“I am the sapling with roots so thin,

  I am the seed that’s caught in the wind,

  I must strain for what you’ve always been,

  Beneath your canopies

  I dwell amongst grasses while you weave in the sky,

  I struggle for rain while your branches drink wide,

  The beasts heed me not, but in your bark, they thrive.

  How hard it’s become, to try and survive,

  Beneath your canopies.

  Yet without your leaves, the storms would reign free,

  Without your roots, the floods would not cease,

  Without your gold water, I’d never have seen,

  Life, and love, and thought,

  Beneath your canopies.”

  Poem by an unknown author, believed to be a Nocturni Kept by the Predecessors. Translated into English from its original ‘Old Speech’ of the fae. Written some time before Sunwalker’s liberation, likely the first century CE.

  ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  A silence follows, or perhaps Harriet’s mind is just frozen. Lianna is scowling. Astrid is cowering. And Regina Dunstan lifts her hand so that her Kepts might scramble to place a stool behind her. Sitting and watching with the same haughty distance that children might watch a colony of ants.

  Harriet’s the first to speak. “... yer GET!?”

  “Former get! Former-” Astrid's squeezing her arms. “Er, well, heheheh, I-I-I guess I can’t stop bein’ her get. But, uh-heheheh w-w-we don’t really do the-”

  “Do you ever get as irritated as I do by the sound of your voice?” Lianna hisses. “You’ve somehow made it even more grating.”

  Astrid’s lips slam shut. She’s deathly pale.

  “My muse has been offered Hospitality, Stirling.” Regina seems more occupied with swirling her wine glass than Lianna’s angry glare. “The Gilded Ones do not look kindly to threats.”

  Lianna utters a strange sound that makes quite clear what she thinks of the ‘Gilded Ones’. “This is Hospitality. I’m being hospitable. If the Laws were not here, I’d be acting far more directly.” She bares fangs. “Pray I think of some way to circumvent them.”

  Harriet scowls. “Message received.”

  Astrid’s acting odd. Giggling to herself, scratching her skin. Harriet can see a bead of sweat on her brow. Suddenly, the girl stands up, shaking her head. “Uh-hahahah, um, uh, shi-.... sorry. Sorry! I-I-I’ll just get-”

  “No!”

  “‘Arriet!”

  Harriet’s stood up with her, too. The chains prevent her from reaching, so she brings their hips close and grabs Astrid's dress.

  “She stays…” Harriet glares at Lianna. “Or I ain’t givin’ you a goddamn word.”

  For that, Regina gives a giggle. It makes Lianna furious. “I am the Curator Britannica. I am a Sovereign of the dhaoine rosín. I do not move because a Kept demands it of me. Especially a Kept that’s already struck a Magister. Has your kidnapping not taught you consequence?”

  “Has Cable Street not taught ya what happens when fascists waste my time?”

  ‘Arriet,” Astrid leans close, whispering. “Please, I don’t wanna make any trouble.”

  “I do.” Harriet hisses. “We’re friends.”

  Astrid’s cheeks glow as Harriet turns back to Lianna.

  “We came here fer the Magistress. So that Astrid could say goodbye! If ya won’t give her that-”

  “Why should I allow even another word?” Lianna’s face curls. “Do you not hear the lies that spew from its teeth? The parasites that rot its brain? I would sooner fall on my spear-tip than let that creature poison Regina's mind-”

  “I didn’t poison her mind!” Astrid pushes forward. “She asked-”

  “SILENCE!” Lianna shouts. “Lie again and I will spit on the Gilded Ones and their Hottentot ‘Hospitality!’”

  “She’s not a child!" Astrid flails. "She can make her own choices!”

  “Choices? Choices!? Do not talk about choices with me.” Lianna gets in her face, seething. “Every moment, we make a choice. Discipline or barbarism. Cleanliness or degeneracy. It only takes one step, one failing, and then our foundations have cracked, our foes have sprung, and then there is nothing between our people and oblivion. You made your choice, Traynor, when you let your urges speak for you.”

  Harriet’s eye grow wide.

  Lianna hisses. “Do not think I will let our leader do the same.”

  In Harriet's mind, pieces start to fall. Astrid’s laugh. Regina’s touch. The way they spoke, the way they smiled, the revulsion, the anger, the hurt on Lianna’s face.

  “Oh my God,” she barely whispers. “They..."

