The Queen's Champion

Dunwall had never been home to him, but David did miss it while he was away. Even with the rats, the plague still lurking in the corners, it was still the same familiar skyline. Same buildings with the same blue roofing. Same city. Their city. And while he didn’t take much comfort in luxury, there was comfort in Dunwall Tower. Knowing every nook and cranny, good places to hide and spy on people and the right way to sneak down to the kitchens in the middle of the night without making a ruckus. There was comfort in familiarity. He missed the reliability. He missed the people he worked with. He missed his Empress. The gardens were in full bloom by now, so even if David could see up past the fencing, his view would be obscured by roses and hydrangeas. He knew he wouldn’t be able to see her from the water. Only the top of the patio she liked to conduct her business under, during the warmer months. Where she could feel the sun on her face, and watch the sea. She never wanted to be Empress, he often thought with a heavy heart. She wanted to be the captain of a ship. Riding on the backs of waves, free as a bird. He promised her freedom. Now, all he could give her was security. And a bit of help, David thinks, with the correspondence from Morley tucked away in his coat pocket. He didn’t like leaving Dunwall for so long, but this was one thing he could do to ease the Empress’s burden. Something that might provide a solution for Dunwall’s problems. And in David agreeing to go, it was one less thing for her to worry about. “If there was anyone else as capable as you, I would have sent them." Her voice rang clearly in his head as the water lock brought them up, the memory of the audiograph she recorded for him forever burned into his mind. “But there is no one else, and the Spymaster was right to insist I send you.” He could practically hear the smile in her voice, imagine how it played out across her face. “Don’t fret over me. I can handle myself in the meantime.” He must have listened to it a hundred times over in the past two months, as they received rejection after rejection. Remembering that she could indeed handle herself. Remembering who he was doing this for. It kept him sane. It kept him going. “Just come back to us, and bring good news. We’ll figure this out.” He fulfilled at least one of her requests. Patting the place where the letter rested, unopened and unread, he prayed he could deliver on his second promise. The King of Morley had handed it to him personally, the wax on the seal still warm. For the Empress’s eyes only. Stepping out of the boat house, David strains to see over the fence, the flower beds. Under the pavilion. And he sees her. Sabrina Stark. The Empress. She stands tall, her back straight and her arms folded. She’s looking away from David , so there’s no catching her eye, but that’s fine. He’ll see her soon. He’s proud of her. He’ll never say it in so many words, but whenever he looks at her, so regal and poised, his heart swells with pride. It’s sometimes hard to make Sabrina the Empress match up with the scruffy kid he took in all those years ago. It didn’t seem as long to him, but it was half her lifetime ago that he found her. Twelve years old, skinny and malnourished. Purple circles under her eyes, dark hair falling out in chunks from stress. He didn’t have much to offer. He had been a killer. A thief. And he worked alone. But he let her sleep in whatever hole in the ground he was squatting in. Fed her and made sure she had clothes that would keep out the Dunwall chill and her boots didn’t have too many holes in them. Taught her how to wield a sword and shoot a gun. She slept better. Started gaining weight and shot up a foot seemingly overnight. When she was thirteen, they found out she was a princess. Her mother had cast her out, unwanted, when she was ten. She hadn’t cared where Sabrina ended up. She yelled at her on her way out, told her she’d probably die in the mud. She neglected to tell her that her father was the Emperor. The Emperor was unmarried. Never formally courted any woman. He had no other children, supposedly. Or perhaps Sabrina was the only one he could track down. David secretly feared that there were others, and that they would try to lay claim to the throne. That Sabrina would be hurt just for sitting on a throne she never asked for. The years that had passed lessened his fears, somewhat, but they were still there. Regardless, Sabrina was the one he found. The one he whisked off to Dunwall Tower to play the part of his princess. Sabrina was the one he gave fancy shoes and jewelry to, the one he immediately had placed with a team of tutors to get her education up to princess standards. She was illiterate before she met David , and though he did teach her how to read and write, he had been more concerned with teaching her how to defend herself on the streets of