Pictor gave us a tour of the palace’s finest features, served stale dinner, and was in every way an accommodating host. He never addressed Maia or Felix, but did refer to them and ask me a few questions, which I answered as I thought my persona might. It seemed to satisfy him, and he left us to our guest rooms in high spirits.

By daylight, while the ghosts were drowsy and frail, we explored the estate. From earlier conversations I knew the dungeons were somewhere within the manor itself, but beyond that my map of the place was woefully lacking. Most of Pictor’s tour had taken us outside, through the estate grounds. To cover more ground we decided to split up and meet back in the guest rooms in an hour.

Finn took the bodyguards while Duncan went with me. Easier to explain away if caught, and it maximized our offensive output in a fight.

It was an awkward search for the first ten minutes. Duncan avoided looking at my face, and I didn’t have the words to describe… whatever I wanted to say. I still didn’t know how to feel about her. I still couldn’t separate my sense of competition from the real Duncan.

I finally said, “Did you ever hate me?”

Duncan halted and turned to look at me with an incredulous look on her face. I wanted to reach out with glamour and probe her emotions, but fear of getting caught stayed my hand.

“I just.. I’ve just been wondering that. I haven’t really been the most graceful winner.”

“Nor the most graceful competitor,” she muttered.

“Right. Yeah.”

More awkward silence, and I started us searching again, moving through the opulent halls. After a few more minutes, I tried again.

“I just want to know. You kind of shocked me when you… when you threw it all away to help me.”

She snorted with semi-mirth. “I shocked myself. You wanna know a secret?”

“Always.”

“I don’t think I did it for you. Not really. I’ve been torturing myself over that for days, but… I think I was just trying to run away.”

I frowned, peeked inside a doorway, then turned back to her. “Run away from what? You were being offered the metaphorical throne, and the literal awe of the whole chantry.”

“Exactly.” She let out a frustrated sigh, dared a glance at me, then looked back at the hallways. “You don’t get it. You never did.”

“Get what?”

“I never wanted to be the chosen one.”

I was floored. Stunned. Disbelieving. “I’m sorry, what? You… why?”

Duncan threw her hands up in the air. “Lots of reasons! It’s a terrifying responsibility, and I never felt strong enough, especially not compared to you. I just wanted a nice life. I didn’t want the attention that being a candidate brought, and I certainly didn’t want to be the chantry’s leader. I never wanted to be the chosen one. That’s what I was running from.”

More silence passed between us as I tried to understand. When the other candidates had dropped out, one by one, until it was only Mal, Duncan, and myself left, I thought they were all just admitting I was superior. When Mal left, I assumed the same. I’d never once considered that they might not want it. Not want the glory, the power.

We searched a few more rooms and hallways while I processed.

“Okay. That’s… big. I guess that adds more credence to my theory.”

“Theory?”

“That I lied to myself about you. That I created a false image. It’s kind of hard to reconcile my mental image of you as a ruthless opponent with… well, with you. You’re too soft.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I don’t-” I rolled my eyes. “Not like that. You’re plenty strong. I just mean that you’re quick to show empathy for people you don’t know. Places long dead. You seem pretty horrified whenever Strix brings up slavery, for one.”

“Because slavery is an abomination that our ancestors outlawed for good reason.”

I nodded. “Right, sure. But they did that centuries ago. Neither of us have ever seen a slave. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, necessarily, but it isn’t exactly a warrior’s trait.”

Duncan turned on her heel and stared at me. “Is there a point to any of this?”

“Yeah. Um… I’m sorry, I guess. For being an ass, sometimes. I was short-sighted.”

She laughed, shook her head exasperatedly, and kept on walking the halls.

“I’m pretty bad at apologies, I’ll admit that.”

We searched in more silence for another five or ten minutes, until curiosity gnawed at me again.

“Just… why do it? If you never wanted to be chosen one, why try at all? Why be a candidate?”

