Dignity didn’t get considered. Decorum couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I scooped Paladin Warren up into a princess carry and darted with him out into the hallway.

“Close your eyes and hold your breath. I’ve been told it helps.”

Before he could respond, I dashed for the source of the smoke. The smell was all around us, coming from multiple fires.

“B-ballroom!” Paladin Warren coughed.

I turned quickly, stockinged feet skidding on carpet until my claws tore through them into the stone floor. Keeping my feet shifted and my aura sight on, I ran back down the route we’d just come. From a side room, a door burst open and an acolyte tumbled out, bleeding.

The envy demon, a weaker greater demon than the one Gareth and I had killed, made the mistake of following the acolyte out into the hallway and into my path. Paltry two hands full and unwilling to grow more, I let my horns sprout and ducked my head forward.

The demon barely reacted in time before my hard horns and harder skull slammed into theirs. Bone cracked, blood sprayed, and the demon went down. I kicked at them with my foot claws on the way by, sending them tumbling into the wall opposite the door, dazed and badly hurt.

I skidded nearly to a halt, claws screeching, ready to finish the demon.

A shout from inside the room—a human shout—gave me relief and I trusted that the pair of acolytes could finish the envy demon off. In my arms, Paladin Warren shouted as well, but I hadn’t paid attention.

“What?”

“Nevermi—just keep going!”

“Gotcha!” I smiled and sped up again, turning the last corner into the ballroom, claws clacking on the bare floor.

The doors were closed—barred from this side—so I simply went through them. Horns first.

Immediately, I was hit with a chaotic wall of noise. Panicked shouts and screams overlaid orders from acolytes and the few remaining estate guards, drowning them out. Underneath all of it was the cracking of fire. A few guests had been pounding on the doors when I went through, and they were sent tumbling out over the ballroom floor.

I’d worry about them if it wasn’t for the flickering light coming from the fire. Above the main hall, the gallery was a ring of fire. The lush curtains flanking the windows had turned into pillars of flame, likely too hot for mortals to dash through.

And all the doors had been barred shut. Swiftly, I hid my horns and clawed feet, hoping that the chaos would obfuscate them. I also set the squirming Paladin Warren down. But even as I did, my limbs grew heavy.

The flames transfixed me. The heat burned not at my body, but my mind.

Was this what it was like for Tania? For the others who died in the fire?

My house had been like this, my only home. Bodies on the ground like Countess Relitz, staring dead-eyed up into flames until the heat boiled them out of their skulls.

“—Miller! Marchioness Miller! Can you do anything to control the flames?” Paladin Warren’s voice broke through, distant.

I scrunched my eyes shut and bit my lip. This fire cannot hurt me.

It cannot hurt me.

Moreover, the paladin might have a point. The fire wasn’t demonic—it was mundane to my aura sight, even if traces of magic lingered all about the massive room. Perhaps I could control it?

I ignored Duke Reynard’s frantic shouting. Put out of my mind the cries of the acolytes still tending to the fallen Duchess Kapel. I walked to the center of the room and looked up.

I need to be closer.

My wings, fire made manifest, sprung out from my back, burning two neat holes into my dress, their heat contained by my will. I rose on them, in the warm current of the room, and threw out my arms. Fire and heat, my magic was of the same.

That spell of mine, the radius of heat and flame. Looking at the structure, pulling it apart and reversing it, using the wind magic Seyari had gifted me…

Slowly, my senses extended to the mundane flames. First, they tinged crimson, then lit my color. Then they bent toward me, heat retracting. Slowly, I pulled the heat from them, retracting my magic, and with it, the flames.

The heat in the air and the currents holding me aloft dissipated as the fires in the ballroom went out. Focused as I was, I barely noticed I’d been descending until my bare feet touched the still-warm floor. Ending the spell that sustained my wings of fire, I opened my eyes.

More than half of the crowd were staring at me. I scanned over the people, relieved to find Countess Elstein among them. Above us, the gallery was in ruins, but the main floor of the ballroom was merely singed.

“There are other fires throughout the estate,” I started. “Paladin Warren’s acolytes and the estate guards are battling other demons. We should stay here until the way out is safe.”

