Claire took the stairs to the loft of the inn two at a time, banging open the door to see Lotte, Jemroth and Gareth sitting cross-legged on the wooden floorboards, flinging about a set of dice and laughing. Their grins peeled away as they took in Claire. No doubt she looked miserable. She couldn’t understand Marcus’s stubbornness, but she knew her family. There was no point arguing once his mind was made up. She hated to be the bearer of bad news, but she couldn’t deny the facts; there was no way her brother would help them. She made herself sit on her dirty hay mattress bed and took a deep breath.

Gareth peered at the open door. “So, no Marcus?”

Lotte stared wide-eyed, like she’d already read Claire’s mood and knew something ominous was coming, and Jemroth sat up straight like a schoolkid paying attention to his teacher.

“He wouldn’t come,” she said. “Eidan’s claimed he can get him back to Shale without the help of magical users and has told him a pack of lies about Dorran Manor and Grandfather. Marcus thinks I’m his misguided little sister,” she couldn’t help but sniff at the memory, “and I’ve been sucked in by you magical brethren to fight against Kelnarium’s government. He thinks you’ll threaten creating a second Rift to take power.”

“What’s Eidan playing at?” Jemroth growled.

Claire shrugged hopelessly. She wished she knew the answer. There had to be a logical reason for Eidan’s behaviour. If only she knew what it was.

“Marcus won’t come?” Gareth repeated, as though he hadn’t registered Claire and Jemroth’s exchange. “But then,” his face blanched, “what’re we going to do? Will he tell Eidan about us?”

Claire pressed a hand to her throbbing temple. “I don’t think so. He’s family and he promised he wouldn’t, and we never break our promises to each other. But that’s not everything I learnt from Marcus.”

“What else could go wrong?” Gareth groaned.

“Eidan’s in league with the Beast that keeps haunting my dreams, the one that’s a kind of extension of the Rift—”

“It can’t be true,” Gareth said, looking shocked.

“I’m afraid it is,” Claire confirmed. “Marcus wasn’t lying. I can always tell.” She couldn’t help but give a small smile remembering the time he’d told Suranne he hadn’t eaten the last chocolate bar in the cupboard. Claire had noticed the way his voice had quavered and gone high-pitched with false indignance. Her smile vanished. There’d been none of that during their reunion today.

“Then the Beast must have bewitched him or something,” Gareth protested. “Why else would Eidan risk Kelnarium’s future and his own life? Why else would he throw away years of friendship and peace? I simply can’t understand it.”

“I can’t either,” Claire admitted. “Perhaps the Beast has told him that magical users do want a coup and that the Rift has to explode to get Marcus home and he believes it. That’s what he’s told Marcus – that there’ll be an explosion, sure, but it’s part of the natural working and nothing to fear. Either he’s leading my brother a merry dance or the Beast is feeding Eidan lies. Whichever’s the truth, Marcus reckons the Beast will get him to Shale once Eidan’s dealt with … with,” she had to pause to stop rushing her words.

She pressed her palms hard into sticks of straw that poked through the cover of the mattress, welcoming the scratches. “Somehow, he knows about Gwenivere, Maen and the others. They’ve been telling farmers, villagers and towns about what happened at Dorran Manor, just like they said they would. People from all walks of life have gone with their party to the Riftlands, promising to follow them into Kelnariat to demand answers of Eidan.” Claire closed her eyes.

“And? I’d bet the gnomes there’s more to this story,” Jemroth prompted.

Claire nodded, opening her eyes again. “Marcus was at a war council today. Eidan is assembling his army to leave tomorrow. He’ll catch our friends and their makeshift resistance group by surprise unless we can warn them.”

“We have to find horses and get away from the city,” Lotte said, fingers picking at a rent in her plain dress. “When I were a-stealing, Eidan’s soldiers was crawling everywhere. I were mighty glad me face were covered.”

Claire’s stomach sank. She’d seen a lot of soldiers too coming back from the Council buildings. She supposed it made sense that when Eidan hadn’t found them at the Spotted Duck or the safe house, he’d sent his people to comb the city.

“There was wanted posters and all, Claire, worse than in Autun.” Lotte went on. “Citizens and soldiers alike are to arrest us on sight.” She rubbed thumb and forefinger together. “And the reward is high.”

