"Yes..." She let the words hang in the air on their own as she awaited for him to make sense of his presence.

The male rubbed the back of his neck with a hand, his gaze going from the grass at his feet and back to her face, which remained etched with guardedness. After an awkward stretch of silence that she refused to break, he spoke. "Are you sure you don't need any help?"

"Entirely so,"

"Oh,"

Isabella could not quite understand the meaning of his presence, and the purpose behind his questions. All she could remember of her only experience with him was that of him stopping the fae male from insulting her -nevermind that she ended up killing him later on-.

So she couldn't help but wonder why he was here. Was it because he planned on attacking her, too? Or did he prefer to lure his subjects with feigned kindness and breath-taking smiles forged in deceptiveness?

His image reminded her of the thirst for blood she had felt not too long ago, and how it had ended with a corpse being buried and a notable discovery that had changed the course of her life.

"Why?" The words had left her mouth before she could process what she had done. She bit the inside of her cheek to chastise herself.

Vinhen frowned, confusion clear in the curve of his brows. "Why, what?"

"Why the offer of help?" Both the question and her voice sounded pathetic to her ears, it was reminiscent of a time in her life when even if normalcy had been the norm, she had still been on alert in the presence of unsolicited kindness.

History could not be erased with the wave of a hand, and memories could not be forgotten by the face of new.

The male chuckled softly, as if he was taken aback by her words. As if he could not comprehend the situation, either. "I just thought you may need a hand," He sounded dubious.

"Why?" She repeated, her free hand fisted as the other held on tightly to the book.

"Well, firstly, because you are alone. In the middle of the woods. At night. With no one around,"

She opened her mouth to object, indignation feeding the heat accumulating in her reddish cheeks.

He gave her no opportunity to interject as he quickly continued, "Secondly, you were just standing there, looking down at nothing, with no light to illuminate your path"

Isabella shut her mouth. He was right. In her hurry to get to the woods and start with her search, she had forgotten to grab the jar with fire tears in her tent. She had realised her predicament as soon as she had opened the book, but she had been too stubborn to go back and retrieve her missing tool.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and instead looked at Vinhen up and down. "I don't see you carrying any light with you" If she sounded too defensive, she did not allow herself to admit it.

Vinhen's frown disappeared, and in its absence, a smile transformed his face. The curve of his lips that tugged them upward was playful, one full of mischief. Naughty, even. But lacking any kind of malignity. She raised an eyebrow at his expression, and it only further motivated him, for his smile widened. He snapped his thumb and middle finger together, the sound echoed around them, and in its trail appeared a flame. It appeared to be floating in his fingers, but upon further inspection she realised that the fire was actually coming from within him.

Isabella froze in her place, as if a fresh bucket of water had been thrown over at her. She opened her mouth, "H-how?"

He seemed pleased by her reaction as he shrugged. "It is my magic. I can control fire, and call upon it if I wish for it"

His words registered with her senses, but all she could think was of one word. A name. Could it also be a premonition?

Aelin. Aelin. Aelin. Aelin. Aelin. Aelin. Aelin.

She took a trembling step back in a haze, and Vinhen's smile disappeared -along with his flame- as he noticed the change in her demeanour. "Hey, don't worry. I'm not going to do anything to you, I know some of the soldiers here are against your presence in Banjali but I'm not one of them. I'm sorry if I scared you" His words were coming out fast, his hands were now raised in front of him, as if to show her of his normality and to calm her down. "I cannot even control it that well, and I can really only summon small flames out of thin air. I'm sorry" He repeated, and ran a hand through his cherry hair anxiously.

Isabella blinked once. Twice. And willed herself to let the thoughts of a fire-breathing-queen out of her mind, and focus instead on his words. And the palpable honesty in his voice.

"It's okay," She managed to say after a minute. Or two.

Vinhen did not look convinced, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's alright. Sorry I lost it there, I don't know what happened" She forced herself to let out a laugh in a poor attempt at looking unbothered.

"If you say so,"

Isabella nodded, too effusively for her liking, and looked around for a distraction. "You may actually be of help after all"

Vinhen cooked his head to the side, "Will I?"

"Yes, I actually do need some light"

The male offered her a genuine, tender smile, and took a couple of steps closer until he was by her side. He raised one of his fingers and a flame materialised in the tip of it. Isabella felt the sudden need to touch the fire until it burnt her skin, but shook her head instead.

"What were you doing, then?"

"I was looking for some herbs"

"Herbs?"

She nodded while she put the book in her bag. She had looked at the pages long enough to remember the kind of herbs she was looking for. Furthermore, she did not want the male to see the book, or discover if he could read its contents or not. Secrecy would be her safety.

"I would like to make a calming tea, I've been having trouble sleeping lately" The lie rolled off her tongue with no hardship, and she was proud of herself for the naturalness of it.

"Oh, my mother used to make some for me when I was younger. I never knew how it was made but if I help you, would you make some for me too?" He shot her a smile, as if that were enough to convince her.

