The Sonora grounds were unkempt but otherwise much as Harald had seen them last. By the angels, when had that been? As he jogged lightly down the broad driveway he tried to remember. After Gorkin’s attack, wasn’t it? And that had been—three weeks ago? More?

  Spending too much time in the dungeon warped one’s sense of reality.

  But Harald put such thoughts out of mind. He scanned the bushes, the stands of trees along the high perimeter walls, the manor windows, the closed front door. Anna had lost all her staff, even her mad gate guard and majordomo. She’d returned alone to this empty home, and over the past few weeks—what? Begun the process of rehiring new servants and guards?

  Damn it. Harald resisted the urge to curse. If only he could have accompanied her back. Helped her get grounded. Provided counsel and muscle. Now she was inside, trapped, and—

  “Slow down,” called Nessa, tone terse. “Harald. Wait.”

  He’d almost broken into an all-out run, and her command grated. But he forced himself to slow, then stop. The other three had done the same a dozen paces behind him. “What?”

  “I saw movement along the top,” said Nessa, eyes narrowed as she studied the manor’s roof. “Subtle. But let’s not be idiots and just rush in.”

  Harald flushed. “Fine. We go round?”

  A new voice cut in from above as a rangy figure rose into view. “Glad to see you’ve all learned something about basic survival. I was starting to despair, watching you run right at me.”

  The man was as imposing as he was gaunt, his black hair graying and pulled back into a ponytail, and he wore a Nihtscuan wolf mantle thick about his shoulders. Face angular and harsh, skin burnished by long years weathering the elements, he had prominent brows, hollow cheeks, and eyes that were lost in shadow.

  Relief washed over Harald. “Eadwolf!”

  “The very same. You’ve come a long way since last we spoke, Harald.” Eadwolf placed one hand on the retaining wall and vaulted over, to drop some twenty yards and land neatly in a crouch to one side of the main entrance. Without showing any signs of discomfort at the precipitous drop, he rose smoothly to his feet and approached. “What brings you back?”

  “Are you the Gold-ranked raider the idiots outside told us of?” asked Nessa, also relaxing a fraction.

  “Gold-ranked?” Eadwolf cocked his head to one side. “Possibly. But I wager they’re talking about Lady Hammerfell. She arrived a few days ago. It’s she that’s keeping the hounds at bay.”

  “Lady Hammerfell is here?” Harald’s delight was immediate. “And protecting Countess Sonora? Thank the Fallen Angel.”

  “Aye,” said Eadwolf, eyeing him warily. “These past few weeks haven’t been easy on Flutic. I came when the first riots began, and have remained, seeing as the countess is defenseless. I kept the pups at bay, but it was close work for a while. Everyone seemed intent on making her their prisoner.”

  “Thank you, Eadwolf.” Harald sketched a half-bow. “Thank you. She’s inside?”

  Eadwolf tongued the inside of his cheek as he nodded slowly. “She’ll be pleased to see you. I’ll resume my watch.”

  They hurried up the entrance steps, under the portico, and then Harald opened the door to allow them inside. The familiar entry hall greeted his eyes, washed clean of blood and emptied of ruined furniture, so that it now appeared stark and unadorned.

  Distinct footsteps sounded on the marble, the click, click, click of heels, and then a statuesque figure clad in crimson and gray ducked under an archway to step into view, her long curls of burgundy hair falling past her pauldrons, her expression melting from cold disdain into immediate warmth at the sight of them. “Harald! You’re back. Welcome, all of you. I had thought you mere interlopers.”

  “Lady Hammerfell.” Harald bowed again, more deeply this time, and couldn’t restrain a smile. “They told me outside that a Gold-ranker had taken the countess prisoner a few hours ago. I guess that was their attempt at a cunning ploy.”

  “Indeed. It’s amusing for how long they’re willing to lurk about the entranceway, sniffing and grumbling to each other. I’ve a mind to clear them out, but…” She shrugged one massive shoulder. “That’s liable only to draw more unwanted attention. This detente suits the countess for now.”

  “She’s well? Anna?” Harald moved forward.

  Lady Hammerfell hesitated. “Ye-es,” she allowed. “As well as anybody can be during these times. You’ve just returned from the Dungeon?”

  “Half a Bell ago. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing good, I fear. Come. The countess will be delighted to see you.”

  Lady Hammerfell led their small group to Anna’s private library and pushed the door open with comfortable familiarity to reveal a blazing hearth, and Anna rising to her feet, clad in a modest dress but with a blade buckled at her hip.

