As Luka’s ravings faded into whimpers and his ragged breathing grew shallow, the reality of his death marched into my mind like an unwelcome army. He could not be as easily replaced as most in the King in Black’s service. Even Naltheme, prized for arcane knowledge and rare as a diamond in the rough, was ultimately more expendable. The King in Black could find another apprentice, but a shapeshifter with Luka’s patience, intuitive shrewdness, and experience was unheard of. He was an aberration among the fangwardens, one of the reasons he was so often resented by the Shadeclaw and other powerful pack leaders. They couldn’t get a rise out of him the way they could out of each other, didn’t have his savvy with people, and certainly not his subterfuge, a suite of skills he’d elevated to an artform. He was also a powerful ally in the King in Black’s court, one who could be relied on to take a long and unselfish view.

Beyond the practicality of it, though, I felt a twinge behind my breastbone. I had laid many, many friends into the grave over the years. My heart had grown largely cold to the grief of death, but I would miss Luka. His cursed blood resisted the unlife granted by our master: his soul and animus were too closely bonded, wrenched into the Beyond by the draw of the chaotic energies that had birthed his condition. His body could be animated like a puppet of flesh if a spellcaster focused on it, but true undeath was impossible without rewriting the Fundamental Laws of magic. Even if the King in Black could make an exception with the power at His disposal, the Laws always reverted after a time to what they had been at the moment of the Apotheosis. It would have been a waste of power to attempt, as sensible as assaulting the tide with a sword.

When the King in Black had killed the god of magic, the Laws had frozen, trapped in that instant. Naturally, the newly ascended god-lich found it fascinating, a problem truly worthy of unlocking…whatever the cost.

He seldom had to pay His prices. They settled on my shoulders instead.

Shira sat silently beside me, brow furrowed as she watched him die. Even as an enemy, she seemed to feel some sympathy for his fevered pain. The last stages of the dreaming death were agony, though not prolonged long. He would likely pass in the next few minutes.

“It’s true, then.” The floor hadn’t creaked to alert me, but the voice was instantly recognizable as a colossal problem.

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, ignoring Shira’s wide-eyed look of alarm. The last person I wanted to deal with right now was Luka’s incendiary daughter. “That entirely depends on what you have heard,” I said bluntly, taking a split second to formulate a plan before rising and turning to face her.

Riyd was seldom predictable on a good day. I had no expectation that she would be now, which meant preparing for the worst. However much the fangwarden hated her father’s reputation and meddling, she also loved him with a violent protectiveness. “Varys said that he was poisoned.” She prowled into the room, golden eyes reflecting in the low light like a wolf’s. “That his killer would be close by, watching to ensure he passed.”

I made no effort to conceal my contempt for Varys’s very poor attempt. “He was poisoned, Riyd. If I had wanted him dead, I would have gutted him like a fish. Besides, he still breathes. Varys can take his insinuation and choke on it.”

Riyd’s temper flared, nails becoming true claws. The teeth she bared sharpened as her shape began to shift. “As if you could have bested him in a true battle! You’re human, Frostborn,” she snarled. “Weak.”

“And you are Luka’s daughter!” I snarled. Instead of retreating or giving ground, I moved directly into Riyd’s space. Anything else would tug at her predatory instincts and I wanted her focused entirely on me. “I assume he taught you to mind whose words you trust!”

She was absolutely right: if she shifted forms and struck, my bones would snap like twigs. I wasn’t even wearing armor. Riyd was a very real threat, but I was long past the point of seeing death as a thing to fear. My fingers darted up my left sleeve as she grabbed Woe’s hilt, forcing me back and depriving me of my feared weapon.

Riyd swiped, but I was inside her distance, robbing her strike of much of its power as we collided. It still would leave deep bruises on my shoulder. Her forward momentum slammed me against the wall, her breath hot against my face as her visage finished its transformation. She never saw the slim misericord leave my sleeve.

“Don’t be a fool, Riyd. If you’re going to throw my life away with his, fine,” I said. I pressed the knife delicately against her ribs, knowing she would feel the burn of the silvered blade even through her fur. “But allowing Varys to have the last laugh at our expense is a bridge too far for Luka’s daughter, surely. For such a misstep, I’d be obliged to leave you a proper wound to remember me by.”

Riyd’s whole body tensed reflexively at the touch of the hated metal. She knew how excruciating and debilitating a silvered wound could be. No doubt she was feeling the same horrible itch in her old arrow wound, a sympathetic pain that never really ended. Even a sliver of silver burned like white-hot needles under the skin. It was surprising that Luka’s own assassins hadn’t used it. Vaendal was a strange, exotic choice. Then again, Luka was more careful than most. He wore a ring that warmed abruptly in the presence of silver, always useful when someone passed him a cup.

I knew I had her undivided attention. Even furious, she wouldn’t risk killing me until the knife was dealt with. I had a reputation for being fast. Our fates balanced at the edge of my knife, her eyes displaying the war inside them to terrifying effect while I kept the pressure of a final blow readied.

