A coin spun on the glossy table and rattled as it lost momentum. Life was constant, the same dragging feeling day by day like the spinning metal. After Odinaty came, Lucrethia’s fate seemed more wobbly and if they didn’t do something they would be destroyed.

  When a hand smacked the coin flat, Erador blinked from thought. Breck picked it up, repeating the process and Erador went back to shuffling through his deck of cards. His hands tingled with the urge to pull a book from one of the many shelves, but he resisted his desires to lose himself in the words; he would be interrupted.

  “How much longer is this going to take?” Breck’s irritated voice sent a jolt up Erador’s spine.

  Erador dug his teeth into his lip, sliding them back into his mouth as he shuffled through the deck. “We’re waiting for Gillian.”

  Breck sighed in annoyance, got up, and kicked the leg of the chair. He slipped the coin in his pocket. Erador pinched the corner of the wolf card, unaware he was bending the edge. He shifted his focus at Breck’s predatory gaze. Erador glared back. With a quick rustle through his short brown hair, Breck turned his back on him. What kind of wolf leaves themselves vulnerable to attack?

  The candlelight glowed in the reflection of a hand mirror. Fedra leaned against a support beam, delicately touching her complexion as if afraid the slightest force would damage it. She shifted the mirror to the other cheek. Her black hair was braided in thin rows from her scalp down her back. The white shirt rested below her collar bone, revealing her brown shoulders.

  Breck scanned her over and licked his lips as if to gather the drool before it dribbled down his chin. “Still looking beautiful when everything's falling apart.”

  Fedra looked up from the mirror. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

  “It can.” He stepped closer and cleared his throat. “If... you want it to be.”

  Erador coughed into his fist to cover a laugh.

  Fedra rolled her eyes. “Go play with your coins.”

  Breck lifted his stiff chin and rubbed his lips together. He walked around the pillar as he watched Fedra. As he came around again, he bumped into her shoulder. Fedra fumbled for the mirror but it slipped from her hands and cracked as it smacked the floor. Cursing, she reached for the handle and Breck dug his boot into it as the glass crunched.

  “Good.” Breck showed his teeth. “It’s broken like you.”

  Fedra ripped the mirror out from under him. “We’re all broken.” Her gaze lingered on Erador’s scars as she set the smashed mirror on the table. “That’s why we’re all here.”

  Erador aimlessly stroked the scars on his face and tried to settle his vision on a safe location when he found Haven’s hands dangling over the banister. The candlelight flickered across the height of her cheeks. He pressed his hand into the dark red scars to hide them, but his fingers felt like the wax dripping down the candle; it melted away little by little to reveal the secret that kept the fire burning. It kept her wondering what happened to him and if she burned deep enough, he was afraid he couldn't keep it sealed anymore.

  Come on Gillian. Erador straightened the deck. Over and over, he tapped his hands on the edges to make sure every card was in alignment. A cover snapped shut behind Erador, and he jumped.

  Eonidas set a book on the table. “None of yah have no idea where Gillian is?”

  Breck shrugged and sat. “Saw her last night.”

  “Then we’ll start.” Erador set the deck down.

  Fedra wandered to the table and sat with a chair between her and Breck. “What did Odinaty say?”

  “They suspect us.” Erador took his time as he looked at each of them. “I told them you all left. You need to remain hidden.”

  “Hidden?” Breck said. “I’m not doing that.”

  “Yah best.” Eonidas leaned his knuckles on the table. “They’ll kill us, if they find yah here.”

  Haven leaned her chin in her hand. “Do you think they’re going to be kind if they find you?”

  Breck snorted as he leaned back. “They aren’t coming back.”

  Haven gripped the banister. “Erador covered for us. It’s the least you can do to protect what’s left.”

  A crack seemed to split in Erador’s chest at her gasping cry. That mission could cost more lives.

  Breck shoved his hands under his armpits. “I bet if I were the only one in trouble, he’d turn me in.”

  Erador leaned forward on his elbow. “With your mouth, I should.”

