Tyl’s market was one of the quietest Felitïa had ever been in. She was only really familiar with Quorge’s, to be fair, but she had passed through others on the way here, and even more during her time with Emund’s caravan all those years ago, and Tyl’s market beat all of those as best she could remember. It wasn’t completely silent, but it was absent the merchants and sellers hawking their goods. They just stood by their wagons or stalls, waiting calmly for customers to come to them.

No doubt, the two patrolling figures with the blood-red capes and the slight reddish tinge to their armour has something to do with that.

Felitïa found a farmer selling oats and started filling up bags for their horses. She couldn’t wait to get away from this place. Part of her wanted to head straight back to Quorge. Elderaan would be waiting for her there and life would go back to normal.

It was a foolish fantasy. Elderaan was dead, and there was no going back to the life she’d had, even if she went back to Quorge.

She paid the farmer, then heaved the heavy bags over her shoulder. The farmer moved forward to help, but she shook her head. “No, that’s all right. I’ll manage. But thanks anyway.”

He nodded and stepped back again. Nervousness tinged with fear ebbed from him.

Felitïa turned away, wishing there was something she could do to put the man at ease, make things better for him, give him a reason why he didn’t need to be afraid of her. Maybe she should announce herself. It wouldn’t accomplish anything, but at least she’d be making an effort, instead of doing her best to get away from it all.

A Red Knight nearby was looking at her, or perhaps past her at the farmer. She couldn’t quite tell. His helmet obscured his eyes. Her direction took her closer to him and she pondered putting him to sleep or something similar. It wouldn’t be difficult.

It would probably also cause a commotion if a Red Knight fell over without warning—a commotion that would likely be blamed on someone innocent nearby. Best to leave him be.

She continued on her way, trying to pay as little attention to the Red Knight as possible.

There was a man standing by a stall behind the Red Knight. He was just one among many people in the crowded market, and there was nothing particularly remarkable about him to draw her attention. Yet her gaze stopped at him nonetheless. He wasn’t looking at her—hadn’t noticed her at all, as best she could tell. He was just a tall, bald man with a crooked nose, talking to the stall owner.

Felitïa stopped moving. She remembered him.

He grabbed her wrist and wrenched the shop key from her. She screamed as loudly as she could before he took hold of her, spun her around and clasped his hand over her mouth. She bit him as hard as she could, but he didn’t let go.

It had been so long. She had almost forgotten that night, almost stopped worrying the Darkers would come back. Nearly nine years. She was a little surprised she even recognised him now.

Perhaps it wasn’t him. Perhaps it was someone who looked similar. It had been nine years, after all, and he wasn’t the main one she’d interacted with. Her memory of him was not likely to be perfect.

His gaze fell on her and stopped. He squinted his eyes.

It might just have been because he noticed she was staring at him, not because he recognised her.

His jaw dropped slightly, and he motioned to someone else. Another, smaller man came forward. His mouth was closed, but Felitïa remembered the sharpened teeth within.

A hint of concern penetrated the wash of emotions from the crowd around her.

“Are you all right, my lady?” the Red Knight asked, stepping towards her.

Felitïa wrenched her gaze away from the two Darkers. “Uh, yes...yes.” The feed bags were slipping and she scrambled to keep hold on them. “The bags are just heavy, that’s all.”

The Knight motioned to someone behind her. “You there. Help this lady with her bags.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Felitïa said. She looked back at the Darkers, who were both still standing there watching her. From what she’d seen of this city, she could probably make any accusation she wanted against them and the Red Knight would arrest them with no proof. They were Eloorin and he would take that as proof enough. She could say they’d insulted her. It wouldn’t be entirely untrue.

The farmer she’d bought the oats from came forward. “My lady, please allow me to assist.”

“Something you should have offered from the start,” the Red Knight said.

Fear rose from the farmer.

“He did,” Felitïa said, “but I turned him down. I’ll be fine. I was just distracted a moment.”

“Are you sure, my lady?” It was difficult to reconcile the genuine concern the Knight was feeling with the contempt he was feeling for the farmer.

