TW: V0miting, illn3ss, d3ath, coarse language

The darkness was all encompassing. Roche couldn't tell where it ended and she began. Her head throbbed as she blinked. The sky was still dark. Stars still gleamed overhead. Her hands weren't bound, nor were her feet. She was sluggish, pain lancing through her head as she tried to move. She cried out before she could stop herself, and then there were hands gripping her.

"Sh, sh, sh," Eris shushed her, her slender, pale fingers painfully gripping Roche's jaw. Roche struggled, clarity coming to her in a burst.

"Auk-"

Eris wrenched her jaw open, tearing the incantation in half. Roche rallied her mind, but before she could even gather a single thought, Eris was pinning her leaden body down, pressing something cool to her lips. It was a glass vial, small and icy. Roche choked as a cool trickle of liquid dripped into her mouth. Eris yanked her neck back, pinching her nose and mouth shut until Roche was forced to swallow.

"Good girl," Eris whispered, pressing a hand to Roche's temple, "Goodbye, Roche. I'm sure your Ala and Tigris will miss you. Hyunid."

Darkness rushed up to meet her, and Roche couldn't fight it.

-------

Sunlight burned against her tender eyes, dragging her to consciousness. Roche groaned, her throat as dry as sandpaper and her ears as sensitive as a dog's. She winced, pain stabbing through her mind in sharp forks of lightning as she heard the birds chirping.

It was morning.

She'd slept through the entire night.

Her memories came back to her in rough, jagged pieces. Sneaking out into the forest. Tracking the assassin. Eris.

Roche curled to the side, moving to get to her feet. Agony shredded through her limbs, tearing up her back. Before she could stop herself, a scream rattled out of her, garbled by a rush of vomit that she barely managed to expel. Her stomach churned, her blood boiled. When the fit of nausea had stopped, she managed to lift her head slowly.

She was lying in a ditch of some kind. By the unnatural angle of her right knee, her leg had been dislocated in the fall. Her right arm dangled loosely. She was sure that her back was a smattering of bruises.

But that wasn't the worst of it. No, the worst of it was the constant gurgle and shuffle of her stomach, the painful twist of her muscles that made her whimper and clutch at the mulchy, foamy, vomit soaked ground desperately.

The world was hazy at the edges as her hand connected with something sharp, drawing a slice of ruby red blood from her palms. She drew her distracted gaze over to the side, finding shards of glass embedded in her skin.

A memory flashed through her mind.

A vial.

Poison.

Eris has poisoned her.

Her stomach rolled again, tightening so viciously that Roche couldn't move. She could only endure the waves of agony until unconsciousness seemed like bliss. She registered her limbs beginning to twitch and dance like a puppet on a string as her eyes rolled back into her head without prompting. She sank into unconsciousness with one thought in her mind.

Tigris.

-------

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. Roche had lost track of when the torture had began. She was distantly aware of her body rolling to the side to expel the meagre contents of her stomach, something red and coppery mixed in.

She bobbed between oblivion and light, a sense of urgency filling her.

There was something she needed to do.

Someone she needed to save.

A friend. A queen. Tigris.

Roche was launched back into consciousness. Morning light still caressed her face, but a steady roll of grey clouds was creeping in over the canopy. She stared up at the darkening sky, trying to gather her breath. She closed her eyes, her inkblood roiling as much as her gut.

"Llanosus q-" Roche choked, the inkblood sticking in her throat, staunched by a tightening of her muscles. She spasmed helplessly, a gurgle rattling out of her throat. When the fit ceased, she tried again, pressing her working hand against her chest.

"Lla-" she didn't even make it through the full sentence before pain tore through her body like it had when she'd first begun using incantations. Paired with the crippling effects of the poison, Roche lost her battle with oblivion and sank back into darkness.

-------

Roche just wanted the pain to stop. She nearly cried in relief when she bobbed back into reality. The world was fractured and dark. Rain pelted her cheeks, a welcome relief to the burning inferno beneath her skin.

If she had the strength, she would have torn her clothes off.

