#writemas 2025

“I chose to be here. No one made me except myself,” Jane replied. 

The leather armour they’d found for her felt weird—it wasn’t heavy or stiff, it was just strange. She had a sword at her hip that she barely knew how to use and at least six knives strapped to her body. She was a thief, not a fighter, but the others had been so determined to arm her that she hadn’t had the heart to turn them down. Now that they were out of sight—Percy and Nic with the knights and soldiers lined up in front of the city walls, Pavia hidden somewhere along the top of the wall to protect them with her magic—Jane found the weight of the blades oddly comforting. 

“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” she said.

“It’s not your fault,” Duchess Anwen replied. “You did your best.”

Still, it didn’t feel like it had been enough. They had delayed the invasion but not stopped it. Now they were exactly where they had tried so desperately to avoid being: hemmed into the city, unable to escape, with only a small army to defend the walls as the Vaedian army bore down on them. They had already crested the horizon. It was a matter of hours before they’d be engaged in open battle.

“Do you think my ancestors will forgive me when I meet them in Zailahr?” Duchess Anwen asked.

“What could there be to forgive?”

“This Duchy has remained independent for hundreds of years and is going to fall while under my rule.” She chewed her bottom lip. “My mother will be so disappointed.”

“Then she shouldn’t have gone and died fighting the Vaedian Empire's war. I know they were our allies but we all knew this would happen eventually.”

“Do you think that would’ve changed anything?”

Jane hesitated. “Probably not.”

Duchess Anwen smiled faintly. “Thank you for lying.”

“It feels like it’s been half an hour,” Talea said petulantly. They were on the back lawn of Wychwood Manor. Not that it was much of a lawn at the moment—wild flowers and tall grasses were plentiful, as the sheep that usually kept the field manicured were grazing somewhere safer.

“You’re being a baby. How hard can it be to shoot lightning out of your hand and hit a piece of firewood that’s ten paces away?”

Talea scowled. “Don’t tease me.”

“Who else will?” Edith looked back at the page, the corners of her mouth pinching as she tried not to laugh. “I could invite Gideon to join us.”

“Don’t you—” She spluttered, hating the warmth that flooded her face.. “Shut up.”

“If I’m not allowed to tease you, am I allowed to make observations about your romantic situation?”

“No! There is no romantic situation! Stop talking so loud.” Talea looked around them, confirming that Edith hadn’t summoned him.

Edith scoffed. “Please, you two are the most ridiculous pair I’ve ever seen, and I watched Lord Winfield pine over Lady Camden for a year before asking her to dance.”

“That’s an unfair comparison.”

“His poetry was so bad,” she said with a grimace before continuing. “You and Gideon act like there’s some tragic circumstances keeping you apart when the truth is that you’re both too cowardly to address some poor decisions you both made years ago. It’s painfully obvious to everyone around you that you still have feelings for each other and are dancing around them instead of having a simple conversation. You’re acting like children, indulging in the easy lie that you hate each other instead of talking about what happened.”

Talea blinked several times, staring at her sister. “That was quite a speech.”

“Thank you, I’ve been working on it for a few days now.”

“The situation isn’t as simple as you’ve painted it.”

“I know there’s complications regarding the wolf and witch thing, but wouldn’t it be nice if that was the only thing keeping you apart?”

“Edith.”

“At least then you two could hop into bed together and get rid of the tension that suffocates every room you’re in together.”

“Gods and saints, Edith,” Talea hissed. “You’ve been spending too much time with Quincy.”

“Perhaps, but I’m not discussing you and Gideon with him,” she replied.

Talea frowned. She didn’t want to imagine what they did when they were alone together—Quincy was still an asshole as far as she was concerned, and she didn’t want him anywhere near her sister.

“I just think you two would make beautiful babies together,” Edith teased.

“I’m walking away now. Not coming back,” she declared as she got to her feet. She walked backwards towards the manor. “I hope you get rained on.”

“You know I’m right!” Edith called after her. 

“What’s wrong?” Nic asked.

“Where are we?”

“Almost to Skelside,” he replied. “The inn is less than ten minutes ahead.”

“No. I can’t—we can’t—no.” Her words were failing her. She couldn’t go back to Skelside. She’d made a promise when she was twelve years old that she’d never return. 

“I need more than that, Jane,” Percy said. He’d circled back to join them.

