Her mother’s eyes bore into her, waiting. Felitïa had already blocked the feelings of disgust and hatred—in the Room in her head, her mother’s presence was enclosed by the walls—but it made little difference. Her mother’s look conveyed the feelings without the need of telepathy. To her mother’s left, Annai stood, arms crossed, a smug look on her face.

“I’m waiting,” her mother said.

“I have nothing else to say,” Felitïa said.

“I want an explanation!”

“No.”

Her mother’s face was turning red, and the thought of her head exploding from rage was a small amusement, allowing Felitïa a slight smile.

“You think this is funny?”

Felitïa was about to respond and then realised her mother wasn’t talking to her. Instead, the Queen’s icy gaze had turned to Garet, who stood chuckling a few people away from the high-backed chair that had been designated the “throne”. Garet stopped laughing and scowled.

“That’s better.” The Queen turned her attention back to Felitïa. “As for you, don’t think I didn’t notice your own little smile. You think this is some little game you can play, where you can run around making mockeries of your family and betray them without consequence?”

“I haven’t betrayed anyone.”

“Do you deny going to the Ninifin apartments this morning?”

Felitïa shook her head. “No.”

“Will you explain yourself?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I gave my word. But I have not betrayed anyone.”

“You do realise, don’t you, my dear,” her father said, “that refusing to answer makes things look worse for you?” He was standing to the right of Felitïa’s mother and had been staring at the ground for most of the time she’d been here. He was looking up and at her now.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“And you know that Cerus has been working hard to open formal talks with the Ninifins, and by going behind his back like this, you may have ruined his efforts?”

“I haven’t—”

Cerus, standing beside their father, interrupted her, “If I may intercede, Felitïa did not go behind my back. I had full knowledge of her activities. In fact, we have been working together on this.”

All eyes, including Felitïa’s, turned to Cerus.

“Why did you not tell us of this?” the Queen snapped.

“Frankly, because I knew you would not approve,” Cerus replied.

“You’re damn right there.”

“The fact is, the Ninifins respond better to women, so when they repeatedly turned me away, I went to Felitïa, hoping she could succeed where I have failed.”

“I could have done that,” the Queen said. “You should have come to me.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty,” Cerus said, “you could not have done that. The Ninifins already have reason to distrust you.”

“Then Annai—”

“I chose Felitïa. Your differences with her aside, she is more than capable of this task, more so than most of the rest of us, I dare say.”

“You dare say too much, Cerus,” the Queen said.

“Then I apologise, your Majesty,” Cerus said and bowed. “I also apologise for my use of subterfuge, but it was necessary.”

The Queen sighed. “Very well, but we will speak of this later, Cerus.”

“As you wish,” Cerus said.

“If we could then move on to more pressing matters,” Ardon, who had been sitting in quiet in a corner until now, said. He stood up. “The reason we all—”

“I am not finished,” the Queen interrupted.

“No, of course you aren’t,” Ardon muttered. He bowed and said, “My apologies, your Majesty. Please continue.” He sat back down.

“The entire reason we even know where Felitïa went this morning is because I summoned her for another matter and she couldn’t be found. We will now discuss her original summons. Felitïa, you may not have been conspiring with the Ninifins against Arnor, but you have used every opportunity to defy and mock your family. Last night’s behaviour at the ball was inexcusable. You embarrassed yourself, you embarrassed your father, you embarrassed me, and you embarrassed Annai. Do you know that Prince Stoban refused to dance with your sister after you cavorted off with that Sanalog whore?”

“Excuse me?” Felitïa said.

“You didn’t even have the decency to come back after your dance like you promised. No, you left with her. I put my back out for you. I arranged a great opportunity for both you and your sister and Arnor, too, and you spat in our faces.”

“I was so embarrassed,” Annai said. “I felt like the laughing stock of the entire ball. I could barely look anyone in the face after that.” Despite the tears Annai had somehow summoned to her face, Felitïa could sense the feelings of triumph coming from her sister.

“I did some checking into the person you left with,” the Queen continued. “It turns out she is nothing more than a librarian. Not even a noblewoman. Just a commoner. No better than that slut Garet thinks he’s going to marry. You pass up—”

“Just a minute!” Garet raged, taking a step towards the Queen. “Don’t you dare call her that!”

“Shut up, Garet,” the Queen snapped. “I will not go through this with you again.”

“You’ll go through this with me every fucking time you call her that.” Garet took another step towards the Queen, waving his finger at her.

“Guards, remove Prince Garet,” the Queen snapped.

The guards at the door took a couple of steps towards Garet, but he said, “Never mind. I’ll remove myself.” He spun around and marched towards the door, glaring at the guards, who backed away at his approach. “Coming, Brains? You don’t need to put up with this bullshit.”

Felitïa hesitated a moment.

“Leave now, Felitïa, and you will never be allowed back amongst this family ever again,” her mother said.

“Now, Annai, dear,” the King said, putting a hand on his wife’s shoulder, “let’s not let tempers cloud our better judgements.”

