There were no words for how foolish Reyn felt as she lay in her own tent. The cot was of the Altieri variety, furs and rough wool arranged in lieu of a proper mattress. There was little in here that Reyn called her own. She left Gaulatia with nothin in the way of personal affects, and she hadn't really acquired anything new since she began her sojourn. There was little to do but lie there in her smallclothes and regret.

She'd blundered, and were it not for Starra and Krayson, the mistake would have been fatal. There was nothing to show for it but worthless scraps of information and thirty minutes of carnal distraction. Reyn was appalled at herself. She was yet to have her revenge, and yet she'd nearly spent her life so cheaply.

Reyn knew she was worth more than that.

She felt her hands clench into fists of frustration, though her expression remained unchanged. This incident only proved she still had much to learn.

Reyn didn't believe it had been Komali who placed the wilt curse on her-- Courtesans didn't kill each other so casually-- but she couldn't discount the possibility. It wasn't as if Reyn could truly call herself a Courtesan anymore, and Komali may have considered her a rogue agent.

I should never have gone, Reyn decided. My task in Drok Moran was complete, and pursuing my own agenda did nothing but leave me exposed.

A mistake. One she intended to learn from.

Unbidden, a memory came to her.

"I will guard this with my life," he said. That winning smile she so admired arrived on his lips. She would do anything for that smile. "Your trust is not misplaced, dove."

Reyn put a hand over her eyes and felt herself begin to tremble. She'd made a similar mistake before, and Ham died for it. She hadn't learned from it then. Why would she now?

Before she could think another thought, Pacifica was there. The princess sat at Reyn's bedside, and she'd been there ever since they left the surgeon tent. Pacifica watched over Reyn even though she was in worse shape. She took Reyn's hand and held it to her breast. Reyn could feel her heart beating. Blessedly beating, when by rights it should have fell still.

"What's wrong?" Pacifica asked. "Please, Reyn. Tell me."

Reyn took in a deep breath through her nose and let it out. "I am ashamed, my lady."

"Hush that nonsense. What do you have to be ashamed about?"

"I should never have allowed my..." Reyn's cheeks grew warm. "...my dalliance to become a burden."

Pacifica scoffed. "Waves, please. You think anyone here thinks less of you because you got your cork popped?"

Reyn gave her a wry look. "I don't believe that metaphor applies to women, my lady."

"Bah. You know what I mean."

Pacifica had a way of dropping all pretenses of her high birth. There were times when her mouth grew foul enough to make a hardened mariner blush. Reyn truly loved that about her.

Reyn struggled with her furs to prop herself up into a sitting position. "Even so, I wouldn't want Her Majesty to think less of me. There are enough pitfalls between the two of us as it is."

There was a mischievous light growing in Pacifica's eye. "Because she fancies you."

"Not by her own volition," Reyn said firmly. "It's my Voice. She's... sensitive... to it."

"Maybe so, and that's why you should just steel yourselves and do what you need to. Once you give her Breath, your Voice won't affect her. Waves, Reyn, but you can't even really call it a kiss. You told me yourself that selkies don't see giving Breath as anything romantic."

"Fortunate for you, my lady, or you would be subjected to my pursuing you."

Pacifica blushed and looked away, smiling prettily as she did. "You're teasing me again."

"As you say, my lady."

Pacifica gave Reyn's hand a squeeze. "I should let you rest. It's a busy day tomorrow. My brother released the greater part of House Yora's armsmen from their guard duties in Ecclesia, and they should be arriving at midday. I believe the dragons are getting reinforced as well."

Reyn sighed heavily and flopped back down on her cot. "Would that be the Karst's handiwork?"

"Ban's? I suppose. He's worried we'll need all the sword arms we can get when we try entering Melcia."

Despite herself, Reyn started to get indignant. "And does Lord Bannlyth have any notion of what it costs to field a legion such as this? A single career soldier requires the support of the equivalent of fifty goodmen, to say nothing of a knight. Shan Alee's holdings include a population of a mere fifty thousand, and the legion has already exceeded those limits. It isn't simply a matter of paying the soldiers, but feeding them. And don't get me started on the ogres. Do you know how much those walking stomachs eat?"

Pacifica covered her mouth, and the wrinkle between her eyebrows was a dead giveaway of how she was doing her best not to laugh. "You keep saying you're not really a scribe, but you worry over the ledgers more than anyone."

