“They – they have to go…” I swallowed. My throat was closed-up; my tongue seemed to be twice its normal size, and my mouth felt like clay. “They have to go to the watch. Th-they –“

“I can get Bor,” she said quietly. “Get them to confess everything, if the magisters can’t get it out of them.”

“That’s a…” I swallowed again. “A great idea, Tanra. They…”

“Of course it’s a great idea, you dolt,” she said, sounding exasperated, dropping back into her usual nonchalant demeanour as though nothing had happened. What she’d said earlier – even just now, when she suggested bringing Bor along… that quiet-voiced Tanra was gone again.

You just talked me out of committing a double-execution, I thought in wonder.

The compulsion had been real. The only other time I could remember it taking over me like that was back when Peltos had been in the apartment, the first day Em came round, when I felt like summoning my demons in his smug face… And this had been ten times worse – but a diviner’s intervention had created a new course of fate once again.

I leaned on the desk, looking across it into Wyre’s near-motionless face. To him our motions must’ve been a tornado of blurs. I watched his eyes, and saw the moment he realised my shape was right in front of him – his pupils dilating. What to him would be an instantaneous recoiling back in his chair would take minutes to me, like this.

I looked at his shock, his anguished face only becoming more so as the subjective seconds ticked by – and it was enough for me.

This is what I brought you. You killed them, Wyre. You messed with me, you messed with mine. I protected you and those like you long enough. Let’s see how notorious the next to wear your crown wants to become now…

I suggested using a glyphstone to leave a message for Bor, so that he could meet us at the watchtower – while you couldn’t have a conversation from within a one-sided time-bubble, the magic in the things was clever enough to let you at least leave a recording – but it seemed she trusted me now not to do anything stupid. She’d read my future, of course, and I had no way now of deviating from the paths she’d foreseen. When she left I amused myself, waiting for Wyre’s eyes to fully widen, his shoulders to start moving backwards in reaction to my presence in his face…

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Why didn’t she just –

When she showed Em into the room after Bor, I understood; I smiled and took my girlfriend into my arms, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ to her over Em’s shoulder. Then I finally, finally felt myself relax, shutting my eyes and breathing easy once more.

“Vhat… vhat happened here?” Em asked, pulling away from me a little to look around.

“Didn’t she explain?”

“Not… vhat did he do?”

“He took the twins. He – he killed Mum and Dad. Not Toras. Not his brother – him.”

I saw her face harden beneath the mask. She was hiding her headache well, or she’d been to see a druid, or something.

“And this one – this is Orven.” I gestured. “He’s –“

“Ze one who killed Morsus,” Em breathed, then I saw the lightning enter her eyes, blue electricity flickering across the surface of her irises.

“It’s okay… Killstop’s calmed me down… Heh…” I coughed, swallowed with some difficulty again, and tightened my arms around her. “We’re going to take them to the watch.”

“Oh, you can be sure of zat… So Bor is here to ensure zey are exposed?”

I nodded into her shoulder and snivelled a bit. “Thanks for c-coming, Em.”

“Of course.”

She nestled her head into mine; I drank deep of her fragrance, and I suddenly felt a million times better.

While I was talking to Em, Tanra brought Xantaire into our time-flow. I overheard her outlining the situation to my flatmate and our enchanter, but then her voice started to slur:

“Guuuys, I have to let it goooo now. Too-too much mooooving. Too many of uuuus.”

“Do it,” Em said in a brittle voice, stepping away from me, facing our prisoners.

All at once Wyre fell back away from me into his chair, and Orven’s dancing on the spot resumed.

It took them a moment to take in the fact that there were now five of us.

“Looks like someone’s bad day just got a whole lot worse,” Spirit commented smoothly.

“Yeah,” I murmured, folding my arms across my chest, “not a very Happy Yearsend, not at all.”

“You killed Feychilde’s mother and father,” Em intoned – and here, with the mask down, the rage up, the voice on – she was Stormsword. “You killed them, and sacrificed your brother in your place?”

Wyre managed to look almost unafraid as he shrugged. “It’s too late to fight. I’ll roll over. Yeah. I killed ‘em. You didden know that, champion?”

I shook my head, unable to pull my eyes from his once more.

He sighed. “Then all this – it was really for nuffin’? I was sure, so sure you had it in your head to end me…”

“What you mean, Da’?” Orven blurted.

“I mean you was right, and you was wrong, all along.” Wyre lowered his face, looking down into his lap. “And I was the mug what believed you. Feychilde… we coulda just left him alone.”

“And none of this would’ve happened,” I grated.

“And none o’ this woulda ha-happened,” the boss-man said, the horror finally causing his voice to catch in his throat. “None o’ this… at all…?”

“Why?” I shouted – I couldn’t keep the volume down. “Why did you kill them?”

He didn’t lift his eyes, and shrugged again.

“They was there,” he murmured – and that was all.

* * *