Roche was the one to find the omphalos in the forest again. She was grimacing as Tigris charged over excitedly, attracted to Roche's location by the smoke signal wafting through the air. The maid clutched Orpheus tightly, the boy wrapped in one of Finn's cloaks.

"Where's Tarak?" she panted.

Roche frowned and pointed to the empty omphalos, "He must have left," she said unhappily, "Orpheus says there's a note in there."

"Right. And he's the only one who can enter with his inkblood." Tigris realised aloud, feeling a sharp edge of discomfort. Talking about inkblood so casually felt odd. She glanced at Orpheus. "Can you get the note?"

The boy bit his lip slightly and nodded. He pressed his hands against the invisible barrier, drawing a shape with his hands. A warm glow emanated from his palms. His sleeves slid back, revealing throbbing veins of obsidian inkblood pulsing through his pale skin. It was eerie but somehow ethereal. Tigris shook her head, ridding herself of the thought guiltily. Her father would have her locked in the dungeons if he had heard such nonsense. Orpheus was a child, of course inkblood looked innocent in his veins. Tigris could remember how obscene and twisted it had seemed in Lord Luctus and Lady Ismere's arms. She suppressed a shudder.

Roche also looked pale as Orpheus stepped through the barrier with a faint grin. He leaned in the snow reddened by Tarak's gunshot wound, picking something up. He happily flounced back through the barrier, his face splitting with a grin.

He leaned close to Roche. Tigris couldn't see his lips move, but Roche reared back as if the boy had said something terrible.

"What is it?" Tigris demanded, "What did he say? What does the note say?"

Roche's brows furrowed. "He said that he was right about Tarak calling him." she muttered, holding out the slip of paper. Tigris leaned forward to read.

Princess Tigris,

The time has come to return Orpheus to me. I have called him and told him where you must go. Lay your trust in inkblood to guide you, and return him to me. Give him my love in the meantime.

Sincerely,

Tarak.

Tigris fought the urge to crumple the note in her hand. "He's making this difficult," she growled. Roche shot her a worried look.

"Or he's trying to test you again." she pointed out, gathering Orpheus in her arms. The boy didn't protest like most children would. Tigris stared at him, anxiety tightening her chest. But Tigris wasn't going to run from the tests.

She would do whatever it took to lift the curse.

"Alright, Orpheus. Where are we going?" Tigris asked, softening her voice for the child's sake. Orpheus' face split with a grin. He leaned up towards Roche again, whose brows scrunched with confusion.

"He says we need to go to the nearest village. Some place called Fidenae."

Tigris knew the village. It was a few miles away and a fairly small village that mainly hosted travelers. A good place for anonymity. Tarak had chosen a good meeting location for someone with inkblood.

Tigris mounted her horse, sparing a glance at Roche to check that Orpheus was with her. With that, they began to ride.

-------

The village was bustling with early morning activity as Roche, Tigris, and Orpheus rode over the hill overlooking the settlement. Short, squat houses lined the streets, carts with goods and wares tugged down paved roads. Animals yipped and squawked and cried out, adding to the cacophony of human voices calling to each other with the rising sun. Tigris felt a headache coming on as she scanned the buildings and crowds, looking for any sign of the wily inkblood. She didn't see any sign of his telltale cloak.

"Does Orpheus know where to go next?" Tigris hissed to Roche, feeling her horse become agitated beneath her. Roche mutely shook her head after a moment, and Tigris' headache came back with a vengeance. This was going to take a while.

"Perhaps someone's seen him," Roche said quietly, "We can ask."

Tigris nodded, her mind buzzing. They'd need to go to a place where strangers would be noticed, some place that locals could talk about strangers. An idea struck her, but it certainly wasn't a place where Orpheus could go.

"Take Orpheus and get him a snack. See if Tarak's anywhere in the market," Tigris ordered, rifling through her pockets. She grabbed her coin pouch and doled out a bronze coin to the maid, "Meet me back here in an hour."

