The day of the execution was rainy and cold and miserable. Donovan thought it felt rather appropriate. He would have rather done anything than take Lady Maren into the city to watch someone be hanged, but he had found no way of extricating them from the event.

They rode in a speeder driven by a palace driver. He kept glancing nervously at Lady Maren, but she remained stoically silent as she looked out the window.

She had been subdued since the night the prior week when they had had dinner with Alec. She had been friendly and cordial, but also far quieter than she had been in the weeks prior. He suspected she was mulling over some difficult topics. He would have liked to help her somehow, but he wasn't sure there was anything he could do.

Donovan did at least resolve to not let Kieran come between them. Their alliance was far too beneficial to both of them to allow Kieran to cause strife. And, he had to admit that having a relationship with the lady that was closer to friendship than enmity was far more pleasant than their early interactions.

They arrived at the Amphitheater. It was one of the oldest structures in the city, and had the dubious distinction of being used for the execution of "witches" for hundreds of years. It was a large stone bowl-shaped structure open to the air. There was a flat area in the center lined with stone benches that climbed the walls. Most of the Capital citizens could fit in the Amphitheater, although executions were rarely that well attended. They happened too often to be a matter of great public interest.

The driver stopped along the rear of the Amphitheater, where the royal family and other notable guests disembarked. When they had both exited the speeder, he offered his arm to Lady Maren, and she took it. Her hand was not trembling, but did seem to grip his arm more firmly than usual.

He glanced at her. She appeared to be impassive and only vaguely interested in her surroundings. It was the perfect impression of the other nobility in attendance, but he suspected she concealed strong feelings beneath that façade.

Donovan noted that there were more members of the Court arriving at the Amphitheater than were typical of this sort of event; he expected the King's presence accounted for that. If the King was there, surely there was good reason for everyone at Court to attend. Little did they know the whole thing was a spectacle orchestrated to cause distress to just one minor member of the nobility.

He led that member of the nobility to the marble-lined box at the front and center of the Amphitheater that was reserved for the royal family. He took his place at the left of the King's seat and gestured to Lady Maren to sit beside him. They sat quietly as the surrounding seats filled with nobles and magistrates. He watched across the space as citizens of the city filed in.

He avoided looking at the gallows.

Donovan had always found executions distasteful and did not attend unless his presence was specifically requested. But while he had always disliked them, he had never felt such inner turmoil about the executions before. He would rather not watch someone die, but he also assumed it was justified.

Now, he was not so sure.

If he had learned anything about Light Wielders in the last few months, it was that he knew very little about them. He could no longer assume that each and every "witch" was evil or even dangerous. Lady Maren had proved herself to not be either. He wondered if the woman he was about to watch die had ever saved anyone.

Donovan tilted his head to Lady Maren and whispered in her ear, "Are you all right?"

He felt her nod in response, but she remained silent. He decided to let her be.

The King and Queen arrived (he was always careful to think of them as the King and Queen and not his mother and father when they attended official functions), and he and Lady Maren rose to curtsy and bow and murmur, "Your Majesties."

The King sat beside him silently. Donovan would have liked to make conversation with his father, but did not trust himself to keep to appropriate topics. The King also seemed to be uninterested in talking, to which Donovan had no objection.

The Queen was chatting amicably with some other noble women as though they were at some sort of social gathering.

Kieran and Lady Callista arrived. He deposited her in her designated chair on the opposite side of the King and Queen's chairs, and then came to speak with Donovan and the King.

"Your Majesty," Kieran bowed to the King.

"Donovan, Lady Maren, how delightful it is to see you! I'm so glad you could make it. Lady Maren, you aren't too uncomfortable, I hope?"

Donovan felt like hitting his brother.

Lady Maren, to her credit, gave an excellent response. "I think I'm exactly as uncomfortable as one should be at such an event, Your Highness."

Kieran did seem unnaturally joyful for an execution.

"You know, this really is my favorite part of the job. It emphasizes that all the work we do really does matter, we really are keeping people safer. And I think once you hear the charges against her, you'll agree this is for the best," he said.

"I'm sure it is, Your Highness," she said.

"You're coming to the reception, of course, aren't you?" Kieran asked.

This was the first Donovan had heard about a reception.

"I wasn't informed there was to be one," he said.

