“What do you think they want this time?” Virian asked, standing at the portcullis of Atrican’s south gate. Armond towered over him to the left, and despite both men’s objections, Rose stood on Armond’s other side.

“Probably want to ask for our surrender,” Armond said, “again.”

So far, the church had asked to parley several times, yet never offered up any terms save for the unconditional surrender of Atrican. Still, they had yet to attack, so Virian had no issue continuing to play along with whatever this was for the time being. The city was in no jeopardy of losing autonomy with the port intact. The citizenry had a few pockets of dissent at the new regime, but otherwise, it had gone better than expected.

From behind the gate, they saw the approaching delegation of three horsemen kicking up dust around three-hundred lengths away. It would probably be the same three that always showed up: Bishop Dranish and his two paladins. To date, every negotiation had been conducted through the bars of the gate, and Virian enjoyed the scowl on the bishop’s face each time he was forced to speak through the iron barrier.

Eventually, the trio reigned in their horses within shouting distance of Virian, Rose, and Armond, but did not dismount.

“The King has sent you a missive,” Dranish called out pulling a white rectangular object from his robe, “perhaps you finally listen to reason, though I myself, hope otherwise.”

The bishop chucked the envelope towards the portcullis and turned his horse without another word. Virian glanced down at his feet, grateful that the bishop had a strong arm. The unaddressed envelope lay just beyond the closed gate.

He had a pretty good idea what Anton would say in the letter, but he crouched down to retrieve it anyway. The two at his sides gathered in closer as he tore the thing open, revealing his brother's blocky, neat handwriting within.

Enough is enough, Virian. Stop this tantrum and come home immediately. I have granted Archbishop Dranish temporary Sovereignty of the city. If you comply now, I can still convince the archbishops that this is anything other than what I know it is. This is the way of the world, Virian. You will never find your absolution for mother. Please, just come home.

Virian almost tore up the letter right then, but there was more.

Now that that’s out of the way, I have one last thing that I know you won’t ignore. I’m sending Camellia to you. She is your last chance. Her carriage should be shortly behind this letter. Despite everything, I don’t want to see you dead, brother.

There was some bullshit about his titles after that, followed by an ink impression of the royal seal. Virian clenched his jaw, and let the letter fall from his hands, turning from the south gate.

“Doesn’t like the princess much, eh?” Armond asked.

“Just the opposite,” Rose said.

Two more days passed before Camellia’s carriage was spotted by a lookout on the south wall. Virian hadn’t gone back to the palace, spending most of his time watching for her arrival. Still, he wasn’t the first one to spot her. A lookout—one of Armond’s thugs—sounded a horn while Virian had still been asleep on the dawn of the third day since Anton’s letter.

When Virian climbed to the top of the south wall, neither Rose nor Armond were waiting for him. Out along the road heading from the city, he found the carriage immediately. Sticking out from the dark, drab tents of the holy army, the ostentatious violet and gold four-horse wagon stuck out like a sore thumb. It had stopped moving by the time Virian spied it, and as far as he could see, Camellia had not exited the vehicle.

Quiet footsteps reached his ears from behind, and he turned to see Rose climbing the last of the stairs up to the top of the wall. She said nothing, only nodded in his direction.

“Rose,” he said.

“Yes?” She joined him at the parapet.

“…”

“Go on, just ask.”

“What are the chances this is nothing but a trap?”

“High.”

Virian sighed.

“I wouldn’t put it past my brother—or the church, obviously—but I can’t see Cammy wanting to hurt me.”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen her. Loyalties change.”

He couldn’t do anything but frown at the witch. He almost asked how she knew how long it had been, but reminded himself who he was talking to.

“Camellia was the only one to comfort me after mother was killed. I have to believe in her.”

Rose shrugged.

“She may not even realize what she is a part of. Doesn’t change what will happen.”

Virian’s shoulders drooped. It was somehow more depressing that Camellia might be Anton’s pawn and had gotten caught up in a mess she had nothing to do with.

