The rain pattered against the window and turned the world outside into a blurry mishmash of green and gray. Leera put a finger against a bruise on her arm and pressed down. Dull pain shot through her arm. She moved to the next bruise. More pain, but the dirty yellow and blue discoloration faded.

She closed her eyes and went through all of the bruises. Each of them held a short glimpse of a memory. The one just above her elbow was extra painful to touch. It was from the time they had been caught outside the orphanage's fence. The headmistress had been very angry.

Leera's fingers wandered further down the arm until it reached the bandage around her wrist. She didn’t dare to press down on it. The red hot pain from the stove was still fresh in her mind. It was so unfair. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and still, she had been punished. How was it her fault that Aelar ran away? She’d even tried to stop him.

A tap came on the window, and Leera opened her eyes. Framed behind the wet glass was a blurry pastiche of her brother’s face.

“Do you have the rucksack?” he said as soon as she opened the window.

His usually silver-white hair was dark and sticking to his wet face. His clothes were soaked, and he was trembling.

“Where have you–”

“The rucksack, Leera,” he cut her off.

Pouting, Leera climbed down from the windowsill and pulled out the leather backpack where they had been saving some food every night for the last few weeks. She handed it to her brother.

“Where are you going?” she said sullenly.

“We are going away, far away.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. You and me, Sis,” he said and pulled her up to the windowsill again.

The wet lawn below felt much farther away than she remembered it. The two-story house suddenly felt like a steep mountainside.

‘The air folk isn't afraid of heights,’ she thought and swallowed.

“Come on, Leera,” he said, “before the headmistress notices!”

Aelar was already drifting away, expecting her to follow. It looked so easy – the way the air carried him – so effortless. She took a deep breath and spread her arms. She jumped.

In an ocean of agony, Leera’s wrist felt like a pier. Rolling waves of pain smashed into her and kept splashing up over her arm. She groaned. A scorpion crawled through her mind, ready to strike… ready to choke her with its venom. The cloaked man blew out one candle at the time. Leera screamed at him. He stopped and turned towards her, showing her his unwrapped arm – peeling gray skin, sharp clawing nails in sickly yellow.

Leera gasped and sat up. Slowly she forced her eyes open. At first, her vision was blurry. Then, through crusts of dried eye goo, a room gradually appeared. Stone walls decorated with chiseled eagles, banners in regal blue and gold, and a doorway with flowing curtains, leading onto a balcony.

“You’re awake,” Maya said.

The memories suddenly came rushing back to her – Maya’s empty cot; the silhouettes struggling in Andromeda’s stern; the invisible shape in the rain; her broken wrist.

“W-where is Bryne?”

“Sleeping, I’d imagine. He’s been by your side for three days. He must like you or something.”

Leera tentatively watched Maya pick her nails with the tip of a dagger. Hadn’t she attacked Quick?

“Three days? What happened? Where are we?”

“The royal palace in Oceanpeak,” Maya said and managed to look thoroughly unimpressed. “A crypt stalker got you. You’ve been out since.”

Leera touched her neck where the creature had put its hand. She found a thick bandage instead of skin.

“That reminds me; it’s time we change the dressing again. Lie down.”

Leera pulled the covers tighter around her. One of Maya’s dark eyebrows rose a little.

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would've had plenty of time when you were out,” she said.

She put her hand on Leera’s shoulder and gently pushed her down. Carefully, she started tending to her neck.

“I thought you were an assassin and not a nurse.”

“You were poisoned,” Maya said. “The first thing you learn is how to administer antidotes. Don’t want to end up dead by accident while coating your blade.”

“The crypt stalker’s touch is fatal on its own," Maya continued. "I guess someone really wanted you dead.”

“Poisoned… how?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you?” Maya said and dabbed a cloth of stinging liquid over the wound. “Did you see anyone else on the ship that night?”

“I, uh…”

Leera suddenly felt tired. Maya’s nimble fingers, dancing across her neck, had an oddly relaxing effect.

“There was a man…” Leera said. “But he wasn’t on the boat.”

“Yeah, where was he then?”

She wasn’t sure if her vision had been real or if it was just her mind that had played tricks on her during to the panic and the stress. She shook her head and sighed.

“All done!”

Maya smiled and held up the old dressing. Leera’s eyes went wide.

“What… what does that… scorpion on your wrist mean?”

“Oh, this one?” Maya said. “It’s the symbol of the Re’dorai – the mercenary guild Bryne and I were part of.”

Leera’s throat felt like she had swallowed a handful of sand. Bryne, Maya, the cloaked man… were they all in cahoots somehow? What was their agenda? She reached for the water on her nightstand and took a careful sip.

“Where’s Quick?”

“Quick is fine. A lot of oomph in that old geezer – shrugged off the crypt stalker’s touch like it was a bee sting,” Maya said and walked over to the balcony, inviting the breeze into her obsidian locks. “He had some business to attend to – restocking his tea supply, I'd imagine.”

“What I don’t understand,” Maya continued and pointed her dagger at Leera, “is why you're so special.”

“I’m not,” Leera croaked. “I’m a mundane.”

“See, I think you’re lying. Who would summon a creature like that to murder a mundane?”

“I’m not, I just–”

Maya moved closer to the bed and Leera choked on the words.

“I don’t appreciate being lied to. And I don’t like being locked up in here.”

“Locked up?”

“The royal guard apprehended us as soon as we arrived. Quick is the only one allowed to leave the suite. They’ve got men watching every exit. I know for a fact that I don’t warrant this of type attention, and unless Bryne has done something exceptionally stupid this time, you’re the odd one out.”

“I don’t–” Leera said with her eyes fixed on the dagger that was now unnervingly close to her throat.

A swift knock on the door broke the tense moment. It creaked and opened. A girl clad in a simple sleeveless dress and a white apron stepped into the room. She had her blonde hair tied into tight knots over her ears and had a silly-looking cap on her head.

“Here are the sheets you asked for, Miss,” she whispered, but then noticed Leera. “Oh good, you’re awake. I’ll inform Lord Eirey right away.”