The Apostle poured some wine from a nearby crystal decanter and settled onto a velvet-cushioned divan. Candlelight bathed the generous space in warm tones, softly illuminating the numerous animal pelts blanketing the ground, the intricate hanging tapestries, and a full-sized bed as luxurious as any furnishing in Destrius' mansion.

Cedric faced Lady Salus with his hands clasped, every muscle pulled taut.

She sipped. "Step forward."

He moved closer to the light of a tall candle-stand beside the divan.

"Kneel."

He obeyed. His heart began to pound.

Lady Salus caressed his face, observing its various angles in the dim light. Her nails were long and rounded, painted the same glossy blue as her gown. They gently rasped against Cedric's skin, and he couldn't suppress a light shiver.

She then reached behind him and pulled loose the thin cloth strip that bound his ponytail. His hair tumbled freely down his shoulders, and one of her elegant fingers twirled a stray lock of it. "Hmm," she said in apparent approval, then let go and took another sip of wine. Cedric quietly released the breath he'd been holding and sat back on his haunches.

"Are you aware of what my patrons intend for those I take in?" she said mildly.

"Aye, milady."

"Then you're a true believer in the divine light, in the nobles of Crystallinus--given their proximity to the Divine Heirs--being innately more worthy than the likes of you."

He nodded with as much conviction as he could muster. "The Summerlands alone are proof enough, are they not?"

"Oh, certainly." She contemplated for a few moments. "I'll consider you, despite your age, if you do something for me in return."

"Anything, milady."

A strange, predatory hunger sparked in her eyes, abruptly changing her face from pleasant to unsettling. "I wish to see you unraveled, stripped bare of all pride and pretense. Show me the most intimate, vulnerable part of yourself, and I shall grant you a place among the Apostles of Crystallinus. If I like what I see, that is."

Cedric's throat had gone dry. "I… I don't… how would…?"

The tent's other entrance, directly opposite the one that Cedric and Lady Salus had entered through, parted to the side. An imposing man stepped in: well-built, dark-haired, and younger than Lady Salus by fifteen years. He carried a large basket of fruit, cheese, and cured meats, and paused upon sight of Cedric. A freshly-anchored rowboat bobbed in the waters behind him.

"What have we here, milady?" he asked in a silky rumble.

"Impeccable timing, Alexis," Lady Salus said. She turned to Cedric. "Once my favorite companion, now my partner in mind and soul. Marriage was out of the question, given our caste difference, but we share much more in common than not."

She looked back at him. "I was negotiating with this boy for a place among the chosen. Perhaps you could… nudge him along to my liking."

He set down the basket and studied Cedric with a ravenous intensity that sent the latter's skin crawling.

"To your liking?" he purred. He stepped forward to tower over Cedric, who still knelt at Lady Salus' feet.

Cedric couldn't move, could barely breathe or think. His consciousness was retreating to the dark corner he'd once called home, but he could still sense the distant horror pervading the body that was no longer his. Horror that the twisted, slavering shadows that'd haunted his every step since the Dead End had become flesh once more. But this time, Cedric would remember everything. Every hideous second of it.

Alexis tilted up Cedric's chin. "What a lovely gift you've presented to me, Solanna."

"Just try not to break him, darling." Lady Salus lounged back, her wine refilled. Prepared for a show.

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The tent's primary entrance suddenly burst apart, and both nobles started in surprise. "Stop!" cried the voice that Cedric most needed to hear. Some sensation returned to his body in a warm rush, and he used this minor blessing to match the beloved face to the voice.

Adrian was flushed, heaving with frantic breaths. "Stop this!" he repeated more firmly. "There's been a misunderstanding. He'd never go to the capital, not on your terms."

Lady Salus sprang to her feet, livid. "Ethan!" she called, and was answered by a weak groan from outside. "What did you do to my guard, mud boy?"

"His head was obstructing the path of a large stone," he said, then stepped closer and offered a hand, which Cedric gladly accepted.

"I'll have you strung up for this," she hissed from behind them.

"Only if you find me."

Adrian led Cedric back out into the sweet, open air.

*

Only when the Apostle encampments were far behind them did Cedric abruptly stop in his tracks, halting Adrian's determined stride when their linked hands pulled taut.

"Cedric?" he said, the worry and concern restored to his face twofold.

