The rhythmic patter of rain on the wagon roof was soothing, calming. It helped distract from the bumpy ride. Quilla let her eyes drift close. They wouldn’t be stopping for another hour or so, but there was no reason she couldn’t catch a nap now. It wasn’t like there was a whole lot else to do.

“Tired?” Annai said.

Very. I didn’t get much sleep last night.

“You got more than me.”

No, I didn’t. I lay down first, but I still had to experience everything you did. It’s not easy to sleep with that going on.

Annai giggled. “Fair point. But you know you loved it.”

Quilla opened one eye and looked over at Annai lounging across from her. Annai licked her lips seductively, and they both broke into laughter.

“What are you two going on about?” Jakka called back from the driver’s seat.

Annai crawled forward and opened the shutters to look out at Jakka’s back, letting some of the rain in. “We’re reminiscing about last night. Want to join in?”

“I do have a wagon to drive, your Highness, an unruly horse to keep control of.” As if timed to his words, the wagon jerked to the side and Quilla almost fell of the bench. “See what I mean? She’s feisty.”

The mare, which Quilla had named Zooma, was not trained for pulling a wagon—not properly, though she was gradually getting better from her on-the-job training—but they had to put up with what they could get. Horses and wagons were expensive, and money was not something they had much of, so they’d stolen both. They’d taken Zooma from a farmstead just outside Beldrum, and a much bigger wagon from a different farmstead in the same region. Unfortunately, the previous wagon was in poor repair. They’d done their best to keep it going, but it eventually collapsed shortly after they passed from Aristan into Elooria, so they’d had to steal another one. This one was smaller and less comfortable, but it was in better shape, and Zooma had less difficulty pulling it, even if she was still somewhat rebellious.

“Why don’t we stop early?” Annai said. “Then you can come back here and join us.”

“I am tempted more than you could possibly know, your Highness. Every moment I get to spend with you is a treasure to be cherished.”

Quilla rolled her eyes. He never lets up, does he?

Annai snickered. “However?”

“However, what would Veronique think? She wants us to reach the border with Belone before nightfall.”

“You already said that was impossible.”

“It is, but we can get close. Plus, if we stop, she’ll have to backtrack to find us.”

Annai sighed exaggeratedly. “She’ll still find us. Then she can join us.”

“I’m sorry, your Highness, but I don’t particularly desire facing her anger.”

“Fine! Quilla and I will have fun on our own.” Annai slammed the shutters closed, then bent over Quilla.

I really am tired, Quilla said.

Annai stood there a moment, her face just above Quilla’s, until a shudder caused her to stumble back and land on the opposite bench. “But I’m bored!”

You’re always bored.

“No, I’m not. I’m just…mostly bored.” She looked over at Quilla, scowled, then laughed. She stuck her tongue out.

Mostly? With a sigh, Quilla closed her eyes again. It was pretty close to always. But at least it was better than her crying all the time.

It was funny how things changed. How long had it been since they’d left Arnor City? Six weeks? Seven? She was losing track. But however long it was, a lot had changed in that time. To be fair, some of that change had started before then, but weeks on the road with the same three people—two of whom she had a mental connection with—accelerated changes in relationships. Either people grew to hate each other, or they grew closer.

Annai was the most notable example. Once upon a time, Quilla had hated Annai, and Annai had hated her. And the things Annai had said and done…

“I’m really sorry about that,” Annai said. “Truly, I am. I know I’ve said that a lot, but I feel I have to say it over and over. I’m really ashamed of how I used to treat you.”

Quilla opened her eyes, and looked across at Annai, who had her head lowered sheepishly. Sorry, I didn’t mean to broadcast my thoughts right then. I’ve accepted your apology. I don’t want you to feel bad.

Under Vern’s tutelage, Quilla was getting better at keeping her thoughts to herself, but she still messed up from time to time, usually when she was tired and falling asleep.

Annai smiled at her. “It’s fine. I should feel bad about it from time to time.”

Quilla closed her eyes again. Yes, I suppose you should. She sent mental laughter along with the statement.

