It only took two days for Sir Hewe's platoon to arrive along with the morning sun at Holmley. Word reached the castle about three hours before the platoon would, so Idelle had already packed her things and stood waiting in the courtyard. Torran had fetched her, so he stood at her side, but otherwise the air was still and silent. It was too early for servants or anyone else to be out and about, but Idelle wished that they were. She didn't want to leave the castle when it was dead and frozen. If there had been the regular bustle and crowds, it would have been as if she didn't matter at all. She'd leave without anyone noticing. Or that's what she imagined.

She paced the courtyard, her sword hitting her hip, trying to keep her distance from Torran. Not that he was particularly trying to get close to her. In fact, he seemed more intent on staying rooted to his spot, staring at some distant point on the ground, lost in thought. It relieved her, but it also annoyed her in some deeper part of herself. Why couldn't he look as nervous as she did?

Chewing on the side of her thumbnail, she paused by the gate and peered out at the road that led into Holmley. She could see the head of the platoon, now, though they were still a ways off. Just the sight of their horses made her stomach flop, and she spun around and made her way back to where she'd left her saddlebags.

Torran sat next to them, and he finally looked up at her as she approached. She took this as an invitation and opened her mouth. "I'm sorry, Torran. It's just that you don't know everything about--"

She was cut off by the bang of the castle doors above them. Idelle whipped her head around to see Walliam rushing down the stairs, his eyes flashing, and Sabena, Jaspip, and a few of the other Guard trailing them.

Walliam reached her first. "And you were going to inform us that you were stepping down as our Captain when exactly?" he demanded, voice loud in the silence of the courtyard.

Sabena, face red, poked Idelle in the chest. "We're over here preparing for a drill inspection and we find out that, not only is our Captain giving up her rank, but she's retreating to the trenches?"

"I told Duke Torran when I signed up, that I was only here until Sir Hewe took my place," Idelle said, eyes flitting to the gate. The platoon was close enough that she could hear the thump of their feet and jangling of their horses' gear. "It was always going to be this way. It was part of my conditions of accepting."

All the heads turned to Torran, who shrugged from his seat on the ground. "I don't know what to tell you. She never was persuaded by my attempts to get her to stay, and she still won't be." He slapped his hands against his knees as he pushed himself to his feet. He leaned heavily to one side, and Idelle remembered that he was still fairly wounded. He'd done so well that she'd almost forgotten, and now she felt even worse for leaving him behind. But she had to.

"I want to thank all of you for following me so faithfully," she said. "I know you are angry that I'm leaving, but I was never meant to lead anyone. I'm not the right person to keep the Queen of Wynherst safe. Sir Hewe will do a much better job, and he's just as trustworthy as me. Perhaps more."

Sabena tried to say something, and Idelle almost thought she saw sadness on the woman's hard face, but by then the platoon had arrived. They burst the bubble of stillness and quiet in the courtyard, replacing it with the chaos of men and women dismounting and handing their horses off to stableboys who seemingly emerged from the stone walls themselves, rubbing sleep from their eyes. The luggage and supplies the platoon brought with them were unloaded and stacked, and everyone stretched and talked, decompressing after the long and hard journey.

But Idelle could sense, even though no one seemed hurried or scared, that something was terribly wrong. She saw their sweaty faces, too haggard for a triumphant return home. Wounds that were too fresh to have been obtained on the front lines. Supply carts broken.

And way too few men and women to make up a platoon.

Torran must have seen what Idelle had, for he limped over to the nearest soldier. "Did something happen? Why are there so few of you?" he asked.

The soldier, a woman in her mid-years, exhaled with all the weight of the kingdom. "We were attacked last night by Earth Druids," she said. "Somehow they knew that we were returning home, and where we'd be. They ambushed us. We barely made it out and they chased us all the way here."

Torran turned to look at Idelle, both their faces losing color at the same time. Whoever had killed Aengus was still working in the palace walls, spilling secrets and spreading death.

Torran turned back to the soldier. "Where's Sir Hewe? I need to talk to him."

The woman shrugged her shoulders, apologizing as she brushed past them and over to where a servant had appeared from the castle with food and water for the troops.

Torran looked to Idelle. "I'll find a commander. We need to find Hewe to know what's going on. It may not be safe for you to leave."

She nodded, following him as he pushed through the tired soldiers, looking for the metal armor of the commanders. It took them a long time, but finally they spotted a young man leaning against a spear and chewing on some bread. His armor was bashed and broken, but still a commander's set.

Torran approached him, prompting a hurried salute, but he ignored it. "Where's Sir Hewe? I need to know the details--"

"Dead, Your Grace," the young man said, with no other ceremony than those cold, hard, quick words. His eyes, wide and frightened, stared at Torran as if he was a ghost. "Killed along with every commander but myself. They targeted all the commanders, sir. All of them. Dead."

Torran's expression crashed down as he took in the young commander's words. Idelle stepped forward, wanting to do something but knowing she could do nothing as Torran processed what those words meant. Sir Hewe. Gone forever.

The young commander continued to repeat the words, as if somehow he thought Torran wasn't hearing him, but Idelle knew he was hearing it all too well. His chest rose and fell faster and faster, his eyes filled with tears that had not yet fallen. She swept in front of him, blocking him from the young commander, and took his arm.

"Go inside," she whispered to Torran, guiding him up the stairs and away from the bustle of the remains of the platoon. Sabena and Walliam followed, leaving the others to try and glean what information they could.

Once they were inside, in semi-privacy, the tears spilled down Torran's cheeks. Idelle felt untethered, watching the usually cheerful face crumple into sorrow, and she could do nothing but pull him into an embrace. It was the second time she found herself like this with him. First with Aengus in the catacombs, and now with Sir Hewe. It seemed like the death would never end.

Sabena stepped forward, resting her hand on Torran's shoulder to offer her own kind of comfort. He calmed a few seconds later, pulling himself up.

"Sir Hewe was my closest friend," he said, voice still shaky from his tears but getting calmer. "He was a masterful fighter. It would have taken a lot to kill him."

"He said it was Earth Druids," Walliam said, but with sympathy. "That is a lot."

Torran's jaw tightened. "They didn't just stumble on Sir Hewe's platoon. They knew where they were. They knew who were commanders. Who to kill."