Tooth and Nail – Chapter 01 – Huw Carrington

“Body who cut the Horn,

Mind to tell their parts,

Heart that fell forlorn,

Soul who took the Heart.”

Traditional rhyme, New Thala

* * *

23rd day of Indern, 406th Imperial Year

17th Year of Emperor Rufenrich Konreig’s Reign

Like a sword returned to its sheath, few great events began with the setting sun. Weary light hiding from view was a poor herald of history. Ambition, whether divine or mortal, cared little for such omens.

Golden light bathed the city, as alluring as the wealth so many desired. Long shadows reached out along the stone-lined streets and up whitewashed walls. With their backs to the Imperial Palace’s pale shape, people rushed about their business, ferrying goods and knowledge to and fro.

Higher still than the Emperor’s seat, thin clouds drifted against the darkening sky, the dying embers of day lining their flanks. They hinted at autumn rains, though none seemed eager to follow through just yet.

Beyond even those heights, a single point shimmered with blue and green. Stars had yet to risk the evening expanse, a meagre handful clinging to the eastern horizon. More would join them soon to illuminate the night sky, if twilight allowed.

Emerald and sapphire danced and fought within the glimmering star. It had hung overhead a few nights now, its presence noted only by a handful of scholars and mages. Over the coming days, more faces would turn skywards to study its passing. Some spoke of its arrival, less than once in a generation, but most had heard tales of the Comet from their parents. An arcane curiosity to distract them from their lives for a few weeks, to be forgotten once more before winter reared its head.

The strands of their attention reached towards it now. Whether noble or nobody, people’s emotions and thoughts differed little. Imperfect nostalgia, day-to-day stresses, unrealistic expectations, and simple beliefs – most people had more in common than they cared to admit.

Those same threads wrapped between one soul and the next. Envy, suspicion, and desire mingled as easily as love, pride, and hope. Men and women alike thought of themselves and thought of others, unwilling to recognise the intricacies of interwoven emotion that wound them all together.

Only a rare individual spared the time to reflect on how others thought and acted, rather than just their own place in it.

One such person slowly opened hooded eyes. She winced as lamplight and noise shattered her focus, drowning out the sorcerous strands that spanned all things. Clamouring voices smothered the efforts of musicians as the muddied noises rose to her spot upon the balcony.

Ignoring the ignoble rumblings in her belly, she looked down upon the party’s many guests. The noise of a hundred pampered mouths clamoured from wall to wall, filling the air with fledgling rumours. Lords and merchants, children and the elderly, anyone worth knowing now attended the feast.

She’d made it here, at least. In the company of the Empire’s elite, few would complain. The finest foods, the most talented entertainers, the most influential and eligible individuals.

Leaning on the gallery’s stone railing, she hid her grimace as she glared down at the assembled nobility. In spite of all her efforts, they still kept her at arm’s length. It shouldn’t surprise her. They treated the rest of the servant staff much the same.

Oh, sure, she carried a mage’s sigil, and could claim to number among the Empire’s most powerful individuals. It made little difference to the nobles below. She could read their instincts, twist their emotions, even warp their perception itself. They saw only a dangerous person who should be avoided at best and chained at worst.

Even her colleagues, other mages serving the Emperor, viewed her with suspicion. Most of them, anyway. Succeeding her own way, away from classes and their dusty old techniques, had made her few friends at the Spire.

Most there didn’t care for how hard she’d had to work to garner the respect she now clung to. She could count the number who tolerated her differences on one hand. Instead, they saw her name and cried favouritism. How else could someone who failed every core lesson get as far as she had? She might as well have tried to explain colours to a blind man.

The Imperial Court treated the old veteran standing near the empty throne with more respect. Even without the oversized scimitar strapped to his back, none of them would’ve dared jostle him if he’d stood up here now. Their barbs and jabs would’ve struggled to break his stance as he stood upon the bare flagstones.

A pointed cough roused her from her brooding, and she turned to the blond figure beside her.

“Did you want something?” She said.

The man eyed her for a moment before flicking his hair from his eyes and replying. “What’s wrong? Problem?”

“What? No, it’s nothing.”

“Then why are you staring at the throne? Or is it the Champion?”

“Vandel?” She gestured towards the dais. “No. I was just thinking.”

“But why the dirty look? Spotted something we should check out?”