“Really. I’m sure. Now please, let me be about my business.”

The Knight stared at her a moment, then gave her a small bow. “As you wish, my lady.”

She wanted to tell him she was not his lady, but it was best not to cause a scene. At any other time, it would be best to just move on, but the Darkers...

They were gone.

Felitïa scanned about the crowd. There was the tall, bald one, moving away. There was no sign of the other one, but he was smaller and probably more able to blend in. They weren’t retreating together, probably to ensure she couldn’t follow them both.

Should she follow the bald man? No, with the weights she was carrying, she’d never keep up.

“Are you sure you’re all right, my lady?” the Red Knight asked.

“Yes, I said so, didn’t I?”

“It’s just you—”

“You know,” Felitïa said, stepping up right in front of him and glaring at him in the eye, “you were very concerned about this man not offering to help me, even though he did.” She nodded in the direction of the farmer. “Yet I can’t help but notice you didn’t offer yourself. Perhaps you should rethink your priorities.”

“I have a job to perform, my lady.”

“So does he. Why don’t you let him get back to it and let me be on my way?”

“I tried, but you didn’t move.”

He had a point. “Right. I was....just getting my bearings and then you interrupted again.”

Anger was rising from the Knight. “I was concerned and offering assistance.”

“No, you offered his assistance, which is my whole point. Now stand aside and let me pass.”

“You were the one who...” He gritted his teeth, stepped back, and motioned for her to pass.

Felitïa sighed and walked away. Gods, she’d handled that terribly. This city had her on edge, and then seeing the Darkers... All the old fears had come back, and with them an inability to think straight, to concentrate. She needed to work on that. She needed to be able to stay calm and focused in a crisis.

She glanced back to ensure everything was fine. There were a lot of people between her and the Knight now, but they were giving him a wide berth, leaving him visible. He was berating the farmer.

Damn it. This was her fault. If the Darkers hadn’t taken her off-guard, if she hadn’t stopped and drawn the Red Knight’s attention, none of this would have happened.

The farmer was on his knees, begging. The Knight kicked him and he fell over. The Knight then turned aside, leaving the farmer to crawl away.

The Knight saw Felitïa watching him. “You! What is your problem?” He marched in her direction, pointing. “I ought to arrest you.”

Felitïa breathed deeply, and gathered the magical energy within her. Enough attention had been drawn to ensure there would be no doubt she was the source of what was about to happen. As the Knight got close, she closed her eyes halfway, tilted her head, and released the spell.

The Red Knight fell forward into the dirt.

People nearby gasped.

The impact woke the Knight again, but she’d expected that. He started to pull himself to his feet, but Felitïa repeated the spell and he went right back to sleep. He wouldn’t sleep long—and hopefully no one woke him earlier—but it would be long enough to get out of here.

Felitïa turned away and walked back towards the inn. People moved out of her way and fear permeated the air. She hadn’t expected that. Surely people here would be happy to see one of the “Bloods” bested.

But she was Folith, too, she realised.

The fear faded as she got far enough away that no one nearby had seen the incident, settling to the level that had been present since she’d arrived in Tyl. She really wanted to get away from here. She hurried on to the inn.

Zandrue wasn’t waiting in front with the horses as planned, so Felitïa went into the stables. She found Zandrue there, talking to a tall Folith man—flirting more like, if she knew Zandrue. Sure enough, there came the smile and the quick brushing back of her hair with a hand. Felitïa rolled her eyes.

“So they said they were gonna keep their eyes on me,” the man said. “They clearly didn’t believe my story. From their reputation, I’d expect them to be that way with Eloorin, but it seems they can be just as harsh with Foliths when they want to.”

“If you were Eloorin,” Zandrue replied, “they would have kept the sword and probably would have executed you for possessing a weapon above your station or some bullshit like that.”

The man shrugged. “Maybe. Can’t say I like them much. Along the Thumb, nobody pays attention to whether you’re Folith or Eloorin.” Zandrue gave him a doubting look. “Well, maybe some do. Noble families are all Foliths, but it’s better than here.”

