“Hunt down the traitor, and bring them back to me alive.” Snarled Hallowbound, fixing Mouseclaw with his sharp gaze. “Yes, Hallowbound.” Stuttered Mouseclaw, as she sprinted out the chamber. In the tunnel, there was intricate claw marks, woven by time itself, and her footfalls echoed around the tunnel. She sighed, why did Hallowbound have to be so bossy? She blinked as sunlight filtered through the entrance, and bounded out, and shook herself. Well, I have to get the job done… She thought, as she passed Heatherpaw, who nodded politely as she passed. Let’s just get it over already. Just capture Treepelt.

“Hunt down the traitor, and bring them back to me alive!”  The voice of the Great Khan fills the room, louder than the pounding of many metal fists upon the long table. Inhuman shrieks of pride follow his decree. A violent, ear splitting din ensues. 

Chinggis IV brings his hands together, massive articulated gloves made of steel that clash with a resounding cry. The tent grows deathly silent. All the warlords and bounty-hunters, in terrible awe of the Khan, watch him with a hushed fear. “Or…” he continues, “if the rebel is never found, I will tear out your hearts and eat them myself!” 

Nobody doubts him, not for a moment. Hasty salutes are thrown up, and cries of “Hail the Silver Horde!” are shouted by many men. I too, bring my hand, palm sweating more than ever, up to my forehead, but I remain silent. While my golden mask obscures my visage, I am too near to the Khan. He could very much recognize me, an act that could spell doom for myself and my lineage. I must leave this place at once. 

As meat and rice wine begins to be passed around amongst still terrified warriors, I come to a dreaded realization that it will be impossible to leave. The Khan would most definitely not allow it. My mission may be more compromised than I previously believed.

Still, I see my goal in sight. The great death-mask of Babur, my own ancestor, set in the most brilliant blue-white porcelain, hangs high amongst the rafters. Yes, I am a Mughal, though the empire is long dead– ten thousand years gone at the least. (What year is it now? Alas, I cannot recall.) Every face in this tent has been set on shaping a pure, beautiful mask from the skin of my own corpse. For I am the last of my line, and I will not allow my history to fade away like an unraveled silk robe. I must steal Babur’s mask, if I cannot, I do not deserve to live.

The Khan, Chinggis IV, is circling the table now, inching ever closer to me every second with his clicking gloves, his massive beard nearly scraping the dirt floor. I have a weapon, a silver dagger concealed in my boot, but it would be impossible to use. Sitting at this same table are Horde warriors trained to shoot at the momentary instant of the flash of a blade. The soft gray contents of my consciousness would be flung upon the tent walls before I had a chance to move.

However, I have one advantage over the Khan: he knows not my face. He only knows of the red-black brand on my neck, the one that means traitor. The very brand that I am covering with my cloak and my shining golden mask. The brand which his father gave me moments before I gouged out his eyes with my own metal fingers. 

_My gloves. _That must be the solution. They show the marking of a great warrior for the Khan, and I haven’t taken them off since my defection. Even though I am the traitor, no Uyghur warlord or Neo-Ming general would dare make any violent move against me. The Horde gunslingers know better than to shoot at the sight of an honorable challenge. Even so, I will not fight with honor. The bastard Khan doesn’t deserve such respect. 

I slam my iron gloves, still stained from the months-old skull and brains of Chinggis’ father, onto the table, like the Khan had done moments before. Heads snap towards me like the cylinder of a newly reloaded revolver. A pair of fiery sneering eyes cross over dozens of startled fighters and finally land upon mine. “Who are you, who thinks they can come masked into my court with heavy gauntlets? Does your own insolence blind you more than your golden face? I should have you shot where you now stand, yet still I have a certain curiosity in your desire.”

I stare him down from under my mask. “No, I am not blind. Nor am I deaf towards the cries of my slaughter amongst the members of your court.” I begin to rise out of my seat. “Come, bastard. Fight and die to the last member of a lineage you swore to destroy.” With a deft hand, my mask and cloak are torn off, revealing the traitorous brand on my neck, and a violent glint in my eyes. “The Silver Horde does not tolerate cowards.”

