It turns out that Arc doesn’t just need a ‘wee dram’ – he ends up downing half a bottle of whisky. Once he wipes his mouth and puts the bottle back on the whisky shelf in the Palace Guards Office – I didn’t know this existed until moments ago – he sighs and begins to speak.

“That bawbag really didn’t feel anything. I’ve never been in a mind like his. It was empty and full at the same time. Like it wasn’t all his own thoughts, like he was just a vessel and someone had filled it with their own ideas and commands.”

“The Morrigan,” I say darkly and he nods.

“Her traces were all over his mind. Her influence runs deep, much deeper than just creating him. She’s fed him her lies from the moment he was created, and she’s reinforced them every day. He’s been like a sponge, drinking it all up, feeding off it. He dinnae feel but he has desires – the same as the Morrigan’s. He wants what she wants, and he will do whatever it takes to please her. I guess he might have enough of a connection to her that he’d feel if she’s happy, and that might fill the hole in him for just a bit. It’s sad really, how he’s her lapdog despite his obvious intelligence.

“She’s got complete control of him, and I dinnae think there’s a way of breaking it. If we set him free, he’ll run back to her… if he can still run.” His voice turns ominous. He must have wrought quite a lot of damage while extracting information from the clone’s mind.

“No way are we letting him go anywhere. He stays here, even if he rots in dungeons for the rest of his life,” I say, ignoring how violent that sounds. As a ruler, you sometimes have to make unpleasant decisions. And in his case, it’s not even all that unpleasant. He hurt me – the cut on my throat is still throbbing – and would hurt my Guardians if he could.

“I was speaking hypothetically,” Arc replies with a grim smile. “After what I’ve seen, I’d never let him out of my sight. He’s done terrible things, Wyn. Believe me, ye don’t want ta ken about most of them. And there are others like him. I’m not sure how many, but we need to be prepared to see more fake Crispins in the future. But what’s important is that I’ve seen the Morrigan’s lair.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s Castle Tioram?” I ask and he shakes his head.

“No. Kind of. Tioram is a Gate, but one that only leads to her Realm, nowhere else.”

“Wait, what? The Morrigan doesn’t have a Realm. My mother expelled her and gave her lands to other Gods.”

Arc shakes his head. “Sadly, that’s no longer true. She’s made herself a new Realm from the ruins of several zones of the Demon Realm. She started off with one zone, enslaving the demons. Then she used them to conquer more, until she ruled most of the demon lands. She knows we’re monitoring the Gates leading to the Demon Realm, so she built her own.”

“That’s impossible,” Storm interrupts. “Nobody can build Gates by themselves.”

Arc sighs. “Ye can if ye sacrifice a thousand demons ta create it.”

I think all of us are dumbstruck by that. I mean, I don’t like demons and I killed quite a few myself. But killing a thousand of them, and probably a lot more while she conquered their Realm in the first place… wow.

“So that means Castle Tioram is just a front to prevent us from knowing that she lives in the Demon Realms?”

“Aye,” Arc confirms. “And if we’d gone there tomorrow, we’d likely only seen a ruined castle. But now that we ken, we can lie in wait and enter the Gate when someone exits.”

“What? No way are you entering the Demon Realm by yourselves,” I protest. “That’s what we have our army for. We know her weak spot now, we can send our forces to Tioram and assault her on her own territory. That’s much better than waiting for her to attack us. We finally have an advantage, let’s use it.”

“She has hundreds of thousands of demons, Wyn. We won’t stand a chance with a frontal assault. We need ta use stealth, sneak in and strike her before she knows we’re there.”

I frown, giving him my most disapproving stare. “I hope that ‘we’ refers to some of the army’s scouts, not any of you four.”

He has the decency to look slightly guilty.

"We are the best there are," he says without false pride. It's a statement, the truth. "If we want ta succeed, we need ta send the best."

I’m tempted to order them not to go, but I know that they really are the best.