She held back a laugh. “What’s your name, Shadow?”

“Zecht,” he gave her a half nod before leaning on the railing beside her to look down upon the hall. “And you’re Fitz, right?”

She grimaced. “I prefer Heizl.”

“Fine. Why the look?”

“Oh, that.” The mage hesitated. Speaking her mind had landed her in trouble before. “I was just thinking about the Champion,” she considered each word before it left her mouth. “It’s weird, right? Having one at all, I mean. He’s just one guy. Sure, he can swing a sword, but even the youngest student at the Spire can twist the world around them.”

“‘Cause no one trusts mages?” Zecht asked without turning.

“Still,” Heizl bit the inside of her cheek in frustration but continued. “It could be an honorary position. Throw the title to some noble’s brat and win their loyalty. Have a tournament and a party, and give the people some entertainment to latch onto. Instead, Uncle has Vandel, a real soldier, in the role. You’d think he could find a better use for someone who knows one end of a sword from the other.”

Who cares?” Zecht shrugged. “Doesn’t change our job.”

“And that scimitar,” she went on. “It looks older than he is. And he already carries good steel – why the extra blade?”

“You could always go and ask him.”

“No thanks,” Heizl shook her head, tied-back hair snaking over her shoulders as she laughed. “He creeps me out.”

Zecht snorted, and she found herself smiling. It felt good to have an actual human interaction with a Shadow. Too many of her past keepers had lacked a sense of humour. She understood, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Few found it easy to relax when working with someone who might turn them inside out on a whim. Maybe this one wouldn’t be so bad.

Below, other Shadows stood out in their stiff formal uniforms. The man at her side wore his like a child in secondhand clothing. It didn’t surprise her all that much. Their type didn’t often stand on display like this.

More noticeable, to her at least, stood the handful of lesser mages scattered around the room. Most kept to the walls, watching over the crowd, while a few mingled, drinking sparingly. Their Shadows stayed close, tracking their charges as much as they eyed the gathered nobles.

None of them impressed Heizl much. A troupe of circus magicians with their sleight of hand would serve just as well.

“Hey,” Zecht nudged her.

“What?” She brushed his arm away, slowly realising that he’d said something. One’s thoughts could prove too loud.

“I asked if you’d spotted anything.”

“Huh? Oh, right. Nothing you’d care about. Normal background-level magic, mostly. No one’s up to anything they shouldn’t be. At least, no more than you’d expect from a bunch of stuck-up, self-obsessed, narcissists all hungry for attention.”

The Shadow answered slowly, as if choosing each word with care. “We’re not meant to talk about the Imperial Court that way.”

“These bastards? I shouldn’t worry.”

“Bastards? I’m pretty sure the only bastard around here is–”

Instinct rising, Heizl failed to control herself fully. She could’ve dropped within herself to twist his threads and slow his thoughts to a crawl. She might’ve drawn the attention of those that surrounded them to his imperfections, and ensured no one would ever take him seriously. She could’ve just hit him.

Instead, Heizl reached out and grasped him by the jaw, thumb one side and fingers the other. In her grip, she could feel the smug grin upon his face. She’d have liked nothing better than to tear it off.

He must’ve seen it coming. Shadows were trained beyond the level of the Imperial Guard. They looked out for things like this. Stopping a mage like her – untested in actual combat – would’ve been easy.

No, he didn’t see her as a threat, and so hadn’t reacted. That was almost worse than his insult.

She released him, stepping away. “Come on, I wanna go down below.”

“We’re fine up here.”

“Don’t be dull.” With some effort, she wrapped her tone in civility. “We’ve got Shadows in every corner, and guardsmen at every door. Nobody needs us up here, so let’s go somewhere more interesting.” As slow as she could, she held out both empty hands. “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“Fine.” The blond man let out a frustrated breath through his nose. “We won’t get in so much trouble if we take the side stairs.” He waved to one side. “Less likely to be spotted that way.”

“Oh, I know. I know all the good hiding spots. Nice to know you’ve checked the layout though.” Heizl’s smiled reached her eyes as she gestured towards the stairs. “After me?”

She’d made it a few steps before Zecht called out. “‘Ere, don’t forget this!”

Spinning on one heel, she eyed the copper rod that he now held out to her. She hesitated, smile fading.

