“Tell me she’s with you.”

Haroun looked up when Brendis slammed in through the throne room doors. The hero was dressed in full armor and had his sword in hand, but Haroun rather doubted he was planning to use it.

Brendis was many things, but he had never enjoyed random violence. Much more of a ‘directed intent’ sort of person. Haroun appreciated that about him, all things considered.

With a gesture, he held off the guards. None of them would stand a chance against Brendis in a real fight. Particularly when the hero was spoiling for a brawl.

“It would help,” he said, and traded nods with the king. Kef was a good ruler, and Haroun was happy to support his reign, but this was a matter between the oldest of friends. “If you told me which ‘she’ we were discussing.”

There were several possibilities, but Haroun had a sinking feeling deep in his chest. One that only ever heralded terrible things.

“Raeca,” Brendis confirmed, and seemed to realize that Haroun was listening intently. He put away his sword and came over to Haroun’s side. “Her house; it’s been burned to the ground, and there’s no sign of her anywhere.”

“She wasn’t—”

“In the house? No. I looked.”

There was immeasurable pain in his old friend’s eyes. Haroun understood. There was little worse than searching for the body of a loved one in the bones of a burned home.

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He had done it far too many times over his many lives.

Calliope had a real fondness for fire. It was one of his least favorite things about her.

“Any idea what happened?” he asked instead, and took Brendis through a doorway into his private study. The room was quiet and cooled by water that flowed in a channel around the edges of the room to combat the heat. “Besides the obvious, I mean.”

“Mitso saw soldiers going up that way,” Brendis tugged off his armor quickly and collapsed into a chair. He looked tired, and sad. “About thirty, all told. More than Raeca could fight.”

“If Raeca could fight at all,” Haroun said bitterly. He tried to teach their healer the art of defensive magic, but without success. “She doesn’t have the heart to harm anyone, even to save herself.”

“She’s too good for any of us,” Brendis agreed. All the fight flowed out of him at once and he scrubbed a hand through his dirty brown hair. “It was Calliope.”

“Likely, yes,” Haroun said quietly. He began loading components into the pouches on his belt, readying for a true fight. Calliope was never easy prey, and harder when she was backed into the castle-lair she built over the centuries. She killed him more times than he cared to admit, mostly in the walls of that cursed-white castle. “You love her.”

“Calliope?” Brendis looked up, hurt and anger in his eyes. “No. Not for a dozen lives or more.”

Well, well. Brendis finally came up with some good sense. That was unexpected. It was about bloody time, in absolute honestly.

“Raeca,” Haroun corrected with a sigh of resignation. How did Brendis ever survive without him? “You’re in love with Raeca.”

“Oh,” Brendis blinked, winced, and fiddled with his sword awkwardly before looking anywhere but Haroun. “Yes. For almost a year now.”

“That’s what I thought,” Haroun said, and rolled his eyes. Idiot. Best friends they might be, but there was no question which of them was the smart one, and it wasn’t Brendis. “Alright, Hero. Let’s go get your lady back, and maybe kill Calliope while we’re at it.”