Chapter 17

Aymeri paced back and forth in her room, sorting—or at least trying to—through the letters her mother left behind. She was unable to believe how long her mother suspected the people around her. The more she read about her mother's suppression by the advisors in the castle, the more she resented them and questioned their loyalty to the throne. The more she questioned Ser Parzival's loyalty as well. How could he allow Mother to endure all of it? Wasn't he supposed to be her most trusted friend? After all, he was like a father to her. What if he's just as helpless as she is? Still, she had to suspect everyone. No one was safe from that.

"Why didn't Mother voice her suspicions to me? Why did she have so many secrets? Are there letters we didn't find? What is hidden on the red floor? How are we—Jorlyn? Jorlyn? Are you—?" Aymeri turned around to find the room empty, save for herself and the letters that were strewn all over the floor. Where did she go? Did she tell me she was going ? She must've, or else she wouldn't have left her alone. She was probably just too preoccupied with the letters to pay attention to whatever the woman said.

Jorlyn's signature knock sounded at the door, and when Aymeri opened it, a huge smile was plastered on the assassin's face. It was quite the contrast from the drab robes she wore to blend in with the rest of the staff.

"Where have you—?"

She closed the door softly behind her and locked it. When she turned, her brown eyes were wide and lit with a wild flame as if she had found hidden treasure. "I found it!"

Found it? Does she mean…

"You found the staircase?" Aymeri whispered in disbelief.

The assassin nodded. "The wall next to the guest staircase is hollow. That must be where it's hidden. If you hadn't told me about the false bottom drawers and the hidden drawer on your mother's bed, I wouldn't have even thought to look for a trick door."

The young queen expelled a heavy breath, feeling relieved yet anxious. Her hands shook as she wrung them, and her heart beat wildly in her chest as if it were going to implode. Finding the staircase was a relief, but discovering the secrets on that floor was going to be terrifying. Aymeri didn't even have an inkling as to what she should expect. Her mother claimed to have committed "atrocities" and "injustices," could evidence of these be stored in the rooms upstairs? Were there dead bodies up there?

No, she told herself. Mother couldn't possibly be responsible for someone's death .

"There is a slight problem, though," Jorlyn admitted. "Whatever trick it has, is only known by the person—or persons—using it. Unless you know how to open it?"

If it used some kind of spell like the furniture in her mother's chamber, it was possible that she could open it but there was a risk of someone seeing her do it. So far, they had been lucky, but luck was sure to run out eventually. If anyone knew she was aware of the magick, it could mean her life. Her mother had gone through great lengths to ensure that no one found the letters; she needed to go to the same lengths to ensure no one found out she knew the secret.

"Aymeri, I know it's dangerous. I will be with you every step of the way. We'll keep our eyes and ears open and be cautious. Besides, you may not be a trained assassin, but you definitely have fighting skills and your fire." The assassin smirked. "I think the two of us will be quite alright on our own."

Maybe they would be, but they were taking a huge risk.

"Let's get this cleaned up first, and then we can discuss what needs to be done. We need to hide these where no one can find them."

Together, she and Jorlyn cleared her bed of the letters. They rolled the scrolls and sorted them by date. She put the ones she already read in one pile, the ones without dates were piled separately, and the others, she piled by month. For several minutes, they worked in silence, but then her friend sighed as if she'd been holding in her thoughts for far too long. Aymeri tensed immediately. She knew what was coming.

"I am so incredibly sorry, Aymeri." Jorlyn took the queen's hands in hers. "I wish there was something more Drystan and I could do."

The last feeling she wanted anyone to have for her was pity. The gods always had their reasoning for the turmoil and tribulations they bestowed upon their worshippers, and though Aymeri was hardly a fanatic, it gave her comfort to believe all those events had to happen . Everyone had a purpose in life, and hers was to keep people safe. Starting with her kingdom. So, everything that had happened up until then was only in preparation for what was to come. She may have been sheltered, and her mother may have kept countless secrets from her, but she was far from stupid.