Few would imagine any of the Spire’s members forgetting their focus. It wasn’t that they couldn’t channel their magicks without whatever object they’d practised with, but that it was safer. Like a filter or a shield, they protected the flesh when drawing that bloody chaos through themselves to shape to their bidding.

Heizl had never had any luck with that though. Few in the Empire had the talent to join the Spire, and, it seemed, few of them strayed from that same style of sanguine-magic so common in the island nations to the south. Sometimes she wondered what it’d be like to be the same as the others. Those regrets often faded when reminded of the strict limits that her colleagues worked under. Prescribed gestures and techniques never failed to bore her.

Rubbing the back of her neck with one hand, she snatched the rod from Zecht with the other. “Thanks. Now, come on.”

Without another look, she wove through the clusters of guests sharing the balcony with them. Disapproving faces turned her way, but she ignored them. It wasn’t like their opinions mattered.

Down the narrow stone stairs, reaching out to brush the soft drapes and tapestries that hung upon its stone walls, Heizl soon reached the Great Hall’s main floor.

Some trick of architecture had muted the sounds up above, but here they struck her full force. She hadn’t realised how loud it was. Dancing couples laughed and boisterous youths sang as their elders whispered and schemed. The noise assaulted her, drowning out thoughts.

Pausing for the briefest moment for Zecht to catch up, Heizl pushed onwards. As she passed tables filled with rich food and richer guests, her belly grumbled insistently enough to drown out the celebrations. If anyone heard, they didn’t care enough to turn towards her.

One foot before the other, she took in the room. It felt so different down here. Subtler yet more honest. More alive, but more desperate.

Growing used to the crowd, individuals drew her eye. More than just the Imperial nobility had received invites it would seem. Foreign dignitaries in their cultural dress moved from one group to the next, forging agreements and securing alliances. Staff, dressed in simple green and blue doublets, carried cups and platters the length and breadth of the hall. Officers in polished breastplates struggled to fit in, while the merchant class curried favour with whatever they had left after buying entry.

All had their own motives, but few ignored the excuse to indulge themselves. It wasn’t every day that they’d celebrate the Crown Prince joining their number. If she wasn’t technically on duty, she’d have counted herself among them.

Heizl hesitated at one such group. They spoke in raised voices to be heard over the other guests. She made out few of their words though. Instead, she eyed the woman at the centre who the rest of the circle watched.

Dark, braided hair, and an elegant, gold-hemmed dress worth more than some towns. It took a moment for Heizl to realise that she didn’t know the woman. She’d seemed so familiar.

As she made eye contact, catching her watching for too long, Heizl gave a sly smile of acknowledgement. No, she hadn’t met this person before, though she didn’t mind the thought of getting better acquainted. A foreigner, probably, now that she’d looked closer. Maybe a few years her senior, but still young. Plain and serious, like so many non-Imperials there tonight, but with an exotic slant to her features.

There were more non-Imperials here tonight than usual. Few enough sent more than a token representative at the best of times. The Empire’s approach to diplomacy hadn’t always been appreciated by other nations. Curiosity had got the better of many of them now. Uniforms and cultural dress from a dozen city-states, lands, and factions dotted the crowd.

She’d expected a more obvious contingent from Seorsa, their nearest neighbour, but rumours of recent conflict hadn’t escaped her.

Composing herself, Heizl threw the woman a sly wink and a grin, before moving on. Despite what she’d told Zecht, and despite her baser urges, she had other motives for walking the floor. Fun and flirting would wait. Family beckoned.

She found him only a stone’s throw from the throne, back pressed to the stone wall of an alcove, gaze fixed on the ceiling in some infantile attempt to avoid eye contact.

In spite of everything, he looked as uncomfortable in his finely-tailored clothes as Zecht did in his uniform. Gold thread, polished silver, and expensive blue fabric couldn’t hide the man’s unease.

With a familiar nod to the pair of attendants forming a wall between him and the rest of the room, Heizl slid in alongside him. “You can’t hide back here forever. Your guests might think it’s rude.”

“Heizl?” Startled, the man flinched as he looked at her with wide, brown eyes. “How’d you find me?”

She smiled broadly. “I’m pretty sure most people know where you are, Thaun.”

“They do? I’m surprised they haven’t ambushed me yet.” He said, his brow furrowed.

