The pressure increased. Cara felt the world spin. She caught herself—the music faltered. Violetta lowered the bow.

“Cara!”

“I’m—”

Something wet trickled down Cara’s lips and chin. She raised a hand and realized her nose was bleeding from both nostrils. The hall stared.

“Oh. Shit.”

Cara touched at the blood. Duchess Grishen looked interested. Risel rose.

“I think that’s magical backlash. Someone, a healing potion and perhaps a mana potion. A shame, but I think—”

Seraphel saw the [Cellist] reaching for the [Singer]. Risel was fumbling as the [Blacksmith] got up. The hall buzzed—

And the doors flew open. A panting person shattered the noise and banquet with a single word. A young woman, screaming, one arm hanging loosely, blood running down her shoulder. She ran towards the high table and said one word.

“Undead!”

Lord Lantal froze. He reached for his sword.

“Where? What’s happening? How many?”

The young woman was wild-eyed. White-faced. Meltain and half a dozen of the house guard raced in after her. The Songmistress gaped at the girl.

“Eline?”

Eline looked up at Lantal, then around the room.

“They’ve attacked Qet. They broke down the doors. There are—so many—”

She fell to her knees. Seraphel stared down at the girl. She saw the [Lord] vault the table. He landed on the ground and Cara, the people of Afiele, all focused on him. Lord Lantal pointed at Meltain.

“With me! We ride to Qet!”

He raced for the stables, all but a handful of Afiele’s guards on his heels. The banquet broke up in chaos and fear. Cara sat there, bleeding. She watched the [Lord] race off, as the [Princess] ordered her

[Knights] to join him.

Lord Lantal ran as fast as he could and leapt into his saddle. He raced forwards, through the night.

He was still too late.

——

The Thronebearers caught up with Lord Lantal on the road towards Qet. He was riding with twenty of Afiele’s guard. All he could muster.

“Lord Lantal! Princess Seraphel has ordered us to fight by your side!”

Ser Dalimont bellowed. His words were nearly snatched away by the breeze. Lantal was riding fast, so fast he dared not reply for fear of biting his tongue.

They broke the doors. That was what the young woman had screamed. The [Lord of the Fields] was afraid.

Qet was not far from town. Eight miles—at full gallop and with [Swift Rider], Lantal could cover that distance in no time. But he had to slow—Meltain bellowed for his lord to stop.

“Lantal! You can’t go alone!”

The [Lord] slowed so the other galloping horses could match his speed. The Thronebearers, weighed down, were slowest. By the time they reached the point where Qet was visible over the rise in the ground, the others had dismounted.

“Lord Lantal, we aren’t riding in?”

“We can’t. I’ve sent a [Scout] ahead. Dismount.”