"Shroud only has a handful of legitimate agents in the town,” Arden said. “The rest are volunteers or coerced into cooperation."

Everna bit back a sigh. No sooner than her mother and Wil arrived, Mayor Ashburn locked the door and delved into a long-winded explanation of the situation. She should've known. Where her mother was concerned, 'time to go' meant standing around talking for the better part of an hour. Even being in the heart of Shroud's stronghold couldn't break her of the habit.

As Arden and her mother discussed Shroud's supposed strength, which was little more than gibberish to her, Wil pulled her to the far side of the room. He stopped halfway between a set of bunks, well away from the door and out of sight should anyone burst in on them, and plucked one of his daggers from its sheath. It appeared normal at first glance, but as it caught the sickly torchlight, a soft white glow encased the blade.

"This, ironically enough, has a hefty sleep enchantment," he said, flipping it in his hand and holding it out to her. "It took some time to make, but I finished it right before we left for the festival."

Everna took the hilt in her hand, the warmth of the magic within the blade spreading over her hand. "You made this?"

"Every sorcerer has their niche. Mine's enchantments. I figured it'd be best for you, just in case you're not quite ready to lop someone's head off again."

"Enchantments? You?" She studied the blade more closely. It was a potent spell indeed; she felt the vibrations of the magic deep beneath her skin. "Like charming people? I don't know if I quite believe that."

A roguish grin touched his lips, but as he opened his mouth, he thought better of whatever he meant to say and shrugged instead. "A good hit with that should put most people under."

The dagger offered a preferable alternative. While killing for the second time wasn't as jarring, and the bow made it feel less personal than the first, she'd rather do without the blood on her hands. As vile as Shroud was, she couldn't shake the idea that they were still someone's children, someone's siblings or family. That, like Lyra, some of them may not have had a choice.

Perhaps Wil was right; she was a bit too soft, but she couldn't let that stop her. Some might not have had a choice, but others did, and she had no way to differentiate between them. If she wanted to survive this, she'd have to assume they were all there of their own violation.

She promptly pushed those unpleasant thoughts aside; this was not the time for a moral dilemma.

"You know, most women would prefer flowers," she teased, testing the weight of the weapon, as her father taught her to do, and found it perfectly balanced.

Wil raised a brow. "As amusing as it would be to see you try to fend off Shroud with a bunch of weeds, I don't think that'd help you at all."

"You never know. Someone might be sensitive to pollen. The gods know I am; shove a flower in my face and I'll be sneezing for the next hour."

"Revealing your weakness? Not the brightest idea."

She snorted.

"If we are where I think we are," her mother said, "then we're two levels below the entry point. The bulk of Shroud's forces will be on the upper two levels."

Mayor Ashburn nodded in agreement. "There won't be as many as the last time we were here. They only have a small group of agents, as far as I could tell. Corden and the Guard took care of most of their conscripts. The ones I saw, thank the gods, aren't more than the average grunt. No Enforcers. Just their Taskmaster."

Her mother put her hands on her hips, the edges of her cloak parting to reveal her armor beneath. "The usual, then? You take the lead and I pull up the rear? We stick them in the middle?"

"While I agree Everna needs to be led to safety as soon as possible, their Taskmaster needs to be dealt with as well."

"Then Wil can take her and leave, and we'll go after him," her mother said. "The two of us should be able to handle it."

"I can't," Wil said. "Or rather, I won't. I don't know how far from the tavern we are, or which way to go. I'd rather not get stuck in Caligo with her."

Everna frowned. "Caligo?"

Her mother waved her off with a resigned sigh. "Later."

"Why can't you take her?" Wil asked.

"I haven't used that spell in years," her mother admitted. "I'm too out of practice to risk it. I pushed it in the tavern."

"Then we create a distraction for them," Arden said. "But how?"

Her gaze fell on the amulet looped around his neck, then the ring wrapped around her finger. She picked at her robes, a plan forming. "Well, he is expecting me."

All three of them turned to her, frowning.

"No," her mother said, shaking her head. "Absolutely not."

"Hold on," Arden said, his head cocked. "Hear her out for a moment."

"Arden! Are you insane?! We're not taking her to Godwin!"

Everna pulled her hood back and slipped out of the robes. She tossed them at her mother. She caught them, effortlessly, and glanced between the darkened mess and her.

"You're not taking me," Everna said, pointing to Arden. "You're taking a duplicate and Wil."

"And what are you supposed to do in the meantime?" Arden asked, crossing his arms. "That would leave you completely unguarded."

"No, it leaves Godwin distracted. I have an invisibility ring on me. In another three minutes, it should be ready to use again. You take Wil and the double, act like you caught him trying to beak me out, and while he's focused on that, I slip in behind him and stab him."

Mayor Ashburn chuckled. "You're Evelina's daughter, that's for sure."

Her mother grumbled in protest.

"It's not a bad idea," Mayor Ashburn continued, "but there is one problem. It takes an hour to create the duplicate, otherwise there'd be one sitting in your cell right now. We don't have the time for that."

"Then slap an illusion on Mom. Either way, I won't be directly in the middle of it all, which is the point," Everna said.

Wil and her mother weren't so convinced.

"You're as graceful as an orc," Wil said, his fingers drumming against the remaining dagger at his side. "And I'm not saying that to be an ass this time; you're terrible at moving about quietly."

"You are not going anywhere near him, ring or not," her mother agreed. "While illusions aren't my forte, I could manage well enough to convince them I'm you, after a change of clothes. Give the ring to Wil and let him handle it. The only thing you'll be doing is finding somewhere to hide until this is all over."