“They’re probably worried one of your friends is going to tear their arms off,” she pointed with a thumb over one shoulder. Behind her, Zecht had joined Thaun’s attendants, his quiet greeting eliciting a scowl from a redheaded man in a similar uniform.

“They wouldn’t do that,” a matching smile bloomed on Thaun’s face as he followed her gesture. “Well, not to all of them, anyway.”

“I know that,” said Heizl. “And you know that.” She awkwardly draped an arm over his shoulders and waved towards those that filled the hall. A few hopeful faces turned their way. “But I’m not sure they do.”

With a faint smile, he shrugged his way out to stand alongside her. “I’d wondered when you’d turn up. Where’ve you been?”

“Some of us have to work for a living.”

He frowned. “What? You’re on duty?”

“That’s right. I guess our dear Uncle couldn’t show weakness by inviting his bastard niece along.” She waved dismissively at nothing in particular. “I wouldn’t want to spoil your party.”

“That’s unfair. You know it’s not that simple.”

“Yeah, well, maybe,” she admitted. “We both know that I’ve got as much royal blood in my veins as you do.”

Thaun laughed, though bitterness tainted the sound. “You are welcome to deal with all this. Void knows, you’d do a better job than I do.”

“I think there’d be a lot of unhappy people around if I were in your shoes,” Heizl put one hand to her chin in exaggerated thought. “I don’t think it’d bother me that much though.”

For a moment everything felt normal. The looks of disapproving nobles didn’t reach her. The Hall’s revelry fell short. Her own frustrations – so many people and circumstances beyond her control – faded to a dull ebb. Family and friends could do that. Shared experiences, lessons, and trials swam beneath the surface, tantalisingly within reach.

As Thaun spoke, the peace didn’t last. “How’re you doing?”

Heizl turned away. “Oh, you know me. Just the usual stuff.”

“Which usual stuff? Your scathe? Or the Spire?”

“They’re the same thing, Thaun.”

“Not all scathed people do magic, Heizl,” he replied, failing to hide the criticism in his tone.

They’d had the conversation a dozen times before. The only person she’d argued with about it as much as her cousin was their Uncle, the Emperor. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now.” She looked back at him. “Come on, let’s go get a drink.”

“I don’t know if I’ve got my breath back yet.”

“You’ll be fine,” she looped her arm through his, and began guiding him back towards the room’s centre. “Together, we can make the most of this. Most people aren’t going to grovel before you with me around, and I might catch a few people’s eye. It’ll be fun.” She thought for a moment. “Probably.”

Thaun didn’t object, but she could feel his discomfort coming off in waves. The stilted walk, the tense stance – it didn’t take a mage to tell he felt overwhelmed. Many wouldn’t notice, too caught up in their own narrow lives, but enough spoke about his unsuitability for the responsibilities thrust upon him.

Skirting the couples pirouetting at the Hall’s centre, the pair walked. Space appeared before them as guests parted, offering sycophantic smiles and excessive bows. More than once, Heizl felt her cousin stiffen as one noble or another started picking their way through the crowd towards him. Falling within and seeing those glowing orbs and lights, of every soul and bond between them, it wasn’t so difficult to flick their attention away.

In their wake, Zecht eyed the throne, and followed after them a pace behind Thaun’s own attendants. The pair of them had guarded and guided him for years. As much friends as they were bodyguards. They’d grown to accept Heizl, but she wouldn’t describe it as a close relationship. Associates, maybe, or even just colleagues. That stung, though she’d never admitted it.

Reaching a long table near one wall, they slowed. Guests seated on long benches shuffled aside, making space for their Crown Prince. None would consider denying him space there, but still some hesitated. Staying seated would be overtly rude, but moving too much meant sacrificing any opportunity to parade before their future ruler.

Heizl had to force open a space for herself opposite him with her elbows. Few would risk outright insulting a mage by refusing, as much as they might’ve liked to. The risk, no matter how small, of being set ablaze or turned into a rat was too great. It didn’t even matter that Heizl didn’t know how to do either of those things. Most people didn’t appreciate her subtlety.

“See?” She said, watching one of Thaun’s guards move to stand behind him. Standing half a pace from his elbow, the stern, mail-clad woman cast an eye over the crowd. The other, as well as Zecht, found places further out but still close by. Their quiet words and hard gazes cleared a small space around the Crown Prince, though the hungry expressions upon many guests’ faces revealed the mob’s reluctance. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I guess,” said Thaun as he nodded in thanks to the staff who placed a plate of steaming food down in front of him. “Did you have to, you know, push anyone away?”