“I made a promise,” she said. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. It was like she was a terrified child again, waiting for the next raised hand or raised voice aimed at her.

“You haven’t been here for years,” Percy said. “There’s no guarantee that the people you want to avoid still live in the area. We’re going directly to the inn, sleeping, and leaving first thing in the morning.”

No one left the ministry. She’d only escaped because she’d fled under the cover of darkness with nothing but the clothes on her back.

“And I’ll kill anyone who tries to mess with you,” Pavia added. 

Jane’s smile was strained.

“I’m impressed you can remember a promise you made as a kid,” Nic said.

“I will never forget that night, unfortunately.”

Nic frowned. “Do you need us to kill someone?”

“Just point them out.” Pavia’s tone was arch, but her expression made it clear she wasn’t joking.

Jane nodded. She didn’t need to be afraid; she wasn’t alone anymore. She nodded again, steeling herself, then signalled to Percy that she was good to continue. 

They entered Skelside. It felt smaller than she remembered, even though everything else was exactly the same. The same houses and shops, the same faded signs, the same judgemental glares. Jane tucked herself into the shadows of the stables while Percy and Pavia went to secure them lodgings and Nic tended to the horses.

There were the same faces, too. Despite the late hour and the years that had passed, she still recognized many of the people she saw. Every familiar face set her more on edge.

“You okay?” Kell asked. He leaned against the wall next to her.

“Not really,” she replied. She didn’t need to lie to him. “It’s weird. Eerie. I hate it.”

“I don’t have the same violent capabilities as Nic and Pavia, but let me know if there’s anything I can do to make this easier.”

“Can you reverse time so we stop in Athelney?”

He smiled. “I’ll work on it.”

A middle aged man approached them from the other side of the street, striding with purpose. He had an angry, jagged scar running down one side of his face. “Jane of Radiant Ephion’s Mercy.”

Bile rose in her throat.

“After twelve long years, you’ve finally returned home to us,” the man said. He grabbed her forearm, his fingers digging into her flesh and bringing back every awful second of her last night in the town. “You must pay penance for your actions.”

“Let go of her,” Kell ordered. He stepped between them, hiding the man’s face from her view. It didn’t make the panic recede or the air reach her lungs.

She hefted the fire poker and swung it at his head—

“This girl is my property. I can do with her as I please.”

It collided with his skull with a sickening thump and he collapsed to the floor—

“I will kill you where you stand if you don’t let her go right now,” Kell threatened.

Blood pooled on the floor and splattered her dress and the fire in the hearth was fading and the river was cold and—

Using whatever self control she had left under the panic and fear, she made herself stop moving. Fighting it would make it pull tighter, and make the glass shards dig deeper into her flesh. She needed to loosen the knot.

Talea hissed in pain as she extricated the glass from her ankle. Fuck, she would have to visit Wren again. A bandage would mean even more questions from Gideon and the others. Eventually her lies would unravel. Maybe she could treat it herself if she—

Someone grabbed her hair and jerked her head back so she was looking into the canopy of leaves. Familiar silver eyes hovered above her; eyes that haunted her unconscious dreams after she’d been poisoned by one of the shadow creatures. Eyes she hadn’t seen since regaining consciousness at Wychwood Manor. In the light of day she could see the owner’s features; her straight nose, bow-shaped lips, and high cheekbones were oddly familiar considering Talea had never seen the woman before in her life.

The woman’s lip curled into a snarl and she pressed a cold blade to Talea’s throat. “Another Grand Duchess of Kiathet.”

“Former,” Talea corrected, as though it mattered.

“So King Maximillian chose his heir?” She managed to make the title of ‘king’ sound like an insult.

“My half-brother, Miles, was chosen.”

“Of course he chose the only male,” the woman said with disgust. “They always do. Even when the sons are bumbling idiots, they’re still seen as better options.”

“It sounds like you’re familiar with the process,” Talea said. She needed to keep the woman talking long enough to figure out a plan.

“Unfortunately.” Her expression shifted to be calculating. “You’ll understand, then. I’m not the horrible person that people paint me as. I long for life, nothing else, but I have been hunted for so many years. I was pushed deeper and deeper into these woods until I found the edge, and over the edge I found the power that I deserved. Little Max may have the crown, but I am the one with true power.”