"Ah, so the true colours are revealed" Vinhen chuckled, but he didn't deny it. As they both crouched and looked around the bushes and close to the trees, she asked. "How old are you, anyway?"

"One hundred and sixty eight," Isabella began coughing, and he gave gentle pats on her back. He laughed a little at her reaction, "You weren't expecting it, were you?"

She shook her head and steadied her breathing. "Not really, you would think that I'd be used to it at this point but I'm not"

"And how old are you?" He asked her once they were back in their positions.

"Nineteen,"

"Oh"

"What?"

"Nothing"

" What? " She snapped, despite herself.

He shrugged, and she noticed the flame on his finger burning a little bit brighter. "I just...I don't know, I cannot decide if you look younger or older than your age"

"What do you mean?" Isabella hugged herself even as her gaze swept over some mushrooms taking root against a tree.

"You see, there are moments when you have this look in your eyes that makes me feel like you are older and more experienced than most of us but there are also moments like when you saw my fire that makes you look a lot more like a child"

"Should I take it as a compliment or an insult?"

Vinhen shrugged again, "I didn't mean it in any way, truly"

"Alright, then" She found some of the herbs she needed deeper into the woods, and cut the plants with her knife before cautiously placing them on a napkin and back in her bag. They were venomous, after all.

Isabella found some more scattered around different trees and bushes, and as she worked, she tried to sound as indifferent as possible when she spoke next. "I had never seen anyone control fire before, is it an uncommon quality?"

"Not really," Vinhen responded, his tone flat. Perhaps a little bit bored, even. "Most pure-blooded fae can control the elements. Some may have different, unique powers, like Commander Salvatarre or Prince Rowan, but the majority of the fae are unlucky in regards to their magic. They have no quality at all, they are those who can only wield the charms and spells of the Fae, but have no magic of their own''

"But Rowan can control the wind, that's an element. What is weird about that?" Curiosity made her bite her tongue.

The male turned to look at her with wide eyes. He looked incredulous. Astonished. A bit offended, too. "Prince Rowan can't just control the wind. He is the wind, he is everything . Everywhere. He can control the tides and their strength, the course of the clouds, the movement of the rain, even the weather! I heard he once managed to drop the temperature so low that he froze an entire group of Novyk on their spot! And that he then used his wind to drop them like pawns in a game of chess! Rumor says they broke in pieces and that now all Novyk carry fire tears with them, in fear of facing him ever again"

As he spoke, his voice had raised in volume along with his excitement. His eyes were twinkling with delight, and he had sounded prouder than a first-time mother watching her child walk for the first time.

Realisation struck her like lightning. Gods . Vinhen was a fan of Rowan. Maybe they would be able to get along after all. They shared the same interests, or so it seemed.

Isabella blinked, "I didn't know that"

"You-" He opened his mouth and closed it. He was definitely offended, now. "You didn't know that? How? You are close friends with him, and you still didn't know that?"

She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, defensively. "I know other things" Like the fact that his lips tasted like the most addictive of nectars, and that he smelled like the first winter of the year. And also that, once, as a child, he had slipped with horse's shit. He had told her he had been so paranoid about the smell that he had felt it even weeks after the incident. Needless to say, she had laughed her ass off, and proceeded to taunt him with it for days.

"Like what?"

She looked him up and down, "What is this? A competition?"

"No. I mean-" He shook his head. "No." Vinhen looked away from her, and she was sure she didn't imagine the sudden pink tint on his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I tend to get carried away. I just really admire Prince Rowan"

"No shit, I couldn't tell" Sarcasm was overflowing her words.

She noticed that his flame burnt even brighter, at the same time that the colour of his cheeks strengthened and his pointy ears grew red. Vinhen stole a look her way from the corner of his eye, "Do you think you could tell him I admire what he's done for our kingdom?" He asked her, way too shyly.

Isabella contained the laugh threatening to leave her lips, and offered him a reassuring smile instead. "Sure, would you like his autograph, too?"

His eyes widened as awe dilated his pupils. "Oh, could you? Really?" She nodded slowly. "Do you think you could also tell him that I became a soldier because of him? Maybe that I am really cool, too" She raised an eyebrow at that, incredulously, but entirely entertained. He seemed to misinterpret her features, for he hurried to add. "I swear I mean nothing by that, truly. I just wish I could be his friend. Moreover, I know he is your lover, I would never dare to come between you tw-"

"What?!" Her question came up too loud, and too high-pitched for her liking. She could feel her hands begin to sweat as she stared at Vinhen's surprised expression.

"Did I say anything wrong?" His frown only fueled her paranoia.

" Yes ," Isabella cleared her throat before continuing, in an anxious attempt at regaining control of her speeding heartbeat. "Rowan and I- we are not- he's not.."

"...your lover?" He finished for her. She nodded, grateful for his interruption. The crease between his brow deepened. "Are you sure?" He asked her, as if she wouldn't know that .

