Alicia finds the house she's searching for and shoves through the door, the polished floorboards and dark mahogany far too familiar. It's the first property her mother bought with the money Alicia sacrificed herself for during the war.

She can't stand this place, but her thoughts are dashed when she approaches the office and sees someone sitting behind the large desk, mulling over papers and books.

"Pa," she breathes, the word shakier than she anticipated.

She hasn't slept, she's hardly eaten, but there are things more important than herself right now.

He looks up at her, hazel eyes a mirror of her own behind the glass of his spectacles. He jumps to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. "Licia." As he rounds the desk, her pa opens her arms and Alicia can't stop herself from going to him and enveloping herself in his warmth.

It's the first warmth she's felt in months.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon after everything that's happened," he murmurs as he presses his lips to her hair.

Alicia pulls back to gaze at him, to look into his eyes and allow herself the reminder that even though she ruined herself for her family, it was worth it. Her pa's eyes are no longer bloodshot and red-rimmed, nor does he reek of whiskey and misery, a man beaten down by his failures.

Alicia saved him from that, saved her family from having to see it. It makes the gaping hole in her chest seem a little less endless.

Seeing him is just a reminder of what she still has to protect.

"I came because I need your help," she admits.

"Anything."

"Alicia?" The voice comes from behind her but Alicia knows it anywhere.

Alicia turns to face the one who spoke, her heart lodged in her throat. The woman has her lips pressed together, her eyes a shade away from being as black as a raven's feathers as she stares at Alicia.

"You should be at the palace with your betrothed," she says, her voice firm and sharp, clear distaste in her tone.

Alicia looks upon her and can't see how the woman is her mother. They look nothing alike, her ma's once golden hair now streaked with silvery strands, coiled into a chignon at the base of her neck. The opposite of Alicia's oaken locks that brush against her shoulders in a dishevelled mess after raking her hands through it too much. Even their colour choice is different, her ma preferring rich greens and deep reds while Alicia favours the blue of the sky and the pale grey of the smoke from her pa's pipe. The only thing that's the same between them is their postures, their straight backs and ease of movement from years spent on horseback.

"What are you doing here?"

"Sebastian wants to be alone right now," she finally speaks, finding her voice. His image flashes before her mind as he stood beside her, his hands curled into fists, his dark brown skin glistening with sweat. He's been silent since the queen's death, and not the usual contemplative silence that he'd adopted since their betrothal, but a hollow silence, one filled with loneliness and agony. Alicia knows such a feeling too well, she's just better at hiding it than him.

"You should be supporting him in this trying time," Nathalia continues, the lines under her eyes deepening as she scowls.

Sinking her teeth into her cheek, Alicia buries the things she wants to say. All these times are trying, not a single day goes by that she doesn't loathe the way people seem to forget that. The fortunate of Muovea seem to neglect the things clawing at the walls. They overlook the darkness that slithers through the streets of Muovea just beyond the palace they shield themselves within. The nobles of Muovea seem to forget that their people are dying while they smile at their suffering.

"I just wanted to talk to Pa about something," Alicia says instead of starting an argument with her ma that will only end up adding more wounds to Alicia's already damaged heart.

"About what?"

Alicia flicks her gaze between her parents and worries at the inside of her cheek again.

She thinks she's grown accustomed to being under scrutiny. Until she has to face her mother's piercing gaze. The woman has a way of stripping her bare, of taking her apart until she's nothing more than a tremoring little girl again.

"Nothing, Ma. You're right, I should be with Sebastian." Alicia steps towards her mother, intending to slip past her and escape her knowing look, but she blocks the door.

"You must really fit in well with the people of the palace. Keeping secrets from your own mother. Don't forget who gave you the position you have."

Bile rises in Alicia's throat at her words but she swallows and doesn't let her emotions consume her.

Her position. A puppet on her mother's strings, a pretty face beside the charming prince with sordid secrets. She should be grateful that she no longer spends her days barefoot and grubby in the slums while her father drinks his sorrows away. She should be grateful that her brothers are now respectable men instead of sick children more bones than people. She should be grateful for a lot of things, and some days she is. But today isn't one of those days.

Today she's bitter. Today she sees all the wretchedness within the walls of Muovea and is desperate to do something about it.

Desperate people make wild choices.

"I learned long ago not to keep secrets from you," Alicia murmurs, too quiet for her father to hear, words just for the woman who turned her into someone who listened to the Reaper's whispers.

"Then you best tell me what brought you here."

"Ma, please." Alicia stares at her mother, trying to keep her features blank and her voice cool, but she feels herself beginning to crack.

"Choose your next words carefully."

"I've found something to incriminate the grand duke," Alicia admits, straightening to look her ma in the eye.

"Incriminate him?"

Alicia nods, her nails biting into the places her calluses once were as a knot forms in her stomach. "If verified and taken to the council, he could be imprisoned."

"Alicia, that's treason."

Alicia flinches but turns her head away and hopes her ma doesn't notice the reaction. "No, what he's doing is treason."

"You can't possibly go against a man like the grand duke."

"I've faced worse odds."

"Alicia—"

"Nathalia," her pa interrupts as the woman's voice begins to rise high enough for him to hear. "Let me speak to her. Alone."

"Alone," Nathalia mimics, her dark eyes sparking before she gives a stiff nod and turns with a swirl of her skirt.

Alicia closes the door behind her and manages to take a breath that doesn't threaten to choke her as the lump in her throat dissipates. The wood is cool against her palms and she soaks in the feeling, trying to ground herself.

"Alicia, you need to talk to me, tell me what's going on."

