The backstage stage was a mess of props and costumes. Some idiot noble had forced his way in and ended up tripping over the prop table. Something about wanting to garner the attention of one of the actresses, but now the entire acting troupe was wanting to beat his head in. Several pieces had been broken beyond quick repair and they were now scrambling to either source new props or reorganize the performance order.

Now would have been a fantastic time for Sybil to slip out, however, it was better to wait until after the Ebbing Ibis. As much as she wanted to kill Laurent, she didn’t want to betray the people who helped her enter the palace. These were her friends. It would be painful to see their hard work wasted.

“Fifteen-minute break,” said Kogin as he put a hand on her shoulder. “We’re setting up the tightrope now.”

She should use that time to see if Laurent was still mingling among the crowd. “I’ll go take a walk and then start my stretches.”

Kogin grasped onto her hands. “Jean sprained her ankle when that moron started chasing after her. Can you fill in for the last skit?”

Sybil struggled to fight against the priestess’s call. The damn woman was nearly leaping out of her skin to get another chance to stay on the stage. “I think all those eggs I ate earlier are starting to get to me. I’ll be able to make it through the Ebbing Ibis, but I swear that I’ll be vomiting for the rest of the evening.”

“Ah…” Kogin studied her eyes for a moment before letting go of her. “I’ll inform the director.”

Sybil gave Kogin a hug. “Thank you so much.”

Kogin was worried. There had been a handful of times when he had seen Margret’s eyes turn blue. She had shown them whenever they were practicing, but they had remained a luminescent blue for nearly the whole evening. It was like Margret’s mind was somewhere he couldn’t reach. Her focus was so intense that it was borderline frightening.

“Just be careful and come back quickly,” he whispered. Kogin had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He hadn’t known Margret for long, but it also felt like the one standing in front of him was a brand new stranger. One that shouldn’t have a place on the stage.

“I’ll only be five minutes,” assured Sybil.

This would be the only break for the theater group. A separate performing group had been brought in to perform while they scrambled to make repairs. The banquet’s guests were also relieved to have a break from the performances. Rather than ignoring the skits, many of them had broken off into dancing pairs.

Who rents out an acting troupe and spends an evening talking over them? Sybil’s mind couldn’t wrap around the waste of money this was. Either way, it gave her a chance to peek out at the crowd without anyone noticing her. The last chance to do some reconnaissance before she started her personal mission.

Duxton had finally shown up. Sybil didn’t know where he had been before, but showing up late was simply a personality trait of his at this point. HE hadn’t arrived with an entourage, nor had anyone bothered to approach him. Word must have gotten out that he was close to losing his titles. Nobles would rather accidentally ostracize someone rather than risk being seen giving a troublesome person their support.

Laurent was… There. Sitting at a table near the stage. He had a group of clergymen and women with him. They must be guests from the church. From what Sybil had observed, he hadn’t moved in the past hour. He seemed content to stay in one place and let the lesser folk approach him.

Thus was the Aconite way. They were “so fun” to have at parties.

Sybil rolled her eyes at the thought. She’d perform the Ebbing Ibis and claim she was too sick to continue afterward. Nobles were predictable creatures. They wouldn’t disturb the banquet by sending men everywhere with little bells. She could use her powers freely, and watch as they pick and choose who was important enough to quietly escort away.

She’d just have to follow Laurent out and make the kill then. How long would that take? For her to follow him, kill him, then come back? It took about ten minutes for the bell people to show up last time… Dammit, she nearly forgot that Amalfrieda knew she was here. It’d be a bother if she showed up and started bullying Margret.

The best course of action would be to tell the troupe that she was leaving to get medical attention. They wouldn’t expect her to return and she’d be free to leave Fogbloom before anything too troublesome happened. That’s all she needed to do. Wait and watch the chaos, looking for new targets along the way. The Order of Alcea would soon crumble by her hands.

Sybil grinned to herself. Grandpapa Aeneas should be proud to see what schemes his little granddaughter had come up with.

Duxton, on the other hand, would be livid. However, he was also oblivious to her actions. He wandered this way and that, sorting out the different little social cliques that had developed. There were so many clusters of clucking hens. How was he supposed to fluff up those feathers when he was having trouble finding the right bird?