  Astrid turns back to her. Wearing an expression that Harriet could never place.

  “No,” Lianna frowns. “Now, they are nothing.”

  Astrid takes slow breaths. There’s a calmness to her. A wrongness. “I’m goin’.”

  Harriet starts. “Astrid-”

  “I’m goin’!” Astrid breaks free of her grip. “I’ve seen her. I’m done.”

  Her eyes flit between the three women, already shrinking back from her outburst, when she finally settles on Regina.

  “You... look good, Goddess.” Her lip trembles, and the words fall out fast. “... your new dressmaker really suits you.”

  She marches past Lianna and the four white-clad guards who open the massive wooden doors. There’s a hesitance as Astrid waits for them, a shake in her breath. Harriet wants to rush to her side. Reach out. Say anything. But the girl’s steeled herself before she can. Taking the first step-

  “Astrid?”

  Astrid locks eyes with the speaker. Regina is still seated, hints of blood wet on her lips, watching with an intensity that seems beyond this world.

  “So do you," she lightly says. "You’re still beautiful.”

  Astrid pales. Stands for a moment too long, so that everyone can see the gilded tears building in her eyes. Then she’s gone.

  As the doors close behind her, Regina reaches for a Kept’s platter, seemingly unperturbed. “Chai, anyone? The leaves are Madrasi. Imported daily.”

  A flick of her wrist, and her army of Kepts rush to the walls. Grabbing pots and cups and platters. Harriet hesitates as they prepare two Ottomans on Regina's sides. One offers Lianna a robe of black silk, which the still-naked fascist throws over herself quickly.

  “... Astrid’s a bit more toned than yer other Nocts,” Harriet says.

  Lianna’s still fastening at the waist. “Is that your way of asking why I’ve Lighted a mulatto?”

  “She was told to.” Regina holds up a silver cup, and her Kepts dutifully fill it with steaming tea. “I would have gladly done the deed myself, if Reeve Wynters permitted it. Alas, the Court seems not to agree with our mission. Where I see the Lighting as a gift, the more close-minded in our family see…” She chuckles. “... demographic concern.”

  “Quotas.” Lianna scoffs. “They laughed at me when I warned them, but eight years with the socialists, and here we are.”

  “If ya think Blair’s a socialist, I’ve got some bad news,” Harriet growls.

  “Yes, I suppose in your mental illness, you’d see things differently.” Having settled into her clothes, Lianna breathes through her nose and takes a seat. “Traynor has talent. And the dhaoine rosín preserves talent as tirelessly as we preserve what that talent creates. The English in that blood shines, as you’ve certainly seen. It concerns us less that it must shine through muddied waters.” Suddenly, Lianna growls. A Kept has offered her a silver cup. “No, not tea, you lackwit! Water. Caffeine is a Semite narcotic!”

  “Don’t like stims?” Harriet gives her a look. “'Spence' doesn’t seem to mind.”

  Lianna glares back. “This might surprise you, but women of our extremes must sometimes take unorthodox paths to power. As much fun as running around with your gun and screeching like an animal must be.”

  “Animal, ooooh. That’s funny. I’ve heard stories ‘bout what yer lil’ ‘Albion Guard’ gets up ta at night.” Harriet pushes off the couch and makes her way to the Ottoman. “Makes me cautious ‘bout yer letter.”

  “Someone has to keep our government in check," Lianna replies.

  “Yeah, ‘cause Labour’s totally readin’ the slurs ya carve on those corpses’ foreheads.” Harriet sits down, hands folded into fists. “Bet yer glad Keaton likes playing patsy with Nazi’s now."

  “I’m not a Nazi, you cretin, I’m a white-”

  “Nobody bloody cares."

  “Is she truly so degenerate?” Regina captures Harriet's attention, shooing her Kepts away. “I too have my hesitations on Lianna’s… exploits…”

  That makes Lianna smirk.

  “... But it is Chrysanthou who ignores our history. Chrysanthou who would supplant us with capital. Chrysanthou who would gladly work with Morris and his band of lunatics to destroy us… and, given your history with the men, also destroy you.”

  Harriet pales as Regina continues.

  “An alliance seemed natural.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bite.” Harriet turns her eyes back to the blue-dyed woman. “I’m told ya know how to break Keepin’s.”

  At once, Lianna snorts. “Unbelievable. First, you threaten to kill me, then you ask if I can pretty please let you out on the streets again!”

