n the two months since being assigned First Female, I found myself back at the Sombers more times than I'd imagined. More than I'd liked. But Blake and Lysithea had been on guards, severing heads and ending lives at the mere lick of rumors. They did not question, they did not risk it—every possible threat to their plans was executed before the next sunrise.

And so we came back to the gloomy, dark place again and again, watching as demons—powerful and mischievous—fell, ten guards at the king and queen's side observing like shadows.

We were twelve crowned guards for the first while, before the other two ended here, too. I couldn't say our hands were clean—in all these cases. Careful, detailed plotting that not only reduced the number of threats amongst the circle of guards, but brought us closer to the ruling family as much.

Blood splattered on my boots as we walked, Rhiannon at a steady pace on my side, our magic opening and closing gates, dumping the heads and the bodies resulting of today's executions in the Beheaded. There had been only us left for this duty after darkness swept over the world.

Winter was coming closer, and the days became shorter, the winds colder, the storms louder and harsher. Long and thin drops of water fell, ringing as it dripped and merged with all the pooling blood, intensifying the smell.

Leyath and I continued throwing away the corpses, my eyes still looking around for Ha-ámej, hoping to find him limping near some rocks, his fogs dancing around him. But he was never there after the executions were done—never seen, never heard off, as though the very earth had swallowed him. He was not even near the hand-shaped rock—there had been no trials there, and I didn't make myself approach it more than necessary.

The light rain started getting heavier, fat drops sliding down the impermeable, black fabric of my suit. More corpses and cadavers fell through the open windows, mighty piles quickly fading.

"Leave a head,'' I whispered, my breath curling in front of my mouth. Lightening ripped the skies, the world turning white for a heartbeat, before thunder rattled the world.

My third raised a brow but remained silent as we rounded the area. Again. Not a single trace of that man, not even a whisper, as though the fog that spread around us was not alive when he wasn't present.

"You've been informed that you're on dungeons duty after the shift I made, right?"

My spy hummed, seeming to examine which head was the prettiest to keep. "You are planning something."

I did not stop walking, even when I met her eyes, an eyebrow arched. "Is this what I get for making arrangements because I know you prefer terrestrial duties over aerial ones?"

She hummed again, but the look she sported in her features, it told me enough that she didn't believe a damn word. I found myself wondering what look she would give me once she discovered what was going on between her brother and me—what all of my court's reactions would be, as none past Carter truly knew yet. Leyath kept on humming, a common tune always being sung in the inns and motels whenever we would go down to memorize the capital.

Rhiannon Prelius did not even blink in distain as she grabbed a man's decapitated head from the mud and blood and handed it to me. The rain fell harder, leaving a haze that swallowed the lands with a mighty hunger. My hair stuck to my scalp, loud thunders echoing every now and then.

The windows we'd opened finally sealed, not a corpse left, and not a single sign of that odd man.

"I might need your help tonight."

Leyath grinned, pearly white teeth flashing as lightening illuminated the world again. "My pleasure."

I smiled back, ears straining as winds carried the faint rattling of wings from far away. He was approaching, and it would be minutes before he was here. So it took me one movement of the head before Leyath unfurled her wings and darted into the storming sky, rounding a different path so they could not meet.

I went back to searching for Ha-ámej, desperate and restless to find him, to pull the answers I needed out of him. To know why his name had sounded so familiar, to know who he was. It was like he didn't want to be found.

The head was heavy as I grabbed it by the hair, fresh blood still dripping, merging with the rain, adding to the black and red streams already there. I crossed past the open hand, sparing it nothing more than a lingering stare, and reached where today's first demon had been killed when I felt him land.

Silent. Careful. Precise.

I did not turn to stare at him immediately, instead gently swayed the head back and forth as though it was a basket filled with ribbons and roses. "What is it that you want, Mealin?"

His voice was cold and perfectly steady as he answered, "The ruling family is anticipating your presence in the council. Her Majesty's patience is thinning by the second.''

"She sent you to fetch me, then.'' I turned to stare at him, at the face that looked older than what I'd seen under the volcano, months back. He looked as though each day ate a piece of him, unlike all the other Ardorians—pure or demons.

"Do not mess with the Crowns, Cohar. It would be best for all of us.''

The head stopped swaying—he noted it.

"Is this a threat?"

"A mere piece of advice."

My laugh could be heard echoing above the stones as I stepped closer to him, baring my teeth. He did not take a step back, did not even blink—decades at the service of Lysithea and Blake had made him impenetrable.

"Here is my own piece of advice: get out of my face before I dump you in the Beheaded, too.''

Each word was clipped and sharp, and those dark eyes of his disclosed no fear. Dark—not dull blue anymore. Not since we came here, actually. He only blinked once, sketched half a bow that was not by courtesy, but for the mere position my title imposed, and took into the skies.

I remained standing there, alone in the rain, bloodied head swinging for a good few minutes before my darkness carried me away.

The room fell silent as I stepped out of the darkness, hair dripping wet, a severed head swaying in my grip. Still did as I walked the distance between the massive, twin doors made of Nightbleed to the wide, circular table at the heart of the place. Careful, swaggering steps that had lower guards trembling whenever I crossed the hallways they were stationed to, that had the council room shaking as I approached the meeting that already started.

