I come awake as typical, alert and still.

"Good morning, Thelios," Nan offers me a tea.

I sit up and take it, thanking her, relieved to see that her eyes are back to the slitted cat-eyes she shares with her grandson.

"I'm sorry about Belen," I apologize again. I can't apologize enough.

She smiles sadly, "I felt his soul, so happy, Thelios. The Lady is kind to my grandson."

"Why do you call her 'the Lady?'" I ask. I miss this. I had forgotten how nice it was to sit and listen to Nan spin her stories, ripe with lessons. I had no memories of my time in the Underworld when I was here with Belen months ago. Her tales grounded me in this place. I hate that I forgot about her, forgot about my Poppy and my Sprite.

"Because, we do not use the gods' proper names, Thelios. It is disrespectful. The Lady Grief is just that, the Lady."

I laugh. "She wasn't a lady in the city. Isn't that fuc-ironic, Nan? An entire city of Tasuri warriors derided her and spat on her because she wasn't good enough."

Nan pours more tea into my cup. I sip, the chill in my bones retreating a little. It's easy to slip into the role of student, to forget what I am; the Underworld's monster.

"A moment of time. That's all her life here is, Thelios. She is Death's daughter. Immortal in her way. All souls are, I suppose, but as she grows older, who knows what she can do? She may be able to pass through lives like a fish through water."

I think about the vision the mother showed me. "I saw..." I hesitate, "she brought a bird back to life, not in reality, but in a vision."

"What does Death mean to her? Life holds her in its shackles, but once free from them, she rules Death as much as her father does."

I gulp the rest of my tea down. My fingers tighten on my cup. "A goddess has toyed with me before, made a mockery of my love and attention. What Inanji did to me hurts, but Mara has the ability to completely shatter me to pieces," I tell Nan quietly.

"You must trust her, Thelios," Nan says quietly. "You and your twin have hurt her, brought pain to her heart. Perhaps if you hadn't then I would have different advice, but now? Eternity is a long time to spend longing for something that is no longer yours. She can break the bonds set by her sister. She can utterly twist and reform them as she sees fit. Love doesn't entirely realize this, yet."

"How do you know all this, Nan?" I ask her, her words not entirely making sense to me.

"I am the Seer for the mother, Thelios. There is always one. My granddaughter is the next. She is already very good. She is watching the undead army."

A growl is ripped from my chest. "The what?" I ask. I stand, energy zapping me entire body. My demon, always alert for threats, is peering into the corners of the tent, ready for battle.

"Easy, young one. Love has used the Forgotten to change her army. They are an echo of living soldiers. Blood-drinkers who will prey on the living. She will lead them to your city. Foolish of her, really. If she lets them scatter then it would be far more devastating."

"They will attack the city? Where Mara and our daughter are?"

Nan raises an eyebrow. What am I doing, just standing here? I hurry to strap on my swords. "Nan, thank you, but I need to leave. I have to get back to the city."

"Of course, Thelios. Out you go, then."

I step out of the tent, Mishu right next to me. I grind to a halt as I exit the tent. The fucking city wall is only a few lengths from me.

I look at Mishu. "Did you know?"

He shrugs his shoulders and lifts his hands. "Goddssss," he hisses.

---

I sit up as the world spins around my head. After a night of drinking Lier into the ground my head feels like Socks and Rocks are drumming on it.

Socks sits up with me, orange eyes glowing in what might be concern, or the need to throw up, the little beastie drank his own weight in wine last night.

"Why did you let me drink so much?" I mutter.

He shrugs and leaps off of my lap, staggering around a bit as if he's still feeling the effects of the drink. Bloodletter is there a second later, a frown on his face that reminds me so much of my grandfather that it's eerie.

"You're not going to lecture me, right?" I ask.

His round, black orbs roll with an emphasis that I thought only adolescent females could achieve. He hands me a cup of dark liquid.

I drink. It settles my stomach and makes my head scream a little less. It also tastes like mold.

"Shit," I huff.

