Ever At Your Service [Parts VII and VIII]

[sapphirewings07]

Title: Ever At Your Service
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Basch/Ashe
Warnings/Content: N/A
Summary:   Basch speaks with his brother and escapes from Nalbina; Ashe and her knight are reunited.

Chapter 7

 

                Basch is quiet. Nearly two years after Dalmasca lost her sovereignty he hangs in Nalbina as silent as possible. He has not the energy even to hum or whistle to amuse himself. Despite his boredom and irritation with the silence, he hopes the footsteps in the distance don’t prove to be visitors for him.

                His worst fears are confirmed as he sees Gabranth striding down the walkway in full armor, his cape billowing behind him. He is alone – an ominous sign – and he removes his helm when he reaches Basch’s cage.

                “You have grown very thin, Basch. Less than a shadow. Less than a man.”

                Basch says nothing and Gabranth considers him for a long moment. “Sentenced to death, and yet you live. Why?”

                Basch growls. Ondore had lied about so many things when he could have stood with Dalmasca and at least remain honest. He could have saved Ashe if he had tried. It sickens Basch to know that, had circumstances been different, he would have taken Ashe to Bhujerba himself for safety.

                Ashe…

                “To silence Ondore. How many times must I say it?”

                “Is that all?”

                “Why not ask Vayne himself? Is he not one of your masters?”

                Basch knows his brother will take this personally. Noah never did take kindly to the ideat hat he was someone’s lap dog.

                Noah does not respond to the jab. “We caught a leader of the insurgence. She is being brought from Rabanastre. The woman Amalia. Who could that be?”

                Basch’s breath catches in his throat and the memory comes quick and clear. He can almost smell the incense in the room.

 

                “If we’re going to go out in the city then you can’t call me by my name,” Ashe says as she puts on peasant clothing for her and Basch’s secret outing before her sixteenth birthday. She does not know he plans for it to be their last. He does not want to tell her until after her party when he absolutely has to. “Call me Amalia if you must call me anything.”

                He smiles at her as she puts on her hat. She’s drawn up her hair and removed all of her make up tonight in attempt to make herself look like a boy to add to her cover. Basch must admit, it has worked quite nicely with the loose shirt and peasant pants she wears, though her boots are a bit too clean to be convincing for a teenage boy. He smirks at her. She is still beautiful.

                “Amalia?”

                “Amalia.”

 

                Call me Amalia if you have to call me anything.

                She is alive. Suddenly the world doesn’t seem so dark. If Ashe is alive it is a better place and there is hope for Dalmasca.

                Basch sighs as the truth settles on him once more. She may be alive, but he will be stuck in this cage forever. She will never know he was innocent. He will never have the chance to tell her he would have never hurt her or her father, or that he tried to save her husband.

                There is nothing he can do. His hands are quite literally bound.

And she’s caught. Gabranth knows who she is. He doubts she will live much longer.

Couldn’t Noah have just left him believing she was already dead? Basch knows his brother will tell him when she has died. Perhaps he will even arrange for Basch to see it as a form of torture. Will Basch be bound? Will he at least be able to scream that he is sorry, that he would have willingly given his life for her, before they spill her precious blood?

Noah puts his helm back on and his voice changes to something even colder than what it naturally is.

“Such a faithful hound to cling so to a fallen kingdom.”

“Better than throwing it away.”

Better than throwing her away.

 

                Hours later Basch finds himself in the Dalmasca Estersand. He, Reks’ brother, the pirate Balthier and the Viera whose name he forgets in his post-escape haze are taking rest outside of the Barheim passage. For the first time he is able to breathe fresh air and feel the sand between his fingers. He leans back against a tree and closes his eyes, taking in each sensation that he’s missed over these past two years.

                In the distance he can hear Vaan and Balthier arguing about bringing him along. It doesn’t matter much, does it? He can simply slip into Rabanastre through one of the tunnels or the hidden gates used to evacuate royalty in an emergency. He doubts they will be guarded. If he can find Vossler he knows he can find a way to Ashe.

                Will the Empire believe Ashe’s claim to the throne? They will not honor it, to be sure, but will they simply behead her for her attempt to claim royal status?

