"Did you only come here to doomsay and demoralize my men?"

  Count Greymane smmed his fist against the stone wall. I jumped and stumbled backward. Rocher caught my shoulders—gentle but firm.

  "N-not at all, Your Lordship."

  "Wouldn't be much of a gift, Uncle, if we only came bearing bad tidings. We did say we would reinforce the line, did we not?"

  "So... you do have a pn, then."

  Rocher gave my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. I steadied myself and nodded.

  "We know the enemy is coming. They don't know that we know. Let's use it to our advantage."

  "Uncle, would you say you trust the guards gathered here?"

  The Count growled, "With my life."

  I scanned their faces. The Count's personal guard looked like grizzled veterans, loyal to the st man.

  "Then entrust them to us, just for today. We have a lot to prepare, and precious little time or manpower."

  "Men."

  The six guards stood at attention and saluted.

  "I will need the five biggest and strongest to follow me to the rder. One of you stay behind to accompany Miss Cire."

  "Oh! Before you go, allow me to grant each of you a blessing. In spite of the way I look, I'm technically a priestess."

  Sir Dominic cut an imposing figure, despite having been singled out as the youngest and smallest among Count Greymane's guard. The look in his eyes was no less dangerous than his brothers-in-arms. They glowed with fire and exuberance and perhaps a little zeal—he was the one who moved to silence me when I first spoke out of turn.

  "Miss Cire. Since we find ourselves in a provisional alliance of sorts, there is something you ought to know."

  "As you please, Sir. I am in your debt."

  I didn't stop my hands from unpacking rolls of bandages, gauze, among other medical supplies. But I circled around the table and faced him, so that he could see I was listening.

  He exhaled sharply.

  "I do not like you—your heedless ways spit upon our sacred traditions and bring disgrace to our Lord. Out of respect for the Hero, our Lord may have set aside his shame, but as his retainer I have no such reservations. Thus I say to you—a woman should mind her pce."

  He glowered at me. His grip tightened on his sword's pommel.

  "Rest assured I will perform this duty to the utmost—I shall protect you for as long as the lord wills it. However, in the event that that decision results in the death or injury of a citizen of Castle Greymane, I will hold you personally accountable. Act recklessly again at your own peril."

  "I will remember to be careful, Sir. Will that put your mind at ease?"

  I smiled demurely. He flinched.

  "Then Sir Dominic, please gather up the castle's personnel. I'd like to bestow the Goddess's blessing before the fighting begins."

  Before long, a procession of butlers, maids, cooks, and other servants stretched down the hall, chatting softly amongst themselves, blissfully unaware.

  I pulled on Sir Dominic's sleeve. He watched me cup my mouth, then lowered his head so that I could whisper in his ear.

  "Send them in one at a time. Signal me if you notice anything strange. If they try to leave, or look a little pallid, or smell off, for example."

  His eyes widened, then he nodded.

  "Good health and good fortune. The Goddess be with you."

  "Goddess bless you as well, Sister."

  I let go of the maid's hand. The faint glow dimmed.

  "You are excused to return to your duty."

  "Thank you, Sister."

  The maid pushed open the door to the makeshift clinic, prompting Sir Dominic to send the next person in.

  Except this time, something was different. Sir Dominic followed the man inside, gingerly closing the door behind him.

  The man was dressed haphazardly in a chef's smock and apron. His eyes looked a little unfocused.

  I gestured, warily. "Please have a seat."

  The man shambled over, a subtle stench clinging to his clothes. I hesitated—then took his hands. Healing Touch.

  Suddenly the man jerked. Bones snapped and twisted beneath his skin, stretching it taut. The chair cttered to the floor as a guttural growl escaped his—no, its—throat, chilling my blood. Its arm shot out, wrapping its fingers around my throat.

  Schwing. The monster's head twisted and fell, impacting the ground with a sickening thud. The rest of its body followed shortly, colpsing in a heap.

