While Raeldon goes below to the taproom for a drink, Daniel and Antony tie the black-clad half-breed to a straight-backed chair in the men's bedroom. Antony checks and double checks Daniel's knots.

"I grew up by the sea." He says by way of explanation when he catches me watching closely. "I know my knots." He cocks his head at me and asks,

"Would thee like me to teach thee?"

Why not?

I nod and smile. And get a small return smile from the high elf.

"Later." He promises.

"Ava," Daniel says, and I look at him.

What did you call me? I almost ask, but I hold my tongue.

"Yes?" I say instead.

He doesn't look at me, instead planting his hands on the chair back on either side of the unconscious prisoner. Leans close to him, studying his face.

"Do you have anything that would wake this fellow up?" The paladin asks.

Other than a slap?

"Yes." I answer. I dig in my bottomless pocket and pull out a vial of something, well, vile. From experience I know that the contents inside smell like sulfur and days-old decaying meat. A sickening combination, but an effective one nonetheless.

I uncork the vial and hold it under the captive's nose. A mere three seconds later-- I was counting-- he jolts awake, coughing. He gasps for air, gets a nose-full of the foul stink. Chokes and gags.

I step back, re-corking the vial and slipping it back in my pocket. Daniel glances at me.

"Effective." He comments.

Then he turns to the half-elf, who is now struggling fruitlessly against Antony's tight knots. The half-breed's face contorts in anger as Daniel folds his arms and stands before him.

"Let me go!" The pointed-ear snarls at the paladin. Follows up his demand with a nasty insult directed at Daniel and involving his mother. Daniel appears unperturbed. His gaze grows colder, but that is all.

"Answer my questions truthfully, and I will." He replies.

I cross my arms over my chest and raise my eyebrows.

That... may not be the wisest choice. If I were the paladin, I would get the answers I need and then dispose of the half-breed.

Permanently.

But, after nearly a month of Daniel's company, I know that this is not his way. He hates killing, and is far too merciful and kind. He doesn't yet know that the world works the complete opposite way, poor fool.

Amyry's man spits at Daniel, and my anger is kindled. The paladin doesn't react, aside of the muscles in his jaw tightening. But I've had just about enough of this half-breed's disrespect.

"Tell me," Daniel says, "why does Amyry want us dead? What exactly were your orders regarding us?"

The captive sneers.

"We were supposed to kill you all, ----!"

Well, that was a particularly nasty word. If I were the pointed-ear's mum, I'd be washing his mouth out with soap. But I make no comment as he continues,

"Any threat to Lord Amyry's throne garners an immediate death sentence! To be carried out by whomever wants the gold! I shouldn't be surprised if the whole city knows by now that there's a price on your heads!"

Daniel, Eliana, Antony, and I exchange worried glances that have the prisoner chuckling.

A price? Well, curses.

"I don't want to threaten Amyry's rule." Daniel tells the captive. "I merely wish to treat with him."

The half-breed spits again. I see Antony's fists clench.

"It's 'Lord Amyry' to you, street scum!" The prisoner replies. Daniel sighs, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No," he says quietly, "it's not." Opens his eyes. "If Amyry will not let me in to treat with him peacefully, I will walk in with demands that he cannot ignore. Tell me the entry passwords."

The captive snarls, "I will not!" Spits a third time. An un-ignorable insult, one that demands an apology or satisfaction.

And there is no way this blood-cursed sorry excuse for a half-elf is apologizing.

"Enough!" I say. Antony starts forward, but I beat him to it.

"Stand up for yourself next time." I tell Daniel, pushing him out of the way. His eyes widen at my reprimand, but he neither does nor says anything.

My brother would never have let the prisoner get away with spitting thrice. At the first insult, Falkirk would have demanded satisfaction. Would have released the half-breed and given him a blade. And then my brother would have proceeded to make the half-elf pay for the insult in blood.

Daniel is soft. It's going to get him killed one day.

Hopefully not by me.

I stalk up to the prisoner and, when I know my companions cannot see my face, alter my features to cracked, ebony skin like jagged glass. My eyes become twin flame-hued orbs in their sockets.

I slam the half-elf's head against the back of the chair. Grab his shoulder and lean forward into his face as he woozily picks up his head. A knife-- previously hidden in my sleeve-- is suddenly in my hand, its razor-sharp tip pressing gently against the captive's throat. He looks up into my face and goes white with fear.

I smile. Wolfishly, all teeth.

"I do not suffer insults to my friends to go unavenged." I hiss down into his face. "However, I'm fairly sure that my paladin friend over there doesn't want you dead. So I won't kill you." I tilt my head, still smiling. "Yet."