Claire pressed her lips together tightly. They needed to get out of the city fast. She turned to Jemroth. “Did you find any horses?”

He shook his head, pain flickering across his face for a second. Claire guessed he thought of the four-legged friends they’d lost not so long ago. “The best horses are those in the rich end of Kelnariat, but sentries patrol those streets even on days when Maellwyns haven’t escaped Eidan’s grasp, and punishment is more severe if you’re caught for theft in that part of the city.” He shot Claire a wry smile. “It won’t be possible for us to steal horses, at least without a good plan and careful disguises. One horse will be far easier to steal than many.”

“And what do we do about Marcus?” Gareth said. “We can’t close the Rift without him.”

“He’s made up his mind for now,” Claire said. “He needs a few days to think over our version of events.”

“We don’t have a few days!” cried Lotte.

“I know,” Claire admitted. “On the way back to the inn, I thought and thought about what we should do next, and every choice seems bad. At first, I thought we should make a run for the others at the Riftlands, but if we don’t have Marcus, we can’t close the Rift and the Beast will ensure it explodes destroying Kelnarium. If we stay here, we run the risk of getting caught and our friends being murdered before we can persuade Marcus to come away with us.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“And the Rift will still explode,” Gareth said gloomily, “because once his enemies are killed, Eidan and Marcus will ride for its centre, poor Marcus thinking he’s about to get sent home and who knows what Eidan thinks will happen.”

“We’ll have to separate,” Lotte said, though she didn’t look enthused. “I was gonna return to Lord Maellwyn to report what happened with the safe house. Mebbe that’s not a good idea now and we should stick together.” She perked up. “I stole cured meat and hard biscuits from a market earlier. Not much, but if I go now to get more supplies, mebbe it’d be enough?” She turned inquiringly to Jemroth.

“You’ll need skins of water and food supplies for three days tied to the saddle and risk half-killing the horse. Still,” Jemroth sighed, “it may be our only option.”

“What about your father, Gareth?” Claire asked. “I think we should still get a message to him. If he can send Maellwyns to our aid, it would help. Maybe Lotte should go to him as originally planned and one of you should warn the others. I’ll join you as soon as I persuade Marcus I’m right about Eidan.”

Gareth reached behind him to pull forward an elegant quill and a sealed pitch-black pot of ink. His lips curved into a sudden frown. “What’s that?” He pointed a finger at something poking out beneath Lotte’s mattress.

A bit of white feather and a wooden bead were visible. Claire met Lotte’s eyes with horror. How could Lotte have been so stupid? Claire had told her to be careful after Eidan. Then again, they’d been so tired last night, perhaps Lotte had taken the necklace off after all the excitement of the evening and hadn’t remembered to put it back around her neck.

“Nuthin’,” Lotte said hastily, trying to kick the necklace back with her foot. “I found it at market when I went a-stealing and thought it pretty. I know I shouldna have done it, but it’s so sweet.”

“You’re lying,” Jemroth said, getting to his feet. “I’ve seen jewellery like that once before.” He turned grimly to Gareth. “In the exile camp near Dorran Manor.” Hard eyes met Claire’s. “Where did you say you met this girl again?”

“I … at the edge of Dorran territory, escaping from the village,” Claire stammered.

Jemroth strode over to Lotte and shoved her aside. In a trice, he was on his knees feeling about under her mattress. When he resurfaced triumphantly, necklace in hand, Claire gasped at the hatred in his face.

“Gareth and I aren’t fools, even if you think we are, exile,” he spat. “Someone gave away our safe house to Eidan, and I’m willing to bet a Maellwyn dolphin it wasn’t Bron or Alaya.”

“What’re you saying?” Claire managed through stiff lips.

“She’s the one who went off with Eidan alone,” Gareth said. “We only have her word for what happened at their meeting.”

But Jemroth was staring at Claire. “Lady Claire or no Lady Claire,” he said slowly, “I won’t have you keeping secrets from me or from Gareth. Lotte’s an exile and you don’t look a bit surprised. How long have you known the truth?”