“Stop being so soft on her, Wavon. Your softness is what makes her think she can get away with her behaviour. And it’s not just her I’m concerned about either. She’s a terrible influence on Sinitïa. Did you know that Sinitïa has been spending the last few days almost entirely in the library with Felitïa and her whore, as well as that Eloorin you allowed to come with her.”

“Afraid she’ll learn something?” Felitïa said.

“I will not have you corrupting her!”

“You mean, you don’t want her thinking for herself. Sinitïa is there out of her own choice. She’s an adult now and can make her own decisions. Perhaps it’s time you started thinking about the reasons why she’s making the decisions she is.”

“Sinitïa, from now on, you are not to go anywhere with Felitïa or her friends unless Annai, myself, or your father is there as well. You are to stay with Annai at all times. Do you understand?”

Sinitïa, standing beside Annai, stared at the floor. She gave a slow nod of her head. “Yes, Mommy.”

“That’s my good girl,” the Queen said.

Annai put an arm around Sinitïa, who had started to cry. “Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll look after Sinitïa, and make sure Felitïa’s friends stay away, especially that Eloorin.”

“Meleng,” Felitïa said.

Annai looked at her. “What?”

“Meleng,” Felitïa repeated, a little more forcefully. “Meleng, Maneshka, Quilla. My friends have names. I’d appreciate it if you and Mother would use them.”

“Like I’m supposed to remember the names of a bunch of nobodies,” Annai said.

“You spent seventy-five days at sea with Meleng. You know his name. I’ve even heard you use it a few times. So quit snivelling for points in front of Mother. No one’s falling for it.”

“Felitïa, you will apologise to your sister at once!” the Queen snapped.

“No.”

“Then I will have you removed from my presence and you will not be allowed—”

“Enough!”

The voice was the loudest Felitïa could remember ever hearing from her father. Everyone fell silent.

“I’ve had enough of this bickering,” her father said—in a quieter voice this time. “Your Holiness, you wished to say something I believe.”

Ardon was already on his feet. “Yes, your Majesty.”

“I have not finished,” the Queen said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ardon snapped. “The King has spoken, and like your husband, I have had quite enough of this preposterous display.”

“How dare you speak to me like that!”

“I think, perhaps, you forget who I am, your Majesty,” Ardon continued. “Your family’s rule is maintained, at least partially, through the support of the Church. You do not want to cross me and tempt losing that support.”

Felitïa’s father put a hand on the Queen’s shoulder. “Best listen to him, my dear.”

Ardon continued to address the Queen. “If you wish to continue your petty vendetta against your daughter, you may do so once we’ve returned to Arnor.” He turned to Felitïa. “That goes for you too.”

Felitïa wasn’t sure how to respond. She hadn’t been expecting that. “But I didn’t... I’m just responding to her...”

Ardon came over to her and touched her lightly on the shoulder. “You play up your rebellion against her. You like your actions to be seen. Not that I don’t understand your reasons. But there are times when there are more important concerns and you should step back a bit.”

Felitïa looked into his eyes. He looked calm, his face comforting. She could sense some irritation coming from him, although that irritation didn’t seem directed at her, more at the overall situation. Was he right? Was she overdoing it?

Thoughts for another time, she supposed.

Ardon patted her shoulder. “Your parents, Cerus, and I need to discuss the actual reason we’re here. The meeting starts tomorrow and there isn’t time for family drama. We need to strategise.” He leaned in closer to her and spoke under his breath so that no one else could hear. “And you need to do the same for your own activities during that meeting.”

“It’s all right, Holiness,” Felitïa said. “I was just about to follow Garet, anyway.”

“A wise decision, your Highness,” Ardon replied.

Felitïa hesitated a moment longer, but then went to join Garet outside.

* * * * *

The library was the most crowded Felitïa had seen it. The Isyar Lords sat at one of the far tables, surrounded by about a dozen other Isyar. Maneshka and two of her librarians had been running back and forth from catalogue to stacks and back again to meet all their needs. Nebrovich was moving back and forth between a pair of Singean priests and a small group of Dangorin scholars.

Felitïa sat with Meleng, Quilla, and Garet at the table nearest the entrance—well, Garet alternated frequently between sitting and pacing. Meleng was poring through some books, and both Felitïa and Quilla had books in front of them, but neither of them were doing anything with them. Felitïa really wanted to discuss her plans for tomorrow, but there were just too many other people around. Not that it mattered much, she supposed. She was planning to do things on her own—the necessary spellcasting would be easier that way—but it would be a good idea to let the others know what she was planning.

She wasn’t sure how much she’d be able to focus on planning anyway. Her head was full of thoughts about what had just happened with her mother.

“You look unhappy,” Maneshka said, sitting down beside her.

Felitïa smiled. “A little less so now. Don’t the Isyar Lords need you?”

“Probably soon,” Maneshka replied, “but I have managed to find a minute or two to breathe. I thought I would use it to come say hello.”

“I appreciate it. I’ve had a hell of a bad time.”

“Tell me about it,” Garet grumbled as he paced past them.

“What happened?” Maneshka asked. She ran her hand down the back of Felitïa’s neck.

