gideon was aware of how much faith his brother was putting in his ability to stop it. His arm shot up and his fingers curled around his wrist, preventing it from piercing his skin. He brought his knee up and shoved his brother hard away from him and he stumbled back farther than necessary. His leg hit the table and then he was rolling over it, landing on his feet on the other side. One blade was still out and he threw it at the next man through the door. All the while Gisaine was screaming in panic and Corey was yelling something at Gideon from across the room. Tristan had worn a smirk on his face but it died the next second when Brayden’s fingers gripped the back of his head and slammed it against the table. The man fell back dazed, a lump forming on his head as Brayden bolted past him towards the window. “Stop him!” one of the guards shouted. He pointed his blade at the open window but Brayden was already dropping out of sight, his fingers gripping the edge of the sill. Piressa was already gone and his brother followed after, He disappeared into the night and the guards rushed across the room after him. One of them crouched by the bodies of the dead, checking for a pulse. Gideon didn’t wait for them to get things under control or to come to their senses. He pushed past them and grasped Gisaine around the upper arm. He felt odd doing so, aware that his brother had just killed a man for the same action. “Hold man,” a guard said, reaching for his arm. “Where are you going?” “There is an assassin trying to kill me!” she screamed. “Get me out of here now!” “I am following my lady’s orders.” He snapped the words at the guard, no hesitation or question in the words. “We are leaving.” The man hesitated, gaze flicking past him to the window where one of his fellows had gotten the bright idea to crawl down after Brayden. He didn’t see it ending well for him but he didn’t plan on waiting around. He pushed past the man before he could respond, guiding her into the hallway while Miren helped Tristan up. Corey followed quickly, and they hurried towards the stairs. There was a nervous churning in his gut as he led Gisaine out of the room and back towards the stables. He was aware that his brother and Piressa could still be caught, even more aware that any moment now one of the guards running past them could decide to detain her for further questioning. If they did so, he wasn’t sure what they would do. Kill everyone here, most likely. He didn’t like those thoughts. He didn’t like the knowledge that if it came to that, he would order it. The guards he could live with. They had sworn their live to Jeffries’ service and dying in the name of that duty was an unspoken certainty. The others he could not. The boy working the stables, the servants that brought him his wine, they didn’t deserve it. Yet he would order their deaths if he had to, to protect Gisaine and the Chosen, because that was what he was sworn to. They didn’t speak as they hurried towards the stables. Tristan had a bruised lump on his forehead and a foul look on his face as he tried to keep pace with Gideon. Corey was fighting back the fear that was paling his face and making his eyes wide in his head, but his steps were steady and sure as he trailed behind. And Miren just looked bloodthirsty, a snarl resting on his lips as they passed through the hallway. His hand never left his sword and Gideon couldn’t fault him for it. He kept waiting for someone to stop them, to call them out as traitors and worse, but the shout never came. They were rushing down the stairs and out the door in search of his brother. He wasn’t aware of the dull throbbing in his jaw or his stomach at the moment. He didn’t spare thought for them because he couldn’t allow injuries to slow him down but he thought with odd amusement that his brother hadn’t pulled his punches with him. There was a guard already in the stables, talking to the carriage driver with one hand grasping the reins of the horse. The man was frowning, eyeing the reins like he wanted to yank them out of the man’s hands. “And I’m telling you,” the guard snapped. “No one is leaving the estate tonight. Our lord has been murdered, we cannot risk anyone getting out until the killer is found.” “You are allowing me to leave,” Gisaine ordered sharply. “And I am doing so. Now.” She ripped her arm out of Gideon’s grasp and stalked up to the man with her chin held high. She crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed as she dared the man to challenger her words. He glanced over at her with only the dullest of interests until he realized who she was. Then his eyes went wide, hands tightening compulsively on the reins. “My lady…” he said, but he couldn’t seem to figure out what words came next. “I am not asking you,” she said, and Gideon didn’t envy the man the fury of those words. She had bullied him into this venture in the same manner. “I am telling you. We are leaving now before anyone else tries to slit my throat open. Otherwise you can go back personally and explain to my uncle that you allowed his niece to die in such a manner.” This man wasn’t as intelligent or as bold as the one who’d confronted her inside. He nodded his head at the words, taking a hesitant step back. The carriage driver leaned forward to yank the reins from his hands, glaring all the while. Gideon pulled the door open and motioned Corey in first. The boy glanced at him and then nodded his head, crawling inside the carriage. Gideon didn’t want to open the door all the way in case there was anyone else inside and he watched the guard suspiciously as he studied them, eyes nervously flicking from one man to the next. Then Corey was leaning back out, giving Gideon a weak smile. “All clear, ser,” he said. “We’re good to go.” Gideon nodded and Gisaine nodded at him before climbing into the carriage herself. He took Corey’s words to mean that his brother and Piressa were already waiting inside. He hoped that was what it meant, but he couldn’t afford to wait and find out. They would be scouring the grounds soon enough and if they waited too long someone else would get smart and stop her. “Care to open the doors?” Gideon said the words over his shoulder to the guard and the man frowned but then nodded his head all the same. Gideon kept his eyes on him as he headed to the stable doors, shoving them open and letting in the moonlight. “My thanks,” Tristan said cheerfully. He gave the man a mocking salute and Gideon could have cuffed him for it. Wenston 7.8 The Imperial Highway “Did you have to hit me so hard?” Tristan whined from his side of the carriage. Brayden smirked, leaning back in the carriage and rubbing his cheekbone. Even going easy, Gideon still packed a punch. A steady bruise was forming along his cheekbone and he could feel another on his stomach. He had no doubt Gideon would have some matching ones, because Brayden hadn’t exactly returned the favor of going easy on him and it was mainly because he hadn’t been working hard enough to keep Gideon on his toes. Gisaine sat at his side and she had her fingers intertwined with his, her head resting on his shoulder. Jeffries’ estate was long in the distance, but they didn’t dare stop for another few miles. It had been too close back there and Brayden didn’t like that Gisaine had been in the middle of it. She’d done well, but he would rather her safe in her tower where he knew she wouldn’t be hurt. Shrugging a little, Brayden looked at Tristan and told him simply, “I had to make it convincing.” Tristan’s eyes narrowed at him and he pointed a finger at Brayden. There was a fully formed lump in the middle of his forehead and it only made Brayden’s smirk grow wider. “I think it was convincing enough when you were beating on Gideon. There was no need to introduce my head to that table.” “Perhaps you had it coming,” Brayden said flippantly. His eyes glanced towards Gideon, who was turned to look out the window of the carriage, trying to see if they were being followed. Piressa sat next to him and Tristan next to her. Miren and Corey sat on the same side as Brayden and Gisaine and each of them seemed to be breathing a little bit easier now that they were out of the estate. Leaning forward, Brayden shook his finger at Tristan. “Perhaps I owed you a new set of bruises.” Tristan snorted. ”Owed me? For what? Being faithful and chivalrous?” Brayden laughed and leaned back, bringing Gisaine’s hand up to his