“I’m here and available if you want to punish me.”

Quilla laughed aloud. You really are insatiable, aren’t you?

To think, before she met Vern, she’d never felt attracted to another woman, and now, she was regularly sleeping with two of them—often at the same time. It had been inevitable really. Any time Quilla and Vern had sex, Annai could feel every part of it—every feeling, every sensation—unless she moved sufficiently far away. Then, when Annai started having sex with Jakka, Quilla and Vern could feel every part of it, unless again, they moved sufficiently far away, and that was rarely possible. Even getting far enough away to dull the sensations was usually difficult. It was inevitable they all ended up together.

But Annai really had changed from the person she once was. Quilla could never sleep with someone she despised they way she had once despised Annai. She genuinely cared for Annai now. She was hesitant to use the word love, but it was definitely a kind of love.

A sniffle from Annai caused her to open her eyes again. You’re really not going to let me get some sleep, are you?

Annai wiped a tear from her eye. “Your thoughts about me are just so sweet. If it helps you any, I love you.” She smiled demurely.

Quilla sighed and rolled onto her back. “Oh, get over here.”

With a light squeal, Annai jumped up and leaned over Quilla. She bent down until their lips touched. Quilla grabbed hold of her to pull her closer just as the wagon rattled to a stop.

A rapping came from the front shutters. “Your Highness!”

Annai stood back up. “I knew he couldn’t resist.” She opened the shutters. “So you decided—”

“Your Highness, there are people standing in the road ahead, and not moving aside. I would lay odds on their being Servants of Sunset, though probably not friendly to us.”

Quilla sat up. “Shit.” Vern! We need you!

Vern was probably too far to communicate, but she would still receive the urgency and come running. In the meantime, Quilla and Annai prepared to fight. Annai grabbed her sword belt and tied it around her waist. Quilla picked up one of her Volg horns. Over the past weeks, she had sharpened it, and carved a handhold. Vern was helping her learn to properly wield it as a weapon. This wouldn’t be the first time Darkers had found them, so fighting practice for both Quilla and Annai had become a regular thing.

It was annoying that the Darkers kept finding them; however, they had now acquired a couple of crystals that pointed the direction to Quilla. They were burning hot to Quilla’s touch, but fine for the others, so Annai had one and Jakka had the other, in case they got separated. Vern didn’t need one, as she could always find her way to Quilla.

Weapon readied, Quilla moved to the window and looked through. The view was partially obscured by Jakka, but there were at least three people on the road: two men and one woman, the woman standing ahead of the other two.

Annai slid up beside Quilla. “How many?”

“Four that I can see,” Jakka replied. “It’s possible there are others hidden in the fields.”

“Have they said anything?” Quilla asked.

“Not so far. They’re just standing there. Trying to be intimidating, I suppose.”

“What should we do/” Annai asked.

“Stay there for now. Let me do the talking. I’ll try to delay them until Veronique gets here.” He stood up in his seat. “Good day to you! Superlative weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

Quilla tried to get a look past Jakka’s legs at the fourth one, but bumped her head with Annai. “Sorry.”

The woman wiped rain water from her face. “Lovely.” She was a short woman with brown skin, though the distance and rain made it difficult to identify her ethnicity. She was dressed in a robe that was blue and brown above the waist and a mixture of various browns and oranges below. On her head was some sort of headdress, from which various green and silver ornaments hung. Numerous bracelets and rings decorated her wrists and fingers. Around her neck was a necklace of beads.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Jakka continued, “but you happen to be blocking the road.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Can we help you with anything? Unfortunately, there’s not a lot of room in the wagon, so I can’t offer you all shelter, but perhaps some towels to dry off from the rain?”

The woman smiled. “Towels would be nice after the rain stops.” She pressed her palms together in front of her chest and bowed her head. “I am Lhamo.”

“Devrin Estamo.”

The woman lowered her hands and looked up. “No, you are Jakka Condal. Why be so rude to people you do not know?”

