---

Callum managed to sneak unnoticed from the tea party and back inside the palace without an unwanted entourage. Not that it helped him shake that constant surveillance feeling any. He reminded himself that today, right now, was the best time for a secretive and dangerous meeting. Today, he was a lucky duck, the tea party had all gone better than he expected, and he was going to ride his luck out. He frequently checked his surroundings, never quite sure he wasn’t being followed. He heard his heartbeat thumping away and wondered if anyone else could hear it too.

Cal knew the palace, knew all the twisting and meandering routes to get to places he didn’t belong. Knew all quiet corridors and tucked away rooms where it was desolate enough to know when one was not alone. As he walked, he practiced his excuse for being down in the servant’s infirmary, just in case he got caught. I felt lightheaded and confused and went to the wrong doctor. That was believable, right?

Once he finally got to the servant’s infirmary, Cal paused just outside the door. Double-checked over his shoulder once more to make sure he was alone. Then he knocked on the door. Doctors always seemed busy and he didn’t want to interrupt if Quack was busy, but a quick peak through the narrow window built into the door suggested the doctor had some downtime. Was Quack trying on shoes? It wasn’t quite the sight Cal had been expecting and he awkwardly waved through the small window to try and get the man’s attention and an invite into the room.

After pacing around in what had once been Lordling Smithwood’s shoes, Quack plopped down on the bed and yanked them off his feet. “I’ll be takin’ these.”

Riona arched an eyebrow at the polished dress shoes. “And wear them where, exactly?”

“Ya ken? One of ’em fancy soirees. Can’t rightly show up wearin’ those,” he gestured flippantly at the only pair of shoes he owned, crusted with the remnants of his work—bodily fluids and cemetery soil alike—“can I?”

Riona fished the last pair from the sack and held them up to Quack. “Do you even own any fancy clothes to match?”

“Eh,” and a shrug was his answer. As soon as he saw the embroidered slip-on shoes, he wrinkled his nose in distaste and waved them away. “Even if I don’t ever wear ’em, quality shoes fetch a pretty coin.”

“If you’re selling, why not take them all?” She shoved the slip-ons back in the sack and cinched it.
“And wind up dancin’ at the end of a rope fer peddlin’ piles of shoes? I prefer my neck unstretched, thank ya very much.”
“I told you, they aren’t stolen. That sanctimonious a**-hat Smithwood wanted me to throw them out because they got ruined.”

Quack looked genuinely confused, even disgusted, that anyone would discard well-made footwear over superficial, nonexistent flaws. Then a thought lit up his features. “But they ain’t.”

“They aren’t. So, instead of wasting perfectly good shoes, I’m handing them out.”
He eyed the stuffed sack. “Let me guess. Staff ain’t too keen on takin’ ‘em off yer hands cause they’re scared of bein’ accused of pinch’ ’em off some rag-splawger?”
Riona nodded with a sigh. “I’ll drop them off at a sanctuary.”

The mention of a sanctuary reminded her of a friend who could really use one. “Have you seen or heard from Darryn?” At his head shake, her heart sank. Darryn vanished without a trace after that day. She feared the worst, but without any clues about his whereabouts or fate, she could only hope he was okay.

“Look, lass—” Quack’s voice pulled her mind away from Darryn. Before he could complete the thought, a rapid rapping sounded at the door. He jerked to his feet, glowering past her.

She followed his gaze to the door and saw Cal peeking through the window, waiting. He came! Excitedly, Riona rushed over to let him in. “What are you doing out here? Come in, stranger.”

Callum entered the infirmary with one last glance behind him. There was only the empty hallway, the door closed behind him, and he made sure to step out of view from the door’s window. “Oh, I didn’t want to intrude, if this was a private conversation.” He looked from Riona to the man he assumed was Quack. He tried to relax some, at least he had a friend here, which made this space feel a little less lonely.

The doctor not only looked unfriendly but outright annoyed by Callum’s presence; a familiar look on an unfamiliar face. A new problem arose; how was he supposed to address Quack? Because Quack felt the sort of nickname that was for friends, not for everyone, certainly not for people the doctor disliked. Was Doc too casual? Maybe he should let Riona handle most of the talking.

No, he could do this, he’d done mostly the same thing this morning. Be polite, smile, introduce yourself, and don’t sound stupid. If he could spend the morning convincing new people that he had a plan worth backing he could keep it going through the afternoon and try and convince Quack he was no dead duck, he could be helpful, useful.

“Physician Cryer, good afternoon, nice to officially meet you. I’m Callum.” A mostly automated, way too formal, greeting came out. At least he didn’t bow but he wasn’t sure if he smiled. So he looked at the only person in the room who was happy to see him, smiled from the warmth of that, and kept it as he looked at Quack once again.

Riona could tell Cal was nervous, a fine thread of tension weaved through every gesture and word. His eyes flickered with uncertainty, his attempt to smile contorted his lips into a rigid curve, and the subtle twitch in his fingertips hinted at a silent battle waged against his harshest critic: himself.

Just as she wondered if she should step in, his eyes settled on her. All at once, the knots of tension that tangled themselves into his facial muscles unraveled; the strained smile softened into something more genuine. She returned his smile, silently reassuring him, and felt a spark of joy knowing her presence brought him comfort.

“The best of the afternoon to ya, Prince Callum,” Quack bowed, bending low as protocol demanded for a man of his station. But there was no mistaking the shards of icy resentment when he regarded the son of the man responsible for ruining his sister’s life. “What brings the divine son of the exalted crown to a place like this?”

A cold chill blew through the less-than-sterile room with the doctor’s words. It wasn’t so much what Quack said but the way he said it, the way hate seeped into words like prince and crown, that just blew the need to put on an act away. This was a trial; his title would earn him no leeway, it had to be just Callum and whether he could be deemed worthy of Quack’s flock. Be bold, no one respects a coward. If he could convince Riona that he could be useful, he had a shot at convincing the doctor. Cal just hoped it wouldn’t involve any attempted strangling.

“Divine son?” He almost laughed at that one, but instead just shook his head. “I’d say you’ve got me confused with one of my brothers, but I think everyone here knows there is nothing divine about any Danrose. But I’m not here to talk blasphemy.” Callum approached Quack as he spoke, and once close enough that the other man would be able to hear a hushed voice, he continued.

“I’m here to talk treason. I want to see an end to crowns, titles, and everything else that serves the nobility and never the people. Heard a rumor we might be birds of a feather on that.” He kept his answer short and straight to the point, doctors generally liked direct answers, and no one liked listening to long speeches given by people they already disliked.

What followed happened in the span of a heartbeat, but felt like an eternity. The icy glare meant for Cal froze Quack instead, sapping the color from him before the primal instinct for survival ignited in full force. Riona didn’t think. She lunged forward and grabbed Cal, wrenching him out of reach just as Quack’s hands came crashing down. When he tried to grab for Cal again, she slipped herself between the two. Quack’s ferocity redirected itself to the obstacle in his way. He seized Riona, bringing their faces inches apart.

“Ya told him!?” he thundered, betrayal and fear underpinning the anger in his voice. If the Prince knew of the anarchists’ plot to overthrow the aristocracy, everything was in jeopardy. “Have ya lost yer bloody mind!?” His grip on her arms tightened further.

Riona flinched but held her ground while her heart hammered in her chest. “Sexton. Get a grip. Pay attention. Think. He wouldn’t be the one here if the Crowns knew.”
“Unless it’s a trap.”
“Then harming him now won’t improve the situation.”

Bold, was a mistake. Was Callum’s first thought as Quack went from ice cold to exploding forth with the fury of a drake. What was it about him that made people suddenly want to strangle him? That thought floated through his head as Riona flung him backward just out of Quack’s grip. Cal stumbled into a mayo stand, knocking it, and the few instruments on it, onto the floor with an echoing clatter. Shit, this much noise was going to draw attention. His eyes flickered to the door, praying it didn’t swing open, as Riona tried to calm the doctor down.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least do it quietly, or you’ll have bigger problems.” None of his pre-thought-out excuses for being down here would explain away what was going on now. He looked back at Riona and Quack, once he felt sure no one was coming through the door.