Her bestial features receded back into the striking beauty she’d inherited from her mother.“If you lie, Frostborn, I will devour your heart myself.” I knew it was a vow she would honor with enthusiasm.

“I did not harm your father, nor did my companion,” I said smoothly, keeping the knife against her ribs. Riyd hadn’t noticed Shira yet, too fixated on me, but that was likely to change as she calmed. “I have nothing to gain from your father’s death. He was my ally and our spymaster. The Eternal Kingdom is lesser without him. Go be with your father in his last moments.”

Riyd released me immediately, gaze turning towards the bed. “Does the old man even know I’m here?” She tried to speak harshly, to hide her pain, but I heard the subtle crack in her voice.

“His senses may be confused, but his spirit will know once he is free of them,” I said, tucking the knife back up my sleeve. It was easy to forget when faced with her fury that Riyd was still a young woman, more than just a force of nature. I gave her a firm nod of reassurance, well aware that putting a hand on her might infuriate her again.

Riyd stepped over to the bed, ignoring Shira when the priestess recoiled out of her path. “Father?”

I grabbed Shira and gently pulled her towards the door, which needed no convincing. “We will be in the hall, Riyd,” I promised. “Say whatever you need to say. We will wait:”

Shira looked at me with frantic eyes, shaking her head vigorously. We should run, she signed with trembling fingers.

“What do wolves do when rabbits run, Shira?” I muttered, examining Woe’s hilt. Those razor sharp claws had sliced right through the wrapped rayskin grip. It would need to be redone before I waded into another battle. “Varys is going to regret that little manipulation.”

Will you kill him? Shira signed, a hint of hope in her eyes.

Part of me most sincerely wanted to, but I knew Rhandiir would object strenuously whatever repercussions fell on Varys’s head. He was far too attached to his spawn. “It is not in everyone’s best interest for anyone to know Riyd ever took his lie seriously,” I said reluctantly. “For a variety of reasons, I think it might be better to let the worm think he was ineffectual. Though convincing Riyd of that might be impossible. Her pride and temper are a potent combination and will only be magnified by her grief. Varys may have already inked his own death warrant. Besides, every general in the forces of the King in Black may only duel with His approval.”

My silent companion’s eyebrows raised at that final statement. Even the Withered Rose?

“Even I. Though the value of a united front is something of a laughable notion at this point, when Varys attempts to sow discord so blatantly. Even without a duel, there will have to be a response, something so punishing that it will either cripple or kill him. But first, there is a power void to fill.”

He will think he is getting away with it.

I smiled my sharpest, coldest smile. “Perhaps.”

Shira shuddered in dread. No doubt she had heard of that particular smile, usually seen only in the glow of a burning temple’s flames.

If Varys had to live, he would regret his misstep with a visceral pain worthy of silver in accursed flesh. Vampire or not, I could make his unlife very unpleasant for him. Better yet, he had done most of the work himself. “The King in Black will wish this brought to his attention,” I said. “Both the matter of a new spymaster and Varys ignoring His edict.”

Riyd stepped out of the room, blinking her golden eyes hard to clear them of tears. “He is gone,” she said, voice cracking on the third word.

I turned to face her. “He and his wisdom will be missed. I am sorry for your loss, Riyd.” To creatures who valued family above all else, losing her sole remaining parent was quite the blow. “If there is anything I can do, name it and it will be so.”

My sincerity touched something inside of Riyd. She lowered her gaze.“See that those who did this suffer a torment worthy of their crime, Frostborn.”

“Those who delivered the poison are already dead. When I find their mastermind, I will treat them in accordance with that wish,” I promised. Torture was not something I enjoyed, but she would want nothing less. “Unless you wish them subject to your own mercies?”

“I would kill them too quickly,” Riyd said bluntly. “Though I think I might like to watch.”

Shira shifted uncomfortably even as her fingers danced in question. What now?

“We go to the King in Black. Riyd, I could use your testimony regarding Varys’s ploy.”

The fangwarden nodded. “With great pleasure, Frostborn. How is your shoulder?”

It was as close to an apology as I would get. “Fine.” The truth was that it ached already from the jarring blow. “You should take your father’s body to the proper place. We will meet you at the audience chamber.”

We? Shira signed with wide eyes.

“Indeed. It will be an education.” I doubted He would pay Shira any mind except as a passing curiosity. “I wish to arrange for a tutor as well.” When she looked at me with confusion, I stared straight into her eyes. “Arcane potential is never to be squandered. Whatever the origin, you have it. That is not a skill I can instruct you in.”

Shira hesitated for a long moment, weighing that against the teachings of her god.

I sighed. “It is a tool. Just as a sword may preserve or end a life, so too can magic.”

The priestess nodded slowly, but looked unconvinced. I knew I would have to force the issue, but now was not the time or place. I touched the ring on my finger, focusing on my connection to Him.

The effect was slow, creeping shadows painting lines on my palm. What do you desire, my rose?

An audience, I answered in my thoughts. It is a matter of great importance.

There was a pause before the black script undulated into new words on my palm. As you wish.