“Hey!” Klin called as he ran to catch up to Orenda. They had entered into a kitchen, and there were real people now, staring at her and moving out of her way. But when Klin caught up to her, being in his presence actually seemed to lessen their fear.

The kitchen staff backed away, but did not retreat, did not go to summon guards. If the Emerald Knight already knew, Orenda thought, who else could they possibly tell?

“You can’t go in there, ok?” Klin said, “This comes out into the grand hall. We’re throwing a big-ass ball to celebrate… I don’t know, they run together on me. Is it the solstice?”

“We’re celebrating our return, your grace,” Ruvean said. It had taken him much longer to catch up to her than it had Klin.

“Really?” Klin said, “But we didn’t get the air stone! I didn’t slay the dragon!”

“Of course you didn’t, my boy,” Ruvean said as if he didn’t believe that in the slightest, “But we still returned safely, and the court has no need to know that we came back empty-handed.”

“I hate this,” Klin said, and Orenda thought he may cry again, “Look, you’re an assassin! You can’t kill Xandra! I… all I’m supposed to do is go up there and stand behind the throne and smile and look pretty and take the stuff people give me and then I can go back to my rooms and drink away all the shit I’m dealing with. I can’t do this. I can’t handle much!”

“Honestly,” Orenda stared at him in disbelief. She wouldn’t have believed he was who he was had she not seen it with her own eyes. Her brain would not process the information, and she could not remember how to feel afraid.

“Are you afraid of Xandra?” She asked.

“It’s not just Xandra,” he said, “It’s the whole court. You don’t… I’m a peasant… I shouldn’t… they figured out a long time ago that I shouldn’t be here.”

You are the Prince Regent of the Urillian Empire, master. The sword said. This is ridiculous. This has always been ridiculous. Slay those who vex you and take your rightful place, not by Xandra’s side, but on her throne.

“Shut up!” Klin snapped at it, “and come here!” He grabbed the sword in Orenda’s grasp and pulled it.

“Stop that!” Orenda grabbed with both hands and pulled back. “This isn’t a game! Have you gone mad!?”

“It’s mine though,” Klin reasoned, “I pulled it out of a rock!”

“That’s… that’s a ridiculous statement!” Orenda told him, because it finally struck her how ridiculous it was. The ability to extract a sword from a rock was absolutely no basis for a system of government. It meant nothing to pick up a sword or a staff. The fact that entire legends and ways of life had sprung up around the concept was laughable.

“Do you think the sword feels some sort of way about this?” Orenda asked, “Two gods among mortals, bickering about a piece of metal?”

“I need it!” Klin begged, “I can’t go in there without it! Xandra can’t know that I let somebody else hold it! You don’t understand it! With it I might only be the thing holding it, but without it I’m nothing!”

“I don’t care about you,” Orenda said plainly, “My god, man! Why would I? Why would you think I had the capacity to give a single thought to your feelings?”

“I… I’m sorry,” Klin said, and looked as if he was about to cry again, “But I need it!”

He was, Orenda was forced to admit, physically stronger than her, and he jerked it out of her hands. Yet, still, she did not feel her fear returning. The entire situation was ridiculous! He was ridiculous! The idea that the entire world lived in fear of him was ridiculous!

“This is madness,” Orenda said, shook her head, and wondered if her new status had changed her, or if she had always been completely incapable of fearing that which she did not know. Sometimes it would hit her, the reality of the life she was living, quite hard and all at once, but most of the time… Thesis was right, she was a very practical person. And the practical matter was that she no longer believed Klin could hurt her, even if he stabbed her in the back. She did not consider him a threat. This was, perhaps, not a wise way to live, but… Orenda remembered how she had thought of Gareth, before she had known who he was.

Gareth was dangerous. That had not changed. She had watched him kill more than once. But he was a broken old man, more worthy of pity than fear. He was only a person. And it seemed that, after all this time, after all the build up, the Emerald Knight was also just a broken, beaten person. Orenda had seen the soul of a god within him, and didn’t understand why she felt this way so strongly. He obviously was more than he seemed. But she could not force herself to see it.

“Don’t go in there!” Klin warned as Orenda parted a curtain-

And stepped into a fairytale.

She could not have been more underdressed.

