They burst through the door in a flurry of chaotic activity and manic shouting.

At first Brenna thought perhaps a noblewoman and a lover had been discovered by a livid husband, and she might get to witness a fight to break the dullness of the house, but then she saw the dripping form of Morna being supported by two of Afton's bodyguards.

Brenna stood involuntarily with a brief flash of panic that all these nobles had witnessed their family shame. Brenna would never be welcome into the fold if they suspected she carried the same sickness.

"Someone should fetch the surgeon!" a lord shouted.

Brenna blinked in confusion. A surgeon?

"Her mind is cracking," one of the guards said, indicating Morna with a jerk of his chin. "She needs to be seen to."

"We need everyone to stay indoors while we scout the area to make sure there are no invading forces," someone else said.

Brenna shook her head, dispelling the fog of shock. "Yes, of course," she said. She drew herself up and placed the power into her voice that put in line unruly children and errant horses. She faced the nobles who had been chatting with her in the room. "Please, everyone, if you'd make your way to the grand parlor, I'll have a servant bring in refreshments and some cards."

The nobles hovered uncertainly, loathe to leave the excitement. They were all staring at her sister's limp body between the two guards, and Brenna knew she'd never get them to clear out if she remained.

"If you wouldn't mind bringing Lady Glenfarrow through to the study," she ordered.

The guards shuffled by and went through the door to Robbin's study. When they were out of sight, Brenna clapped her hands loudly.

"The spectacle's over," she barked, advancing toward the crowd. They eyed her warily as she came at them with outstretched arms, as if she were herding geese. Their protests were just as loud as any honking, and she had a devil of a time finally forcing them from her sitting room.

"I'll have someone come answer your questions when we have answers ourselves," she said, then slammed the door in their faces.

As soon as her sitting room was empty, Brenna spun and raced for the study. She entered as the guards let Morna collapse onto the floor. Brenna's notice inexplicably zeroed in on the trail of blood on the carpet, showing the path that the guards had taken.

"What in heaven's blessed name is going on?" she demanded.

"The Lord and Lady were taking a walk in the woods when Lord Glenfarrow was struck by a crossbow bolt from out of nowhere. It hit him in the heart and he fell over the edge of the cliff and into the ocean. We searched the surroundings, but found nothing," the head guard replied.

"It could be another agent of Revours," a different guard said, ominously.

So Afton was dead, then. It jolted her core.

Brenna twisted her lips as she quickly tried to order her thoughts. Afton's death went far beyond just a personal tragedy. This would send ripples into the country itself, affecting practically every single landmass that ever came in contact with Anjeluund. Brenna could do little about it besides create what little organization she could.

"One of you please fetch my husband from the council chambers and have him brought here. You may inform him of the situation if you deem the company he is in appropriate," she said. "I'll need another one of you to stay here and guard us, and then the remaining of you should let the rest of the guard know that the immediate area needs securing."

The guards snapped off a round of salutes to her and then bustled from the room. Two went down the hall toward the stairs, and one went the opposite direction toward the council chambers. The guard that stayed behind to keep watch stepped to the other side of the doorway in the sitting room to give what little privacy he could.

Left in the eerily silent room, Brenna approached Morna hunkered down in a corner, staring intensely at the floor. Her sister was sopping wet, her hair in clumpy strands and the front of her dress slashed through the middle with a watered-down red. Her arm, hanging limply at her side, showed signs of injury. Through a gash in the fabric, a raised slash cut across her skin and dripped blood onto the floor.

The anger she'd felt toward Morna dropped from Brenna's chest. She'd always resented not being the one who had the chance at power, but she couldn't blame Morna. Not while she crouched in a state of shock on the carpet under the window, dripping quietly until a small puddle drew around her bare feet.

Brenna gently unwound the square of silk she'd worn around her waist as a belt that morning and used it to bandage her sister's arm. Morna didn't even flinch, and somehow that hurt Brenna the most. She threw her arms around her sister. Morna shivered uncontrollably, her teeth chattering together, her gaze still fixed on a random spot of the floor. Nothing seemed to get through, even when Brenna brushed Morna's hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead softly.

"We will get through this," Brenna said, her voice loud and somehow large in the dead room. "I promise, we'll get through this."

She cradled Morna's rigid form close, and soon the shivers due to the cold and the water subsided, but the almost imperceptible ones that came from the hole in her sister's heart continued. Brenna felt useless, unable to do much more but try not to let Morna feel how afraid she was.

The pound of boots announced Robbin's arrival. Raised voices of a group of men all trying to be heard over each other followed him. Robbin swept into the study, his eyes wild and his jaw clenched. He spotted them immediately and walked straight to their side. His eyes closed, and he swayed just slightly as he drew in a sharp breath.

He only had a moment of privacy before the other men piled in, their faces grim and gaunt at the sight of blood and grief. They all crowded into the room, generals and the higher-ranked nobles alike. They saw more than Afton in this news. They saw their chance at fighting off Revours, shot through the heart and beyond retrieving.

"Someone attacked them in the woods," Brenna said.

Everyone startled, whipping around to stare down at the two Ittal women, half hidden in the shadows. Brenna scowled at them, making sure no one could think she didn't have every right and logical reason to be sitting on the floor, soaking wet from holding her sister.

"There's reason to suspect it was Revours, trying to throw a kink into our plans," she continued. "We're left in a very unfortunate and precarious position, and the sooner we are out of it, the better."

The men all muttered into their beards, looking at each other as if someone else might have something that could contradict the illegitimate son's wife's words. When no one spoke up, they begrudgingly grunted their agreement.

"We need to appoint the new heir, and quickly," Robbin said. "Not only will we have Revours champing at the bit to take advantage of our weakness, we also risk starting a war over who will fight the war that we're already in. Anjeluund cannot sustain that amount of loss of life. We need an announcement before the day is up. When the people find out about Afton, they should also find out that the next in line is firmly in place and cannot be budged."

General Cooke, an impossibly old man with barely any hair left to his wrinkled head, calmly folded his hands and looked toward the ceiling. "As the representative for the church, picked by the High Priest himself, I second Robbin's movement for finding the next heir. Time is of the essence, and we can forge the proper channels after we show the people and Revours that we are in control."

With the blessing of the High Priest's man, the others quickly fell behind the motion. They began with the obvious.

"Mi and Wesley."

Brenna almost didn't remember the names of Robbin's two youngest half-brothers. She'd barely seen them since getting married, and they spent nearly the entirety of their time at a different household with their nurse. They were hardly king material, being only six and seven, and they were far from being prepared to take over the running of an army. She doubted whether they even knew how to read properly. As second and third sons, they were trained for other professions, and they didn't even have enough years in their life for them to be any good at even that.