Krayson appreciated the water given to him. The food as well, spare as it was. The surgeon had brought him an end of bread and a steaming mug of chicken broth. Krayson downed it all, uncaring of how it burned his throat. It was the first meal he'd had since returning to the City of Althandor.

"Severe dehydration," the surgeon was saying, as if Krayson wasn't there, or laying on a slab to await a pyre. "He was kept without water for weeks. Your Highness, he should not be alive."

Of course I am alive, Krayson thought. I am a blood runner.

Princess Maya didn't respond. She stood in the doorway of the surgeon's infirmary. Watching. Her cowled eyes were making him itch between the shoulder blades. Unpleasant.

The surgeon must have shared Krayson's opinion. He glanced sidelong at the princess before resuming his list of Krayson's injuries. Malnourishment. Internal bleeding. Fractured bones. Nothing unexpected, and all easily remedied by bread, broth, and the alchemical potions he kept. He, of course, also made mention of Krayson's eyes. They always did. Krayson had red irises that marked him as surely as Maya's marked her. Not for elder blood, but for blood magic.

Krayson was a blood mage— a sanctioned blood mage— and a brother of the Sanguine Fraternal Order. A misnomer. Women joined the Order also, yet they were still called brothers. The master blood runners had a fragile masculinity that wouldn't survive an hour in the scarlet steppes of Teularon.

As he finished his meager meal, Krayson cast quick and unnoticed glances at his hosts. Maya remained unsettling. The surgeon had black hair, dark and narrow eyes. Slim and of middling height. Unassuming and easily overlooked until he opened his mouth. Then, he was filled with self-righteous thunder. He was typical Althandi.

The surgeon might have been noble born. It was even probable. The Highest King was unlikely to take a commoner into his service. Whatever house he belonged to would remain a mystery. His coat bore the royal colors, silver and cerulean. "In the service" they called it, signing one's life away to a power greater than themselves.

Krayson held back a derisive laugh. The once enslaved perpetrated much that harkened to the tyranny of Shan Alee, yet they refused to acknowledge the fact that, while the players might change, the game always remained the same.

Those with power ruled those without.

Changing that would take a miracle. Krayson had seen more of the world than most. He'd studied the texts of hierarchs and foreign magisters. Powers arcane were his to command. The truth of the secret history had been taught to him by the Order. And in all that knowledge, he'd learned a truth just as absolute as the truth of power, that miracles did not exist.

Some things came close. His healed jaw, courtesy of Her Exalted Highness' elder magic, might have been one of them. However, he knew it was not a gift of kindness, but a means to an end. Her ends, specifically. He was to speak, because Maya Algara wished to hear what he had to say. No other reason. Kindness was as unfamiliar to House Algara as...

As...

Krayson frowned. He'd started that simile with confidence, and now he was drawing a blank. He blamed his time in the dungeon and took another drink of broth.

Maya had no fear of him, and she had no reason to. Krayson's healed jaw would allow him to speak his incantations, the method used by witches to cast spells, but Maya could kill him if he uttered a single syllable in the Aeldenn Tones. She wouldn't even blink.

Captain Falar arrived at the infirmary. Ceremonial armor polished and crested helm in place, she looked fit to stand her post at King Cathis' side. She gave Maya a salute before speaking. "His Grace asks again for the prisoner. Your father demands he be brought to the throne room at once."

Maya frowned, then pointed to Krayson.

He swallowed the last bite of his bread and tensed. It appeared like the interrogation was to begin.

Captain Falar shot the princess an anxious look before nodding. Krayson thought that curious. Falar didn't seem the sort of woman to get nerves. Whatever her feelings, she stepped towards Krayson and stared down at him with imperious eyes.

"Leave us," she said to the surgeon.

The surgeon bristled at being ordered about in his domain. He looked to the princess. "By your leave, Your Highness?"

Maya flicked her wrist. A clear dismissal. Once the surgeon was gone, Falar began the questioning.

"You are aware of the allegations against you?"

Krayson didn't want this to drag on longer than it needed to. He decided early on into this debacle that his best hope lay in complete honesty. As far as he understood, he had done nothing but serve the Order, and by extension, House Algara.

"Some think I murdered Lady Oma the Tarlen," he said. "I did not, and I believe you know that."

Falar pursed her lips. "She was killed by blood magic. Specifically, by what is known as a wilt curse. That means she was..."

"I am aware of wilt curses," Krayson interrupted. "It was placed upon her by her killer, likely without her knowledge. Later, as long as two days after it was placed, the killer triggered their curse, thereby draining Lady Tarlen of all her ether over the course of one minute. She succumbed to ethershock and died."