An armored man to my left grabs his blade. “The traitor!” he gasps, and swings towards my unguarded neck. The sword glances off my right gauntlet, and his face is turned to pudding with my left. More warriors begin to step up, and others shrink away in fear. 

“Halt!” The Khan’s voice booms louder than ever before. Everyone, even myself, freezes, save for a single Turk, who continues to charge. Chinggis snaps his fingers, and the sharp flash of a single gunshot lights up the face of the man, who promptly falls over with a hole through his heart. 

“Traitorous one! You have played a dangerous game making an appearance here, amongst all these powerful men. However, I rather enjoy this predicament in which you have put yourself, for it allows me to peel the skin off of your face myself! Come, Let us duel!” The Khan motions to have the long table removed, as well as the corpses lying motionless on the dirt. A silver-plated yak horn is sounded, and men enter with horse skin drums and other strange instruments. Soon, a circle is formed by eagerly watching warlords and officers. Only the Khan and I are in the center, staring each other down.

He is a tall man, and a large one. Two-thirds of a head higher than me and nearly twice as wide. With his metal gloves, each of his already huge fists are larger than my head. It would take but a single swing to split open my skull, and the spiked studs on his fingers are sharp enough to rip out my heart. He is a monster, a hulking, unstoppable mass. I must be careful. 

I step into a fighting position, high on guard. He won’t let me throw the first punch, but I won’t attempt it. I am poised to grab the dagger in my left boot. With a fast bladed weapon, the fight could be finished quickly. 

“Are you prepared, rebel? I know not your true name, nor shall any man ever. Your line shall rot like dying roots in poisoned soil. Reduced to mere dirt. I hope your ancestors are watching you, for they will see you fail like all the else.” With that, he grabs the ancient mask of Babur off its hanging place, and places it upon his own face. Blasphemy! Disrespect to my forefathers! I grit my teeth with anger, but hold my ground. Not yet. A couple more seconds.

A thin-faced official with a wispy beard steps between us, facing the Khan. “My master. I bless you with the strength of Genghis and the entire line. Hail the silver horde.” He now turns towards me. “You will die like a dog. Be ready.” With that, he steps back and sounds the battle-horn. The fight has begun.

It’s over in seven seconds. 

A flash of a dagger. 

A lumbering giant moving like liquid.

_How is he so fast?_

Shattering a beautiful porcelain face with a blade.

Fountains of blood and a crushed eye.

Two massive fists moving faster than I can see. 

White, searing heat. 

_Pain._

I step back from the dying Khan, my dagger embedded into his left eyelid, with crimson liquid dripping from the lashes. Staggering, and looking down, I notice that a sizable amount of my midsection is missing. Pieces of metal and white porcelain are embedded into my gut. Nearly all of my willpower is being used to keep myself from collapsing. 

“You are slain, O weakling Khan” I manage to choke out, as my throat begins to fill with thick blood. He looks at me with his single intact eye, behind half of the shattered mask of Babur. In this moment, I cannot tell what he is thinking. Is he angered that he has been bested by his mortal enemy? Is he resigned and defeated? Or is he not feeling anything at all? 

I trip my way over to Chinggis’ shuddering heap and grasp his head with my right glove. As I keel over and darkness starts surrounding the corners of my vision, I crush his skull with the last strength I have. Have I failed? I choose to believe that I haven’t.

"Hunt down the traitor, and bring them back to me alive." "Yes sir," said my assistant. Oh boy is she going to get a surprise when she gets here. I have many plans for my dear, Darcy Helenblast.

A few days pass by, with boredom filling my days. Finally I get word from my assistant, saying he'll be home in a day.

My smirk shows when I finally see Darcy. Her face says that she has nothing to do with me. "Why hello, my dear Darcy Helenblast. Funny seeing you here." "Very funny Mr. Gobsnap." "Mr.? You're going to be more polite than that if you want a treat." "Just kill me already," mumbles Darcy. "Why, I could do no such thing. We've got to have a little fun first."

