Chapter 4

The past seven days had been hard, but this was the hardest. Everyone throughout Dramolux was coming to bid goodbye to her mother. She was sure people they hadn't heard word from would be there, too. As much as Ser Parzival kept trying to teach her names, her mind couldn't focus on them. No amount of portraits, seals, or coat of arms could make her remember anything he'd just told her. All she could focus on was the hurt she was feeling, the knotcaught in her chest.

She hadn't been sleeping well, the notion that someone might try to kill her too keeping her awake at night. Every sound she heard, every passing shadow, made her jump out of her skin. Something deep inside her reminded her to keep her distance from everyone. She didn't know why, but she had been listening to that little voice more than she cared to admit. She knew it was foolish—thinking a voice inside her head was anything but that—but it eased her to know something was looking out for her.

A knock sounding at the door pulled her out of her reverie. "Just a minute…" Standing up, she wiped her tears away and used a piece of cloth to wipe her face of the stickiness. Taking a deep, calming breath, she crossed the room and opened the door to find Ser Parzival on the other side. "I am sorry to disrupt your grieving, Princess, but there is someone here to see you."

Aymeri took a steadying breath and rested her hand on her stomach to calm it from all the warring emotions. Especially the annoyance she was feeling. "To see me?" She could barely believe her ears. Seriously, on a day like this? "Is this person family?"

"Well, no… but… " Ser Parzival stammered, seemingly trying to find the correct words.

"Does this person understand today is my mother's funeral ?" Anger rose in her chest, her body burning. What could be so important that this person felt the need to intrude?

"Yes Princess, but…"

" But what, Ser Parzival?" Why couldn't he just spill it out?! She had neither the patience nor the time for it.

"He says it is crucial that he talks to you, right this moment."

"Does he understand the meaning of crucial? Because what is crucial for me is that I lay my mother's body to rest, and I haven't even found her wedding dress yet." It took all of Aymeri not to raise her voice. She knew it wasn't Ser Parzival's fault—he was her royal advisor, after all, and as such it was his duty to alert her to those who needed to meet with her. But the anger within her wanted her to do otherwise. She could feel its rage beneath her skin. Instantly remembering the glow she had seen before, she placed her hands behind her back and clasped them tightly together.

"Shall I tell him to wait?"

"That would be best. After I go through Mother's wardrobe, I will meet with him. And please, tell him to be terse and concise. The princess does not have time for petty matters right now." Aymeri turned to walk away.

"Princess, I cannot say that to him." Ser Parzival's disobedience aggravated her, and she turned back around.

"Why? Is he the Emperor of Dramolux?" She placed her hands on her hips, hoping her annoyance was evident on her face.

"Actually, he is the Prince of Bréīn."

Aymeri shrugged her shoulders. Where in the six hells is Bréīn, and what does their prince want with me? Either way, she didn't have time. If the name didn't register, then he was of little to no importance. "Then he can wait."

"Y-yes, Princess." Ser Parzival turned on his heels, and Aymeri waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps before she headed into her mother's room.

What do these people think of themselves? I've called everyone here for a funeral, and he thinks this is the most opportune time to have a meeting? Whoever he is, he is out of his ever-loving mind.

She berated the unknown prince in her mind the whole way to her mother's room, allowing her anger to inhabit her body, squelching the overflowing sadness that had been ever-present since her mother died. Feeling anger was better than feeling like she was going to wither away from all the crying she'd been doing. It had been seven days and if she continued to cry, she would overflow the Nadira River that ran through most of Dramolux.

As she walked to her mother's chambers, it seemed that the grief would never leave her. That not even with the passing of time would she get over the sudden passing of her best friend. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, and for once, she wished she was just a common person in the village who was able to sit in their grief until it passed—if it ever did.

Since she found her mother dead, she hadn't stepped foot into her private chamber, and it pained her to do so. Silence and faint laughter hung in the stale air of the powder blue room with gold trimmings.

Clearing her mind, she looked around the room to see it spotless, almost as if her mother came back and cleaned it herself. To see none of her hobbies lying around pained her. There were so many activities she enjoyed, from knitting to writing poetry to painting. That was how she'd spend her time after long meetings and trips to the other kingdoms, realms Aymeri wasn't allowed to visit for reasons unbeknownst to the princess.

