When the young man said nothing else, Isobel took a step to the side, ready to dash behind a bookshelf. She supposed it was bound to happen eventually that someone would recognise her. While she rarely made appearances in public areas with many people, there were always those who met her. People she helped. Soldiers in the castles she visited.

"You must have me confused with someone else," she said, hoping that they weren't certain.

"No," the young man said as he took a step closer. "You're definitely her. We've been looking for you."

We? Isobel froze. The last time someone had mentioned looking for her, it had been one of Son of Deva's followers. Was this another? Now was the worst time to come across one as she was still weakened from the Orc's Blood poison.

"No. You have the wrong person." Taking a chance, she walked to the door with brisk steps. "I'm afraid I have to leave. My brother is waiting for me," she lied.

Relief washed over her when the young man didn't stop her, but before she could reach the door, a second man stepped inside and closed it behind him. Her steps faltered, and she looked between the two men. The second one just inside the door was tall and brawny with a short beard. He, too, wore the green fabric on his arm denoting him as one of the new recruits. Two of the Dark God's followers in the same batch? Were there more?

"What do you want?" She kept her eyes on the two men as she slowly retreated backwards.

The young man who had arrived first tilted his head to the side as he looked at her. Something about the way his eyes travelled over her form made her nauseous. "We need to take you to our leader. We were told you've lost your powers, so it shouldn't be too difficult."

Taking a deep breath, Isobel clenched her fists. They were misinformed. She hadn't lost her powers. They were just severely diminished. She needed to take them both out before she lost what little she had left. Or worse, she fainted from the exhaustion that hit her like a boulder every time she used her powers now.

The two men glanced at each other, then drew their swords and charged at her without further warning. The familiar tingling of magic in her fingertips felt comforting as she raised her hands and sent a crackling wave of lightning through the air. It hit the young man's sword before bouncing to the other. They both cursed and dropped the overheating weapons. Her knees buckled, and she grabbed onto the table in the middle of the room. Orc's ass. It wasn't enough.

As her attackers moved forwards again, she let go of the table and lifted her arms. They felt as if filled with lead, but she forced them up and focused. A crackling sound reverberated between the walls as an invisible wave shoved the men backwards. They fought against the force pushing them, advancing slowly. With arms aching and shaking slightly from the exertion, Isobel pushed harder. She didn't want to overdo it for fear of killing them. The more exhausted the magic user was, the more unreliable the magic.

One man fell to the floor and the force pushing against him shoved him across the stones until he hit the opposite wall with a thud. Isobel's strength was quickly waning. She could feel it dwindling every moment she used her magic. With a grunt, she fell to the floor as her legs gave out and her arms fell to her sides. Her chin rested against her chest as she tried to gather enough strength to keep going.

A hand closed around her upper arm. She tugged, but every movement felt like she fought against a sticky tar that was pulling her further and further down towards total darkness. Anger and frustration sparked in her. This wasn't her. She was not this weak.

"Let go," she said, her words quiet but menacing.

"No, you're coming with us." The man tugged her to her feet. She wobbled but stayed upright, her eyes meeting his.

"Let go," she repeated.

He hesitated for a moment, something in her gaze giving him pause, but then his brow furrowed and he pulled on her arm to make her move. Anger pulsated in her veins, hot and dangerous. With a cry, she let go of the last remains of her restraint and a burst of lightning exploded from her, crackling and forking through the library. Bookcases toppled over with a crash and books flooded onto the floor, their pages singed and smoking.

Dazed and exhausted to the point of black flecks disturbing her vision, she looked around. The man who had grabbed her was now lying a couple of yards away, his clothes frayed and smoking, his hand—red and burnt—over his face. Pained whimpers were the only sound for several moments until she heard a commotion outside the door. There was no way no one had heard that explosion.

The door burst open and Boreas stepped inside. His eyes swept over the scene, wide with shock at the scene that greeted him. Others came up behind him, but he quickly ushered them out. Choosing four men, he let them inside to grab the two attackers. After sending them away with an order to take them to the dungeons, he closed the door behind him and hurried over to Isobel.

She sat on her knees on the floor, unable to find the energy to stand. When had she sat back down again? She couldn't remember but must have fallen back down after releasing all that magic. Her body felt weak and foreign as if it didn't quite belong to her.

Boreas hunched before her. "Sorceress?" His words were quiet, in case anyone outside was listening. "What happened?"

"They know who I am and attacked me. I think they might work for Son of Deva." She closed her eyes. Even keeping them open felt like a chore.

The Spymaster cursed under his breath. "We will interrogate them later," he vowed. "For now, we must get you out of here and make sure you get some rest. Can you walk?"

She nodded, even if she wasn't sure she could. He stood and offered his hand. When she took it, he pulled her to her feet. She wobbled. The room spun around her; a whirlwind of burnt wood and singed books. When she lost her footing, Boreas grabbed her and propped her against him.

"I may have overestimated my abilities," she admitted sheepishly.

"Maybe a tad." He chuckled. "We will need some help."

Raised voices outside the door made them look at each other, and a moment later, the door opened again. Castel froze in the doorway as he stared at the chaos, then his eyes settled on Isobel and he stalked over the floor with long strides. Before he could ask what happened, Boreas nodded towards the curious bystanders trying to get a peek inside.

