"For someone so intelligent, you're an utter fool."

Everna couldn't argue with that. Drinking herself incognizant hadn't been the brightest idea she'd had. The incessant pounding behind her skull and the lethargy that smothered her like a heavy blanket served as a pointed reminder of that. She'd let her guard down and after two months of chasing after her, Shroud finally had her in their clutches.

Bitter cold shackles bit into her arms, which were drawn high above her head. The chain holding her to the wall was only a few links long, and far up the wall. She stood on the tips of her toes, her elbows locked stiff and her shoulders straining as if they were seconds from popping out of their sockets. Numbness stung at her fingertips; she could barely feel Leah's ring on her finger.

Perhaps Leah had concealed it with magic, after all. Aside from her undergarments, Shroud left her with nothing else. They'd taken her sword, dress, cloak and even her heels.

The wall at her back was slick with mildew, but smooth to the touch. Dusty stone brick compromised the walls of the small cell. A large metal door, half rusted, took up the wall across from her. On the other side of it stood Landen, draped in the dark robes of Shroud's agents, a thin mask bunched beneath his chin. His eyes weren't on her so much as they were on her chest, and she did not like what she saw in them.

She could count the times she'd spoken to Landen on one hand, though she'd known him since they were children. He sat behind her in the schoolhouse throughout most of their early schooling, but he was so quiet and easily overlooked. She'd taken pity on him and, against her better judgment, tried to befriend him.

It only lasted for a little under a year before he tried to court her and ruined it all. They were ten then, and Everna was still firmly of the opinion boys were too gross for that sort of thing. Landen hadn't taken well to her refusal. He'd shoved her off the edge of a dock and into the Slipsunder River in retaliation. She'd hit her head on the pylon as she went under, leaving her with a weeping gash and a knot that took over a week to fade. In the ensuing fight, she’d broken his nose before Lyra pulled them apart.

Though she had many childhood scraps, she and Landen never reconciled. Something about him had rubbed her the wrong way after that. The quiet he had about him wasn't shyness or hesitance any longer, but the uncomfortable sort that made her skin crawl with trepidation, as if she couldn't be sure he wouldn't stab her in the back with his quill. The only contact she'd had with him since then was in the tavern — she asked what he wanted and he ordered, curtly, then left as soon as the drink was in his hand.

He couldn't still be mad about that, could he? It was so long ago she'd nearly forgotten about it. Though, now that she thought of it, he had that same look in his eyes then — a deranged sort of fury right before he shoved her off the dock. He'd seemed almost disappointed when she resurfaced.

Bitter dread flooded her mouth. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of him since Mayor Ashburn's death. Pala attributed it to guilt, but now Everna suspected it wasn't a matter of remorse. It was intentional scarcity to subvert suspicion. There wasn't a hint of guilt in his eyes, only depravity.

"I knew there was something wrong with you," she said, swallowing the anxious lump building in her throat. "I knew there was a reason I didn't like you."

Landen scowled, his dark eyes filled with disdain. "You always thought you were better than everyone else."

She rolled her eyes. If she had a coin for every time she heard that, the nobility would balk at her wealth. Those without confidence perceived anything short of blatant insecurity as arrogance. It was easier for them to feel better about themselves if they discredited everyone they perceived as a threat to their fragile egos.

"Well, I am better than you, all things considered. I'm not the one throwing my lot in with murderers."

His nostrils flared, and Everna bit back a satisfied smile. "And yet, you've been running around with Shadowguard — a pitiful band of wanna-be assassins and spies."

"Correction: I'm not the one throwing my lot in with demented lunatics."

Landen laughed. It bordered on maniacal; the sound was enough to make her skin crawl. "It's about the only hope you have, sweetheart."

Her stomach churned. Yet Everna suppressed a shudder and forced her expression to remain neutral. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten under her skin. That would only encourage him further.

"You're free to think that," she countered, "but I can promise you, it won't happen. You've caught me, but that's all you've accomplished. If you think you can scare me into yielding, you don't know me as well as you think you do."

Landen leaned forward, his face pressed against the bars. A wicked grin split his face and, once again, she swallowed the urge to shudder. He looked demented, the look in his eyes the same as the look Windmore gave her the night he arrested her.

"It will, if you care about what happens to your family."

Everna laughed. Despite the situation, it rose from her throat, and louder than intended. She wasn't a famed adventurer like her father or a former assassin like her mother, nor was she the youngest knight ever inducted into the High Knights like her brother. She was nothing but an academy drop out stuck working her parents' bar. They couldn't even kill her and they thought they stood a chance against her family?

"I didn’t know you had a sense of humor, Landen. I mean, really. You expect me to believe Shroud's giving me an ultimatum when they've wanted me dead this whole time? I'm not an idiot, regardless of what you think."

"Plans changed," he said as he pulled a set of keys off his belt. With a soft click, the lock disengaged, and the door swung open, quiet on its hinges. "Seems our Taskmaster's decided you have far too much potential to waste, though I can't imagine why. There's better uses for someone like you, but, fortunately for you, I'm not in charge."

Everna flexed her aching fingers, a mess of pins and needles shooting through her arm. The ring turned once. Twice.

Golden Lady, please let this work, she prayed. She had one chance to escape, and it hinged on Landen's unwitting cooperation.

"Something tells me no one cares what you think," she scoffed. "I suppose that's where you're taking me now? To see your precious little Taskmaster?"

