"No!" Seiren scrambled to her feet and threw out burst magic. There was a slight hesitation before a gust of wind pushed Butterworth back by one step, but he ignored it -- and her. Gritting her teeth, she pushed out more magic with her mind carefully blank. The second gust was weaker than the first. Panic swirled in the pit of her stomach and her mouth went dry.

Don't do anything stupid.

He's going to kill him!

A flurry of thoughts tore through her mind. She was back in her home again, twelve years old, descending the stairs and watching, helpless, her dying family. Her legs snapped to action. There was nothing making sense in her head. But she knew magic now. She couldn't just watch and await Rowan's death.

She skidded in front of Rowan, her arms spread wide, staring at Butterworth in the face. Her heart rammed against her chest and her face was numb, awaiting the death blow. He paused, only ten steps away, those callous hazel eyes narrowed at her.

"You want to get to him, you'll have to go through me," she said, breathless. It was a stupid move. So stupid. He was a powerful king's mage, a flash mage too. She didn't stand a chance against him in combat, not even with Rowan together. She could just imagine him vaporising all the water in her body and turning her into an explosion of blood and guts.

Out of nowhere, a rush of wind slammed into the two of them. Seiren felt her feet leave the ground. A scream formed in her mouth, but the sound was ripped away before she could even hear it. The gust spun her around and all the breath left her lungs when she slammed onto the cold snow. The chill seeped through her hair, running frozen tendrils along her skull. The world swirled and she blinked, staring up at the cloudless blue sky.

There was a thud followed by the crackle of electricity. Butterworth gave a yell and he, too, fell with a thump. Seiren pushed herself up, her head spinning. Butterworth lay on the ground, thrashing and muscles seizing in spasms. His hood had fallen off, revealing the rough scars that covered the right side of his face and almost forced his eyelid shut. He arched his back, eyes rolling, before falling still, motionless, his breaths coming in shallow pants.

Two figures stepped out from the trees nearby. One tucked paper back into his cloak pockets; the other hid hers entirely within its folds.

"Well that was satisfying," declared the woman. She seemed to be in her thirties with brown hair that fell to her chin, long-lashed dark brown eyes, and freckled skin. "Just revenge for scorching my hand and face like that."

"That was your mistake. I told you not to go after him alone," said the other mage. He had curly dark brown hair with greying bits above his ears and a severe expression.

These two were not present in Acrise, that much Seiren was sure. On top of that, they openly attacked Domic Butterworth. She watched him warily, unsure if they were friend or foe. Behind her, Rowan got to his feet with a groan.

"Who are you?" Seiren said, not without suspicion. But on closer inspection, she recognised their faces from the directory. Bellamy Southwark, a mixed rune and burst mage, and Tesla Relish, a flash mage who specialised in sand magic, although the latter's face had a few blisters and pink spots across it as if she got hit by hot water.

"We're here to recruit you, Seiren Nithercott," said Bellamy Southwark in a steady voice. He emanated the sage air of someone who was well-respected and had a high place in the mage ladder. "Our plan is to overthrow King Pollin."

"Forgive me if I'm suspicious, but the last time someone asked me that, she'd gutted me open afterwards."

"Ah. Halen tends to... overdo things. But you understand our concerns; we run a clandestine operation here. If anyone refused and lived to tell..." He spread his hands. "You understand our difficulties."

"So you're going to gut me open again?" she said vehemently.

"It depends on your answers. But I would be very surprised if your answer will still be 'no' considering what Pollin and his mages have just asked you to do."

"How do you know all this?" said Rowan for the first time. He coughed again, clearing the last lungful of rock dust from his chest. "How did you know we were here?"

"Let's just say a conversation took place and they were... lax with their security."

"Impossible," said Rowan, frowning. "The king's mages are always absolute in their security. The anti-eavesdropping and proofing runes are second to none now with Kristen Harred gone. They're created by Kommora Hai--"

Realisation dawned on his face.

"I see."

Seiren stared at him in confusion.

"I don't see."

"So this is her plan," said Rowan in a soft voice.

"I'm sorry?"

"Tell me. You used the present tense when referring to Halen Ashworth. I presume she is alive and well?"

"Alive: yes. Well: I wouldn't stretch it that far." Southwark shrugged. "But she's managing."

"And she was in the hands of the king's mages, with their security that was second to none."

"Indeed. What's your point, Woodbead?"

"My point is: we will accept your offer."

"You what?" Seiren said in astonishment. "Are you okay? Did you get a concussion? Are you confused again?"

