Roche's head ached. She groaned to life, a dank odour filling her nostrils. Someone clattered against solid metal, intensifying Roche's headache.

"Stop that," she moaned.

A low chuckle had her cracking open her eyes and wincing against several beams of sunlight.

Sunlight. That couldn't be right, she'd left the castle in the middle of the night. Her memories came over her in a rush. Roche sat up, gasping at the throb in her head that accompanied the sudden movement.

Her skin crackled. Roche looked down to find her arms coated in sticky inkblood, gluing her wrists together. The inkblood covered her arms and legs, binding her in place as well as any rope. She could feel the enchantment linked to the man in front of her.

"Hello there," the man said. He crouched in front of her, like she was a lost child. He was spry and wiry, his pale arms strong with muscle. His skin was so pasty and pale that Roche suspected he'd rarely felt the sun. His icy blue eyes bored into hers, contrasting his ebony black hair. He tilted his head, "You must be Princess Tigris' maid."

Roche blinked at him. She recognised him as the man who had spoken to Harold in the library. All she could intelligently get out was a confused grunt. The man leaned back.

"Where are my manners? My name is Lord Geoff, but I suppose you know me as one of the Council of Seven."

He paused, like the words were some fancy title that Roche was expected to gasp at. Roche repressed her frown.

"Nice to meet you." she said after a beat of prolonged silence. She held up her bound hands. "Can you let me go, please?"

"I'm afraid not. You're trying to release someone that I need. You can have him back in a few hours, of course." Councilman Geoff replied lightly. Roche's mind raced. Based on the sunlight streaming in from the cave entrance, she'd been knocked out for several hours. The tournament must have begun again by now. Roche's heart leapt to her throat at the prospect. Tigris might be fighting Fake Harold. She cursed silently. If the Councilman was still holding onto real Harold, then Tigris probably hadn't been killed yet.

That meant Roche had time left. She had to get Real Harold out of here.

"What do you want with me?" Roche asked quietly, putting on her best innocent face, "I'm just a maid. I came looking for some herbs." As she said this, she pressed her inkblood out, testing her bonds. They held fast. Roche cursed. She wouldn't be able to get out of these restraints without a verbal incantation. Somewhere deeper in the caves, the real Sir Harold bellowed, slamming against the bars of his cell as if he could sense Roche's mounting urgency.

"You're not just a maid though, are you? My spy told me that you have something precious running through your veins. Something that I felt you using earlier." The Councilman grabbed her arm, holding his hand over the gluey inkblood. "Allethaire."

Roche felt the inkblood swarming against her skin like a bucket of flopping fishes. To her surprise, nothing happened.

The Councilman frowned, brushing away some of the inkblood from her wrist to reveal her normal, bare skin. "How is this possible?" he looked up at Roche in shock, "You don't have a concealment charm?"

"No." Roche muttered, "Like I said, you have the wrong girl."

"Impossible." he threw down her arm. To Roche's dismay, more inkblood laced around her. "I can feel you resisting me still. You have inkblood."

Roche frowned. "What was your incantation supposed to do? Stop me from using inkblood? Because Fake Harold already tried that with your freaky chains and it didn't go well for him."

The Councilman frowned. To Roche's surprise, he held his hand over his own wrist and incanted, "Allethaire." He swept his hand over his pale arm and the air trembled. The wild scent of inkblood filled the claggy air as an enchantment peeled away from his skin, revealing thick, dark veins filled with inkblood contrasting sharply with his pasty skin.

"It should have taken away whatever concealment charm you're using." Geoff explained, cocking his head, "But you don't have one. So how have you been concealing what so obviously runs through your veins?"

Roche shrugged, dropping the oblivious act. "Always been this way. It shows itself when I want it to." Her mind was racing. She needed to find a way out of these restraints. She pushed her inkblood harder, ignoring how pain cracked against her vision.

"Fascinating," the Councilman breathed, his dark hair falling over his high, elvin cheekbones as he peered at her, "You could be so useful. If Lady Ismere's death grounds are anything to go by, you could have the Faultless Kingdom at your knees, the royals be damned. You could work for the Council. Yet you sit complacently at the feet of a Silvian!"

Roche would be lying if she said she'd never entertained the idea. It was no fun being teased by Tigris for being a distracted oaf every time she went off to investigate possible enchanted objects that her inkblood tugged her towards. It was also not fun running baths, doing the laundry, cleaning toilets, and being treated like dirt when she'd done more to protect Tigris than most of the knights.

Roche shook her head, repeating the same refrain that had stopped her from quitting on several occasions because of the truth it held. "I have faith in the future that will come. Tigris will bring balance to this land."

