Gray curled his fist and stared at Codder.

Prepared himself.

Codder must have sensed this, because his shadowed gaze narrowed.

They stayed like that for a tight-roped moment – Codder standing too close, his mouth hanging open as he breathed his cigarette-scented breath, Gray slumped against the prison cell wall and about to swing a fist - and then it passed.

‘Major’s coming,’ someone shouted, from outside the cell.

The call echoed, taken up by other soldiers from down the hall.

‘Major’s coming.’

Immediately, the soldiers in the cell exchanged glances. They hastily straightened their uniforms and adjusted their swords.

Branbright shifted, his face tight, but he gave Gray a shadow of a wink.

Gray uncurled his hand. He tried to make himself inconspicuous – you know, blend in with all the other guys sitting in the prison cell.

A soldier glowered from the doorway. His presence clawed over the whole room like poisonous fingers.

He was all battle scars and hard lines. His Auguste uniform was perfect - immaculate - with wolf fur trimming the collar. He had one sword on his hip, catching the meagre light in the cell, and the handle of a dagger stuck out of his polished boot. His dark hair fell over his watchful eyes from underneath his soldier’s cap, and he moved softly into the cell.

He held a staff with a glittering lion on the head over his left shoulder. He handed this to one of the soldiers, along with jangling keys. ‘Catalogue the town treasury,’ he said. 'Any items that are magical or over the value of five hundred ardents, pack into crates.'

He took in the soldiers and then the girl, Branbright, and Gray as though examining a dead fly on his lunch.

‘Who are they?’ he said.

‘They’re my gift to you, Major,’ said Codder. ‘You’re welcome. Easiest million ardents you’ve ever made.’

Branbright was pressed against Gray’s side. Violent shivers were running through his body. Gray hoped Branbright would give him some warning before he unleashed wandless magic.

Gray tried to shift his legs without the soldiers noticing, so he was ready to spring up.

‘This here,' drawled Codder, 'is Wolfric Branbright, I believe, Major – he certainly matches the description.’

‘Branbright?’ said the Major. There was a long pause. ‘Get extra security down here. Now.’

‘Yes, Major. He’s been doing wandless, sir. He obliterated poor Johnson-’

‘I know what Branbright’s capable of,' said the Major. 'Send an urgent request to Dierne for mage soldiers. Explain we have Branbright, and they should send them.’

One of the soldiers raced out of there.

The Major’s gaze swung to the young soldier with the tear in the knee of his trousers. ‘What are you doing in here, rookie?’

The boyish soldier turned bright red. ‘I was on prison duty, Major. They needed help.’

’Needed help?’ said the Major. ‘Oh, I see. You’re helping.’

The boy frowned minutely.

‘You’ve got experience with sorcerers, have you, rookie?’ said Major.

’No,’ said the boy. ‘No, Major.’

‘But, you’ve got experience dealing with dangerous magical creatures, then, rookie?’

’No, Major.’

‘What about very dangerous human prisoners?’ said the Major.

‘No, Major.’ The boy’s chest was rising rapidly.

‘You’re,’ said the Major softly, ‘not ready to be in here. Get out. I don’t want to see you inside any of these cells. Go back to your post.’

‘Yes, Major.’

The boy fled.

‘Brown, you too. And you, and you. You. Anyone with a total stat number below three hundred. Get out.’

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Grit ground underneath the soldiers’ boots as they filed out.

A few soldiers remained - too many - though they were close to the cell door now, and holding themselves carefully, eyeing the Major more than Branbright.

‘Codder, well done,' said the Major. 'I’ll be sure to mention this next time you go for your Lieutenant exam.’

Gray flickered a glance at Branbright. Do something. Do something now.

Branbright scrunched his impressive nose and leant in closer into Gray, his maroon cloak providing warmth down his side.

‘Wolfric,’ said the Major, pinning Branbright with his dark gaze. ‘Fancy seeing you here. Last I was told, you were in Othoa. You haven’t been working with Longwark, or murdered two boys, have you?’

‘Honestly?’ said Branbright. ‘No. Not lately.’

Silence sung across the cell.

The Major stood against the opposite side of the cell, settling his shoulders against the wall, but he was still close enough that Gray could see the stitches on his boots and the dust on the hem of his trousers.

His gaze lingered on Branbright, then passed over Gray, and then locked onto the girl passed out in the corner.

The Major frowned. He approached the girl, and then slowly crouched. He hesitated and then slammed his hand down on the wall above the girl’s head.

The girl flinched so hard she thwacked her head on the wall behind her. She winced and then glared at the Major with a defiance that was at odds with her closed-in body language.

The wide hazel eyes. The freckles. Platinum lashes.