Several people were looking at the doors I’d burst through, and some others had already gone through them.

“Listen to her!” Duke Reynard shouted, stepping through the crowd. “We must remain calm—my guards and the Church forces have things well in hand. That was quite the display, Marchioness Miller.”

I nodded respectfully. “What of the duchess?”

Duke Reynard shook his head. “The healers are unable to best the magicked poison in her veins, I’m afraid. Whatever demons did this, we will find them.”

I felt anger at that last sentence, but it was a cold, distant emotion. And unfortunately, while I had my suspicions about the man, I couldn’t voice them. Right now, he was taking charge and keeping things calm.

Unfortunately, Paladin Warren was now looking at me with a curious expression I really didn’t like.

***

Paladin Gareth Warren had a realization, a creeping, awful realization. Had Zarenna planned this whole thing to look like a hero?

She was at the right places at the right times. She’d disguised herself as human by some means or another that spoke of planning.

“Paladin Warren, sir?” a quiet voice next to him asked. Kord.

“Yes, Acolyte Kord?” the paladin watched Zarenna descend from the middle of the room on wings of crimson fire, watched the demonic mana filter back out of the air and into her, taking the flames with it.

“Marchioness Miller isn’t a bad person—I don’t think.”

“What makes you say that, boy?” Paladin Warren kept his voice low as Duke Reynard stepped forward.

“She saved people from demons before, in Linthel. I was there—saw her demon form.”

What does she really look like? Warren didn’t ask that question, instead, he struggled to contain his anger. “Why then, did you not tell me this?”

“High Priest’s orders, sir. I’m sorry—I really am.”

“The same high priest who only gave us you?”

Kord nodded sheepishly.

“I’ve an inquiry to start then; this whole thing reeks of sabotage. I wonder if she’s got her claws in high places.” He stopped just short of directly accusing a High Priest of consorting with demons.

At that moment, Zarenna turned to look at Paladin Warren, her eyes human. He froze, then studied her gaze. No malice, no fear, just relief. He’d seen greater demons and their tricks before, but Zarenna was good, and was playing some long game.

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Why it included him when she’d plenty of opportunities for him to conveniently die, he didn’t know. But he was determined to find out.

“No human could have done that trick, Marchioness,” he said firmly. “The amount of mana needed would strain even the greatest of mages, and your other display was not so long ago.”

Her too-perfect lips twisted into a confused-seeming frown. “Perhaps my hunts have granted me strength beyond mortal means. But now is certainly not the time for an investigation.”

Bullshit, he thought. “Awfully convenient for you to be the hero tonight, Marchioness.”

“Paladin Warren!” Duke Reynard snapped. “The marchioness is right! We must ensure the other demons are defeated. Go again with the marchioness or wait here to defend—I don’t care, just get it done. This is no time to engage in fractious talk.”

The rebuke stung, and Gareth bit his tongue. The duke’s behavior confused him; could he be under her thrall? No—there was no tell-tale aura. Paladin Warren watched the marchioness’s reaction and tried to think. He’d heard talons on stone, and her stockings were torn. He’d surely seen horns sprouting from her head, and demonic eyes. What manner of transformation did she have? What sort of demon could she be?

Marchioness Miller frowned, then turned to the duke. “This may be above my station, but if you would please keep order and find who is missing? Perhaps also have your guards arrange into defensive positions? I’d like a word with Paladin Warren.”

“Your impertinence is… accepted,” the duke said tersely. “Very well.” With that, he turned and shouted toward the crowd, even urging the pianist to resume their station in an attempt to maintain calm.

An about-face of attitude toward the marchioness. Hadn’t he been certain of her inhumanity? Paladin Warren hadn’t heard a single good word about Marchioness Miller from Duke Reynard before tonight. Something was going on.

“Paladin Warren?” Marchioness Miller asked, suddenly looming over him.

“Y-yes?” He reached reflexively for his sword, knowing full well he was at a disadvantage this close.

She stuck out her human-looking hand. “Observe my aura.”

He stared into her eyes, looking for any deception.

“Why do you Church folks always scrutinize me if your mind’s already made up?” she sighed, suddenly candid. “Every time it just gets my hopes up that maybe you’ll go against dogma.”

