Calyx stumbled, almost dropping the volatile bundle in her trembling arms. Somehow, she kept her balance, righted herself with a gasp of frustration. She sniffed back a tear, glared down at Nerys, and rolled her shoulders against the ache of the strain. In all her long years, she’d never been this tired. Dog-tired, she’d heard it called on Earth. She still didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she was certain she now knew how it felt. Resigned, she adjusted her burden and pressed on down the overgrown path, picking her way through the soft dark of night. Thorny vines clutched at her already ragged dress, slowing her further, and drops of golden blood trickled down her legs where barbs had caught more than fabric.

She’d tried to port, at first, spiriting Nerys away with her into the Betwixt. It had been a near-fatal mistake. The moment they had entered the unreality, the talons of Chaos had roared through the breach, hungry to claim them both. Barely, she’d pulled them out – had no time to decipher an exit, only leapt for the nearest one. They’d emerged into the depths of a forest, leagues from anywhere. Since then, carrying Nerys’ unconscious form, she’d walked, and walked… and walked. Nerys had grown heavier with each hour that passed, her arms weaker, thoughts duller. Now, she wasn’t even plotting her way by the stars anymore. She simply followed whatever faint deer track came up beneath her feet, hoping it might take her somewhere.

At last, she stopped. She couldn’t summon the will to keep moving any longer; the hours had taken their toll. Carefully, she rolled Nerys from her numb arms, laying her down at the foot of a young Devadaru tree. Its branches were slim, dusted with lighter needles than its ancient cousins, and it hardly offered a shadow beneath the bright moon. It didn’t matter, Calyx could have dropped down in the midst of a harpy flock for all she cared. Gods, she was tired. Stray tears chased each other down her cheeks, her taut emotions a mere fraction beneath her surface. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take a breath, to be calm, to think.

“Mundane things,” she muttered, “Just do the mundane things.”

Forcing her protesting body to rise once more, she called to her mutinous magic. It rose like a child too early from bed, rebellious and temperamental. Still, she managed to conjure the basics – a blanket, a pitcher, a platter. From the surrounding woods, she drew forth water, summoned nuts and fruits that were good to eat. She threaded a tent-like tapestry of magic above herself and Nerys, blocking out the world around. Digging for the last dregs of her energy, she imbued the little haven with a protection charm to ward away anything that might disturb her sleep.

Finished, she half-fell into a seated position beside Nerys. Despite her fatigue, she forced herself to pick at the food, sip at the water. At last, she gave in, hooded eyes heavy as the weight of her problems. Numb fingers half-pushed the blanket over them both as she reclined beside her mortal enemy. With no further thought for potential disasters, she let herself be claimed by a deep and dreamless sleep.

When she woke, she stretched languorously. A slow smile spread across her sleepy lips as she discovered she felt years better. Outside her haven, birdsong flitted through the trees, rousing her in slow stages. At length, she opened her eyes, drank in rich sunlight muted to a gentle glow by the translucence of early morning. She pushed away the blanket – tucked more snugly than she remembered – and turned over with a sigh.

A glittering gaze arrested her, and her heart bucked in surprise.

Nerys lay on her side, inches away. She was alert and watchful, despite the wound in her chest.

“You’re quite peaceful, when you’re asleep,” the brunette murmured.

She reached out, brushed away a strand of hair clouding across Calyx’s eyes. At the featherlight connection, a spark of magic hummed. Calyx shied from her touch with a gasp, but the strain hung in the air between them like a breath of summer at dawn.

For a long moment, they remained suspended – suspicious, curious. The whispered melody of magic faded softly away.

Calyx rolled to crouch on the balls of her feet, tense as a steel spring. “What the hell was that?”

Surprise softened the edge of Nerys’ eyes. “I… didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t touch me again,” Calyx scowled. “How long have you been awake, anyway?”

Nerys’ face darkened. “Long enough, dear.”