Dunwall than how to write in script. But then her combat training took a backseat to formal education, as Sabrina had to learn math, Seven Strictures, natural philosophy. She needed to know everything an Empress needed to know, because the Emperor was dying. If he had done what he was supposed to do, gotten married young and spat out an official heir or two, before his sickness became apparent, then he wouldn’t have had to pluck Sabrina off the streets. If he had other bastards that were easier to find, he wouldn’t have bothered looking for her. He would have been perfectly content to let Sabrina rot in the streets. The Emperor had acted the part of a proud father, sure, dressed her up and showed her off to Dunwall high society. Bragged about her quick wit and her frequent victories against seasoned opponents in palace duels, though everyone agreed that she had a tendency to play dirty. But he didn’t care. Sabrina had been nothing more than a solution to the Emperor’s last problem. Finding an heir before his illness took him. And it claimed him fast. Sabrina was thirteen when she became a princess, and at fourteen, she was an Empress. It had been a rough decade, with greedy nobles and ambitious politicians constantly scheming to steal her power, break it up and make off with it in chunks. What was strength on the streets was weakness in Dunwall courts: Billie’s childhood in the slums was shameful where it had once been a mark of triumph, a signal of personal strength. The way she spoke and even moved would have earned her respect among the gangs, but nobles would turn their noses up at actions so undignified. David was just glad she had brought him with. He couldn’t pretend to make it all go away, couldn’t be Empress for her. The Emperor had even thought him to be a hindrance to Billie’s success, to earning the people’s respect-and maybe he was. But as long as people’s eyes were on him, as long as they whispered about his shadowy past and his uncouth behavior, those were less eyes on Billie, less rumors being started about her. And in the end, less distrust in her. And even if he couldn’t solve all her problems for her, David knew his presence was comforting to his Empress. He was familiar. Someone she trusted. Who cared. She felt more at ease with him around, happier. And David felt the same way when he was with her. “David ! You’re back!” And this made him happy too. Anthony runs over the footbridge that connects the boathouse with the rest of the estate, stopping short of running into David as he practically vibrates from excitement. His cheeks are ruddy, his blond hair messed up, and by the Void did David miss being home. “Anthony.” David grins, touches Anthony’s shoulder. He’s never been one for hugs. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Anthony just smiles, and does that thing where he tries to stand at attention and ends up looking ridiculous. He’s seventeen now, almost an adult, but he has the worst case of baby face. He was five when David first found him digging through the trash, behind the condemned building he and Sabrina were living in that week, and his face didn’t seem to change for a good decade. Sabrina often teases him, tells him she finds him adorable. David knows the last thing Anthony wants to be is adorable. “You’ll tell me about your trip, right? You must have some stories.” “I have a letter for Billie,” David says, stepping away from Anthony. “Walk with me though? The idiots I’ve been sailing with aren’t very interesting conversationalists.” Anthony quickly falls into step. “Billie’s busy with the Spymaster. I’d rather not deal with her more than I have to, and I doubt you do either.” David suppresses a shiver, but shakes his head. “I really should meet with your sister.” “Can we spar first? Please?” Anthony stops and turns to him, giving David the puppy eyes he knows David can’t say no to. “Let me show you what I’ve been practicing.” Anthony wants to be out in the streets, fighting corruption or whatever it is he sees as the enemy. When David first took him in, he had ambitions of joining the Navy. Swore that he was going to be an Admiral one day, and then he’d buy a big house for the three of them so they didn’t have to be homeless anymore. As the dreams of five-year-olds are wont to do, it fizzled out and never became a reality. And after they moved to Dunwall Tower, the only thing Anthony aspired to do was ride down every banister in the building. But the dreams of children often stayed with them throughout their lives. Even now, Anthony wears a jacket of dark grey, reminiscent of a uniform. David wears a similar coat-in blue, matching the highest ranked officers of the Watch. While Anthony’s hair would be past regulation length, he makes up for it with pressed pants and a starch white shirt buttoned up to the top. If he can’t join the City Watch, he certainly wants people to