The demon whom Nelys had been fighting was the last of the greater demons involved with the assault. No Lorelei. Mordwell wasn’t directly involved either, but that was no surprise. I learned all this on the walk back through the city, aided by my friends and… citizens (that was still going to take some getting used to) alike.

I’d been forced into a bath the moment I’d stepped a bloody foot into the castle. Still unable to relax my mind even as my body heated and seemingly melted into the after-rinse water, my thoughts spun. I also missed Seyari, but a lot of work needed doing, some of which only she or I could do.

We’d lost a lot. Most notably more than half our food stores for the winter, and a not-insignificant number of dead who’d yet to be accounted for. At the same time, we’d won.

At least I assumed we had, since we were still standing.

Which begged the question: why?

Really, it begged that question about a dozen different times and a dozen different ways.

Why had they attacked? Well, they’d known I was gone—that wouldn’t take a spy to figure out. But I’d come back for other reasons—unexpectedly even. Envy had been here this past night, but had acted as well in Norgath. And they hadn’t expected me to run home with Duchess Kapel.

That we at the very least avoided a much worse outcome by happenstance merited a change in communication. I could make it to Astrye from anywhere in Ordia within a day.

Wait.

I could make it anywhere within Ordia—and probably further afield—in a day. I could visit Salvador; see his daughter. I could visit Kartania in Ardath, though since I’d miraculously avoided a direct rebuke from the Church thus far that’d be a bad idea. How I’d not been branded openly as an enemy was a whole rabbit hole for another time, and at least partly Yevon’s doing.

Kord, his favored acolyte—or one of—had been responsible for restricting Paladin Warren’s information and—another time, me.

I sank lower into the hot water with my breath held so that only my horns stuck out, luxuriating in the feeling of the boiling bubbles against my back muscles.

Back to the first “why” then. Seyari, Joisse, and Nelys would have won, in the end. Was that known? Did they intend to lose, including the demon that likely had been spawned from my own recent assault? Ugh, more questions.

Somewhere, some information was missing. All that would help determine who in Astrye was in Envy or Mordwell’s pocket. That at least was something I’d not have to do given my acute lack of talent for that line of work. I tried to relax a little more, tried to put my trust in my friends to sort through the immediate aftermath.

The next “why” then. Why did Envy choose not to get directly involved? They’d win if they did. I felt like I was being toyed with, like there was some “bigger picture” I didn’t see, and it made me furious. The water boiled harder around me until I surfaced and took a centering breath.

Obviously, Envy had a plan, and it didn’t involve tearing me down. Perhaps they thought me weak for my ties to humanity, and therefore an easier target than another potential Sovereign of Wrath. Though the title could also just not be held for some period of time, as I assume it had been before I’d taken it.

How long exactly was yet another question to add to the list.

Obviously, Envy had some agenda, and I was to be part of it, like it or not. At the simplest, it’d be a desire to avoid pissing off the other Sovereign demons to the point where they all allied against them and Avarice, who was still on their side as far as I knew. Some good number of the demons this past night had felt like avarice demons.

Envy could also be trying to avoid the Church’s wrath, which would mean the Church of Dhias was stronger than I thought.

From both of these was another why: Why not involve the demon Lorelei?

From what I knew of Mordwell, and of my previous thoughts, I could at least hazard a guess. Mordwell is planning something that he needs her for, and he somehow assumed the forces sent would be enough to win. Or at least to win enough to buy him time.

Even if he knew Envy wouldn’t directly get involved—not truly anyway—it was still a colossal mistake. Answering why the attack happened at all would answer this, and I had a sneaking suspicion there was some seriously important knowledge buried in that answer.

I had to assume our food stores were a pivot when they had seen me flying into the city, and another good question would be why they still committed. The attack must have been underway already, right? Or we’d already been infiltrated and—

A knock on the door interrupted my musings, and I startled, drawing in a little breath before coming up coughing and hacking and splashing.

“W-what?” I growled.

“I-I-I’m really s-sorry to interrupt, b-but Duchess K-kapel, she said her n-name was, is v-very insistent on s-seeing you.”

Right. That. And Paladin Warren somewhere, too. I rose, and looked longingly at the water that was still in the tub. I could practically hear the servant’s tension outside. She sounded young, lupael accent.

“I’m not mad.” I didn’t sound not-mad, so I took a breath and tried again. “Really, I’m not mad. What’s she saying?”

“S-she’s threatening, says w-we’re holding her here, a-and that we turned her into a m-monster.”

Well, shit. Still though, it had to be better than being dead, right? Assuming her mind was all there and I had no reason to think it wasn’t.

“I’ll be out in a…” I trailed off, looking around the wet room and realizing I had no clothes set out. At the servant’s whimper I spoke quickly. “I’ll need a change of clothes. Could you get me one of my leather uniforms—without the insignia.”

Right now, they were about the only clothes I had that fit, especially ones designed for my arms and tail. I had no intention to deceive the duchess any further.

“Oh!” the servant squeaked after a moment. “I—your wife gave me some clothes to give you.”

