Lyra couldn't help being nervous, although she kept the look of disdain on her face as her and her brother rode through Hjor. The town hadn't changed too much, although the stone wall had reached the river and was carefully being built over it. There were also more men about, rough fighter types with bear tattoos creeping out from their shirts or roaring from their arms.

Ulris was at the door with their mother. Lyra dismounted, a servant taking her horse. She'd missed having servants.

Fenrin greeted their mother, letting her touch his cheek fondly. Lyra looked at her coldly but the beautiful woman, age barely showing on her pale face smiled warmly. "Welcome home, Lyra."

Lyra stiffened and Fenrin walked through the door before things got heated. His sister followed but only became more tense in the familiar halls that had been her prison for so many years.

Ulris followed as well, "May I suggest a brief respite to recover from your travels before dinner?"

To let heads cool. Lyra nodded stiffly and Ulris led her upstairs to her old room, giving a bow before leaving. She stood at the familiar doorway. Her room was the same.

"You're not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?" Fenrin asked casually, leaning on the wall opposite the entrance.

Lyra shot him a scornful glance and he held his hands up peaceably. "Just asking, you look like a horse about to bust out of the stable stall."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Fenrin nodded and left, heading to his own quarters. Lyra went into the room.

The bed had been made and when she stepped into the adjacent bathroom, she found a hot bath ready. Habitually glancing around for any enemies, Lyra shut the door before undressing and slipping into the bath. The warm water helped relax her coiled muscles and the steam cleared her head. As much as she hated to admit it, Fenrin was right, every fiber of her wanted to leave this place.

The door opened and Lyra instinctively reached for her dagger, tossing it at the person who entered. The knife plunged into the shoulder of the maid, who dropped the towels she was bringing and opened her mouth soundlessly. Her eyes turned to the blood oozing out of her shoulder and she screamed.

One of Bryn's men burst into the room, sword drawn. The maid turned around and fainted and Lyra, standing in the tub, her shaking body dripping wet screamed, "GET OUT!"

The man scooped up the maid and fled the room. Lyra slowly sank back into the water, her body still trembling.

She was a cornered animal, ready to sink her claws into anything as she clawed her way out of this cage. She covered her face with her hands frustrated by the effect the manor was having on her. This was stupid. She was over it. She had to get over it.

After a few minutes, there was a rap on the door. "May I come in?" It was Ulris.

"Yes." Lyra managed to keep her voice steady. The older man opened the door.

Lyra's was hunched over, wet hair hiding her face. He sighed and retrieved the dropped towel, walking over and placed it, neatly folded, on a stool near the tub.

"Now then, mistress Lyra, even you should see that was uncalled for." She wanted to snap at him, but his voice wasn't incredulous, just stern and matter-of-fact.

Unapologetically she responded, "It was an accident. She should have knocked."

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She looked up at the man who she'd spent more time with than any of her actual family. He nodded. "True, but surely you haven't gone so feral as to be unable to control yourself."

She hissed as he fished for an apology. "It won't happen again, but tell the staff to be more careful."

Ulris nodded satisfied. "Understood, but you may find yourself a bit short staffed for a while. If you need anything, you know where to find me." The man got up to leave and Lyra nodded.

"Oh, and I'll be sending master Fenrin in to announce dinner ready."

Lyra made a face but nodded again as Ulris left.

As the door shut, she grabbed the towel and dried herself off. She put her old outfit on, leather breeches and a black shirt, loose enough to hide the belt of daggers at the small of her back. Last a leather shirt, with a myriad of small pockets, a signature creation of the guild.

She left the bathroom and paced her bedroom. She opened the door opposite and entered her small study. Her hand drawn notes and pictures of herbs were still pinned to the wall, the bookshelves packed with books ranging from political histories, to cookbooks, to fairy stories.

"Lyra!" Fenrin called, smartly staying at her bedroom door. As she walked out, he gestured with his head. "Let's go."

She followed him down to the dining hall. A magnificent meal was laid out on the table and servants bustled about, a few giving her nervous looks and most clearing the room quickly at the twins’ arrival.

Bryn sat at the head of the table, his huge form taking up the entire end and his silver eyes examining his daughter. Dyla sat on his right, her hand gently placed on his arm while Fenrin and the last plate were also set on his left.

She sat down. Opposite of her Ulris was seated by Dyla, as he sometimes was when the matters of the house were to be discussed over dinner.

Her plate was filled with her favorite foods, roast boar and steamed potatoes with carrots. She didn't touch the plate, instead matched Bryn's gaze.

The tension was palpable and Ulris coughed. "My lord, we recieved news today that a group of mercenaries have been hired by Jarl Elris and are on their way from Greystone."

Lyra absorbed this. Elris' was the Jarldom bordering Hjor. Greystone was the Jarldom on the other side. That meant the mercenaries would be passing through Bryn's territory.

Bryn reached for his drink and downed in on one gulp before turning his eyes to his children. "Fenrin and Lyra will handle them."

Lyra bristled at hearing her name in Bryn's voice, but Fenrin nodded, waving a fork. He'd already eaten half his plate. "We sending any particular message?"

Bryn shook his head. Lyra narrowed her eyes and said, "I'll do it alone."

A rumbling growl seemed to fill the room, Bryn's voice was low and dangerous. "You will not."

Dyla's face grew worried and her hand slid down to rest on top of Bryn's.

Lyra opened her mouth to respond but Fenrin spoke first, "Come now, you can't expect anyone to trust you to handle a whole team of mercs. They're harder to fight than a frightened maid, you know."

Lyra colored at his snipe but realized what was going on. Fenrin was coming to see how she could handle herself. She nodded and began to eat and the tension dissipated. When she'd finished she stood up, "I'll be leaving at dawn. Ulris, have someone prepare my horse and send the scout to my study."

Ulris glanced at Bryn for an objection and seeing none, nodded. "It will be done."

Lyra walked proudly out of the hall and back to her room. As she shut the door, her suppressed anger flared white hot through her and she screamed, throwing open her study door. Her destructive rage needing an outlet, she tore at the papers on the desk, tearing them to shreds and turning wild eyed to the bookshelf. She stuck her fingers behind it and pulled it down. It came crashing, cracking the thick wooden desk and sending books flying.

She stood panting, the destroyed study satisfying her. She straightened and left the room, clicking the door shut. She was leaning against it still, breathing slowly, when a man appeared at the door. He was dirty and tired.

"I was told you wanted to see me?"

Lyra nodded at the scout. "Tell me exactly what you know."

The scout recounted his information. The mercenaries were hired to join Elris' army. Now that Jarls could have private forces, this was not uncommon. However, Bryn liked to keep the size of his neighbor's forces to minimum. This mercenary group had a dozen members and was well known. They'd been offered places by other Jarls but had always refused. Elris must have paid a lot to get them to agree.

Lyra sent the scout away, a plan forming in her mind. She stayed up late scheming as well as avoiding her bed. When she finally laid down to rest, the nightmare she predicted came. She awoke screaming, her hands clenched and her arms flailing.

No one came to check on her, for which she was grateful. She opened and closed her hands slowly, trying to forget the memory of being tied to this bed, helpless and trapped.