lips so he could kiss her fingers. She smiled up at him and he didn’t want to let her go. He wanted her to stay with him so he could keep her in his sight and protect her and give her anything and everything she wanted. Gideon turned back around then, looking at all of them before he said, “He owed it to you for the comment about the Banshee.” Tristan’s eyes widened as Brayden started chuckling. “Truly?” Tristan squawked. “You’re still on about that? I never thought you were one to hold a grudge, Crowe.” Grinning, Brayden shrugged again. “Well, now you know.” “You’re damn right,” Tristan said. “I’ll start wearing a helmet whenever I poke fun at you.” A snarl escaped Miren’s lips and Brayden wondered if the man was disappointed he hadn’t seen much action. “What good would a helmet do?” Tristan pointed at Miren. “That’s true,” he said solemnly. “I seem to remember you molding one around my face.” That brought a smile to Gideon’s face, but then he was standing up and hitting the top of the carriage. It slowed and came to a stop along the road and Gideon climbed out. The others filed out after him and Brayden hopped down, turning to look at Gisaine, who’d just scooted to the edge to see what Gideon’s plan was now. “It’s time for you to return to the Keep,” Gideon said and Brayden knew by the narrowing of her eyes that Gisaine didn’t agree. They hadn’t told her much of their plans, only that they were in the area to go after Jeffries. She offered her assistance and Gideon had at first refused, but Gisaine wasn’t one to be turned away from doing something she wanted. She wasn’t good at being left in the dark, either. “What are your plans now?” Gisaine asked, just as Brayden predicted. Gideon opened his mouth to probably tell her its better if she doesn’t know, but she continued. “What efforts are you taking in finding my father?” The question seemed to catch Gideon off guard and he saw his brother stiffen almost imperceptibly. The others grew quiet and looked to Gideon to see what he would say. They hadn’t really been looking for the Emperor. They hadn’t because he was with Duncan and when Duncan wanted to hide, he stayed hidden until he was ready to be found. And Brayden thought the man just didn’t want to be found yet. He didn’t even consider the alternative because he thought they would have heard about it. He thought it would have gotten to them by now if Duncan and the Emperor were dead. “Our plans are better left a mystery to you,” Gideon said, answering her first question and making her scowl. He hesitated before answering her other question. “And we will do everything in our power to find your father.” Gisaine nodded, watching Gideon for a moment before she turned her attention to Brayden. “I wish you would tell me what you planned to do,” she told him quietly. Brayden smirked and glanced over his shoulder at his brother before he hopped back up into the carriage, closing the door behind him and effectively blocking out the others. He could still hear Tristan yell, “I don’t want to see that carriage start rocking, Crowe!” He heard Miren say something back to him and Tristan gave a yelp, Brayden imagined the man had just cuffed him upside the head. But he tuned them out and leaned forward to kiss Gisaine. She seemed surprised at the motion, but then returned it in full. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers. “We will be striking at the Viceroy,” he said quietly. “Understand that this is all I can tell you. It will be better if you are unaware of our plans.” Gisaine sighed. “At least tell me where you are staying,” she pleaded. “If something happens – where should I go?” Brayden leaned back a little bit, staring at her hands held in his before he glanced up at her face. It was a hard question to answer, but not because he didn’t know. It was hard to tell her because logically, it was a fool thing to give away their position. Logically, he knew she could one day use that information against them and it could mean death for the Chosen. But he wasn’t logical when it came to Gisaine. “Do you love me?” he asked quietly, instead of answering her. Gisaine’s eyes widened and then she was giving him a look. “Must you even ask?” she countered. A smile crossed Brayden’s lips and he brought her hand up against to kiss it. “Gideon is worried there will be only heartache in our future.” Gisaine frowned a little. “And what do you think?” she asked tentatively. “I acknowledge that we will probably never be able to marry,” he told her and he felt her hands squeeze his a little at the words. “I acknowledge this is a dangerous war we wage. If we lose, we will be dead and if we win, our affair will never be accepted. I do not see a future where our romance will be convenient or officiated.” Gisaine’s face fell and Brayden reached up to grab her chin, pulling her eyes back to meet his. “But I also acknowledge I love you more than anything in this world and I am counting on that being enough.” A smile stole its way across Gisaine’s face. “I will always love you and I will never leave you, even if it means you must sneak through my window until we are old and gray.” Brayden snorted. “You may have to throw down a ladder, if that be the case.” It made her laugh and Brayden kissed her forehead. “I love you,” he repeated. “And it is foolish for me to tell you where we stay, but I trust you and trust you will keep it secret, knowing should anyone find out, it will bring the death of the Chosen, myself included.” Gisaine nodded her head and Brayden hoped Gideon wouldn’t find out he what he was doing. “We stay at a Wayfarer’s Inn outside of Roseville.” .Wolfie. 7.9 The Wayfarer's Inn Gideon sat on the edge of his bed, fingers digging into the side of the mattress. He was trying to focus on his brother instead of the hands pulling stitches out of his back. It was not the worst pain he’d ever suffered but there was a lingering ache in his spine and he could feel the wound getting irritated from the attention. Piressa sat behind him, one leg curled underneath her and the other stretched out next to him as she worked on removing the strings from his flesh. It was some measure of how far they’d come that he literally trusted her with a knife at his back. A part of him still thought it was foolish, but the louder part just didn’t care. His brother straddled the chair in front of him, a bright bruise on his cheekbone and probably another in his stomach. Gideon had matching ones, and they still ached this morning. He had expected no less from his brother. “I’m thinking Hughes,” Brayden said. He held the list of names in his hand, letters and maps on the table next to him. They’d gotten back yesterday and Gideon had allowed them the night to settle but that was all. He had no intentions on growing complacent or giving the Viceroy time to recover once he heard of Jeffries’ death. “Not as grandiose a target as some of these other names, but he’s on the other end of the empire and it’ll keep the Viceroy on his toes.” “Hughes or Faison,” Gideon said. “Both are south of here, both would make him sweat.” He held out his hand for the list of names, biting back a flinch of pain as the nerves in his back tightened and pulled. Brayden lifted an eyebrow, holding the list out of his reach for a moment with an odd smirk on his face. Piressa settled a hand on his shoulder blade, pausing for a moment in her ministrations. “Hold still,” she told him. “Yes, hold still,” Brayden chastised. His grin was wide and teasing and Gideon rolled his eyes at it before opening his palm for the list again. He knew he wasn’t fast enough to take it from his brother by force, and he’d long ago stopped playing that game with him. After a moment Brayden sighed and dropped the list into his waiting hands. He scanned it quickly, thinking again that there were a lot of men on here and he felt disgust just reading some of the names. These people had bowed to the Emperor and sworn their allegiance to him and they had thrown that oath aside the moment it became inconvenient. They deserved death for their crimes. “When are you going to Lowport next?” Gideon asked. He didn’t look up but he knew his brother heard him by the slight shifting in his chair. He imagined it was old habit for Brayden to keep his plans to himself and it was old habit for Gideon to let him. Now that Gisaine was returning to the Keep and he knew where her heart lay, he doubted he would