The [Singer] went mad. She remembered running, searching. Shouting for them. For—

Lantal lay in the mess hall. Cara found his body only because she saw his sword. The [Lord]’s enchanted longsword was broken. The metal and magic had failed before him. He still held the handle.

His head was gone. Someone had removed it, but given his body no last rites.

The [Necromancer]. But where—Cara looked around. Every small body made her flinch. But she still screamed out.

“Sasi! Culin!”

Please—

Someone made a sound. Cara heard the strangest of noises. The clip-clop of hooves. A voice.

“Is someone else there?”

She whirled, ran. Out the doors of the keep. Cara saw a man with an arm in a sling, standing in the courtyard. His face was pale. His battered, golden armor was tarnished by grime and shame.

Ser Dalimont stood with his sword drawn, looking at Cara as if she were a ghost. His horse, devoid of its barding, pawed the ground.

And next to him stood a silent figure. Cara stumbled to a stop.

“Culin.”

The boy looked at her. He looked—Cara had never seen a child make a face like that before.

“The Throne. Two survivors.”

Dalimont passed an armored hand across his face. He had been—crying. Cara looked strangely at him.

Culin’s eyes were dry. So were hers. Tears were not enough.

“Is—what—where is Sasi?”

That was all she could think to ask. Culin knew what had happened to his parents. Dalimont closed his eyes and turned away. Cara fell down. Her legs, still weak, gave way.

“You lived.”

That was all Culin said to Cara. He pointed vaguely towards the walls of the keep, and a few bushes planted there.

“I hid there. Sasi made me. She tried to run. But the [Necromancer] found her. She’s still out there.

Where’s my father?”

“Lord Culin—Lord Lantal is—is—at rest. His body wasn’t taken. He made a stand—I pray you. You must come with me. Both of you.”

Dalimont choked. He reached for Culin. The boy gazed up at him.

“Where?”

The Thronebearer knelt. His helmet was missing. His eyes—were too full of worthless guilt.

“Princess Seraphel ordered me to bring your family back, Lord Culin. Or not to come back at all. She—is safe. So are most of Afiele’s folk.”

“They’re alive?”

Cara stirred. So did Culin, for a moment. Dalimont nodded, pointing north.

“It was the Duchess who saved us. The [Necromancer] pursued her when she split from us. Only a handful followed Afiele’s folk and Princess Seraphel. He aims for Duchess Grishen, next. She has retreated to Castle Ladel to make her stand. Your people are alive, Lord Culin. Let me take you to them.

We will make for Ailendamus’ border, or Ovela and…”

“No.”