The bed was soft.

It reminded me of home.

Which home?

The guest room in the mansion? My cot in the orphanage?

No… Somewhere else.

I was blind to the world; swathed in thick blankets. A woman hummed in my ears. Her rough fingers caressed my face and lifted me to her chest. The steady beat of her heart was a comfort.

Movement.

I rocked in her arms, walking into a room that smelled like old parchment.

Her breath caught.

Her heart pounded louder—faster. A door slammed open with a crash, and a wave of cold sent shivers through my body. Tears dripped down my face into my crying mouth. She screamed. I flew in the air, landing somewhere soft, wet and cold.

My eyes cracked open. It was dark, with fleeting moonlight coming from the guest room’s red-curtained windows. Cynthia's warm body was beside me, her light breaths tickling the side of my neck. The soft smack of leather on hardwood rang in the room. I tried to lift my head, but I couldn't move. My body was a cage, every inch of me paralyzed down to my heavy-lidded eyes.

Something slithered onto the bed—a light depression just below my right foot. It whispered against the bed sheets, tracing an outline of my body as it moved to my head. I panicked, struggling against the invisible grip on my body—the heavy weight pushing down on my chest. A familiar shade of red flashed in the corner of my eye. Sin. She loomed over me, passing the forward-bent knife she ran along the bed to her left hand in a reverse grip. In the darkness, she didn’t know I was awake. I didn’t know I was awake. My mind flitted in and out of awareness, blending dreams and reality. She raised her left hand. I tried to shout—tried to scream as the knife plunged down at my head!

The blade’s tip stopped an inch above my eye.

Sin pulled her knife back, taking heavy breaths that made her chest heave. She tore down the mask of stocking that covered her face, and, in the shadow of her hood, two red eyes stared down at me.

“Why?” She whispered. “Why can’t I kill you?”

I jolted awake in the bed of Castille's master suite. Dugan slept next to me, with Thor resting his head on the crook of his shoulder. Castille sat in the side table chair, sharpening her sword.

“Jacob! You’re alive!”

Isla’s lean arms pulled me in for a tight hug.

What were those? Nightmares or memories?

How many times had Sin visited me in my sleep? How many times had she almost killed me? And who was that woman carrying me in her arms?

I shivered.

“Jacob, are you OK? Are you cold?”

I blinked and looked around. My coat was off, draped over the chair Isla was sitting on next to the bed—along with my pants.

“My pants!”

I struggled out of Isla’s grip. My eyes darted around the room, looking for something—anything to defend myself with.

“Easy, Jacob. We had to dress your wound. Nothing happened,” Castille said, examining the edge of her longsword.”

“Right… Right…”

Isla pulled away from me, her face a sickly shade of green.

“I-I didn’t know… I didn’t mean too…”

I sighed.

“Isla… I’m sorry. I panicked. You did good. I would have bled out without you.”

Her face lit up.

"I-I just thought of you. If a hot blade can cauterize a wound, a cold blade can slow down bleeding."

I moved my injured leg. That crossbow bolt damaged muscles and tendons.

"Can Dugan-"

"No. After he finished with the ones outside, Cassandra had him see to her girls. He won't be healing anyone for a while," Castille said.

She ran her blade along the whetstone for emphasis, implying what she would do if I continued to ask.

I pushed myself up against the bed’s headboard and let my shoulders sag.

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I’m weak. Pathetic. Useless.

No… no. I still had utility.

Isla gave me a worried look. What should I call her now? Princess? Your Highness?

"Are you sure you’re, OK?" She asked.

"About what you said at the warehouse..."

Isla’s eyes widened. She shook her head.

I glanced at Castille, who looked at us with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you have something to share? It’s safe. We’re alone.”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

We turned to the door.

Dugan opened his eyes. Castille got to her feet and moved to the entrance, her longsword slung over her shoulder. She cracked the door and then flung it open the rest of the way.

Cassandra stood at the entrance holding a tray of food. The cut on her forehead was gone. Dugan must have gotten to her during his healing marathon.

"Good morning. I thought you would like some food."

"Morning? How long was I out?"

"Half a day," Castille said, moving out of the way to let Cassandra through.

"Any news?"

Cassandra set the tray of food on top of Castille’s whetstone on the side table.

"Too much. The fire is finally under control. Three of Lady Kateen's warehouses burned down. Ten of her men died..."

Her face paled. Cassandra had stared down a mob without flinching. Was Kateen that terrifying? I remembered Clarice’s empty stare. No, but some of her daughters were.

"Serves her right."

Isla folded her arms, setting her face in an expression that was more defiant than angry. Castille closed the bedroom door and put a comforting hand on Cassandra's shoulder.

"Cassandra, there's more to this, isn't there."

She nodded, her eyes becoming more panicked with each tilt of her head.

"Those warehouses were the main supply of food and water in Steeltown. Without that stockpile, food prices will increase for the next few months. People will go hungry and get angry."

"They'll want someone to blame," I said.

