James rushed down the hall of the underground complex. Exhaustion warred against the dreadful fear in his heart. He’d watched the all-consuming fire spread against the western Outwalls as he was trapped, fighting against the Venarans in the east. Images of his wife and daughter caught in the fire circled in his mind as he followed one of Marc’s personal guards. His brother urgently called for him, and James knew in his gut that it was about his family.

He took deep breaths, trying to calm his breathing as he restrained himself from running down the hall. Blood and soot stained every inch of him, gore sticking in the links of his chain. War had been just the hell he remembered it to be, but he would wade through that crucible a thousand times more to know his family was safe.

They soon neared the door set into the stone wall that led to Marc’s room. James ignored the guard at the door and shoved past the man leading him, bursting into the room, heart pounding. Marc sat in one of his wooden chairs, grimacing as a healer stitched a cut in his shoulder. A second shallow cut along his chest had already been sutured closed. Marc met James eyes and there was no relief to be had in that look.

“Where’s my daughter?” James demanded.

Marc raised his free hand. “James-”

James marched up to Marc and the healer flinched as he approached. “Where,” he demanded.

“Lissa is fine, James.”

A rush of relief rushed over him at that news, one of the blades of fear propped against his heart falling away. “Where is she?” he asked.

Marc took a deep breath. “Before you see her, we need to talk.”

That sent a cold rush of fear down his spine. “What happened?”

Marc grunted as the healer tied the suture closed. “Valdrik, you may go,” Marc said.

The healer nodded and gathered his supplies before leaving the room. James waited, the edge of his impatience tempting him to grab the man and bodily launch him through the door. A moment later, Valdrik took his leave.

Marc took a deep breath before speaking. “Melna is dead, and it seems Hilda started the fire to cover Lissa’s escape.”

James’ heart leapt into his throat. “Started the fire?” he asked, voice breaking.

Marc’s eyes conveyed a deep sadness to match his own. She saved your girl but if she made it out, she would have turned up by now. My men are still scouring the city just in case.”

James’ voice caught, and he couldn’t seem to manage the words. Divines, he should have fought harder with them and dragged them both to where it was safe. Why did he give in? “Hilda,” he whispered.

James staggered to the chair opposite Marc’s and slumped into it. What the hell was he going to say to his daughter?

“I’m sorry James,” Marc said.

James barely heard him. He was thinking back to yesterday when he’d last held her in his arms. If that was to be their last parting, he’d wanted it to a good memory. That’s why he’d let them stay. He just never imagined he’d be the one left behind.

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Marc spoke, “Melna’s last words were to say how remarkable Lissa was.”

James leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. What did he care what Melna said?

“She said that Lissa was everything she’d hoped. Which means she’s everything I’d ever hoped for,” he whispered.

James had to force the words out between shuddering breaths. “I need to see her, Marc.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Marc said.

James’s brow furrowed and he looked up at Marc. “What do you mean?”

Marc’s expression was dark, and he was quiet a moment as he seemed to try to find the words. “You did a remarkable job in raising her. Lissa is kind and compassionate despite living in the Outwalls. But kindness and compassion are not what our people need right now.”

James leaned away from Marc. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying you can’t see her,” he said.

James blinked. He couldn’t have possibly heard that right.

“She’s my daughter,” he said.

“But she’s also so much more that,” Marc said.

James rose to his feet, voice raising. “And who the hell are you to tell me whether I can see her? What fucking right do you have?”

At his words the pair of guards entered the room, closing the door behind them. Their hands were on the axes at their sides. James froze, looking between them and Marc. “What have you done?”

Marc rose to his feet, hands raised in a reconciliatory motion. “James, I’m offering you the opportunity to be the greatest hero the Rills has ever seen.”

James’ heart was threatening to burst from his chest. There was no way he could burst through the guards and escape, and there was no way he could fight all three of them. His eyes cast around for an escape but there was only one door.

Marc kept speaking. “We lost hundreds today. Far more than I’d expected. We were betrayed, but this can still be turned to our advantage. The world will know that they were the ones who started the fire that left our countrymen homeless in the cold. They were the ones who burned our homes, killed our kin, and slew the last priestess,” he said, “People will flock to our cause in droves. For every man we lost today, we’ll gain twenty more. And we’ll need them.”

“What does this have to do with Lissa?” James demanded, fist clenching around the axe at his side.

Marc ignored his question. “Every Rillish man and woman knows the story of the gatekeeper and who you are to me. A war as long as this one needs martyrs, James.”

James’ blood ran cold.

Marc lowered his hands. “I need you to feed information to the Venarans when the time is right.”

James felt his limbs stiffen and the hundreds of scars across his body burned, making their presence known. His voice quavered. “And how would you intend I do that?”

“As their prisoner,” Marc whispered.

James backed away from him, pressing his back against the wall a primal fear rushed through him. “Lissa needs a father,” he said.

“She has me. You have my word that I’ll take care of her,” he said.

James’ anger broke through his terror. He spat at Marc’s feet and drew his axe.

Marc seemed unconcerned, though the two guards behind him drew their weapons. “The thing that makes you great James, is the very thing that makes you weak. You’re a good man through the very fiber of your being.” He shook his head. “When the Venarans have you, you will do as I ask because you know it will keep Lissa safe.”

Marc’s voice quavered. “And when she hears what they did to you, she will do whatever I ask to bring Venar to its knees.” He met James’ eyes. “I will mourn you, James.”

James’ breath came in shuddering gasps. Marc always treaded the line of morality, but he’d never in all his life expected this. “You’re no kin of mine,” James whispered, fingers tightening around his axe.

James rushed forward with a roar, axe swinging for Marc’s neck.

Marc ducked the blow and rushed under James’ arms. They both tumbled to the ground in a heap of thrashing limbs. James lost his grip on his axe and pummeled at Marc’s face with his mailed fists until the guards arrived and pinned his arms to the ground. He thrashed in their grasp as Marc staggered to his feet.

James spat curses at the guards as they held him down. Marc wiped blood from his face then walked to where James’s axe had fallen. James screamed for help, but no rescue came bursting through the door. Marc had this all planned out. James surrendered, falling limp in the guards’ embrace as Marc stood over him, axe in hand.

“I’ll miss you, James,” he said as he raised the butt of the axe and crashed it into James’ skull.