Castel stared unseeingly at the piece of correspondence in his hands, the words nothing but a blur while his mind did nothing but spin in circles.

I wasn't there.

He swallowed back the hollow feeling of powerlessness. Memories of his fellow Sentinels and the captured Sorcerers screaming in pain as the Dark Disciple's mages tortured them echoed in his mind. He'd been unable to help them. Trapped in his own living torment. And today he could not help Isobel when she needed it most.

The rustling sound of paper alerted him that his hands had turned into fists, holding the parchment so tightly it crumpled in his grip. Forcing his hold to loosen, he dropped the letter. He was a fool to think he needed to save someone as powerful as Isobel, but she was weakened now. Something made even more obvious by her currently asleep in his bed. The men who attacked her had been regular men with no magic. He could have protected her against them. He could have.

I wasn't there.

Flexing his fingers, he leaned back in his chair. If there was a chance more of their ilk had arrived with the new recruits, he couldn't leave her alone until they knew for certain she was safe or her powers fully restored. She was too important for Erya to lose.

For him to lose.

What a fool he was. To love the Sorceress Isobel. A woman forbidden to love. But he had always loved her and, having met her again now, his feelings had not lessened from time. Spending time with her—kissing her—had only strengthened his affection. How could he ever let her go again?

His gaze was drawn to the open door to his bedroom, and knowing he would get nothing else done today, he stood. Daylight was waning outside, so he might as well finish for the day. Bringing a candle with him into the dim room, he saw the shape of Isobel under the covers. He set the candle down on the little nightstand by the bed before quietly unfolding the bedroll he had used the last time she stayed in his room.

"You could sleep in the bed, you know." Her quiet voice startled him, and he turned around. She was sitting now, her hair a tangled mass hanging over her shoulders, and her eyes heavy-lidded with sleep.

"I..." He cleared his throat. "I don't think that would be proper."

The hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "I promise I won't throw myself at you." She yawned. "Far too tired."

His cheeks heated. "That's not—" He cut himself short. It was. Maybe less her throwing herself at him and more him being unable to resist her, but it was definitely that. And even if he suspected she would be an enthusiastic participant—she was not exactly subtle about being attracted to him—she was far too exhausted.

But it wasn't the only reason.

"I don't sleep with anyone."

Her head tilted slightly to the side as she looked at him, a spark of interest in her eyes. "Never?"

"Never," he confirmed. "I have those nightmares, and—"

"And you worry about hurting someone," Isobel finished for him.

"Not someone." His eyes met hers. "You."

After a moment, she looked down at her hands, her teeth worrying her lower lip as her forehead furrowed. Had he admitted too much? Turning his back to her, he continued preparing his bed. He'd just pulled his shirt over his head when she spoke again.

"I will never force you, but I must admit I could do with the company tonight," she said quietly. "Just another warm body next to mine. You make me feel safe."

A stab of guilt made him flinch. "Why?" he asked. "I wasn't there to help you today."

"I would never expect you to be there for me at every moment, but I know that when I am with you... You would always keep me safe. I felt that way already at Highglaive all those years ago, and I feel it still today."

He wanted to share the bed with her. Make her feel safe. But what of his nightmares? He shifted from one leg to the other. Glancing back at Isobel in the bed was his worst mistake. She watched him quietly; her face unreadable in the flickering candlelight. Of course, he would do as she asked. He could never deny her. Maybe he would simply stay awake all night.

Pulling off his boots, he padded over to the bed and lay down. Lying on his back with an arm under his head, he saw Isobel smile. She was about to lie down when her eyes widened as they saw his chest properly for the first time. He cursed under his breath as her eyes followed the faint scars marring the skin of his torso, stomach, and abdomen. She couldn't see it, but they extended to his back and down his legs as well. The other night, the light in the pools had been too sparse for her to see his scars, and most of him had been underwater.

He could see her swallow back an exclamation before she lifted a hand to run a shaking finger along the faded marks.

"Magic burns." It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway. Magic didn't leave scars in the same way weapons did. They weren't as deep and their colour was only a couple of shades lighter than his skin tone, but the pain they had caused was no less than if someone had cut him with a sword. In fact, he might have preferred the sword.

"So many..." Her eyes glittered with unshed tears as she met his eyes.

He lifted his hand to cup her face. "It was a long time ago now."

