I keep half of my attention on Winfred and the story I’m telling, the other half on what’s happening around the chapel. The conversation around us never move above a hushed tone—which is to be expected, really, given the serious situation. But I do start collecting more and more kids, and even some women, who settle close and start listening in. I can feel my voice growing kind of hoarse, but it’s fun too, to look around and see thirty plus rapt expressions and not a terrified face in sight.

When the priest comes near while doing the rounds and offering comfort, he gives me a small nod of approval.

By the time I’m describing Luke meeting Han Solo and Chewbaca the talking bear, the castle servants have made several trips in and out. Each time they bring something back: food, water, candles, these big containers for mysterious purposes.¹Well, I do know eventually. Later in the evening, someone takes a container, goes to the corner, and turns their back to the rest of the chapel. Good thing I hadn’t picked up that corner, huh? It seems a little sacrilegious, but I guess needs must. I’m really getting a taste of medieval living now. Yay, chamber pots. But this time, they bring back a big wooden beam.

They pull the doors closed behind them, shutting out the footsteps and voices fro outside. And then they start securing that wooden beam over the doors.

I break off mid-sentence.

That can’t be right. I jerk up to my feet—amidst a chorus of protests.

“Sorry, sorry,” I say without looking down. Instead, I scan the chapel again, from front to back.

It’s dark now, the interior illuminated by only candlelight. But I can make out that it’s crowded, but not crowded enough. There’s no way this is all the servants and Harvest Festival goers, even if some percentage decided they preferred to try their luck and run away from the Keep.

They can’t be locking everyone else out right? And where’s Aurelia’s mom? I’ve been keeping an eye out each time someone new comes in, and she’s not here yet. Where is she?

I must say some of that out loud, because a much older woman touches my forearm gently.

“Don’t stress, love,” she says. “This isn’t the only sanctuary area, I don’t think. I saw some women and children headed a different way. And I know some others elected to stay out and help. My sister is the village healer, and she’s out there.”

I take a deep, shaky breath in .

“Right,” I say.

Of course I know warning Luke and Alex about the incoming attack wouldn’t guarantee everyone’s survival. The battle still needs to be won. Soldiers still need to fight. That’s why I’m hiding in here. But—

I should’ve searched for Aurelia’s mom first thing and brought her in here with me. If I somehow succeed in finding out where Aurelia’s soul went and bring it back, how angry would she be with me to find out I could’ve saved her mom and didn’t?

But it’s too late now. She’s out there like Winfred’s dad is out there.

Do your job, Silverwoods, I think fiercely. You’ve got one job.

And mine—the only job I’m qualified for, in this universe…

I sit back down.

“Sorry, I was just… Where was I?” I say to the kids.

“Luke and Obi-Wan and the animals get on Han Solo’s enchanted carriage!” A little girl pipes up, with a little bit of a lisp because she’s missing her two front teeth. She wiggles on the floor in her little crumbled dress. “They’re running away from the evil mages.”

I try for a smile. But it feels like it’s wavering at the edges. I firm it up. “Ah. Right. So Han Solo said…”

I keep telling the story, only pausing occasionally for sips of water. I finish A New Hope. I start The Empire Strikes Back.

The noises outside get progressively louder throughout the evening. Each time, I raise my voice higher to override them.

It’s a good thing that though the thick stone walls, the sounds are too muffled to give any real insight into what’s going on outside—not that I think much is directly outside. The chapel is in the interior courtyard. Most of the fighting would be out by the front gates, or on the battlements.

As the head guard said, if the enemies make their way into the inner courtyard, then that’s it.

But two-third of the way through the Empire Strikes back, a women’s wail pierces through everything—the walls, my voice, the other sounds outside. She sounds like she is experiencing an entire life’s heartbreak at the same time as she’s ripping her throat out.

It goes on and on and on, until it breaks off abruptly.

No one seems to be in much of a story-listening mood after that. And I’m certainly not in a storytelling mood anymore. I take long sip of water, with my head turned away from the kids, before I come back and wrap up the story in a a few sentences.

