A contingent of guards escorted Midna from the premises. When the throne room was empty of everyone save Richard, my father turned on me.

"You are not to leave this house under any circumstances," he said.

"But I won't be able to fight if I'm stuck here," I pointed out, confused. I'd had the same training as Arthur. I was one of our best warriors, not to mention an advisor to the throne, a position I'd secured thanks to my magic. How was I supposed to do my job effectively if I couldn't get involved in the war effort?

"Exactly," Father said. "You're the last in line to the throne, Chance; the last surviving child of your mother, and all I have left of her in this world. You're staying put. That's an order."

I beseeched him to rethink the matter — a mistake. He took my plea as a challenge and stalked forward, the vein in his forehead bulging. Dominance flooded the room in a rush that threatened to unbalance me. The unseen extension of Father's will was like the tide, insistent and cold, permeating the air with the ghostly taste of salt. I tried to shove back with my dominance, but the force of my mind was but a candle flame, paltry in comparison to his. With each pull of his ocean, it flickered weaker, until it threatened to sputter out all together...

My resolve buckled. I bowed my head, breathing hard. "As you wish, sir."

"Good." The aggression drained from his stance, leaving behind an exhaustion that was uncharacteristic of the City Alpha. Knowing that he'd outlived his only son made him look older, somehow. "Now, I need to summon the City Pack to discuss my options. Take Richard to the infirmary on your way back to your room."

I knew he was excluding me from the meeting because I'd argued with him. As an extension of the City Pack and an advisor to the throne, I had every right to be amongst them, deliberating on the future of our people. I opened my mouth to say just as much when a chill ran down my spine, a frigid reminder of the futility of my frustration. He'd already defeated me in a mental battle; did I really want this to come to blows?

"Come on," I huffed at Richard, hauling him to his feet by the collar of his shirt.

Richard swayed like a drunkard as we made our way to the infirmary on the third floor. The mansion felt reminiscent of a hotel at this time of night; without the bustle of daily life, the rows of doors, crystal chandeliers, mahogany fixings and lush, maroon carpets seemed decidedly corporate — especially in comparison with the modest homes I'd seen depicted in shows and movies. Only the occasional glimpse of a modern appliance testified that the building even existed in the twenty-first century.

"Wait up," Richard wheezed.

Glancing back, I realised he was leaving a very obvious trail of blood behind us. "The cleaners won't be happy about that," I remarked.

Richard's shoulders went rigid. "My heartfelt apologies, Lady Nightshade. The next time I'm attacked by vampires, I'll ask them to lend me some paper towel."

I snorted. "That simply isn't true."

"Get off my case," he complained, limping past me.

I stopped short, realising that I hadn't even started to get on his case. I'd been trying so hard not to think about my brother's death that I'd almost squandered a vital opportunity to interrogate a key witness to it.

"How did you survive?" I asked abruptly, grabbing Richard's arm.

He turned around with a look that could kill pigeons mid flight.

My answering one could kill pterodactyls.

"I ran," he said eventually, looking away. "The Irephang boy... he fights like something else. I wouldn't have survived if I took him on."

I shook my head, tasting the ghost of something bad in my mouth. Not only had Richard failed to protect my brother, whose safety was his primary responsibility as the City Heir Beta, but he'd passed up the opportunity to avenge him as well. "You disgust me," I muttered, unable to shake the sense that I should have been there. I would have been there, if my infuriating magic hadn't prevented me from being able to sign on with the City Heir Pack. Richard's position in that pack was technically my birthright.

"You don't know what it's like," Richard whispered, staring intently at his bloodied boots. "What it's like to really live, or to nearly die. And how could you, cooped up in this gilded cage you call a mansion? Tonight I realised that my life is just a small collection of insignificant experiences. I wasn't ready to leave it at that."

"Insignificant is an apt word," I retorted, aggravated by the notion that I was naïve for lack of a near-death experience. "To describe you, that is."

"Says the girl who practically lives in the throne room," he snapped. "Life is just relayed to you through conversation. You've been a legal adult for what, a year now? And I'm willing to bet you've done nothing with that freedom. I bet you've never even seen the city at night," he accused, and he was right — I hadn't. That he was right only made me even more furious with him. "You're a child," he went on viciously, worrying at the issue like a dog that sensed it had a death grip on the neck of a bird. "No, you're worse than that: children grow up. You're domesticated."

Anger surged in my chest, rendering my vision hazy. "Careful," I warned, resisting the urge to strike him down. I would never be more physically imposing than my father; it was better to threaten Richard with my father's wrath, if I wanted him to do my bidding. "The City Alpha would show no mercy if I let slip that you had a hand in Arthur's death."

Pressing his lips together, Richard yanked his arm out of my grasp and renewed his limping walk, trying to pull ahead of me. I matched his gait, loath to allow him a reprieve from my presence.

The longer we maintained our brooding silence, the keener the cut of grief in my chest became. Not ready to face the baggage that came with losing a brother, I floundered for a distraction, for anything that would let me take action and displace my feelings. "Did anyone besides the Irephang boy survive?"

"Yes," Richard said curtly. "His personal bodyguard. But the guard was pretty messed up when I left," he added, as if that redeemed his colossal failure. "I saw to that, at least."

I'd needed an enemy, and now I was being presented with one. Arthur's killer was still out there, alive and well. Something wet rolled down the heels of my hands. Looking down, I realised that my fingernails had drawn blood.

Richard actually shrank back when I looked his way, balking from my gaze. His unwitting submission sent a thrill of satisfaction through me. It also spurred an important realisation. I was a Nightshade, more beast than human, stronger and more cunning than all but my father. I was more capable of avenging my brother than anybody else in this damn community.

The Irephang boy had killed a child of royalty. It was only fitting that I should be the one to return the favour.

A son for a son, I thought, growing surer of my plan with every second. Yes, that would make the playing fields even. That would be a responsible way to claim my revenge, as opposed to waging war on an entire populace for the actions of one fool. But when will I get the opportunity to go after him? I wondered, taking stock of all the obstacles in my way. We were at war, and Father was insistent on my staying home. No doubt the second I reached the infirmary I would encounter my own contingent of guards, equipped with silver blades and excuses to see me safely to my room. Fearing the City Alpha more than his daughter, they would do everything in their power to ensure that I followed his orders.

The whole mansion had become a trap, and the only way to escape it was by leaving now.

The more I considered, the surer I became of my decision. News of the war was yet to be made public, so I wouldn't have to worry about excess patrols hampering my attempt to reach vampire territory. There was also the possibility of catching London Irephang before he made it back to his stronghold. With only one guard, and an injured one at that, the vampire prince would be vulnerable. It was an opportunity that might never present itself again.

"Where were you attacked?" I asked, forcing an outward calm I didn't feel.

"An alleyway off of Collins Street," Richard answered, a little more slowly this time. "Why?"

"No reason. Do you know the way to the infirmary?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course. I've been there countless times before."

"I don't doubt that," I quipped, relishing the affronted look he sent my way. "Well, that settles it. We've evidently had enough of each other's company, so why don't you make your own way to the infirmary? There's only one flight of stairs to go. I'm sure you can see to that, at least."

I kissed him on the cheek — right over the top of a bruise. I was halfway down the corridor when Richard processed my sudden leave and started begging for my return. His terrified pleas fell upon selectively deaf ears.

I had an Irephang to kill.