Chapter Forty-Eight: Lysandra's Second Rescue

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Rose's cell at Dorgon was under the highest guard her mother could muster. After the Myra and Layla embarrassment she was taking no chances. A guard of two dozen stood directly outside the door in plain sight, an extra half dozen were hidden in the shadows. Even heavier guard was placed at all entrances and exits to the prison. No one was allowed inside Dorgon except Medea's most trusted guardsmen and the prisoners themselves. And even then, Rose's cell was separate and secluded, all other prisoners far away in the higher parts of the dungeons. If all of this was not enough extra security was added to checkpoints at the city walls and more guards were added to the gates of the Royal Sector, where Dorgon was housed just below to the Crimsith Palace.

All in all, there was no way to force yourself into the prison and to Rose's cell. Even when she had instantly passed the checkpoints around Crimsith and the Royal Sector, the challenge was still daunting. Lysandra might posses extensive shadow magic, a small armoury of knives and three invaluable and fully-stocked DarkMirrors but there was no way she was getting to Rose by force. And even if she had thought she could succeed, it was too risky. She might free Myra's High General and escape Crimsith only to have her mother realise days later who the rescuer was-and Lysandra would lose all the trust she had worked for for the past six years. Their entire plan would fall apart. No, if she were to achieve the impossible she would have to achieve it as she had last time: with the upmost subtlety.

A dozen half-plans were beginning to form in her head as she and her mother presided over a not-so-subtle feast in celebration of the rebellion's 'leader.' Of course her mother was incapable of actually saying those words herself, but she had others—including Lysandra—parrot them when she couldn't.                          

"Rose Isidore, the leader of the rebellion is captured!" Wood, the newly appointed Miras general, cried. Lysandra resisted the compelling urge to snort. Rose was just one piece of their vast network. She didn't even lead the valkyries anymore. That was now Myra and—technically—Kestra. According to Nala, they'd already named Rose's replacement and yet the Kallians were touting her as 'irreplaceable' and 'an unrecoverable loss'. They had also quadrupled the numbers of valkyries killed in the attack. For a woman who couldn't lie, Medea seemed to be able to spread propaganda very well.

"You seem distracted," Aaron said around a chocolate strawberry.        

"You seem distracted," Aaron said around a chocolate strawberry.        

"Manners," she grumbled. "This can't be the Prince of Kallias, surely." 

"I'm distracted, too," he continued, ignoring her complaints. "How can we just sit here and celebrate a bunch of people dying when they-"    

"When what?" Lysandra asked after Aaron fell silent. "Spit it out."   

"I love mother, I really do, it's just-was it really wrong? I mean, it's just that maybe the rebels were trying to do the right thing. I still want Mother to win, I know what they did to those soldiers was awful and wrong-"                

"Aaron Crimson, a rebel sympathiser," Lysandra smirked. "Well, well, well. Ladies and gentlemen, what a twist! Medea's own beloved son!"     

"I'm not-I don't—I just hate the parties and the celebration. I don't think we should hold feasts because of someone's imprisonment in Dorgon of all places, that's all."

"Is this about Maia?" Lysandra asked. "About what they might do to her if she's captured?" He was stubbornly silent.    

"I understand, Aaron," Lysandra sighed at last. "More than you will ever know. I hate this stuff too. Things will be different when I'm Empress."  

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