think he’s an officer at first glance. David thinks Anthony is too young to be caught up in that false bravado, knows he can’t be allowed to fight. But still. David gets it. David sighs and rolls his eyes. “Fine. But just a quick set.” Anthony grins and runs ahead. David will never tell him how childish he looks when he gets excited like this, because he knows Anthony will try to reign in the behavior if he does. And David loves watching him like this. “Sabrina told me to practice to a metronome, to get my rhythm down.” Anthony bites his lip, rocking back and forth on his heels. “It’s a swordfight, not a dance,” David barks as he takes his first swing. Anthony blocks it expertly and deflects the blade. He’s good with defensive measures. Not so much with the rest. Anthony smiles. “So it’ll be useful for two things!” “You keep telling yourself that. I’ll keep beating your ass into next month.” Anthony is not Billie’s brother. But, to allow them to come to Dunwall Tower with her, Sabrina had to lie. She claimed that David had raised her, for much longer than he actually had, which would have made it a controversial and ungrateful move to toss him out. For Anthony...with Anthony, she had to tell the Emperor that Anthony was her half-brother, that they shared a mother. Which proved David ’s theory that the Emperor didn’t actually remember Billie’s mother, as Sabrina described her as being darker than herself, while Anthony was roughly the color of the peaches he and Sabrina liked to eat for breakfast. David was surprised they got away with the lie, but they did. Though he supposed nobles probably ended up doing a lot of mental parkour to justify how children looked, so at least it was nothing new. Billie’s resemblance to the Emperor was obvious, so thankfully there were few questions about her own parentage. Their swords clash once again, and David pushes Anthony into stumbling a few steps. He’s stunned for barely a second, which would normally be more time than David needs. But it’s Anthony, and David isn’t going to crush him quite so hard. He waits, and Anthony returns with another strike, and this time their blades lock. There were no close relatives to the Stark line to rely on-none that were known to the public, anyway. A line of tragedy, political ostracizing, and fertility issues all converged to result in Billie, the only living member of her bloodline within at least five generations. On her father’s side, at least. On her mother’s, there were probably plenty more, but David didn’t much care about them as long as they didn’t show their faces. Her mother was probably dead, or else she would have made herself known and milked her daughter’s power for all it was worth. Nobody ever challenged the idea that she and Anthony were related, making him the closest thing to an heir there was. Anthony’s brow wrinkles in concentration, pushing back against David ’s sword arm. He’s fairly strong for his body type-but not as strong as David . He’s pushed back, and David waits. “Come on, show me those moves you were so excited about!” David holds his arms open, his sword held loosely in his hand. “Attack me!” Anthony wipes his mouth, looks up and grins. He rocks back on his feet, then he springs. David could avoid it. But he doesn’t. He deflects, barely. Of course, Anthony wasn’t actually royalty. He wouldn’t be even if Sabrina really was his sister. His position as second-in-line to the throne was only temporary, just until Billie’s own children took that spot. Which, despite her misgivings, she would have to have. Someday. Preferably soon, if her advisors had anything to say about it. It was horrible to suggest anything good had come from the plague, but at least it made the pressure to marry and spawn lessen up. David hadn’t seen a suitor in over a year. Thank the Outsider for small miracles. In a few short seconds, Anthony is on the ground and David is sheathing his blade. “Not bad.” He holds out his hand to pull Anthony up. “Your footwork is still sloppy, though. It tripped you up.” “I’ll work on it.” Anthony brushes the dirt off his fine clothes, inspecting his cuff for rips. “I guess we better go see Sabrina then. Ugh, and the Spymaster.” “Strength in numbers, Anthony, strength in numbers.” Anthony talks animatedly about his lessons as they ascend the stairs. He’s apparently being instructed in astronomy now, which strikes David as a weird subject to focus on for someone in Anthony’s position, but he’s brushing those concerns aside when something white appears at the corner of his eye. “Why the hell are you still here?” David barks out, barely waiting for a pause in Anthony’s speech. Prince Luca Abele turns his head, one leg up on the same bench some mousy woman in a vest sits on with a book in her lap. He turns and grins at the two. “Lord David ! Nice to see you back in one piece.” Anthony steps behind David , almost hiding