“I wouldn’t lift a finger, or waste a breath, to protect Edin. I’d give you my word, but I don’t think that would foot the bill here. But I can give you a secret, seems fair, I got one of yours, you should have one of mine. One that can ensure my death.” He offered, keeping his eyes locked on Quack as he spoke to him.

“All in or nothing right?” He looked at Riona for confirmation that he could say it. “It’s a big ask for him, even to trust me a little, gotta offer something big in return.” An equivalent sacrifice, a fundamental law of magic, it just made sense.

A weighted silence filled the room. No one moved; all caught in a standoff, waiting for someone else to break the stillness. Even the air seemed to be holding its breath. Finally, Quack released Riona and marched to the door, bolting it shut. He then slid the privacy cover into place to prevent anyone from looking through the vision panel. “Backroom, now. The both of ya,” Quack commanded. Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared into the backroom.

While rubbing the lingering ache in her arms, Riona gave Cal a quick once-over. “Are you okay?” He didn’t look hurt, but the question wasn’t limited to the physical.

“Are you?” Callum returned the question as Riona rubbed her arms.

She nodded, “Yeah.” She almost added that she’d had worse. Luckily, she was quick enough to stop herself. He didn't need to know that.

“Sorry. I messed that up. I think I’m bad at first impressions. Anyway, thank you. Again. Guess you’re stuck adding another tally to the Riona did a good deed board.” There wasn’t much else he could do besides try to make the situation a little lighter. But a darker thought slipped in. Maybe she doesn’t count this as a good deed. He didn’t like how much sense that thought made either. Was that why Riona seemed so convinced she was a bad person? Hanging around him, helping him, saving him; a Danrose, the enemy. Cal wouldn’t ask that, no, that thought was staying locked up in his head.

Instead, he answered her question, “I’m fine,” with a smile because it was true enough. He was just shaken up, and clammy, and his heart still raced. Petty complaints, there was nothing worth voicing there. The backroom Quack had disappeared into loomed up ahead and Callum couldn’t see into it. It just sounded ominous. “Am I fine?” And by that he meant is the backroom code for the place people get murdered? Or is the backroom more of an amicable meeting in a secret liar?

He glanced at the now locked door, then back toward the room Quack had disappeared through. He reached into his jacket pocket. “Guess I’m going either way.” He pulled out his flask and unscrewed the lid before taking a long drink. Just a sip. To wet his beak. He tipped it towards Riona, “for nerves?” He offered as he started to walk.

Riona accepted the flask and raised it as if to make a toast. “For luck,” she said, bringing the flask to her lips. The liquor burned as it slid down her throat, leaving a fiery trail that ended in her stomach. Lowering the flask, she let out a small breath, savoring the way it warmed her from the inside. With her nerves settled, she handed the flask back to its owner.

He glanced around the room, paused, and then struggled to hide a smirk. He glanced at her, “Are we about to get Quacked” He whispered as quietly as he could, and prayed to all the gods Quack lacked a hawk’s hearing. But he couldn’t, not say it.

Just as much as she couldn’t, not laugh. Riona did her best to stifle it and ended up snorting for her efforts. “Gods that’s so bad… Keep it up and he will,” she playfully jabbed his side. “Do you want your epitaph to say ‘Here lies Callum, he who told one too many duck puns and died quacking for it?’”

“That’s exactly what I want. How did you know?”

---

When they passed the curtain divider, all laughter ceased and smiles faded. Two bodies lay motionless on the makeshift operating tables. The first was a middle-aged man, his body gaunt and frail. His skin was sallow and sunken, clinging to his bones. Dark circles rimmed his dull, vacant eyes. He had the look of someone worked to death, every ounce of life force squeezed from him until his heart finally gave out. The second was a woman, her face still retaining some of its youthful fullness. Her skin had a sickly pallor with a slightly yellowish hue and her parted lips were tinged blue. At first glance, she appeared to be resting peacefully, her eyes gently closed. But the dried tears that tracked down her cheeks told another story. Next to the body sat a small glass bottle. Riona gingerly picked it up, examining its contents. She recognized the dried pennyroyal, tansy, savine, and ergot—toxic herbs used by desperate women—and knew that the woman died slowly and painfully from the inside out.

Riona turned to face Quack, but his attention was fully on Cal. Quack had regained his composure and shed the persona of the undertaker-turned-quack. Now Sexton wore the face of an anarchist, acting as judge, jury and potential executioner. This was a tribunal. Suddenly she wished she could take another swing from Cal’s flask.

“Are they dead?” He whispered the question despite already knowing the answer. He could just feel himself turning paler from the sight. He had to remind himself that it probably wasn’t a weird thing for a doctor who was also an undertaker, or was it a former undertaker, to have bodies in a backroom.

The woman looked peacefully asleep, the way a body might at a funeral, but Callum hadn’t ever been to a funeral. He’d never seen a dead person before. He didn’t go out and watch executions like it was some big exciting spectacle, and whenever someone important enough for royalty to attend the funeral, it was never Callum they wanted representing them in public.

The man’s eyes remained open, cold portals into a void. The body didn’t blink, the eyes didn’t move and still they felt like they were staring right into him. The clammy feeling returned with a vengeance. All over, just cold and sweaty. Why was it so cold in here? And shouldn’t they be covered up, with a sheet or something… It just felt wrong to have bodies laid out like they were on display.

He shouldn’t stare at the bodies. He tore his eyes away from the empty, glassy, vacant ones. It’s disrespectful to gawk at the dead. Should I look at Quack? Was that too bold? Probably a bad idea. What if he took it as a challenge? An act of aggression. And why wasn’t Quack saying anything? His stomach twisted up, and the back of his throat burned with whiskey and bile. Was Quack just going to stand there?

“What, umm, what’s that?” He glanced at the small bottle Riona held, searching for anything else to focus on. Don’t look at the bodies. “I should say something, right?” He glanced back at Quack, an unflinching statue of a man, and he knew if he waited around for Quack to talk first, or to feel like he had all his ducks in a row before speaking, he’d be here all day.

“It could be useful, right, to have an insider. Places I can be, that um, other people would seem out of place. I could be useful. And I’m not going to say anything. Not a peep. Even if you don’t want me around, because if you're going after Edin, I wish you success. Gods I hope it's painful, I want Edin to watch his whole Danrose legacy unravel, for everything he loves to be stripped from him. I don’t care who does it, as long as it happens. And I know you don’t trust me, but I haven’t spent ten years earning the right to call Riona a friend to betray her first chance I get. I can keep secrets.” There, he’d said something. It was great, just a long unburdening of everything that sat constricting around his chest. But he wasn’t quite finished.

“And you know what else, I think you should apologize. To Riona, because she called you friend so you should know that she doesn’t stab friends in the back either.”

Riona was almost certain that Sexton was deriving some wicked satisfaction from watching Cal squirm. In Sexton’s eyes, Cal had always been nothing more than a sheltered coward, all empty talk and no action. Despite having ample opportunities, he never dared to ask the difficult questions, too scared that the harsh reality would shatter his, as Sexton put it, delicate sensibilities. The Prince’s so-called “hatred” for his father was little more than a prolonged teenage rebellion that ultimately amounted to nothing. The restraint it must’ve taken for Sexton not to erupt into a diatribe about what true hatred actually was. Riona suspected he especially wanted to tell Cal what his father had done to his sister and many other women like her—women like the woman lying dead on the table. But the more Cal talked, the malice in Sexton slowly dampened and his demeanor softened, albeit not enough to be friendly.

When Cal said all that he wanted to say, Sexton asked, “Are ya done yappin’ ya maw off?” He took the silence as a yes. “Good. My turn.” Sexton pushed off from the wall he had been leaning on and pointed a finger. “Let me get a few thin’s straight.” He used the finger to point at Riona. “We’re hardly muckers. We ain’t even comrades. I’ve been tryin’ to recruit her, but fer some damnable reason she won’t join. Aye, she helps with the sanctuaries we run, but she ain’t one of us.” The accusation in his voice was hard to miss.