“You mean the shadow creatures that keep attacking innocent people in the Wychwood?”

“I don’t want to hurt the innocent, but I need to destroy Max and every symbol of his reach until he understands the pain and suffering he caused me. Even if there’s collateral damage along the way.”

Talea swallowed her argument. There was the knife to her throat to consider, after all.

The woman’s attention snapped back the way Talea had come and she bared her teeth. “Here come more of them now. The king’s wolves. Be careful with them; they lie with ease and will betray you for scraps of favour.”

“The Blackbriars?”

“Be wary, little one. And remember me when they turn on you.”

“How do you know—?”

“They turn on everyone outside of the pack eventually,” she interrupted. She withdrew the knife and sheathed it. “I’m going to let you go now, and then you’re going to count to ten before moving or making a noise or I’ll kill you before you can escape that snare. Do you understand?”

Talea nodded slowly. Her movements were limited by the tight grasp the woman had on her hair. In the distance, she could hear Edith and Quincy calling her name.

“Good girl.” She released Talea and disappeared into the trees. 

Talea counted as instructed, counting to fifteen for good measure, before shouting back to Edith and resuming her attempts to remove the snare. 

“Edith! I’m over—” She looked up. Gideon stood just a few metres away, regarding her with his arms crossed. The heat of embarrassment burned in her cheeks. “You’re not Edith.”

“No,” he agreed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He crouched beside her and produced a knife that he used to cut the snare. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing,” she said. It hurt like a bitch, but she wasn’t going to admit that. “I think I just met the mysterious Morgwyn.”

“Doubtful if you’re still alive,” he said. 

Talea got to her feet, half annoyed that Gideon didn’t offer a hand to help her but also knowing that she would’ve refused his help anyways. “Gideon, listen to me. There is more to this than we’ve been told. More to her.”

He regarded her doubtfully.

She wanted to say more to convince him, but at that moment, Edith and Quincy emerged from the forest. As Edith worried over her, and as she assured her sister that she was fine, she kept stealing glances at Gideon. She hated that her instinct was to trust him even after all this time. She’d just been told that the Blackbriars would betray her, and the first person she’d tried to tell was a Blackbriar. What kind of a fool was she?

She caught Gideon’s gaze and quickly looked away. She wanted to drown the butterflies in her stomach in acid. 

“Was it?” she asked, turning away to hide her triumphant grin. He hadn’t even taken a moment to consider responding or not. They both knew the significance of it, but she was happy to feign ignorance to make him squirm.

“Fenna.”

“What do you think the chances are that I die instead of walking away with my freedom tomorrow?” She untied the ribbon from her hair and methodically undid her braid. “The real odds. Not the ones you and Phyrra came up with to make me feel better.”

His shoulders sank. “Fen.”

“Becauses I’ve been doing my own research, and corresponding with scholars who study this type of thing. They weren’t very happy with my questions but some answered me. Enough that I know you two are bullshitting me. Again.”

“That’s because we’re not going to let it fail. We have redundancies in place to make sure you walk away.”

“Such as?” She shook out her loose hair in the mirror and stepped out of her slippers.

“Phyrra swore me to secrecy.”

“Because it involves someone else dying?”

He remained silent.

“My life is not worth more than anyone else’s. If things go sideways, make Phyrra take over my body. It’s what I signed up for,” she said, then forced a smile. “Besides, I’m the god of death’s favourite. I might be able to get some special treatment.”

Rook exhaled a laugh, smiling at the ground. “Maybe. If you’re lucky.”

“I heard the god of luck is also fond of me, which should play in my favour.”

“Did you bring me here with a lock of hair to make me promise to let you die? And then to bring up Edes?”

Her grin was real this time. “No, those were extras I tossed in for fun.”

“We have very different definitions of fun.” He finally stepped away from the door, the lock clicking into place behind him. “You know this isn’t allowed.”

She held out a hand to him, the same way he’d offered his hand all those months ago the first time he’d taken her from the temple courtyard. Her earlier confidence was waning. “Do you always follow the rules?”

His brows shot up.

“It’s your choice,” she said, again echoing him. “But you did respond to the offering exceptionally fast.”

“I always respond to you quickly.” He stepped closer again. He was still too far away to touch. “I wasn’t sure if you knew what it meant.”

