"Call for the physician, now!" Marie-Fey snarled as she pulled Zaydan through the halls, the servants gaping at the trail of blood following in their wake. "Hurry up! Send him to Lord Zaydan Rais's rooms! GO!"

The servants scattered and Marie-Fey gripped Zaydan's waist tighter.

"Where are your rooms?" she demanded.

"Fey. Fey, calm down," he ground out, still wincing against the wound, "It's alright."

"It's not alright! You have a knife sticking out of your hand! Tell me how this is alright!"

"You do remember how Beldon and I were making a drama about who had sustained more battle scars, yes? This is not new."

"Well it's new to me and I'm panicking! Let me panic!"

"But in the desert—"

"It's not the same!" she screamed, her voice verging in hysterical.

"Marie?"

Kilan's voice interrupted her and she spun to see him further down the hall, a scroll unrolled but forgotten in his hands as he stared at them. His eyes fell to Zaydan's hand, then up again.

"Dinner went well, I take it," he asked.

"Kilan!" she shrieked, and he held up his hands, rolling the scroll. "Come along, let us return you to your rooms, Lord Rias." As he spoke, he reached into his bag and drew out wadding which he carefully but firmly wrapped around Zaydan's hand to steady it until a professional removed it.

Zaydan guided them back to his apartments and Marie-Fey didn't care that it was considered inappropriate that she was there. She barged into his rooms, sending his servants scrambling and sat Zaydan down at the low seating area in the main room by the windows.

The palace physician and his assistants arrived a moment later, followed close behind by the head military doctor, both of whom descended on Zaydan with their equipment, bickering with each other as Marie-Fey moved back to stand beside Kilan.

He glanced at her for a moment, then gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "He'll be alright," he promised gently, "With proper care, he should be able to wield a sword and write again as normal. His career isn't over yet."

Marie-Fey glared at him, then shoved away, marching to the balcony doors and flinging them open, stalking out into the warm night, snapping for tea to be brought.

Kilan followed her out and took the seat opposite, listening to the doctors inside while they waited for drinks.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently once tea had been served and the servants had withdrawn to return to Zaydan.

Marie-Fey let out a sigh, running a hand through her hair.

"I have found out the connection to the original Blue Beard curse."

"Oh?"

"Blue Beard isn't dead. And he's been doing this for much longer than the fairytale suggests."

Kilan was quiet for a moment.

And then a moment longer.

So long in the end that she looked up at him.

He was sat, lips pursed, looking out over the glowing lamp-lit city below. "I knew it," he muttered, "I knew there was something. I win that bet."

"What?" Marie-Fey said, glaring and he blinked, looking at her.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Little game Storytellers play, small bets, taking guesses at what goes on behind the fairytales. There's always more than meets the eye. I placed a bet saying there was one Blue Beard figure who recreated himself throughout culture." He grinned. "It was an outlandish guess but I'm very good at my job."

"This is not a smiling matter, Kilan," Marie-Fey snapped, slapping her hand to the table. "That psychopath has been killing women for centuries without a care in the world for them or those around them. He said he would rather not kill me because Beldon has powerful companions and yet when I proved myself to be a continued problem, he swung a blade at me. Did you see Zaydan's hand?! He would have put that knife in my throat if Zaydan hadn't got between us! I would be bleeding out at a dining room table right now! I wasn't this close to death in the desert!"

"Marie," Kilan snapped and his firm voice forced her to focus on him rather than continue to see the silver sweep of a blade flying towards her and the shadow of a hand stopping the attack. "Whether he would have killed you or not is irrelevant now," Kilan said, leaning forward, "You did not die thus he has given you a warning. What you do from here on out will define your fate. You have the chance to back down."

Marie-Fey blinked, then looked at him. "Back down?" she repeated, like she had never heard the word. "He tried to kill me. He injured Zaydan. I'm not backing down from that."

Kilan rubbed his eyes. "You Leigh Siblings, as difficult as the Roses."

"What?"

"You know, just before Briar and I parted ways, she was planning on marching off to face down a damn snow beast? I begged her not to do it because I couldn't go with her. Did she listen? Did she listen, my foot. I suffered two months of anxiety thanks to that woman until Carlos finally sent me a letter telling me they were fine. Backing down isn't always the worst option."

"The man who wouldn't stop prodding a powerful fairy until he got himself cursed is telling me that it's alright to back down?" Marie-Fey asked, frowning at him.

"That was years ago, and I was fine in the end."

"By sheer fluke!"

"But still fine. At most, I would have just slept for a while. You, on the other hand, could die. And you don't know how to best this man. Clearly killing him is not an option. He will come back."

"I know. The wife from the fairytale, she existed, and he dragged her into the next life and killed her, she's now trapped in that underground hall with the rest."

"How did he even come by his powers?"

"He made a deal with a god."

"Which one?"

"I don't know. He found a star and a young god wanted it back."

"A star? Hmm, which culture was he part of in his first life? Did he at least say which pantheon?"

"No, he doesn't remember."

Kilan let out a breath, then glanced up as Zaydan appeared in the doorway, looking pale but upright, his hand neatly bandaged and held protectively against his waist.

Marie-Fey automatically moved his seat out for him and he dropped into the space beside her, letting out a breath as a servant poured his tea before bowing away. He smiled at Marie-Fey as she peered at his hand and leant over to gently bump his head against hers, holding his hand out for her to inspect.

