Both my parents suffocated me before I could see where they came from. By the time they both pulled away to commence a checkup of their own, my face was blue.

“Guinevere Medvedev! What on earth do you think you were doing?” my father demanded.

“I just wanted to help,” I whimpered, shame showing itself through my skin.

“And this is how you do it? By putting yourself in danger? By making us worry ourselves sick?” he continued.

“I just wanted to help,” I repeated.

Seeing the tears growing in my eyes, much of the chastising the two of them had prepared dissipated, and they brought me in once more.

“I suppose you did just that,” my mother admitted, glancing over at Illthic’s body.

I made the mistake of following her eyes, and my stomach wretched when I saw the blood pooling around her body, and I buried my face into her chest, hoping I wouldn’t throw up again.

“We checked these woods inside and out three times before. Were it not for our search for you, we never would have found this place. Still, I do not like the fact they got so close to the manor. Dragoslava!” my father barked.

“M’lord?” she inquired, snapping to attention.

“Look around. I want to know if they have any other hideouts. Destroy anything you find and bring back the other wench alive this time,” he ordered.

“Yes m’lord.”

Without another word, the maid took off into the air, propelled out of sight by invisible forces.

Turning their attention back to me, my father pulled me away from my mother to look him in the eyes.

“As foolish as going out on your own was, it was also very brave, and I know you are scared, but we need to know about anything they told you. Did they show you anything suspicious? Did they mention anything about help?” he asked.

“They mentioned that there were more of them, but they didn’t say who,” I recalled.

“Is that all?” he pushed, hoping to stoke my memory of anything meaningful.

Their explanation of The Nest came to mind, but I was hesitant to bring it up. I was not sure how they would respond to such a thing or even if they would know anything they talked about.

“They told me why humans were barred from magic,” I relented.

Those few words made them exchange glances with each other once again, telling me everything I needed to know about where they stood. Yet I knew neither one would allow me to walk away after stating such a thing.

“They said it was because dragons feared us.”

I was not sure how I expected my parents to respond, but I did not expect them to shake their heads in disappointment.

“I suppose such a thing was bound to happen sooner or later,” my mother lamented. “We intended to tell you when you came of age before you inherited our duties to The Nest, but it shouldn’t be a surprise someone got to you sooner.”

“Rest assured, everything they told you was a lie. It is no secret there are those who dislike The Nest and the power dragons possess. They are nothing but jealous of their position and will do everything in their power to discredit them. Saying a dragon is afraid of a human is like saying a god needs the permission of a king. It is a fallacy, nothing more, nothing less,” my father explained.

“Then why were humans removed?” I asked. “They said it was a lie that humans became too dangerous, so is that also a lie?”

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“A strawman,” my father confirmed. “While a human gone rogue with magic is a cause for concern, they are by no means the biggest threat. Everyone would be removed if that were the case.

The reason humans were removed is because we were irresponsible with magic. Think of it like a wolf getting too close to a farm—a beast capable of causing problems, but something easily taken care of.”

“Then what’s our purpose? Andreaki said humans are not magically inclined, so it’s not like we’re needed to keep magic away from humans then,” I said.

“It’s because of people like Illthic, dear, people who want to bring magic back. Try as we may to get rid of them, there will always be more. I understand it may be hard to comprehend why we are needed when our job is to keep people down, but it would be far worse if we did not exist,” my mother explained.

I wanted nothing more than to believe my parents—to believe that they were the ones telling the truth and the witches were lying. It would have been so easy to convince myself that every word they spoke was the truth. But Illthic and Merthic’s words held on to me, planting the seeds of doubt in my mind.

It did not help that I saw Andreaki’s behavior in a new light. The way she looked down on me was no longer just because she was taller than me. The way she came and went as she pleased without care of a schedule was not because there was something I needed to figure out.

Most of all, I no longer saw her nickname for me as a form of endearment but as open mockery. I did not believe for a second any of her actions condemned her to die, but the fact someone who cared so little for me or my family had such an impact on our social standing did not sit well with me.

It was hard to turn on someone who helped me achieve what I could with magic and see them in a different light. She went out of her way to entertain me with magic of her own . She was patient with me when it came to things I did not understand and wouldn’t berate me for being slow, as academic tutors had. The fact opposition to such thoughts came from murderers helped nothing.

“Okay,” I replied, still not sure who to believe.

I convinced neither one of my parents with my answer, and my mother rustled my hair.

“We don’t expect you to understand yet, dear, but you will one day,” she assured.

“As much as I hate to interrupt, m’lady, I have bad news to report. The daughter of the murderer, Merthic, is no longer on the premises,” Dragoslava piped in as she landed from her flight.

The rage created by such news was palpable, and my maid recoiled. It became hard to breathe, and at first I thought it was because of the atmosphere of the situation. As my natural functions failed to take over, I realized the air had grown thick.

“M’lord, m’lady,” Dragoslava spoke, her voice straining under the same pressure.

Shaken free from whatever world they constructed together, my parents’ rage disappeared in an instant. It took a few seconds for the air to return to normal, and once it did, I started choking. My mother started stroking my back to ease the pain, but her attention remained on Dragoslava.

“And why did you let her get away in the first place?" my father asked.

“I believed she was already dead. The golems struck her body over a dozen times with arrows and bolts. Such injuries should have been fatal,” she explained.

“And yet she escaped, didn’t she?” he pressed.

“Yes. It would appear she is more capable than I initially-”

Before she could finish, my father raised his hand to strike her across the face, and she braced for the impact. The slap never came as he regained control of himself, by opening and closing his hand to channel his anger, but my maid took a full minute to regain her posture.

“Did you find any more hideouts, storehouses, a blood trail, anything at all?” he fumed.

“Nothing intact. There were two structures that collapsed with signs of fire, but there was nothing inside, let alone signs they had visited recently. Considering how quick Illthic could heal from some of her wounds, I suspect her daughter can do something similar,” she reported.

“Suppose we’ll have to settle for one then,” he sighed.

“Why is father so angry? What did Dragoslava do wrong?” I whispered to my mother.

“Nothing dear. Your father is just angry at the situation with the escaped assassin. Considering the wounds she inflicted on the two of them, it is likely that she will try to put as much distance between herself and this estate as possible to lick her wounds. It’s possible that she won’t ever come back, and to your father, that means the chance to capture her slips through his fingers, especially since she’s wounded,” she answered.

“Couldn’t he go after her?” I asked.

“He will try, but The Nest is quite strict on when we can leave our designated area. Due to the severity of her crimes, I doubt they will give us the chance.”

Prior to my mother’s explanation, the look on my father’s face was one of determination, hatred, and vexation. But afterwards, I saw something behind it that I had never seen in him before: defeat. It was as if the world before him was crumbling to nothing.

I did not understand the depth of why he felt the way he did, but I did understand his aversion to violence. The fact he came so close to striking Dragoslava spoke louder to me than any explanation could have.

“Clean up her body and send it off. I want the casket to be presentable, but don’t bother spending time on it,” he ordered as he reached out to take my hand. “Let us return home. We got what we came for.”