The squawking in one corner seemed particularly irritating to hear, which meant that she must be in that direction. Duxton glanced over and perked up when he saw a hat covered in large white plumes. Seems that Udell was being truthful about Maurice being able to implant ideas into people’s heads. He’d ask to make her believe that large white feathers were in fashion, so that he would have an easier time spotting her in a crowd later.

“Madam Pennyrile!” Duxton approached and politely bowed. “It’s been years.”

Henrietta Pennyrile stood up with a cheeky grin. “My prince!” She pushed in her chair off to the side and casually approached him. “You’ve finally shed away those boyish cheeks of yours! My, how your features have become defined from your years at Braytons! You’ve finally become a properly looking man!”

Swallow it. Just swallow the pride, Duxton. Don’t knock the beak off her face just yet. “My, you flatter me, Madam Pennyrile. I am grateful for both your words and how you continue to tend to my supporters. Zaniyah informed me that she had visited you not that long ago. Thank you so much for taking the time to see her personally.”

“It’s always a pleasure to tend to an Arbutus! They’ve been our most loyal patrons since our organization started.” Pennyrile’s head bobbled as she talked. With the feathers in her hat, it reminded Duxton of a nodding chicken.

“It has been for a long time,” muttered Duxton as his smile briefly faltered. “I just now realized that I haven’t visited Grand Temple in some time. Would you take the time to reeducate me about the Daughters? I wish to know what causes you have been championing recently. It wouldn’t sit well with me knowing that the crown’s pockets haven’t been pouring with the generosity I know it should be providing.”

Money was always Pennyrile’s favorite subject. “I am always willing to make time to speak to you, Prince Duxton.” Time that increased her wealth was always time well spent. “Sena would be so proud to know that you are keeping her passions alive and well.”

How dare this sniveling oaf of a woman utter the name of a woman she had ordered the death of. Duxton fought to restrain himself. Now wasn’t the time to bring up ill words. He wanted to relish these fleeting moments. The seconds right before Pennyrile realizes that she’s about to be arrested for all she’s done.

“Over here then.” Duxton gestured away from the group. “This table is far too close to the stage and I wish to hear you properly.”

Duxton led her away and let her rant on and on about this and that. It didn’t actually matter what she said. This was simply him buying time until Udell showed up with the proper papers. Obtaining a warrant for her arrest was taking longer than he had anticipated. They should’ve already gathered enough evidence from her office by now.

Shaw and Udell had gone ahead to the Daughters’ temple some time ago. Udell already knew the location of the proper documents. He had gone with Maurice to drop off the Arbutus’ yearly donation and verified their location then.

“Tell me, Madam Pennyrile,” muttered Duxton as he struggled to smirk. “I was hoping that you could do me a favor.”

Pennyrile was already beaming with utmost confidence. “I can already see what’s on your mind, my prince. It’s been about a year, hasn’t it? Since you’ve last had a woman? I heard that you had someone attending your needs at Braytons, but you soon wisened up and left her. There’s nothing worse for a noble than a woman who cannot bear children. I’m happy to see that you’ve made a wise choice.”

That inner rage that Duxton had kept simmering was now overboiling. “Rebecca? Are you implying that I was only wasting my time with her?”

“Boys must have their fun but men must settle down and build the foundations of their family. Now, I know that the military has been twisting your arm with their marriage interviews, but allow me to take over your search for a proper bride.”

Duxton was stunned. He had never, not once in his life, struggled so hard to not break someone’s nose. “So you mean to have me marry one of your women? Are you seeking to tie me down again? Simply because Sena is no longer here to do that job for you?” Sena, who died while trying to save Rebecca. How many times must this creature soil the honor of a woman he cared about?

Now Pennyrile was the bitter one. “I did not mean to sour the mood, sir. I simply thought that any favor I could grant had been tied to your loneliness.” She held up a hand to silence Duxton as he opened his mouth. “Is that a tightrope?” A faint melody began to drift across the room. “The Ebbing Ibis? Apologies, my prince. This is a favorite of mine. We will carry on our conversation afterward.”

“Are you fleeing our talk? Let me tell you that you are not free of guilt, Madam Pennyrile, and I deserve your time.” Duxton didn’t give a damn about what was on stage. He wouldn’t let some no-name actress spoil his moment. “There is no woman you have that could ever replace Sena in my eyes. Priestess Maplehammer already failed on your behalf.”