Felitïa approached them and dropped the bags at Zandrue’s feet. “Zandrue, we need to talk.”

Zandrue, suave as ever, didn’t miss a beat. “Hi, Asa. This is Rudiger. Rudiger, this is my good friend Asa.”

Felitïa gave the man a curt nod and reached for Zandrue’s arm. “Zandrue, we really need...” She trailed off and looked back at the man.

There was something familiar about him. She had never seen him before in her life, but nevertheless she somehow knew his appearance as well as if she had spent every day of her life with him. She could close her eyes right now and describe everything about him: tanned skin—darker than typical for a Folith, but it made sense if he was from the Thumb—brown eyes, dark brown hair.

Rudiger took her hand and gave it a kiss. “A pleasure.” Felitïa blushed as she realised she knew what parts of him looked like that she had no business knowing.

Zandrue touched Rudiger’s arm and leaned in close to him. “You’re good!” she said and sniffed him. “No man ever affects Asa like that!”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Felitïa turned away. None of this made any sense. How could she know so much about this stranger and his horse? His horse? Without even turning to look in the stall, she knew precisely what the stallion looked like. This was beginning to terrify her.

“Seriously though,” Zandrue said, moving to put an arm around Felitïa, “you all right? What’s up?”

Felitïa pulled Zandrue away from the man and whispered, “I don’t know. There’s just something strangely familiar about him. Like I already know him. I can’t explain it. It’s like the familiarity I felt when I first met you. Remember I asked if we’d already met? This is far more intense.”

“Weird,” Zandrue said, “but possibly a good thing. You see, Rudiger just happens to be going the same direction we’re—”

“The Darkers are here.”

Zandrue clutched Felitïa’s arm and leaned in closer. “Wait, what? Darkers? As in...”

“The ones from nine years ago.”

“Shit.”

“At least two of them, at any rate. The bald one and the one with the sharpened teeth. But if they’re here, then Dyle probably is too.”

“Not necessarily,” Zandrue said, “but it’s reasonable to assume he is until we know otherwise.”

“Everything okay?” Rudiger asked.

Zandrue turned her head to give him a quick nod. “We just need a moment.”

“We need to get out of here, Zandrue,” Felitïa said.

The large stable doors flew open, spreading sunlight and the shadows of several armoured figures into the building. Six Red Knights stepped inside. With only one exception, each had his sword drawn and carried a shield. All of them wore helmets, hiding their expressions—not that Felitïa needed to see them. A tangled web of emotions flowed from them: nervousness, excitement, fear.

The one who had not drawn his sword and did not hold a shield carried a rolled up piece of parchment in his right hand. His eyes looked about until they fell on Felitïa, Zandrue, and Rudiger. “If you ladies would please stand aside. This man is under arrest.” He spoke confidently and authoritatively, but Felitïa could sense a hint of uncertainty in him.

“On what charge?” Rudiger demanded.

The Knight unrolled the parchment. “You are charged with possession of a stolen weapon, a two-handed sword of exquisite quality belonging to the Plavin family and therefore property of Lady Plavin.”

“That’s nonsense,” Rudiger said. “This is my sword and has been in my family for generations.”

The Knight continued reading. “By order of Lady Plavin, you are...” He hesitated, and a wave of surprise spread from him. He cleared his throat. “By order of Lady Plavin, you are to be executed immediately.”

“You can’t be serious,” Rudiger said, reaching for his sword.

Had the Knight really not known his orders before reading them just now? “This is ridiculous,” Felitïa said. “You can’t execute someone just like that. What about a trial?”

“Trial was presumably held in his absence,” the Red Knight said. “Judgement shall be carried out. Move aside or we will execute you as well.” His voice was confident, but he definitely didn’t feel it. So, not all Bloods agreed with everything they were told to do.

“On whose authority?” Felitïa demanded.

“The authority of the Lady Lidda Plavin, Castellan of Tyl and ruler of Plavin-Tyl, acting in the name of Wavon the Second, Lord of Arnorinn and King of Arnor. May Power transport you from this world, Nature embrace your souls, and All-Father show you mercy. May you forever be shielded from the touch of Night.”