“Not all of you though, right?” I ask, keeping my voice as steady as possible. I don’t want to seem too needy. It’s a simple fact though that I need them.

“I will stay here,” Crispin says softly.

I know he’s not just doing that to keep my company, but also because his reaction to the Morrigan might be unpredictable. Who knows what hold she still has over him. She had decades to manipulate him, and from the shadows that have been clouding his gaze recently, it’s clear that he’s been struggling to fight his demons.

I take his hand and he pulls me into his arms from behind, putting his hands on my stomach and his chin on my head. It’s a weird kind of supporting hug, where I can take in everyone else’s reaction but still get the benefit of his soothing touch.

“Her illusions are strong,” Arc remarks, almost as if in awe. “I’ll need ta be there to break them and shield our minds.” He gives me a big smile. “Dinnae worry, Wyn, the twins and me are a good team. We’ll be back before ye know it.”

“Don’t patronise me,” I hiss, but I’m smiling to show that I don’t quite mean it. Maybe I do. I don’t know, my emotions are all over the place. Not long ago, I would have fought to come with them, but now I have responsibilities. I can’t leave the Realm without a ruler. My mother is still in bed, too weak to even sit up on her own.

When did I become so… royal?

“You always have been,” Crispin whispers into my ear.

It takes me a moment to realise that he answered a question I didn’t ask out loud.

I turn and look at him in confusion. “Did you just read my mind?”

He frowns, just as confused. “No, you asked us a question.”

“I certainly didn’t. Did I?”

Frost shakes his head. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“But she spoke,” Crispin insists. “She asked about when she became so royal.”

“Nope, she didn’t.” Storm looks at us strangely. “Wyn, is your bond to us evolving?”

“I’ve been feeling more of your emotions through it,” I admit. “Does that mean we can finally communicate through it? More than just nudges, I mean. Actual talking.”

“Say something to me,” Frost demands, his eyes flashing in delight.

Storm is amazing, I think.

Crispin laughs heartily, but none of the others react.

Arc frowns and steps forward, putting one hand on my shoulder.

“Try again.”

What is he wearing under his kilt?

“Nothing,” he replies, his gaze turning smouldering. “It must be touch. Crisp and I touch her, and we can hear what she thinks.”

“Maybe that’s the first step,” Storm muses. “It could be that soon the bond allows us to talk over distances as well.”

I huff. “Would be nice if it allowed us to do that now already. It would give us a major advantage while you’re away chasing evil Goddesses.”

“Ya never know. It might develop overnight,” Arc says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

For now, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Although I should be careful with what I think when I touch them. Oh my. What happens when we’re in bed together? Will they all hear my thoughts as well as my moans? That would be embarrassing…

“When will you leave?” I ask the guys to change the topic and they all look at Storm.

“Arc needs to rest,” he says determinedly, ignoring the Scots protests. “Then it’s at least a three-hour flight to the Western Gate. Once we arrive at Calanais, provided we encounter no more demons, we’ll drive to Stornoway, then take the private plane from there to somewhere near Castle Tioram – I need to check a map. If the closest airport is Oban, it’ll be at least two hours to drive to the castle. In short, it will take us some time to get there, and we don’t know how long we’ll be in the Demon Realms. Time flows differently there; we could be gone for days.”

“Maybe we should leave during the ball tonight,” Frost suggests. “If the Morrigan has spies in the Palace, they’ll be distracted.”

“Is that long enough for Arc to recuperate?”

I’m not asking the Scot directly, because I know he’d downplay his weaknesses. But I saw how exhausted he looked after he searched through the clone’s mind, and Storm is right, we need Arc at his strongest.

Before Arc can say something, Crispin steps forward and puts a hand on his arm.

“Yes,” he says after a moment. “He’ll be fine.”

Arc pushes the healer away and rubs his arm as if Crispin left a mark on it.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles. “But I concede that the ball will be a good distraction. Better get our supplies ready.”