  Erador expected him to retaliate, but Breck’s cold stare broke as he swallowed, his pride slipping with his falling shoulders. He could be forced to take all the blame like the others did for Gillian.

  “Lucrethia is the only freedom I have.” Fedra frowned. “I don’t want to lose that too.”

  “This is temporary,” Erador said. “We’re going to wait a few weeks and see if we hear anything from Odinaty. We have to be careful. We can’t risk any of you being seen.”

  “I like to think of it as an excuse to get more sleep,” Fedra said, stretching her arms.

  “Sleep is the last thing on my mind,” Eonidas said. “We still watching Lord Judgment?”

  “Yes, we don’t have enough,” Erador said, dropping his head. “Stay in the manor as much as you can and keep your marks hidden. They saw them.”

  Haven tugged at her sleeve.

  Erador’s eyes flicked up to her. “Not yours.”

  Breck ripped his sleeve down to cover his wolf. “Is that it?”

  “No…” Erador tapped his finger on the table. “An Odinatin’s son was taken. Is this true?” He looked at each of them before Eonidas, who was the only one that shifted at his glare.

  Eonidas shrugged. “Gillian might have.”

  “Might have?” Erador paused. “You knew this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Fedra laid her hands in her lap, her chin falling. “We didn’t want to spread it further.”

  “You weren’t telling the whole town! Where is he?”

  None of them met his eyes, their shame pointed in other directions as if hoping he wouldn’t notice. The idea of the worst outcome brewed in his stomach.

  “You killed him?” Erador’s lips parted. “Why?”

  Eonidas tapped his knuckle on the table in a shaky rhythm. “Gillian said he was dead after he came through the mirror.”

  “Came through? He came with you?”

  “He fell off the balcony,” Fedra said, lifting her shoulders. “According to Gillian.”

  “Why does this matter?” Breck sat forward. “He’s dead. He can’t tell.”

  “Shut up, Breck,” Erador snapped. “You’ll care if Odinaty finds him.”

  “Gillian was trying to get the princess but got into a fight with him.” Fedra nudged the broken mirror on the table. “A lot of glass was in him.”

  Erador breathed. “Sounds like what she did to the New Akthelians.”

  “We don’t need to be reminded,” Fedra snapped, clenching her jaw.

  Erador dug his thumbnail into his finger, and when the pain wasn’t enough to numb his worries, he pushed harder. It was another instance of glass being used to murder. Another instance where Gillian’s mistakes could cost them. His father never should’ve covered for her. The other Paradins shared the same grievances in their stiff faces.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “I want to see the body,” Erador said. “Where is it?”

  Fedra looked to Eonidas who nodded. “I'll show you,” she said.

  Breck bolted out the door and when Erador checked the balcony, Haven already left.

  “You up for it, Eon?”

  Eonidas hummed in approval. “I’ll grab two shovels and meet yah there.”

  The lantern in Fedra’s grasp lit the forest path. Erador’s shoulders tingled as Fedra guided them closer to the dungeon, but his memories of the Raven’s cage left him as she veered into the trees. She held the lantern over an area covered in sticks, leaves, and pine needles. It appeared undisturbed. It had been almost two weeks since that day. Erador brushed the debris away with his boot. To think the body was steps from the path he and Hawth took nights ago.

  A shovel landed between Erador and Fedra. Eonidas leaned his hand on the handle of another. He stabbed the metal into the earth and tossed the pile aside. Erador looked from the shovel to Fedra who raised her eyebrows.

  “I’m not digging.” Fedra lifted her chin. “You want to see the body.”

  Erador’s jaw tensed. “And you were one of the people who violated the terms of the assignment.”

  “I wasn’t the one who killed him.”

  “Does it matter?” Eonidas jabbed the shovel in the dirt. “You want to see it or not, Moth?”

  Grumbling, Erador snatched the shovel and dug. Pampered and pompous, no wonder New Akthelia wanted to be through with her.

