“The victors return home. The fallen march on to meet the ancestors.”

That is how the duke of Victory greets his daughter as she stops before him. Then the northerners all bow their heads, holding the gesture for several long moments. Paying their respects, I suppose. Must be traditional because there are no dead to pay respects to this time around. I contemplate joining them but, knowing how seriously the northerners take their traditions and the trouble the last group that took them lightly ended up in, I abstain. The other outsiders join me in my awkwardness, some less awkward than others having already experienced this before.

“Father.” After a minute, the silence ends and the northerners spring into action. Civilians and servants swarm the wagons, laying down thick blankets. The knights get busy unloading our spoils but the area surrounding the James family is a spot of stillness. “We should speak inside.”

“Oh? Not going to flaunt that trophy of yours?” Kalise says, jerking her head in the direction of the wagon holding the goliath head. “What a shame, papa cat. She’s the first that didn’t come running to show off to daddy. Are you disappointed?”

The duke’s expression doesn’t twitch as he stares at Alana. She swallows before glancing toward me. Geneva. Bring the goods.

The wagon holding our captives is separate from the others. For their safety, Alana limited contact between them and the rest of the army. Victory doesn’t have prisons or dungeons. They don’t take prisoners. Rumors of Khan’s betrayal and monster sympathy spread with the usual speed of such things. With us refusing to give any details, the knights came to their own conclusions, and those conclusions led to murderous thoughts. Thankfully, they are a disciplined group, so it didn’t come to us having to beat them back, but a little distance was best for everyone.

As Geneva walks the bound Khan up to us, his mother’s smile wanes, replaced by a confused frown. “Why is my son bound?”

“A conversation we should have inside.”

“You—"

The duke places a hand on her shoulder. The barbarian shrugs it off and glares at him.

“Kalise,” Eleanor says. “Don’t make a scene.”

“Don’t—" She bites her lip under the pressure of two stern gazes. Then her eyes move to Khan, flicking over him. I don’t need my succubi to know she’s checking him for injuries. She may be crude and violent but it seems she’s a bit of a doting mother. Only after her visual examination is complete does she relent, huffing as she turns and stomps toward the house.

Khan doesn’t look happy for her concern. The opposite. He slumps once her eyes fall on him, refusing to lift his head. If an artist wanted to paint the word guilty, he would make an excellent model. He’s having a lot of trouble with his betrayal. Really makes me wonder what he experienced that would make him do it in the first place.

“You must be hungry. Come. I’ve had food prepared.”

“Thank you, Father.”

The celebratory mood of the rest of the army is left behind as we enter the house. A meal has been prepared as promised. It’s all cold but I suppose meat that isn’t jerky, soft rolls, and fruit would be as welcome as a royal banquet to a returning army. If we were any other army. To me, it’s as appetizing as travel rations. Still, I add a few bites to a plate and nibble on them to hide from the tension in the room.

“Time you tell us what this is about, Alana,” Kalise grumbles, ignoring the food. No pet names. I note it as a sign that she’s serious.

“Mm.” Her eyes move to her mother, who slipped into the seat at the end of the table with impressive aplomb considering that she is very much hated by most of the people at this table. Roza meets Alana’s gaze and holds it. “This is a conversation for James.”

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“The southern sun hasn’t melted your northern heart, sweetheart.” Her mother turns to the duke. “What do you think, my lord? Is the mother of your daughter not family?”

I fully expect him to send her away but, to my surprise, the duke grunts in acknowledgment. “Speak.”

My future saint doesn’t look happy speaking in front of Roza but her father has the last word in the north. Besides that, Kalise looks like she is at the end of her patience, her eyes continuously flicking to the bound Khan seated beside Kierra. Alana takes a deep breath before speaking quickly. “I have not spoken before the family often but I want you all to be aware that I value my word like any James and understand the weight they have. I hope we don’t waste time wondering whether or not you can trust me or suspecting some kind of agenda—"

“Get on with it!” the barbarian snaps, visibly bristling.

