In the morning, a door slammed shut repeatedly and Alize heard Davram swearing oaths at Kell. When she heard Kell’s footsteps pass her door, she waited and then peeked down at the landing. Kell thanked a man for a package and walked out of sight.

He left the front door unlocked. Alize closed it gently behind her and gave silent thanks to the gods for the respite from the rain. A woman pointed her towards the Parousia prison. Each subsequent person she stopped gave shorter answers and more obvious scowls, but Alize followed their guidance deep into the Old City. Here the roofs drooped in the middle and the weathered stone buildings jutted into the streets at odd angles to press against the shoulders of the pedestrians. Some structures had stood through centuries of plague, famine and war, but others languished in various states of disrepair and collapse. Small areas of dry dirt and scraggly weeds grew from the ruins where the nearly all the stones had been purloined for reuse elsewhere.

Amongst it all, the prison stood squat and cheerless, facing a moribund square lined with thin birch trees. Alize drew a deep breath before crossing the threshold.

Inside the daylight weakened to barely illuminate the narrow hallway. Small piles of of dust and debris collected in mounds in the corners. Helmeted Sargons passed Alize without a word and brought the chilled air of the dungeons with them.

“Alize?” A woman’s voice inquired.

Alize turned in surprise and recognized Qaaru, still severe in the soft morning. She had wondered if she would see her here, and whether she could inadvertently assist Alize to strategize a plan.

“Alize, what are you doing here?”

“I didn’t have time to tell you the other day,” the lie made Alize breathless, “I’ve come to Parousia to find my sister. My sister was taken by the Hrumi.”

“Child,” Qaaru opened her arms and Alize found herself embracing the older woman for the second time. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Come, I’ll introduce you to the others.”

She led Alize to the waiting room for those wishing to see the prisoners. There were twenty women in total and nine men, representing nearly every steppe province. All of them sought their daughters and not one questioned Alize’s story. She kept it short, stating that the Hrumi had captured her twin sister and she intended to claim her from the prison. The others listened sympathetically, decrying the cruelty of the Hrumi and Prince Icar’s weak strategies against them.

“What do you mean weak?” Alize asked.

“They sit in Icar’s prison doing nothing while we still have no answers about our children’s location,” Qaaru answered harshly.

Alize could not tell if Qaaru meant the Sargons or the Hrumi.

“They say there’s a children’s camp,” a man continued. He had bright red hair but dull green eyes, “yet the Sargons haven’t been able to discover its whereabouts. All the resources of Prince Icar at their disposal and you can’t make the Hrumi answer a simple question!?”

“Has anyone talked to them?” Alize asked, her voice thick with innocence. It was a trick she had learned from Celillie. Alize’s heart thumped as she tried to think through her story. The advice came in Hesna’s voice: keep it simple. “I met a woman, a grandmother, who used to be Hrumi herself. She believes we can only improve the situation by working with them.”

“Work with the Hrumi?!” Qaaru raged, nearly spitting her words, “I’d sooner chew glass! The Sargons have all the power! Why should they need the Hrumi’s consent for any cooperation?”

“Because that’s what cooperation is,” Alize murmured.

“Until I have my daughter safely returned from those beast women, I could care less.” The others echoed Qaaru’s anger with their own adamant assertions.

Alize shut her eyes. “How do I see the Hrumi?”

“Qaaru,” a blond woman spoke for the first time. She sat in the middle of the single narrow bench in the room, while all the other remained standing or settled on the floor, “Take Alize with you for your interview today. Tell Sargon Kelesh you need the emotional support.”

“Sargon Kelesh?” Alize coughed.

“The Sargon heading the Hrumi operation. He’s surprisingly young for the task – probably why no progress has been made. But Icar has left him in charge, so if you want to see the Hrumi, you have to go through him.”

As the woman spoke, the others in the room shifted to watch a shadow growing in the doorway. The Sargon wore the same helmet as the others. Alize watched him for a hint of recognition, wondering if it were Kell, furious to find her here.

“M’lady Qaaru may come forth for her interview.” This voice was too raspy, too low, too bored.

Qaaru stood immediately and Alize hastened to follow her. The Sargon led them through damp stone passageway into the depths of the prison.

“Thank you for your audience, Sargon Kelesh,” Qaaru breathed.

“Sargon Kelesh is not available today,” the Sargon responded.

“Excuse me?”

“He had an emergency and could not attend his post.”

