The banquet hall turns out to be quite easy to find, once I’d gotten close enough to like a dog follow the scent of food there.

And once I've arrived, it's immediately clear who Alex is. The hall's long tables are all empty except for a one solitary guy, who's sitting by in its far end and gnawing angrily at a chicken leg. He must be getting in the way of the servants setting up the table, but they all choose to swirl around him to put down the goblets and knives instead of telling him off or making him move.

He swallows his last mouthful, raises his head—and makes eye contact with me from across the room.

For one single second, his face lights up.1

Then it goes intensely dark, his mouth pinching shut and his nostrils flaring. He puts the chicken leg down, wipes his greasy hand on a handkerchief, and stands up while scowling furiously at me.

I take that as my cue. Warily, I walk slowly up to him.

He doesn’t actually look that different from Luke. Alex is both a little broader and a little shorter than Luke, but their coloring and features echo each other in a way that make it clear they're brothers. Their energy, however, is totally different. Luke's blue eyes are calm and trustworthy, like the surface of a lake. Alex's are icy and challenging, more like a river in winter. Looking at them makes you both want to jump straight in and also run in the total opposite direction.

“Uh. Hi, Alex,” I say. I fidget in place. Right now, I was landing mostly on the run side of the two possible reactions to Alex.

His scowl deepens. “Ah! The great lady herself has come. Glad to know you’re in one piece.” His irritated eyes flick up and down my appearance—and then double back.

His gaze goes thoughtful as it lingers on my getaway bag, then the mud on the hem of my clothes.

I take a deep breath.

“I—I have something to tell you.”

Alex… listens. I was afraid he wouldn't. But his face goes sharp and keen as he listens to my rambling words without interruption.

Tripping over the syllables, I tell him that attacks are coming, that he has to close the Keep, that he has to put guards on the watchtowers immediately.

When I've finally run out of words, he leans away from me and crosses his arms.

"How do you know this? How sure are you?”

I hesitate.

His face darkens. But it's not like the pouty, childish anger from before. This time, it's vicious and dark, like a snowstorm in January.

“Are the attackers rebels?" he demands. "Have you been communicating with them?”

I blink.

In Chess Games of Blood, Alex eventually aligned himself with the rebels—who of course had no idea who he really was until the very end, because otherwise they would have sooner killed him than supported him. Because of you know, the whole rebelling against the King and overthrowing the nobility thing rebels do. And in this world, you couldn't get more "noble-y" than the Silverwoods, who were filthy-rich and have been closely-aligned with the royal family since forever.2

Given all that, it makes total sense that before the massacre, Alex would hate the rebels and be totally paranoid about them.3

But that he'd suspect Aurelia of all people of being in contact with them?

That's... unexpected.

“Uhm… no?” I decide on at last.

Alex’s unimpressed stare tells me that I’m being extremely unconvincing.

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I say, in a stronger tone and with more insistence, “They’re not rebels.”

“Then—“

I cut in. “I can tell you more later, but seriously, we don’t have the time. We have to make preparations now."

And that's all true, of course. It's just also true that I'm hoping to survive this and make my escape before he can ask me these questions again.

Alex looks at me for another second, his eyes narrowing.

Then he strides pass me and straight towards the doors.

“Wait, Alex!" I scramble after him. "I’m telling you the truth, I swear!"

Shouldn't Aurelia be able to convince him? Is it because he can tell I'm not Aurelia? Is Or is it that he doesn't actually trust me that much?

But if he doesn't listen, Mrs. Morrell will die, Winfred will die, Luke will die, everyone outside the Keep gates will die. "You have to—"

“Luke!” Alex shouts as he throws open the hall doors. “Luke, I need to speak to you!"

He's walking down the hallway so fast that I have to actually run to keep up with him. God, he better not make me trip. I'm not sure breaking my neck on a stone floor is really a better way to die than being murdered.

All the servants going in the opposite direction turn to look at us as we pass. But none actually say anything to us. Instead, they just sort of roll their eyes and make tsk-ing noises as they avoid our path.