"See? Already on the way to being as good at new," he said.

"Hardly," Marie-Fey muttered.

"Don't worry, Fey. Really. Tomorrow I'll ask my brother to fix it, and I'll be fine. And if he doesn't, I'll just heal in the natural way and take care to be good as new in my own way."

Marie-Fey let out a huff and looked away. "I can't believe you stuck your hand in the way of a knife."

"Well, it was either my hand or your throat. I know which option I prefer."

"I'm surprised your brother backed down so easily," Kilan said mildly, leaning forwards to fold his arms on the table.

"Once in a while, my brother has a soft spot for me," Zaydan replied, "As I told him, I had been looking for Marie-Fey for a very long time and wasn't ready to part just yet. It got us a couple extra minutes."

"You haven't been looking that long, to be fair," Marie-Fey said, "You only learnt about me a few years ago."

Zaydan glanced at her, then just smiled.

Marie-Fey looked at him in return. That smile was always the same, it seemed. Regardless of time or life, he smiled the same way.

"What do you know of everything that's happening?" Kilan asked, pointing at Zaydan.

Zaydan shrugged and lifted his tea. "Depends minute to minute," he replied, "Sometimes I know exactly what's happening. Sometimes all I feel the ghost of something being wrong. I'm never entirely oblivious, I can always feel the memories there, but they're controlled by Zahir. Even when I do remember, I often can't talk about it."

"No? The chains? May I see?"

Zahir reached up to his throat with both hands, the grimaced and turned to Marie-Fey. She reached across and drew away the fabric draped around his neck and unhooked the high collar.

He pulled the collar aside and turned to Kilan, who's eyebrows rose.

"Oh my," he muttered, "That is powerful. May I?"

Even as he asked, he reached forwards and tapped a finger against the chained scars around Zaydan's neck. They blazed blinding blue and struck out like lightning ripping across the sky, striking out at Kilan and making all three jolt away from each other, gaping.

Zaydan's hand flew to his neck, clapping down on the marks even as they settled and Kilan's blinked, his long hair wild around his head.

"Alright, they don't like me," he said.

"What was that?" Marie-Fey said, staring.

"Powerful magic that you'd want talented Removers for. Though, like I said, they usually can't be removed. I didn't expect it to be so strong though," Kilan said, running his hands through his hair.

"Powerful Removers? Like your friend?"

"If you can call Daily a friend when he was trying to murder me for half of our adult life. If you plan to get in contact with him, I want no part of it. He still doesn't know I'm awake and I'm fine with that. But there are a lots of spells Removers can't undo without killing the host. Daily couldn't help, doesn't matter how talented he is."

"Can you do anything?"

"I'm a knowledge bank," Kilan said, shaking his head, "I just know stuff, I can't do anything. I have no powers or gifts designed to tackle magic, only watch and catalogue it."

Marie-Fey nodded and let out a breath, slumping back in her seat. Zaydan gently reached over and took her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb.

"What do you remember currently?" Kilan asked him.

"I remember several past lives," Zaydan replied, "I've remembered them before, they're not new. I'm not sure how long I'll remember them for though. I assume I saw what Marie-Fey saw. He took you to the past, right?"

"He did. I possessed the bodies of his former wives, saw both you and him in the lives you lived."

"I know, I recognised you."

Marie-Fey glanced at him. "Huh?" she said, frowning.

He smiled.

"In those lives, you could tell the difference between the women your brother married, and the seconds of Marie possessed them?" Kilan asked.

Zaydan shrugged. "It was very jarring back then to realise someone else was possessing the women I knew," he said with an easy smile.

Marie-Fey stared at him. "You could spot me?"

"It's an odd thought, no? You've only really known me in one life and yet, according to my memories, I've spotted you in five."

"That's what you mean by saying you'd been looking for her?" Kilan asked.

"More or less. Zahir knew and, as I said, he can have a soft spot for me."

Marie-Fey just stared at him.

"What do you plan to do? Did you learn what you needed?" Zaydan asked gently, making her blink and look at him.

She was quiet for a moment, then looked away. "No," she muttered, "I don't know what to do..."

"Are you going to give up?"

"No," she said, with the same steadiness she'd replied to Kilan with. "I merely haven't formed the next stage of my plan yet. I have confirmed that Zahir is behind the deaths of countless women and I cannot sit aside and let this continue, not if I can help it."

"What's the next step then?" Kilan asked.

"I go home and regroup," Marie-Fey said simply.

"Home? Already? But you only just arrived."

Marie-Fey shrugged. "I shall stay until the end of the week as anything less is rude to the royal family. I shall be in the presence of my husband, but I don't think he will say anything much more to me now that he knows I do not intend to step down. I will write to Beldon once I'm home. The world of gods and their curses is his speciality, I will ask his advice. If he can, I will ask him to visit but I doubt he will be able to gain the leave needed from the army for such a long trip, though if I mentioned the little issue of murder, he might kick up enough for a fuss. Mainly, I will ask for his advice on how to handle things."

"You'll tell your family everything?"

"I'll tell Beldon," Marie-Fey corrected. "Doubtless he will tell the rest of the family, but the important bit is that he answers my query on what can be done. If nothing can be done, then... I will reconsider once again."

"Something can be done," Kilan said.

Marie-Fey glanced at him and he gave her his old, easy smile, full of subtle assurances.

"Something can always be done, it just needs the right person to do it," he promised gently.