“This is outrageous!” Felitïa cried. “The King would never sanction this!”

“The King is not here, my lady. The Lady of Plavin-Tyl speaks on his behalf. Kill the man. Kill the women if they get in the way.”

The Knights advanced. Felitïa barely noticed Zandrue leap over the gate of Borisin’s stall. Rudiger drew his sword and stepped in front of Felitïa. “Go on,” he said. “This is my fight. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Felitïa shook her head, though he wasn’t looking at her so couldn’t have seen it. She stretched out her thoughts, focused on every part of her body and just how much—or how little—each part had to move as the magic flowed through her.

For all she knew, Rudiger had stolen the sword. She didn’t know him, didn’t know anything he might or might not have done more than a couple minutes ago. Yet somehow she knew he was innocent. And even if he wasn’t, these Red Knights were not executing justice.

The Knights rushed forward. With a whispered word, a tilt of her head, and the slightest twitch of two fingers on her right hand, Felitïa cast the spell. “You’re invisible,” she whispered to Rudiger.

He either didn’t hear or didn’t believe her, as he leapt at the nearest Knight. With a single swipe, his sword cleaved through the Knight’s shoulder. It cut through the armour like it was paper. Without a sound, the Knight slid off Rudiger’s blade, his own sword and shield dropping to the ground.

In confusion and fear, several of the Knights began backing up. “It’s a trick!” one cried. “Wizardry!”

One of the Knights swung wildly in Rudiger’s general direction. Rudiger blocked it.

Felitïa doubled over. The stress on the spell was unbelievable. She wanted to call to Rudiger, to tell him to hold off, that the Bloods couldn’t see them. But that would give them away, too.

Rudiger knocked the sword from the grip of the Knight, who in turn raised his shield to try to block further blows. Stumbling backwards, Felitïa tried to hold on to the spell, but it was too difficult to keep the Knights from noticing Rudiger while he was making himself so noticeable. With a gasp, she let go of the spell, unwilling to risk burning herself out.

“There!” someone cried out. “Get the witch!”

Still reeling from the effort of the spell, Felitïa backed up. Rudiger slammed his sword down, slicing the Knight’s shield in two, but two other Knights moved up to him. Rudiger backed up a bit to avoid their attacks, the one on the ground crawling out of the way. While he seemed to have the superior weapon and superior skills, he was also unarmoured.

“Felitïa, look out!” Zandrue cried from somewhere behind her.

A Knight was coming towards her. Felitïa put him to sleep and backed away, but there was another right behind him. And the first had probably been woken by the fall. She began to concentrate on a new spell. Could she even manage another spell at the moment? The strain on the invisibility spell had been intense. The Knight raised his blade. With a crash, the gate on the stall next to him flew off, ploughing into the Knight and knocking him to the ground. Felitïa stumbled backwards and fell over. The gate had come within an inch of her, as well.

Zandrue was mounted bareback on Borisin—had anyone actually told Felitïa the horse’s name?—who had apparently kicked the gate out. “Get our horses!” Zandrue called as she turned Borisin around. Then, with a kick from her, the horse charged out of the stall, trampling over the fallen gate and the Knights beneath it. Rudiger and the other Knights dived out of the way.

Felitïa jumped back to her feet and ran for Simeria’s stall. As she opened the gate, she glanced back at the scene behind her. Rudiger had made it back to his feet, while the Knights were still struggling. He brought his sword down at one who was clutching at his feet. Then, he ran over to Felitïa.

“We need to get out of here,” she said, grabbing for her saddle.

“No kidding,” he replied, breathing heavily. He turned to look back at the entrance.

As Felitïa threw the saddle over her horse, two of the Knights got back on their feet, although one was now unarmed. Another Knight twitched feebly on the ground, and there was a slight hint of movement underneath the fallen gate. Rudiger started to move again, but Felitïa said, “No, stay still.”