"That was our one chance," Cedric said numbly. "Why did I come with you? I should go back and--"

Adrian took Cedric's face in his hands. His gray eyes blazed with an almost frightening intensity. "I was wrong. I never knew I could be this wrong. Nothing is worth this. Nothing."

"Not even the innocent lives who--"

"They'll all burn to ash before I let you return to that tent."

Cedric's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. "Let me?" he finally sputtered, though an absurd grin was also fighting its way to the surface. "I could toss you like a saddlebag."

Adrian didn't smile. "I mean it. You'd have to drag me along on your leg."

Selfishly, the dominant emotion that then flooded Cedric was pure, transcendent relief. He took a deep breath, his first real one since Grace had told him of Lady Salus, and nodded.

"All right," he said. "But we've got to find some other way, and soon."

Adrian's hard expression crumbled, and he sagged against him. "Thank the Goddess," he muttered into Cedric's chest. "You actually listened to me."

"I always listen to you," he objected.

Adrian snorted.

Upon their return to camp, Candra rose from a budding fire and spread her hands in a questioning gesture. "Well? Did Lady Salus turn you away?"

"Aye," Adrian lied smoothly. "He was too old. Not to her patrons' tastes."

Her mouth twisted skeptically, and she addressed Cedric alone. "Is that what happened? Truly?"

Cedric was not as natural a liar, and his averted eyes betrayed him at once. Candra scowled.

"You backed out," she said disbelievingly. "You turned away."

"Candra--" Adrian began.

She threw down the stick she'd been using to stir the fire, then marched forward until her nose nearly touched Cedric's. "I thought we understood each other," she ground out. "About what was at stake."

He forced himself to meet her gaze. "I did. I do. But I couldn't--"

She jabbed a finger to her right, where a family camped some distance away. "The little girl there. Do you see her?"

The child was no older than five, raven-haired and rosy-cheeked. She crouched in the grass, cupping some sort of insect in her tiny hands, and was watching it reverently.

"Adelaide. Her father offered to look after Nightwind if I ever needed to step away. Had a little chat with her while I gathered firewood. She wants to be a healer when she grows up. Are you prepared to watch the Heir of Light purge them from this world?" She jerked her head to the left. "Mirabel, over there with her two brothers. Fled her dying town and her disease-stricken fiancé. You've condemned them, too. Along with many thousands of others, including your own friends from Methodosia." Candra's expression darkened. "Grace, was it? Have you now made peace with her end as well?"

In the face of Candra's devastating proclamations, Cedric could mount no defense. That same shame began to burn in his belly again.

Adrian, however, was surprisingly unfazed. "It's not Cedric's duty to atone for your failures," he said coldly. "Neither your guilt nor your fear of another deranged Heir are Cedric's responsibility."

Candra's cheeks turned pale with rage. "Rava the Mad was a great many things, but at least he wasn't a coward," she snarled.

It was Adrian's turn to step forward. His height didn't quite reach hers, but his expression still made her retreat an unconscious half-step. "Candra," he said quietly, in a tone that Cedric had never heard before. "One way or another, you won't speak another word on this matter."

And despite scores of additional counterarguments visibly churning in her mind, Candra conceded.

Cedric couldn't perfectly verbalize his thoughts, but neither did he wish for Adrian to entirely speak on his behalf. He settled for an attempt at the former.

"You are right, Candra," he said. "My comfort and dignity, as you put it, weighed against the lives of all the kingdom's subjects… there's no comparison." He set his jaw. "But I am the one doing this. Infiltrating Crystallinus, facing Ayo and Asha. If you were in my position, you'd also have a choice in what you were willing to sacrifice and compromise. And for my part, this is what I've chosen not to compromise."

Candra's expression didn't overtly change, but softened incrementally. "I still think you're making a dire mistake," she said stiffly. "I pray you don't regret this, Cedric. The Day of Ascension approaches, and time runs short."

Night had fallen while they'd argued. Out of instinct and habit, Cedric took stock of the surrounding region with his expanded senses. He gently brushed against the stone-ringed arenas in the distance, where the preliminaries had ended for the day and were set to resume upon sunrise tomorrow.

A terrible yet exhilarating possibility suddenly took hold of him.

"What is it?" Adrian asked from the ether, his voice distant and thin.

Cedric opened his eyes.

"I may have another idea," he said. "But neither of you will like it."