Jakka chuckled. “My apologies, but these roads can be dangerous. I don’t like to reveal myself until I know I can trust the people I’m revealing myself to. Seeing as you apparently know me, but I don’t know you, I’d say my reticence was justified, wouldn’t you? No offence.”

Lhamo pressed her palms together again. “Very well. I will forgive this time if you let me take shelter in your wagon. You may not have room for all of us, but surely you have room for one?”

“Not a good idea,” Annai said.

“Don’t worry, your Highness,” Jakka said quietly. “I’m not about to.” He called out again, “I have a suspicion you won’t, but forgive me if I say no. It really is rather cramped within.”

The woman pulled a glowing crystal from the folds of her robe. “Then bring the Catalyst out. I will not ask twice.”

Just a few minutes out, babe. What’s the situation?

Thank the gods. Darkers. Four of them, though there might be more hidden. Jakka’s trying to stall them. I don’t think he can manage much longer.

I’ll be there as soon as I can.

I know you will.

While there were still things Quilla hadn’t fully forgiven Vern for, she did trust her to fight for her—and give her life if necessary.

“You are not moving or saying anything,” Lhamo said.

“How observant of you,” Jakka said. “I was contemplating.”

“And have your contemplations reached a decision?”

“Not yet. Perhaps you’ll give me a little more time.”

“No. You have stalled enough.” The woman then called out in some other language.

Jakka drew one of his daggers. “Tell Veronique I’ve done all I can. Then get ready to fight.” He jumped off the driver’s seat.

Quilla closed the shutters. Talking’s done. We need you now, Vern!

Annai moved back to the door and drew her sword, but she hesitated. “Do we go out?”

It was too cramped to fight in the wagon. If they get in, we won’t stand a chance, but the closed door might keep them out long enough for Vern to get here.

“Then we wait?”

Quilla nodded. For now.

From outside, Zooma screamed, and the wagon jolted forward, then stopped and tilted forward as if nothings was holding it up any longer. Quilla fell back into the front wall, her elbow banging painfully into the window shutters.

Annai cried out, but managed to stay standing.

There was a loud crack, and the door buckled. A moment later, it pulled away completely off its hinges. A tall man, probably taller even than Rudiger, stood in the open doorway holding the door, which he tossed aside. He wore a similar, but less colourful, robe to Lhamo. He bent his head down and started to step into the wagon, but stopped at the sound of rapid footsteps crossing the roof. He looked up just as Vern landed on his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his neck.

Hey babe! Care to introduce us?

The big man stumbled back, crying out as Vern grabbed his ears.

Never mind. I’ll make my own intro— She broke off with a cry as the big man grabbed her leg, and yanked her off him. He swung her around in a wide arc, and threw her out of sight. Her pain tore through Quilla’s head. Gods, she hated this part of their bond.

Annai doubled over, but then rushed forward. “Vern!” She hopped out of the wagon and raised her sword, only for someone to the side of the door to grab her and yank her out of sight. More pain made Quilla’s vision momentarily blur.

Whether it was the same person who’d grabbed Annai, or another, a man stepped from the side of the door, and pulled himself up on to the raised step. He was a thin-faced, wiry man with black hair and brown skin—definitely the same race as the big man and Lhamo. Most Arnorins, particularly Foliths, would probably lump them in with Eloorin, but growing up in Dorg, Quilla had seen enough travellers form the across the Lesser Ocean to know these people were from somewhere in Endoria, probably Chay. He climbed into the wagon.

Quilla raised her Volg horn. Vern? Are you all right?

Coming! Got winded a bit. That guy must have thrown me thirty feet.

When the man got close enough, Quilla lunged, but he twisted aside and grabbed her wrist, painfully yanking and twisting it as she stumbled forward. She tried to pull her hand away, but he held her firm.

From outside, there was a cry from Vern—and more pain. Fuck, this guy’s strong! Shit, they’ve got Annai, babe.

I know, and I think they’ve got me, too.

The man holding her wasn’t moving at all, just staring at her, a hint of a smile on his face.

