The halls were cold, and so still that Lyrua was startled by every noise. She was numb to the incessant ringing of the Citadel as she strained to catch and identify every out of place vibration. Her arms were folded tightly beneath her chest as they walked. No matter where she directed her thoughts, she could not shed the mantle of dread that the attack had draped over her. She trusted Ove to retrieve Athen and keep him safe, but she still wished she could go to him. Lander kept turning to look at her as they walked, as if he could stare the fear out of her.

They had not reached the first bend in the corridor when she caught the heavy footfalls of soldiers and slid to a halt. Her fear doubled as long shadows crept around the corner, even as something in the back of her mind tried to remind her that she knew the sounds and shapes. Two Spellwards came around the corner, white tunics clean over light shirts of mail. Both had their swords drawn; a woman with the crests of Dark and Sound on her chest and another with crests of Light and Fire. Relief flashed across their faces when they saw Lander towering before them, and they double-checked the way they’d come before sheathing their weapons.

The Queen stepped out from behind him and both Spellwards immediately bent in a low bow, arms across their waists. “Stand up,” Lyrua commanded. They rose. She faced the woman on the left, who wore the double-toothed gear insignia that marked her a lieutenant. “Sir Kathe, you are away from your post.” She had passed Kathe on the way to tea earlier; she had not been stationed far. It was reassuring to see her safe.

“Aye, my Queen. I heard sounds of battle.” Both guards stood straight with arms stiff at their sides. Kathe tried to hide a gentle lean to see past Lyrua. “Has something happened?”

Lyrua felt gracious that she had so much experience pretending she did not feel the way she felt. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she was sure she was composed on the outside; except perhaps for the sweat sticking her bangs to her forehead. “I was attacked by stalkers. They were nothing before Lander and Ove,” she said proudly.

Kathe bit her lip. “Did they leave any clue as to who sent them?”

Lander shook his head. “Stalkers are beasts that carry little but robes and blades. There’s no way to tell who sent them until we find their maker. Unless the Queen has some idea?”

Lyrua did not need to turn to know his steel gaze was on the back of her head prodding her to speak. At least they knew the Spellwards were loyal to her. “I have had suspicions, even before tonight, that my husband may try to harm my unborn daughter. I have never seen such disgust in his face as when he heard that news. The moment he found out it was a girl, he tried to pressure me into taking bluenettle.”

Kathe’s fingers wrapped around her thick black curls as though she could pull an answer from them. The tall woman let her hand fall from her curls back to the pommel of her sword, and she fidgeted with it as she spoke. “Would you like me to contact Captain Torfinn? He will be quick to arrange an escort for you out of the area. Unless you’d rather…” she trailed off, her eyes bouncing off something behind the Queen. A portrait, she assumed.

“I will not retaliate,” Lyrua said plainly. “My mother embraced her ‘divine right’ to rule as though the gods’ had chosen her for some higher purpose. Powerful men died on her word to keep her rule absolute. And then in retaliation, so did she, and she brought my father with her. I refuse to repeat her mistakes and rekindle the embers of fear beneath the nobility.” She brushed her bangs away from her eye. “I intend to leave as quietly as possible.”

Kathe released her breath. Lyrua’s mother was a very sensitive subject few dared broach where the Queen could hear. “Then we await your orders, my Queen.”

“I do not believe I will need more of an escort,” she said. “Tell Torfinn to do a quiet sweep of the Citadel in case there are more threats about.”

Foreign mana tickled her mind and Ove’s voice whispered in her head. “No danger. Boy safe. Spell-wards here.” Lyrua nearly collapsed with relief. Thanks to Ove, she did not need to worry over Athen’s safety. Turning her attention back to her Wards, Kathe was saying something to a ball of Sound mana. It was barely visible but for the vibrations that wrinkled the space it occupied, and a gentle hum, but Lyrua did not hear her words, distracted as she was by the warm thread of life linking her to her son.

Her Spellwards helped to alleviate some of her dread, but she still stepped wide of every passage and let Lander lead. Lyrua could not cast Dark spells, and her attunement to Light precluded her from ever learning any, but she could still defend against the stalkers’ dark veils. She pulled the light with her mana as they walked, suffocating the shadows incase any more appeared. They would have nowhere to hide. The lights wavered and pulsed as she fought her own fatigue to keep them bright.

As they neared her bed chambers the stench of burnt flesh and bone curled her nose. The hall had already been filled with bright light. It was not stalkers they found, but more Spellwards, dashing about in small formations and patrolling every corner.

“My Queen,” Captain Torfinn stopped before her and bowed low. “Thank the Gods.” He mopped his brow with a sleeve stained with ash and sweat that had the edges singed off.

“I am fine,” she reassured him. Torfinn was a good man who led the watch around her chambers. He wore four spell crests and the three-toothed gear insignia of a Captain on his chest. She nodded down the hall towards her chamber. “Stalkers?”

Torfinn nodded, “I heard from Kathe that you met some as well.” He looked Lander up and down, eyeing the spray of blood staining his leg. “I suppose I don’t need to ask how it went.” He brushed ash from his tunic.

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Lyrua watched the Spellwards behind Torfinn, where they carried charred corpses down another hall, and others piled bits of flesh onto linen cloths. “Even messier than Lander’s work. How many were there?”

“Two dozen,” he shook his head. “Never heard of so many stalkers in one place.”

Lander sighed loudly like a pipe organ. “If they thought she was here the group we fought may have been headed this way from the other direction. Maybe we caught them on their way by.”

