The hours were long, I lost count of time. It felt like a week, felt like more, sometimes less. I was seeing blurry, and sleeping became the only escape from reality. But even in dreams, I was haunted by visions of the curse I bestowed upon this land. I wish it were true, my very essence changing at its core. I am no longer Norella, I am a ghost of her. Someone who isn't someone anymore. Dirty, hungry, thirsty and dying - that is who I was.

I hated them all, I hated myself for accomplishing nothing in life. I did not change anything, I only made it worse. There can be no peace, there can be no negotiations. There can be nothing but death.

I kept repeating the curses I’d lay on my family, the revolution, any sympathizers, anyone who ever hurt me. I cursed August for killing Auretta on my watch, for killing those loyal guards, who were not quick enough. I know they were strong, they were trained and skilled, and yet, not good enough to compete with the discharged commander of Father’s knights. I know they had families. I know the families will mourn them. I know my family won’t mourn me, when my time comes. They wouldn’t have left me here to die otherwise.

And it should be soon, as I felt the weight settle deeper in my body with every passing hour. I felt my feet go numb, I felt bruises paint my skin, where I hit the metal bars over and over again. I look down at my arm and see my skin has lost all its color. I’ve been noticing it for a while, but never paid attention. I thought it was temporary. The war. The heartache. But the tan I was once proud of has disappeared, replaced by a sickly paleness. My Mediterranean roots, my mother’s roots have perished, as Auretta perished, as West perished, as I will perish.

I was a fool, and always will be. I thought I’d make them pay, but only now, stripped of everything I held dear, I realize how much bullshit I’d told myself in the past weeks. I was ready to fight for freedom, to let go of my crown willingly, to let go of everything I’ve suffered for - if it meant the government would be passed into the right hands. I considered it. I believed it. I trained my magic. I became both the best and worst version of myself. And for what? Only to be shackled and be unable to summon even a glass of water from the kitchens.

I felt dizzy, my mouth dry. I touched my face and felt my eyes were sunken. My lips were chapped and bruised. My nostrils hurt from blowing my nose so often. I used my cloak as a cover and as a handkerchief. It was cold, with only the black dress from the old lady’s store and stockings. I took off my boots to use them as pillows.

I laid edging on the state of unconsciousness. I saw my mother, the woman I used to love so much, it spilled out of my heart. She held me when I was tired. But she left me as soon as Rigel was born. And then she left Rigel when Spica was born. Her dearest daughter, a mirror of her father. Rigel was now entertained by Father. But who was there to entertain me? Who was there to ask me how my day went? Who was there to put a nice home-cooked meal before I learned what royal etiquette was?

Memories flashed before my eyes. Pictures of places my governess brought me to. Pictures of outfits Auretta brought to me. Pictures of foods West suggested I taste at least once in life. They were the true people who loved me. Everyone loved me differently, but their love was pure. Unlike my parents who only wanted a heir, a sweet, stupid, naive heir to win over the hearts of Malachite, to atone for their mistakes that could have been easily avoided. Unlike Kaira, whose double faceted personality cost me a broken heart and cost her her life. I know when she was deported from looking through private documents of the state, spying for her own country, she was executed at the border. I know it because that is the law. Malachite is peaceful, but that was high treason, and no matter that she was a minor, she was killed in cold blood because she was stupid enough to trust me. I did not know. I was left in the dark. She didn’t tell me she was spying for some duke in Vulpe, when she kissed me. She didn’t share their intricate plan of changing our economy’s course six years ago when her hand touched my breasts.

It was all in the past now. I have no way of knowing if she truly died, but my gut has been telling me this for years. She was my first love. I wish I could carve her out. I wish she had never been born. Never sent to the Academy to study by my side.

Amidst the moss and my excrements, I tried to remember good things. There weren’t many, but those images… I’ll take them to the place I’ll be heading to soon. I hope they bring me peace after all of this is over. Maybe in the afterlife I will lie on the evergreen grass, smell the bouquet of snapdragons and watch as West tents to horses.

I will ask for his forgiveness. I never prayed for his peace; I only prayed for mine. I have been so selfish. I forced him to love me back, I let my desire and hunger for more overwhelm my common sense. He was never supposed to get close to me, and because of that, he lies dead. It’s now been more than a month since.

I don’t have much time left.