                If they do not kill her swiftly and make it known, he will have to hand the Dusk Shard over. Raminas had entrusted its location to him and him alone. Ashe will be completely trapped without it…

 

                “Basch?” Raminias approaches the knight slowly, as old age has taken his speed. Basch turns on his heel at the sound of his king’s voice. It is the night after Ashe’s wedding and Basch had intended to go drown his misplaced anxieties and grief in several tankards of ale, but he’s a bit relieved at the possibility of something constructive to do. He bows with respect, the metal of his formal armor making a noticeable sound. He has been wearing it all day for special events, and it has become exhausting.

                “Yes, my king?”

                “There is something important that I must show you,” Raminas says. He gestures Basch towards a door at the side of the atrium. Basch, confused, follows.

                “Has something happened?” he asks. The king only shakes his head and silently leads Basch into a labyrinth of corridors that he has never quite mastered. Basch, ever respectful, says nothing, though he is concerned that Raminas should not be walking around like this so late in the night. He keeps a close eye on the old man and follows him obediently.

                Raminas leads Basch to a signet in the ground and withdraws a small glowing stone from within his robes. “This is the crescent stone,” Raminas says. “There are many drained crescent stones in this city. Should the time come, use a sunstone to charge it. I trust you know how to do this?”

                “Yes, my king.”

                He holds the stone above the embossed lion on the floor. It reacts, glows, and in the distance Basch hears something unlatch. Without a word, Raminas settles the stone back in some hidden pocket of his clothing and walks on, leaving Basch to follow him to the northwest corner of the room. There is something glowing behind a grate and Raminas reaches out to touch it. Basch steps forward to stop him – it could be dangerous – but it is too late. The light reacts and a passage opens beside them.

                “Ah, yes,” Raminas whispers. He enters the revealed room. Basch looks around for onlookers and finds none. Surely this was Raminas’ plan. Why else show Basch this secret in the dead of night?

                Basch follows Raminas into the room and realizes that this is the palace treasury, though he is sure it is not the only one. He marvels at the glittering trinkets all around him for a moment, then realizes that Raminas has approached a statue of a goddess. As he approaches, her head and headdress open to reveal a beautiful, glowing stone that seems to shine brighter and brighter, and when Raminas reaches out and lays a hand on it, the stone reaches its full color.

                “What is that?” Basch asks. Raminas smiles at him.

                “This is nethicite – the Dusk Shard. It is the only proof of the royal blood of Dalmasca.”

                Raminas removes his hand from the stone and gestures Basch towards it, inviting him to touch it. He does so warily, glancing questioningly at Raminas. The stone, when the touches it, does not react, and is perfectly cold to the touch.

                “Why have you shown me this? Surely it is a secret?”

                “It is,” Raminas says, “but I am the only person who knows of its location. Ashe knows of its existence, as does Rasler – his family has a similar stone – but I needed to know someone else knew of it should Ashe’s lineage ever require proof.”

                “Why me?” Basch knows better than to ask too many questions that delve too deeply into the Dalmasca family secrets. He only wishes to know why Raminas would entrust him with something so precious – his daughter’s rights to her kingdom.

                “Because I know you care for Ashe. Should anything happen to Dalmasca, I know that it will be you that remains by her side and now it is you that can restore her to the throne.”

                “Why not Vossler?”

                “Vossler cares too much for politics,” Raminas says, though it is clear he bears no animosity towards the knight for it. “He would ask too many questions before simply taking Ashe to safety. He would try to find political ways to safety rather than physical ones. For all his training an experience, Captain Azelas was never practical.”

                Basch nods. Should the war come – and as things stand, it seems certain – he will be sure to stay at her side. He will be taken for battle, of course, but should the country fall he will come back and retrieve her and the Dusk Shard and take them to Ondore, the only man he would know to trust in such a state.

                “Can I trust you to keep her safe should Dalmasca fall?”

                Basch bows to his king. “Of course.”

 

                “You!”

                Basch is snapped from his musings. He looks up to see Balthier looking at him. He pitches an apple across several yards at Basch, who catches it and runs his fingers over it. It is beautiful and heavy in his hands.

                “I haven’t had fruit in years,” Basch tells him.

                “You don’t deserve it,” Vaan shoots back. Basch cannot blame him, but he hopes that someday – the sooner the better – the boy will understand along with the rest of Rabanastre.

