It went on endlessly.

For three days, Em had no peace at all. She didn’t wake, but she didn’t stop moving either. Not once. Turn, toss, twitch, flinch. Turn, toss, twitch, flinch.

Then, at three in the morning of the fourth night, it abruptly stopped.

Tracy had fallen asleep, too exhausted to keep her vigil. But Flint was there. Awake with his eyes closed and his head bent back against the wall. The sudden silence was more frightening than the moans.

Hands shaking, he forced himself to check.

He had to check.

It was something he’d done countless times on the battlefield. When he had to decide. When he had to accurately judge whether someone had survived their wounds.

It haunted him he might have missed a small breath. That he might have left people to die alone on those bloody fields.

And now he had to press his fingers to the pulse on his little sister’s neck.

Dreading that there would be no beat.

Flint couldn’t remember the last time he cried. Even at his mother’s funeral, his eyes had been dry and his face frozen into emotionlessness.

But when he felt the faint ‘thump… thump… thump’ rhythm under his fingers, he leaned over the little chest.

And wept.

***

Thiago’s shoes clacked on the bare, wooden stairs as he climbed up. And up. And up.

Normally, if he wanted to imprison someone, he’d send them to the dungeon. It was cold, and dank, and the air smelled faintly of mildew and something else rotten.

He liked the smell.

It reminded him of the boy he’d tossed down there ten years ago. And left to starve to death while the whole palace was in an uproar looking for him. They’d even sent a platoon of knights into the mountains on the false information that the boy had left with a friend.

The friend Thiago had killed.

Neither of the two boys were found. But sometimes Thiago would go to that part of the dungeon and laugh over the remains still tucked away in an unused cell.

He could never remember that boy without thinking also of Madeline.

She was already his by then. An arrangement made by their parents. But he’d refrained from showing her his more… interesting side.

Until the night he found her trying to save the boy in the dungeon.

The boy, his older brother, was already dead. By only a day but still dead. And his death didn’t change that she had tried to defy Thiago. He’d punished her, right in the corridor where her screams could echo.

Stupid wench ran away the very next day. And it took him years to recover her.

Still, he had no need to worry.

Madeline Dulce knew his secret. Which made her terrified of him. Oh, she put up a good act (which he liked very much), but she was truly incapable of defying him anymore.

He knew because she never told anyone about the murdered prince in the dungeon.

Not that anyone would believe her.

Not anyone who’d never seen what he was capable of.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Especially not the only one with the power to do anything about it. The dying old man in the Emperor’s Palace. No, that one would never believe his last remaining beloved son would do something so despicable.

Thiago smiled.

He reached the landing and waved at the man accompanying him. Hastily, the guard took out a key ring and opened the door. Bowing Thiago inside and closed the door behind him.

For a prison, the room was furnished comfortably.

Lazily, he looked around.

He saw the old woman, hunched by the window. But he didn’t go to her directly. Instead, he pulled a book off the shelf and flipped through it.

Harmless.

“Is this how you chose to entertain yourself? Reading about flowers?”

She didn’t look at him. Instead, keeping her blank gaze staring fixedly out the window. Thiago put the book down, scowling.

“Answer me!”

“What do you want?”

He strode swiftly across the room and raised a hand. The old woman barely turned her eyes toward him. Not flinching.

Gritting his teeth, he dropped his fist. Letting it dangle by his thigh as he reigned in his temper.

Foolish old crone.

“One day, I’m going to lose patience with you.”

The old woman smiled. Despite her age, she had a full mouth of teeth. It looked odd to Thiago amidst her layers of wrinkles.

“When you do, I’ll return to my goddess, Felice.” She held up a hand and pointed a rude gesture at him. “And laugh when you destroy yourself.”

He barely caught his own hand before smacking her.

Wretched old witch!

“Tell me your visions.”

“Why should I?”

He leaned down and hissed, “Because, I may have lost one of your grandchildren, but I’m still holding one in my palm. Have you forgotten? Just because you’ve been in this room for eight years?”

It was ten years ago when she’d given him Umbra’s promise. Not of her own free will, the god had taken control of her to do it. Then she immediately disappeared to god knows where.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

It had taken him almost two years to track her down.

During the search, he’d found her weakness. Too bad for her, the sister was willing to work for Umbra’s chosen.

It was scary how similar the two women looked.

Sometimes he wondered if his supporter had somehow been transported into the tower. Which was nonsense, considering how much their attitudes differed.

While he was thinking, she was clenching and unclenching her fists.

Glaring at him with hatred.

“Now, tell me. Have I eliminated the threat?”

She took a deep breath and finally closed her eyes. She leaned back in her seat and grew still, lifting her chin as she rested her head on the back of her chair. Graying hair tumbling over her shoulders and into her lap.

While she did that, he turned the stone on his ring.

The area it covered was small. But anyone within range would be unable to tell a lie without all of them within the space knowing.

It was almost useless to him since it worked only a few minutes at a time and shared his lies as well. But it was his only safeguard in this situation.

The old woman shuddered.

“Is my grandson safe?”

She didn’t open her eyes.

“He is.”

She sighed and opened her eyes. Her face sagged tiredly. Holding up a hand, her eyes unfocused until the pupils turned milky and made Thiago’s skin crawl.

“Thiago Cyrin, chosen of Umbra. For the duration of your life, no one can cause you harm. You will gain the throne and none will take it.”

It was the prophecy. Said over and over again through the years.