Reyn crossed her arms and grumbled. "Someone must. In conventional warfare, the legion would raid hostile holdings for supplies. Clearly, that is counter to Her Majesty's goals, but I wonder how long that can hold when the supply lines are forced to stretch from the Altieri coastline to the northern frontier."

"Which is why Enfri went to Fen's gala," Pacifica pointed out. "She's negotiating supplies from Nadia. With all the wealth in this kingdom, they can afford to supply a few thousand armsmen."

"Forgive me for saying, my lady, but Her Majesty is not a diplomat."

Pacifica shrugged. "She gets by. I taught her as much as I could about negotiation, and she's got a knack for taking stubborn fools by the ear and making them see sense." She leaned closer to Reyn and peered at her. "You're in an awfully pessimistic mood. More than usual."

Reyn glanced at her and quickly looked away. "I don't wish to be."

"No, I understand," Pacifica sighed. "We've accomplished a great deal, but it's hard to focus on only that and not on what we've lost."

Reyn winced, remembering what had been taken from Pacifica. "We will rescue your Ascendent from Elise, my lady. Just as we rescued the Huntress."

"I know. We will, and I'm sure Adar won't be brainwashed like Kimpo was." Her eyes grew worried. "It's after we rescue him that concerns me. Elise is a monster. Enfri commanded Adar to serve Elise faithfully so he won't get tortured into submission like the Huntress. Even so, I hope he'll be able to forgive himself for the things he's made to do."

Reyn touched her arm to give comfort. "Then we must only retrieve him quickly so Elise does not have the chance to burden him with such things. Adar the Ascendent is the Eldest of all dragons, and he is wise enough to know on whom he must place blame. Not on himself, nor on Her Majesty. Only on that wretched hag."

Pacifica stared off into the distance, perhaps wondering where out there her stolen gold dragon might be. "Our bond was so young. You know, I didn't really understand at first why Ban was so desperate to get Kimpo back. It wasn't until i had a bond of my own that I realized how intimate it is. Adar is more than a partner to me. It's like... he is me. Elise didn't just take my dragon. She took a part of my soul."

Dragon bonds. From how Pacifica and the empress spoke of it, the bonds were less a connection between two imprints than they were a melding of a sort. Two bodies sharing a single soul. Reyn didn't know if shifters could be bound to dragons in the same way humans could, though she doubted it.

She had a hypothesis that even if it were possible, the results would be disastrous.

"Soon enough, I am sure it will be over," Reyn said. "We can all go back to our lives."

Pacifica eyed Reyn sidelong. "Something more is bothering you. More than being embarrassed by this whole wilt curse thing."

Reyn hadn't been consciously dwelling on it, but as soon as Pacifica said it, her thoughts turned immediately towards the captive imprisoned near the center of camp. He, more than anything else, was what darkened Reyn's mood.

Garret the Merovech.

Pacifica blinked in surprise as Reyn rose from her cot and swung her legs over the side. When Reyn began to stand, she squawked and tried to stop her. "Waves, Cobrin said you needed rest. You're still barely out of the ethershock. Reyn, stop!"

Reyn rummaged through her bags for some clothes. What she'd been wearing had already been taken away to be laundered, and she'd always traveled light. There was little left to choose from. Reyn selected a spare pair of leggings and a green blouse she didn't recognize. She hurriedly pulled them on over Pacifica's protests that she return to her cot.

"I cannot, my lady," Reyn said. "I just remembered, there is something more I need to do for Her Majesty."

"I'm sure it can wait," Pacifica argued. "It can't be so important that Enfri would want you to push yourself."

Reyn tugged at the blouse's hem in consternation. It was one of those Spired City-style cropped blouses. It failed to cover her midriff and hugged tight across the bosom. What passed for socially acceptable clothing from one kingdom to the next never failed to surprise her. She couldn't imagine how it wound up in her bags. There were very few Althandi in camp, and Reyn had never seen Princess Jin wearing anything like this.

"Waves," Pacifica murmured. "If Enfri sees you in that, the poor girl is liable to get a nosebleed."

Reyn gave her a half-hearted glare and reached for her amulet. She set it around her neck and tucked it under the blouse's collar.

Pacifica rose to her feet. "If you're not going to stop, at least let me help you."

Reyn hesitated with her hand pulling aside the flap of her tent. She found that her voice had grown weak. "I lied to you, my lady. This is not for the empress."

Pacifica took a slow breath. "Garret?"

Reyn nodded, unable to look at her.

"You're going to confront him."

She nodded again.