Basch looks out over the sand and into the water barely visible beyond. He has failed to keep his promise to Raminas for two years, but he may be able to do it now. He will return to Rabanastre and find Vossler before making any decisions, for he must know what he can of the circumstances. He will find Ashe and give her the Dusk Shard. He will find a way to keep her safe. She believes he took away her family, her kingdom and everything she’s ever held dear, and Basch will tear down the Archadian Empire with his bare hands to prove he is innocent.

He only hopes it will not come to that.

 

 

Chapter 8

 

 

                Ashe sits on the bridge of the Leviathan with her chin in her hands. They’ve been kind enough to leave her unrestrained, but she is not allowed to leave the bridge during the day. Listening to the Imperials belittle her people is bad enough, but hearing Judge Ghis call her a liar is unbearable.

                They spoke of Basch for a long time yesterday, but the conversation was very formal, and they made certain to that she was listening. They stood close to her, often asked for confirmation or some sort of response, and tried to get an emotional reaction from her. Though anger bubbled up inside of her Ashe did not give them the satisfaction.

                It was clear though that Basch was guilty. He was dead. He’d taken everything from her and now he was dead. She could never even seek the satisfaction of killing him herself.

                But would I? She has asked herself that question many times. She was up all night in her little cell thinking about it. Could I ever look at him after everything and kill him?

                She thinks of their last conversation and feels sick. He’d held her knowing exactly what he planned to do next…

 

                Ashe paced in her room dressed in black. She twisted her wedding ring in circles on her finger incessantly. Servants knocked often to offer company, sympathy or service, but she always refused to answer the door. Always. She wanted no one but her father and Rasler and neither were here.

                Her father was on his way to Nalbina to surrender everything. In two days’ time her kingdom would be dust settled atop Archadia’s stack of conquests. She bit back her tears though she was alone and began another lap around her room.

                She had not slept since word had reached her a day and a half ago of Rasler’s death. She had not rested since her father left for Nalbina. She’d never felt more alone in her life.

                She’d asked anyone who might know what had happened to Basch, but they’d been given no word – Rasler’s death was all that the messengers had carried. Did other women not need to know of their husbands, sons, brothers and friends? Were they not as deserving as she? Why was she fortunate enough to have her heart ripped from her chest before all the others?

                The soldiers had come in hours ago, exhausted and broken in their bodies and souls. Ashe had watched them flood the square and run to their loved ones from the steps to the palace. She hadn’t even seen Vossler in the crowd. He’d run off to find his sister no doubt. Ashe was useless now, wasn’t she? In a matter of hours she would be a princess of nothing.

                Is that what Basch had thought? That she was nothing now, not worth coming to see? Ashe slowed down as her knees started to shake. Had he too forsaken her?

                A sharp knock came to her door.

                “Lady Ashe?”

                Her nurse. Hourly checks.

                “Go away.”

                “Captain Basch is coming. He sent someone ahead to tell you so –“

                The nurse does not even finish. Ashe rips open the door and shoves past her. She is barefoot, tear streaked and splotchy but she doesn’t care. She runs, the long black dress she wears billowing behind her. She holds it up in one hand and races down the long, winding stairs into the main atrium. It is raining outside the pillars that lead to the main courtyard and into the city.

                She leaves the palace despite the yelling of her nurse and the guards. They call for her to come back, yell that she’s in no state to get wet, but she keeps running. She is faster than all of them, for Basch taught her to run and train for endurance. He had taught her everything.

                She runs through the courtyard and to the steps that spill into the streets of Rabanastre. She spots Basch crossing the deserted square, for even those who love to dance in the rain cannot find the energy to do so.

                It has not rained in months. Ashe thinks that the sky is crying for her fallen kingdom.

                She rushes down the steps, determined to reach Basch as fast as possible. She watches him, her eyes never leaving him. His cape is draped over his arms, his armor loosened on his body. His shoulders are drooped in exhaustion and he is barely lifting his feet from the ground.

                The rain beats against Ashe’s back as she screams his name. Her body, sensitive in its grief, feels bruised from the water droplets, though she knows that is impossible.  

                She sees Basch raise his head. He sees her. His cape bearing the Dalmascan crest falls from his arms and into a puddle below as he runs to her, his raw determination giving him energy. He catches her as she reaches the end of the stairs, gathering her up as she falls into his ready arms.

                If he cannot take her grief he will take the weight from her weary body with his own.

                “Basch, Basch…” She repeats his name over and over as she clings to him and he simply holds her as the rain comes harder. He doesn’t have the energy to tell her that they need to go inside. It seems useless.