“Just a bad encounter with my mother.”

“More rebelling?” Her touch was making Felitïa shiver.

“I suppose you could call it that. There is a distinct possibility I might have been disowned. I’m not entirely sure yet.” She smiled, feeling better for just a moment. But it passed as she remembered Ardon’s words. “Do you think I’m overdoing it?”

Maneshka spread her arms in a shrug, and the loss of her touch caused a rapid drop in Felitïa’s mood. “I am not sure why you ask me. I think any rebelling is too much, remember?”

“I thought you said you found it exciting?”

“Yours, yes. But as I could not do what you are doing, I also do not know whether you do too much.”

“Ardon says I overdo it. Maybe I do. But I never seem to achieve anything—or if I do, it’s been pre-decided that way, so I might as well not have achieved anything anyway. So what’s the point? What the hell am I doing?” She leaned forward and buried her head in her hands.

“I was wondering that myself,” Garet said. “We’re supposed to be planning—”

Quilla shushed him.

“I’m sorry,” Felitïa said to Maneshka. “I shouldn’t unload on you like this. I’m just feeling lost.”

Maneshka placed her hand on the side of Felitïa’s face and ran her fingers through Felitïa’s hair. “That is okay. We all need to unload sometimes.”

“I used to think I knew what I wanted.” Felitïa placed her own hand over Maneshka’s and holding it there. “For so long, I wanted to be a wizard. That was my whole purpose, and so I became one. Then I realised I’d never thought about what came next. Ever since Elderaan died, I haven’t had a clue where my life is headed. And now I start to learn about people dead two hundred years who predicted my coming here. I have visions in my head of people that I meet in a pre-ordained order. My mother tries to arrange a marriage for me and Ardon won’t let me speak up for myself. Hell, even Cerus wouldn’t let me speak for myself. I mean, he was just trying to help, lied to my mother to get me out of trouble. He’s going to want an explanation about this morning from me soon, I’m sure. But whatever the case, I just feel like I don’t have any control over my life. Do you know the Ninifins believe the Will-Breaker heralds a time of death and destruction worse than what the Dragon wrought? What kind of life for me is that? I shouldn’t have told you that. I promised not to say anything.”

Maneshka looked at her for a moment. “I know nothing of this Dragon you mention. However, I will have to accept that it refers to something bad. I have no advice for you.”

Felitïa held onto her hand tighter. “That’s okay. I think I just needed to say it to someone.”

“You do realise you said it to everyone here, right?” Garet said as he paced by again.

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Felitïa said.

“Have you ever thought of getting some pet rats?” Maneshka said.

Felitïa wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a joke. She was getting mostly lust from Maneshka at the moment—feeling some of it herself, too, but now was not the time or place.

“I used to look after the rats at Elderaan’s. I knew each and every one of them. I was always sad when they sold.”

“Rats make good pets,” Maneshka said. “And looking after pets can be fulfilling. I am sorry I have nothing more profound to say than that.”

Felitïa smiled. “I’ll consider it.”

“Before I forget,” Maneshka said, removing her hand to Felitïa’s disappointment. “I spoke to Kindanog. He has some time in two days that he has scheduled to be with me, and he has agreed that you should join us for dinner.”

“Really?”

Maneshka nodded. “Truly.”

“That’s great! I didn’t think there was much likelihood left of getting to see him.”

“He is always interested in meeting my lovers,” Maneshka said.

“Oh,” Felitïa said, blushing a little. “Did you...?”

“I confess I did not tell him exactly who you are. He does not know yet that he is meeting the Arnorin princess who has been pestering him for a meeting.”

“I have not been pestering! I just made a request. That’s all.”

Maneshka smiled. “I know. I am joking.”

“I know. I just hope it doesn’t annoy him.”

“It will be fine.”

“Thank you.”

“I should get back to to the Isyar Lords,” Maneshka said, shifting out of her seat.

“What are they like?” Quilla asked.

“Very knowledgeable,” Maneshka replied. “Very direct. They do not like to waste time.” She shrugged. “They are hard to describe. But I must go to them. I will see you later, Felitïa.” She bent down and they kissed.

Quilla rested her chin in her hands and grinned.

“What?” Felitïa said.

“Nothing. I just think the two of you are so cute.”

Felitïa blushed again. This was becoming a bad habit.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed. I’m really happy for you. We all are. Right, Meleng?”

Meleng looked up from his book. “What?”

Quilla sighed. “Well, Garet, you’re happy for her, right?”

Garet sat down beside Quilla. “Yeah, sure, overjoyed. Look, can we discuss what we’re supposed to be here for?”

“There are too many people, Garet,” Quilla said.

“Then we do it quietly. But we do it.”

Felitïa nodded. “The plan is simple. Tomorrow, after the meeting has started, when everyone is focused on that, I’m going to sneak into the Volg apartments. I’ll use magic to hide my presence from whatever guards they leave there, and I’ll search for whatever I can find. I’ll make Prince Castroff’s personal apartment my main objective. It hopefully won’t be hard to find.”

“Sounds good,” Garet said. “I’ll go with you.”