“A couple,” she said, claiming an unattended cup of wine from the centre of the table. “Just the usual types. Governor Strahl, and a guy who I think was from the Guild.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s fine. You’ll have to deal with them sooner or later, but I figured it’d be easier after a drink.” She eyed him, a couple of years older than her but still pushing the food around his plate like a distracted child. “Are you alright? What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, I’m good.”

Lowering her voice, Heizl leant in across the table. “You answered that a bit too quickly.”

“You don’t want to talk about your scathe or your career, and I don’t want to talk about this. Can we just drop it?”

“I’m trying to help, Thaun. Have you had, y’know, another episode?”

“Not a bad one, no,” he replied, his gaze lingering downwards upon his meal as he hid his expression.

Trying a different approach, she cocked a smile. “Well, if it gets that rough again, may I kindly suggest that you don’t defenestrate yourself?”

“That happened once.”

“Once would’ve been enough.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Opposite her, Thaun shrank before her eyes. Shoulders slumped, head bowed further, he said nothing.

The family had managed to keep that one mostly hidden. No small feat, with suspicious and ambitious nobles always trying to get one up on their competition. She should probably make an offering to one of the gods in thanks for that. Hein or Zehran, probably, not that it really mattered.

Only a trusted few knew of that incident a few years past. Whether a curse, fever, or something else, they’d nearly lost him. None of them, even with all the resources that the Throne and the Spire could throw at it, knew what had caused the Crown Prince’s sudden suicidal intentions. Whispers of assassins and poisons still haunted their family, even with the Civil War long gone.

“Sorry.” Heizl cleared her throat, her mind racing as she sought a distraction.

It presented itself from behind a moment later. “Sir?” Heizl flinched at the voice that came from close behind her. She hadn’t heard anyone get close. Thaun’s Shadow – a lean, uniformed man, with red hair so short he might as well have been bald and a bubbling intensity behind his eyes – spoke in a low tone. “Master Acquiel has requested to join you.”

Thaun looked up, jaw clenched and eyes red with restrained emotion. The moment stretched as he composed himself. On either side, a few of the other guests whispered as they watched the Crown Prince struggle.

Unable to bear it any longer, Heizl gently prompted her cousin. “That sounds good, right? Better him than most of ‘em.”

Another dozen heartbeats passed, and she thought he’d refuse. Thaun shocked her with his answer. “Thanks, Sigren. That’s fine.”

The Shadow glanced to Heizl before nodding and disappearing behind her. A moment later, another figure joined them.

Dressed in almost modest clothes compared to many of the other partygoers, the mere contrast made him stand out. Though conservatively cut, his red and blue clothes, with their feather motif, likely cost as much as a labourer made in a year. Shining jewellery hung at his wrists and neck, bearing the Imperial Church’s split circle symbol. Long, dark hair finished the carefully-curated look, filling the air with the faint aroma of mint.

“Toland,” Thaun smiled, much of the tension draining from his expression as he stood to greet the young noble. “It’s good to see you.”

He bowed, straightening as he adjusted his shirt in an effort to avoid any unsightly creases. “May I join you, Your Highness?”

“You’ve asked that once already.”

“Perhaps,” he said, his pure blue eyes twinkling. “Such rituals have their place though. Gods forbid your guests forget whose party this is.”

Heizl rolled her eyes as Toland sat down. She couldn’t help but notice that those nearest to him made space on the bench more readily than they did for her.

“Please excuse my interruption, Miss Fitzerin.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help but feel one corner of her mouth tug upwards in response. “It was a difficult choice, but one of your colleagues has monopolised many of the serving staff. I saw an opportunity to stop my appetite from embarrassing me.”

“It’s fine. Pass me some of that wine and I can probably forgive you.”

Reaching out, other guests leant out of his way as he snatched up a clay jug from further down the table. The noble didn’t say anything as, rather than handing her the vessel, he poured into the almost-empty cup before her. Bowing his head to her once, she nodded in answer. For all her contempt of the Imperial Court, she struggled to dislike them all.

He turned towards Thaun. “A lot of people had wondered how long it’d be until you officially joined us.”

“They did?” he replied, the slightest hint of certainty forming beneath his words.

