The oathbreaker was dead-still on the ground.

Zander cursed, trembling. Meladon would cast judgment upon him, likely in the form of Archlord Bearbreaker’s execution. He’d be fed to the bears for striking down a Peacewatch knight in his own home.

He frantically searched for a pulse, as Alfread or Mirielda might, but found none. Zander felt hollow, his spirit hovering above him, watching the empty shell that remained. He was too terrified to cry. His life was over—no knighthood, no Sunrise, no giving her his locket. His mother left him with one promise, and he had failed.

Clutching his locket, closing his eyes, Zander muttered a desperate prayer to Leverith, begging for the oathbreaker’s life.

Otis groaned.

Zander’s eyes shot open, watching the knight’s chest rise and fall in disbelief. Otis’s eyes fluttered, though he remained unconscious.

Zander tucked away Otis’s dirk and searched for the orphan girl. He found her huddled in the next room, quivering. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

She recoiled, shrinking away as though his touch burned her. Seeing this beautiful, bruised girl shy from his comforting touch broke his heart. All she had probably known in this house was violence. He wished he could undo her suffering. He couldn’t change her past, but Leverith, he would do everything he could to make sure her suffering didn’t continue.

Maintaining distance, he spoke softly. “I will protect you.”

The girl kept her head buried in her arms, sobbing. Zander stood in silence, unsure what to say. His usual charm was useless here. How could he make her feel safe when all she knew was fear? What would Mirielda do to comfort her?

“I’m an orphan too,” he finally said, kneeling so his massive form wouldn’t loom over her. “My mother died of plague; my father left before I was born.”

She glanced up briefly, her eyes haunted. “Mom died having Mari. Papa died in the war. I don’t even remember them.”

Zander nodded, tears welling in his eyes. He had Mirielda and Evan. She had an abuser. His heart knew a solution, and he ignored the objections of his mind. He knew what was right. “Is there anywhere else for you and your sister to go?”

She shook her head. “No, Sir. Uncle Otis is all we ‘ave.”

Sir. Zander vowed to be worthy of the title. “I swear by Leverith, I will take you and your sister to safety. What is your name?”

“Melissa,” she answered, her voice thick with emotion.

“I’m Zander.” He extended a hand.

Melissa hesitated, then took it. As he helped her up, her face lit up with a smile—a sight that did more to fill the emptiness than any night spent on the upper floor of Old Iron Inn.

“I know a place where you and Mari will be safe,” he promised. “Otis will never hurt you again.”

Melissa stamped her feet with joy. “Thank ye, Thank ye!”

Zander turned at the sound of footsteps and saw a malnourished girl with a battered face limping toward him. “Hello, young lady,” he said warmly, kneeling to meet her eye level. “You must be Mari.”

“Marigold,” she corrected, her voice hoarse. She was so small and gaunt that he had initially thought she was about seven, yet she had the voice of a girl that already had her first blood.

Zander placed a hand on her shoulder. “A lovely name for a lovely girl.” Tears twinkled in Marigold’s little eyes, gray things that hadn't seen enough light in their lives. “Do you see how my blue eyes glow, Marigold?”

Zander had heard from his mother many times that his eyes were the same hue as Leverith’s spirit when used by witches to heal the wounded. When he was little, she said that his eyes had that color because he would spread love through the world just like Leverith. He was no witch, but he would be Leverith’s instrument, doing whatever he could to spread love to Melissa and Marigold.

Marigold nodded. “They’re very pretty.”

“They glow with Leverith’s light,” he explained gently. “I can see the beauty of someone’s soul—and yours is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

Marigold choked, tears streaming down her face. A tentative smile broke through, as if she were trying it for the first time.

“Will you really take us to safety, Sir?”

Zander nodded. “I swear by Meladon and the Divine Scions, I’ll protect you.”

Otis groaned from the other room. “We need to go,” Zander said, standing between the girls and their uncle. “Gather your things. I’ll make sure he never hurts you again.”

As he stood guard, waiting for Otis to rise, Zander wrestled with his thoughts. He was certain that he was protecting the innocent and that this was the right thing to do. Would Sir Edward be proud of his actions, or would he condemn them?

Melissa and Marigold returned with a single rucksack. Zander escorted them out of the house, away from their tormentor, toward where Kenneth and the horses waited. He explained his plan to take them to Sir Evan and Lady Mirielda—the loving family that had sheltered him when he was orphaned.

“These wenches know ‘bout the wolves, Zander?” Kenneth shouted.

Zander remembered two things: the reason he was in Willet and why he wanted Kenneth to stay with the horses.

“Wolves killed most of Lord Willet’s livestock,” Melissa said.

“Where is Lord Willet’s farm?” Zander asked.

She pointed across the road. “That big one.”