Felitïa shook her head. “No, I have to do this alone.”

“No way, Brains. You are not leaving me out of this.”

“Yes, I am. Every additional person increases the difficulty of the spells. I’m better off on my own.”

“Spells be damned. You need back-up.”

“This is not up for discussion.”

“Damn right.”

“No, this is my mission. I’m in control here.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all just heard your speech about not being in control of your life. Well, tough. Gain control of your life another time. I’m going with you whether you like it or not.”

“I—” Felitïa began, but Garet didn’t pause.

“Look, you can make all the decisions about what we do while we’re there if that makes you happy. But either I go with you or I follow you in without your spells. Might be a bit noisier that way.”

“Felitïa, just let him go,” Quilla said, placing her hand on Felitïa’s.

Felitïa sighed.

“Will his presence make the spells impossible?”

“No, but—”

“Then let him go with you. If something goes wrong, you’ll need some back-up, just like he says. Don’t worry, he’ll behave. Right, Garet?” She glared at him.

“What?” Garet protested. “Of course I’ll behave. What does that even mean, anyway? I told her she can make all the decisions.”

They had a point, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. If something did go wrong, it would be useful to have help. At the moment, Felitïa found herself really wishing Zandrue was there. She’d be a much better choice than Garet. But Zandrue wasn’t there and Garet was the only other choice.

“Fine. You can come.”

“That’s more like it,” Garet replied.

“Just keep quiet.”

“Won’t make a sound.”

Felitïa wasn’t sure if Garet was capable of remaining quiet for any length of time. She hoped she didn’t regret this.

* * * * *

In the Room, Felitïa removed the walls completely, opening herself up as much as she could. Those other walls were still there, at the edges of her perception, unmoving and unresponsive. A problem for another time, though. Right now, they didn’t matter.

She took stock of the various presences, made sure she was aware of them all and would become aware of any new ones. One day, she was determined to figure out the relation between their positions in the Room and their positions in reality, but again, that was a problem for another time. She needed to stay focused on the here and now.

There was Garet. His presence was bouncing around, displaying his restlessness even more than his usual physical pacing. The irony was, in the real world, he was standing still at the moment.

“Stay behind me,” she said. “Walk casually, and don’t make any strenuous movements.”

A whispered word, a tilt of her head, the flexing of three fingers on her right hand, and she cast the spell, wrapping it round the two guards on the stairs and a third person farther down the main hall as she and Garet came round the corner. Felitïa walked to the stairs and began up them, Garet right behind her.

There was no reason the guards would have stopped them. They weren’t doing anything wrong—yet—but it was best that they not be seen even heading this direction. She had made a point of openly heading to the library. If anybody asked, Maneshka would confirm she and Garet were there the whole time. If anyone went there to look for them, Maneshka would tell them that she and Garet were in the stacks and would advise them to wait. Meleng and Quilla would back her up, even offer to go find Felitïa if needed, only to get themselves “lost”. But it wasn’t likely to be necessary.

As she and Garet ascended the stairs, she extended the spell to the guards at each floor and others who passed them along the way, releasing each person from the spell as they passed out of visual and hearing range. No one noticed them.

Felitïa allowed herself a moment of pride at how little strain this was causing her. She was getting a lot better at using her telepathic abilities to augment her spellcasting. Maybe she was starting to understand her telepathy better than she realised?

They passed two Isyar who were heading down the stairs. One of them paused momentarily, and turned her head in Felitïa’s direction.

Damn. Too much self-congratulating. She needed to stay focused.

But the Isyar then continued down the stairs with her compatriot as if nothing had happened. Had the Isyar spotted her and Garet? Or had she just sensed something off, but didn’t place it?

It didn’t matter. They had a job to do and needed to stay focused on that.

They reached the top floor. This time it wasn’t Sanalog guards at the doors, but a pair of Volgs. Now the real work began.

The day had been busy and frustrating so far. The entire village and all the apartments were awash with activity as people made final preparations for the meeting to begin. Felitïa hadn’t gotten much sleep. That was partially her own fault—and Maneshka’s—but Marna had also awakened her very early to let her know Ardon had come to see her.

Ardon wanted to know her plans—at least, that was his stated reason. He seemed to have a good idea what her plans were already. She wondered how he had learnt them, although she had to admit her plans were not difficult to work out. All one needed to know was that she intended to do something to be able to guess them. It worried her that the Volgs might have made a similar guess.

Nevertheless, Felitïa was beginning to wonder just how much she could trust Ardon. She wanted to trust him, but he was clearly engaged in his own political plotting. She could trust that he wasn’t on the side of the Volgs, but beyond that, she couldn’t be sure what his goals were.

At any rate, she informed him that it would be her and Garet taking care of this. He proceeded to inform her that her mother had forbidden her from attending the meeting in any fashion. Considering she hadn’t been planning on attending anyway—at least, not today—that wasn’t a problem. However, her mother had also forbidden Meleng or Quilla from attending. Felitïa had hoped one of them—Meleng particularly—could be there just to observe and let her know what was discussed. She could get those details from Cerus, of course, but she would have preferred an additional perspective.

