Twenty-Second of Leaffell, Year 1413 AGC

Shroud preferred violence, and the bloodier, the better. It'd been all too easy for Evelina to slip into her old habits, even if her joints weren't as limber and her constitution less than it once was. Scaling walls may be more difficult, and she'd likely throw her back out with a simple flip, but at nearly sixty winters, she had what many of Shroud's younger agents lacked — experience.

Captain Windmore's lapdogs learned that lesson the hard way.

"I asked for a list of names, Evelina," Pala said, peering down at the pile of bloodstained pins carelessly thrown onto her tea table. "Not dead agents."

"They attacked me first." Evelina leaned back against the disgustingly plush couch in front of the table, her back sinking into the soft cushions. Gods, she hated that couch. It reminded her too much of the one Mikha kept in his office. "What did you expect me to do? Let them stab me?"

With a long-suffering sigh, Pala asked, "Where did you get these?"

"The Guard post."

Pala seized the pillow and hurled it. Evelina may not be as quick as she once was, but Pala was never a good shot to begin with. She leaned a few inches to the left as the pillow sailed harmlessly past her head and collided with a shelf lined with fanciful trinkets, behind her. The antique Anvardian vase above her head, which Pala had plucked from the wreckage of the lost kingdom’s castle, wobbled.

"And yet you wonder why your daughter thought breaking into the post was a good idea," Pala muttered. "Lovely. Now I have to come up with a reasonable explanation for why five of Pendel's Guard turned up dead overnight. One that does not incriminate you or your daughter. As if I don't already have enough to do!"

"In all fairness, no one's seen Everna in over a month."

Even as she spoke those words, anxiety clawed at her gut. If Pala hadn't sworn by the gods that Everna was safe, she'd be tearing the region to shreds looking for her. The thought still crossed her mind from time to time, and gods help her, Ronan spent most nights worrying himself sick in the meantime. Evelina wasn't sure she could hold him together for much longer.

The last report of Everna's whereabouts came the morning following her escape from Pendel. The Guard believed that she, along with the rat responsible for her involvement in the ordeal, fled across the border and disappeared somewhere in the Wildlands. It was a wise decision, Evelina had to admit. There was a fortunate quirk in the Inverness's laws which negated all arrests made beyond the kingdom's borders regardless of the severity of the crime. Not one of Windmore's goons knew where she'd gone.

Though leaving the kingdom spared her from the gross overreach of the Courts, it would not spare her from Shroud nor the dangers beyond the border. Though Shadowguard controlled the southern part of the region (at least, they liked to believe they did), Shroud still ran rampant in the unclaimed lands. There were the usual dangers to consider as well; the Wildlands, especially near the mountains, were orc and goblin territory. The thought left her stomach in knots.

The goblins would feed her to whatever monstrosity commanded them, and she didn't dare dwell on what might come of it if the orcs found her. They had little regard for anyone but their own kind, but their fondness for women, especially human women, was revolting. Evelina would sooner wish for her daughter's death, if only to spare her the unspeakable.

She'd never survive on her own. Not in the Wildlands.

Everna might be headstrong and a bit of a scrapper, but she was soft as a lamb at heart. Because of that, Ronan didn't push her as much as he pushed Corden; their daughter simply did not have the grit to take a life. Even if Everna somehow found the will to do so, Evelina doubted she'd have the strength to handle the repercussions. Shroud, Shadowguard, and the monstrosities of the Wildlands would take advantage of that.

Pushing that unpleasant thought aside, Evelina said, "Same story you were planning to tell the town to begin with, with a little altering: Windmore's guilty of treason and they threatened to expose him, so he silenced them."

Pala pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes, well, I first have to convince the town that Windmore is guilty of treason, which is no easy feat, given the scene your daughter made that night. Windmore will not stop reminding everyone that he has both her boots and her hair as evidence."

"Maybe if you hadn't told Gillan to stay quiet, it wouldn't be so much of a problem."

"And expose my spy? Evelina, you know better," Pala said. "I've already sowed the seeds of doubt among the more prominent townspeople, but it will take time for them to gain precedence. You know how spooked some of them are. The elders won't open their mouths for fear of drawing Shroud's attention. Andryll and Banor are the only two willing to speak in Everna's defense."

Because they're not gutless weasels, Evelina thought.

Andryll and Banor remembered the worst of it; they were under Shroud's dominion long before she'd come into the world. They'd been the first to join Arden and Ronan in their campaign against Mikha and the loudest opposing Shroud. She'd learned, much later on, that they helped Arden escape, just as they'd helped her when she could no longer stomach the atrocities she committed in Shroud's name.

"And you've kept your silence," Evelina pointed out.

