Several seconds passed before Rhys reacted. When he did, it was to grab the hilt of his sword.

“No,” Taryn chastised, waving a warning finger at him. “When someone offers you a hand, you shake it. You do not draw your sword.”

Rhys spared a few more moments to give Taryn a confounded look, and then he rushed to pull the weapon from its sheath. As it came out, Taryn closed her hands tightly around his grip and twisted. The sword’s point swept in a downward arc until the length of the blade stopped parallel to her arm. Rhys’s arm had been twisted at the shoulder so that most of his back was left exposed to her. She swept his foot out with her own and at the same time used one of her hands to push against his strained joint.

Rhys fell face-first into the gravel and Taryn stood above him, sword in hand. He tried to get up but Taryn kicked at his gut with enough force to double him over. He coughed as he tried to recover. Then she darted away from him. The other four were coming down from the wall and Rhys would only get in the way. She quickly Surveyed the four new minds as they ran to surround her with their swords already drawn.

The one who stood between her and the palace was Haral, a broad shouldered and thickly muscled man who had been a Major in the Lothorian Guard before joining the King’s Infantry. With just over 20 years of service, he was the most senior member of their team. Two others had made it to the rank of Captain, serving the counties for nearly a decade before being recruited to the palace. They were Isak, who flanked Taryn on the right, and Milo, who flanked her left. But the ex-Lieutenant Waite, the with the least experience, was behind her.

The Major was the one who spoke.

“As an officer of the King’s Infantry, and on behalf of the Lothorian Administration for the Assimilation of Mutant Persons, I hereby place you under arrest. For the unlawful entry onto these palace grounds and the subsequent assault against an officer of the King’s Infantry, you will be charged as an enemy of the Seat. Surrender now and…”

Taryn stopped listening. She didn’t intend to be arrested tonight and she wasn’t going to surrender, not when she could easily win her freedom. As far as they were concerned, she was a mutant determined to assassinate the King. They weren’t concerned about her possibly attempting to flee.

Taryn lunged back and turned around as she swung her sword down hard. It collided powerfully with Waite’s sword, which fell from his loose grip. She stepped closer and brought her sword back up to cut him across his chest. His green and gold decorated tabard ripped away, spewing thick redness as he fell. That put an end to the Major’s speech.

She turned away from the fallen man and faced Milo. As the woman advanced on her, Taryn threw her sword at her. It spun in the air toward Milo’s neck and Taryn ran after it. Milo, hastily ducking to avoid the blade, fell onto her backside. Taryn arrived in time to plant the heel of her boot into her face. Her nose crunched under the force and she fell back for a time.

Taryn felt Isak’s flame draw closer as he moved to attack her from behind. She pivoted on the balls of her feet and jumped into a spinning kick. Her foot collided with the side of his head. He was knocked off his feet and lay stunned on the ground.

The Major came at her now, his sword lowered to impale her. Taryn stepped back and outside to dodge his first jab. She did the same for his second jab. When he jabbed a third time, his aim was a little outside and Taryn stepped into the open space he’d created. She spun into it, stopping against his chest. Her left elbow knocked his chin up and her arm snapped out to deliver a backfist to his temple. He was temporarily stunned but held fast to his blade.

She closed her hand around the pommel and took a step away from him. She raised her right foot and leaned her body forward to deliver a backwards thrust kick. Her foot connected with his chest and he stumbled away, unable to maintain his grip on his weapon. Taryn turned, gripping the weapon in both hands. She hefted it to cut him from waist to opposing shoulder. Then she kicked the bleeding gash and stepped away to survey her progress.

She’d taken two of them down for the night but the two remaining had recovered from their injuries and they stood on either side of her. Taryn’s heart raced in anticipation as Milo came at her first.

They shared a few dodged and parried strokes before Isak joined in, attacking her from the other side. Taryn was able to hold her own against them. She strained her knees with many ducks and twists and stretched herself to deliver numerous combinations of attacks and defenses to both sides. But she suffered some bruises to her sides where they’d whacked at her with the flat of their blades. She spun her sword out around her to win herself a reprieve, then stepped away to put some distance between them and give herself a better chance.

