The wound in her leg was not as deep as she had feared. It didn’t have to be, given the potency of the paralytic. As weakened as Myria was from already sustaining several injuries, the brood wolf’s venom had little trouble wholly hindering her ability to move. Because of it, the Slayer could do naught but wait until the feeling in her body returned. It was agony to do so, knowing what was happening, knowing that she was so near to the Mediator and yet too weak to stop his murder. This knowing tormented her.

  Eventually, when the numbness in her leg and body faded away, Myria forced herself up and staggered toward the Mediator’s study. With every step the entirety of her left side prickled with a thousand stinging needles, and made the walk itself—in more ways than one—akin to its own torture. Such a discomfort amounted to nothing however, not when compared to the overwhelming pain of her own guilt. How the stab of it so keenly pierced her when she discovered Sevner’s lifeless body. The symbol of everything the Valor was striving for, the singular vessel of their hope, lie dead upon the floor, and it was entirely Myria’s fault that this was so.

  She fell deathly silent at the sight of it, in both shame and sullen reverence, and could only take in shallow breaths against her sharp pangs of disappointment. Truly she had dared to hope that the acrobat would change her mind, and it weighed heavily on Myria’s heart that she had not. In a long, solemn quiet, Myria accepted that her words, her trust, had been both wasted and misplaced. It was a harsh blow to her pride that she had been so egregiously wrong in her judgment of the jester; that she had been so fully deceived and that things had come to this. Somberly, Myria gathered herself and turned to leave down the hidden hall. It would do her no good, she knew, to be here when Sevner was found. The Valor would already be implicated in the Mediator’s murder simply because they were an independent faction, and her presence here—should she be discovered—would only complicate the matter. Besides, the only light she possessed was beginning to burn low, and she would still need it for a while yet to better find her way out.

  Recalling the route she needed to take, Myria began limping down the barren passage toward the exit. The light of the candle given to her by the acrobat was barely strong enough to keep the shadows at bay, yet it managed to lead her long enough for another light source to take its place. Though the sight of this glow surprised her, that someone else—someone certainly from the Valor—was on their way, was a welcome comfort to Myria after everything that had happened. However, her relief turned to misery as the light of the lantern neared, for it revealed the one person that Myria had every wish to avoid.

  Nathaniel rushed to Myria’s side as soon as the light revealed her, and was as surprised to find the Slayer here as she was in seeing him. Confused by his unexpected appearance, Myria questioned the commander concerning the reason he was here, and Nathaniel explained that he felt he little choice but to come and meet with Sevner personally. After everything that had transpired over the span of this single evening, Myria could not deny that the commander’s reasoning was indeed sound. That the assassin had escaped from the Valor’s hidden stronghold, that he and another of his kind were loose inside of Neurial, that Myria, a Valor captain, was still presumedly captured; it was only natural that Nathaniel would find it necessary to intervene. How unfortunate it was that his efforts were all in vain.

  Knowing this, and knowing also that everything had happened only because she had allowed it to, though Myria was overjoyed by Nathaniel’s concern, she could not accept his sentiments. The assassins had vanished, the Mediator was dead, and the jester had betrayed them; all of this had occurred under her command. All of this Myria begrudgingly relayed to Nathaniel, her hurt deepening when her words were not readily believed. But it wasn’t a lack of faith in Myria that caused Nathaniel to doubt, this much she knew at least. It was merely too much news, and all of it bad, that made her commander disbelieve. Regardless, Myria bade Nathaniel to confirm her story with his own eyes if he truly needed convincing, though she knew—as did he—that this wasn’t the real reason why he needed to see. No, Nathaniel needed to visit Sevner’s corpse simply because they had been friends; so that he could say his goodbyes and so that there would be no possible way to misunderstand exactly how the Mediator had died. The Valor could not trust the Honorbound to tell the truth about tonight’s events, and Nathaniel would need to know the truth so to keep the Valor and their allies confident in his command.

  Thus, Myria waited patiently while Nathaniel went to Sevner’s side, and watched quietly as he returned with tears already dry. Neither one of them said anything then. There was simply nothing to say, and anything possibly worth mentioning could wait until a later time. It was more important now that they leave, for though Myria was holding up well for the moment, her reserves of strength were all but drained. She had been ignoring this for too long, and by doing so, she had only further strained her various wounds. Nathaniel realized this innately without the need to ask, and so took it upon himself to guide Myria from the fortress and into the secrecy of the Valor’s care.