"You weren't? I'm so sorry. Well, we did some counting, and it turns out that this is the 50th witch to be executed since the beginning of this century and that seemed like something to celebrate, don't you think?" Kieran asked.

Donovan forced himself to say, "I congratulate you."

"Thank you, brother! Your support means so much to me. In any case, we decided to have a reception this evening at headquarters. I'll have someone send the information to you. You both will be there, of course?" Kieran said.

"Of course, Your Highness," Lady Maren said.

Probably she wanted to speak first in case Donovan tried to object. He wasn't, though. Unfortunately, there was no reasonable excuse not to go to such an event, so Donovan nodded his agreement.

"Wonderful, well, I'll see you there. Lady Maren, I shall insist on a dance with you! Now, if you'll excuse me, there are a few last-minute matters I must attend to," Kieran said and rushed off.

Donovan glanced at Lady Maren. She resumed her stoic stare into the amphitheater.

Donovan hoped it would be over before too long, but knowing Kieran, he expected there might be speeches. His brother had always had a flair for dramatics.

After a time, Kieran returned and took his seat beside the now-seated Queen. Apparently, now that the entire royal family was present, the event could begin.

"Your Majesties, Your Highnesses, distinguished members of the Court, ladies, and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to perform our sacred duty to eliminate evil from the world," a man announced. Donovan could not recall his name, but he thought he was a high-ranking member of the Trackers.

"Bring out the condemned!" he yelled.

From the opposite side of the amphitheater, a set of four Trackers escorted a woman in chains. She was small and fairly young, no more than twenty or so. She was filthy, and her clothing was tattered. Shackles hung heavily from her wrists and ankles, and an iron collar hung around her neck. Her hands were covered in thick leather mitts so that no one would have to witness the offense of the Light if she used her powers. Each Tracker, large and burly men to the last, held a chain connected to the collar. Donovan had never noticed how absurd the "safety protocols" were before. Did this one woman really warrant all of that?

As they led the woman to the gallows, the announcer summoned the magistrate, who read the order for execution. It was long. Very, very long. And if it were to be believed the small and fragile-looking woman in chains so heavy she could barely lift her feet to walk, had committed dozens of heinous crimes. Had she really?

To the woman's credit, she kept her head held high, although Donovan could see the tears rolling down her cheeks. He did not want to look. He found a spot on the opposite side of the amphitheater to stare at instead.

After what felt like a very long time, the announcer asked for the crowd to rise.

"Your Majesty, King Tynan the Fourth, may I have your permission to fulfill your justice?" the announcer asked.

"You have it," the King called from beside Donovan.

He felt Lady Maren's hand twitch beside his own and grabbed it without thinking. He did it as much to steady her as himself. He was grateful she did not pull away and instead clutched his hand. It felt like an anchor to sanity in a sea of madness.

The sound from the gallows when the platform fell away and the rope stretched was awful. The sound of clapping that followed was far worse.

He and the lady continued to hold hands, staring blankly into the distance.

The crowd, now satisfied, began to disperse. Donovan muttered, "If you'll excuse us," to the King and ushered Lady Maren out of the royal box. Donovan did not want to watch while other nobles lingered to give their congratulations to Kieran.

They reached the speeder quickly and fortunately without anyone stopping them to talk. He saw Lady Maren seated in the cabin and went around to the other side of the speeder to seat himself. He told the driver to return them to the palace. Donovan hoped they would miss the worst of the traffic.

Lady Maren kept staring out the window. He could not see her face, but suspected it would be quite pale. He was probably quite pale, come to think of it.

"Are you—" he began to ask and then stopped as she shook her head violently. He took that to mean they would discuss this later, in private, which he had to agree was for the best. He could not say anything he wanted to say in front of the driver anyway.

Finally, they returned to the palace, and he offered the lady his arm for the short walk to his apartment. She looked awful. At least as bad as the night with Kieran in the stables, if not worse.

He walked quickly, assuming she would want to be out of the public's eye as quickly as possible. Once they entered his apartment, she surprised him by dropping his arm and quickly rushing into her suite without a word.

—

When she had finished, or at least thought she had, Maren slid down the wall onto the washroom floor. As she had before, she found the cold stone beneath her soothing. She would have liked a drink of water, but she did not feel ready to rise and also was not entirely sure that she would not be sick again. Besides, the cold stone was equally refreshing.

