Petronella led the frail-looking girl that’d introduced herself as Dorothea to the private Chamber of Divulgence. Before she could give her instructions to the woman as to how to use the chamber, she spotted something in the mirror. Dorothea held up a gold coin, in the center of which was a spherical obsidian bead. It was a familiar thing for any spy of her order—Petronella could feel its presence resonate where her heart ought to be. Fire swelled, indicating that what Dorothea Rook carried was genuine.

  Petronella turned around slowly, her smile dying. “You should’ve shut the door before you produced that.”

  Dorothea gently closed the door to the Chamber of Divulgence, and they were then surrounded by mirrors on all side reflecting their meeting in perpetuity. “Are we truly going to coach the other on how best to perform our duties? I’m the one bearing the token of their authority. It would be best to remember that.”

  Petronella stared ahead, her green eyes cold. “Why did they send you?”

  Dorothea pulled up her white veil, revealing dead gray eyes and wispy gray hair. She was pretty enough, but there was a corpse-like look about her. Her skin was so pale it didn’t seem like she got any sun at all. “Did you honestly think that Avaria would simply move on as if nothing happened after Tielman’s poisoning failed?”

  Petronella looked to the mirror. “I simply assumed it wouldn’t involve encroaching on my territory. I’ve been managing the espionage efforts here perfectly fine. If you can find one flaw in my reports that I haven’t already corrected myself, I’ll cut off my own head for you.”

  Dorothea stowed away the gold coin. “There’s no issue, and my stay here will be temporary. Avaria’s plans have been accelerated, you see. Even if Tielman himself didn’t perish, his brief period of unwell revealed that the Brugh family is far weaker and more divided than we predicted. We’re going to show our hand to force the assassination of the baron. Civil war will erupt naturally with sufficient prodding. The royal family is dealing with some internal troubles at the moment, and they can’t afford to intervene. Without a unified Brugh family standing at the border, Avaria is confident that an invasion will succeed.”

  Petronella was uneasy, but she was far too experienced to show that outwardly. She was having a great deal of fun here in Gent—resuming hostilities would mean that she would most likely be recalled back to Avaria to fight on the front of the war. As skilled as she was at espionage, she was doubly skilled on the battlefield. Still, she wasn’t fond of the idea. This quiet life of spying suited her temperament well.

  “What will you do here?” Petronella begrudgingly asked. “My people will help you in whatever way they can.”

  Dorothea looked into the mirror. “My brother will kill Willem, one way or another, and I’ll secure a marriage with one of the Brugh family and restore the Rook family to prominence.” Dorothea looked back with those dead eyes of hers. “Our superiors have judged that your independent nature may prove a hindrance in this task, especially given your recent romantic entanglement.”

  Petronella didn’t dispute the so-called ‘romantic entanglement,’ even if it wasn’t true. “Are you sure your brother can achieve this? Willem isn’t a stranger to combat. His mother, Viviene, is present as well.”

  “It’ll occur during a duel,” Dorothea said. “Failing that, I’ll expose his poisoning of the baron and have Arend execute him on behalf of the royal guard.”

  “Why not do the second option immediately?” Petronella asked.

  “Arend is… difficult to cajole.” Dorothea’s lips tightened, belying frustration. “He won’t do things he believes to be immoral unless all other options fail. And this is to be a grand event designed to restore the prestige of the Rook family, and thus myself. I would simply do it myself, but Arend’s cooperation is necessary for our long-term goals. Manipulating him is vital.”

  “How will you force the civil war?” Petronella probed.

  “That’s beyond your purview,” Dorothea said authoritatively. “You merely need to assist as we prepare for Willem’s death. When the king renews my marriage with my baby Godfried, we’ll depart north, and you’ll lay the grounds for the conquest of the barony.”

  Petronella was deeply unhappy at being ordered around by some young, disgraced woman… but at the same time, there wasn’t much she could genuinely do. Avaria had the key to her life. Disobedience would mean a slow and painful death. The many years of her life had taught her that compliance came in many forms, however.

  “Tell me what you need, and I’ll provide it,” Petronella said, acting the model slave.

  “Use your close relationship with Willem to make our scheme run flawlessly,” Dorothea said simply. “When Willem is dead, you’ll receive a full Rejuvenation of the Fountain. My superiors tell me you’ll understand what that means, and that it should prove sufficient motivation for you to see this task through to the end.”

  Petronella couldn’t disguise the deep breath of surprise and greed that she felt. To receive a full Rejuvenation of the Fountain would mean thirty years of relative freedom. For a slave like herself, it was tantamount to the highest reward that one could receive. Preparing a fundamental step for an invasion would certainly warrant such a reward. That meant that this was real—not just smokescreen. Avaria was getting ready to move.

  I am having fun here… Petronella mused. But how much more fun could I have with total freedom? I wouldn’t need to participate in the invasion, even.

  But the bitter aftertaste of the offer soon caught in her mouth once more. For a slave of Avaria, there was no such thing as true freedom.

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  “Help me understand something,” Dorothea said, speaking somewhat formally for once in the conversation. “I don’t like to work with people I don’t trust. Why is this Rejuvenation so important to you?”

  Petronella focused on her. “Your superiors wouldn’t like you knowing that, young lady.”

  Irritation flashed in the girl’s eyes. “Just tell me.”

