I only made it back to my tent much later in the day, after Hallen's very public groveling. The tent was a structure far less grand than that of my master. If I had asked, he would have given me such magic-fueled comfort in an instant, but I found I preferred the simplicity and roughness. Inside, I had a single low table with a detailed map of the region spread across it, a stand for my armor, a basin for washing, and a thick bedroll spread on the hard ground with enough blankets to keep the chill off. That was all I needed. The opulence of the Sanctum was frequently too much for me.

I needed to feel the discomfort‌. It reminded me ‌ I was still human, even with my life unnaturally lengthened by my connection to the King in Black. I bled and bruised in a way no undead could, just as I could feel emotions that were beyond their reach.

Vex and Brydris were mopping up the last of the dying on the field, ushering them into their new life of service as undead. They were the two most likely to trouble me with news, but I had seen neither hide nor hair of them for hours, which meant they were still prowling the killing fields.

If I had any illusions that I would be alone for the evening, however, I was sorely mistaken.

Naltheme was waiting for me just inside. She'd seated herself on the ground near my low table, fingers dancing across the painstakingly drawn lines of the map. My cartography had grown quite proficient, drawn from the images she could conjure with her scrying spells. Young as she was, the arcanist was an invaluable asset and my ally more often than not, mostly because being connected to me protected her from the carnal appetites of Varys. Not that he truly would have dared lay a finger on her for fear of the King in Black. Our master prized his apprentice above most others.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" I drawled as I stepped in, settling my helm onto the armor rack in its proper place. It needed cleaning after the day's battle. Next, I laid Woe across the table in its scabbard besides the series of whetstones I used to hone its edge.

"Must there be a reason for me to pay you a visit?" Naltheme asked, smiling faintly in my direction. Her smiles were always strained, mostly from a lack of practice. She had always been serious and studious, even as a little girl.

I set to work on undoing my armor. It was easier when Vex was here to help me, but I could do it myself. "Neither of us are people who relish the company of others."

"Maric is still raging about Hallen."

"Let him snap and snarl." My cool indifference had settled back in as the duel faded behind me. "He knows what will happen if he goes too far."

"And Varys?"

My lip curled in distaste. "Must we befoul the evening with the mention of his name?"

The girlish laugh that slipped out from Naltheme's lips sounded genuine. She relaxed slightly, the smile a little less strained. She seemed closer to her actual age for a moment, just barely twenty. "Have I ever mentioned how much I appreciate your bluntness, Aleyr? It's immensely refreshing after dealing with Teth all day."

Teth was an avowed schemer, someone far more dangerous than Maric could ever be. "And easier to follow, I imagine, as I only talk out of one side of my mouth at a time."

"I don't know how she abides General Maric," Naltheme admitted.

"Well, you know what they say about women like Teth," I said mildly as I peeled my breastplate off. My gambeson beneath, smoke-gray silk, was thinner than the padding most needed because of its material. There was no blood on it, mercifully, but it was still sweaty from an entire day of wear. Even in the cold of an unnatural winter brought to bear on the enemy, battle generated a lot of body heat.

Naltheme studied me. "I don't, actually."

"They always have a useful idiot standing in front of them." I grinned a little when she snorted at that. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"After spending six weeks of hell with them? It is physically impossible to be more accurate."

I hadn't forgotten that Naltheme's motivation for intruding was a mystery. "So why are you here?"

"I was actually looking for Brydris."

That made sense. Honestly, it was impressive that they had been lovers for five months and yet Naltheme could still walk straight and hadn't broken in half. She loved him for his physical protection and raw charisma. For his part, Brydris clearly just enjoyed the power trip of having the King in Black's own apprentice in a way no other man had. I don't think he could love her in a way that wasn't a dragon clutching at some prized relic in its hoard. "I hope you weren't planning on using my tent for your little reunion."

Naltheme flushed. "I would never plan on such a thing, Aleyr."

"Yet it continues to happen," I said dryly. It was occasionally annoying, but they kept it off my bedroll, which was all I really cared about. "I should really start sending Vex in with a bucket of icewater."

"Brydris would put her to flame."

I smirked. "You say that like it would discourage her. Better have tried and failed."