I pull on my boots and strap on my weapons before standing upright. It's just before dawn. The First House army was hidden from sight of the walls of War all day yesterday. It's suspicious. Only a skeleton force was left to maintain their siege. My Lady was able to walk into the temple of Death without a single outcry.

My Lady.

I sigh, draining the last of the bitter brew Bloodletter brought to me. I have no time to whimper and whine about my pain caused by my own self-indulgence. I swore to my Lady that I would save my brother, so I will.

It only takes me an hour to fly to the mountains north of the city. There are bolt-holes and escape tunnels in the palaces of the elite of the city that empty out into these hills.

All I need to do is find one and follow it in reverse. I very much doubt that the First House army has them guarded. Very few shifters even know that they exist.

I find the tunnel fairly easily. The tunnel's opening is secured in a small cave behind a large outcropping. It's closer to the Fifth District, which is exactly where I need to be.

There is another tunnel from the Fifth District, directly to my private suite of rooms at the palace. I used it to visit my Fated.

She deserved more than to be a secret.

I shake off the thoughts as I jog through the dusty tunnel. At certain points it opens back to the sky, allowing the light to pour in. It's nothing like the last tunnels I traveled. Nothing like it at all.

I reach the First District quickly. Emerging into the city streets I take my time to look around. It's disturbingly normal. Other than increased patrols of soldiers, it seems as if the citizens of the First District are behaving as if there isn't a War.

It's chilling. I keep to the shadows and walk towards the low walls separating this District from the Fifth District. As I walk I look. I watch. I listen. Are these shifters spelled? Have I wandered into an alternate world again? Aren't they starving? Concerned? For now, War has been content to lay behind their walls, but how long do these shifters really think that will last?

Only Socks' inane chattering and obscene gestures towards every soldier we pass by keeps me from grabbing and interrogating one of these shifters. It takes a lot of control for me to not break out into a sprint, just to get away from the disturbing atmosphere here.

It sinks in when I leap the wall into the Love District. Here it's much the same as over the wall in the First District. Shifters are running their businesses, chatting with their neighbors, strolling about as if nothing is wrong on the other side of the city.

The only visible difference at first is that there are very few soldiers here. Love never had a big army. Unless you count the army of bastard children that they have.

Had.

My feet slow. Socks is on my shoulder, his body trembling, his mouth, for once, quiet.

We are at the tunnel to the First House. Right in front of me is the school my Parijan attended. Only a stone's throw is the tree we would meet under. It was convenient, so close to the hidden passage.

The school seems vacant. No sounds of little females giggling to each other, or droning on reciting poetry, or clanking their sewing needles against each other. There's no signs of life anywhere. This school was more overcrowded than the orphanages of the mother. It was a literal impossibility for it to be this quiet.

I can't help but take the well-worn trail around the school's yard to peer in one of the windows. The room is empty.

Momo is whimpering softly into my ear. He tugs on my ear, pointing to the tunnel with a frantic motion.

"Alright, Socks. Let's get moving," I appease him grimly. I can try to solve this mystery later.

Or is it a mystery? Did the Fifth District kill their Acera children? So many Acera are gone from this city, dead or escaped down the river. I just never thought that those sweet females would be driven away, too. I fight down the terrible feeling in my gut when I think of them. Innocent beauties tossed aside like trash... just the same way that I did.

It's a relief to step into the tunnel. Socks nearly falls off my shoulder in happiness. His chatter picks back up as I start to jog again. The agitation rolling off of me from the oddity of the Fifth District School makes my feet fly until I am at the entrance to my former suite in the palace.

I walk inside as if I own the place. Because I do, unfortunately.

I look around my rooms of the First House as if I've never seen them before. I never left the suite deemed mine as soon as I no longer needed to be in the nursery. My parents still live in the more luxurious rooms typically reserved for the Lord and Lady of the First House. At the time it seemed a compromise; I got the title, my father kept his rooms.

Dumb, isn't it?

I take a breath and pull open the wardrobe. My clothes are still inside, cleaned and pressed, kept free of moths and dust inside the heavy cabinet. I pull out the blue and gold vest, but I take a pair of soft grey leather pants, for my Lady.