"Incredibly so"

The male looked from her to somewhere away, completely lost in his thoughts. "I'm sorry, I assumed you two were together because..."

"Because?" She prompted him to go on, impatiently.

"Well, you know" He waved a hand in the air. "Your scents are entwined and he threatened all of us to don't ever disrespect you. Quite effusively"

Her mouth fell open, and her eyes were wide. She was not sure she could fully comprehend what his words truly meant. "He did, what? And our scents?"

Vinhen's cheeks reddened even more as he blushed. He made sure not to look her in the eye as he responded. "Your scents are mixed. You smell like him, and he smells like you. Usually, only those who have...laid in bed...together present that kind of characteristic"

Isabella sighed as she rubbed her temples. "He and I are definitely not together. Romantically or sexually. Not now. Not in the past. And it is highly unlikely to change in the future"

"But then how-?"

"I don't know" She snapped at him, harsher than the male deserved. It was not his fault to be under false pretences. "He and I have been travelling together for weeks, and we have shared tents more than once before, I suppose that's why" It was a weak explanation, but the only one she had.

"Alright," Vinhen did not sound convinced, but at least he was not refuting her words. "Anyway, it may be possible. Your scent in general is...different"

She arched an eyebrow, "Different how?"

"Other-wordly. Strange. Not in a bad way" He hurried to add as a reassurance. "But definitely divergent, incompatible with that of this world. That's how we knew you were not from here, so it could be that your scent reacts differently to the exposure of autochthonous beings" He looked down at his hands, a surprised expression that was all for himself, for he was lost in his thoughts. "Huh, I hadn't thought of that"

"Great," She told him, sarcastically as she ran a hand through her face. She longed for a change in conversation. "Now, tell me more about him threatening all of you" She could already feel a headache forming.

The male shrugged, "It was after your first night. I think it was due to what everyone was calling you"

Her shoulders dropped as she remembered the weight of their whispers and the viciousness contained in one single word. "Fallen," She finished for him. He nodded, somberly. "And what did he say, exactly?"

He scratched his jaw, clearly uncomfortable as he remembered the warning. "I believe he told us: If I ever hear that someone called her names behind her back, or terrorised her merely for being a human, I will make sure to break every single one of your bones. Slowly. Repeatedly. I will wait for you to heal, and then I will rip your skin off your body and laugh as I listen to your cries. I do not tolerate any kind of torment based on bedtime stories and the cowardice and stupidity of beings who believe to be better than the rest "

Despite what she had just heard, she couldn't help but cock her head to the side and say, "Huh, I thought it would be worse, really"

"He then proceeded to demonstrate it with one of the prisoners in the dungeons. He forced us all to watch"

"Oh" Was it weird that the fact that he had done it to protect her -regardless of the beastility of his ways- warmed her chest? Maybe. Whatever.

"Yeah"

"Okay" She looked for something else to say, then. "I think we've done enough for the night. I'll be heading to bed now. See you tomorrow" Isabella stood up and dusted off her trousers. He followed her movements quickly.

"Are you going to look for more herbs tomorrow?"

She stopped in her tracks, but made sure to keep her gaze on her sleeve and her voice flat as she answered. "Maybe"

"Perhaps, I may also be of help tomorrow night" He said it tentatively, as if unsure of what her reaction may be.

"Perhaps" She agreed.

-

Isabella did not go back to her tent. Truthfully, she needed some air and time to gather her thoughts before she faced Rowan in the space they shared.

She knew she was not mad, not even close. At least, not for what he had done or the way in which he had carried his threat; but rather taken aback by the intensity in which he had acted. She had been grateful by her long sleeves and the fact that they hid the goosebumps that erupted all along her body as she listened to the repetition of Rowan's words.

Once, the only people that would have defended her with such extremity would have been her family.

Once, she'd had a family.

Now, she was the last member of a bloodline that was nothing but ashes carried in the air in a faraway land she could not reach anymore.

Now, however, she had Rowan.

And Lorcan. And Fenrys. And Gavriel.

Her feet took her to the bailey of the camp, a place close to the entrance, wide and circular with a floor made of stones and dirt. She came to a halt as she gazed at the moveless body lying exactly where she had seen it fall.

The male's red mane was sprawled around him, his pale colouring looked ill, and the bone structure of his face was more accentuated now than when she had first met him. She had never bothered learning his name, not after the indecencies and insults he had spat at Isabella the first time he ever saw her.

His chest was going up and down, but she noticed the movement was slower. More laboured than the first night, when Rowan made him faint. She wondered what would happen with him if Rowan never raised him from his coma, if he would perish until his body could not live another day, or if his immortal lifespan and healing abilities would maintain him alive even as he could not open his eyes.

She wondered if it was painful, the state in which he had been forced to lay.

She realised she did not really care.

Isabella's mind wandered relentlessly as the night sky straightened with the passage of the time, but she still felt his presence before he made it known. She contained a shiver as Rowan's appearance carried a light wind with him.