Quilla tried again to pull free, but all it did was increase the pain. Gritting her teeth, she managed to bend round and untwist her arm. It brought more pain, but at least it put her in a position to take the horn from her immobile hand. It was in her off hand now, but hopefully, she could still stab the guy. Unfortunately, more pain from Vern made her double over before she could thrust.

Fucking hell, go the fuck down, will you? I’ll be there soon, babe. Hold on, I— There was another cry from Vern.

Quilla looked up at the wiry man, her head pounding. He was still standing still, not reacting to Quilla’s movements at all. He was staring past her now though… No, he was staring in exactly the same spot. She had moved. Well, if he wasn’t going to move, it should make things easier for her. She forced herself to concentrate past Vern’s pain, and levelled the sharpened point of the horn at the wiry man’s neck.

“That would be very unwise.” Lhamo was standing in the doorway. “You will be trapped forever.”

From somewhere outside, there was a cry that was not Vern’s this time.

“And stay down!” A hint of satisfaction from Vern helped dull Vern’s pain in Quilla’s head.

Lhamo turned her head to look just as Vern came up behind her and knocked her aside.

Vern leapt inside and threw herself at the wiry man. She slammed into him, but still he didn’t move. “How fucking strong are these people?” She punched him in the face several times, but he didn’t even flinch. Then she grabbed the hand holding Quilla and tried to pry his fingers away. They didn’t budge.

“You cannot make him move if he does not want to.” Lhamo’s head was just visible at the bottom of the raised doorway. She adjusted her strange triangular headdress.

“Then I’ll rip his fucking hand off,” Vern said.

“Do that and it will never release her. It will stay in that exact spot, neither falling nor moving, until it decays away entirely. The Catalyst will be long dead by then. You could cut her hand off, I suppose.”

Vern rounded on her. “Fine, I’ll kill you then, unless you tell him to let her go.”

Lhamo laughed. “I have your other friends as well. Lay another hand on me, and they die instantly.”

“I don’t care about them.” Vern took a step towards Lhamo.

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then kill me.”

Vern, don’t.

Don’t tell me you care about that asshole, Jakka.

Not in the slightest, but I care about Annai, and I know you do, too.

Fuck!

We can find another time to escape.

“Why the hesitation?” the woman asked.

“Why do you think, bitch?” Vern said.

Lhamo shook her head. “My, my, such language. Wangdue, a hand please.”

The big man, a trickle of blood now running down the side of his head, came up behind Lhamo. He then lifted the older woman into the doorway.

Lhamo took a moment to find her footing on the slanted floor, then approached Quilla and Vern, apparently unconcerned about what Vern might do to her. “I take it you surrender?”

Vern’s lips twitched, parting slightly into a hint of a snarl.

“We surrender,” Quilla blurted.

Vern groaned. “Fuck. Fine.”

Lhamo smiled and bowed her head slightly. “Excellent. It’s much easier and better for you this way. Now then, let’s start with your mouth. Arnorgue is a clumsy, unsophisticated language compared to Singean and many others, but it is possible to speak with a certain level of decorum. While you are in my custody, there will be no more of that foul potty mouth.”

Vern scoffed. “Yeah, fuck that, bitch.”

Lhamo shook her head. “That will be the last time you use such language. From now on, every objectionable word you speak will be followed by a cut to your friend, the young woman outside in the rain. The cuts will become deeper and longer until eventually one of them cuts into a major artery and she dies. I have no idea how many cuts that will take. I’ll leave that up to my associates. Do you understand?”

Babe, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t crush her skull right now. I could do it so easily.

Annai, Quilla said.

Lhamo looked sternly up at Vern. “Well? Do you understand?”

Vern trembled for a moment, but then sighed. “I understand.” She gave an exaggerated bow. “How would you like me to address you, my Lady?”

Lhamo scowled. “Rule two: You will not mock me or my associates.”

I can’t wait to kill this bitch.

Quilla did her best to hide her smile. I can’t wait to watch you do it. I want to see her bleed.