“Will you help me?” Virian asked.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

He took a deep breath, a sense of relief washing away much of his anxieties. He may never consider Rose a friend, but he would always be grateful she was on this side of the wall.

When he turned his head from the tent-pocked field beyond the wall, he found her staring at him. Oh, damn. What had he just thought? He had made her sound like a tool instead of a person. Which of course she had heard. Ugh. On one hand he felt guilty but this exact circumstance was why he felt he could never be her friend. The disregard of the privacy of his own thoughts was just too much.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rose said, “I’m used to it. Have been for a very long time.”

“Uhm…s-sorry. And thanks. Of course. For helping.”

In truth, he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. The woman just made everything awkward. Yet she also must be incredibly lonely. He tried to imagine having her power himself and shuddered. Those who didn’t know who she was were merely interacting with a shadow of herself. Anyone who really knew her couldn’t be comfortable around her. Even if she promised not to use her power on him, would he believe it? If it was his power, would he be able to resist its allure?

If he looked at it from her perspective, the only option he could think of was to never use the power again. In that case, she wouldn’t be faking it in front of strangers, and wouldn’t have to listen to the discomfort of those close to her.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he found her offering him a weak smile.

“You’re thinking about this too much.”

“How do you stay sane?” he asked.

She turned her head to look back out at the church’s army.

“I don’t remember claiming that I was.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

Rose snorted, almost cracking a full grin. They stayed silent for several minutes, Virian watching the motionless carriage carrying his sister.

“Well,” he said finally, “what’s the verdict?”

“I’m too weak. I need to get closer.”

“What should we do, then?”

“You should let me and Armond go.”

Virian shook his head.

“I can’t do that. Camellia is my sister. I’ll meet with her properly.”

She gave a curt nod, surely already knowing what he was going to say.

“There is still a hostile army at your gates. No one would fault taking an escort.”

“Won’t that give away we suspect it?”

Rose shrugged.

“What does that matter?”

“What if they don’t go through with it? I’d prefer they play their hand and end this pretense of diplomacy.”

“And if you die? I hate to admit it, but Atrican needs you, Virian.”

Well, wasn’t that a breath of fresh air from his number one detractor and critic? Even Armond was less rude to him on a regular basis.

“Well, I have you to protect me, right?”

Rose gave him a bit of side-eye and chuckled.

“You almost make me miss Ivy. At least when I was babysitting her I didn’t have to worry about her dropping dead at every turn.”

Awe. Someone like Rose had a cute side too.

“It’s okay. You can admit it. We all miss her.”

He quickly retreated before she had a chance to retaliate to his teasing and took the stairs back to ground level two at a time. In no time he was down at the south gate guardhouse, staring out the single-wide auxiliary gate. It was wide enough for two people side by side, and a great deal simpler to operate than the main tradesman’s gate meant for cargo.

“We should wait for Armond,” Rose’s voice echoed along the stone walls of the narrow archway.”

“Open it,” Virian said to the guardsman standing watch.

The man began pulling on a thick iron chain dangling from the ceiling, raising the gate an inch at a time. Once he could safely pass under it, Virian was striding out into open ground. Enemy territory.

The landscape right outside the wall and around the King’s Road was a sparse, arid grassland, devoid of much of anything. He was essentially an open target. Rose strode up to his side and sighed.

“Don’t come haunt me when you die,” she said.

“Why? Are you afraid of ghosts?” He paused, his gaze rolling upward for a moment. “Wait, do ghosts exist?”

Rose cracked a smile but hissed through her teeth. After a moment of waiting, his sister’s carriage surged into motion. A single driver at the head of the vehicle urged on his team of horses, kicking up a cloud of thick dust, obscuring their view.

Eventually, the man reigned in his horses maybe twenty paces from them and the walls of Atrican. Virian made a move to step forward, but Rose caught his arm.

“Virian,” she said.

He knew what was coming.

“Yeah?”

She responded in a low voice for only him to hear, “It is as we suspected. Four men with loaded crossbows await inside with your sister.”

He nodded.

“Does she know?”

“Yes.”

