Fernan buried his head in hands, careful to avoid burning them with his eyes. “How long did it take you to go from ‘trying to do better’ to ‘shooting people in the street’? I’m really curious.”

“Are you angry at her?” Mara asked before he could hear a response. “She stood up for us, just like you.”

I never had to kill anyone for that. He held himself back from saying it out loud, though. Whatever the spirits thought, the whole situation with Jerome had been awfully murky. It’s not like I couldn't have predicted what would happen to him, if I’d really thought about it. “It’s about thinking before you act.”

“What’s there to think about?” Florette squirmed nervously, unable to properly keep herself still in the ornate chair. “She was bragging about it, Fernan. Calling them vermin. It sounded like…” She trailed off, sparing a glance at Mara.

Like the way we used to talk. Fernan lifted his face, taking in the dim candlelight valiantly attempting to fill the room. “Did you know them, Mara?”

“His name was Emet.” Mara shrank back against the wall. “He was getting old enough that I thought I could start sending him out to collect things. I told him to be careful, but—”

“What kind of question is that?” Florette cut in. “They’re family, Fernan. Children of that same spirit. All of them. You never forget family.”

“Of course. I’m sorry, Mara.” Still, whatever he meant to Mara, Florette could surely have moved past it, if it meant maintaining an absurdly fragile peace with an evil snow queen.“Did she live?”

“Yeah. I shot her once and then—” Abruptly, Florette cut herself off. “Actually, could you make a big ball of fire around us or something? Something that would block line of sight?”

“What?”

“I’ll do it!” Mara let out flame in the same breath as her words, a massive disc emanating from her mouth and floating above them.

“Don’t set anything in the room on fire,” Fernan requested wearily. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but whatever it is, you should really be doing this outside.”

“This might be hard for you, Fernan, but keeping fire contained is actually really easy. It just takes more energy to hold it in place.”

The entire world was shut out, the three of them contained a dome of green fire. “Well?”

“I bluffed,” Florette admitted. “I shot her once and it didn’t kill her. Didn’t even keep her down long. She was hurt, but she still could have killed me if I hadn’t talked her out of it.”

Mara hissed dismissively. “It’s still less than she deserved.”

Fernan tilted his head back, letting out a slow sigh of relief. “I can’t be sure, but it looked like they could heal in the cold much easier. That’s the way it seemed when I fought them, anyway. Glaciel shouldn’t have any cause to break the peace, unless she’s feeling particularly petty.”

“Well, I wouldn’t rule that out, if she’s anything like her underlings. But that’s why I didn’t want her to know I was bluffing.”

“How would she know? People would notice an ice creature with their ear against the door, I’m sure of that.”

Florette shrugged. “She’s a spirit, she’s got people with spiritual stuff in ‘em, or whatever. I wouldn’t want to take the chance that Valois hears it on a vision quest and starts to think she should come back for more.”

At his puzzled expression, she continued. “The Fox-King didn’t tell you about this stuff? They can show events from the past, or far away. Only way to block it is to blot it out with light and fire, apparently. Floods it with too much information to get anything useful out of it.”

You can use the visions to spy? Admittedly, Fernan had only experienced it once, and under considerable stress and panic, but that discordant chaos seemed so impossible to get anything useful out of that the thought felt almost preposterous.

Then again, it wasn’t too hard to believe a spirit queen could manage better, if she had a mind to.

And the light…

“Jethro’s note… That’s why he wanted me to burn it!” Which I never did. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered.

“Uh, Jethro?”

“He’s… I don’t know, some weird creepy guy who skulks around and acts mysterious and stuff. He… I guess you could say he helped with the trial, but it was awfully underhanded.”

“I told you, Fernan, you did what you needed to do. Now you have to move forward from that. Magnifico deserved it anyway, after what he did. You should have eaten him, really. That would have been way better than that trial thing, however it works.”

Perhaps he did deserve it, but it didn’t help it sit any better. And now…

Fernan racked his mind, trying to remember the exact wording of Jethro’s note. Would burying it be enough, or could someone have glimpsed those words who wasn’t supposed to?

Do not trust Magnifico. He tried to murder his son… It was something like that, anyway. Was he worried that Magnifico would find out he was working against him?

“I know that name.” Florette’s fingers rapidly drummed against her leg. “He’s a spy for Avalon, but he sells their secrets to enrich himself.”

“I—What?”