"You aren't coming with us?" Roche asked, cocking her head. Tigris nodded.

"I'm going to check the tavern and see if anyone's seen Tarak," she answered, pulling her cloak tight. The winter air was bitterly frigid. She was eager to get inside and feel the warm rush of alcohol.

Roche looked pale. "We shouldn't split up," the maid reasoned. Tigris felt a flash of annoyance course through her. Couldn't Roche ever just do as she was told?

"Do you really want to bring a six year old to a tavern?" she hissed. Roche blinked, glancing at Orpheus.

"I thought you were four." she muttered. Tigris rolled her eyes, swatting the girl's head.

"Focus!" she hissed, "All I'm asking you to do is to stay out of trouble for an hour. Can you do that?"

Roche, because she was Roche and needed to be a pain in the backside, cocked a brow and retorted, "Can you?"

Tigris gritted her teeth. "Of course I can. Now go!"

Roche hesitated still. "I should come with you."

"We are not bringing a child to a tavern!" Tigris snapped, "I know you love day drinking, but now really isn't the time. Are you really so incapable that you can't watch a child for an hour?"

Roche, to Tigris' amusement, flushed an indignant red. "But-"

"Roche," Tigris warned. Roche's mouth snapped shut. Something in Tigris' expression must have warned the maid not to push because Roche nodded unhappily.

"Fine. But stay out of trouble, princess." she grumbled, looping her arms around Orpheus to stop him from leaning out of the saddle. She grabbed the reins and as she rode towards the market, Tigris could have sworn she heard Roche murmur to Orpheus, "You're four, right? There's no way you're actually six!"

Tigris rolled her eyes again. It was a wonder that Roche could be so smart and stupid at the same time. Ignoring the ramblings of her maid, Tigris gathered her reins and moved towards a small, bustling building at the edge of the town that reeked of alcohol.

She pressed the doors open, the rank scent of sweat and ale assaulting her nose. She fought the urge to cough at the scent as all eyes swung towards her, many of them leery and drunken. Tigris flashed a confident, brash grin to her face as she sauntered up to the bartender. Her leather gloves squeaked as she leaned up against the surface, some unknown residue slicking the leather. She chose to ignore that, for her own peace of mind.

"A pint of beer, please." she requested, flashing a gold coin over her knuckles before flipping it over the counter. The bartender caught it easily, rushing to get her drink. Tigris hunched over the bar, careful to keep her weapons concealed under her thick cloak. She surreptitiously scanned the room, the warm buzz of chatter filling her ears. There were all kinds of people here. Many of them mingled over chipped wooden tables, laughing together and arm wrestling joyfully. Tigris turned her gaze away from them, they were too deep in their camaraderie to answer her questions. She needed someone observant, someone who had been watching.

Tigris took a long sip of her drink the moment the bartender brought it, the warm buzz of alcohol filling her with a frenzied kind of energy. She cast her eyes towards the far reaches of the room. A figure was huddled in the corner, nursing a tall drink. He seemed isolated enough and had a drunken sway that suggested he'd been there for a while. Tigris grabbed her drink, ignoring how it sloshed over her boots, and sidled up to the silent man. She opened her mouth to speak, but he spoke first.

"Nope."

Tigris blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"I don't want to trade," his voice was low and brassy with a rasp that made Tigris' throat itch. He shot Tigris a sidelong look, revealing a sharp, creamy brown jawline covered with a generous hazel scruff. He glared at Tigris from the corner of his ice blue eye, taking another swig of his drink.

"I'm not here to trade." Tigris replied, quickly gathering her composure, "I just wanted to talk."

The man chuckled, his bushy brows lowering as he gave Tigris a once over. Her skin prickled indignantly. "I suppose so. You nobles always 'just want to talk'." he slurred. Tigris fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"I'm not a noble," she tried to lie, donning her most innocent expression that had fooled many courtiers. To her humiliation, the man just laughed raucously, drawing looks from across the bar.