With the palace at her back and the two advancing before her, Taryn drew her sword back to throw it again but she didn’t release it. Her sword was still in her grip when they both hastened to get out of the way, running in opposite directions. Taryn ran toward Isak. She stopped him with a roundhouse kick and when he doubled over, she knocked him unconscious with the pommel of her sword.

Taryn picked up his sword and let out a satisfied sigh. She faced Milo with a cocksure grin. Standing there, a sword clenched in each hand, her victory was assured.

Milo tried to get through her double bladed form but she was untouchable. The woman was quickly beaten back, breathless and bleeding from many of Taryn’s small teasing cuts. She pressed her attack again and ended the bout in three quick strikes: one to lift and hold the woman’s sword out of the way, a second to bring her second sword across her chest and the third to bring the first sword down and across the chest. She’d carved an ‘X’ onto the woman’s chest and kicked hard at the red center of it. Milo fell from her pain and exhaustion.

Taryn flicked the swords out to her sides, shaking off as much of the red liquid as she could. She looked around at her work and was pleased. But standing between her and the palace was Rhys. Taryn had nearly forgotten about him. He hadn’t been scared off by the fray. He had taken the sword from his first fallen comrade and held it in one hand, pointed toward Taryn. In his other hand was a hand-bow. Taryn felt the first signs of fear grip her.

The hand-bows were weapons designed by the High Commander of the Southern Province. They looked just like crossbows, but were much, much smaller. A single trigger could be pulled consecutively to fire up to four steel-tipped bolts – filled with a highly concentrated dose of weapons-class inhibitors.

Domestic inhibitors Taryn could brush off. All they did was attack secarin, temporarily removing mutant abilities. But the weapons-class inhibitors were designed to capture dangerous mutants by any means necessary. Taryn knew the Infantrymen laced their bolts with the stuff. If the sharp tip cut into her skin, she would suffer some form of crippling pain as well as the loss of her abilities.

That would ruin the whole purpose of the night. Taryn didn’t want them to know that she was a mutant. That’s why she hadn’t used her abilities. It was much more of an inconvenience for Vares to keep Infantrymen quiet about her than it was with civilians. But getting hit with any weapons-class inhibitor, especially if it was highly concentrated, would lay waste to all of her careful plans. And Vares would never let her hear the end of it.

Rhys’s voice shook as he spoke. “By order of the Lothorian Administration for the Assimilation of Mutant Persons, any enemy of the Seat…”

Taryn couldn’t understand why all of the announcements were necessary. The LAAMP’s policies wasted so much time with those formalities. Guards could be killed while reciting the charges brought against the persons they were trying to apprehend.

Taryn imagined she looked quite imposing with a sword clutched in each hand, stained in red, and the bodies of Rhys’s superiors lying around her. She took advantage of Rhys’s fear and began a slow, menacing walk towards him, her face twisted in a sick grin.

Rhys’s hand shook as he fired his first shot. It headed for her arm but she easily dodged it and continued her menacing advance. He fired the next three bolts with a bit more accuracy. They flew at her in rapid succession; aimed at her neck, chest, and again at her arm. She deflected them with her swords but was a little late on the one aimed at her chest. She hit the tail of it. It ricocheted and headed for her neck. She desperately lunged out of the way but it still grazed her. She felt the stinging pain of its cut and wondered how long it would take for the inhibitor to kick in.

She couldn’t wait around to find out, so she ran at him. Rhys discarded the spent hand-bow and raised his sword to meet hers but his efforts were hopeless. Taryn quickly disarmed him and held the points of her swords and his neck and gut. Instead of surrendering, he backed away and put up his fists.

Taryn admired his courage. She tossed her swords aside and did the same.