from view. David folds his arms. “I thought your parents were demanding you return to Serkonos, with the plague and all.” Luca just raises his arms towards the sky, the whiskey in his glass in danger of sloshing out and wetting his hair. “Quarantine, my friend! The Lady Spymaster recommended I stay in Dunwall until a cure for this wretched plague is developed.” “There’s no official quarantine yet,” The woman Luca had been bothering whispers, her brown hair hiding her face as she stares down her lap. David knows her from somewhere, but he can’t quite place her. He pays the fact little mind. Sabrina meets with a lot of people, and David usually tunes it all out, so he can focus on her safety. Anthony pipes up from over David ’s shoulder. “You’re seriously worried you might have the plague? You down elixirs like water.” “As we all should be, boy.” As if on cue, he takes an open elixir and pours some into his drink, then downs the whole concoction. “It’s more for my attendants. They could bring it back home, spread it to the other servants. You know the working folk, they don’t keep clean like us. The rats are attracted to them. Maybe it’s something in our blood, but we just don’t get sick like them.” “We need to be seeing the Empress,” David says quickly, before he can retort. Or stab Luca through his fat neck. “Prince Luca. Ma’am.” The Duke and Duchess of Serkonos had another son they could always fall back to, one David personally thought would be a better heir. But he doubted that killing their firstborn would improve the Duke and Duchess’s disposition to the crown. He wouldn’t be doing the Empress any favors by murdering Luca. “I hate him,” Anthony complains as David leads him away. “He’s loud, rude to the servants, and he always smells of drink. Plus he’s always flirting with Billie, making lewd comments to her.” David really might go back and stab him. “I can’t believe she’s letting him stay here.” Anthony flips his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, she’s not. He and his staff are staying at the Captain’s Chair, in the Distillery District.” “I thought they closed that place down after the owners died from the plague.” “They cleaned it up, I guess. He wanted to be there. It’s right across the street from that brothel.” “Poor girls.” David rubs the bridge of his nose. Businesses were going under left and right, industry had all but stopped, but of course the damn brothel would still be open. “At least he’s only here about half the time now.” Anthony sighs. “I just wish Sabrina would get rid of him for good.” “The Spymaster would pitch a fit about that.” As if on cue, the Spymaster’s voice rang out above them. They couldn’t quite catch exactly what it was she was saying, but Billie’s response was much clearer. “They’re plague victims, not rats!” “My lady, if you would just listen-” “I have, and I’m done doing so.” They come into David ’s view them, Sabrina Stark and her Spymaster Kaldwin. And David can think of few times he’s ever seen the Empress look so furious. “These are my citizens,” Sabrina punctuates her words with her hand. “They deserve their chance to survive, and we will give that to them. We will save as many from the plague as we can. Worry about your own job, Lady Spymaster, and let me do mine.” Anthony takes the opportunity to bound forward, waiting at the precipice for acknowledgement. Sabrina notices him, and the Spymaster turns her head. “Lady Kaldwin. Empress. I bear news of Lord David ’s return!” Sabrina stifles a giggle, but doesn’t look past Anthony. “Thank you, Anthony.” She turns her gaze to the Spymaster. “You may take your leave, Lady Kaldwin.” “As Her Majesty pleases.” The Spymaster bows deeply, then brings herself up to her impressive full height before turning to David . “Lord Protector! It’s a pleasure to see you home and safe.” David nods to her, but doesn’t respond. The Spymaster’s lip turns out in a pout as she flounces away, turning to the guard posted there as she does. “Come. Let’s give the little family some privacy.” David rolls his eyes. He’s well aware of the rumors that surround his relations with both Anthony and the Empress. Plenty claim that he’s sleeping with one or both of them. Many believe that he is Anthony’s biological father. These rumors have crossed at times. It makes him sick to think about, but David resolves to think of it sparingly. And when he’s here, with Sabrina meeting his eye and lighting up at the sight of him, David thinks it all worth it. “David . You’re back.” She’s grinning now, her eloquence and decorum falling away. She moves towards him and grips his forearm, and he grabs her elbow back. “Lurk.” She steps back, the sea breeze ruffling her red sweater. Summer is already upon them, so she must be hot. It wouldn’t do for an Empress to show her arms though, or, Outsider forbid, her shoulders. Just wouldn’t be proper. She still looks