----------------------------------------

I was lying on my side, eyes closed, as I fought the urge to bang my head against the wall and finish what Rigel started. It would be painful and probably wouldn’t kill me. I would wake up with a concussion, or worse, a fractured skull. I

In the distance, I think I heard steps, but shook it off as hallucination. I’ve been seeing things lately. Weird, scary things. Nightmares come to life. I wept at first. Then I was banging my fists on the stone, keeping the visions away. Finally, I let them near, but they didn’t scare me anymore. I welcomed the nightmares, praying they would talk to me, or take me away from here.

“By the -” a male voice, coming right outside the cell. I open my crusty eyes. I see double. “Norella?”

I can barely hear him, he’s so far away. I feel like I’m drifting away. I smile, embracing the sleep, hoping it would be my last.

Something thuds loudly against the stones and metal grinds. I feel cold hands touch my face, my shoulders, my legs. They’re inspecting me, tilting my head to the left. My lips are parted, and the air dries out my mouth further. My eyes roll back.

The hands pull me up, and in between reality and dream, I feel someone’s warm embrace. We are moving. I manage to open my eyes. Above me, Kaytus’s distorted face, staring at me in anguish.

“You look ghastly, who did -” He whispers, turning his attention to the stairs. He continues talking, but I feel I’m drifting away. His face doesn’t bring pain anymore. I see him and remember only the truck ride in the Isles. I see him eating a juicy apple and I swallow, even if it hurts. I remember him at the old lady’s store, being so afraid to enter. He was so kind to Nesrin, in his own way.

Reality pulls on me and I shake my head, grunting, my face distorting in pain. Everything hurts. Kaytus puts me on the ground, holding me by the shoulders. His grip keeps me from flowing far away.

“Norella, I can’t do it without you. I need you to create the invisible magic cloak, for both of us.”

I shake my head, fighting to keep my eyes open. My lips are so dry, I find it hard to open my mouth. “Shackles. Can’t… ” I lift my hands and show bruises. He furrows his brows.

I don’t recognize my voice. These will be my last words. I can’t talk anymore. It hurts too much.

I want the pain to go away.

The spy lifts me up again. I let myself doze off. I’m so dehydrated that I might as well hallucinate while my organs fail. He moves upstairs, then turns somewhere, then jumps down.

“Norella,” he whispers, tapping my cheek. I open my eyes, my vision still as blurry. My eyes hurt from the light, or the dryness, I don’t know anymore. “I need you to stay here.”

“I’ll be back for you.”

“Don’t leave, mom.” I close my eyes, as he puts me back on the ground. It’s smoother than the stones, I touch it, and recognize the marble. We are not far from the exit. I don’t fight the urge to cry. No tears came out, though. Perhaps there is no liquid left in me, not even a single tear to shed.

I don’t feel Kaytus’s presence anymore. I hear remote swords clashing. Some grunts, some cries. And then, nothing. I don’t know how much longer I can hold, and that’s when the man comes back to me.

He lifts me up and runs. My body is limp, I don’t feel my legs anymore. Sleep finally takes over.

I wake up under the gray sky. I feel healthier. There is no weight on my chest. I can feel my legs, my fingers are not numb anymore. I can hear the birds.

“Drink,” he pulls a waterskin out of his bag. I grab it, drinking relentlessly. I feel in heaven for a second, before I feel sick. “No, no, no, slowly.”

Instead of puking, I burp. My stomach feels a bit better and the nauseau calms down.

“Eat this,” he hands me a sandwich. I feel my mouth water and grab it, munching loudly.

I eat it slowly, every bite is a reminder I’m still alive. How, I don’t know. Kaytus is focused on me. I burp once more and lay down again. Everything is spinning for a second, but I feel better. I close my eyes and let myself come back to my senses.

“How did you end up there?” He asks, calmly.

I lay on my elbows, looking at him properly this time. His hair is back. His eyes burn with the everlasting green. I notice a new scar starting at his left cheek and going to the upper lip. I think I did that. I kept my promise. I left my mark on him this time.

“Why did you return?” I ask in turn. He sits straight, his eyes not leaving mine. My eyes dart down, and I notice we’re sitting in a meadow. Grass and a creek not far from us, colors as vivid as during spring. Is it spring already? Has the winter passed?

“August has made his intentions clear. I no longer agree with them.” He seems honest.

“Rigel threw me in there,” I say, tucking the grass.

“He thinks you led us there.” he says, touching the grass as I do. I grit my teeth. It’s painful.