"I will tell you soon," the Spymaster muttered. "We need to get her back to her chambers. She's too weak to walk."

Without a word, Castel nodded. Before Isobel had time to react, he hoisted her up into his arms. One of her arms rested on his shoulders, the other lay in her lap, as she was too tired to lift it. She leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes as relief washed over her. She was safe. Castel wouldn't let anything happen to her.

Boreas shooed them away. "Go. I will deal with this. I'll see you shortly."

Whispers and murmurs followed them as Castel carried her out of the library and through the gathered crowd. Too tired to look, she could still hear the concerned voices until they were far enough away that they were out of earshot.

"Where is your chamber?" Castel asked without slowing his pace.

"In the second tower," she replied. Even talking was difficult. What remaining energy she had was quickly draining, as if that last spell had opened a plug and it was all rapidly disappearing down a dark hole.

She could hear the steady beat of his heart against her ear where it rested against his chest, and it was oddly comforting. She must have drifted off, because the next time she opened her eyes, they were in the tower room where Boreas had put her after she left Castel's chambers. The room was sparse, with only a bed, some shelves, a small desk, and a chair. Castel gently lay her down on the bed, and she immediately curled up. She could hear him moving, and he draped a blanket over her before he stepped away.

"Please, don't leave me." She reached her hand out. "I don't want to be alone right now."

"I wasn't planning to." Grabbing the chair, he pulled it over to the bed and sat down next to it before taking her hand in both of his. Even with her powers practically depleted, she could sense the worry and concern seeping from his very core, but she was too tired to reassure him she was fine.

The warmth of his presence and his steady grip on her hand lulled her off to sleep, only to wake with a start when Boreas arrived. There was an unusual sombreness to the small man's face as he made his way across the room to stop next to Castel by the bed.

"I've had the two men locked up for now," he said, even as his eyes seemed to scan her for injuries. "When you've recovered, perhaps you would join me and talk to them?"

"I'd like to have a word as well," Castel said, a sharp edge to his voice.

The Spymaster narrowed his eyes at him. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. You're too emotionally invested."

"And she's not?" Realising that he'd raised his voice, Castel took a deep breath before almost growling, "They attacked her. How can we not be 'emotionally invested' in that?"

"I suspect the sorceress is quite used to being attacked," Boreas muttered.

With an angry huff, Castel stood, pushing the chair out of the way. His movements were charged as if having to hold back his temper, as he paced the room like a caged animal. Isobel rather missed his warm hands on hers.

"I'm a soldier!" he snapped. "Do you not think I have been attacked?"

"Not simply for being you." Boreas was impressively calm in the face of his friend's anger. "When a soldier is attacked, it's never personal."

Castel stopped in the middle of the room and ran a hand through his dark hair. A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Fine."

"Great. Now that's dealt with..." Boreas turned back to Isobel. "Will you join me?"

She nodded. "Yes, I might be able to find something out that you cannot."

A slight smile spread over the Spymaster's face. "I suspected as much. There have been rumours."

"How many rumours do you hear?" she asked, both amused and impressed by how much he seemed to know. That she was an empath was a secret even to most of her fellow sorcerers.

"Most of them." Boreas winked. "And what I don't hear in rumours, I actively find out. It's my job to know everything, so I can keep Erya safe."

"No one can know everything."

"True," he admitted. "But I try to know as much as I possibly can."

"As fascinating as this discussion is," Castel interrupted, even though his tone indicated he thought otherwise. "Could we please focus on what just happened? Why was Isobel attacked? I saw the men as they were being dragged away. They're from the group of new recruits that arrived from Messina two days ago."

"They know who I am."

"I've chosen agents I fully trust to guard them for now," Boreas said. "To ensure they don't tell the wrong people. And I told everyone they used a fire bomb to sabotage our mission, to explain the damage to the library. Nisa—Castel's sister—was caught in the blaze, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hopefully, that will minimise questions about the sorceress's involvement."

"Let's hope so." Castel looked between them. "How do they know who she is?"

"They might have met me some time," she said. "But I will find out when we talk to them."

Her words were slurred as exhaustion took over, and she closed her eyes for a moment. She didn't want to sleep. Not yet. Even if her body screamed for rest.

"I don't want her alone," she heard Castel say. "We don't know if there are more of them. I will send a message to Messina to find out more about this new group of recruits."

"I can have men stationed outside her door," Boreas said. "But that might raise questions."

There was a moment's pause before Castel spoke again. "I will stay with her. Let's move her back to my chambers for now. She can rest in my bed as I work, and no one can access that room without walking past my desk."

"Good idea." Boreas's voice sounded closer as he said, "Sorceress?"

It took more energy than it should to nod slightly.

"We're going to move you to Cas's chambers. I don't think you can walk, so Cas will carry you."

She assisted Castel as much as she could as he picked her back up, but her limbs were heavy and her brain foggy. They hurried across the ramparts between her tower room and his larger one, the cold air biting her cheeks. Before she knew it, they were back inside and they tucked her into Castel's bed.

As the two men retreated, she yawned. Burying her face in the pillow, she inhaled the clean scent of steel and ink mixed with sandalwood from his soap. A mixture that was so very Castel. Safe in the knowledge that he was in the next room keeping guard, she finally allowed sleep to claim her. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she drifted off. She kept ending up in Castel's bed. But always for the wrong reasons.

~~~~~~