The prince was stirring, mumbling a name Narelle as he opened his eyes.

I swear I'd heard of that name before. But now wasn't the time to wonder where I'd heard the name from.

It had killed me, being so near to him, my knife at his throat. There were so many ways, so many times I could've killed him then. While he was unconscious, while I had a knife to his neck, while he had just fucking stood there like he knew how it had killed me to not kill him.

It hurt. So much. The prince had the fucking audacity to contact me, to ask me for my help? The fact that he wanted to kill his father was shocking, to say the least. But the reasoning behind it was typical. Predictable. Why he wanted to contact me was beyond my knowledge.

His eyelids fluttered open, revealing bright green eyes that I'd seen many times before tonight, they flicked left to right, scanning where he was. "Narell-" He started before he closed his mouth. Hurt flickered across his eyes before he replaced it with a look of nonchalance.

His eyes met mine, and the look of nonchalance was replaced by one of hatred. He tugged at the bonds holding his arms. "Where am I?" He demanded.

He really was an idiot.

Silviya took a step forward from where she stood behind me and punched the prince. His head snapped to the side, and he groaned.

I unsheathed one of my daggers, walking forward. The prince took in a deep breath, angling his head away from me. I placed the dagger under his chin, pressing it onto his skin and forcing him to look at me. I smiled down at him. "My dear prince, you've been kidnapped."

He squinted his eyes. "Have I?" He asked.

I barked out a laugh, and so did the rest of the Point. It was quick and cold, and the laugh faded. I stared at the prince once more. It would've been so easy to kill him, so easy to just poke the dagger through his neck. My dagger inched up, up, up, digging into his skin until I was a single breath away from penetrating skin and splitting his throat. And I was about to do that, about to put the dagger through, when the door to the torture cell opened.

He let out a shaky breath, relief flooding his eyes. I removed the dagger, and turned around to glare at the person who'd entered. It was a new recruit.

Except he wasn't new. He wore the typical green sash of a new recruit, but his face was one that was old and scarred. It was stony, and the dark eyes that stared at me blazed with rage at the sight of the prince. It was the face of one of the founders of the Anarchy Heist, the face of one of my superiors. Evrin Aviel. Known in campfire stories as the one born with stained hands.

And there was only one reason he'd take the time to come all the way down here to see me, and that reason was sitting right in front of me, tied to a chair and bloodied up.

"Ophelia Xander, could I have a word." He growled.

I took in a shaky breath and re-sheathed my dagger. "This isn't over yet, Prince." I bent down and whispered before leaving.

I started bracing myself for the hell of a word beating I was about to get. I placed one foot in front of the other, slowly making my way to the exit. Slowly.

I was near the door, and was about to leave when Silviya grabbed my arm. She stopped me, making me face her. "Don't die." She said, squeezing my arm before letting go of it.

"I'm not dying. Yet." I gave her a grimace of a smile before walking towards the door again.

I quickly closed the door, and found Evrin standing to the side, glaring at me like I'd just committed the world's biggest crime. Which, I technically did, but that wasn't the point.

"Follow me, General." He snarled, turning on his heel and walking up the pathway.

"Yes, Eyglest." I saluted, following him. Eyglest was Wytist—the Old Tongue—for... The closest thing to it in the common tongue was a Field Marshal.

He walked fast, his legs carrying him up the path at a record pace. It was too fast to mean he wasn't mad at me.

Fuck. It probably meant the other Heist leaders were here, too. In this camp.

I was morally fucked.

"Pick up the pace, General." He shouted to me.

I grunted, starting to force my legs to move faster. I was only two steps behind him, and here he was, telling me I was slow. I should've expected it.

Soon, we exited the tent. He stormed past everyone, zooming through the crowd like he was attached to a sled. Me? I jogged to catch up to him. Soft breaths left my mouth, and the smell of sweat and blood stung my nose. It was about to become morning, but the sky was still dark. Yet people still stayed up, sparring and training like there was no tomorrow.

We passed people chatting and sitting by fires, sprawling and brawling until having only five bruises was a blessing. It was a blessing. Only five bruises, I'd congratulate the person.

The sun slowly rose, casting shadows onto the dying grass. It rose, turning the skies a grey-ish purple. Stars fell to the will of the sun and clouds, whisking into the sky like they were never there.