Calyx understood the implied threat, ran her gaze briefly over herself, but found nothing out of place. She eyed Nerys. The other did, indeed, appear to have been awake for some time. The pitcher of water, half-empty, was propped beside her, and she looked to have nibbled at a pear. The fact that Nerys hadn’t disabled her while she slumbered piqued Calyx’s curiosity.

“I was dead asleep. Why didn’t you take advantage?”

Face impassive, Nerys regarded her. “I don’t like to destroy beautiful things.”

Calyx made to retort, but faltered.

“Did you just… call me beautiful?”

“I did,” Nerys said, unapologetic. “You are. Up this close, especially.”

Calyx blushed despite herself. “And here I thought you hated me,” she mumbled.

Nerys shifted, tucked a palm beneath her ear to support her head, and raised an eyebrow. “Do I have a reason to hate you? Of course, we served different Queens, but our vendetta was never personal.”

Calyx swallowed. “It… wasn’t?”

“Was it?”

Calyx opened her mouth to respond, closed it, cheeks flaming.

“I see,” Nerys said. Her eyes glittered, raptor-like, and she turned away onto her back with as much dignity as she could muster.

“I’m sorry,” Calyx began, “Nerys I-”

“Don’t apologise,” Nerys snapped, “It doesn’t suit you. Perhaps I should have killed you, while I had the chance.” She snaked her head sideways in irritation, caught herself on a breath of pain. “How… did you find me… anyway?”

“You called me,” Calyx replied, derisively.

“I did no such thing.”

“Oh? So the snap of magic that pulled me off course in Betwixt and landed me in that ale house – just in time, I might add – had nothing to do with you…?”

Nerys curled her lip around a scathing response, but then remembered her last, desperate thoughts had been of the golden Lat’Nemele, and fell silent.

Dear Malevelyn, had she called Calyx?

Crushing the conundrum away, she retreated behind a sniping comment, “Tell me, dear… what, exactly, are you intending to do with me?”

The question caught Calyx off-guard. She swallowed her immediate response – somehow, staring at the broken woman roused a strange sense of kinship within her. She had called her – Nerys might not admit it, but Calyx knew it was true. Lowering her gaze, she sighed. “Truth be told, I have no idea – I seem to swing from one disaster to the next.”

Nerys’ ire vanished as quickly as it had come. She squeezed her eyes shut, as much against physical pain as the pain in her soul. “I know what you mean.”

Calyx watched her drawn face, and chewed at her lip.

“How did this happen to you, Nerys?”

“I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. Quite a simple mistake, really.”

Calyx’s mouth rounded as she put the pieces together. “Fayne did this?”

Nerys lifted her chin, eyes frosted, mouth pulled tight. “I’d rather not discuss it.”

“Of course,” Calyx whispered, bowing her head.

“Don’t you dare!” Nerys hissed, “Don’t you dare pity me!”

Calyx looked up to meet her furious gaze, saw a hint of the power that bespoke her once. She remembered that she was a formidable foe, and certainly not one to indulge an empathy for. She frowned, incensed.

“I’ve far more important things to do,” she snapped, “Than pity the likes of you.”

She got up with more force than necessary, swung her magic out in a snapping arc to clear away the shelter. Bright sunlight dappled them, shining unimpeded between the needles of the little Devadaru tree. Calyx put the forest back the way it was, the only sign of their stay now themselves, physically still there. When she was done, she turned to glare down at Nerys.

“Would you like me to carry you?” she sneered, holding her arms out in sarcastic invitation.

Stone-faced, Nerys forced her broken body to rise under Calyx’s critical gaze. She swayed on her feet, reached for the slim trunk of the Devadaru to steady herself, but remained upright.

“I don’t want anything further from you,” she growled. “Let’s go, then, before I change my mind and kill you.”

Calyx scoffed. She lifted her skirts and strode forth with no regard for Nerys’ halting steps. Sparking ire, she stopped a short distance away. She swung her head back and forth, eyeing the faint deer tracks eddying in every direction.

Behind her, Nerys snorted a laugh.

“You have no idea where you’re going, do you?”