  Upon delivering her to their best alchemist, Nathaniel left Myria to attend to other business. It was just as well, for there was little else the commander could do for her, and though the two of them had great need to speak, Myria was too exhausted, too numb, to maintain conversation. That she was finally at ease, this itself was enough to rend her into deep unconscious, and Myria did not wake again until late evening of the following day.

  In those hours after her waking, though she expected his visit, Nathaniel did not come. In truth, Myria did not want him here. She did not want to face him, not now, not when knowing what needed to be done. Later, she heard from the chief physician that the last of Cambria’s Honorbound had arrived in Neurial, and keeping tabs upon their movements was keeping the commander occupied. This suited Myria, for she still needed time to recover, if only from her general fatigue. Physically spent, abused and battered, it would take days, potentially even months, for her body to fully heal. At the very least, the alchemist had confirmed that Myria’s injuries were not as bad as first believed. With proper rest, she would even be able to move on her own again within a few days’ time.

  Though usually loathed to remain still, this time Myria was more than willing to adhere to the doctor’s order for rest. The sense of duty that had once fueled her, it was missing from her now, and the need to sort out her thoughts, her failures…it was all she could think about. The hours spent lying in bed gave her time, too much time, to contemplate. How vividly she remembered yesterday and all it had entailed. And oh, how Myria cursed herself for her own ineptitude. She knew that something had been off with the jester, but she had been too tired, too focused on her goal, to pay it proper mind. Had Myria but prodded the girl deeper, had she simply asked rather than assumed, then maybe she would have realized the jester’s true motives for infiltrating Dragon’s Teeth.

  But, was I truly wrong? Myria rolled the remnants of the acrobat’s parting gift between her fingers as she pondered this. So long had she prided herself on her ability to judge ones’ character that she simply could not accept the idea that she had been so utterly fooled. There was something more to what happened than what she could currently perceive. But what? What was this inexplicable gap in her understanding? From what exactly did it stem? Everything she knew and had come to learn told Myria that she had not been wrong, that there had been no reason to suspect the jester’s treachery or doubt her character. That the girl had come to save Myria, that was certainly the truth, as was her desire to help the Valor capture the assassin. What, then, was Myria missing? What was it she had overlooked?

  There is something else, Myria concluded after an extensive period of time, something that goes beyond the Honorbound and the Valor. This is the only explanation. That the jester had been so genuinely believable, so honest in every word and action, this had to be the reason why Myria was caught so unaware. The acrobat had never lied to her, not that Myria knew at least, nor acted in a way that she did not believe in. Surely this was why there had been no true signs of coming betrayal to detect. But if all the while the girl had been truthful concerning her allegiance to Myria, what, then, did the child know that Myria did not about why the Mediator had to die?

  This question burned inside her mind as she lay silent within her room. If Myria could but answer this, then everything would be explained. But the only way to find out the truth was to hear it directly from the jester, and she had surely fled the city once the Mediator had been killed.

  Staring up at the ceiling, Myria absentmindedly watched the dancing light of the candle flame as its glow flickered in golden waves across the stone. There would be harsh repercussion for what had happened under her watch. She had already accepted this. But if she was right, then there was still something that she could yet do for the Valor, for Nathaniel, to make some attempt at amends.

  This was the only hope to which Myria could cleave, and with it, she bided her time in resolute silence as the hours passed. Still worn in body from the events of days passed, when the candle serving as her only source of light burned away to nothing, Myria again fell asleep. Eventually, she was stirred into waking by a quiet tapping upon her door, and blinked away the shroud of sleep only as its beckon came again more strongly. Groggily Myria bid her visitor to enter, whereupon a silhouette came into the doorway as it was opened. That her room was black caused the stranger to call out for a light, and Myria’s countenance fell when she recognized the man’s voice as Nathaniel’s.

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

  So used now to the darkness, when the firelight invaded the gloom of the room it caused Myria’s eyes to burn and she turned away. Shutting the door then, Nathaniel calmly made his way over to the side of her bed, where he slipped into a chair there intended for the physician’s use. The lantern he carried he placed upon the bedside table, and for a long while after he sat down, neither he nor Myria said a word. Hardly could the two of them even look at each other, both knowing what they did, but, inevitably, duty drove the commander to be the first to speak.

