There was a stranger in the dark. Devin squinted. There was only the light of his lantern for him to go by, and at this distance, it was hard to tell whether the figure was one he knew. The groundskeeper was abed. The kitchen servants would be finishing their supper cleaning. Devin, as house stableboy, was the only one who belonged out here, far as he knew. A friend of the lord’s, perhaps? How had he passed the guards at the gates of the estate? Why did no one escort him?

  The figure was moving up the path to the manor door, still on the edges of Devin’s light. He didn’t seem to be trying to hide, though, and Devin felt some of his tension ease. Not a horse thief, then. A guest of some sort, making a late-night call upon the lord. He seemed familiar with the estate. Had to be, to move so gracefully with no light to guide him.

  The man, Devin could see it was a man, stopped before the entrance. He made no move to knock. Devin glanced back at the stable behind him. The gate remained shut. He angled himself to see both the stable door and the figure, then looked back to the manor.

  The figure stood right in front of him.

  Devin swore and jumped back, waving his lantern defensively.

  “Now now,” said the figure. “Don’t go burning down the place.”

  “Get back!” Devin said. “I’m warning you!”

  “You’re warning me?” the figure said. “Kind of you.”

  Though he’d scared Devin, the figure made no other aggressive moves. He seemed relaxed, far too at ease for someone skulking around in the dark. This near to his lantern, Devin could make out the man’s face. What an odd face it was. Young. Skin porcelain smooth like a noble. Handsome. But it didn’t move like a young face. When the man blinked, he did so slowly, like he was very tired. The smile he wore seemed plastered on, like it had gotten stuck there and he’d forgotten about it. He wore a hooded robe, and beneath the hood Devin spied black hair. Not nobility, then.

  “If you touch me, I’ll scream, and the lord will hear,” Devin said.

  The man raised his hands placatingly.

  “Calm, boy,” he said. “I’m not here for you.

  He sighed and brushed his hands on his robe.

  “I only mean to collect myself,” he said. “Before I perform the night’s task.”

  “Are you a guest?” Devin said.

  “I am,” he said. Then his eyes flicked over Devin, and something strange sparked in his gaze. “And what are you, boy?”

  The question was unexpected. Surely it was obvious who Devin was. The man had to have seen him leaving the stables as he approached.

  “I’m a servant of the house,” Devin said. “I care for the horses.”

  “Do you?” the stranger said, sounding amused. “And you care for your lord, do you?”

  Devin felt a chill. “I suppose,” he said. “He takes care of me.”

  “How loyal,” the stranger said. “And the lady of the house. You care for her as well?”

  The chill turned into a growing dread, dread that Devin examined, then dismissed. This man was no doubt a friend of the Lord’s, amusing himself at the expense of a servant. Not upheld, but surely there were some peasants who kept in the lord’s good graces?

  “I’ve never seen her,” Devin said. “She stays in her rooms.”

  The man cocked his head. “Surely you’ve heard about her,” he said. “Rumors? Of her temperament?”

  Devin had. He’d been here only a week and had heard many stories of the lady of the house. She’s a young thing, one of the kitchen staff had told him. An upheld girl, a beauty plucked from some village. Lucky, if you ask me. Imagine changing your place in the world, just like that? But she don’t see it that way. Thinks she’s too good for his lordship. Gives him a right hard time, defies him even in front of his guests. She’s up in her room now and won’t leave, won’t even eat. Some things, some fairytales, just shouldn’t come true. Not for fools like her.

  Only a servant would speak so about an upheld. Those born into nobility, born redeemed, would never, even if they thought such things in private. It was by the grace of the Emperor that the peasantry could even dream to be swept to a higher station. Their hair turned frost white; their skin freed of blemish. Their youth extended. Their curse extinguished. To disparage an upheld was to disparage the Emperor’s judgement.

  Devin doubted the Emperor knew of the lady of Lord Dulwith’s house, and he doubted the force that had driven Lord Dulwith to uphold her resembled anything like grace.

  The stranger regarded him thoughtfully. Devin didn’t like that, didn’t like whatever conclusions this man had come to about him, true or not.

  “I’m sure she’s a good woman,” Devin said carefully.

  “The Good Woman and the Good Lord,” the man said, and his smile twitched in a way that made Devin openly shudder. Fortunately, the man didn’t seem to care. Even more fortunate, he seemed to be finished with Devin, for he turned back to the manor.

  “The good lord…” he repeated. Then without another word to Devin, he approached the entrance and rapped twice on the door.

  It opened within seconds, the lord of the house standing in the entrance. Lord Dulwith was a lesser lord, one whose charge comprised three villages along the Dive River, as well as Annistown, which lay beyond his estate. He had a narrow face, with smooth, noble skin and white hair kept short, with a short beard. Devin was surprised to see he was dressed as if to go out. Or to receive someone important. Sure enough, Lord Dulwith eyed the stranger with wariness, but not surprise.