“He is right.”

“But you didn’t know August’s plan. Neither did we.”

“Liar.”

“I am telling the truth. Out of everything, this is the truest thing I’ve ever said, Norella. I did not know, I swear.”

“So August betrayed your trust too?”

Kaytus nods. “I wouldn’t say betray. He is our leader and is not obliged to share every decision or scheme with his subordinates, but this stunt… it cost us any chance of peace talks.”

“There could never be peace talks. It was all an illusion, can’t you see? His hatred was too grand, and Father was too stubborn.”

“You have this tint to your eyes. As if you’re far away. Doesn’t it faze you that there shall be no peace?”

I look at the horizon, my mind silent for once. I cannot get lost in my mental maze again, as it was burned to ash. There are no thoughts. I feel calm, all emotion evaporating with my spirit back in the cell.

“I don’t care anymore.”

“We have to stop this. You can’t just let all our efforts go to waste.” It stings something deep down, but this time around it’s easier to ignore.

“Plan with your friend,” I smile, my eyes locked on the water. It’s pretty. I missed nature.

“He didn’t make it,” Kaytus turns around. His nape faces me, as he runs his fingers through the locks. His hair has grown since our first meeting.

“He didn’t…” I repeat, solemnly. “I killed him. Why didn’t you let me die?”

There is no answer. He doesn’t explain. His upper body moves as he breathes in. I sit in silence too. I realize my clothes have changed. I’m no longer wearing a dress, but an oversized blouse and large pants. I don’t feel any underwear. My lips part, but I fight the urge to speak first. Whatever Kaytus has done doesn’t concern me anymore. If I met Nesrin’s fate, at least I was unconscious.

“You killed my friend three days ago,” he starts, his voice barely audible. “I wish I could hate you, but I know why you did it. August is to blame. And I need to blame someone, otherwise I’ll blame myself for something I could have controlled.”

“Could you?”

He tilts his head, his profile now visible. I look at his right side and feel a sense of calm.

“No, I don’t think so. So I blame August.”

I nod. “I blame him too. He killed my favorite servant three days ago.” A tear falls down my cheek. It makes me smile - I am no longer dying. I am no longer dying…

But what life will this be?

We sit in silence, looking everywhere but at each other. Kaytus grabs another waterskin and gives it to me. I take it, and swallow its content. He looks tired too. His arms shake a bit when he shifts his weight. His legs are muscular, noticeable even under the pants he’s wearing. Cotton and leather combined, making him look like a specialist covert agent. Something many militaries wear as a uniform.

I never realized how big he is. He scared me in the past, and even now, but I feel so numb, that I don’t mind his presence. I don’t shake at the sight of him anymore. Those days seem to be so distant now.

“I want to leave and never return.” I say, looking at the sky. The sun is out, shining through the leaves. And yet I don’t feel its warmth. I feel nothing.

“Coward.”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“Call me all you want. I’ve been called worse.” I mumble.

He closes the distance between us. I finally get a good look at his face. His eyes are red.

“Help me,” he whispers. “We both lost people. We’re both tired of losing.”

“I’ve tried, Kaytus, I’ve tried and failed many times.”

He shakes his head, ignoring my words. “What’s your plan then? Flee? Let your homeland be consumed by rage and blood?”

“Why are you still here?” I stop him mid rant. I’m tired. I want to sleep. I want to be held. I want to cry like I’ve just broken a finger.

It startles the man and he puts both hands on the grass, digging his finger in. He exhales.

“I came back for you. I need you to restore order.”

“But why? Go join August and kill them all, burn the palace down. Kill the magicians and let the kingdom die. Let them all perish in their anger,” I snarl. “You don’t need me for this.”

“Listen when I talk to you, Norella!” He exclaims, digging his fingers deeper. “I want order, not apocalypse.”

“And I want chocolate eclairs and all of you to burn in hell. But I can’t have that, can I?”

He sighs, resigning. He stands up and walks over to the river. I watch as he washes his face and neck. He takes off his shoes and sits by the edge, putting his feet in the crystal clear water.

My numbness dissipates. I join him. Sitting by his side, I take off my boots too and let the water caress my bruised feet. Only under sunlight do I see how bad my wounds are. Scratches, deep cuts and blue and yellow bruises on my feet. They were gentle and silky once. Now they are those of a veteran.

