Tatiana storms down the quiet corridor. Faint moonlight streams through the windows lining the walls. On the other side is a line of heavy doors.

Her tunic is loose, and sweat trails down her face. Her sandals land heavily, shifting on her feet because she hadn’t bothered to tighten them.

Her body aches all over, and her breaths are ragged.

I haven’t had much chance to talk since the fight. Tatiana pretty much went straight to bed after. She’s been sleeping until a few minutes ago. I’ve just been thinking for the most part.

I think about what Tatiana told Povenna. Her need for respect so that she can inherit the throne properly. And what she told Morrigan about the coming marriage.

And the ‘thing’ she had implied could be a problem. A secret that Morrigan claims would have Povenna kill Castor.

How does all of it play into the Stonewall ceremony? What could she, Maya, and Selena Grove be trying to accomplish?

I think of Garnavelle O’Hagan’s pane. It had stated that he ‘had something on Castor.’ I’d mentioned it to her, and she’d only said: ‘That doesn’t surprise me.’

“Father has always behaved strangely when it comes to Garnavelle,” Tatiana had explained. “I wish your messages could tell you why.”

I’d asked and gotten nothing. She thought it was amusing.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask as she passes a pair of guards who pay her little mind.

“I’m going to bathe,” she says. Her stride doesn’t slow. She scans each door as if expecting to find something.

‘Do you not know where the bath is?’

She throws a door open, finding a dark room with rows upon rows of bookshelves. Slam. She keeps going.

“I know exactly where the bath is,” Tatiana replies. She eyes a pair of women as they pass, as though she’s daring them to question her for speaking to ‘herself.’ “But I also don’t feel like filling the cistern.”

She pauses in front of a narrow door marked with a sigil: a red teardrop inside a white circle. She pounds her fist against it.

“Harlan!”

There’s shuffling inside.

Tatiana pounds at the door again.

“Harlan!”

The door opens slightly, revealing a faint orange glow within.

A man with weary eyes fills the crack. I remember him as the man that tried to heal Tatiana just yesterday.

“Lady Tatiana,” he groans. “I was in prayer.”

Tatiana kicks the door, knocking the man back.

Inside is a small office. The walls are lined with scrolls and tomes.

A naked man sits on a desk. He dives to the floor with a shriek when Tatiana lays eyes on him.

A pane appears as he lands.

‘Michael Apollich. Cleric of the court. Madly in love with Harlan.’

“For Christ’s sake,” Harlan grumbles, adjusting his robes. “Michael and I only have a few hours of privacy as it is. What do you want?”

Christ? what?

‘You guys know about Christ?’ I demand, struggling to process the new information.

“The cistern is empty,” Tatiana says flatly, ignoring me. “I don’t feel like filling it.”

Harlan lets out a heavy sigh.

“Michael, get dressed,” he says. “We’ll have to get back to work when I get back.”

There’s a low whine from the floor.

‘Do you see naked guys all the time?’ I ask, giving up on my questions about the apparent presence of Christianity. ‘You didn’t even flinch.’

“No,” Tatiana replies as Harlan heads up the corridor. “I’m just good at hiding my disgust.”

Tatiana follows Harlan up the corridor and even further up some stairs. She maintains a decent distance.

‘Tatiana,’ I start, considering how to word the question. ‘What are you really after?’

The wooden walls give way to stone ones. Ahead lies a heavy wooden door banded with iron.

Tatiana pauses, watching as Harlan reaches the door.

“I’m after a lot of things,” she says.

‘Let’s start with Garnavelle,’ I say.

“Usually, you bathe in the day,” Harlan says as he shoves the door open and looking over his shoulder. “What is the occasion?”

“Something you don’t care about,” Tatiana retorts, hurrying to catch up.

Inside, the room seems to be encased in stone. The floor is tiled. In the middle, the floor dips into a rectangular pool. It’s dry, exactly as Tatiana foretold.

There are several buckets stacked and strewn about. There are shelves built into a wall with a few piles of pink bricks of soap.

Harlan kneels by the pool. He mumbles, making small hand motions.