"But it's Lady Kateen's fault!" Isla said.

Her face reddened with guilt. Technically, she started the fire.

Castille shrugged.

"Who cares about the truth? We're the perfect scapegoats. When the hunger sets in, we’ll be served up on a platter."

Images of the crowd from yesterday flashed in my mind. Cassandra's panicked expression made sense. The next crowd of Steeltowners in front of the Pit would be bigger, with torches and pitchforks in hand. I thought back to Kateen's cold expression. She’d come to the same conclusion. If her men couldn’t finish us off, the townsfolk would.

"We need to move up our timetable.”

"Aye. Cassandra, you should go."

Castille guided Cassandra to the door. She hunched her shoulders, waiting for the sky to fall around her. We had done that, and I had made it worse by lying to her. What did she want from me? It’s not like I could see the future.

Weak. Pathetic. Use-

No, there was still time—time to finish this quest before the whole town turned on us.

Castille closed the door and shook her head.

"Poor woman. She should make us leave, but she’s too indebted to us for healing her girls."

"Maybe we should leave anyway," I said.

"And go where? Do you think anyone will have us now?" Isla asked.

She was right. We couldn’t move to a new inn if we wanted to.

Castille sighed, sheathing her sword.

"From now on, no more splitting the party. We move as a team. Understood?"

"You say that, but Dugan and I are still laid up in bed."

"Speak for yourself."

Castille pointed at Dugan.

He slid from underneath Thor and sat up on his side of the bed. He rolled his shoulders and hopped to his feet with surprising ease.

"How are you moving after a few hours of sleep?" Isla asked.

Dugan patted Thor's side. The boar didn’t react; he was dead to the world. Passed out like when we left to look for Arwen.

"He helped."

Isla furrowed her brows. A moment later, something clicked, and she cocked her head at Dugan with wide eyes.

"You stole his will!"

Dugan scratched at this beard, his face reddening.

"He gave it to me."

"B-but that shouldn't be possible!"

Dugan shrugged.

Castille walked up to him and kissed the short man on the forehead.

"How do you feel?"

"Better."

He turned to me and nodded, walking over to my side of the bed.

"Why is no one else freaking out about this?" Isla asked.

"Why should we?" I asked.

Dugan rested his meaty palm on my forehead, and the sensation of water washed over me like a warm bath.

"Will is unique to every person. You can’t just give it to someone else. It’s been tested!”

I relaxed against the headboard.

Healing felt... amazing.

“How?”

“There are enchanted objects called will wells that let you store your will for later use. Mages have tried to burn will from another person’s will well, but it's never worked."

"So, you're saying Dugan and Thor have the same will?"

Isla blinked at me.

"No, but that's a good hypothesis. I need to write that down."

"You can study Dugan later. Right now, we need a new plan,” Castille said.

"The new plan is the old plan. Kidnap Arwen and bring him to Reed. Reed gets him to confess to the assassination attempt. Van Lagos gives us access to the Mountains,” I said.

"Simple enough, but we can't move freely in the Service Quarter."

"We could accept Reed's help and bring her guards," Isla said.

Castille's grey eyes turned hard. She glared at me from across the room.

"You could have had help to capture Arwen?”

Her voice was the whisper of an unsheathing sword.

Dugan pulled his hand back for a moment to wipe off the sweat pouring down my forehead.

I broke away from her gaze, bunching up the bed’s red, silken sheets in my hands.

Weak! Pathetic! Useless!

Isla talked to me about trust and trusted me with her biggest secret. Couldn’t I do the same? Is that what a weapon would do? Is that what Sin would do?

No… but I did it anyway.

"Every time I go to Reed and Sanctifiers for help, I... I… feel like I’m selling a piece of myself. And I’m afraid… afraid that one day there won’t be anything left. They’ll own me, control me—make me their pet."

I winced.

Why did I do that? What’s wrong with me?!

I looked up to meet Castille's grey eyes. She gave me a slow, understanding nod that melted away the tension in my shoulders and arms.

“I can relate.”

She smiled.

"Well, there’s someone else we can go to for backup: the Lagos brothers."

Isla cringed before something sparked in her eyes.

"As much as I hate to admit it, that would allow me to look at the orb in their hall. Examining it may give us a clue about Nostrand Del and the curse."

Dugan stiffened at the mention of the enchanted object. The healing sensation cut off a moment before he pulled back his hand.

"I'm done."

In more ways than one.

I stretched out my leg. It was as good as new. He finished healing a moment before he lost his conviction.

"You're amazing, Dugan."

"Of course he is," Castille said.

She gave us a sweeping stare.

"The day is young. We can ride for the Lagos estate before Steeltown wakes up. The fewer eyes on us, the better. Agreed?"

Dugan and Isla nodded.

"What about him?"

I pointed to the unconscious boar lying on the bed.

"He can stay here."

"So much for not splitting the party."

Castille grinned.

"Sometimes you have to leave the cavalry behind."