Pala wrung her hands together, the picture of poised calm. "It would not do Everna any favors if I were to take a stance. Our perceived noninvolvement is the only thing keeping Shroud from moving against us. Without us, there will be no one to dispose of Windmore and his subordinates. Until that happens, it won't be safe for Everna to return to Pendel."

Evelina scowled. "If I ever get my hands on that Shadowguard rat—"

"That rat, as you insist upon calling him, spared her the noose," Pala interjected. "Ironic, isn't it? He both loosened it and tightened it at the same time. Though the fact remains, she would not have escaped both the Courts and Windmore without his aid."

Damn her and her flawless logic.

Per Gillan's report, Windmore meant to lure Everna to the Guard post under the pretense of a summons from Sir Swiftbrook. Had things gone as planned and she arrived alone, he would've caught her at the scene. If Shadowguard's rat hadn't expedited those plans, it would be her daughter's grave before her, not Pala's disgustingly lavish study.

And until Windmore lost his temporary control over Pendel's Guard, it remained a possibility; he would execute Everna without delay to ensure no one could prevent it a second time.

"Once my son arrives, it won't matter," Evelina grumbled. "Corden will undoubtedly trust Gillan's word before he trusts Windmore's, and no one in Inverness would dare question the judgment of a High Knight."

Pala ran a hand through her hair, her fingers snagging on her curls. "If the capital doesn't see his connection to Everna as an issue."

Ah, that pesky issue. Evelina had considered that when she sent the request, but Corden was her son. He would push the Courts to the limits of their patience and beyond until they relented. If they refused still, she had plenty of material that Corden could use as leverage.

She kept that thought to herself. Pala would not approve of those methods, as they violated their agreement with King Keeland. If they weren't careful, they might join Everna at the gallows. The Courts would hold them accountable for their history with Shroud.

"I'd wager the capital's prepared to send whoever's going to sort this mess, regardless of their familial ties," Evelina said instead. "Perhaps they believe Windmore is responsible. They may see my son as, well, bait. Windmore would not take well to having one of Ronan's children ordering him around."

Pala narrowed her eyes, her lips pressed into a firm line. "You believe the capital may attempt to use him to accomplish what they couldn't with Everna?"

"Finish what Everna started," Evelina corrected. "She did pressure Windmore into moving again, which, if your sources are correct, was the Courts' intention."

Pala turned to the window, her jaw set. "Corden may rectify the immediate dilemma, but it will not exonerate Everna. My sources in the Courts say many of them aren't as convinced of her innocence as they were before Sir Swiftbrook's death. Being framed twice seems a bit too convenient in their eyes — and many believe she may have broken into the Guard post to interfere with the investigation, which is a direct breech of the agreement she made with the Inquisitor."

Evelina blew out an irritated breath. Both Pala and Sir Swiftbrook knew of the Courts' insane gambit, but neither felt it necessary to inform her of it. It wasn't until after Everna fled that Pala, reluctantly, explained the situation. She should've known, but Everna never mentioned a word of it, and she'd assume the Courts had enough sense to see through such an obvious framing.

She also should've known the Courts would have their hand in it. They were not the moral and just entity they paraded, but another cog in the ever-spinning apparatus of corruption that was the kingdom's ruling factions. Evelina would bet every coin in the tavern's overflowing coffers that most of the Arbiters knew of what was happening in Pendel and actively impeded any attempts to settle it on any other terms but their own. It would not be the first time the Courts acted in Shroud's interests.

It was a wonder Shadowguard could stay the noose. Shroud might have failed to hang her daughter, but they'd stirred up enough trouble that only a direct confession from the assassination could pull Everna out of it. Intentional or not — and she was certain Windmore acted of his own accord, as he so often did — Shroud destroyed Everna's reputation beyond repair. Should she somehow get her hands on it, the Courts would discredit and discard any evidence she had of her innocence.

That may be why they released her; they knew she'd come before them again.

Evelina released another sigh. If Everna had told her from the start, she could've done something. She'd have kept a closer eye on Windmore. She wouldn't have let her go to the Post alone.

What in the Nine Realms was her daughter thinking, keeping all of it to herself?

A moment of tense silence stretched between them. Pala's fingers twitched as she wrung them tighter together. She pressed her lips into a thin line. Her foot bounced, a near imperceptible shift in her skirt. Uncertainty danced in her eyes.

Evelina frowned. "What is it?"

The barest of sighs escaped Pala's lips. "I'll be honest with you, Fee. I'm not making these decisions on my own."

The sound of her old nickname gave her pause; Pala hadn't called her that in years.