"Keep talking, sweetheart," he said, slipping the key into the lock above her head. He pressed against her, shoving her further against the wall. His breath was hot against her ear as he spoke, and she barely restrained the urge to gag. "You never knew when to keep your mouth shut. I can't wait to see that snarky attitude of yours come back to bite you in the ass."

"I could say the same to you," she shot back.

If there was ever a time for Lady Luck to pull through, she had. The chains released and her arms, though still bound by the shackles, dropped. Her shoulders relaxed as the tension slipped from them, her hands heavy and stinging. Everna didn't waste a second.

“Aim for the balls”, her father always said.

That's exactly what she did.

The resounding slap that echoed through the cell as she slammed her knee into the junction between his legs filled her with immeasurable satisfaction. Landen's eyes bulged, his face contorted with pain as he crumbled to the floor with a soundless groan. Everna leaned down to retrieve the abandoned keys.

Blood rushed back to her hands as the shackles fell away. Ignoring the ache in her joints and the rapidly intensifying pain in her fingers, she wasted no time securing the shackles around his ankles. His leg twitched, as if he meant to kick at her, but he only curled further into himself, seething through his teeth.

"I'll fucking kill you for that."

Everna hummed as she secured the shackles. "You can try, but given Shroud's failure so far, all I hear are empty threats."

She unstrung his bow from his shoulder and liberated the accompanying quiver of arrows. It would be far easier to shoot him and be done with it, but as with Windmore, keeping him alive better served her circumstances. If Landen had indeed killed Mayor Ashburn, then he was her means of clearing up her issue with the Courts. Leah would worm the confession out of him if needed.

Keys in hand, she hurried to the cell door and peered into the hall beyond. She was at the far end, her cell butted up against the end of the corridor, which stretched for a couple hundred feet to her left. Dim torches, lit with a sickly red glow, lined the spaces between the cells. There were no guards.

She stepped from the cell and pulled the door shut behind her, the lock clicking into place. "Just do me a favor and stay there? Okay? I'll have my brother collect you shortly."

A string of curses and a pained groan was his only answer.

Keeping her eyes peeled, she restrung the bow, then pulled an arrow free of the quiver. It was heavier than the ones her father kept on hand, and the head wasn't the typical triangular shape she saw among the Guard. Still, an arrow was an arrow. This hall might be empty, but others may not be.

Maybe I should thank my parents when this is all over, she thought as she crept towards the opening at the end of the cell block.

They might have smothered her compared to her brother, but what they had taught her over the years proved more useful than not these days. At the very least, it aided the sheer luck and utter stupidity that kept her alive. Lisette might be onto something; maybe there was a god looking out for her after all. Perhaps Lady Luck hadn't abandoned her after all.

While the hall remained barren, the cells weren't as empty as she had hoped. Skeletal remains and half-rotted globs of flesh sat within the darkened corner of one. In another, she spotted a man curled into a ball, rocking back and forth, muttering under his breath. More unpleasant sights awaited her: a pair of Shroud agents lying in a pool of dried blood, their arms twisted at sickening angles; another agent with empty voids where their eyes once were; a skeleton that looked too misshapen to be human; and something so mutilated she couldn't tell what it was.

She leaned against the wall just before the corner and released a shaky breath. Her head ached, the incessant pounding that greeted her when she woke more prominent now. The torches weren't as bright as the ones in the tavern, but they were still too bright. She'd spent what little energy she had escaping the cell. Now, she hadn't the slightest clue where she was or where to go.

The damned hangover wasn't helping matters.

Hungover or not, she had to find a way out before someone realized she'd escaped. Just as she swallowed her reservations and moved to peer around the corner, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. With a silent curse, she readied the arrow.

While her skill with a sword left more to be desired, her skill with the bow was nowhere near as bad. It was one of the few things she'd taken to with ease, though she'd never been fond of it. It left her fingers sore and her shoulders aching. Gods help her if she forgot to wear a bracer; the string slapping against her forearm was the worst part.

Steeling her nerves and ignoring the stinging anticipation in her wrist, she peered around the corner.

A lone agent shuffled down the hall, which was significantly shorter than the cellblock. Rather than robes, they wore a set of blackened leather, a hood pulled over their head. A sword hung at their right hip.

Grim determination set in as she drew the bow. She had to do this — on her own and without hesitation. It was reasonable to assume her family and Shadowguard hadn't a clue where she was, and without a badge of her own, they had no way of locating her or reaching her. She had no way of contacting them. There wouldn't be anyone to swoop in and save her at the last second. One mistake and she was dead.

These people didn't care about rules or laws or morals. Shroud killed Mayor Ashburn and left her holding the proverbial bloody knife, only to do it a second time with Sir Swiftbrook. They destroyed an entire village to prevent her from getting her hands on vital information. Now, when they realized she wasn't so easily removed, they wanted her alive for the sake of convenience. Shroud would do whatever was necessary to get what they wanted.

She had to do what was necessary to survive. If it meant dirtying her hands further, then so be it. They painted her a threat, and she'd give them a reason to believe as much.

Releasing a breath, she pulled the string as far back as her strength allowed, which wasn't far at all, and released it. The arrow shot forward with the faintest whisper of wind. It struck lower than she intended, but a blow to the back of the neck was equally devastating as one to the back of the head. The agent crumpled to the ground, limp and unmoving.

"And here I thought you'd need help."

Stunned, Everna slowly lowered her bow. She recognized the voice — she'd heard it all throughout her childhood — but it wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. Yet, when she turned, she found the impossible standing before her eyes.

"Mayor Ashburn?!"

Surprise

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