After several minutes, there was a knock on her door. She did not particularly feel like seeing anyone but expected that the Prince had likely sent Lucy or Mrs. Whitley to check on her, and they would not be deterred by her ignoring knocking.

"Yes?" she called.

"I'll leave if you'd like," the Prince said. She had not expected that it was him coming to check on her. She wasn't sure if it was kind or annoying. Probably a bit of both.

"I just wanted...are you all right?" he called.

"You do seem to always ask that when the answer is rather obvious," she replied. Vaguely, she thought it would be slightly embarrassing for the Prince to find her huddled in the washroom, but she really couldn't find the wherewithal to care.

She heard him walking towards the washroom, his shoes making clicking noises on the floors.

"Would you like some assistance?" he said when he found her, offering a hand to help her stand.

"Not at the moment, thank you," she said. She was not ready to leave the washroom. The stone was solid and soothing, and she felt like at least while she was in the washroom, nothing could harm her.

"May I join you?" he asked.

The question surprised her. She wasn't sure why the Prince wanted to sit with her on the washroom floor—it seemed distinctly un-royal—but she had to admit his company would be rather nice. Apart from his initial stupidity, he had been as much of a support as she could have asked for through the ordeal of the execution.

"If you like," she said.

He sat down beside her, close enough for their arms to touch, and for a time, they sat in silence. Maren took comfort in the presence of a living, breathing person who, at least so far, did not want to execute her.

"It was worse than I thought it would be," she said finally.

"It was awful," he agreed.

"Do they always clap?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

She sighed and, without really thinking about it, laid her head on his shoulder. She was so tired and so distraught, and desperately needed just a bit of contact with another person who had seen what she had seen and also was appalled.

He seemed surprised at first, but then tilted his head to hers, and they fell silent again.

Maren could not help but think of the last time she had huddled in the washroom, distressed. It seemed like a very long time ago. That Maren would have been very shocked to find the Prince beside her.

"Will you be all right to go to the reception? I can say you're unwell," he asked.

She sighed. "You wouldn't be lying. But I think I should go, as much as I find it distasteful."

"It is. We'll try to keep it quick."

They fell silent again and after a while, Maren finally felt like she could say the thing that had been bothering her the most. "I don't think she was a Wielder," she whispered without moving her head from the Prince's shoulder.

"Why not?" the Prince asked.

"I didn't feel the Light at all, did you?" she asked.

"No, but I can't say I was paying attention," he answered.

"I was. There wasn't a thing," she said.

"She may have been trying not to use it?" he suggested.

She thought for a moment, considering, but ultimately rejected the idea. "I think, if it were me, I would be resisting as much as possible and blasting—or at least trying to blast—everything in sight. I mean, at the point where they've got you at the gallows, what do you have to lose by trying?"

He stayed quiet, presumably thinking, and then said quietly, "I cannot say I would do any differently."

She nodded. "But she did nothing. I just... I think she was innocent," she said.

She felt him nod. "I hadn't considered it before, but I think it's possible, maybe even likely. After all, Kieran wouldn't want...ah..."

Maren felt her stomach turn over.

"Wouldn't want to waste power he can steal," she finished, shuddering at the thought.

"Can I ask something of you?" she said to the Prince.

"Of course."

"I know that if he ever does catch me, you won't be able to stop him. I'm not really afraid of dying, but I am terrified of him ripping the Light from me... I don't expect you to do anything to endanger yourself, but if it comes to it...would you...could you... I'd just really prefer a quick death at your hands than allowing Prince Kieran to ..." she trailed off, unable to again say what the Other Prince would do to her.

Prince Donovan lifted his head and put his hand on hers. She raised her head and turned to look at him.

"I promise I will do everything in my power to stop him from taking yours," he said.

She searched his face, but found nothing but earnest care and concern.

"Thank you," she told him, hoping that if the time came, he would be able to do it.

--

As Maren walked up the nearly two dozen steps of the Tracker headquarters building, all she could think about was how glad she was that her parents did not know she was there. Thinking about how worried her parents would be kept her from worrying too much about whether or not she would ever leave the building.