  “Naughty girl. Well… far be it for me to disobey.” Petronella put her hand to her chest. “Important slaves of Avaria have their heart torn out of their body and replaced with the enchanted lava formed in the depths of Fount Avaria. This lava needs to be replenished periodically, elsewise the bearer will die. The slavers pick and choose how much lava to give a slave based on the task they’re performing. A Rejuvenation of the Fountain is a total replenishment of the lava within oneself.”

  Dorothea processed those words with those dead eyes of hers. “If I’m understanding correctly… for a slave’s life to continue, they have to return to Avaria eventually?”

  “Yes,” Petronella admitted freely. “Eventually, the warmth inside me will fade, and my life will be forfeit. Unless I return to Avaria.”

  “A life in my hands.” Dorothea smiled with bone-white teeth, a sadistic spark in those once-dead eyes of hers. “I like that.”

  That demeanor might’ve frightened someone lesser, but Petronella wasn’t overly concerned. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d fallen under the sway of a sadist. Even if Dorothea blabbed, she didn’t think she’d experience any blowback. Knowledge of Fount Avaria was rare outside of the nation itself, but not entirely unknown.

  Petronella had two years left before the warmth of the lava burning inside her faded. In time, she would be forced to return to Avaria. In time, she would be forced to submit herself to the council. And in time, she would be forced to negotiate the continuance of her slavery.

  Such had been her entire life.

  “I’m contented,” said Dorothea. “So long as our scheme goes well and Willem dies without issue, you’ll receive no trouble from me. For now, prepare everything that I need to know about Willem and his operations here. I would discuss it now, but my brother will fret if I linger overlong. We’ll continue this discussion once you have things prepared.”

  “Of course,” Petronella said. “My people will ensure you encounter no trouble.”

  “See that they do,” Dorothea said, then turned to open the door. She lowered her veil. Her brother waited outside, clearly worried about her well-being. She put on a small show of being dainty, but Petronella shut the door before she could see too much.

  Looking at herself in the mirror, Petronella was conflicted. She studied her face, then began sculpting it subtly. This was a nervous habit of hers, she knew. It calmed her to change details about herself. But why was she uneasy, nervous?

  Willem’s interesting, she admitted to her reflection. But thirty years of life is thirty years of life. Why should I care what happens to him? I can use those thirty years of leverage to secure an amazing assignment for myself, perhaps. Espionage in the capital, perhaps? Or… if the invasion goes well… maybe I’ll join the front again. This is good news. Great news. I know only two other slaves who underwent a full Rejuvenation.

  If it was such good news… why was she so dissatisfied?

  ***

  Willem returned to his Society of Assured Prosperity after a long day of… everything. Between talking to Viviene, Karel, Catharina, and Gustav, his battery was drained. He was looking forward to nothing more than tucking into bed with a nice sheet of numbers and a tallow candle burning by his bedside.

  “Willem,” came a woman’s voice suddenly.

  Willem paused where he stood, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. “Yes?” He turned to see who it was.

  Petronella strode out of the alley. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said calmly. “There’s a business proposition that I’d like to discuss.”

  Willem managed to focus his tired mind upon the matriarch. She had a certain graveness about her that he’d not seen before. She had always been mirthful, playful… but now, it seemed, she had grown serious. He was curious what had sparked such a change, but wary of wasting his time.

  “What’s this about?” he asked. “The church here only produces wine, so far as I know. My area of focus is elsewhere.”

  “Things can change,” Petronella said. “It’ll be a brief discussion, I assure you.”

  Willem studied her face. “Something tells me you’re lying, but… fine, I suppose.”

  “Let’s go to the church,” she directed him, then set off walking.

  Willem followed her tiredly, trying to piece together what she might want out of him. He eventually resolved himself to hearing once they made it to someplace that wasn’t as cold as the night. They passed through the gardens of the church, then entered the cathedral. At night, the light from the stars illuminated the grand tree in the center of the building rather brilliantly. The pristine white tree looked like marble, and magic had grown it into the shape of a woman—the goddess of this church.

  Willem paused at one of the benches, looking around. “So, what is this?”

  Petronella continued to walk toward the tree. She passed by the podium where she presumably usually addressed the followers sitting in the benches, and went to the tree. Willem walked a little closer, then sat down on one of the front row seats.

  “It’s a deal to die for,” Petronella said, passing behind the tree until she faded from view.

  Petronella had entered from the left of the tree… but what emerged from the right could not be called human. A bird’s foot with wickedly curved talons alighted on the roots of the pristinely white tree. As it continued to move into view, he saw the whole of it. The creature resembled a griffon, with the body of a lion and the talons of an eagle, but its feathers were a mix of deep black and red, and where the eagle’s head ought to be was instead a woman’s bare torso.

  Petronella strutted out into the starlight of the window, coming to stand before Willem. Her forelegs were as large as Willem himself. The face and torso were hers, but subtly different. Where once there had been red hair, there was now a mane of those black and red feathers. Black veins spread from her temple to her eyes, which now sported red irises and black sclera. Her tail was a long and eyeless snake, dancing above her form.

  “The past has caught up to you, it seems,” Petronella said. Her voice had always been deep, but now it was imperial, powerful, and echoed out across the empty hall.

  This would be the second time today he’d taken a woman for her word, only to be introduced to some terrifying magic. He’d have to take note that there wasn’t a third…provided, of course, a third chance was on the table. As Petronella smiled with sharp teeth, he wondered on that point.