Prologue

Most messengers agreed: it was preferable to lose one’s position in Reme’s palace than address the executioner. His office was within his legal library, a solitary and bleak room, so the messenger lingered even beyond that–within the hallway where light and laughter were allowed.

The young woman named Ida whimpered, debating making a run for it and corrupting into a bear to preserve her life rather than entering where she was sent. She sucked her red teeth, debating her choices when footsteps caught her attention.

Alma, a previous co-worker, approached in the hallway, interrupting Ida’s piteous dread.

“Why are you lurking outside his office? He might hear you and come out,” Alma whispered.

“I have a message to give the executioner, or I wouldn't dare come down this way,” Ida said.

Alma, a tall and dark-haired fae woman, inched closer with a cautious glance behind herself. They waited, listening for any indication that he had heard them. The quiet remained, and the resolute door stood still. Alma scowled at Ida.

“Why are you delivering messages in the first place? We’re notaries,” Alma said.

“Not anymore. I lifted a rank after the execution sweeps. I’m a messenger now for His Lordship,” Ida said.

Alma clenched her indigo teeth and huffed through her nose.

“But now you have to face him .”

“Indeed,” Ida said, wincing at the door. “Lord Marfilious sent me to deliver a verbal note with haste.”

“A verbal note? Is it that important?” Alma asked, with bright eyes.

Ida smiled, her red burden of gossip delighting to answer.

“It’s very important! It’s about Lord Clement in Huren.”

Alma hushed her, and they listened again before Ida’s red burden enticed her to talk again.

“But I can’t find the nerve to go into the executioner’s office alone ,” Ida said.

“Why not? He’s not the cruel brother. He has the cyan burden, not black,” Alma said, crossing her arms.

“You speak of him as though he’s friendly.”

“He’s not, but it is your duty to deliver the news. You are not a simple notary like me anymore,” Alma scolded.

Ida shook her head, her black bun staying in place despite the movement.

“He deceived you, then. One cannot personally drive a blade through so many necks and be a pleasant fellow. I worked on the execution sweeps and lost count of how many Remeians he put to death. Black burden or‌ cyan, he’s earned the wide path all of Reme give him. I’m almost certain if I speak to him incorrectly, he will end me,” she said, pointing a thumb at the door.

“Well if I had the privilege of speaking for his lordship, I would not hesitate as you do,” Alma said, judging Ida for the speech. Ida sighed and covered her neck with two hands.

“Would you come with me, please? I’ll tell my overseer that you are without corruption–maybe you can be promoted like I was,” Ida said.

Alma clenched her envious indigo teeth and glanced behind herself at the empty corridor.

“All right, but you will do all the speaking, because I do not carry the news,” Alma said, taking a deep breath herself.

“Fine, fine; I cannot face him alone.”

Alma nodded and motioned to the door. Ida fought herself in her thoughts, wondering if the executioner would take her head in the library or his office. With a disgruntled sigh and deciding Ida did not deserve her station, Alma opened the door and shoved Ida inside.

Ida stumbled in, her attention darting around the well-kept yet dreary library before landing on an office door between two sets of scroll-lined cases.

With shallow breaths, they crept between silent shelves to the open office door on the far side. Alma and Ida peeked through the small opening into the office. They held their breath, studying the back of the chief Remeian executioner in his black cape and matching wide hat. He sat at a long desk full of stacks of pages–gray curtained windows letting just enough light to see.

They stayed in the doorway, peering into the office that decided life or death for all of Reme when he sat back from his desk and turned his face to the side.

“Yes?” he asked.

They jolted, a lightning bolt tearing across their spines. Ida shuddered, and looked to Alma for moral support.

“May we come in, sir?” Alma asked in a clear voice.

“You may,” he grunted, annoyed that they took this long to address him after having an entire conversation in the corridor. They shuffled in, Alma pushing Ida forward and then hiding behind her. They stood precariously at the end of his desk, so the executioner considered jumping at them just to make them scream–but he could not, as they likely had good reason to address him.

“She has a verbal message for you, sir,” Alma told him.

“Go ahead. I am nothing to fear,” he said, listening with his quill still in hand over his desk. Alma poked Ida, who closed her eyes so that she could not see his bearded profile anymore.

“Lord Marfilious has agreed to your proposition and encourages you to begin. He calls on you, sir, because Huren’s men are searching in the mountains for something unknown. He implores you to complete your task before Huren finds what they seek.” She breathed a sigh of relief and wiped her neck with a hand.

Before speaking, the Lion of Reme considered her words for a moment. He glanced at a map he had open, his tired brown eyes wondering what Lord Clement would want somewhere so dangerous and who he would send so recklessly north.

“Did my father say who is doing the searching? Whether it is Jane or another?” he asked, still considering the map.

“He did not, sir, but it is not Jane–that I know for certain. There have been very recent sightings of her in Huren,” Ida said, her red burden flowing with her words.

“Very well. I ask you to report to Lord Marfilious that with my acceptance; I will begin immediately. If you will excuse me, please, I have a duty to fulfill,” he said, rising to his feet and setting the quill down.

They stumbled backward and hurried out through the doorway and the library. Once safe in the hallway, Alma looked at Ida and asked:

“What could they possibly want in the northern mountains? There is nothing up there but giants!”