"If yer not a noble, then I'm the bloody king," he said once his fit of laughter passed. He gestured at her with his drink, spilling half of it on her. Damp ale soaked through Tigris' cloak. "You're wearing rich furs, my lady. Too rich for a commoner to wear." he said with an exaggerated bow of his head. Tigris felt her temper flare.

"I'm not here to trade. I just wanted to talk." she growled, wringing his drink out of her shirt, "If you don't want to, that's fine. I'm sure there's someone with an ounce of respect and chivalry in this town."

"You'll find that not many locals will talk to you unless you have something to trade." he said as she turned away, "Find one of your fellow travelers, perhaps."

"Like you?" Tigris snarked. She'd noticed the mud crusting off of his boots, the layers of mismatched clothing, and his unshaven, almost haggard appearance. The man hadn't had a place to stay for ages, clearly.

She felt his gaze sharpen on her as she slid off the stool gratefully. She wasn't sticking around to banter with this asshole.

"So, not just any noble, I see," he mused. Tigris froze, hoping his words had been drowned out by the cacophony of chattering voices. If anyone got wind that she was here instead of the 'hunting trip' excuse Finn was currently circulating around the castle, then she'd be in trouble.

"What are you-"

The man moved quickly. Tigris' battle hardened reflexes had her hand wrapping around his wrist before it could make contact with her, jerking him to the side hard enough that he slammed into the bar. His large tankard was jostled out of his other hand, dumping his drink all over both of them. Tigris spluttered, her eyes burning as the foul alcohol trickled down her face.

The patrons around them quieted in shock as Tigris held the man in place, her hair dripping with alcohol. He stood there for a moment, eyes wide with surprise and apology. Then his charming, drunken grin was back.

"A royal warrior, then!" he announced. Tigris narrowed her eyes, twisting his wrist.

"Ah, so you know what will happen if you touch me." she growled. He smirked.

"I wasn't going to, princess. Just wanted to point out your fancy little toy." he jerked his head to her waist where her cloak had shifted, revealing her sword. The royal crest was emblazoned on the hilt, glistening in the light for all to see. Tigris hastily dropped his hand to rearrange her robes.

The man stared at her, a more calculating gleam in his eyes. "What's a royal doing in a small bar in Fidenae?" he asked. Tigris opened her mouth to answer, but he interrupted, "Are you here to shut down the bar on order of the king?"

Tigris blinked. "What? No! I'm here to try find-"

"In that case, I don't care," the man cut in with a smug look, "So long as you don't interrupt my drink." He lifted his now empty glass towards the bartender, "Can I get another one, Tom?"

"Sorry, Brom. You've already run the other taverns dry, we can't spare you any more." the bartender called back loudly, shaking his head. Brom sagged back in his seat with a groan.

"Blast it, that's the third tavern today." he mumbled. Tigris perked up. If he'd been to three taverns, perhaps he'd seen Tarak.

"Have you seen an inkblood anywhere? He's a tall guy, wears a large, forest green cloak. He has cropped, dark hair. He might have a wound on his shoulder." Tigris asked, leaning against her seat. Brom narrowed his eyes at her lips, sucking at the rim of his empty glass for drops of alcohol.

"Inkblood's illegal, my lady," he mused, "Why're you looking for one? Better question, why do you expect me to help?"

Tigris felt a rush of annoyance. "Because I have his kid!"

"Ah," Brom's baby blue eyes drifted down Tigris' form, stopping on her midsection for a brief moment.

Heat bloomed in Tigris' cheek. She slammed her beer on the counter with more force than necessary, drawing Brom's eyes back to her face. "He's not mine!" she hissed, "I'm trying to do a good deed and return a lost child. I wouldn't expect such an unchivalrous man like you to understand!"

Brom's lips quirked. "Ah, and your highness is so much better than me because?"