  “Harald?” Then she was rushing forward, her relief painfully obvious, to hug him tightly. Harald hesitated—always Anna had been ineffably elegant and poised, and this sudden hug only deepened his concern over the situation. He embraced her for a moment, then stepped back to study her. “You’re not hurt? I’m so sorry I couldn’t come back before—”

  “It’s good that you stayed away,” cut in Anna, composing her freckled face into a dignified expression as she mastered herself, her vivid hazel-green eyes moving to encompass the other three in her words. “But it’s good to see you regardless. Come, all of you, please. Sit.”

  Lady Hammerfell remained just inside the door, her head brushing the ceiling, her arms crossed over her dark gray armor, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her lips. The others claimed armchairs.

  “What’s going on?” asked Sam. “The raiders at your gate, Lady Hammerfell and Eadwolf here to protect you—the streets in the Angel Quarter are practically deserted.”

  “After you left,” began Anna, sitting with natural poise, hands in her lap, “I sent word to Master Eadwolf the Gray beseeching him to enter my service, and retreated to my manor. Those first few nights…”

  “Violent,” said Lady Hammerfell. “A lot of people died. Gold-ranked, Silver-ranked raiders amongst them. It was as if a damn had burst, and decades of hatred and pent-up rage were unleashed.”

  “The city went mad,” agreed Anna. “And each noble manor house became a fortress besieged. Not only that, but hundreds of ruffians came boiling out of the Tangles, maybe thousands, a private army that fought for Lord Drakenhart of all people. The city convulsed, arson was the crime of the hour, and smoke choked the skies.”

  “The Twilight Crown was claimed, lost, then claimed again. Then all knowledge of its location disappeared.” Lady Hammerfell might have been discussing the weather. “The Houses suffered tremendous losses, with alliances being forged and broken nightly. The rest of the city battened down to weather the storm as best they could, and for a week to walk the streets was to court death.”

  “Master Eadwolf…” Anna shook her head slowly in wonder. “He guarded the manor night and day. Groups came to fetch me, and he repulsed them, one after another. They wanted to interrogate me, to force me to reveal potential secrets that they fancied would sway the course of the civil war. To use me as a bargaining piece, to… I don’t even know. But he couldn’t fight forever, and I was preparing to deliver myself to House Veridian as a willing captive when Lady Hammerfell arrived.”

  “I hadn’t thought myself still capable of disillusion,” smiled the gigantic woman. “I knew Lord Drakenhart to have shady dealings, but then, all the Houses do. But what I learned, what he asked me to countenance… Well.” She shook her head, causing her burgundy locks to shake back and forth. “Suffice to say my loyalty broke when he sought to coerce me, and my position at House Drakenhart ended when I cut his head from his shoulders.”

  Sam blanched. “You killed him?”

  “You might call it self-defense. If you were in a charitable frame of mind.” Lady Hammerfell’s smile slowly faded. “Not that it mattered. His son has taken up the mantle and is twice as blood-thirsty and half as intelligent. No improvement there. Regardless. Knowing that he intended to seize Countess Sonora to trade her to House Silvershield who then intended to use her against you, Harald, in the Dungeon, I came here as swiftly as I could. And just in time.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “It was incredible.” Anna gazed at Lady Hammerfell in awe. “She didn’t even use her blade. Just walked through the forces trying to batter down Eadwolf and then turned and crossed her arms. They all fled.”

  “There is yet some wisdom amongst even those fools,” allowed Lady Hammerfell. “But whatever. That’s the least of it.”

  “The least of it?” Harald leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

  “Vic has returned,” said Anna soberly. “But not alone.”

  “Vic?” Nessa’s voice was sharp. “He’s here? In Flutic?”

  It was Lady Hammerfell who told the tale. “He appeared a week ago with a contingent of demons. Yes. Actual demons. Powerful enough to go toe-to-toe with any Gold-ranker, but nothing like you’d find in the very depths of the Dungeon. I wager those can’t be spared. He set himself up in the Cathedral of Our Fallen Lady and spent the first few days repulsing the Inquisitors and holy-knights who sought to destroy him. For reasons I don’t yet understand, the forces of the Church abruptly stopped attacking him. Which is when he sent forth word that he was in possession of the Twilight Crown and was going to coronate himself in the Council Basilica. All heads of Houses were invited to attend, as long as they swore to bend knee. Those who failed to appear would be hunted down by his demons and slain.”

  Harald felt the blood rushing to his head and sank back into his chair. “You’re kidding.”

  Lady Hammerfell’s expression was grim and apologetic both.

  “Vic?” Nessa’s disbelief was rank. “King Carmine? You can’t be…that’s…” And then she let out a bark of laughter and clamped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes, however, betrayed her horror.

  “Did it happen?” asked Sam. “The coronation?”

  “Not yet. It’s slated to take place tomorrow night.” Lady Hammerfell sighed. “He wanted ample time to meet with anyone who was willing to negotiate.”

