Fiona’s words echoed in my skull. It made sense, of course. Galan said their resilience to ithanae glass was a long kept secret, longer than Marie’s Revenge had existed. Though I wasn’t a pure-blood, I was believed to be one.

Roaming freely behind that glass would shatter their lives. But what life was it here? What purpose or even joy could be found in the underbelly of your enemy’s home? “I’m sorry,” Fiona said into the long pause. She sounded choked, as if truly meant it. “I didn’t know it was you,” she whispered, but her voice carried like thunder. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known, my Lord.”

Galan’s ease was stronger than a storm. His calm was unlike anything I was capable of, and I admired his ability to hold himself together. “What have you said, Fiona?” The subtle shink of metal was unmistakable as Galan unsheathed his sword halfway. The threat was clear, and I had no doubt he would end her faster than I could think. I was mildly surprised they’d allowed him to keep a weapon, but then again, I knew nothing.

Fiona called him Lord, like he was an authority over her. Each of the Derevi men had hinted Galan was something more than just a Hound, and he was important enough to counsel a King alone- but Lord of what exactly? There was much more to this that I hadn’t even begun to discover.

“Guards should be on their way here now,” she mumbled, sounding sorry for herself and what she’d done. “It’s my duty, my responsibility,” she stressed, trying to convince Galan. “I had no choice but to inform the King.”

“Inform him what,” Galan’s voice cut through the air. The room seemed to grow colder, as if something was absorbing heat and turning it to ice. Though it no longer had an effect on my flesh, I felt it in my soul.

“You claim she has the heritage you say I’ve abandoned,” Fiona said, growing a little more confident. “We know, and now King Mirin knows, she is nothing of the sort.”

Before I could register what was happening, Galan’s sword was pulled free and I was shoved directly behind him. Its lethal point was at Fiona’s throat, Galan’s free arm behind him, grasping at my forearm. I wouldn’t complain if I were to witness Fiona die for a second time. Unashamed, I wished it would be permanent this time. I had a feeling if anyone, Galan knew how to end a pure-blood. “What have you told him?” His voice sent chills through me, as cold as the room we stood in.

“Only what she isn’t.” Her eyes were pinpointed onto the sword’s tip. Fiona and I both knew Galan would kill her, and she would not rise again. “Re’Fien ve Gaelin,” she spoke in his tongue, her eyes pleading. “Leave without her and you will not be pursued. I can convince him you knew nothing of it.”

“You are bold to make demands at the wrong end of a sword.” Galan edged closer, enough to draw blood from her throat. “I will go nowhere without her.” Fiona’s eyes flicked over his shoulder, landing on me. She made no move to escape him, as if accepting this fate when Galan controlled it. With her attention on me, I attempted to see what I could feel from her.

She was jaded, a mental wall crafted around herself to protect from my intrusion. But something was there.

Unlike the humans I’d used my ability on, even before learning I was a varyl’neer, there was nothing I could suspect from her without digging at her enforcements. I pried, pushing at that wall until it almost budged. Her eyes narrowed immediately, and those walls became thicker, shoving me straight out. It felt like I’d been smacked, and I nearly recoiled.

“If it takes my death for this cause, so be it my Lord.” As she spoke, her eyes closed, looking peaceful. “But I beg of you,” she said, her voice dropping. “Leave without her and do not come back. End your ties with the race of Men. I do not wish to see my people caught in a second war,” she whispered. “They will not survive it.”

“Your people?” Galan said through gritted teeth. The line of blood down Fiona’s throat grew, staining the neck of her dress. It seeped into the beautiful fabric, forever ruining its perfection. “Which people do you speak of?” He snarled at her, the lethalness in his tone enough to make her cringe. “You will never thrive here, nor will you reach redemption down this path.”

“The choice in which course my life took was never mine to make.” Her throat wobbled, her soft features pinching as the sword drew more blood, pressing further in.

“A coward’s answer, Fiona. Choice lies in every step you take, and that blame is yours to claim, and no one else’s.” Galan’s tempered anger deflated, though he still held the sword to her throat. He wouldn’t lower his guard, but his voice sounded remorseful. “You waste my time for guards to arrive,” he breathed out the revelation.

“I only hope to see you leave unscathed and unburdened, my Lord.” Those beautiful eyes flew open again, her gaze set on Galan’s striking features. I felt a twist of jealousy within my heart. She had what I’d always sought, and still felt that I had not accomplished.

Galan scoffed at her, reminding me of Lothaire’s earlier disappointment in Lorelis. “I am not your re’Fien. Look where you are,” he spoke softly, as if tired of this conversation.