Mealin was already here. And Lysithea's blood-red eyes met mine, her stare unwavering, making my blood boil. Two months in service, two months staying closer to her son, a silent allegiance building between us, had made her scheme my own death as much as she plotted her son's.

I reached the empty seat—my seat—facing the royals.

The head stopped swaying.

I took them all in a sweeping stare: Blake, Lysithea, Mealin, Aedis, Liam—Zarès—Yenes and his son, and three of the regional leaders. None moved a finger, none averted their eyes as they waited to see what would unfurl.

It was Lysithea who spoke, her voice a dripping poison, "You have come late, Cohar.''

I did not blink, did not shift an inch as I bared my fangs, a feral growl building up in my throat. "The next time you send one of your dogs to track—"

"The next time what, Cohar? What will you do?"

I blinked then. And observed as my mate locked his hands behind his back, as the prince reclined in his seat, capable to see the twitch in my muscles, the darkness that slipped around my ankles. The queen still wore her head high.

Blood and water still dripped as I lifted the severed head until it became almost as high as my own, red and black spattering on the marble floor.

I held the queen's stare. "You will be meeting the rest of him.''

Papers scattered, small figurines sliding off the table, maps and old scrolls stained as the head thudded against the mahogany table. As it rolled onto the queen's lap.

One of the regional leaders subtly reclined in his seat—the one closest to the queen—and watched with an unadulterated kind of horror as the Black Queen still eyed me with a ferocity that could bring the entire castle down on our heads.

My hands rested behind my back, a mirror to my mate's posture as he stood between both the Armedeses, a lick off magic snaking up from my ankles to my fingers, throbbing with power.

The queen's jaws clenched tight enough that I wondered if her teeth were grinded to powder. She did not once look down at the head on her lap, did not show a bit of disgust as it most likely stained her dress. "Pick. It. Up."

I arched my eyebrows, focus still on her, on the seething anger that wafted all around us like a musk. I made no move to do so.

"Pick. It. Up.''

The window cracked, the elegant, stemmed glasses exploded to splinters, the fire illuminating the room grew sizes at once. I remained unmoving.

"Sédil.'' My call did not echo for long before shadows danced in the room, the Huntress stepping out of them, her strings wrapped around her fingers like cobwebs. "Be my tongue and eyes."

I turned on my heels, chin high, a crown of darkness sewn atop my head as I sauntered to the double doors, the darkness stretching in front of me like a second floor. The queen was about to say something when I hissed, not bothering to turn to stare at any of them, "I kneel to no crown."

The doors opened with a wisp of magic.

"I take no orders.''

The doors shut close once again, leaving a livid queen that most likely was already plotting what way was the cruelest to end me.

All the dungeons looked the same: cold, bleak, and reeking of death.

Sometimes, prisoners would cower in their cages, falling in the darkness, begging the end to come swift, and sometimes—the new ones—would scream and screech, reaching their hands out, trying to grab whoever passed. Tried breaking free.

They never did.

Most of the cells I passed today were silent, and I had become used to the sudden muteness, the quick shushing when they would know which guard had come down. The Cohar, the one who spared no head, who showed no mercy.

Three levels down and it was all so silent, the lower guards falling under the now ten sentinels of the king and queen and Yenes's control unblinking as I leisurely passed, their hands clutching their spears and swords tight. Such frail, terrified auras. I could snap them with the brush of my thoughts against them, render them slaves and then nothing.

I didn't bother grinning, didn't bother giving them that sly look like each time I crossed these dungeons; putting up with the swagger--the swaying of my hips, the wisp of darkness-it was far more than enough. Liam and Yesar following on silent steps were enough.

Liam and Yesar-sent by the very Queen of Eziara.

'Were you not my allies,' I whispered down the bridge snaking through our minds, 'I would have sent you back on spikes.'

Would have done so, if only to defend the name and the pride I claimed. To come out victorious of that council room.

The men at my back did not falter their pace as I took the stairs down, staying a good eight feet behind. And unlike all so many guards and servants, their eyes did not seize my entire body, did not linger more than necessary.

'The queen is beyond outraged.'

Liam's words echoed for another flight of stairs between us, until we reached another-if possible-colder level.

'And you believe she will win this game of hers?'

For the while that stretched after that, silence fell again. Silence-and my words tingled on my tongue, burning. It had only been pride that shoved them down, that didn't make me repeat the question. I was to battle a god. I was to free an entire world. And he still believed that if it ever went down to and a battle with Lysithea, she would win. He still saw the girl in the inn. Still saw the tired face, the princess that did not know how to stand for herself.

And I let him do so, didn't need to be told who I was and what I was capable of.

The dungeons still extended in front of us, long and wide and endless, almost. They stretched for more than a hundred levels, most of them below ground, and expanding in length and width the lower we went. All of them, each and every cell, were saturated, and over the courses of the two months we spent checking the place, the faces locked down there changed many great times.

We were the ones that got rid of the old prisoners, too.