Everna gritted her teeth. "No. I've had enough of hiding. I've had enough of everyone doing everything for me and I've had enough of Shroud. This is ending today, and I am going. That's not up for debate."

Her mother rounded on her, her face set in a look she knew all too well; if she were six years younger and back home, she'd be on her way up to her room, grumbling about the unfairness of it all.

"No. You are not going. If I have to knock you out and put you in a broom closet, I will."

At one point, she might have backed down, but she was at her wit's end. She turned to Wil, her jaw set. "You just had to bring her, didn't you?"

After weeks of endless stress and attempts on her life, the end was finally in sight. Everna knew her mother only wanted to ensure her safety — any good mother would prioritize their child's life above all else. But so long as Shroud remained in Pendel, she'd never be safe. None of them, except Arden, seemed to grasp that concept.

Wil held his hands up. "Osain tried. She refused to listen."

She chanced a glance at her uncle; he shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was of no help. Fine then, she'd just have to deal with this as if she were dealing with the Courts: cold facts and nothing more.

"That's a great idea, until someone finds Landen in his cell and realizes something's wrong," Everna said, her arms crossed as she turned back to her mother. "Then what? I'm stuck somewhere alone while the whole plan falls apart and all of Shroud is looking for me?"

"This is not a courtroom. Don't argue with me."

Everna released a sharp breath through her nose, her fists curled at her sides. Leah's ring shifted against her finger. Fine, two could play at that game.

To Wil, she said, "Contact Leah and tell her where we are. Have Corden mobilize the Guard in case someone needs to come and save my ass."

"Evelina, I'd leave Ever with the armor," Mayor Ashburn added. "She's not entirely wrong; leaving her here completely undefended is just as bad of an idea as taking her to Godwin."

Beside her, Wil muttered, "This entire thing is a shit idea. This wasn't supposed to be a raid."

"Sounds more to me like none of you thought this through," Everna pointed out.

Her mother's half-hearted glare confirmed her suspicions.

With grumbled protest, Wil and Arden retreated into the room across the hall while she and her mother set to swapping outfits. It was an uncomfortable situation; her mother's armor cared little for modesty. The leathers sat flush against her frame, her chest as exposed as it was in her festival gown. The edge of the set stopped mere inches below the junction of her thighs, and dark boots rose to just below her knee. There were no sleeves, only a thick leather halter strap to hold the top in place and a pair of gloves accompanied by gauntlets that stretched to her elbows.

"I don't understand why people wear this stuff," Everna grumbled, buckling the narrow belt beneath her breasts. "What on Iridia is this supposed to accomplish? I look like a harlot playing at a rogue."

Her mother pulled her hair from the back of the robes she'd tossed her earlier and twisted it into a loose knot at the back of her head. "Trick of the trade, dear. For those of us who can't rely on brute strength and heavy metal plating for defense, we have to find other means."

"Meaning?"

"There's a common misconception that coverage means protection, and the heavier the material, the better," she said. She reached over to adjust the top a bit more. "The only thing it truly protects is modesty. Each type has its uses, but they're not without their flaws, either. I've seen men impaled by their own plate and burnt alive by heated metal because they believed their chain was enough to make them invincible. Mages and sorcerers, however, have survived battles in bathrobes without a scratch because of their protection spells."

Everna glanced down at herself and frowned. Her father always said that armor could be as much of a hindrance as not. Plate was heavy, as was chain. Leather only offered limited protection; a sharp or enchanted blade could tear through it with ease. Judging from the magic radiating from the leathers, it likely had some sort of protection added to it.

"Don't let the ignorant fool you," her mother continued. "Armor like this isn't for the appeal, though some take advantage of it. It serves to make your opponents predictable. By appearing exposed, you lure them into a false sense of security. Most don't think in combat; they rely on instinct, and instinct demands they find the weakness and exploit it."

"And by creating the ideal conditions for that instinct to take hold, you control their actions," Everna muttered.

The Inquisitors used a similar concept; though meant to conceal and protect their identities, their unnerving appearance made their jobs much easier. They looked like animated shadows rather than people in robes, and they took advantage of that. People were more likely to speak under duress, and their imposing figures aided in that endeavor.

"Exactly," her mother affirmed. "Don't think you can rip the sleeves off a set and all is well. The enchantments make it practical; without them, you really are just a harlot running around in costume."

"I still feel like one," Everna muttered. She tried to pull the bottoms down farther, but they wouldn't budge.

"It's not for everyone. Nothing wrong with that," her mother said. Then, after a few more final adjustments to her robes, she held out her hands.

With an almost careless wave of her hands, her mother cast an illusion onto herself.

It hit her then, how similar she looked to her mother. Her face hardly changed; only the slightest glimpses of aging vanished before her eyes. Her cheeks sat a touch higher on her face, and her eyes were a little wider, but no more. The bun atop her head disappeared, replaced with a mess of short copper waves.

"Right, then. I think we're ready," her mother said, her voice several pitches higher and lacking the low timber it normally contained.

"Do I really sound like that?" Everna asked, cringing. "Gods, no wonder people think I'm a child."

Her mother smiled, dimples pocketing her cheeks. "You can be squeaky sometimes, especially when you're annoyed."

Everna scowled. She was beyond annoyed at this point.

"Do not leave this room. Do not open that door for anyone but us," her mother said. "Gods so help me, if you try to do anything stupid, you will never leave the tavern unsupervised. This is not the time nor the place for defiance. Do I make myself clear?"

"As crystal," Everna said, forcing her voice to remain neutral.

Her mother studied her for a moment, then her shoulders sagged. "Look, dear, I know you don't like this, but it's well beyond you. Just stay here and let us handle it. Don't try to be a hero. It never ends well for anyone."

Plan

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