I love when you let your violent side out.

Lhamo looked quizzically back and forth between Vern and Quilla. “How interesting. You two appear to be communicating somehow. Telepathy?” She stepped up closer to Quilla and looked into her eyes. “None of the extant sources indicate that as an ability of the Catalyst. That’s the province of the Will-Breaker.” She turned to Vern. “Perhaps you’re the telepath?” She stepped closer to Vern and reached her hand out towards the top of Vern’s head.

Vern took a step back. Who the fuck is this bitch?

“Rule three: You will obey everything I tell you to do. Lower your head to me, please.”

Someone very dangerous, Quilla said.

Vern lowered her head with a grumble, and Lhamo reached out and ran her finger over Vern’s scalp, right over the spots where her horns would protrude. “Very interesting.”

Oh, she is so dead, Vern said. The Arcraime doesn’t suffer a human who knows about us to live. You’re an exception of course, babe.

Quilla smiled. I should hope so.

Lhamo stepped back away, and looked over both of them. “You’re still communicating, aren’t you?”

“Maybe we are,” Vern said.

“Maybe we aren’t,” Quilla added.

“Can you do…” Vern started.

“…anything to stop us?” Quilla finished.

Lhamo took a moment to answer, and it looked very much like she might have shivered momentarily. “I will confess, I didn’t expect this, but it is of no matter. You can plot telepathically between yourselves, but I still have your two friends. Consider what will happen if you step out of line.”

“Yes,” Vern said.

“My lady,” Quilla said.

Lhamo scowled, then held out a hand to Quilla. “Hand me that weapon you’re holding.”

Quilla sighed. She was hoping the woman would somehow neglect to ask for that. She held out the horn.

Lhamo took it and looked it over. “A Volg horn?” She looked from Quilla to Vern again. “It will be interesting getting to know you two. Thokmay, release her.”

The wiry man suddenly moved and let got of Quilla. With a smile, he bowed his head to her, then walked for the door.

He’s dead too, Vern said.

Quilla quickly rubbed her hand. In time, my love.

Lhamo turned towards the door. “Gather your things. This wagon is useless now. We will walk from here. The rain is good to think in.”

“Where are we going?” Quilla asked.

“Collogia, of course.” With a chuckle, Lhamo let the big guy lift her out of the wagon door.

Shit. Collogia. They had almost avoided that. No. They could still avoid it. Even Jakka had grudgingly accepted not going to Collogia. This would just be a brief detour. That was all.

Quilla started gathering her things. We can’t let her find out we have a bond with Annai as well.

Agreed. I know you prefer mental communication with me and Annai, but we clearly have tells when we do it. From now on, talk out loud with Annai unless you’re absolutely sure no one can see either of you. Even then, keep it to essential topics only.

Quilla nodded.

Vern gave her a quick kiss. Don’t worry, babe. We’re going to get out of this. This is just a brief detour.

Funny, I was just thinking that. Had she accidentally sent that thought?

Were you? Vern grinned. We think so much alike. That’s why we’re perfect for each other.

They didn’t have a lot of belongings, so it didn’t take long to gather them all. The rain had gotten heavier, but Quilla wasn’t bothered by it. In its own way, it was comforting. Bad weather seemed to have become something she didn’t quite enjoy, but something she welcomed. It was a reminder that things always went to shit, but just as the rain would stop eventually, she could also turn things around eventually.

Annai rushed over to her as they emerged, and hugged her tightly. She had a black eye, but looked otherwise unharmed.

Quilla kissed her on the forehead. “We’re going to be all right.”

As their captors corralled the four of them together, Jakka looked at Quilla and gave her a sad smile. “It would appear it is our fate to go to Collogia, after all.”

Quilla glared at him a moment. “Fuck fate.”

He raised his eyebrows, then slowly broke into a smile.

Back on Scovese, Felitïa had talked about not liking the concept of fate or destiny. Quilla had to agree with her. She was tired of being a victim. It was time she took control.

Fuck fate.