"How can you know that?" the Councilman scoffed.

Roche bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She could tell him the prophecy, but if he didn't believe her or chose to continue opposing her, then she would have just revealed her identity as the Ala and Tigris' identity as the flame of the city. The Council would know exactly who to target.

Roche leaned back instead. "I trust Tigris. She's a good woman and she'll be an even better leader. I'm proud to serve her." The words were true. Roche could still recall the way Tigris had defended her against Mallory, had taken care of Roche's mother, and had spoken gently to Roche afterwards. The princess knew how to care for people in a way that Roche hadn't seen in any other royal.

Geoff's face flickered with what looked like disappointment. "Your talents are wasted under her. You could have her kneeling at your feet."

Heat flushed Roche's cheeks. "That's not what I want."

"Then what is it that you want? I assure you, the Council can help! We can hide you from the Silvians, you can make real change in these lands!" Geoff explained, his eyes lit with fervor. The words were tempting, but Roche had seen everything that the Council had done in the name of change. The plague, Finn's poisoning, and now the kidnapping of a good knight. The Council was willing to trade lives like playing cards to achieve their goals. The Council had long since strayed from the pursuit of freedom.

Roche finally understood what Verita had told her about the Council all those months ago.

"You can't give me what I want." Roche replied, lifting her chin defiantly. "I told Lady Ismere as much."

Geoff offered her a simpering smile as he eyed her hungrily. "Perhaps Councilwoman Ismere did not properly highlight the benefits of working with the Council. You'll learn much from us, and we have many stocks of inkblood that are free for insertion. Your powers will grow exponentially."

The Council could do many things with an inkblood who could remain undetected. But Roche didn't want to be their weapon.

"I'm not interested." Roche said firmly.

Geoff laughed. "The Council thinks you're just a scullery maid with some inkblood who surprised Ismere enough to kill her. But my spy tells me you're close to the princess. Once the Council learns of your connection and your power, they won't want to let you go alive. At least consider being with us instead of against us."

Roche felt a small thrill course through her. "So they don't know who I am?"

"They know you're a maid. That's all I knew until recently." Geoff leaned closer, his face softening with mock sympathy, "Think of everything you could do, Roche. I've given you plenty of time. I could have snuck into the castle myself and killed you, but I let you live because I know you'll see reason."

Liar. Roche thought bitterly, I was there when you told Fake Harold to off me.

"If you don't stand with the Council, you're a traitor to your kind." Geoff continued, holding up his arm with obsidian veins as if that proved his point, "I'll have no choice but to dispose of you."

Roche pinned him with a look, ignoring the way her heart pounded. Any faster and she'd have a heart attack. "I said no. I believe in the future queen of the Faultless Kingdom." She lifted her chin higher, "I suppose you'll have to try killing me."

The Councilman sighed, rolling his shoulders. "I know you don't want to die, Roche." he cajoled, "I can feel you resisting me."

"Am I?"

Geoff's eyes flickered with confusion. "You're pressing against your bonds." he said, pointing to Roche's inkblood covered wrists, "I can feel it."

"The thing is," Roche reclined back with a surge of triumph, "That's not all I've been doing."

The Councilman stilled, his pale eyes widening as he realised that the sounds of Harold's clamouring had gone silent. He whipped back around to Roche, his face white with a bloodless kind of terror.

"What have you done?" he asked, his deep voice tremulous. Roche concentrated, making her inkblood visible. It trailed deep into the cave, all the way to the captured knight's cell.

Roche smirked. "By now Sir Harold has undoubtedly realised that his cell has been unlocked by my inkblood and has escaped. The way I see it, you can either go after him now or waste time killing me." Geoff's cheeks burned red.

"I think you'll find that the barrier you so easily slipped past will hold Harold here." the Councilman growled, stalking closer. He grabbed a fistful of Roche's shirt, hauling her up. "I think I'll have plenty of time to kill you, traitorous ilk."

Roche gathered inkblood in her hands. "It seems you're dumber than Fake Harold. At least he knew to bind my inkblood."

"I don't need to. You're no match for me, I'm a Councilman." Geoff scoffed, opening his mouth. Before he could get another word in, Roche shouted,

"Olepjid!"

The bonds on her hands exploded outwards, raining inkblood across the cavern. The blast was intended to force the Councilman away from her, but he tore through the incantation with a quick swipe of his hand.

Roche's throat dried. He wasn't bluffing about his strength.