Alex turns around the corner and out of my sight. Again he yells, “Luke! Luke, I need—“

“Why are you screaming my name and terrorizing the servants, Alex?” A deep, fondly exasperated voice rings out.

I turn too, and there Luke is, striding up to us at a sedate pace. Alex abruptly breaks, and I bang into his back, catching myself just before I totally slip and smash my face into the floor.

“We’re about open the Keep gates, show some respect for our family image," Luke says as he comes to a stop right in front of Alex.

Alex doesn't beat around the bush.

“Attackers are coming tonight,” he says bluntly. His head tilts just slightly up, so that he can stare Luke straight in the eye. “They’re after the Keep.”

Luke's expression freezes.

"How..." He starts—but then trails off as his gaze shifts over to me, standing just behind Alex.

It'd probably be smarter to look away from that probing look—but I find that I'm totally unable to.

Whatever he sees in my face though, it must be enough.

Luke nods sharply, just once. Then he swings around and strides in the opposite direction and around the corner.

Alex and me follow right after him, and come out into a massive, ornate room absolutely teeming with people.

I've no idea what the room is called and what purpose it serves, obviously, but it sure feels important.

"Raise the alarm," Luke declares into the crowd. He's not shouting, but his voice seems to carry to every corner of the massive room anyway. "Black flag. Ready all sentries."

Everyone around him freezes. One girl's rag even hangs suspended in the air.

Then the world bursts into chaos.

Servants scramble in all directions, guards shout angry-sounding rapid instructions at each other, some kid starts crying. It's an absolute cacophony of noise, so chaotic that I just want to put my hands to my ears and drown it out.

Alex walks up to Luke again. His lips are set in a grim, tight line.

"I'll let you speak to Father," he says. "I'll inform Captain Rogers and have it announce that all Festival attendees must immediately disperse and arm themselves."

Luke nods. "Tell him all women and children who wish to enter the Keep and seek sanctuary shall be allowed to do so. Men, we will accept only if they pledge to defend the Keep to the death once the attack commences. Those not ready or able to make that oath should hide or flee."

Alex nods. "What should I tell him about the Keep's defensive arrangements? We have talented archers and reinforced watchtowers, but they will not hold for long, especially at our weak points. Should the archers—“

Their speech is fast and clipped but assured, like they've run these complicated defense strategems by each other everyday. As they continue talk, they lean towards each other and away from me.

... Which is good, because at the very moment, I'm pressing myself against the stone walls and using it to guide myself slowly and silently away from them. Closer and closer to the turn out of the room.

Eventually, my foot bumps into the edge of the archway.

They're still not paying me any attention.

I pull myself behind it—and then twist around and sprint away as fast as I can.

There's a clatter and a shout behind me. I've no idea whether that's a reaction to me or something else. But I lean forward and push my legs to go even faster.

I keep on running, into the bowels of the Keep.

===

1. Wow, the books really weren’t exaggerating. Alex is like, really into Aurelia. I guess I shouldn't be that surprised, since Prime!Alex mourned Prime!Aurelia for the rest of his life, even after he married Linivia (who is, by the way, an awesome female character and totally deserved better than her broody psychopath of a husband), but... I don't know, the intensity of it. I never imagined anyone would ever look at me like that. Though I guess, technically, I still haven't, as one, this isn't real life, and two, it's not really me Alex is looking at.

2. Honestly, when I think about it like that, it makes total sense that the Queen sent her people to murder the Silverwoods. She couldn't exactly usurp the throne with such powerful loyalists just hanging around. Not that I like, condone the murdering or anything. I'm just saying it makes practical sense, which can't be said for every other character choice in the books.

3. Though to be fair (?) to Alex, it's not like he ever stopped hating the rebels and being all paranoid about them either. Prime!Alex just followed "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" thinking for a bit. Then after overthrowing the King, he brutally murdered all the rebels at the victory feast (minus a few personally loyal to him), and claimed the crown for himself. So you know, least he's consistent like that.