The two of them fought fiercely; Rhys to defend his King, Taryn just to get the exercise. She reasoned that if she could get her adrenaline levels up, that would increase her secarin production and increase her chances of battling the effects of the inhibitor. It seemed to be working for her; she only felt a slight burning sensation spreading through her chest from her neck.

Sweeping kicks were leapt over. Punches and palm thrusts were blocked, held or endured. They switched sides many times; the palace often fell to Taryn’s back but she never made for it. Rhys was proving more skilled than expected and Taryn enjoyed the sport. Jumping arrow kicks and spinning sidekicks were ducked under, backed away from or received with irritation. Arms were twisted. Grips were broken. They both gave as much as they got. Then they broke apart, winded and hurt.

Taryn recovered first. This had gone on long enough and she was ready to end it. She went at her opponent with quick, hard jabs aimed at his torso and ribs. Rhys was driven back, away from the palace, cringing and bending to protect himself. When he tried to retaliate she struck at the exposed inner muscles and he’d pull back in pain. She got hit a few times but they were nowhere near the strongest blows she’d ever endured.

A jumping kick to Rhys’s chest ended the match, sending him sprawling on the floor. Taryn went to collect a sword. Rhys tried to get up but she shoved a boot against his shoulder and held the sword up, point down, to strike.

Injured, exhausted and defeated, Rhys’s eyes searched for some flaw in her stand to exploit it and break free. When he found none, he glared defiantly at her. He didn’t close his eyes to the blow and he didn’t beg for his life.

Taryn smiled and shoved the sword deep into the gravel next to his head. “Welcome to the Infantry, Rhys.”

Taryn laughed at his crazed gaze that jumped between her and the sword beside him. She took her foot off of him and backed away towards the safety of the space where the others were rising. Rhys scrambled to his feet and wrestled the sword from beside him. He held it out in front of him, swinging it wildly as the other guards laughed and removed the severed leather vests and bleeding pouches that hid under their tabards.

“Put that thing down, boy,” the Major said, tossing his drained vest onto the rocks. “Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

Rhys still held the sword, raised to defend. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that you are now officially an Infantryman.” Waite walked to him and took the sword out of his hands. “Give me that, before you hurt someone.”

“You’ve passed the final test,” Milo said, coming up on Rhys to put a tight arm around his neck and picking the small punctured pouch from her ‘bloody’ nose.

“Test?” Rhys asked. “This was a test?”

“Yes.” With the sword out of his hand, and his comrades no longer feigning injured, Taryn felt it was safe to approach again. “And you did well. You’re very confident in your own skills and you never gave up, even when it seemed hopeless. I was so relieved. The last guy actually cried.”

“You should see your face right now. It’s hilarious.” Isak laughed and tousled the disheveled mess of Rhys’s dark hair. Rhys threw his hand away and pulled free of Milo’s grip.

“I heard your voice shaking,” the Major said. He smiled and pulled Taryn in a one-armed hug to calm the young Infantryman’s worries and ease his confusion as to whether or not Taryn was an enemy. “She must have really scared you.”

“I’m sorry for your injuries,” Taryn said. “I tried not to hurt you too badly but I had to make it seem real for you. You’ll be sore for a few days but the Major will go easy on you.”

“Wait,” Rhys pointed at Taryn and looked at the Major. “This isn’t a mutant?”

“Did you see me use any mutant abilities?” Taryn asked evasively. She didn’t feel comfortable lying to anyone who asked outright, despite Vares’s insistences that she do so.

“No, but you…” He turned back to the Major. “Who is she?”

“My name is Taryn.” She reached into her cloak and pulled out a leather bound booklet and handed it to him. “I live here.”

The few pages it held contained information required of all Lothorian passports: a detailed sketch of the owner’s face, as well as a physical description accentuating any distinctive qualities (like her golden eyes); the owner’s name; place of residence; birthday; a list of all the settlements entered and dates of such (Taryn’s held none); date issued; and most importantly: mutant status.