“Ya right ’bout one thin’, though, lad.” Sexton turned to Riona. “Ya wouldn’t do anythin’ to harm the sanctuaries. Sorry fer doubtin’ ya.” Riona accepted the apology with a nod. “But,” the icy glare returned, causing the hair on the back of her neck to rise, “if ya get in our way, I’ll do what needs doin’. Ya know that right?”

She nodded again, a little bit delayed this time. “And if it comes to that, I’ll do what I have to do.”

Sexton’s gaze lingered on her before giving a firm nod and turning his full attention back to Cal. He extended a second finger. “This revolution isn’t just ’bout yer dad. We ain’t yer pawns to resolve yer daddy issues that ya don’t have the bawbles to handle yerself. We’re goin’ to ruin yer entire rotten family—yer dad, mum, brothers, sister, whatever that blowen Morrigan is, and ya freaky great uncle—every nob who supported yer family and benefited from this crooked system. That includes ya, Prince Callum. Do ya understand? We want the lot of ya gone.”

Callum watched the conversation between Quack and Riona, wondering about the strange threat that lingered between them. He was certainly going to have to ask Riona why she’d brought him here if she wasn’t on team Quack. He’d ask that later. He wasn’t going to ask about sanctuaries either, he would just let Quack tell him what he was allowed to know. Then Quack’s attention shifted to Cal. He chewed on his tongue to keep from interjecting at the ‘daddy issues’ comment.

“You know, sir, I want me gone too. Going out doing something that matters, best option I got going for me. Caesonia’s had more than enough of kings, princes, and nobles. She deserves something better. And rotten trees need clearing out. My family’s made their choices, and I have made mine.” He said it like a shrug, water off a duck’s back; he knew where he was going to stand.

“I’m not looking for pawns. Don’t need people calling me a prince or thinking I’m anything to be admired or bowed to. I am here to see if I can serve you, or,” And he paused, possibly digging his own grave a little deeper, “Quack me if you must, Mal’lard.” He said it, in the same way, one would say m’lord, and either Quack was going to kill him or he wasn’t, but Callum wasn’t going to let the threat just hang in the air.

Both Riona and Sexton stared at Cal, asking in not so many words if he really wanted duck puns to be his only legacy. Cal, you brave idiot. She shook her head with a ghost of a smile.

“We’ll see ’bout that soon enough.” Sexton scoffed, but a smirk cracked through. He began pacing as he seemed to consider Cal’s offer. “There’s two thin’s I want from ya if yer serious ’bout joinin’.” He stood in front of Cal.

“First. There’s no sense denyin’ we ain’t equals. Not in this bloody country. While ya can get away with murder, stealin’ bread from a royal party is a capital offense fer common folk. If any of us from our group gets caught, it’s the gallows fer us, our families, muckers, anyone even suspected helpin’ us. To stop more rebelin’ from happenin’, the crown’ll tighten the noose around folk’s necks. More people’ll suffer in the name of peace. Now if ya get caught, ya’d get a good bum whackin’ and a scapegoat to pin everythin’ on to hide yer involvement. If yer parents prove me wrong, and actually have the guts, then they’ll execute ya and pretend ya went to live on a farm. Point is, the risk we’re shoulderin’ ain’t the same.”

Suddenly, Sexton’s fingers pressed into Cal’s neck, and he seemed to wait for the pulse to regain a steady beat, before continuing. “Ya say that ya won’t betray us, but like ya said, I don’t trust ya and neither will the others… not without insurance. And not the kind yer willin’ to give.” He must’ve been referring to whatever secret Cal was going to reveal to earn his trust. “So.” He leaned in closer. “What’s the most important thin’ that ya care ’bout more than anythin’ else in the world? And don’t think ya can name just anythin’. I wantcha to explain why it, or they, are so important to ya too.”

He’s asking for a hostage. Riona realized. Something, anything, to bind their fates together.

“If I gave you a name, I’m not sure it’d be much use to you. This isn’t a threat, but the few friends I’ve got, would all be just as dangerous to mess with. And giving you a name feels like the same sort of betrayal you’re worried I’d do to you. I don’t do that.” He glanced at Quack’s fingers and assumed he was trying to feel out a lie. Lying had crossed his mind, giving him the name of someone he knew wouldn’t just be a sitting duck crossed his mind too. But he’d come here to ask for trust and he wasn’t going to treat this like one of his games with his brother. He shifted his gaze to look Quack in the eye before speaking again.

“What if what I’m willing to give, is a surefire way to send me to a pyre? I could give you enough evidence against me, that even if they did try and cover it up, it would turn a lot of folks against the crown. You know what I mean, right? What guarantees a pyre?” Cal asked, there was only one card to play that made sense to him. Even things up, make it all just as dangerous for him as it was for Quack, or as close as he could reasonably get.

“My whole life I’ve always been told what a useless, unwanted, failure I am. I have one thing that really makes me feel like that’s not the absolute truth. A little spark of hope; magic. A deeper well of connection than blood could ever be, something I can feel a claim to that isn’t rotten all the through. I’ve got all sorts of damning evidence tucked away too. Whole books copied in my handwriting, notes on what’s worked and what’s failed. So I can get you that, I can give the means to secure my destruction.”

A sneer twisted Sexton’s face, a cynical smile coming from bitter vindication rather than disappointment. The discordant pieces had clicked into place, confirming that the world matched his lowest expectations. His eyes glazed over Cal as if he wasn’t even there, whirling on Riona instead. “There ya have it. He ain’t serious ’bout helpin’ us. I ask one thin’ from him, prove he’ll lay everythin’ on the line just like the rest of us, and he balks!” Sexton let out a harsh, derisive laugh, his malice reemerging in full force.

… and set her ablaze. His rage stoked the thing within her, his hatred emboldened it, and it, in turn, ravaged her. Riona clutched her stomach, her breath escaped slowly through gritted teeth.

“He’s willin’ to sacrifice ourlivesand endanger what’s precious to us, but askin’ His Royal Highness to do the same? That’s a bridge too far. Ach, He’s his dad and mum’s bairn, awright.”

He paced back and forth, getting more worked up by the minute. Sexton ranted as though he and Riona were the only ones (alive) in the room. “A ‘surefire way to send me to a pyre’ my shiny arse. I knew he were daft, but to be this bloody moronic. Does he seriously believe he’s the only one messin’ with magic in his damned family? Where does he think all that evidence’ll end up goin’? The Queen sees all the high-profile cases and Morrigan is the bloody executioner fer feck’s sake!” In a flash of rage, Sexton kicked the bucket by the table. The impact sent it clattering across the floor, the metal scraping and echoing in the room as it rolled away.

Sexton closed his eyes and tilted his head upwards, trying to restrain his irritation. “The Prince is playin’ ya fer a fool, Riona.”
“He’s willing to sacrifice himself.”
“Pfft. Naaaah,” his dragged out the denial with a sigh, “it’s nothin’ that selfless. He just wants to prove to himself that he’s not a useless, unwanted, failure.” Sexton’s eyes snapped open, narrowing as he refocused on Riona. “Let’s say what ya say is true and let’s pretend his family won’t lift a damn finger when he’s tried for witchcraft. He’ll burn as a witch while we’ll be executed as traitors to the crown. The difference is, his death will end with him. Ours won’t.”
“But if we can expose the Danroses’ misdeeds—”

Sexton cut in. “We’re doin’ that with or without His Highness. What I need from him is commitment.” He stepped closer, holding Riona’s gaze intently. “We’re all riskin’ everythin’ here. I know he thinks he’s offerin’ a way to even thin’s. But it ain’t actually even ’til he risks losin’ all he has too. If he joins, he’ll find all our soft underbellies.” He scoffed, “And he expects me to trust him when he won’t show me his?” Another frustrated sigh escaped him. “Gets my dander up that he tried to bargain with a life he doesn’t give a toss ’bout.” The life being Callum’s own.