I unlock the cage, welcoming myself into Darcy's home. She jumps, and stumbles to the back, as far away from me as possible. "If your going to kill me, do it fast." "Why would I kill you? It's not like were on bad terms," I say with a tentative hidden smirk. "You win Gobsnap. I would prefer a gun to the heart." "You want me to have a place in your heart?" She mutters something bad, under her breath. I get halfway to the bed when she flinches. She is not scared, but worried about the unknown. If she could only know the unknown. "What's the matter Darcy? Are you scared?" Her face is still, making me guess her emotions. I tilt my head as I get closer, only a few feet away. I hold out my hand, seeing if she'll take it. She look up at me, with a questioning glare in her dark greenish hazel eyes. "I'll let you out if you be good," I croon to her, as if she were a pet. She hesitates, knowing I could be up to something. "No games Darcy. Just a little walk, so you know I'm not as evil as I was put up to be." Her hand doesn't touch my arm. She brisks past me, in such a rush to get out of her home. "Now, Darcy, you should show some respect to your host." "You aren't my host. Your a cager," she spits back. I smirk. As I always do around Darcy Helenblast. I catch up, and hold out my hand one last time. She, surprisingly, takes it. Gently, and with question and fear. It's slow, but her gruff hand reaches mine. She keeps up at a fast pace, not the slow walk I imagined. "Woah there, dear. Not too fast. Unless you want to go back into your home," I say, smugly. She retreats to a slower pace, more my speed. A hair blows into her face. She doesn't move it. So I do. I turn to face her, and gently brush the hair back. Her dark, aubern brown hair is short, just past her shoulders. I search her eyes. She searches mine. It seems she snaps back to reality, moving forward and letting go of my hand.

"Time to go back, my dear." "I'm not your 'dear'. I'm your pet." "Now Darcy, if you want to have a good time, act like it." I reach out my hand, hoping she'll take it again. She doesn't.

I lock the door with a breath, and say, "And tomorrow it will be."

Her clothes slide off her body, exposed in the cage. She climbs into the bed like a cat purring to take a nap. The silky sheet come over her, blocking the view of other areas. Her hair slowly falls across her face, as she breathes until drifting to sleep. I watch all of it. I have a camera set up so I can see any move she makes. I'm glad I did. I call my assistant, asking him to do me a favor. He quickly goes to it. She'll have a surprise in the morning.

I unlock the cage but don't go in quite yet. She seems to be waking from the noise, and I let her take it all in. She sits up, still half asleep. Then she sees me. She jumps out of shock and quickly covers herself with the sheets I got specially designed for her. "Good morning my dear Darcy." "Get out." It's a threat. But this is my place, not hers to tell. "To where?" "At least let me change, you villain." "Alright," "Go!" "only if you do me a favor, hmm lets see, " "Hurry up Gobsnap." "put on this instead."

I hold out the the flowy cream dress, with dainty lace details. It has two small straps, and reaches down to her mid thigh. "Just this," is all I say, letting her take in the meaning. She stares at the elegant dress for a long time, until she looks up at me with her eyes. She searches them, trying to find every hidden crevice thats deep inside of me.

"Fine." Glimmer and hate are swirled inside her glossy, precious eyes.

She grabs it with quite some force, and mutters something as I leave. I don't look at the camera this time. That image will soon be in my reach.

"Look at you, my dear Darcy. You could have won in a beauty pagent if you had some grace." "Shut up." I give her a smug look as I take her hand to go for a walk. She flinches for a second at the sudden grab, but takes it cautiously.

I take her outside, to the beautiful meadows near the place. "I didn't know you could live with beauty surrounding you. I figured it would be a dark, scary forrest," she comments sarcastically. "Well, we could call it a forrest and I could be your prince charming," I say with a sly grin stuck to my stupid face. That was too fast. I hope she doesn't back down.

Her laughter fills the entire two acres of flowers. Her scuffy perfect eyes glance at me for a moment, but her head turns away. My cheeks start to burn and I am shocked by the sensation. I have never blushed before.

Her hand squeezes tighter in my hand. I lead us over to a little table in this enchanted garden. "Aren't you the villain in the world? Why such a magical place?" As usual, another snarky comment from miss dear Darcy. "As I've told you before, I am not put up to what everyone says about me." She slips into the bench across from mine, as I open up the basket already put on the table. Two juicy red apples, homemade ham sandwiches, and two flute glasses. I reach under and pull out the bottle of champagne. She snickers as I pop the lid open and pour us each a half of glass. "Where did all of this inspiration cone from? I am your pet, after all." "Well, I like to treat my pets nicely, aside from the cage."