Passports were renewed annually and citizens needed to pass a secarin screening test to receive the renewal. If a person was found to be a mutant, a red ‘X’ would be stamped over the sketch of their face to match the one they would receive on their wrist. Taryn’s wrists and passport had no such marking. Lothorian passports generally required the signatures of three local officials to be valid. Taryn’s only had one.

Rhys read the name to himself. “This is the King’s signature!”

“Yes, it is,” Taryn said. “His Majesty has been signing my passports for five years.”

“You live here,” Rhys repeated as he handed the passport back.

“Yes,” Taryn said. “I’m not here to kill the King. I help protect him. And I like to know that the guards charged with His Majesty’s protection are up to the task. You did well once the fighting started, but I should not have had to fight the others. You should have stopped me when I expressed my intentions. But you hesitated. You let my appearance deceive you and you dropped your guard. Most mutants aren’t strong enough to take your sword from you if they have to take you with it. But you practically handed it to me.”

“Okay,” Rhys answered warily.

“Relax. None of that was real. But you know the law. Act accordingly.” Taryn understood that the law could never be completely perfect, but in the case of someone arriving at the palace and announcing that they intended to assassinate the King, she agreed with the LAAMP.

“Thank you for helping us with this,” the Major said. “We were trying to warm him up for you but you came around earlier than expected.”

“Sorry about that,” Taryn said. “The Guards of Pine Keep let a Yellow Alert get away from them so the city’s gone to ground.”

“Anything we need to worry about?”

“I’ll let you know,” she told them. “Thank you all for the exercise. It’s been a long time since I’ve sparred with anyone and I really enjoyed this.” She was glad for any chance to sharpen her skills against actual human beings.

“Do you think you can ‘help’ the northeastern gate guards next month?”

“I’ll try. But why are we changing gate guards so often?”

“I hear the LAAMP are on a mission to double the number of Black Knights. Many of the recruits are being tested with positions within the Infantry.”

“You wouldn’t know anything about why that is, would you?” Waite asked.

“No,” Taryn answered, but she intended to find out. She turned to Rhys and said, “Congratulations on becoming an Infantryman. But, would you mind not telling anyone about this? The LAAMP doesn’t really know about these… additional evaluations. I’d really appreciate it if it stayed that way.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Milo tightened her grip around Rhys’s neck. “He won’t tell.”

“Or we’ll just call you back to finish the job.” Isak said, garnering laughter from the lot of them.

“Good. Now, if you would excuse me,” said Taryn and she went around collecting the severed vests. The heat from her chest had spread to the rest of her body and she wished to be away before the rest of the inhibitor’s toxins took effect. “I have an appointment to keep. See you tomorrow.”

Taryn continued toward the palace and the guards made their way back to their posts on the wall and at the gate.

* * * * *

“Was that… was that her?” Rhys asked when the girl was out of earshot.

“Was what who?” Lt. Waite asked.

“The girl,” he pointed. They all looked at him like he was speaking an ancient tongue. “Was she, you know, the… the Princess?” he finished with a whisper. It was embarrassing to be repeating rumors, but what could he think when the evidence had smiled in his face.

“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” CPT Isak said to the others. “What’s he talking about?”

“Oh, come on! You’ve seen her passport. She has a Class V-Restricted status!” The girl could show her passport to any Infantryman or authority in the city and they would have to obey her. That power was never given to anyone outside the Royal family.

“So?”

“That’s higher than mine – higher than my father’s,” he finished coldly.

“Oh, that!” CPT Isak said, nudging his partners. “He’s talking about that!”

“That?” Lt. Waite joined in. “Oh! Well, we don’t talk about that.”

“No one talks about that,” the Major added.

“The guy you’re replacing talked about that,” CPT Milo said. “Whatever happened to that guy?”

“That guy? No one knows,” CPT Isak finished heavily. “You understand?”

Rhys nodded.

“Good, because you might cry too if she had to come back to finish you off,” CPT Isak joked.