She shook her head. "I have only heard stories of what the captives experienced, and I always suspected they did not tell me everything. This..." Her hand splayed on his chest. "This bears witness to how much you must have endured. How you all suffered... Oh, Castel." She swallowed back her sorrow. "If only I could have come sooner."

"Any sooner, and you would have failed. You needed to unite the armies of Erya to have enough forces to take Messina back from the Dark Disciple. Any sooner, and you would have ended up in that tower with me." He sat up so he could face her, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "That wouldn't have helped anyone."

"But—"

"No. You cannot think like that. We cannot change the past, only learn to live with it."

Her gaze dropped to his bare chest again, and her brows knotted. "No wonder you didn't want me using magic on you. It makes even more sense now. I'm so sorry I pushed you to accept my help."

He smiled slightly. "It did help my headache better than anything else has ever done. And... I do trust you. I know you would never hurt me."

"Good. I will not keep nagging you to let me help you with your memories—your nightmares. If you don't want anyone touching you with magic, I fully understand." Her hands gripped his, resting them in her lap between them. She smiled wryly. "I have a terrible tendency to think I know best, but that is blatantly untrue."

"I suspect you do know a fair bit," he said with a quiet chuckle.

She giggled. "I'm not completely oblivious."

Sobering up, he met her gaze. "But I will accept your help to rid me of these nightmarish memories. If there is a way to stop me from having them, then it's worth trying."

"We will start as soon as I have recovered from today." She stifled a yawn, and he helped her lie back down before following suit.

He hesitated a moment before turning on his side. Wrapping an arm around Isobel, he pulled her tightly to his chest, her small form fitting perfectly against him. A little sigh of contentment escaped her. Not much later, her breathing slowed to a deeper rhythm as sleep claimed her. Castel stared at the stone walls, unwilling to risk the nightmares with her in his arms.

Cas awoke with a start. Dread washed over him at the realisation that he'd fallen asleep. But the world had not ended. Isobel still lay snuggled close to him, her breathing even. No nightmares had invaded his sleep. It was the first night since she had arrived when he hadn't had a single dream. Relaxing back into the warmth of the bed, he let out a sigh of relief.

Finally allowing himself to appreciate the moment, he enjoyed listening to Isobel's rhythmic breathing. She was warm and soft in his arms, and he allowed himself a moment of burying his nose in the hair at the back of her head. It smelled lightly of lemons, but there was also a hint of the smell of burning paper. It might be worth getting a bath readied for her, or another visit to the hot springs under the stronghold. Remembering her naked body rubbing against him, he felt himself stir.

Now was not the time.

A sudden knock on the door made him let go of Isobel and get out of bed. Few people dared to disturb him in his bedroom when they didn't find him in his study, so there weren't too many it could be. But just to be safe, he pulled his boots on as he called out, "Yes?"

Boreas came inside. He looked between the obviously unused bedroll on the floor and Cas, a knowing smirk on his lips. Pretending he didn't notice, Cas pulled on a shirt. Isobel stirred in the bed. Sitting up, she looked over at Boreas and smiled even as her eyes were still half-closed. She still needed more rest. The attack the previous day appeared to have completely drained her.

"What brings you here at this hour?" Cas asked without preamble. Judging from the light outside the window, the sun had barely made an appearance.

The smirk on his friend's face faded. "We've received a note from Highglaive."

Cas frowned. The sorcerers had not seen fit to send one of their own along for the Fort Mael mission—partly because they had so few these days—and as such were not very involved in what was largely a military mission, anyway. "What do they want?"

"I don't know," Boreas said. "It's for Sorceress Isobel."

They both turned to look at her, while she did nothing but stare at them for a moment. "What?" She shook her head. "But they don't know I'm here."

"Apparently they do." Boreas took the steps separating him from the bed and handed a letter over to Isobel. "How would they have found out?"

"I don't know," she admitted as she unfolded the paper. A small crease appeared between her brows. "I'm being told to return as soon as possible."

"You can't leave yet," Cas blurted before he could stop himself. Mostly because she was too weak to travel by herself. But partly because he wasn't ready to say goodbye. "It wouldn't be safe for you."

"Agreed," Boreas said. "You cannot leave until you're recovered enough. I'm willing to write them on your behalf and explain that I cannot allow you to leave yet because of my concerns for your safety."

"Thank you." She dropped the hand holding the letter in her lap, the line between her brows deepening. "But how do they know I'm here? I told no one I was going to Dreadlands."