The prisoner glances over my shoulder at Daniel.

"Help me!" He pleads, his breath whistling in his throat. I grab his jaw and turn his face back to me.

"No one's going to help you." I say, smile gone as if it had never been. "Tell me the entry passwords to Amyry's castle. Now!"

Terrified, he spills everything. The passwords, the guard rotation schedule, everything.

I release him and step back, grateful that Daniel didn't try to stop me from doing what I did. That could have been awkward.

"You got all that?" I ask the paladin, altering my face back to normal before I glance back at him. He nods, stunned, I think, by my ruthlessness. Antony too. Eliana has her hands over her mouth and is staring at me, wide-eyed.

I feel a twinge of guilt. Quickly push it aside. Why should I care what they think of me? I got the information they wanted.

"Thank you." I tell the captive, turning back around. I smile at him again. His terrified eyes dart back and forth between me and Daniel. I raise my knife.

The half-breed has outlived his usefulness, and I can't have him spilling my changeling secret.

Daniel shakes off his shock, steps forward and grabs my upraised arm.

"No." He says, as I turn to look into his eyes. They are firm and hard and their normal sea-blue is icy cold.

"Why not?" I ask.

"He's a hostage. He's still useful. I don't want him dead. You will stay your blade, Avalon."

"Fine." I yank my arm from his grasp, but I do not rebel against his orders. I respect him too much for that.

"But I will not be hearing any more of his foul insults." I tell Daniel coldly, using my knife to slice a strip of cloth from the prisoner's cloak. I tightly gag the half-breed with it, leaning close as I tie it behind his head. I whisper softly in his ear,

"Tell them I'm a changeling, and I don't care what the paladin says. I will make you wish you had never been born, understand?" Then I step back, asking,

"Why exactly do we need a hostage?" I plant my hands on my hips.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Eliana smothers a laugh at my face and tone, sounding stressed. Antony turns away, probably exasperated with me. Or the world.

It could honestly be both.

Daniel sighs and replies patiently.

"Because I don't want Amyry shooting us on sight when we walk in. Hopefully he won't want to kill one of his own men. Further, perhaps I could use this soldier to gain us an audience with Amyry."

I snort. Poor, naive Daniel. That's never going to work. I tell him so.

He runs his hand over his face.

"Probably not." He agrees. "But one can hope. I don't want any more blood on my hands than there has to be."

I snort again, turning away. Let the paladin have his fantasies.

"I'm going to bed." I announce, and stalk out of the room without waiting for an answer.

Eliana joins me in our room not long after. I watch carefully for any sign that the prisoner did in fact spill my secret. But Eliana doesn't seem to know I'm a changeling. I turn over in my bed after she's changed into her nightclothes, and watch her as she combs out her long raven-hued hair. She's grim and quiet tonight. She silently climbs into bed and pulls the bedsheets over herself, flipping onto her side so she doesn't have to look at me.

Something's wrong, and I don't think my being a changeling has anything to do with it. She would have said something.

"Eliana." I say.

"Hm?" She replies.

"What's wrong?" I ask. She turns to look at me and I realize she's crying.

What have I done now?

"You." She grits out. "You're what's wrong."

Oh great.

"Why do you say that?" I ask carefully.

"What sane person kills as efficiently as you do, and doesn't even care?!" She bursts out. My face goes blank.

What kind of person?

A person without a conscience.

It's not like I enjoy killing. I do what has to be done, and I can't help it if I do it well.

"You're bothered by what I did tonight?" I ask her. Eliana pauses for a moment, eyes rimmed red and jaw working. Finally she decides to just up and say it.

"Yes!" She cries. "Yes, I'm bothered! Don't you have a heart, a soul?! Or did you sell it?"

I flinch, stung by her words.

Of course I have a soul.

Don't I?

And no, I didn't sell it.

I think.

As for my heart, whatever heart I had was shattered long ago, and whatever pieces are left belong to Falkirk.

My anger kindles, but then I sigh. I have no call to be irate with Eliana. She is far more pure and good than I will ever be. I know what I am. Blood I can never remove stains my hands. If I think about it too much, it threatens to break my sanity.

Maybe she's right, and I have sold my soul.

But to whom, and what for what?

I realize Eliana is just staring at me. I know I have to answer her in some way.

"Eliana," I say, "there is no condoning what I've done in my past. There is way too much blood and grief there for anybody to forgive. But tonight was a live-or-die situation. I fought in the ways I knew how, with what I had, and we lived. Can you accept that?"