A simple spell. She could manage a simple spell. With a soft word, she pressed her thumb to her forefinger on her left hand. She didn’t have the strength to be precise with the image, but whatever they saw, it was enough to frighten one of them into turning tail and running. The last one, the one who had read the charges against them, called out to his fleeing comrade. When there was no response, he glanced back at Felitïa and Rudiger. Then he took off.

“That’s Zandrue’s horse over there,” Felitïa said, pointing.

The entire stable was filled with the sound of horses whinnying. Even her own horse was stepping back and forth fearfully. Zandrue had ridden off on the only one trained for battle—where had she gone?

Rudiger began readying Zandrue’s horse, while Felitïa loaded up their supplies. “They’ll be back,” Rudiger said.

“I know,” Felitïa replied. “We need to get out of the city.”

“They’ll close the gates,” he said. “We’ll never get out, and we can’t take them all on.”

“I can get us out,” Felitïa said. “They won’t know it’s us.” The truth, however, was she wasn’t sure if she could. If she hadn’t wasted so much strength on that invisibility spell, there would be no problem hiding them from the guards at the gate, but now... And that wasn’t even considering the guards on the walls. Hopefully, those guards wouldn’t pay attention to anyone let through the gates. If anyone was let through at all. She couldn’t think of that now. They had to get out of here.

Zandrue ran back in. “Thank the gods you’re both okay. We don’t have much time. Rudiger, I’ve got the innkeeper bringing your belongings. If we’re fast, we might be able to get to the gate before word reaches it.” She grabbed her horse’s reins from Rudiger and leapt onto the mare’s back.

“Where’s Borisin?” Rudiger asked.

“Waiting out front.”

Felitïa mounted her own horse. “Let’s go.”

Out front, the innkeeper and two servants struggled with Rudiger’s belongings. Borisin was not being co-operative. Rudiger ran over to assist. “You two should go your own way. I’m the one they’re after. If you’re not with me, they won’t bother you.”

“We’re already involved,” Felitïa said.

“They won’t hesitate to add us to their list of criminals,” Zandrue said. “It’s better if we stick together. Strength in numbers, right?” She looked at Felitïa with raised eyebrows.

Felitïa nodded. “Yeah, strength in numbers.” So Zandrue got an equivalent of a mercenary. But it made sense to stick together. Not to mention the weird familiarity Felitïa felt about Rudiger. It was best to keep him near for now.

Rudiger continued readying Borisin and, after what seemed like an eternity, the horse was ready and Rudiger mounted.

“We get to the north-west gate as quickly as we can,” Zandrue said. “It’s the closest. But then we go calmly through. Once on the other side, we ride hard as long as we dare. We put as much space between us and this city as possible.”

Felitïa’s heart thumped as they made their way towards the gate. People leapt out of their way as they galloped past. Although no one on the streets said anything, Felitïa could see the anger and fear in their faces. They saw only a group of Foliths who cared nothing for the Eloorin in their path. Felitïa wished she had never run away from the palace. If she could call upon her father’s authority, then they could put an end to Lady Plavin’s cruelty. But palace life was long behind Felitïa now. Not that that would be likely to work anyway.

The north-west gate was still open when they arrived. Felitïa was surprised, but relieved. Could they have made it here before word had reached the wall? It seemed too great a hope. As when they had arrived, there was a long line-up of travellers. The guards were dutifully checking everyone who entered or left the city. Perhaps word had reached here, but no one felt the need to close the gates because they would just be caught if they tried to go through.

Zandrue motioned for them all to stop while they were still a fair distance from the gate. “What do you think?” she asked Felitïa.

“I don’t know. There are so many people. I can’t hide us from them all.” To their left, there were two Red Knights patrolling. They didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the three people on horseback at this time. Of course, their job was normally to watch Eloorin, so maybe word hadn’t reached here yet.

“Maybe we should lie low for a few days,” Rudiger suggested. “Wait for them to give up the search. Then we can slip through.”

“I doubt they’re likely to give up the search easily,” Zandrue said. “This is too weird a situation to begin with. We have to try to get through.”