I look at my hands and see the same. Pale, sick and dry. There are more bruises and meat than healthy skin. I look like a corpse. And then it hits me. At first, I try to swallow up the tears, but after a minute it becomes too hard. I start to cry, hiding my face in my hands. My whole body shakes.

Kaytus doesn’t move. He watches, as I wipe the hot tears away, until the next wave comes rushing in. Once it calms down, I’m a blubbering mess. Kaytus passes me a piece of cloth from his bag. I blow my nose and drink some water to calm down quicker.

“I came back for you because I want you to rule.”

I glance at him, in shock. I don’t talk for a long moment. I pull my feet from the cold water and dry them with the long sleeves of my blouse. I don’t smell sweat or any other odor. Did Kaytus clean me?

“The crown...” I mutter.

The freedom I sought was in the crown. By any means necessary. Freedom would have been my destiny - to wear the circlet and to make them all bow to the peace I was going to bring. There could be no compromise. I thought I was the fourth player in their deadly game. The whole Seagrave line, except for me, would have been incapacitated for the time being, and the revolution… The revolution would pay for their sins as I was paying for mine.

“The crown was symbolic for me. I don’t think I can…”

“Norella, look at yourself. You look like you’ve been through hell. And you were, but you survived. You kept on surviving the most unpredictable situations, because you have the heart and brains. You had hopes when I met you. I’ve heard you wanted to change some rules to be able to marry your bodyguard.”

He doesn’t beat around the bush, does he?

“Yes, I survived. But it cost me everything that I was. Now there is nothing left. I feel like a completely different person, Kaytus, and it scares me more than you. It scares me more than death itself.” His veiny hand trails on the ground, nearly touching mine.

“Bad things happened. They changed you. But it’s okay. Sometimes people become the best versions of themselves by doing the worst possible things.” His voice is raspy, as he speaks.

I think about it. I truly do. I weighed my options. I put it all in perspective. There was a verdict somewhere, but I couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Okay.” I glance at him. “I will help you.”

“Good.” He doesn’t look at me.

“But you will promise me something.”

He hums.

“You no longer work for August, no matter your previous relationship.”

He winces, glaring at me. I hit a spot, I suppose. “I do not bear any loyalty to this man, no.”

“Good.”

“We’ll need a place to rest a while, eat and bathe too. When you’ve regained your forces, we’ll work on the plan.” He stands up, shaking the grass off his legs.

“You have something in mind?” I follow.

He nods, his expression as serious as ever. I can’t stop looking at him. His skin seems to glow even in grief. Does he grieve Drys the same way I grieved West, or Auretta? If he does, my instinct tells me to break him further, inflict more damage. But all I do is understand. I watch him pave the way through the bushes and think of forgiveness.

----------------------------------------

We walked for a long time, taking occasional breaks. I was still weak, so Kaytus let me pause and drink a bit of water every once in a while. We didn't talk. There was nothing to say.

I don’t know why I follow behind. Fatigue pushes me away from the borders of this continental climate, it pushes me away from cold winters and hot summers. I don’t know why his pep talk made me reassess my priorities. I don’t know why I believe him, but my feet keep a steady pace. I follow the spy, knowing there is nothing sweeter than victory after so many failures.

I was alone before. I acted on instinct, thinking it was the right way. I thought I could make Rigel stand down. I thought I could deal with the revolution. I failed every time, but I never stopped hoping. This hope leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Am I making the very same mistake? Am I going straight into another trap? I wish I knew, but he is right, as much as I hate it. I should try until I am no longer alive, because that is the right thing to do. Because fleeing now would make me a coward, and worse, would mean every scheme, every lie, every year I’ve spent training would be for nothing.

I’m lost in thought when we arrive.

It’s a small red brick house. The roof is made of wood shingles. It looks nice, for something built in the middle of a forest. Kaytus takes out his key and opens the door. It’s warm inside. The entrance is small, we barely fit together, and to the right lies the living room. Embers gleam in the fireplace. It’s cozy and small, fit for a small house such as this. I look around, as Kaytus goes further in. My eyes stop by a small painting of a forest. It seems familiar, as if I’ve been there already, but I can’t recall when. The picture radiates an eerie energy, something I can’t quite place.

“Home,” Kaytus informs me, his voice coming from the living room. He stands there, as I take in the surroundings. It’s casual, furnished with very basic armchairs, bookcases. There are dead plants hanging from the ceiling, on slim ropes. The window is a small square, with a polished but dusty frame. The lacy, old-fashioned curtains hang straight. I have difficulty imagining him living a normal life.