As she stood there, taking in the silence and emptiness of the room, something didn't feel right.She could feel it in her bones as a chill ran down her spine. A humming noise carried on a light breeze that seemed to be coming from the closed window, bouncing off furniture. She followed it around the room, but it seemed to be everywhere all at once.

I need to relax. It's just my imagination. I came here for one thing, and one thing only.

She shook her head to rid herself of the sound, and when she focused again, it was gone.

Sighing heavily, she crossed the room to her mother's wardrobe and opened it. It didn't take her long to find the chestnut chest on the floor. There was no doubt her wedding gown was preserved within. She remembered admiring the chest as a child, but her mother always told her she would find out what was in there when she was of age. Suddenly, she understood why, and it was certainly not how she wanted to see the dress. She had always imagined her mother taking it out upon a royal family approving Aymeri's hand in marriage, then donning her in it on her wedding day as she walked her down the aisle of the worship room that could hold hundreds of people. She wasn't sure what to expect of the dress. She only knew it would be golden, like the sun depicted in her mother's paintings. Like the gold trimmings on her mother's bed frame or the gold ring on her mother's finger, letting the world know she was proudly and happily married.

She dragged the chest to the middle of the floor, small specs of dust flying around as she did so. It opened with a shrill creak. A heavy white cloth was wrapped around the wedding gown. She was afraid to touch it for fear of it being fragile. But it was what her mother wanted, and if that was how she was to be sent off to her next life, then so be it.

She carefully pulled the white fabric back, coughing as the musty smell and dust clouded her eyes. Her eyes grew wide at the gold gown with silver embroidery adorning it. She had only seen wedding portraits. To see the gown and be able to touch it was surreal.

Just as soon as she had gotten her tears to stop, they started again until she was wailing near the chest. "Why?" she screamed into the deaf air surrounding her. "For Rhys' sake, why ?"

Her mother was nothing but loyal to everyone. To the family, to the staff, to the people of their kingdom. Everyone loved her. So why? Why did she die so suddenly? Is someone else truly to blame, or is it easier to place blame on others instead of admitting that Mother wasn't happy in life. That I was too na?ve to figure out the truth?

Anger immediately took over the grief she was feeling, and while she knew the goddess of death would not actually answer her, who else was she to speak her grief to? Her mother didn't deserve to die. She gave everything she had to everyone she knew. Everyone she met only said good things about her. How did this happen, and why? If someone wanted Mother dead, who was it, and how did they succeed? Was their want for power greater than their humanity?

The answer lies somewhere in this palace, and I will figure it out if it is the last thing I do. Perhaps I can start with this prince.

Her mother had been leaving the castle quite frequently to visit the other kingdoms. If the prince was one she had visited recently, it was quite possible he knew something about why she was behaving oddly.

She rapidly wiped her eyes and composed herself. Now is not the time for this. She had a funeral to prepare for and guests to serve. When her father had died, her mother handled everything right down to the minute details. Now, she needed to do the same, which was, admittedly, the bane of her existence. Her mother had kept her so sheltered and away from all the importance of running the kingdom. If only her mother had listened to her, had let her assist in running the kingdom. Maybe this wouldn't have happened.

What was so important to her that I needed to wait until I was twenty-five to run the kingdom? What did age have to do with me learning my duties?

It was frustrating to know all of it might have been avoided. But she'd learn. It was just going to take some time. Even though time didn't seem like it was on her side.

The smell of smoke and burning cloth filled her nostrils. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and before she knew it, she was surrounded by fire. What in the world?

"Jorlyn!" She screamed the woman's name repeatedly, hoping she was close enough to hear her.

The door opened in haste, followed by Jorlyn's panic. "What's the—Okay, okay. Calm down." Jorlyn stomped on the flames with her boots, but it was to no avail. There were too many flames, and the smoke was burning Aymeri's eyes, making them tear. She stood, wanting to help put the fire out, but Jorlyn stopped her.

"Your clothes will catch fire. Stay there."

"But Jorlyn."

"But nothing. Stay put!"

The handmaid ran to the bathroom and got anything she could that would hold water. Running back and forth throughout the room, she tried her best to douse the flames, but nothing she did was working.