"Maybe the same way those men yesterday knew who you are." The possibility made Cas's neck prickle with unease.

Boreas tapped his nose thoughtfully as he watched Isobel. "You didn't even tell the Grand Sorcerer about going to Dreadlands?"

"No. My business in Dreadlands wasn't for the sorcerers, but for myself." Isobel met the Spymaster's eyes, her chin raising slightly.

A flicker of amusement made Boreas's mouth twitch. "I didn't think sorcerers were allowed to do anything for themselves. Meant to serve the Gods and protect Erya, always."

"I hope what I'm doing will protect Erya." Isobel flicked her hair back with an annoyed glance. "But not everyone agrees on my approach, so I'm doing what I can when I can. And for now, I tell no one. I would appreciate it if you did not tell anyone at Highglaive. Or anyone else."

Boreas nodded. "Fair. I trust few people in this world. But for now, at least, I trust you and I will do ask you ask."

"Thank you. I hope your trust in me will be warranted." She stifled a yawn and Cas looked over at the Spymaster.

"She needs more rest."

"Yes." Boreas nodded to Isobel. "I would like to speak more once you're recovered from yesterday's ordeal. I have a suspicion we might be able to help each other out with information."

"Let's do it." Isobel was already lying down, her eyes falling closed. Cas moved over to pull the covers over her before leaving the room with Boreas.

"Do you think she will be all right?" he asked as they closed the door behind them in his study.

"Yes. She's just exhausted from using so much magic while far from recovered after the Orc's Blood." Boreas tapped his nose thoughtfully again. "I did a lot of research on Orc's Blood after the High Queen was poisoned, and I looked through it again now after the sorceress arrived. It appears the poison affects those with magic worse in some ways than those without. It drains their magic, leaving them weakened in addition to the general weakness of a poison that kills most within a day or two. From my research, it appears it was created by the rulers of the Forgotten Kingdom—now Dreadlands—to subdue and kill magic users. It was a kingdom that was highly distrustful of anyone with any level of magic."

"Sounds delightful," Cas muttered. "But you're certain she will recover?"

Boreas made a face. "Well. I certainly hope she will. But the honest truth is that we don't know enough of the Orc's Blood poison to truly know. The High Queen recovered, but she has no magical abilities to my knowledge. I cannot find any records of sorcerers being poisoned, so there is no information about their survival rate or if they regained their full magical abilities."

Remembering those mystic illnesses of the Adepts in Highglaive, Cas winced. "I think the sorcerers build up resistance by being poisoned by smaller doses."

The Spymaster's eyes widened. "Really? That would explain how Isobel could still make her way here while poisoned, while the High Queen succumbed much quicker." He whistled between his teeth. "That's a dangerous practice. Spies sometimes use it to build up resistance to particular poisons and substances, but you always risk not being able to fight it."

Cas swallowed back the bitter feeling of failing the adept who didn't make it. At the time, he had not understood what was going on. But even if he had, would he have been able to stop it? Unlikely. And as terrible as the practice was, it was probably the only reason Isobel was still alive.

"Say what you will of the sorcerers," Boreas continued. "But they are certainly dedicated."

Nodding, Cas wasn't sure whether he thought that was a positive or negative thing right then.

"My biggest concern for now," he said, leaning his hips against the desk and crossing his arms over his chest, "is how Highglaive knows she's here. Or those men yesterday. The attack is too recent for Highglaive to have had time to find out and send a letter that arrived today. Even an owl takes days to fly to Messina from here."

"The men who attacked her arrived recently. It seems likely whoever told them is the same one who told Highglaive," Boreas said. "But how did they find out? That, I cannot answer."

Filled with frustrated energy, Cas pushed away from the desk. "That's not good enough," he said tersely. "I thought you were meant to know everything."

"Not everything," Boreas quipped. "Just a lot."

When Cas only glared at him, the Spymaster held his hands up in surrender. "I will look into it. You are not the only one who wants to solve this mystery."

"It's just not a mystery to solve. It's about Isobel's safety."

"And we will do our best to keep her safe until she is fully recovered," Boreas vowed.

Cas inhaled deeply, trying to escape the foreboding feeling that something was not right. They were missing something. But what? Maybe once Isobel shared what she knew with them, and Boreas reciprocated, something would become clear. He certainly hoped so.

~~~~~~