  “I’m not sure what I expected,” Lord Dulwith said. The stranger bowed his head respectfully in response.

  “Well, come in,” Dulwith said. As the stranger entered, Dulwith poked his head outside, as if to make sure the man was not followed. He spotted Devin.

  “Stableboy,” Dulwith said. “To your quarters. You’re done for the night.”

  That was unusual. Devin had indeed finished his duties for the night, but the lord typically did not deign to acknowledge that, or him. Devin nodded and hurried around the building. But he did not go to his quarters, instead turning to enter the manor through the servant’s entrance. Through the kitchen he went, passing the few servants that still cleaned there. They nodded at him. He was still a new face in the house. Many of these servants had been years, or even decades there. They were respectful, even included him in their lighter gossip, but he was still a stranger to them, he knew. If all went well, a stranger to them he would remain.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Leaving his extinguished lantern in the kitchen, Devin made his way through the manor, stopping at the door to the foyer, beyond which he heard voices.

  “…hasn’t left and has no plans to,” Lord Dulwith was saying. “It’s a true shame, really.”

  “Your request contained enough detail,” came the stranger’s voice. “I’d like to see her, now.”

  Devin felt his dread return. Why would this stranger want to see the lady of the house? Even Devin had not seen her, and not for lack of trying. The first few days after he’d arrived there had been a servant stationed at her door at all hours. Dulwith had loudly explained that was so her every need could be met, but Devin suspected it was to keep her from running. Four days ago, that servant was replaced by one of Dulwith’s personal guard.

  Was the stranger a doctor? He had no tools with him. No light, no tools, no horse. Arriving late at night. A nagging thought as to the man’s identity began to form, but Devin could not yet put it into words. There was a danger with this man, Devin heard it in Dulwith’s voice. But would this danger harm the lady of the house?

  Footsteps fading. They’d gone upstairs. Devin wracked his mind, but there was nothing to be done. He could not reveal himself this soon, he was not ready. Was not familiar enough with the landscape. Had yet to convince the stablemaster to let him exercise the horses beyond the estate. It was just too soon.

  Don’t hurt her, he prayed. But who did he pray to? The question struck him quite suddenly. Before, it had always been the Emperor, though Devin had never felt much true faith. His grandmother had, rather quietly, disputed the Emperor's godhood, distancing their household from the common rituals, and Devin had never seen reason to decide otherwise. To many villagers of Dimmel, the Emperor was a distant force far removed from their daily lives, his shining city a distant dream. It was the Low Guard they worried about. Lord Dulwith they contended with.

  Yet it was the Emperor's power with which Dulwith had acted, and in the Emperor's name. So Devin was no longer sure to whom he prayed.

  Pray to the land, his grandmother would say. Not to men, but to stone and seed. Pray with your hands and your feet.

  Devin's feet were light on the steps as he climbed. Thankfully he knew where each servant would be at this hour, and Dulwith had no children, no family besides his new wife. No one to roam about the house except a woman who had not left her room in eight days.

  He crept down the upstairs hall, rounding the corner to her room. The door was closed with no guard outside. All three men were inside, it seemed. Or perhaps the guard had been sent away. Moving carefully, Devin pressed his ear to the door. He hated himself for taking the risk. If anyone were to open it, he would have no time to dash back to the stairs. But he had to, only for a moment, just long enough to hear if she was in pain, if they were there to harm her, though he did not know what he would do if they were.

  He heard a voice, male. Dulwith speaking coldly. Some kind of reprimand. No sound from the stranger. No sound from the lady.

  The floor creaked behind him, and Devin spun around, heart leaping to his throat. The guard grabbed his shoulders and jostled him quietly, frowning.

  “Mind your place,” the guard said in a low voice. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “I—” Devin whispered, then thought better of it. He nodded and stepped away. Devin was probably not the first to try to eavesdrop on the mysterious lady of the house. Gossip was one of the few pastimes shared by most everyone around here. To the guard, he was just the new boy getting into trouble, seeing what he could get away with. A warning, a firm rebuke, that should be enough to deter him. If caught again, Devin doubted the consequences would be so light.

  Thank Emperor, Devin thought. He retreated around the corner, then, hearing the guard move towards him-- probably suspecting where he’d stopped-- all the way down the stairs. It was alright. It didn’t seem like they meant her harm. And the guard seemed an alright fellow. Perhaps, if he heard something, he would—

  Devin shoved those thoughts out of his mind. It was alright. Whatever fear had overtaken him, driven him to her door, ebbed. He considered going straight to bed as he’d been ordered. Things were still on track, and he could use the rest.

  Then the stranger came down the steps, and Devin’s heart dropped.

