Some of the townsfolk eyed us as we passed through Haelling Cove, though not as many as I would have expected. Most were caught up in the various acts of trying to recover their lives from the havoc and the devastation of the Tokuan raid, applying thatch to sacked roofs, nailing wooden planks to axe-rended gaps in walls. Those that saw and recognised us had varying reactions.

'You were supposed to protect us!' one woman screamed, even as another's eyes watered while she told us, 'I will pray for your father's soul, that it might be accepted into Yoru's Holy Realm.'

Their words were confronting but I did not deign to respond, for what response would have satisfied them? We stopped not even for those who wished us well, for there was too much to do and night was already falling.

I was surprised to see that the castle gates were closed. They were scarcely ever closed, and there appeared to be no imminent threat of attack. The guards at the gate recognised us upon our approach and pulled the great doors open. Instantly, several beggars squatting along the rim of the castle wall took to their feet and casually joined the tail of our tiny caravan.

As the guards moved to bar their entrance, I realised that in the wake of the Tokuan attack, many of these newly-made beggars would have sought the safety of the castle. During the attack they would have been allowed in, but once the Tokuans had left the city folk would have been forced to leave. Possibly at spear point.

The gates closed behind us and we trotted wearily into the courtyard. Home at last. A bittersweet feeling.

A soldier greeted us. I could see that his gear was of good quality, and I assumed that he had been given charge over the castle's defence. 'Count, Countess. I am filled with indescribable gladness that you are both well.'

'As am I, Fraedwin,' Timoth said with some relief.

Timoth had always been close with the soldiers and it served him well now. I didn't recognise the man which probably meant that he was not part of our extended family, though he could have been a landowner. Timoth dismounted and clapped Fraedwin on the shoulder. 'Have you been ruling the castle since Father's death?'

Fraedwin nodded as I dismounted. I noticed several stablehands and servants approaching whom I allowed to take Lilac away. 'Aye,' Fraedwin said in confirmation.

Timoth then asked the thing that had clearly been at the forefront his mind during much of our journey. 'Is there any word of Kaeya?'

Fraedwin dropped his gaze, and that told me as much as his next words. 'She was with your parents when they were attacked, my lord. Her body was not be found. We suspect it was among those burned in the warehouse fires. I'm sorry.'

Timoth's eyes glazed over, as if his mind was suddenly elsewhere. I felt the words strike me like a body blow even though I had been braced for them. I knew as well as any that fire could char a body beyond recognition, and I saw little choice but to accept Kaeya's absence as her demise. If she had simply escaped into her portal she would have long since re-emerged.

‘When is the funeral to be held?' Timoth eventually responded, his voice straining to avoid breaking.

'I'm sorry, my lord,' Fraedwin repeated. 'But we had no knowledge that you were coming, and it would have taken a month to send a message to Hollowhold and await your arrival. The bodies… they would have decayed, my lord. We held your parents' funerals a week ago. And Countess Kaeya's the day before yesterday.'

Two days. We'd missed it by two days. I guessed that those who had knowledge of our imminent return to Haelling Cove had died in the Tokuan attack. It was becoming more difficult to restrain my tears, and I tried to delay them by consoling myself that witnessing Kaeya’s funeral would not have changed her death. We'd not even gotten along very well during her life, despite being sisters. The difference in age had been too much, and I don’t think that she liked children. Perhaps that was why she hadn’t had any of her own.

'Where are the men who usually man these walls?' Timoth asked, also putting off the onset of his misery for a more appropriate time. His question was astute: I hadn't noticed, but it did seem as if the walls were populated only by a skeleton crew of guardsmen.

'Some of the men have left the castle to help the townsfolk clear the streets and bury the dead. I hope you don't mind that I let them leave their posts in the castle.'

'Not at all,' Timoth replied. 'But now I have new orders for them. They are to travel to Trackford.'

'My lord?' Fraedwin asked, confused.

'I expect Trackford to be attacked in days at most,' Timoth said. Seeing Fraedwin's pending disagreement, he elaborated. 'The Tokuans have already razed Haelling Cove, and now they plunder the Duchy of Trent. When they are done, they will seek to return down the Haelling and across the Western Sea to Tokua. They will take any opportunity for further plunder that they passed during their original journey. Trackford was spared in exchange for the payment of tribute, but that will only last for as long as the Tokuans are occupied in Trent.’'

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

'Trackford has its own guard, my lord,' Fraedwin pointed out.

'But no walls. Many men will die even if the battle is won, and the city will still be damaged and the County’s manpower depleted. The best choice is to send more men to Trackford in the hopes of intimidating the Tokuans into leaving,' Timoth explained.

I'd heard all these arguments on the road, and I just wanted them to end so that I could enjoy my grief in solitude. Thankfully, Timoth was suddenly aware of my presence beside him.

'Fraedwin, send the men. Give them as many horses as our stables can spare. There is no time to waste. We can discuss it later, I have other matters to attend to.'