“What do you think is the likelihood of me being kicked out of the family?” she asked Ardon just before he left.

He smiled at her. “Your mother will rage, but that is not unusual. She will do it many times, I’m sure. But your father has a soft spot for you. You’re just about the only thing that gives him any spine. I don’t think you need to worry about being disowned yet. You could do more to ease matters, however.”

“So you said yesterday. Do you really think there’s anything I can do that would change her opinion of me?”

“The gods tell us virtually anything is possible. Nature says that we should always seek reconciliation with family, friends, and lovers with whom we’ve had conflict. There is no greater good than the bringing of people together in harmony.”

Felitïa groaned. “And what happens when people just don’t deserve that?”

Ardon nodded. “That’s the continual dilemma, isn’t it? Now then, I need to get back to your parents before your mother causes a war with the rest of the world. Be careful, today.”

“I will.” She kissed his cheek and he bowed to her, then to Maneshka. Then he was on his way.

Felitïa approached the door to the top floor of the Nabrinja, and pressed herself up against it. The guard to her left twitched his face a little and scratched at one of his horns, but otherwise both guards remained still. She relaxed her senses and spread them out, searching for other presences. There were a few, how far away, she couldn’t be sure. She also couldn’t be sure how well she could include people she couldn’t see in the spell.

Oh well, no time like the present to find out.

She turned her head slightly and nodded at Garet. He took care drawing his sword, making no noise as he did so.

“Do you still call that thing Smasher?” she had asked him earlier when he had lovingly strapped it to his waist.

He grinned. “Yep.”

“It’s such a dumb name,” Quilla said with a groan.

“Yeah, well, I was young and dumb when I named it. But it stuck. And I like it.”

Hopefully, they wouldn’t need it, Felitïa thought, as she extended the spell with a twist of her wrist, and then opened the door. It creaked a little, but not so much she had any difficulty blocking the Volgs from hearing it. She stepped through, waited for Garet to follow, then closed the door again.

The upper storey was laid out like most of the rest of the building: a main circular hall with doors and short passages branching off it. There was no way to be sure where to start searching. Most of the doors probably led to personal quarters or barracks. She needed to find either an office or the personal quarters of someone in charge, like Agranim or Prince Castroff. Those locations would probably be the most guarded, so best to look for guards.

She could see two other Volgs in the hallway, one to her left at the edge of a branching hall, the other walking along the main hall away from her to her right. The one to her left was a guard, but the other one was dressed similarly to the way Sidlove had dressed, in black and gold robes that dipped low at the back and under the wings. It wasn’t Sidlove—Felitïa hadn’t seen him at all on Scovese—but it was possibly someone with a similar diplomatic position. And not at the meeting for some reason.

Felitïa decided to discard the idea to look for guards and to follow this Volg instead.

The Volg walked halfway around the storey, passing a few other Volgs along the way. Felitïa made quick adjustments to the spell as every new individual came or left her area of view. The only difficult part of it was the constant turning to look both behind and in front of her—and Garet’s amused expression, which threatened to throw off her focus.

The Volg stopped at a door where two guards stood at attention. Felitïa motioned to Garet to move faster and doubled her concentration on the spell, prepared for the greater effort it was about to take. It was risky, but if they could get through the doors as the Volg went through them, it might be easier than trying to hide the doors being opened again afterwards.

One of the guards opened the door and the Volg proceeded through. Felitïa darted in beside him, ducking to avoid his wings and then stepping to the side. Garet jumped in just before the door closed.

Felitïa scrambled to keep hold of the spell and adjust it for the larger number of people present—and there were quite a few Volgs in here. It was a large room, mostly unfurnished except for a single desk on one side. Agranim sat on a high stool behind the desk. He rose to his feet as soon as the Volg Felitïa had followed entered the room. Close to a dozen other Volgs in the room all snapped to attention. They and Agranim all bowed to the newcomer.

Agranim and the robed Volg started talking in their own language. It sounded like the Volg she had followed was questioning Agranim—though about what, Felitïa had no idea. She began to wish the entire Nabrinja had the same translation spell as the library.

The questioning went on for a few minutes before changing to something more akin to a discussion. Agranim produced several papers from the desk that he proceeded to show the other Volg.

The length of time holding the spell was starting to produce a strain on Felitïa. It wasn’t extreme and she was confident she could hold it for a good long while yet, but it was important she stay aware of it. She was also starting to sense impatience from Garet. That could be the greater problem if he started getting too fidgety.

The discussion went on for many more minutes, during which some of the other Volgs in the room ventured a comment or two. As it stretched on to what must have been half an hour or more, Garet’s impatience continued to increase, and the strain of the spell increased as well. Felitïa threw an angry glance at Garet in the hopes that he would stop shifting his weight back and forth. Every movement he made added to her work. He didn’t get the message.

Finally, the conversation came to an end and the Volg they had followed turned for the door. Agranim followed him and then the other Volgs. One by one, they all marched out of the room.