The ashen-pale women with kids tuck them tight against them on the floor and close their eyes. The kids that aren’t with any guardians stay close together, in small circles that remind me of a puppy pile.

I lean back against the walls and close my eyes. I’d lie down too like everyone else, except at some point, Winfred had put his head on my lap and hasn’t moved for awhile. Not even when that woman was screaming. Which I’m glad he missed, if I’m being honest.

My hand creeps up to hold onto the sword’s hilt, which has been resting for much of the night against my thigh. I can’t use it, obviously. But it’s comforting to know it’s there.

“Miss Aurelia?” Winfred whispers.

At some point in the night, a kid had interrupted to ask my name. And I’d said Aurelia, of course, even though it’s not quite right, because there were probably those here who knew her face.

“Yes, Winfred?” I murmur back. Since he isn’t actually asleep, I can probably move him now and lie down.

But then he’d be lying on the floor, and without a pillow. There hadn’t been enough cloth scraps to go around, andhe’s already using my unraveled sling bag as the world’s saddest looking blanket. I stay in my position.

“I don’t want to die,” Winfred says.

My eyes fly open. “You’re not going to die,” I say too sharply.

He flinches, and I catch myself—even though I still sort of want to berate him for even thinking that.

In a calmer tone, I say, “No one’s getting in here. Didn’t you see them put all the pews up against the door?”

The chapel’s almost pitch black now. The candles had burned low long ago and not been replaced, and the stained glass windows don’t let in much moonlight. So I feel rather than see Winfred’s little fists twists in the fabric of my dress.

“Will the war mages come in time, Miss Aurelia?”² It’s a long story. The short story: there are five types of magic in the universe of Chess of Blood, and war mages is one type. They’re also called Elementals, because they can use the elements—wind, water, air, fire—to fight. Guess which one Alex is. Winfred asks. “My dad says that when bad people want to hurt you, the King sends them to keep us safe. And that’s why we have to pay his taxes, and tell him if we know anyone who’s mage. So he can give them training and then they come back and help.”

If I was in a mood to appreciate irony right now, I’d smile. Some of those mages—plus a lot of highly-trained assassins—are indeed right outside these castle walls. They’re just not doing any helping.

Glad to know the King’s propaganda machine is still so well-oiled though.³ I’m not sure how much Winfred’s dad actually believes what he told Winfred, but let me reassure you that it’s all false. The reality is that the King forces everyone to tell him who the mages are, and then forces those mages to work for him to expand his power and his wealth. People who don’t comply die. Gotta admire the King for dressing up his little monopoly of power as some sort of social contract though. That’s some clever marketing.

That the King spreads disinformation like this while being the direct reason Winfred and I are in this situation makes the back of my throat turn sour. If he were right here, I’d kick him between the legs and in the throat.

But I swallow the feeling down. It’s not useful right now. It’s also none of my business, since I’m not even from here.

I put a hand on the top of Winfred’s head. “We don’t need the King’s mages, we have the Keep’s soldiers. The Duke and his sons are even leading them directly, and they’re all very competent and dependable.” I pause. “Well. The elder is. The younger can be more… variable. But he’s very talented and accomplishes what he sets out to. I’m sure they’ll keep you safe.”⁴

Winfred exhales. “Yeah… And you. You’ll protect us too, if anyone comes.”

Well… of course he’d think that. The sword had been next to me all evening. At one point, I’d seen Winfred run a curious hand down the buttery-soft leather scabbard—though I hadn’t let him take it out to examine the blade, obviously, I’m very anti-child endangerment.

“Go to sleep,” I reply in the end. “When you wake up in the morning, this will be all over and your dad will be right here to take you home.”

Though I won’t be there to see the scene of their reunion. The moment dawn breaks and it’s safe enough, I’m tearing open those doors and skedaddling straight out of here before the Silverwoods can involve me in any more of their problems. I’m just about done with Aurelia’s bad luck.

“Okay,” Winfred says, his voice regaining that distracted, sleepy quality. He gives a little sigh, and then goes silent.

God. I hope the morning doesn’t prove me a liar to Winfred.