be able to keep his brother from the city even if he wanted to, no matter what his feelings about it were. No matter that it would end in pain. “I hadn’t decided yet,” Brayden said. He kept his tone light, arms draped across the back of the chair and a smile on his lips. “Why, did you want me to bring something back for you? You name it I could probably find it.” Gideon smirked and glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye. “Of that I have no doubt,” he told him. Then he shook his head, ignoring the sharp pull and slice of pain as he leaned forward to toss the list onto the table. He dragged a pile of the letters over to him though he had read them all several times over already. “If you can bring me back Nicos, I would be grateful.” The smile faltered on Brayden’s face. “I will make some inquiries,” he said. Gideon nodded in response and sat back on the edge of the bed with the letters in tow, pulling open the first of them to read through them again. He knew none of the words would change, but part of him was still looking for proof of guilt or innocence for some of the men on his list. He wondered about Gisaine’s words about General Tremont and perhaps he could be convinced to take up the cause. Not without the Emperor most likely. “What are we going to do?” Brayden asked him. His voice was low and surprisingly serious and Gideon glanced over at him, keeping his expression cool. “About the Emperor,” he clarified. “How are we going to find him?” Gideon stilled and looked towards the closed window, feeling only the slight tugs and discomfort as Piressa pulled his stitches out. He felt her fingers pressed against his skin, the snick of her knife as she cut them loose and he winced when she had to tug too long on one of them. It was strange how he would rather focus on that pain than on the question. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He ran a hand over his mouth and looked down at the floor. “What do I tell Gisaine the next time she asks?” His brother was digging his thumbnail into the wood and he couldn’t tell if the look on his face was concentration or disappointment. It had been months, and they’d received no word from Duncan, but Gideon hadn’t looked for him either. He’d just waited, expecting the man to walk through the door and give him his orders and maybe he still expected that. Maybe until Gisaine had asked him the question he had just assumed that Duncan would show up with the Emperor in tow and assume command of this venture. “Tell her what she needs to hear,” Gideon said. “That we are doing everything in our power to find her father and if he is alive we will see him restored.” Then he sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “In the meantime, we continue to leave our messages for the Viceroy. If Duncan is alive than he will get word of them and if he is not… then we are no worse off than we are now.” “You have no leads on him?” Piressa asked. “Couldn’t you capture one of the Viceroy’s men and find out if they know anything?” He glanced back at her in time to see her eyes narrow in hatred, fingers suddenly rough on his skin. “Perhaps Drake?” Brayden snorted but there was a smirk on his face. “Kidnap Drake?” Then he shrugged. “Sounds like fun.” Gideon shook his head. “If Duncan doesn’t want to be found, then he won’t be.” She made a face and he felt sudden pressure on his back. His fingers tightened in the mattress but he didn’t allow any other sign of pain as he wiped the blood from his skin with a damp cloth. “That seems foolish,” she told them both, and Brayden scoffed at the words. “You know of no place the man would go if he were hurt or in trouble? No allies from which he would seek aid?” Brayden chuckled and shook his head. “Duncan’s the only one I could never get any dirt on.” Gideon frowned and gave his brother a look at that and he didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “What? I keep my ears open. No one’s sure where he’s from or if he’s got any family or if he even had any friends outside of the Chosen. Where do you think we took our cues from, elf? I guarantee your spying on us in Lockhaven didn’t reveal just which little town we’re from or who we might still happen to know there.” “There are things you can learn about a man by what isn’t said,” Piressa told him. Gideon didn’t miss that her hand lingered on his back, or that he didn’t mind the contact. “But at the time I was uninterested in your histories, only your current situations.” Brayden chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “That’s why I’m better at this job than you,” he said. “The more you know about where a man comes from, the more likely it is to predict where he’s going to go. You can predict which direction he’s going to run.” The words were cocky and teasing and Piressa’s eyes narrowed at them, her nails digging into Gideon’s skin as she tensed. “None of you were supposed to have time to run anywhere,” she said coldly. “But that is not what we are discussing.” “No, it’s not,” Gideon said. A sigh left his lips and he ran his hand over his eyes. “It is not fair to say that we have no idea where he would go, only that we have no good ideas. There are places Duncan would go were he alone, but I cannot imagine where he would take the Emperor.” He let his hand fall away and focused on his brother. There were things he would have told him were Piressa not sitting behind him, but even if he trusted her enough to keep his secrets he would not risk Duncan’s. “There’s a man in Lowport you could speak to. They played dice like clockwork, once a moon. When we get a moment I will give you his name.” Brayden nodded his head, a smirk on his face as he glanced past him at Piressa. He felt her tense next to him, pulling back the hand she had resting on her skin. He was surprised how cold he felt without it. “Would you like me to leave?” she asked. Her voice was quiet and cold and he felt the undercurrents of hurt in them. He wondered when it had started to bother her, the thought that he still didn’t trust her, and just when it had started to hurt him as well. “No need,” Brayden said. He stood, spinning the chair around and replacing it at the table. “I’m not leaving today, so we’ll have a chance to speak more of this before I go. Who knows, perhaps the Banshee will make it easy on us and just tell me where the Emperor has flitted off too.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at Piressa once he was gone and she was looking at her hands where they rested in her lap. Her hair was falling around her face and she looked surprisingly vulnerable. “I am sorry,” he told her. “They are not my secrets to share.” She looked up at the words and he saw her expression harden. She shook her head, pushing herself to her feet to move to the table. She picked up the roll of linen, toying with it in her hands before she walked back to him. She leaned in close so that she could start wrapping it around his back and his chest and he felt himself tense at every small brush of her fingers over his skin. She left trails of fire in her wake. “There is no need to apologize,” she said quietly. “I understand.” He caught her hands in his and it finally drew his eyes back to his. “Piressa…” he said, and he wasn’t sure what he intended to tell her. The linen slipped from her fingers and he felt them twining with his as she looked back at him. He wanted her and he was afraid of that sensation because it was unfamiliar and it would damn him and he couldn’t stop. “I did not mean to hurt you.” She smirked and he wasn’t sure if he believed it because it faded within the next moment. “What we intend is rarely what we accomplish,” she told him, and it was not the first time that she’d said it. “And what are your intentions?” he asked. This time the smile was real and he shivered at her touch as her hand pulled from his to rest on the side of his face. She leaned down, pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth and trailing them across his jaw towards his ear. “Perhaps I haven’t been clear enough,” she said quietly. “I ache for you Gideon. I lie awake at night and can think of little else.” He heard something like a growl and a groan leave his lips at those words and before he could stop himself he was reaching up and tangling his hand in her hair. He angled his head towards hers, catching her lips and kissing her fiercely. She returned it, hands resting on his shoulders and nails digging into his skin. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think of anything except how good she felt molded against him and how she tasted when he kissed her. It was a battle to pull back, turning his head from hers and trying to steady his breathing and collect his thoughts because he knew this was wrong, every time he allowed himself to entertain it. “You should not,” he told her. He turned his head to the side, cheek pressed against her stomach. He could feel her fingers running over his shoulders and the back of his neck and he shivered under the touch. He shook his head, pushing himself to his feet so that he could try and keep some distance between them. “It will not end well for you.” He didn’t understand why she laughed quietly afterwards and then she tipped her head forward, lips pressing against the hollow of his throat. “Tell me,” she said, her voice soft and gentle. “Who was it that broke your heart?” The words made him freeze, his hands stilling on her hips and his veins turning to ice. He thought of Elena and he thought of their son and both of them were dead and gone because he’d loved her when he had no right. “I broke hers,” he said, and there was hurt and anger in the tones. He sucked in a breath and then he stepped back from her, letting her hands fall from his skin. “You should go,” he said, his voice clipped and cold. He walked past her to pull the door open. “I have work to do.” Wenston Part Eight 8.1 Torturer’s Chamber Corey sat shivering, his lips quivering and in front of him, the interrogator sat on a chair, his legs crossed and hands resting on his knees, like he was trying to be formal and human. Corey hated him. He hated this man more than he’d ever hated anyone in his entire life. He wondered again if he was going to make it through this and he was beginning to think the answer was no. How could he? It seemed an impossible dream. “We already knew of Gisaine’s involvement,” the man said calmly and Corey shivered at the sound of his voice and the words he’d said. He wondered when exactly they’d found out about Gisaine. When did they start to suspect her. She had been a great ally and great information, keeping them up to date on the Viceroy. “She relayed information to the Chosen through Crowe, didn’t she?” the man asked, the tone of his voice saying he was asking a question to which he already knew the answer. “Yes,” Corey said, feeling as though he were betraying Brayden with the words. “Brayden would disappear at times, to go to Lockhaven and visit her. He’d bring back supplies and information. The only thing he was never able to find was Nicos.” The interrogator nodded and Corey watched him for a moment because the man wasn’t asking about it and he thought he probably already knew what had happened to Nicos. The Chosen didn’t. They counted him among the dead for so long. “What was her involvement in the other assassinations?” the interrogator asked. Corey shook his head slightly. “She had little,” he answered truthfully. “After the first one, they wanted to keep her out of it the best they could. We went after Hughes and Faison both, like Gideon wanted. And after that, Brayden started doing them alone. It was easier for him and quicker.” The interrogator leaned forward. “I know the names of the nobles on the list,” he said and Corey shuddered, not wanting to know how the man had found out which ones they’d gone after. “Tell me why you didn’t kill Tulios.” At the name, Corey’s blood ran cold, his face paled even more, which he hadn’t thought possible. He averted his eyes and didn’t say anything at first. The interrogator moved forward, grabbing his hand again and Corey let out a cry when he felt the device clamp around one of his knuckles. “I can’t!” he cried looking the man in the eye. “Please, I can’t tell you that.” “You don’t have a choice,” the man snarled and then broke his finger. Corey screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks and he squeezed his eyes shut, crying out when the man moved the device to another knuckle. “Why didn’t you kill Tulios.” “Because,” Corey rasped and laid his head back, shaking it side to side. “Because…” he said again but couldn’t get himself to say the words. He felt the device start to squeeze and he gave a yell, his head shooting forward, “Because of what we found there!” he yelled at the man. The interrogator paused, watching Corey’s face and then he smiled, leaning back. “What did you find?” 8.2 Estate Rappier Brayden lowered himself to the window. The muscles in his legs strained as he braced himself, pulling a dagger and slipping it between the cracks to unlatch the window. He placed the dagger between his teeth as he pulled it open and watched the darkened interior for a moment before he silently slipped into the room. Tulios Rappier would be the sixth noble on the list that they’d managed to kill in the name of the Emperor. The others had gone by without trouble and Brayden was happy to know his brother trusted him enough to go alone to take care of a few of them. Tulios would be the last one before they became more difficult. He doubted Gideon would allow him to do any more by himself. And he’d yet to let Piressa go off on her own. He didn’t think she’d be able to now. The rest were dangerous. Extremely dangerous. He hated to admit it, but it may be smart for the both of them to go together. The room was dark and quiet, but Brayden could see the figure on the bed, lying on his stomach. He could hear the soft breaths he took and he smirked to himself because he’d almost hoped Tulios would make this more of a challenge. Hadn’t he heard his counterparts were being murdered in their own homes? If Brayden were a noble, he’d be nervous. Standing, Brayden pulled the dagger from his mouth and flipped it in his hand as he silently approached the bed. This would be quick and easy and if Brayden did it right, it would be morning before anyone knew something was wrong. Brayden would be long gone by then. Coming to stand over the bed, Brayden couldn’t quite see the man’s face in the darkness, but it may have been better that way. Not that he felt guilt or remorse over killing these noble men, but if one day it ever hit him just exactly the number of lives he’d taken, he hoped he didn’t remember them. Gideon was right to be afraid of what Brayden could become. He’d be foolish not to be. Brayden was just reaching forward to press his dagger against the man’s throat when he heard the slight shuffling of cloth behind him. He barely had time to duck out of the way as a sword whistled by, inches from his face. He heard the man on the bed start with a gasp, but Brayden just growled and ducked towards the ground, whirling and slashing out with his knives. The man behind him was quick. He stepped out of the way and brought a leg up to try and kick Brayden in the face. Brayden flipped backwards, away from the bed and he snarled when he saw that Tulios had leapt from the bed and gone to stand in the corner. The man who’d attacked him from behind ran across the bed to put himself between him and Tulios and Brayden thought his plan for remaining hidden wasn’t going to happen. Running forward, Brayden lunged at the man blocking him from his goal and he was surprised when the man brought his sword and another short sword up to block the blows. It was an expert move and oddly familiar and Brayden had little time to think about it because the man was swinging his swords back at Brayden. He dodged the sword, but not the off-handed short sword. It sliced a deep cut into his bicep and he hissed, rolling away, his hand coming to his arm and it was quickly coated in dark blood. It had gone deep and Brayden growled. Giving a frustrated yell, Brayden lunged forward again, drawing his other dagger and throwing it towards Tulios, over the man’s shoulder. The man actually batted the throwing dagger out of the air with his swords, but it left him wide open for Brayden’s attack. He felt his dagger meet the man’s side, but he cursed when he heard the clink of metal against metal. The man wore thin metal armor beneath the shirt. The man brought his arm down suddenly, cracking Brayden in the side of the head with the hilt of his sword and Brayden snarled when the man’s other arm suddenly snaked out and wrapped itself around his throat. Reaching back, Brayden grabbed the man’s head, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking, trying to pull him off of him. He brought his dagger down and managed to slice the man’s thigh. He grinned because in a moment, the poison would drive the man to his knees and Brayden could dispatch of him. “Poison courses through your veins,” Brayden growled at the man. He didn’t expect the man to freeze suddenly, or for the sword to be taken away from where it was pointed at him. Brayden frowned and wondered what sort of trick this was, but in the next moment, he had his answer when the man spoke. “Still using Wintersbane?” Brayden froze, a sharp gasp escaping his lips. He felt the man let him go and he stepped away, in case he was mistaken, but he didn’t think he was. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. Brayden watched the man limp tentatively over to the dresser, where a lantern sat. He lit it and Brayden was already pulling the antidote to his poison out of his pockets. Turning the lantern up, the man lifted it and Brayden let out a small, incredulous laugh. He tossed the small pouch of leaves towards the man. “Chew those before you lose the use of your legs.” The man caught the pouch easily, already opening it, but he kept his eyes on Brayden. “It’s good to see you, Crowe,” the man said. Brayden smirked. “You as well, Duncan.” .Wolfie. 8.3 The Wayfarer's Inn The trees grew thickly in the forest surrounding the Wayfarer’s Inn, crowding in closely to the building and the road that wound away from it. The sky was overcast and dark, the scent of approaching rain hanging in the air. Gideon noted it but kept his eyes on the road. A crumbling stone wall cut through the woods in front of him, the last dying remnant of someone’s life long forgotten. He called it patrol, this restless wandering through the woods, and not worries for his brother overcrowding his mind. He was late. Not to a dangerous point yet, but he still should have been back by now, and that he was not caused anxiety to squeeze at his heart. “You fear for him,” Piressa said. The words were sudden and loud in the stillness and he glanced over his shoulder at her. She stood on the edge of the stone wall, feet light against the crumbling surface. It was an unconscious thing for him to extend his hand to her, and he felt that spark between them when she accepted it. She neither asked nor needed his assistance but she took it anyway and he felt her fingers twine with his even after she stepped off the wall. “Tulios is hardly the most dangerous man he has gone after.” “I am aware,” Gideon said. Tulios had been one of those he wanted to find innocent, but all his letters indicated nothing but total support of the Viceroy. He deserved death for his crimes. “But even my brother is capable of mistakes.” He turned his eyes back to the road and away from the woman that served as a constant distraction anymore. He had tried to keep his distance from her after she’d asked about Elena. It had been a painful moment, a reminder that his wife was dead because of him yet he still lived. He had sworn to love her until the end of his days, but he thought of her less and less anymore. “You have both said enough times that this is what he is best at,” she said. “Why fear for him now?” Gideon snorted but he answered her honestly and he wondered why it was he told her whatever she asked of him. “Times have changed,” he told her, and it was such an understatement he almost laughed. “I cannot afford to lose him now.” She laughed quietly and he was aware of her hand squeezing his. She pressed closer against him, other hand resting on his arm and chin digging into his shoulder. It was close and familiar and he should not allow her such intimacies but he enjoyed her touch and could not push her away. “I do not believe you could ever afford his loss,” she said. “He is your family.” “We are Chosen.” He watched the road as he spoke, instead of her face. “Death is something we are both prepared for.” “Lies,” she said immediately. He frowned and glanced at her, watching as she pulled away. In a single lithe step she was on top of the wall, ducking beneath a tree branch as she wandered away from him. He followed alongside of her, aware that his eyes should be on the road and unable to take them off her. “You cannot prepare for death. He has a way of catching you by surprise.” She turned slightly, her eyes on his and a soft smile on her face. He wondered why she claimed to want him. He wondered if she was a traitor. “I believe you are prepared for your own death. But you cannot lose something you love without it taking something from you as well.” He reached out a hand to her, twining his fingers in hers again as he pulled her to a stop. She stood on the low wall, moss growing over the stones and brush climbing up around it. “And what happens when you have lost everything?” he asked. She stilled at the words, looking away from him and off down the dusty road. “Tell me what is left of you.” Something like pain flashed across her face at the words and he felt immediate regret for their asking. He kept her hand in his and for a moment he saw that vulnerable side of her again, something soft and broken and alone. “There is always more to lose.” He hesitated and he knew he should not allow her close, should not allow himself to care for her or to want her. She was still a danger he kept at his back, still an unknown and a distraction. Yet he moved closer anyway, sitting down beside her on the wall and keeping her hand in his. He brought it to his lips, finally drawing her eyes down to his. “And what is it you have lost?” he asked quietly. The pain was etched on her face, laid bare for him to see. “You never speak of yourself, only legends of other elves.” “What is there to say?” she snapped. There was bitterness in her voice but he didn’t flinch at the sound of it. She took a breath and then she slumped down on the wall next to him, legs folded underneath her. She crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut, eyes focused only on the hand held in hers. “I dishonored my house. I disgraced my ancestors. Why crave what I can no longer have?” He was quiet for a moment and he had no answers for her. He could understand that kind of pain. His thumb ran over the back of her hand and he was surprised when she leaned forward to rest her head against his shoulder. “I am sorry,” he whispered. “Don’t be,” she told him. “If I had succeeded you would be dead, and I do not wish for that either.” His arm moved around her shoulder. “You told me once we cannot know the pattern our lives weave until after we are gone.” She laughed quietly and nodded her head, shifting closer against his side. He sat at an angle so he could watch the road but he was distracted by her, the smell of her hair and the feeling of her fingers soft against his. “I am surprised you remember that story,” she said. Her head tilted back and rested against his shoulder. “You were practically delusional with fever.” “I remember,” he said. His head turned and he wondered where his brother was and if he was in trouble. Gideon would give him some time but if he did not return by nightfall he would go after him. “I still have trouble taking the lesson to heart.” “It is a difficult lesson to learn.” She smiled and then looked down at their hands. “Would you like to hear a story?” “I would,” he said, and a ghost of a smile graced his lips. He thought again that he was stupid, that he should not allow anything between them. Yet here he sat, her wrapped up in his arms and he was unsure how they had gotten this way. Her head rested on his shoulder, hair tickling his nose and fingers running over the scars on his hands and his wrists. “I am from the dark wood. Most of my people are. The trees are thick there, growing together in a maze that does not allow the light to pass through. We live among those trees, and most rarely leave.” She paused and a hesitant smile crossed her face. “To be fair, it is much like the endless road we passed through. It is dark and next to impossible to find your way through. Outsiders are unwelcome and what the forest doesn’t kill, we usually do. To find my people, one must be led by someone who already knows the way.” “Yet Kinley found his way to you,” he said quietly. He wondered what that meant, that Kinley had at least one ally among the dark elves and what other secrets the man had. Brayden swore he was more dangerous than they’d first assumed and