Her gaze remained on the undead body at her feet. Neither of them spoke as he took a step and stopped at her side. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him clasp his hands behind his back.

She waited until her curiosity took hold of her ability to speak. "Do you plan on ever waking him up?"

Isabella felt the weight of his gaze on her face as he told her, "Would you want me to?" She shrugged in response, and he chuckled at that. The sound of it was amused. Pleased. "I will wake him up when the time is right"

Her eyes strayed from the body and betrayed her by locking on his. She raised an eyebrow in a question. His eyes twinkled as he grinned down at her.

"He shall play his part"

"What does that mean?"

"It means I will use his existence as I see fit" Rowan said, simply. As if he were talking about the weather.

"And what will be his role in your scheme?"

He leaned closer to her, and lowered his voice until it was barely above a whisper. For some reason, the sound had her biting her cheek to prevent herself from shivering in delight. "He shall be my bait, and if he does what I hope he will, he'll be very useful as such"

Isabella lowered her gaze, turning her head to the side to look back down at the frail body on the floor. "And if he doesn't?" She realised she was whispering, too.

Rowan's response was said against her ear, his lips hovering dangerously close to her side. "Then, he ought to die"

-

The following day was filled with training that had her cursing in all the languages she knew, and sweating until she stank more than when Rowan slipped with horse's shit. She would have been ashamed of it if it weren't for the fact that all soldiers around her were the same as her.

"Okay, I want everyone to pair up now. We'll do some hand-to-hand combat" Lorcan's voice ran through the group.

For an instant, she panicked. She knew it was stupid to still care, after all these years, if anyone wanted to pair up with her or not, but she could not help it. As a kid, she had always struggled to make friends, and it had only worsened as she aged. Sometimes she could still struggle to grasp the idea that she now did have friends.

But her fears were pushed away as Vinhen made his way to her side. He grinned widely at her, and he was almost bouncing up and down with excitement as he told her, "Would you be my partner? I think we should"

As it happened, he was probably the only person who wanted to pair up with her, so she nodded.

Lorcan yelled for everyone to hear, "I want to see you all do your best, kick somebody's shins or asses, even play dirty if you have to. I just want to see you really fighting, no fake punches or restraining your strength, we are not children" He waved a hand in the air, the action almost dismissive if it hadn't been for the darkness that materialised out of thin air and that shot like arrows all along the rows of groups and began attaching themselves to their eyes like blindfolds. " Now , you shall start" He said, and Isabella knew him well enough to hear the smile in his voice.

She didn't bother touching the magic covering her eyes, she knew Lorcan's magic well enough, and while the sensation was unfamiliar and cold, it was far from unpleasant. She didn't waste any time as she remembered the exact place where Vinhen had stood and lunged at him. Isabella took hold of his elbow as she bent it backwards in a move she knew was painful, and used her right foot to swap him off his feet until she heard the sound of his body connecting with the floor.

"I wasn't ready!" The male cried in self-defence.

"Too bad" She told him as she placed one of her feet on his back -and made sure to use her weight to put some pressure on her placement- and crouched to grab one of his arms in an attempt at dislocating his shoulder.

"Stop! I can't hear or smell a thing" Isabella froze in her place at his words, and listened to the groups around her only to hear similar complaints coming from them.

The sound of something heavy falling caught her attention, and she listened more carefully until she noticed the sound of Lorcan's steps walking around the rows. "I did not only blinded you, but also took away your sharp hearing and sense of smell. You are all now equal to a human in terms of abilities" The male sounded like he was enjoying this exercise too much.

Complaints and curses rose in response to his words, and Isabella realised that, for the Fae, whose senses were sharper than those of predators and had known nothing different to that sort in their lives, they were now unreliable. For them, they were truly blind, deaf, and suffering from anosmia.

Isabella, on the other hand, was a human. The blind did not affect her like the rest of them because she had never had any extraordinary senses to begin with, so the blindfold only took away her sight.

Lorcan was a genius, he had turned egocentric Fae into what they despised almost as much as the Novyk: mortal humans.

She felt the curve of her lips tugging upward into a smile as she readied herself to continue her ministrations on Vinhen, but was instead surprised by losing her balance as the male went up on his hands and knees only to turn his body to the side, enough to grab her ankle in a fast series of movements that had her pinned to the floor with his legs straddling her hips.

The fall had her cursing and grinding her teeth. " Motherfucker "

"My mother is actually a very nice lady, the term you should have used is fatherfucker" He replied jolly.

She let her head fall back. "I hate you"

-

Training came to an abrupt stop as Gavriel marched in their direction. He and Lorcan exchanged hushed words with the other, and their eyes locked on hers as both of their heads' went up in her direction in the middle of their talking.

Gavriel gestured for her to go to their side with his hand as Lorcan crossed his arms over his chest. She ignored the stares and whispers of the others as she strode to where they stood. She studied their expressions, and found a level of severity she had never seen on their faces before.

