There were grey walls on three sides around her. Not like the grey walls in the Room. These were stone blocks stacked on top of each other. The floor and ceiling were of similar stone. Altogether, they formed a passage that stretched into darkness.

Felitïa took a single step forward, and a swath of passage swept past her at blinding speed. Mixed with the walls were images that went by so fast, they were little more than a blur of colour. As her step finished, so did the rushing of walls. The passage stretched into darkness now both ahead of and behind her.

She tried taking a smaller step back the way she’d come. The walls rushed past again with their blurs of other images, but it seemed maybe a little slower than before.

This was going to take some getting used to.

“Felitïa?”

With some effort, Felitïa turned her actual head. Malef was holding back fake Lidda’s wrist, preventing her from completing the killing blow.

“Are you all right?” Malef asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I think so.”

He pulled fake Lidda back. “You should move! Get away!”

Felitïa looked back in fake Lidda’s eyes, and shook her head. “No, just stop her from stabbing me, but don’t pull her too far away. The physical contact actually helps me, I think.”

“Are you sure? I’ll admit, she’s not putting up any resistance at the moment, but I doubt I can hold her forever.”

“I’m sure.”

“As you wish.” Malef loosened his grip, but held on to fake Lidda’s arm. With his other hand, he started prying the dagger out of her hand. “Lidda, give me the dagger. Lidda, can you hear me?”

Fake Lidda muttered something. The stone walls and ceiling of her mind dripped with fear, and the floor was slick.

“Why do you call her Lidda?” Felitïa said. “You know it’s not her.”

Still prying at the dagger, Malef said, “That’s all I know her as. She won’t tell me her real name. It’s probably to make sure I play my part and don’t accidentally say the wrong name in public. She won’t give up the dagger.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just don’t let her stab me.”

Malef nodded. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I need to focus. Don’t talk to me unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“As you wish.”

Felitïa stared into fake Lidda’s eyes and let the outer world fade from her vision, focusing instead on the stone passage which was now filling with fear.

Floating in the fear was like treading water. It didn’t quite reach the ceiling, and there was a bit of space at the top that Felitïa could hold her metaphorical head above. Of course, did she really need to do that? This wasn’t really water, and there wasn’t really air at the top. She didn’t need to fear drowning in here, did she? Could she drown in fear? Maybe.

Can you hear me? Felitïa asked.

Are you going to kill me?

No, not unless you give me a reason to. We can just talk. Tell me who you are.

I am Lidda Plavin.

No, you’re not.

I am while she’s gone.

And when she’s not?

I will always be her double, a decoy for the assassin’s blade.

And who are you when you retire to bed at night?

I am Lidda Plavin.

Felitïa sighed. It wasn’t going to be as simple as that. She tried swimming a short way down the passage, trying to stop as soon as one of the blurs of colour went by. It didn’t quite work, but looking back, there was still colour in sight. More than colour now. It was a room—the dining room they were actually in now, but there were other people in it.

Felitïa gave herself a little push in the fear and floated back into the room. The fear washed away as she entered the memory.

The perspective was from one end of the table, where fake Lidda was standing. A woman who looked almost exactly like her circled, clapping her hands in delight. That had to be the real Lidda.

Three other people sat at the table. Malef and Lamaën sat to either side of the head of the table at the far side. Beside Malef was another man with less precise features than the others. He was large and muscular, almost comically so. His face had eyes, a nose, and mouth, but they were almost blocky without precision to them. It had to be Rudiger, but this Lidda must not have seen much of him.

“Marvellous!” the real Lidda said. “Absolutely marvellous!”

“It wasn’t easy finding someone so close in appearance,” Lamaën said. “You have your handmaid to thank for most of what you see. It’s her work that has made the similarities so precise.”

Another image briefly flashed over the memory: fake Lidda lying on a bed or table or something. Two men, one of them Lamaën stroking his moustache, were bent over her, looking at her. Then the image was gone.

Real Lidda make a circling motion with her finger. “Spin.”

Fake Lidda spun.