Tracker headquarters was in the oldest section of the city, near the Amphitheater. Unlike the Amphitheater, however, it had been rebuilt over the centuries, so it was a modern building of gleaming marble. It was a large building, at least six stories tall. The only thing Maren knew for sure about what happened in the building was that prisoners were kept there.

She half-expected it to be a trap and for there to be no reception, but when they entered the atrium, there was something festive underway. The atrium was enormous; a huge marble room that was completely open all the way up to the roof. Banners with the insignia of the kingdom and the House of Malen and the Trackers were hung around the atrium. The room was filled with nobles from Court, high-ranking bureaucrats, and high-ranking Trackers. Waiters circulated with trays of sparkling wine and hors d'oeuvres while musicians played.

Maren was relieved to see there wasn't anyone dancing, but there was a dance floor. Hopefully, Kieran would forget he wanted to dance with her.

She felt a bit better than she had immediately after the execution, but was still very on edge. She hated where she was. It made her feel sick.

The Prince took two glasses of wine for them, but gave her a questioning look as he handed one to her. She knew he wanted to ask if she was all right.

She nodded. "Just trying not to think about what's below our feet," she said quietly.

She knew what it most probably was. It's not like they'd keep prisoners on the top floor. But she was trying very hard not to think about what the cells might be like.

"Lady Maren," he said quietly and waited until she was looking directly at him.

"I promise, you will not end up there."

His eyes were very determined. She wanted very much to believe him, but couldn't shake the feeling that she would end up in the cells, regardless of what he did. But she appreciated what he was trying to do, and she nodded.

Fortunately, a number of the attendees wanted to speak to Donovan about various business and concerns, so Maren was not obliged to do much more than stand politely beside him and smile. It was somewhat interesting to watch the crowds, though. It appeared that everyone wanted to congratulate Prince Kieran on his accomplishment. Maren was somewhat baffled as to why people were impressed with Kieran for executing people for three years when his uncle did it for twelve, but she knew people had poor memories.

Lady Callista stood beside Prince Kieran with a smile on her face, but looked as bored as Maren felt. Their eyes met and Maren smiled to her. She wasn't sure what made her do it, but while she was still looking at Lady Callista, she nodded her head towards what had been set up as an impromptu women's retiring room. She smiled and nodded slightly back.

Maren excused herself from Prince Donovan and met with Lady Callista on the way to the retiring room.

"I'm so glad you suggested a break, I thought I'd cry if I had to hear someone else say the same thing to Prince Kieran," Lady Callista said.

Maren chuckled. "I just plaster a smile on my face and then stare blankly while I think about a book I like."

There were several couches set up in a private room. Many of them were already occupied with other bored wives and mistresses of the male attendees. She and Lady Callista sat on one of the empty couches.

Lady Callista hissed in pain as she sat down.

"Are you all right?" Maren asked, alarmed. She seemed to be in quite a lot of pain.

The other woman forcibly smiled and nodded. "Fine, just sat down too quickly. I'm sure you know how it is," she said.

Maren tried not to look too shocked and made a, "Mmhmm," sound.

An attendant brought a tray with more wine glasses and they both took one. Maren was shocked to see Lady Callista down hers all at once.

"You know how it helps if you're drunk, right?" Callista asks.

Her tone was that of someone giving friendly advice, but that was when Maren realized she already was intoxicated.

"Oh?" was all Maren could say.

"You have to do it just right," Callista said. "Drunk enough that you don't care, but not so drunk that you can't function."

"Hmmm," Maren said.

Callista went on, she did not seem to need any responses from Maren.

"They're all gentlemen in public, but once the doors are closed...well, you know how it is," Callista said. "I'm assuming it's a family trait."

Maren really had no idea what she was talking about.

"What trait?"

Callista looked surprised. "You know, how they like causing pain."

Maren knew she did not hide her shock well.

"If Prince Kieran is hurting you, then you should tell someone! Go to the Queen!"

Callista laughed. "Oh, you're precious. Why don't you go to her and find out how fast you get sent home without a husband? As long as I don't get sent home in disgrace, no one is hurting me, and I advise you to adopt the same attitude. Besides, they'll just say it was consensual."

Maren felt ill. She did not even want to think about what Callista meant.

"Did you want that?" she asked Maren, gesturing to her untouched glass of wine.

Maren shook her head and offered it to Lady Callista. She took it and downed it as she had the first.

