Total Word Count: 35,953

The evening sky was a riot of color, rich purple aflame with orange and gold. Rhoa sat on the ridgepole of the Keep roof, staring out across the marsh. Perhaps it was her imagination, but even the air seemed clearer now. She could see all the way across the plains to the mountains, the jagged line of their white snowcaps floating on the horizon sixty miles to the north.

Everywhere she looked, there were signs that the earth was healing. The marsh grass was nearly waist high again, the green of it shocking even in the dusky light of sunset. With it, the wildlife was returning. Here and there she could make out the hunched forms of the long-necked, long-beaked birds that had gone when the fish did. Their presence meant small water animals were coming back. The hare Kry had trapped that morning was further evidence that nature was conquering the damage done by the Rot.

Rhoa scanned the north road, that tiny, irrepressible spark of hope kindling again. Maybe, if the hare could survive out there, her parents and the boys had too.

Her gaze strayed to the line of new graves atop the hill across the valley. Twenty-six mounds of white stones, twenty-six saplings planted to commemorate the twenty-six people lost under the Warmoon. Ten of them had died in the fight with Kry, three out on the marsh. All but one of the others had been ended by her crossbow, and no matter what she did or told herself, the weight of all those white stones rested heavy on her shoulders.

Not all that had been lost could come back.

Rhoa found the last grave on the right, its slender sapling already bearing clumps of white flowers. Orla hadn't been taken by the Rot, but she hadn't made it off the hill. Phane and Gran had found her tucked into a cleft of rocks where she had tried to hide from the others, but her injuries had been too severe. She was already gone.

Setting the monster free had hardly come without a price, but the price of keeping it locked up had been much greater, which only made Rhoa question everything about being a Keeper.

The sun had nearly set. It would be night soon. With a last, parting glance at the graves, she turned and slid down the roofing slates and hopped off at the bottom, dropping a yard to land one-footed on the broad parapet walk that surrounded the top of the Keep.

As she crutched along the wall to the roof access in the south tower, something caught her attention in the ravine below the fortress.

Torches.

Frowning, she came to a halt and leaned out through the nearest crenel, craning to get a better look.

More torches were visible now, moving quickly through the trees. There were five of them, approaching the tunnel exit.

Rhoa swung around, her heart beating like mad as she shoved through the south tower door and began hobbling down the stairwell as fast as her ruined leg would let her.

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Phane, Gran, and the children were all in the kitchen, sitting at the table when Rhoa limped in from the Great Hall.

"Someone's coming up the tunnel."

Without waiting for more, Phane shot out of his seat, reaching for the sword slung from the back of his chair. "How many?"

"Five. Maybe more," Rhoa said, pulling on a pair of gauntlets. She had already stopped in the Armamentary to grab her knife belt and her throwing axes. "Where is Kry?"

"Seeing to the sheep he brought up from the village," Phane muttered, giving her a hard glance on his way past her.

Kry would be in the stables, then. Alone.

Apprehension slid through her middle. She looked at Gran, who had gotten to her feet and was gathering the children. "Bar the door, then go up to the Robiary room and lock yourselves in."

Gran nodded and began shepherding the children toward the back stairs. They moved quietly, obeying without question, their faces pale.

Rhoa took a breath and let it out through tight lips. Then she headed for the door to the Sifting Room. This might just be a party of friendly locals coming up to talk about the trip to Ten. Some unnamed premonition kept twisting in her gut, though, raising the hair on the back of her neck. Whatever this was about, it wasn't going to go well.

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"Get out of my way, boy!"

Rhoa gasped and quickened her pace, the tapping of her crutch loud on the cobblestones of the loading bay.

The voices inside the stable didn't change position, although Phane's held a note of rebellion she had never heard before.

"He hasn't done anything, Father. I won't let you do this."

"Oh, he's done plenty," Strongcastle snarled. "Stand down."

"No!"

Rhoa shoved the now-patched-up stable door open, then came to a stop, her relief at discovering her father was alive instantly muted by the sight that met her.

Kry was on his knees in the middle of the aisle, his hands tied. A bucket lay in a puddle of water nearby.

Her father was standing a few yards away, a crossbow at his shoulder, sights trained on what would have been the back of Kry's head if Phane wasn't planted between Kry and her father, using himself as a human shield.

"This has gone on long enough. Stand down, son. We have to send a message to the others in the valley, their kind is not welcome here," Strongcastle grated out.

"Then let him leave," Phane said, quietly. "Please, Father. Rhoa, Gran, Sarrie, Eiran... Baby... Me... We would all be dead if not for him. You owe him his life, at least."

Strongcastle didn't move, the crossbow still at his shoulder, his eyes glittering like shards of glass in the torchlight as he stared at Phane.

Behind him, Isander shifted his weight, unsure what to do, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

Kry waited, still as a stone, jaw tight. Rhoa swallowed hard. Why hadn't he fought back? He could burn them all into the next world if he wanted, but he wasn't even trying to free himself.

The shuffle of footfalls and quiet conversation sounded in the tunnel, and a split-second later Tettony, Kennon, Lathen, Radier, and their mother appeared, coming through the sally port doorway. Radier and Kennon came to a sudden halt and Lathen's, "I'll tell you what I'm gonna do, I'm going to fall into bed and sleep for a week," petered into stunned silence.

For several agonizing heartbeats no one said a thing. Even the sheep were quiet in their makeshift pen.

Then Tettony took a hesitant step forward, breaking the tension. She wasn't looking at Kry, or Strongcastle, or the crossbow. She was looking at Rhoa, her eyes full of wild hope. "The children? They are well?"

Rhoa swallowed. She gave a haphazard nod, her gaze never leaving Kry. "They're up in the Robiary with Gran. You'll have to tell them who you are. They've locked themselves in," she managed, her throat hot.

A smile of relief flickered across Tettony's face. Then she took off, rushing past Rhoa and out across the loading bay toward the lean-to. Isander let out a breath, shook his head at his father, and followed his wife at a run.

Rhoa's mother walked slowly down the aisle, approaching her husband, her expression wary as she placed a hand on his arm. "This is not the time to start a war, Yoan," she murmured.

Strongcastle ground his teeth, then looked at her. "He has to be held accountable."

"But at what price? If they retaliate, how can we fight?"

For a moment, Rhoa thought her father might not listen, and her breath snagged in her ribs. Then he muttered a curse under his breath, lowered the crossbow, and rounded on Phane. "Get him out of my fortress," he barked. "Then report to my study." He glanced at Rhoa, his mouth a firm, disapproving line. "Both of you."

Three weeks ago, Rhoa would have shrunk into her boots if her father had looked at her like that. Now, she was only glad that Kry was going to walk out of the stable alive. She inhaled again, watching as Phane pulled Kry to his feet, pushing him quickly toward the smaller side exit at the other end of the stables.

There hadn't even been a chance to say goodbye.

Strongcastle turned and strode right past her through the door without so much as a 'hello,' his black Keeper's cloak flaring dramatically in his wake.

With a sigh, Rhoa's mother held out her arms and wrapped Rhoa in a firm embrace. "It has been a rough few weeks. Just give him time," she whispered, patting Rhoa's back. "I am so glad you're alright. We were so worried."

Rhoa returned her mother's hug with her free hand, but there was a new stiffening in her spine. Her father wasn't the only one who had had a rough few weeks.

Kry and Phane reached the side exit, their figures barely visible against the shadows of the bailey before the door shut behind them.

He was safe.

Rhoa lifted her chin and let her mother draw her out into the loading bay.

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