“Eloise told me he sells information to Captain Verrou all the time. He tipped us to a royal-class vessel headed for Malin, and we managed to intercept it. It turned out Prince Luce was on board, too. And…” Her hand gripped the sword at her side, metal glowing faintly in the ambient warmth. “He was never in it for the money. There’s no way that’s a coincidence, if he’s messing with Magnifico here. He wanted us to find the Prince, and take him out of the game.”

Lucifer Grimoire, the one that went missing. The ‘precious Prince’, he said. “That was you? Florette, those pirates were executed.”

“Yeah, it’s complicated. But clearly he wasn’t trying to make a few florins, he was using us. Dead, captured, ransomed, as long as it took him out in one way or another. I’m guessing he was supposed to die though, or he would have told us the Prince was on board and we’d have made sure to keep him for ransom accordingly. Whatever Jethro’s plan, this was targeted.”

“Unless Magnifico directed him to do it without explaining everything, and he found out later.”

“To get his own Prince killed? I doubt it. Everything that bardic bastard’s done, he still thought he was helping Avalon. Even this, now, with the sky, I’m sure he thinks he’ll come out ahead.”

“He does…” Fernan frowned. “He acted like he knew exactly how everything would go, though a lot of it was just unhelpful cynicism.”

“Something’s not right here… I think it would be best if this Jethro and I had a little talk. Magnifico, too. See where their stories contradict, where they line up. We can figure this out.”

“Not a lot of time for that. Leclaire’s going to execute him soon, to absorb his power. And Jethro just comes and goes; it’s not like I know where to find him.”

“Let me worry about that. What does he look like—Oh, right. Sorry. But is he tall? Short? Thin, fat? Do you get a decent idea of people’s ages, can you make out hair?”

Slow down, Florette.

“Uh… His aura is darker, kinda like Glaciel’s underlings. It stands out because it’s colder than the air around it, rather than warmer. Or it looks like that, anyway. And I know he wore a disguise when he snuck into the castle, so that might mean he’d be recognized by someone. Although, given what he was up to during the trial, he might just have wanted to avoid being tied to anything that happened if someone saw him later.”

“Is he—”

Dancing into nothing, the flames around them faded to wisps, and then dissolved entirely, leaving only the warmth in the air to imply they’d been there at all.

The King and his council had entered the chamber. Lucien Renart, Annette Debray, Laura Bougitte, and now, apparently, Emile Leclaire. “Oh good, she’s here already.”

“I thought I’d get the story out of her first, since we have a history.” And so she wouldn’t say something that would make you want to execute her. “Glaciel’s servant survived, and given the way they healed out on the water, I’d imagine she’ll make a full recovery.”

“I’d assume so as well.” Renart took his seat at the head of the table, down on the other end from Fernan. “Even if it’s a unique property of the ice of Glaciel’s castle, Valois has that at her disposal.”

Leclaire took a seat at his side, the cold air from the window outlining the seat behind him. It had been sealed shut to conserve warmth, but heat still managed to slowly leak out, drawing a trail from the sage to the wall. “The terms of our deal were quite clear: Glaciel would not harm the humans of this city, and in turn our forces would not combat she or hers.”

“Valois said much the same.” Florette’s voice rang out across the room, all traces of nervousness gone. “But I am not a force at your disposal. Not a sage of your temples, not a soldier of your armies. I wasn’t even in the city when this deal was made. We agreed it would just be the two of us. I had her word, and can explain the same to Glaciel, if needed.”

“She can verify the truth,” Fernan added. “And then there’s no need for any disruption.”

Lady Annette rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn. “Glaciel’s word binds her until the spirits have convened, but what then? Even with a new sun, she’ll remain a threat on our doorstep. And weaseling out now will only increase her ire when that moment arrives.”

“Not to mention the threat of Avalon and her binders.” Leclaire folded his arms. “The dark skies may have stayed their hand for the moment, but once it returns, what’s to stop them?”

“We can’t afford to fight them both. Either one alone is long odds, really.”

“But, perhaps, if Glaciel’s goodwill is maintained, one challenge might be turned against another. Simply make her an offer of amends.”

Fernan leaned forward, placing his hands against the table. “No.”

“Who is this girl, anyway? Is she connected? Kin to anyone?” Leclaire stroked his beard. “I’m aware that one of the lesser spirits has taken some kind of shine to her, but the Fallen’s very existence is defined by death, which ought to make it easy for them to get over. And Glaciel’s friendship is surely more valuable.”

“Yes,” Fernan hissed out. “To me. She’s off-limits.” Thank fuck Guy is in Dorseille, or I’m sure he’d be making this even harder.

