Her forearms flexed as she tightened her grip on her dagger. The windows opened, and from the darkness, a cloaked figure began climbing through the window. She knew she should have charged them, using her dagger as he was positioned awkwardly on that ledge, unable to move freely and dodge, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs to alert her guards. But she couldn’t. She froze in place. Sweat beaded on her forehead as a shiver ran down her spine.

Marielle held her breath, worried that the hot air might float over to them and alert them to her presence. She felt exposed, nothing hid her except shadow and darkness. Five of them entered and scanned the room. She could see into a hood as it turned, looking back at her. But it didn’t see her, the light was far too dim. The figure must have just turned its gaze into that black aimlessly. After a moment, the intruders walked forward with careful steps, moving to the next room.

She stared at the open window, thinking to run through it, then through the woods to the family guards, rallying them back here. At the moment though, she was still frozen, taking shallow breathes while her heart pounded. Her fingers dug so tight into the dagger’s handle they went numb.

She couldn’t hear anything, no footsteps or whispers, she couldn’t tell how far away the intruders were. If she would be of help by running, the faster she set out the better, but she simply couldn’t move.

Distant thumping broke the silence. The battle had begun somewhere else. Ironically, it came as a relief as it meant they were far enough away that she was no longer in immediate danger. She could move again and did so, walking slowly across the room into the light, then out of it again. Her linen slippers and wool socks acted as cushioning, blunting the sound of her footsteps, but the floorboards still creaked when she put too much weight in one place. She reached the windowsill and climbed up and into the dark void outside.

All she could see were bits of sky and the stars held there, obscured by tree branches overhead. The moon was low. She moved now, quicker than inside, less worried about being heard. She stumbled against the bushes, twigs cutting into the skin of her ankles as she fell to the ground. Instinctively she let go of her dagger so she could brace against the ground. It disappeared into the darkness. Should have been more careful. She search, still on her knees, hands grabbing at cold clumps of dirt until she found the solid feel of metal. She breathed a sigh of relief with her dagger back in her hand.

“Don’t scream, or I’ll kill you right here and now,” said a raspy male voice from above her.

Despite the warning, she let out an audible gasp, but she controlled herself. Her limbs shook against the ground. If it was day, she could tell exactly where he was by judging the shadow he cast, but now she just knew he was close and standing, an advantageous position to her prostration. Then, maybe she would have been able to spring up, stabbing her knife out where she thought he was, but that was futile now in the night.

Smack! A concussive force impacted the side of her stomach, keeling her over on her other side. Her dagger again slipped from her hand.

She momentarily saw the stars above her, then they were obscured as a black figure stood atop her. A foot stepped on her arm. “Is that a dagger?” asked the voice.

She was held in place by the weight upon her, then tossed over onto her belly. The taste of dirt filled her mouth and she spat it out. Her hands were brought behind her back, then she was hoisted up onto her feet.

“Walk. If you speak, I’ll kill you.”

She moved forward, guided by the strength of the two hands that held her. One holding her two forearms together, the other on the back of her neck. The grip was strong, there was no attempt at gentleness. The fingers dug into her neck, the nails biting her skin. They moved to the treeline, she could tell by the slope and the distinct silhouette of one of the trees. It was where the two guards from the family had stationed themselves when she brought them the cake.

A glow came from between the trees, at first blinding her. When her eyes adjusted, she saw the lit torch, held by a cloaked figure, standing with two others. The torchbearer was recognizable, that bald head, that height, it was Giovannus himself. He turned as she approached, and his face confirmed it. To the corner of her vision, half encompassed by shadow were two dead bodies, so close to the edge of where the light touch, she had barely noticed them.

“Lady Marielle,” said Giovannus, in an unexpectedly polite and respectful tone. His menacing smile displayed his teeth as he leaned forward. “How are things? Not good?”

The hand at the back of her neck forced her down to her knees. “You may speak,” said the voice behind her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Taking some revenge before I leave this city. I’ve decided I’m done with this oppressive place, these oppressive people. Turns out there’s nothing left for me here.” He moved forward, coming close enough she could feel his warm breath, contrasting the chilly night.

She shut her eyes, welcoming the nothingness within her eyelids. “Please, if you want to leave Venocia, just leave. There’s no need for you to do anything else here.”

“Open your eyes, there’s no need for you to die here,” he said. His voice was close as if he said it right beside her left ear.

She saw again, a face that now disgusted her, it wasn’t a matter of ugliness, but was simply the feeling in her stomach. “Good, good,” he said. Their noses could almost touch. Then he looked to the side. “Let’s go see my little brother. You’ll stay silent now.”

Together, they all descended the slope, back to her home. They went not to the window she climbed through, but to the front door, already opened. She was still held firm, but she could feel the grip loosen slightly. The man behind her’s forearms grew weary of constantly keeping her contained. Eventually, when the time was right, she’d be able to break free. But even if she did have her arms, they still outnumbered her and they all were stronger.

Giovannus had his two guards walk at the front, their swords drawn. They didn’t try to hide their presence. Giovannus walked as if already triumphant, practically stamping his feet.

A man came running. “Please, just let me pass.”

She couldn’t see him clearly, but she recognized the voice, it was one of the guards she had just hired.

“Please, I don’t care about your squabble,” he said.

“I don’t know who that is,” said Giovannus, “he is unimportant.”

One of the guards up front swung his sword, then moved aside. The movement allowed her to a look. Blood flowed from Matais’ throat. He held no weapon, and a knife was already stuck into him, between the bones of his ribcage. The body twitched on the ground as they walked past it.

“Careful, don’t ruin your slippers.”

She stepped around the blood.

“Over here!” shouted a voice from ahead. “We have him!”

They moved, through the halls and into her bedroom. Giovannus brought his arms up laterally as if looking from a warm embrace. “Brother,” he said, almost with glee.

Augustus was there, body up against the wall, with a sword pointed at his throat. He bled from an eye and his nose. His nightgown had blood spatter, likely his own that had dripped down his chin. “Giovannus,” he said, revealing his blood-filled mouth.

“You’ve checked him for weapons already, right?”

The man holding Augustus nodded.

“Back away from him then.” Giovannus moved forward, closing in on Augustus’ space like he had her’s. “You have wronged me, Augustus. You could have just left the city. I would have left it at that. But no, you had to prove yourself by shaming me in front of the family. This is what you get.”

He reached out his hand and grabbed her husband by the neck. His face turned red and his arms and legs flailed violently, slamming against the wall and the floor. Giovannus released his chokehold and slammed his fist into Augustus’ stomach. Then he laughed and backed away as Augustus held himself.

“How come you didn’t think of this?” asked Giovannus. “All your planning and plotting and still, look at where it’s left you. Let me tell you what’s going to happen. You’re going to die, but first, I’m going to enjoy your suffering for a little while.”