From the window in the foreman’s office, Surelin looked on as Gideon marched away from the dyework’s rear entrance, towards the shadows of a nearby alleyway. His face was turned away from the window, but she knew him well enough to get a sense of his feelings from his posture alone. The way his shoulders hunched despite the strain placed on them by the rucksack, and his needlessly tight grip on his sheathed claymore. His lithe, purposeful striding betrayed invisible injury, one she doubted anyone but herself could perceive.

He’s angry, she thought. And hurt. But what other choice did he give me?

Over the course of the last four months or so, Gideon had often acted in ways that left her feeling confused and frustrated, sometimes even angry. Nevertheless, they’d grown close over the course of her training, and she strongly suspected that he enjoyed their proximity at least as well as she did. And while he’d sometimes been rude or careless with his words, he’d never once been maliciously dishonest towards her. In fact, she’d often been grateful for his blunt honesty in recent weeks. He’d been willing to voice doubts about Edea’s intentions that she also felt, but didn't feel free to express aloud.

Did you lie to me, Gideon?

Intuition told her that his story hadn’t been the whole truth. Mostly it was the hesitation he’d demonstrated during the telling—never before had she seen him speak with such an obvious lack of self-confidence. That, and he wasn't a particularly good liar, which was something she’d learned about him early on.

Surelin watched as Gideon entered the alleyway, disappearing into the shadows, and a new surge of despair wrenched at her heart.

This was the only way to keep him safe, she told herself.

The door opened then quickly closed behind her, and the quiet noise of padded footsteps and swishing robes told her who it was without the need to turn around.

Will she be Grandmother this time? Or the Gray Eminence?

Edea appeared in the corner of Surelin’s eye, coming to a stop at the window beside her. She glanced at Surelin before following her gaze down to the alleyway.

“You made the right decision, darling.”

“Were you listening?”

“Does it truly come as a surprise?”

Surelin responded with a sharp, frustrated sigh.

“I admire your compassion,” Edea said. “I doubt I would have been as lenient with him.”

“I think he was lying to me.”

“Was he, indeed?”

“It’s unusual for him. He’s too…obvious. To make a good liar. I had the sense he was trying to mix it in with the truth.”

“I see. Then perhaps we should have Edwin tell us his side of the story once more. Comparing them may lead us closer to the truth.”

“...You think Edwin is lying as well. Don’t you?”

A wry smile appeared on Edea’s face.

“I’ll admit, darling, that I occasionally underestimate you on account of the differences between our personalities. I do hope you don’t hold it against me.”

Double meanings, Surelin thought. Another way of mixing lies with truth.

A pensive look then came over Edea, and she turned back to the window.

“Did I ever tell you what your grandfather told me before he passed?”

“...No, I don’t think so. What was it?”

“He was delirious from the fever, coming in and out of consciousness. Babbling. But the very last thing he said was perfectly lucid. He looked into my eyes and said, ‘my love, you must allow me to cross over the river, so that I may rest within the shade of the trees.’”

Surelin’s expression collapsed with despair, and she turned away from Edea.

“You gave him more opportunity than he deserved.”

“I’m going to speak with Edwin,” Surelin replied hotly, and stormed out of the room.

----------------------------------------

They’d brought Edwin to one of the basement rooms after he’d reappeared at the back door of the dyeworks. The story he’d subsequently told had been harrowing, and he’d looked visibly shaken during the telling. He explained that his companions had heard rumors of a particularly vicious hussar in the merchant’s quarter harassing a group of Forelian slaves, and they'd taken it upon themselves to intervene. During the confrontation, Gideon had appeared from nowhere and attacked the hussar. In the resulting chaos several people died, including the hussar and two of Edwin’s friends.

Surelin found his story difficult to believe even before hearing Gideon’s side of it. Edwin had always been quick to anger, and his tendency towards rash decisions had caused the family trouble on more than one occasion. But in truth, she didn’t know him well enough to confidently judge the veracity of his story. A significant distance had always existed between them that’d had more to do with their four year age difference—and their conflicting personalities—than with matters of state or the succession.

The experience with the siege, and his subsequent enslavement, had clearly been extremely traumatic for Edwin. It seemed to have made him even more prone to anger, and the fact that Edea had encouraged her to take the succession while he was in captivity had obviously been a major blow to his self worth. For those reasons, Gideon’s side of the story made more sense. An impulsive attempt at vengeance sounded much more in keeping with Edwin’s character, but the inconsistencies in Gideon’s telling had left her with serious doubts about them both.

Gideon was probably lying about why he followed them, she thought. And Edwin was probably lying about his reasons for going. Kali help me, what am I to do? Somehow they’ve both managed to make matters even worse for us.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

It was enough to make her head spin. She'd always detested politics for how it seemed to encourage dishonesty. It was why she’d always been perfectly happy for Edwin to have the succession. Before the siege, she’d imagined a future for herself far from the royal court, freed from the threat of marriage her parents and grandparents had occasionally hinted at, lost on an adventure somewhere. Edwin had often mocked her for showing up to meals with the hem of her gown stained green, still smelling of the garden’s grass and dirt.

Lost in thought, Surelin slowly made her way down through the building towards the basement, barely cognizant of the people offering respectful greetings to her along the way. Caeda stood on guard before the room Edwin was being held in, and she opened the door for Surelin with a curt nod.

Inside, Len and Edwin were seated across from one another at a small table, and both looked up with surprise when Surelin entered. From the alarmed look on Edwin’s face, she surmised that he’d heard Gideon had appeared at the dyeworks.

“Ma’am?” Len asked in greeting.