Tatiana stands behind him, arms crossed. She leans in slightly.

“Since I have magic,” she says. “How long until I can do crap like this?”

“Huh?” Harlan raises his head and Tatiana waves him off. I don’t bother complaining about how blasé she’s being about talking to me out loud.

‘That’s a good question,’ I say. ‘For starters, I have no idea what’s going on.’

She chuckles lightly.

“There.” Harlan stands.

The stones making up the pool seem to be shifting, as if they’re melting. Water gathers at the bottom, slowly rising higher.

Harlan heads for the door without another word.

“Thanks, Harlan,” Tatiana says as he steps out.

“Sure.”

While the pool slowly fills, Tatiana gathers a few buckets and stacks them against the door.

‘Will that block it from opening?’ I ask.

“Nope,” she says.

‘Why are you doing it?’

“Just in case.”

‘In case of what?’

Tatiana doesn’t answer. She peels her dirty clothes off and kicks her sandals against the wall. She massages the raw skin on her sides and winces.

The air is icy as she approaches the pool.

“Garnavelle is the Lord of Harken,” Tatiana says, rounding the pool. “He and Allactus Albanum each have a portion of the realm in their hands.”

‘So your family doesn’t rule the realm?’

She goes to the shelf and gets brick from one of them.

“Between my parents,” Tatiana says. “We’re the most powerful. Years ago, this realm was nothing but war and madness. My father was attempting to conquer the realm through that violence.”

She approaches the bath as one would approach a live grenade. Each step is silent and unsteady.

“The O’Hagans and Albanum alliance is probably strong enough to sustain a several year war,” Tatiana says. “That’s why Castor decided to ally with them instead.”

One foot goes in. The water is chilly. Tatiana shudders but presses on. The cold rises further and further as she sinks into the depths.

“But, like you said…” She grips the edge, watching the dark ceiling. “Garnavelle wants blood. And the Albanums are his playthings.”

The pool is deeper than I realized. The water reaches Tatiana’s belly. She holds the soap above the water. I feel every tremble in her bones.

‘Why is it so cold?’ I whine. ‘God!’

“Because Harlan hates me,” Tatiana groans. “He always does this. How was I supposed to know he was fucking Michael right now?” she groans louder.

Tatiana gets to work then. She scrubs herself raw, inch by inch, and head to toe. The pain is stunning when she scrubs over raw spots, but she doesn’t flinch at all.

I keep my complaints to a minimum, knowing it wouldn’t stop her anyway.

“What your messages say about Garnavelle only confirms my suspicion,” Tatiana says, pressing her back against the stone. “Garnavelle has Castor and Allactus. He may well be the true ruler of the realm.”

‘What about Povenna?’ I ask.

"My mother is…” Tatiana tilts her head, chewing on her tongue. “Unreliable in these matters. If she had her way, Garnavelle would’ve been a charred corpse years ago.”

I consider that as she glances across the room. She prods at the raw skin under her arm.

“That would’ve caused a war,” she adds. “So, we’re gonna kill him,” Tatiana says through a wince. “Garnavelle.”

Uh. What?

‘You’re staging a coup?’

“Garnavelle O’Hagan is a disgusting creature,” Tatiana says. “He’s gone unchecked since before I was born. And he’s hurt people I care about. I won’t have him outliving me.”

‘But you said Povenna killing him would be bad.’

“War. Like I said. Aren’t you paying attention?” She sets the soap down and picks at her hair. “I forgot my oil,” she groans.

‘Wait,’ I say. ‘But you killing him won’t cause this war?’

She dunks her head into the water for a moment and comes up with a gasp.

“Not if we do it right,” she says. “That’s why it’s a ‘plan.’”

‘What’s the plan?’

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” Tatiana says, pressing herself against the side. “Why are you so concerned all of a sudden?”

‘I guess I’m only now starting to pay attention,’ I say. I wonder what Garnavelle has done to earn this level of hatred. Who has he hurt? How?

