Tork knew that Lady Beatha had to be upset about killing for the first time.

Part of him even felt guilty for making her kill people so quickly, but he figured after her incident with stabbing someone in the eye, processing multiple incidences might distribute the shock a little more evenly.

He knew there were still horrors in the world to see, but nothing would compare to watching a life leave a body for the first time at your own hand.

He had trained many people that faced their first victim, and afterwards decided to return to safer livelihoods. Those were for the people that had options though, and Tork had never had options.

So he couldn’t blame the ones that saw what his success cost, and decided to travel a safer route. He wondered if perhaps in another life, he would’ve been someone else entirely…

When it came to Agnes Beatha, he felt something akin to empathy.

She had nowhere else to turn back to. She had to learn to survive on her own by any means necessary, or face the punishment that came from her abandoning her marital contract.

Regardless of the doom that hung over her, he understood having to face the cold reality of being a murderer, might make her try the odds at begging Sean O’Farrell for forgiveness.

By the time Tork arrived at the Red Dawn Inn, he had been expecting rage, or catatonic shock from the Lady. Instead when he returned, he learned Aggie had gotten stinking drunk by noon, and then slept until the evening.

Even more surprising, was learning that Arlen had done the same.

Tork had never once heard of a Servicer getting drunk with their Masters, and it only served more confusion to the Beast Awares on why this particular Servicer was so strange.

Ora and Quib remained content and quiet as they all ate their meals, and Tork sat assessing the Lady and her Servicer.

Both looked pale, but seemed somehow more relaxed as well. The idea that they had sorted through Aggie’s emotions in Tork’s absence helped him relax, as he realized with growing levity that it meant not having to handle a sobbing woman.

So after placing their dinner orders, Tork began pondering the next day when they were meant to take the Prince home.

He knew Aggie shouldn’t return to the King’s settlement with him. It’d be too easy for Sean O’Farrell to trace her there. He knew the odds were high that the Duke was already hot on her tail, and marveled that the warlord hadn’t been more… aggressive in his search.

He waited until they had finished their meals, and the plates cleared away as he folded his hands on top of the table, and fixed his 2 wards with a stern gaze.

“Tomorrow when we pick up the Prince from the Doctor’s house, we will head straight back to the King’s settlement. Once we get to Willow Wood, I want you both to hide and stay there for a few days before I come to get you. After that, we will head South for a few months until Lord O’Farrell gives up his search.”

Aggie’s posture was suddenly rigid.

“What makes you think he’s searching for me?”

Tork fixed her with an expression that was gravely serious.

“Because that is the kind of man he is.”

Aggie and Arlen looked at each other, sharing an apprehensive and knowing glance.

“Tork we uh… We had planned to actually head South instead of heading back towards the King’s settlement…” Aggie started slowly, but stopped talking when Tork frowned at her.

“Beatha, you have decent aim, but both you and Arlen are wildly inexperienced still. That woman-, Bertie was her name? Anyway, she told me to stick to you 2 for a year.”

Aggie slowly reached across the table and placed her gold coin in front of Tork, before shyly meeting his eyes.

“I know Tork, but the longer you associate with us the more trouble you’ll be in if-”

“That’s my business and my decision Beatha, not yours.” He looked as though he was ready to spit on the gold coin she had promised him weeks ago.

“Tork it’s fine, I can take a boat and-”

“You are not entrusting your safety to sailors! Those greedy bastards will rob you as you sleep and Gods know what else!” Tork’s angry voice was drawing attention to the group, and Aggie’s cheeks flamed red.

Fortunately, Arlen stepped in.

“Tork we trusted you, and that seemed to turn out alright. Once we are back in the Southern Kingdom, it will be much harder for Sean O’Farrell to find-”

“If you 2 are not on that cart with us tomorrow morning, I will hunt you down myself, and tie you to the driver’s bench.” With a loud scraping of wood on stone, Tork stood up, and stormed off back into the inn. Ora gave the 2 of them an awkward wave as she too stood up, and head inside.

Aggie waited until the other diners returned to their meals and lost interest in the Minkies couple at the table.

“Arlen I have a bad feeling about this…” Aggie sighed and put her head in her hand. Tork was being incredibly protective, but Aggie was worried now that he might have grown a little more attached than was right to be.

“I think there is more to Tork that we are not aware of my Lady.” Arlen stared pensively at the doorway Tork had stormed through. Even for a Beast Awares, Tork was being incredibly involved and unreasonable…

Something definitely didn’t make sense.

*

Tork was pacing in his and Arlen’s room furiously, muttering different threats and obscenities as he did so after hearing the plan the Lady and Servicer had hatched. He was so completely lost to his rage, that he failed to hear the soft knock on the door as Ora slowly opened it, and stepped in with Quib at her side.

She was holding a pad of paper she had borrowed from the innkeeper’s office (not that they knew about it), and quickly wrote down what she had to say, as Tork continued his frenzied venting.