Surelin nodded to him. “I’d like to speak with my brother alone, marshal, if you wouldn’t mind.”

He shot a quick glance at Edwin before responding.

“...Of course, ma’am. I’ll assemble a status report for you in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” she said politely, and moved aside to allow him to leave the room.

The door shut behind him with a modest creak, and Surelin allowed herself to lean back against it. Edwin continued to stare at her in wary silence, waiting.

Grandmother would demand he tell the entire story again. But I don’t want to interrogate him like he’s a criminal. I’ll simply use the direct approach.

“Did you tell us the truth?” she asked.

He blinked. “...Yes. As far as I understand it.”

“As far as you understand it? That’s the kind of measured evasion I would expect from grandmother.”

“And how else should I respond?” he replied, heated. “You doubt my honesty? Then tell me why that is, so that I may adequately defend myself.”

“Edwin,” she said. “Did you really enter the house with the others?”

He hesitated for a split second, and in that instant Surelin was convinced that his story had been a lie.

“Of course! That’s what I said happened, didn’t I?”

A wave of immense sadness suddenly crashed through her.

If I’d been a better sibling to him, she thought bitterly. If he felt like I was someone he could trust, he wouldn’t feel any need to lie.

“I don’t know what you may have heard,” he continued, “but I swear that I—we, had reasonable intentions. We simply meant to frighten the man, not to start a massacre.”

“...Regardless, you’ve put us in a much worse position. The hussars are sure to be galvanized by this.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” he insisted.

Surelin shook her head with chagrin. There’d been a moment after they’d rescued him where it looked as though their shared experience as slaves might bring them closer together. But instead he seemed to have chosen a path that could very well lead to their mutual destruction. Even before the day’s events, the great houses of Loso had set plans in motion meant to stomp life out of the resistance. Time was not on their side, and Edwin’s actions were sure to give them even less to prepare.

“...I needed your help, Edwin.”

Sorrow instantly appeared in his expression. He opened his mouth to respond, then abruptly closed it, and his gaze dropped to the table before him.

“You are to remain here at the dyeworks from now on. A guard detail will be assigned to you. They will accompany you at all times.”

He looked up at her, eyes brimming with tears.

“Am I to be a prisoner again?”

Surelin studied his face for a moment before responding.

“...We’re all prisoners, Edwin. Trapped inside a foreign city with little chance of escape. We’ll just have to hope that you haven’t destroyed our only opportunity for freedom.”

She turned about to leave, and as her hand grasped the door handle he called out to her.

“Surelin, I’m sorry! I….”

She shook her head once again and left the room, carefully closing the door behind her.

----------------------------------------

Her bedroom was on the dyework’s second floor, just a few doors down from the foreman’s office. It had once been a storage area for live snails, of all things, and the room still had a faintly sour, musky smell to it. She’d accepted it reluctantly after being subjected to significant pressure by Len and Edea, feeling guilty at the prospect of having the best room in the building all to herself. It was one of the few rooms with an actual bed—they’d yet to acquire more for the rest of the resistance—and most had resorted to sleeping in bedrolls on the floor. But after the day’s events, she was simply glad to have a private space to herself.

Surelin entered her room and walked over to her bed, sitting down on it with an exhausted sigh. The opportunity to unpack her things had yet to arrive, few as they were. Her ruck sat at the foot of the bed, stuffed full of all the clothing and tools she’d acquired with Gideon. The clothing Edea had given to her had swollen the ruck further still. Her sheathed sword she always kept close to her pillow during sleep, a habit she’d picked up during training. Beyond that, she owned very little else; the room was frustratingly bare.

Not for the first time, she wondered what had happened to her greatest treasure: the vast collection of books she’d kept in her room at the palace.

They’re probably collecting dust in the bookcases of some Kenanite noble’s mansion, she thought glumly. What I wouldn’t give for some escape at this moment.

A quiet knock sounded at the door. She hesitated for several seconds before lifting herself back to her feet.

Len stood in the hallway once she’d opened the door.

“I apologize for intruding, ma’am, but there’s been some important developments.”

She blinked at him. “Are we under attack?”

“...Ah, no. It’s not quite that urgent.”

“Then please give the information to Grandmother. I’ll deal with whatever it is in the morning.”

“Of course.” He paused. “Are you quite alright, my dear?”

In response, Surelin gave him a muted half-shrug.

“I must admit that his actions took me off guard,” he said. “I’d thought him committed to the cause, but...perhaps my judgment was mistaken.”

He means Gideon.

“...If you were wrong about him, marshal, then Kali knows you weren’t the only one. Good night.”

“Good night, ma’am. Sleep well.”

She thanked him, and quietly shut the door.

Turbulent thoughts roiled through her mind as she returned to bed.

Len might be right, she thought. Maybe I simply didn’t know Gideon as well as I thought I did. He was always a troubled person, but I thought there was genuine goodness inside him, hidden somewhere beneath layers of anger and self-absorption. Now I have no idea what to believe.

It was then that the enormity of their parting finally struck her. They would likely never meet again. The conversations she’d wanted so desperately to have with him, the continued closeness she’d hoped for, the secret fantasies of affection she’d been too afraid to turn into reality—none of it would ever come to pass. Her stomach twisted itself into a tight knot, and silent, bitter tears came on without warning.

Would he still have done it if I’d found my courage?

She angrily wiped away the wetness on her cheeks and laid back in bed, resting a weary forearm across her eyes.

He’s the wildest person I’ve ever known. I wish I had one quarter of his freedom.

Her thoughts trailed off as drowsiness overtook her, and sleep arrived, bringing on the temporary relief she’d craved.