“You may not want to claim us, but the pure-bloods are still yours.” Fiona’s sudden courage came as a surprise. She reached for that blade, her hand grasping it around the edge. She made no move to take it away from her throat, but her eyes hardened on Galan, as if daring him to do it.

“You’re mistaken,” Galan said, holding perfectly still. Fiona’s crimson blood began to seep around her palm, dripping from the blade. “It is not the pure-bloods I do not claim, it’s you that I cannot.”

The bravery in her fled as fast as it had arrived. Without Galan’s grip on my arm, I likely would’ve drifted away, lost in thoughts I had no understanding of. Even now, this mysterious language echoed in my mind, their words replaying until it made even less sense. “I am no different than any other,” she said, though her voice didn’t match the confidence of her words.

“No?” Galan mused, a dark soft of amusement brewing in him. It was deadly in nature, and I shivered once more from seeing this side of him. I’d seen it before, but that didn’t take away any of the emotions from witnessing it again. “If that is true, my touch will do you no harm. Do you wish to prove this before your final death?”

She backed away a step, her bloodied hand falling from his sword. He didn’t advance on her yet, and I almost wanted to do this myself. Though in a different life, Fiona had still betrayed me at one point. And in this one, she’d done the same after welcoming me. I was in awe of Galan, and the mystery of who he was, and why I meant anything in any of this. If it weren’t for the imminent danger, I’d likely believe I was dreaming.

“Re’Fien,” she whispered, taking another step back. “There is no need for this.” Fiona cowered as though the blade was already coming for her, but Galan remained still.

“I take no pleasure in killing women, Fiona. But I will not allow you to walk away again. Your second chance came and passed weeks ago.” Galan’s voice was cold, but to my shock, he sheathed his weapon back into its holster.

Faster than Fiona or I could comprehend, Galan had leapt towards her, extended his arm, and pressed his palm flat against her chest. I watched in confusion, and for a moment, so did she. Without warning, light began to seep from Galan’s hand into her flesh. It spread in vines, like it was rushing through all of her veins.

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Fiona was glowing with the white light, and I thought it harmless until she cried out in agony. Her shriek pierced my skull, echoing through the empty halls of the Underneath. She grew brighter and brighter, until I had to look away, my eyes stinging from the sight.

The Underneath was shining brighter than the castle itself, every nook and cranny exposed to it. Under this light, it was nearly a twin to the keep above us, though without any windows.

The light was overpowering, like the sun itself was behind me in this hall. Suddenly, faster than it had come, it blinked out, giving a single flare of light that flashed several times before it was gone. The dark came sweeping back in, claiming back what had been taken in the light.

When I turned back around, Fiona was no more. Not a trace of her nor the light that claimed her remained. Her scream still echoed around us, but its source was gone. For a brief moment, I thought I’d seen a shadow moving away from us at an unrecognizable speed. A wraith? I thought.

“We must go,” Galan said quietly. I stared, dumbfounded, at the spot I’d last seen Fiona. Not even her clothes remained- wherever she’d gone, she’d taken everything with her. The air seemed lighter without her presence, but it could’ve been anger that fueled that thought.

“What did you do?” I asked him, still in my stupor. He spun to face me, his eyes flicking between mine, examining me. He was gauging what to tell me at this moment, like the truth he held was more than I could handle. He was probably right.

“Something akin to the ithanae glass.” He made it sound as though there was nothing else to it. “If she had been saveable, she would be standing here still.”

“And what would that have done? Turned her back into what she once was?” I almost began to back away from him as Fiona had done. He noticed, and those striking eyes sharpened on me like a predator. Would he do the same to me? I wondered. Would I survive it?

Galan gave a sorrowful laugh, humorless and dry. “You cannot return the dark gift once it is given. Nay,” he said. “All it would have done is purify her soul.”

“Purify her soul?” I repeated, trying to make sense of it.

“As I’ve said, Claudia. Pure-bloods have souls, just as you and I do. Though they are different, what they were remains in them, so long as their soul clings to it. Those lost to the gift are unredeemable. They cannot be helped, just as they cannot help their bloodlust.”

“She didn’t seem. . .” I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence. What had she seemed like? Fiona had been a cunning woman, and in a way, she’d been separate from the rest, just like me. I deeply despised that I could sympathize with her in any way, but I couldn’t help it. Just as I couldn’t entirely hate either of Mirin’s sons- I found pieces of myself in them, and it made me doubt my harsh feelings. What had happened to me?

“They can seem like anything,” he murmured. “But do not doubt that evil has taken root in their hearts. They look like any other, but underneath that shell is an endless void. Tir’varyl,” he said in his tongue. “Soulless, damned. They have forfeited their nature, and can never be reborn.”