I tilt the glass and drink the last sip. I executed this lunch wonderfully. My dear Darcy drank almost 7 glasses, as we finished the bottle. Her eyes flitter from the glass to my eyes. I get up, and leave my arm out so she can have some support as she gets up. We walk in comforting silence back to the place.

I unlock her cage so she can go inside for the night. I walk in with her, and clean up her bed so she can have a nice cat nap. She slides on, in a position where she almost poses like a supermodel. One of her strap falls. I reach my hand out to fix it for her. Her lips purce. I smirk. She stays there, and lowers her strap again. I get up, and walk slowly to the door. Her eyes stare at me the entire time. I see a longing in her, for me to come back. I shut the door and lock it. "Tomorrow," I wisper.

I unlock her cage for the last time. "My dear Darcy, your time here has been pleasant for the past month." She mutters, and says, "Finally. No more of my cage." I hand her a wine glass filled to the brim, and the drink pours down into her throat. She looks at me like a dog, wanting for more. My assistant comes in and fills it up again. This process is repeated 3 times. "As you say I'm not in this cage anymore, would your bed be suitable?" I hand her the elegant dark blue laced dress, as I have given her a new one with each day. I give her a wink and a few minutes to change. I hear her bathtub turn on so I leave her for half an hour.

I lean against her door, and wistle at the view. "You ready? Or do you want to stay in here, since your so eager." I snatch her hand and pull her close, only inches from her plump perfect lips. Everything else seems to be touching. Our hands go up, almost like a long high five. I drag my right hand down slowly, reaching to her lower elbow. My hand seems to find its way to her waist. I pull her in even tighter. Our noses find eachother. She hunts my eyes, needing for an emotion. I clasp my left hand into hers. Then, we go into a waltz. A slow, somber, romantic waltz. I wisper sweet words into her ear. She gives my jaw soft kisses. All the way down to my neck. She finds her way to the middle, then up. She goes past my chin and stops when she gets to my lips. I use the pause as my way to make a move. I embrace her in a power kiss. The dancing stops. That kiss turns into something more and I let it be that way.

I turn of the gentle fluffy bed and see her pretty face. Eyes that have been worn out by battle, and fighting for what's right. Her button nose that is sized just right that doesn't quite seem to fit the tough look she was going for. Her cheeks, shaved even with no hairs, are spotted with freckles. There is very little, but formed by her time in the sun. Then her lips. Perfect, natural, plump, roundish pink lips. I grab her hand and her eyes split open. Her smile could warm the whole country. I could go on and on about more parts of her, that only I have seen. I reach with my other hand and brush out the hair on her cheek. Then I pull her into a light kiss. We stay in that kiss for some time, as I gently brisk my hand over my favorite parts of her. She isn't wearing anything so nothing is blocking my way. She turns the kiss into a strong, deep one. We press out bodies against eachother. I grip my hand around her back so there is no air inbetween us. She rolls on top of me. I open my eyes and see the most beautiful human in the world. My dear Darcy Helenblash. I let go. She looks at me, her lips still parted. She giggles. I smirk. We fall back into a sleeping position, but this time, pressed up against eachother. Her breathing slows and I grin.

"I love you," I wisper with no one to hear but me.

"No! Don't! Please." "Goodbye." Tears swell in both our eyes. Mine falls first. She sobs. I watch her go, as if I was being shot. If I was, my blood would spill everywhere for her. I would kill for her. I guess that makes me the villian. I holler for my assistant, giving him directions. I hand him my gun. I run. I run to my Darcy, I run to my only love. Oh why did I say goodbye.

no.

“Hunt down the traitor, and bring them back to me alive.”

“Huh”

“Yes my lord”

“You too?”

“Good servant, bwahahaha!”

“Bwahahaha!”

“Geez, you guys are so weird”

“Quick grab the traitor!”

“Get off me, bit-“

“Language!”