“Everyone and their cousin sent someone to spy on you. It’s not my fault that I sent someone who felt like they needed to be a bit more heavy-handed with their techniques.” Pennyrile gave him a sour side-eye. “Priestesses do what priestesses do. It’s simply in their nature to be perverse.” She held up a hand to imply that she would no longer listen to him.

Duxton could clearly hear the music now. Unlike earlier, when the nobles were content to talk over the performances, an odd silence had overtaken them. This had been similar to the first performance, which Duxton had missed earlier. The elegance that the dancer held in a single pose was enough to ensnare the attention of an entire room.

A figure was moving gracefully along the ropes. She wore a red gown and a black mask with an elongated beak. Her chest had a white ribbon pinned to it, to symbolize where the prince had shot the bird with an arrow. The end of the ribbon was wrapped about her fingertips, so that it twisted beautifully along with her.

Her body bent unnaturally, past the limits of normal human flexibility. Despite that, she never lost her balance. There were times where she tumbled off the robe, only to catch herself with her knee or ankle before flinging herself back up to an upright position.

Her song soon called out to the captive audience, like a warbling cry of a dying creature. She pleaded for a bit of sanity during her final moments. Murdered by the man she loved on the day of his wedding. The truth was that his bride would soon betray him, but no one ever listened to the words of a singing bird. No one would be able to save her love now.

“That insane bitch,” hissed Duxton.

Pennyrile’s head slowly turned around. “... Pardon?”

It had nothing to do with her. Pennyrile was the villain in Duxton’s story, but a far more foolish woman had dared to cross his path today. Why was Sybil here? Who had gotten her into the palace? His eyes darted about like a madman.

Gwyn. He’d recognize that hair anywhere. That act of hers, pretending not to take her role as Sybil’s keeper seriously, it was all a lie so that Duxton wouldn’t see what they had been up to. He needed to reach her quickly and seek to find the truth behind their presence today, before they could follow through on whatever stupid plan they had come up with this time.

“I’m certain that he was referring to me.” Amalfrieda, donning the uniform of the royal guard, approached the pair. “Hello, Duxton.”

“I don’t have time for you,” spat back Duxton.

Amalfrieda gracefully flicked her ponytail over her shoulder with the tips of her fingers. “Apologies, my lord. Were you in the middle of one of your victory speeches? I didn’t mean to interrupt you during your little monologue or whatever this is.” She was vibrating with excitement, using up all her strength to keep herself from laughing. “Should I join in? I’d love to hear what you have to say.”

Duxton glared. “I don’t need the attention of a traitor.”

“You dare to publicly speak ill of the Order?” She scoffed. “I wouldn’t have had to join them if you had bothered to take care of me like you had your other pets,” snarled Amalfrieda.

“I abided Udell’s request to have you join the army together,” spat back Duxton. “Lady Flay already had plans to keep you away from the frontline.”

Amalfrieda rolled her eyes. “I shouldn’t have been signed up for the war in the first place.” She then glanced over to Pennyrile. “Surprised, are you? You must think I’m some simple, low ranking member of the Order. Otherwise, you would’ve heard about me.” Her eyes both widened and narrowed, giving her a crazed look. “Did Duxton get to the part of his speech when he tells you that Tish is dead? I hope I didn’t miss it.”

“Dead? Priestess Maplehammer?” Pennyrile shook her head. “I’ve heard no such news.”

“Priestess Maplehammer?” Repeated Amalfrieda in a mocking tone. “Certainly, you’ve bothered to memorize her name, yet you don’t even know who I am?”

This was… Pennyrile squinted. “You’re the woman who brought in a donation yesterday. The one from the palace.”

“Amalfrieda Rodanthe.” She took a step forward. “Of the Rodanthe paladins. Certainly, there hasn’t been one in my family for some time, but our blood is still here. It’s still strong.” Amalfrieda shook her finger at the woman. “Seven times.

Including yesterday, I’ve met with you seven times. Do you remember any of the other six times? When I approached the Daughters and begged on my knees to be given membership? Do you remember how you mocked me and said that my family couldn’t afford to pay the necessary tithes?”

Pennyrile felt calm. A hysterical woman was not a new sight to her. “The Daughters are able to work freely because of those donations. What resource can a woman provide if she is incapable of adding to the temple’s funds?”

“I don’t know, why not ask the women you’ve stuffed in those brothels?” Growled Amalfrieda. “Or any of the others you’ve sold off?”