  “How are you feeling?” Nathaniel asked, his concern genuine. Though this is what she had expected, it relieved Myria nonetheless to hear Nathaniel talk to her in such a way. Clearly it mattered not that she had failed him so miserably, for she was still his friend and thus he would continue to care about her well being.

  “I have suffered worse,” Myria answered him, squinting only a little now against the light. As a Slayer, she had indeed dealt with injuries far more dire than this, but nevertheless, she was still experiencing a fair amount of pain. Not only did the entirety of her torso twinge and ache, but she was stiff from having been lying motionless for so long. Her ribs were restrained by several layers of bandages, and this meant that she couldn’t move to work out the restlessness within her muscles. But hardly did it matter, for any sort of movement begot a series of sharp pangs that could only be avoided if she continued lying still. “I was told that I have two broken ribs,” Myria continued then, “but neither is too severe a break. Several of the others are badly bruised as well, and are no less painful.” She then gestured toward her face, aware of how bad it must still look. “Everything else is the same; nothing that cannot be mended. The swelling is also nearly gone, and I can see again.”

  “That is good news,” Nathaniel said, sounding somewhat relieved. Then he nodded to Myria’s leg and the injury hidden beneath the blanket. “And what of that?”

  Myria frowned in response, and, pausing a moment, she looked away. “It was a clean stab,” she stated, though her answer came reluctantly. “Not too deep, and it struck nothing so to leave a lasting mark. It will heal completely.”

  “I am glad to hear it.” Again the two of them fell quiet, both begrudged to speak. The only thing left to say now concerned the real reason Nathaniel was here, and neither of them desired to broach the topic. In time though, the commander inhaled and released a tired, regretful sigh. “Myria…”

  “Do not try to soften the blow,” Myria interjected. “It will do neither of us any good.”

  “Then you know what has to happen.”

  Myria remained silent. Yes, she knew. Or at least she had her suspicions. It was inevitable, after all, that she would be forced to pay for the damage she had caused. “Whatever you deem necessary, I will accept it, Nathaniel.”

  This surrender to her fate caused Nathaniel’s face to darken, stealing what little light remained within the commander’s eyes. “Very well,” he said, though it was apparent that he had no wish to proceed. “I am relieving you of duty, Myria, and revoking your membership among the Valor. Do you understand this?”

  Though Myria had indeed suspected that this would be her punishment, to hear it said—and by Nathaniel—dealt her a most devastating blow. To shield herself from her own rising emotions, Myria pressed her hand over her eyes. She would not shed tears—she would not—for she didn’t have the right. “I understand,” she said evenly once the wave of feelings had passed.

  “I am truly sorry, my friend,” Nathaniel uttered softly with a sad shake of his head. “It should not fall to you to carry the burden of my mistakes.”

  “You mean the jester,” Myria surmised, receiving the commander’s nod in return.

  “I agreed to use the girl. The blame for Sevner’s assassination falls on my shoulders as much as it does yours. But I cannot afford to lose face, not now, lest the Valor suffer for it.”

  “I know that, Nathan,” Myria said, “and I am willing to aid you in this way. It is for the good of our cause. They need you far more than they need me.”

  Again Nathaniel shook his head, this time in displeasure. “I am grateful to you for that, Myria. I truly am. I only regret that I can think of nothing else to do save this.”

  “There is nothing else to be done,” Myria told him with a sigh. “Someone has to be made accountable. You know this, as I do.” For a long moment then, the Slayer paused. “I have been given a long time to think, Nathaniel, and, perhaps, this is for the best. After all, even if I were to remain among the Valor, I would need an indeterminate amount of time to heal. I would be of no use to anyone during that time, and that is hardly something that the Valor can afford. Too does Fangris know my face now that the assassins have escaped, and so, at the very least, I cannot return to the Scar.”

  “That is true,” Nathaniel agreed as he listened to Myria’s reasoning. “I hadn’t yet the time to consider that.”

  “The securing of my anonymity was one of the primary reasons why we were chasing after the assassin. We failed, and thus I fear that I will have no choice but to leave Cambria entirely.”