Pala hesitated. "Osain and I—"

Before Pala's admission registered, the study door creaked open. A young maid scurried into the study, a tea tray balanced precariously in her hands. "Apologies for the delay, Lady Ashburn. The new maid prepared the wrong tea."

Pala waved her off. "I've never been too concerned with which tea I drink so long as it's hot."

The maid inclined her head with deference. She set the tray on the table and promptly poured two cups. Pala took hers into her hands, sipping at the steaming liquid. Evelina hesitated — old habits died hard. She didn't trust a drink she didn't make herself, not until she tested it.

Pala wouldn't spike it, but she couldn't say the same of the maids. They were the most unassuming, and for that reason, the most dangerous. Shroud often infiltrated noble and royal households by employing the serving staff or by integrating their agents among them. Evelina had spent many a month in Castle Inversa slipping sedatives and poisons into the Lords' and Ladies' drinks at the behest of Shroud.

She didn't doubt for a second that Shroud had slipped a spy into Pala's household; that would be the first place they sent one, if they weren't in the tavern.

With a slight bow of her head, the maid took her leave.

When the door closed, Evelina seized one of the embroidered throw pillows from the couch beside her and lobbed it at Pala's head. "Osain?! Are you fucking insane?!"

Pala batted aside the pillow. "And you wonder why no one tells you anything. Every time you hear something you don't like, you throw things. Though I should be grateful that it was a pillow and not a dagger."

"I have half a mind to throw a dagger too! Osain?! Of all people?!"

"He's worked for Shadowguard for nearly twenty years now," Pala said, holding up a placating hand. "He's had Everna for the last month. Soon to be two, now. He's doing everything he can to keep her safe, I can promise you that. You know I wouldn't leave my niece with someone I couldn't trust."

Anxiety clawed at her throat. Osain was one of the worst to come out of Shroud's training halls — Mikha's favorite lapdog. The last time their paths crossed, he nearly took her and Ronan out. Ronan had never recovered from those injuries.

He must've tricked Pala into believing he could be trusted. If he had joined Shadowguard, it wasn't for a change of heart. Osain was as ruthless as they came. There was absolutely no way someone like him switched sides.

"If you think you can trust Osain—"

A violent tremor ripped through the town hall.

It struck with such force that the entire building swayed. Trinkets tumbled off the shelf and a wooden carving clipped Evelina in the back of the head. The tea table shifted, slamming into the edge of Pala's couch, and the teapot shot to the floor, shattering on impact. The crystal chandelier swung wildly on its chain.

"What in the name of the gods?!" Pala cried. She stumbled out of her seat, the front of her evening gown soaked with tea.

Ringing silence settled over the study. Evelina reached for one of the many daggers on her person, her gaze sweeping the room. Aside from the furniture and trinkets dislodged in the tremor, nothing seemed out of place. Pala followed suit, plucking a dagger from beneath her skirt.

"What was that about Shroud not moving against us?"

"There was a reason I asked for names, not pins," Pala chided.

"I told you I didn't have—"

A flash of light appeared in the corners of Evelina's eyes. She spun to face the large arched window, which overlooked the town square, in time to see a brilliant ball of light streak past. Not a second later, the back wall of the study exploded in a violent burst of flames.

The ensuing tremor ripped through the study. The chandelier broke free of its chain and crashed to the floor, narrowly missing Pala. Her temple caught the edge of the tea table as she lost her footing. Evelina herself tumbled back onto the couch as a wave of unbearable heat flooded the room. The fringes of the flames brushed the back of Pala's couch, the quilted embroidery alight. Black smoke choked the air.

Within moments, Pala's study transformed into a sea of roiling flames. Through the gaps in the fire, Evelina could see the town below. Lights flickered on in the nearby buildings and the shadowy outlines of people stumbled into the streets. The frigid winter air did nothing to stem the heat; the winds that funneled through the hole ripped into the side of the building only fanned the flames higher.

Cursing, Evelina vaulted over the tea table and knelt beside Pala. She was limp, blood spilling from the gash along her temple. Flames licked at her feet, orange tendrils reaching for the hem of her dress. The couch blocked the brunt of the blast, but the left side of her face, as well as her left hand, was burnt. Upon placing her fingers next to the frail bones of her wrist, Evelina found a pulse.

She was alive, albeit unconscious.

Evelina glanced at the hole, then at the door. Pala's study was on the third floor of the town hall. If she were twenty years younger, she might have had the strength to scale the walls with Pala on her back. Even in her prime, it would've been difficult, but not impossible.

Now her back ached at the mere thought of it.

The door would have to do. Fire of magical origin spread more quickly than a natural flame; she had minutes, if that, to get them both out before the building collapsed. She may not make it down the walls quickly enough.