Tigris felt a rush of fury at the disrespect. She was poised to answer when a flash of green caught her eyes. She turned, her eyes tracking the movement to a window. She saw a dark green cloak and a flash of dark skin trailing down the street. She was instantly on her feet, racing for the door. To her utter annoyance, Brom trailed behind her. She threw him an irate look that had sent lesser men running.

"Stop following me!"

"This isn't about you!" Brom replied far too jovially, "There's no more for me to drink, so I'm out of here."

She rolled her eyes and shouldered open the door, running onto the icy street. Tarak was trailing out towards the edge of the town where traveller's horses were kept. It was a peaceful spate of land, surrounded by beautiful swathes of ice that glimmered in the light, stacked like sculptures. Tarak's green cloak was nowhere to be seen.

"Tarak!" she called, "I brought Orpheus!"

The librarian didn't surface from the trees. Brom snorted behind her.

"Are you sure he's the kid's father?" he asked with amusement, "Because he seems like he doesn't want to be."

Tigris gritted her teeth. "He's the boy's guardian, and don't you have another tavern to go to?" The chill of the spilled ale on her clothes was making her shiver. Just then, a figure crept out of the stables. The stablehand was a slender young man. He had bouncing brown curls that blended in with his freckled, tanned skin. He peered at Tigris with guarded hazel eyes for a moment before they darted to the royal crest emblazoned on her sword. The man's eyes widened with recognition, much to Tigris' dismay.

"You're the princess!" he gasped. Tigris nodded and he fumbled to bow.

"Rise," Tigris said, scanning the trees distractedly, "Have you seen a man come through here?"

Instantly, the brunette began to scowl. "Ah, yes. He's a filthy inkblood, my lady."

Tigris bit back a wince at the pure vitriol in the words. She forced her face to stay neutral, even as Brom stiffened behind her.

"Do you know where he went?" she asked, trying not to sound too eager. The man's eyes narrowed.

"Are you going to burn that devil spawn?" he asked, his voice caustic with bitterness. Tigris barely managed to stop herself from flinching back.

"I have business to attend to with him," she purred, letting malicious implication coat her words to ease the man's concerns.

Behind her, Brom snorted, like he found her display amusing.

"Oh, shut up!" Tigris snapped at him. He seemed to not hear her, keeping his eyes on the man before them.

Immediately, the stablehand stiffened in discomfort, his eyes glancing past Tigris towards the hills.

"If you're here to burn the inkblood then where are the knights?" he murmured. Before Tigris could soothe him with a half-truth, he stepped back. "The king would never let his daughter pursue an inkblood alone with a simple drunkard for protection."

Tigris opened her mouth to lie, but Brom laughed brashly.

"Me? Protect the princess?" he guffawed, "I wouldn't be caught dead doing that!"

Tigris whirled on him. "You're not helping!"

"Why would I?" There was a cold glint to Brom's ice blue eyes, "Not like you royals have done anything for me, have you?"

The stablehand glanced between them, his jaw dropping. He stumbled backwards, his face darkening. "You're not here on the king's orders, are you?" he realised aloud. Before Tigris could even try to take hold of the spiralling situation, the stablehand's cheeks paled, "You're here chasing after an inkblood!"

The accusation and horror in his voice rankled her. She stepped forward, trying to stay calm. "You don't understand-"

The man's hands curled into fists. His brown eyes that once shone with admiration now glistened with hate. "Your father would have a fit if he knew the truth about what his daughter was doing," he sneered, "You stain his legacy!"

Tigris' blood began to simmer, Tarak forgotten. "Mind your tongue!" she seethed, "Do not presume to know what the king thinks."

"Who does?" Brom goaded lowly, though his voice was less amused now.

"The king has banned inkblood!" the stablehand cried out, his lip curling with disgust. He spat at Tigris' boots. "I've heard how you shame him. How you speak out of turn, bring commoners into the castle, and now you associate with drunkards and chase after inkblood. Your father will disown you for the dishonour you've brought him."