He waits until I finish looking, and heads to another room - the kitchen. It’s on the left of the hallway. I approach a counter, where several knives lie, recently washed. I slide my finger on the hard wood and grab one. My finger slides against the blade, feeling the freezing steel. It reminds me of the knife I summoned to kill Drys. A guilty heartbeat makes me put the knife back.

“Thinking of using it in my own home?”

“I would have loved that, in the past,” I answer, distancing myself from the sharp object. What I don’t say is that I would prefer to harm myself more than harm him. My anger is being washed away by emotions I cannot discern. Something like constant worry of things yet not happening.

I stand in the center of the kitchen, feeling light and heavy at the same time. Kaytus says something but I can’t hear him. He points to the floor, and there, through the wooden cracks, grow vines. They’re black, adorned with thorns. I gasp, taking a step back.

“Shackled, huh?” He stares at the greenery I’ve created.

“I didn’t know… Rigel said he made sure I couldn’t use my magic.” I start to panic. I feel my fingertips burn, I shake my hands violently, trying to put out the tiny flames.

“How can he do that? He’s no mage.” He kneels and tucks out a chunk of vines.

“I don’t know. Maybe the Academy helped him. Doesn’t make sense.” I breathe out, finally free of the burning. He looks up, confused. His eyes trail to my ashy fingers. I hope my skin is untouched, otherwise I’ll have to be bandaged up again.

“At least you have your magic back,” he pulls me back by the shoulder, leading me upstairs.

“Here’s the bathroom. Rest for a bit, bathe, and then we’ll talk. I’ll prepare a meal.”

My eyes follow him down the creaking stairs. I cannot believe my ears. Since when is he so calm and gentle? Or is this not gentleness but opportunity? Make me comfortable, save me from certain death, only to use it as emotional leverage?

I have to be careful. I can’t let it get to me. I feel I’m so easily manipulated with such tactics. Love. Care. Yes, it was always my weakest point.

The door to the bathroom opens and Kaytus enters, throwing an outfit on the wooden planks. I don’t even have time to insult him before the door closes. I lie down in the bath, continuing to gently wash my bruises. I put on some oils to help my skin heal better. At least it’s all clean now. Thankfully my time of month isn’t due soon. Otherwise this would have been a mess. I also wash my hair, finally discard the physical reminders of the cell.

The clothes Kaytus found, I have no idea how, look pretty decent. I suppose I was wearing his blouse and pants when he saved me. Now he gave me dark slim pants, high socks, a noble looking corset with intricate flower designs and a vest on top. I dress, putting my long hair into a high ponytail. I miss Auretta. I miss her talented fingers and imagination for my hairstyles. Now my black locks fall behind my shoulders, down to my lower back. It’s long, but extremely malnourished. It’s lost its bluish glow. Now it’s jet black, and drowning in split ends.

If our plan goes through and I take the crown, I will execute August publicly for all the crimes he committed. Especially to Auretta. I grieved her passing in the cell, angry at the world, angry at myself. I still have no idea if Father survived. If he did not, Rigel just became nearly unstoppable.

As I go down the stairs, Kaytus is changed too, his pants stayed the same, but his shirt and sweater are from the palace. It’s clothes given to the knights, like a casual uniform, even off duty. He is sitting in one of the armchairs beside the fireplace, putting more wood inside. With an iron rod, he moves the ashes and embers aside, letting a new fire grow. He blows and the fire gets bigger. When he looks at me, his eyes are cold. I jerk my chin.

“From now on we are a team,” He says, looking me straight in the eyes. “We trust each other, we protect each other, and we work together.”

“I do not trust you in the slightest.” I sit in the armchair. It reminds me of the chairs back home.

“Me neither, you know. But for it to work, for you to get the crown, we must try to put… grudges aside.”

I point a finger at him. “You killed my lover and said I deserved it!”

“It was a mistake,” He responds calmly.

We stare at each other for a long moment, until the fire is cackling at the scene, as if mocking us. Such children, I hear, fiddling with things they barely understand, trying to change the world. I imagine the fire getting out of its cave and burning us alive, for our infighting, for the games we both play, when the country is on the verge of a civil war.