She’d shed her rich clothing, jewellery and royal rings. She’d twisted her hair like a local. Even smeared kohl around her eyes.

But, she was undeniably Sorena Auguste.

The Major gripped the girl's jaw for a second, and then let go.

‘You fucking idiots,’ he said softly. ‘This is the princess. Did you hit her?’

‘I - the princess?’ said a soldier. ‘Johnson knocked her out -’

‘How long has she been in this cell?’ said the Major.

The remaining soldiers gaped and stuttered.

‘I’m not the princess,’ said the girl. ‘But, yes, your men are idiots.’

The Major paused. ‘I’m going to have to contact your father, highness. He’s got half the army out looking for you.’

‘Don’t you think I'd know if I were the princess?’

The Major grabbed her jaw again, tilting her face to the meagre light. Then he let go. ‘Sorena, I know you. Remember me? Killian.’

‘Not,’ she said, ’Sorena.’

‘Have you lost your memory?’ He turned to the soldiers. ‘Get a healer.’

‘There’s no mage healers here, Major.’

‘Who the hell are you to say I’ve lost my memory?’ she said. ‘I’m not her.’

The Major carefully adjusted his cuffs. ‘You played with my boys all the time when you were .. . five? Carlin and Alby. Remember them?’

The girl glared at the wall.

‘Come on,’ said the Major. ‘Up. I’ll message your father, get you in a proper room. Get you some food. I’ll make this right.’

‘Fine. Good,’ she said. She shifted slowly, staggering against the wall as she straightened. ‘Just, I’m not her. And I don’t particularly want to be in the path of a pissed off Auguste. You make it clear to him I tried to tell you I’m not Sorena.’

The Major ran a finger along his jaw. ‘Why do you have false papers?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

With a cool look at the girl, the Major snatched the offered papers off Codder.

‘These are a pretty poor forgery, Sorena,’ said the Major. ‘You got ripped off.’

‘I’m sure I did. Yes, the papers are false. But, you can’t imprison me for false papers. Issue me a fine, and let's be done with it.’

The Major cocked his head. ‘Who do I make the fine out to?’ He glanced down at the papers. ‘Annie … Marr?’ He clicked his tongue softly. ‘It’s not even a mage name. Silly choice, Sorena.’

‘Does it matter? I’ll give you any amount you ask.’

The Major leant back against the wall, studying her through half-lidded eyes. ‘You’re trying to bribe me?’ he said. ‘You really don’t remember me.’

Sorena opened her mouth. Shut it. Closed her eyes, briefly. ‘My name’s Isabelle.’

‘Isabelle what?’ said the Major. ‘I’ll need your surname for the paperwork.’

Sorena’s gaze slid to the side. ‘I’ll pay the fine. What is it, twelve ardents? Then, will you let me go? I’m not an apprentice, I’m twenty-one. It’s not illegal for me to be out on my own, you can’t keep me here.’ She dug around in her pockets, and then slowly stopped, lifting her head to stare at Codder. ‘You took my money and my wand. You’ll give them back.’

Codder grinned. ‘I’ll do no such thing, sweetheart.’

‘How did you -’

‘Enough.’ The Major’s voice was low and dangerous. ‘You really want to continue to deny you’re Sorena Auguste?’

The girl held her lips tense. There was a long moment in the cell. ‘I’m not her. At this point, I'm wishing I was.’

The Major raised an eyebrow. ‘That means staying in this prison until I can sort out who you are.’

‘I’ve done nothing wrong, you can’t -’

The Major dangled the false papers from his fingertips. ‘I would consider it my duty to keep a potential mage apprentice from wandering off into danger.’

‘I’m twenty-one, you imbecile.’

The Major leant close to the girl. ‘See, the problem is your papers are false, you have every physical marker of a mage - the bright eyes, the shiny nails, the lashes - and you look twenty, at a push.’

Sorena glared at the floor.

‘That would make you an apprentice mage, and it’s against the law to release you without guardians or guards.’ The Major stepped back, giving the girl her space. ‘Unless you want to confess your real name, and then we can confirm your level at the mage guild?’

She sat back down on the floor of the cell with a thwump.

‘Prepare a cell for her,’ said the Major. ‘The furthest cell from Branbright. Get a physician if there’s no healer. Get her water.’

‘Yes, Major.’

There was a scuffle as one of the soldiers hurried out.

The pipe dripped overhead.

Drip. Drip.

Gray stared hard at his knees, waiting for what was coming.

He didn’t hear the Major move in front of him, or crouch. His joints didn’t crack or pop, his breath was silent.

But there the Major was, crouched in front of Gray, his wrists balanced precisely on his knees, his gaze carefully watching.

‘You’re pretty good at making yourself small and unnoticeable, aren’t you?’ said the Major.