“They didn’t give me much choice. Told me I had potential, lumped me with a bunch of warriors and said, ‘Learn this’. What else could I have done?”

“You could have left. Mal did. You could have gotten yourself eliminated in trials. Lots did.”

She was getting annoyed. I didn’t need glamour to see that. “I couldn’t leave a responsibility like that. I had a debt to the chantry. I couldn’t walk away.”

“You walked away to follow me.”

Duncan stopped. She clenched her fists. We were in a corridor, by ourselves, no ghosts in sight. She turned on me and, through gritted teeth, barely controlling her volume, she said, “You really want to know it? You want to know why I kept at it, why I tried, why I competed?”

I nodded hesitantly.

Duncan took a few steps toward me and got up in my face. “I had a crush on you, idiot. I had a crush on you for like, a year, and I thought that if I could just be strong like you then I might catch your attention. Well I did. I caught your attention, and it ruined my life. By the time I realized you were too self-absorbed to ever see another person with any trace of genuine affection, it was too late. I’d made a commitment to the chantry, and I had to honor it. That’s why. Happy?”

She didn’t wait for answer. She stormed off, leaving me alone, blinking and gaping like the idiot she’d labeled me.

Well, shit, said me to myself.

I leaned against the nearest wall and tried to make sense of her revelation. A crush. She had a crush on me? Like, a feelings crush? A kiss-me-in-the-dark, you-make-me-blush, bona fide teenage sweetheart crush?

Operative word: had. Not anymore, clearly. My fault, obviously. It was just so hard.

It was hard to pay attention to what people said and listen to their feelings and put in the energy to care. Glamour made it easier, but I still had to think up responses. I had to lie and smile and sidestep and backpedal. I was never good at public speaking. I preferred to lead by example, or to just stab things.

Morgan always told me I should be a more friendly leader. The Council talked circles around me. Strix kept secrets from me. And Duncan left me stunned, reeling, questioning myself.

I just wanted things to be simple. I was good. My enemy was bad. I stab them, they die, everyone is happy.

For the first time, for a fraction of an instant, I regretted being the chosen one.

But no. No, that was ridiculous.

I am the chosen one. This is my destiny. I am important.

I fucked up with Duncan. I had to admit that. I had to acknowledge the ways my obsessive, competitive nature cost me. It would be hard, but I had to become a shrewder person. I had to learn this stupid courtly game, even if I hated it, because it was useful. It was necessary. I needed to learn how to analyze people, how to dissect who they were, and use that information to get what I wanted.

And I needed Finn and Duncan to have faith in me. Faith in their chosen one.

I hardened my resolve and returned to our room. The others were all waiting. We swapped information, tallied rooms, and came to the conclusion that the only place the dungeon could be was in the north wing, which was locked.

I cracked my knuckles. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “You ready for that? We break the door, that’s immediate escalation. No more play pretend, we’ll have to fight our way out. We’re taking a risk. What if the dungeon isn’t there?”

“You think it’s upstairs? Only locked door in a mansion screams dungeon.”

“There’s a lot of extra space, if that’s true. The entire north wing is sealed off.”

Duncan interjected, “We have time to check the upper floors. The sun is still high in the sky.”

I frowned. “We haven’t slept. If we hold off too long, we’ll be the weak ones, which decreases our chances further. No, we have to do this now.”

She shrugged assent. She wasn’t afraid to look at me anymore. There was a fierceness in her eyes, as if admitting her history had absolved her of it.

I wanted to use glamour and dig past her mask, but she was always too quick to catch on. I needed a better opportunity.

I started to speak and almost called her Duncan, but then remembered the guards. “Alright, game plan: Maia, you and I open with sorcery every time we see one of Pictor’s, starting with whoever is outside the north wing. While they’re stunned, Asellio’s guards execute. We break the lock, open the door, and storm the dungeons in search of Cossus. Once we find him, hopefully we can just run out. Got it?”