Zander felt relief, knowing Alfread would have gotten to the bottom of the story without insulting the populace. They reached the horses, and Kenneth grinned. “Where’re yer manners, Zander? Introduce these lovelies.”

Zander introduced Melissa and Marigold. The sisters stayed close to him, distrustful of Kenneth. Marigold kept glancing back at the farmhouse. Zander rested a hand on her shoulder. “You are safe, Mari.”

His mind echoed back to when his mother died, and Mirielda rocked him as he sobbed for angles, her voice soothing him with seven little words he never forgot. You are safe, Zander. You are family.

“You are—

Marigold clung to his hand, trembling. “Don’t let ‘im ‘ave us!”

Otis stumbled out of the house, waving a longsword. “Gimme back my girls!”

Zander drew his blade, standing between Otis and his nieces. “They’re not your property. Let them go if you want to keep your disgrace of a life.”

Spectators gathered as Otis charged like a depraved, bipedal pig. Zander sidestepped Otis’s clumsy strike, deflecting it easily. The drunk staggered and fell, impaling himself on his own blade. He howled in pain, clutching his shoulder.

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Melissa cheered, “Get him, Zander!”

Rage surged through him, urging him to bring justice to the evil as he thought about the bruises on Marigold’s face, about how Melissa recoiled from his touch. He kicked the man’s face, shattering teeth. Otis wailed as Zander flipped him to his back and ripped the sword from his shoulder.

He barely heard Alfread shout for him to stop. He wasn’t stopping, not while the best way to protect these girls was to make it impossible for this creature to follow them. Zander tossed the blade aside and lifted his own. Finish strong.

Alfread seized his arm. “He’s down! This is murder!”

Zander ripped free of his grip. “No. This is justice.”

He lifted the blade, then stumbled forward as Alfread slammed into him. Enraged, a darkness pulsed inside of Zander, demanding death.

“Death is Zamael’s justice,” Alfread insisted. “Would Leverith want this?”

Zander held the blade, poised for the kill. He looked into Melissa and Marigold’s eyes, remembering what was important. The crowd watched in tense silence, even Alfread done intervening. Zander gripped the locket, knowing what must be done. He wasn’t Zamael’s servant. He was Leverith’s. Protecting the innocent, ensuring that these two girls had a life full of love, was her justice.

“Yield!” Zander ordered.

Otis whimpered, “I yield!”

The wind howled and the river rushed, but all Willet watched in silence as Zander hauled Otis up by the throat. “You inherited two innocent girls! You swore to protect them, not harm them! They’re going someplace where you’ll never find them. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” Otis gasped.

Zander gave his throat another squeeze. “Swear on it! Make an oath to Leverith! It was her love that spared you today! Perhaps she can hold you to your vows better than Meladon.”

“I swear to Leverith!”

Satisfied, Zander released him. The man crumbled to the ground, landing in a puddle of his blood, piss, and tears. He turned to Alfread. “Can we leave him like that?” he quietly asked.

Bear’s Crossing’s second-best medican took a moment to examine Otis’s wound. “He didn’t pierce any vital bloodrivers. As long as he cleans it, he’ll live.”

“Clean your wounds, Otis,” Zander said. “Don’t waste my mercy.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Otis squeaked.

Melissa snarled. “He made us say that after beatin’ us.”

Zander placed a hand on her shoulder, wondering if she was the Sunrise he sought. “He’ll never hurt you again.”

Melissa wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you, Sir. For the first time, I mean it.”

Zander didn’t bother to remind her that he wasn’t a knight. Yet. He felt like one and felt a certainty that he was on the right path in life.

Marigold took a step toward her uncle. “You’ll never hit me again!”

Otis wept on the ground, muttering apologies that came years too late. Alfread took her hand, and gently led her away from the farmhouse, toward her new life.

“Alfread—

“Are you going to ask for permission to place them on my father’s farm or are you going to thank me for preserving the sanctity of your soul?”

Zander bowed his head, feeling like a boy who acted before thinking. Sir Edward had been right about him.

Alfread’s sharpness was nowhere to be found when he addressed the girls. “Do you know how to work a farm?”

“Yes!” they exclaimed, Marigold reciting all the tasks they did for Otis while Melissa gazed comfortably at Alfread.

Alfread beamed at them. “I’ll write to my parents. They will expect you to do your best and love you like family. Sound accurate, Zander?”

Zander nodded. “You’ll earn your keep, just as I have.”

Alfread measured Melissa and Marigold with a warm smile. “I can tell you two are honest and capable with good hearts. You’ll fit in perfectly.”

Zander wasn’t surprised to see the colors changing on their faces. Alfread never tried, yet never failed, to make women smitten with him.

Marigold’s eyes filled with tears. “Is this real? You’d do that fer me?”