Felitïa waited for the guards outside the room to close the door again and then released the spell. She took several deep breaths to relax. “I’ve released the spell,” she whispered at Garet, “so stay quiet.”

“What do you think that was all about?” he asked.

“No idea. Now stay quiet. Listen at the door and signal me if you hear anything.”

He nodded, and she hurried over to the desk. She leafed through the papers Agranim had left lying there. All written in the Volg language, of course. She recognised the script from what she had seen Maneshka and Meleng translating in the library, but she couldn’t read it.

She pulled open the desk drawers. More papers—in Volganth as well, of course—a few pens and vials of ink, and even a bottle of what looked like brandy or something similar lay within.

She couldn’t take all the papers, so how could she decide which ones to take, if any? She cursed herself for not having thought of this. Maybe she should have brought Meleng along. At least he might have an idea which to look more closely at. Maneshka would have a better idea, but the inability to communicate with her as well would have just added more problems.

“It’s no good,” she whispered. “We’ll have to keep searching this floor, maybe find out where those Volgs went.” On the off chance she might end up with something useful, she grabbed several of the papers lying at the top of the pile, and stuffed them in her bag. She joined Garet by the door, and focused on her senses, on the presences in her head.

“I could just bash their heads in,” Garet said.

She scowled at him and he went quiet again.

“Whatever you do,” Cerus had said when she’d spoken to him earlier that day, “try not to cause an incident that propels us into war.” He had said it in a joking manner, but he had been serious as well.

“I’ll do my best,” she had said.

He had come to her to learn her plans for the day, but also to inquire about her activities with the Ninifins yesterday.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” she said. “They asked me not to say anything to you. Even if they hadn’t, I just hadn’t had time to say anything. But thank you for lying for me. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. I just hope whatever you’re doing with them is for the best.”

“Let me just say they asked me for some help, and assuming I’m able to provide that help, I think they’ll have good reason to be grateful to me and, by extension, Arnor. Should make your job easier.”

“I hope so. Be careful with the Volgs, will you? I’ve just gotten used to having you around. You and Gabriella are the only other intelligent members of this family, and I’d hate to lose you.”

“I’ll do my best,” she repeated.

Bashing Volgs’ heads in would not be her best, and she hoped Garet realised that.

She nodded to Garet to prepare himself, recast the spell, and opened the door. To her surprise, the guards were gone. They must have followed the other Volgs. Still, she could sense other presences nearby, but there was no sign of anyone in the hall. The others must be in nearby rooms.

There was no way of knowing which way Agranim and the other Volgs had gone, so she decided to continue along the main hall in the same direction they had been going before. With no one to follow this time, the best option was to open doors and see what was on the other side. She went to the closest one, waited for Garet to get in position, and opened it. They did the same with the next. And the next. At first, Felitïa moved back and forth across the hall, trying the doors on both sides, but after the first couple, she decided to stick entirely to the doors on the right hand side, reasoning that if they didn’t find anything in any of them—or the side passages going off it—by the time they’d made a complete rotation, they could switch to the other side then.

Most of what they found were small bed chambers. None were occupied or had anything of interest in them. In the first one, Garet gazed at the bed for several seconds before commenting, “Ever wonder how a Volg sleeps with those wings?”

Felitïa decided not to shush him this time. The bed was plain and simple, like the bed she had in her own apartment and like all the beds she’d seen in any of the apartments here. “I know Jorvan sleeps on his stomach. I’d guess Volgs probably do the same.”

“I always figured they’d hang upside down like bats,” Garet said. “Don’t know why. It just made sense to me.”

“Well, if they do, there’s nothing in here for them to hang from. Come on, let’s keep moving. And keep quiet.”

One of the doors led to a mess hall. It was thin and long—long enough that it curved with the outer walls of the Nabrinja. Numerous long tables were spread along its length, some of which had Volgs seated at them, eating, drinking, talking. They seemed almost human in their movements and activities. The hall wasn’t packed, but there were enough of them to put some strain on the spell, so Felitïa decided to retreat back into the main hall right away.

She motioned Garet back out, but paused. On the near wall, hung a portrait showing two Volgs. One was clearly Prince Castroff, although the artist had been a little too flattering of Castroff’s appearance, making him more muscular than Felitïa recalled him being. The other was a shorter, older Volg with frail limbs, withered wings, and a crown on his head. The Volg king perhaps? An interesting choice to make the king appear so weak and the prince so powerful. Interesting, too, that the Volg king had not come to Scovese.

She ushered Garet back into the main hall, and they continued on their way. A little farther down, one of the doors on the other side of the hall had two Volg guards. Thinking that might indicate something important, Felitïa decided to change tactics again and went towards it. She took hold of the door handle and turned. It clicked. Much more loudly than she had expected.

One of the guards began to turn his head.

Heart thumping, Felitïa tossed off another spell. It was rushed. She didn’t cross her thumb and index finger properly or put enough force behind the breath of air she blew, but it was enough to create a sensation of another sound down the hall in both Volgs—enough to distract their attention away from the door. One of them took a step forward to look down the hall, while Felitïa doubled her focus on the invisibility spell. Now they were actively looking for something, the strain was greater. She pushed at the door, fighting the urge to rush through, instead keeping her movements slow and precise. She didn’t look at what Garet was doing, only knew he was adding some extra strain, though it wasn’t extreme, so he must have been behaving himself.