Her fevered mind swam, struggling to put together thoughts. She didn't know how long she'd been there. It was too late to try expelling the poison. Eris had ensured that. And she couldn't use her inkblood.

She stilled, clenching her jaw hard enough to crack a tooth when she realised that her inkblood had another use. But first, she needed some strength in case she was launched back into unconsciousness. Who knew when she'd wake up again?

If she'd wake up.

Her body trembled at the thought. Slowly, too slowly, Roche used her free hand to drag her body to the edge of the ditch. Oh it was agony. Her pain tasted like the thunder that crashed through the sky, sharp and relentless, all encompassing and inescapable. Lightning illuminated her path as she wept, grabbing another fistful of dirt.

She had to get out of here.

Tigris was in danger.

The thought spurred her. She grabbed another handful of dirt, mud squelching beneath her fingers. Rain pelted her face relentlessly. Ghostly laughter echoed around her, the fever rattling her mind. Her stomach churned, but she managed to grab a handful of leaves that she vaguely recognised as edible. If they were poisonous... well, that seemed like a mercy now.

She crammed the leaves into her mouth, gagging as the bitter leaves mixed with the residual vomit in her mouth. But she swallowed, and her inkblood barely bubbled in response. She heaved a breath, rallying her meagre strength.

"Ekklera mon Circe, Striga!"

The words were weak and strained. Roche barely managed to say them, her throat seized by a contraction of muscles. She sputtered and thrashed, trying to suck in air. It was no use. Dark spots danced at the edge of her vision. She scrabbled at the ground desperately, inkblood shooting from her palms in a helpless geyser.

She was going to die.

Fear crystallized Roche's blood as the dark spots in her vision expanded, morphing into faces, warped by fever. She squeezed her eyes shut as they began to laugh.

You failed, they whispered, dissolving into a single voice that sounded like her inkblood's, You've failed us all. You've failed your queen.

Roche was pleading for air, her lungs burning. She wept so hard that she didn't notice when talons curled around her chest, dragging her away from the forest and into the storm.

-------

Rain poured against her face as she awoke. Her body was tense, aching as she sat up quietly. Two large glowing orange eyes peered back at her owlishly. Roche opened her mouth to answer and then curled in on herself with a groan, her body weak and pulsing in agony.

"Easy now," Circe said, their voice more gentle than Roche had ever heard it, "The healing is not yet done, Ala. You must rest."

Even though she didn't want to, Roche sagged back. They were still in the forest, shielded by thick, ropy trees. Her body had been propped up against one of the thick trunks, shielded from most of the rain. Her clothes stuck against her skin uncomfortably.

"What happened?" she managed to croak. Circe clicked their beak, inkblood flooding towards her. A glass of water appeared in her hand that she lifted with effort. Part of it spilled, trickling down her chin, but it was the most refreshing thing she'd ever had.

"Many injuries. And poison. It was deep within you, it's a miracle you're still alive. Who did this to you, Ala?"

Roche swallowed, bitterness filling the back of her throat. She rinsed out her mouth before spitting out, "Eris. She..." Roche trailed off, her memories clicking, "I need to go, Tigris is in danger!"

"Ala, stop! You're half healed, you'll never make it back to the city in this state!" Circe insisted as Roche tried to brace herself against the trunk. Her arm wavered and collapsed beneath her. She groaned.

"You don't understand," she murmured, her mind hazy, "There's an assassin. Circe, take me back. Tigris needs to be protected."

The Striga peered at her with concern. "Will you stay if I ask you to rest?"

Roche smiled wearily. "No. When have I ever listened to you?"

Circe clicked their beak wearily. There was a rush of air, and suddenly the Striga was pressed up against her face.

"Get on." they ordered, "Before you say anything, no, I am not a horse and we will never speak of this again."

Roche blinked at them. "As much as I'd like to... I can't move."

Circe sighed. Their inkblood feathers extended, roping around Roche's midsection. Then, air was rushing against her fevered skin. The rain was gliding against her, and the musky scent of damp feathers pressed against her nostrils.

They were flying.