“You’re demanding a hostage. That’s a lot to ask.”
“Is it? Danroses are holdin’ the people hostage. Why can’t I get one from him? One that he actually gives a damn ’bout.” He hissed. “If we can’t back out when the goin' gets rough, then neither should he.”
Riona’s gaze shifted away from Sexton and searched Cal’s.

“…How far are you willing to go now that you aren’t scared anymore?”
“As far as I can.”
How far was that?

Time: Sola 22, Morning
Location: The Blackwoods Sitting Room

---

The sun's warm rays filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow across the sitting area of Mina's quarters. Soft cushions adorned the plush couch, inviting relaxation and comfort. Mina reclined on the cushions, her petite frame sinking into their embrace. Her eyes closed as she listened to the soothing melodies of birdsong outside, letting the tranquility of the morning wash over her.

The events of yesterday still lingered in her mind. Fainting during the execution had been unexpected, but Mina attributed it to a momentary lapse in her usually composed demeanor. Her uncle, ever the doting guardian, had insisted she rest in their quarters, demanding she regain her strength and vitality after running into him in the halls as she’d left with Munir. He was always overly concerned for her well-being, worrying about her more than she believed necessary. She’d tried to argue that she was fine, but he was having none of it and even gave the Alidasht prince a disapproving glance. Now she’d been confined to their quarters since yesterday.

As if on cue, the door creaked open, and two servants entered the room, each carrying a tray adorned with delicate teacups and a plate of freshly baked scones. They placed the trays on a small coffee table in front of Mina before bowing and silently retreating.

Mina's eyes fluttered open, her attention drawn to the enticing aroma wafting from the cups of tea. She took a moment to savor the fragrant steam rising from the cups before delicately picking one up. The porcelain felt cool against her fingertips as she brought the cup to her lips, taking a small sip of the warm, comforting liquid.

Just as she set the cup down, her gaze turned to the plate of scones. They were golden-brown, still warm from the oven, and adorned with a dusting of powdered sugar. The sight of the delectable treats brought a flicker of a smile to her lips. She picked up a scone, breaking off a small piece and savoring its buttery sweetness.

A momentary pause filled the room as Mina's thoughts drifted to her uncle's concern. She couldn't help but find it unnecessary. Fainting was not uncommon, especially in the midst of an execution by fire. Her own strength had always surprised her, and she knew she could handle more than others anticipated.

As she indulged in another sip of tea, she pondered on how to persuade her uncle to let her stay in Caesonia instead of returning to Kolonivka. She knew she had to be convincing, to make him understand that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

Roman had woken up late, the actions of the night before proved to have taken more energy out of him then he had liked. Sleeping almost through the entire morning was not exactly something he wanted to do. At least the others had good news as he went about getting his attire in order after quickly washing himself off. The shaman Maja, an older woman intrusted with the health and wellness of the others while also keeping up with the wishes and celebrations of the gods. Maja was akin to the mother of their group.

She had found a place to the western most portion of lovers lake that would make due for their summer solstice ritual. She was actually there right now with a few others making the necessary arrangements. The other guards did not report any unusual circumstances in the area and Erik had acquired the updated list of varian nobles that were still in the city for the summer.

These were all things that made him breathe a little easier but he still wanted to check in on the blackwoods before the afternoon blacksmith lesson. Mina had fainted the other day and her father was never one for bright sunny days. He could only hope that they would be interested in his offer as well to help him with the ritual, those two were the closest thing to blood related family that he had here.

It wasn't long before he found himself at their place of residence for the summer. He knew where all of them would be staying after all if some kind of emergency came up. Taking a moment to make sure that he looked presentable enough the large man knocked on the door to their portion of the guest spaces. He was well aware that they wouldn't mind him just walking in but he still found it respectable to knock first.

Mina's maid paused her task at the sound of the knock, but before she could make her way to the door, Mina interjected with a warm smile. "I'll get it, thank you," she said to the maid, who nodded and resumed her work.

Making her way to the door, Mina found herself wondering who it could be. Moments later, she pulled the door open to reveal Roman standing there, looking as handsome as ever. Her eyes lit up with joy at the sight of her friend and her heart skipped a beat upon seeing her secret childhood crush. "Roman! What a wonderful surprise!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement. "Come in, come in! You’re just in time for some tea if you’d like to join?"

She stepped aside, inviting him into the sitting area where they could relax and catch up. The sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. "Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing to one of the chairs. "How have you been? Did I hear whispers that there is going to be a summer solstice ritual here this year?" She couldn't help but ask him excitedly.
He was quite surprised to look down and see his old childhood friend at the door, expecting a maid to answer instead she caught him off guard for a moment. “Err um yes I would love some tea.” he didn't hesitate to step inside and follow her over to the small table. For a moment he felt a little awkward as her sudden appearance derailed his train of thought. “Uhh yes i uh i am well and i did, that was one of the reasons i came by today.”

answering her question about the ritual, his smile quickly returning. “The main reason I came by was to see how you were doing? I heard you fainted at the execution the other day.” his smile dropped slightly as he mentioned the event did give him some worry for her health, it wasn't normal.

He smiled as the maid poured him some tea, “Thank you.” taking a sip of the pleasant warm liquid and setting the small cup down again, “the second reason was to tell you that I will be taking my fathers role for leading the ritual this year…” he trailed off for a moment and rubbed the back of his head.

Mina always made him flustered when she stared at him like that, “well I uh, I wanted to ask you to be my Echo this year. I know, I know, its a position normally held for the leaders wife or betrothed but i don't have either of those right now and i really do believe that you would be a great fit for the roll…” he couldn't keep eye contact with her and instead inspected the cup of tea again, he didn't know why but it felt to him like he was back in his younger days asking her for a dance. Mina always had the ability to steal his confidence but he wasn't sure why, he wasn't sure why he always showed her this side of him in private.

Mina couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nostalgia. Though the feelings from her childhood had somewhat evolved over the years, there was still a lingering fondness for him. She tried to maintain her composure, not wanting to show her slight fluster at his presence.

Her heart sank a little as he mentioned her fainting at the execution. She didn't want him to worry about her as well, but she appreciated his concern. "Oh, it was nothing serious," she said with a reassuring smile. "Just a momentary lapse, though Uncle Sebastian would like to believe otherwise. I'm perfectly fine now."

As he informed her about taking his father's role for leading the ritual, her eyes widened in surprise. She knew how important the role was, and it was an honor to be chosen for such a responsibility. "Oh, Roman, that's wonderful news!" she exclaimed, genuine excitement in her voice as she gently placed a hand on his arm. "Congratulations, I know you'll do an amazing job."

But as he stammered and stumbled over his words, asking her to be his Echo, Mina couldn't help but feel her heart skip a beat. She had always admired Roman, and being asked to hold such an important position for him made her feel special. "I'd be more than honored to be your Echo," she said with a warm smile, her eyes locking with his for a moment before she looked down to hide her slight blush and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

She knew they had always had a special connection, and it seemed that even after all these years, that connection was still there. Roman had a way of making her feel both excited and shy at the same time. She certainly acted differently around him then she did most other men. Her confident, flirtatious manner almost seemed to fly out the window…almost.

But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present. She was happy for him and honored to be a part of such an important event in his life. It was a chance for them to spend more time together, and Mina looked forward to supporting him every step of the way.

He gave her a quiet sigh at her dismissal of her health concerns with a look that said he did not truly believe her. Yet he did not press the issue further, believing that she would tell him more information about it when she was ready. The mention of her uncle reminded him of another thing he wanted to bring up to her about the man as well. He held his tongue in anticipation of her reaction to his proposition.