                Maybe the gods will wash away their pain if they let the rain hit them.

                “Shhhh,” he whispers, “I’ve got you.”

                “Where were you?” she demands, pulling away from him. He lets her feet touch the pavement but holds her up.

                It is the only service he can offer her now.

                “I fell behind. I was…” he hesitates. She does not need to think about it, but he is sure the matter is on her mind anyway. “A chocobo cannot run when it carries the weight of two men.”

                “Two?” she asks, then understands. Tears well in her eyes. “You carried him back yourself?”

                He nods solemnly. Thunder rolls in the distance. “I did. I would trust your husband to no one else.”

                “Where is he now?”

                “I took him to the church. The priests will tend to his body properly.”

                Ashe buries her face in his chest, gratitude overwhelming her. What must it have taken from Basch to carry him back? He made himself vulnerable for her.

                “Thank you,” is all she can say.

                They stand in silence for a long time. He holds her, alternately stroking her soaked hair and her back. It doesn’t matter if anyone sees them now. Who would care of a knight and princess of a fallen kingdom? They were both now to be citizens of Archadia.

                “They’ve taken everything,” she says. He can barely hear her over the rain, so he loosens his hold on her. She leans into him as more tears come and take her strength. With great effort Basch lifts her into his arms and carries her up the steps. She does not protest. She buries her face in his neck.

                “Nay,” Basch assures her. “They intend to let you keep some of your sovereignty. The people still love you and someday we will take Dalmasca back. And you still have your father and Vossler.”

                “And you.”

                “And me. Always, my Princess.”

                He carries her past the guards, past the worried servants and up three flights of stairs to her room. He nudges her door open and enters with her. The water running off of their bodies is audible as it hits the floor.

                “I’m sorry, Basch.”

                “You’ve nothing to apologize for. This is my duty, after all.” He sets her down on a wicker bench settled in the corner. She can barely sit up straight – her strength is gone now that Basch is here, for she can be vulnerable only in front of him. He kneels before her on the floor. A week ago he would never have settled so close to her. It would have been improper.

                “It is my job to protect you and Dalmasca under any circumstances, come what may. It is my duty to serve the King of Dalmasca in valor and faith, to protect the weak and defenseless of Dalmasca, to give aid to her widows and orphans, and to refrain from giving offense to any of her people. It is my charge to live by honor and glory for Dalmasca, to refuse reward for my services except what Dalmasca’s king sees fit, to fight for the welfare of Dalmasca’s people and to obey those in authority. I must guard the honor of my fellow knights, scorn injustice and cruelty and keep faith…”

                Ashe listened as Basch repeated his knightly vows. His voice became tighter and thicker with emotion as he went one and she hadn’t the heart to stop him. How could she? They meant everything to him.

                “It is my duty to always speak the truth,” his voice cracks once, “to see through any task begun, respect the honor of women,” again, “to never refuse a challenge from an equal or turn my back upon a foe of Dalmasca.” It breaks.

                “It is my charge to protect Dalmasca, Ashe,” he tells her. He bows his head, resting it against her lap and she leans forward to cry with him. He clings to her and she to him, clutching at his armor and his long hair as it tangles in her fingers.

                “You are Dalmasca now,” he tells her. “You always have been for me, from the moment Vossler brought me here. You were all that mattered and I will keep you and your house safe. I will guard you and your father not only with my life, but with my immortal soul.”

                “Basch –“

                “Please, Ashe,” he whispers. She has never seen him like this and she hopes she never will again. The emotion breaking his strong, deep voice is breaking what was left unbroken inside her, for if the world has ended so far as to make Basch dissolve then this is all real.

                It is real.              

                “Let me stay with you. I know I have failed, but please let me remain your guard.”

                She cringes as all the beautiful words she has ever heard in her life rush back to her. So many of them were spoken without emotion or caring in formal settings by people who cared nothing for what they were speaking of, and only one phrase comes to her as being strong enough to bind him to her in her heart. Only one whisper seems powerful enough to give him the confirmation he asks for.

                “I would have no other.”

 

                She cringes now as she remembers how she wasted Rasler’s words on the traitor. The questions buzz around in her mind again.

                How long was he planning it?

                Had he always hated Dalmasca?

                Was it anger or was he working for Archadia?

                Was this somehow her fault?

                “Is something wrong, Princess?”              