  “If that is what it takes to keep you safe, then so be it,” Nathaniel said. “I would rather you be out of reach than risk losing another friend. Though if ever you come to require aid, know that you need only to contact me directly and I will do what I can to assist you. I cannot use you in the Valor, Myria, but I will not shun you, not for this.”

  “Then as my friend,” Myria began, “I would tell you of my intentions, lest I do have the need to call on you. For I will not sit idly by after I am healed.”

  Her admission caused Nathaniel to pause, and his brow furrowed deeply with new concern. “Explain,” he stated, though his manner indicated that he already did not approve.

  Being careful to take her every next movement slow, Myria worked to sit herself up so that she could speak with Nathaniel properly. The effort took a great deal of struggle, but she did indeed manage to rise, given enough time. “I have been thinking about it carefully,” she started to explain after taking a moment to catch her breath, “and I do not believe that we were wrong. In fact, I am convinced that everything we believed concerning the jester was correct. That girl, she did not kill the Mediator out of evil intent. No one with such heartfelt remorse kills for such a reason. No, instead I believe that there is something more to this, something beyond the reach of both the Honorbound and the Valor.”

  “I was not present when she betrayed you,” Nathaniel interrupted, “so I cannot trust what you say with absolute certainty. But, say I am willing to agree with you; what purpose does it serve?”

  “If nothing else,” Myria continued, “knowing the truth will supply us clarity. Though, I must admit that it will also serve for my own appeasement. I will not pretend that I do not wish to seek out the jester so to settle things with her. However, if there is indeed someone else meddling in Cambrian affairs, then it will only benefit the Valor to know who else is involved.”

  “And even if the search amounts to nothing, we will know regardless,” Nathaniel concluded.

  “Just so. Whatever it is that I discover, it can only help the Valor. I need only to find the jester first, if indeed I can. She knows far more than she let on. I have never been more certain.”

  Nathaniel leaned slightly to the side to rest his elbow on the bedside table, and holding his chin in his hand, he fell into silent thought. Soon enough he sat up again, a newfound sternness in his gaze. “You will be alone in this pursuit,” he said. “I cannot use the Valor to help you.”

  “I expected nothing less than that,” Myria stated in reply. “I always intended to find the jester alone.”

  Nathaniel nodded when hearing this. “In that case, the offer of my help—should you come to need it—still stands. I will always support you, my friend, for as long as your cause remains just.”

  “I will keep that in mind,” Myria assured, “and should I need you, I will reach out. Though, for now, I ask only that you pray for my success.”

  “I will, if that is indeed what you ask of me. But, you are a Slayer, Myria, and I have never once doubted your hunting skill.”

  The compliment warmed Myria to hear, enough so that it made her smile. “Thank you for that, Nathan.”

  That Myria could come to smile, even after all that had happened, all that she was being forced to bear, drew Nathaniel into smiling slightly himself. “If I am honest,” he began as he rose up from his chair, “I was afraid that when I spoke to you I would only leave here with regrets. I am relieved, even glad, to see that I was wrong.”

  “Remember that it was once my role as Valor captain to instill hope,” Myria remarked, “and though it was a task I oft struggled with, it is nevertheless a position that I choose to retain.”

  “As you should,” Nathaniel stated. “It is a frame of mind that can only help.” With a hand over his heart then, Nathaniel gave Myria one last show of respect, and bowed to her in thanks for her service. After rising, he turned toward the door, meaning now to depart. “Good luck, Myria,” he told her in goodbye, and withdrawing from the room, he shut the door at his back.

  Myria was now alone, and though as bittersweet as the meeting was, the Slayer was glad to have had this last farewell. It relieved her more than she could have guessed to know that everything was right between them, and that she could yet call on Nathaniel’s help, she hadn’t expected that. Too was Myria certain now that her chosen course was the correct one; convinced that her desires were indeed for noble cause and not driven by something as petty as revenge. It didn’t matter now that she’d been disgraced; her honor could be regained. She had to but merely become a Slayer again, then hunt the jester down both for herself and for the Valor. Whatever knowledge the girl possessed, Myria would discover it, and she would not let herself be fooled by the acrobat’s charm this time.

  “I will find you, Saraya,” Myria promised as she lowered herself back into bed. “And if not before, you will soon regret your choice in betraying me.”