Roche felt the mounting inkblood attack a second before it rushed for her. The death curse swept for her, inkblood coagulated into a deadly arrow. Roche barely managed to throw up a shield in time. The arrow crashed into the shield with an explosion that threw her back against the cavern wall. Her head cracked against the stone and lightning flashed across her vision as the cave shook. Roche slumped to the ground, her shield dissipating with her loss of concentration. She distantly felt blood leaking from the back of her head as her vision fuzzed over.

A prickle of awareness warned her of the new enchanted inkblood arrow hurtling towards her. Roche slumped to the side, feeling the incantation slam into the rock where her head had been. Again, the cave trembled with the impact.

Her thoughts were sluggish in her mind as she lay flat on her back, staring up the cracked cavern walls that had been hit by Geoff's incantations. She could feel the Councillor approaching, buzzing with inkblood. The hazy makings of an idea formed in her mind as she stared at the fissured stone. Geoff loomed over her, infuriated by his previous two misses.

"I hate to see wasted potential," he sighed as he stood over her. Roche opened her mouth, a small groan leaking out instead of a witty retort. Geoff's lips twisted with a sickly sweet smirk.

"Hush now, it'll be over soon."

He straddled her, lining up his aim. Roche knew he wouldn't miss again.

Which was why she struck first.

"Duroa," she whispered. Water peeled away from the stalagmites at the front of the cave, melding into a weak stream of water that jetted towards the Councilman's head. He dodged it easily, letting it spatter against the stone behind. He scoffed loudly.

"That's your last incantation? A simple laundry spell?" he muttered, "It is a disgrace that Ismere was defeated by you."

Roche heeded him no mind. She knew the seconds were ticking by. "Klajai."

The water that had seeped into the cracks of the cave froze and expanded, pushing the fissures out further with a loud crack. The cave trembled ever so slightly.

Suddenly, Geoff wasn't smiling anymore. He levelled his arm with a powerful burst of strength. His inkblood wrapped around Roche, binding her arms and filling into her mouth. Roche squirmed, unable to breathe.

Sweat gleamed on the man's forehead brightly, his chest heaving with concentration as Roche futilely shoved every bit of her inkblood against gooey, infiltrating substance that leaked into her throat, burning against her lungs. She tried to buck, black dots dancing against her vision.

She needed to breathe.

She couldn't breathe.

Geoff grinned as he held her there, a spider smirking at the fly caught in its web. He mustered up the strength to form another death curse to ensure the job was done. His lips curved with words that Roche couldn't speak without her precious air.

It was a good thing she could use her inkblood without speaking.

Roche felt the inkblood stream out of her eyes, the only uncovered part of her body, like tears, and slammed Geoff and his incantation against the wall. He screamed at pieces of rock and ice bit into his pale skin, rivulets of red staining him like a brand. The ice beneath him cracked, the reverberation making the entire cavern rumble.

Roche watched the fissures she'd exacerbated in the wall spread. The ground began to tremble as a deafening boom filled the space.

Geoff's eyes widened, his concentration effectively broken. The inkblood melted off Roche in a rush and she scrambled back as the first rock fell in front of her, narrowly missing her legs. Another heavy fragment slammed into her shoulder and pain radiated up her neck. She would have screamed if there wasn't residual inkblood clogging her throat. Instead, Roche used her waning strength to stumble to her feet. Dust rained on her as stalagmites and rocks began to fall with earthshaking impacts strong enough to knock someone out. She dodged and leapt for the exit, feeling sunlight warm her face as she rolled safely to a stop just as the cave collapsed in a rush.

Plumes of dust and sharp shards of rocks flew into the air, biting into Roche's skin. As the debris settled, Roche hesitantly pulled herself up, ignoring how her shoulder twinged, and scanned for any signs of movement.

There was none.

Roche swallowed and then gagged as thick, sludgy inkblood coated her tongue. She leaned to the side and coughed up the black substance, fumbling for her waterskin. When she could breathe again, she noticed that the barrier was gone.

The Councilman was either so deeply unconscious that his enchantment had broken, or he was dead. Roche glanced back at the former cave with a flip of her stomach.

No one would be surviving that.

Roche staggered as she stood, holding her satchel tight. She walked to the edge of the forest, smiling as she noticed a set of footprints trudging out towards the trees and shrubbery.

Sir Harold had escaped.

Roche rolled her uninjured shoulder back, adrenaline racing through her blood.

She prayed that Tigris still had time left as she set off after the real Sir Harold.

A/N: Ngl, writing about inkblood shooting out of Roche's eyes made me squirm a little. Well, at least we got a bit of BAMF Roche, what do we think of her?

As always, happy reading!