"Make it stop!" Aymeri cried. "Please!"

"I would if I knew how!" Jorlyn responded, grabbing the duvet off Queen Ismana's bed. "Maybe this will help."

"Not mother's duvet, Jorlyn! She'll never forgive us."

"Do you have a better idea? Because right now, I don't see any other option!"

Aymeri closed her eyes, praying to the gods for the fire to stop, but the flames continued to roar around her until suddenly, they didn't anymore.

"How did you do that?" Jorlyn stared at the princess, who was just as confused.

"I didn't. I prayed for the flames to stop, and they did."

"Ladies, what is all the commotion?" Ser Parzival was breathing heavily, hunched over, catching his breath. His eyes were full of worry as he entered the room, his eyes darting all over the place, seemingly trying to assess any damage.

"Nothing we couldn't fix, Ser Parzival. One of the candles was not blown out. It must have fallen somehow, and the carpet caught fire. It's all under control." Aymeri picked up one of the small basins Jorlyn had first used and put it back in the bathroom, then returned.

Ser Parzival checked her over, turning her head, checking her clothes, seemingly looking for burns or injuries. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'll be getting back to work. Holler if you need anything, Princess."

Aymeri inclined her head as Jorlyn walked out and turned her attention back to her advisor. "I am sure. Like I said, it was just a candle. I must have knocked it down when carrying Mother's dress. Please see to it that the dress isn't ruined."

Aymeri watched as Ser Parzival walked over to the trunk where her mother's dress was. His eyes brimmed with tears. "Were you there that day?"

The old man smiled weakly. "I was. You know, I didn't always work for your mother. I was in another kingdom with your father. He placed all his trust in me and asked me to come with him so he could have a piece of home with him. Your mother obliged and welcomed me with open arms." He clicked his tongue. "My apologies, Princess. I didn't mean to get so emotional."

Aymeri shook her head. It was nice to hear things about her parents that she didn't know before. It helped her to see them as they were before the death of her sister, before her birth, before their deaths. She bit back the tears, not wanting to start another round of uncontrollable emotions.

"Will you see to it that mother is adorned properly in this gown? Jewels and all? It's all there in the trunk. And tell the Prince of Bréīn that I am ready to meet with him."

Ser Parzival inclined his head to her. "Your wish is my command, Princess. I will send him to your father's study. That's where your mother would conduct most of her meetings. It is more intimate that way."

Aymeri liked the sound of that, especially since she wanted to know everything the prince knew. She didn't want the threat of someone interrupting them clouding her thoughts.

She and Ser Parzival left the room together and she took care to lock the door behind her. Once her mother's room was locked, she headed to the study, following the same trail Ser Parzival had taken her on, all the while trying to keep her wits about her.

Meeting with the prince—if that was really who he was—was the last thing on her mind. It was also the absolute last thing on her list to do for the entire grieving process. And yet, there she was, gracefully walking to the study where both her father and mother hashed out all their negotiations and agreements. She knew she'd have to do the same thing one day, she just didn't think her mother wouldn't be there to show her how. Once again, she struggled to understand why her mother had waited so long. If she truly was sick, wouldn't she have started to teach me something, anything? Wouldn't she have prepared me for her imminent death? And yet again, there was that panging in her chest, telling her that something was wrong. Warning her that things weren't as they seemed.

Aymeri watched as Ser Parzival walked over to the trunk. His features hardened and grew stoic as if he had seen a ghost when he looked inside the chest.

Sighing, she turned the knob to the study, trying to take in the fact that this would soon be the new norm. She needed to attend public hearings in the throne room, private negotiations in the study, strategizing in the counsel room, holding parties and social events in the ballroom… When am I going to have time for myself again? And more importantly, when am I going to have time to learn all of it?

It took her a long moment before she actually sat in the high-back wooden chair that had been her father's. It was much different than when she'd sat in it a week ago to mull over her mother's last wishes. It was for a formal meeting, the likes of which she had only ever heard about her parents conducting. There wasn't a bone in her body nor a pigment of skin that made it feel right. She was a complete and utter mess inside. There was no way she was going to get through it alone.