What was that? Felitïa asked, stepping out of the memory and back into the stone passage. It was filled to the ceiling with fear now. It didn’t seem to inhibit her ability to breathe, though—or whatever the sensation of breathing actually was.

Fake Lidda didn’t respond to the question.

I saw another memory there. Something to do with Lamaën. What was it?

An image of Lamaën flashed in front of Felitïa, then was gone.

Who is Lamaën?

No one. The Lamaën image flashed into and out of existence again amid turbulence in the fear.

That’s a lie. I know at the very least he’s a high-ranking Darker. That’s not no one.

There was turbulence in the fear again as a wave of something else pushed through it and was gone. Love? Yes, it was love. Not romantic or sexual love. More like the love for a father.

Perhaps I should rephrase the question, Felitïa said. Who is he to you?

A sliver of love passed through the fear again, and Felitïa grabbed hold of it, stopped it from escaping. It started to grow, pushing the fear away.

Is he your father? Felitïa asked. Brother? Uncle?

None of those, technically, fake Lidda said. But he’s like a father to me. I’ve known him my whole life.

Flashes of images passed through the hallway. Lamaën was in all of them, but they passed out of existence before anything more of them was discernible.

Tell me about Lamaën.

No.

Why not?

I won’t give in to you.

Surely you realise by now I’m as formidable as the stories say. I can pull the memories from you. Hopefully, that sounded more certain than she felt about it.

Then do it.

Damn. Presumably it hadn’t.

I’ll search these halls until I find them and it won’t be comfortable for you.

Fuck you.

With a shake of her metaphorical head—and maybe her real one—Felitïa swam down the hallway, overshooting another memory again, but not by as much. She was starting to get a hang of how to move slowly in here.

“I’m scared,” fake Lidda said.

Except she wasn’t. There was no sign of any fear in this memory at all.

The nondescript muscular man who had to be Rudiger looked fake Lidda in the eye. “You should be scared. You’re involved with some very scary people.” He picked up a giant sword and turned away from her. “And I’m not sleeping with you.”

Fake Lidda reached a hand out towards him. “No, that wasn’t what I meant. Okay, that was part of it, but I really am scared. She told me…” She trailed off, inwardly laughing at the stupidity of this oaf.

Rudiger stopped and looked back. “Look, I get it. She wants you to do whatever necessary to get me in bed. If you or your family are in some kind of danger if you fail, I’m willing to tell Lidda we slept together.”

Fake Lidda curtsied and wiped a tear from her eye. “Thank you.”

I think Rudiger’s quite a bit smarter than you give him credit for, Felitïa said.

Fuck you. He didn’t sleep with me, but he still believed I was scared and helpless, only doing what I was doing because I was being forced to. He’s an idiot.

No, he just has a heart, something I’m starting to doubt you have.

Fuck you.

Yeah, you keep saying that. With another shake of her head, Felitïa returned to the passage and headed back the other way. That memory was clearly after the one in the dining room, and she needed to go earlier.

She passed the dining room memory, and then some with a handmaid doing her up. Felitïa sped up and passed several memories, stopping when she caught a glimpse of Lamaën in one of them.

“It’s finally time?” fake Lidda said.

Lamaën was seated in a chair, stroking his moustache. The rest of the surroundings were indistinct and blurred. He nodded.

“I’m nervous.” There was nervousness this time. She wasn’t lying.

Lamaën stood up and grasped each of her arms, looking tenderly into her eyes. “Don’t be. You’re ready.”

No, this memory was still too recent. Felitïa pushed on. She had to go back farther.

She passed through some fairly boring memories of everyday life—eating, drinking, even one of fake Lidda having sex with someone—before the passage came to an end. It just stopped. She was back where she’d started, it seemed.

The level of the fear was decreasing, a thin layer of triumph coating the top of it.

This didn’t make sense. It had been a straight line here, and the memories had been getting consistently older.

To be sure, Felitïa hurried back the other way as fas as she could go. She reached the end of it when she passed through the newly forming memories of what was happening now. Turning around again, she made her way along the passage both fast and slow. Technically, it was fast—a fraction of a second to go the full length—but she was able to examine each step along the way.

