"How long has it been?"

Saenar didn't look at Madeline when he answered. He continued sharpening his sword, the shrill sound lighting the air before he finally said, "Four days."

Madeline wasn't deterred by his uninterested answer. She saddled closer to him, peering over as his hands made quick work with his file and his sword. She had her own sword slung at her hips, but she was too unaccustomed with it. It hung heavy and uncomfortable. Madeline wondered when it too would become like a part of her body.

"Do you think she's okay?" she asked Saenar.

He paused for a half a second before continuing what he was doing. "She has to be."

"I hope they're both okay," she murmured. They had already set up camp in the hills near the capital. Fires cackled nearby and hundreds of lycans gathered around, their camps standing to their backs as they talked about the attack. Madeline could hear snippets of some conversations. For the most part, they were excited. If all went well, they were free.

She supposed them being excited was a good thing.

"Spar with me," she demanded.

"I do not have the time, Madeline."

In the past, Madeline would have slapped him for calling her by her first name. Now, she didn't even notice. "Come on," she pushed. "Just a quick one. I want to see if I'm getting better and no one will spar with me."

"That's because they do not like you."

"Well, I don't like them either. Saenar, spar with me. You can always sharpen your sword later."

"Madeline, please do not bother me." His voice was low and dangerous. Ever since they've left he has been all business. "You'll make me regret bringing you along."

"I would have followed you anyway. Saenar, I will not ask you again."

On a groan, Saenar finally put his file away. Madeline sprang to her feet in glee. She pulled out her rapier and pranced backwards, working on the balls of her feet, just as Mynera taught her. "Go easy on me, Saenar," she said to him. "I'm not very good at this as yet."

Saenar didn't reply. Madeline was dressed in simple brown breeches, brown leather shoes and a white shirt. She hated wearing it; it was so beneath her. But it was the easiest clothing to move in when using a sword.

Madeline danced backwards. The sword still felt quite heavy in her hands. Mynera had said that holding a sword should feel natural, like it was a part of her arm, but so far it felt like dead weight. It was the lightest sword she could use, easy for beginners but even so, Madeline struggled. She lifted it upwards, then down to the ground, as Mynera had demonstrated.

Saenar came at her without warning. She barely managed to jump backwards with block. "I wasn't ready!" she exclaimed.

"Your enemy won't wait for you to be ready." He struck again, whirling around with a heavy blow. Madeline could have sworn some of her hair received the blow when she ducked underneath it.

He was moving too fast, way too fast for her to keep up. She could barely manage to block his attacks and, before long, Saenar's sword was positioned at her neck. Laughter rose up around them. She looked scathingly at the lycans but no one paid her any mind. They knew her as Queen Madeline but the didn't treat her as one.

"And you're dead."

Madeline glared at Saenar. "You did that on purpose."

"Yes. To be more realistic. Your enemy won't take slow steps and they definitely won't wait for you to be alert before they attack. They want you dead and they don't mind stabbing you in the back for that to happen. Straighten up. Again."

And so they went at it. By the time night fell, Madeline's muscles were sorely spent and her brain was filled to the brim with new knowledge. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the ground that night, her rapier safely tucked away. That night, she dreamt about the ambush and woke up in cold sweat when someone in her dream got fatally stabbed. She hadn't seen the face, but the long hair made her know who it was and it gripped her heart in fear. It was Barron.

**

"Tonight's the night, Barron." They were walking back from the gardens, where she spent most of the day. To her delight, Mynera found that this morning, the king had a meeting with the King's Council and so would be very busy until late. The relief she felt was numbing. Yet, there was still a bit of trepidation lingering. Tonight was the night they were to sup together in the dining hall. An intimate occasion, to quote the king. She didn't like it, didn't like his tone when he said those words to her. Something told her she wasn't going to feel any more comfortable tonight. There was no longer any time to waste.

"Are you sure, my lady?"

"Yes, quite sure. Something doesn't feel right about tonight. I don't want to risk missing this moment."

"As you wish, my lady."

The lanterns hung lazily in the scones on the wall, illuminating their path as the shadow of the hallway covered them. They walked in silence, both caught up in their own thoughts. Mynera couldn't help thinking about how much she was dreading this supper. The day had been a pleasant one, traversing the gardens, talking with the servants. Barron and her even shared a hearty laugh in the midst of everything. The day was like a premonition. Everything good would surely come to an end.

The air hung heavy with loss and despair. These vibrant hallways now mourned the loss of many, blood that had long ago been washed away splattered against the walls. King Gavin's presence made the air turn somber and life dreary. It affected Mynera's mood too, but she held her back straight. Her massive dress dragged heavily behind her as she made her way to the Tower.