"Let me come with you," Pacifica said. "Waves, Reyn, but you shouldn't have to face him alone."

"I can only face him alone," Reyn said.

Pacifica threw herself against Reyn's back. Her arms wrapped around her. "He hurt you. I won't let him hurt you again."

Reyn swallowed. "Master Deveaux's ether is sealed by both wards and Dekaam."

"Men like him don't need magic to hurt people. Reyn, please."

Staring out of her tent, Reyn almost let herself be pulled back inside. It was beginning to rain, a furtive drizzle that barely dampened the ground and left a scent of petrichor in the air. The half moon in the sky lent the legion's camp a ghostly aura. It was late, and Reyn couldn't bring herself to pull away from Pacifica's embrace. She stood there, one foot outside, for a long moment.

Reyn felt tear drops land on her lower back.

"I'm a coward," Pacifica whispered. "I don't have any right, but I pretend everything is fine and nothing's wrong. I'm selfish when it comes to you." She clung tighter to Reyn's back and buried her face between her shoulders. "I'm sorry I don't..."

"Never apologize for that," Reyn interrupted. She took Pacifica's wrist and held on as she turned around to face her. "And never claim cowardice or selfishness again. I will not hear such things from you."

Pacifica met her eyes, though her lower lip trembled.

Reyn put her fingers to Pacifica's cheek and wiped away a tear. "It is selkies who are selfish creatures. All that we are was created for deception. Our Voices beguile what we want from humans. Our Breath grants a false life. Even this body is a lie. We were made to be liars, or so I believed. It was you who saved me that day we met, my lady. You showed me how..."

Pacifica rose up on her toes and kissed Reyn on the cheek. A chaste kiss. The only kind they would ever share, and Reyn understood and accepted that this was all it could ever be between them.

"Tell me when we see each other again," Pacifica said. "Just promise me you'll remember you're not alone."

Reyn stepped back and gave her a slight smile as she nodded. "I will try, my lady."

"Stop calling me that." Pacifica retrieved her cloak and surreptitiously wiped at her eyes as she draped it around her shoulder. "You're not my servant, so stop addressing me like you are."

"As you say..." Reyn swallowed. "...Pacifica."

"And wear a cloak. It's raining, so you're liable to catch a cold in that getup."

Reyn's lip twisted wryly, but she complied.

"And for the essence of all spirits, don't kill the wretch. I know you want to, but he's got a lot to answer for. He knows too much for us to execute him just yet."

"Yes, Mother."

Now, it was Pacifica who glared. "Floundering... You be careful. If half of what I've heard about Garret is true, he's as crafty as they come. Don't let down your guard."

"Never again," Reyn promised.

Reyn backed out of the tent and turned around. As she set out into the night, she glanced over her shoulder. Pacifica walked the other direction towards her own tent, close to the surgeons. Steeling herself, Reyn faced forward.

She passed groups of armsmen and nodded in acknowledgment of their friendly hails. With some chagrin, she noted one or two who glanced at the bare skin showing through the opening of her cloak. Reyn resisted the urge to tell them she was only wearing this blouse out of a lack of options. She focused instead on her destination. On what she planned to do once Garret the Merovech was in front of her.

More than anything, she wished to drive a Dekaam spike into his eye and press down until it pierced through to his brain. Perhaps use it to tear away every speck of ether from his blood, killing him as surely as a wilt curse. Reyn knew how the empress intended on using Krayson to turn Garret into a daanman, permanently removing his capacity for magic. A fitting punishment, Reyn believed, but it didn't feel like quite enough. What she wanted was for him to know true helplessness. Reyn wanted Garret to fully understand what he had done to her.

Then she would kill him.

The tents ahead were under guard. House Yora armsmen patrolled the area in groups of five or more. Their green and silver tabards were all around, but they didn't need more than to see Reyn's face before letting her pass. Reyn even noticed that some of the figures in tabards had unusual skin colors or markings. Dragons also kept watch over the internment area of the camp.

The Melcian and Nadian prisoners who no longer required medical care were kept here, though the Nadians would surely be released as part of the empress' negotiations with King Fen. The human prisoners were allowed semblances of freedom. They weren't restrained or even confined to an unreasonable extent. Their needs were met with all the consideration due to honorable treatment of captured combatants.

Others were an entirely different matter. The Arcane Knights had captured four dragons loyal to Elise. Two russets, a slate, and a yellow. None were the bound dragons to Elise's knights, but they were no less fanatical. They'd been forced to assume human forms, were kept in palisade cages away from the other prisoners, locked in enchanted chains, and placed under a host of spells such as scry markings and ether seals.