Falar frowned. "How can you know that if you weren't involved?"

"I was involved," Krayson said, "and I had two hours in her estate to learn the method of her death before your knights arrested me. Before that, I was contracted by Lady Tarlen to deliver a bloodsong and a message on behalf of His Grace."

Maya stepped forward and stood next to Falar. Her glare could have burned a hole through steel.

"You had the Imperial Diamond in your possession," Falar said.

"Yes. That was also part of the Lady Tarlen's contract. I was to bring it from her agents in Gaulatia and deliver it to her. Unfortunately, upon my return to the City of Althandor, I learned of her death. I made inquiries and searched her estate to find how best to complete my contract. That was when your knights came upon me and demanded my surrender. I did so."

"You say you were to deliver a bloodsong," Falar said. "Tarlen was no hierarch, so where did she acquire one?"

"She did not. I retrieved it on her orders."

Maya took in a sharp breath through her nose. She and Falar exchanged weighted looks.

"Retrieved it from where?" Falar asked.

When Krayson made to speak, he found his voice curiously silent. This part was where things became unusual. He needed to force the words out of his mouth.

"I retrieved the bloodsong stored within the Imperial Diamond," Krayson said.

Falar's eyes widened in shock. She hadn't suspected. Maya remained stoic. She would have already known the jewel's nature.

"What?" Falar demanded. "That's... ridiculous."

"It is the truth," Krayson said. "The Imperial Diamond is a theurallurgic artifice, one of unprecedented power. Its capabilities are beyond my understanding, but I was told that one of its lesser functions is to serve as a repository. It can act as a... storage... for a bloodsong just as a blood runner can. I was commanded by Lady Oma the Tarlen to retrieve the bloodsong within and deliver it to her chosen agent."

"Who?" Falar demanded. "Who did you grant the bloodsong to?"

"Its original owner," Krayson said. "Elise of Eastrun."

Maya's jaw was clenched tight, and a quiet hiss passed through her bared teeth. It seemed she hadn't known that part of it already.

The interrogation didn't stop there. Falar asked for every detail of the Lady Tarlen's contract. Krayson gave it without hesitation.

Most of the relevant details occurred before Krayson became a full brother of the Order. Five years earlier, the Imperial Diamond was showcased as a treasure of the kingdom at a gala hosted by the Lady Tarlen. During the event, a man suspected of being aligned with the Nadian Courtesans infiltrated the Tarlen estate, stole the jewel, and cast an interdiction ward to thwart pursuit. The true identity and location of the thief were never discovered.

Tarlen's reputation was in jeopardy, and she had earned the anger of House Algara, a dangerous position to be in. She promised her every effort towards retrieving the Imperial Diamond, earning her house clemency.

After asking for the current date— the twentieth of Elm— Krayson was able to tell them that he had been contracted precisely one month earlier on the twentieth of Ember. He was to track down the agents Tarlen set on the Courtesan's trail, assist them if necessary, then fulfill his final duties. Take the bloodsong from the Imperial Diamond, give the bloodsong to Elise of Eastrun, deliver to the agents their next assignment, then return the Imperial Diamond to the Lady Tarlen. Once he trailed the agents to the town of Rosewater in the kingdom of Gaulatia, Krayson had every intention of doing just that.

When he came upon the agents, they had already found and eliminated the Courtesan, one Hamish Folio, who had been posing as the master of a local paperworks. They had not, however, been successful in locating the Imperial Diamond. Fortunate for them, Krayson was able to deduce its whereabouts. He did as instructed, then took the next train bound for the City of Althandor with the Imperial Diamond in his possession.

It should have been simple. Oddities abounded throughout the contract, but it shouldn't have been more difficult than any other assignment given to a blood runner. Tarlen's death changed that.

"You say Tarlen had two agents." Falar looked to Maya. "Elise of Eastrun was one. Who was the other?"

"Garret Merovech-Deveaux."

Falar gave him a flat look. Maya scrunched up her nose, then snorted. The idea must have been funny to her.

"Master Deveaux," Falar repeated, incredulous. "The actor? The opera singer? The son of Ambrose the Merovech? Do you take us for fools, boy?"

Krayson tried not to curl his lip. When she said it like that, it did sound rather ridiculous. However, they hadn't seen what Krayson saw that night in Gaulatia.

"If you so blithely ignore the threat Garret poses, then yes, I do take you for fools."

Maya wasn't amused anymore. She was clenching her fist.

It was unwise to provoke her. For House Krayson's part in the murder of her baby brother, she already had every reason to despise him. Krayson needed to convince them of his words.