“Certainly,” Tatiana mumbles, scrubbing at her scalp and tilting her head slightly. “It all comes down to Garnavelle, really. If I understand him correctly, today was a success.”

‘How so?’

“I need him to believe in Maya’s power,” Tatiana says. “Enough to convince him that he can defeat Povenna. I imagine the rest is clear?”

I absorb that. The rest? She’s offering Maya up as a weapon? So Garnavelle will, what, plot a coup of his own? So killing him looks better?

“I didn’t lie when I said I wanted to be a knight,” Tatiana says. "But my and Selena… Grove’s participation is a mask for Maya at the end of the day.”

I try not to laugh at her struggling to use Selena Grove’s full name. I have to imagine she’s practicing for the next time they meet in person.

‘What happens if he goes through with it?’ I ask. ‘Will that not be war?’

“I get to see my father’s true colors for one.” Tatiana picks up the soap and eyes it. She drags her fingernail along the surface. “That’s the unknown factor.”

The man of two minds. I wonder if he’s picked up on me, somehow. I haven’t given much thought to what his deal is.

“My fear,” Tatiana says. “Is that Garnavelle’s control is literal. That he has actual power over Castor and Allactus’s minds. And that power may remain beyond his death.”

‘That would mean…’ I consider for a moment.

She nods.

“My father has been infuriatingly lenient when it comes to Garnavelle,” she says. “He has allowed that man to act in ways that should’ve cost him his head a hundred times over. I struggle to imagine what other reason he would behave in that way.”

‘Mind control,’ I say. ‘Do you think it could have to do with him having someone in his head? Like me?’

Tatiana shrugs.

“Either way,” she says. “It all depends on what Garnavelle does next. It may turn out just as bloody as Povenna having killed him all those years ago. That’s why it’s risky.”

She stiffens.

‘I guess…’ I trail off as she climbs out. She rolls across the floor and sits up, grabbing her clothes. She starts pulling them over her wet skin. ‘Aren’t you gonna…’ I start, but I hear it then. Footsteps. How did she know they were coming?

Tatiana struggles to drag her tunic over her wet skin as laughter echoes from beyond the door. She stiffens and pulls her trousers on. She snatches up her sandals next.

The door opens, and buckets scatter across the floor.

A woman walks in wearing a gray robe. Her white hair is clipped and spiky on her head. Her face is carved with wrinkles. She pauses when she sees Tatiana.

Behind her, two other women linger in the hallway.

“Lady Tatiana,” the woman says, glancing from Tatiana to the bath. “What a coincidence.”

The two women scatter into the room. One of them trips over a bucket and swears.

“Why are the buckets all over the place!” She hisses, kicking the bucket. The other woman laughs at her.

A pane appears before the gray-haired woman. Two more appear in front of the other women.

‘Cynthia Erastossa. Knight of the Malvey Court. Loyal to Haza.’

In front of the blonde woman who tripped: ‘Argent Nunnelle. Knight of the Malvey Court. Feels sorry for Tatiana.’

In front of the laughing, black-haired woman: ‘Lelaine Erastossa. Knight of the Malvey Court. Doesn’t have many thoughts of her own.’

More knights. These panes are less of an information grenade than Brevard’s parents. I wonder who Haza is, as the women flank Tatiana. Wait, what are they doing?

“Cynthia,” Tatiana says. She tugs at the hem of her tunic. It clings to her body like glue. “Must you—”

A hand closes around Tatiana’s wrist, and she’s yanked backward. She kicks out at Argent while Lelaine pins her arms.

“How much time do we have?” Lelaine asks. “Before your mother comes to save you?”

Argent catches Tatiana’s foot and yanks, pulling Tatiana off her one leg.

Tatiana hits the floor with a shriek. In a heartbeat, the two women have taken her arms and legs and pinned them.

“Damn it!” Tatiana flails against them as hair falls in her face. “Cynthia, you must know better than this!”

Cynthia’s lips quirk as she approaches. Her eyes travel down Tatiana’s body.

‘Tatiana!’ I call. I hesitate, unsure what to say. Won’t Povenna come? She’ll stop this, won’t she?