“Ahh, my lord! They hath fallen to the traitor! Murder the traitor!”

chases her around the room

“Ahhh! What is going on!?”

“Traitor!!!”

“My liege, running is not queen like”

The group of woman crowded around sobbing Alice. Her mascara ran and her heels lay shunned. Her only desire was to be swaddled. Blankets. Chocolate. Sugar. Tears. Cuddly iguanas. Understanding.

Weapons.

Her support group clicked on Titanic but no one was really watching. They were plotting.

Alice’s boyfriend Bryant of thirteen months, eighteen days, two hours, and two minutes had just dumped her.

Sweet Alice, air headed Alice, innocent, iguana-loving Alice.

The ringleader, Wren, was mad. Furious, even. She wasn’t alone in the phenomenal rage of this protective friend group.

Any male could sense the tension of revenge from miles away.

How should they do it, they asked themselves. Death by chocolate? Too merciful. Makeup brush suffocation? Meh. Ubiquitous stabbing? That will do.

A plan was produced: surround the house, approach about a fake fundraiser, gag, bind, kidnap. Wren would stay with Alice, comforting and calming her with ideas of homocide, strengthening the desire for bloodshed, crafting an intricate revenge plot.

“Hunt down the traitor, and bring them back to me alive. Quick, easy, leave him helpless,” Wren ordered. Hisses of agreement came from the shadows as they inhumanly set off. Threats swept through like fog. They disappeared into the night, clicking heels and bloodthirsty sprints.

They acted possessed, obsessive and crazy. No man would escape their rasping feminine rage tonight.

"Hunt down the traitor, and bring them back to me alive." My boyfriend, Sterling says to his guards before turning and looking at me.

He walks over to me and places one of his hands on my shoulder while the other raises my face to look at him. “You okay?” He asks me as he caresses my cheek with his thumb. “Not entirely.” I whisper and he nods. “I’m sorry I yelled that about him.” He says and I nod. “It’s okay.” I tell him but he shakes his head. “He’s still your father at the end of the day.” He tells me and I purse my lips. “Not after this.” I tell him with my eyes welling up with tears.

“You should walk faster,” she says while jumping over a puddle but the man in front of her keeps his steady pace.

The rain had started just a few hours before and remnants of it were everywhere. Usually, she likes the rain. Back at the castle, she would listen to it as she brushed her hair and sometimes she’d even catch raindrops on her palm from her open window. Walking in the rain, however, has changed her viewpoint. She hated how it drenched her clothes and made the world under it so slippery. She had fallen three times already and the man in front of her hadn’t once offered to help her up. He was so infuriating but he was also the key to her survival.

She looks away from his back, turning her head upward to the rain. Heavy raindrops hit her face as she is transported back to the night before. She remembers the sound of heavy footsteps becoming rampant in the halls. That night, she cracked the door, wondering what the commotion was all about and then she spotted her brother’s favorite guard. She didn't know his name but took to nicknaming him Thorn as he was a constant thorn in her side. He didn't notice she was watching him and could faintly overhear what he was saying.

“Lock the princess in her bedroom, and once she's sworn her loyalty to our new king then feed her.” Thorn had said to an underling.

Her immediate reaction was to run which is how she ended up bumping into a guard who looked at her with vicious eyes. With all her might, she had pushed him down but his reactions brought attention to Thorn.

“Hunt down the traitor, and bring them back to me alive.” She heard him say, his tone is cold as he eyed her as a useless nuisance.

The underling next to him nodded in compliance and she had responded in the most rational way possible. She jumped out of a nearby window and luckily for her, a stack of hay cushioned her fall. Her mind shifts as she contemplates all she’s learned about
the happenings of that night so far. People said that her brother snapped after her father told him he was strongly considering giving the throne to her. In retaliation, he had killed him, taking her father’s throne. He had killed their mother too for favoritism. For a short time, she wondered why he didn't kill her until he released an announcement she was to marry the king of a nearby kingdom they’d been at war with for years.

“We need to be alert,” The man in front of her warns, taking her away from her thoughts.

She lowers her head and sees that he’s looking at her. Her expression shifts to one of annoyance.

“I’ve listened to you for a while now and look at me! I‘ve ended up dirty, lost, and in the middle of nowhere.”