  “It ain’t the spell that’s keepin’ me from a drivin’ a platter through yer skull, I can assure you.”

  “No?” Lianna quirks a brow. “He seems to have had some effect. ‘Jessica’ was quite docile.”

  “Put a gun in her hands, an’ she won’t be.” Harriet growls. “He’s egotistical. He’s a fraud. His favourite passtime’s dressin’ me like a goddamn trophy, an’-”

  “Does he beat you?”

  Harriet blinks. Regina watches her with an immense interest, and a complete lack of concern. Light thrumming through her single unmasked eye. “E-excuse me?”

  “How are you disciplined?” Regina shifts closer. “Masking? Commands? Corporal wouldn’t work well, the skull tells me that, but humiliation?”

  Harriet chuckles. She’s not sure how else to respond. “I-I don’t see how, uh, that’s important-”

  “There couldn’t be anything more.” Regina waves her hand, and a Kept comes with more tea. “What is it with Kepts and escaping? Always, they just run from the truth. Spartan and Helot. Dryad and Nymph. Street and terem. We have spent far more time in bondage than we have without. It’s perfectly normal."

  “It’s foreign,” Harriet squints, as if she’s misheard. “Ya said it yerself, the Predecessors forced it on-"

  “Given! It was their gift!” Regina suddenly stands, gemstones rattling with the motion. There’s an odd quirk in her face. “And that gift has outlived the Romans, the Normans, the Tudors and Hannovers all! It is older than London. Older than the crown. But you creatures would ruin it! Exchange it for pats on the back and slips of human paper!”

  “Don’t try and fill her head with your religion, Dunstan.” Lianna growls. “A Shorn couldn’t care-”

  “Then a Shorn needs to learn!” Regina snaps back, before her eyes return to Harriet. She’s moving closer, slowly. Her dress trailing across the tiles. “Do you not feel it? A pang in your breast, when he holds you? Strikes you? Speaks to you in whispers and makes you shout his name?”

  Harriet leans back. The air fills with honey, and Regina’s voice grows louder.

  “That feeling is rightness. That feeling is God. The strong taking the weak! The weak supporting the strong!” Her skin alights. “It is glorious! It is HOLY! IT-”

  “Regina!”

  Lianna’s bark snaps her back. Suddenly, Regina’s skin has darkened. The vampire pauses, puts a hand over her heart, and takes slow breaths as the honeyed scent fades.

  “My… apologies.” She says slowly. “There is a stronger and weaker in all things."

  Regina retakes her seat and stares at the ground.

  "The Keeping just makes that clearer."

  Harriet watches a moment longer, waiting for more, but once it’s clear Regina has disengaged, she looks back to Lianna. “I don't care if it's good or not. I don’t want it. Ya killed yer Keeper, Stirling. Help me kill mine.

  “I can't. Though I imagine the attempt will be entertaining” Seeing Harriet’s ire, Lianna quickly adds. “It’s not something I can teach someone like you."

  “What’s that s’posed ta mean?”

  “Keepings are only broken in imbalance. Like the Magistress said, there is always one strong, one weak. I don’t know how those golden primitives built their system, but here, it is possible, though unlikely, for a strong Kept to be held by a weak Keeper. In such cases, the Keeping’s magic might waver, and you may have a chance to free yourself. But that window is rarely open, and the opportunity rarely enough. You have no chance."

  Harriet surges. “Think I can’t go toe-ta-toe with a suit-an’-tie Cambridge boy!?”

  “If Keepers died to your bullets, this city would be without them.” Lianna shakes her head. “Do you think Soteris was made Sovereign because they trusted him? Do you think my crime was permitted because I’m so loyal? It’s will, pure and unrefined. Soteris has a vision the Keeping can’t contain. As do I.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “An’ I don’t?”

  “Perhaps you do.” Lianna folds her arms. “Or perhaps it’s borrowed from other’s.”

  Harriet bites her lip. Struggling to not rush her, Paradox the chains, and slam her face in the hardwood. It would be so easy... if she wasn’t under command.

  And if some tiny part of her knows she’ll regret making Lianna Stirling a martyr.

  “So why am I here?” Harriet can't hide the hurt in her voice. “So ya can gloat? Parade my corpse around Ashlin’?”

