All things considered, Hanadan hadn't been having a good day. Between enlisting the help of his least favorite uncle, checking on the sister who seemed to increasingly distance herself from him, engaging a traitor to guard his best friend, losing his own bodyguard in an ill-advised bid to gain insights into the schemes of yet another detested uncle, he now seemed to have landed in the worst kind of rut. The stinging nail-marks on his freshly bruised face did nothing to console his battered spirit.

"Sorry," whispered Ederra for what must have been the millionth time.

They were sitting on the cold tiled floor, leaning against a row of potted palms, who were in turn propped up against a working bench they'd painfully dragged over to the door after kicking some of the weapons away. Hanadan shifted slightly and removed an errant scabbard that had been poking him in the ribs, stared at it for a few seconds without properly registering the patterns along the edge, then flicked it towards the nearest pile, where it clattered among other discarded weapons and accessories.

"Be careful with the blades," he said. "And don't mention it. Please."

It beggared belief that they'd managed to secure this door so quickly after it took him the better part of ten minutes to barricade the front door before he'd heard her enter through the back. Panic had gripped him and he'd naturally found it supremely unfair that the greenhouse had two doors, but luckily his uncle's goons were still battering away at the first one.

"They could break a window," she said, huddling tighter with her knees tucked beneath her chin. "I almost did it myself."

Hanadan shook his head, welcoming one of the few certainties of the day.

"You couldn't have, and neither can they. This greenhouse used to be the home of the former queen's beloved liontails collection. She's had the glass reinforced, so the weakest links are the doors."

"Liontails? Silver liontails? I thought they were..."

"A legend? Yes, so did I, until I got a very special private tour of the estate. The queen was convinced most of their value lay in their status, and she wasn't wrong. Very few guests and servants were allowed to know of them."

"Where are they now?"

Hanadan raised his tired eyes from the dust-streaked floor and glanced morosely at the deserted skeletal structures of the mostly empty scaffoldings and benches. Rows were still somewhat distinguishable, running parallel to the wall they were now backing, but he knew for a fact no delicate plants could have survived the years of neglect brought on by the queen's premature death. The greenhouse's current habitants were hardy medicinal plants, discarded decorative shrubs, and whatever surplus of edible weeds the retainers from the main house saw fit to keep.

"I imagine most of them were sold, though obviously not through public channels. They're also very sensitive and fickle, so it's likely they didn't even survive transport."

He risked a direct glance in her direction and saw her chewing thoughtfully on the inside of her cheek. He hadn't really had reason to notice this before, but she really had a striking profile.

"And who are they?" she asked, momentarily raising her chin to point towards the opposite side of the greenhouse, where a distressing hammering reverberated every few seconds.

Hanadan let out a shuddering sigh and ran his sweaty palms through his already mussed hair.

"Not who they pretend to be."

"And that is?"

"Trout fishing assistants."

She whipped her head around to stare at him.

"Trout-" she began.

"Which is absolutely ridiculous, considering that everyone working at this estate knows there haven't been any fish in that stream for years. Unfortunately, the people directing traffic at the gates were brought from the palace, so they couldn't really argue when someone smuggled them in. I saw them pretending to be laying out tools by the ponds while a few noble fops were bragging about winning some fishing competition."

"Is that why you came here?"

"I was running to catch up to my uncle, then away from him so he wouldn't have to permanently silence me. I'm sure he planned all of this."

He gestured at the piles of haphazard weaponry littering the floor around them.

"Is this the same uncle we have to play nice for?" she asked.

"No. That one was supposed to help today, but I've no idea what he's up to right now."

"Maybe they're working together?"

Hanadan didn't bother trying to suppress the shudder that ran down his spine.

"Lenga preserve us," he muttered, "that would be a catastrophe."

"So we're stuck for the moment, but at least we've got their weapons." She paused to wiggle her way into a more comfortable position against the tall earthenware pot, but Hanadan knew she wasn't likely to enjoy their unwanted stay in the semi-abandoned greenhouse. "These are their weapons, right?" she added with a hint of worry.