The reaction was everything he hoped and gave her a toothy grin, the fireflies in his gut slowly subsiding with her answer. He sat the cup of tea down and reached for her hand cupping it gently in his calloused hand. “Thank you, you have a beautiful singing voice. I can't wait to hear it again. You shouldn't need to prepare as I chose four of some of our more common songs. I uh, i was also hoping that you could talk to Sebastion about joining as well.” he let her hand slip from his regaining his composure and leaning back into his chair in a more comfortable fashion.

“I know he has played music with my father in the past and it would bring me great pride if he would play with us.” he fondly remembered seeing the man play an instrument or two when his father led some of the rituals back home. “So the plan right now is Maja found a spot on the western edge of Lovers lake and some of us are out there now setting up the bonfires, setting the stone patterns, and cooking pits. We plan to begin tomorrow night and you should get your official invitation tomorrow. I plan on running the ritual with the four seasons in mind, similar to how my father has run them in the past. Speech first explaining the rules for those present, call to the gods and ancestors then begin to sing while the others give offerings and dance. Four smaller fires around one large one…” he paused for a moment as he realized he was rambling and dumping information to her again.

It was a nervous tick that he had around her and he felt like it had ruined some moments between them in the past. The fireflies began to make their way back out into his gut as he thought about those memories. When they would wander the forest as kids and he would tell her stories or talk to her about his craft for hours until they were called away. He really did like his friend but he could never really tell just how much she cared about him or if the voice in his head was right and she really didn't like him and was just being nice or polite.

Mina found herself swept up in Roman's excitement and passion as he talked about the upcoming ritual. She listened attentively, her eyes shining with genuine interest. His words painted a vivid picture in her mind, and she could almost feel the warmth of the bonfires, hear the songs, and sense the reverence of the moment. She was truly honored that he had chosen her to be a part of this significant event in his life.

When he mentioned her talking to Sebastian about joining the ritual, Mina's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Sebastian playing music? Now that's an idea," she said with a chuckle. "But I'll do my best to convince him. I'm sure he'll be intrigued by the idea, especially if he remembers the times he played with your father." Besides, it would be a good way for her to start the conversation again to convince him to let her stay. In fact, all of this would be a good way to convince him.

As Roman rambled on, Mina couldn't help but smile fondly. His nervousness and enthusiasm were endearing, reminding her of the times they had spent together as children. "You know, Roman, you don't have to worry about overwhelming me with information," she said with a teasing smile. "Besides, I could kiss you for helping provide me with more ammunition to use against my uncle since he wants to send me back to Kolonivka even though I don’t want to go home." Mina's eyes widened in slight panic as her words spilled out without her usual filter. She bit her lip, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I-I mean, not that I want to kiss you, I mean, you're my friend and I didn't mean to imply anything, I just...uh, forget I said anything," she stammered, her attempt to backtrack only making her embarrassment more apparent. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

She let out a nervous laugh, attempting to lighten the mood. "You see, I have this habit of saying things without thinking when I’m around you, and well, sometimes I just can't help myself," she rambled, waving her hand dismissively. "But, yes, I'll definitely talk to Sebastian about joining the ritual and see what he thinks. It's a great idea, really, and I'm sure he'll be thrilled... not about the kissing part, obviously, but about the music."

Mina mentally cringed at her own awkwardness. She had managed to make things even more uncomfortable, all while desperately trying to smooth over her slip of the tongue. "Anyway, yes, the ritual sounds fantastic and I'm really looking forward to it. And I promise, I won't mention kissing again unless you wanted a kiss, I mean, not that I'm suggesting anything, I just, oh gods," she groaned, covering her face with her hands for a moment before peeking out with a sheepish smile. "I should really just stop talking now."

Roman’s heart beat only quickened as Mina kept talking. She was stammering out sentences while his face kept blushing through shades of red one would find in a forge. He wasn't sure what he should do and his fight or flight response was growing in his chest with every word. The way she could put his body into the same feeling as going into battle amazed him. So he did the only thing he thought would be appropriate to soothe both of their minds for the moment.

Slowly he turned in his chair and held her hands gently. Now that he had got this far he wasn't sure how to proceed resulting in him hesitating as he looked at what was likely one of his oldest and dearest friends. The urge to kiss her and bed her was strong but he didn't want to ruin the friendship that he coveted. A friendship that he adored almost more than his hammer.

He found himself staring at her hands in his, staying stoic for a moment longer before speaking up. More of a whisper than anything, words just for them, as he looked her in the eye’s “the light of the moon failed in comparison to the light of her soul.” he leaned forward to tell her this and in doing so the crystal necklace dropped from under his shirt.

He took a moment longer to speak again, his face still red as he controlled his breathing and heart rate. “Please don't, I've always enjoyed your company, your jokes, your smile. I um i would like a k-kiss but not right now… how about after the ritual? After our songs.” his smile softened for a moment. His hesitation once again prevalent until he remembered what she had said, “wait, Sebastian wants you to go back already?”

His eyebrows furrowed in concern as he tried to think of how he could help with the situation, “i uh i could take responsibility for your safety… if it helps i did bring two extra ships worth of people and supplies just for the summer. I probably have more men and guards here than some of the royalty.”

As Roman reached out to hold her hands, a calming warmth seemed to envelop Mina. His touch was reassuring, and she looked into his eyes, finding a familiar sense of comfort there. His whispered words, like a soft breeze on a summer night, had a soothing effect on her. The comparison to the moon's light and the light of her soul was both poetic and endearing. She felt her heart skip a beat as she absorbed his words, her embarrassment momentarily forgotten. And then came his request, delivered with a mix of hesitation and vulnerability. Mina's cheeks flushed once again, but this time it wasn't from embarrassment; it was from a different kind of excitement.

Then her eyes landed on the necklace and she couldn’t help but stare for a moment. There was a strange aura coming off of it, something she hadn’t experienced before, and the whispers of the spirits seemed to surge for a moment. Since she fainted they hadn’t disappeared completely, but they’d become bearable at least. Now, though, they were momentarily distracting, yet she continued to try to ignore them as she went back to focusing on Roman’s words.

"After the ritual... our songs... Yes, that sounds lovely," she replied, her voice soft, her heart fluttering in her chest. The thought of sharing a kiss with Roman, especially after such a meaningful and beautiful event, sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn't deny that she felt a strong connection with him, something beyond their childhood friendship.

As he mentioned her uncle's desire for her to return to Kolonivka, Mina's expression turned a bit more somber and it seemed to bring her back to reality. She sighed softly and nodded, her fingers still entwined with Roman's. "Yes, unfortunately my uncle insists that I go back. He believes it's for my own good, but... I don't want to go back just yet," she admitted, her gaze dropping to their intertwined hands. "Your offer of protection means a lot to me, Roman. I'll have to speak to him about it and see if he's willing to consider it. Maybe it will help change his mind, at least for now."

She glanced up at him with a small smile, the vulnerability she felt mirrored in her eyes. "Thank you for being so understanding and for always being there for me, Roman. You truly are a dear friend, and I'm grateful to have you in my life." The soft whispers in the background seemed to grow stronger for a moment again, but Mina pushed them to the back of her mind, focusing on the present moment with Roman.

He smiled at her softly memories of times long past sifted through his mind and he found himself stuck on one memory of the two of them stargazing. The warm summer night air and the smell of the forest drifted back to him for a moment. Mina was and continues to be a close friend who he always wished he could confess his secrets to. His thoughts shifted and he felt a pull from his necklace that reminded him of all the things he has done. All the reasons why he will never be worthy of her heart.

The pull grew stronger for a moment, the smell of fresh blood and something burning growing in his senses. Men and women screaming in his mind, children crying. For a moment he was back in that town, back in that battle. A moment to her seemed like hours to him reliving the killing and bloodshed that he brought down on those poor people. In a place that does not exist on any maps anymore, with people that were erased from the records.

He did snap out of the thought, pushing the influence from his necklace back down and quickly hiding the crystal back into his shirt. He stood quickly and gave her a smile, “I apologize I forgot I had another meeting that I have to take care of. Thank you for accepting my invitation, you and Sebastian should be receiving your official invitations sometime soon. I truly do hope you are able to stay for the summer.” he opened his arms offering her a hug before he left, his heart still racing.