“Shut it!” Rhys said with a rough shove. He turned to catch another glimpse of her but she was already gone. Still, the memory of her playful smile cut a brighter slant on his uncle’s plans.

* * * * *

Taryn ran down the gravel road, then west along the cobbled path that wrapped around the inner wall. It had been put up within a year of her arrival because Vares and the LAAMP didn’t want any prying eyes to know what happened in the courtyards they housed. It didn’t break for a gate at five different places like the palace wall, but stretched around four sides of the palace and was open for all of the southwestern facade; the palace’s only unsealed entrance.

Taryn moved under the watchful eyes of the Infantry on the inner wall. She usually greeted them and questioned them about the day. Palace security was high on her list of priorities, especially this time of the year. But she didn’t have the energy for that now. Her heart pounded in her ears and her lungs burned more than they should. All the signs of stress persisted – uneven breaths, profuse sweating, blurring vision – but she kept running. It seemed to be keeping the inhibitor’s effects at a minimum.

The courtyard was the usual chaos of a mass departure of government administrators and officials at the end of the working day. All of those serious minds dedicated to doing serious work were one of the reasons Taryn got away whenever she could. They were filled with boring statistics and political fantasies; tedious feed for Taryn’s ravenous mind. There was no social life at the palace; no writers, musicians, or artists to celebrate or discuss – no courtiers to discuss them with. There were no parties or banquets, no jesters or performers. Such things had slowed with the death of the queen. They had ended completely by the time Taryn arrived and the rumors – along with the King’s demands for secrecy – made it impossible for her to find any friends within. But she had no shortage of enemies.

Taryn slowed to a brisk walk and slipped around the chaos to race up one of the staircases that curved down from the second floor. She went unnoticed to all except the LAAMP Administrators positioned there to verify her return. Half through her ascent, she felt them; their pair of flames flared with activity at the sight of her. She turned to return their glares. She shouldn’t have; the very sight of them now filled her with a black anger and she didn’t like feeling that way. If she hadn’t been weakened by the inhibitor, she might have had another rage-storm. But she wanted them to know that she was not afraid of them and she would not hide from them. Especially not now that Vares was back.

Taryn used to call the palace home. But it was also where her war with the LAAMP Administrators was waged. They’d traded hundreds of threats over the years. When they tried to put a law before the Council of the Fallen Kings to further trample upon mutant rights, she would stand before the Fallen and argue the injustice of it. She fought to have some of them repealed and ensured that those who abused or condoned the abuse of the law would not go unpunished. When they passed her in the halls and threw her dirty looks, she’d respond in kind. Or she’d wave her hand and grin smugly at their terrified reactions. The color would drained from their faces or their eyes would bulge or they’d cringe in anticipation of her telekinetic push. They tried to provoke her into breaching her immunity agreement and she kept them away from the Genesis. Protecting the Genesis was her most important mission against them. That had been the extent of her silent war with the Administrators.

But they’d crossed the line in Vares’s absence. Now Taryn knew that the two of them could not coexist – not within the confines of this gilded prison.

She turned away, leaving them to stare at her back as she continued her climb. Past wooden doors, through paneled and decorated halls to the spiraling stairway that bordered the entrance to the northwest annex. Up to the fourth floor and her suite of rooms in the northeast wing. There she opened the knob-less door that led directly to her beroom. She dropped her satchel at her feet and closed the door behind her. She tossed the bleeding vests into her wash room and collapsed onto her bed with a satisfied sigh.

Before she could fully relax, a black blur darted out of her wardrobe. Seconds later, Hunter was on her chest, his whiskers tickling her cheeks as he sniffed at her face. Taryn stroked his silky black fur and scratched behind his ears until he closed his eye and leaned into her hand, the gentle vibration of his purrs easing the pain in her chest.

“Thank you for the warm welcome,” she said. Even though he only did it for the attention.

His response was to meow into her face. The smell of spoiled meat and dead things reminded her that she was overdue for his weekly cleaning.