"What is it?" She asked, more than a little unnerved by the expressions they wore.

"We need to go," Lorcan told her, flatly.

She was almost afraid to ask, "Where?"

Gavriel cocked his head to the side, "Follow me"

They did. They followed him through the bailey and into a discreet entrance to the castle. As they walked through the walls of the building, Isabella couldn't help but stare at the chandeliers on the ceiling, that had fire spirits perched on top of the candle tubes; at the tapestries with different families' crests -she even noticed one that seemed to form the image of a dragon if one looked at it the right way- and tried not look in the eye at the guards stationed at every door and corner.

Gavriel took a turn to the side, and disappeared through a corner. Lorcan followed, and when Isabella did, she realised there were stairs going down in circles. The lion smiled gently at one of the fire spirits sitting on one of the metallic sconces next to the entrance that led to the stairs.

"Hello, Ciri, would you be so kind as to illuminate the way to the dungeons?" His voice was extra silvery and sweet.

Isabella noticed the flaming body of the spirit, and her hair that went upwards as the burning of a candle would. She saw the spirit blink at Gavriel, only for her gaze to stray to Lorcan's, and finally hers. Ciri blinked once again when their eyes were on each other's, and gave a small nod in affirmation before floating to the stairs, leaving a trail of faint smoke everywhere she passed.

Ciri led the way, closely followed by Gavriel. Various steps behind were Lorcan and Isabella. She leaned a bit closer to the male as they descended, although it was her curiosity and greed that had her speeding her steps, and not the closure of the tight space.

"I didn't know fire spirits spoke the common tongue" It was a stupid statement, now that she thought about it, since Rowan had confessed that the spirits were extremely noisy, and loved to eavesdrop on people's conversations. She had just assumed they spoke the Old Language of the Fae, not more than that.

Lorcan grunted, "They don't"

She frowned, "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "The Fae Folk don't speak. At all. They only communicate through gestures and hand-movements. But I suppose they probably understand all tongues. Specially if one is being spoken with the intent of gossip"

"They don't speak? Why?"

"Why would I know? Most of them are beings older than the sun, and refuse to mix with other creatures that are not of their species. Fire spirits are the only exception to that rule that I know of"

"Then why did Gavriel ask her to accompany us?" She placed a hand on one of the walls so as to prevent herself from falling.

"Because he is a respectful bastard" He said, not unkindly. Just matter-of-factly. "Honestly, I don't know why he bothers but he's not hurting anyone so it's okay by me"

" If the Fae Folk spoke, shouldn't they speak the tongue of thorns instead of the Old Language?" She tried to keep her tone of voice from betraying her thoughts.

Lorcan stumbled, and the only reason why he didn't fall down the stairs was because his immortal, unnatural reflexes kept him from it. He turned around to look at her, stopping them both in their places. "Sweet Anneith, is there anything Rowan hasn't told you?" He told her, quite taken aback before his expression transformed and he turned on his heels so his back was facing her. Regardless of his speed, she still noticed the knowing smile that crept over his face. "Nevermind, I already know the answer to that" He muttered, more to himself. Fully entertained,

A deep crease formed between her brow, "What is that supposed to mean?" She couldn't hide the frustration over his words.

He waved a hand, uninterested, as he resumed walking. "Forget about it, I didn't mean anything by it"

"Don't lie to me, Lorcan" She said through gritted teeth.

"I'm just getting old, that's it"

"What-?"

"Anyway, answering your question: yes. The Fae Folk, if they spoke at all, should be natives in both the tongue of thorns and the Old Language. They were there in the time they were both created, after all" Isabella knew he was just trying to distract her, but she took the bait, because his response was useful.

"Is there a reason why they don't speak? They can't or they just prefer not to?"

Lorcan sighed, exasperated by her constant questions. She didn't really care. "I don't know, Isabella. I haven't asked, and even if I had, I doubt they would have answered me"

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but any word immediately died in her mouth as they reached the end of the stairs, and the entrance to the dungeons. She raised a hand to cover her nose when the smell of piss, sweat, blood, and shit reached her nostrils, but stopped short when she realised that neither of the males around her were showing any sign of discomfort.

The stony floor was dirty and sticky. The matching walls had stains of different colours and shapes. The cells were separated by metallic poles leaving merely small squares of free space, and the only illumination came from them, for they were glowing as if they were being burnt in fire.

Gavriel reached the cell furthest from the entrance, and Isabella noticed that both Fenrys and Rowan were already there, accompanied by an unknown male soldier. She followed Lorcan, and together they came to a stop next to the group. Rowan's eyes were briefly on her before he looked back inside the cell. Her eyes followed his trail only to find a bleeding male lying motionlessly on the floor.

His body was severely bruised, his clothes were gone, only a set of manacles offered him cover, and he had scars of different varieties and states all over his frame. She recognized some of them as scars from dangerous burns and others from sharp weapons. Blood, both dried and wet, accompanied his injuries. His face was broken and swollen, and yet she was able to recognize him for who he was.