now he believed it. “Yes,” Piressa said, nodding her head. “The dark elves are ruled by seven Lords,” she told him. “We have no King, because we once had power in one place and the deaths that followed are also a thing of legend. We do not like being ruled, even by our own.” She smirked and looked up at his face, gaze scanning his features. “The infighting was terrible. Each house had its own cadre of assassins and it was a mire of intrigue and poison and death. Kinley knew one of our own already and I would not be surprised if it was because he had been hired by one of the noble houses. I thought little of it at the time.” She hesitated and he just listened, arms tightening around her and holding her close. She let out a breath and her voice was quiet. “When he asked for our best, I was glad to be chosen. I was glad to leave. But I wonder if my cadre was not chosen in the hopes that we would fail. My father is one of the seven Lords, and we argued fiercely before we left. He did not wish for me to go. He thought it would mean his death.” She was quiet and he couldn’t read the look on her face. “Perhaps it did.” “Do you wonder what would have happened had you stayed?” he asked. She laughed and then nodded her head fiercely. “Yes. But it matters little now.” “For what it is worth, I am glad for your presence here,” he told her. He saw a smile grace her lips and she leaned back into the circle of his arms. His fingers still twined with his and he studied their hands, a sharp contrast to each other. He snorted out a quiet laugh, lips pressed against her head. “So you are elven nobility then,” he said. “As you say,” she responded. “An elven princess,” he said. “A more fascinating assassin has never been sent for me.” She laughed quietly in response and then she was tipping her head back and brushing a kiss against his throat. “What have I done to merit such devotion from you?” he asked. She tilted her head to the side, closing her eyes as his fingers ran through her hair. “You are a man of strength and honor,” she told him. He snorted and she just smiled in response. “There is power in everything you do, even in something as simple as your presence.” Her voice lowered until it was barely a whisper. “I cannot help but be drawn to you.” A shuddery breath left her lips and then her eyes opened, watching his. “Do you think your men follow you because they are so devoted to their cause?” “They are sworn to the Emperor,” Gideon told her. “Not to me.” She shook her head. “That is their cause. But they fight for it only because of you. Do you think Alain would fight this war if you had not asked it of him? Do you think your brother would have?” She smirked and tilted her head back. “They fight because you are a singularly stubborn man who believes in what he fights for without doubt or hesitation. It is a rare thing to find.” He laughed and there was some bitterness in the sound of it. “Would that I saw myself through your eyes,” he told her. His head turned to watch the road and he wished Brayden would return and tell him that Tulios was dead. She shifted in his arms and he felt her hand on the side of his face, pulling his gaze back to her. “Understand that I ask nothing of you,” she said quietly. “I am yours by oath and by choice. Anything you ask of me is yours.” Her head was tipped back and he watched her for a moment before pressing his mouth against hers. Her lips parted as she kissed him back and he thought for the thousandth time that this was wrong, yet it didn’t still his hands any as she held him close against his chest. It didn’t still his heart from racing in his chest or the desire that coursed through him just from her presence. She was going to destroy him. She pulled away sooner than he liked, head turning towards the road and for a moment he didn’t move, his gaze focused on her and her alone. She was beautiful and she wanted him and why shouldn’t he have this? Why shouldn’t he have one thing for himself and even as he thought it he knew the words were excuses he was making. He couldn’t afford the distraction. They had men to murder and an Emperor to find and he couldn’t focus on those things if he was focusing on hers. No matter what his feelings for her were. “Someone is coming,” she told him. The words brought his attention back to the road and he pulled himself away from her, aware of the emptiness that lingered once she was out of his arms. His hand went to the sword at his side as he moved closer to the road. The sound of hoof beats on the road reached his ears minutes after she heard it, and he saw her confident smirk as she crouched next to him near the edge of the dirt path. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the lone rider coming up the path and he felt a breath leave his lips as soon as he recognized both horse and rider. He slid from the trees into the road, arms crossed over his chest as he waited. His brother pulled up on the reins as soon as he reached him, a cocky smirk on his face. “You’re late,” Gideon said. Brayden laughed but it was a dark thing, something else on his face. “You’ll forgive me for this one,” he said. He nodded his head up the road towards the Inn. “Get your horse saddled, I found Duncan and the Emperor.” Gideon couldn’t stop the surprise from flashing across his face or the sudden tensing of his shoulders. It slipped by him that his brother had given him an order, only that he had found Duncan. He was unsure what the feeling in his chest was. He thought it was relief, coupled with a sudden fear that he had done poorly in the man’s absence. He felt Piressa move closer to him and a second fear gripped him, one that Duncan would recognize her and order her death. “Is he well?” he asked, stepping closer to his brother’s horse. Brayden hesitated and Gideon didn’t like it. “Duncan is well,” he supplied. “As for Rivain…it is best if you come see.” Wenston 8.4 The Imperial Highway “So let me get this straight,” Jethro said and Brayden sighed because it was about the fourth time the man had said it since they’d set out for Tulios’ estate. He rode behind them, next to Corey. Gideon was at Brayden’s side and those were all that traveled with them. Brayden thought Gideon had made the smart choice finally and left Piressa behind. Though he doubted it was because he didn’t trust her with the Emperor. It was probably more because he was afraid of what Duncan would say or order him to do. Brayden hadn’t told any of them about the Emperor’s condition. He especially didn’t tell Piressa because if she truly was against them, she would use this as the beginning of her betrayal. He could tell Gideon was getting frustrated, riding beside him because Brayden was still being mysterious. He supposed he could tell them now, but a little part of him didn’t want to bring this news to them. “You go off to kill Tulios,” Jethro said, holding his hand out. “You show back up and say that not only is Tulios still alive, but Duncan is there.” Brayden nodded, smirking to himself. “You are correct,” he told the man, who just narrowed his eyes at the back of Brayden’s head and then tipped his face towards the sky, trying to comprehend what all of this meant. “So Tulios has been hiding Duncan and the Emperor,” Jethro said. “While pretending to be on the Viceroy’s side. And you say Rivain is not well – is that what has kept Duncan there instead of coming to find the rest of us?” The question was simple enough, but Brayden picked up on slight bitterness to the man’s tone. He understood where it was coming from. They’d waited months for word from Duncan. It would have been different if they were on the run or moving from place to place. But Duncan had been at the estate this whole time, probably knew what the Chosen were doing with the other nobles, and he hadn’t contacted them at all. “Most likely,” Brayden said simply. Corey cleared his throat. “What’s wrong with the Emperor?” he asked, innocently. Brayden sighed and glanced down at the reigns in his hands. He hadn’t told them about the Emperor and he hadn’t planned on doing it. He wanted Duncan to be the one to do it, but it was becoming obvious their curiosity wouldn’t allow it. “He’s dying,” he said, voice cold and detached. A sharp hiss escaped Jethro’s mouth, Corey outright gasped. Gideon’s head snapped towards Brayden and he could feel his brother’s heated gaze boring into the side of his head. “He has been for a