“While you do that, I should inform the Queen,” I sigh. “I’m sure my mother would like to know what’s happening.”

“I’ll come with you,” Crispin announces. “I ought to check on her anyway.”

Storm nods, all business. “Good. I’ll choose some of our elite soldiers to accompany us to Tioram. We need to be stealthy, so not too many, but enough to have some backup.”

It takes all my willpower not to protest. Am I really letting three of my guys go into danger without me? After all our adventures on Earth – and a few assassination attempts here in the Realm – I feel like they won’t be safe without me, just like I won’t be safe without them. Splitting up seems like a bad idea.

Beira looks like she’s getting worse, not better. Her cheeks are sunken in and her eyes are only half open while she listens to me. At one point, she takes my hand, but even that movement seems too much for her.

As soon as I’ve updated her on what’s about to happen, I leave. She didn’t have anything to say, and that scares me. It either means that everything we’re planning is good, or, more likely, that she didn’t have the energy to come up with improvements to our plans.

Crispin stays with her, making sure that there are no ailments affecting her body in addition to the severe lack of magic. He said something about her immune system being weakened by lying in bed for so long, but I trust him to do all he can for her.

From tonight, I’ll have to be worried for five people rather than my current two: Beira, my father, Storm, Frost and Arc.

Luckily, they all know what my dad looks like, so hopefully they’re going to be able to bring him home. Even if they aren’t able to disturb the Morrigan’s plans in other ways, that alone would be success enough for me.

I push the thoughts of my father far away. I can’t dwell on his fate just now. I need to be strong. As silly as it seems to throw a ball in times of war, I can see why we’re doing it. Gods aren’t like humans and Guardians. They’re not as concerned with the affairs of others, and far more interested in their own pleasures.

Tamara told me how Beira often entertains them with pretty Guardians, letting them have some fun before she starts negotiations with them. That way, their physical tastes are already sated and they’ll be happier than they were before. It makes getting what she wants easier.

I have no intention of providing prostitutes tonight though. That’s really not compatible with my morals. Once again, I’m reminded that I grew up in a very different place from the Realms. Sex is far more natural here, and it’s not unusual to see some of the Palace Guardians in various stages of pleasure, their bodies entwined, others openly watching. It’s not that I’m prude, but it takes some time getting used to. When I meet one of my guys and we have some time… well, we usually seek out an empty room, we don’t do it in the corridors. I don’t think that will change either. I prefer them for myself. Others aren’t allowed to see them. Not their good bits, anyway. It’s okay for others to see their faces. That’s kind of unavoidable.

I stop by the kitchens, getting myself a cinnamon bun for lunch. Everyone is busy preparing for tonight’s feast, so I leave them be and head to my own chambers. The new ones, since I destroyed my old rooms. Through some kind of magic, they’ve managed to make them look almost the same. Even the clothes in my wardrobe are the same.

Not quite sure what to do, I sit down on my soft bed. Everybody else is busy, but here I am, sitting alone in my bedroom. I could go to my mother’s study and look at more papers, but I might do that once my Guardians have left, to distract myself. Maybe I should talk to Flora, find out more about the Spring Realm? No, I can do that tonight, especially if I need to look busy and important. I don’t want the visiting Gods to think that I’m desperate for attention. If I talk to Flora and then have to excuse myself to talk to others, it might give them the impression that I’m doing them a favour by even chatting to them. That’s one thing I’ve learned here in the Realms: it’s all about appearances.

A blue folder on the small desk in the corner catches my eye. That wasn’t there before. I get up to take a look. It’s a list of all the Gods going to attend tonight. Tamara must have been busy. I smile. Her neat handwriting is full of little flourishes and playful swirls, as if writing this list gave her genuine pleasure. I certainly hope so.

She’s written a short commentary for each of the Gods we’ve invited.

I quickly flick through the pages. There’s at least fifty Gods to read about. Looks like I’ll be busy after all.