Rhori wiped his cheeks with his sleeve and stared at the front page of the Iltaqa Gazette from two days ago, unseeing.

He’d read the article a dozen times over the last forty-eight hours, but his mind refused to believe what it claimed. Because it couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.

His little sister, so bright, so full of life, so brave… Gone. Consumed by blaster fire.

The news had broken Ma’s heart. Pa had cried. For the first time in his life, Rhori saw his father sob, hitting his chest and saying it had been his fault. He should’ve been more present, more involved in Etana’s life, he should’ve protected her.

As for Mayka, she hadn’t uttered a word in two days, her gaze vacant and her body ever weaker than before.

Divine Aheya, have mercy on us!

It had to be a mistake, a massive mix-up of some kind. Or a deliberate deception. Those charred male and female bodies the article talked about couldn’t be Etana and Areg’s.

Areg had pinged Rhori that day with great news. They were on their way to Fort Crog. Two LOR Enforcers were on their way to Hente to take them away. Things were finally looking up for Rhori’s sister and her beau.

And then—this.

Rhori’s eyes watered again, and he looked around his workshop. He loved this place, loved being here. The smell of wood and varnish, the tools on the wall, his workbench, the crackle of fire in the hearth. It was his private Eternal Garden.

But now it seemed dull, lifeless.

Rhori picked up the paper and read the article again, hoping that by some turn of magic the letters in it would rearrange themselves and say something different this time.

The police issued a statement late last night that the bodies were formally identified thanks to the fingerprints and blood collected at the site. The samples had been examined and matched to Areg Sebi and Etana Tidryn.

In the unlikely event the gentle reader doesn’t know who Areg Sebi was, here is a summary. Sir Sebi was a former lord stripped of his title and possessions. He was also a former army major and war hero. Lastly, he was a convicted traitor.

Etana Tidryn was the menial woman who tried to save him from a beheading last month.

One marvels at how quickly the bodies had been identified. Not to mention that the sophisticated blood analysis done for that purpose was even possible with legal, level-one technology.

But above all, we would love to know why this top-notch forensic tech wasn’t used in the “girl snatcher” case. Two men were hanged for nothing last year. The police are saying they have no new leads. But this newspaper has launched its own investigation.

Stay tuned.

Achlins Ghaw, Iltaqa Gazette

Rhori folded the paper, stood up, paced the room, and sat down again. His hand shaking, he pulled out the commlet that Prioress Eckme had given him and pinged Areg. But no one answered. Rhori tried again, and again, and again. Muttering a curse, he tossed the device across the room, not caring if it broke.

Her Royal Glory must’ve taken a significant risk purchasing that toy on the black market. She must’ve paid a lot of money for it. Rhori had felt honored and excited when she’d gifted it to him. Except, what use was it now?

Someone knocked on the workshop’s door.

Rhori glanced at his wristwatch. It was eight in the evening, too late for Sir Doshton to pick up his order, and too early for Ma to stop by on her way home from work.

“May we come in?” a clear female voice said.

Rhori knew that voice.

“Of course!” he called, opening the door.

He dropped to his knees while Royal Prioress Aynu Eckme and her steward walked in.

“Bless your endeavors, Glorious Maiden,” he greeted the prioress before turning to her steward. “Good evening, Leehash.”

The gray-haired man patted Rhori’s shoulder. His eyes held a funny look.

“May your deeds please Aheya, Sir Tidryn,” the vestal gave him the traditional reply. “Please, rise.”

Rhori stood, realizing his face must be streaked with soot and tears. It wasn’t that he cared about his appearance. But what he did care about was showing utmost respect to the woman who deserved it. Both for her own achievements, and because she would’ve been Eia’s queen if her grandfather hadn’t abdicated the throne.

Hurriedly, he rubbed his face, hoping he wasn’t making it even less presentable.

“Do you mind if we talk outside?” Prioress Eckme asked.

Rhori followed her and Leehash to the yard.

“I’ll get straight down to business,” the vestal said. “Etana is alive.”

He froze, uncomprehending at first, then dizzy with joy and unable to utter a word.

Leehash grabbed his shoulders. “Take a deep breath, Rhori. Good. Now, another one.” He pointed to the bench by the door with his forehead. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Rhori lifted his eyes skyward and inhaled a few more times, his breathing uneven.

His body still wouldn’t move, but at least his tongue did. “How…? How do you know that?”

“One of the LOR Enforcers pinged me this morning,” Prioress Eckme said. “He got my number through the smuggler from whom I’d bought the devices.” She smiled her dazzling smile. “Your sister is at LORSS—the League of Realms Space Station. She’s safe and sound. The bones Ultek’s men found at Mount Crog weren’t hers.”

“Whose then?”

“He didn’t tell me.” She tilted her head to the side. “But he did let me exchange a couple of words with Etana.”

Finally, the muscles of Rhori’s body relaxed. In fact, they liquefied. He glanced at the bench to his left. Suddenly, taking Leehash’s suggestion to sit down became extremely appealing.

