Chapter 5

After the funeral, Aymeri wanted anything but to entertain guests. But as fate had it, they had to house anyone who requested to stay, just as her mother had done when her father passed away. Ser Parzival immediately got to work on obtaining the information of everyone staying at the palace. She knew it was tedious, but if she was going to figure out if, and how, her mother was murdered, it was one way to do it. She would be able to read her mother's journal entries and see if anyone of suspicion was staying in the castle. If so, she would be able to talk to them directly and see what their true intentions were. It was risky, but it was her only hope.

She knew everyone was on edge after the death of her mother. She'd heard the murmurs at the funeral. Everyone was either worried about such a young princess becoming queen and what would happen to the kingdom now that she was gone, or whether the late queen was truly sick. If there was ever a time to catch a culprit, it was then. Now I will see who is on edge because they really cared, and who is on edge because they are responsible. I just have to keep an eye on everyone.

After obtaining a comprehensive list of everyone, she kept true to her word and met Prince Drystan in the study, surprised to find him alone. Usually, royalty traveled with at least their royal guard, just as many of the guests who were staying had. Where are his guards?

When she asked as much, he merely shrugged. "Your mother and I were close. I didn't think I'd need protection."

The princess was taken aback. Her mother had never mentioned him before. If they were so close, wouldn't she have at least talked about him a little bit?

"If you were so close, why have I never heard your name?"

"Well, I didn't know her as long as I would've liked. It's only been three years since I've been ruling Bréīn, and I was less than prepared for it. When my father died, your mother immediately came and helped me through the first few weeks."

Aymeri vaguely recalled her mother telling her about a king's tragic death. However, the details were fuzzy. She tried to recall the memory to make further conversation with a topic they were both familiar with, but she just couldn't call it back to her.

"What can you tell me about your perception of my mother?" she asked, leading the way up the winding steps to the third floor.

"What could I tell you that you don't already know?"

At that point, she felt as if she knew nothing about her mother. There was a war brewing, and she hadn't mentioned it. She had allied with King Drystan's kingdom against the queen of Aixeris. What else happened? Was she hiding other things, too?

She probably hid everything from me…

Aymeri's skin succumbed to dread as goosebumps formed all over her body. She didn't want to think of her mother as someone who would keep secrets from someone she held dear.

"Everyone has a different face, King Drystan. Which face did she share with you?" Because the gods knew her mother definitely had at least three different faces.

There were a few deafening moments before the young king spoke again. "Honestly, when I last met her, she was jittery. Loving and homely, but jittery."

Aymeri stopped walking. She had never seen her mother lose composure, and would have never used such a word to describe her. "Jittery how?"

"Just jumpy, perhaps?"

Just jumpy?

She started to think about her mother's mannerisms, her words, anything that could even remotely be considered jumpy. Her mother had begun talking to herself, murmuring things that didn't make sense. But Aymeri shrugged it off, thinking she was overstressed. After all, it wasn't a crime for her to talk to herself. Aymeri was guilty of it, too. Especially when she couldn't find something she was looking for.

The murmuring wasn't our native tongue, though, was it? Maybe…

"Do you speak any other languages?" Drystan looked at her quizzically, and she immediately changed the subject. "Sorry, speaking out loud…" She cleared her throat. "So, you were saying my mother was jittery…"

Drystan cocked his head as they walked, seemingly trying to find the right words to say. "Well, she was always looking over her shoulder, always writing things down and making sure no one was around when we'd talk. She often got out of her seat to check outside and make sure no one was listening. But I guess that makes sense, considering she wasn't well."

Of course it makes sense to him. He is probably another one who blindly believes she was unwell. For the moment, she had to keep those thoughts to herself, knowing full well her judgment could be clouded by her grief.

At least she knew for sure that something was amiss. Her mother was afraid of something or someone . But what, and why? Her mother—like the entire Kingsley-Maudlin family—was trained for the battlefield. She couldn't imagine a woman as strong as her being scared of anything. If she was frightened, it was certainly by something she couldn't control or face.

But it wasn't like her to be compelled, either…

Something else was at work. Aymeri could feel it twisting in her gut like a knife twisting into an apple. Could it be… No! She forced the thought out of her mind, but it wormed its way back in.

Magick…

No! She shoved the thought away, arguing with herself. There is no such thing as magick. It's been banished. No one wields it anymore!

Right? she asked herself.

She thought about everything that had happened. Her hands. The fire. There was no logical explanation for what happened. None of it made sense, and yet if she pushed enough, she knew she could convince herself that there were plausible reasons for what happened to her.

She was overstressed after losing her mother. It was making her think and see things that weren't there.

The grief was blinding her, making her question everything.

She had lost the two people who were most dear to her. She had no other family, so of course she wanted to hold onto hope that there was something else at play. That her parents wouldn't willingly leave her and their kingdom behind.

Right?

Or was life really so terrible for them that they felt they had to put up a fa?ade they could no longer maintain?

I don't have time for this…

She would have to focus on all of that later. She needed to get King Drystan to his room so she could have peace of mind.