Orion.

The betrayer.

She looked back at the males next to her, and found their expressions to be completely shut off. Frozen. Sombre. Impenetrable. She wondered why they had brought her here when Orion' swollen eyes opened and focused -as much as he could- on her. He began laughing, and immediately had to stop as it turned into coughing that ended up with him spitting up blood on the dirty stones.

Rowan looked at the unfamiliar soldier and gave him a curt nod. The fae responded by unsheathing the sword on his hip and carefully passing it through the squares created by the burning poles. He used his sword to pick on Orion's body with enough strength to pierce the skin of his stomach deeply enough to cause the wound to start bleeding and for the male to start whimpering in pain.

"Are you going to talk now about their camp?" Rowan asked him, flatly.

Orion slowly shook his head, despite the fact that he was lying sideways on the floor. "I know what you are doing" He managed to sneer.

"Of course you do, it is a well known method to extract information, called torture. Everyone has heard of it" Rowan sounded unbothered by the sight or his lack of a real response.

"No," Orion tried to get up, but his hands gave up on him before he could even try moving his legs. He fell inelegantly on the floor. They all waited as his laboured breaths steadied. "I know what you want from me and what you think will happen with my death but you don't know anything "

"I'm pretty sure I know some things," Fenrys told him.

Orion continued as if he hadn't heard a word, "They will win,"

"I doubt it," Lorcan said, deadly calm. Dangerously so.

Isabella looked at Rowan, confused. Her hands were in fists, and her nails were piercing her palms due to the force of her grip. But Rowan remained as indifferent as always. Unperturbed. Untroubled. "Just tell us where their camp is, who you talked with, and we'll give you a painless death"

Orion laughed, even as blood ran from his mouth and down to his neck, even as even more blood was coming out of the wound on his stomach. He drew himself up on his legs, wobbly, and strode to the poles of his cell. He brought both of his hands to the flaming poles and merely flinched a little as smoke came from his skin being burnt.

The male spat on Rowan's shoulder, and Isabella knew that it hadn't landed on his face because Rowan had deflected the spit with his magic. "That's all you will ever get from me"

Rowan smiled slowly. His fangs in complete display in a grin that promised nothing but endless agony. She would have been afraid of him if she didn't know him. "Okay" Was all he said before he moved, faster than light, and passed his hand through the poles and grabbed Orion's neck, bringing him forward until the whole front of his body was burning from the glowing metal of the flaming cell.

Orion did scream, then. The smell of burnt flesh became insufferable, but neither moved as Orion yelled from the top of his lungs in suffering, or as smoke curled around him and his skin began deteriorating at a rapid pace.

"Take him to the square" Rowan ordered to the unnamed soldier before letting go of Orion. He cleaned his hand dismissively on his trousers before he turned on his heels to walk in the direction of the stairs.

Isabella and the rest followed, the sound of keys and metal being pulled back accompanied them, then Orion's moans as he was dragged on his knees from the manacles on his hands. The journey back to the surface felt longer as she heard the way in which Orion's body connected excruciatingly with every stair.

Murmurs broke along the soldiers as they made their way through the castle. Gavriel ordered two of them to gather everyone in the bailey, while Lorcan instructed another group to prepare the guillotine. They all hurried away.

Once outside, they stopped at their destination, where the male Rowan had put into a comma remained unmoving on the floor. Isabella looked over her shoulder, and saw Orion being dragged on his knees -that had already been injured, but that had now joined his other wounds as they bled-, his arms high as the soldier used his pure strength to move him. She saw the exact moment he lifted his scarred and freshly burnt face, and his eyes found the male on the floor.

Orion's eyes widened till the point their reminiscent gigantic bulbs, and a ravish expression took over him. He managed to stand up and take a couple of steps towards the male, only to be kicked on his back by the soldier. Orion fell, and even then, he tried to move to the unconscious male. He was crawling, using all the strength he had left, to reach the other male's side. The sight was sickening. Shameful. Distressing.

Lorcan noticed this, and shook his head as if disappointed. He stepped on one of Orion's outstretched hands, and twisted his foot until the sound of bones breaking had the traitor crying. Satisfied with his work, Lorcan walked back to her side.

Gavriel, Fenrys, and Rowan stood one next to the other, unmoving, as soldiers around them brought the guillotine, and as a growing crowd gathered around them.

The cutting edge of the device glistened in the sunlight, and it wasn't until one of the soldiers inspecting it nodded in Rowan's direction that he took a step towards the crowd.

"Silence!" He screamed. Everyone submitted to his order. He looked around at some of them, as if studying their reactions, daring them to disobey. "We have gathered you all here today to witness the decapitation of Orion Black" Murmurs broke all over as many finally recognized the broken male on the floor.

"On the day of the Novyk's attack, it was discovered that said male was responsible for the weakening of our shields -that allowed our enemy to penetrate our fort- and for the exchange of vital information to them" Gavriel continued in a loud voice. His words were met by gasps and shakes of heads. Incredulity shone in the eyes of those in the audience. They didn't want to believe their words.