She nods, sniffles. I sigh again, roll back over.

"Elhim can forgive you." I hear her whisper so quietly I almost don't hear. My breath stills, and I almost ask what she means. Then I remember Daniel mentioning Elhim as his God.

The gods are fickle, and I cannot think of one who has not done worse than I have. No gods will be forgiving me today.

But I can't get Eliana's words out of my mind. Before long I can hear her breathing even out in sleep.

But it's a long time before my body settles enough to copy her.

In the morning, Daniel has an assignment for Antony and me. We are to take the half-breed prisoner to Amyry's stronghold and, using him as leverage, gain an audience with Amyry.

I already know that this is not going to work.

"And how are we supposed to use the hostage as leverage?" I ask at breakfast. Daniel sighs and rubs his face with his hands.

"I don't know." His voice is muffled. "Threats, I suppose."

"Threats?" I echo. He peeks at me.

"Humane ones."

My lips twitch, wanting to smile.

"That leaves me a lot of grey area, Daniel." I say. "I will have to make threats that I am prepared to carry out. You are not well practiced in this business, that's for sure."

He nods in agreement, then drains his cup of coffee.

"Do what you think is best." He says.

Oh, that's definitely a lot of grey area. Daniel and I have very different ideas of 'whats best'.

But I merely nod, standing when Antony rises from his seat and gestures to me. We retrieve the prisoner from the bedroom and march him through the streets.

Because of our scouting trips yesterday, we know where Amyry's castle is located, and we head straight there. We encounter no opposition on the way, and Antony and I barely speak as we walk. Just minor observances and the pointing out of the streets that we need to traverse.

I wonder if Antony is angry with me at all because of the night before. Then I silently curse myself for even caring. Why should I care? I don't!

The half-breed walks between us, still gagged, his hands bound behind him. A short rope hobbles his ankles, ensuring that he can only take short strides. He stumbles as we hurry him along, our pace quick.

It's a mere ten minute walk to the gate of Amyry's stronghold.

"Halt!" The guard on duty calls down to us. "State your names and business here!"

I see three crossbows at least aimed down at us. They could be a problem, though not much of one, if I raise a mage-shield in time.

Daniel told me to do what I thought was best, so I guess I am spokesman. I call up to the guard,

"The paladin of Elhim, Daniel, wishes an audience with Lord Amyry."

The guard sneers down at us, "The only audience this Daniel will get with milord is a trial and a beheading! And that's only if milord's bein' kind!"

I kick my prisoner to his knees and draw my mage-blade.

"Then thus says Daniel to Amyry: I will walk in with demands you cannot ignore nor deny, and you will not be able to keep me out. And if you refuse me, I shall raze your stronghold to the ground and make its stones as dust that drifts away in the wind. Or, you can grant me an audience and we can talk peaceably." I slit the prisoner's gag with my mage-blade and use the weapon to gesture down at him. "Choose wisely, guardsman. Your comrade's life is on the line."

"Avalon..." Antony lays a hand on my arm, but I shake him off. Daniel told me to do what I thought was best.

This is what I think is best.

The guard's eyes widen as he recognizes his comrade.

"Stand down!" He calls to the crossbowmen, who reluctantly put up their bows.

"We thought you were dead!" The guard calls down to his captured friend.

"I will be in a minute!" My prisoner cries, all his bravado gone. "This maniac-- ungh!" I thump him sharply on the side of the head with the hilt of my weapon, forestalling his next word. "Please, she'll kill me!" He sobs out, coming upright, then bowing himself forward. I grab the back of his collar and haul him up on his knees. Place the edge of my mage-blade beneath his chin. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Listen to your friend!" I call to the guards atop the castle ramparts. "He need not die...!"

They confer quietly for a moment, then one of them runs off into the castle proper. Returns a few moments later, white-faced and eyes haunted. He speaks to the captain on duty, the spokesman. They confer for a few moments more. I wait patiently. Obviously, Amyry's answer was not favorable to his unfortunate soldier.

I almost feel bad for the poor guy.

And then I remember his insults to Daniel, and my remorse vanishes.

At last the captain atop the gatehouse speaks to us. Haltingly, licking his lips while glancing apologies at his captive comrade, he says,

"Lord Amyry will not grant an audience to the paladin Daniel, regardless of your threats."

The half-breed in my grip releases a wail of hopelessness. I don't even spare him a glance. It's not my fault he chose to serve the wrong lord.

"Very well." I reply to the guards. I yank the captive to his feet.

And then I plunge my mage-blade into his back, through his ribs, up into his heart. He dies with a ringing scream.