"I can't," she replies, turning to him. "I'm already putting you in too much danger by being here, but I need your help."

"What can I do?"

Relief bubbles inside her that he doesn't ask more questions, and she's thankful for that. Her pa doesn't know everything that happened while he was away at war, but Alicia knows he suspects.

He knows the value of leaving some things unsaid.

"Do you still have contact with the travellers?"

"Licia," he sighs, shaking his head. "Please don't tell me you're planning to do more work for them? I thought that stopped when Elena married the duke."

"It did," she says, unable to give him the full truth of why she stopped working with the travellers as Alicia Zalana.

She vowed never to tell anyone what happened six years ago, and she's kept that vow, even from her family, even from the queen who was her only ally in the palace.

"But there's someone there I need to speak to." She swallows, sending a silent prayer to the gods that he doesn't ask who because she's tired of lying to the people she loves.

"Alright," he relents and turns to his desk. "I know where they're currently camping."

Alicia closes her eyes for a moment, hope blooming through her that she thought impossible to feel again after seeing the queen with those black veins crawling up her neck.

"But take this." Her pa opens a drawer in his desk and procures a gun.

Alicia's eyes widen and all she suddenly feels is numb. Numb, like she had to be to take that first shot in the dead of night when she had her first taste of killing.

She sees the blood, her eyes wide as smoke curled from the muzzle of her father's revolver.

She was nineteen at the time, she'd had nothing her entire life, then suddenly she had everything. And the only currency she had to pay was in blood.

Blinking, Alicia forces herself back to the present. She hasn't seen the gun in four years.

"Your aunt taught you how to shoot," her pa is saying, loading the revolver with bullets. "I trust you remember."

Alicia remembers more than her aunt's teachings beyond the walls but she keeps the words behind her teeth where they burn her tongue and simply nods instead.

He grabs the barrel of the gun and offers her the grip. Alicia stares at it, trying not to remember the last time she had a gun against her palm, the handle slick with blood that wasn't her own.

She grabs the gun and shoves it into the satchel at her hip, resting with other items from her past she should have burned. "Why do I need it?"

"I hope you won't," he replies, leaning over his desk to scribble on a piece of paper. "But the travellers and the Ronavics have been at each other's throat for years and I'd rather you be prepared." He tears off the paper and hands it to her. "They'll only be there for another couple of days so you need to go fast. Take one of the horses."

Alicia reaches out and clasps his hand, rough from hard labour and two years in the trenches of war. "Thank you, Pa. You don't understand what this means to me."

He lifts her hand and brushes his lips against her knuckles, concern evident in the deep lines around his eyes. "I know you can handle yourself, but please be careful. I don't think I could live with losing you."

Alicia draws in a breath as tears sting her eyes, remembering the countless nights of lying awake wondering if her father and brothers were ever going to come home from war. She doesn't want to think about what her life would look like if she lost any of them.

She squeezes his hand and offers him a shaky smile. "I'll be careful," she reassures him before turning and leaving the house that can never be her home after what it cost her to get it.

Maybe stopping Sergey will begin making up for the things she's done.

Alicia crests the hill, tugging the reins to bring the stallion to a stop. Her thick coat is yanked by the brisk wind, nipping at any revealed skin it can find. Alicia's gloved hands tighten around the leather reins as she gazes down at the encampment. Caravans painted saturated colours of the land dot the muddy field, accompanied by hide tents and blazing fires.

She spent a lot of time with the travellers growing up even though her mother forbade her. Nathalia's never particularly liked her father's side of the family, but Alicia's always admired their freedom, their ability to just pack up and travel wherever they please.

But now they're as caged as the rest of them, stuck within the walls because of the Reaper's Curse.

Alicia straightens her spine, pulls the crimson scarf up around her nose and mouth, tugs her hood up, and begins her descent down the hill as someone without a name.

She'd been trying to get into contact with the rebels as Alicia Zalana, but now she's desperate. Desperation leads to foolishness, but the queen is dead and the duke is searching for an army. She has no choice.

As she nears the camp, the smell of cooking meat and smoke reaches her. The chatter of conversation is carried on the wind, mingling with the rush of water from the river they camp beside.

Alicia rides through the camp, keeping her eyes ahead even as she feels their gazes piercing into her from all angles. Their layers of colourful clothing are streaked with mud and rips. Chimes jangle from their wrists and hair, most of them with eyes smudged with black and ears pierced with bone. She directs the horse through their camp at a crawl, her back straight and her twisted lips hidden behind her scarf.

"It's been a while," an old woman says as she approaches, her back bowed and ebony feathers layered in her dreadlocks. She steps in front of Alicia's horse, running a hand missing two fingers along the stallion's broad neck. "Why have you returned, Raven?"

The title jolts through her like a bolt of lightning, a title that shows her work for the Reaper as one of his humble servants.

It wasn't a title Alicia chose.

"You already know who I've come to see," Alicia says, keeping her voice low.

The old woman tilts her head, a glint in her dark eyes that looks almost like glee. "We all thought you were dead. Why have you re-joined the fight?"

Alicia lowers her chin, making certain the woman can see the shadows in her gaze that were too often mistaken as the Reaper's darkness.

The woman steps back and nods. "As elusive as ever, it seems." She sniffs. "The one you seek is with us, but she's wary. I'll have a letter sent to her and you can meet her tonight."

"That's too long, I need to speak with her now."

"She's being hunted, Raven. I'm sure you understand the need for secrecy."

Alicia clenches her jaw but she nods. She's already waited a year, another night won't make a difference.

It's going to be a long night.