Roche would have enjoyed it a lot more if she wasn't so nervous and exhausted and in pain.

"Rest, Ala. I will bring you home."

Roche couldn't help but obey the soothing words. She drifted off, dreaming of clouds, rain, and the stars.

-------

She awoke to darkness and a bone shuddering impact. Curved talons, made dull with tenderness, set her down on the rocky floor of the tunnels with surprising gentleness.

"Ala, are you well?"

Roche curled up from the ground with a squelch, wringing water from her clothes. She still ached terribly, and her limbs were trembling like a newborn fawn's. But she could move. And her inkblood surged in her veins with a single thought.

She nodded to Circe, pulling herself up. "Thank you, Circe. I would have died without you."

Circe ruffled their feathers. "Be careful, Ala," was all the giant Striga said, "I have not endured your chattering for all of these years to have you die now."

"Aw, Circe. I never knew you cared."

Without another word, Circe lifted their wings and blasted Roche through the tunnels. She landed gently at the other side, slowly skidding to a stop before one of the shelves. Roche sprang to her feet, urgency filling her as she glanced out the window. The storm clouds nearly made it impossible to determine what time it was.

Eris had said the assassin would come by sundown. If Roche's predictions had been right, that meant that they'd be sneaking around the castle at this moment.

Her mind raced through possible routes as she scrambled out of the library. Her soaked clothes left an uncomfortable trail of water behind, but she couldn't make herself care.

The last shift change had been a few minutes ago. The assassin was probably making their way through the castle, to the location Eris had demanded. Roche strained for the conversation she'd overheard between Hadeon and the traitorous noblewoman. The throne room. The assassination was to take place in the throne room.

Roche cursed, drawing a mental map of the route between the forest tunnel entrance and the throne room. The feast should be in full swing by now. No one would notice a lonely figure in the halls.

She had to intercept them before they could blend in with the crowd in the throne room.

She skidded to a halt a few halls away from the throne room, at the mouth of the royal wing, freezing when she found a figure in a dark green cloak running in front of her. The man before her froze as well, shaking sopping wet dark hair out of his eyes. His pale grey irises stared back at her in surprise.

"Hello," he said tentatively, shifting on his feet.

Roche's mind was whirring, calculating. Her eyes drifted to his hands. His knuckles were weathered, his fingers calloused.

His cloak was fine, but not fine enough to be a noble's.

His stance was steady and sure footed, that of a man who had been in too many fights to lose.

Roche cast her inkblood out, as quick as a viper. The invisible blast of power brushed against the man, singing when it found a small pool of inkblood in the man's pocket. Roche yanked her hand back towards her body, and the enchanted object flew out of the man's pocket. He cried out, attempting to catch the abject, but Roche was already lunging, wrapping her fingers around it possessively.

It was a thin slip of paper, coated in a concealment enchantment. It pulsed with a rancid malice Roche had come to associate with the Council.

She lifted her gaze slowly, locking eyes with the assassin.

She stared at him.

He stared back.

They gawked at each other for a long moment. Roche opened her mouth to give her usual 'turn away now and you'll live to see the next morning' speech when the assassin lunged at her, two curved sickles suddenly in his hands.

Roche yelped, throwing her hands out. Inkblood surged to her command, her weak body trembling as the geyser of power slammed into the assassin. He went flying back, shouting in pain as he slammed into the wall with a crack.

Roche scrambled forward, intent on knocking him out when he leapt to his feet, slicing at her neck.

Roche ducked under the blow, an incantation bubbling on her lips. That was when the assassin sidestepped her, forcing her back with a jab of his sickles. He lifted them towards her.

"Ocwelan!" he hissed. Roche felt the death incantation form and sizzle and watched the thick gelatinous inkblood arrow of death materialise. Primal terror ripped through her and she flattened herself to the ground.

The arrow sailed over her head, colliding with the opposite wall with a boom. Roche only had a moment to suck in a breath before a blur of motion demanded her attention. She rolled to the side, flinging her arm out to throw out another wave of inkblood.

