Seiren couldn't stop pacing. The boat brought them closer to Benover by the second and although it had only been a little over a week since she'd landed in Acrise -- and a little over two weeks since she'd last left Benover to capture Halen Ashworth in Iwade -- it felt like forever since she'd been in the capital. Everywhere was covered in layers of white, blue, and grey. Trees stood bare and bushes lay dead. She huddled closer into her scarf and tugged her hood down, ensuring nobody could recognise her or Rowan. She couldn't see them, but she knew the rebel mages were not far away, keeping an eye on them as they had promised. Bellamy Southwark said it would be safer if they didn't travel with an entourage. Butterworth seeing their faces already compromised some of the anonymity, but with him being unconscious now -- and bundled into one of the wooden crates -- at least it meant if they ran into trouble in Benover, it would not compromise them all.

They didn't interact with other members of the ship. Not that the other occupants paid them any attention; they were mainly merchants and fellow travellers, interested in their own agendas, and two lone hooded figures were hardly out of the ordinary when hard-faced men spoke with ragged voices and harsh words amongst each other and travellers huddled within their own groups against the cold. Seiren clutched the small orange rune to her chest, beneath her cloak, basking in its warmth. The Acrise temperatue she could manage; being on a ship sailing down the artificial river from Keycol, with the freezing wind whipping against her face and exposed hands, made every fibre of her body numb and burn from within.

After what felt like hours, the grand concrete city of Benover came into sight. Seiren's heart skipped a beat. From water level, the capital looked more impressive than ever. The multi-storey sandstone buildings overlooked the waters, interconnected by skybridges and spreading their fingers in the form of archways over the roads beneath. Glass reflected the morning sun, winking at her from afar. Far in the distance, the magnificent dome of the king's palace overlooked the entire city, clad in snow-white marble. It was said that was where King Pollin and the royal family often observed the people from high above.

Knowing what she knew now, the feeling of having every move and word monitored sent shivers down her spine. Almost subconsciously, she ran her hands through the clutch of folded runes in her pockets. They were in perfect order for when she needed them. Red runes at the front for quick access to attacks, green runes in the breast pocket in case she needed healing, mixed runes at the back of the pocket once she'd had time to assess the situation. Tucked against the belt on her waist at the back were several knives Ashworth bestowed upon her. Seiren would never have thought Halen Ashworth would give her weapons to her advantage.

Rowan had said they weren't going to attack the enemy. The plan was to trade Butterworth for the safety of Tylene, Dent, Felora, and Peron, and Kommora Haigh if needed be, although he didn't really feel the old woman needed protection. The king's mages would honour a bargain, especially with people around them watching; the laws protected the people, after all, so he said. Tylene and Dent no doubt would still be stuck in Acrise with the frozen tracks but once everything thawed, they would be transported back to Benover to be at the mercy of the king's mages.

She swallowed. Her throat was so dry and her heart fluttered. It was a strange sensation. Apprehension? Excitement? So much could happen. They'd begun to dig up the biggest and darkest secret of the country in the past few weeks. So much depended on what would happen after this.

You're scared, said Madeleine.

I am not.

It's okay to be. What we're doing is essentially treason, but the king's mages are in the wrong. We have to stop them. But if they win, history will remember you and Rowan as traitors.

I really don't give a toss if history remembers me as a horse. We'll all be dead and gone by then anyway.

Well... true.

Madeleine was quiet for a few moments. Seiren could spot the small shapes of people moving along the bank roads on horse carts, pulling wares in and out of the capital. Beside her, smaller boats passed in the opposite direction: fishermen from probably Throwley or one of the smaller fishing towns down south taking fresh produce further north and transport ships taking cargo to the cities they'd passed along the way.

Guess we'll soon find out if Mother actually died that night, she said.

She never bothered to get in contact for six years, knowing we were alone. I don't really care if she's alive or not, any more.

The ship approached the dock. People bustled about, lugging heavy boxes and yelling harsh words at each other, drenched in sweat and streaked with dirt. Little children scurried in-between, hoping to pick up dropped coins or the odd fruit. The familiar busy chatter was comforting after the chilling, isolated silence in Acrise.

But you were so excited when Rowan suggested she was--

Because it meant I didn't kill her. I didn't kill anybody. Seiren couldn't find the words to express the relief from the guilt after all these years. The ship jolted as it hooked onto the dock. A series of bangs reached her ears as the dock workers tied the rest of the ship down and slammed the footbridges on. I'm not a monster.

Wow. So it takes something like that to tell you what I've been telling you all along. You really are dense.

Seiren was about to retort but something caught her eye. Marching onto the ship were at least sixty or seventy soldiers in standard vomit-green uniform, their runed weapons drawn. Her heart leapt to her throat. She whipped around and sprinted across the deck, blood pounding in her ears.

She found Rowan beside the crate that housed Butterworth. All the other goods were still tied onto the deck. More slams of wood on wood echoed in the air. Rowan's head tilted up at the sound of her footsteps from across the lower deck. He turned towards her, blue-green eyes wide with curiosity. Before Seiren could reach him, however, the soldiers appeared from behind him.