Enfri had tried speaking with each of them, both as a group and individually. The best she'd received from them were death threats. Half-breed and usurper were among the kinder things the renegades named her.

Reyn passed within sight of one of them. The slate dragon, Ehlmon the Dreamer. Two of Enfri's slates guarded over him, each speaking in low tones. Ehlmon kept his eyes lowered as he responded to their questions in a growling voice.

It was curious. In many ways, dragons weren't all that different from shifters in how they'd lived over the past few centuries. Until now, they'd kept hidden as best they could far from human civilization. They kept to themselves, assimilating when it was required but otherwise remaining apart. Revealing their true natures would only invite would-be dragonslayers, or worse, the Highest King's black hounds.

Shifters maintained similar behaviors to avoid exposure, but Reyn supposed that was natural. From the lore taught to her by her parents and the other selkies of her community, dragons and shifters shared a common heritage. The earliest dragons, from an age many thousands of years ago, were the stock used by the old masters to create the proteurim. The polymorphic abilities shifters possessed were inherited from dragon progenitors.

Reyn wondered if she should think of the mighty as distant cousins.

The debate between the slate dragons grew heated as Reyn left them behind. She approached the lone tent at the center. A dragon and her knight were stationed here, and they were accompanied by eight armsmen.

The dragon, a violet Reyn believed was called the Taskmaster, was the first to notice Reyn approaching. She raised a hand to signal for Reyn to halt. Her human form was as tall as an Altieri man and as heavily muscled as the strongest among them. Her arms were as thick as Reyn's thighs, and her short-cropped hair was bright blue. The Taskmaster had mottled skin, both vibrant and dark shades of purple. There were splashes of white around her eyes and down her throat which reminded Reyn of the markings of an orca.

"Hold there," the Taskmaster said. Her voice was feminine and commanding. Deep as a cavern and powerful. She had a thick Altieri accent to go with it.

Reyn obeyed, not wanting to find herself on the wrong end of those fists. The Taskmaster looked to be as strong as a titan, and there was a fierceness in her yellow eyes.

The Taskmaster's Amethyst Knight came to stand next to her. He was in full plate, and if Reyn recalled correctly, a witch sworn to House Karst. The song knight bowed at the waist. "Your Highness, we weren't told to expect you."

Reyn furrowed her brow. Before she could ask what the man was on about by addressing her like that, two figures passed on either side of her. Both were in dark leather armor studded with iron rivets. They each had black hair worn in long tails, blue eyes with slit pupils, and skin as pale as moonlight. Reyn grit her teeth as they walked ahead of her, and she glared daggers at their backs.

Algaras. Princess Maya and Duchess Josenthorne. Jin's elder sister and younger cousin. A lifetime of hating their house made it difficult for Reyn to see them as anything but her enemy. She'd learned to accept and admire Jin, but these two were a different matter entirely. Maya was ruthless, and Josenthorne was the daughter of a demon thrall. It galled Reyn to be anywhere near them, and it was only made worse because the empress had been obliged to swear fealty to Princess Maya and support her ambitions for the throne of Althandor.

Maya had on the black wolf-head cowl she'd begun to wear again. It was the same pelt worn as a mask Prince Dashar had owned. Reyn didn't have any notion of why Maya kept that thing, but she couldn't deny how intimidating it was. Maya's long, waist-length ponytail hung out from under the back end of the cowl. The princess was a stunningly beautiful young woman with an hourglass figure and shapely legs. However, the full lips showing from beneath the wolf's face seemed to be permanently set into a cruel frown, as if everything she saw was displeasing to her.

Josenthorne was a good span younger than Maya, eighteen or nineteen years old to Maya's twenty-four. Her eyes were narrow, even for an Althandi girl, and lent her a piercing stare. She had a wide mouth with large canine teeth that could almost be called fangs. Her leather armor bared her toned abdomen, and she had developed muscles on her arms. The duchess was a pugilist, armed with spiked gauntlets that looked far too large for her small frame. Violent and half-feral, Josy had once been off-handedly referred to by Jin as House Algara's resident berserker.

Maya continued forward as if the guards didn't exist. She didn't say a word. It was Josy who spoke for the pair of them.

"We're here for the Merovech," she said in a tone that left no room for debate.

A pair of armsmen crossed their spears to bar the path to the prison tent. The Taskmaster and her Amethyst didn't budge.