  “Heh. As if I could give two damns about that half-Jew rat. The reason stays the same. I only said you can’t kill Chrysanthou. There are many ways to undermine him."

  “Undermine?” Harriet rattles the chains on her arms. “Yer Goddess sounds halfway ready ta worship him!”

  “Better to respect a foe than disregard them. A lesson you taught me at Cable Street.” Lianna suddenly rises. “A lesson the Court has yet to learn.”

  Harriet watches her, black robe swaying, as she moves past the Kepts, past the throne, her spear clawing across the ground by her side. Lianna stops in front of the ancient maps, older even than Harriet, bearing names lost to history, like the Mughals or New Spain.

  “Chrysanthou came here with nothing,” Lianna says, her back turned. “No Getter, no wealth. The Reeves would have staked him to the dock if Morris hadn’t moved to stop them. Yet within five years, he was worth a billion. Within ten, he’s a Sovereign. Within fifteen, he has you.”

  Lianna finally turns.

  “Do you want to wait and see what happens at twenty?”

  “You rose fast. Why pull up the ladder now?” Harriet leans forward. “Is his skin too dark?”

  “Ah, yes. Call me a bigot. No truer mark of brilliance."

  “Even an idiot can see that ya are.”

  “Soteris is worse than his mongrelised blood.” Lianna’s eyes turn cold. “He, and all his kind, are worms. I thought you would know this. You've spent so long fighting."

  Harriet scowls as Lianna goes on.

  "We build roots, they tear down forests. We craft jewels, they flood mines. I refuse to believe that he has lodged himself with Blair and Caedmon through only his insipid smile. He is plotting something.”

  “An’ how does that make him stand out from anyone else in the Court?”

  “I know what they plot." Lianna hisses. “They're bad at hiding."

  “We can stop him, Fireside.” Regina finally re-enters the conversation. “There are still those who listen to us. But only if you give us the words.”

  Harriet breathes through her nose, her eyes bouncing between the two. They’re not wrong. And Lianna’s honesty is a shocking salve. But she can’t stop thinking of the way the Curator looked at Soteris that night. The way she described Astrid. It. Creature.

  If Harriet tells these two about Project Hestia, she has no doubt they could stop it.

  The greater question is if they’d want to.

  Another exhale. No. Too risky. Or perhaps she just hates fascists more. The issue now is that she’s been thinking for too long. Already, they suspect. Soon, they’ll scheme. It’s seconds like these that keep the Court forever turning.

  She focuses on Lianna. “He’s makin’ a new product. Bigger than Ares, an’ it’s bleedin’ cash. Caedmon, the Harcourt’s, they’re all jes’t a… screen. Ta hide from investors that he’s lost all their money. If he can get the New Sun, he has a chance. So he thought he’d get somethin’ to soothe her ta his side-”

  “You?” Lianna asks.

  “Naw. He settled fer me.” Harriet frowns. “I'm only here 'cause he killed Blackbird."

  She sees a spark in Regina's face, before the woman turns, hiding herself behind the blackened mask. Lianna folds her arms.

  “You’re truly telling me that the youngest Sovereign in Court history captured our most dangerous target so that he could parade you as a trophy?”

  “Not my proudest moment, yeah.”

  “Why would he make such a useful asset a plaything?”

  “I dunno?” Harriet shrugs. “He’s a man?”

  Lianna blinks, as if she hadn’t given that factor any consideration. She almost laughs. “And here I thought he was truly industrious.”

  Harriet’s heart leaps. There’s a clamour from down the hall. An obvious struggle. An accented plea.

  “No, no, DON’T-”

  The doors swing open, and a white-clad man is thrown across the ground, his head colliding with the wall. Mei-Lam follows after, her ‘wings’ glittering in the torchlight, joined by two large, bull-like Oathsworn. The man on the ground gets to his knees. He has olive skin. Curly hair. The only Kept Harriet’s seen without some kind of bronze covering.

  “Mei! Mei, please! It was a mistake! An accident! Don’t… ” He blinks. When Lianna steps into his view, his terror doubles. “No, no, no, no, NO! PLEASE!”

  Regina and Harriet both rise from the cushions. “Who is this?”

  “A vermin. A thief. I was dealing with him myself when our guest came.” Lianna sneers and circles him. Raising the spear. "Seems I need to finish the job."