Alize’s vision clouded with confusion and panic until realization dawned. That emergency was Davram.

“I’m told only Sargon Kelesh hears the Hrumi cases,” Qaaru was saying.

“And I was under the impression that this appointment mattered to you,” the Sargon snapped. “Correct me now if I’m mistaken.”

“Indeed not. Please, proceed.”

“I’ll need your name and the year of your daughter’s abduction.” They arrived in a room lined with bookshelves and as Qaaru answered the Sargon’s questions he withdrew an enormous tome.

“Here you are.” He said after a long silence, “Our records indicate you lost your three-year old daughter, Raesha.”

“That’s right.”

“And your husband was also killed in the attack.”

“Yes.”

“But your son survived.”

Here Qaaru paused. “He died five days afterwards, from his wounds.”

Alize felt her stomach clench as a wave of sickness washed over her. The Hrumi could not do that. No Hrumi would. There was no logic. No no no no no.

“So sorry for your loss.” The Sargon produced a pen and anotated the manuscript. “How old was he?”

“He would have turned one that spring.” Qaaru’s voice trembled slightly.

Alize reeled as heat rose in her belly. Surely they would see it on her face. She longed to speak against this, but Qaaru’s pain kept Alize’s jaw clenched shut.

“Too young. Now, the question is,” The Sargon sat back in his chair and regarded Qaaru, “what can I do for you? You know from attentive Melis that your daughter is too young to be amongst our prisoners here.”

Qaaru choked. Her words rang thin and shaky with desperation, “Do you know where she is?”

“You have heard there is a children’s camp. Your daughter is most certainly there.” The Sargon rose to return the book to the shelf.

“Then what do you intend to do about it?” Beneath the fury, desperation edged Qaaru’s voice once more.

“M’lady,” the Sargon began, “Let me assure you that Prince Icar is very much engaged in this problem. We will find your daughter, and return her to you. The children’s camp will be destroyed.”

But Alize barely processed his words. Her mind had returned to the Deku protected mountains and the remnants of the concealed children’s camp. Had the Sargons already wrought their punishment? Alize struggled to remember if the bodies of her fallen sisters had sustained the broad gashes of government swords. She had been too rattled at the time to investigate more fully. Now she realized she had no idea who had killed her sisters, or where the children had gone.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Icar’s rhetoric means little to me!” Qaaru objected. “I demand to see the Hrumi, to ask them what they know of my daughter.”

“You’ll have to wait for Sargon Kelesh to return for that.”

“Melis say he is too chary with whom he permits to see them.”

“Melis is entitled to her opinions and Sargon Kelesh to his protocol.”

Qaaru bit her lip. Alize could almost feel her deliberating. “Won’t it be easier for us all if I go today?” she demanded.

The Sargon made a muted sound that could have been a chuckle or a grouse. “You’d be a fool to go in without Kelesh.” Despite herself, Alize felt a faint swell of assurance.

Until the Sargon’s next words shattered it. “He understands how to manipulating the Hrumi – he knows how they think.”

Qaaru folded her arms. “But when will he return?”

“Does my answer truly matter? You and your companions remain in the same place day in and day out. I assure you when he returns, he will address you. Now, if you please,”

Qaaru and Alize filed out of the room to find a second helmeted Sargon waiting at the door. As Alize turned, he placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. She froze, expecting Kell’s admonitions. But though she recognized the low voice that spoke, it was not Kell’s.

“So the impudent lady Hrumi came all the way to Parousia to find her sisters,” the Sargon jeered. His allegation set Alize’s heart thundering even as she recognized his insidious tone of jest. It was the Sargon from the road.

Alize narrowed her eyes. “For my twin sister, actually.”

“And have you managed to teach her any lessons?” The Sargon spoke over her to Qaaru, the same taunt in his voice.

But Qaaru seemed to have changed her tactic. Abandoning her former respectful submissiveness, she snapped, “Haven’t you got better things to do than mock the people who suffer most from your incompetence?”

The Sargon reached out and struck Alize in the face before she even realized his intention. She staggered backwards in surprise and pain. When she looked up, she saw the Sargon she knew from her nightmares.

“Oh, how careless of me,” the Sargon chuckled. “Now, I was saying that I could take you to the dungeons to see the Hrumi-”

“What?” Qaaru stammered. And even though Alize’s cheek still burned from his blow, she too observed him cautiously.

“Our dear Prince Icar gave one key to me and one to Kelesh. So the question is, what is it worth to you?”