She smoothed out the fur around the collar of flat wooden blocks he was still getting used to wearing. It had been her gift to him, celebrating their imagined adventures together. She’d carved the little scenes onto the blocks herself, one for each month they’d known each other. There were 18 block in all, with space on the other side for the adventures they had yet to have. She’d strung them together with an elastic string so it would grow with him. She just wished he’d stop scratching at it. She pet him for several minutes, until her vision cleared and her lungs no longer felt like she was inhaling pulverized glass.

When he got bored of being ignored, he lifted his hind leg and went to work on himself.

Taryn immediately turned over to throw him off. “You’re becoming much too familiar if you think you can do that while you’re sitting on my chest.” Feeling a knot against her stomach, she reached down with her right hand to find - “Argh!” Taryn shivered and threw the dead rat off her bed, then completely out of the window. “Hunter!”

He sat on the floor on the side of her bed, licking his paw. She swore she could see his lips curled in a smile. Then she remembered that he’d come out of her wardrobe. Taryn raced to see if he’d left her any more ‘presents’ there. It was a thing he’d started doing recently, bringing her dead things while she was eating or training or sleeping.

She moved the candles in her room to light the torches nestled in brackets high above and away from anything that would catch. She inspected the thick skirts and hems of the gowns that dressed the headless mannequins that lined the walls of the wardrobe. They were the best of her collection of formal dining gowns and Vares would starve her if she showed up in anything that didn’t meet his aesthetic requirements. She found no scratches or tears. And more importantly, no carcasses fell free when she shook them out.

The surface of the island in the center of the room looked a little scuffed but her soft chemises and shifts and all the tunics and trousers she wore into the city were safe in their drawers.

“I truly do love you, Hunter. But this needs to stop.” Vares had objected so strongly to the idea of her keeping Hunter. She could only imagine how angry he would be if he found a new bird or bug carcass in his pristine halls everyday. Taryn didn’t want to give him any reasons to be angry on his first day back. And in the spirit of that… “You’re not going out tonight.”

He didn’t understand until she emerged from the wardrobe with his carry cage. He hissed at her when he saw it. She closed the window before he could reach it and sealed all his other avenues of escape. “I’m sorry. But I’m not getting moved to the third floor because of you.”

He continued to spout his adorable curses at her and act as if an inability to hunt meant he’d be missing a meal. She ignored him. She shut her wardrobe door (in case he decided to be petty) and sealed herself off in her washroom (in case he decided to be vindictive) and set about making herself presentable for her dinner with the King.

She had a little extra time so she selected a purple jar from her collection of bath salts to soak her sore muscles and bruises in the hot fragrance for half an hour. She made sure she scoured the palm of her right hand to remove even the memory of the feeling of the rat carcass in her grip.

Hunter was still angry when she came out, scowling down at her from atop one of the thick posts that decorated the corners of her bed. The tears in the canopy that marked his climb were hardly noticeable so she didn’t fret. “I’ll give you a choice,” she said. “You can go into the cage or you can walk by my side. But no matter what you do in here, you’re not going out there.” She pointed to the window, to the darkening gardens and orchards that had become his hunting ground.

And won herself another hiss.

Taryn selected her green gown with gold filigree. The long sleeves would conceal her new wounds and the colors would win her some favor. Of the dozens of gowns she’d grown through over the years, it was the only one Vares ever seemed to remember that she owned. She looped golden laces around the sleeves and tightened them until they rested comfortably on her skin. She also twisted golden thread into the braids of her hair. The scheme was perfectly matched to her golden floral locket so she wore it prominently over the gown. The crudely crafted dagger she stuck into a sash at her waist – not so much. But it was a gift from Vares. She never walked into a room without it.

Hunter came into the wardrobe as she pulled her gold beaded slippers from the bottom drawer. He couldn’t get to her legs so he leapt atop the island and stretched his head forward.

