The messenger's corpse was quickly taken out of her sight, her dagger still buried in his throat. The fae-gifted Aryi mage who'd received Corvin's message had been smart to send someone else with the news.

Corvin. She'd have that man flayed alive. Lyra kicked the desk and it fell with a satisfying crash, papers flying through the air.

"Hickory!" she shouted and when he stepped forward she grabbed the front of his shirt.

"Find them," she hissed and tossed him to the side. He stumbled, his face still expressionless as he found his footing and straightened back up.

Hickory waved a hand, a disc of water appearing and glowing in the air in front of him. His pale eyebrows furrowed, "I am having a hard time locating—wait, no, I've found them."

Lyra jammed a sharp elbow into his gut as she moved to see what he'd scryed. It was a small room, a warm fire flickering under a kettle in the corner. By the fire sat Fiona, laughing at something Fenrin had said. Lyra's brother handed a cup of tea to Eirik and her husband's mouth twitched up in a small smile.

Fingers curled like claws, Lyra raked through the water, sending the infuriating image splashing to the floor. How dare they! How dare they defy her!

She knew where they were, somehow they were in that despicable valley.

"I will have to create another mirror," Hickory said, his voice irritated.

She slapped him and relished the look of pure shock on his face. Again she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him until their noses practically touched. "Confirm their location and then send someone after them."

His eyes were flickering between red and gold when she pushed him away. Everyone else who'd been in the room had already made themselves scarce. She turned away from Hickory to prevent herself from taking out more of her boiling rage on him which would only slow him from doing as she'd ordered.

Lyra burned. She knew where they were, wanted nothing more than to slip into their little warm circle and slit their throats—or least see them grovelling on the floor.

The small smile Eirik'd given flashed hot and cold in her vision. Hot that he'd dared wiggle out from under her thumb and cold with...fear. Without Eirik, her time to play with the Arch Mage was limited. If she didn't bring him back to his cage, finding a replacement would be a time-consuming disappointment.

By the time Hickory coughed to get her attention, her rage had been quenched into a cold hard blade.

"I am unable to scry them, they must have noticed the last one. I cannot confirm a location."

"I know where they are," she said slowly. She turned and Hickory took a step back. There was something primal and dangerous in Lyra's eyes.

"They are in the valley. Leave and send someone after them."

Her fingers twitched, at some point another dagger appearing there. Hickory backed up, Lyra's green eyes watching him like a tiger ready to pounce.

When he disappeared she slammed the dagger into the wall. It was lucky he'd left so quickly. The fear in his flickering eyes had promised such an apt distraction. She wasn't sure she'd have been able to resist testing the limits of their agreement. She paced the room thinking.

It was too convenient. It smelled of a trap.

Lyra wrapped her hands around the handle of the embedded dagger and dragged it across the richly painted wall, needing an outlet as she thought. They were trying to draw her away from the battle, tempting her with their stolen goods. It was obvious, but Lyra had a hard time wrestling down the urge to do precisely that and personally exact revenge.

She could wait. Let her armies do the burning while she saw to it that Aziron fell at last. She'd get to them eventually. She could wait.

She plucked the dagger free.

The Western Navy would be in the Sky Sea before the morrow had ended. Once they were, Lyra could start her assault. So many options to crush the old fool and his pathetic nation.

Lyra sighed, still, there was so much she wanted to do personally. For the first time in her life, Lyra thought she understood her father. There was a disappointing impersonal streak to winning so much and she did feel a pang of regret.

She twirled the dagger. Unlike the Bear, she had no intention of letting such disappointment last. She enjoyed her life and she would survive a few lost opportunities so long as she kept some to savor.

The valley, the mage, the bitch, her brother, her husband...so many targets but not enough time. Eirik she needed and had already decided Matius would bring the most satisfaction. So if her husband was in the valley, she would simply have to focus on the mage.

He was the Third Apprentice, he would not abandon Aziron in it's final hour. He would be in Zi'giza when it fell and she would be waiting.