  “I thought of speaking with him,” said Anna quietly. “Reasoning. But my last vivid memory is of him stabbing me through the leg when my negotiation with Melisende didn’t proceed as he wanted. I’m not sure I have much influence.”

  “Damn it, Vic.” Harald closed his eyes as he steeled his nerve. Of course Vic hadn’t been idle. Of course he wouldn’t just drop his newfound obsession with bringing justice to Flutic. Alone in the Dungeon, he’d no doubt drawn Eclavistra’s attention, which had resulted in his being… armed with what? A dozen demons? More? “Fuck.” Harald’s shoulders sagged.

  “That’s… you didn’t know,” said Anna. “So that’s not why you came back.”

  “No,” said Harald. “This is all news to us.”

  “What are the Houses deciding?” asked Nessa.

  “Hard to say.” Anna sat back, and only now did Harald see the exhaustion riding under her skin, how stark the freckles were, how tired her eyes. “Everybody’s denouncing him publicly, but of course they are. I’ve little information, cooped up as I am here, but I’d wager the rest of my Infinitum that delegations are rushing back and forth from the cathedral each day as everyone scrambles to figure out their angles.”

  “Agreed.” Lady Hammerfell shifted her weight to her other leg. “With Melisende and Drakenhart gone, the Houses have lost their wiser and more cunning leaders. Lady Mirella Argent of House Silvershield is diplomatic and silver-tongued, but as treacherous as she pretends to be pure. Lord Rowan Thorn has all but revealed his demonic allegiances, while Lord Doran of House Emberfell has been sunken in madness and fury ever since you killed his daughter, Kessa. Only Lady Elara Verdant of House Viridian retains anything akin to some semblance of morality and prudence.”

  Nobody spoke. Harald felt Sam’s gaze upon him and finally met it. Her stare was demanding, insistent.

  “You want us to go talk to Vic,” he said, not bothering to make it a question.

  “Obviously,” said Sam. “We can’t let him crown himself the demonic monarch of Flutic.”

  “Agreed,” said Nessa. “My own quest can wait. This is… I mean.” She shook her head in bleak amazement. “The angels damn it, Vic.”

  Harald hunched forwards, fingers interlaced, weight on his elbows on the armrests. “Well, think this through. We announce ourselves. Vic grants us an audience, delighted with himself, and probably expecting us to congratulate him. We tell him he can’t be the demon king of Flutic. He gets put out, tells us we’re no fun, then says he’s serious. We say… what? That we won’t allow it?”

  “It’s always been nearly impossible to reason with the man,” agreed Nessa dourly.

  “We can’t allow it,” agreed Sam. “To give the demons control over the entire city?”

  “On some level, it won’t affect the depths of the Dungeon much,” said Nessa hesitantly.

  Sam glared at her. “Not everything is about the Dungeon. Think of all the tens of thousands of innocents who’ll have to live under Eclavistra’s rule.”

  Nessa shrugged one shoulder. “They’ll survive. The poor always do. It’s the nobles who refuse to play along who will die.”

  “No.” Sam stood up, hands knotted into fists. “I won’t allow it. We must speak with him. Vic is—Vic is a crass idiot, a fool who loves his own wit and words more than anyone else, a—a whoring, drinking, amoral… bastard, but he’s not evil.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Lady Hammerfell, tone demure. “From the way you’re describing him…”

  “I’m sure.” Sam glared back at the Gold-ranked raider. “Every time when we needed him, he was there. Complaining, sure, making terrible jokes—but his actions have always spoken louder. We must confront him. Reason with him. Even if we fail. We must try.”

  Harald nodded reluctantly. “He’ll laugh us off. If he really does have the Crown, his Presence and Ego will be formidable. And if he can bring the other nobles to heel… it’ll give him exactly the right platform he wanted to change the city.”

  “For the worse?” Sam sounded horrified. “He kept going on about improving the lives of the poor, but how will enslaving them to Eclavistra be any better? She must have enchanted him, tricked him, done something to make him act this way. If we can wake him up, I know he’ll see the error of his actions.”

  “I do love your naive enthusiasm,” said Nessa darkly, sitting back and crossing one leg over the other. “Have you actually met Vic?”

  “Sam is correct.” Kársek’s quiet voice cut through the conversation. He’d been listening intently, brow furrowed, and his voice now was firm. “My people in Deepforge won’t accept demons as overlords. If Vic refuses to see the light of reason and the honorable path forward, I will speak with my people. I cannot guarantee what Forge Father Thangrim shall decide, but it shall be either to depart the city or rise and resist Vic’s rule. If we can ally ourselves with one other House, better yet, two, I believe we can marshal enough strength to depose him.”