Felitïa took a deep breath. “I can hide us from the Knights at the gate. We’ll just ride past them. Hopefully, other people will just think we’re arrogant Foliths. I don’t like doing that, but...”

“We don’t have a choice,” Zandrue said. “Let’s go.”

“Give me a moment.” Felitïa took another deep breath and closed her eyes to get a feel for how much strength she had left. Far less than she would have preferred, but she felt certain she could manage the spell—provided there weren’t too many Knights at the gate, and provided that nothing straining happened. At least the last casting had given her some ideas for how she could adjust her stance to make it less draining. “Okay. Keep close together. Stray too far and I won’t be able to hide you.”

Rudiger nodded, and Borisin stepped closer to Simeria. Damn! She had forgotten she needed to hide the horses, too. Could she manage it? Only one way to find out.

They rode towards the gate, past the throngs of people waiting to leave. Eyes full of hate and loathing turned to watch them. Men and women, young and old. Farmers, merchants, travellers. A few muttered probable curses under their breath, but none of them dared say anything for fear of the Knights. Felitïa tried to ignore them all, but it was not an easy task. She felt like she was betraying them all.

The gate came ever closer. Felitïa counted five Bloods at the front, checking the people coming in and out. She prayed that there were no others hidden by the crowds. She took a moment to adjust for her stance on her horse, and then cast the spell. The strain was unimaginable. Her head felt ready to burst. Every step her horse took seemed like a mile, and the Knights always seemed farther away. Surely she would burn herself out. She wanted nothing more than to release the spell before that happened.

“It’s all right,” Zandrue said quietly. “You can do this. It’s not much farther now.”

Years of study would be wasted if she burned herself out or killed herself on a foolish stunt. How could she make a mockery of Elderaan’s tutelage by doing that? But being executed by the Knights would waste those years just as surely, so she held on. The pain spread from her head to her neck, then her chest and arms, her breasts, fingers, stomach. Ever lower and lower. The pain was strongest in her back. Perhaps she could adjust for that. Slouching just a little allowed the magic to flow more freely, and the pain no longer reached her toes—only her ankles.

“Right,” Zandrue said. “Intermingle with the crowds a bit until we’re out of sight of the Knights at the gate. Then we ride hard. Asa, it’s all right, you can end it now.”

Felitïa hadn’t even noticed that they had passed through, but she wasted no time listening to Zandrue. She had to clutch Simeria’s neck to stop from falling off as the fatigue washed over her. Rudiger, riding beside her, leaned over to help her right herself. “It’s all right. I’ll be fine. Just don’t ask me to cast another spell for a few days.” As best she could tell, it would be a week, at least, before she dared even the simplest of spells, possibly longer. But they had made it through.

They pushed their way through the crowd, amidst curses and even the occasional yell (people got bolder the farther from the wall). “Now,” Zandrue said.

And they were off. They pushed the horses as long as they dared. Zandrue and Felitïa soon outdistanced Rudiger on the slower Borisin, but he caught up to them eventually once they had slowed down. By this time, there was only farmland around them, with no sign of the wall of Tyl.

“Made it!” Rudiger said.

“Yeah, we made it,” Zandrue said, not sounding anywhere near as joyous.

“Bet they’ll come after us eventually, though,” Rudiger added.

“Yeah, they will,” Zandrue said, rounding on him. “Care to tell us why?”

He stared at her a moment. “How should I know? I told you, they’ve been eyeing my sword ever since I got here.”

“And they order your death in a stable?”

Rudiger shrugged. “Apparently.”

“Is it really your sword?”

“Yes!”

“Fine.” Zandrue backed off and turned to Felitïa. “You don’t suppose this has something to do with Dyle and the Darkers, do you?”

“Darkers?” Rudiger started, but Zandrue shushed him.

“I don’t know,” Felitïa gasped. The spell had weakened her enough that her voice was little more than a rasp. “Could be, I suppose.” She didn’t know how, but she wasn’t willing to dismiss the possibility all together, especially considering the weird familiarity she felt with Rudiger.

This isn’t over, Will-Breaker, Dyle had said all those years ago.

No, it wasn’t. She’d see to that.