"Furthermore, it was confirmed after extensive hours of interrogations that Orion Black, ex-commander of the Banjali legion, is not only a Novyk supporter, but an active member of their order" Fenrys went on with a severity she had never heard coming from him before.

"So today, we bring you a little bit of justice by exhibiting his death in front of all of you. And for it to be a reminder that we know no limits and mercy remains unknown from us to those who betray our kingdom and its people" Lorcan finished in a cold voice that held more darkness than the shadows he controlled.

The unnamed soldier lifted Orion off the floor, and dragged him on his knees through the stones until he was bent over the guillotine. He placed his manacled hands safely behind his back, and stood down from the space. Another soldier replaced him, one that wore a black jacket with a glinting pin on his chest.

Rowan went to Orion's side and whispered something in his ear. In response, the male began moving frantically where he had been placed, as if he were suddenly possessed. Rowan smiled as he left his side, only for him to crouch next to the male in a coma. He moved his palm over the male's chest and leaned back. Away from him and back to his friend's side. A couple of seconds later, the unconscious male's chest rose as he suddenly gasped in an attempt to breathe. His eyes were widely opened, and he kept on taking choking breaths that filled the air of the square.

"Rhesh" Rowan called. "Rise!"

The male who had seconds ago been on the verge of dying from an induced coma, Rhesh, stood up on trembling, weak legs. His eyes roamed frantically the space around him, the people, and finally landed on Orion's form. He stumbled back as he gazed upon him, as if he had been struck in the chest. Something in his face softened a little bit, even if fear remained etched on every line and wrinkle.

Orion trashed against his manacles, against the guillotine, savagely, but merely managed to lift his head enough to see Rhesh. The look they shared unfolded a story that explained the words Rowan had spoken to her the night before.

"Rhesh Immedia, you were punished for your insolence, but are now forgiven. Just in time to witness the decapitation of Orion Black, traitor to the rightful Queen of the Fae, and to our kingdom"

Rhesh' face paled even more as he registered Rowan's words. His gaze went from Orion's destroyed frame to his commanders. "T-traitor? Wh-what?"

Rowan cocked his head to the side in a move that was more reminiscent of that of an animal than a being with a humanoid form. "Orion Black is guilty of aiding the Novyk against us" He narrowed his eyes on the male. "Did you know about this?"

Rhesh shook his head, his eyes wide in pure terror. "N-nno, I swe-swear!"

"Rhesh!" Orion cried from his place. His name was a plea spoken with unfiltered emotions. One single word revealed more than his actions.

"No!" Rhesh screamed, shaking his head with a fervour that could only be achieved by one in utter fright, agitated by his dread. "I didn't know anything about this" He was desperate, paranoid. Terrified. It was written in every single one of his movements, specially in the way he avoided Orion's eyes.

"Are you sure? You were his lover, after all" Rowan announced in a flat tone.

Rhesh opened his mouth to speak, but Orion beat him to it. "No! He didn't know a thing. He was not a part of any of this. Leave him alone! Please !" He begged, miserably. Hopeless as tears coming from his face were now not ones of pain but of heartache.

"But how can we be sure? You have reminded us time and time again that you will not speak, that you will not betray the Novyk. You gave us no names, so how can we trust that your lover was not working with you from the beginning?" Rowan said, low enough so only those around the guillotine could hear him, but not anyone from the crowd. He lowered his head to Orion's ear. "Or are you ready to speak now? Should I kill your lover in front of you, maybe even gift you his head so you are ready to finally tell us everything you know?"

Orion sobbed, the action causing his body to shake, to spasms in suffering. He murmured words to Rowan that were indecipherable to her ears. But Rowan seemed satisfied the more the male spoke. He nodded to the traitor and then left him there. "Proceed" He ordered the soldier wearing the black jacket.

Before he could bring the blade down on his neck, Orion screamed. "I love you" The words were his last declaration before he faced his inevitable death, and they were an act of devotion; directed only to Rhesh, whose face contracted in utter disgust. That was the last Orion saw before Rowan cut his air supply, making him choke. Lorcan's darkness blinded him. His skin started to turn purple before they retreated their magic and the soldier let go of the blade.

His head was cut, divided from his body. It rolled down to the feet of those first in the audience, leaving a trail of blood that dirtied the whole place. She should have looked away, but she couldn't.

Her eyes were focused on the blood, on the limp body, on the lifeless head, and realised that Rowan had not only killed a traitor. He had decapitated the opposition, and given a message to everyone in the camp.

That death followed those they were against, and that this was mercy compared to what they could do.

-

Late that same night, she escaped the hushed whispers and shocked conversations coming from everywhere in camp to prepare the remedy she had studied.

Isabella was glad she was alone. Glad the night offered her a cover. Glad the jar of fire tears she had with her had not been left forgotten in her tent, and that the light was dim enough to not catch anyone's attention.