"Apologies, Your Highness," the song knight said, "but we are under strict orders from the Knight-Marshal. No one is to be allowed near the prisoner without his authorization or that of the Dragon Empress."

Reyn couldn't see Maya's face from this angle. Even so, she could feel the sneer that had surely appeared.

The duchess glanced sidelong at Maya before speaking up again. "House Yora owes allegiance to Princess Maya Algara. You can't refuse her access."

"Untrue," the Taskmaster said while stubbornly crossing her arms. "I am fully aware of the law. In the interests of security, not even a liege lord can countermand a head of house's orders regarding prisoners of war."

From where she stood, Reyn could see Maya clench her fists. There was a dangerous energy growing in the air, as if lightning were about to strike nearby. The armsmen were uneasy, their hands gripping the hafts of their spears in white-knuckled grips.

Reyn strode forward. "Stand down, Lady Taskmaster. Her Majesty has given the princess permission to interrogate the prisoner." She stopped just behind Maya and Josy. "Only to interrogate him."

The Algaras looked at her over their shoulders, and Reyn determinedly stopped herself from meeting those beast-like eyes. She waited for the dragon and knight to exchange a glance in silent conference.

The Amethyst shrugged before standing aside. "As you say, Mistress Reyn. Be mindful of the bastard. To say he's unhinged would be an understatement."

The Taskmaster was slower to move and gave the assassins a veiled glare before following suit. Dragons and assassins had a long history of killing each other, and there was no shortage of hard feelings over it.

Reyn led the way past the guards towards the tent. She kept her eyes forward and her back straight. In her experience, the best way to bluff one's way into a place you weren't supposed to be was to simply behave as if you had every right to be there.

The assassins followed her, and by the way Josy was glaring at Reyn, she was about to say something that might make the guards wonder if Reyn truly was acting under Empress Enfri's authority. She lit several faint lines within her amulet. Hidden under her blouse, it cast a privacy ward that only extended over the three of them.

"What's your game, Legs?" Josy asked her.

Reyn grimaced. She'd forgotten about the... amusing... nickname Josy gave her in Ecclesia. "I, too, have business with Master Deveaux. Also, I wished to prevent an incident."

Josy looked sidelong at Maya, who was yet to acknowledge Reyn's aid or even her presence. "Yeah, might've been a thing. Appreciated."

Interesting, Reyn thought. Seems these two are not in as much of an alignment as I assumed.

"I see you're still part of this Aleesh circus," Josy continued, tracing her eyes up and down the length of Reyn. "Still waiting on that Altieri princess?"

"No. I now serve as Her Majesty's attendant."

Josy raised an eyebrow. "Can't say if that's moving up or down in the world."

"Neither. Merely forward."

Princess Maya grunted, but whether it was meant to be derision or affirmation was lost on Reyn.

Reyn endeavored not to look at Josy. There'd been a number of troubling rumors that had reached Reyn's ears over the past several weeks. Specifically, rumors regarding Princess Jin bedding a Gaulatian scribe. For whatever reason, Josy had spread untrue tales, and Reyn was the scapegoat said to have tempted Her Highness into abandoning Althandor to rendezvous across the Continent with a commoner. It might have been nothing more than a way to hide Jin's involvement with Shan Alee, but that didn't salve Reyn's wounded pride.

She didn't like being known for something she hadn't had the pleasure of doing.

They reached the front of Garret's prison tent, and Reyn hesitated to step inside. She masked her reluctance by glancing over her shoulder. "Might I ask your business with Master Deveaux before we proceed?"

Josy shifted her feet uncomfortably. Maya scowled. It didn't look like Reyn would receive an answer. Taking a breath to brace herself, Reyn pulled the tent flap open.

"What's yours?" Josy asked.

Reyn felt her features harden. She needed a moment to concentrate on maintaining her human facade, but even so, she knew a darkness had come into her eyes. "There is a great pleasure to be found in seeing despair on the face of a man you mean to destroy."

The amused quirk at the corner of Maya's mouth bothered Reyn. She extended the privacy ward to contain the whole prison tent as she stepped through. Her eyes went immediately to the pitiful bundle lying on its side in the middle of the tent on the bare dirt.