"Master Deveaux is dangerous," he said. "It is no secret he is a wizard, mentored by his father. What isn't known is that he dabbles with forbidden spells."

Falar scoffed. "This coming from you, blood mage?"

"Blood runner," Krayson growled. "I worked for that. I earned it. Don't lump us with cultists and madmen. Without the Order, your magocracy would collapse into irrelevancy."

Falar opened her mouth to spit out more venom, but she was cut off at a gesture from Maya. The empty eyes of her cowl were demanding. She waited for Krayson to continue.

"Garret," Krayson said with a nod. "He specializes in enchantments and illusion, tricking the mind. Taking the mind. I witnessed him dominate the will of the Courtesan's apprentice. The girl was devoted to him. His spell made her his."

The air grew thick with tension. Falar murmured a short prayer to the winds, then set her eyes on the princess. Maya had gone still. Krayson became aware of an energy rising around them. Several of his hairs began to stand on end.

Astramancy, he deduced. She's angry. More angry than I've yet seen her.

Maya looked to Falar and cocked her head towards Krayson. The captain nodded.

"You delivered an assignment to Lord Garret and Elise. What was it?"

Krayson held his breath. This wouldn't make them happy. He let the breath out. He spoke deliberately so that there would be no misunderstanding. "Lady Tarlen, presenting me with the signed and sealed order of King Cathis the Algara, contracted me to inform her agents that their next assignment was to find and eliminate Princess Jin Algara."

He expected the pain— braced for it. Maya was a tempest on the horizon, an unchecked storm of boundless power and cold rage. Krayson knew without a doubt that she would lash out at him for revealing what he had done. Compounded with his house's past deeds, he saw no other possibility. Krayson had told murderers to kill her younger sister. He waited for a lightning bolt to flash across the infirmary and sear his flesh.

It didn't come.

Maya gave no outward sign she had heard him. She remained standing where she was.

Thunder, Krayson swore to himself. She is intimidating.

Why the interrogation, then? Why delay his audience and judgement before the Highest King? Why was he being held like a criminal when all this had been at Cathis' command? Krayson couldn't make sense of it, and he hated being in the dark. It was yet another reminder of how powerless he was next to them.

She already knew, he realized. At the least, she expected it.

Without uttering a single word throughout their latest encounter, Maya turned and left. Krayson pitied whoever she might encounter next.

Falar came forward and took Krayson by the arm. She bound his wrists with manacles.

"These are not necessary," Krayson said. "I have not made any attempt to escape."

"Perhaps biding your time."

"A witch's power is in their tongue. Not their hands."

"Shall I break your jaw again?" Falar asked. "Be thankful you are required to speak. Her Highness' business with you is concluded. I will now take you before the Highest King."

Krayson held back the urge to resist her. "I'm to say the same things to him? In front of his court? That's a death sentence."

Falar led him out of the infirmary. Had Krayson struggled, he'd have given Falar no more trouble than a stiff breeze. The woman was strong as a fangblade. "I would never counsel one to lie to His Grace," she said.

"I'd be publicly accusing him of ordering the death of his daughter. You Althandi are ruthless as jackals, but there are lines that shouldn't be crossed even in this thundering kingdom."

"Mind that Teulite tongue of yours," Falar cautioned. "It will do you no favors. Many of those above have lost lands and loved ones to the tiger lords."

Krayson scowled.

Here in the central spire of the Palace of Towers, everything was richly appointed. The walls, spellwrought in an earlier century, were solid metal. Lush carpeting was beneath Krayson's bare feet. Silver and gold caught his eye at every turn. The palace was as much a construct of spellcraft as of engineering. It was an impressive structure that rose high above the mists of the Spired City.

"There isn't a drop of blood in your veins that will earn you anything but their disdain," Falar said. "Red as they are, you have the eyes of our nation, but your Althandi mother's name is cursed. As for your father, no one here will weep for the losses of Joshuan Jak'm. His banner was at the head of the last invasion into Althandor, and you have much of Teularon in your face."

"You believe he would consider my death a loss?" Krayson asked. "You are mistaken. I didn't just leave the lands of the Jak'm. I was cast out."

"Why?" Falar asked. She sounded genuinely curious.

"For being the arcanist I am."

Falar arched an eyebrow as they came to a staircase leading up. "Your masters confirm that you came to the Order with brown eyes. You could not have yet been a blood mage. I fought the Teulites twenty years ago beneath the Merovech's banner. They had their share of witches just like you."

Krayson took the stairs as a man ascending the gallows. "Not like me."