Some memories of giving audiences. Attempts to seduce Malef. Arguments with Malef. Moments of turning to Lamaën for comfort and reassurance that she was doing the right thing. Attempting to seduce Rudiger. The dinner when she was introduced to Malef and Rudiger.

“I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be. You’re ready.”

Everyday life.

Then it stopped.

There were no branches anywhere. No way to go any farther back.

The fear was little more than a puddle on the floor now. The triumph was much thicker and difficult to wade through.

Looks like you really aren’t as formidable as the stories say, fake Lidda said.

For a brief moment, Felitïa almost believed her. She wasn’t getting anywhere. But that was only because she was just following the passage. She could tear down mental barriers put up by Mikranasta. The stone walls of this passage were a product of someone who had no mentalism training and no telepathic ability whatsoever.

With a brief moment of concentration, she gathered her thoughts together. Fuck you, she told fake Lidda, and then she lashed into the wall in front of her.

It came down like thin paper. She hadn’t needed even a fraction of the force she’d put into it.

Fear flooded the passage again. No! Please, no!

The walls to the side fell over. The ceiling crashed down, but Felitïa shoved it aside. Even the floor fell away, but Felitïa remained floating in the same spot. A network of memories with various strands connecting them spread out all around her. The fear filled everywhere.

In the distance, there were still some stone walls scattered about in various locations. Felitïa turned her attention towards one cluster of them.

No, those memories are forbidden. You can’t.

Why?

They’re private.

I won’t invade your privacy if you tell me a few things.

Fine, what do you want to know?

Tell me about Lamaën.

Like I said, he’s like a father to me. I’ve known him my whole life. He’s a Servant of Sunset like me and my family, but he’s unlike any other. He stands above us all. Even the Dusk Supreme dares not cross him.

Why?

He’s powerful.

In what way? Is he a wizard?

I think so, yes.

What kind?

I don’t know. I don’t know much about magic. But he’s different from other wizards. Ulises says he’s unlike any other wizard he’s ever encountered. It might just be that he’s been blessed by Night. Please, I can say no more. Anything else is forbidden.

You mentioned forbidden before. You said those memories over there were forbidden before you said they were private. Why?

I don’t know. They just are, all right?

Do you even know what’s in them?

There was silence for a moment, as the fear crashed about in waves. Felitïa was able to withstand the turbulence, but she was beginning to wonder how safe this much fear was for fake Lidda.

Do you know what’s in them? Felitïa repeated.

They’re forbidden even from me. Please leave them be.

Felitïa looked at the distant walls. Did she have the right to tear them down? Oh, who the fuck was she kidding? She’d been through this with herself before. Of course she didn’t have the right, but she also didn’t have a choice.

Gods, she hated who she was becoming.

She never should have come here. She should have listened to Mikranasta, and let someone else do this. She was only supposed to find Rudiger and Quilla, maybe kill Lidda, not rummage around in some double’s head.

But this was an opportunity to learn something substantial about her enemies, and she couldn’t let that pass.

Fake Lidda screamed as Felitïa pulled the cluster of walls she had been looking at towards her, and then tossed the walls aside.

“That will almost certainly draw the guard,” Malef said.

Shit, fake Lidda had screamed for real. “Do whatever you have to to convince the guard that what she told him is true. Don’t let him get a good look at me. Let him think I’m a servant.”

She pushed the real world aside again and turned her attention back to the newly revealed memories.

It was dark. A dim lamp through the open door to the next room provided the only light. By the lamp, two men stood talking quietly. The features of one were shrouded in shadow. The other was surprisingly clear in the darkness—Lamaën, stroking his moustache as always. The clarity had to be due to the oddities of memory. He even looked no younger than he did today, even though the fake Lidda doing the observing in this memory was only four or five years old.

The child crept closer, wanting to hear what her daddy and the strange man were saying. The words were jumbled and garbled, victims of the passage of time and the fading of memory. Only a couple moments stood out intelligibly.