  “You’re in the Goddess’ Sovereignty, Keeper Stirling.” Mei-Lam lifts her chin. “She will determine-"

  "Don't lecture me, girl. If it weren't for what I do, your precious 'Goddess' wouldn't be here."

  "Jesus Christ!" Harriet shouts. "Yer gonna kill him!?"

  "Would you prefer I strike with a ruler?"

  "This is insane, even fer you! If ya think I'm jes' gonna stand here-"

  "You will stand here. You will not act. You will be silent, or Soteris will hear of everything that happened in this room. Plots and all." Lianna grins. "Perhaps he can punish you here, and make it theatre."

  Harriet bites her lips closed, looks around. The Oathsworn around the room seem unconcerned. Some don't even watch. The man on his knees spots her, starts scooching closer, eyes desperate. “Please. These people, they’ll..." Lianna thrusts the spear closer, and he starts to hyperventilate. "HELP ME!"

  “Shhh.” Regina’s already lowered herself. Kneeling beside the man. Rubbing his trembling arm. “Calm yourself. Calm yourself. Everything is alright.”

  Regina continues her slow pets, and the haggard Kept looks at her, tearful, half-wild. Lianna sneers, clearly irked. "Regina, if he speaks again-"

  Regina stops her with her hand. Her voice is smooth. “What’s your name?”

  “I-...” The man starts, but his words are lost in a sob. He can’t look away from the Magistress' skin. Glowing with the soft gold of aether. “I-I-”

  “It’s okay.” Regina puts a finger on his lips. Feeling the way he shakes. “You don’t need a name to be welcome.”

  The man rocks. Mumbling to himself, covering his eyes. Even Harriet finds her breath. Regina still speaks in soft tones.

  “Lianna has a warrior’s temper. A calling she can’t always control. But if you tell me, truthfully, what you have done wrong…”

  “I-I took. Just a small thing, a-a little thing!” The man laughs nervously. Relief slowly seeping in. “I had debts. B-Bad men were coming. I-I-I thought… G-Gumtree might-"

  “Gum tree.” Regina squints, turns back. “He stole a gum tree. Do we have gum trees?”

  “It’s a grey market, Magnificence,” Mei-Lam answers. “He meant to sell you out on the Internet.”

  Regina blinks. “Internet?”

  “Never again, Goddess.” The man lowers his head into her knees. “I’ll be good! I swear! I promise!”

  Mei-Lam waves a Kept forward, silver box in hand. Regina stands to greet him, watching the small object unlatch. “This is what he stole," Mei-Lam announces.

  “Goddess, please! I found it in storage! I-I didn’t-”

  The box opens. He stops. Regina's face falls.

  Harriet’s eyes flit to Lianna. The Curator Britannica smiles.

  She pulls it out slowly, with delicate hands. A doll. A tiny straw doll, missing even clothes or a face. It might be two inches long, bound together by twigs, but Regina holds it like a mother holds their child.

  Harriet’s eyes flit to Lianna. The Curator Britannica smiles, just as her leader starts hyperventilating.

  It's a strange sight. A woman, struggling for breath with no need to breathe. The thief starts scooching back, even as Lianna clings to Regina’s side. Holding her shaking black mask.

  “No. No no no. He..." Regina's fangs file out. “Tested. Trained. All of them. Wh-when the Golden Ones hear-”

  Lianna whispers in her ear. “They are trying to make you weak.”

  At once, Harriet moves closer. "Lianna, don't-"

  "No!" Regina presses the doll to her chest. “They can't. This place is safe!"

  “Not for long,” Lianna continues. “Not if you refuse what needs doing. Not if you refuse to act strong-"

  "Can ya shut up an'-"

  Harriet stops herself. Regina's buried her face in the doll, as much as she can. The room is silent, and Harriet can taste honey in the air.

  Lianna's lips graze along the Goddess' ear. "Would the dryads be kind?"

  The terrified criminal briefly locks eyes.

  And then Regina’s on top of him.

  “WHO PAID YOU!?”

  “RAAGHH!” A crash to the wall. The man flounders, still sobbing, lifting his arms. They don’t stop Regina’s blows. Scratches to the face. One after another.

  “WHO PAID YOU!? WHO PAID YOU!?” Regina grabs his throat. “Which Jew, which INSECT!?"

  "They spy on us." Lianna calls.

  "I know they SPY!”

  “G-God-kh-kh-kh-” His speech is cut off by the nails that dig into his skin. Nails that quickly draw blood.