“I have gold,” Qaaru gasped.

“Follow me,” Alize thought she could hear the smile on the Sargon’s mouth, “I was thinking of something more interesting.”

“Can you manage the Hrumi as Sargon Kelesh can?” Alize demanded.

“I know what women want,” their guide answered. “Kelesh, he misunderstands. He is always teasing them with power, with freedom. The Hrumi absolutely despise him. But me, I prefer luring bees with honey. This way,” he gestured up a staircase.

“But isn’t the dungeon downstairs?” Alize murmured.

Qaaru knotted her brows. “And why is he the only Sargon carrying a sword in here?” They both slowed their pace.

“This way ladies,” the Sargon reiterated. “Don’t you want to find your lost family member?”

“Aghta,” a new voice rang in the hallway, “I didn’t hear that Prince Icar returned your dungeon key.”

Alize turned to see another Sargon pacing towards them.

“Don’t follow,” Qaaru whispered, catching Alize’s sleeve. “Melis told me about Aghta. He’s nothing but trouble.”

But Alize had already frozen. She recognized that voice. Kell had come for her after all.

“Can’t you torment the Hrumi without having to torment everyone else, Kelesh?” Aghta quipped, his posture shifting.

“You’re Kelesh?” Qaaru interrupted.

“I’m not working today,” Kell responded lowly, “Just here to retrieve something.”

Alize began to retreat with Qaaru, but Kell gripped Alize’s arm so hard she almost cringed. Instead she met Qaaru’s look of complete surprise.

“You know him?” Qaaru mouthed.

Alize nodded, “But I didn’t know he was in charge here.”

“That one’s yours?” Aghta laughed above them, addressing Kell as if he no longer saw the women standing between them. “Of course. How did I not recognize the signs? She’s just begging to be broken.”

Alize tried to whirl around to face the Sargon, but Kell gripped her even harder, holding her firmly in place.

“And you know how I feel about people breaking my things,” Kell growled.

Alize dropped her jaw, but before she had time to respond, Kell practically dragged her down the hallway after him. She could hear Aghta laughing behind them. Qaaru disappeared back in the direction of the waiting room.

“Let me go!” Alize protested. Wrestling against Kell, she cursed the Sargon armor that protected him. Her efforts against him felt not just weak but stupid and petty. Kell pulled her by her elbow through the passages of the jail, thrusting her before him into the renewed drizzle outside.

“I need you to act reasonably!” he snapped.

“I am acting reasonably!” Alize tried to jerk her arm free but Kell kept it in his steely grip.

“By going behind my back?”

“I’m not beholden to you! Don’t treat me like some disobedient animal! Like a thing you can break!”

“That line was for Aghta’ benefit, not yours!”

“Obviously not mine!”

Kell loosened his fingers until Alize wrenched away from him. She rubbed her elbow while she glared into his Sargon helmet. It left nothing exposed to her, though she could hear Kell’s heavy breathing. After a moment he turned away. When he began trodding through the rain, Alize hesitated before following him. He kept ahead of her the entire walk back to his residence.

Behind him Alize stewed.

Once he closed the wooden door, Kell confronted Alize. “You shouldn’t have gone without me,” he admonished sharply. “If you’re that careless, you’ll drag me down with you.”

“You’re not my top concern right now!”Alize shouted. After directing one final glare at at Kell, she turned her back to him and paced towards the stairs.

“I never realized how selfish you are,” Kell called after her.

“I’m too selfish to watch a Sargon destroy everything I believe in?!” Alize whirled back to him.

“Oh forgive me,” Kell spat with false repentance, “I meant to say you’re dimwitted and selfish.”

Alize’s anger waxing into a rage. Kell thought calling her names could shame her into obedience. Just like Viken. “I’d be wounded if a Sargon’s opinion mattered to me! I am a Hrumi-!”

“You are an idiot!” Kell exploded, “You don’t know anything about anything! And until you have even the tiniest shred of understanding, you’re just spewing nonesense!”

“I don’t understand that my sisters are in prison getting ‘broken’? That Essa – who, I’ll remind you, was prepared to save your life – apparently died at your hands? Under your precious control?!”

The entire winter in the citadel, Alize had never stood up to Viken, not like this. Kell’s accusations stirred the life inside her, driving her against him. Whatever he thought, she understood this fight, understood what was at stake. And she understood her role, her purpose. She was not about to surrender that precious certainty. She strode back towards Kell, muscles taut.