Fraedwin looked as if he might argue but the soldier's practise at obeying orders overrode his protestations. Perhaps, also, he had some sympathy for Timoth. It mustn't have been easy, being the bearer of such bad tidings. Timoth turned to me.

'Go to your room. I'll have your chests sent up with some dinner.'

'What if my room is occupied?' I asked him, but he shook his head.

'It won’t be. Get a good night's sleep; there’ll be a crowning ceremony tomorrow and I expect you to be in attendance.'

'I don't think-' I began, wanting to excuse myself from the ceremony, or perhaps even delay it.

'You'll be there, Saemara. I need you. You must manage your grief until this crisis has passed,' he told me.

His eyes were full of so many conflicting emotions and his tone so neutral that I was uncertain of how to respond. I simply bowed my head in submission to his request, and walked into the keep. I didn't look back at Timoth, nor at Lilac or the carriage. I simply trusted that the servants would carry out my brother's instructions and ascended the keep staircase to find my old room. The corridors were less well-kept than I remembered, and the usual scurrying of servants to and fro was absent. No doubt they were occupied in the city.

At last, after almost two weeks on the road, I arrived at my room in Haelling Cove. It was much as I left it, though dust had settled on he furniture. The bed was made, and I cast off my clothes and threw myself into it wearing naught but my undergarments. I collapsed into the mattress, letting it claim me with its comforts. I thought to hold myself together until the servants had come and gone, but the familiar scents of the keep drifted past my nose and the rush of emotions was overwhelming. I pulled the blanket over my head as the tears submerged me in my sheets.

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I choked my way through the hours til dawn. Sleep was sporadic. I feared that I looked as a wraith.

At some point the servants did come, but I did not deign to greet them. The pleasant aroma of the food wafted through my bedsheets, but the hunger it stirred served not to overpower the misery I felt such that I would actually leave the bed. It became cold and unpalatable over the night, and when dawn came and I was forced to face the day it was all I could do to leave it in the corridor.

I spent some time hanging my clothes back up in the wardrobes. It felt therapeutic, there was a familiarity to it, a sense of taking control. The knife I concealed in my bedside table, and the mirror I perched atop a chest of drawers. When I saw myself in its reflection, I was so distraught with my appearance that I pushed it face-down. Once my chests were empty I deposited them outside my room in the hopes that the servants would carry them away with last night's dinner.

I spent some time picking out something nice to wear to Timoth's coronation. Something dark, as it was appropriate to be in mourning for the death of my parents and sister, yet something inspiring, as I’d tried to be in Trackford. Sure, Father was dead, but the House of Tfaeller lived on, and the people needed to know that.

I settled for a cream-coloured dress with a black overcoat. It was a cool winter's day so I did not think that I'd need to discard the coat, and together they were about what I wanted. I wished that I could buy some new clothes, but something told me that the County treasury was not what it used to be.

With my body dressed and my room restored, I spent a few minutes organising my thoughts. I painted my cheeks, especially the bags which plagued my eyes, and looked out from my bedroom window. Soldiers were forming up in the castle courtyard, and I realised that the ceremony was soon to begin. I slipped on a pair of sombre black shoes and descended the keep stairs.

The ceremony itself was brief. Timoth was not a king, just a count, and the castle was closed to the public. Those in attendance all belonged to either the nobility, the soldierhood, or the servant class. I stood behind Timoth as the circlet was planted upon his head by the highest-ranking monk in Haelling Cove.

It looked good on him, the symmetrical aquamarine nestled gently within his chestnut hair. He was wearing his best silk shirt, and I thought that an artist would make good work of his portrait this day. Sadly none was in sight despite the fact that it was traditional to have a portrait painted at a crowning ceremony. Timoth cared little for pomp, and had probably preferred to put the artist's commission into rebuilding the city.

After the monk said a few words Timoth drew his sword – the same sword with which I had murdered the nymph two years earlier – and cast it into the air, as if intending to pierce the sky. He spoke a vow to protect Ebonreach, requesting Cha's guidance in doing so as was traditional.

Otherwise the ceremony was awfully boring, and if that was not bad enough, the lack of distraction was causing my thoughts to linger on my predicament once more. Second in line to the throne, with no parents or elder sister to turn to for guidance. I was doubly glad that Timoth was such a skilled swordsman, or else the highwaymen might have run him through on the road from Hollowhold, and I would have had to lead the Reach myself. If I’d even survived.

Finally, Timoth sheathed his sword. The onlookers clapped and cheered, and someone led them in three hurrahs for Count Timoth Tfaeller of Ebonreach. I did not join in the revelry, wanting nothing more than to return to my bed.

I felt bad for not lingering to enjoy the post-coronation celebrations; for failing to give Timoth the support and confidence that Mother had always given Father. However, my coming of age ceremony was only two nights away. I had to rest to look my best for it, and I would not let Timoth skimp on the artist for that ceremony. I was only going to turn eighteen once, after all. Perhaps once I was recognised as an adult, I would feel better able to aid Timoth.