“So I’m told,” Toland sipped his own wine. “I can’t think about them all though. I’ve always thought it best to care about as many as you can, not as many as others think you should.”

“…Uh huh.”

“Are you, well, Your Highness?” He continued as if unaware of the confused effect his comment had caused.

“I’m good. Just a lot to get used to. It all feels so sudden.”

Heizl couldn’t help but chuckle. “Really? You were born to sit on the Throne. Pretty sure this has been coming for a while now. You’d probably have both ascended to it and then fallen off by now if the court hadn’t made Uncle step in.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I think Heizl’s trying to say you’ve had the best tutors and opportunities,” said Toland. “You’ll do wonderfully.”

Thaun frowned. “Thanks, I guess.”

“I’m sure,” he added, casting a sidelong glance towards Heizl. “Are you both well?”

“You know me,” she said with a smile. “If I’m at a party, I’m most definitely well.”

“Not working?”

“Only technically,” she took a mouthful of her own wine. Food would serve her body better, but didn’t help her tolerate the nobility in the same way.

“And you, Thaun?”

“I’m not sure if this whole thing,” he gestured around, “Or coming through the Nexus has upset my stomach even more. I’m just great.”

“I understand. I arrived that way myself just this morning. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.” Toland smiled reassuringly. “It’s warmer here than Tarnac at least. Probably the other places on your recent tour too, for that matter.”

“Maybe,” Thaun admitted, lowering his voice. “I think I’d rather be out there still though. People outside the Capital don’t expect as much of you. At least not the same things, at least.”

Pursing his lips, Toland let the conversation lull into silence. Noise filled the gap with song, music, and arguments weaving together into a seamless mass.

Heizl had never much liked sitting with her back to the room. Even removed from the line of succession as her illegitimacy made her, the risk of an ambitious knife remained. She could handle that uncertainty better than Thaun though, and so it wasn’t the first time she’d tolerated it.

Making the most of the moment, she let her consciousness fall back within herself. She should probably at least pretend to work, anyway.

The world bloomed into colour once more, souls and sentiments glowing in a hue that only she could see. Those she knew – Zecht, her cousin’s attendants, a handful of others – shone more brightly than others with their familiarity. Likewise, as she surveyed the room with her sorcerous eye, some bonds appeared brighter than others.

With some effort, she might be able to read some of those surface beliefs, but emotion came much more easily. Shades of feelings flowed from one to the next, as lust twisted into jealousy and indifference grew into the typical Imperial self-centredness.

None of the shifting threads that reached towards her flared with anything particularly concerning. A few hints of jealousy at her proximity to two such influential individuals, a whiff of prejudice, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Toland’s voice alongside her pulled Heizl back to the physical hall. “I think many of your guests were hoping to see your Uncle here.”

“He’s got a meeting.” Thaun said, returning to pushing his food around the plate. “Just him, Frida, and Hastigr. Maybe a governor or two afterwards. He’ll be here soon though.” He looked up to the noble sitting alongside Heizl. “How about you? I was expecting your father to be here. How come it’s just you here?”

“Why are any of us here, Your Highness?” Toland left the words hanging in the air for a heartbeat. “In the service of the gods.” He smiled earnestly. “I doubt that was the answer you hoped for, though. Father sends his apologies, but he was unable to attend. Illness dictates he remains at home.”

“Well, if it helps,” Thaun forced a lopsided smile, “I don’t much want to be here either.”

“Such is the burden of leadership,” Toland rose and offered an almost imperceptible bow. “Now, if I might be excused, such burdens beckon. I’d hoped for more opportunities to share a drink with old friends, but Father tasked me with other, less enjoyable duties.”

“It’s fine, Toland, really. Go and do whatever it is you need to.”

“Y’know,” Heizl said, half over one shoulder as he started to move away. “You’re not like the other nobles, are you? You actually mean some of what you say.”

“Miss Fitzerin, you have no idea.” With those words, his not-quite-insufferable smile faded into the crowd along with the rest of him.

Heizl’s gaze lingered on where he’d stood for a moment, eyes narrowing as she glanced from one noble to another.

“I thinTooth and Nail – Chapter One

“Body who cut the Horn,

Mind to tell their parts,

Heart that fell forlorn,

Soul who took the Heart.”

Traditional rhyme, New Thala