She swayed uneasily on her feet, trying to pick a direction as Thomas charged at her. Outside, it had already begun, and she could feel the cold comfort slipping away from her body in response. Pain returned in full and despite willing the sense away with all of her might, that particular control was long gone. Time was up, her seconds had gone by so fast. Learned doctrine flashed back to her as her mind returned. Her left, good arm, dropped down to sink Thomas' blow to her side on her forearm but his hand took her head and forced it back into the wall. Her vision spun, memories turned in her eyes where Thomas' hand should have been. She could hardly right her legs, but she had to do something. The woman's left arm, still better off than the right, reached out to the side. She floundered around as her head crashed against the wall once more, and found fire in her hand. The torches that lit the small room. That warmth, so much more familiar than the coldness that took her mind. She gripped the burning rag within the flame, ignoring what the heat did to her hand with the last discipline she had left, and as her spinning, starstruck vision faded away she struck out at Thomas' head with the burning torch-cloth. It was her last effort, as she completed her writhing attempt at combat, her mind finally gave up and she collapsed.

---

The king was swept up in his guard and pulled away like a child holding his hand out to a fire. Chaos ensued on the feast grounds as diplomats and representatives scrambled about the grounds, unsure of what exactly was occurring and what would come next. The loud drone of the party was replaced by the erratic shrieking of a frenzied crowd. Large swathes headed to the gates, but the cry came back from two weary looking guardsmen running into the feast grounds and declaring, "The gates have been brought down!" So explaining the noises in the distance. They had been severed from their guide chains and let to sink into the ground. It wasn't about to stop anyone from getting out, the palace had other exits, but none so broad. It would take hours to clear the grounds and the majority of guests had given up on that angle, instead scurrying for shelter in the castle. Indeed, what remained of the regular guard was in the process of corralling the guests into the great hall for their joint detainment and safety. Organized people were safe. Feril found herself swept up in the crowd, jostled towards the great hall with the rest of them. More thunder could be heard, distant on the horizon, and she was unsure herself if it was real or not. More importantly, what had been in that box and why had she trusted a woman in armor?