Maia, Felix, and our ghostly escorts nodded. We geared up and began the mission.

I was still a bit off-kilter from Maia’s revelation, but anger came as easy relief. I threw lightning at the single footman guarding the north wing entrance. Our escorts executed the guard swiftly, easily. The door was locked, but that was fixed by a few kicks and a hefty swing of my sword.

The first floor north wing looked more like a war room than an opulent palace. Curled maps, sharp implements, and more corpses than anywhere else in the mansion. The entryway hosted two more ghosts, who went down to lightning, a sorcerous blade, and two ghostly swords.

Felix stooped to investigate papers as we passed. He whistled appreciatively. “Troop orders. Pictor was planning something with a few collaborators. Probably something about Strix.”

I examined a few myself. “Hmm. He nabbed Cossus after the world died, right? Maybe he’d been arranging an op like that beforehand, and his forces kept pursuing that plan in death.”

We continued on through a few more rooms, efficiently taking down every ghost we saw. A few cried out, but the palace’s inhabitants were still sluggish enough that no proper alarm was raised. Pictor’s soldiers were disorganized, weakened by sunlight, and unprepared for an internal assault.

In the distance, I heard a scream; someone had found the bodies – what passed for bodies, at least.

We sped up. The north wing was large, but areas had clear themes. We went towards the rougher area and, after passing through a few more rooms, found a ladder down.

We wasted precious seconds trying to decide the optimal order. I went first, then a ghost, then Felix, Maia, and the other ghost. I slid down the rungs as quickly as I could and threw lightning wildly the moment I hit the ground.

A stray blast hit one of the three ghostly wardens guarding the dungeons. Cells lined the walls, a dusty chest lay in one corner, and the wardens wielded wicked-looking maces as they advanced on me. I rolled to the side and blasted all three with lightning, pouring as much power as I could into crippling them while my allies joined me and rushed them.

The first warden fell, then the second, and my lightning flickered and died before my companions reached the third. She lashed out with her mace and crushed a ghostly arm. The wounded guard let out a keening howl and stumbled away. The other guard lunged in and ran the warden through.

The dungeon was ours. I motioned for my allies to watch the ladder while I investigated the cells. I passed a few ghosts that looked too ratty and weak to be the Consul, before settling on the only specter to wear fine jewelry.

He looked up at me and frowned. “You… you’re not one of them. You have color in your cheeks, and your eyes. You’re alive, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “You’re not. How whole are you? Strix sent me. She prepared for her death well.”

Cossus laughed bitterly. “Of course she did. She told me, you know. She warned me about all of this. I warned her, too. I suppose, in the end, we were both fools, yet I the greater. No matter. Get me out of here, then I’ll here whatever crazy scheme she has in mind.”

I tilted my head. “Can’t you just pass through the bars?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Of course not. I’m weak, and even with all my wits about me that would take a great deal of effort. Are you new at this?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not from around here. As you can tell by my being alive, and you’re being dead.”

“Yes, yes, I get the point. Just smash the lock, I can take it from there.”

I obliged, a swift hilt-bash dealing with the rusty bars. “Know a quick way out of here? The whole palace is about to descend on us.”

Cossus limped over to the wooden chest, opened it, and reached for an ornate dagger. When he touched it, an ethereal outline emerged and followed his hand. He drew his ghostly dagger and pointed at a cracked brick in the wall. “Secret passageway. Pictor’s an idiot and thought it would be the safest place to put his escape route. His loss, our gain. Leads into the sewers.”

I looked to my companions. “Maia, Felix, with me. Soldiers… hold them off. We’ll honor you sacrifice.”

The guards nodded and turned blades to the ladder, silent sentinels awaiting second death.

Maia and Felix ran to me and together we fiddled with the brick wall until we found the hidden latch. A secret door emerged, and a dark tunnel beckoned. With one last look behind us at Pictor’s palace, we fled into the darkness, Cossus right with us.