Mina's attention was briefly drawn to the strange aura emanating from his necklace. It seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, and the whispers of the spirits around her grew louder and more insistent. They were demanding her attention, their voices a cacophony of accusations.

"Murderer." "Killer." "Blood on his hands."

Her breath caught in her throat and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. At first she thought they were talking about herself, but then she realized they said his hands. She looked at the spirits and realized they were staring at Roman. The once-familiar presence of the spirits had taken on a sinister and accusatory tone, and it sent shivers down her spine. She had never experienced anything like this before.

She tried to focus on Roman's words, his offer of an invitation, but the voices in her head drowned out his words. Panic welled up within her, and she struggled to maintain her composure. She felt her head spin once more and she feared she was going to faint once more, but she shoved the feeling away as best she could as she tried to give Roman a smile. She was hesitant at first, but she moved and gave him a hug. She felt so small in his arms and for a moment, that panic she’d initially felt faded and she wondered what the spirits actually meant. How could Roman be any of those things? ”Thank you, Roman. I’ll see you at the Solstice then.” She finally managed to say to him before letting go. ”Now I think I should maybe go lay back down for a bit. I’m still a bit tired, it seems. Thank you for coming by.” She gave him a soft smile before turning and heading towards her room.

---

Quack’s face had said it all, but that didn’t stop the tirade from coming anyway. Callum understood the point, if they failed, it looked like Cal only lost something he didn’t care about, his life. Either way, success or failure, he was already losing his family. Success, almost certainly, would end in the deaths of every Danrose; he and his siblings included. Callum wasn’t so delusional that he thought they’d all just be sent off to live normal lives. Did Quack not consider that a sacrifice either? No, Quack probably saw that as the reason he needed insurance. But the insurance he asked for, felt like giving up a piece of his humanity.

Each time Quack paused, Callum thought about saying something, then worried it would make things worse. And Quack kept on talking, except now he was only talking to Riona like Cal wasn’t even worth words. He glanced at Riona, and she almost looked like she was in pain. His fault, he was letting her down. She’d trusted him enough to bring him here and he was wasn’t going far enough. Now Quack was mad at both of them. Again. When she spoke he just nodded and addressed Quack.

“Because it’s not just insurance. You’re asking me to use someone’s life as a buy-in. To pick out a person I’m willing to use as a pawn, and I know that feels wrong. I cross that line, do I still get to say, I’m not Edin? Because it’s for a just cause? Or is that me taking one step closer to all the things I don’t want to be? You’re wrong about something, sir. Edin, Alibeth, most of my family; they’d all be quick to stab their closest friends in the back to get what they want.” He had to make it clear, that it wasn’t hard because he didn’t want to share the risk, or because he thought he could back out when things got dangerous. This was a line he could look at and say he wasn’t like the rest of them.

Whatever he did now, he was a bad friend either way. He was either going to refuse to give a name, of someone he carried about, to be used against him, and in turn let down Riona who had been there for him more than anyone else. Or he was going to offer up a friend, to a man who hated Callum, and seemed like he had a bad temper, like a piece of leverage. There was no good choice and no way around it. All duck or no dinner. Gods, let the day I become like Edin be the last day I draw breath.

He looked back at Riona again. “If I do this, tell me it won’t make me like Edin, and I will.”

Riona couldn’t quite explain the feeling she got when Cal said that. The trust was bittersweet, it both empowered her and weighed heavily on her. The pragmatic voice in her head argued it would be easier to just say that doing this wouldn’t make him like the King. Everything would move along faster and she’d be one step closer to reaching the end. His friend, however, didn’t want to give him a half-baked answer.

She turned to Sexton, whose steady gaze never left her. He kept watching… evaluating? Evaluating what? Her? Cal? A thought crossed her mind.

“This… interview has nothing to do with Sacrista, does it?” She braced herself for Sexton’s fury to resurface at the mention of her name. Instead there was sorrow, almost serene in its calmness. He gave a slow, somber nod.

Relief in her sigh, she folded her arms across her chest. “You keep talking about when you guys fail or when Callum betrays you. I think it’s only fair to tell us what your plans are for the nobles when you guys succeed.”

“They become commoners. That’s the whole point of gettin’ rid of the old system, innit?” He answered simply and without hesitation. “Some’ll stand trial fer crimes they got away with usin’ titles. Worse the crime, heavier the punishment, same as fer regular folk and how it shoulda always been fer nobs too.” His eyes focused on something that wasn’t Riona. “Bein’ noble-born ain’t a crime. Long as they’ve done nothin’ wrong and won’t be threatin’ the new ways, they’ll live like free citizens.” It was an ideal—one that might not be possible, but it was a dream that, at the very least, Sexton was working towards. And that made Riona decide to take a leap of faith.

Cal gave Quack a skeptical glance. It wasn’t worth the argument, especially since arguing with Quack would be like trying to milk a duck, but if Quack thought that was how this would all end, he was either lying or delusional. There wasn’t a house in Caesonia that was going to just give up power willingly, there were crimes that would be exposed that could only be answered with blood. Callum understood that; he wasn’t shortsighted enough to think this was going to end peacefully. Certainly not for Danroses, but they’d all more or less earned it with crimes that stretched back through generations.

Facing Cal, Riona said, “Paranoia and distrust define Edin and Alibeth. They don’t show anyone their vulnerabilities, because they wouldn’t think twice about exploiting others with theirs.” She looked back at Sexon as she continued to speak to Cal. “If you do this, you’ll be doing something that Edin and Alibeth are too afraid to do.” Her razor-sharp glare pierced Sexton with a silent warning. “And if these people betray your trust, then that’s on them, not you.”

If Riona was trying to assure Cal that he wasn’t like Edin or Alibeth, bringing up their paranoia and mistrust didn’t help. It just made him remember how quickly he believed Ana was a snitch and turned that into a whole public scene at a tavern. How close was he? Another later problem to sort out. Riona’s response meant he had to go for it and he could, at least, assure himself that no one in his family came down to the backroom in the servant's infirmary to discuss treason.

“Roman Ravenwood is a close friend, though he’d make for a difficult hostage. A Varian noble, different from what we have here in that he’s actually a noble person. Didn’t know they made nobles that nice until he saved my ass from a beating at the tavern. So when he’s around and we go out drinking, he’s always got stories of his big happy family to share and he just brings the warmth of the forge wherever he goes.” He didn’t forget the ‘why’ either.

And if there was any name he could give, and still be sure they weren’t going to be a pawn, it was Roman’s. The beloved bear of Varian could never be described as an easy target. If Quack only wanted the name of someone Callum cared about he got it, and if Quack had anything else in mind, may the gods have mercy on anyone who goes after Roman.

“So friendship is whatcha cherish more than yerself, eh?” Seeming satisfied with Cal’s answer (maybe because of how much he resisted), Sexton was about to go on to the second condition before Riona spoke up.

“Wait. You got your answer, tell us why you really asked that question.”

Sexton’s eyebrow arched. “Didn’t ya two decide it was fer a hostage? Cause ya ain’t wrong. I ain’t above gettin’ my hands dirty, not when dealin’ with the Danroses and their posse. l’ll gladly roll in a damn pigsty it means bringin’ ’em down. This is war. I know this won’t end without blood. In war, there’s nae such thin’ as honor and fairness. We do what we gotta do with all that we can get our hands on.”

Based on what limited interaction she had with the other anarchists, Riona knew how many of them would gladly spill noble blood and believed that the revolution wouldn’t be complete until they exterminated every last noble from Caesonia. No matter who they were; even children and commoner-turned-noble “traitors.”

“There might not be enough nobs left to be tried when we win. Probably only the ones that surrendered early, allies, and wee yins.” His eyes drifted to the woman on the table. “The last two deserve a chance.”