  The man’s hood was removed, and his hair now shone silver and black, rippled like mercurial fire. His smooth skin had drained of color, becoming transparent. His fingers dragged limply through the air. Devin knew then what he was. And he knew his sister was not alright.

  The Wishter politely stepped out of Devin’s way as he bolted up the stairs, giving him a crooked smile. That smile stayed with Devin’s thoughts as if burned there even as he rounded the corner. The door was open. The guard had stepped inside and was speaking to Lord Dulwith, his back to Devin.

  “Let it be done,” said Lord Dulwith. “I must see out our guest. This—now, wait! Boy!”

  It was too late. Devin had leapt into the room, and now he drew the guard’s sword from its sheath. The man swung around, grasping out by reflex. Lifting the sword, which was more unwieldy than Devin had expected, Devin cut along the palm of the guard’s hand without intending to do so, and the guard jerked back, grunting. Blood dripped from his clenched fist.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Lord Dulwith said. He eyed the sword warily. “Boy!”

  But Devin wasn’t listening. Wasn’t thinking. His eyes flicked across the room, past the biggest bed he’d ever laid eyes on, to where a young woman with white hair stood gazing out the window, unaffected by the commotion.

  “Lonnie,” Devin said. “Lonnie!”

  The woman did not turn. Nothing in her posture said she’d heard him at all.

  “What did you do to her?” Devin leveled the sword at Lord Dulwith. The guard grabbed his lord and shoved the man behind him with his crippled hand, holding out his unhurt hand to ward Devin off. The move left a bloodstain on Lord Dulwith’s shirt.

  “Drop the weapon,” the guard said, repositioning himself. “My lord, the exit.”

  But Lord Dulwith stepped back out from behind him, his expression changing from wariness to disdain.

  “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, look at him. He’s here for the girl.”

  “My lord, please,” said the guard.

  “That’s right, isn’t it boy?” Lord Dulwith said. “You’re from her village. Should have known one of you might pull this. Couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

  “What did you do to Lonnie,” Devin hissed.

  The man rubbed his temples, unfazed.

  “What are you? Her lover? Her brother?”

  Devin shifted on his feet. His hands shook. But he had the power in this room, he had the weapon. Could he stab the guard? Could he hurt this lord?

  “Brother,” Lord Dulwith said. He shook his head, seeming disappointed.

  “When will you people learn? She’s not yours anymore.”

  “Lonnie,” Devin repeated, raggedly.

  “Is that her village name? I never bothered to learn. Don’t you see? She’s been upheld, boy. You have no sister. Rosette?”

  The woman turned, regarding Lord Dulwith blankly. Dulwith regarded her with disgust.

  “A waste,” he said.

  “Why—” Devin started. His throat hurt. “The Wishter. The soul stealer. You—”

  He trailed off, unable to make those words his reality.

  “Yes!” Dulwith said, suddenly angry. “I did. Ungrateful bitch, she was, for all I did for her. All I asked for. A wife!”

  “Lonnie…” Devin whispered. “Oh, seven servants.”

  “And you!” Dulwith said, pointing an accusing finger. “You seek to reclaim her? To break into my house, lie to your lord? Defy the grace of the Emperor?”

  The guard took that moment to make his move. Something soared at Devin’s face. A candlestick? Devin dodged, and the guard leapt at him. Devin swung the sword, but he was unbalanced, and the guard caught his wrist easily. They struggled for a bit, the guard’s injured hand weakening his grip. But Devin had no training, and he was unprepared for the kick to the shin that sent him to one knee. Then a punch to the throat that left him doubled over, gasping. The guard retrieved his weapon, the fight over.

  “Wait,” Lord Dulwith ordered.

  “I wasn’t going to kill him, my lord,” said the guard.

  “Good,” said the lord. “Because I want him to take her.”

  “My lord?”

  Devin looked up, still gasping for breath. His ears were playing tricks on him.

  “That’s right, boy,” the lord said. “Take her to your village.”

  “My lord,” the guard said, aghast. “She’s your wife.”

  “Should a man be beholden to a creature with no soul?” the lord snapped.

  “No, my lord,” the guard said. “Sorry, my lord.”

  “I thought I might...keep some fondness," mused the lord as he eyed Lonnie. "Alas… You will escort them. I want them to make it there alive. She will be seen, but not here. Understood?”

  The guard hesitated, then nodded.

  “Upon your return, you'll spread amongst the staff that the Wishter took her at the behest of the Emperor. Or for his God, I care not which. Who knows what drives such creatures..."

  Lord Dulwith crossed the room to Lonnie. Her eyes followed him with no meaning or intention. She hadn’t moved since he’d called her by her upheld name, and she did not flinch as the lord touched her face. Then slapped it.

  "No..." Devin whispered.

  "Now get them out of my sight.”