  “You dare!?" Regina spits in his face. "Those were Gilded works, you pygmy! Signs of their excellence! By what right do you touch them!? Spoil them with your putrid, mongrel hands!?”

  The man tries to speak, but his words are garbled. Face bulging. Arms can only flail. She slams him against the wall again, then springs to her feet, clearly off balance. The Oathsworn rush to her, but she waves them off, voice dripping with rage.

  “Those were our gifts.” She sounds like she might sob. “All they left behind!"

  “Goddess…” The thief coughs, crawling forward. “G-G-Goddess, I-”

  “He lies,” Lianna whispers. “All Jews lie.”

  Regina shouts it back. “You’re lying to me!”

  "Regina, stop!" Harriet speaks up. "Ya are not-"

  Suddenly, she's on her knees. Hands on her collar. Struggling for breath. The honeyed scent overwhelms her mind, thick and constant, so fierce that even the Wilds retreat from it.

  Honey and ambrosia

  HONEY AND AMBROSIA

  “Kill him!" Regina squeezes the doll, looks at her Kepts, and, seeing their uncertainty, shouts again. “Kill him! Make him SCREAM! And make everyone watch! We have rats! They must suffer! Show them! SHOW THEM!”

  “NO!”

  The thief is on his feet, sprinting for the door. He makes it three steps before Lianna’s spear pierces him. There’s a crunch, a splatter, severed tendons and crushed bone. He collides with the ground, shin bloodied, returning to his usual pleas. “Goddess!”

  It pulls Harriet from the spell, just for a moment. "Regina!"

  The Magistress' eye flickers. “BITE OFF YOUR TONGUE!”

  Harriet’s stomach twists as the Kept does.

  It's hard to focus after that. Shapes are lost in white clouds. Noises become windchimes. She knows he's been dragged away, Kepts filing, Lianna marching with her spear behind her. Oathsworn rush to the pool of blood, lapping it like dogs. Someone grabs her dress, pulls her to her feet, headdress bobbing, chains rattling. But she's not here. She's in a cabin. Tall grasses. Setting Sun. Mother's name.

  “Kepts! Sovereigns! CHILDREN!”

  Harriet inhales. Opens her eyes. She’s been moved. Blinks a few times. She’s been moved.

  They’re still in the theatre, she knows. The acoustics match. It’s all painted strangely, with textures of tree bark, dark browns, white golds. The boxes and stands are full to bursting, women in peasant dresses, white-clad men gagged by brass-sheeted masks. A scream brings her attention to the stage and she sees him, the thief. White fire braziers illuminate his state - sobbing, bleeding, chained to a large marble slab with gold.

  “Tonight…” Harriet looks up. Regina stands at the edge of her balcony. Her long train reaching Harriet's feet. Her half-shrouded face looking from box to box. “... I have failed you.”

  Immediately, the theatre thunders with rumour. Harriet suddenly twitches, trying to get up, but is overwhelmed by a stinging migraine, the scent of honey.

  “This man is a pederast, and a pilferer,” Regina lifts her hand, silencing the crowd. “He has infiltrated our flock through my naivety. He will not be the first, nor the last. Every day the Communists in our government and their puppeteers in Tel Aviv shoot and bite and claw at us, not because they are strong, but because they fear us. Fear us, so they want to DESTROY US!"

  Below, Lianna appears, snaking through the stage. Unsheathing a long, carved dagger.

  “I tell you this, children, not so that you can cower from them like your ancestors once did. You are bright. You are beautiful. As the Gilded Ones selected us, we have selected you, the best of your race, because it is your fire that will ROUT THESE CREATURES and LIGHT OUR PATH!”

  The Kepts cheer. A unanimous, open roar that seems to rattle Harriet in her seat, and threaten the building’s very foundation. Harriet's nose curls. The scent. She can follow it.

  “We were RAPED!” Regina joins them. “We were ROBBED! By savages and greedy hearts, beasts from the jungles, daggers in the dark! They destroyed our art! They erased our history! They tried to strangle our mission! They murdered our Saviour! They killed OUR EMPIRE!!!"

  Harriet's face falls. Vents above, and to the left. They wave with movement, spewing something. Lianna reaches the marble, unsheathes her blade, and slices the skin of her palm. Blood fills the gaps made by the carvings. Across the hall, Kepts roar.