“Perhaps Glaciel and I could work this out ourselves,” Florette said. “I could swear the truth before her, and—”

“And she’d kill you,” Fernan interrupted. “No. If you were off-limits before, you certainly aren’t now. Not unless we escort you there and guarantee your safety.”

“But I—”

“Are you all fucking serious?” Laura slammed her fists down against the table. “They agreed to terms that set it all apart from Glaciel’s deal. It was a duel between two consenting adults.” She punched Florette on the shoulder. “Some fuckers needs a smack down to get the right idea, and Valois was asking for it.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Leclaire frowned. “Still, perhaps we ought to consider the greater good, here.”

“The greater good?” Laura scoffed. “All of our hands are tied because of this deal you made with the biggest fucker of them all, who should have gotten the biggest smack. But this girl… Florette, right? Like the Duke’s mother?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“Florette did what every one of us here wishes they could have done. She’s not affiliated with us, she’s not part of the deal. If Glaciel wants her, she can come try, but until then, we have someone to help thin out her herd of pricks. This is a good thing, people.”

The Fox-King swept his gaze across the table, meeting each person’s eyes for an instant in turn. “Thank you all for your valuable input. Certainly, the last thing we need is to be caught between a gunship and a glacier the moment the sun returns, and some sacrifices are warranted to prevent that from happening.” He fixed his sight on Fernan. “But not this. Her forces may come after you, Florette, but we won’t hand you over. So long as you act only in defense, I believe we can even maintain our arrangement.”

Thank you, Fernan mouthed at Laura, trying to contain his surprise. “Really, this is all just a result of a bigger issue.” He felt the flames in his eyes grow brighter as he leveled his stare at Leclaire. “Why weren’t the geckos included in your deal? They live here just as much as we do, yet Glaciel’s minions were killing them for sport.”

“Oh no, did the peace settlement I managed to reach with an ancient bloodthirsty spirit of ice with everything to gain from keeping the sun out of the sky and wiping out all life in Guerron not meet your every satisfaction?” Leclaire snorted. “They have a patron spirit who’s touched them. They’re not without power, and power uniquely suited to combating Glaciel’s court, no less. But by all means, if it’s too much for them, they’re welcome to flee back into the mountains. I certainly wouldn’t stop them.”

“But they have a right to be here!” Fernan felt his stomach squirm as he noticed the council nodding along with Leclaire. “They…”

“I’m sorry, Fernan.” The Fox-King’s posture did seem apologetic, but that didn’t count for much. “At least your friend can help them, now.”

Like she’s going to make any difference.

“Alright, it seems like that matter is settled, then.” Lady Annette pulled out a stack of papers. “Florette, could you please excuse us? There were other items on today’s agenda.”

Florette scoffed as she stood up. “Enjoy your meeting.”

A glance down showed that Mara was following her out. Probably for the best.

“Now, if we could discuss the matter of the lesser spirits. Laura, you said Flammare gave you some information?”

“Yeah, thanks Annette. Corva and Fala arrived today, and settled in nicely at the Sun Temple. No signs of Lamante yet, but according to Flammare, she’s never missed a convocation. Lunette’s sending a follower in first so that she can stay in the sky longer, which means we should expect Corro of the Wastes shortly, possibly with a sage in tow. We’ll need to make accommodations for the poison…”

On and on the list went, as Fernan rested his head against the table.

They’d come uncomfortably close to tossing Florette to the wolves, even after everything she’d done for the Fox-King and Camille. It hadn’t escaped Fernan’s notice that Lucien Renart hadn’t spoken up until the end, and hadn’t really made any firm promises either.

Worse, the geckos were being left entirely on their own. They hadn’t even provoked anyone, simply left for the slaughter.

The Fox-King had even said that sacrifices were warranted. Florette in particular hadn’t been chosen this time, but that was scant comfort.

Is there anything that these people wouldn’t sacrifice, if they thought it was worth it?

≋

A silhouette of a woman sent out tendrils of darkness into a multicolored surface, almost like the glass in the Sun Temple. Behind the glass was a putrid cesspool, the smell filling his nostrils even though he knew it wasn’t real.

One by one, tendrils of darkness pulled people from the filth through the glass, only to be devoured on the other side. Only one escaped.

Have to focus. Camille wants me to see something specific. Fernan waved his hands, distorting the flames in front of him to refresh the image. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, was guiding his hands, but the movement felt natural even as the power of Laura’s mushrooms seemed to fill the air around him, causing it to pulse and vibrate with energy.