refined as always though, her jacket’s gold-stitched pattern resembling flower petals, the hem falling just short of her knees and open in the front, showing off her simple white blouse and cut black pants. Her hair has been allowed to stay curly and is contained in a low bun by a few intricate braids. Sparse jewelry, just how she likes it. Only her signet ring and a pendant of rose quartz her father had given her. “Do you have any news for me?” At this, David produces the envelope from his breast pocket, a slight bow accompanying the act of handing it to her. Anthony pipes up in the background. “Aw, Billie, David just got home! Can’t we take a break for a bit?” “Hush, Anthony,” David says without tearing his eyes from the Empress. He points to the envelope. “The Duke and the High Judges both had nothing they could give us. No cure, no aid, no troops. But the King gave this to me.” “Did he say anything to you?” Sabrina works the envelope open without breaking the wax seal, with one fingernail David is convinced she keeps long purely for this purpose. He coughs. “No. But he told me it was private.” Sabrina nods, then turns away to hold the paper to the sunlight. It’s short-one page, and though the writing is small, there’s little the letter could realistically hold. If Morley was sending any sort of aid, there would be pages of documents outlining what was being sent and when, recipes and research on anything that could be used as a cure. This letter couldn’t bear good news. As the Empress reads, her face falls, further confirming David ’s prediction. “I can’t believe them,” she says, stepping away from the two of them. “They’re enacting an official quarantine. They’re going to wait out the plague and let it turn Dunwall into a graveyard.” “What?” David steps closer to her. Sabrina turns her head away. “Tyvia, Serkonos, and Morley were in correspondence behind my back. They agreed to blockade us.” She sighs, the letter dropping from her hands. “I don’t blame them for wanting to protect their own citizens, but to cut us off like that? My city is dying.” Anthony steps forward and places a hand on her shoulder. “What can I do, Billie?” “We can do nothing, Anthony. Seems like that's all I ever can do.” Sabrina laughs then, bitter and angry, turning to face him. Anthony presses his lips together like he wants to say something, but he just shakes his head instead. “Hang on, your Majesty, your hairpin is loose.” “Again? I’ve lost count of how many times that’s happened today.” Sabrina turns around to allow Anthony to fix her hair, and lets out a groan when he removes the pin. “Oh, that feels so much better.” Anthony turns over the hairpin in his hand. It’s a heavy piece, adorned with a diamond flower at the end. David can only imagine the headache it gives her. “Hold on. I’ll fix your hair.” “Sure, but can you carry that for me until we go back inside? My outfit doesn’t have pockets.” “Why would the Empress need pockets? Nobody is going to force you to carry your own shit.” David half-teases. Sabrina rolls her eyes. “Your hair is always so difficult…” Anthony mutters as he fiddles with Billie’s braids. “But anyway, we should consider gathering alchemists here to work on a cure together. And make elixir doses mandatory to halt the spread of the plague.” He steps back, satisfied with his work on Billie’s hair. “I could go out there with the Watch, help distribute elixir.” “You’re not going to get close to the afflicted,” David says, but he lets a small smile show. “David ’s right. I can’t risk either of you getting sick.” Sabrina sighs, but then seems to brighten up. “But you have some good ideas. We can talk about it after David ’s homecoming dinner.” David rolls his eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t arrange some party for me.” “Oh, be quiet.” Sabrina smiles and turns towards him, still holding Anthony’s hand. “It’s for the crew and their families too. And you don’t have to go socialize-I just have to make a speech and then we can sit by ourselves and make fun of everyone else. Is that agreeable?” “I’ll find a way to survive it,” David mumbles. “I told you, we needed to bribe him with jello.” Anthony says. Sabrina throws her head back and laughs, squeezes Anthony’s hand, and David ’s heart feels full. Everything may have gone to s**t-with the plague, the politics, the promise of socializing later on. But being here, seeing Sabrina and Anthony enjoying each other’s company, the three of them working together. He feels content. Sabrina opens her mouth, but her words fall away and her smile quickly turns to confusion, then distress. “Wait. Where did the guards go?” They look around. True to her word, there are no guards in sight. “Lady Kaldwin sent some away…” Anthony supplies meekly. Sabrina shakes her head. She’s fiddling with her signet ring, which she always does when she’s nervous. Sliding it on and off her