Once the door was open, she stepped in and to the side. Garet followed—too fast. For a moment, the strain was unbearable. She felt as though her insides would be ripped out. But she held on to the spell. After another moment, she closed the door closed and relaxed.

They were in another bedchamber, this one a little larger than the others they’d seen, though still small. It had more furnishings as well. In addition to the bed, which was also larger, there were several chests, a wardrobe, and two high stools. A portrait of Prince Castroff hung on the wall over the bed. Like the one in the mess hall, it exaggerated his musculature. It wasn’t even that good a painting. Still, it meant that this room stood a good chance of being his.

Felitïa motioned Garet to stay by the door and moved across the room to the wardrobe.

“Is that him?” Garet said.

Felitïa looked back with the intent of shushing him, but saw he was pointing to the portrait. “That’s Castroff, yes. He’s got quite the high opinion of himself. He’s not that muscular in real life.”

“Good,” Garet said. “’Cause I intend to bash his head in one day.”

“Just not today, please.”

“He’s probably at the meeting, anyway,” Garet said.

The wardrobe contained Volg size robes and other clothing. Felitïa leafed through it, but found nothing interesting. She closed the wardrobe and went over to the row of chests near the bed. Opening the first, she found more clothes—mostly underclothes—as well as some linens. The second contained mostly personal effects, including a couple books, some candles, and a bar of soap. She pondered taking the books. They might have something useful in them.

There was also a jewellery box. Inside, it was mostly empty. He was probably wearing a selection of jewellery right now. What remained were a couple thick, heavy rings, several gold necklaces, and a heart-shaped locket. That seemed a rather sentimental item, so she picked it up. It probably wouldn’t help with finding Corvinian, but it might reveal some details about Castroff himself.

The locket was large—almost as big as her hand—and heavy. It had a small latch, which Felitïa opened. Inside was another portrait, though just heads rather than full bodies. This one was much more true-to-life than the one on the wall or the one in the mess hall. Like the one in the mess hall, it had two people in it. One was Castroff. The other was a human woman with the coppery skin of a Ninifin. Like the woman in yellow with Queen Nin-Xoco, this woman had a tattoo of an eye on her forehead. Not the same woman, though. This one was older, with greying black hair. Her head leaned against Castroff’s.

Felitïa walked over to Garet and showed him the picture. “Look at this.”

Garet looked at the picture and then at Felitïa. “He’s into human women? I guess that explains why he kidnaps them.” He shuddered.

“There’s a portrait in the library of a Volg and a human woman. Have you seen it?”

Garet shrugged. “Might have. Guess Volg men just have a kink for human women.”

“I’m not so sure of that. Have you ever heard the stories of Volg shapeshifters?”

“Don’t pay much attention to stories.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Agernon always scoffed at those stories—Agernon scoffed at anything about Volgs—but Drummor used to talk about them all the time. What if they’re not just stories?”

“You think Volgs are shapechanging into human women to pose for portraits?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Why are there no Volg women here? At all. Previously, I figured Volgs were just male dominated chauvinists, but what if it’s something different?”

“Like?”

Felitïa shrugged. “Just some thoughts.”

Oh gods, Zandrue. I think I’m starting to understand. No wonder you didn’t want to come.

Felitïa headed back over to the chests. “This locket could be useful. Nin-Akna or Nin-Xoco might recognise the woman.” She placed the locket in her bag.

“You think they’re likely to?”

Felitïa shrugged. “Nin-Xoco’s afraid someone’s going to kill her and that it might come from within her own people. It’s a long shot that it’s this particular woman. There aren’t many older people with the Ninifins. But you never know.” She bent down to continue examining the chest.

“Sound outside!” Garet hissed.

Felitïa closed the chest and motioned Garet to move closer to her. As he did, she recast the invisibility spell and prepared to wrap it around anyone at the door.

Agranim stepped into the room, followed by two other warriors and then the two guards who had been at the door. His gaze swept the room.

Felitïa breathed deeply and wrapped the spell over them.

“It’s all right, Will-Breaker,” Agranim said. “I know you’re in here.”

Felitïa’s heart dropped.

“You don’t get by the Prince’s guards that easily. He has them well trained for your trickery. They summoned me as soon as you entered.”

“Oh well, game’s up!” Garet announced and launched himself at Agranim.

As soon as the strain hit her, Felitïa let the spell go. There was no point. Sorry Cerus.

Garet swung at Agranim, but one of the other Volgs knocked him aside. He stumbled at the edge of the bed, tried to regain his footing.

Felitïa bit her lower lip, focused on the Volg bearing down on Garet, let loose a spell to cloud the Volg’s mind. The Volg paused, just a moment to regain his bearings, but just long enough for Garet to run him through with his sword.

“Use the close quarters to our advantage!” Garet yelled. “They can’t manoeuvre with those wings!”

