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Lynnette brandished her two-handed blade. Desmond dodged the next slash smoothly and swept at her legs, but she was ready, bounding back a step and slicing his foot off.

The foot was already sizzling, however, as it rolled to a stop in front of Lynnette’s confused gaze. Helen tackled her to the ground, and the explosion rocked the whole chamber.

Helen’s back and legs smoldered, sundered muscle and snapped bone under shredded cloth, but Lynnette was tucked safely beneath her, dazed and intact. “Please stay back, Lynnette,” she said softly.

Desmond pulled her off Lynnette with his one returned arm. “I thought the guards were supposed to protect the Queen, not the other way around.”

A heavy thud made the walls tremble.

“What was that?” said Desmond.

Helen elbowed him in the nose, making him release her, and she hit the ground flat.

Desmond shook his head and scowled, but another thud made him pause. He looked to Ezmortig. One more thud, and the ceiling gave way on top of him.

Through the rubble, a thick marble slab fell toward Desmond. He raised both sleeveless arms and caught it full on, making the floor crack beneath him.

A black figure was crouched atop the slab, grasping its broad edge with both hands and staring down at Desmond through a metal helm.

“You must be that other reaper’s servant.” Desmond grinned up at him, still holding the marble steady. “Nice entrance.”

-+-+-+-+-

Desmond chucked the slab across the room.

Hector bounded off of it, coated one shoe in iron, and punted Desmond into the far wall, stuck waist deep.

‘Kill the reaper now!’ Garovel shouted.

Hector lunged for Ezmortig, swiping at him with iron-tipped fingers, but the reaper sunk through the floor first.

‘Nice try, bastard.’

Hector growled and looked back toward the others.

Lynnette was helping the Queen up, bloodying her uniform in the process. Helen steadied herself and saw Hector there.

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She saw Garovel and Mehlsanz exchange looks.

‘Very well,’ said Garovel. ‘What exactly do you want the Queen to do?’

Helen was about to protest when Mehlsanz’s voice silenced her.

‘Listen. Only you can hear me,’ she said. ‘We’re merely stalling, so don’t fight. That man will kill all of us.’

“Well, the expansionist movement is a good start,” said Desmond. “Greater militarization efforts would--”

‘Stop,’ said Ezmortig. ‘That was far too easy. I don’t know about this Garovel here, but Mehlsanz was Vanguard. She wouldn’t cooperate so easily.’

Desmond frowned. “What’re you saying?”

‘They’re up to something. Kill them now.’

Desmond smiled. “Can do.”

‘Wait a minute,’ said Mehlsanz. ‘We acknowledge that we’re no match for your servant. We’re simply--’

‘You’re lying,’ said Ezmortig.

Desmond approached, and Helen put herself in front of the reapers.

Mehlsanz touched Helen’s shoulder. ‘No helping it.’

Desmond held an index finger up to her face. “You don’t even have an ability yet, do you?”

Helen grabbed the finger, intending to break it, but it snapped right off. It darkened in her hand and started sizzling as Desmond backed away.

‘Get rid of it!’ Mehlsanz shouted.

She tossed it. The finger exploded in mid-air. Helen staggered back, half the flesh gone from her face.

‘He has a transfiguration ability!’ said Garovel.

“That’s right.” Desmond was there, and he grabbed the Queen by the neck, lifting her off the ground. “You’re not much of a fighter, are you, Your Majesty?”

Dizzy, Helen could only see through one eye, the other just a bloody gash, slowly growing back.

‘Behind you, Desmond.’

Lynnette’s sword hacked the man’s arm clean off, and Helen hit the ground. Desmond spun to swing at the swordswoman, and she hacked the other arm off as well.

He looked at his two stumps, then at her, and laughed. “Impressive. But you’re out of your depth, girl.”

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Chapter Eighteen: ‘O, crashing pyre...!’
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She didn’t recognize his face. He was a redhead, young and stocky, and the butler’s suit barely fit him. She could see blood on his sleeves, as well as a guardsman on the floor in the hallway.

“Finally,” the man said, not even bothering to close the door behind him. “We’ve been waiting all day for a chance to talk to you alone.”

‘Less alone than we expected,’ said his reaper, eyeing Garovel. ‘And just who are you? You didn’t identify yourself as Vanguard, either.’

Garovel chose not to reply.

“Perhaps we are being rude.” The man pressed a hand to his chest. “My name is Desmond,” he said. “This is my friend, Ezmortig.”

‘Frankly,’ said Ezmortig, ‘we are relieved to hear that you are not with the Vanguard. And yet, after coming all the way here to Atreya, it would be a waste to leave now.’

“What do you want?” said Helen.

Ezmortig looked to Mehlsanz. ‘Your cooperation, of course. Having Queen Helen on our side would smoothen the transition.’

“Transition to what?”

‘War,’ said Mehlsanz.

Helen’s brow lowered. “I think not.”

“Now, now, Your Majesty. Hear us out.”

‘We’re listening,’ said Garovel.

Desmond stepped forward. “See, your brother, Prince Gabriel, he thinks he hired us. He doesn’t realize that we found him. And while he seems like a cunning man, I think everyone here can agree that he’s in a bit over his head, now.”

‘We don’t care who’s on the throne,’ said Ezmortig, ‘just so long as they’re ours.’

“The Prince wanted us to waltz right in, kill you, and be done with it,” said Desmond. “Which, admittedly, I’m still more than happy to do, but my friend here says that killing the Queen would cause a bit of a stir--both politically and publicly. And I’m inclined to agree, because if it comes to a fight, I might accidentally destroy half this castle. So we thought we should at least give you a chance to make things easier for everyone. And hey, the best part is, you all get to live.”