  “They will NOT WIN!” Regina shouts. “They will not have this place, they will not take our temple! We are the last light! We are the final torch! Britain lives alone in us! Waiting for the moment, for the Gilded Ones’ return! We will live and serve them!”

  Lianna brings the blade over a brazier.

  “The monsters will perish!”

  It sparks like steel wool.

  “And the world will know peace! The world will know purity! THE SUN NEVER SETS!”

  They repeat it like a mantra. “The Sun never sets!”

  Regina slams her arm on the railing. “THE SUN NEVER SETS!”

  From the stage, Harriet sees the blade quirk. Engravings glow with a clear white light, sizzling and steaming, as Lianna returns to the thief. Raising the blade higher and higher.

  “... and we will guard it,” Regina whispers. “For as long as we can.”

  When the dagger slams into thief's heart, there’s a sizzle, the smash of organ and bone. As his heart erupts, he twitches, Lianna’s spilled aether pushing its way through his neck and legs and arms. Harriet watches in disgust, the honeyed scent preventing anything else. As more aether floods through, his chest starts to bloat. His eyes bulge. Flesh burns from the inside, blood boiling in his veins. Until it’s done.

  And he’s gone.

  His skin still glows a white light for long, long after.

  Lianna wrenches the dagger. Licks at its tip. The Kepts just saw one of their own get slaughtered, and they couldn’t applaud her more.

  At least, the honey is gone. Harriet climbs from her seat just as Regina leaps from her perch. Headed towards the doors, desperate. She needs to find Astrid and-

  "You disagree."

  Harriet turns, terrified. Regina puts a hand on her heart. Her head hanging heavy. Wobbling her steps.

  “This is what your Black Prince wanted,” Regina gives a harried breath. "An… England that… remembers…”

  “Goddess!”

  As Oathsworn rush to her side, Regina crashes to the floor. She’s helped up within seconds, but her head is limp, the light emanating from her body finally absent.

  Harriet keeps moving back. “I-I’ll get Astrid an’-”

  “No!”

  Regina forces her eyes open. Dull and without colour.

  “Stay.”

  “My Excellence, you need rest.” Mei-Lam hoists her by her shoulder. “The Unbound is not safe. Not now, before we have-”

  “I will speak with her. Alone.” Regina forces herself from their grip, and the Oathsworn retreat. With careful steps, she turns towards Mei-Lam. “You are not Nocturni yet.”

  Harriet watches Mei-Lam, tries to find a hint of rage and envy in that half-covered face. But it never shows. The ‘Celestial’ merely bows, turns around, and directs the Oathsworn to leave. Closing the balcony doors behind her.

  “I kept you here for this,” Regina says, eyes still on the door. “Some words are not meant for thieves and Muses.”

  “... Where’s Astrid.” Harriet doesn’t ask it like a question.

  Regina smiles. “Do you think my name grants me omniscience?”

  “In this buildin’, I do.” Harriet takes a moment to look around. “Brass vents. Predecessor, I assume? Bet it funnels light through pipes in their cities, but here… I’ve seen what Janet can do with pheromones, Goddess. When was the last time Mei-Lam had a free thought?”

  Regina shifts herself, a hint of surprise. “Here, she wouldn’t need to.”

  Harriet scowls. “Where's Astrid? Won't ask again. I'm not leavin' her to you people."

  “Down. To the left.”

  Harriet peers past the railing, and indeed, Astrid is. But not in the stands or joined with the throngs. She hangs by the door. Watching the Oathsworn mop blood on the stage, trying always to make herself smaller.

  “Her love is true,” Regina says. “The mixture did not produce those thoughts. She will want me no matter where she is taken. A lesson, perhaps, for both Lianna and your Keeper."

  “Lianna. She was hopin’ that if she un-Kept her…” Harriet squints. “... the Reeves would do the dirty work?”

  “Something of the sort.”

  “'Till Soteris stepped in?"

  “Apparently.”

  “Then she doesn’t…” Harriet stops. Regina's sole eye stays on Astrid. Watching with human breaths. An open lip. “Goddess-”

  “Regina.” The woman corrects.

  Harriet nods. “Regina. Do ya… uh…”

  “... yes.” Regina twists her head, the chimes in her halo whirring. “... the way, I believe, Jupiter once loved Leto.”