  I coughed and looked up at Sir Dominic, with his bde drawn. His eyes were wide, sweat beading on his forehead. I rubbed my neck and forced a wry smile.

  "This doesn't count as recklessness, does it?"

  "Aaaaah!"

  A scream reverberated from the hall.

  Sir Dominic threw his shoulder against the door, smming it open. I poked my head out to take stock of the situation.

  No fewer than four human-shaped figures could be seen fleeing down the hall. They scuttled on all fours—too fast, too wrong to be human. Sir Dominic reacted immediately, giving them chase.

  The remaining castle personnel were in an uproar. The air stank of bile and fear; wails echoed through the hall.

  "Everyone! You're safe now! Are any of you injured?"

  I shut the door to the clinic and began treatment out in the hall. The corpse inside made the room no longer suitable for its original purpose. I would have to trouble Sir Dominic ter to remove it.

  First some self-care. I lifted my hand to the angry red welts on my neck. Healing Touch.

  "How could we fail to notice them!"

  Count Greymane smmed his fist onto the dinner table, silverware leaping into the air.

  "They must have been freshly turned, Your Lordship. Unless someone knew what to look for, they would have appeared no different from a normal, breathing person."

  All the mana I expended earlier had me starving, so I was answering questions between bites. No longer did anyone bother to comment on my ck of decorum. My neck still carried the faint traces of bruising.

  "Luckily for us, I was there to cut off the escape route."

  I could feel Rocher's smugness radiating from across the table. Of course, we had arranged for him to stand in front of the castle foyer, so the undead would run headlong into the point of his bde.

  Not to be outdone, I countered. "Sir Dominic deserves equal credit and commendation! He and Sir Hero pincered them in the courtyard."

  "Midy is too humble." Sir Dominic bowed his head.

  Luckily, we'd uncovered the interlopers in the middle of the day, at a time when their regenerative curse was subdued. I had leisurely finished them with Healing Touch after confirming the safety of the living.

  The living. Suddenly I felt a pang of guilt. Even the undead used to be living, breathing people. Here I was eating, carefree, while families waited for news of their dead. The fear and confusion on the servants' faces pushed in from the recesses of my mind, causing me to lose my appetite. I y down my fork and asked weakly.

  "Say, did you happen to know any of those people?"

  One of the other guardsmen nodded solemnly.

  "We've confirmed their identities. They were all servants who had run errands on the outside within the past two days. That's probably when they were killed and converted."

  He answered a question I wasn't asking.

  Only Rocher seemed to read correctly the knit in my brow. He shot me a pained look, reached over, and squeezed my hand. Then he addressed the room.

  "The good news is, there probably won't be an undead attack tonight. Controlling five undead with such precision and intent expends as much demonic energy as mobilizing a hundred mindless corpses."

  Count Greymane sighed in relief, but continued to probe, "Any thought yet on what their objective was?"

  "Would it not have been to make an attempt on your life, my Lord?" Sir Dominic scratched his head.

  I shook mine in response. "Unlikely. Each one of you guards is highly skilled and together you keep a tight watch on His Lordship. No undead, no matter how precisely controlled, could have gotten close enough."

  Rocher tapped his chin thoughtfully and suggested an alternative conjecture.

  "Tonight the rain is due to start in earnest. The undead's purpose may have been to sabotage the castle's defenses in the dead of night. If they managed to lower the gate, the mer-beasts could have walked right in and slit our throats while we slept."

  Count Greymane shuddered. He looked like he had aged ten years in a day.

  Still feeling guilty, I tried to reassure him. "Your Lordship, we may have yet bought ourselves some time. Mer-beasts are cold-blooded—they hate fighting at night. Perhaps we'll have until mid-day tomorrow before they make their move."

  It was wishful, irresponsible thinking. Demons were not so courteous or patient. Whether warm or cold, mer-beasts were fearsome monsters all the same.

  Rumble. Thunder echoed faintly in the distance, and all eyes turned to the window. Rain pattered softly against the stone—each drop a herald of the reckoning to come.