The assassin anticipated the move, grabbing her by the hand and hauling her up. Before Roche could do so much as gasp, her body had been pinned against the wall. Her mind raced as the sickle hurtled for her neck.

She was weak from Eris' poison. Her inkblood, while there, was weakened as well. And she was no proper fighter.

A hand clamped over her lips, salty with sweat, stopping her from screaming as the blade approached.

Roche did the only thing she could think of.

She bit him.

The assassin howled as she sank her teeth into the flesh of his palm. He was so surprised that one of his sickles fell to the ground. Roche latched on like a dog with a bone, coppery crimson slicking her lips, and she shook her head from side to side. The assassin let her go, ripping his bleeding hand away while cursing wilding.

"Rabid bitch!" he hissed, adjusting his grip on the sickle, blood dripping down the handle. "I'll enjoy-"

Roche didn't let him finish. She hurtled for him. The man moved to dodge, but Roche lanced out her inkblood, staying his weapon in place with a thought as she barrelled into him. As much as she'd like to say that she easily killed the man as she'd done to many other inkblood assassins from the castle, that wasn't what happened.

The assassin was experienced. He grabbed her with his free hand, rolling them both until he was on top. Roche did the mature thing and grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked. He strained against her, and Roche shifted beneath him, kneeing him in the stomach. His grip loosened on his blade, and Roche smacked his wrist. The remaining weapon went flying, skidding across the floor.

The fight devolved from there into a mad, almost childish tangle of limbs. Roche was out of breath and panting as she raked her nails down the man's face. He grabbed her hair and gave it a tug, pain crackling through her skull. Roche yelped, using her inkblood to propel both of them down the hall, startling the man enough that his grip loosened.

She managed to wriggle out from beneath him as he pulled out another dagger. As much experience as Roche had from taking down former inkbloods intent on killing Tigris, she was not in good shape. Her limbs were trembling. Her head was spinning. She was weak from vomiting out all of her food.

In the moment she took to catch her breath, the assassin had grabbed her by the neck, holding her fast. Roche struggled weakly as he pressed his weight towards her, intent on plunging the dagger into her neck...

...and he promptly spluttered, red dripping from his lips. Roche sighed in relief as his grip loosened and he glanced down at the inkblood blade that had formed between Roche's hands, impaling him through the gut the moment he'd lunged forward to stab her.

"I'm sorry," Roche whispered as he gagged, the reek of copper filling the air, slowly sinking to the ground. He weakly tried to thrust his dagger at her, tried to take her down with him, but Roche staggered out of the way.

She watched him die, another piece of her soul breaking as his lips curved with the words she'd heard countless times before.

"Traitor. Kin slayer," the assassin managed to gasp with his dying breath.

Roche didn't even try arguing. She leaned closer, pausing for an instant before grabbing the man's sickles off the ground. With an easy motion, the sharp blades parted the skin of his neck like the pages of a book. His eyes gleamed with hatred as he died, a promise that Roche would never find peace.

Roche kneeled beside him as the reproachful light in his eyes faded, and his face slackened.

She carefully unwrapped his cloak, tying it around his slitted neck to staunch the blood before it could hit the floor. She mopped up the speckles of crimson with the edge of her tattered gown, gathering the assassin's weapons and laying them on his body.

She was about to do what she'd always done, open up a tunnel, wrap herself and the body in shadows, and then move to the forest to dispose of the body. But then she heard footsteps, footsteps that she'd neglected to hear in the chaos of the fight. Footsteps that were far too close.

"Shit," Roche whispered, glancing around frantically. It was too late to cloak herself in shadow. She grabbed the body, hauling it upwards. Daggers clattered to the floor just as a figure rounded the corner.

Roche managed to take a grand total of one step towards Tigris' chambers, body dangling from her arms, as Aodh walked towards her, not looking at her as he inspected the stack of papers in his arms.

"Tigris, oh good you're finally in the right place for once. So after lunch, we- '' Aodh glanced up, faltering when he locked eyes with Roche, who stood statue still. She swallowed, dropping the body in her arms with a wet thud, raising her hands above her head.