“You were already heading nowhere princess as there's not a lot of places to hide,” He responds, snidely. “Lest you forget there’s a whole lot of people who want you captured.”

“I did well on my own,” She bites back.

On her own, she had managed to blend in with the citizens of her kingdom. Why, she even found a job as a waitress in an inn which was going well until he walked in.

“That’s not how I remember it. In fact, I remember first meeting you with a knife against your throat.”

That’s not exactly how it happened. Thorn had walked into the inn and she stifled up immediately. He was searching for her but with quick thinking, she had managed to evade him or so she thought. Outside the inn, Thorn had cornered her and that’s how her mysterious savior had found them but she could’ve managed on her own.

“I could’ve handled it,” She reasons with haughtiness.

“I’m sure you could’ve, my dear princess who has never wielded a blade.”

She huffs. “I don’t need weapons to take a man down.”

“You should definitely consider it when they have a knife to your throat,” he replies rather cheekily.

There’s a small possibility that if he didn’t help her then Thorn who had abandoned the taken alive order would’ve killed her. It’s very small, okay, maybe it was quite larger than she cared to admit to.

“Who are you, anyway?” She demands.

“I told you, I was a guard in your family’s castle and I’m loyal to the previous king.”

“But I’ve never seen you before.”

“And you know the face of every guard at the castle?” He challenges.

“Well, no, I—“

“Good, then there’s your answer.”

He walks away from her with quickened steps that allow her doubt to linger. He’s hiding something but he’s also her only hope of escape. With a deep breath, she reluctantly follows after him, hoping she's not walking into a bleaker future than before.

Weeeep. Weeeep. Weeeeeeeeeep.

“God, god, god,” Jacob Black shoots straight up in bed, reaching for the alarm clock that screams from his nightstand.

After fiddling with it for awhile the thing quiets and Jacob smacks it back into place on the small table and bolts from bed, pulling on a shirt and a pair of dirty pants, which smell… incredibly bad.

Taking the steps in his apartment complex two at a time, he rushes down the stairs, a red duffle slung over his shoulder.

Plastic bags within the duffel slide and shake. He prays nothing spills in the bag as he makes his way to his truck- which has seen better days.

“C’mon, girl… you can do this,” he whispers, shoving the key in the hole and turning hard, the truck shuttering as it struggles to catch.

“I swear,” Jacob jumps from the front seat and slams a fist onto the hood. The latch had long since broken off, hitting it was the only way for it to pop open.

He crams his hand into the truck’s gaping hood and digs around, checking the oil and the heat of the engine. Seeing nothing wrong, he slams the top and tries again.

“Woah, woah,” he laughs to himself as the car shutters and spits, catching gas and rumbling to a start.

                                •.•.•.•.

“Hunt down the traitor, and bring them back to me alive,” Pabloua Demano says, smiling a chilling grin.

“Yes, yes sir,” says one of his helpers, handling an semiautomatic gun.

You and your men, find this guy,” he hands the nearest gunman a photo of a local drug dealer named Jacob Black who was expected to show up an hour ago for a drop at an abandoned building south of their current location. “I want his head on a stake in front of my mansion, yeah?”

“Of course,” the tatted gunman waves an arm full of ink, raising a bow and crinkling the tattoos dotted along his eyebrows and face.

The group of five leave the estate, guns in hand, to find their runner.

                                .•.•.•.•

“Storage shed… eh, up ahead or something,” Jacob says into the phone, talking to his buddy, Germ.

“Yeah, Yeah. We gotchu, man. Park a few blocks out. He sent five thugs on your ass,” Germ replies, looking at his buddies in the back of his own truck. “We’ll be there to get you in a minute.”

“Thanks man. Why he got thugs on me?” “He thinks you stole the dope.” “No my alarm clock…”

The line goes dead. Jacob jerks it from his ear and curses beneath his breath. He stops as instructed- only a block away from the old crumbling building.

He gets out from his rattling vehicle and walks to the building. Across from the abandoned store, a black SUV pulls up and Germ and four guys exit the back of the cab.

“Hey boy,” Germ swings the keys around his finger, rifle slung over his shoulder. The tattoos on his face and skin make him oddly noticeable against the other four.

