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And anything to last one second longer.

One of the Amhara stood out from the others. Not in height or weight, but in age. He was the oldest of them by decades, his skin bronzed and sun-worn by half a century in the deserts of Ibal. His pale green eyes crinkled, as close to a smile as Sorasa had ever seen on his face.

“I am flattered, Lord Mercury,” Sorasa said, taking a step back into the hall. Behind her, corpses roared and screamed.

Garion moved to match, his lips pursed into a thin line.

Lord Mercury looked between them both, taking his time. Sorasa knew he was sizing them up as she had done, reading their bodies and their histories. While the assassins on either side of him clutched their weapons, swords and daggers and axes and whips, Mercury held nothing. He did not move, hands clasped in front of his long black robes.

Sorasa knew better. She remembered the knives he carried, all tucked carefully beneath the folds of his clothes. It was jarring to see him standing here, in front of her, a nightmare made flesh.

After so many years, I convinced myself he was just a ghost.

“What a mess you have made, Sorasa Sarn,” he sighed, shrugging.

His voice tore something inside. Too many memories streaked across her mind, from childhood on. Every lesson, every torture. Every kind word, few as they were. In another life, she considered Mercury her father. But that life was gone.

No, Sorasa knew. She was only a tool to him, even then.It never existed at all.

Mercury stared through her, as if she were still that little girl, weeping beneath a desert moon.

“A pity I must clean it up.”

Sorasa bared her teeth. She took another step into the entrance hall, closing the distance between them.

“A pity you did not do so years ago,” she snapped.

“Yes, I agree,” Mercury said evenly. “I know that now. Such is my weakness, to leave a failure like you alive.” He angled his head, spearing Garion with his pale stare. “I see you’ve poisoned Garion too.”

Sorasa gave a dark laugh. “I’m afraid I can’t claim responsibility for that.”

“If you kill Corayne an-Amarat, the realm ends,” Garion said lightly,as if discussing the weather. “That is what Erida truly wants, you old fool.”

Mercury only grinned, deepening the lines of his face. His teeth gleamed red in the odd light, sharp as Sorasa remembered.

“I will give you a chance to stand aside, Garion,” he said, waving toward the door. “But not you. Your fate is sealed, Sarn. As it has been sealed since the day you were born.”

Her heart hammered and she cursed the chain mail. It would turn an arrow on the battlefield, but it would only weigh her down against the Amhara.Fucking Domacridhan, a gargantuan nuisance until the very end.

Sorasa gave a shake of her head, slowly, letting her frustration rise to the surface. Her brow furrowed, a single gasping sob escaping her mouth. She could feel Mercury watching, his eyes devouring her pain.

She gave it to him gladly, letting the seconds slide by. Each one well earned.

When she raised her eyes again, Mercury sneered. And Sorasa’s face wiped blank. Over his shoulder, outside in the castle gateyard, figures moved soundlessly over the stone. Swift as the wind, their purple leathers like shadows.

“Bring me my fate then,” Sorasa said, leaping.

As her feet left the ground, the Sirandel scouts crashed through the door, immortals all of them. Deadly and silent, even to the Amhara.

The assassins whirled, only to face a new company of Elder warriors. Red-haired, yellow-eyed, fearsome and sly as the foxes embroidered on their cloaks. Lord Valnir led them, his bow twanging, a contingent of guards flowing in his wake. The first arrow skewered an Amhara, sending her falling to her knees.

Sorasa landed hard, her dagger dragging a ragged line through an Amhara throat. Next to her, Garion spun, deflecting the first blow of a hammering sword.

In the Guild, the acolytes sparred as often as they ate. In the training yards, but also in the halls and dormitories. Rivalries and alliances bloomed through the years together, their histories interwoven. Sorasa knew each face in front of her. Some older, some younger, but all acolytes once. As close as siblings, beloved or reviled. She used such knowledge to her advantage, and her opponents did the same.

Mercury leered through it all, hanging back to watch his pets devour each other.

As on the hill on the Wolf’s Way, Sorasa closed her heart to emotion, refusing to acknowledge the blood she spilled until the task was done.