She unveiled the herbs she had picked up, and used her knife to follow the instructions. She cut the largest herbs, crushed the smallest, mixed with water the darkest, and pulverised the brightest. She assorted everything together and used more water to burn it all over the fire tears. She waited until the water was boiling to take it off the fire and wait for it to cool down while she continued to stir it.

Her impatience was her worst enemy, for she was ruled by it as she grabbed her knife and cut her own skin. The flesh of her forearm was now a scarred, ugly thing that bled crimson blood from the recent injury.

With her free hand, she grasped some of the remedy -ignoring the burning in her fingertips caused by the fact that she had not waited long enough for it to cool down- and placed it on her wound. She stared at the greenish paste she had created, and counted the seconds it took for it to work.

When over two minutes had passed, she removed the past and revealed her skin. It was now healed, as if no knife had pierced her skin. Utterly and completely healed.

Almost in a joyous daze, she bottled the remedy and saved all of her belongings in her bag. She let out a childish giggle as she made her way to her destination.

-

The healers' wing was empty, despite the fact that merely days ago it had been crowded with patients. The rows of beds appeared to be now clean, and freshly made. And significantly empty, for Isabella's luck. There were only three healers inside the tent, and they were all hunched over a desk, seemingly studying different scrolls of papers while two jars of fire tears were their only source of illumination.

Isabella recognized Louise, with her faint skin and even paler hair, that unlike Rowan's silvery colour, hers was as white as snow. The female was petite, her frame delicate and small like that of a bird, but Isabella had seen the way the female gave orders -with a strength and fierceness that would make even the biggest of males follow her words-, the way her hands remained firm and professional as she worked -even as they were covered in blood-, and the weight on her shoulders that she carried with her. Always; the weight of the lives of everyone in camp.

She noticed the other females, ones she recognized from her stay during the attack. One of them was taller than the rest, with dark, charcoal hair and rosy cheeks that were accentuated by her olive skin. Rose, she remembered. And Dahlia, whose dark brown skin matched her eyes, and were as striking as her grey hair, that could pass as blue depending on the light.

Neither of them noticed her presence, too caught up in whatever it was they were studying, until she coughed. At that, three heads snapped up. Quickly. As if ready to jump into action if needed. They frowned as they inspected her, and realised that she was in no need of a healer.

Isabella stood there, awkwardly. "Hello"

The crease in Louise's brow deepened as she stared at her with her deep raven eyes. "What is it you want? We are busy"

She nodded, for she knew that healers tended to be overlooked, and brushed aside unless they were required. She had seen the way others barely glanced in their direction or acknowledged their existence despite the fact that they could be their salvation as well as their damnation.

"I wanted to know if you would consider taking me as an apprentice"

Louise straightened at her words, and studied her dubiously, as if unsure of why she was saying those words. "You want to be a healers' neophyte?"

Isabella nodded effusively, trying to show them just how much she wanted -needed- it. How much she was aching for the cover the position would offer her.

The Head of the Physicians, Louise, stared at her with narrowed eyes. "Nalani told me you stitched her wound, is that true?"

"Yes, you were all preoccupied and I feared she would die of blood loss before anyone could get to her" She had not heard of the female since the attack, and she suddenly wondered if what she had done had saved her or not.

"She had internal bleeding as much as external, the former being more dangerous and malignant than the latter" She informed her, matter-of-factly. The female cocked her head to the side, "If I hadn't gotten to her when I did, she would have died on one of those beds, and that same destiny would have been hers if the equipment you used happened not to be properly sterilised" Isabella opened her mouth, to say something, anything -to say that she had only wanted to help, that she had known Nalani would have died in minutes on that bed under her care if she hadn't done a thing, and that she couldn't bear the idea- but Louise continued before giving her a chance to explain.

"Or worse, she could have died by your hands because you randomly perforated a vein and only sped up her blood loss. Do you realise that?" Her voice did not sound accusing, but Isabella couldn't help but feel like it was, indeed, an accusation.

"I do," She admitted.

"Miraculously, you didn't. You stitched her wound, naively and rawly, but efficiently. By closing her external wound you managed to slow down her loss long enough for me to treat her internal wounds and save her"

She looked up at that, relief settled deep in her bones. Her shoulders fell as she sighed and thanked the skies.

"I do not have the patience for fools, Isabella" Louise informed her. Her expression was serious. "And even less for those who do not take their compromises seriously. The salvation of one's life is nothing if not sacrifice and hard work, complete engagement in this field of study. So are you sure you wish to pursue this branch and become a neophyte?"

Isabella didn't even have to think about her answer, or consider the way in which choosing this path would change the rest of her life, the way she saw everything and reacted to it.

No, she didn't think of it, because she didn't really have a choice. Long before this moment she had taken decisions that had guided her to a path from which she could not stray.

So her answer came out of her mouth instantly, effortlessly. "Yes, I'm sure"