  “Digging him up should be easier.” She sat on a fallen tree and set the lantern by her feet. “It took a lot to cut those roots.”

  Erador stabbed the dirt. It wouldn’t take much to bash in your skull. He flung dirt near her and she cursed brushing bits off her pants. Each stab, lift, and throw strained Erador’s muscles. The sweat slid down his back and soaked the armpits of his shirt. With each shovel of dirt he removed, the less eager he was to see the body. But the constant thought of Gillian’s mistakes and her lies kept him shoving the metal back into the dirt again until the height of the hole reached his knees.

  He ran his arm across his head, soil smudged on his skin. Fedra played with her braids. Her humming was like dirt scraping his ears. Erador squeezed the wooden handle, fighting himself from chucking the shovel at her.

  A raven croaked in the branches, sending Erador’s hairs on end. Leaves crunched nearby. He scanned his surroundings and whispered, “You hear that?”

  Nodding, Eonidas raised his shovel, dirt sliding off the tip.

  Erador squinted. Shade shifted around the lit area near a silhouette shuffling behind a pine tree. He gripped the shovel and jumped out of the hole. Feet crunched away and he chased after the sound.

  The dark figure dipped in and out of moonlight. Erador’s feet caught on a root. He pushed his elbow off the rough bark of a tree and charged. They made sharp turns, but the forest undergrowth didn’t work any more in their favor. Each time they stumbled, Erador got closer, only to fall behind again because of another fallen branch or rock. His worries of letting them get away pushed him to the edge. His aching lungs had trouble pulling in air. He didn’t have time for this. Erador swung the shovel and let go. It hit the back of their legs and with a yelp, they tumbled to the ground.

  A groan escaped the person's throat. Her skin matched the color of the silver moon. The light trickled between the leaves and shined in streaks across her face. But the most memorable part of her was the gap between her teeth.

  “Gillian?” Erador said, leaning on his knees and panting. “Where have you been?”

  She sat up and brushed the leaves off her clothes. “I was...” She took a deep breath. “walking.”

  “This late?” Erador said. “Why did you run?”

  Gillian squinted at his shadowed face. “I didn’t know it was you.”

  “You couldn’t see us?”

  “No.” She rubbed her arm. “I was afraid you were an Odinatin.”

  At least she knew to hide, but she didn’t deserve any credit for it. His gut trembled from her presence. They wouldn’t be doing this if not for her. Gillian’s arms curled around her stomach, as she seemed to notice his demeanor change.

  “Since you’re here, you can help dig up that boy you killed.”

  Gillian tried to run, but Erador forced her back down.

  “Why did you kill him?”

  “It was an accident!” Her eyes shifted everywhere except onto him. “He was keeping me from getting the princess.”

  “Your orders were not to harm anyone.”

  “I know, but he was trying to kill me and then it... it happened so fast!”

  “Your little spat caused us more trouble. His father is looking for him.”

  Gillian swallowed, lowering her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sure you are. Another death from you means more blood on Lucrethia’s hands. It’s easy to kill people when you don’t have to take the blame for it.”

  He ripped her up, grabbed the shovel, and shoved her toward the distant glowing light. “Get going.”

  Gillian shuffled ahead.

  Fedra stood from the tree. “What is she doing here?”

  “She was walking,” Erador said, in an exaggerated pitch. “You shouldn’t be wandering the woods. We don’t need another accident.”

  Gillian moved to the hole. “Do you need to dig him up?” Her eyes shifted to Fedra. “He’s... dead.”

  Erador pushed the shovel into her chest. “Dig.”

  Gillian squeezed the handle and joined Eonidas in the hole. Erador paced by her, examining her every movement. She wouldn’t look up. She wouldn’t meet his eyes like she did when Judgment covered for her. Her weak movements and small amounts of dirt on the shovel were enough to prove her confidence slipped. Only Judgment gave her special treatment. She was nothing now.

  A smile proceeded to rise on his lips. “So, Gillian, how is the blood coming along?”

