”Leave us,” Aelar said and waved his hand dismissively at the guards.

Leera watched the bobbing red bun of Bryne’s hair as he was hauled off by the guards. Once they were alone in the throne room, Aelar rose from his chair. She felt like the hand of the crypt stalker was choking her again. Her brother’s steps each seemed to tighten the grip on her throat, cutting off her air supply as he closed in. Despite her efforts, a tiny drop broke free and tumbled out of her eye.

“You were slowing me down,” he said and touched her cheek. “It’s not your fault you’re a mundane.”

His voice was soft, but his words were sharp as needles. And even though Leera’s heart was turning into a pincushion, she knew that he was right. She had always been a burden to him.

“Couldn’t you have sent me a letter? I thought you were dead...”

“I knew you would just come running.” Aelar tilted his head to the side and looked her straight in the eyes. “I had aspirations… ambitions! I needed a clean slate. I would never have made it to where I am today.”

“Because… having a mundane sister means… that your bloodline isn’t pure.” She had to squeeze the words out of her throat.

“See, you’re not so stupid after all. Politics is a business of cutthroats and backstabbing – I wouldn’t have lasted a day. Besides, the big city wasn’t for you.”

Aelar brushed a lock of Leera’s hair out of her face and hooked it behind her ear. He was right, but the truth was painful. When he left, she’d had nobody. She had lived on the street for almost a month before the farmer’s wife had taken pity on her.

Leera turned away and stifled another sob by biting her knuckle. “Why… why did you bring me here now?”

She heard him sighing loudly behind her.

“I wouldn’t have,” he said simply. “That old fool had me convinced that you were an Iso-bender. It’s his fault you’re crying now. But don’t worry; I’ll have him appropriately punished.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Leera whispered.

“But I do. If people think it’s okay to lie to the regent…” He snorted. “No, he must be punished.”

She thought of Quick stomping into her house and demanding tea, and of how he baked carrot biscuits every morning, and how he always saw the best in people. She hadn’t realized it until now that her heart had a soft spot for the old man, despite his eccentric ways.

“Please, Aelar, he’s just a crazy old man,” Leera said and spun back around. “It’s not his fault.”

“Then whose fault is it? I find myself with a whole plate of new problems, and none of them look particularly appetizing. By now, half the nobility in Oceanpeak knows I have a mundane sister. And with the Conclave scourging the countryside, my position is threatened.”

“The Conclave?”

“It’s a murderous group of traitors who works with the enemy to see my downfall. I’ve kept their vile kind in check for months, but now it seems they’ve finally gained the upper hand.” Aelar paced back and forth in front of his desk. “Did you know that they butchered an entire city only last week? Of course not… but let me tell you, they somehow got wind of my beloved wife, Claria, visiting Cloudrest. They struck like a viper, and are now keeping her for ransom.”

Leera shuddered as images of twisted black corpses swayed inside her mind.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, even though she knew that there wasn’t.

“Yes, there is one thing…” Aelar said, to her surprise. “Their leader, Joseph Felthorne, has put a bounty on your head because his spies have told him you’re an Iso-bender. If we act quickly, we might be able to trade you for Claria. But it would be a death sentence once he realizes you’re not… I couldn’t possibly ask you to lay down your life for Claria’s...”

He let the last sentence hang in the air. Leera remembered how Aelar had pulled her out of the fire in their childhood home, and the times he had taken the punishment for her in the orphanage, and how he had tried so hard to help her fly even though it was impossible. She had always been a problem and a weight on his shoulders – she had always been so useless to him. Perhaps this was her chance to prove that she had some use and become more than a walking disappointment.

“I’ll do it,” Leera said and clenched her fists. “But please don’t hurt Quick.”

“Go back to your chamber while I set up the trade.”

“What about Quick?”

“I’ll consider it.”

Leera watched him as he sat down behind the desk and started writing. Even when she crossed the room, he didn’t look up. She held up her hand and mouthed ‘I’m sorry.’

“Farewell, brother,” she said.

He didn’t answer.