“I need her,” or, “You need her.” They got repeated both ways.

“There isn’t time to do it any other way.”

“The Dark Lord will reward you. And her.”

Then the man in shadows saw her, and sent her to bed. Or maybe it was Lamaën who noticed her, and then the man in shadows sent her to bed.

Felitïa pulled another memory over: a vague memory of childhood play. She pulled another over, and then another until she found one that seemed more relevant.

The man in shadows stood by a table. The details of the room were blurred, but there was sunlight coming through a window—more than enough to illuminated the man, yet he remained obscured in shadows. More tricks of memory, no doubt.

I can’t remember what he looked like, fake Lidda said. I’m trying, but I can’t.

It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Felitïa said.

“Lamaën tells me you responded to someone using your old name today,” the man said.

“But I know Yanny, and she knows me. I was just—”

Bending over, the man in shadows slapped her hard across the face, sending her tumbling out of her chair. “Your name is Lidda now. You answer to no other!”

The young girl looked up through tear-filled eyes. “But Lamaën said it’s okay to make mistakes sometimes. He said—”

The man grabbed a switch that wasn’t there in the memory previously and raised it.

Please, fake Lidda said. Don’t make me relive this.

Felitïa pushed the memory aside. She didn’t want to see anymore of it either. What did they do to you?

Made me believe my name was Lidda Plavin. I don’t remember any other name.

For what purpose?

So I could play her and stand up to scrutiny. Basic mental probing would confirm me as her.

Doesn’t seem to have worked very well.

It was never meant to stand up to the Will-Breaker. The star field of memories was filling up with fear again.

You don’t have to fear me.

Yes, I do, but it’s more than you I fear.

What else did they do to you?

Another memory floated over. The girl, approaching puberty now, was lying on a table. Two men looked over her. It was one of the brief flashes of memory from earlier.

One of the men was Lamaën, and the other was not the girl’s father, but an older man with wisps of grey hair on an otherwise bald head. The girl stared up at them, able to move her eyes, but nothing more.

“Her hips are widening too much,” Lamaën said. “They need to be narrower.”

The older man frowned slightly. “It shouldn’t be too hard, and easier to do it now, so I get the rush, but how do you know what Lidda Plavin will look like? She hasn’t hit puberty yet.”

“Just do it.” Lamaën looked down at the girl. “Don’t worry, Lidda. This won’t hurt long.”

The older man began tracing his fingers along the girl’s left hip, and the fear filled the memory and beyond.

Felitïa shoved the memory aside. Dear gods. Even if she could read enchantment equations, she doubted the memory would have been clear enough to decipher them, but she didn’t need to. It was clear what was being done.

Felitïa floated in fear and sadness now. I’m so sorry.

I don’t need your pity. I’m happy to serve.

Are you? Are you really?

Anger washed away some of the fear and sadness. I endured what I had to. It was necessary.

Why?

There was silence for a while, only the rising of the anger.

Why did you have to endure it? No one should have to endure that.

We all make sacrifices.

Felitïa sighed. Yes, we do, but not like that.

It’s no concern of yours, Will-Breaker. Now get out of my head.

I’ll leave, but first, I have to make sure you don’t kill me. Drop the dagger.

Fake Lidda dropped the dagger. I will still kill you if I get the chance.

I don’t doubt it. “Malef, get the dagger.”

“Got it.”

“What of the guard?”

“He didn’t come in, only questioned if we were all right.”

Get out of my head before I grab the dagger and kill you now.

I’m going. Thank you.

But the way out wasn’t clear, and another memory was floating closer.

No, not that one, fake Lidda said.

Felitïa pushed it away. I won’t. I…

The memory came right back, this time too fast to push away.

A grey-haired woman lay on a bed surrounded by flowers. Numerous candles lit the room. Now twenty years old, fake Lidda sat by the bedside, tears in her eyes.

The grey-haired woman, her mother, took her hand. “Don’t cry, Koreen. I—”

Fake Lidda snatched her hand away, stood up, and took a step back. “Don’t call me that!”