“Then yours may have entered through a window.” Torfinn gestured towards the narrow passages between the rooms that servants used to remain out of sight. “Ours came from there, from the lower floors. We haven’t pinpointed where yet.”

“Has anyone been killed?” Lyrua asked aprehensively. Many of her servants and Spellwards had been with her since she was a child, although the Wards were only guards then. She went through great lengths to ensure her Spellwards were properly trained. Excessively so, as some of the nobility said—so that they would not have to die every time there was conflict. “Train them cheaply so they are easily replaced,” was the attitude around the Citadel, but she preferred to see discipline and experience in her guards. So Spellwards became separate from the Guard. They trained for years with blade and spell, on deployments all across Daggry. They were paid extremely well when they earned the title.

She managed a smile at Torfinn’s answer.

“No,” he said with a sigh. “Not that we’ve found anyway. There were no servants in the tunnels when they came through and none of our Wards will be overpowered by those things. They tried to use their numbers to push past.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm that left ash drifting in the air from his sleeve. “Whoever sent them knew stalkers would not make it past the Spellwards easily, so they sent many, but still somehow underestimated us. They didn’t even make it close enough to your room for Fie and Jette to swing their swords.”

“Shame for them,” Lander chuckled. “Watching everyone else have all the fun.”

“Fun is not the word I would use,” he said. “In any case, my Queen, you should take refuge in your chamber while we sort this out.”

She shook her head, wincing at a budding headache. “No, I have reason to believe my husband is responsible for this attack.” She noticed the colour drain from his face. “If I stay, it will only escalate. It will continue escalating until more than stalkers lie dead in our halls.”

“Then let us prepare an escort for you,” he said uneasily.

“I have Lander and Ove,” she replied. “Keep the Citadel safe and quiet while I slip away.” He nodded to her as she stepped away from him.

The weight of exhaustion dragged at her like a damp robe, but she held onto a mask of composure as she entered her bed chamber and shooed the Spellwards Fie and Jette back into the hall. They bowed before marching out and took their positions outside the door.

Her two servants stood straight, eyes wide with fright. They looked as tired as she felt, but they could not sleep until she did. She watched them bow shakily, as if the gesture still mattered. Scared out of their wits and half asleep, they still bowed to the High Queen. They stood there, ready to follow her every command even though it was an hour past midnight and death stalked the halls. Was it even loyalty? Did they see it as a duty of their employment? Or perhaps they feared the total authority of the Crown.

“Jette.”

Jette leaned through the open door. “Yes, my Queen?”

“Escort Nada and Arina to the servants’ quarters.” Lyrua Kirkegaard, mother of two commanded. “Guard there until morning, or these women will not feel safe enough to sleep. Take Fie with you, I will not be here anyway.” The four women bowed as they left. For the first time, Lyrua could not know what would happen next, and that was nearly as terrifying as what had happened. All she could do was prepare.

“Are you alright?” Lander still stood motionless, facing the door like a statue, but for the orange glow of his eye peering over his shoulder.

“If stalkers do not kill me, then I fear exhaustion will.” She pulled open a chest and dug out a travel bag. As she turned to her dressing chamber, she spotted a tray covered with a silver lid on her table. She removed the lid, revealing three soft, fat cookies with chunks of chocolate and a parchment note that had ‘For the baby’ scribbled almost illegibly on it. She devoured all three. When had Ove had time to leave cookies?

Lyrua opened her dressing chamber and lit the room. She had plenty of mana for the spell, but she was so tired she almost failed her casting. The room was so large she felt drained looking into it. But she had to cross three districts uphill just to escape Manataklos, then the southern cliffs and the Eddying Woods to get to West Eddy, so she would have to manage crossing her dressing chamber.

She moved sluggishly, pulling open a chest, stuffing dresses into her bag, blouses, trousers even. The names of the common folk who made them popped into her head as she took them out. She was almost not even aware of herself changing clothes. She nearly dozed off tying her boots. Her head throbbed; one of the Spellwards may have a Dream spell for that, if her Light spell could not do it. She tried to use her spell to soothe the pain, but it persisted.

All the while, that thread that told her Athen was alive shone at the edge of her perception. It moved a little now, so Ove must have woken him.

“Don’t take your time,” Lander said. She started, and pushed herself to her feet. When had she sat down? To pull on her boots. She should not have sat down.

She stuffed a book from her bedside into the bag on top. How to Pray so the Gods Will Listen. She put it there weeks ago but had not begun reading it yet. “I am sure there are things I will regret not packing later.” Her eyes scanned the room, but nothing seemed to be important. She needed to see her son.

Stepping out of the room, she saw Spellwards were still patrolling. Torfinn was there, holding a sphere of energy in his hand. She realised he was speaking into it, but she could not hear his words. The sphere of Sound pulsed with each word as if devouring them.

Her mind felt light, almost out of her head. When she moved, it took a moment to catch up with herself. She felt the sudden urge to sit somewhere. She leaned with her head against the wall. Torfinn and Lander gave her a concerned look.

“We’ll have to do something about that if you intend to go out in the city,” Torfinn said. He examined his Wards, picking absently at the char on his sleeve.

“We need supplies anyway,” Lander said. “Why don’t I go and get those, while the Queen takes a nap? Give her one of those Dream spells so she wakes up fresh.”

Torfinn nodded. “I was about to suggest something similar. There’s over a score of Wards here, she’ll be safe until you return.”

“Good,” she said. “Athen is safe with Ove, so I’ll just lay down…” she yawned, “For a moment.”