She'd be lucky to make it out at all.

As she hauled Pala off the ground and over her shoulder, a large section of the floor near the point of impact gave way. Flames rose from the pit, the tendrils snapping at the frigid air like whips, as chunks of the floor crashed into what should be the conference hall, if she remembered the lay out correctly. She rarely bothered with the lower floors; Pala lived in the upper two, which had a separate entrance at the back of the building.

Fire bit at her heels as she shouldered open the study's doors. Smoke, so thick she could hardly see more than a few feet ahead of her, burned her eyes. The floor shifted underfoot; the heated wood bowing beneath her weight. Flames spilled out of the open door behind her, bathing the end of the hall in an ominous orange glow.

Sweat slicked her hands as she readjusted her grip on Pala, her fingers tangled in the collar of her dress. Her chest burned with smoke and effort, her knees aching. It'd been years since she last had to haul someone much larger than her out of harm's way, and while Pala was significantly smaller than Ronan, Evelina was smaller still.

"I'm getting too old for this shit," she muttered.

Cinders struck her wherever her armor allowed, and she gritted her teeth as the glowing flecks of fiery wood and cloth seared her skin.

A board crumbled beneath her foot, and she barely stumbled forward in time to avoid the column of flames that shot through the opening. With a loud crash from somewhere behind her, another section of the floor gave out. She could barely hear herself think over the sudden roar of the inferno as it reached a fever pitch.

Heat pressed upon her from all sides. A racking cough tore through her chest, her vision blurring with tears. She stumbled into the heated wall. A beam tumbled from the ceiling and crashed to the floor behind her, narrowly missing Pala's feet.

Just when she thought she'd run out of air, the fog thinned and the entry way appeared before her. She hurried the last few feet despite the agony burning within her chest. She wrenched the lock free, ignoring how her skin blistered upon contact with the searing metal, and kicked the door open.

Beautiful, blessed fresh air flooded her lungs. Hacking, Evelina stumbled down the stairs leading to the small paved garden behind the town hall. No sooner than she reached the final step, her knees gave out, and she tumbled, face first, into the stone. Pala slid off her back and landed beside her with the hollow crack of her skull on the pavement.

The chill of the stone soothed the tender skin of Evelina’s palms, numbing the pain just enough that she couldn't feel the blisters forming on the heels of her hands. Burn holes littered her cloak, her leathers smoldering in places. She lay there for a moment, gulping down greedy lungfuls of air between the horrendous bouts of coughing.

"You should've just stayed in the fire, Fiadh. Or is it Evelina now?"

Evelina could hardly lift her head, and upon seeing what stepped from the shadows before her, she wished she hadn't. Draped in dark robes and wreathed in shadows, the Shroud agent towered over her, his sword gleaming beneath the firelight.

She recognized the voice, but she couldn't place the name or the face it belonged to. It was there, if only just — a distorted image of a man that refused to come to fruition. Her thoughts were fuzzy, disjointed, and buried deep beneath the haze of smoke. Her arms trembled as she struggled to keep herself upright. If she reached for her dagger, she'd fall.

Something bitter pitted in her chest. Evelina had hoped she'd go peacefully, at a ripe old age, home and surrounded by her family. In the furthest reaches of her mind, however, she knew Shroud would end her for her betrayal long before that. She'd always assumed she'd put up more of a fight. It seemed neither would be the case.

The agent stepped fully from the shadows as if out for a morning stroll. Eyes, dark and cold, peeked out from beneath the mask that covered his face. Evelina had looked into those eyes before, many years ago. She knew that much.

"Staying out of things was never your specialty," he said, his voice patronizing and pitying. "Though, I expected more resistance. Even that little brat of yours puts up more of a fight."

Despite the overwhelming surge of panic that gripped her heart at the mere thought of Shroud having had any contact with her daughter, her vision darkened at the edges, her eyelids heavy. Her arms gave out, and she crumbled to the ground, another racking cough tearing from her throat.

"I should've expected it, I suppose," the agent continued. "You may have been one of the best assassins Shroud ever trained — maybe even better than your brother — but in the end, you're still mostly human. That always was your greatest weakness."

Damn it all.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same."

At the sound of the voice, her panic subsided and her heart swelled with both hope and pride. The the blessed curved tip of an iridescent falchion burst through the agent's chest. He froze, his eyes wide with shock. Even in her daze, Evelina knew it wouldn't be enough to kill him; it missed his heart by several inches.

With a frustrated growl, the agent burst into shadow and vanished from sight.

The last thing Evelina saw before her vision left her entirely was her son, draped in gleaming plate, kneeling before her.

Aflame

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