finger, switching it onto other fingers, her other hand. “She sent Rulfio away, where are the rest? There should be one posted by the gate, and one patrolling over there…” David curses under his breath. “Come on. We need to get you both inside.” Sabrina nods and moves to follow him. Anthony, however, pulls on her hand and points towards the water lock. “Billie…” She turns, and curses. David is on them in a second, grabbing their shoulders and ushering them towards the palace. “Let’s go! Move!” But he’s too late. The shadowy figures perched atop the lock cross the gap between the roof and the gazebo like they had wings. Two land on the pavilion and David is quick to fire his crossbow. The attacker disappears before it can make contact with their chest, and the bolt harmlessly passes through the air and hits the stone railing behind them with such precise force that it sticks. The other rounds on David and swings their sword, meeting David ’s blade. They lock together, and David can make out every scratch, every detail in the metal work, right down to the curved beak where the nose should be. The assailant is stronger than him, but at the last second, David kicks one of their legs out from under them. It’s enough. The attacker stumbles, David thrusts his blade forward, and once again they disappear in a flash of blue. There’s a yell, male, and too deep to be Anthony’s. David still whirls around with his heart in his throat. Sabrina is brandishing the knife she keeps hidden on her person, blood on the blade and the witch David had tried to shoot holding their jaw. She goes in for another stab, but her attacker is gone. Maybe five seconds. Anthony was just drawing his blade. “Are you two alright? Were you hurt at all?” David rushes to them. Billie’s face is stone, and she shakes her head. “No. We’re both fine.” Anthony is shaking like a leaf. David puts his hand on his shoulder. “They’re gone. I need to get you inside.” He turns to Billie. “No f*****g dinners tonight. You two are sitting in your apartments while we investigate this.” “But David …” Anthony has to lean over then, bracing his hands on his knees. David shakes his head. “No f*****g buts. There’s been an attempt on the Empress’s life. Possibly on yours. Your safety is more important than dinner. The crew will understand!” He looks up to address Sabrina directly. “People will have to understand. We’re locking the Tower down.” Sabrina nods, her eyes set on something in the distance. Then her neck snaps to the side and her mouth opens in a shriek. Anthony jumps, and David raises his blade. Another witch appears in front of him. He’s poised. Ready to attack. And then David ’s sword falls from his hand. It’s like someone has grabbed hold of his hair and wretched his head back, forcing him to watch. Someone else is under his skull, looking through his eyes. Controlling the strings, because his have been cut. David is frozen. He can’t move. Can’t speak. He can do nothing but watch. Anthony is attacked first. He parries-bad form, David uselessly notes. He crumbles and staggers back a step. Nerves have him performing poorer than in his duels. The assailant swipes their left hand over his, grabbing his wrist and pulling it out, forcing his arm down. Anthony’s blade clatters to the ground. Shock and confusion colors his features as he looks up at his assailant. Then they plunge their sword down, in between the two bones of his forearm. “Anthony!” Sabrina screams. He can see her glance his way, and he can see the questions in her eyes. Why isn’t he helping? Why isn’t he protecting them? That’s his job. He’s their protector, and Anthony has just been stabbed. And he’s just standing there. Watching. Sabrina rushes forward with her knife in her hands, but a blue blur comes at her and sending her flying into a pillar. Her knife clatters to the ground at the same time her back meets the stonework. Another witch appears, this one with a prominent beak built into their mask. They rush forward and grab Sabrina by the throat before she can recover. Anthony screams something, probably Billie’s name. David ’s vocal cords are paralyzed, his lungs filled to bursting with ice. Not that it mattered he couldn’t scream. There was enough screaming in his head to make up for it. As the assassin drives their blade into Billie’s stomach. Her mouth is open, but all that comes out is a choking sound that will stay with David for a thousand years. The assassin withdraws their blade, bringing with it a horrible, disgusting squelching sound as Billie’s blood pours out over the pavilion. Her eyes are wide, looking around in confusion. Then the assassin grabs her shoulder and throws her to the ground. “Lurk!” Anthony’s voice is the only thing that isn’t complete static to him. He can’t turn his head, can’t even move his eyes, can only see the briefest glimpse of Anthony trying to bat away his own attacker