He never asked for her affection. Was this some new ploy to make her feel sorry for him? “Please don’t be angry with me but I still can’t let you out. This is a very important dinner and I need your support and friendship.”

She scratched his chin and stroked his coat. Soon he was purring again. She picked him up and kissed his face. He didn’t like that very much. Jumping from her arms, he planted himself in the doorway, meowing very loudly and incessantly.

“Fine, fine. I’m hurrying.” When she leaned against the island to put her shoes on, his lips had that same amused curl.

When she stuck her bare foot into her gold beaded slipper, she discovered why.

* * * * *

Taryn’s dinners with the King were held on the third floor of the palace’s northern annex; in the only room at the end of a long hall. The door to that hall was guarded by the best Weapons of the King’s Arsenal: Sword and Shield.

The King’s Sword had actually been the Sword of the last King, Varun. Each King’s Arsenal was responsible for training the next and, well, having a Sword turn against his Prince was as blatant a failure as there ever was. Varun’s Sword had been called out of retirement to fill the gap and he never seemed happy about it. He was supposed to be able to pierce armor and stab a man in the heart with his bare hands. Taryn doubted it. She never asked him to prove it, though. He wouldn’t comply if she did.

The King’s Shield was trained to take a beating that would cripple most skilled fighters, yet still rise to batter an enemy. The two of them were the King’s personal guard, his last line of defense against any mutant or middling threat. And for the first year of Taryn’s residence at the palace, Vares had made them hers.

They’d escorted her through the palace and stood guard at her door every day and night. At the time, she’d thought Vares had sent them to watch her; to eliminate her in case she became a threat. Now she knew they’d been there to protect her. In the second year, when it was determined that Taryn she was no longer in danger, they returned to protecting the King. But they were ordered to accompany her for the short time she was allowed to attend school in the city, and one of them would always follow her – at a discreet distance – whenever she made her weekly trips into the city to spend her allowance.

When Taryn turned twelve, she told Vares that she was too old for constant supervision and that the next time a Weapon followed her on his command she would publicly challenge a Black Knight to a duel. He’d replied that if she did that, Sword and Shield had orders to inhibit her, and drag her back to the palace and into a cell.

They stopped following her the next week.

“Welcome back.” Taryn greeted them with a wide smile as she approached.

Hunter, who’d been walking alongside her, ran ahead to rub himself against Shield’s legs. The Weapon bent to pick him up and cradled him in one hand while he hugged Taryn with the other.

“I’d hug you too,” she said to Sword. “But I understand it might make it more difficult for you to kill me if I ever turned against Vares.” He didn’t reply, he didn’t even look at her. Taryn turned back to Shield. “So, how was the trip?”

“Very successful,” Shield said.

“Really? Is that why you all came back a week earlier than planned?

“I guess someone missed the comforts of home.” Shield rubbed his smooth shaved face against Hunter’s coat before setting him down . “He’s gotten bigger.”

“Don’t fawn over him too much,” Taryn warned. “He’ll start bringing you gifts.”

“Ah,” Sword said.

“We saw the head of a blue bird at your door when we came in,” Shield explained. “We thought someone might have been making a threat. Its a relief to know that we were wrong.”

“I wouldn’t discard the notion just yet,” Taryn said. “He isn’t exactly pleased with me right now.”

Shield narrowed his gaze at her. “Is everything alright with you? You seem… different.”

Taryn smiled again. “Everything is perfect. I got you a present.” She presented him with a sizable stack of papers loosely bound inside of a leather portfolio. It was the detailed report of her investigation into Mr. Gondriguez; all of her findings over the three months since he’d asked her to look into him, including the day’s conversation. “It doesn’t look like he’s getting any information from anyone on the inside. He’s just an unlucky journalist and a decent investigator. I’m sorry if the interview is a little off kilter. I’d set up my writing desk for the transcription and I think Hunter shifted the alignment.”

“This is perfect, Taryn,” he said as he looked over the pages. “Thank you.”