Kell lifted his helmet, exposing Alize to the full force of his anger. “Essa chose death!”

“Liar!” Alize screamed.

Kell leaned forward suddenly, into Alize’s space. She reacted on instinct, catching his arm and shoving him hard against the wall.

He pushed back and barreled Alize to the floor, landing on top of her.

Alize yelled in frustration. The sound bounced against the walls and reverberated in her bones. Never in her life had she met anyone who could infuriate her so quickly. Her knee caught Kell in the stomach and he doubled over while she scrambled to her feet. She desperately needed to demonstrate that she could still best him. That there was value in Hrumi skill, and power too, no matter how much his prison debased her sisters.

Alize slammed into the floor with Kell above her. She twisted away and staggered to grab one of the unsheathed swords hanging on the wall.

Seeing her, Kell tilted his head, raising his eyebrows in deliberation.

His cool composure goaded Alize. She wanted him to have the decency to feel threatened.

“You can’t wield a sword,” he warned.

“I can learn,” Alize sneered in response. Testing the hilt in her hands, she brandished the blade before him. The movement was clumsier than she had intended.

Kell clenched his jaw and crossed the room with sure footsteps. He lifted another sword from the wall and turned to face Alize.

Alize held her blade tip outwards. The sword weighed far heavier than a dagger and she could feel the unsteadiness of her grip.

Within the span of a heartbeat, Kell brought his sword down against hers with enormous force.

Alize’s sword clattered to the ground.

Another failure.

“Pick it up,” Kell commanded.

Alize’s eyes never left him as she stooped to the ground to grasp the hilt once more. Her fingers already ached from Kell’s disarming.

He circled her slowly. “Poor stance,” he observed, tapping her waist with the flat side of his sword.

Alize tried to block him, but missed. Her every movement fell short of her expectations, horrifying her with their childlike ineptitude. She fumbled and failed to block Kell’s next stroke.

Kell swung again. His tightly controlled blade stopped exactly at Alize’s neck. “Poor technique,” he snickered.

Alize’s cheeks burned. Hesna had taught her better than this.

“Poor pacing,” Kell continued. He hit Alize’s blade brazenly.

She retreated backwards, regretting it immediately.

Kell followed her, breaking into her space while deftly avoiding her blade. He seized Alize’s wrist, stimulating a pressure pointed that seared pain up the length of her arm. Against all her intentions, the sword hilt slipped from her palm and into Kell’s grasp.

He flipped in his hands and then brandished both swords before Alize, framing her defeat with his chilling indifference.

“And poor grip,” he added, almost to himself. His eyes flashed back to Alize. “Even with that temper,” Kell jeered, “you should know better than to attack with a weapon you cannot wield.”

“Enough!” Davram’s voice rang from above them, echoing off the staircase.

Kell turned, but Alize did not dare raise her eyes. They were burning, and she could not bear for Kell to see that. She would do well to remember that he was a Sargon. His easy victory over her sullied their friendship in her memory, and part of her felt relieved. She had thought him kind, but such kindness grimly made sense if he believed himself capable controlling her when needed. That was always a Sargon’s true task and she had been a fool to believe any differently.

And, more than ever before, Alize regretted the day in the tent when she had debased herself in front of him, sinking into his insincere embrace. He’s so skilled at manipulating the Hrumi. It marked another victory for him, one she had not even recognized conceding at the time, so deeply he had deceived her. And she, the Hrumi, had put herself in a position to allow a Sargon to betray her. To hurt her.

Always putting your trust in the wrong people, Vicken spoke in her mind.

Alize’s remorse blazed under her skin. It did not resemble the familiar heat of exertion, for no number of deep breaths could provide her any relief.

“Davram,” Kell said, lowering his swords.

Next to Alize, Kell’s entire demeanor changed. All the rage she had witnessed transformed to concern. It was gentle, bare, unlike the cruel-eyed Sargon she had faced. Without his cold mask, she could see that he too flushed, that his voice was also breathless. “You’re awake.”

“Awake with a most fearsome headache.” Davram answered, drawing his hands down his face. He had trimmed his beard back to its shape, but his skin was pale and wan. “But if you two are finished yelling, I think it’s time we all had a talk.”

Alize swallowed and wrenched her gaze upwards only to see Davram retreat towards his room.

Alize felt Kell’s eyes on her, but kept her head forward as she mounted the stairs.