Everna's awareness returned in fleeting bouts of consciousness punctuated by eternities of blissful oblivion. There was sound, a distant shuffle of feet and voices — muffled and distorted — then silence. Something touched her shoulder, and again her leg. One moment she was floating, adrift in the ceaseless void of nothingness, and the next she woke to itchy sheets clinging to her sweaty skin.

When she finally opened her eyes, the fuzzy wall of an unfamiliar room greeted her. Her body was heavy, her limbs reluctant to respond. They lay tangled beneath the quilted duvet thrown over her, and even the slightest movement was too great a task.

Her mind was much of the same: thick and muddled. The haze that choked her cognizance smothered her thoughts, leaving them a garbled mess of fragmented pieces — blurry images and vague words of little significance. It took several minutes before she realized she was no longer asleep.

It was several more before she realized she was not in her room. This one was much smaller and barren, built of faded wood rather than polished paneling. Her sword sat propped against the leg of a rickety desk pushed against the wall opposite the bed. A small mirror, framed with tarnished brass, hung above the desk, upon which sat a stack of neatly folded clothes and a set of black leathers. A bag hung from the back of the accompanying chair.

With great effort, Everna pulled herself upright and turned to look out the window beside the bed. Large flakes of snow tumbled from the sky, further burying the small clearing beneath a sea of white. Beyond said clearing stretched a forest of tall oaks intermixed with the occasional brilliant red of a maple tree. Near the edge of the forest stood a small stone stable, the horses inside swaddled in thick blankets as they fed from their troughs.

"Oh, good. You're finally awake."

She turned to the door, her head wobbling. A tall woman — so tall her head nearly touched the top of the door frame — lingered on the other side of the threshold. She wore a dress of pure white and pale gold, which split at the hips. A golden, bejeweled sword hung loosely around her waist. A golden circlet sat snuggly atop the braided crown twisted around her head. She held a small bottle filled with shimmering blue liquid in her hand.

"My name's Leah," she said. Her voice bared the hallmarks of a healer, each word enunciated with care. "The resident cleric, if you will. You caused quite a stir when you arrived."

"And where, exactly, did I arrive?"

Speaking was no easy feat. Everna’s words tumbled from her lips in a slurred mess, her lips refusing to part more than a few inches. She hardly understood herself.

Leah chuckled melodically, and stepped fully into the room. She moved with the grace of a priestess, poised and quiet. When she arrived at the edge of the bed, she uncorked the bottle and pressed it into Everna's hands.

"You're in one of Shadowguard's safe houses, and that is a clarity potion," she explained. "Should help to clear your head. "

Everna's fingers fumbled as she took the bottle. It was cool against her skin, the liquid inside shimmering beneath the glow of the oil lamp burning on the small nightstand beside the bed. Even with her abysmal lack of magical knowledge, she felt the thrum of power contained inside.

The potion was heaven as it slid down her throat. It tasted sweet, a bit like berries, and left no lingering aftertaste — a rarity as far as potions were concerned. Whoever brewed it was no budding alchemist.

It set to work immediately. The fog parted and, much like a veil being lifted, her thoughts sprang into focus. Along with them came the memories of the previous night and the weeks leading up to that event. Clarity, indeed.

"Gods, that's powerful," she said, peering into the now empty bottle.

"A bit too much? I wasn't sure how deep the daze would be, so I brewed a stronger potion as a precaution," Leah said, apologetic. She plucked the empty bottle from her hand and returned the cork to its place. "It won't remedy any lingering exhaustion. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to inform the others you're awake."

She left as quickly as she arrived, closing behind her with a soft click.

With her head clear and feeling much better than she had in days, Everna pushed the covers aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. In place of her dress, she wore a short nightgown, the ends barely long enough to touch her knees. Her coat hung from a hook near the door. On the desk she found her dress, freshly washed.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Where her hair had once fallen to her waist, the ends now brushed the underside of her chin, loose waves sleep-tousled and sticking out at odd angles. She ran her fingers through it, the waves smoothing for only a second before bouncing back into place.

Someone must have fixed it while she was unconscious, though she can't imagine why it would be a concern.

Still, Everna couldn't help but scrunch her nose. She'd never been fond of the shorter styles, though they'd become rather popular in the capital in recent years. It made her face look too round — her cheeks too pudgy. Too dollish.