Aodh's jaw dropped, his ice blue eyes becoming as round as saucers at the gruesome sight. His many papers fluttered to the floor.

"What the fuck?" he breathed out, meeting her eyes with a mix of panic and disbelief. "You... did you..."

As if in answer, a bloody sickle slid off the body, clattering against the ground.

Aodh's skin turned the colour of snow.

"Assassin!" Roche blurted out, rummaging through her pockets. Aodh tensed, his hand darting towards his sword, but Roche merely pulled out the slip of paper that had been the assassin's pocket. "He was going to kill Tigris!"

She discreetly ripped the concealment enchantment from the slip of paper. Aodh never stopped gripping the hilt of his sword, but he held his hand out expectantly. Roche held her breath, dropping the slip of paper into his palm.

Aodh backed away from her, his papers sticking to his boots. Once he'd retreated far enough, he read the slip of paper carefully. Then he cursed loudly.

"The Council?" he groaned, closing his eyes in frustration, "Why today? Of all days!"

Roche shrugged. Aodh's eyes narrowed in suspicion. His eyes darted to the crumpled body.

"How did you manage to..."

"Kill him?" Roche asked, cringing slightly, "More luck than anything. He tried to attack me when I saw him. I got ahold of his dagger and killed him."

"You?" Aodh repeated dubiously, his brows furrowing, "You stabbed him in the gut and slit his throat?"

Roche bristled at the disbelief in his voice. "Well, I didn't invite him closer to cuddle!"

Aodh's mouth opened when footsteps echoed down the hall. His eyes widened with alarm. He rushed forward, gathering the fallen papers. He rushed towards Roche with a frantic expression.

"Pick him up!" Aodh hissed. Roche blinked at him in surprise.

"What?"

"Get the damn body!" Aodh snapped in a hushed voice, scrambling to grab the fallen daggers and sickle. He cursed loudly. "We can't let any of the other leaders know about this, not yet! Get his head!"

Roche hoisted the shoulders of the dead assassin, shuddering when his head lolled. Aodh had no such qualms. He grabbed the man's feet with a grunt and took off at a jog down the hall. Roche's heart nearly beat out of her chest when she realised where he was going.

"Not your chambers!" she hissed in reprimand as Aodh fumbled with the door, "I just cleaned it yesterday!"

Aodh clenched his jaw. "We don't have many options, Roche, and- damn it!" He jiggled the lock. The footsteps were getting closer and louder. Roche shook her head as he shifted the dead man's feet to his hip, trying to grab his keys. She knew, with dread, that it would take him far too long to unlock the door. She discreetly flicked her fingers, sending a weak bolt of inkblood towards Tigris' door. She heard the lock unlatch with a faint click.

"It's no use. Try Tigris' room, it was unlocked when I checked earlier." she hissed.

Aodh's brow was lined with anxious sweat. They both hoisted the body over their heads and barrelled into the princess' chambers. Aodh sighed with relief as Roche closed the door behind her, sagging against it. Exhaustion weighed down on her heavily. She trembled, pressing a hand to her head.

"Thank all things Faultless," Aodh groaned, dumping the assassin's body to the ground unceremoniously. "Now-"

Roche stiffened. The footsteps were getting louder. Closer. She held up her hand instantly, hearing the click of heels.

"We can talk privately in my chambers," the queen's voice filtered through the door.

Roche and Aodh exchanged a horrified look. They both dove to grab the body. Roche glanced around the room. There had to be somewhere to hide.

"Quick, get into the closet!" she blurted out.

Aodh's lips twisted. "Tigris' closet? No way in hell!"

"Would you rather the queen's guest see this?" Roche snapped. Aodh groaned but obeyed. They both made a dash for the closet, stuffing the cooling corpse in before leaping in. Aodh swung the door shut.

It was dark in the closet. Roche squirmed, grimacing as something warm bled into her side. Undoubtedly, it was the corpse's gushing wound.

Aodh grunted. "You're on my foot!"

"Well you're standing on my gown!"

