The walk to the throne room of Wranbanise Castle was an uncomfortable one. Wymar walked in front with Christof, where they whispered softly to each other. Wymar had changed into a fine black coat and matching pants and had fresh beads strung in his hair. He looked the part of future king at least. Davos walked slightly behind them, still looking like he wanted to rush.

Ambris walked behind with the rest of the group. She was carrying a small wrapped bundle under one arm. Del had hoped it was a change of close for her, but the woman had not mentioned it. In fact, she had said nothing at all since her arrival, but Del caught her staring at her often. The third time she caught her, she let her nerves get the better of her.

“Is there something you want, counselor?”

“What?” Ambris asked, surprised. “Oh, I am sorry. You really do look like your father. The resemblance is remarkable.”

“I didn’t know him.” Del said.

“Of course,” she nodded. “The situation being what it was, he wouldn’t have been able to see you much.”

“You mean me being a bastard.”

“Yes,” the older woman cleared her throat. “Still, he was quite proud of you.”

“I doubt he knew much about me,” she said stiffly.

“Oh, he certainly did. He kept close tabs on you and your mother.” She laughed. “And he would speak of you often, even though it gave the council fits.”

“I did not know.” Del tried to push down whatever emotion was threatening to overtake her calm. Now was not the time.

“He was like that though, always flouting the rules,” Ambris continued. “But he cared, deeply, for the land and the people. He was the last to do so.”

Something occurred then to Del, and she felt her stomach turn to ice. But before she could say anything, a group of guards emerged from a side passage and right into their path. When they did not move away again, Ambris huffed irritably.

“Stand aside,” she said. The guards looked to Christof and nodded before moving aside to allow him and Wymar to pass, then reformed the line, blocking the others.

“Del,” Maug said beside her.

“Get down, my lady,” she said to Ambris and gave her a hard shove before pulling her daggers.

The guards were already moving toward them, swords drawn. Behind them, Christof raised his voice.

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“Kill them if you must, but be quick. We need the ring.”

Davos whimpered and ran past Del. She felt the hair on her arms raise as Shorgus clenched and unclenched his fists, but no lightning came.

“If you plan on doing something, sooner would be better.”

“It’s not an exact science, you know, throwing lightning in a hallway,” he said.

“And here I thought it was your expertise,” Albaran said. He ducked under the mage's outstretched hands to stand in front of him defensively. His daggers flashed as he swung under one of the guards' swords and struck at his side. Beside her, Maug grunted.

“Now he tells jokes?”

“There’s too many, Shorgus,” Del said as she moved past him. She handed him her pack with Tafa peeking over the pocket. “Watch her. And do something. Anything.”

“Right, brilliant idea. Really, brilliant.”

One guard, a good head taller than any of them, stumbled from the line with a bloody slash along one leg. Del kicked him in the uninjured leg and drove the dagger into his eye as he fell. Maug got another lucky shot on one man’s arm that made him drop his sword and Albaran finished him quickly, but they were being pushed back as they fought. The guards' long swords made it difficult to get close with only daggers.

“Evandella!” She turned to find Ambris holding a slender silver sword. Sapphires around the hilt shone in the dim torchlight. She slid the sword to Del. Shorgus gave a grunt of surprise as it sailed past his foot.

“That is precisely what I need,” he said and grabbed Del by the shoulders. “Just stand right there. Now,” he raised his voice, “down in front please, gentlemen.” He tsked when neither of the elves moved.

“Maug, Al,” Del yelled, “get down.” Both rolled away from the attackers.

“Yes, well…” Shorgus began. Del felt the sword hilt grow warm under its leather wrap. Just as the first attacker lurched forward, a single bolt of lightning from the end of the sword hit him square in the chest. He crumpled to the ground in front of the others. The mage giggled beside her.

“Just needed a bit of focus, yes. Just point at whichever comes close, dear,” he said and raised his hands again. The few remaining guards looked at their fallen comrades and again at Del, and dropped their swords in surrender. Behind them, Christof and Wymar were gone.

“They must be heading to the throne room.” Ambris said. “We have to go after them.”

“He tried to kill me,” Davos said weakly. Del was surprised to find him still in the corridor after the fighting stopped. “He tried to kill me,” he said again, more strongly this time.

“He tried to kill all of us,” Maug said. “And it didn’t look like our good Wymar was very against the idea.”

“None of that matters now,” Ambris said. “We must follow them. The entire council and the assembly of mages are in the throne room. If they get there first…”

Del turned to the remaining guards. One of them was crying silently.

“I will assume this was a case of good people following bad orders,” she said. “And as such, I will overlook this…disagreement, if you leave now and do not raise swords against us again.”

There was a rush of ‘yes, my lady’ and ‘thank you, my lady’ before they ran back down the corridor they had come from.

“Do you really trust them?” Davos asked.

“About as much as I trust you,” Del said. “Ambris, lead the way.”