  She turns fully, letting Harriet see the whole of her open skin. The diamonds on her fingers. The gold dust beneath her eye.

  “You think she does not belong, but you were once not a Bolshevik, too, before Rowe gave you seats at his table.” A tiny smile. “Astrid lives not like us. She is not moved by power, or coin, or even her art. She lives for a smile. A gentle touch, a kind word. The certainty that they’ve helped. Lianna would call it a weakness, and in this world, she’d be true. But in the next…”

  Harriet watches in silence as Regina stares at her hand.

  “... she is as the Masters intended.” Regina looks back at her. “She exists for other people.”

  Harriet’s face curls. Thinking of Legally Blonde. Of how Astrid constantly stared back. “Well…” She clears her throat. “Thanks again fer that invitation. I, ah... Astrid will appreciate. But Soteris doesn’t know I’m here, an’-”

  Harriet shivers. Regina’s grabbed her arm. Offers a gentle smile.

  “Can I share a confession?”

  Uncertainly, Harriet nods. Regina directs them both to a couch, plump velvet cushions, and slowly, they both sit. The smaller Magistress putting her hands over Harriet’s arms.

  “Fireside…” Regina’s voice has taken an odd tilt. “... I envy you.”

  It takes Harriet a few seconds to process. “What?”

  "The Keeping. The violence. All of it."

  "A-Are ya crazy?"

  "Heheheh." Regina squeezes her skin. “You will see it. That truest of essence. Pure and unfettered. Power. Power unlike any you’ve ever known.”

  “What the hell are ya on about? I’m his slave.”

  “I never said it was yours."

  Harriet lets out a breath. Can feel a rage bubble up from within. But Regina’s already turned away. Facing the stage, the remaining splotches of still-wet blood.

  “They lie when they say we’re equal,” Regina explains. “Court and Unbound. Labour and Tory. A lion is not equal to a sheep. A fly is not equal to a horse. But we humans are so enamoured with insisting we are. Always, we deny. Refuse it to call it ‘nature.’”

  Regina turns. Shrouding her face from Harriet’s sight.

  “But power is nature. Always pushing, always pulling. So long as Sunlight makes heat and rain drenches clothes, it cannot be overcome. There is always something to have, always someone to have not.” Regina bites her lip. “The Gilded Ones are called tyrants. Slavers and monsters from the Other World. But that is not what I see, what I read in the ancient songs, those few fragments that survived Sunwalker. The Wilds knew power. Knew it as claws and teeth and poison and dark. Unconquerable. And in the face of that reality, the Gilded Ones mastered it. There is no peace in equality, Fireside. Power is all or nothing. In one hand, or the other.”

  Harriet doesn’t hide her frown. “Ya know how that sounds from someone on top?"

  “If only I could be.” Regina smiles. “You disbelieve me, now, and that is fine. But the truth will come, and you will love it. As much as you will love him. A day will come when you stop running. When anger and exhaustion no longer wreathes your face. When the windchimes are silent, the gun is laid down, and the war you’ve always fought will end. One day, you will be free in chains."

  Harriet stares at her with wild eyes.

  “Fireside.” Regina smirks. “I envy that day.”

  Harriet springs from the couch. Making for the door, ignoring Regina’s gentle words

  “I am sorry that you’ve lost Janet. She was my blood-sister, once. I always considered my name on her list-"

  “Ya lie.” Harriet swivels at the door, pointing. “Ya made a mistake lettin’ me in. When my friends wipe out Polyphron, they’ll come fer this hole next!”

  “Enlightenment is never easy.”

  “Yer mad. Yer all mad. Ya think I've lost!? That this over!?” She squeezes the door. “The Keepin’ don’t mean squat. He will be a pulp by the time I’m through! Do ya bloody hear me!?”

  “I’ve done nothing but.”

  Harriet pales. Regina has turned again. Drumming fingers along her ebony mask.

  “Those were your words, Harriet.” Her voice is airy and distant. “The skulls never lie.”

  is, right?

  dhaoine rosín? I tend to write my characters so that they always have a mixture of good and bad ideas, though I wouldn’t be surprised if you struggled to find good in these two ^^’. I enjoy that Regina and Lianna’s relationship is far from balanced - just like the Unbound, they fight, they manipulate, and the sheer vastness between their beliefs make their ‘mission’ a fragile and paranoid one. Not that this would ever apply to certain right-wing regimes in real life!