Felitïa pushed the memory aside again. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.

That name is forbidden!

The memory field began to swirl, memories colliding with one another, entangling themselves, mixing, dissolving, reforming.

Fake Lidda screamed.

Felitïa looked about. How the hell was she supposed to get out of here? There was no clear way out, and any way she went would take her into another memory. Please, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to invade that memory. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come into your head at all. It was an accident. You were right. I’m not the all-powerful Will-Breaker of the stories. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing half the time.

It’s okay.

There was something different about the voice. Fake Lidda was still screaming for one thing, but it was now apparent that she was actually physically screaming again. But there was something else different about the mental voice. It was clearly the same person, but...younger? More innocent?

Are you Koreen?

I don’t know. Maybe. I’m still Lidda, but I’m also not. I’m also not really Koreen though. I haven’t been for a long time. I really don’t know who I am.

I’m sorry.

I forgive you. The swirling memories stopped, and a passage appeared. Now, please go. I don’t think I can hold this for long.

Thank you, Felitïa said, and swam down the passage and back into her own head. There, she pulled herself out from under the still-screaming woman.

Malef stood nearby, the dagger in one had, a look of confusion on his face, terror and uncertainty streaming from him. He looked to the door.

Felitïa followed his gaze, but no one came in. She stood up, glanced at the screaming woman, and then back at the door. “Surely your story wasn’t that convincing.”

Malef shrugged.

Lidda—Koreen? Felitïa was uncertain what name to think of her with—finally stopped screaming, and fell over sobbing.

Felitïa stood there a moment, uncertain what to do. Finally, she looked to Malef. “Comfort her if you can.”

Malef knelt beside Lidda/Koreen. “What did you do?”

Felitïa wiped a tear from her eye. “Not my story to tell.” She turned for the door. There had to be a reason why the guard hadn’t responded.

As she prepared to cast the invisibility spell, the door opened, and Lamaën stood there. His eyes widened and his hand dropped from his moustache. “Will-Breaker!”

Felitïa half closed her eyes, and tilted her head, but Lamaën didn’t fall asleep. Instead, drowsiness flooded her, and it was all she could do not to fall asleep herself. What the hell?

With a sneer, Lamaën raised one hand, rubbed his forefinger against his thumb, and then blew on them.

“Lamaën.” Lidda/Koreen rose to her feet, Malef supporting her.

Lamaën turned from Felitïa. “Lidda. The guard informed me something strange was happening.” He spread his arms and stepped towards her.

“It’s Koreen, and I’m fine now.” She snatched the dagger from Malef and raised it to her throat.

“No!” both Felitïa and Lamaën screamed.

Without pause, she slid the blade into her neck, and fell over.

Malef jumped back with a cry as blood sprayed over him.

Lamaën turned towards Felitïa. “What have you done, you bitch?”

A force pounded into her chest, actually lifting her up and throwing her backwards. She hit her head against the back of the wall, and fell to the floor.

As she groggily tried to get back to her feet, Lamaën cried, “No, you fool! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

Felitïa looked up. Malef had grabbed Lamaën’s arm and was pulling him back. With a yank, Lamaën pulled his arm free, then swept it in front of himself in Felitïa’s direction. He then turned to face Malef, who flew backwards over the table. Lamaën swept his arm in front of himself again, and turned back towards Felitïa. He was breathing heavily, and sweating profusely.

Felitïa tried to cast an invisibility spell, but her chest was throbbing too much, and she couldn’t quite get the concentration right.

Lamaën shoved the table aside and moved towards her. “I should have realised how you’d figured it out, but I will make you suffer for what you’ve done! I will enjoy your youth!”

Malef collided into Lamaën’s side, knocking him off balance. “Run, Felitïa!”

She didn’t hesitate. Taking into account her throbbing chest, she redirected some of the energy through her legs and cast the invisibility spell. Then she ran out the door. Holding the spell against the several guards in the hall while moving so fast was an immense strain. Maybe they saw a bit of her; maybe they didn’t. But she made it past, and she kept running.