Calyx ported back in a rush of bright smoke, cheeks shining pink from the cold mountain air and the exertion of her run. She felt alive, refreshed, and her power hummed in soft waves beneath her surface. As Nerys walked back into the room, Calyx turned and gifted her a blazing smile – unintentional, but heartfelt.

“Good, then?” Nerys scowled.

Calyx carefully relaxed her face. “Adequate, yes.”

Nerys huffed, mutinous. She prowled across to the fire and slumped into a chair, cursing her inability to escape. The place was a maze – she’d walked herself in circles trying to leave, and somehow found herself back where she’d started. If she’d been less proud, she’d have asked the two young Witchkin when she’d come upon them. But she hadn’t, and by the time she’d resigned herself to the idea, she hadn’t been able to find them again.

Wary of her strange mood, Calyx came gingerly to sit opposite her.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Fantastic, obviously.”

Calyx sighed. She gave up on small talk and got up to warm her hands by the fire, but the pounding of racing footsteps made her pause.

“Calyx!”

The panic in Jordan’s voice as she bolted into the room caused both Lat’Nemele to whirl in surprise. Calyx caught Jordan’s wild form by the shoulders as she rushed within range, and a wide-eyed Norae skidded to a halt beside her, panting with fear.

“Jordan! What is it?”

Jordan, speechless for the sobs choking her throat, waved a piece of paper in her face. Calyx snatched it from her, spurred by the girl’s alarm. Her face drained of colour, and Nerys narrowed her eyes.

“What?”

Calyx turned to her, sparking magic. “They’ve taken her!”

“Taken who?”

“Grandma!” Jordan screeched, leaping forward to confront her, “This is all your fault! You show up here, and Grandma gets taken away! You knew! You did this!”

Calyx caught Jordan by the back of her shirt, hauled her away. She thrust her into Norae’s grasp with a meaningful glare, and then rounded on Nerys.

“Did you do this?” she asked, her voice perilously soft.

“Did I do what, dear? I have absolutely no idea what you are referring to.”

Calyx scowled, but Nerys stared her down until, exasperated, she thrust the paper at her. Nerys took it, clearing her throat pointedly before she shifted her gaze down to the scrawling script.

“Jordenna Bal’Talanor,” she read, “Will present herself to the Queen before the fortnight, or the dragon dies.” She looked sharply at Jordan and Norae. “Where did you get this?”

Jordan shook her head, overwhelmed. Norae answered in her stead.

“Pinned to door,” she said quietly, “With this.”

She held out a burgundy-hilted dagger, its black blade insubstantial as a moonless night, and Nerys recoiled with a snarl.

“Shadowkin!” she hissed, vibrating with defensive power.

She leapt to her feet, buoyed by a mixture of fury and fear. Her eyes snapped black and amber as she bared her fangs, and the girls shied from the savage expression she wore. Calyx, realising her intent, dove forward with a hand outstretched.

“Nerys! No, wait-!”

But it was too late. Her fingers closed on shadowed butterflies, and her magic shimmered as she sprang to follow.

“Calyx!”

Jordan’s sharp cry caught her halfway into Betwixt. She stumbled back to solidity, righting herself with a stricken face. She opened her mouth to speak, shook her head, and buried her face in her hands. As she collapsed into the closest chair, her magic whirled around her in fizzing sparks, as if seeking something torn away. It surged, and then crackled to nothing, until she was just a quaking woman, sobbing like a child.

Jordan and Norae exchanged alarmed glances, and Jordan took a deep breath for fortitude. She inched forward, patted Calyx clumsily on the shoulder. The Lat’Nemele looked up, her liquid eyes luminous, a trembling hand pressed to the ache in her breast.

“She left me…” she whispered, “How… how could she leave me…?”

Her gaze flickered, focused suddenly – as if only just realising who she was lamenting to.

“Gods, Jordan,” she forced a laugh, tremulous, “I’m so sorry… Of all the Lat’Nemele Guardians, over all the centuries, you had to get stuck with me.”