Then the part that made him growl.

“These promises are yours if you beware, chosen of Umbra. Kill the prince who comes with fire and cured of scars. If you ever face him in the midst of winter’s teeth, it is your blood that will spill and your screams that will pierce the sky.”

Thiago cursed.

In a fit of temper, he grabbed her empty dinner plate and threw it across the room. The plate shattered.

Ten years! Ten fricken years! He’d killed his brothers, hunted the sons of Dukes, gone to war, and wiped out entire royal families. And the bastard was still alive somewhere?!

“Who is it?!” he bellowed. “Who?! Old woman-”

“There’s no use asking me.” She opened her eyes and smiled contemptuously. “I tell you what I see when you ask.”

The ring shorted out and Thiago yanked it off his finger. He barely stopped himself from throwing it. Damn it!

“Fine.” He turned and stalked to the door.

It slammed behind him and the guard re-locked it.

For a moment, the old woman stared at the door. Then she smiled secretively and leaned back so she could stare peacefully out the window.

***

Em pinched herself.

It was hard enough to leave a small welt. Just like the other dozens of small marks, it ended red and angry like a bug bite.

And it still hurt.

Tracy wouldn’t let her get up, even though both the doctor and Kimball said she was fine. Loki also said she was fine (while dripping off her nightstand and hanging like something nasty). But they couldn’t hear him.

She pinched herself again. Digging her nails in until she almost broke the surface. Pain shot up her elbow.

“I died.”

She didn’t know how she knew it. Everything could still be explained as some weird dream. After all, she could be dreaming she was pinching herself. It could be corresponding to pains in her body and her mind was just interpreting it.

But she knew.

She knew she’d died. That body, back there, in the real world. It was gone.

Well, it had no life anyway. And there was no reason to think about what was happening to it now. Her ashes were probably being disposed of. Maybe they’d even been sent to her mom. If the woman was still alive.

And Maddie?

What about Maddie?

“Loki?”

Em didn’t look away from the window. Dull gray curtains hung like limp dish rags against the opening. Since the glass had been destroyed some time ago and they couldn’t replace them yet, come winter that window would be covered in skins or wood to keep out the cold.

“Yup?”

Lazily, the slime crawled part of its body out from under her pillow, grabbing her attention.

For a second, she stared blankly at him. Then shuddered.

“What were you doing under my pillow?!”

“Taking a nap.”

“That’s disgusting!”

“I’m not sweating goop. How’s it disgusting?”

Clearly, he was enjoying this. She shuddered again and made a face. Then she grabbed him and put him on the nightstand. Fast enough to make him dizzy.

“Hey!”

“Is it true? Is Maddie dead, too?”

The slime looked like a little man as it stretched. And Loki was loud making his stretching noises.

“I think we’ve established this before.”

“Then say it again.”

The slime gooped forward, closer to her by an inch. Then he put a smooth tentacle on her hand.

“Your Maddie died instantly.”

Something broke inside her. The numbness that had taken over her mind from the moment she’d woken up vanished and her face crumpled.

“Hic, hic, hic.”

She pulled her legs to her chest and buried her face in her knees. Trying not to wail, but unable to contain her sobs.

Maddie was gone.

Em was gone, too, but… she’d thought… when she died, she thought she’d be leaving Maddie to pick up the pieces. Move on. Find a good man and have a baby. Indulge in whatever other dreams and fun that Maddie had given up for her little sister.

Who would have ever predicted Maddie would go first?

Her whole body convulsed with her sobs.

Something shifted on the bed and she felt something heavy sit on it.

Loki, in his human form with a human face, put a hand on her shoulder. Invisible to the human eye, he also put up a shield. It kept the sounds of Em’s growing wails in. Leaving her undisturbed to mourn.

“I failed her!”

“By sitting in the passenger seat?”

“If-if I hadn’t been so stubborn. And-and died sooner, we-we wouldn’t have been going to the hos-hospital-”

Loki snorted.

Humans. They were so illogical when they were emotional. He shook his head and decided it wasn’t worth arguing.

“It is-isn’t fair!”

Fair?

Humans were strange in that concept. For him, for all the gods, fair meant the laws were being followed. It wasn’t about how much or how little someone got. When a law was broken, it had to be made right to put it back into balance.

Though he could think of some gods who loved breaking the law.

Part of him understood.

He paid the price for his pranks all the time. The other part did not understand, since what they did had a heavier price tag if they ever had to pay for it. They were just really, really good at getting others to do the deeds instead of themselves. Thus avoiding punishment.

He didn’t argue with her about fairness, though. Humans didn’t understand.

“Fair or not, it is done.”

That only made her cry harder so he decided it wasn’t worth trying to be logical with her. So, he simply sat there. Hand on her shoulder. And amusing himself by projecting his consciousness and creating whatever accident was necessary to keep that Tracy woman away.

There was no end to what could go wrong.

She dropped a pile of laundry, her foot fell through a step on the servants’ stairs, and he even pinched one woman’s arm at just the right moment (starting a fight between Tracy and her).

By the end of the day, Tracy was going to think she was cursed. But she stayed away long enough for Em to calm down.

Eyes swollen and body exhausted, Em allowed Loki to tuck her in again. Curling up under the blanket and sticking her arm under the pillow.

“You’re r-right.”

“Of course I am.” He smiled proudly as he crouched down. His face was now level with hers. “But what am I right about?”

She smiled and rubbed her eyes.

“You’re handsome that way.”