They were expecting us?!

Seiren whipped out her runes and curled them around Ashworth's knives. With a still hand that betrayed none of her terror, she launched them at the soldiers to Rowan's left. They shouted, leaping back -- but it wasn't the blade that was the weapon. Seiren snapped her fingers and, with a flash of red and a ground-rumbling boom, shards of wood exploded outwards. The floorboards gave way, sending the nearest soldiers tumbling to the deck below and the rest of them scattering backwards. She followed it with two swift throws, one of which bounced off a shield the front-most soldier on the other side. It didn't matter. They clapped their shields together, forming a wall to prevent her second explosion.

Damn, they react fast, mused Madeleine.

Doesn't matter a damn bit, thought Seiren with triumph, snapping both fingers. The two knives glowed bright blue with the runes Ashworth taught her. A crackle of electricity emanated from the knives. Rowan thrust up sand from the decks below and shielded himself before a burst of energy paralysed all the soldiers on his other side.

Exhilarated, Seiren reached behind for a violet rune. Rowan's sand wall collapsed.

"Seiren, don't!" he yelled. She barely registered his words. She gripped a violet-yellow rune from her pocket. It was time to try out a modified rune she'd been itching to experiment with. But before she could extract it, what felt like a ton of bricks slammed into the dip between her shoulderblades. Her neck snapped backwards. A gasp tore from her throat. Her face met the wooden deck, sending an explosion of red across her vision and her head spinning into the heavens. Pain exploded before her and made her ears ring.

She uttered some choice expletives, splayed on the ground like some gutted animal. Rough hands grabbed hers and wrenched them backwards, sending pain shooting up her shoulders and into her neck. She yelped. The joint sockets strained. She was pretty sure her arms were not built to perform that angulation.

The redness receded. Her spinning head slowed and the waves of nausea struck. She groaned, blinking. Someone of considerable weight kept his knee directly between her shoulderblades and no amount of her shifting would budge him. She blinked again. The world came back into focus -- barely.

Rowan stood beside Butterworth's crate, hands held in the air.

God, rune it all.

There's no way you can win against so many soldiers.

I wasn't planning to win. I was planning to take my ass and hightail it out of there.

"Brigadier General Villin. How gracious of you to meet us at the docks." Rowan's voice was calm, a stark contrast against Seiren's apprehension of being punished by the king's mages for knowing what they know and fury of being betrayed by those who were meant to represent them. The more she struggled, the tighter her captor crushed her against the deck. "Need you use such excessive force on my apprentice? She's but an eighteen-year-old girl."

"She's taken out half my men in two moves. Just what does she have to hide that makes her scared of the military, huh, Woodbead?" The speaker was a long-necked man with greasy black hair, clad in a well-decorated vomit green uniform. Seiren couldn't see his face from her angle on the ground, but his trousers were crisply ironed and his boots so shiny she could see her own reflection in them.

"You surprised her. That is all." Rowan sounded terse. "I'll ensure she's reprimanded."

Seiren had never heard Rowan uneasy before. Even when facing enemies, he'd kept his tone light and carefree, whilst calculating his next moves. Seiren's captor hoisted her up by her wrists. She felt her elbows and shoulders crack and she winced, but was determined not to let out any sounds of distress. The captor placed her on her feet.

"My men are under orders to capture, but there was no specifics on your intactness. So I wouldn't try anything funny if I were you, Nithercott."

He knew who I am.

Well, he came with a whole squadron specifically for you and Rowan. I imagine he knew his targets. Who gave him the tip-off, though?

"Whose orders, Brigadier General?" Rowan said, reaching the same questions as Madeleine.

"Ours."

Seiren recognised the woman's face and voice at once. All of a sudden, she was wrenched back to that fateful day in the rain, clutching Loren's dead body. The metal jewellery decorating her face and ears, the neat, chin-length platinum blonde hair, the chillingly joyful voice.

She looks just like her! The scornful voice. The magic that was halted.

This was the woman who killed Loren Rummage.

Don't do anything stupid, whispered Madeleine.

I'm not an idiot.

Oh, my apologies. How could I be so mistaken? Despite the teasing words, Madeleine sounded anxious. It's her. It's definitely her. I remember this vibe. She's a monster.

Young, blonde, and glamorous. This must be Karis Bonneville. Although she kept her limbs within the folds of her cloak, there was an odd imbalance as she moved and brushed stray strands of hair with her right hand. She walked lop-sided, as if she were lighter on the left than on the right. Beside her was another king's mage in a royal blue cloak, with her hood drawn up. In the shadow, a pair of pale blue eyes that displayed no emotion. That must be Rinoa Gruger, the other female king's mage.

"Rowan Woodbead and Seiren Nithercott," said Bonneville, her lips curling -- and was it Seiren or was there extra vitriol when the king's mage said her name? "Per orders from King Pollin Miracle I: you two are under arrest for assault of a king's mage, treason, and crimes against the crown."

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