Tigris' vision tinged red with hatred, her blood pumping in her ears. Somehow, she managed to leash her temper. She unsheathed her sword, barely. The stablehand followed the movement with a cruel twist of his lips. He stood his ground.

"My father lives in the castle, I've heard all about your exploits. Half of the courts think you are a disgrace. Wait til he hears of this," the man leaned forward, eyes gleaming with an almost feverish hate, "The court already hates that you're the heir. Now your father will as well."

The words made something snap in Tigris. She ignored Brom's confused murmur as she leapt forward with a roar, holding the blade's edge to the man's throat.

"Tell me where the inkblood went!" she roared, "Before I run you through for your disrespect."

The stablehand smirked, leaning as close as he dared. He parted his lips with a soft breath, like he might answer...

Then promptly spat into her face. Tigris yelped as the slimy substance splattered against her skin, rearing back. The stablehand escaped with a quick twist of his lithe frame.

"Your people will hate you when they know the truth," he shouted gleefully, "Look at the company the princess keeps! Drunkards, inkbloods, and brothers as weak as-"

Tigris' rage blinded her, scorching her from the inside out. She leapt forward, blade swinging. Her sword arced through the air, straight for his neck. The moment the metal made contact, the man simply flickered out of existence. Tigris stumbled, her blade impaling the snow instead of flesh.

Behind her, Brom inhaled sharply in surprise.

A dark green cloak appeared in front of her. Tigris climbed to her feet, face flushed and hair springing free from its careful braid. Her breath came out in icy puffs.

"Tarak," Tigris breathed, relief coursing through her, "I brought Or-"

"You have failed the test, Princess Tigris." the librarian declared, his face drawn and cold.

Tigris' heart dropped to her feet. "What?" she gasped. The furs slid off her shoulders.

Tarak gazed at her, not a hint of remorse in his eyes. He stared down at her. "You tried to strike down a defenceless man."

That had been the test? Tigris' blood somehow managed to freeze and boil at the same time, forming a slurry of rage and indignation within her veins.

"He insulted my honour!" she snapped.

Tarak shook his head. "You could have chosen to walk away and find me yourself. Instead, you chose to use your strength to defend your wounded pride. You have shown that still, your pride overrides your sense. You proved that you are an easily riled leader."

Tigris could see his lips moving, the words reaching her ears in a delayed fashion, like she was listening through a wall of ice. The fire burned out of her, leaving nothing but hollow, wisping smoke. She stepped forward, past her sword. Its edge was tinged red from the illusion's blood.

"Please," she begged, "My people do not deserve the curse. This was my fault, my mistake!"

Tarak's face was as unmoving as stone. "You failed." he repeated, "The rules change for no one."

The words damned her, as heavy as a brick. They dragged Tigris to her knees. She could already see the wood rotting, food spoiling, pipes bursting, the kingdom in disarray. She didn't deserve her people, didn't deserve the admiration they held for her that night she let them into the castle.

"Please," she pleaded again, "Please, just... help them."

Tarak didn't speak again. His eyes glistened with disappointment, which was somehow so much worse. He turned and retreated into the forest. Tigris didn't have the heart to go after him.

"Tigris!" came a woman's cry behind them. She turned to find Roche and Orpheus racing up, coming to a tentative halt beside a confused looking Brom. Roche's eyes searched Tigris.

"Where's Tarak?" her maid asked, her eyes glinting with hope. Tigris' mouth opened wordlessly. Roche's eyes darted to the footsteps leading towards the forest and the red tinged sword.

Her face fell, and any hope Tigris had remaining crashed with it.

A/N: Yikes, things aren't looking good for Tigris or her kingdom.

Also, guys we got up to 300 views yesterday :O Thank you so much to everyone that's been reading. Seriously, I didn't think this book would get ten views, but here we are! I'm so glad that there's people out there who know about Roche, Tigris, and their adventures, it seriously warms my heart :D

As always, happy reading!