As she sat down, she straightened her clothes, adorned yet again in the colors of mourning, and found herself parchment and a fountain pen, the ink clearly fresh—she'd have to thank Ser Parzival for that—and folded her hands to keep them from shaking with nerves, grief, and fear.

It wasn't too long before Ser Parzival knocked on the door. When she opened it, she was taken aback by the man next to her advisor. He was quite tall, dressed to the nines in long black pants and an embellished tunic the color of the midnight sky. In the right breast corner was a pin of a shield and two swords, most likely the sigil for his kingdom.

"Prince Drystan, meet Princess Aymeri, only surviving daughter of our beloved late Queen Ismana."

Aymeri curtsied as she believed was expected of her. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance." The young prince bowed, returning the pleasantry.

After dismissing Ser Parzival, she held out a hand to the seat opposite her and waited for Prince Drystan to get comfortable before leaning forward. "Ser Parzival informed me that it was crucial we meet today, though I cannot fathom what you could possibly need me for that is more urgent than laying my dead mother to rest."

Prince Drystan briefly bowed his head before looking directly at Aymeri. "I am profusely sorry about the beloved queen's untimely death, Princess Aymeri."

"And yet, how sorry can you truly be when you have called for this appointment on the day when you knew my mother was to be laid to rest?" Easy, Princess, he is an asset . Aymeri rolled her eyes at the voice in her head, who clearly did not know what she was talking about. What asset could a narcissistic prince of some unheard-of kingdom be?

"The matter is such, Princess, that I must put my people before all else."

Aymeri tried to size him up. His answer seemed genuine, and his tone posed no threat. Nor did his body language. He was sitting squarely in his seat, his eyes making constant contact with hers. Her gut gave her no warning, no inkling that he was up to no good. But still there begged a question: "What do your people have to do with me, Prince Drystan? We owe you nothing."

"But you do, Princess. And please forgive my boldness and forthcomingness, but I am here to make sure the deal between Queen Ismana and myself is still on the table." He leaned forward, but not so much that he came off as hostile.

Aymeri was sure her face had drained of all color. Her mother was not one to owe anything to anyone. She had no debts. Instead, people came to her to repay her. What is he talking about? "I know nothing of a deal between Bréīn and Treoles. In fact, I have no knowledge of your kingdom nor of you." She was being completely honest. In all their talks, her mother never mentioned anything about Bréīn. She barely spoke of the other kingdoms.

"You mean the queen didn't tell you I've pledged allegiance to her in the war in exchange for wealth and ration for my people?" He sat back in his chair and raked a hand through his hair in what seemed to be confusion.

"What war?" Treoles was not at war with anyone. What is this prince talking about?

"Forgive me, Princess, but how can you be so ignorant of the goings-on of your kingdom? Surely, Queen Ismana must have told you everything to prepare you to lead when she… She knew she was ill, did she not?"

It took all of Aymeri not to burst into tears at his harsh tone. Her mother probably had no inkling she was going to expire so soon. Why would she have told her anything prior to the announcement to the kingdom? She never told her daughter of anything ahead of time. Aymeri hated herself for being so weak. Her mother would never have allowed the prince's words to hurt her, and there she was, acting like a six-year-old whose toy had just broken.

Biting the inside of her cheek as she folded her hands and squeezed them, she forced back her tears and nodded. "She did know she was ill, Prince Drystan, but by the time she realized she hadn't taught me a thing, she was dead. So, if you could please fill me in…"

Aymeri took a quick glance at her hands to make sure they were still their normal color. She chided herself for it, trying to remind herself that what she saw was merely a coincidence. Her hands didn't glow, and that small fire really was a candle, even though they didn't actually find one. It must have rolled out of the way. Everything has a plausible explanation.

Drystan's annoyance softened into understanding or compassion. Which one, Aymeri was uncertain, but she was relieved he was no longer coarse.

"Queen Dimia of Aixeris has invaded and conquered four out of the eight kingdoms. She seeks to become empress of all of Dramolux, and the people are falling for her. She promises a place of one ruler, no

more hunger, no more war… no more sacrifice. Instead, the people are suffering from her dreams. Children are working, people are starving, and she claims the gods want this. That those who are suffering are only doing so because they are going against the will of the gods."