As strange as it all was, the change in scenery felt refreshing after enduring that council meeting.The cool glass beneath him, the dark skies above. The air was frigid as ever, but the fire inside kept him warm as he conjured fire before him.

A dessicated tree, faintly lit by green flame, finally collapsed, tipping over into a river.

But what does it mean? It wasn’t hard to see how people went mad doing this, feeling this deluge of incomprehensibility and yet knowing its certainty was backed by spiritual power. Hadn’t that been part of what caused the Winter War?

A woman stood behind a waterfall, a winged horse lying dead at her feet. She was crying, alone in there, with three large slabs of stone dug into the earth beside her, writing on them that couldn’t be made out.

This can’t be it, it’s so disconnected.

Beneath a mound of stone, melted smooth to hide all imperfection, a waxy piece of paper lay, a voice echoing its words.

Do not trust Magnifico. He tried to have his son killed, and would think nothing of doing the same to you if it suited him. There is no greater monster in all the world.

Burn this letter as soon as you can. It’s the only way to be sure it’s truly destroyed. Darkness leaves traces but the light blots out all else.

-Jethro

Traces of darkness… Was that what the silhouette meant? Was Camille trying to tell him something about Khali? Or…

Just focus on Camille. She’s the one who wanted this at all.

He reached out blind into the darkness, flames curling around his hand, and felt it grab onto something. Not truly solid, slippery and wet and ephemeral, but something. He traced his hand across the shape, drawing it in with flame as he had the other visions, unable to comprehend why.

By the time he finished, Camille sat in front of him, a green ghost of fire with a smile on her face. “Hello, Fernan.”

The light in his eyes flared up as he stumbled back, flame-Camille flickering but managing to hold herself steady. “Is that really you? Florette said you were alive, but—”

“I see your powers of observation are as keen as ever. I thought it best we had a chat, you and I.”

She’s really talking to me… “Of course. Are you alright? Unhurt?” Are you just a shadow of the dead that Florette saw through her spirit friend?

“I assure you I’m quite vibrant, though I’d be lying if I said I emerged entirely unscathed. And for my part, I will assume that you are no shade, either.”

“No, of course not. But… we can really do this? Talk across how many miles? Did you just think of this?”

Hands clasped together, Camille grinned. “I’m not the first, I don’t think. Once I figured it out, pieces of history, coincidences and fortunate turns, a lot of it began to make a lot more sense. I think, wisely, sages who discover this tend to keep it to themselves and those that they trust.”

“You don’t trust me, though. I mean—”

The flames around her mouth curled, a bite of her lip. “You saved my best friend, Fernan. And my Lucien too, the poor bastard. I’m sorry if my letter was curt, but I’m incredibly grateful. Really. Part of why I wanted to discuss this face to face was so I could get a better idea of what you wanted, so that I might repay you properly.”

What I want… “I want to be able to go two seconds through my life without a catastrophe! I want my people to be safe and secure, hale and happy. I want to go back to the way things were, before everything went so horribly wrong.”

“In that, we are much alike.”

“And I want to do it better. Cooperation, with the creatures we feared. Peace, and understanding.” I want to live in a nice little house in the mountains and tell stories to the children about the awful bad days, and have them unable to understand because they’ve known only peace. “What do you want, Camille? The last time you talked of repaying me, you threw money at my face.”

“I did?” The flames flickered. “Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Yes.”

Her head bowed. “Then I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I—They’re alright? Lucien and Annette?”

Fernan frowned. “Florette’s alright too, and I’m sure she’ll be touched to know that you asked. Arrived safely despite Queen Glaciel invading our harbor.”

“Fernan.”

“They’re fine. I mean, Lady Annette hasn’t slept in a while, I think this disaster is taking a big toll on her.” Strangely, Camille smiled at that, so he continued. “King Lucien’s health is better. He’s not coughing much anymore, and he seemed in fighting shape, given how he fared against the winter-touched.”

Eyes wide, the flames swirled around their sockets, leaving holes into darkness. “Health? Coughing?”

Oh right, she wouldn’t even know. “From the smoke. When, uh, after your duel, the stands burned down. He was fighting the Sun Temple and the flame sages.”

Was that a tear on her face, or simply the flames around her eyes constricting as her posture stiffened? “My Lucien would go to war with Terramonde himself if he thought he could save me… If he knew my life was… Regardless, that doesn't mean it would be the right thing to do. If you ever marry, Fernan, you might have to keep things from your partner, for their own good. Personal problems you need a personal solution to.”