                Ashe glares up at Ghis. He is looming over her, and with his armor on she cannot help but be intimidated. She pities him – his costume must be heavy and hot. At least the Dalmascan soldiers were able to wear light armor when not in battle.

                “I am fine,” she says, her voice stern. “I am simply weary of these games.”

                “You should be amused by our coming guests,” he says. She can almost see the smirk beneath his helm, though she has never seen the man’s face. “They too are a part of the insurgence.”

                “Resistance,” she corrects for the thousandth time.

                “Ah, they approach.”

                Ashe stands from her seat and walks to the center of the room. She will not be denied any opportunity that may present its self to speak with them, even if it is in carefully veiled phrases to convey some message. She has no clue who would have been foolish enough to be caught… unless it was intentional. The figures, obscured by the tinted glass doors, seem to be many. She counts four, one of them clearly Viera by the shape of her ears.

                They enter and Ashe realizes it is the group she met in the Garamsythe waterway. She had been told the party had been taken to Nalbina for execution.

                And then she sees the man who wasn’t with them before. He wears mismatched armor and soft leather shoes. There is a new scar across his right eye, but the hair is the same… and the eyes… and the face, his lips…

                She gasps – it is him! The traitor is here and she knows she should feel only hate and fear, but there is more than that inside of her. Relief, anger, and something she would rather not recognize all fight to the surface and she cannot help but approach him.

                His hands are bound – he can do nothing.

                “Majesty,” he says as she comes closer and she cannot read him. Could she ever, really? If he could do such a thing to her family – to her kingdom and to her – did she ever really know him?

                No, this man is a traitor. He is a stranger who took everything from her. She raises her hand and slaps him with what strength she can muster in her shock.

                “After what you’ve done,” she cries, “How dare you!”

                Basch looks down at her and his eyes are pleading, but for what she does not know. She glares at him, feeling that she is farther from him now that they share the same air than she has been since she saw him last two years ago. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

                “Come now, come now,” Ghis says, approaching. She wishes he would leave, for this feels far two personal to have witnesses. The things she wants to say to Basch…

                “Have you forgotten your manners?” Ashe is unsure of who he asks. “This is hardly the courtesy due… the late Princess Ashelia B’nargin Dalmasca.”

                I do not deserve to bear the name Dalmasca, she thinks, if my judgment is poor enough to trust this traitor.

                “Princess?” The boy who caught her in the waterway looks surprised and it disturbs her once more that they did not recognize her. Did the royal family have so little contact with the people that they were known only in name and not in face?

                “To be sure,” Ghis says. His tone is snide and mocking but Ashe cannot even tear her eyes from Basch long enough to glare at him. “She bears no proof of her former station. No different from any mean member of the insurgence.”

                “The resistance,” Ashe corrects. Basch is trying to communicate something to her and she thinks it is an apology and appeal for her understanding. She thinks he wants her to believe him innocent… but she only thought she knew him. She cannot trust her heart to read him now.

            “The Consul asks the ministry of the disthroned royal family in restoring peace to Dalmasca. Those who foster instability and unrest, who claim royal blood without proof... they shall meet their fate at the gallows. There are no exceptions.”

                She cannot bear to look at him any longer. She turns to Ghis and glares at him. “I will not play puppet to Vayne.”

                It is only then that Basch speaks and his voice melts her just as it did the last time they met. “King Raminas entrusted me with a task,” he says. Her heart sinks and she looks at him slowly, hoping he will not betray the Dusk Shard to the Imperials. “Should the time come, he bade me give you something of great importance. It is your birthright: the Dusk Shard.”

His eyes flicker from Ashe to Ghis for a moment, as it is to him he speaks. “It will warrant the quality of her blood. Only I know where to find it.”

                “Wait,” she starts. She doesn’t dare step toward him, though she longs to. “You took my father’s life! Why spare mine now? You would have me live in shame!”

                “If that is your duty, yes.”

                The boy – Vaan? – speaks, but Ashe does not hear him. She is staggered by Basch’s audacity. How dare he speak of duty to her when he broke every vow he made – he broke the vows he made to her.

                The last words he spoke to her were of duty.

 

                There is another sharp knock on Ashe’s door and it breaks Basch from his trance. It pulls him from his grief and defeat as Ashe looks up to it and calls for whoever is on the other side to come in. Basch slides down to the floor, placing a few inches between himself and Ashe on instinct to preserve their decency.