Virian almost lost balance. It hurt more than he thought it would. He had told himself he had prepared for the worst, but he had not known how deep the betrayal would reach him.

“There’s more,” Rose said, the carriage still sitting dormant, “Your brother threatened her. She is not a willing participant.”

His feet were moving faster than his mind knew what was happening. He was pretty sure Rose was still talking to him—yelling, more like it—but he had already broken out into a run.

The world around him flew by in a haze as the carriage’s side door burst open. A lacy pink gown tumbled outward, its owner falling to her knees. Her head turned and her eyes widen at the sight of Virian’s rush toward her.

“Vivi, run!” she cried out, but a man followed shortly after, striking the side of her head with the butt of his crossbow.

Watching his sister crumple lifelessly to the cobble road only invigorated Virian’s sprint. The bastard would pay for what—

He was suddenly tackled from behind, falling in a tangle of limbs and dirt. Somewhere in the middle of it, he thought he might have heard the twang of a crossbow string loosed but could only be concerned with his current assailant. Who—

An agile, graceful form rolled out of the tangle ahead of him, almost losing none of her speed. She was back to her feet an instant later, sword in hand. Virian shook his head to clear his addled mind. Rose. She had just saved him.

He tried to call out to warn her of another man exiting the carriage, crossbow readied. Yet he need not worry. With a flick of her wrist, she cut the bolt down mid-air.

He had seen her display her power in combat once before when she went to confront Armond, yet still, he watched in awe as she twisted her body, effortlessly dodging two more crossbow bolts.

And then she was upon them. Four trained killers from the kingdom’s capital against a single woman. He wanted to get to his feet and help, but he probably would have just been in the way. The men surrounded her with naked blades, yet she did not waver.

They came at her in a coordinated assault that no mere swordsman could hope to turn aside. But the assassins did not know what they faced. Rose fell into a beautiful, terrifying dance of steel, blood, and death. The men’s superior strength and heavier swords surely would have broken her guard, but Rose was always just one step ahead of them. Their steel tasted only air, and her’s: flesh.

They fell one by one like wheat around her, the cobbles stained red with their lifeblood. Virian stared open-mouthed at the unbelievable scene before him. She might as well have been a goddess among mortals, looking down on those foolish enough to raise a hand against her.

Finally, Virian got to his feet, reaching her just as she performed a final killing blow on the last of her downed opponents.

“What did we need Armond for again?” he asked.

She glanced at him before giving her attention back to the army camped along the road. “We’re lucky they didn’t bring any paladins or we’d both be dead right now.”

“You probably just would have let me die,” he said.

“Probably.”

Her gaze was distant, and Virian followed her line of sight. Several more horsemen were headed their way. Rose took her eyes off the threat and looked at the girl laid out amongst the carnage of her assault.

“Help me grab her,” she said.

Virian flinched, embarrassed to have overlooked Camellia in the midst of his failed attempt to rescue her.

“Right. Of course.”

They each took a side, pulling her up so that her limp arms hung around their shoulders. At their touch, she began to stir, eyelids fluttering open.

“Vivi,” her voice came out a weak muttering, “just leave me. Go. Save yourself.”

“It’s okay, Cammy, you’re safe now,” Virian said, the thundering of hoofbeats growing ever closer, “we just have to get you inside.”

“Move faster,” Rose said. He obeyed, and when they reached the small auxiliary gate, the guard already had it open.

“Shut it!” Virian yelled.

The gate guard let the chain go, and the heavy iron bars slammed into place. Virian spun to see three paladins gallop past, expressionless steel helmets gleaming in the morning sun.

He huffed, out of breath, leaning against the wall of the tunnel.

“We made it.”

“We did,” Rose said, “but I have a question for you, Vivi.”

Rose smiled widely at Virian’s groan. He had just gotten used to her no longer calling him “idiot” or something else worse. Now he’d have to deal with this.

“I’m sure you already know the answer, but go ahead.”

“Why didn’t you tell me your sister was a witch?”

He almost dropped Camellia.

“What?”