A cart stood in the distance. The snuffles of horses reached Seiren's ears. She was surprised there were creatures that were able to function in this kind of temperature. As they approached, another figure appeared beside the horse, one that froze her to the spot and revived the searing pain in her abdomen once more.

"You!" she snarled, reaching into her pockets for runes. Rowan shot out an arm across her chest, placating her intended attack. Halen Ashworth merely observed her with cold indifference. The wound from the deep cut Seiren had inflicted upon her left arm had healed to a pink, thick scar.

"Easy, Nithercott," said Southwark, frowning. "You're the one needing our help."

"She gored me in the stomach, so excuse me if I'm less than delighted to meet someone who tried to murder me twice."

"You used organic magic on me, you little brat," said Ashworth. "It was just as well you haven't the faintest clue what you were doing, or I'd be dead by now."

Seiren whirled around, incredulous and -- although she'd never admit it -- a tad frightened, to face Rowan.

"Do you have any brighter ideas that come more from up here--" She pointed at her temple. "--than out the other end?! She tried to kill me!"

"You used organic magic?!" Rowan said, his eyebrows disappearing into his hair. Seiren sighed in exasperation.

Why does he care more that I used illegal magic than us teaming up with the woman who literally tried to gut me like a pig?!

"Shame it didn't work," Seiren retorted, scowling.

"You powered it with burst, that's why," said Ashworth with a sniff, those cold blue eyes watching her warily. "If you'd used flash magic, you'd have killed me within a day."

"With talents like her, we stand a chance against the likes of Butterworth, Halen," said Southwark.

"Speaking of which, why do you have the asshole of the century unconscious behind you? Wait, let me guess -- he was trying to save Nithercott's ass. Again." Ashworth cocked her head, her attention diverted to the unconscious man half-buried in the snow Relish and Southwark had built up along their walk. "And Tesla, what happened to your face? Is this that asshole's doing or the brat's?"

Seiren bristled.

Southwark held up a peaceful hand. "We saw our opportunity. We took it. It would be hard to take him on face-to-face. Woodbead and Nithercott here were great distractions."

"Should have killed him whilst you had the chance," Ashworth said, disdainful. "You realise he nearly killed me last time? You've let him live to tell the tale."

"We need someone on the inside to tell us what the king's mages have in store for the country."

"And you think he'll talk? Please."

"At least he's a useful bargaining chip if there are people in Benover we need to keep safe," said Rowan.

"Whoever's getting this special treatment, I sure hope they're worth it, Woodbead," said Relish, grave. "One king's mage dead is a big swing in our favour in the battle to come."

"I hope they're worth keeping Butterworth alive for, Bellamy," Ashworth said to Southwark with her nose turned up.

"They've seen first-hand what Pollin and his weasel mages are truly like. They have the same motive as us now, Halen. We can trust them."

Ashworth merely sniffed.

"Let's get this going," said Relish with a growl. With strength surprising for someone with the same build as Seiren, she lugged Butterworth's unconscious body onto the cart and hopped on. Southwark took the reins of the two horses at the front. Seiren awkwardly took a seat opposite Rowan, beside Ashworth, who stared resolutely ahead, not engaging with her.

"When did you first realise?" said Rowan after a few minutes of the cart sloshing through snow. Southwark glanced over his shoulder at him.

"Realise what?"

"Realise there was a need for... well. This." Rowan gestured at Ashworth and Relish. "I thought magic and serving the people were your calling, not killing and anarchy."

"It's been building for a while. The taxes rising, the withdrawal of essential funding to cities across Karma, shutting down shelters for those caught up by conflict, shutting down of hospitals..."

Seiren was reminded of Loren's lament not long after she'd taken her home from Bicknor Infirmary. Too many people are suffering, especially where we clash with Hanna. Pollin's cutting funding to places torn by war. Hospitals are being shut down so the doctors and nurses are stretched even thinner. Many of my colleagues have had enough and quit their professions. The supporting communities are told to cease their activities or risk being penalised.

"The final straw was when I was asked to throw the peace-keeping mayor of Danaway into jail for perversion of justice, because he'd disagreed with the soldiers for wanting to punish a man. He'd killed another to stop the slaughter of children." Seiren couldn't see Southwark's face and his voice remained calm. "Butterworth here did it instead and took over Danaway when I resigned my post."

Butterworth. There was his name again. Seiren glanced down at the unconscious bundle at her feet. Nobody paid him any attention despite his face hitting the side of the seats with every bump along the way. The blonde woman with the piercings was one of his accomplices. She must be the one who killed Loren. A wave of rage washed over her and at that moment, Seiren would have loved nothing more than to plant the heel of her boot into his neck and snap it in one go.