I get dressed slowly. It feels wrong, like a costume. My shirts stretch too tightly over my shoulders and biceps, the pants nearly split over my thighs, making me wonder just how much training in the Underworld changed me.

I finish getting dressed and hide my normal leathers under a bench in the corner. My swords I keep strapped on, even if they're the black blades of the Underworld. I'm not comfortable enough to leave them behind. At least they are mostly covered by the fancy gold-trimmed cloak I throw on.

Socks takes one of Anthea's fancy ladies scarves and tosses it around his neck, cackling madly as he upends her jewelry case. I just roll my eyes. Let the child play.

It feels foreign in this place. I don't belong here. My skin itches in the too-tight clothes. The palace I grew up in, that I ruled over, makes me uneasy. I'm the enemy now, even if I'm going to try to pretend that I'm back from the dead to rescue them.

Thelios was in my place, and his tattoos and mine don't match, but I have a story ready for that. If anything, this place taught me how to prevaricate and lie until your victims have no choice but to believe your rotten story.

"How do I look?" I ask Socks with my arms spread out to my sides.

He looks me over, then makes a so-so motion with his ring-covered hand. The tiara of golden leaves tilts on his head.

"Good enough," I shrug.

Now to find my brother and get the fuck out of here.

I leave the suite with a swagger in my step. Act like I belong, even if this place makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

I stop in the hallway. There is no one here, but something tickles my spine, a knowing, a feeling of being stalked.

Is my brother hiding in the shadows?

I spin, opening my senses. I am loathe to let my demon out, to let the Basru Captain emerge. I am blending in as Thane of the First House. Pretending.

I smell it, then, the coppery scent of blood. It's old, but not rotten. I start walking toward the nursery, my heart beating in time with the drips I hear. Slow drips, not water, blood is thicker, more viscous. It falls slowly and drops, congealing into its syrup as it slides down whatever surface it's on. I know all about blood. I've swam in it in the Underworld, had it under my tongue, in my teeth, drying under my fingernails.

There is blood in the nursery. A lot of it. No sign of any servant or guard. This place is deader than my Lady's graveyard.

I draw my sword before entering the nursery. Walking inside I take a deep breath. My mother and father are the first victims I see. Their bodies are splayed over the bed in the corner, limp limbs and dead eyes telling me they lack life even before the smell hits me.

I cautiously walk closer. They are most definitely dead, died together if the copious amounts of blood surrounding them tell me anything. Walking over, I examine my mother, feeling the slightest bit of remorse for her death. I look into her dead eyes, wondering if she knew about my twin. How does a mother not know that she's missing a child?

Then again, I'm not much of a father.

And I know how terribly that's true when I hear the soft giggle behind me. Socks crawls under my cloak, hiding himself, his entire body shaking as he hisses, "cuuurrrrsss...edd."

I look at the macabre sight in front of me with a vague sense of separation from it. It's almost as if I'm walking in a nightmare instead of reality... or has the Underworld hardened me to sights like this?

My son, who must be close to two years old, is sitting in the corner, covered from head to toe in blood.

It's not his blood. He's the picture of health. Sparkling blue eyes, Anthea's color, peer out at me. His fat cheeks and pudgy stomach tell me that he eats well. White teeth gleam over bloody lips. He's drenched in death, but his eyes are pure predatory curiosity.

"Isn't our son perfect, Thane?" Anthea's pretty voice is smoother than I remember. When she walks out from the nursemaid's room in the corner I know that she is changed. Blood-red lips, similar to Mara's, smile at me. Her eyes are brighter blue than I've ever seen before. Her skin glows, pale under the smooth tan color. She is wearing a First House-blue dress made from the most expensive linen, trimmed with golden beads. The only sign of violence is a spot of dried blood on her collar.

Behind her are the bodies of the nursemaids. I spare them only a glance, just enough to see that both females look to have been dead for a long while. Their corpses are dried out husks. I don't keep my attention on them, I have bigger threats, the worst one is watching me, her smile faltering.

