Gideon


    “Can’t you go faster?” Gideon asked Keeley as they rode at a breakneck pace back to Massacre Manor, the rest of the Malevolent Guard close behind.


    “If you ask me that one more time, I’m throwing you off!” Keeley yelled as her steed hurdled over arge boulder effortlessly. Hickory Forest blurred around them as they moved, faster and faster. The rain hadn’t stopped, it had only lightened, still soaking Gideon’s shirt to his chest and his pants enough to ufortably rub against his legs.


    “All this time,” Gideon breathed, tightening his grip around Keeley’s waist. “You really think Marv could’ve done all this? The notes to Lyssa? Orchestrating my father’s release? Tying up Edwin?”


    “I don’t know.”


    “Or the letters to you, for that matter. Why would Marv be writing to you as your father?” They flew over a fallen branch, and the jolt gave Gideon a good indication that his arse would be sore tomorrow—if he didn’t fall off first. “It couldn’t have just been…Marv.”


    “Why did you say his name like that?” Keeley asked, leaning forward to give her steed more momentum.


    “Because Marv isn’t the name of a bad guy. Marv is the name of the uncle who says something awkward at yule dinner after too much mead and everyone goes home ufortable.”


    The horse slowed, and Gideon did fall off this time, rolling as his shoulder hit the ground and grunting at the impact. “Gods, Keeley! I could have broken my—”


    The manor.


    The thorny grove had been hacked into in one corner, clear through to the front door, and there was a g atop the tower, gliding back and forth in the storm.


    A g with the crest of King Benedict.


    “No,” Keeley whispered, running for the door, gold hair the one thing gleaming in the gray that surrounded them.


    Gideon took off after her, calling to the Malevolent Guards behind them. “Protect your captain! Take back the manor!”


    A chorus of shouts followed as the most lethal warriors in Rennedawn charged for the wooden doors, which were already suspiciously swinging open.


    “Keeley, don’t! They’re waiting for us!” Gideon tried to stop her, but the captain didn’t listen, continuing to sprint headlong into what was clearly a trap. “Or go on ahead, run right into it. Interesting strategy. They’ll never suspect it!” He was being sardonic, but Keeley was no longer in earshot to appreciate it.


    The entryway was filled with Valiant Guards.


    Keeley was already fighting them, dispatching multiple with swiftness that was impressive, considering her massively long hair pping into her eyes at every turn. He nearly offered to hold it for her but then remembered how well he valued his tongue.


    Silver armor blurred in his peripherals, mming him to the ground. When Gideon caught his breath, he thrashed, moving side to side until he saw one of the severed heads from the ceiling in clear view.


    Workers from the office. Several of them. All strung up with a red word painted on their foreheads.


    Traitors


    “Gods help us all.” Gideon was going to be ill. “Honor, valor, honesty, dignity.” He listed the four codes of knighthood like they were a curse. Finally working his knife free of his boot, he buried it in a Valiant Guard’s neck, speaking right into his ear. “You’re all a bunch of fucking hypocrites.”


    Gideon shoved the man off and leaped back into the fray. This was different from thest battle at the manor. The Valiant Guard had made it inside this time.


    They’d known the viin wasn’t here, and they’d known the female guvre was gone, so the only other thing they would be after was…


    “My mother!” Gideon yelled to Keeley.


    The captain threw a knight over her shoulder, mming him into the stone floor. “Go! We’ve got this. There’s fewer of them than there are of us!”


    Another swish of a de, another slice of flesh, and Gideon was bounding up the stairs, the muscles in his legs straining with every step. His heart pounded the hardest it ever had, burning his throat, taking hold of each fear and ying it through, using them as warnings if he failed.


    He pushed faster, until he reached the floor with Nura’s bedchamber. “Nura!” Gideon bellowed, throwing open the door to her chamber and calling her name again. “Nura? Mother? Are you here?”


    The door creaked open slowly, revealing a dim, empty room, the bed messy, the window open, drops of rain blowing in to dampen the seat cushion on the ledge. It was an ordinary room. No signs of struggle, of an attack.


    And then Gideon got knocked over the head.


    As he fell to the ground, he heard, “I’m sorry, Gideon. I’m so sorry.”


    He turned, vision blurring, but he could still make out his mother standing over him, a blunt object in hand, tears streaming down her face, glowing silver and white.


    “For hitting me with an encyclopedia?” The words were slurred, and he knew he was passing out.


    Inconvenient, that.


    No exnation came from the fuzzy blur standing where his mother had been. Just a quiet sob and a repeated phrase, like a chant. “I did it all for her. It’s going to be okay.”


    It’s going to be okay.


    It’s going to be okay.


    Gideon fell into the darkness, unable to fight it any longer, repeating a phrase of his own as his vision turned ck.


    “No. It’s not.”