Brow furrowing, Paladin Warren stuck his hand out. “Every time?”

Marchioness Zarenna Miller nodded, and her hand transformed in his, skin flushing crimson beneath silver-white gloves. Before Paladin Warren could respond, his vision flooded with her aura and his knees went weak.

A mass of crimson, deep like an ocean and barely contained by the outline of her body, burst forth almost blindingly. The paladin had seen many auras, from high priests to half-angels, to greater demons of many types.

But this…

He’d witnessed an angel’s aura once, Berethiel, and he’d had to look away. This… this did not quite blind him, but it was close.

By Dhias, she’s a true monster. A destroyer of kingdoms.

And then the aura was gone, skin once again pale, and Paladin Warren looked up into eyes softer than they had any right to be.

“That is what I am. I am not playing whatever games of deception you think I am. If I wanted to destroy humanity here tonight, I would not play games. You all would simply feel fire and rage, then nothing.” Her voice was almost… sad. “Please… this is not a threat—this is a fact. I do not take pleasure in ending lives.”

For a moment, Paladin Warren was almost convinced. He shook his head and grabbed his hand back from hers. “No… I will not cave to threats, demon. I… may still be able to save some lives by slowing you down.”

“Do you intend to fight me then?”

Paladin Warren glared at her, and her odd choice of a sad expression.

“I have no intention of hurting anyone other than enemy demons and would-be murderers tonight. Surely you must know you couldn’t really protect anyone if I did.”

The paladin swallowed. She’s right, damnit. Unless she somehow evaded my magic earlier—or the fog in the servant’s quarters.

“Please, let’s go get the rest of the estate under control. I’ll follow your lead.”

Paladin Warren hissed a breath out between clenched teeth. “Demon, I—”

“Paladin Warren, we’re losing her!” someone shouted from within the crowd.

Gareth’s head snapped up. Duchess Kapel. The demonically-magicked poison!

***

I followed Paladin Warren over to where Duchess Kapel was still on the ground, head now propped up by a rolled evening coat someone had donated. The bun her dark hair was in was loose, strands sticking out haphazardly. Acolyte Kord tagged along behind us, and I had a sneaking suspicion he’d heard everything, though he kept quiet.

Oh well.

The paladin didn’t have to say a word for space to be made for him to kneel. His eyes glowed, and he placed a hand gently against her neck. “Damn. You can’t burn it out?”

One of the Church folks, a healer probably, shook her head. “Not without risking killing her.”

“Well she’s going to die anyway, isn’t she?” Paladin Warren snapped. I’d felt anger from him since he’d apparently decided I was at fault for this mess, but it was rising rapidly.

He must be out of patience. I crouched down to join the group gathered around the stricken duchess.

“A better healer might be able to do something, sir.”

I drained the paladin’s anger, battering aside his defenses to do so. He gulped down a snappy reply and side eyed me with a “why are you here” expression. “We are trapped here until the estate is cleared. How long does she have?”

“If we keep at it, perhaps until dawn, but the more we fight it, the more it corrupts her.” She pointed at the duchess’s pale, almost bluing complexion, and I saw small bumps under her forehead’s skin. Horns?

Wait, what if Joisse’s magic… “My wife is a half-angel,” I blurted. “A strong one.” And she’s not the best at healing—but she’s at least as capable as these acolytes and I have a strong sense my daughter could fix this.

“Is she with you in the city?” the healer responded before wilting under Paladin Warren’s glare.

And here I was hoping for an ally. Damn it all.

“She’s in Astrye, but I can fly there in just a few hours.”

The healer shook her head.

Paladin Warren turned to me, his face grim. “Marchioness Miller, that is a ridiculous suggestion and I cannot condone it. Not only would the duchess be unlikely to survive such a flight, we do not know where your allegiance lies, and we cannot count on the veracity of your words.”

I took one more look at the downed duchess and stood up. Her life hangs in the balance, and I am not going to waste time bickering.

“Paladin Warren!” a young voice boomed over the crowd before I could speak. “We’ve secured the west wing, and are reinforcing the east wing!”