while, apparently,” he continued, feigning obliviousness to their reactions. “Even before the siege.” The others were quiet a moment and it was Gideon who broke the silence finally. “What ails him?” “His lungs are failing,” Brayden said. “There is no cure for what he has.” “What about magic?” Corey asked quietly. “Or Victory? He saved us from death, maybe he could save the Emperor?” Brayden gave a side glance to Gideon, who was watching him curiously. He licked his lips and said, “I told Duncan as much,” he said quietly. “He wants to speak to you first, brother.” Gideon raised a brow and Brayden shook his head. “I don’t know what about, but he would only allow me to bring you and Jethro back. I think he’ll make an exception for Corey. He’s no real threat.” The scoff from behind him made Brayden chuckle, despite the situation, but he was the only one. Gideon ran a hand over his face and Brayden knew what his brother was thinking. He had no right to think it. Gideon was doubting himself, he always got that look on his face when he did so and he had it now. He was probably expecting to get to the estate and be chastised for what he’d done so far. Brayden thought that was horse shit. Duncan wouldn’t chastise Gideon, his brother had been doing an exemplary job of leading the Chosen. And if he did chastise him, then perhaps Duncan was not the man Brayden thought he was and he’d rather follow Gideon any day. “If Rivain dies, you know where our allegiance falls,” Gideon said lowly. The smile slipped from Brayden’s face and he nodded. “I know,” he agreed. “It may no longer be safe for her to stay in the Keep,” Gideon said. “Duncan said as much,” he told his brother. “He wanted me to go and take her away from there immediately. I tried to convince him we should look at other alternatives rather than just letting Rivain die, but he wouldn’t listen to me.” From behind them, Jethro snorted. “He must have a reason.” “He does,” Brayden said. He glanced at the others and said solemnly, “Rivain wants to die. He doesn’t want to be saved. I believe Duncan is letting him have his way.” “That makes no sense,” Gideon snapped and Brayden glanced over at him. “Duncan’s oath is to protect the Emperor at all costs. Even from himself,” he hissed the last part when he saw Brayden opening his mouth to say something. “He should be looking for a cure.” “Gideon,” Brayden said, drawing his brother’s eyes to him. “Even if we managed to cure him, it will not save him.” His brother’s face darkened and he could recognize the coming argument, so he continued quickly. “He was overthrown by his brother, someone he trusts most – his kingdom is in shambles in his absence and he has lost nearly everything. It takes a strong man to get back up after that and you know, but won’t admit, that the Emperor is not that type of man. He has sunken into melancholy and forfeiture and he will not bring himself back up.” Brayden was surprised when Gideon’s hand fisted in his shirt and yanked him towards him. He nearly fell out of his saddle, but managed to stay upright and even managed to raise his chin in defiance of his brother’s display of aggression. Gideon snarled, “You will not talk about the Emperor in such a way.” Behind them, Brayden heard Jethro go still and Corey let out a small, fearful breath, but Brayden just locked his eyes with Gideon and remained calm. “Why shouldn’t I?” he asked and he saw Gideon’s lip curl in anger. “You know it to be true and even Duncan must if he has not sought out a cure. Perhaps…” “Enough!” Gideon yelled, shoving Brayden back away from him. Brayden had to swerve his horse to remain on top of it and he just watched his brother, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground, but not really thinking Gideon would physically hurt him. He knew he was speaking words that could be considered treasonous. But he couldn’t help but wonder why Duncan would just sit back and let the Emperor die away. Unless Duncan agreed with him. Unless Duncan had realized that Lockhaven needed an Emperor worthy of the throne and that’s who they really fought for, not a single man named Rivain. Licking his lips, Brayden ventured cautiously with, “You are sworn to protect the Emperor’s life,” he told him and Gideon growled, looking back over at him. “Not his integrity or worth.” .Wolfie. 8.5 Estate Rappier It was close to nightfall when they reached the Rappier estate, Brayden guiding them along the wall to the servant’s entrance towards the back. There was a man waiting for them and he didn’t ask any questions as he led them through the small gate towards the stables to saddle their horses. Gideon could not dull his natural suspicion that perhaps they were being set up by Tulios, but Brayden seemed unconcerned and he trusted his brother even if he was angry with him. The rest of the journey here had been made in silence, Gideon’s knuckles white around the reins and his jaw clamped shut in barely restrained anger. Brayden spoke of treason and he would not hear those words even from his own brother’s mouth. He wanted to hear it from the Emperor himself. Until then he refused to believe that the man could be dying with no desire to save his life. He refused to believe that Duncan would allow it. It went against everything he’d been taught, that the Chosen were there to protect the Emperor above all else. The thoughts churned in his stomach and he was practically shaking when he climbed out of the saddle. “You certainly took your time getting here, didn’t you Crowe?” a man’s voice said. Gideon stilled at the sound of it, hands still resting on the leather saddle but his head turned to look at the entrance to the stables. A familiar figure leaned casually in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face. His gaze was on Brayden and then traveled over the rest of them. Brayden shrugged his shoulders, letting the man who’d guided them here take the reins from him. “What can I say, it was a beautiful ride. I decided to stop and smell the flowers along the way.” There was a smirk on his face as he sauntered over to Duncan. A rumbling laugh left Jethro’s lips and then he was pushing past Brayden to get to Duncan. He stumbled slightly as the burly man brushed by him, catching his balance on one of the stable doors and letting out an amused snort. Jethro had a wide grin on his face, his reservations gone or at least hidden for the moment. “Commander,” he said. “By the Gods it is good to see you again.” He clapped Duncan on both of his shoulders and the man laughed, rocked slightly by the force of the blow. “It’s good to see you too, Jethro,” he said. Then his gaze moved past him to Corey, a smile on his face. Gideon stood back, watching the man and feeling a strange sense of nostalgia and detachment at the same time. Months had passed since he last saw the man but he looked unchanged, posture deceptively relaxed. “And Temple, right? I’m glad to see you well. Brayden’s said good things about you.” “He has?” Corey’s eyes widened, glancing at Brayden before he smiled at Duncan. “Thank you ser,” he said. Duncan smirked and then his gaze finally settled on Gideon. “Captain,” he said. He inclined his head towards the door, still watching Gideon with a carefully guarded expression. He wasn’t sure what to make of it yet. “Let’s talk.” Gideon nodded, falling into step at his shoulder. It was odd how familiar it was and how much had changed. There was relief and anger and fear all at war in his chest and it was odd for him to realize he was nervous. It didn’t show on his face but he felt the sensation making its way through his veins and a part of him wished Piressa were at his side. “As you say, Commander.” Duncan led them into the estate, and it didn’t escape Gideon’s notice that none of the guards made eye contact with them. They stared straight ahead, treating them as they would ghosts. He wondered what they had been told and how many of them could guess who they were. He wondered if Tulios was a traitor as they’d assumed or a skilled liar and he would ask those questions when they weren’t walking through the halls of Rappier’s south wing. They followed Duncan into a sitting room, the door clicking shut behind him. There were bookshelves along the wall and plush couches arrayed in front of the roaring fireplace. Both food and wine was already laid out. There were doors on either side of the room and Duncan didn’t pause in his steps as he headed