A scream split the air somewhere nearby and I tensed for a split second, mentally measuring the distance between my hand and Woe.

Naltheme held up a hand to stop me from arming myself and investigating. "It's Varys's new plaything. I recognize her...voice. He finds her scream particularly delightful."

My eyes narrowed. "That is not continuing into the night."

The arcanist clearly didn't disagree, but attempted to soften my murderous mood. "I didn't think the King in Black's Beloved needed beauty sleep."

The flap to my tent opened and Vex stepped in, absolutely dripping gore. She looked as happy as a wight could be, licking blood from her hand with a long, prehensile tongue. My second had a supernatural sense for when I needed her. "Shall I make my report, my lady?" she asked eagerly, utterly oblivious or at least uncaring of the gagging sound Naltheme made.

I stepped over and flicked a piece of some indeterminate internal organ off her face. "I have something else in mind, Vex," I said casually. "May I ask a favor of you?"

"Of course, my lady. Anything."

"I assume you heard the scream from Varys's portion of the camp, unfortunately positioned beside mine." It had been Maric who laid out the positions of every unit and their commanders. I had a feeling this was an intentional irrtation he'd laid for me.

Vex bobbed her head. "It is difficult not to."

"I want a nice, quiet evening, Vex."

"Do you have any particular thoughts on how you would like your displeasure communicated, my lady?"

I turned and picked up Woe in its scabbard, letting my fingers curl around the worn rayskin grip. As much as it would have pleased me to gut Varys, the King in Black still had uses for him. There were other ways of punishing him, however. "Considering he is disturbing my peace, I think he has sacrificed his toy privileges."

"You could make him a eunuch," Naltheme suggested from her seat, averting her eyes from Vex as the wight plucked another chunk of flesh off her own shirt and ate it. "That might curb his enthusiasm for it."

"He would regenerate," Vex said, an obvious disappointment in her tone. She brightened slightly. "It would be quite unpleasant for him, though."

The temptation was certainly at the forefront of my mind. Without supernatural endurance, I was tired after a long day of battle, which only stoked the fire of my anger more. "Follow," I told Vex as I strode past her out of the tent. I knew without needing to look that she was as close on my heels as my shadow.

It was a short walk to Varys's tent. The lesser vampires that served beneath his thrall scattered at our arrival, save for his personal bodyguards who crossed their spears to bar my entry to the tent. "Lord Varys wants no interruption, my lady. We cannot grant you entry."

I heard the weakness in his tone, the fear of what I could do to them warring with the fear of what Varys would do to them. Gaining access would simply be a matter of tipping the scales in my favor.

Vex twitched slightly, needing no prompting. She could smell fear like a shark could trace blood. "Do you know who you speak to, worm?" the wight spat. Suddenly, the eager hound was baring its teeth in attack. "This is Aleyr Frostborn, the Withered Rose, Beloved of the King in Black. She has razed cities and slaughtered armies for less insult than this interference." The wight seemed to rise taller, the blackness of her eyes growing in intensity as she faced the spawn.

Both vampire spawn shrank back, pulling their spears from the entrance. "Lord Varys, you have a visitor!" one blurted out, trying to save face.

I entered the tent before he could finish his sentence, drawing Woe in one smooth motion. I prided myself on the artistry of my every movement. It came from spending a life honing my combat skills. After all, I had to contend with undead like Varys as much as the forces of light. His tent was far more expansive than mine and crammed with every creature comfort. It was exactly the excess I hated most about him.

It was never about pleasure with him, truly. It was power, hedonism for the sake of demonstrating how far above he was from his roots, while having changed hardly at all.

Varys was smart enough to drop his plaything, a trembling wreck of a young woman, stripped and covered with bites and claw marks. It was clear this was not her first time in his embrace, if the fading colors of the older bruises were any sign. That was unusual. Normally, he never kept them long, his hunger getting the better of him.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" he snarled, covering himself with a sheet. The girl didn't even have the strength to scramble away. She just curled in on herself, looking up at me in horror.

I tightened my grip on Woe meaningfully. "I am tired of your infernal racket."