Claire knew guilt clouded her face. For a second, doubt ate at her. Had she done the wrong thing in keeping Lotte’s secret? Jemroth did have a point. The exile could have set them all up, laughing at Claire’s naivety all along. No – Lotte was no Liz. She wouldn’t sell Claire out the second a better friend came along. And Claire was no Liz either. She’d decided to trust Lotte, and that meant sticking by her.

“From the start,” she said defiantly. “I haven’t told the truth until now, but I didn’t learn about Grandfather’s meeting with Eidan from Aed either. I eavesdropped from a passageway above them, and frightened by what I heard, ran away from Dorran Manor.”

“But Maen said you were hidden on the Manor grounds in a stable when it was attacked.”

“Like I said, I lied,” Claire said. “I got as far as Lotte’s exile camp and rescued her.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lotte huddle against the wall, eyes wide with fright. “I couldn’t tell Maen where I’d been without giving her away. She’s my friend and she’s on our side. She could have given us up more than once, but she didn’t.”

“If this is true, I have nothing more to say to you,” Jemroth said.

“But I do,” Gareth said. He stood and began to pace the tiny loft, bending his head to avoid low beams. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew anyone of a magical House would act as you are now,” Claire said. “Because I knew you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“I might have listened if you’d tried to talk.”

“From the way you spoke about exiles in the cart on the way to Kelnariat, I doubt it.”

“She’s the enemy,” Gareth hissed, pointing at Lotte, who shrank back closing her eyes.

“No,” Claire said. “Eidan and the Rift are the real enemies.”

“Her people were assassins for hire! They murdered your ancestors and she’s one of them.”

“She never harmed anyone. They harmed her.” Claire glanced at Lotte. “Tell them that you mean no harm. Tell them you didn’t sell us out.”

Lotte opened her eyes and colour rushed into her face as she leapt to her feet. “Why should I, Claire? My family were murdered by Eidan, jus’ as yers were. How he’d laugh if he saw us turnin’ on each other.”

Gareth gaped. “What’s she talking about?”

“I don’t speak for her.”

He turned to Lotte and grudgingly repeated his question as Jemroth scowled.

“I was mindin’ me own business in our camp when men in Dorran colours came down the slope on horses a-whooping and a-yelling. Some of us came out to try and placate ’em and even as we did, we saw they carried lit branches in one hand. They set the whole camp alight, and any one they could catch too. They formed a barricade so as we couldn’t escape. We screamed and screamed as these men laughed and laughed. They left us for dead in burning piles. I were at the bottom of one when Claire found me.” Lotte’s lips twisted at the awful memory.

“I used magic to save her,” Claire said, remembering the horror of that day. “We both lay under a smoking sky, too exhausted to move. Next morning, I managed to convince Lotte that I wasn’t a threat to her.” She paused, unsure whether to mention the Crian or not. After a moment’s thought, she erred on the side of caution, even though Jemroth and Gareth might consider the omission lying. Who knew how they’d react to Claire talking to a mysterious spirit on top of finding out Lotte’s real identity?

“I stuck with Claire,” Lotte went on with a shrug of her shoulders. “I had nothin’ and no one left and she saved me. What were I to do? At Autun, I admit I thought about sellin’ the Dorrans out for coin when I saw as there was a bounty on their heads, but before I could make up my mind to do it, I overhead Claire, Gwenivere, Rael and Maen talking about the prophecy and how Kelnarium would die without Claire closing the Rift. I ain’t stupid. What’s the point of coin if yer dead and can’t spend it? ’Sides, I thought mebbe I’d be able to help the exiles if I aided ya ’cos I’d be part of the winning side and Claire promised.”

“You promised what exactly?” Gareth demanded, folding his arms.

“That I’d change things for the exiles,” Claire said calmly. “My Mum regretted how she’d treated them, and I know she’d be proud of me doing this. The past is finished. Lotte isn’t responsible for whatever her people did years and years ago. It’s time for everyone to move on. Trust your heart, not what you’ve been told. Before you knew Lotte was an exile, you looked at her with respect.”

“When I thought she was one of us,” Gareth said.

“She is one of us, Gareth.”

“Leave it, Claire,” Lotte said. “I don’t need ’em to believe me. If no one wants me, I’ll make me own way in Kelnariat and good luck to y’all.”

“By the Gofannon, I don’t think so,” Jemroth said, as he gripped Lotte’s arm tight, a knife suddenly at her throat.