She came upon the staircase suddenly, and for a moment, questioned how quickly they had gotten there from her father's study. But she shook it off. After all, they'd been talking most of the time, and her thoughts had been reeling, keeping her occupied in the silence.

"It's just up these stairs." She smiled.

As they got to the door at the top of their staircase, Aymeri turned the knob to open it, but it was locked. "That's strange," she muttered, jiggling the knob, hoping it was stuck. "The door to this floor was never locked. This was where Mother would house royalty whenever they came to visit."

"Do you want me to try?"

The princess shook her head. She pushed the slit of her anhari aside and grabbed a ring of keys from her garter over her leggings. "Hopefully one of these will work. I've never had to use them before."

With each key she used, she grew more and more confused. Why would anyone lock the only door to the floor where most of her guests were staying? After the eighth key, she had almost given up hope. But with the use of the ninth one, the lock finally turned, and she sighed in relief. "After you."

Closing the door behind them, careful to leave it unlocked, Aymeri took her place next to Drystan, nothing looking familiar to her. She breathed sharply, examining the space around her. The floor was a cold red marble, the likes of which she had never seen before. She walked to the opposite side of the room and threw open the double doors, but they only led to an outside balcony. They were supposed to connect to her and her mother's wing on the opposite side.

Leaning over the balcony, she looked around. The moon was the only light source and the air chilled. All that was below her were trees and grass. It didn't look like the garden she and her mother ate in.

What staircase have we gone up? Is this one of the forbidden floors Mother told me about as a child? The one where my sister used to play and got sick on? The very reason for her death?

Not wanting to keep the King of Bréīn waiting lest he grow concerned, she closed the double doors and tried to open the other doors on the floor.

Each of them was locked from the outside, indicating they were not in use. She tried the other keys on each of the doors, but none of them budged.

This has to be the forbidden floor.

"I am sorry…" she whispered, her voice a cloud of confusion.

"For…?"

"I think I've taken the wrong staircase. This isn't the third floor. This is a part of the castle I was never meant to discover." She raked a hand through her long tresses.

"I'm not sure I'm following, Princess." Drystan's voice mirrored the confusion in hers.

Aymeri hesitated for a moment. Is he going to think me insane? Or is he going to understand? Being a king, I'm sure he has some secrets, too.

She sighed, then spoke, "This floor was forbidden."

"Forbidden?" Drystan's eyes widened at the revelation.

Aymeri nodded. "I had an older sister who passed away before I was born. Mother told me she was playing up here one day and got very sick. She passed away shortly after. The illness was so violent, she forbade anyone to come up here. She had all entryways closed off, except for one. I must've come up that one entryway without realizing."

She took another look around her. Nothing about the floor seemed outwardly dangerous. No unfamiliar scents, nothing out of place. For a moment, it felt normal. Then…

"Do you hear that?" she asked, her ears perked to a melodious humming that made the hairs on her arms stand.

"Hear what?"

"I'm not sure." She walked forward, listening at each door as she passed. The humming didn't grow louder. Instead, it was still faint, no matter how far down the corridor she got. After listening at several doors, she gave up. Then the humming stopped.

I'm losing my mind. I have to be.

"Is everything okay? I promise you can trust me. Anything you say—"

Aymeri shook her head. As much as she wanted to believe she could trust him, she didn't know him well enough. If her mother truly confided in him and visited his kingdom as often as he said she did, she was sure she'd find her mother's written account of the encounters. Until she found information confirming their relationship, she wouldn't trust him so blindly.

"Let's get off this floor. I'll put you in my wing."

Drystan nodded his agreement and Aymeri retreated into herself. There were too many things she didn't know. Things that might've been able to help her mother if she had only shared them. As the princess, she felt she should have known about the war, about the fear her mother was feeling, the danger she believed she was in, running the kingdom . Nothing made sense to her. Why did Mother keep her so sheltered? What was she so afraid of?

I might have been able to do something.

Locking the door behind her to the forbidden floor, she descended the stairs like an apparition, and if it wasn't for Drystan's hand on her shoulder, she might have believed she was one. "Aymeri, slow down," he whispered, but she couldn't. She shrugged his hand off and continued forward, gliding through the hallways until she found familiar territory.

She wanted to run away, to get away from everything. There was so much death in her life. When is it going to stop? First my sister, then my father, now my mother? It was too coincidental for all of them to just be sick. If everyone was truly ill, why aren't I?

She no longer wanted to live in a place where she didn't know friend from foe.

Unless… is this what they want? Is someone trying to steal the throne?

She shook the thought loose as she came upon her bedchamber. There was a bedroom next to hers that had once been occupied by her sister before her untimely death. The rooms were joined by a single door inside. It wasn't the ideal place for a king, but it was better than nothing. She wanted to keep him close to make sure he could really be trusted. If he stirred about or left the room, she would know.

Bidding him good night, she entered her room and sat in a chair, waiting for the candlelight peeking under the adjoining door to Drystan's room to go out. She waited in silence before she crossed the floor and listened at the door. A light snoring assured her he wasn't awake.

As quietly as she could, she left her room and headed down the corridor to her mother's chambers. She remembered all the papers she'd put away the morning she found her mother's lifeless body. Maybe one of them had information about the young king and his kingdom.