The large hall was full of nobility- the other ladies in attendance all wore long, flowing gowns with more petticoats on than Orenda had ever owned. Their bodices were tight over corsets, and covered in expensive embroidery. Their long hair had been corralled into impressive styles, with curls, braids, and buns, and they were all wearing beautiful makeup that made them look like porcelain dolls. Even in their heels they were not as tall as she was.

Orenada’s wounds may have healed, but she was still in her torn workclothes and tattered traveling cloak. She was still filthy with dust, ash, and whatever had been on the side of the wall she had climbed, matted on with the sweat she had expelled during her long travels through the castle. She desperately needed a bath, and she knew it.

She pulled her staff off her back and moved past the buffet tables that lined the walls and into the crowd that smelled of rosewater and perfume.

There was a man at the door, announcing names as if they were important, and voices from the crowd, because she was noticed instantly, but she paid no mind to those that broke apart, gave her a wide berth to walk through. She was walking with purpose, and it was a good thing, because she was looking for Xandra, but Xandra was busy.

She was sitting on a throne, on a small platform above the rest of the party, and Orenda suspected that the empty seat next to her must belong to Klin. Xandra’s posters did not do her justice. They had always depicted a young, willowy woman, who, though Orenda did not consider her beautiful, was considered a beauty by most of the Urillians. Orenda had always believed she looked too thin, too weak, almost sickly, and had thought that the artist had exaggerated to make her look better than she actually was.

Even Orenda had not predicted what she saw.

The Empress was so thin she barely existed, bulked up with clothing- probably a wire cage under the impressive gown she wore. But there couldn’t be real muscles under her flesh. She looked as if she were a walking skeleton, already half decayed; the first person Orenda could think of to compare her to was Mr Bilge. The Empress was wearing a wig, made obvious only because Orenda knew a bit more than the average person about haircare, and it was beautifully crafted, but it told Orenda that if she had any of her natural hair left, it was not worth showcasing. It was probably thin and brittle, like the rest of her. The heavy powder she wore on her face could not disguise how little there was to it, how her eyes had receded into their sockets and her cheeks had sunken in as if she had lost teeth.

Orenda thought that the Empress looked as if she had been dead for years and someone, probably Klin, had neglected to tell her.

Orenda paused.

Around the base of the platform ran what could only be described as a small river. It had been cut into the floor, and flowed through, bright and crisp on either side, in the floor tiles. It was probably constructed the same way a bathing pool would be, and Orenda saw that it was not frozen, despite the storm that still plagued the outdoors, and wondered how much fuel it took to heat a place like this.

It flowed under what she supposed was a bridge, though it really only looked like the rest of the floor, and a red carpet moved over it as it ran from the platform to the impressive doors, easily two stories tall, on the other side that Orenda suspected opened onto the courtyard. She looked over her shoulder and saw the stained glass window with the rose that she had seen from the outside.

Xandra was not looking at her. She was looking down at a group of guards who were holding two struggling humans.

Mary Sue and Sonny!

“After we captured the male, we found the female in the library, taking notes,” A soldier was saying as Orenda broke into a sprint.

“Taking notes?” Xandra said as if she was interested.

“Hey!” Sonny yelled at her, “I’m fucking starving! Is there some kind of law against offering your guests some food?”

“Sonny!” Mary Sue snapped.

“What?” he asked, “There’s like five tables on each side. I’ve shifted like four times today. I’m fucking starving.”

“Should we take them to the dungeons?” The soldier asked. Sonny was fighting his restraints, but Orenda knew what had happened. They had traveled through the night, they had fought hard, and they simply had no energy left. Sonny was pretending a little better than Mary Sue, but he was weak on his knees, and their eyelids were fluttering. There simply wasn’t enough energy in the world for anyone to go through what they had gone through.

“No,” Xandra said, “No, not shifters who transform without the aid of the moons. They look so weary. I reckon after they sleep they might cause us more trouble. Bring them to me.”

“Motherfucker I will bite you!” Sonny snapped at a guard who had tried to haul him to his feet. Then he swooned, blinked himself awake, and caught himself before he hit the floor.

Orenda steamrolled through the crowd, onto the carpet, behind the guards, and raised her staff to the air.

“Empress Xandra Uril!” She yelled as loudly as her lungs would allow, and Xandra moved in her annoyingly delicate way to look at her. “My name is Orenda Nochdifache-Firefist, and I have much to say to you!”