Audren somehow managed to survive through a week of nerve-wracking days. He was in constant fear that somehow a messenger would slip through his careful guard and tell Lador how the war had ended. The month moved along painfully slowly; it seemed it would never end. Finally, Audren could take it no longer.
He hastened up to his room and, throwing himself down at his desk, grabbed the nearest scrap of parchment and began to write furiously.
‘My lord,’ his letter read, ‘I must come to the Deathring. It is not safe for me here. How can you have forgotten all that I have done for you? I risked my life to try to keep Lador from fighting you. I followed every order you gave me. I even killed my father to prevent him from interfering with our plans. My lord, please-’
At that moment, someone burst in through Audren’s door without even the barest of preliminary knocks. Hastily, the halfling crumpled up the letter and cast it surreptitiously sideways under his bed, where it rolled to rest beside the dagger that lay there still; Audren had neglected to remove it since he had thrown it there after using it to slay his father. Then Audren rose smoothly to meet his visitors: a group of men, all heavily armed. ‘What do you want?’
‘Put your sword on the floor, halfling,’ one of them commanded gruffly, drawing his own as he did.
Audren froze. ‘Why?’
‘You’re under arrest; do it.’ The man raised his sword level to Audren’s throat.
Slowly, Audren slid his sword from its scabbard and placed it on the floor. ‘For what crimes?’
‘You know very well what I speak of, traitor.’ He motioned to two of his men, who stepped forwards and began roughly to bind Audren’s hands behind him.
Immediately, Audren began to struggle, feigning injured innocence. ‘A traitor? What are you talking about?’
‘You have no need to ask.’
‘I-’ He could not get free; the rope had already been coiled too tightly around his wrists. He began to panic. ‘How can you accuse me of such a-’
‘Shut your lying mouth!’ The leader of the men stepped forwards and struck him rudely across the face. ‘You deserve all you’re getting and more.’ He turned away. ‘We’ll put him in the same cell as his son.’

Beynan th’Sarien had the same straight black hair as his father and grandfather, but his eyes had a strangely silver cast to them. He was taller than Audren by far, and had inherited not only his father’s pointed ears, but the four-fingered hands of his fay mother as well. As Audren’s captors shoved him gracelessly into the cell, Beynan looked at his father with anxious eyes. The instant the men were gone and they were left alone in the cell, he spoke. ‘What’s happening?’
‘We’ve been arrested, as you can see.’ Audren’s panic had momentarily subsided, leaving only an intense desire to escape. He surveyed his son; besides having his hands bound behind his back, coils of rope had been looped tightly across his chest and around his upper arms. This in and of itself was not a surprise; Beynan was a well-built sixteen-year-old and had already gained his reputation as the best fighter at the Ladoran court. But it was clear that Audren could gain no help from him.
‘But why? I’ve done nothing!’
‘What did they tell you?’ Even as he spoke, Audren’s eyes were roaming hungrily around the cell, seeking a means of escape.
Beynan shrugged as best he could against the constricting rope. ‘One of them muttered something, but I couldn’t catch what he said.’
‘Then it is better that you do not know.’ Audren jerked his head towards the ground below a small window that he had just noticed. The window was unbarred; if it led to a suitable location... ‘Kneel down there; I want to have a look out that window.’ Obediantly, Beynan dropped to the ground and proffered his back for his father to step on. As he did, Audren noticed that Beynan’s left hand was smeared with bright crimson blood and stopped. ‘What happened to your hand?’
His son flexed his fingers slightly and winced. ‘When they tried to take me, I attempted to fight, but I didn’t have my sword, then I accidentally grabbed one of their blades...’
‘You should have come quietly; it hurts less.’ Audren placed a foot between Beynan’s shoulderblades and carefully stood. To his dismay, the window opened into a courtyard and the only exit was well-guarded. He jumped back to the ground, the sense of panic rising within him again. ‘No hope...’ he muttered to himself.
Still on the floor, Beynan looked at Audren with something that was not quite fear in his silver-blue eyes. ‘One of the men... He said that you were evil, that we lost the war and it was all your fault, and that obviously mixed blood is ev-’
‘Close your mouth!’ Audren screamed. It was one of the few times he had spoken harshly to Beynan; he’d been rather soft with him. Beynan obeyed him instantly and huddled silently on the floor, looking miserable. His father turned away and dropped slowly to his knees, trembling. He cursed himself for letting his watch drop for even long enough to go write that Lord forsaken letter; it had been just long enough for a messenger had come and give news of the war to Lador. Briefly, he wondered what horrible fate lay ahead of him. ‘Swift Maithr,’ he groaned. And suddenly, unexpectedly, he began to sob. ‘Lady, no!’