Neither her nor Barron spoke when they made it to the insurmountable stairs. Her slippered feet made little sounds on the stone steps. With her skirts firmly clutched in her hands, she mounted the steps until, at long last, she made it to the Tower's top, high up in the castle's central keep. Unlit candles adorned the table tops ahead. She could see far before her, standing at the highest point in the castle. She could see the hills to the west where the lycans rested, she could see the forest to the east, where the vampires gathered around the infamous river.

The Tower was where the priests came to say prayers. They lit the candles, then bent themselves over the tables, clasping their hands and murmuring rehearsed words to the God of the Nations. Carved from stone at the other end of the Tower, the God of the Nations stared back at her, holding a sword in one hand and clasping a baby with the other. He represented strength and fertility. Everything good and everything bad.

The priests prayed for the Nations, then for persons in different situations. Their prayers were so long and intense, they spent hours in the Tower, praying so that the people of the Nations need not. If she were to light the candles now, it wouldn't be a sufficient signal. It could very well be mistaken as the priests coming up for a afternoon prayer session.

"Hand me the bow." Mynera held her hand out beside her and waited for the smooth wood to be placed into her hands. When it was, she accepted the arrow and walked to the very end. The fall was perilous. One slip and she would surely die a gruesome death.

"Did you carry the match?" she asked Barron.

"Yes, my lady."

Mynera wrapped an old cloth around the end of the arrow. It was already generously soaked in flammable oil. Barron lit the match and oil soaked cloth blazed brightly. He stepped away and watched as Mynera drew the fiery arrow and released it high into the air.

"Now that that's done," she handed the bow back to Barron. "I suppose I should head back to my bedchambers."

"Night will be falling soon and it wouldn't be wise to have the king waiting."

"Oh, so what? He adores me so much, I could have another man as my lover and I would never fall in his bad graces. I can't say the same for the man however."

Barron made a small chuckle. "Mind your tongue, my lady, lest someone overhears you."

"It shall all be over soon anyway." She could hardly wait. With the signal sent, the forces should be making their way to the city shortly. Just a bit more to endure before everything went back to as it should be.

**

Charmaline held her hand to her mouth to hold back her gasp. Surely she did not hear right. Surely it was all just her imagination.

Lady Mynera was planning an attack on the king?

It couldn't be ... oh, but she wished it was true. The very thought of the king being dethroned and the rightful king being placed on the throne made her so happy, words couldn't express such an emotion. Lady Mynera was a righteous lady. If she was planning an attack on the castle, then that meant she meant to dethrone the current king. Which also meant she expected the prince to take the crown.

Knowing that Prince Saenar was alive brought joy to her heart. But knowing now that he was going to retake the Nations made her so indescribably overjoyed she almost wept.

As she hurried away to await Lady Mynera at her bedchambers, she could only think one thing. The prince was coming back. Her prince was coming back.

**

As soon as Saenar saw the signal, he rallied his troops. They would begin marching at once. The lycans decked themselves in their black armor, to make it easier to move in the night, and Madeline herself wore black, though her bright blond hair was held up into a tail and shone like a beacon. She was to be the nurse for the army, following during battle with her rapier as protection. Right now, her face held determination, as did everyone else.

Grim faced, they set off towards the capital.

**

Hale didn't notice the signal. He was fuming, as he has been doing since he arrived at the river. It was the talkative vampire woman who pointed it out to Reginald and then Reginald to him. As soon as he was brought out of his wrathful stupor, he got ready. Dressed in the similar black armor, the vampires' glowing red eyes were all one could see in the darkness of the night. They set out at once.

**

Mynera walked with her head straight ahead, even while her thumbnail scratched itself against her finger. She wasn't nervous, just anxious. She had no idea what exactly laid behind the door, who exactly she was headed to. Was it the doting king, or the perverted man? She couldn't be sure and that made her even more on edge.

Barron laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, for just a second, but it was little help. Before her, an oddly quiet Charmaline walked with her head bowed as she led the way to the dining hall. They hadn't spoken much while she got ready but Mynera didn't mind. She found her thoughts too preoccupied to wonder about the ginger.

Did the others see the signal? Are they on their way? Are they close?

She didn't know the answers to any of her pressing questions and it irked her. What if they didn't see it and she was subjected to another horrible day in this man's presence? She couldn't even bear the thought of it.

The trip to the dining hall ended way too quickly. Before long, Mynera stood in her extravagant plum coloured dress, the bodice clinging to her skin and the skirts long, big and trailing behind her. She was flabbergasted to see how the neckline plunged but she supposed she shouldn't have been. In fact, when Charmaline said the king had chosen the dress she was to wear wear, she should have expected it.

"It'll be okay," Barron whispered to her.

She certainly hoped so, but she didn't have any time to say as much when the doors opened.