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Marcin nodded. “Those joining you wait at the stables.”

Idonea’s heart twisted painfully. She searched Lysander’s face for something, for even a flicker of what had been between them in the basement. But he offered her nothing.

He turned and strode towards the stables, steps sharp and swift, as if distance were the only thing keeping him from falling apart. And with every step he took away from her, something inside her coiled tight.

She didn't know when she'd see him again. The Qoruul could kill him. The Order could send him further. The memory of his mouth hit unexpectedly. She hated the timing of it.

Marcin turned to her, his gaze narrowing. “This is your daughter, Brother Alcaeus?” She shivered at his attention.

“Yes,” Alcaeus answered. “And she was just returning to her cottage.”

The Grand Templar’s eyes raked over her, from her face to her trembling hands. Her skin crawled under the weight of his gaze. Idonea clenched her fists tighter, hiding the cuts as best she could. She kept her head bowed, careful to hide the worst of her wounds, and to not show open defiance. Not while she was weakened from her Nexis encounter.

“Alcaeus,” the Grand Templar said, “ensure that she remains in that cottage. She shall not wander again.”

“Yes, Brother Marcin,” Alcaeus replied, his tone even, but his eyes flicked to Idonea with subtle worry.

Marcin’s gaze lingered on Idonea a moment longer, sharp and calculating, then he turned and summoned two Templars. “These shall be your guards.”

Idonea’s stomach knotted. Without Lysander, she'd no true allies. She couldn’t seek help from Kitsa. She wouldn’t bring a Grand Templar’s ire towards her.

The Templars surrounding her shifted into formation. Each man and woman carried the tension of battle still clinging to their muscles. Their hands were never far from their maces.

Alcaeus fell in step beside her as the group started towards the cottage. “No harm will come to you,” he murmured.

Idonea’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she resisted biting back. The two Templars assigned to guard her positioned themselves on either side of the door. Another Templar already patrolled along the perimeter, boots leaving a careful rhythm against the snow.

Alcaeus gestured towards the front door. “This will not be forever.”

Idonea nodded, swallowing hard.

Marcin spoke once more. “Make no attempt to leave without permission.”

Idonea’s chest tensed. The gaze of every Templar was on her, so she forced herself to step inside, her hands still trembling.

Alcaeus followed her in, his eyes scanning her face with quiet concern. The door closed behind them. Idonea leaned against the door, letting the brief warmth of the interior seep into her bones.

“Rest,” he said.

“And the relic?”

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “The Grand Templar does not know that yet. If they can dispatch this daemon, then that is for the best.”

“Yet, he sent away the Daemonbreaker.”

Alcaeus said no more and left. Idonea flinched at the sound of the metal latch clanging against the door.

Her body ached, her mind spun, yet she knew she couldn't linger in despair. She’d lost her chance to hunt the relic and find Nellith without high interference.

It was as if this place was a flame drawing all life to it.

The blood from the cuts had dried in patches. She flexed her fingers, willing the pain to dull. She’d have to bathe.

Her eyes went to the trapdoor, but she knew Alcaeus wouldn’t risk her going up into his house, not with the Grand Templar likely in residence there too.

The Lodamante gleamed faintly above her. Idonea stared at it. There had to be a way.

She turned to her satchel. The dagger was still in there.