"Bloody hell, did you maul this man? Why is he bleeding so much?"

"Next time, I'll politely ask him to hold still while I stab him, Prince Aodh!"

"Already plotting your next kill, are you? Did you acquire a taste for blood?"

"Your blood, maybe."

Before he could make another surly retort, the door to Tigris' chambers squealed open. Aodh's hand pressed against her mouth. Roche felt a flare of irritation, squirming uncomfortably. His other hand released the corpse and moved to hold her still.

"You're breathing too loud!" he whispered. Roche would have replied if she wasn't being gagged by his huge, pine-scented hand. A male voice made her still.

"What?" Kai was sputtering, "Tigris, I don't understand why you'd even say something like that!"

Roche cringed into Aodh's chest. She really didn't want to witness the lover's dispute. Aodh's grip loosened on her, but they both kept still, unsure if Tigris and Kai were alone.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to discuss this with anyone but you." Tigris replied, her voice flat and defeated in a way Roche had never heard before. Even in the darkness, she could see Aodh's brows furrow, the same thought running through his mind.

Kai's silence was loud. After a beat, he replied, and his voice quavered like he was trying to rein in a tide of emotion. "You wanted to discuss the end of our relationship?"

Roche would have gasped if not for Aodh's hand over her mouth. The prince's eyes turned as wide as dinner plates. He locked eyes with Roche, and they gawked at each other.

What the hell was Tigris doing?

There was a click of heels, like Tigris was shifting on her feet.

"I don't know what to do, Kai," Tigris murmured, "If I don't wed his son... if I damn these lands to war..."

War? Wedding?

Roche thought her heart was going to stop in her chest. Aodh was going to have two bodies to look after.

"You don't know if that's going to happen for sure," Kai murmured, his voice soft and comforting. There was a shuffle of movement, like he was reaching forward, "Tigris... you know I love you."

"And I love you," Tigris sounded close to tears, "I don't want to do this."

"Then don't," Kai pleaded. Roche couldn't believe this was happening, "Hadeon might be bluffing, Tigris. He might just be trying to intimidate you. Don't let him win."

Tigris sighed. Roche bit her lip, leaning against the door to hear better. She heard the rustle of Tigris' gown and a soft moan emanated from Kai. She heard the press of their bodies, then the gasp of two lovers pulling apart.

"I'm not going to let him win," Tigris swore lowly. Roche nearly cheered. But then, Tigris added, "But Hadeon wasn't bluffing. I could tell. He seemed so confident, like he's been planning something. I've asked around the entirety of my father's court. None of them have ever seen him act in such a way. He's planning something, Kai. Something dangerous. And he thinks he'll come out on top."

Roche nearly cursed, the pieces falling into place. Hadeon was infuriatingly clever. With the promise of marriage, Faultless land would effectively be shared with Amara. If Tigris were to die, as the Council planned, then the Faultless Kingdom's assets would be transferred to Amaran control. Even if the Council failed, Amara would have the wealth of the Faultless kingdom and a fresh new alliance.

"We'll stop him," Kai said firmly. There was the susurration of skin on skin.

"The kingdom is hanging in the balance," Tigris murmured, "If I wedded his son... Amara would be allies with us. I'd be able to find out what he's up to. We'd be able to stop them from pillaging the other kingdoms. We'd keep everyone safe."

Roche knew she would. Tigris was smart and cunning. She knew that Tigris would be able to get the better deal for the Faultless Kingdom out of such a deal, despite what Hadeon thought. The kingdom would be safe.

But at what cost?

"But," Kai's voice faltered, "Tigris, what about us?"

Tigris let out a sound so strangled that it might have been a sob. "Oh, Kai," she breathed, "Please don't make me say it."

"Tell me," Kai pressed, his voice as steady as he always was. Roche could picture his eyes shining with tears, "Tell me that you don't want us."

"I do," Tigris cried out, her voice trembling, "Kai, I want you. But... I can't afford to be selfish. Not when people's lives are at stake."