“Great!” I’ll open the door a little, and you pass them through.

The servant squeaked again, and the next half minute was intensely awkward. Especially because Seyari had given me that dress to wear. Evidently, she wanted me to make an impression; doubly so for its included heels.

Purple, menacing, and thankful for the castle’s surprisingly high ceilings, I ducked out into the hallway.

“I-I’m sorry it’s not your uniform!”

I looked down at the servant. Dressed in plain, but well-made clothes, she was a small lupael woman no older than Doryn, with black hair and gray eyes. Her tail and ears were twitching—stuck between down and up like she was trying to force them, and I could see her shaking. Doubtless tonight plus an angry duchess plus disturbing the demon’s much-needed bath had almost been too much.

“Hey” I offered an easy, toothless smile. “Thanks. Let’s go get the duchess to calm down, yeah?”

She relaxed a little and at my gesture, led on. To me, the castle was still an interminable maze.

“So what’s your name?” I asked.

“S-shyll,” she replied, stuttering.

“Nice to meet you then, Shyll.” I didn’t sound too cheerful. Not after tonight. “Tonight and the duchess are one, awful thing. But you don’t need to be afraid of me, if you are.”

Shyll took a sharp breath, ears twitching. “O-okay.”

We moved down the halls in silence for a little while longer, me in no hurry to try to make her walk even faster. Others hurried around us, and I saw bloodstains and fresh damage both. Some who looked my way froze a moment, or gave a wide berth, but I tried to keep my gaze friendly. Not everyone here had met me directly yet, but they’d at least know who I was.

Next to me, Shyll fidgeted. “Pardon, but d-did you mean to call the duchess… Is she really…?”

I took a moment to think back to my words. Oh, whoops. “If she’s threatening me, my family, or Astrye, then yes.”

Shyll nodded, and I took it as a victory. I’d learned from Sigmund back in Linthel that knowing your servants’ names and keeping at least a professionally-familiar attitude toward them was vitally important. Not just for maintaining an approachable, likeable air, but for hindering spies.

Which we probably had in the castle damnit.

My thoughts were thankfully interrupted, again, when we arrived at what was almost a clinic at this point. All the beds were filled, and Joisse wasn’t the only one tending the injured. My daughter was, however wilting under an intense glare from a familiar, if blue-skinned, duchess.

Duchess Kapel had the wrong color palette for her russet dress now, with her pale blue skin and hand-length black horns. When she opened her mouth, probably to snap at my daughter again, I saw sharp teeth.

Beyond the pair, a hole in the wall had been hastily patched with scrap wood, the evening visible through several gaps. Now that was something to ask after later, but I had a feeling my daughter was to blame. Almost definitely with good reason.

Others in the room noticed me first, then the duchess noticed their stares and traced them back to me, looking out over her at the hole in the wall. Her body froze before our eyes met, and she looked up and up at me slowly with her still-human-looking eyes.

“The heels make me look taller,” I said coldly, crossing my lower arms under my bust. I moved inside and sat down on a stool next to the duchess’s bed, its poor wood creaking in protest. “You asked to see me, Duchess Kapel?”

For a moment, she was silent, then she spoke softly, voice controlled. “You’re a demon.”

“That’s what I told you! You literally saw that I’m a demon too!” my daughter fumed.

After a quick nod to Joisse, I started slowly. “I understand, perhaps better than most, that the changes are shocking.” I inspected her aura: still mundane. “But my choice was either to have you healed and risk changes like these or let you die. I would have asked if I could, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what the poison has done to you.

“But I’m not sorry for healing you. Nor flying you here.” I took a breath, pleased that the duchess didn’t interrupt. “The moment we are certain the attack on my march is over and there is no risk to its people were I to leave I will fly you home to Gedon. Until then, if you are well, we can arrange for you to stay in a guest room, though the accommodations may—I hope understandably, in light of the circumstances—be lacking.

“Am I understood, Duchess Kapel?”

Her nostrils flared, and she took a long, slow breath. “You are… but you do not have the authority to hold me, or to give me orders.”

Something from one of my lessons flashed into my mind. “Actually… while it is not formal in the sense there is no opposing nation, we are in a march of the kingdom during a war—an active war. The opponents are the same demons who poisoned you, and their allies. If I recall my laws correctly, then I do have the authority.”

“Not unless the kingdom as a whole is at war. Formally at war.”

I frowned. “You are welcome to try for the pass north then; I did clear it of snow recently, but I cannot in light of recent events guarantee its safety. Also, I do not expect you to need to stay more than one or two nights, and I can fly you there in less than a day. Would that not be faster than even a missive of your condition?”

“It… would, yes.” Duchess Kapel leaned back down into her bed. “Though this ‘condition’ as you put it is most troubling. I’ll fund research for a cure then.”

I rankled at her statement. “To some, it is not an affliction.”

“To me, it is.”

“A fair point.”

A moment of silence passed between me, my daughter, and the duchess.