“Povenna is asleep at this hour,” Cynthia says. “The thing tires easily, and it never attends supper.”

Tatiana’s face burns and her chest heaves. She holds Cynthia’s gaze.

“She’s aware of every speck of magic in this city, and maybe even further,” Cynthia goes on. “But beyond that, her senses are only marginally better than a human’s.”

“She won’t come?” Lelaine asks.

Cynthia shakes her head.

“And Tatiana won’t tell her,” she says. “Will you?” She grabs Tatiana’s face and shoves her. “Will you?” she echoes, grinning.

Tatiana glares up at her.

They talk like… have they done this before? And Why wouldn’t she? I think through everything I know about Tatiana, everything I’ve seen. And I realize, of course she wouldn’t.

“I don’t need my mother to—”

Cynthia plants a foot in Tatiana’s ribs.

Tatiana grits her teeth, twisting away from the foot.

“I see training hasn’t done much for you,” Cynthia says. “It’s a shame what happened to your family. Kann truly was Castor’s last proper heir. Now all he has is…” She gestures vaguely at Tatiana.

“You show your own shame,” Tatiana says. “I thought you outgrew your need to torment me.”

“You’ve made a mockery of the knights,” Cynthia says. “You’ve made a mockery of Annandale.”

“I did no such—”

Lelaine drops, her forehead slamming into Tatiana’s.

Tatiana’s head bounces off the floor. She groans, trying to roll onto her side.

“You’ll forfeit.” Cynthia’s foot comes down on Tatiana’s stomach. The pressure quickly becomes an unbearable weight. “And you’ll take the O’Hagan and Albanum girls with you.”

Tatiana bites down on her tongue, trying to contain a whimper.

“No.”

I have to do something. A spell. They talked about Povenna being aware of magic. If I cast a spell, it should draw her attention, right? Though, her being aware of magic doesn’t guarantee that she’ll react to it.

‘Reinforce!’ I call. Nothing happens. Can I not cast spells without being in control?

“Stop it,” Tatiana hisses. Is she talking to me? Or Cynthia?

‘Give me control!’

“No!” Tatiana yells. It’s cut short when Cynthia kicks her again. Tatiana throws her head back, and Lelaine catches her by the face.

‘You stubborn brat!’

“What do you mean, no?” Lelaine asks, sitting on Tatiana’s arms. “You can’t say no.”

“Don’t speak to me,” Tatiana hisses through her teeth. “You…” she trails off into a wince when Cynthia stomps on her again.

“When your next match comes,” Cynthia says, twisting her sandal into Tatiana’s hip. “You will forfeit.” She raises her foot and drops it into the bone.

Tatiana cries out, but she’s cut off when Cynthia stomps again. Her mouth hangs open and her breath catches.

“Answer me!” The woman barks.

Lelaine laughs, thumbing wet hair out of Tatiana’s face.

“Get off of me,” Tatiana snaps, trying to bite the woman’s hand.

Cynthia stomps again, forcing another cry out of Tatiana.

“Say you’ll do it!” She orders. “Or should I do you like I used to?”

“I can’t.” Tatiana chokes the words out. “I won’t.”

I push against the wall, and it starts to move.

Tatiana yelps, and the wall goes still. Is she pushing back?

“Stop,” she pleads. “Please.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Argent asks. “Careful with her arms.”

Lelaine shifts her weight on Tatiana’s arms, her brow furrowed.

“Alright,” Cynthia says, stepping off Tatiana. “I suppose you miss how I used to treat you, do you?”

Tatiana leans her head back, trying to take slow breaths. She meets Lelaine’s eyes and shakes her head.

‘Tatiana.’ I keep pushing. She has to let up sooner or later. Her stubbornness can’t be this insane. I won’t let this happen.

Cynthia picks up the bar of soap and weighs it.

“I remember the girl who begged to join us in the bath,” she says, sauntering to Tatiana. “How old were you, Tatiana?”

“You’re a coward,” Tatiana says. “You tried to drown me for wanting company.”

Lelaine laughs.

