"Bit late, isn't it, girl?" said one of the guards at the gatehouse, staring down his long, hooked nose at Rina. His hair was cut short and speckled with white, and his thick arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against the red-brick archway. "There something we should know about?"

Rina trained her eyes on the ground, swallowing, and shook her head.

The other guard grunted. "Just let her through, Cedric. She's probably been sleeping in the field. That whisky they drink is strong, and you know the planting buggers them all."

The man named Cedric harumphed. "You're too soft on her kind, Marcus." His eyes trailed Rina up an down again, making her shiver, and his lip curled. "Don't make a habit of it, you hear me?"

Rina nodded again, this time with enthusiasm, and moved forward, as she did, she noted the way the guard called Marcus' lips pressed together, and his eyes softened.

The city walls ate the dying rays of the sun. Shafts of candlelight from behind curtains and the odd oil lamp were all that lit her way as she wound her way home, trying to think of anything but what she'd done. She'd betrayed Olav. Or had she? Hadn't she made it clear there was nothing—could never be anything—between them? He was Media's son. She was an Arkis-spawned Denese. Unworthy. Especially after tonight.

It didn't take long for the sense of being watched to come upon her, the feeling cool and strangely empty. Unlike Olav's reassuring presence. The first time Rina sensed it, she'd turned and assessed the street of frosted paving stones, arched windows, and garden beds.

Nothing.

An ice spider scuttled down her spine.

The second time, she was slower. Cautious.

The third time, she turned quickly, fighting her instincts to run as she twisted in a way that made her back twinge.

Nothing!

Up, up, up she went, now racing to get home.

A lie. You're a lie! her mind shouted to the slithering, crawling, invisible thing that tickled and taunted her, telling her she wasn't alone. Her heart went boom, boom, boom! and her vision tunnelled in on itself until she seemed to squint through the eye of a needle. At one point she tumbled over a bucket that had been left to roll in the road, her palms hot as fire as her skin shredded against salt and rock. Pushing up, hands grating against the ice-like surface, she took a moment to peer through a dark screen of her hair and into the dusk.

Nothing.

So why did everything inside her scream and shout that something was happening. That something was wrong.

Get a hold of yourself.

She stood, brushed her hands on her skirts, closed her eyes and breathed in slow and deep. Let her breath out a fraction at a time. She repeated the process, forcing herself to stay where she was, pushing her body to learn that no-one was going to hurt her. Until the hammering in her heart was no more than a pitter-patter.

Uma was upstairs when she returned home. Or so Rina assumed when she shoved the door open and faced a table of wide-eyed people. She didn't blame Uma. Such meetings were guilty-by-association affairs. Most of them were familiar. Two were new. A pock-faced male with olive skin, and—it was Rina's turn to stare wide-eyed—a blonde woman with ice-blue eyes. A Euran? Could the discontent have spread so deep?

Tallow candles illuminated the room, filling it with the fragrance of fat and ash. A log crackled in the hearth. Molten cracks stark against the blackened wood.

Pietro cleared his throat, forehead crinkled. "Rina, where were you?"

"Sorry, uncle."

Something wavered in his eyes as he stood.

"It's late. I should sleep," she said.

Pietro's Adam's apple bobbed. "Yes, perhaps you should."

She came to him and took hold of one stumpy hand, leaning in close and whispering, "Good night, uncle. Please be safe."

He reached out and cupped her face in his hands, his eyes intent, the scars at his fingertips rough against her skin. Gentle, weather-beaten lips grazed her temple. "Rest well, my dear," he said as he wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

Something heavy settled in Rina's chest. Her steps were leaden as she took the stairs, trying not to cry.

Uma mumbled from her bed when Rina tiptoed into her room, candle in hand, and rifled through her medicine chest. "Is that you, Rina?"

"Sorry, I just needed the tweezers."

"What's wrong?" Uma asked, propping herself up on one elbow and brushing back a sweep of white hair.

"I fell in some gorse."

Uma sat up against the headboard and patted the mattress. "Come here."

Pausing a second, Rina sighed and padded over. Uma took the candlestick and pulled up the skirt, wincing. With the stockings gone, scratches crisscrossed Rina's skin.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Uma retrieved the tweezers and some wax candles. She had Rina lie down, murmured a prayer to Mai, and set to work on the top of her legs.

Rina was lying on her stomach, Uma rubbing ointment into her skin when the commotion started. Incessant thumps on the front door. "Open up in the name of the Magisterium!"

She pushed up and jumped to her feet, shoving down her skirts, breath coming in rapid gasps and her hands clammy.

Downstairs, chairs screeched against the stone floor. Pietro and his guests let out curses loud enough to be made out upstairs.

Shit!

Rina turned to Uma. The woman blinked, wrapping a scarf around her shift, but didn't seem overly surprised.

The banging resumed, pulling Rina's attention from her aunt.

"Open!"

A series of rapid footfalls rose from downstairs, and a handful of silhouettes raced past the open door of the bedroom and up to the attic. Rina knees locked as she tried to back around the bed, moving in slow motion. She heard them shove open the door to her room, hinges crying out, a few seconds of silence, then a smash of glass that made her recoil.

Rina caught an, "There, on the roof," followed by shouts, running steps and more curses.

A scuffle began in the kitchen. The clang of a pot on the ground. A"Get out, you fucking bastards!" from Pietro.

All the while, Rina struggled to move, as if she waded through molasses, her mind blank. A trickle of liquid ran down her leg when an unhurried, deliberate tread made its way up the stairs, its destination all too clear.

A guard poked his head through the door, took one look at them, then pointed two fingers at them. "You two, downstairs—now." He sniffed, noticed the pool at Rina's feet and sneered. "Filthy fuckers."

The small room was full when Rina arrived, lightheaded and shaking. Pietro and his remaining conspirators stook in a line before the fireplace. Tears streaked down Iskra's cheeks. Pietro avoided Rina's gaze.

A tall, grey-haired magister walked into the room, face blank. She approached the Euran woman with the pale, cold eyes. A guard took the Euran's wrists, and the magister drew a line with her forefinger about them. In their wake, glowing green bindings appeared.

The Euran flinched and flashed her teeth. She spat in the face of the magister.

A crack snapped through the room as the guard slapped the woman.

The magister hissed, "Traitor."

Blood trickled down the woman's face.

Against her will, Rina licked her lips and saliva pooled in her mouth as she watched on, horrified.

The sounds of more struggling came from outside, and three pairs of guards trudged into the room, a furious Denese between each pair of them. The last guard to enter kicked the door shut.

The magister completed her work, binding the rebels one-by-one, the pregnant Iskra included, and were forced kneel. When she was done, the magister shook, her face whiter than before.

Uma hurried over to the sideboard, took out Pietro's whisky and poured. The trembling magister took it without acknowledgement. She sipped the drink in silence. All that could be heard was the crackle of the hearth and the rasps of the prisoners' breaths as they waited.

Then Bang! Bang! Bang!

☆☽○☾☆

A/N: Thanks so much for reading this. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Anything you like?

Anything you didn't like?

Did anything not make sense? (There was a lot going on)

Did I convey Rina's emotions well enough that you felt connected to her?

Emojis as comments are very welcome—as are votes! (As are all of you!)

Thank you xoxo

☽○☾

This chapter is dedicated to AEPennymaker or all her helpful suggestions. If you love Diana Gabaldon, steampunk or adventure, and want a book that will make you laugh and cry, check out her work!