He was right. They didn’t have much space. She bit down harder, drawing blood, and spread the spell across them all with a slight crook of her index finger. The other Volg warrior stumbled and collided with Agranim. But the two guards seemed unaffected by the spell.

That wasn’t right. They should have been.

She didn’t have time to think about it. Agranim leapt over the bed and at her. He grabbed her by the neck and shoved her against the wall, his fingers pressing into her throat. She gasped, tried to get air.

“I was so hoping you’d try something like this,” Agranim growled. “They wouldn’t let me go after you, but defending his Highness’s chambers? I’ll be a hero.”

Garet yelled something, but Felitïa couldn’t make out the words. The sound of Agranim’s rasping breath and her own crackling attempts to grasp at air were too loud right now. There were other shouts, too. More Volgs, perhaps. There would certainly be more Volgs coming soon. There was no chance of getting out of this alive. Agranim would crush her throat well before the asphyxiation took her.

She closed her eyes, brought up the Room. Brought the walls in close, as close as she’d ever brought them, blocking even her own sensations. Blocking the pain. Blocking her desire for air. For a moment, it was as if nothing existed, not even herself.

She clenched her fist, opened her eyes and stared straight into Agranim’s, past the grey colour, through the pupils, into whatever lay within. And he stared back.

And screamed.

His hands fell away from her neck as he clutched at his own head and fell backwards against the bed. As he continued to scream, Felitïa placed a foot on his chest, pushing him against the bed, which shifted along the floor from the force. She wanted to cause as much discomfort in his wings as possible, anything to add to the pain and terror of the imaginary flames burning his face.

Then she took a grateful breath and extended the Room’s walls away from her again.

“Why wouldn’t they let you come after me, Agranim?” she said through clenched teeth. “Was it because they knew you were no match for me? I’m the Will-Breaker, and I will break your will to live.”

His only response was to continue screaming in terror. Then he stopped. She gave his lifeless body one last kick.

Garet was backed into a corner, the two guards bearing down on him. Blood dripped from a gash on his arm. The other Volg who had arrived with Agranim lay in a pool of blood on the floor.

Felitïa clenched both fists this time and placed the same spell on the two guards. Again, they seemed unaffected, but this time, she didn’t let go. She kept it going, intensified it, digging her fingernails into the palms of both her hands until she drew blood. One of the guards stumbled.

Oh, they felt it. They were just well trained to ignore it. She would see about that.

Garet brought Smasher down on the guard’s arm, cutting deep. With his elbow, he knocked the Volg’s sword out of his hand, then spun aside to avoid an attack from the other guard.

The disarmed guard began to scream, the spell becoming too much for him at last.

The strain was becoming unbearable. She couldn’t keep this up much longer, and there were more Volgs rushing into the room. It was only the lack of space that kept them from immediately overrunning both her and Garet.

Finally, the second guard joined the first and screamed. Garet wasted no time in running each one through before turning to face the next arriving Volgs.

“Garet, stop!” Felitïa yelled. Free of the strain of the spell, she felt like collapsing. Her throat hurt terribly and breath was still hard.

“What?” Garet said as he blocked a blow from a Volg. Two bore down on him again, pushing back against the wall. Another had his eyes on Felitïa, though couldn’t navigate past the other two.

“Just do it, damn it!”

She could sense the uncertainty from him, combined with a certainty that he would die if he listened to her.

“Trust me! Please!”

Garet stopped.

Felitïa rasped the word, tilted her head, flexed her fingers, and cast the spell.

The Volgs attacking Garet swung their swords down at him, and he ducked aside as she knew he would. It was a strain, but she could manage it for the moment. When their blades hit nothing, the Volgs began to look around in confusion, as did the others by the door.

“I’ve hidden us from them again,” Felitïa said. “Now we have to get out of here.”

Garet raised his sword. “I can take them.”

“No, you can’t! Now, run!”

Part of her didn’t want to wait for him, but she needed to keep him in sight if there was to be any chance of the strain not overwhelming her.

He hesitated only a moment longer, then ran, pushing aside and past the Volgs at the door. The Volgs reacted to his actions, but she kept him and herself hidden, refused to give into the strain.

She jumped over Agranim’s body and followed Garet. The strain was worse than the pain of being strangled had been, worse than having her neck nearly crushed. She was approaching the point of burn-out. She knew it.

In her head, she pounded at the Room’s other walls, the grey ones she’d only recently discovered, the ones that didn’t respond to her. If they weren’t there, she wouldn’t have this strain. She was sure of it. What else were they holding back?

But they still didn’t respond.

Garet reached the doors to the stairs, threw them open and ran through. Felitïa followed. The guards at the door stumbled about, looking for what had accosted them. Felitïa paid them no mind and hurried down the stairs. After they’d made it a couple of floors, she let go of the spell and fell over, crashing down several steps. Her shoulder wrenched in the wrong direction. One leg tangled with the other and pain shot through her. Step after step. Body part after body part. All colliding.

When at last it stopped, she looked up through blurry eyes. Someone leaned over her. Garet. She was sure it was Garet. Then she passed out.