“Uh, noted.”

She wiped a hand across her face. “Alright, we have limited time, and if our focus wavers, this might end prematurely. Would you be willing to do this again, in a week’s time?”

“Again, really?”

She tilted her head. “If I only had one message, I could have just put it all in Florette’s letter. But this way we have an open line of communication, a way to collaborate from afar. Not just you, but with you as a conduit, I can coordinate things with Lucien and Annette. And in turn, they can draw upon my expertise to help navigate the convocation of the spirits. I have a few things in mind already, but circumstances might have changed there enough to make them a bad idea. This way we can plan as one.”

Great, stuck in the middle again. Still, it was hard to deny the potential good. “One week from now, when the Hanged Man crests the horizon.”

“Good.” She smiled, flames shifting and contorting to represent it. “Did you gain any insights from your visions? I believe this would have been your first time.”

Fernan sighed. “I struggle to imagine how anyone could. Images of a dark woman on glass that kept changing color, a woman mourning her mount, a dying tree collapsing into a river… A letter someone wrote for me. They asked me to burn it, but I didn’t understand why until today, so I didn’t, just in case.”

“A private letter?” she asked with palpable curiosity in her voice. “I’ve been doing this for six years, Fernan, always analyzing afterwards, trying to divine the meaning without latching onto the wrong things and ending up like High King Somet. I bet I can help clarify things.”

Should I? Jethro and Magnifico seemed so distant from any Camille-related concerns. Could it really hurt? “It was from a spy for Avalon, a turncoat by the sounds of it, named Jethro. He told me not to trust Magnifico. That he had tried to kill his son, and would think nothing of doing the same to me. There was more, putting me on the track about suspecting him for killing the Duke, but that was the important part, and that’s what was repeated.”

“Magnifico tried to kill his son? I wasn’t aware he had children.”

“At least two, I think. Florette mentioned he had a falling-out with his oldest, and that I reminded him of his youngest. I’d guess he tried to kill the older one, if that’s true. It would certainly explain why they’re on bad terms.”

“Certainly…” Camille stared intently, eyes flickering blue.

“Honestly, it was practically incomprehensible noise. Even when I was first touched by the spirits, it was easier to comprehend things.”

“Oh? What did you see then?”

“A serpent and a fox… That was you and Lucien, wasn’t it?”

“I’d imagine so. What were we doing?”

“Uh…” Suffocating each other, as I recall. “Embracing.”

“Aw, that’s so cute!” The flames in her cheeks changed slightly in color. “What else?”

“It’s been so long. Um. My family. People from my village. There was also a man with no eyes, wreathed in flames. I guess that was me?”

Camille shrugged. “Presumably. You’d already been injured by that point?”

“Yes.” Strange, to think I’d seen myself from the outside like that. “There was also a boy, falling from a glass tower onto a sandy beach.”

She blinked, head tilted. “I’ve seen that one too. It might have wider significance.”

“Maybe. Not sure what it could be though. Do you have any ideas?”

She shook her head. “Anything else?”

“A ray of light over a sinking ship. I suppose that could be Lumière? But I’m not sure what he’d have to do with ships. Was he traveling a few weeks before we met?”

“No.” She frowned. “But there was an explosion in the harbor, here in Malin. It sank Magnifico’s ship, and Luce's father’s too… Hmm. Was that all?”

Fernan shook his head, trying to remember the rush of images assaulting his eyes. “Just one more thing. A crowned jester, dancing and swaying.”

“Crowned jester…” Camille’s eyes widened. “Fernan, has Magnifico been executed yet?”

“No, but your uncle’s going to do it soon. A couple days, I think.”

“Uncle Emile’s alive? That’s—No time. Listen, you have to tell Lucien not to do it. Magnifico’s too valuable to kill.”

“Jethro said something similar. Why?” Even as the words left his mouth, though, he felt the connections align in his mind. Magnifico was a crowned jester now, with the way Jethro had bound him, but that hadn’t been true back then… Unless he’d already worn a crown of another color.

Magnifico’s a jester with a crown that tried to kill his son.

Prince Lucifer of Avalon was set up to die by Jethro, and probably Magnifico too.

Camille smiled, probably seeing the recognition on his face. “All this time, I was looking for some edge… Some way to stand a chance against Avalon’s might.”

“And now we know,” Fernan said, excitement slowly giving way to dread. “Magnifico is King Harold of Avalon.”

“And we have him captive and powerless.” Camille let out a low laugh, echoing off the glass of the roof. “Entirely at our mercy.”