Warm light from the setting sun bathed Moira's almond skin in a golden hue. She kept her gaze fixed on the wagon tracks they were following. The Faerie caravan had come through these parts only a few hours ago. She was certain they'd find the group shortly after nightfall.

If Kalian's plan doesn't work, I'm throwing him under Dagen's boot, Moira thought.

The last thing she needed was another lecture from the General. He often seemed to forget that she had been an Ironblade almost as long as he had. She'd been there from the beginning, always serving. Always fighting. Always protecting. Her name was feared amongst Faeries, and yet, forgotten amongst her own kind.

Because I'm a woman, Moira huffed. And as soon as I make a womanly mistake, I'll be out on my ass, regardless of everything I've done.

That was one of the reasons why she was so brutal. Her male soldiers usually focused on that and ignored the fact that she spared anyone who looked under the age of thirteen. When questioned about it, Moira answered that even Faeries needed a chance to rebuild, assuming the children lived to adulthood.

In truth, it was because she was too...weak. She couldn't look a child in the eye and drive her sword through their stomach. She would end up picturing her younger sisters, whom she barely remembered. They never had a chance to live. They should've. Granting the Faerie children their lives helped her feel like she was doing at least one thing her family would've wanted.

When she thought of her sisters, all she could see was gaunt faces and skin the color of ash, when it should've been dark like her own. Marian and Marguerite had perished during the years of famine and disease that had plagued the Human Lands. Moira was lucky she had survived. Or perhaps she was cursed. She had yet to decide, though her opinion leaned towards the latter with each passing day.

"Do you think Deirdre's plan will work?" Lir asked, guiding his horse alongside hers.

"Yes," Moira answered. "And if it doesn't, at least I have someone else to blame our failure on."

"General Dagen doesn't accept excuses. If he decides to punish you, there will be nothing any of us can do."

Her gaze snapped to his. "You think I don't know that?"

Lir averted his eyes. "No, Commander."

"Hm." Moira resumed watching the wagon tracks. "What do you think of Kalian so far?"

"He's...strange. Not strange in a bad way, but he keeps to himself. Doesn't really talk to anyone, even Rame." Lir smoothed peppered black hair out of his face.

"He seems guilty."

"That he does."

"He said some strange things while we were working on the plan."

"How strange?"

"Strange enough that I'll be keeping a closer eye on him than I have been." Moira furrowed her brows. "He knows a lot about Faerie magic and creatures. More than any Human I've ever met. He also mentioned he used to live in Cosette."

"There weren't many Humans in that village, except those friendly towards Faeries. Do you think he might've been friends with one?"

"Maybe, though that does make me wonder why he decided to become an Ironblade. When I questioned him after his arrival, he gave me vague answers."

"It could be that he didn't think we'd allow him to join if we knew everything about his past right away. It was that way when I first joined. I think we should give him some time. He's still trying to settle in."

Moira raised an eyebrow. "Are you actually sticking up for someone, Lir?"

Lir smirked. "Don't take it the wrong way. I don't trust him at all. I just think he might be valuable to have around, so we should give him some time to adjust before we do anything rash."

Moira nodded, curls bouncing against her shoulders with the motion. "That's fair." She drew her horse to a halt and dismounted. "We go on foot from here. The caravan isn't far now." She secured her horse to a tree alongside the road. The five people accompanying her followed suit.

Darkness fell steadily as they walked until Moira could barely see her hand in front of her face. Soon, she could make out the faint glow of campfires. Wagons surrounded it, but there was no sign of movement. The Faeries were asleep. Moira jerked her chin to the female behind her. The woman inched closer.

Moira knelt several feet away from the caravan. She tensed, waiting to feel the familiar electrical buzz of magic from the Faeries' shields. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Moira gave her companion a short nod. The female uncorked the water canteen at her side and doused the grass before them. Moira spread the spark powder on top of it and struck her flint and steel together.

Light flared and the shields shattered with a reverberating crack, but no flames rose. Kalian's plan had worked. Moira drew her crystal dagger and sprinted into the camp, her soldiers hot on her heels. They tore open wagons and stabbed their swords through the guts of sleeping Day Faeries.

The camp was coming to life now. Faeries scrambled about, trying to evade the Ironblades. Moira spied two adults ushering a group of children away. She rolled beneath a burst of red magic and leaped to her feet, hurling her dagger. The male Faerie went down, blood gurgling in his throat.

Moira ripped her blade free and plunged it into his golden gossamer wings, filled with sparkling red swirls. The male gave a choked cry. "Adrian!" The female screamed. A shot rang out from behind Moira. The female Faerie froze, her gaze falling to her stomach where blood had begun to spill. She clasped brown hands over the spot, falling to her knees.