"Jorlyn, you and Drystan are doing everything in your power to help me. I don't know how I'll ever repay you both. Treoles is not your kingdom to worry about."

"But it is." Jorlyn's eyes were soft and a smile painted her face. "Our parents were friends for so long; they always ran to each other's aid, and rejoiced together in good times. You are possibly too young to remember, but when your father passed, my parents came by carriage to arrive before nightfall, the same day they received notice. They wasted no time in helping, and stayed for a few weeks to help your mother get everything in order. I remember Drystan itching to go with them. You would think our brothers, Seri and Reeves, would've wanted to go, but they were too drunk to do anything. And young women of Bréīn—those who are under thirteen—are forbidden, out of respect for our childhood innocence, to attend funerals."

Aymeri's eyes narrowed and closed as she felt a fragmented memory forming behind her eyes, but only shadows stood before her. "Did you say Drystan came?" Her eyebrows knit together, willing those shadows to come to life. "You say they left as soon as they heard?"

"I am fairly certain, yes. And yes, Drystan was th—Aymeri, do you really not recall anything I am telling you?" Jorlyn paused briefly. "Perhaps you were too young then…"

Aymeri shook her head. "I was seven at the time, not too young to remember…I remember I found Father the way I found Mother." Tears swam behind her eyes, and she grabbed pieces of her dress in her hand to keep herself strong, to hold the tears back. "His body was sprawled out on the floor of his study. Until recently, I never stepped foot into that room afterwards. I must have banished the memory, because I didn't recall it until recently."

There were so many things she couldn't recall but so many fragments swirled around her mind, begging her to remember. The morning she found her father, he was lying there, one hand on his chest and the other on the floor.

"I—I thought he was sleeping. I shook him over and over again, and when I realized he wasn't waking up, I screamed for Mother right away."

Her mother barreled into the room and screamed so loud, Aymeri was sure they were both going to go deaf. "Mother didn't want me to see him like that, even though I had already been traumatized. The whole way back to my room, I was screaming. Screaming that Father wouldn't wake. Screaming, ‘Something is wrong with Papa!' Screaming, screaming…scr— "

Aymeri jumped at the feel of Jorlyn's hands shaking her. As she looked down, fireballs were dancing on her palms again, indicators that she'd just lost herself to the memory she had blocked out for sixteen years.

"You have to control your emotions, Aymeri. It seems the stronger your emotions, the more likely you are to summon the fire."

But how? She was angry, scared, frustrated. How can I bury all of those emotions just to not set the world on fire?

"Look at me, Aymeri." She snapped her attention to the assassin. "Think happy thoughts. What makes you happy?"

For a moment, she thought about her mother and her childhood when they played games of hide and seek and drank tea together in the garden. Then she thought of Drystan and how he made her feel. How he supported her. The dance they shared played back in her mind, and she thought about how safe she had felt in his arms.

All at once, the fire dissipated, and she prayed it wouldn't summon itself again.

"Aymeri…" Jorlyn whispered, pulling her out of her thoughts. "What else happened that day?"

"Mother was terrified," she admitted in a calm, grounded voice. "I remember her trembling hands, circling around me as what could only be rivers of tears poured out of her eyes. I didn't talk for months after that." It dawned on her then. "Drystan must remember all of this. That's why Mother wrote that he was always in love with me. Why she wants us to marry. Jorlyn, tell me, does he truly feel that way, or was mother exaggerating?"

Jorlyn folded her arms and sighed. "You tell me, Aymeri."

She knew what it looked like. The way he rode here to help her sort through everything. The flirting. The gift. The dance. But she needed confirmation.

"Jorlyn, please."

Tears swam in her new friend's eyes. "Yes, Aymeri. There has never been a day when Drystan didn't care about you. He came here every chance he got. Even when you wouldn't talk, he would do all the talking, just so you could listen."

But why can't I remember? Am I so traumatized by my father's death that the memories of it and following it were buried deep in the recesses of my mind? Or is something more sinister at play?

Were my memories stolen?

Is that even a possibility?

There was only one way to find out.