Drystan paused, she assumed to let her take it all in. But how could she digest what he was telling her? So

much was going on outside of her kingdom, and it was unacceptable for her to have no knowledge of it. "You can't tell me they actually believe her?" People are not that na?ve, are they?

Wasn't she?

Drystan nodded and she could see the sadness in his eyes as if he had witnessed it first-hand.

"She has them all brainwashed or fearful. I'm not sure which is worse. Either way, your mother has met with the other kingdoms, who agree with her that Dimia needs to be stopped."

So that was why Mother had been meeting with the other kingdoms so often! Why she had locked herself in the study for hours on end . "Where exactly do you—and Bréīn—fit in?"

"Everything was perfect and harmonious as it was. Now, my army—my people—are starving, and we have turned to mercantilism as a means of survival in order to provide for the kingdom."

"Mercantilism?" Aymeri was ashamed to ask, but she had never heard the term before.

"Don't be embarrassed. It's easy for us to forget there are other ways of making a living besides being royal. As to answer your question, mercantilism is when one sells goods to other people for money."

Aymeri was confused. If they were in such bad shape, what could he possibly sell? And she asked just that, only to be saddened by his response.

"I sell anything I can from the castle. Items that are not of sentimental value to me nor my ancestors. But for how long can this last, and at what cost? The kingdoms who used to trade with us are the ones conquered by Dimia, and she refuses to export and import with anyone who is not under her control."

Aymeri nodded in understanding. She finally understood why he had come. "What was the agreement between you and my mother?"

"In exchange for my army and my allegiance, your mother has promised us volatil and ration for as long as we remain loyal, and she promised hell would rain down on us if we ever betrayed her. I am willing to take those demands and consequences, Princess, to save my people and be friendly with yours."

"What does your army have to offer that mother has promised you volatil, and how much did she promise?"

Drystan smirked before answering, and she wanted to wipe the smug smile from his face. "Bréīn's army is the largest army in all of Dramolux. We are known for our ruthless fighting and for our assassins. My army consists of people who aren't even of this land, and far exceeds the likes of yours in both number and in skill. Your mother agreed to pay me five million volatil for the army."

Five million volatil? That's all? Tears filled Aymeri's eyes. There was nothing five million volatil could do for an entire kingdom. Why did she promise him so little for what he was offering—war and an entire army, the likes of which was greater than theirs, if her mother was willing to join forces with them?

Even more so, whydid my mother keep me in the dark? Why did I not know of the war brewing within Dramolux? Why did I know nothing of this kingdom? And who else knew about the war? Who in the castle knew? Who in Dramolux knew?

Now she was more certain than ever that something sinister had happened to her mother.

It all started to make sense. If someone found out she was going to declare war on Aixeris and Dimia, they could've told. But who could be responsible? Who would have accidentally overheard? Anyone could have murdered her mother, could have paid to have her mother murdered.

Jorlyn . It had to be! Who else could it be? As a handmaid, she would've been there throughout meetings. Mother would have confided in her, thinking her harmless. She is also the newest addition to the staff. What better opportunity than to be sent by a "trusted" friend who was also foe!

Tears pricked her eyes. It wasn't the time. She had a mother to bury. "I wish I could discuss all this with you now, but the time of my mother's funeral is drawing near. Why don't you and your men stay so we can sort this out? Meet me here after the funeral, after all the guests have gone to their rooms or left the castle. I will personally see you to your private wing."

"The gesture is appreciated, Princess. If it helps in any way, your mother was taking down some kind of notes when we spoke. Perhaps you could find those, and they could be of use to you."

That bit of information helped more than he knew. When she entered her mother's room that fateful morning, she had cleaned up stacks of papers. Perhaps the notes were in those bundles. She also knew her mother kept accounts of certain meetings, depending on who they were with and what the terms were. If she was serious about this allegiance, she certainly would've had notes of the negotiation with the prince. And they must have drafted some kind of treaty for them both to sign and agree upon.

Shoving the thoughts to the back of her mind, she followed Prince Drystan out of the study, locking the door on the way out. Starting tomorrow, I will ensure no one has access to this room nor to her or Mother's wing. She would personally handle the upkeep. It was better that way. By the gods, she was going to get to the bottom of it.