“A mistake…” I repeat, rolling my eyes. “Anyways, I can see why becoming queen is good for the People. But what do you gain from it?”

“You promised peace. Promised to learn and bring us to a prosperous future.”

“Wait… You were in that town? When Father and I visited the farms?” My voice is a higher pitch all of a sudden. Kaytus nods.

“I was always on the lookout. August sent me to do reconnaissance every week. To see how the king managed the uprisings.”

“And how did he manage them?” A question I already know the answer to, but it feels good to ask, somehow.

“Nothing. At. All.” Kaytus pronounces, laying back into the green armchair. Just like our eyes. “You have what you always wanted, and I get equality and a better country. Isn’t that a win?” He chuckles, barely believing his own words.

I blink. “And I want revenge. ”

He stares at me, weighing his options. “What kind of revenge?”

“The bloody type.”

“I can help with some of it. But I will not participate in mindless slaughter - if it escalades I’ll stop you entirely.”

“Will you help me kill August?”

“Him? You can try, but he’ll end you before you can unsheath a weapon.”

“And you?”

“I will not fight him.” He interlocks his fingers, leaning on his elbows.

“What about helping me with ‘some’ revenge?” I bite back.

“I meant prison sentences, tracking people down.”

“Since when do you follow the law?”

He shakes his head, in annoyance.

I grunt, concentrating on the fire on my left. It’s consuming everything around its territory, just like the wrath inside me. Something tingles inside and I close my eyes for a second. When I open them, I have an idea. A very bad one. But it might work.

“All right. Let’s start off as strangers. No grudges. No agendas, just saving the kingdom,”

Kaytus’s lips move upward and he crosses his arms.

“August and your father were obsessed with a secret, buried in the gardens. Do you think we can find it and unearth it?”

“I’m curious as hell, but I don’t see the point.”

“Leverage.”

“Leverage…” I repeat, nodding, and a smile grows on my face. “Against whom?

“The new king, of course. Falke too, probably. She is queen by Calen’s rule, not Rigel’s. She probably is dead with grief, and learning about the thing that killed her husband might be a more peaceful way to take over, or at least, have her work for us.”

“He is really dead?” I whisper, shakily.

“Nobody knows. Since we escaped, the palace closed off, all servants were fired. At least that’s what my colleagues gathered. After that, silence. He may be recovering, the blow wasn’t fatal. I don’t think the blade went to the lung, nor the heart. It wasn’t sharp enough, and August panicked.”

“He panicked? He seemed pretty sure about killing the Seagraves.”

Kaytus stands up and goes to the kitchen. He returns, holding a plate with a kettle and two cups with tea inside.

“I’ve known him for a very long time. Seven years in fact. He faltered. Hesitated and that cost him the killing blow.”

“After seven years of intricate planning of overthrowing our family, making the king pay… he hesitates? I don’t buy it.”

“Difficult isn’t it? Human nature at its finest.”

I side eye him, confused. “You talk like you aren’t human. You share the same flaws.”

“Have you ever seen me hesitate to kill someone?” A spark explodes in his eyes. I sit tighter.

“You haven’t killed me.”

“Unnecessary sacrifice. You are too valuable to kill over a grudge.”

I smile, taking a cup. It’s scalding against my hands, but I hold it. It burns, but I like the pain. “Glad to hear it.”

There’s a pause. He sips on the green tea, mesmerized by the flames. The weather outside turns stormy. The rain splatters on the glass, leaving slim traces. I take this moment to calm down the nerve wracking desire to strangle someone with my bare hands.

I’m losing control again. Under my feet another set of vines grow. That’s inconceivable and pathetic. I should have better control.

“I’ll need your cloaking magic to get us through, and you on the lookout, while I dig.”

“What, you’re going to dig up every square meter in the gardens? They’re big.” I chime.

“That’s when you come in,” he says. “You possess magic. If the secret has magical roots, or is protected by an invisibility spell, you will smell it.”

“If it does not? If I don’t sense anything?”

“Plan B.”

“And that is?”

“Don’t know yet. I’m sure your educated and disciplined brain can help with that.” Kaytus gets up and goes somewhere, leaving me alone.

That is a tangible plan, it could work. Not attacking right away, but stealing the thing everybody wants. I’ll just have to think of a way to put it to safety before Kaytus can bring it directly to August. I do not believe his story. Loyal agents like him never leave their post. Not even when the leader is out of his mind, making rash decisions.