"It's not likely to be all of them, but yes, I imagine that's why they were headed this way."

"So you got here ahead of them and blocked their access." She paused again, then tilted her head to regard him appraisingly. "That's actually brilliant."

"What it is, is suicidal. And now you're stuck here as well. Speaking of which..." He turned to pin her with one of his customary stares, but she didn't so much as flinch. He forced himself to keep the hard edge in his voice as he continued. "How did you get here?"

"Same as you," she replied with a casual shrug. "Running away from the same people, and this seemed like the most logical hiding spot. Although I was already lucky once on my way here. Did you know they had some men stationed in the forest?"

Hanadan scoffed and looked away again.

"Of course they'd have reinforcements," he muttered. Louder, he added: "You didn't happen to catch their numbers, did you?"

She shook her head, then immediately winced as a particularly nasty crash sounded against the far wall.

"Shouldn't you head over to guard that side?"

"Two hardy chains, three crates of timber, multiple workbenches and some packed earth," he replied. "I wouldn't even have used so much if I'd remembered there was another way in. It's this one that's most vulnerable."

"Do you think it will hold?"

There was no hiding the trembling in her voice, and Hanadan once again wished to allow himself one brief moment to wallow in his own fear, but that was hardly an option when he had others relying on him.

"It will have to."

"I've never been actively hunted before," she whispered, then hugged her knees tighter.

Hanadan didn't feel inclined to admit this was his natural state, what with all the secrets he had to guard. He was now struggling to keep his hands from shaking as cold sweat pooled down his back and beaded on his furrowed forehead. He was fighting a losing battle against a suddenly parched throat and knew he couldn't stem the flood of need much longer. With trembling fingers, he unhooked the largest of the gourds at his side and handed it silently to Ederra. She blinked at him uncomprehendingly, then took it with a quiet murmur.

No sooner had she done that than he was clawing at the other gourd's stopper, relishing the momentary relief the cool, sweet liquid brought to his strained nerves. He gulped down the rest of the contents, barely managing to tear the container away when he felt that only the dregs remained. He gasped and took one last swallow, then peeled the gourd away and hung his head down in momentary shame. He could feel Ederra staring at him, but not what she thought of his excessive display. Not that it truly mattered, given the constant possibility of their shared impending doom.

He heard her unstopper the gourd, sniff at the contents, then draw back with a gasp.

"Water?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Water," he confirmed with a defeated nod.

"Is this how much you drink every day?"

"It was only supposed to last these few hours," he confessed, though he immediately wished he hadn't. Even now, mere seconds after he'd downed a considerable amount, he felt the dreaded thirst crawl its way back at the top of his most pressing concerns.

He risked a peek in her direction and saw her gawking at him. His eyes widened in alarm when she held up the gourd again and looked ready to hand it right back to him. He shook his head vigorously.

"Keep it," he urged. "We don't know how long we'll be here and I'd drain it in a matter of seconds."

She retreated her arm slowly and several long moments passed before either of them dared to speak. Hanadan found that he could almost drown out the incessant pounding of his uncle's agents on the outside, especially now that their efforts seemed to have dwindled.

"I have an idea," said Ederra after a while. She stretched, then stood up carefully, bracing herself against the giant pot at her back. He noticed her dropping the gourd inside. "Why don't you teach me how to buy a few seconds?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." She shook her head, then cast her eyes at the unholy mess surrounding them. "Should they breach the defenses, I wouldn't want to be a hindrance. And if push comes to shove, I'd rather not die cowering."

It took him a while to understand, and when he did, his first instinct was to reject her suggestion out of hand. But then he thought better of it and started picking his own way up from the floor, with Ederra trying to stifle the hopeful look in her eyes as she watched him struggle with his dress suit.

"All right," he agreed gruffly when he found his balance again. "Pick up a scabbard and show me what you think your best defensive stance is."