“You did that?” She asks as Cynthia reaches Tatiana.

“Only after she beat her half to death,” Argent chimes in. She’s frowning and her eyes are on the floor. The pane claimed she ‘feels sorry’ but what good is that if she’s still holding Tatiana’s legs?

“Company,” Cynthia echoes, tossing the soap and catching it. “You’re a stain. What knight would allow something like that to share her bathwater? The request was a slap to my face.”

“I was a child!”

What is wrong with these people? What could possibly motivate them to hate her so much?

“You’re still a child,” Cynthia says. She steps over Tatiana and crouches slowly, sitting on her stomach. “You haven’t matured yet. The prophecy is still waiting.”

Tatiana groans, starting to struggle again as Cynthia shifts her weight.

‘Tatiana,’ I plead. ‘Cast a spell. The magic should draw Povenna!’

She shakes her head slightly.

Cynthia’s eyes are gray and empty. Her lips are flat.

“I won’t forfeit,” Tatiana says. “You’re a disgrace of a knight.”

“Do you know what Halliel told me?” Cynthia asks, waving the soap in Tatiana’s face. “After you ran from this very room?”

Tatiana turns away.

Halliel? It takes me a moment to place the name as one of Tatiana’s late sisters. She was involved in this, too?

“She said she wished I would’ve finished the job,” Cynthia says. “She was sick of how Povenna favored you. She was hopeful, desperate even, for that prophecy to come true.”

Tatiana flattens her trembling lips, staring at the dark wall.

“Halliel is dead,” she says. “It doesn’t—”

Cynthia slaps Tatiana, cutting her off.

Tatiana doesn’t make a noise. She just squeezes her eyes shut.

“That’s why,” Cynthia says, taking Tatiana’s chin and forcing her to look up. “Ever since, when we could, we reminded you.” She places the soap against Tatiana’s mouth. “Exactly where you stand.”

Tatiana stares up at Cynthia, her teeth clenched.

“Open your mouth,” Cynthia says. “You know how this goes.”

Tatiana’s breaths are shallow. She starts shaking her head again.

Cynthia takes Tatiana by the hair and pulls. Her other arm blurs, and she hits Tatiana in the brow with the soap.

Tatiana winces, craning her neck to try to get her head free.

Then, Cynthia shoves Tatiana’s head back and slams the soap into her lips.

I taste blood in Tatiana’s mouth as the soap presses her lips against her teeth.

“Open your mouth,” Cynthia orders. “Or you lose your teeth.”

Tatiana lets out a wail, and in that moment, the soap is stuffed between her teeth. Her screams are muffled as Cynthia shoves hard, working the soap into the back of Tatiana’s mouth.

The scrape of soap against Tatiana’s teeth is agonizing. Every part of her is shaking, and her eyes search Cynthia’s empty face. She tries to cough and can’t get it through.

“Hey,” Lelaine says. “You’re gonna make her eat it?”

Cynthia clamps a hand over Tatiana’s mouth as she flails furiously.

Everything is hot, and Tatiana’s suddenly drenched in cold sweat. She can’t breathe. Her nose oozes suds with each attempt for air.

“Chew on it,” Cynthia orders, wiping soap away from Tatiana’s nose. “Don’t give me that look. You asked for this.”

‘Stop it,’ I say, even though they can’t hear me. ‘Just leave her alone.’

Tatiana shakes her head, and Cynthia smiles faintly.

“You used to be more obedient,” she says, turning Tatiana’s head by her chin. “I never should’ve stopped training you.”

“Cynthia,” Argent says. “That’s enough.”

“Let her up,” Cynthia says, standing and dropping Tatiana’s head.

Lelaine releases Tatiana’s arms, and Tatiana grabs at her mouth.

“Get it out,” Cynthia says. “Before you choke.”

Tatiana curls up, retching violently.

“We ought to take her out to Kora village,” Lelaine says as Tatiana claws at the soap. “Show her what disrespect earned girls like her back in the day.”

“No,” Argent says. “It isn’t worth it.”