"Avalon, NO!" Antony is just a little too late to stop me.

I jerk my mage-blade free of the corpse and let it fall to the ground. Antony's hand lands heavily on my shoulder and he spins me to face him. His green eyes blaze with fury and... grief?

"What hast thou done, Avalon?" He cries. "What is wrong with thee?!"

Irritated, I knock his hand from my shoulder.

"He made his choices," I say, nodding at the corpse on the ground at our feet. Swipe the blood off my blade on my sleeve in the crease of my elbow and sheathe the weapon. "And they made theirs." I nod to the stunned men atop the battlements. I grab Antony's arm and drag him back into the cover of the city before the crossbowmen can shoot us.

"Berate me on the way back." I grimly tell Antony. He shakes himself loose of me, and doesn't even look at me as he says,

"What hast thou done? Daniel wanted him alive, and you-- you--."

"What, did you not want me to follow through on a threat that you didn't stop me from delivering?" I counter. He turns his head slightly to view me from the corner of his eye.

"Daniel will hear of this." He tells me quietly.

I make no answer. I do not fear Daniel's wrath.

When we step back through the door of the tavern, Daniel is waiting for us. He frowns at the lack of a prisoner. Antony brushes by me and immediately draws the paladin aside, speaking to him in low tones. I see them glance back at me, then Daniel's face pales and tightens in anger. He strides over to me and, without a word, grabs my arm and drags me up the stairs to his room. He throws open the door and tosses me inside, before stepping in after me. I stumble, regain my balance, stand straight and tall and meet his anger head on.

I have ire to match his.

"How could you?" He speaks, his voice low and shaking. His fists clench, but I am unconcerned. This man would never strike a woman, no matter how tempted he was.

"You told me to do what I thought was best." I tell him, my voice intense and just as low. "Your exact words: 'Do what you think is best.'"

He half turns away from me and digs his fingers into his hair.

"That wasn't what I-- Aargh! That wasn't what I meant, Avalon!" He cries.

"Then what did you mean?" I ask, folding my arms and tilting my head at him.

"I didn't mean kill him!" He shouts, turning back.

"So you'd rather have me lie and bluff my way through than follow through on my threat?" I step forward, my voice rising. "At least it was humane, Daniel! He didn't suffer! He died clean!"

"Like that fixes anything!" He cries. "I thought you knew what I'd want, Avalon! I thought we were friends, and I thought that you respected me enough to carry out my wishes!"

I did. I do.

I take another step forward.

"If you don't like how I handled the situation, I can leave." I say, lowering my voice intensely. "Do you want me to leave, Daniel?"

He half turns away again, tangling his fingers in his sandy-hued locks.

"Yes." He replies. "No. I-- I don't know."

I step forward one more time, right up to his side. He's breathing hard, distressed, and my heart pangs me at the thought of the grief I've cause this man today.

Funny, I didn't know my heart was still alive. But I don't shove the feeling away, for the first time in a very, very long time. I owe Daniel that much, I suppose.

I lay my hands on Daniel's arms.

"Do you want me to leave, Daniel?" I ask again. "Because I will. Just say the word, and I will."

And then maybe I can finally be free of this wretched assignment my brother tasked me with.

"No." The paladin replies brokenly, closing his eyes. He slowly untangles his fingers from his hair and lowers his arms, and I release him.

"No." He says again, opening his eyes. Their sea-blue is fierce, and my breath hitches for just one second.

"Don't leave." Daniel says, then grabs my shoulders and leans down until our faces are only a breath apart.

"But defy me again, Avalon, and I'll personally see you to the door." He speaks softly, still very much angry. Then his anger seems to drain away, and his eyes turn weary. "Nevertheless, you are forgiven, Ava." He peers into my eyes, searching for... something. He doesn't seem to find what he's looking for, and his gaze saddens.

"You're not even sorry, are you?" He says softly. Releases me and turns away toward the door.

Something akin to grief smites me at his tone and posture. Abruptly I decide to let him see a piece of my shattered heart.

"How can I be?" I ask him, almost sadly, a new feeling for me when among strangers-- people who are supposed to be as strangers to me. "I stopped being sorry a long time ago, Daniel. Circumstances took away my conscience. It's gone, Daniel. Gone."

Which... may be not entirely true. Maybe.

He looks back at me, but doesn't speak. Merely gives me the most sorrow-laden gaze I have ever seen and then slips silently from the room.

Leaving me clutching at my aching heart and feeling the nudges of emotion through the twin-bond as Fal wonders what's wrong.

And I don't have the words.