“I thought you said-“ “Yeah, bruh. He sent us to get you.” “What- but you-“ “Listen, boy.”

Jacob crosses his arms and listens. Despite Germ being scary, tatted and with a gun, Jacob is more ripped in the chest and shoulders, making him a possible threat to the five thugs.

“He told us to come get you. But, I know you ain’t did nothin’ wrong. So I’m willin’ to dice those drugs with you, brotha, and we can run like hell together. Me and my homies down,” Germ explains, putting the butt of the rifle on the ground.

“But I was comin’ to-“ Jacob starts. “Nah man, nah. You can take the deal I’m givin’ or get your ass whooped. Cuz if you reject, I’m handin’ you over to ol’ dude.”

“I’ll… take the deal,” Jacob breathes, not sure why the hell he’s ripping off the smartest and most powerful guy in the state.

“Your instructions were to hunt down the traitor and bring them back to me alive. Instead, you fled. Is that what you’re saying?” Landis flicked a hair from his cowl. His fingers drummed on the table in annoyance.

Leona tried not to bite, “Yes and no. The dwarf took one, and the man indicated I should seal the trap’s exit.”

“And the man?”

“Headless.”

“And you escaped with the artefact?” If looks could kill the stare thrown at Leona by Sephiran would have the soil being tossed into her grave.

So many questions, “Not exactly.”

“Meaning no.”

“Yes, the carving bit the man just before he could execute the elf.” She secretly fumed. Why bother submitting a report if this would be a trial would without a jury? It was all there in writing. Or had this cult lost the ability to read now too?

“So you lost two of the sect, the artefact, and both subspecies that could either read the parchments or master the Stone.” Sephiran listened until hearing her illicit acquaintance had been terminated. Now she was full of fire.

Landis held up his hand. “Not now, Seph, matters of retribution can wait until the enquiry ends.”

“Not forgetting the portal field prevented deeper access. The initial target also escaped.” Leona figured drip feeding information might interrupt the inquisitors train of thought.

“You lost the Elder Mage too. This is unbelievable. Do you realise how long it’s taken to find just one? Not just a Mage but the Sapphires stone and a portal trap with the necessary information to hunt both down and slay them.” The drumming turned into a slamming fist. “I should have you executed in lieu of the elf.”

“My Queen, Princess Lucy is here to see you.” Julie bowed her head with respect.

Queen Grace replied, “Tell her to come in, I don’t want to waste more time here than we need to.” She rolled her eyes. Her daughter was a naïve, selfish woman; how could she be of the same blood?

Lucy strolled in, her typical posse of bodyguards nowhere to be found. “Mother.”

“Hello, Lucy. Have you come to gloat?”

Her daughter scoffed. “I’ve come to make an offer, actually.”

Grace sat a little stiffer in her throne. “Well then get on with it. I do not have all day.”

Lucy cleared her throat and clasped her hands behind her back. She looked incredibly rigid in her three-piece suit, with velvet navy fabric and gold chains. “As you may know, the settlement I have developed outside of Rowan has flourished. So much so that we are expanding every day.” She paused, letting the Queen’s raised eyebrow suspend in silence. “I’ve come to ask for an official declaration to declare Greenfeld its own kingdom.”

The laugh Queen Grace let out boomed through the throne room. “You cannot be serious! You? A queen? You know NOTHING!”

“Mother, I’m not a child anymore! And I refuse to let you treat me as such!”

“My dear, let it be known that I will NEVER allow Greenfeld to stand on its own. It is part of the Empire.”

The former princess stared at the shimmering tile floor. “Please, mother. Don’t make me do this.”

“No. Now get out of my castle.”

Lucy shook her head, rage and sadness bubbling out of her. “Fine. Have it your way. Captain!”

From behind one of the marble columns, the Captain of the Greenfeld military propped a crossbow on his shoulder, and fired.

“GRACE!” Jamie cried out from the corner, rushing to where the Queen had slumped over in her once glorious throne. When she arrived and saw the state of her friend, Lucy and the Captain had already disappeared. “Guards! Hunt down the traitor, and bring them back to me alive!”