She didn’t bring up all the creepy people who had dropped their hair into Phyrra’s offering bowl while looking at her hungrily over the years. “There is a good chance that tonight is my last night in the world. All I want is to experience life with whatever time I have left. And I trust you.”

He took her offered hand, finally entering her personal space. “Your hands are trembling.”

“I’m in uncharted territory. Last time I brought up my feelings, you didn’t take it well.”

“That’s because my godhood can be called into question if one of the others suspects I return your feelings. I could lose my standing and my ability to help you and Phyrra.”

“That’s what Phyrra said, too. That’s why I dropped it. But I figure that after tomorrow you’ll have bigger problems than someone accusing you of having feelings for a human.”

He nodded. “I do, so you know.”

“You what?” She was pretty sure her ears weren’t working, or perhaps she’d misinterpreted what he was saying. 

“Have feelings for a human.” He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“Good ones?” she asked. It came out as arch, but she was still reeling.

“You’re so difficult,” he said fondly.

“Rook!” The voice thundered with rage. Fenna instinctively backed as far away from the open side of the stone box as she could, pressing into the wall behind her. 

“Ah, Rhaeus. It’s been ages since you’ve visited. What do you need?” Rook sounded casual.

“Where is my wife?” Rhaeus demanded.

“No clue, but I would assume she’s at her temple. Was I supposed to be keeping track of her?”

“Don’t play stupid. I know you’ve been convening behind my back.”

“‘Convening’ sounds so nefarious.”

“What is she plotting?” Rhaeus’ sandaled feet stepped into Fenna’s view and she recoiled even further. The sun god had been gracious when she’d first become Phyrra’s Vessel but had lost his patience decades earlier. 

“She’s regaining her strength. Remember when you burnt her last body beyond saving because she was upset you were cheating on her? That kind of torment takes time to recover from. It’s a miracle she didn’t become a permanent resident of my realm.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I simply do what’s necessary.”

Rhaeus advanced farther. Fenna lay on her stomach so she could see him and Rook facing each other. Rhaeus was livid, his shoulders tense and his jaw set, but Rook didn’t appear bothered. He sat sideways on a large black chair on a raised platform, his legs crossed over one of the arms. He looked downright irreverent; a dangerous thing to be while facing down the king of gods. 

Rhaeus sneered. “I don’t know what you’re plotting with her, but you’re out of your depth completely. Give up now before you embarrass yourself.”

“Why would your wife need to plot against you, Rhaeus? And why would she need my help?” Rook asked. He tilted his head in a way that could’ve been teasing if there wasn’t a hard challenge in his eyes.

“Stay away from her. Stay away from her Vessel, stay away from her temple. She is my wife and I will not have you putting ideas in her head.” He took a step closer so he towered over Rook. “Know your place, Rook. You’ll never beat me.”

“I’m known for waiting,” Rook replied, smirking despite the sun god’s threats. “It doesn’t matter what you do; eventually, I win.”

“Not in this matter.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Rhaeus snarled and whirled away, disappearing into a flash of light.

Fenna couldn’t relax. She couldn’t move. The scant information she knew about Rook was falling into place and it all pointed to an answer she didn’t want to be true. 

“You can come out now, Phyrra,” he said.

He was supposed to be her friend. Her ally. The one who understood how strange it was to be caught between the mortal world and games played by the gods. To be in both but not belong to either. 

“Phyrra?” 

He was supposed to be like her. He wasn’t supposed to be—he wasn’t supposed to belong—he wasn’t—

Rook’s boots stopped in front of her hiding spot and he crouched down. His brash expression dropped as he met her eyes. “Fenna.”

“Don’t touch me.” She scrambled away from him until she was pressed against the back of the box. 

“Fen—”

“You lied to me.”

“I’m so sorry. We thought it would be better if you didn’t know.”

She choked on an angry laugh. “Why? So you could manipulate me easier? So I wouldn’t question your motivations? So you and Phyrra could make decisions about my existence without needing to involve me in the conversation?”

“So you wouldn’t be scared.”

“Scared of what, Rook?” she demanded. “I’ve been waiting to die for over a century. I’ve come to terms with it.”

“Can you come out from under the table?” he asked.

I’m sorry for leaving you, Sel. Rhaeus would have been able to sense my presence. Phyrra said, startling her. I will get us home.

Panic rose in her chest. “No, wait, I—!”