towards the one on the right. “Gideon, if you’ll follow me,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “The rest of you, help yourselves.” “Thank you ser,” Corey said again. Brayden snorted and ruffled the kid’s hair playfully. Gideon didn’t have it in him to smile. His face was cold and emotionless, shoulders stiff as he followed Duncan into the next room. It was a simple study, a desk by the window to let the light in and a map pinned to the wall on his right. There were rolls of parchment upon the desk, a worn leather chair behind it and two more arrayed on the other side. He was unsure if it was Tulios’ study or if it was one Duncan had appropriated for his own purposes. He hoped it was the second, that the man had at least tried to do something. Silence fell over the room after Duncan closed the door and then he paused, studying Gideon while he did so in turn. The man looked tired, but other than that he seemed no different. Perhaps his beard had gotten longer. Then he let out a breath, managing a false smile as he headed around the other side of the desk. “How are you, Gideon?” he asked, slumping down in the chair. “I am well,” he said, and the words felt like a lie on his tongue. Duncan lifted an eyebrow as he recognized it as such. Months ago he would have told him the truth, and he wondered why he didn’t now. “How are you? How does the Emperor fare?” “I am well.” A grim smile pulled at the man’s lips but he didn’t shy away from Gideon’s gaze. “And I assume your brother told you how Rivain fares,” he answered. Gideon nodded his head and Duncan let out a quiet sigh. Something in his face hardened and he leaned back, reaching in his vest to pull out his pipe. “Brayden told me some of what you’ve been up to these past few months. Some of it I have gathered on my own. I want your report. What happened to you after the Keep fell and where do we stand now?” He took the words as an order and he found himself sitting without intending to, shoulders still stiff and anxiety lingering in his chest. He told the man what he wanted to hear. He told him about the Winters’ farm and he could not keep the bitterness from his voice when he told him he’d been waiting for his orders. Duncan’s expression didn’t change, just nodding his head and telling him to continue. He told him about Du Coleur and the letters Brayden had confiscated. He told him about Essocks and Victory and everything they’d had to do in the past few months. He left out only a few details, and they were none of his concern. Duncan stayed quiet during the telling, allowing Gideon to speak without interruption. His voice was cool and calm, even when he told him about the woman Kinley had slain in front of him and the death that had been left behind at the De Montague estate. It was likely he already knew about it, or at least had heard some variation of the tale. “With Tulios dead, we would be left with a number of considerably more dangerous names on the list. Archmage Kamir, Baron Fiodore, and Countess De Mallory to name a few. I will get you the list if you require it,” Gideon said. Duncan nodded his head slowly. “I do,” he said. “That, and I would like to see the missives your brother has acquired.” “Yes ser,” Gideon said. He kept his face expressionless but he heard his voice harden slightly when he spoke. The anger still lingered in his chest but he was fighting a losing battle to restrain it. He wanted to ask Duncan what was happening here, where the Emperor was. He fought the sensation down. “Should I bring them here or will you and the Emperor be returning with us to the Inn?” Duncan focused on his face, smoke curling up around his features as he considered the question. He pulled the pipe away from his lips for a moment and he spoke calmly, despite the words. “The Emperor’s consumption has made him too sick to be moved.” “Perhaps a surgeon could help with his condition,” Gideon said, a quiet challenge in his voice. It didn’t escape Duncan’s notice. “He hasn’t been to see one,” he answered. “Then an apothecary,” Gideon said. Duncan stared back at him and then shook his head slowly. He looked like he was waiting for something and Gideon felt some of his temper beginning to slip away from him. Had he simply been holed up here with a dying man for all these months? “No? What about a shaman? A magi, or an enchanter?” Duncan didn’t even respond to those, his face schooled into an emotionless mask even as Gideon began to spit the words out. “What about a damned priest?” “Ask your question, Gideon,” he told him quietly. He didn’t flinch in the face of Gideon’s growing anger, even when he felt it making his hands tighten around the arm of his chair. “I am not afraid to hear it.” “You tell me the Emperor is dying,” he said. “What are you doing to save him?” Duncan said nothing for a moment while Gideon quietly seethed. He dared the man to say the words. He dared him to answer the question and he felt the anger his brother had first put in his chest spreading through his veins like wildfire. The man was their Emperor, it was their duty to protect him and keep him safe. “Nothing,” Duncan finally said. “I am doing nothing.” “Nothing.” Gideon repeated the word flatly, letting it sink in for a moment. He sucked in a breath and looked past him through the window, all his words still hanging between them. He had told the man, his Commander, everything that they had done in the Emperor’s name, all the lives they had taken to see him back on his throne and he was wasting away behind stone walls. He sucked in a breath, hands curled into fists on the arms of the chair. “Why?” he demanded sharply. Duncan snorted and shook his head, leaning forward to set his pipe down. “The man wants to die,” he said quietly. “It is only my sworn oath to him that has kept me from ending it quicker for him.” He focused his attention on Gideon and he was numb with the revelation, numb at the thought of Duncan killing the Emperor himself. “He does not want his throne back. He believes his time is over and he waits now only for the end. He says if his brother wants his crown so badly than he is welcome to it, for he has always denied him nothing. The man’s body is still wasting away but I believe his heart and his soul died that day at the Keep.” Gideon felt something snap in him at the words and he pushed himself to his feet, the chair clattering to the ground behind him. “And what about the men that died for him? What about Cathis, Errol, and Palmer? Do their lives mean nothing to him? All the blood that has been shed in his name, all the sacrifices that have been made all for his sake, and he would throw them away so easily?” Pain and anger made his hands shake and he could not fight the feeling that he was breaking. He had dedicated his life to this man and it meant nothing. His sacrifices meant nothing. His blood and his pain meant nothing. Elena’s death meant nothing. He meant nothing. Gideon snorted and waved a hand at Duncan. “And you allow him to do so?” There was sorrow etched on Duncan’s face as he watched him pace in front of the desk, his hands curled into fists and his footsteps quick and uneven as his boots thudded against the ground. “I could force his body to keep living,” Duncan told him. “As you say, there are magi or apothecaries who could aid in that. But I cannot force the man to keep living.” “Allowing him to die is the same as killing him,” Gideon spat. Duncan snorted at the words and watched Gideon’s feet carry him back and forth across the carpet. He crossed his arms over his chest, fingers digging into his ribs like it could somehow hold this pain in and he realized he had been yelling at Duncan without reprisal for the last few moments. “He is the Emperor. It is his duty to live with hard sacrifices just as it is our duty to protect him from the worst of them. Allow me to speak with him.” Duncan frowned at that, lifting an eyebrow at Gideon. “He is not a soldier, Gideon,” he told him. “He is just a man. I am reluctant to let you speak to him. If you upset him than his affliction may take its toll on him and bring his death all the quicker.” “Then you will both get what you want,” Gideon said coldly. © Copyright 2011 .Wolfie., Wenston, (known as GROUP). All rights reserved. GROUP has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
 Log In To Leave Feedback |
Static Items
Books
Forums
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