“I made sure Rai was there for the interview, so I can carry you into an Inquiry if you wanted to review it firsthand. And Mr. Gondriguez will be giving me weekly updates so I can conference you in on those as well.”

Shield hugged her again. “I know you don’t like using your abilities this way so I really appreciate you doing this for me. For us.”

Taryn shrugged. She’d accepted a long time ago that digging into people’s lives and bullying them with mostly empty threats was sometimes necessary for the defense of the King and the security of the realm.

Suddenly, Sword cleared his throat, giving a slight nod down the hall. Shield straightened and hardened his expression, a warning to Taryn that the King’s secretary was approaching. Taryn composed herself and Echoed her thanks, though she’d seen Wendar’s flame approach before either of them had been able to see him.

Taryn corrected her posture and modulated her voice to meet his demands of proper decorum and ettiquette. “Wendar. Delighted to see you again.”

“Thank the Kings. I’ve been searching all over for you, Dame Taryn. Whatever are you doing here?”

“I’ve had dinner with the King every night for the last six years,” Taryn answered.

“Yes, but he wasn’t expected back for another few days. And he wasn’t even sure he’d have the time for dinner. I’ve only just been sent to collect you.”

He was too polite to ask what he really wanted to; that Taryn shouldn’t have been there without the King’s invitation. And Taryn couldn’t very well tell him that she’d felt the King’s flame enter the city that afternoon. She couldn’t tell him that Vares had known she’d been Shadowing him when he wrote for her to be there. He wasn’t one of the few who knew her secret. “Well, I saw Sword and Shield standing here and thought perhaps His Majesty had returned as well,” she said instead.

“Never mind that now. He’s waiting for you. If you would, please,” he added to the Weapons. They opened the doors and the secretary led her and Hunter through a moonlit, carpeted hall with glass windows for walls. His steps were long and hurried and Taryn let herself fall back, growing nervous with each step.

“Do try to keep up,” Wendar huffed back at her. “We’re late enough as it is.”

“And whose fault is that?” she whispered with a quick glance at Hunter. Following the discovery of his little prank she’d spent half an hour washing her foot, burning her golden slippers and changing her entire ensemble to a midnight blue and silver set.

“Pardon?”

“Did His Majesty have an unpleasant trip?” Taryn asked, picking up her pace.

“Not that I know of,” Wendar answered. “I was not asked to accompany him.”

“I know that but… Do you know why he cut his trip short?”

“I assume it must have been some important business or other.”

“Are you sure that something hadn’t upset him?” Taryn pressed. “He isn’t… in a mood?”

“You want something,” Wendar said plainly. “That’s good. His Majesty has something to ask of you as well.”

Taryn smiled to mask her dejection. Vares could turn into a stubborn tyrant when anyone denied or dismissed his requests. And based on the history of his requests, she was almost certain to reject whatever he wanted from her now. He’d once asked her to start an inhibitor regimen. When she refused, he asked her to be kind to the LAAMP Administrators. Taryn would rather go a week without sweets than start an inhibitor regimen, but she’d rather die than be kind to the LAAMP Administrators. The hatred ran deep between them and it was hard for Taryn to be anything more than civil to them.

She reminded herself that Vares was capable of making reasonable requests. And she had to seriously consider whatever he’d ask of her. It may improve her chances of getting Vares’s approval for her request.

Taryn took a deep breath as she and Wendar reached the large white doors to the dining room. Wendar turned the golden knobs and pushed the doors open. Cream colored curtains covered the windows, capturing the orange glow of the many candles and large fireplace that lit and warmed the room.

Taryn smiled when she saw the King. He faced them from the fire. His bald mahogany head was unadorned; a trimmed goatee grayed on his face; gold glittered from his brocaded doublet and the chain hanging from his shoulders. His face was expressionless but that was normal from the King. Whether he was furious or pleased, his expression would be the same. But the corner of his lips twitched when he saw Taryn, the familiar sign that he was holding back a smile.

That was the Vares she knew.