Moira stalked towards her, fist tightening around her dagger. "Mama!" A small round voice cried. "Mama!" Moira peered past the Faerie. A young girl was holding an infant, and it was the toddler clinging to her leg who was shouting. "Mama!" The boy called again.

The Faerie braced one hand on the ground, curling her free arm around her middle. "Go, Felia," she panted. "Get your brother and sister out of here."

"Mama!" The boy screamed again. His older sister backed away, and the boy, still clinging to her leg, had no choice but to follow.

"You think we are the monsters?" The Faerie rasped, lifting her head until her gaze locked with Moira's. "You are the ones murdering innocents."

"You are not innocent," Moira growled.

"But they are." She pointed behind herself. "My children are. My baby is only three weeks old! She will die without me to feed her, and Felia and Jas? Think about the fate you have driven them to. They will see their parents die. They will watch their infant sister starve to death. What kind of life can an eight year old and a four year old make for themselves? You are a monster! I know who you are, Moira Lev. You are a fucking monster! Monster! Mons..."

She broke off with a choked shriek as Moira sliced the crystal dagger through her throat. Tears stung Moira's gaze, but she fought to keep them from falling. She knelt, wedging her blade into the female's heart. Blood gushed from her throat and her eyes were wide. Her mouth moved, but no sound escaped it.

"Your kind are more monstrous than I could ever be," Moira hissed. "My family was innocent, and yet they were forced into your selfish war. They were turned into creatures and had no control over themselves. They were killed for it! If they deserved that fate, then you deserve yours, and so do your children." She twisted her blade, then pried it loose. The female slumped to the ground, her eyes already vacant.

"Commander!" Lir called. "I think we're done here."

Moira wiped her blade clean on the grass and sheathed it. "I think you're right." She struggled to her feet, the memory of the boy's frightened cry shredding through the remnants of her soul. "Let's go."

She led the way out of the camp and back to the horses. Moira was silent as she swung onto her mount. Lir rode beside her, saying nothing except for the occasional response to the conversation carrying on behind them.

☽◦༻◦☽◦༺◦☽

Once again, Kalian was unable to sleep. He sat outside the Ironblade camp, stretching his wings so that the cool air brushed against the soft leathery folds. It was guilt that kept him awake, as always. He had hoped that by not accompanying Commander Lev on this assignment, he wouldn't be as overwhelmed by his guilt, but that was not the case.

I'm doing what I have to, he told himself. If they don't trust me, I'll never find what I came here to learn. I have to focus on my people as a whole, not as individuals.

His words didn't ease the pain constricting his chest. He couldn't stop thinking about what Calandra would say if she knew what he was doing. She would never approve. She would never want him to risk himself or his morals, even on behalf of their people.

I would've done it anyway, Kalian thought. Even if they were alive. I would've done it to protect them. To protect Yara. And even if I wasn't an assassin, my skills as a spy would have encouraged the King and Queen to seek me out. I would've agreed to do this for them. For our people. I did agree to do it, so I will.

Uneven footsteps approached him. Kalian glanced over his shoulder, folding his wings down so Bellamy wouldn't bump into them. He was leaning against his new crutch, and managing with little difficulty.

"You all right?" Bellamy asked.

"I'm just...thinking." Kalian turned away, throat bobbing. "I'm wondering if I'm doing the right thing. Sometimes I can't help but feel like what we're doing is wrong."

"It's like I said before. Sometimes doing the right thing feels wrong, but that doesn't make it any less right." Bellamy clapped a hand on Kalian's shoulder. Kalian didn't pull away. "It sounds strange, I know," he chuckled.

Kalian began to reply, but broke off as hoofbeats approached the camp. They turned just as Commander Lev's group returned. The Commander slid off her horse and stormed to her tent, not speaking to anyone she passed on the way. "That means either something really bad or really good happened," Bellamy said.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, she'd be upset if the plan failed, and she'd be upset if she did something that involved children. She'll probably sulk in her tent most of tomorrow and be her usual bitter self the next day." Bellamy released Kalian. "I'm going to sleep. Try not to stay up too late. You've been looking half dead on your feet."

Kalian didn't answer as the man headed off. He kept watching the Commander's tent, turning Bellamy's words over in his head. At last, he forced himself to move. Kalian didn't give himself a chance to second guess his decision. No one called after him or tried to stop him as he neared the Commander's tent and rapped his knuckles on one of the wooden crates before it.