The hour was late with twilight approaching. Cyrus tried to remember Gordian’s daily schedule from his years under house arrest. He’d have finished eating his dinner. What then? Relaxing by a hearth? Spending time with his wife? It’d been too long, and Cyrus hadn’t paid attention to such matters like he should have. Still, if his presence went unnoticed, he could be patient. Gordian’s bedroom was on the third floor of the castle. Cyrus didn’t need to be flashy with this kill. A knife in the dark was an excellent way to announce the Vagrant’s prowess to the nation.

Cyrus’s insides slowly turned cold as he climbed the stairs and walked the carpeted hall. Everywhere he looked awakened memories. Most of the paintings of former kings and queens were gone, but the landscapes remained. He remembered his father’s lectures, describing the painted locations and where they fell within their realm. He passed a table scuffed on one leg from where he’d accidentally hit it while play-fighting with Rayan. Even the sounds of the servants humming their songs while he hid behind a curtain threatened to drag him into a past where he’d known only happiness and ignorance.

He passed room by room, careful of guards as he wound his way to the bedrooms. An open door caught his attention, and he glanced through to ensure no servants within might notice his passage. His stomach flipped the instant he realized where he was. The door opened out to a balcony, smaller than most and decorated with a cast of gargoyles scattered about the ornate pillared balustrade. They hung from the edges, clung upside down with their clawed feet, and floated on tiny wings much too small for their chubby bodies. Cyrus stepped out onto the balcony despite the urgency of his task.

From up on high, he overlooked the castle grounds. A wide paved road led up the hill to the castle entrance below, either side flanked by tall cedars grown and trimmed so their branches formed a wave pattern. His heart skipped a beat as memories flooded out from the suppressed corners of his mind: the distant docks aflame, and the road not empty but instead filled with imperial soldiers armed to the teeth.