  The dwarf’s rock-solid conviction stilled all conversation, till Lady Hammerfell bowed her head. “I would fight alongside your people, Master Kársek. Perhaps my example will inspire others to do the same. There are no small number of raiders at House Drakenhart who hold me in high regard.”

  Kársek bowed his head stiffly.

  “Fine,” said Harld. “Let’s go speak with him. I suppose we really don’t have a choice. It’s Vic, after all. If anybody can get him to…” But Harald couldn’t make himself pretend. “I don’t think it’ll go well. But we still must try.”

  Anna sat forward. “We’ve been too cut off from the rumors and news. At the very least, we need to learn what the other Houses are thinking. What has happened. Perhaps the situation is very different from what we understand. We can’t know till we’ve ventured forth.”

  “Agreed,” said Lady Hammerfell. “If it suits you, Countess, I’ll accompany Harald and his companions to the Cathedral. Depending on how that conversation goes, I can then make a circuit of the Houses to see what I can learn.”

  “No,” said Nessa, then blinked and focused her eyes. “My apologies, Lady Hammerfell. If you show up at Vic’s door he’ll take it as a threat. Won’t matter what we say, he’ll see your presence as our not trusting him. We have to go alone.”

  “She’s right,” said Harald reluctantly. “We need to do everything we can to have him welcome us as his old friends.”

  Lady Hammerfell frowned, then inclined her head. “Very well. You know him best.”

  “We should go now,” said Sam. “If the ceremony is tomorrow night, we’ve not time to waste.”

  “Agreed.” Harald rose to his feet. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re safe, Anna. Thank you, Lady Hammerfell. We’ll send word of what we’re able to accomplish.”

  Anna rose and took Harald’s hands in her own. “Be careful. Vic may not be the person you once knew. The man who stabbed me through the leg was already not the Rapier Regent who delighted me with his wit these past years.”

  Harald bowed his head. “The Demon Seed. I know. We’ll do our best.”

  Lady Hammerfell was studying the floating mote of light with quiet curiosity. “Is that…? Never mind. May the Fallen Angel smile on your efforts.”

  They all sketched shallow bows to the Gold-ranker, then made for the front door.

  “The Cathedral of our Fallen Lady,” said Kársek. “Do we know how to get there?”

  “I do,” said Sam. “I used to go when I was a girl for the Winter Mourning. It’s a good half hour walk from here. Less if we hurry.”

  “The approach will be guarded,” said Lady Hammerfell, stopping inside the front door as they stepped outside. “And with your new companion, you may not get much of a chance to speak with the sentries.”

  Harald glanced at Exeros. “Right. Of course. As if we didn’t need this to be any more complicated.”

  Lady Hammerfell smiled gently. “You’ll find a way.”

  “That we will,” said Kársek. “An honor as always, Lady Hammerfell.”

  They bid their goodbyes and walked up the driveway to the gatehouse. Harald turned once to try and spot Eadwolf, but the canny old Nihtscuan was too good at hiding.

  The raiders outside the gate stirred and backed off as their small party emerged. Sir Baskin rose from his canvas stool, his smile a little more wary.

  “Nice try,” said Harald, addressing the portly knight. “Would have been a neat bit of work to trick me into attacking Lady Hammerfell.”

  Baskin spread his arms. “Can you blame a man for trying?”

  Dull anger thudded in Harald’s skull, and he embraced the Crown of the Abyssal Tyrant. His Thrones roared as they poured mythical power into his new and compounded aura, which flooded the cobbled street with shimmering darkness. The air grew frigid as the abyss began to sap all present of their vitality, and Harald felt his power and command, his authority and dread will blanket the assembled raiders.

  “You may think this all a jest, but I tell you now, you try my patience.” His voice was hollow with dark power, and the men and women around him staggered back, faces turning pale, hands fumbling at their weapons. “Your presence here is an offense. If you are here when I return, I shall strip the flesh from your souls and leave you quivering in the sight of the Fallen Angel, for only She will be worthy of judging the depths of your cowardice and shame.”

  Sir Baskin stumbled back, his chest heaving, his brow already bathed in sweat as the dark light played over his rotund form, all his geniality and good humor vanished. In every face Harald saw rising terror, and their wills were like small candleflames that he had but to puff on to extinguish.

  “Go,” he commanded. “And return only if you want to experience an agonizing end, alone, in the dark.”

  For a moment nobody moved. They stood shivering and quailing in the penumbra of his might, and then as one they broke. With feeble cries that seemed to come from far away, they clawed and pushed at each other, running in either direction down the street, leaving behind their gear and weapons and packs.

  A few moments later, the front of the gate was cleared.

  Harald allowed the Crown of the Abyssal Tyrant to subside, and saw that his companions were staring at him, wide-eyed.

  “Come on,” he said, voice rough and ready. “Let’s go talk to Vic.”