"What do you mean 'again'?" Rowan retorted. "Just trust me, okay? There's a bigger plan going on. We need to join them."

"You're turning your back on your own country?!"

"Not Karma. Just Pollin and the king's mages. This is the step we have to take. Do you trust me?"

Seiren mouthed wordlessly.

Is he bloody nuts?!

I don't understand what's going on, either. But in all this time Rowan has never acted in ways that made you not trust him, right?

That's true, but... this is treason!

I wouldn't want to be loyal to a king who doesn't care about his people, I have to say. That's not a cause worth fighting for.

His blue-green eyes implored for her consent. She heaved a sigh and cast a last glance at Southwark and Relish. Rebel mages. They were siding with rebel mages. How Mother would turn in her grave -- if she even occupied it. And god knows how many other mages they'd killed already. How on earth did Rowan know they wouldn't just stab them in the back and bury them in the snow where nobody would find them?

"You owe me a lot of information," she said at last.

The two rebel mages gave her measured looks before Southwark jerked his head. "This way."

They tied up Butterworth and dragged him along behind them, taking Seiren and Rowan in a different direction to where they were headed. Seiren didn't say anything more, merely observed them, and gave the unconscious, scarred Butterworth the occasional wary look. She was on enemy territory, now. Just because they both now have a mutual enemy -- King Pollin and his mages -- did not mean they were bosom buddies.

"I'm sorry to hear about what's happened to Loren," Southwark said to Rowan. "It must have come as a great shock."

"It wasn't you guys who killed her?" Seiren burst out in surprise. Southwark gave her a look that reminded her of back when she'd been caught stealing sweets from the cupboard: one of utmost disappointment and offence. Butterworth's head nodded with every step.

"Loren Rummage was my student when she graduated from King's. One of the most compassionate and dedicated mages I've ever come across. Her guardian, Kommora Haigh, was mine when I graduated. What on earth made you think I would murder someone whom I regarded as a little sister?"

"You killed many other mages without hesitation," she fired back. She almost expected a condescending or scathing comeback, but none came.

Magic is a small world, said Madeleine.

"We gave them a chance. Come with us or die. If we let them live, our cause would be for nothing. The king's mages would destroy us before we so much as reared our heads." Southwark shook his head. "But it was obvious who would doggedly follow them and who had their own suspicions. It would be easier for us if there were fewer opponents. Tesla, here, she saw through Butterworth long before he ascended the king's mages ladder. She didn't hesitate to join me when I asked."

"You would betray your own country?"

"No. I'm saving it," said Tesla Relish shortly, staring ahead, the rope clutched in her gloved hands. She winced when a cold breeze caressed her injured face.

"How do you know you can trust us?" said Rowan. Bellamy Southwark appeared to mull over the answer before he spoke in a measured tone.

"It was tempting not to: a Woodbead and a king's mage's daughter? It was very tempting, indeed. Kristen Harred was a good woman, compassionate, selfless -- but a king's mage nonetheless. However, had you followed protocol, you would still be in Acrise, not fleeing it."

"We aren't fleeing it," said Seiren with a snarl. "There's a nullifier in action and we aren't of any help. And we need to get back to Benover as a matter of urgency and the rails are frozen."

Southwark paused. "You wish to get to Benover?"

"We have urgent matters to discuss with my contacts in Benover."

"Why? Butterworth here can easily take your messages," said Relish, speaking of her own volition for the first time. She threw a vitriolic look over her shoulder at the unconscious king's mage.

"Butterworth is not to be trusted," said Rowan. "King Pollin needs to know that."

To Seiren's surprise, both Southwark and Relish burst out laughing.

"Oh, runes, you two are both so naive," said Southwark with a chuckle.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Seiren sourly, irritated.

"Pollin and all his little mages are in cahoots. Whatever Butterworth came to Acrise to do, I can assure you Pollin is in full support of this. Perhaps even your contact in Benover."

Seiren felt a hollow pang in her chest. She had suspected as much; the other mages at Acrise had said there was no way Butterworth could have masqueraded in King Pollin's name without the king himself knowing. But to realise the king actually wanted the massacre of his own countrymen was sickening beyond belief.

"My contact in Benover is safe, I assure you, Mage Southwark," said Rowan in a low voice.

"If that's the case, I don't suppose I can persuade you otherwise."

Rowan shook his head. Southwark heaved a sigh.

"We'll be safe if we have Butterworth as leverage."

Southwark grimaced. "I wouldn't count too much on it. In Benover, you can trust no-one."

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