I let my head fall back on the sand and exhale my relief. My heartbeat pulses through my entire body, adrenaline still pumping through my veins, exhaustion and soreness aching in my muscles. Kind of missing that refresh that comes with a level-up.

If another cactus shows up before this night is out, I think I’m just going to let it eat me. Lord, I could use a drink.

The Crimson Aegis, meanwhile, is cheering in my mind. We did it! That foul creature has been banished. No monster or adversary can possibly stand against us! Next time we will win even more swiftly, our victory even more certain. The only blemish upon an otherwise flawless triumph was the lack of blood in such a loathsome creature. Pathetic! At the very least it should have—

I add the Crimson Aegis to my Inventory, and my mind becomes blissfully silent. It hadn’t even had a chance to react; I’m sure I’ll be hearing all about that later.

Darian stands over me, breathing hard, eyes on the now-felled monster. She wipes a hand across her brow, straightens up, and then turns to regard the rest of camp.

“Casualties?”

“None so far,” Prince Constance reports, striding back over to us. He waves a dismissive hand, and the second carrion cactus dissolves into motes of light behind him. The embers flicker out as they drift toward the ground, vanishing into the night.

There’s calls and answers, some asking for medical treatment, but he’s right that no one seems to be dead. That’s a small miracle itself—or maybe it was due to Constance’s strategy, containing the fight everywhere it threatened to get out of hand.

“You?” Darian asks, offering me a hand. “Injured?”

“Just my pride,” I say, accepting the help up. “I think you saved my life. Squished by a cactus would have been an embarrassing way to go.”

A faint smile threatens to overtake her perpetual glare. “Least I could do after you took that thing down. That’s some interesting magic you have. What type of arcana?”

“Er.” Echo? I ask helplessly. I don’t even really know what she’s asking.

[The user has a Blood Affinity.]

Oh, well that’s just peachy. And the shield? I ask.

[Inanimate objects cannot have Affinities.]

Great. But given its sanguine thirst, I’m starting to see a pattern.

“Blood, I guess,” I say to Darian.

“That’s… interesting,” the captain remarks.

Constance stops nearby, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Though likely the magic we just witnessed was due to something else entirely. I wish to speak with you about your shield.” He pauses then, gaze flickering around the scene. “What have you done with it?”

“I stored it in my Inventory,” I say.

Constance raises an eyebrow. “I have many questions.”

Yeah, so do I.

“Weapons talk can wait,” Darian says, clearly not understanding the unsettling connection Constance and I experienced through our respective weapons. “Where is Prince Quell? You said you were going stay with him.”

“I left him with the guards,” I say, gesturing toward the tents. Hesitantly glancing between Constance and Darian, I lead the way back to where I last saw Quell. “Figured the best way to protect him would be to deal with the monster first.”

She snorts, and there’s a hint of sarcasm in her tone when she responds. “Yes, that would be the easiest way, wouldn’t it?”

“I didn’t say it was easy.” I wrinkle my nose at the sand as I trip over some hidden stones. Walking on sand is really annoying. Each step takes more energy than it should, running in it feels like one of those slow-motion nightmares, and I’ve got about two cups of sand in my boots now. It’s only been a couple hours, and I’m already sick of it.

“You certainly made it look easy,” she says.

“They would, with a weapon like that,” Constance remarks. He turns to Darian. “Ensure they’re kept under close guard. Their arrival coupled with the attack on our camp is suspicious timing.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

I sigh, annoyed. “Why would I have helped out just now if I was the enemy? For that matter, why would I have freed Quell from the Umbral Blades in the first place?”

“Umbral Blades?” Constance and Darian repeat simultaneously.

“Are you sure?” Darian asks.

I hesitate. That was something Echo told me, though is there any evidence to support my claim? They weren’t wearing clothes with symbols on them, like these soldiers are. This knowledge might just make me sound even more suspicious. “Pretty sure,” I say.

Constance frowns.

Before I can think of any other ways to dig myself into a hole, we come upon Prince Quell, around whom has clustered a large group of guards. It’s like they’re multiplying.

Darian whistles sharply and jerks a thumb toward me. Earnest and Xamireb peel off from the group, taking up posts on either side of me once more. I guess I should have expected that.

“Is everything alright over here?” the captain asks.

Quell’s face floods with relief as he catches sight of me. “Thank the gods. I was worried I’d gotten you killed.”

“Not for lack of trying,” I say.

He grimaces, and I feel a sting of regret. A very, very small sting. I’m still mad at him for running into the fight.

Constance appears to be, too. “You shouldn’t be here. You were supposed to have left already. What if we’d been overwhelmed? Liz is gone, and if you or I became injured, or worse—do you know what that might have meant for our lineage?”