I didn't realise I was staring at the sky, because I crashed into Evrin's back. "General, we're here." He said, irritation making his tone ten times worse.

I stepped away, and peeked ahead of him to find the meeting tent. He strode ahead, quickly slipping through the flaps and heading inside.

I had no choice but to follow. Taking in a deep breath, I hurried through the tent entrance and quickly regretted the decision upon looking at the faces that sat at the table.

There were six founders of the Anarchy Heist. Three men and three women. During the First Wars, while the Anarchy Heist was still growing, one of the women had died. Octavia Elyna. She was brave, smart, and just amazing, from the stories I'd heard about her. She sacrificed herself, managing to kill the Yerpen monarch at that time. But his son, Malel Yerpen, was prepared. He was waiting for his father's death, and had taken the throne quickly and with ease.

But now, four people sat at the table, two men and two women. They all bore holes through me, their rage thickening the early morning air.

You're fine, Ophelia, they're not going to kill you. I repeated the phrase over and over in my head as I forced a grin to take place. I sauntered over to the table, pulling up a chair and relaxing my muscles.

Maybe just a little torture.

"General Xander," One of my superiors said, a bald woman with a scar running horizintally across her mouth, whose name was Kalonice. "Tell me why there's a Yerpen Heir in our torture chambers?" Kalonice traced one of her hunting knives on the back of her palm.

Screw a little.

I opened my mouth, about to come up with some sort of excuse on the spot, but she beat me to it with another question. "And why is said heir the crown heir?"

My grin faded, my response stuck up my throat. "Hmm?" She ditched the dagger, leaning forward.

"Marshal, I–"

A different Eyglest interrupted me. He looked rather young to be one of the founders, with his mousy brown hair swept to one side and hazel eyes. But those hazel eyes were chips ice. "You what, General Xander? You somehow managed to accidentally kidnap and attempt to murder the Crown Heir to the current Yerpen monarchy? Or are you apologising?" Alto's lips snaked into a cold smile.

If it were anyone else, I would've rolled my eyes. I might've almost rolled my eyes, thankfully, I had more self control. "Eyglest Alto, the letter was sent to me personally, which didn't require–"

Again with the interruptions.

Evrin spat from the side. "What letter? You didn't bother telling us about a letter."

I would've, if you'd let me fucking explain.

I took in a deep breath, reigning in my anger. "Eyglest Evrin, as I was saying, the prince sent me a letter in which he requested we meet up in secret. I partially obliged to that, knowing if I told more people then the information would be at greater risk of being compromised." I leaned back in my seat. "I was curious. Why was the prince contacting me specifically? Why then? And just why?"

Lovisa's—another one of the founders, and my Eyglest—voice cut through the room. "Xander, if you think for one second that we're going to let you off because you wanted to sate your curiosity, then we made the wrong decision appointing you as a general."

"Mam, I wasn't stating the fact so you'd let me off, but to say what I'm saying now. When the prince sent me the letter, the letter contained minor and vague details that only I would've been able to deduce. The prince sent the letter to make some sort of deal, so forgive me if I wasn't curious on why the prince would want to make a deal with me, let alone the Anarchy Heist."

Kalonice sighed, the scar on her face shifting so it looked like her lips curved down. "Ophelia, I understand that you want glory and revenge, trust me, we all do. But killing and kidnapping the fucking heir to the very cause we're fighting is not the way to do it."

"B–"

"Shush." She shushed, me getting up and walking around. "We all dream of taking a knife and stabbing the entire Yerpen family line in the heart, we all dream of throttling them and making them pay for their sins, it's why we've joined this camp. But dream as we might, attacking, kidnapping, and potentially killing them with no provocation is not the answer." She ended her grand speech by shooting yet another glare at me.

"So let's tell them we were provoked." I leaned back in my seat and raised my hands up in a motion that said, Simple.

It was a stupid idea, but it was an idea, nonetheless.

"General, firstly, it's an idea that has a near zero percent chance of working. Secondly, do you think word hasn't already gone out that the prince's been kidnapped?" Alto scoffed.

"Actually, the king has already threatened to wage another war." Lovisa sighed, gripping a piece of paper in her hand.