“Do you have it in hand?” Duke Reynard replied from somewhere near the other side of the crowd.

“I-I think so?” the young man stuttered at the sudden attention from the duke. “We made the demons we were fighting retreat!”

Now, Paladin Warren stood up, shouting right next to my ear. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, sir!”

The paladin turned to glare down at me.

I blinked at him. “Seriously? What kind of mental hoops are you going through to—never mind. Duke Reynard!” I walked over to the duke with a determined step, then said more softly, “Duchess Kapel’s condition is grim, and they say they cannot heal her. She has mere hours, even with the treatment she’s received.

“You’ve seen the spell that gives me wings of fire. With them, I can get her to my wife who is a powerful half-angel and should be able to heal her. As the host of this event, and I presume the highest ranking among nobility present, may I take her?”

The duke looked at me askance. “Across the mountains to Astrye, in her condition?”

I nodded hesitantly, “I can be there within three hours, and my magic can both shield her and keep her warm during flight.”

Paladin Warren stomped over, forcing his way through the crowd. “Duke Reynard, you cannot possibly consider this! It’s irresponsible! By morning, we may well have the estate cleared.”

Duke Reynard glanced at the crowd, now anxiously watching us. “Since the war, you must know I have reduced the Church’s influence in my duchy. Due to your practice of hoarding mages capable of healing magic, there is no healer within half a day’s ride by the fastest carriage that could do more than you and yours.”

Paladin Warren held his tongue, inhaling through his nose while looking between the two of us. “Does this mean you are endorsing… Marchioness Zarenna taking the duchess to Astrye by way of a fast, frigid flight?”

“I see no other option. Would you rather tie her to my fastest horse and hope she survives the ride? And hope that a healer may be found?”

Paladin Warren clenched his teeth, but said nothing.

“Thank you, Duke Reynard. I will do my utmost to ensure she arrives at a healer in time.” I bowed and walked past the fuming paladin to the acolytes. “How long will she have without you?”

The healer shook her head. “Two hours, three at the most. The corruption is spreading as well, and it’ll only get worse the longer we wait.”

I looked up at the gallery, at the scorched entrance to one of the balconies where a cold, winter wind was coming in through. “Help make sure I’m carrying her safely.”

“Paladin Warren?” The healer tilted their head at the paladin.

“Go ahead,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Thank you, Paladin Warren,” I replied honestly.

He didn’t meet my gaze.

With the help of the acolytes, I soon had Duchess Kapel’s limp form in a princess carry. She was simultaneously ice cold and burning with fever, shaking in her sleep.

“I suppose I should thank you for inviting me to the Winter Solstice Ball, Duke Reynard. I wish things had not gone awry. Shall I return later tonight, to help?”

The duke stiffened. “I assure you my people have this well enough in hand.”

I shrugged. “Suit yourself.” I turned to the window, and the healer’s hands finally left the duchess. Crouching first, I lit up my wings when she was clear, then took off with a leap.

Only to find a weight attached to my ankle: Paladin Warren. Reflexively, I almost kicked him off.

“I won’t… let you just do as you please!” he choked out, face strained with exertion. His anger had bubbled up again, but it didn’t have quite the same vitriol as before.

“Then hang on!” I replied, gliding out the window before pouring more power into my wings, flaring them out wider and wider.

The paladin’s barehanded grip on my ankle, gauntlets dangling from his hips, didn’t have the same tenacity as the fierceness in his eyes. Rising above the estate, I sent a mental apology to Countess Elstein for the alterations, then shifted out of my human transformation. The paladin’s eyes went wide, and he fought to cling onto my leg as my tail grabbed around his torso.

“I have enough arms to carry you too, Paladin. Unless you want to spend the whole flight clinging to my leg unable to aid the duchess?” Whether he let go out of surprise or assent, I didn’t take the time to check, and I flung him up into my arms, parallel below the duchess. “Let me know if you get cold—I’ll try to keep you warm and the winds out; and in return please don’t stab me.”

My magic hummed to life around us, a bubble of insulating wind. “Oh, I might have undersold how fast I can fly.”

Spiraling upward, flames from my wings trailed like a comet as I accelerated, turning horizontal toward the southeast.