Quell’s grimace flickers into worry. “We don’t know that Liz is gone. We can still find her.”

Nearby, raised voices clamber through the din of camp, and Darian turns to the noise with a sigh. “What now?”

A group of guards rounds the nearest tent, towing a struggling woman between them. She’s a dhampyr, like Darian—and me, I guess—but her clothes are of white and purple silk; in the midst of all the soldiers, she looks starkly out of place.

“Captain,” one of the soldiers says upon finding Darian. “We found her attempting to flee the camp.”

They dump the woman on the sand at Darian and Constance’s feet.

“Ambassador Ashla,” Darian says, her voice weary. “What might be the cause of this disturbance?”

“This wasn’t me!” the woman cries. She looks up at the captain and the prince with a frazzled look. There are crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, and streaks of white in her long, dark hair. Her frame is thin, and her hands and clothes delicate. An ambassador would certainly make sense; she doesn’t have the build of a fighter. “I swear on Kero’s hands—”

“We also found this,” one of the guards says. They step up to Darian and Constance, holding out a wooden box. There’s a spiked design carved into the lid, and when they open it, the box is empty, save for padded cloth indented as if to hold a round object.

“A carrion seed holder,” Constance observes.

“What?” the ambassador cries. “No! I didn’t—I don’t know where that came from.”

Darian’s expression hardens. “Ambassador Ashla, why were you attempting to flee camp?”

“There was a fight,” she says, looking between everyone desperately. “I thought they’d come here to kill me.”

“Who was it you were expecting?” Constance demands. He glances briefly toward me, as if recalling something. “Were you working with the Umbral Blades?”

This seems to catch Ashla off guard. “You know about the Blades?”

Constance shakes his head in disappointment, and Darian sighs.

“Restrain her,” the captain commands. “I will speak with her privately.”

“As will I,” Constance agrees.

“No, wait!” the ambassador cries as the guards haul her to her feet and start to drag her away. “Please! This wasn’t me! This wasn’t Moonfall!”

Given Echo’s insight, I’m pretty darn sure it was.

Darian rubs a temple, turning back to me and Quell. “I need to handle this. She might have information on where Princess Felicity was taken. Prince Quell, I will meet you in the Command tent when all this is settled.”

Without waiting for a reply, she heads off.

I hesitate, looking between Quell and the retreating form of Darian. “What about me?” Not that I’m particularly thrilled to be tagging after Quell like a dog on a leash, but I’d also rather not get dragged away for interrogations like that ambassador. “Are we good?”

Prince Constance claps a hand on my shoulder; the grasp is heavy and firm. “I appreciate the tip about the Umbral Blades. And I appreciate you protecting my brother, if the story is to be believed. Your appearance and timing is still highly unusual, yet you fought beside us to protect the camp. I suspect, somehow, you are not actually involved in all of this. Even so, we will need to speak about that shield you carry. While the Captain and I deal with the traitor, I will be assigning several guards to you and my brother. I hope you understand that the protection of my family comes first.”

Well, that’s better than handcuffs and an interrogation. “I understand,” I say.

He gives my shoulder one last heavy thump, then turns and disappears into the camp after Darian. Four more soldiers fall into formation around me and Quell.

It doesn’t escape me how Darian had spoken differently to the two princes. Quell received orders, while Constance gave them. I guess it makes sense you would be paying more respect to your future king, but it still feels like Quell and I have been sent to sit at the kid’s table while the adults go have a talk.

Honestly though, I’m more than happy to take a breather. God knows I need one. It’s been one thing after another since I got here. Plus, Quell and I are overdue for a private chat.

I glance at the guards assigned to us. Well. Mostly private.

As we’re escorted to one of the few large tents further back in the camp, Quell turns to me. He chews at the corner of his lip and nervously fidgets with the broken lens of his glasses.

“You know, you’ve saved my life twice now, and I still don’t know your name.”

I raise an eyebrow. Not what I was expecting him to say. “You never asked.”

“I’m sorry.” He has the good sense to look ashamed. “This night has been a bit of a blur.”

Tell me about it. “It’s Nye,” I say.

His face lights up. “Nye. Thank you. I’m Quell.”

I snort. “Yeah, I know.”

“Ah, right,” he says, glancing away uncomfortably. “I’m the prince. Of course you know.”

His flustered behavior is so awkward, so completely opposite to his brother, it borders on amusing. I’m just some dude. He’s a freaking prince. “You don’t get out of the palace much, do you?”

He gives a wincing smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“Painfully,” I say, and I can’t help but give a small, ironic smile, as well.

At least I’m not the only one who’s out of their depth tonight.