I should've known. Of course the king would've found out in the course of three hours that his son was kidnapped. Hell, the whole thing was probably orchestrated by him. Sending his son a bit bloodied up to the Veshen temple, knowing we'd kidnap him. All of it—a ploy. And, so were rumours about his brother, Prince Faustus, being considered to be Crown Heir. Our spies would've told us if there was talk on the matter. Unless they were being extra secretive about it. Maybe that was why the letter was sent on such short notice? Which would mean the king didn't send the prince, and was just using his kidnapping to his advantage.

But what if I'm wrong?

I guess I'd have to figure it out the hard way.

"So we get information from the prince and then give him back." I responded to Lovisa. There. A solution that gave us the advantage and saved us from a war happening

"It's not a bad idea, but we'd have to be quick." Kalonice sighed. "Plus, the prince's been trained in this as much as you have. I doubt we'd be able to get information from him that quickly."

I immediately shot up. "No need. The prince was carrying a rucksack which contained a few plans that the Yerpen has for the Anarchy Heist, as well as information on their troops."

"And you didn't think to tell us this sooner." Alto tilted his head to the side, sneering.

I actually did roll my eyes this time. "I was planning on telling you, when you decided to stop me from killing the little fuck."

He gave me a sarcastic smile and placed his feet on the table. "So what do we do with that little fuck," He directed the name at me. "Do we kill him, do we give him back, or do we keep him?"

"We'll take a vote once Jasvor comes back," Evrin sighed, naming the only person who wasn't at the meeting.

Jasvor Denarius was what he went by. His real name was Jasvor Denarius Yerpen. No one had trusted him, but Octavia did. He was Octavia's lover, and was part of the reason why the last Yerpen monarch died. Octavia had sacrificed herself to save him, and he'd been living with that guilt his whole life. He was probably the most human of the founders.

"Why is Jasvor not here?" I asked. We'd know if it was the day Octavia had died otherwise we'd all be mourning. But it wasn't today.

"Eyglest Jasvor has business to attend to. Business that doesn't concern you." Kalonice's words were sharp enough to cut rock.

The fact that Jasvor wasn't here should've bothered me. But the Eyglests of the camp went on missions and did a lot of things without telling everyone else. Like that one time Lovisa went on a mission and managed to siege a whole village. The village was small, but still.

A whole fucking village.

There was a reason the Yerpen haven't managed to defeat us.

"So meeting adjourned?" I slowly got up from my seat, one millimetre at a time.

"Don't think you're off the hook, Xander." Lovisa warned, also getting up.

"Of course." Was all I said before I dashed out the door in the most normal way possible.

_________

I was walking back to my tent.

Well, it was more of a run than a walk. My legs flew under me as the sun rose. The skies turned from dusk to a light coral to a pale blue.

As I walked to my tent, I paused when I saw more than one shadow through Silviya's tent. Silviya never let anyone into her tent. Including me.

Who could've been in?

Unless Silviya wasn't in her tent, and someone had snuck in.

My feet picked up its pace, creeping to her tent. I eased a tent flap away, bending down until my face was inches away from the floor.

It turned out Silviya was in her room. With Eyglest Alto apparently.

Alto was holding Silviya's hand with one hand, her shoulder with another. "Silviya, I just... I need you to understand, we can't just–" Alto stopped as he glanced my way.

"General," he startled, moving away from Silviya.

"'Pheels?" She asked, pulling away too.

"I–" I didn't finish. I was on my feet, racing away like death was chasing me.

Why was Eyglest Alto with Silviya in her tent? Why had she allowed him in? Why was he touching her like that? Why was she letting him? There was no way Silviya was seeing an Eyglest. Much less Alto.

"Ophelia, wait!" Silviya called from behind me. I looked back, and there she was. Silver hair mussed by the wind, swaying as she ran to me.

"Yeah?" I asked casually, running a hand through my hair.

"Ophelia, I–"

"Silvs, it's fine, I saw more than one person in there, thought someone was snooping through your tent, and decided to check to see if you were fine." I interrupted her.

"What?" She asked, her brows furrowing. "No, I was about to say this: Eyglest Alto was in my tent to ask you where you were."

A small part of me relaxed. Of course Silviya wouldn't be in a relationship with an Eyglest.

But why would he be asking for me when we'd met ten minutes ago.

"Why was he asking for me?" I asked, now it was my eyebrows that were furrowing.

Silviya's face was stone as she said, "The king's about to attack."