When he finally raised his gaze and saw her, Ora was holding up the pad with 3 words scrawled across.

“‘She’s not Daisy’.” Tork read allowed, and stopped. His face fell, and with it his ire that was holding him upright. He in turn slumped onto the linen chest that was at the foot of the bed, and his shoulders rolled forward.

Tork covered his face with his hands, and took several deep breaths before lifting his face to Ora who was looking deeply concerned for her friend.

“I know she’s not my Daisy.” His voice cracked, and he hated it. Tears were in Tork’s eyes, and as much as he fought them, they continued to rise, and fall down his leathery cheeks.

“I never would’ve let my Daisy near that warehouse…” He croaked as Ora hastily stepped over, and embraced him. He cried quietly for the first time since that day he had lost his Daisy. The day that sadly wasn’t all that long ago at all…

***

Bertha rolled her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time as Chloe and her mother continued to bicker endlessly behind her. The bustling streets of the North King’s settlement did shockingly little in drowning out their new dispute, which was regarding something to do with a girl Chloe’s brother seemed to have an interest in.

She could not wait to deliver them to Sean, and return to the quiet of her cottage. She had missed the peace of not running a bustling household, and found that her patience had withered remarkably fast.

They were at the gates to the castle, and Bertha was about to speak with the cross looking Beast Awares guarding the entrance, when the gates opened on their own accord.

Bertha wasn’t sure why she was surprised to see Sean strolling out of the gates atop of his magnificent stallion, but she was all the same. It seemed all the more convenient that she could deliver her message and be on her way.

“Sean-” Bertha stopped herself. There were too many people around for her to be showing such familiarity. Even Chloe and her mother had paused their bickering to stare at the man atop such a magnificent beast.

“Duke O’Farrell!” She called out to him as he leisurely rode by with Richard MacDermott at his side. Both of them had their eyes set on the road ahead that was quickly being cleared of the pedestrians, as no one particularly fancied getting in the aristocrat’s way.

This simple fact meant Bertha had to push against the flow of the crowd harder, as they all herded to the sides of the street, making way for the decorated war hero.

“By the balls of a donkey…” Bertha muttered angrily, somewhat startling her entourage of mother and daughter.

“FINNEGAN!”

She shouted over the heads of people, making a number of people turn, including Sean O’Farrell, who turned looking outraged, until he saw Bertha standing in the crowd.

It were as though he was glimpsing the world’s most beautiful sunrise when he saw the dark blue kerchief wrapped around her neck, and her wild wavy white hair frizzing in the warm May day. Her face fierce as always and-

“Sir? Is that Berthda Brady, your Head Maid who resigned?” Lord MacDermott’s question brought Sean back down to Earth. After blinking once, and masking his expressions again, he turned his massive brown horse towards the crowd, making everyone nearest the motion jump far away.

Everyone that is, except Bertha Brady staring up at him with her deep blue eyes.

“Ms. Brady, what is it you need?” Sean’s respectful tone towards the woman dressed no better than a peddler raised multiple eyebrows from the crowd, and everyone watched as Bertha then grabbed the arm of a young girl who had tried to blend in with everyone else out of fright in the presence of the Duke.

“This young Lady here found a Summoning Stone.” Sean’s expression turned dark immediately, casting fear in many people’s hearts, including Chloe’s. The girl shrank under his gaze, and he shifted forward in his saddle slightly, making her bow her head to hide her quivering mouth.

“Lass, please do not be afraid. Where did you find the… item?” Sean’s gentle voice encouraged Chloe to shyly raise her gaze to him, and with a sinking heart Sean realized that she was close in age to Agnes Beatha.

Only Agnes Beatha hadn’t cringed away from him like this girl was doing… even in the face of his brutality…

“I-I was with my brother and his friend and we… We were on the beach, and…. And m-my brother found it, and I won it from him in a race.” Her face was beat red from embarrassment at sounding like such a child, but the Duke didn’t change his calm expression.

“I see. Am I to presume this item has been destroyed?” Sean turned his questioning stare to Bertha, who gave a short affirmative nod. He returned the gesture, before resuming his questioning.

“Where is it you are from Lass.”

“We are from the small town of Meeds, my Lord.” The girl’s mother stepped away from the crowd, and stood at her daughter’s side. She wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but she felt indebted to Bertha for breaking whatever hold the item had held over her daughter.

“Meeds… that is the town close to Rockfell is it not?”

“It is my Lord, yes.”

“I see… And pray tell young lady, where was that stone telling you to go?”

The crowd seemed to hold its breath, despite no one really knowing what was happening.

“The mountains beyond the North King’s castle.”

There was a flurry of whispers that rippled through the crowd. What did it mean that someone was casting magic in the mountains so close to their homes? Was there an attack coming?