It didn’t take much to piece together that the anarchists already had support from a few nobles already, but Riona refrained from pointing that out. “... You still haven’t told us why.”

Sexton clucked his tongue then positioned himself so that the three of them were properly facing each other. “Me, bein’ a pessimist, have a hobby in imaginin’ the worst. In one scenario, the lad joins us and then his parents catch wind of it. Whatta be one of the first thin’s they’ll try to do to ya, lad?”

“They’d question me, interrogate me, maybe torture me. But, as you’ve said I don’t care much for my life, and I hate them more than I care about me.” Cal was confident about that, so if Quack just needed someone to go after in the event that Callum squealed, it was never going to be an issue. But when he paused to add to that, something else Quack had said made him question it.

“That’s not the real problem, though. If someone else in my family is using magic, I might not have much of a choice.” He tilted his head, absentmindedly scratching at the long straight scab down his palm. Magically compelled to lead the enemy back to Quack’s nest…, the idea was unsettling but possible.

“And I am often followed.” He nodded slowly, he could see the concern there, he’d have to fix that. “I could work on that, a curse to keep me from saying anything, lest I never speak again. Would you be satisfied with that?”

“Ah, I see ya drink my brand of pessimism in the morn. Cheers.” Sexton lifted an imaginary cup in Cal’s direction. “If ya can pull that off, it would set some minds at rest… and stir up other troubles, but we’ll blether ’bout that after. There’s one more thin’ yer forgettin’ and they don’t need magic fer this.”

“May our glasses always be half empty.” Cal took the opportunity to mock a toast with Quack. The guy was about as hard-boiled as they come, Cal wasn’t going to let the chance to try and score a few points pass him by. His hands went right back to searching for something to pick over until they were stopped.

Frowning, Riona gently pulled Cal’s hand away from the scab. “They’ll use what you cherish as hostage,” she said as she assessed the damage. Callum nodded, he didn’t need to be warned about his family’s most played-out move.

“On the nail.” Sexton said, clapping as he strode closer. “Now, I might not fully trust ya and I have my reasons fer not likin’ ya very much. But as long as yer our ally, yer one of us, lad.” He scratched the back of his neck, averting his gaze from Cal awkwardly, as if he was about to break into hives for saying all this. “We protect our own and our insurances.”

As Sexton talked, Riona mentally went down the list of people King Edin and Queen Alibeth could and would use against Cal. Lord Roman, Shehzadi Farim, and Lady Ariella immediately came to mind. Their nobility—and for the former two, their foreigner status—offered some protection, but she also knew that that wouldn’t be enough. Not when the Crowns had people like Kalliope or Lady Morrigan to do the deeds they couldn’t publicly condone. Riona worried most for Lady Ariella. Sorian being her home made her the easiest target out of three. Then there was that guy who hosted the parties Cal and Princess Anastisia loved so much. What about him?

That wasn’t what Cal expect to hear. Not by a long shot. He replayed Quack’s words in his head, looking for the hidden meaning, a contingency, and only felt more confused.. “I dont,” don't want help? Need help? Expect help? Was he supposed to offer to help protect whatever Quack held dear? “I don’t know what you want me to say to that. I wouldn’t ask you for extra favors, and not one that seems to sit so uncomfortably with you. My friends have protection, what do you need from me to know I’m not going to harm yours?” He asked, he didn’t know what else he really had to offer up, might as well just ask what Quack wanted.

“Yer ain’t askin’ fer a favor. That's what bein’ on the same team supposed to mean. We have yer back, ya have our backs. If we protect what yer care ’bout, ya protect what we care ’bout. If ya betray us, we betray ya. Simple and honest.” Sexton shifted his weight as he crossed his arms. “Unless ya wanna do this posh? Let’s make it overly convoluted and shady. We can smile, shake hands, and pretend that everythin’s rainbows and butterflies. We’ll manipulate each other usin’ every trick in the book and when the time comes, we push each other under the carriage. How’s that sound? More to yer style?”

“That’s a-uh novel concept for me. People I’m most used to dealing with, don’t do their dealings that way. Your way’s better, it just might take some getting used to from me.” Cal admitted, it wasn’t easy to trust someone who felt more like a judge than a friend. He wasn’t used to uncomplicated honesty. He was more used to people looking like ducks, quacking like ducks, and turning out to be snakes. Maybe Quack was the real deal, the same duck he claimed to be, gods with his nickname, it did fit.

He paused, and since they were all very close together and he didn’t even want the dead to overhear this, Callum whispered the next part. “Who do you think Edin would send after rebellious thorns in his side and the people they care about? If he wants it done stealthily, kept out of the eyes of the public and all these foreign dignitaries around? That person might be a friend of mine as well. I could see if they’d give me a heads-up if they get any orders for anyone here in Sorian. To help watch your back.” He didn’t offer a name, but it wasn’t a tough inference either. Kalliope Arden, the hidden blade herself, was no loyalist to the crown.

---

“Anyone.”
“Anyone.” Riona and Sexton answered in unison.

Sexton went on, “Perks of bein’ royalty: ya can get all sorts of people to yer biddin’. Sometimes it’s easier to coerce ordinary folk into doin’ the dirty work than havin’ an actual professional do it. Then cover it up after. Ya ken?”

“Anyone?” Callum mouthed the word, inaudibly, with a furrowed look of confusion. They sounded just as sure, that anyone could be coerced into the crown’s misdeeds, as he was in his belief that it must take someone deeply nefarious even to be willing to do the crown’s dirty work. Yet another concerning idea he was going to have to try and wrap his head around.

“Sometimes… they don’t need to be threatened.”

Gardner knelt on the hardwood floor, barely able to hold himself upright in his drunken stupor. His clothes were disheveled and his hair matted. Bloodshot, glazed eyes peered up at the child standing before him. The gardener’s slurred words were barely coherent and the pungent scent of liquor clung heavily to his breath. “Ríoghnach…” he choked out, reaching a trembling hand to clutch at her dress. She stared down at him, her expression stony and unmoved even as tears cut trails down his ruddy, bearded cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” Riona said nothing, her lips pressed tightly together. “No one was supposed to get hurt.” Gardner slid his hands down her legs, grasping her ankles in supplication. “No one was supposed to die.” The girl stepped back, wrenching herself from his grasp. “Everything was supposed to end peacefully!” He crumbled forward, his forehead pressing against the cold floorboards. “It was only ever meant to set your clan free!” Sobs wracked his body as he cried out for his lost love, “Desmond,” over and over. With a sharp inhale, Riona turned and walked away, leaving Gardner alone, broken, and weeping for what could’ve been.

“Sometimes they genuinely believe they’re doing what’s best for you. They don’t realize they’ve signed your death warrant until it’s too late.” Riona said in a small voice, then trailed off into silence.

When she didn’t elaborate, Sexton picked up the conversation again, “... Not that I won’t say no to that offer, lad.” He paused. “Only if ya agree to the last demand, mind.”

The second condition for Cal to join the anarchists. “Ya’ve had a cushy life. Probably a lotta thin’s ya never had to deal with yerself. So whenever ya got uncomfy, ya could skedaddle and make yerself cozy somewhere else. Well, no more of that. If yer gonna join us, from this point on,” he pointed at Cal’s forehead, “ya have to ask every hard question yer’ve been avoidin’ askin’ cause ya were too feart to know the answer. No more lockin’ it away in the back of yer head. Cause I promise ya, yer gonna find out thin’s and we got no time fer ya broodin’. Ya might as well ask and take the answer upfront than havin’ it sneak up on ya later.”

“Just to be clear, are you telling me to ask these questions, aloud to someone, like you, or is this a figurative, confront these issues head-on like I’m not squirrelly coward, sort of deal?” He was, mostly, sure he knew the answer there, he couldn’t imagine Quack wanted to be constantly pestered and followed about by a confused royal duckling sharing his every muddled thought, but every other thing Quack said was throwing him for a loop as it was.