She searched through every drawer, every journal, and every novel, but she didn't find anything important written anywhere, not even on the papers she shoved away. She lifted every pillow and even the heavy mattress, but still found nothing.

Then she tried the drawers again—more carefully and calculated this time—and upon doing so, realized that one drawer was shallower than the others. Taking all the contents out again, she noticed a fine thread peaking through the wood. She pulled gently, but the wood didn't budge. Then she pulled again a little harder, and still, nothing. Getting down on her knees, she looked under the drawer and noticed some kind of strange writing. She ran her fingers over the raised lettering and whispered the words. One by one, the words lit up, and then the top wood popped up.

What the… Is this… ?

No. There has to be another explanation. Magick was locked away. Sealed. No one could ever be tainted by it again.

Yet there was no denying it. Nothing natural could make words glow just by saying them.

Aymeri carefully lifted the wood revealing a plain leatherbound journal. She took it into her hands and sat on the chair at the desk. She opened it to the first page, but it was blank. As she turned the pages, each of those were blank, too. She turned them faster until one page finally had writing on it.

I met with the queens and king from other kingdoms today. Queen Dimia has taken over Theonidor, Acuzothen, Basliris, and Drodora. No one has heard from the other queens, so we are assuming they are dead, or worse—being tortured. Aymeri's eyes focused on the words "worse—being tortured." Dimia must have truly been ruthless if her mother believed death was better than being tortured by the queen's hand.

She continued reading.

Dimia needs to be stopped. We will declare war… My head is aching, will need to resume…there goes my stomach, too .

Drystan was telling the truth after all. Her mother was truly going to declare war on the queen who called herself empress. She suddenly understood why her mother had offered him money and food in exchange for his army, especially if it was as large and powerful as he said it was.

Wanting to know more, she turned the page. It was dated three days after the last.

Ate: fruit salad, tea, soup, vegetables, stew, rice, water, coffee, biscuits, cake.

Touched: staircase, sink, utensils, cup, forks, plates, rag, food.

Fruits and vegetables. Annalessia?

Tea and water. Grutine?

Soup, rice, stew. Zwenaline?

Biscuits. Zara?

Cake. Helge?

Aymeri was unable to make sense of her mother's list. Had she started a new diet? Was she trying to remember names? Was she going to let one of the maids go?

The next entry was even more peculiar than the last, as it only had names, half of which she recognized as servants who helped her regularly. Others, however, she didn't recognize at all. Maybe they were new hires? Soldiers Mother was recruiting? People she needed to protect, like Drystan?

Thinking of Drystan, she remembered the most important piece of information she was looking for: anything to tell her about—

"Here it is!" Spread out in front of her was the next entry, complete with mention of Drystan and Bréīn.

Today, Prince Drystan—he is a peculiar fellow who refuses to be called a king, even though he is one—came to visit. At first, I wanted to decline. My health seems to be deteriorating again, and only the heavens know why. Drystan has informed me that Dimia has stopped all trade with Bréīn from her side of Dramolux until he hands his kingdom over to her. His father was a close friend, so I have agreed to aid Bréīn in exchange for their army supporting Treoles in the war for Dramolux. He has agreed. We will meet in a fortnight to discuss further details. It seems it has gotten extremely hot in th—

"In the what?" Aymeri wondered aloud. She frantically turned the page, hoping her mother finished the encounter. She breathed a sigh of relief when she came upon the next entry.

Thank goodness Drystan was outside my room! I fainted and he shortly came in after, knocking too long and hearing the clatter of my things. May the gods smile upon him and his kingdom.

Aymeri was at once suspicious. If Drystan had been there when my mother fainted, who is to say he isn't at fault? Then again, if the room was getting hot, her mother could have let the fire burn too high or too long. She turned the pages looking for other such incidents, but the next entry was another list of names. Other such entries followed, and she was about ready to give up on the journal when the next page caught her attention.

Someone is out to murder me. I heard their muffled voices when I was in the parlor—not at my usual time. I couldn't make out who the voices were or the entire conversation, but I heard them say, "Off her." Who could they be?

The princess didn't know what to make of the snippet of information. On the one hand, "off her" could have meant so many things. It could have also meant "offer" or "get off her". Her mother did admit to hearing muffled voices and not hearing the entire conversation. None of that mattered, though. There was no doubt her mother was frightened because, in the next entry, written two weeks after her meeting with Drystan, she ludicrously described someone being in her room and her ability to feel their presence, but she pretended to sleep until they left.

Why didn't she apprehend them ?

What confused her even more, though, was the end of the entry where her mother noted: Nothing had been displaced or unaccounted for. The door was locked when I awoke . How, then, could someone have been in her room if it was locked from the inside?

The sound of footsteps above her made her jump out of her skin. She hadn't realized anyone was still awake. Perhaps they, too, were discussing the events surrounding her mother's death. Maybe they were conferring about the war. Hopefully, they'd be willing to speak with her about the impending war.

Tucking the journal under her arm, she exited her mother's room. Locking the door behind her, she decided she would get all the locks in the royal wing changed. No one would be allowed in there without her permission.