As he spoke, he reached for me, holding my arms gently. He rubbed them, soothing what he could. My feelings were likely written all over my face. I was out of place, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see where I fit. “In due time, I will tell you the truth of everything. But there is no time for it now, Claudia. Our chance gets smaller with every passing moment,” he urged me.

I stared up at him, searching his eyes. I trusted him, more than anyone, but it did not come easily. As if he wouldn’t have done anything without my agreement, Galan sprung into action after I gave him a slow nod.

Galan moved fast, knowing our time was nearly over. His hand grasped my wrist, pulling me beside him as he raced up the stairway leading to the castle. I stumbled behind him before finding my footing, chasing after him. I could sense the wraiths watching us from their dark shadows, silently staring as we ran from their empty home.

Our steps echoed like thunder through the Underneath, likely agitating the wraiths. The simple door at the top of the stairs creaked as Galan swung it open, pulling me through it. I nearly cowered at the sight of the ithanae glass, but already its light was touching me, and I felt nothing.

Before I could think too much into it, we were wholly submerged in the ithanae lighting. It was eerily quiet above, though not entirely empty as the Underneath. Guards in matching metal armor stood in tight formations, hands on their weapons, still as stone.

From these men I felt their emotions, and it was a refreshing relief to be certain of things once more. They feared him, and though I could not see them through their metal, I knew they trembled as Galan passed through them.

It was clear they were under no orders to attack. Galan parted through them effortlessly, never drawing his weapon. They had no idea what I was, but the Hound stole their attention. I was the lesser threat compared to him.

Subtly, I moved the blade that Galan had given me into my palm. It came to life once more, and I felt its presence pressing against my skin, willing me to open to it.

Once we were free of them, they began to follow us at a distance. I followed Galan, my eyes on the guards behind us. I hadn’t noticed the next group of them to arrive, larger than the one that had been waiting for us. They acted the same, their stances clear that they were prepared to fight, but made no move to do so.

Galan remained silent, but his grip on me tightened. His steely arm pulled me even closer, our bodies brushing against each other as we moved. It felt protective, even possessive. We were passing through the archway of another room when my eyes snagged on a figure in the distance.

This floor of Marie’s Revenge was empty of furniture, unlike the floors above that I’d seen. It was as if this bottom floor of the castle was used to host massive gatherings, void of anything besides the occasional decorations upon the wall.

The figure was standing alone, leaning against one of the pearly white pillars. I knew as soon as I focused on them that it was Lorelis, casually watching from afar. My hope turned sour, churning in my belly. It wasn’t a good sign to see him along with so many guards.

When had Fiona sent word? It must’ve been immediately after seeing me for this to happen so fast. Lothaire likely found out moments after leaving us, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The front door was visible now, tauntingly far from where we were. This was like a nightmare coming true. Our time was running out right before our eyes.

“I would’ve liked to think our alliance wouldn’t end so quickly, my friend,” a voice said from above, making me turn to face the grand staircase. King Mirin stood from the platform high above, his hands gripping the railing as he stared down at us.

Galan had paused to look up at Mirin, his features cast in a dark sort of anger. “That alliance was made with Mirin Derevi, a mortal man that should’ve died forty years ago. You’ve taken advantage of my time away, and if you have any desire to keep this alliance, you will allow me to leave.”

“I have no issue with you leaving, but you cannot take with you what belongs to me.” The smile on Mirin’s face was cruel, knowing he had won. Fiona had wasted just enough of our time for them to prepare for us. They’d known we would run.

“She is not yours. She stands before you now in the glow of ithanae glass. That is proof enough she is not your kind.” Galan’s hand released me, now resting on the hilt of his sword.

Dozens of guards had gathered, and thanks to the grand, open rooms, I saw more in the distance. Galan was a skilled fighter, but I began to doubt our odds. I could kill, but I had no skills like Galan. My weapons were newfound teeth, and I had no knowledge of the weapon I held now.

Mirin’s cold laugh boomed across the room. He lifted a hand to wave behind him, signaling more men to come down the stairs. They lined up on each step, the count growing to nearly a hundred of them. “You truly would bring another war for this girl?” He asked Galan.

“A war with me would destroy the race of Men, Mirin.” The ranging emotions of the waiting soldiers startled me. Most were scared, but underneath that fear was anger. Hatred for Galan. It had nothing to do with me, but everything with him.

“On the contrary, I think this war would be quite short-lived.” Sparked by a hidden cue, the waiting men drew their weapons, aimed for where we stood. “Come now, let us discuss this like the friends we are, hm?”