Baudwin closed the library door behind him and looked at the two sorcerers he'd ushered into the room after making sure it was empty.

"Tell me everything," he ordered, too wound up to be polite. He'd known his wife kept secrets from him, she'd more or less admitted so herself. But this was not just any secret. How did you not tell your husband you're a sorcerer? Or almost a sorcerer.

Sorceress Isobel made a face as if she was uncomfortable before sighing. "Right. Mairin... I mean Rhiannon, came to us at Highglaive maybe a decade ago. It was unusual for magically gifted to seek us out, but she was extraordinary. Very talented for someone who had never been trained. The magic obviously ran strong in her. Which was curious by itself."

"How come?"

He crossed his arms over his chest as the Sorceress moved along the table and chairs in the middle of the room, absently running her fingers across the high backs of the chairs.

"Well, most commonly we are sent children and young people who show signs of magic," she explained, a small furrow between her winged brows as she considered her words. "It's a rare gift, and any family who discovers it in their children are usually keen to send them to Highglaive. Or we discover them ourselves. Grand Sorcerer Arawn used to travel the lands, looking for magically gifted before the attack on Messina. I think losing so many in Deva's attack broke him."

She looked up to meet his gaze, smiling sadly. "It broke all of us a little. We lost nearly all of our adepts and most of our sorcerers."

Wray cleared his throat, and she startled. The sorcerer was giving her a knowing look, and after a grimace towards him, she shrugged.

"But I digress. Mai—Rhiannon came to us maybe two years before the attacks, when we still had halls full of hopeful adepts. I had been an adept for several years already, and we trained together for some time before they granted me the Sorcerer title. She was more skilled than most of the other adepts, despite them having been with us longer."

"What happened to her?" Baudwin shifted from one foot to the other, restless energy making his skin crawl. "Was she there when Deva attacked?"

Isobel hesitated for a moment, standing behind a chair with both hands resting on the back, then she nodded. "Yes. I've only heard this from others, as I wasn't there myself. I was away when Deva attacked, which is why I could help Felix and Goddess Dhim gather the armies of the twelve kingdoms to mount our attack."

"So, you can't be sure?" Maybe it was all a big misunderstanding. Maybe Rhiannon only resembled this Mairin.

As if she knew his frantic thoughts, Isobel smiled sadly. "No matter what... It is the same woman. Of that I am certain. All I'm saying is that what transpired when Deva attacked, and the years he was holding the city, the unspeakable things they endured... I wasn't there. I've only heard third party accounts."

Baudwin frowned. The unspeakable things they endured. He knew Deva had made Highglaive his base after taking the city, but he'd never thought much of what had happened to the inhabitants of the tower. Somehow he'd assumed that they had either fallen or fled, like the rest of the citizens of Messina.

"And?" he prompted when she didn't immediately continue and nearly missed the look between her and Wray. Turning to the sorcerer, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

The other man met his gaze silently before sighing. "I was there. When Isobel said I was busy elsewhere and couldn't help during the attack, it's because I was one of the prisoners in Highglaive."

Baudwin nodded, trying to hide his surprise. It definitely wasn't what he'd expected the sorcerer to say.

"Those who didn't perish in the initial attack—which was most of us—were captured. I think there were six sorcerers still alive, a handful of adepts, and a few of our sentinel guards. By the time the armies defeated Deva, there were only three sorcerers, one adept and two sentinels left alive." Wray dragged a hand through his dark hair, his eyes haunted.

"That adept... Was it Rhiannon?"

Wray looked hesitant, exchanging another look with Isobel. "No," he said slowly.

"Stop beating around the bush," Baudwin snapped, losing patience. "Tell me what happened to my wife!"

"They captured her with the rest of us," Wray said, his deep voice restrained. "But she didn't remain a captive. I don't know what happened, but she was walking free one day. I saw her. And they knew things about us that someone must have told them. Things they used to..."

When he quieted, Isobel took over. "They were tortured," she said. "Both physically and mentally. The mages working with Deva knew dark magics that we would never use. They can't read your mind or force you to do things, but they can nudge you in the right direction. The more they know about you... Who you love, hate... Your fears and weaknesses. The better they know what to suggest for your brain to conjure up visions."

"You never knew what was real and not," Wray said. "In between the pain and exhaustion, you lost your grip on reality. They might make you believe your loved ones had come to save you. Or tempt you with something you wanted. Send you visions of the things you fear the most. And then offer to take it away or reward you, if you only give them what they want. Usually information. Often information we didn't have to give. They were looking for some objects and seemed to think we knew where they might be."

"And you think Rhiannon gave them this information?" There was a sick feeling in his gut. This wasn't the woman he had come to know. Or was it? She'd always scoffed at what she called his stupid honour, doing things for others. But she'd also done kind things. Helping Braithe. Relieving his pain. He wasn't sure what to believe anymore.

"I don't know for certain. But it seems likely." Wray leaned his hips against the table and crossed his arms over his chest, but it looked more like he was shielding himself than anything else. "When Isobel and the others freed us, Mairin was gone. Where she's been since is anyone's guess."

"The Swamps of Lyndor," Baudwin muttered. "At least most recently."

Some things made much more sense now. Her hiding in the swamps, away from prying eyes. Her reluctance to become queen where she would risk being recognised. Even so, he struggled to join the image of the self-serving adept from Highglaive with the woman he knew and loved.

"I think it's time we speak with my wife," he said. "I would like to hear what she has to say."

The two sorcerers nodded, then followed him out of the library and down the winding halls of the castle. Baudwin wasn't sure what to believe, all he knew was that he needed to speak to his wife. Maybe she could make sense of it all. When they reached the private quarters and he opened the door to their shared sitting room, they all stopped as they took in the room.

Frowning, Baudwin took a few steps. "What..."

Signs of a struggle were evident; a chair on its back, a table upturned and a vase shattered against the wall, water and petals still on the stone and among the shards on the floor. A few drops of blood caught Baudwin's eyes as his gaze swept across the damage. Bending down to touch the droplets, he wiped his index finger across them. It was nearly dry, so must have happened some time ago.

A stab of worry spurred him into action and he quickly checked first Rhiannon's bedchamber, and then his own. But there was no sign of his wife, or anyone else. What had happened here? He had just returned to the sitting room when the door to the hallway opened and a soaking wet Rhiannon stepped in, only to stop in her tracks to stare at them. If Baudwin had any doubts of Mairin and Rhiannon being the same person, the obvious recognition in her eyes instantly dashed them as she stared at the two sorcerers.

"What is going on?" His words came out sharper than he'd intended, spurred by the fear of having discovered the rooms empty with obvious signs of a fight, and Rhiannon visibly flinched.

"I... I can explain."

~~~~~~