Except he couldn’t sit down, not while Prioress Eckme was standing.

She smiled again, following his gaze, and went to the bench.

Lowering herself with grace, she pointed to the other end. “Please?”

He took a seat and leaned back against the warm wall. “Was she injured? Is she all right?”

“She’s fine, physically.” The vestal’s smile faded. “But she’s beyond herself with worry.”

“About Areg?”

“They had to leave him behind.”

“The bones—”

“Aren’t his,” Prioress Eckme said quickly. “The enforcer who took Etana had planted them there. But they don’t know if Areg made it or where he is now.”

“He doesn’t answer his commlet,” Rhori said.

Leehash nodded. “We know. Her Royal Glory has been trying to reach him in vain.”

Rhori chewed on his lips, processing the information. Dozens of questions swarmed in his head. “What do I tell my parents and sister?”

“Tell them you don’t believe the official story,” Prioress Eckme said. “That you’re convinced the blood match is a lie, just like the proof of Lord Sebi’s treason. But I wouldn’t reveal more at this time.”

Rhori lowered his eyebrows. “You’re afraid Chief Ultek has planted a listening device in our house.”

“I’m almost sure he has.”

“I can tell them outside.” Rhori stared her in the eye. “They’re devastated, Your Royal Glory. Please, I can’t keep this from them.”

The vestal nodded. “Then tell them. I have no right to ask you not to. Just be careful.”

A vaguely familiar outline appeared in the distance and grew closer. A few instants later, Geru Gokk burst into the tiny yard.

Used to seeing him at the Gokk House, impeccably dressed and groomed as befitted his position in society, Rhori couldn’t believe what he was looking at.

Geru wore slacks and a loose, untucked shirt. His feet were bare. His entire body shook, and his face contorted with something that reminded Rhori of the deep, inconsolable pain he’d been going through these last two days.

“Good evening, Sir Gokk,” Rhori said.

Geru didn’t answer. He didn’t kneel or bow to the prioress, didn’t utter a word of greeting.

Had he lost his mind?

Rhori stared, wide-eyed, at the usually affable young man.

Leehash jumped to his feet, shielding Prioress Eckme. “Who the hell are you?”

It took Geru a long moment to pull himself together enough to respond. “I’m Geru Gokk. The man responsible for Etana’s and Areg’s deaths.”

Rhori quickly stood and moved next to Leehash.

The steward’s body tensed into a battle stance. “Are you now?”

“Yes,” Geru said, hanging his head. “I paired our commlets when Atipoly and I talked to Areg. That enabled Voqras—Ultek’s cyborg helper—to track him down.”

What? Why would Geru do such a thing?

“Your commlet—” Rhori began, trying to wrap his head around the news.

“I smashed it with a rock this morning.”

The whole story was too insane, too out of character, to be true.

Rhori shook his head in disbelief. “Why? Why did you help Ultek? Why did you betray them?”

“Because they were going to get caught sooner or later, and I… I had to save Etana.” He shot Rhori a guilt-ridden glance. “Ultek found out she was gone. He didn’t buy the pilgrimage story for a second. Neither did Voqras.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rhori asked. “We could’ve found another way.”

“When Ultek said… He said that when they caught them, he’d rape Etana, and let every single Iltaqa inmate rape her.”

Rhori inhaled a sharp breath.

“And then they’d burn her alive,” Geru said, looking down. “That’s when I lost it.”

Despite his anger, Rhori couldn’t help feeling sorry for the man.

“Voqras offered me a deal,” Geru said. “I help them catch Areg and they spare Etana. She’d walk away unharmed and free.”

“You should’ve pinged me—” Rhori began.

“I had to give him a decision right then.” Another pleading look. “She wasn’t supposed to die.”

“Yet she did,” Leehash said.

Taken by surprise, Rhori glanced at the steward’s hard face.

Then it hit him. But of course! Geru could no longer be trusted.

If what he’d just revealed was true, it meant he’d sold out Areg. He’d betrayed the Association’s trust. And, through his unpardonably poor judgment, he’d put Etana in harm’s way. She would’ve been dead now if the cyborg enforcer hadn’t saved her.

What other feat of idiocy was Geru capable of next time he lost it?

With a visible effort, Geru lifted his head and met Leehash’s gaze before turning to Rhori. “I can’t live with myself.”

Rhori said nothing.

“Kill me.” Geru searched Rhori’s face, then Leehash’s. “Please.”

Leehash smirked. “And hang for it? No, thanks.”

“There’s a monastic order, men only, in the East Upland,” Prioress Eckme said. “They lead secluded, ascetic lives. By day they do the hardest work for the local community. Mornings and evenings, they spend in prayer. Why don’t you go to them and try to heal your soul?”

Rhori jabbed Geru’s chest, a surge of white-hot rage crushing his natural kindness. “Here’s another idea. Why don’t you go kill yourself?”