Garret was manacled and chained, the restraints binding his hands in such a way as to prevent a wizard's somatic gestures. He'd been divested of his fine clothing and left with plain cotton garments. Garret was curled into a fetal position, facing away from the entry. It allowed them to see where Starra had placed her Dekaam spike at the nape of his neck. The spike was held in place by a steel clamp that encircled his neck, and the bloody scratches on the surrounding flesh spoke to Garret's futile attempts to tear it out.

Now that he was within the privacy ward, Reyn could hear his voice. Garret murmured to himself in a barely coherent jumble. "Free of him. That's good. He was supposed to be mine, but she gave me to him. Cruel, dove. So very cruel. Such a brilliant play. Oh, you'll be mine. I'll make you mine. I'll make all of them mine. Saloon boy can jump off a walkway. I'll make him want to jump. You need me, dove. You still need me. I'll make you see how much you need me. Then you'll be mine."

The new Lord Merovech appeared to have gone as mad just as Reyn had been told.

Reyn felt her mouth twist into a snarl as she looked down on Garret. Her clenched fists began to shake with unspent fury. Before she could say or do anything, Maya approached where Garret lay and stomped her heeled boot on his shoulder to force him onto his back.

Garret cried out more out of surprise than pain, and as soon as his eyes landed on Maya's cowl, his face blanched white. A wavering moan escaped his throat, one that rose in volume the longer it went on until Garret was all but howling in terror.

Reyn channeled a little more ether into the ward in case that racket grew any louder.

The moaning faded, and Garret's voice croaked out more of his babble. "Dead. You're dead. I didn't mean to, Your Highness. It wasn't my fault."

Maya's lip curled to bare her teeth. She pressed down harder with her boot.

He thinks she's Prince Dashar, Reyn realized.

The crown prince's death hadn't been part of Garret's aims in Ecclesia. Dashar had placed himself between Jin and Josy, the latter dominated by Garret's degenerate spell. He'd died of the wound Josy inflicted on him.

Reyn glanced sidelong at Josy. She's like me, she thought. She's here for the same reasons I am.

That meant Maya was liable to kill Garret, and Reyn couldn't let that happen just yet. Josy was standing back, visibly shaken, and Reyn took the opportunity to step forward and stand over Garret. She crouched to lean over his face.

Garret hadn't yet reached his middle years. Handsome, in an angular fashion. He was lanky, slender, and famous throughout the Five Kingdoms. Affluent nobles adored and admired him for his talents on the stage, and his singing voice was said to be equal to that of the gods. But it was his talents off the stage that made him infamous in certain circles. He was a sadist, a raper, and a murderer who only became the head of his house because he'd arranged for the deaths of the previous Lord Merovech's heirs. Hierarch Ambrose the Merovech had acknowledged his illegitimate son by a mistress from House Deveaux when he had no other options for a successor.

"Do you remember me, Master Deveaux?" Reyn asked in a deathly soft voice.

Garret tore his eyes from Maya to look at her. His pupils contracted to tiny specks. "The Cou..."

Reyn seized his throat to stop the word from passing his lips. No one from House Algara could know that about her. She lit sigils of strength alongside the one for her ward to give her grip the power to crush his larynx if she felt she needed to.

"What..." Garret choked. "What are you?"

Reyn unbound her Voice. "I am the last thing you will ever see."

Fear erupted in Garret's eyes. Reyn could kill him on a whim, and he knew it. Garret stank of his fear and his own filth.

And it wasn't near as satisfying as Reyn wished it to be.

This was too easy. He'd already been broken. This wasn't the man who had destroyed her life anymore. He was a hollow wretch she could crush as easily as an eggshell. Reyn stood while maintaining her grip on his throat. Maya backed off of him and allowed Reyn to haul him to his feet. Reyn didn't stop. She held Garret in the air by the throat, her sigils giving her arm all the strength she needed.

"Are you even still in there?" Reyn snarled.

Garret could only manage to gurgle as a response.

Reyn's frustration grew until it felt like the ground beneath her feet was shaking. This wasn't enough. She wanted to destroy the real Master Deveaux, not a pathetic creature like this thing in front of her. Essence of all spirits damn him to Hell, she needed revenge, and she couldn't take it from him like this.

If she couldn't find satisfaction in killing him, another would serve just as well. The one whose hands were truly stained with Ham's blood.

Reyn pulled his face to hers. "Where is Elise?" she growled.

The ground hadn't stopped shaking, and it wasn't until Maya whipped her head towards the tent's entry that Reyn realized it wasn't her imagination. She threw Garret back to the dirt and dropped the privacy ward. The sound of shouts and ringing steel greeted her.

The legion was under attack.