"Thanks, that's just perfect," she said. "Thanks for the company. We should do this more often. I have to go now, though. He wants to introduce me to his pet."

Maren smiled as much as she could as Lady Callista left. She waited a few moments, trying very hard not to think too much about what Lady Callista had said.

Then she went back to the reception. Much to her displeasure, she saw that there were several couples dancing.

She returned to Prince Donovan's side, hoping very much that they could leave soon. He was speaking to a noble Maren didn't recognize but smiled at her when she approached.

Maren nearly jumped out of her skin when a quiet voice beside her said, "I'm sure you're bored while he talks business, why don't you come and dance?"

Of course, it was Prince Kieran. The other noble greeted him, and Kieran nodded somewhat graciously.

"Donovan, you don't mind if I borrow your lady, do you?"

Maren saw Donovan clench his jaw, but he forced a smile. "Not at all. But just one dance, I have not had a chance to dance with her yet."

"Of course," Prince Kieran said and offered Maren his arm.

She was used to the buzzing sensation she felt when she touched him by that time, but it felt particularly disturbing to have her powers attempt to rise in response to that sensation while in Tracker headquarters.

"I'm so glad you could make it," Prince Kieran said as they began to dance.

He at least had the decency not to stomp on her toes that time.

"This is a lovely reception, Your Highness."

"And how do you like my headquarters? This is where all the magic happens!"

"It's a beautiful building, Your Highness," she said.

She was trying to focus only on responding and not on thinking about anything.

"I know you're probably worried, but the prisoners in the basement are very secure," he said.

"I never had any doubt, Your Highness," she said.

"No one has ever escaped under my watch and I assure you no one ever will," he said.

"That is very reassuring, Your Highness. I thank you."

Prince Donovan approached.

"I apologize, Kieran, but I simply must cut in," he said with a friendly smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Of course," Prince Kieran said with a similar smile.

He took Maren's hand and kissed it. "I do hope I'll host you again soon."

"I thank you, Your Highness," Maren forced herself to say.

She thought Prince Donovan held her more firmly than was strictly necessary while they danced, but she didn't mind.

"Remember, he likes to play games," he said.

Maren nodded. She knew Prince Kieran wanted to upset her, but it had been a very long day of being upset. She was also extremely disturbed by her conversation with Lady Callista and not sure whether she should do something or tell the Prince about it.

"One more song and then we can leave, I'm sorry, I know this is awful," he said.

She managed a small smile. "It's not your fault. It's just been a very long day."

"I take it from the expression on your face, when you returned, that you did not have a pleasant conversation with Lady Callista," he said.

"You really don't want to know," she said.

She doubted that the Prince could do anything useful, especially since Lady Callista insisted that she was not being harmed. And, she couldn't help but wonder if such a thing was a family trait. She would rather not find out.

The Prince looked a bit skeptical, but did not press her.

They left when the song was finished and talked very little on the way back to the palace.

When they arrived back in the Prince's apartment, he stopped her before they parted for the night.

"Probably it will not surprise you to hear that this is not the first time there has been unsavory talk coming from my brother's bedroom," he said.

She pursed her lips. "It does not."

"No one has ever made a formal complaint, so no one has been able to do anything," he said.

Maren did not find that very impressive, but Lady Callista had insisted she could not complain without ruining her future prospects.

"She's drinking to get through it," she said.

The Prince sighed. "Kieran has always been something of a sadist. When we were young, he would knock smaller children over and then smiled when they cried. I wish I were more surprised to hear he wasn't treating her well. There's something...wrong with him."

She nodded. It wasn't surprising, but it was unsettling.

"I'm no less disturbed than you," the Prince said. "I'd happily do something about it if I knew what to do."

She didn't know either. "She refused to say he was hurting her. I think she only said anything because she was very intoxicated, and seemed to think I was in more or less the same circumstances."

He sighed. "That's very disturbing. But I'm not surprised about any of it, unfortunately."

Then she remembered something strange that Lady Callista said.

"Does Prince Kieran have a pet?"

The Prince frowned. "No, he's always hated animals. Didn't I tell you he'd kick other people's pets? Why do you ask?"

She shook her head. "Just something Lady Callista said, but she might have misspoken, or I misunderstood."

"Maybe she'll make a complaint, that's all we can hope for."

Maren wished he was wrong.