She supposed she should consider herself fortunate it wasn't any shorter; Windmore hadn't left her with much room.

It'll grow back, she told herself. At least your head's still attached.

Pushing that thought aside, she slipped out of the nightgown and into her dress. She pulled on the pair of plain leather boots set off to the side and, after a moment of thought, belted her sword to her waist. Dressed and decidedly hungry, she opened the door.

The hall beyond, plain and illuminated by candles burning in wall sconces, stretched for nearly a couple hundred feet before it abruptly stopped at the top of a flight of stairs. The sound of conversation drifted up from the main room as she descended, and for a moment, she felt as if she was back in the tavern the night Mayor Ashburn died — only the twisting in her gut wasn't one of foreboding, but nervousness.

She didn't know these people.

Wil was not an ideal model to base her expectations on, and Everna prayed to the Golden Lady they weren't all like him. Leah was a cleric — kindness as a virtue demanded of her by the clergy. With the obvious attempt on her life and the startling realization that she couldn't even trust the Guard, the thought of walking into a room full of strangers seemed more daunting than ever.

"She has to go. She cannot stay here," a woman said, her voice shrill and nasally. There was a pompous flare to her words and a hint of an accent not found in Inverness. "She's going to lead them right to us!"

Everna stepped off the last step and into the small alcove beyond, but, upon hearing that statement, her legs refused to move further.

"Vina's right, Osain," a man, said. He sounded almost reluctant. "Why should we stick our necks out for her? She's not part of Shadowguard. It's not worth the risk. Not with them involved."

Everna bit the inside of her cheek, her hands fisting into the folds of her skirt. Perhaps she wasn't hungry after all. Rest seemed like the better option. Leah said she needed that as well.

Yet, despite her better judgment, she remained there, listening.

"Thanks to her, Shroud knows we have a post in this area," the pompous woman continued. "They're nosing around the border as we speak!"

"Osain, please listen to reason for once," another voice chimed in, soft and pleading. "Her situation's unfortunate, but Vina and Cedric are right. The risk of keeping her here is too great."

"Useless cowards, the lot of them."

Everna startled. Wil's voice didn't come from the room beyond, but from her right. He lingered in the corner of her peripheral vision, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His fingers dug into the blackened leather encasing his frame and his knuckles bled white. It seemed with every word they said, his irritation only grew.

"What are they talking about?" Everna asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

Wil shook his head. "You going out there or not?"

"No, I think I'm going back upstairs, actually."

"You're going to have to face them, eventually. Might as well do it while Osain's here to keep them in line."

Everna pinned him with a withering glare. "Last time I took your advice, I ended up getting shot with an arrow. I don't exactly trust your judgment."

Just as she started up the stairs, he pushed off the wall. He caught her by the arm, and before she could protest further, he hauled her out of the alcove and into the main room.

"If that's the attitude you lot have, then you may as well hand over your badges and cart your sorry asses out the door." Wil's words were like knives, edged with thinly veiled malice and disgust. "Maybe it's for the best. You idiots clearly can't even pay attention to what's going on around you."

Every eye in the room settled on him — on her. Everna's hand dropped to her sword, the familiar leather-wrapped hilt a small comfort. The action didn't go unnoticed. Two of them, who appeared to be siblings, reached for their own weapons as well.

"You cannot be serious!" the pompous woman scoffed. She turned to face Wil and placed her hands on her hips, a mess of bejeweled rings glittering on her fingers. "I couldn't care less if that broad was standing there. I am not leaving, nor am I risking my life because you want to play hero. She's leaving now, and I will not accept no for an answer. Gods knows we don't need her spreading whatever diseases she has."

Everna scowled. Everything from the disgustingly lavish dress wrapped around her willowy frame to the way she turned her nose up at the sight of her reeked of privilege. She reminded her of the noble daughters she'd dealt with at the academy; haughty and arrogant.

Looking at her now, Everna could place the accent. Anwellians were notorious for their presumptuous flare and abject disregard for those they perceived as beneath them. The corruption that ran rampant within their kingdom's nobility was the very reason Inverness's court system contained various safeguards to limit the power of the ruling factions.

"You'll accept whatever answer I give you."