  She stopped shoveling mid-dig. “Fine.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I’m working on it,” Gillian said, heaving a large amount of dirt over her shoulder.

  “Sure you are.” Erador crouched and looked into the trees. “Is strolling through the woods part of that?”

  “Will you shut up?” Fedra said. “Stop hounding her.”

  “How can you defend her after what happened to you?”

  “It was a mistake.” Fedra swallowed and dropped her head into her hands, nails digging into her scalp. “And she wasn’t torturing me.”

  “New Akthelia tortured you?” Erador whispered as he peeled himself from the hole. “I thought they just... exiled you.”

  Fedra’s sturdy voice she’d honed to hide the pain of her past cracked like glass. Her answer whispered from her lips, too low for Erador to hear, but he didn’t need to. The fear of her end manifested on her face as she stared at the grave—she was once the queen’s maid who had accompanied her that day she was murdered. They must’ve wanted Fedra dead for escorting her out of the kingdom, but Fedra never explained why they were so close to Lucrethia.

  She was the most recent Paradin and received her mark soon after Judgment let her join. There was a white rabbit with a black one behind it like a shadow. Erador hated that it reminded him of his element. He never learned what Fedra’s meant, not that he cared to know. She had been loyal since she came, but it was likely out of desperation because anywhere else would relinquish her back to New Akthelia.

  He settled himself onto the fallen tree beside Fedra. She picked off pieces of bark and tossed them onto the ground where they joined the debris of the forest.

  Dirt clung to Erador’s hands and clothing. It felt tainted—he was a part of their crime. He brushed it off best he could along with the dirt. He stiffened, afraid any movement would cause him to be tainted further.

  More than an hour passed, when a crack sounded and drew Erador to the hole.

  “Got it.” Eonidas used the shovel to brush away the dirt, exposing a skull.

  The hole came to his shoulders. Gillian’s head was completely under—where she belonged. More dirt was moved away, exposing clothing. Dozens of slits marred the dirty fabric that was stained brown and red.

  “Where’s the glass?” Erador jumped in the hole, bumping into Gillian as she pressed herself against the wall. He moved dirt aside with his boot.

  “It’s...” Gillian picked at the strings of roots sticking out from the dirt walls.

  “She pulled them out so we could carry him easier.” Fedra called from above.

  Erador crouched and searched around the corpse. “Then where is the glass?”

  “Gone.” Fedra helped Gillian out of the hole. “We buried it elsewhere.”

  Erador rubbed his forehead, dirt smeared on his skin. “What for?”

  “So if the body was found they wouldn’t have evidence,” Fedra said.

  Erador snickered. “Seriously?” He nudged the bony torso with his boot. “His clothing is still on. That’s enough evidence.”

  “We didn’t think of that.”

  “Of course not. Just like you didn’t think to tell me about it.” Erador rubbed his forehead and mumbled, “Stupid. The good thing you did was bury him deep enough.”

  He picked dirt from his hair and cocked his head at the crown of the skull. Strands of wavy brownish-hair stuck out from the bone. Curly, honey-blond hair. Could it have turned dark from the soil and lost volume or was this someone else? Erador shook his head and looked up at Gillian and Fedra. Was he overthinking it? What reason could they have to hide him?

  Erador reached to pull himself out of the hole and stopped. A green clover was smashed between the laces of Gillian’s boot.

  “Need a lift?”

  Erador blinked up at Eonidas’s hand and took his help out of the hole.

  “Let’s rebury him. No one should know about this.” Erador brushed dirt from his hands and turned to Gillian. “Keep a low profile. Odinaty is looking for you.”

  A guttural screech erupted in the woods, sending chills through Erador.

  “What’s that?” Fedra whispered as she huddled close to Eonidas.

  It sounded again, but further.

  “Some bird, yah?” Eonidas said, with a shake.

  Erador gave a hesitant nod, though it left him uneasy. It wasn’t any bird he heard, but they were deeper in the woods. Not a place Erador went often.

  “Let’s hurry and fill the hole.”