“Rise, Aldain. Explain. Astound. Preferably both.”

My Lady’s voice is still stern. It’s too early to tell how irrational her anger has made her. Slowly, I stand. Before I speak, I bow at the waist. There is one breach of conduct, though. As I straighten, just before I begin to speak, I make eye contact with my Mistress. Her violet eyes betray her. I am still her favorite. Still in her favor.

“Mistress,” I intone. “I lost track of time. I was investigating a new technique. One which will finally give you the upper hand required to seize Queendom.”

My Mistress is pleased. The thought of the others bowing at her feet is too tempting, too powerful for her to ignore. That will be her downfall.

“If you speak the truth, then your tardiness is excused. But if I ever find you have been lying to me, Aldain, I will make you find many, many reasons to wish for death. And it will be withheld.”

She pauses and sighs, her expression changing. I’m visibly in the clear now.

“Do you know why you were to come here today, Aldain?”

“No, Mistress.”

She smiles at me. “I have a gift for you, Aldain.” She pauses, looks away feigning disinterest. “In three days, the castle will fall back into normal reality.”

For a moment, my confusion must be plain on my face. I knew all this; I am responsible for pulling us into and out of the world.

“Maxwell, Duke of Carlisle, has sent a scout into M-space. We have caught him. The task of extracting information from him falls to you, Aldain.”

So that’s the gift. I bow repeatedly, stammering gratitude and apologies. She waves me on.

As I walk out of the garden, Maguerite is once again beside me.

“You astound me, Aldain, you truly do. You walk in fully in her wrath and she shows you favor.”

I shrug and continue on my way to my quarters. I need to change into a better tunic and fresh gloves. Shabby clothes are not intimidating.

Maguerite continues while I remove my cloak and shirt. “Some day, your recklessness will overshadow your usefulness.”

I shrug. Her eyes roam over my chest and back, lingering on each scar left by our Mistress’s lash. She’s seen it all before, of course. We’ve shared these quarters for six years.

“Aldain, please. You’re all I have left of home. Don’t let her take you away too.”

I look at Maguerite and there are tears in her eyes.

Interrogation can wait.

I embrace her; she still smells like our homeland. I feel hot tears against my chest.

“Maguerite,” I whisper. “One day we shall cast off these chains. We will be free to build our own dominion. To recover our homeland.”

She pulls away and looks up into my face. The fear and sadness in her has been replaced with hatred. The fury on her tear-stained, red, swollen face is a thing of true ferocity.

She says one word; it comes out as a snarl.

“When?”