The man who spoke was much older than the rest, his dark hair peppered with strands of gray. An air of authority, one that strangely reminded her of her mother when someone tested her patience, surrounded him. His tone brokered no argument, and though she seemed pained to do so, the brunette clamped her mouth shut.

"And since you all seem to have forgotten what Shadowguard does, let me remind you," he continued. The other three shrank beneath the weight of his glare, curling into themselves like scolded children. "Sticking our necks out for people is the point of everything we do. If you can't even follow the most basic demands of the organization, you have no business being here. I hear one more complaint from any of you and I'll throw the lot of you out. Do I make myself clear?"

When no one voiced their dissent, he waved them off.

The brunette stomped her foot, a half-choked shriek slipping past her gritted teeth, and stormed for the stairs. Everna stepped out of her way, narrowly avoiding the shoulder aimed at hers. Wil's foot shifted, almost as if he meant to trip her, but he seemed to think better of it. The other two, thoroughly admonished, shuffled off through the door behind the bar. Only Leah, who sat at a table on the far side of the room, remained.

"Don't pay Vina any mind," Leah said with an apologetic smile. "The bark is worse than the bite."

Everna blew out a sigh. "But no less annoying."

The man, whom she assumed was Osain, turned to her, his eyes narrowed. He looked at her the way one looked at a complicated puzzle — with critical appraisal and a touch of curiosity. It was difficult not to squirm beneath the intensity of his gaze.

"So you're the one who's been causing so much trouble lately," he said. "Can't say I understand why."

Some would take offense to such a statement, but Everna wasn't so easily put off by the truth. She didn't understand it either. Beyond Windmore's utter insanity and his vendetta against her family, she couldn't think of a single reason someone would target her with such persistence. Her parents made many enemies during their adventuring days, but she was not her parents. There weren't tales of her exploits penned into the pages of a book or imprinted upon the strings of a lyre. There wasn't a plaque or a statue dedicated to her heroics in the kingdom's capital.

She was nothing but a lowly barmaid in a small town tavern.

"Unless it's my parents they're after, I couldn't tell you," she admitted. "Considering who's involved, I can't help but wonder if that's the case."

Osain dismissed her speculations with a shake of his head. "Shroud doesn't beat around the bush. If they were after your parents, you wouldn't be the one standing here."

Everna frowned. "Shroud?"

"The antithesis of Shadowguard," Wil said, startling her. She'd forgotten he was there. "They once controlled the entire region, until Shadowguard forced them to retreat into the northern half. They've been trying to regain that control since."

That explanation made little sense to her. She'd never heard of such an organization, nor had she heard of a unifying force within the region. A few exceptions aside, Trellan was never anything more than a collection of scattered, independent kingdoms with minimal contact and limited political relations.

"They're pure evil," Leah spat, as if the words were poison on her tongue. "A death cult, and one of the worst in the region. There are no words, in any language, strong enough to express how vile they are."

"What would an organization like that want with me?" Everna asked.

"That's the golden question, isn't it? If you were in a position of power, it'd makes sense," Osain said. "Shroud doesn't deal with the common folk, at least not in the way they are with you. They'd sooner slaughter you in the name of their god and toss your body on the altar."

Everna repressed a shudder. "And what makes you think this... Shroud is after me?"

Wil jabbed his finger into her shoulder, right where the arrow struck her the night before. "Because that's who came after us in the woods. They're the only ones who use the arrow you got hit with."

"And praise the Golden Lady, you had enough sense not to pull it free," Leah interjected. "Those arrows are rather nasty. Had you removed it yourself, you'd have lost your arm, if not bleed to death first. Internal damage isn't easy to mend, even for a skilled cleric."

Again, she forced aside a shudder. When Andryll was first teaching her to shoot, she'd made the mistake of pointing the bow downward while drawing the string. Her hand slipped, and she'd spent the following hour seated on the bar, a rag between her teeth, as her mother removed the arrow from her foot. It took three healing potions to mend the damage, and she still had a scar both on top and beneath the arch of her foot.

Andryll had given her the lecture of the century after that one.

"From what we've gathered so far, their plans in Pendel hinged on your execution," Wil said, bringing the conversation back to the subject at hand.

"Were they to hang me, the Courts wouldn't look further into Mayor Ashburn's assassination," she muttered. "It would close the case."