Varys sneered. Away from our master, he was much bolder. "You have no authority over me, Frostborn. I answer to my sire and the King in Black only."

"Vex, the girl."

My faithful wight grabbed the young woman by the arm, sharp claws biting into her flesh until blood rolled down. She yanked the vampire's prize away from him.

The moment he reached to grab her, I lashed out with Woe, severing his grasping hand. He screeched in rage, looking down at his fresh amputation. It would be whole again by morning, but he would have to bear the pain. It was a pity that castrating him would be a bridge too far.

"Be grateful I take only your hand, Varys," I said sharply. "Next time you speak to me so, I will take your head."

Whatever sharp words were gathering on his tongue died at the sensation of sharp, cold steel against his neck. Beheading was the only true way to send a vampire to the true death, and he knew few things would bring me greater joy than being his introduction to it. "My sire will hear of this!"

I smiled faintly, arrogance crystalizing into a perfect condescension. "That's nice." I stepped back out of his tent, following in Vex's footsteps.

The girl was on her feet, struggling to get away from the hungry wight. I grabbed her from behind and pulled her in tight, trapping her against my body with a punishing grip on one wrist. "Who would you rather?" I whispered in her ear. "The devil you know or the devil you don't?"

Tears spilled down her face, but she stopped struggling, letting us drag her back to my tent. Naltheme was gone when we arrived, which probably meant Brydris had returned to spirit her off to some quiet location that at least pretended to be romantic. I dropped the girl on my bedroll, then turned and leaned out the tent flap. I could see Varys in the distance with some of his men, headed straight for his sire's accommodations.

"He will be a problem," Vex commented, keeping her eyes on the terrified girl.

"He is always a problem," I said sourly. I turned to face our captive. Her wrists were bound together with twisted iron that had burrs to slice deeper into her flesh the more she struggled. That would keep her out of immediate trouble. It was the necklace that caught my eye, though, a delicately carved wooden pendant.

I stepped over, catching hold of it as she cowered. A symbol of Ishal, goddess of healing and protection. Her priests were frequent foes, always fighting on the front lines, but the priestesses usually stayed to the rear and tended to the wounded. I broke the leather cord holding the holy symbol and ripped it away from her neck, ignoring the way she grabbed for it with a pleading, wordless cry.

"What good has your goddess done you here?" I hissed, hand clenching into a fist around the symbol. "If you are wise, you will thank me for this later." With those cold words spoken, I dropped the pendant into the fire where it would burn to ash.

Vex seemed completely oblivious to the young woman's devastation. "Shall I find her something to wear?"

"That would be appreciated. You are to keep her out of trouble tonight."

"And after?"

"I don't care," I muttered, pulling the spare bedroll out of her pack. She never slept, but carried one for me in case I needed more blankets. "I'm going to bed."

Vex gave the girl a toothy grin. "If I were you, I would be quiet," she advised, moving over to the basin to cleanse herself of the blood of the fallen. "My lady needs her rest."

I spread the bedroll on the opposite side of the tent and laid down with Woe, hand on the blade's hilt in case something stirred in the night. I slept lightly even in the security of the Sanctum, which sometimes made sleeping on campaign difficult. Fortunately, the girl seemed to take Vex's hint. She smothered her sobbing in my blankets, wrapping herself in cloth. It was cold, after all. Even in the warmth of my tent, drafts had a way of sneaking in.

Vex hunted through her own bag, eventually pulling out a plain, many-times-mended shirt and worn leather pants. She dropped them at the foot of the bedroll the girl occupied. "For you."

The girl said nothing, only watching with frightened eyes.

I curled my arm under my head as a pillow and sighed, tired muscles slowly relaxing without the annoyance of screaming. The harsh little breaths she took whenever I moved were relatively easy to ignore.

Whatever diplomatic nightmare would come of this, I would deal with it well-rested in the morning. Rhandiir was far more intelligent than his spawn in such matters and would know stirring me again during the night was not advisable. Handling him was a much more delicate walk than dealing with Varys. His blood-father, after the obligatory quarreling, would bring the younger vampire to heel.

I went to sleep relishing the look on his face, my favorite expression of his: a mixture of impotent rage and pain.