                One of Ashe’s maids enters. “Captain Azelas bade me come to you,” she says, giving the customary bow. “He was certain you would be here as well, sir.” She bows to Basch as well.

                “What is it?” Ashe asks with a sniff. She wipes the tears from her cheeks, but it is useless. Anyone could see she had been crying and knew she had every right to.

                “There have been rumors of an assassination plot,” she tells them. Basch furrows his brow. “The king has many guards, but it has made Captain Azelas wary. He wishes you to accompany him with a small contingent of soldiers to Nabradia to seek out the king and ensure his safety.

                “Thank you,” Ashe says as a way of dismissal. Basch climbs to his feet and staggers a bit – a testimony to his weariness, as his balance is usually impeccable.

                “Basch, send someone else in your place,” she says calmly, sure that these rumors are just that – rumors. Even Vayne Solidor would not be so cruel. “Vossler can go. He is quite capable –“

                “Did I not just tell you that I would lay down my very life to protect you and Dalmasca?” he asks. His voice bears the sharp edge of determination. “Did I not just promise you that I would do everything in my power to keep my vows even though the kingdom has been compromised?”

                “Yes, but –“

                “I will go.”

                “You are exhausted,” she says, getting to her feet, “injured and grieving. Let Vossler go.”

                “Vossler is in no better shape than I.”

                “Vossler did not carry a dead man back to Rabanastre.”

                “I will bear the shame of knowing I did not go to protect your father, Ashe,” he says. He steps towards her and gazes down at her with a hardened look, though his eyes are bloodshot and weary. “It is not because he is a king. It is because he is your father and I will not see you suffer further from any of my failings.”

                She knows better than to tell him to stay. If she begged or ordered him to he might stay at her side but it is now who he is. Basch is a solider and this is his duty, and it is her weakness that makes him feel he must take action.

                “Be careful,” she implores him, her voice barely more than a whisper.

                “I will back before you can miss me.”

                “I already miss you.”

                They look at each other for a long moment. Basch carefully steps towards her and brushes her hair from her face. It is a simple gesture, but under the weight of the day it feels strangely intimate – and right.

                “I will take you from here when this is over,” he says slowly. His words are carefully chosen. “Perhaps south to a place where you can rest for a while.”

                “I would like that.”

                “Plan for it,” he tells her. “Tell me where you wish to go and I will take you there… as your guard.”

                She nods. He leans forward slowly and unsurely and presses his lips to her forehead in a careful kiss of reassurance and promise. She closes her eyes and he lingers close to her for a moment just as she did months ago when she married Rasler. Slowly she wraps her arms around his waist, intending to hold him there until he absolutely had to leave, but he pulls away abruptly and walks to the door leaving her stunned and cold.

                “Basch –“

                “I will be back soon, my princess.”

                He sweeps from the room without looking back at her. Ashe stares at the closed door for a long time, willing one of the men she loves to walk through it and take her pain.

 

                If that is my duty…

                “Don’t interrupt,” Ashe snaps at the boy, though she does not know what he has said. He gasps, and she feels he is overreacting to her response until she realizes he is pulling something from his pocket – something she recognizes though she has never seen it.

                The Dusk Shard.

                “Vaan,” Basch says, “That stone.”

                “It was in the palace treasure.”

                The boy broke into her home! It bothers Ashe that he has been in her home more recently than she.

                “Well, well.” Balthier looks interested and Ghis laughs.

                “Splendid! You brought the stone with you! This spares us a great deal of trouble.”

                “Don’t give it to him!” The stone means more to Ghis than it seems. He will not simply use it to prove her lineage. There is something more, Ashe simply knows. An imperial guard restrains her and she nearly screams to him to get his hands off of her.

                Vaan hesitates but his voices seem limited. He looks to Balthier who seems to understand the circumstances better and Fran nods. Ashe watches Balthier closely – he knows more than he lets on. He is no mere pirate.

                “You have to promise,” Vaan says, holding the stone out to Ghis, “no executions.”

                “A judge’s duty is to the law,” Ghis says coldly. “Take them away. Lady Ashe is to be quartered separately.”

                Ashe looks to Basch for some sort of plan or indication that he even has one, but she knows he doesn’t when he simply glances at her. That old pain is in his eyes. She hangs her head and allows herself to be taken away. Her short hair falls into her eyes and she hopes it will hide her tears until she is alone.