Norae thrust the dagger at Jordan and retreated to the doorway. “Will make tea,” she announced as she ducked out. She was careful to ignore Jordan’s pleading, accusatory glare.

Kneading her fingers against her palms, Jordan resigned herself. She turned back to the Lat’Nemele.

“Um… it’s okay, Calyx…” she offered.

Calyx dabbed angrily at her offending tears, crushing the melancholy that arose in Nerys’ absence. “Hardly. I’ve failed a second Queen – likely a matter of time before I let you down too, so that’ll make three. Absolute record for a Lat’Nemele.”

“Well… at least you’ll go down in history?”

Jordan attempted a smile as she perched on the chair arm beside her, keeping a tight rein on her own emotions. Calyx met her gaze.

“You’re just like your mother; she always had a good head for a crisis.” She sighed, rubbed her hands together in her lap. A soft glitter shimmered across her fingertips as she stared down at them, at the spaces between which fitted Nerys’ fingers perfectly.

Jordan cleared her throat, grasping at something more to say. “So, uh… what’s a Shadowkin, anyway? D’you think they really took Grandma?”

Calyx blew her fringe out of her eyes with an explosive sigh. “Shadowkin are a legend… scary stories for naughty children. There is no proof of their existence.”

Wordless, Jordan held up the dagger.

“Well, yes, there is that I suppose.” Calyx took it, studying it from all angles. The shadowed blade seemed to suck all light from its immediate vicinity. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s horrible,” Jordan whispered, stifling a shiver.

“You can feel its magic,” Calyx observed.

“I guess. It feels like a hole in the world…”

Calyx sucked at her cheek. Hole in the world seemed like the perfect way to describe the void within her, too. Her brows drew down at the odd, empty pain in her heart. She’d thought Nerys… But, just like that, she was gone. And she knew whoever had taken Esadora. Perhaps the whole thing had only been a charade from the start – an unintentional reaction on Nerys’ part to Calyx’s magic burning through her veins. Gods, she was so stupid… How could she have imagined it might be more than that? One allusion to Fayne (because Esadora’s capture had Fayne written all over it) and Nerys had left without even a backward glance...

Something snapped inside her. Her eyes burned hot, resolve tight in the set of her jaw.

“We’re going to get Esadora back, Jordan.”

Jordan recoiled from the heat of her glare. “How?”

“The only way I know how.” She got to her feet, brimming with power. “We’ll raze the kingdom, upturn every stone, and hang Fayne from the palace gate.” She snorted, and her magic shuddered in a rage around her. “Nerys, too.”

Jordan dipped her head, picking at a loose thread on the chair. Voice soft, she asked, “Why did you help her, Calyx?”

The Lat’Nemele took a deep breath for fortitude. “She carried the Fetters of Chaos. If I hadn’t helped her, we’d all be dead already.”

Jordan lifted her uncanny gaze. “Is that all? You know, I hardly know you. And the first time I met you, you were pretending to be a helpless city girl lost in the woods. Doesn’t bode well as far as trust goes.”

Calyx dampened her power with an effort, pushing the last thoughts of Nerys from her mind.

“Fair enough,” she said, “But I couldn’t get near you any other way. Your grandmother… she’s a wily woman. Protective, and dangerous – even without her magic.”

“Tell me about it,” Jordan said, pulling the thread free. “She kind of had a point, though, don’t you think? Ever since I’ve been here, everything keeps trying to kill me.”

The Lat’Nemele laughed, and the mood abruptly lifted. Norae reappeared as if on cue, balancing three steaming cups and a plateful of biscuits. She hesitated in the doorway, and then, encouraged by their laughter, joined them.

“Everything well?” she asked, her searching gaze roving from one to the other.

Calyx smiled, held out her hand for a cup. “It will be.”

Norae raised her eyebrows at Jordan, who nodded.

“Have plan, then?”

“Calyx wants to destroy the kingdom.”

“Which one?”

Calyx reached for a biscuit, dipped it in her tea. “All of them, if necessary.”