"Who are the others in the king's mages?" said Seiren. Their names and faces were not part of the registry. The justification was as they handled sensitive information, it was not ideal for their full profile to be accessible to the general public. Seiren had a feeling there was something more than that.

"Why do you ask?" said Ashworth, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm part of the group now, aren't I? Only stands to reason I know my enemies."

"Ah, something you can't study up on."

Seiren bit back a retort.

"The ranks haven't shuffled much since Kristen Harred died, although I imagine she wouldn't have told you much when you were so young. The only ones you have to watch out for are Karis Bonneville and Rinoa Gruger. Bonneville's young, blonde, glamorous -- and loves nothing more than to savour destroying her enemies. That girl's a psychopath, a flash-rune mage, and comes from a rich, well-connected family. Gruger's a bit older, a dark horse. She climbed the king's mages ladder as quickly as Bonneville did. The circumstances are a bit suspect, but nobody questioned it -- nobody that's alive to tell the tale, anyway. She's a rune-burst mage. Don't underestimate her. She'll be the one that drives a dagger into your back without saying a 'hi'."

"I do reckon Gruger killed her way up," said Ashworth, crossing her legs like a man and resting her chin on her hand, propping her elbow on the back rest of the cart and staring ahead, beyond Southwark's shoulder. "Too many mages were killed in action during those few years and we weren't even in conflict, and too many old boys in the military ranks were sent to remote places even though they've been in Benover for decades. Something didn't feel right."

"Crina knew her from King's. She said Gruger wasn't powerful enough to be a king's mage, at least, not back then," said Relish, wincing again when cold wind coursed over her face.

"It's not great power that gets you a place in the king's mage circle," said Southwark over his shoulder. "It's connections, and a certain propensity for doing what needs to be done, no matter the morals."

"So that's why Butterworth is glowing," said Seiren under her breath. Relish, beside her, heard her and snorted.

"So don't expect to be able to negotiate yourself out of any confrontation. If they want something, they'll usually get it, unless you act in a way they don't expect. They've been quite successful in coming after us when they realised what we were doing."

"Give yourself some credit -- you did a good job cleaning out your own kind, too," said Seiren.

I'm getting deja vu here... oh yeah. Calm the sass, Seiren. These people can easily kick your ass to hell and back.

Oh, thanks for joining the fray again.

I'm just having a hard time processing the fact that Mother worked with people like Butterworth. There were only five king's mages when she was alive and they haven't filled her slot since she died, right? I can't believe it only takes four people to bring Karma to her knees.

It only took one to kill Mother and we knew how powerful she was.

There were so many questions. Mother might not be dead. All the guilt that plagued Seiren for over six years might not be hers to bear after all. There was a tentative sense of freedom that she was almost afraid to touch, in case it was a false promise and it was all entirely her fault despite that. Madeleine pressed against Seiren's mind, warm and reassuring. There were bigger things to worry about now, of course: treason, impending invasion, and, worst of all, a king who did not give a fig about his own people.

But Mother might be alive, and someone was so keen to keep that a secret they killed Loren for it.

"What's that?" said Ashworth without warning. Seiren jerked out of her thoughts. Over the treetops a thin trail of smoke snaked into the air. A faint tinge of ash and burning wood reached them, making Seiren's nose wrinkle.

"A smoke signal?" said Relish, narrowing her eyes ahead.

Southwark sniffed. "Smells more like a fire -- and not the cooking type, either."

He slowed the cart and hopped out. Relish and Ashworth ensured Butterworth was well and truly tied up, like bedding bursting at the seams.

"You should stay back, Nithercott," said Ashworth. "Runes are no good in combat."

"I think I've proven you wrong twice on that now," she shot back.

"I've kicked your butt twice, I think you'll find."

"Shut up, you two," Southwark muttered. Seiren and Ashworth's jaws snapped shut. Seiren shot Ashworth a glower, although the older woman had already plucked out a throwing knife, her attention focused ahead. Seiren forced down her resentment and followed suit with her own runes.

It's them again.

What's them again? Seiren squinted. She could make out vague shapes in the distance. Fog settled in, turning them into mere fuzzy outlines between the neat squares of houses. Those shapes moved about in odd, jerky movements. Their limbs were long, lanky, too thin to be functional, and yet each action was full of vigour. The nearest shape lifted its head and turned in their direction.

"What the hell is that?" muttered Ashworth, raising her throwing knife, her voice a mix of wonderment and disgust.

Seiren's mouth dried. The creature stalked forward. It had no fat beneath its skin, which was papery and stuck to its skull; its eyes were sunken orbs with no eyelashes or eyebrows. Tendons protruded over its joints. It was naked, yet appeared wholly unaffected by the cold.

Remember to vote!