The words stole the air from the room. Roche could only stand there and breathe in the stench of the corpse in the closet. She sagged against Aodh in disbelief as she heard the soft patter of Kai's footsteps near the queen. There was a rough sound, like his calloused palms were cradling her cheek.

"I've always known you'd be a great queen," Kai whispered softly, "I will not get in the way of that. Do you believe this to be best?"

Tigris' breath trembled. Then she whispered, "Yes. As much as I wish it weren't so, yes."

Kai sucked in a breath. "Then I'll not stand in your way. I'll always love you, Tigris. Never forget that."

There was the sound of skin on skin, of lips on lips, of tears sliding down skin and mingling in their kiss. Roche choked back a sob, pressing her bloodied hand to her mouth in horror. Then Kai's light footsteps were retreating to the door.

"Goodbye, my lady."

Tigris didn't correct his use of the title. The door thudded shut. Roche wasn't sure what she expected. Maybe for Tigris to burst into tears, to shout, to do something. But the queen merely sucked in a shaky breath and rose. Her heels clicked across the floor towards the door.

Roche heard the lock click shut with a resounding, damning click.

She and Aodh tumbled out of the closet in a tangle of limbs, the corpse collapsing on their backs.

"What the hell just happened?" Aodh asked in a daze.

"I've missed a lot," Roche muttered, dragging herself out from under the body, "But it seems like Tigris got an offer for marriage. From... from Hadeon's son."

They both gagged.

"This is crazy!" Aodh exclaimed, running a hand through his cropped hair, "They're all crazy! This is so archaic!"

Roche pressed her lips shut. It was archaic. Yet it had been used to end wars before. And Tigris was trying to stop a war before it started, to stop the Faultless kingdom from having another enemy.

Aodh grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. "Did all that time in the tavern drown your brain? MY SISTER IS GETTING MARRIED TO A TYRANT'S CHILD!"

Roche's jaw dropped. "Please tell me Verita didn't tell you all that I went to the tavern!"

"Shut up!" Aodh groaned, releasing her with disgust. He paced around the body, springy with energy. "We have to stop them!"

"We're crashing a wedding?" Roche repeated in disbelief, "That would plunge the kingdom into war!"

"I don't care!" Aodh spat, "I'm not letting my sister marry that man! Kai is perfectly respectable. He treats her well. That animal won't do the same."

"I won't let her come to harm," Roche assured him. Aodh snorted.

"And what are you going to do?" he asked sarcastically.

Roche pointed to the body on the ground, smiling sweetly. "No one ever suspects the maid."

Aodh crossed his arms, arching a brow. "You don't seem shaken up over the fact that you've murdered someone."

"Are you complaining?"

Aodh sucked in a breath, massaging his temples like his head was pounding. After a beat, he snapped upright, his eyes flying open.

"Okay," he said after a beat, "Okay, okay, okay. First, we're getting rid of this body before Tigris notices and has one more thing to worry about. Then, I'm going to talk some sense into her. If that doesn't work, you need to talk to her."

"Me?"

Aodh scowled. "She listens to you. For what reason, I have no idea."

"Gee, thanks."

He rolled his eyes, nudging the assassin's body with his boot. "Let me find some knights to get rid of this."

"Knights?" Roche repeated, "You need knights for this? What if they don't keep this quiet?"

"What would you have us do?"

"I," Roche emphasised, "Will deal with this. Go talk to Tigris. She needs you. Just take his blades, would you?"

Aodh watched her with an unreadable expression as she bent and gathered the corpse into her arms with a grunt. "Do I want to know how you learned how to deal with a body?"

Roche fluttered her lashes. "No."

Aodh sighed with bone weary exhaustion. "Of course not."

A/N: I love Aodh and Roche banter, LOL. This chapter is also pretty long, so I might wait a day before updating again. the next chapter is ridiculously long as well, maybe the longest chapter I've ever written here :O. I'd split these chapters up if I could, but this is what I have to do for this to stay as one book on Wattpad T-T.

But hey, at least Roche is alive and the assassin is dead! Now there's just the matter of Tigris' wedding to deal with.

As always, happy reading!