Sean’s face was an inscrutable mask, as he locked eyes with Bertha again, who looked as intense as the first day they had learned what a Summoning Stone did.

It was only a brief look, before Sean lifted his gaze to the growing crowd.

“Everyone, I want you all to pass this message to as many people as possible immediately. This is of grave importance to all of you. If anyone should find a small orb the size of a pebble, that appears to be made of glass, with swirling mists within it, destroy it immediately. If you notice a friend or loved one has one, and they become protective of the item, report it to the guards, and please know that they are under the work of powerful magic.”

Everyone in the crowd began talking immediately, and Sean then lowered his voice and addressed Bertha and Chloe more quietly.

“I am heading towards the coast myself, would you and your mother like a ride home?” Chloe’s eyes went wide as saucers, and her mother protectively gripped the young woman’s arm.

“We do not wish to trouble you my Lord. Besides, we could use the time to rest before resuming our journey.” The mother and daughter curtsied low, and Sean answered with a nod.

His eyes lingered on Bertha for a moment, hopeful that perhaps she would join him again… but even as he went to meet her eyes, she had already turned away, and forced herself through the now anxious crowd.

Sean stared after her for several long moments, before finally turning his horse back on to the road, and squeezing its sides.

“Are you alright my Lord?” Lord MacDermott kept up with Sean’s brisk pace, and waited for his response amid the clamor that was the settlement.

“Lord MacDermott, we have just learned we are on the way toward a second War of Kinds, do you really think anyone should feel well?” Sean’s sharp tone shushed his companion up quickly as they headed towards the city gates.

This meant Sean’s campaign for the throne would potentially be postponed, but it also meant that he could no longer afford Agnes Beatha’s volatile moods. The day he found her, would be the day he married her.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

***

He gritted his yellow teeth as he desperately sought for his connection with one of his baits. Perhaps he had indulged in the black wine a little too much the night before, no reason to assume that the Summoning Stone had been destroyed, he thought to himself as he fought off his rising annoyance.

Enough time had passed that people would have forgotten about the helpful trinkets…

It wasn’t likely that anyone would show off the Summoning Stone either.

The Thief of Souls paced his cave, searching for the small glinting light in his mind’s eye that showed his prize marching to him. He saw several lights on the move, but the one that had been closer than the rest, had suddenly disappeared.

Perhaps they had been murdered?

He shook his greasy white hair.

No.

These were sickeningly peaceful times, murder was rare…

He grunted and seated himself in front of his orb. He needed to see her face, and perhaps glean her surroundings. With a few swipes of his hand over the cool glass surface, he began to frown harder.

It was perhaps an hour later that he had no choice but to admit the stone had to be destroyed. Its glinting light in his mind that showed where it was in proximity to his cave, had disappeared abruptly. With a slam of his palm against the stone table that rang out in the cave, he stood again.

Could that boy have found out?

The Thief of Souls combed his long nails through his beard as he tried to calculate the likelihood that the man responsible for his fall from power, knew he wasn’t dead.

“No matter. He won’t be able to stop me at this point anyway.” He soothed himself as he resumed his pacing.

May as well see who was the next one due to arrive.

With his eyes closed, he searched the thousands of glittering dots in his mind, trying to find who was moving the fastest… when he noticed something he hadn’t before.

One of his lights wasn’t moving towards him at all. It had moved… further from him. Despite it being daylight still, the light didn’t appear to be making any effort to travel towards where it was being summoned to.

He frowned. If someone was dead, the light would’ve gone out, but this one was twinkling happily in Rockfell…

Hurriedly, he seated himself down at his table, and began frantically palming his orb, causing its mists to suddenly alight with the brightness of the sun.

Wincing at the light, and toning down his power, he stared at…

A Minkies woman sitting in a pub.

“I need to drink less wine.” He muttered to himself as he rubbed his temples.

The Minkies didn’t leave their tribe, why was this one in a pub…? The Minkies were his neighbors in the mountains. Minding their own business and moving like ghosts, without whispering a word to him whenever he had tried to approach them.

Idiotic barbarians.

And yet, this one was talking to 2 Beast Awares, and a strange foreign looking man.

Furthermore, why was the Summoning Stone activated by a Minkies woman? He had never heard of Minkies people being pure-blooded humans. Then again, he hadn’t heard much about them, other than that they were silent, barbarians who traversed the mountains.

They painted their faces, hardly bathed, wore furs, and bred with whomever they wanted, Even the women! They hated the rest of the world, and the rest of the world was glad it meant they stayed far far away from them, unless trading for business.

So what was this one doing there? He was about to step away from the orb, when he noticed a man standing behind the Minkies woman waiting for her to notice him. He paused.

The man was familiar.

Where had he seen him before?

He had black ebony hair, a royal blue waistcoat with intricate silver designs around the cuffs, and as the Thief of Souls squinted into the faint light of the orb, and finally made out the eyes of a Fey man cried out;

“Chay?!”