Alfread knelt in front of Marigold and put her hand in his. “You deserve to be safe and loved. Welcome to my family, Marigold.”

Alfread is his mother’s son, Zander reflected.

Zander told stories about his time as a part of Alfread’s family while Alfread put together a letter for them. When Marigold recited the directions to the estate perfectly in one go, Alfread commented that she had the memory of a medican, and that, should she choose, she could learn from his mother.

Zander had seen few sweeter sights in all his life than Marigold blushing at Alfread’s praise. The sisters thanked Alfread, Melissa kissing his hand, before turning to Zander.

Zander placed a hand on their shoulders. “You deserve peace and love,” he said, echoing Alfread’s sentiments. “You will find it where you’re headed. Until next time.”

“Until next time,” they echoed softly.

As the sisters walked away, Melissa glanced back and smiled—a small, unpracticed smile that only made it more precious. Zander clutched his locket, wondering if it belonged to her.

Kenneth, who blessedly remained mute through the ordeal, was the first to break the tension. “That was truly somethin’.”

“Where is Kenneth and what have you done with him?” Zander teased, unused to hearing anything from him that wasn’t laced with vulgarity.

Kenneth just shrugged, his gaze down.

Alfread sighed.

Zander braced himself for a lecture. “Go on, Alfread.”

“You were reckless,” Alfread said, mounting the red mare.

“I protected two innocent girls from abuse. I’d call that honor.”

“What you did was noble, but—”

“Here it comes,” Zander muttered.

“But,” Alfread continued, “we can’t save everyone. What if my family couldn’t take them in? What if you had killed Otis and became an outlaw? What good is doing the honorable thing if it ends up doing more harm than good?”

Zander spurred Paladin. “What if all it takes for evil to prevail is good people doing nothing out of fear for what might go wrong!” He growled. “It took all my restraint not to kill him.”

“No,” Alfread corrected, “it took my restraint.”

Zander fell silent, stung by the truth.

Alfread’s face darkened. “Our wolves attacked Lord Willet’s farm.” His face tightened up and his voice hardened. “They killed a baby boy and his mother. I spoke to the father.”

“These beasts will be slain,” Zander promised, putting his anger toward Alfread aside. “Did you learn where they keep their lair?”

“North.”

They rode on in silence, passing farmsteads ravaged by the wolves. Zander brooded. He imagined the agony of a father torn from his wife and child. His world would have no sunrise, it would be a perpetual darkness devoid of all melody. Should such a thing happen, he would traverse to the ends of Celegana’s Earth in pursuit of his vengeance.

Then, of course, he wondered if his own father had ever cried for the wife and son he abandoned in Mirrevar. He hoped that he did. He hoped that he regretted it every divinedamned angle of every divinedamned day. Zander prayed that it haunted him every divinedamned night when he tried to close his divinedamned eyes and that his dreams brought him no respite.

The sun was starting to set in the west when Zander finally called a halt for supper. Seeing the sunset did not spark his spirits. He needed to break the silence and sunder his dark brooding. “The weather has been pleasant today.”

Alfread, weary, replied, “It has. Zafrir and Qoryxa are unified, sending us a cool breeze. Dalis has not tried to drown us yet.” He gazed toward the sunset. “And Norali guides our way, radiant as ever.”

Kenneth piped up, “Yesterday was hotter than the chili at the Bald Bear. That stuff makes me erupt out my arse fer days! Good thing we ate at Old Iron, else I’d be saddle-sore and blowing fireballs that’d make the Blazelord envious.”

Zander chuckled. “Only you would talk about eruptions out of your arse while eating dinner. What are we going to do with you?”

Kenneth grinned. “Ye could help me with Lorelei—put a pot on her head, then sneak me in!”

Zander nearly choked on his food. “A pot … on her head?”

“Yup. When I’m done pleasin’ her, I’ll yank it off, shout ‘Surprise!’ and plant a garden on her face!”

Tickled, Zander let out his laughter. “You’d get banned from Old Iron for that. Spend the rest of your days erupting out of your arse at Bald Bear.”

Kenneth waved away the notion. “Nah, I’d get invited back fer seconds!”

Alfread groaned. “Setting aside that it’s morally bankrupt, it’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. You really think she wouldn’t notice her paramour shrunk?”

“All men’re ‘bout the same height on a bed, Al,” Kenneth said. “Ye might know that if ye wenched. As fer the cock, she might think he ‘ad a growth spurt.”

Zander laughed again, but Alfread suddenly bolted ahead. A lone wolf prowled the road, and before Zander could react, Alfread had loosed an arrow. It struck true, felling the beast.

They sprinted toward the kill, Alfread putting the dying animal out of its misery with a clean cut from his blade. “Look at this,” he said, gesturing to tracks leading into a dense thicket.

“We’ve found our den,” Zander said.