“Yes,” Cynthia says. “Povenna would burn the village down.”

Tatiana pulls at the wet mass in the back of her mouth. She tries to sit up and slips, landing on her side. Her lungs are burning, and there’s a tremble in her arms.

The soap comes up like a brick, breaking apart as Tatiana spits it out. She breathes through a sob. Her burning throat and nostrils are thick with foam and blood.

“You…” Tatiana’s voice is hoarse.

Cynthia kneels beside her. Her hand snaps up, grabbing Tatiana by the hair and yanking her close.

“Next time,” she says, placing a hand on Tatiana’s heaving stomach. “I’ll ruin you. The only value you have to your family now is that womb. And I’ll carve it out of you.”

Tatiana shoves at her, coughing and spewing up more foam.

“After that, I’m sure Castor will find a better use for you,” Cynthia says, pinning Tatiana’s arm. “If not, I’m sure I could.”

“Don’t,” Tatiana mumbles. “Remember your promise.”

“What are you talking about?” Cynthia’s eyes flick up and her smile fades.

Argent and Lelaine have backed away.

The door is opened. Someone is standing there, a shape in the dark. I can’t make out his eyes but I can feel them on Tatiana.

“Brevard,” Tatiana insists as Cynthia stares at the door. “You promised…” she trails off, erupting into a coughing fit.

Promised? What? Is he about to kill them?

“What are you doing here?” Cynthia demands. “You should be at the supper. You are not free to roam these halls.”

“You expect too much of me,” a stiff voice replies. “Tatiana.”

Cynthia stands slowly, her hand twisting into Tatiana’s hair.

Tatiana grunts, pulling away before Cynthia yanks her onto her knees.

“An O’Hagan in Romenthe wouldn’t dare harm a member of the Malvey court,” Cynthia says. “He’s just as helpless as…” she trails off, watching as Brevard enters the room.

“As helpless as you are,” Tatiana rasps. “You can torment me all you want. But you can’t stop what’s coming.”

“The only thing coming,” Cynthia hisses, pulling harder on Tatiana’s hair. “Is your death.”

Tatiana cries out, and Brevard lunges.

He crosses the room in a heartbeat. His cloak is behind him, revealing a blade as he draws it. Hair whips around his head, obscuring his face.

Tatiana whirls, grabbing Cynthia’s robe and yanking herself up. Cynthia’s grip loosens as she falls.

Brevard’s boot hits wet stone as Tatiana moves between him and Cynthia.

Cynthia staggers back a few steps, watching.

Tatiana stares into Brevard’s eyes, panting. His cloak flutters to the floor behind him.

His face is twisted, and his eyes move slowly from Tatiana’s eyes to her mouth.

Tatiana tries to speak, but all that gets out is a ragged breath.

Brevard sheathes the sword, anyway.

“You ask too much of me,” he says, quieter this time.

“Cynthia,” Argent urges. “Come on, let’s go.”

“You’re…” Cynthia backs away, shaking her head at Tatiana. “I’m not done with you. You know that.”

Tatiana sinks back to her knees as the women vanish out the door.

“This is good,” she heaves, planting a hand on the floor. “They’re desperate. They see what Maya is capable of. It’ll make Garnavelle’s threat more believable.”

Brevard drops to his knees before her. His hair falls like a curtain around his face.

“Nothing about this is good,” he says, his voice breaking. “How long have they been…”

Tatiana wipes her mouth and winces.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, finding blood on her hand.

I don’t dare speak. I feel as though I’ve failed her. I was here. I should have been able to do something.

“Tatiana,” Brevard says under his breath. “May I touch you?”

Her nod is nearly imperceptible. Her aching jaw doesn’t move.

Brevard’s hand moves like a shadow, and his fingers trail faintly across the skin of her cheek.

Tatiana stiffens under his touch. She lets out a quiet sob.

“I…” she starts, a tremble growing in her chin. She shakes her head, tries to swallow, and gags.

Brevard cups her face. His eyes glisten, but he doesn’t speak.

“I still need you,” Tatiana says after a moment. “Brevard.”