"Where are your tattoos, Thane?" she asks. Her lower lip trembles, anger flashes in her eyes. "Who are you?" she snarls. "What trick is this?"

"I am your husband, madam," I keep my voice soft, soothing. My demon curls his lips, flashing his fangs and glaring at the new Anthea. "That male who was here, darling," I choke out the endearment, "he was the false male. My twin."

The anger clears, her face turning into a mask of horror. She is still too pretty, too perfect. It sets both my demon and I on edge.

"Death sent him here to seduce me," she breathes.

I will myself to look sympathetic. Is this truly Anthea? What has happened to her and my son? Where the fuck is Thelios?

"Where is he, my brother?" I ask smoothly.

A frown flits across her face. "Nisjahn is in the dungeon. He... he tried to attack me, saying that I am not his Fated."

I rub my hand over my face. "Nisjahn is in the dungeon? He is your Fated. I suppose he's the father to your daughter?" I say, feeling bored with this demoness and her illusions of grandeur.

"Don't mention that bastard spawn to me!" Anthea hisses. "If not for her you would have never left!"

"I left before her conception, darling," I say sarcastically.

Anthea pulls at her hair. Despite her anger, her perfect skin doesn't change. It remains without color. She is like a doll and I wonder if I smash the hilt of my sword in her face, will it shatter like glass?

"You left me, twice! You left me twice! You knew, right away, that she wasn't yours!"

She is confusing me with Thelios. My twin is smarter than I thought, if he knew right away that the female child wasn't mine.

I nod at her, forcing a smile. "Poor darling. You must be so confused." Nisjahn isn't the brother I'm looking for. If Thelios left her, does that mean that he isn't here, now? Is he with Love, somewhere? Gods, that will kill my sweet Lady.

My son hisses at me, walking over to the bed that holds my parents. Climbing up onto my father's chest, he picks up my mother's wrist and bites. The sounds of sucking fill the room.

Anthea shakes her head at him, "he is such a hungry little male," she sighs. "He'll need a new body, soon." She turns back to me, her face brightening. "But you're here now, my love! You can help me feed him!"

"Who did this to you, Anthea?" I ask her. Sudden sympathy actually wells up for her. Not enough to change her fate, but...

"Love made us strong," she states proudly. "She told me that I would have my family back."

"She's turned you both into monsters," I bluntly tell her.

Her smile falters. "We're not the monsters, Thane! Your Fated," she spits, "is the whore who turns the dead into her slaves. There is an army of them, building a bridge to cross the Euphrates. Love has taken the army to face them all. She is saving us."

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. An army. The First Army is gone and Love told Anthea that they have left to deal with some horde of undead? Is Thelios with them? Is any of this true?

"How did you become this?" I try to coax her out of her rage to get more answers. My heart is racing in staccato as my son drinks blood from the corpse of his grandmother.

"Love fed us hearts from the dead. She stole the jar from your Fated. The whore should learn how to keep her things safe," Anthea growls.

Gods. The Fourth House shades.

"She will die at Love's hands and be sent back to her father in pieces!"

I unsheath my sword and slice through my wife's neck in one smooth motion, severing her head. Copious amounts of blood pour out of the stump. Nothing sprays, there is no heart to beat in her dead chest. Just a dead, porcelain husk filled with red liquid that spills out onto the tile floor.

My son starts to cry when he sees his mother. I grab him as he crawls over, easily avoiding the sharp teeth that try to puncture skin. I feel like a failure. I am supposed to protect my Lady, bring my brother back to her. Now, I have nothing to show for coming here but a corpse in need of burning and a blood-drinking child.

"What should I do, Socks?" I ask.

He is poking my son. Giggling madly as the little demon chomps down on stone fingers, crying when it yields no blood or flesh.

Socks blinks his round, orange eyes at me. "Maara," he grates out.

I walk out of the First House and back into the tunnels with Socks on my shoulders and my demon-child trying to gnaw on my arms.