The king was gone.
The chancellor was gone.
Lord Beldor's face still watched from the projectors while royal soldiers fought beneath it.
K stood near the western gate with black fire threatening beneath his skin. Denedrick bled from the mouth and had lost half the edge of his sword. Saughtrick remained between them, grief enclosed in royal armour, The Revolter dark with sand.
Valerie raised her father's sword.
"They left you," she said.
Saughtrick looked at the empty platform.
Something moved in his face.
Then the fabricated image returned behind his eyes.
Mira on the floor.
Valerie holding the blade.
Boldermore's evidence perfect in every detail except truth.
"You should have buried her," he said.
Valerie tightened her grip.
"I was trying to bring you home."
His shoulders folded for one breath.
Not enough to make him smaller.
Enough to show the man trapped inside the order.
Denedrick stepped beside Valerie.
"Saughtrick."
The captain lifted the hammer.
"Do not say my name as if you still know me."
Denedrick spat blood into the sand. "Then show me who replaced you."
The Revolter began to turn.
Valerie knew the movement.
Every guard in Stornia knew it. Her father had broken cavalry lines with that turn, using the cord at the base of the haft to extend the hammer beyond the reach any opponent measured. He had never used it against her in training. He had called the technique too dangerous for lessons.
The leather cord uncoiled from his wrist.
Denedrick lowered his ruined sword.
K shouted from across the arena.
Valerie stepped forward.
Her father brought The Revolter around, and the air itself seemed to move out of its way.