Sexton smirked, “Who said it ain’t both? I’m sure ya can find a smart way of askin’ people, Yer Highness. Questions been cooked up in yer head fer far too long. It’s ’bout time to get actual answers fer ’em.”

“Guess if I’m going to work with you, for you, would be nice to know; do you hate me because you think I could be like Edin, or because you think I already am?”

The smirk vanished. “Because yer halfway there,” Sexton answered flatly. Then he waited, daring Cal to challenge him.

“Halfway there…” Callum just let the weight of that sink in. Quack’s answer was neither fully damning nor was it what Cal would’ve liked to hear. Just an honest observation from an outsider. He at least knew Quack wasn’t going to hold back to spare his feelings, and that alone made Quack’s opinion ring out like the truth. But not all the way there. He fidgeted with his shirt sleeves like he wasn’t sure if they were too long or too short.

“Not exactly where I’d like to be, better than all the way there.” He wondered how long it had taken Edin to fully become the monster he was today. Which was just another way for Callum to wonder how long he had before he was something just as inhuman. “Not a lot of people willing to give me the truth straight, so I appreciate that. I’m not going to run a-fowl of you. All the avoiding and lamenting hasn’t exactly been working out for me anyway. I am here to try something new. And scary, I don’t know if you this, but you are a little scary, sir.”

“Whatcha talkin’ ’bout? I’m ferkin’ a saint compared to her.” Riona noticed his chin angling toward her as he leaned in to whisper not so secretly. “Between ya and me, she’s the scary one.” Her eyes turned into slits and he immediately retreated.

“Yeah, maybe, but Riona’s only scary if you're on her bad side.”

Sexton coughed. “Don’t think ya can sweet talk yer way out. Will ya promise or not?” He spread his arms wide as he gestured to everybody, including the dead, in the room, “If ya are, give it another shot. Ask the question that’ll gut ya out.”

Callum just stared back at Quack for a moment. Hadn’t he just asked the only question he really cared about? He tried to think of something he could ask Quack with an answer that would hurt. He looked at Riona, and it wasn’t that Callum didn’t have any questions for her, his mind was full of them, but there wasn’t one that would rattle him the way Quack wanted.

“How am I supposed to know what question’s going to gut me? I’m trying to think of something, I am, but there isn’t much here left to gut. I know I’m going to lose friends and I don’t see my siblings being on my side for this either. Things that matter to me, I’m losing most, if not all, of that. And I’m still here.” Cal looked at Quack, gave him a response that Cal knew wasn’t satisfactory but at least it wasn’t a lie. He then turned his attention to Riona.

“And I don’t think we’re still going to be friends after this is all over. I hate thinking that because I’m so grateful that you are my friend, but I hope it’s true. I hope you get what you need from Sorian and my family, and then move on, find something better, and leave me behind.” The thought of how lonely that would be cracked his voice. But he meant it, Callum knew there was no moving on for him, and no one deserved to wallow in the darkness with him. He took a breath and looked back at Quack.

“You know what I really hide up in this head of mine? I know I’m not better than Edin, just a different sort of monster. But just as rotten as everyone I hate, and the best I can do with that, is bring them all down with me. It’s a swan song for me. With you, without you, that’s what I’m doing. I’d rather not be out there accidentally ruffling your feathers, but I’m not going to wait around to become the same as Edin.” Callum admitted it, he knew he was far from the sort of person Quack wanted to work with and it wasn’t right for him to pretend otherwise.

Every secret she avoided telling Cal gnawed at her guilty conscience. It was hard for her to maintain eye contact, especially when his voice cracked, but Riona held it as best as she could. She even managed a little smile. It was a sad one, but it was still a smile. “I was thinking the exact same thing, Cal.” She let out a shuddering breath, “Except… you’re the one moving on and finding something better, because… I know you can do it Cal. You have other friends who would happily take you away from all this, but you won’t because…” Her hands made meaningless gestures in the air, “you’re the one stopping yourself,” before dropping them to her sides. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’ll keep saying it anyway. You don’t have to be alone. And that voice in your head that’s telling you that you don’t deserve someone by your side can shut the f*ck up.” Sexton snorted at that.

“‘Will ya still stick around, even if I am a monster?’” Sexton randomly asked as he tilted his head upward, turning it slightly in Cal’s direction. “Think that’s a better one since any answer would be a mix of good and bad, yeah? The question ’bout ya and yer dad… ya asked cause there’s hope.” He fixed his gaze overhead. “Besides, ya already know the answer don’tcha? The day ya stop askin’ that question is the day ya stop carin’ ’bout if ya were like yer dad.”

“Yeah, that’s a bleak one.” Callum could only agree with Quack; it wasn’t that he couldn’t make other friends, but friends that have glimpsed the darkest parts and can still focus on the good, were rare. He looked back at Riona and thought about all the times she tried to nudge him into leaving Sorian. She didn’t have to bring him here, help him become more embedded in all of this, and probably didn’t want to, but she had anyway. “I’ll think about leaving after this is all done, but not before.” He could offer that. Riona tipped her chin down, eyes fixed on the floor between them. She gave the barest hint of a nod.

Sexton sighed, closing his eyes to mull over what Cal said and voicing some thoughts aloud. “Callum Danrose. Prince. Witch. Values his muckers more than himself. Hates himself so the value of ’em is dodgy.”

Riona started to object, but he shushed her with a raised finger. “Wants to destroy the only life he knows, maybe kill his family, ruin lives, willing to… wants to lose everythin’. Start from scratch… A kind of rebirth, eh? Feck.” After awhile he extended his hand to Callum.

“If ya take this hand, ya’ll be agreein’ to findin’ the answers to questions with all ya got. Don’t matter what the question is. Information’s key in any war. Ya need to be able to ask ’em, even if ya don’t wanna.” Sexton cleared his throat and straightened up. “If ya shake this hand… there’s no turnin’ back. ’em people ya share yer blood won’t be family no more. We’ll be brothers in arms. Together, with yer new family, we’ll win.”

Callum, who figured Quack was about to tell him to duck off, waited a fraction of a second before grabbing Quack’s hand. Before the man had finished speaking, before Quack could have a chance to pull his hand away, Callum shook Quack’s hand.

Despite his efforts to fully commit to a proper handshake and not give Quack the ol’ dead fish, Cal realized his hand was as cold and slimy as a dead fish. He let go of Quack’s hand.

“Sorry.” He wiped his sweaty hand off against his shirt. “I’m in? Comrade, huh, does that mean I’m allowed to call you Quack?”

“HA!” Sexton dawned the Quack persona as he barked a laugh, then with a straightface said, “Nae. It’ll mean I’ll smack the sh*te right out of ya, Calliflower.” He clapped Cal on the back, like chums do, but a little too hard. A small demonstration of what Quack would do to him if Cal didn’t tread carefully.

Cal stumbled forward; the walking bruise that he was from the night before left him unable to hide the wince. Calliflower? I’m getting a nickname too? Success held a pleasant sting and inspired a wheezing chuckle. Calliflower, Prince of Onions. He liked the sound of that; it was too silly to belong to a real Danrose.

“Quack? Be nice.” Riona’s used that tone usually reserved for mothers with their rambunctious children.

“I got a nickname,” Cal smiled as he said it, like it was a sign this had all gone well.

Cal’s smile gave Riona pause, then she smiled herself. Sure, it was just a nickname, but it meant more to him than that. Acceptance; a sense of belonging. For all her reservations about the anarchists, Riona hoped this was just the beginning and that this would open up a world of possibility for him. A chance for Cal, and maybe even life here, to change.

Quack mumbled about having an actual name under his breath. “I’ll let the mates know ya be joinin’. It might take extra convincin’ fer some, but… we’ll keep in touch. Meantime, gather all that ya can and…” He hesitated, “look into any useful spells we can use, eh?”

“I’ll get quacking on it, sir.”

A groan. “Also, I’ll smack ya if I hear another duck pun out of yer bloody gob.”

Ryn spent time mentally cataloging the attendees’ magicae before deciding to properly socialize.