Inverness had several quirks in the laws that encouraged framings. Once the Courts adjudicated a verdict, regardless of the outcome, the case closed. They couldn't accept evidence submitted after the fact, even if to the contrary, and they could only use the previously submitted evidence during an appeal. For that reason the Courts took their time; they had to be thorough and not overlook anything.

In her case, however, they never released an official verdict; they merely dropped the charges, and done so early enough to reinstate the case later on if needed. Until the Courts announced their verdict, the investigation would continue, though to what extent remained to be seen. As the oldest and longest-serving member of Pendel's guard, Captain Windmore would assume Sir Swiftbrook's position until the capital dispatched another knight to take his place.

It would be utterly foolish to think he would do his duty properly.

"And I suspect the Courts knew that was the intention," Wil agreed. "At least, the more rational of them. Some wanted to try you as an accessory to murder to avoid closing the case."

"They couldn't," she countered. "That would imply I knew of the murder and aided it, which I didn't, nor do they have evidence that I did. If anyone would catch that charge, it'd be Windmore."

And she was back to square one. With the Guard compromised and her all too public escape from town, she had no recourse against Windmore's ploy. Even if she informed the Courts of his admission, they would question the circumstances that led to it, which would only complicate her case. Windmore would lie, and she suspected the Courts would sooner take his word over hers.

"Gods, there's no way out of this, is there?"

"Not without jumping through Shroud's hoops," Osain said. "Shroud's agents have limited contact with each other to ensure the capture of one won't jeopardize their plans."

Assuming Windmore was in league with this mysterious cult, arresting him would get her nowhere. She would need to find the ringleader, and undeniable proof against Windmore's claims, to persuade them to declare her innocent.

Her head hurt just imagining the mental game she'd have to play once — if — she ever saw the stand.

"The good news is that Shroud always has a handler nearby," Osain said. "There's always a Taskmaster that knows the full plan. Someone has to give the grunts their orders."

"Snuff out the pawns, and you'll eventually find your way to their Taskmaster," Leah agreed. "We know that Calden Windmore was aware of the assassination and that he was likely the one responsible for framing you. We also know there was at least one other person involved — the assassin who killed Mayor Ashburn."

Everna pinched the bridge of her nose. Shadowguard didn't have the answers she'd hoped for. Their understanding of the situation was only slightly better than her own.

"I heard rumors that Windmore's son intended to run in the upcoming election," she said. "Whether they're true, it's a clear motive for the assassination."

"That's the first I'm hearing of this," Wil said.

Everna glared at him. "Banor, the smithy, said he'd heard those rumors. I'd also reached the conclusion that something was amiss with the Guard while we were inside the post. I tried to tell you that, but you wouldn't listen to anything I had to say."

"While Wil can be more aggressive than necessary," Leah said, sounding much like a mother finding fault in her child, "we could not dismiss the possibility you weren't as innocent as you claimed. The sword was, well, a bit too obvious."

Wil rolled his eyes. "I've proved otherwise, haven't I?"

"And you did such a great job," Osain drawled. "Neither of you can set foot in the town again, and now I have to find someone else to do the job you should've been doing."

Everna cleaned her throat. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Osain's expression softened, if only just, as he turned back to her. "If Shroud is so desperate to have you killed, then the best thing we can do is keep you alive. You'll be staying here until we get a handle on the situation."

Not like I can do anywhere else, she thought. She may as well be a fugitive now. If she set foot inside the kingdom's borders, the Guard would arrest her. As far as she knew, there were no other kingdoms or settlements nearby, save the elves. They would sooner put an arrow through her skull than grant her asylum, even if she arrived bearing Andryll's grace.

"So I'm to do nothing?"

"Not nothing. We can only do so much to protect you. It'd be better for all of us if you learned to fend for yourself.” Osain jerked his thumb towards Wil. "And he's going to make sure that happens."

Wil flung his hands up in exasperation. "Oh, sure. It's not like I have nothing else to do."

"Not anymore, you don't. You dragged her into this, more than she should've been; she's your responsibility," Osain said with finality. "Besides, I don't trust the others not to scare her off."

Leah rose from her seat then and motioned towards the second door set into the wall behind the bar. "Well, with that settled, let's see about getting your something to eat before Wil puts you through the wringer, shall we?"

Tension

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