Duxton held an arm between Pennyrile and Amalfrieda. He kept his tone low and quiet. The people closest to them were beginning to stare. “Stand down, Amalfrieda.” No one was close enough to hear what they were talking about, but he didn’t wish for anyone else to come and start trouble.

“I don’t give a shit what you do, Duxton, but this one is mine,” growled Amalfrieda. “And after her comes you. I’m taking everything from you and anyone else who has denied me a proper place in this world.”

“Stand down,” repeated Duxton. “This isn’t the time to put up that fight.”

Amalfrieda scoffed again. “Aren’t you curious where Little Vex is? You must have been frightened when he showed up. I waited for you around the palace, but this is the first time I’ve seen you here. Did you run away with your tail between your legs?” She quickly caught onto Pennyrile’s wrist as the woman walked away. “I’m not done with you yet!”

“We’re quite done,” replied Pennyrile.

Amalfrieda shook her head. “Should I remind you of what the Order has done for you? Hmm?” She giggled. “Do you know what the Prince was planning? Why gained the trust of the military? He even had spies sent to your temple.

There should be a team of his people at your office now, tearing it apart and looking for any evidence they can find. Once they find out that you’re attached to the Order, they’ll use you to wreak havoc within the palace and overthrow King Howell. That’s all you are to Duxton. A stepping stone on his path to the crown.”

Pennyrile’s face paled. She glanced over to Duxton. The solemn expression on his face made her realize that Amalfrieda was being truthful. “My p-prince,” she stammered.

“Don’t even bother,” spat Amalfrieda. “You know that the Order will protect their own, don’t you?”

Yes. They would. Pennyrile gave a small nod of agreement.

“That’s why Father Laurent sent his apprentice ahead to ban the military entrance to the temple. Not even a warrant can intervene in an ongoing church investigation.” Amalfrieda’s words were reassuring, and she failed to stifle a gleeful giggle.

This was news that had failed to reach Duxton’s ears. “... What?”

“I’m so disappointed that I can’t see Udell’s face right now. Disappointed and left shivering in the cold. He must be confused about why this is happening.” Amalfrieda tightened her grip on Pennyrile’s wrist. “But that little flea of Father Laurent will be able to hide any evidence involving the Order.”

Pennyrile immediately sighed. “That is a relief.”

“Why are you happy?” Amalfrieda’s eyes once again glittered with excitement. “You’re the biggest tidbit of evidence of them all. For all the hard work that I put in to bring your crimes to light, the Order is going to give me what I most desire.” Her lips spread into a wide, toothy grin. “The opportunity to execute you once you’ve been deemed guilty of your crimes.”

Everything was slipping between Duxton’s fingers. Amalfrieda had gone beyond the point where he could show mercy. This was her vengeance? Hadn’t he only done what Udell had asked for him? It was what was best for her. In the long run, Amalfrieda needed to stand on her own two feet and not rely on the command of others. But now she was the very wedge placed between himself and his revenge.

Sena was the one murdered. Rebecca was the one enslaved and sterilized. Sybil was the one hunted. That was all done on Pennyrile’s orders. Duxton had only cared about a small handful of women, and each of them had suffered greatly at this bitch’s hands.

Why did it have to be now? A month ago, he wouldn’t have cared who had brought Pennyrile down. If he had found out the truth after the fact, it would’ve been, “Oh well. At least it’s over now.” But he had put in so much work. So much planning. Everything was balancing on the evidence that would come from Pennyrile’s interrogation.

And now... It was all being taken away from him.

A hint of orange sparked about his hand as he made a fist. He wouldn’t let that happen. Duxton didn’t care what Amalfrieda had gone through. He didn’t care that she was another woman, among dozens, that Pennyrile had hurt. She was making the wrong choice. He absolutely would not be denied his revenge.

On the stage, Sybil continued to spin and twirl on the ropes. The audience, who had once been held captive by her song, were slowly cluing in on the danger that was twisting around the prince. A shrill scream shattered the calm as the melody of the Ebbing Ibis came to an abrupt stop.

And aside from the rage that burned within Duxton’s heart, the only other thing he felt was the warmth of blood as it splattered against his face. There was an eerie calm that numbed his features. Silence fanned across the room, followed by the soft thud of Pennyrile’s body as it hit the ground.