It is inhumane to keep an echo in a cage too small for it. Echoes, after all, are creatures of wide spaces, grand vistas, imperial opera houses. They aren’t made to be crammed into a ballroom one after another, until they’re biting and clawing at everyone, too distraught to be safe. The ear, overwhelmed, rebels; the breakdown in communication causes riots in the feverish brain, even for those looking down and away from the arcing, spitting ELF lines. Even so, in the midst of the chaos, the Alcedi make a ring of death around their princess, proof against any mortal assault. A shame, then, that Bella no longer may be counted as a mortal foe. She is become a thing that no spear may pierce, and around her there is ruin and catastrophe, and death without intention. The spear-ring breaks when a pillar collapses around them, struggling to reform, and as Redana calmly calls out orders that cannot be properly heard over the tumult, a stone table is sent carelessly end-over-end, hurtling towards her at desperate speeds. Not, of course, that Bella intended such a thing to happen; she simply did not care to see what happened to the table she tossed aside. The table smashes through the far wall and into the corridors beyond. Redana lies on the floor, wreath fallen almost carelessly past her head. Skotia lies on top of her. “You’re being played, your highness,” he breathes in her ear, the dulcet words cutting through the chaos like the spear after it leaves the fingertips. “The Imperial Assassin, Sagakhan— she plays a dangerous game.” Nuance, pared down into words with their desperation cloaked by chivalry. “[i]The flame is roses and the smoke is briars.[/i]” He half-heaves himself up, leaning on one elbow. He leaves a dark, wet stain on the side of that beautiful white dress. Haven’t you noticed it’s dangerous in here? “I’ve got [i]her[/i],” he mouths carefully, knowing it’s understood. “Save yourself.” Then there is an arm hooking under his shoulder and he is tossed aside by an Alcedi veteran, landing roughly in the remains of a mural. The Imperial Princess accepts a hand to help her to her feet as her retinue closes ranks around her once more. It remains to be seen whether Redana will accept the command of a handsome stranger; it remains to be seen whether she, alone, recognizes him. Or perhaps, once she is in the dark, and she hears the snap of the growing flames, only then will she know the remembered eyes, the taut voice, the hair falling loose at his jaw. And it remains to be seen how Skotia can possibly fulfill his oath without dying in the process, as Bella gives full throat to her rage.