“Do you have a chamber ready? I will continue to ignore your inhumanity for the time being in light of your daughter’s admittedly kind treatment of me.”

You’d better! “I’ll ask.”

“I-I can go!” Shyll interjected quietly. I’d almost forgotten she was still hovering in the doorway. “Marchioness Seyari did mention that we would need to clear her bed for other patients.”

“I should see my wife anyway, and I can see my presence here is at the very least distracting.” I stood. “We will get you somewhere more private and comfortable soon, Duchess Kapel. And thank you for holding most of your belligerence toward proper manners and not my status as a demon; it’s refreshing.”

I followed Shyll again, though this time she walked with a bit more pep in her step, almost bouncing. It struck me as odd. “You did good in there!”

I stopped, a sudden shiver down my spine. All this was just too convenient. “Who are you?” The hallway around us was empty, and my words echoed down it.

“Shhh!” Shyll put a finger to her lips and smiled devilishly. “Not too loud! It’s hard to do my job if people suspect anything.”

“Answer now or I’m going to make it much harder.”

“You do have a bite, but I knew that. Like I said, I’m Shyll. I’m Lillith’s lieutenant assigned to Astrye.”

“Prove it.”

Shyll sighed dramatically. “We’re in an open hallway!”

I shook my head and took a step toward her, pleased to see her step back. “I don’t mean just you being a demon. I need real proof.”

The person who I was coming to realize was a literal demon maid, rolled her eyes. Moving slowly as if not to startle me, she reached into her pocket and drew out a missive in a thick envelope.

I snatched it wordlessly and inspected it. The wax seal was in the shape of Lillith’s gem and bright pink to boot. Carefully flicking it open with a claw, my aura sight suddenly bloomed with Lilly’s aura, enchanted into the paper. Words flowed down what had started as a blank page, and I recognized the handwriting from a certain tea cake recipe.

‘Marchioness’ Renna,

I heard you’re a titled noble now! Well, in a human sense. I hope this letter and my servant both find you well. She’s a capable one, and one of my oldest and most trusted. You-know-who is ramping up efforts you-can-guess-where, and A friend is involved, but still safe.

Also, congratulations on your marriage! When you find time for a reception, you’d better invite me and the hubby!

(Platonic) Love,

L of L

P.S. My servant in question is fiery (no pun intended), but you get along so well with your wife (yay again!) that I figured you’d be a perfect match.

P.P.S. Oh! And you have someone on their way to see you who is very excited to meet you! I won’t write any more even though I want to!

P.P.P.S. Sorry! Last one, I super promise! The author of Atagor is rumored to have spent time researching in the mountains near Astrye, so if you find any evidence at all of them or a lost manuscript or someone who maybe could give a little extra information, PLEASE let me know through my servant.

I stared at the page for a while, particularly at the last post script. The odd capitalization of “A friend” stood out to me until I put together that it was Aretan. My shoulders sagged a little with relief—one day we’d catch up and share stories over tea. I knew from what Oscar, her agent in Linthel, had told me that Aretan was alive, but another reminder was comforting. Carefully, I folded Lilly’s letter up, slid it into the envelope that masked its aura flawlessly, and slipped it between my breasts.

“Well?” Shyll asked, leaning far forward and craning her neck up at me.

“Does your spine hurt doing that? Yes, I believe you.”

A smile appeared on her face and she bounced up on her heels. “Great! You know, you’re a little bit smarter than your ogre-like size and tits imply.”

I hissed. “Can you survive being punched through a wall?”

“Can you afford another hole in one?”

My eye twitched.

“You know, I helped a lot when you left this place half-defended to go gallivanting off to some party. Especially all those other demons I killed.” She punctuated the last sentence with a quick laugh.

My mouth twitched, then slid up into a smile. I leaned down as fast as I could and rubbed one hand through Shyll’s hair, scratching the not-lupael’s real-feeling ears. “You did well, thank you.”

She flushed red. “Wha-hey! You can’t tease me back!”

I snorted. “I don’t think you know what your mistress has gotten you into.”

“You’re married!”

“Sey’s not an idiot.”

Shyll pouted.

“Really though, thanks. Should you get more responsibilities or—”

“No!” She stamped a foot. “This is perfect! Your wife is upstairs, second door on the right, and I have to go put sheets on a bed so I’ll catch you later!”

I watched Shyll stomp off.

It seemed there was a certain personality trait I attracted. She acted like a Taava-Seyari hybrid, which was frankly terrifying. Regardless, I’d definitely ask around and try to figure out just what she did help with. One more friendly demon to help out Astrye couldn’t be a bad thing.

Unfortunately, even with the maelstrom of thoughts in my head that hadn’t nearly run its course, I really did need to find Seyari. And Paladin Warren. If he wasn’t healing here, something serious was going on elsewhere I’d bet.

Or he’d betrayed me.

Hopefully not the latter—I was really sick and tired of killing Church people when they forced my hand.

Wait. Did Seyari actually want me to wear this dress, or had Shyll wanted me to wear it? Eh, oh well.