“Calm,” Kierra says. They lock gazes, two predators sizing each other up. The danger of offending my wife is the prodding Kalise needs to come back to herself. Taking a deep breath, she settles into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

Alana is obviously fighting a bout of nerves as she continues. “On the night I made the decision to return to Victory, Khan entered my shelter. He warned us that a storm was heading our way and we should delay marching for a day.”

We agreed that it’d be better not to discuss the estrazi and the possible world-ending threat they are either nurturing or guarding. The duke will learn of them but it’d be better for us to let Khan tell that story. We want distance from this whole mess. Honestly, all of Victory should be keeping their distance from whatever is in the north but that isn’t going to happen.

“I delayed our march, resting my army for a day. On the morning we departed, we were ambushed by an enemy force. Archers fired arrows laced with poison while invisible scouts charged the army. Their objective was to retrieve Khan.”

“Oi.” Kalise gets to her feet, followed by Kierra. The barbarian spares the elf a look as her hands ball at her sides. “I see why you gave that pretty speech now. If you weren’t a member of this family and said what you said, I would have thrown you into a wall. As it is, you get one chance. Say what you mean.”

“Khan has been colluding with an enemy force beyond Victory. Knowing or unknowingly, he led us into an ambush. As I said, the enemies’ purpose was to retrieve him. He is undoubtedly connected to them, though I don’t know to what extent.”

There is silence for several moments as Kalise bows her head, processing the accusation. As we marched back to Victory, I wondered if his son’s betrayal would be enough to shatter the duke’s mask. I looked forward to it. Now, that the event has come to pass, I feel none of the excitement I thought I might watching the icy facade melt. It is not a pretty sight. Somehow, all the quiet wrath of a northern storm is contained in the furrow of his brows and the curl of his lips. Alana’s father is furious but that isn’t enough to make him lose control.

Interestingly, the person I would expect to have the fiercest reaction, Eleanor, is not boiling over with rage or taking the time to lord it over her rival. She’s nervous, which is rather disturbing. Her blue eyes, pale as ice chips, bounce between Kalise and her husband with obvious hesitancy. She seems reluctant to enter this vipers’ nest of a conversation and I don’t blame her. Always knew she was smart.

There is also someone who is not so smart at this table. Someone who does take the opportunity to needle the wife that’s barely holding herself back.

“Your father warned you about marrying outside of the north, didn’t he, my lord?” Roza says, lazily chewing a bite of fruit. “The two of you had quite the fight. He said you had no respect for tradition. You said—"

“Traditions change,” the duke growls.

“I imagine this isn’t the change you imagined.”

“Shut your fecking mouth, you useless cock juggler!”

“Better than a traitorous southern pig,” Roza throws back, unphased by the insult. Given that Kalise looks ready to rip her head from her shoulders, that’s impressive. Alana’s mother certainly has a stiff spine. “Khan has always been a coward, hasn’t he? Always clung to his mother. Despite his weak will, I can’t see him colluding with enemies on his own. At the behest of his overbearing mammy, however…”

“Stop.”

Khan’s voice is soft but firm, drawing the room’s attention. He raises his head. After several stressful days of barely sleeping and poor meals, he looks rough. The fear in his features and the tension in his shoulders doesn’t help. His gaze is resolute though. “My mother had nothing to do with this. Do not involve her.”

“She is involved. We are all involved.” The duke rises from his chair. He takes a single step toward Khan but Kalise steps in front of him. One of her hands rises but she stops before touching his chest. The anger around him is enough to keep her at bay. “Move.”

Kalise babbles in a language I don’t recognize, which is strange since the kingdom only has one language, Common, which she eventually switches back to. “—please. Let him speak. You know our son.”

“There is nothing he can say that will excuse his sin. I have changed some traditions but there are some things that will never change.”

“Please, Erenhart.”

“…move.”

At the second command, Kalise takes two stiff steps aside. The duke doesn’t move, a little of the tension in his face easing after she backs down. “He will speak to me.”