with his intact arm. His blade is on the ground, his sword arm bleeding and useless. The witch disappears in a flash of blue, and appears again behind Anthony. David ’s voice is still paralyzed. He can’t warn Anthony before his good arm is bent behind his back, the assailant’s other arm snaking around his shoulders. “No! Don’t touch me! David !” It’s too late. Anthony’s feet are lifted off the ground, and he and his kidnapper disappear in a cloud of feathers and blue. And Anthony is gone. The assassin standing over Sabrina Stark turns. David feels something snap in his head, and he falls to the floor. Every muscle in his body screams at him like they had been stretched out and set on fire, like he’s a well-tuned harp and someone had just ran a knife through every string. He felt sick to his stomach and like his head was a block of stone, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that the assassin’s shoes were clicking away as they walked across the pavillion, it didn’t matter that his head was throbbing and that he was going to throw up at any second. He ignored it. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was his Empress. David crawls over to her, his stomach dragging on the floor and his hands getting wet with her blood. How was there so much blood? Was it all hers? It couldn’t be. There was just too much of it. Billie’s head lolls to the side, her unfocused gaze landing on David . Her necklace is askew, and her fancy blouse is almost completely red. There’s too much red, too much blood outside her. There won’t be enough for inside of her as well. If David can get there, if he can find the wound, he can fix this. He can hold it closed. It can’t be all her blood. He can put her back together, fix her. He has to. “David …” Billie’s voice is faint, like how she used to speak when she was young and bone-tired. If he can get to her, she’ll wake up fully. She’ll be okay. He reaches out and touches her hand. She curls her fingers, like she’s trying to squeeze. David ’s heart flutters with hope. Then there’s a boot at the back of David ’s head. His skull smashes against the stonework, and somebody steps over his body. Billie’s hand leaves his, and a female voice rings out above him. “Stefan, what in the world are you doing, we’re not-” And he feels the slightest of breezes, and then he’s alone. Blood. Blood on his hands, blood all down his coat. Blood on the ground. Billie’s blood. They stabbed Billie. They...they killed- “By the Outsider! What happened here?!” There’s footsteps, and someone pulls David into a kneeling position. The Spymaster is looking around, but there are no assassins to be seen. No Anthony. No Empress. David opens his mouth, but there are no words. He knows he should speak, knows he has to report what happened. But is no order, no formation to his thoughts. Words do not come to him. Then Prince Abele comes racing in, already out of breath. “I saw it! David killed the Empress!” The accusation doesn’t even sink in for a minute. Not until everyone gasps and looks at him with fearful eyes. And then David blinks, because it sounds so ridiculous to his ears. Like it all just had to be a joke. “David . What have you done?" The Spymaster’s voice quivers dramatically. She whips her head around, searching the gazebo. “What have you done with the Empress? Where is her body? And where is Lord Anthony?” “He might have thrown the body over the wall,” the mousy, brown-haired woman Luca had been talking to earlier supplies. “Tried to hide what he’s done. The tide is in; the sea would have swallowed her whole.” The sea? They’d never let him lay her to rest at sea. He knew better than to try. “Ready the search boats. The tide will go out soon and I won’t have it taking the Empress’s body with it.” The Spymaster commands to a few guards, who nod and run off without a pause. Luca is still raving in the background. David is still speechless. Anthony is gone, and Sabrina is...she’s... “I saw him stab her though! Look, there’s the knife he used!” Someone grabs Billie’s knife from where it left her hands. It’s still dripping with blood-the assassin’s, most likely, as the bloody outline of Billie’s body is a good two feet away. It’s barely six inches long. The blade that ended Billie’s life skewered her, driving into her belly and exiting out her back. But David can’t bring himself to point these things out. Can’t think coherent thoughts, can only observe. Can only remember. “Nobody’s doubting that, Luca.” Lady Kaldwin’s voice is calm, almost soothing as she addresses the prince. “It’s all very clear. David killed the Empress.” She’s dead. His Empress is dead. Sabrina is dead. The Spymaster turns her head and sets her beady, snaky eyes on him. He couldn’t save her. “We’ll see you hanged for this, David .” David only sees a blur as someone slams their fist into the side of his head, and then it’s all black.