A drop of magic dripped from my hand as I walked, expanding silently in the cracks lining the rough, brick floor like small streams. It swayed gently, increasing bit by bit until it covered the floor. Then the walls. Then shielded us from all possible sneaking magic-scarce as they were here, where the path ended with a deep alcove of the side, the ceiling plunging forward.

It was sealed seamlessly, but I saw its history through the flicks and dabs of auras still spreading throughout. A door-a gate-to the heart of the castle, most likely.

I halted when I knew we were entirely isoled, the men pausing three steps behind me. Hands behind their backs, heads high, eyes low: the very same way they stood in the presence of the other Armedeses.

I seized them for a moment, Yesar, Yenes's son who looked everything like him, except the Roman nose, dressed in an armor that was a twin to the Dark General's. Zarès-Liam-on the contrary, looked nothing like the man I'd met in the inn. The tan skin was beyond pale, the light, sand colored hair replaced by a heavy, dark shade of green, matching the scales gleaming on his neck, peaking beneath the black fabric of his suit, on his wrists and fingers.

Grey and pale, his eyes remained low enough to not stare straight at mine, and his suit stuck to the arms he gently flexed like second skin. A light, power-enhanced suit unified for all the ten of us. A perfect artwork.

'I apologize on the court, the king, and I's behalf,' I whispered down their minds, ' for I have received words that Taliana has given birth and your absence lies only on the fact that you are serving at my side.'

The in-laws, for the first time, lifted their stares. Because Yesar was Taliana's husband-that had been a surprise. Knowing that she was carrying was a shock. I heard the thoughts of the newly-made father before he spoke, read them in his eyes.

'A healthy boy. And mother, too.'

Yesar had always been a general's son: completely unreadable, never disclosing what might be running in his thoughts. And yet, I could see the joy in his features, in the smile he tried swallowing. Could almost taste it, as it danced around his aura, painting it bright. Liam had been no different, that stolen face of his at ease as though he'd been waiting for these words, this conform.

Stolen face. And identity, too. Téors had told me, in the little time we had back at the temple, that Liam had been in Eziara for a long while, under another name. And when we got the chance to get rid of a wealthy merchant's son, who was politically close to the ruling family, we did. And for three years, he was Zarès, heir to an empire of trades and wealth. A provider of some of the oldest charms found in these lands.

Three years and some more as a spy, never once coming to see the king. Only hearing whispers of one, most believed to be a consort to the queen. Three years and some more as Blake walked in my city, unknown. I only wondered how Cantelot hadn't collapsed to ruins during all that time.

'Now that this matter is disclosed,' I took a step closer to the men in front of me, my hands locking behind behind my back in a posture mirror to their, 'and since you seem so adamant on following me.' I raised my head to meet Yesar's eyes, and even with the extra height thay came from being Elayda, he still stood tall enough-as tall as Leon-that he towered above me.

'You have paid with blood to infiltrate these lands, to earn your position and name as the General's son, have you not?'

'I have.' A soldier answering his superior. Straight, unwavering.

'But you have gained a certain sort of trust.'

'At the price of blood, yes, my queen.'

I held his stares, reaching a hand that almost caressed the side of his face, and remained hovering there. 'Then show me where the hidden dungeons are.'

The Dark General's son blinked, his muscles tensing at the words. 'I know where the magic hides the gate, but I do not know how to cross it without stirring the powers of the king and queen.'

I smiled, a lazy grin stretching, even when there was no one to see. Elayda had been bleeding slowly into me, merging with who Celestia had been, filling her holes, hardening her spine. 'That is a matter I will take care of.'

A small drop of magic not bigger than a pin's head seeped out of Yesar's brow, dancing and twisting as it came out. It split and it split, taking shape and color as another seeped from Liam, dancing as it did the same. A few drops became many more, and my magic painted auras and thoughts, replicating every bit of them until the drops became bodies, exact twins to the guards facing me.

The darkness wrapped around me did the same, another Cohar stepping through it, a perfect clone, all of them linked back to our minds.

Two different bodies connected at the very same time. It had been a spell, among many others that I had worked on perfecting silently, using that peculiar ability I made sure Blake hadn't heard yet about.

'Lead the way then, Yesar the Whisperer.'

And so he did, each step we took pulling our clones in a different realm, one in between the folds of the world.

Silence fell on us again, calm and sharp, leaving our senses alert to the jingling of chains, the scrapping of empty bowls on cracked cement, the uneven, hoarse breaths. Clean silence-

'There are, undoubtably, horrors beyond belief to where we are heading, your Highness.'

I did not pause to stare back at him, didn't need him to explain his words. Yet, I still commented, 'And?'

'Nothing more. Only a word of advice.'

A word of advice. A confirmation of how little he knew about me. Horrors, I lived through horrors for months. Battled them myself, endured them chained up and facing death. Horrors. I wondered if there were any that could truly rattle me now.

'The girl you met in that inn, Liam of the Firebloods, is dead.'

His stares narrowed on me, on how I moved, taking in every bit, delving deeper than the skin and flesh. He was seeking what was beyond the layers of lies and deceit, melting it all away.