Calyx swung round, eyes ablaze. “I know where I need to be! And if I wasn’t trying to save your ungrateful ass, I’d be there by now!”

Nerys folded her arms – carefully – across her chest. She bared her teeth in a sneer.

“Go on, then. No one is stopping you.”

“You are, dammit!”

“Me? I’ve not asked for a single grain of your help, dear.”

Calyx clucked her tongue, tugged her fingers through her hair. “If I could have just killed you, Nerys, I would have! But if you die, the world ends – faster than it needs to – and I need time to get Jordan to safety.”

Nerys quirked a brow. “Jordan…? You can’t mean…”

“That’s exactly who I mean,” Calyx snapped impatience, “Jordenna Bal’Talanor, the Heir.” She marched back to grab Nerys roughly by the arm. “I don’t have time for this – will you get a move on, please? I can’t afford any more delays; Esadora wants to roast me alive as it is.”

But Nerys planted her feet, teeth gritted against the agony Calyx’s tugging affected.

“Esadora…?” She refused to budge another step, and her tone dropping in warning. “Calyx. You’d better start talking, right now.”

Calyx flashed a glare. “You’re hardly in a position to negotiate.”

Scowling, Nerys sat down, half-dragging Calyx down with her; the movement forced Calyx to release her hold to keep her balance. Nerys suppressed a whimper as the ground jarred up to meet her, and her eyes watered, but she schooled her features into immovable stone and glared up.

“Fine,” Calyx huffed, “Short version. You didn’t kill the Heir. I stole her away, took her with me on my accidental over-reach in Betwixt – your fault, since you were pursuing me – and landed up on the Old World.” She pursed her lips. “There, as luck would have it, our Lost Queen, Esadora, happened upon me and took the child into her own care. When I returned here with Jordan, the old hag bloody followed. Satisfied?”

“No. Who was the child in the crib?”

“Scullery maid’s daughter. Her name was Aggie.”

“You left an innocent child behind… as a sacrifice?”

Calyx bridled at the accusation. “You’re the one who killed her!”

Nerys bared her teeth, hissing in fury. She rose, oblivious to her weakened body, threat evident in every line of her scowl as she advanced.

“I don’t kill children! I used a Draught of Living Death, left the babe with her mother, retrieved her before they lit the pyre. She spent eight years living on a farm outside of Eoscan, with enough coin to keep her and her adoptive family comfortable and happy until she died of some incurable disease.”

Face pale, Calyx stepped back. “Y-you didn’t kill Aggie…?”

Nerys snarled, breathing hard and trembling. “What kind of monster do you take me for?”

Calyx held up her hands in mute appeal as the Dark Lat’Nemele bore down upon her, and Nerys stopped mere inches away, mouth twisted, fangs bared. She held tight to her chest, hands shaking with pain and fury. Her eyes burned shadowed gold; ice crackled in her voice.

“You sacrificed a child! If it had been Fayne herself, the babe would have been dead!” Her breath became ragged, in fits and starts, but she managed to point a trembling finger at Calyx. “Don’t you… ever… judge me… again.”

She wavered, clutched involuntarily at Calyx’s shoulder to stay on her feet. Calyx automatically slipped an arm around her waist, supporting her as she ran out of steam. A wave of excruciating pain left Nerys unable to pull away, unable to speak, and she had to content herself with staring hatefully up at her saviour.

Mouth set to a grim line, Calyx swung her bodily into her arms, unwilling to risk the use of magic that might affect the curse. Nerys tried to resist but could do nothing more than pant and curl around her agony.

“If you knew the stakes,” Calyx growled, starting down the closest dear track, “You would have done the same. It was the most difficult decision of my life, but I did it for the greater good.”

Tucked helpless against the crook of her shoulder as she was borne away, Nerys gasped a laugh.

“Good…?” she bit out, “There’s no such thing as good and evil, Calyx. There is only power, and consequence.”

“Well,” Calyx snapped, jolting her into silence, “You would know.”