Chapter 8

As the day settled in, Aymeri set about finding Ser Parzival. She made her way through the castle corridors, the gray skies making the mood even more drab and somber. Just days ago, her mother would have been walking those halls with her, talking about how she was getting older, telling her how it was almost time for her coronation, assuring her that everything would be perfect. But nothing was perfect. She would get older, but her mother would not be there to see it. She would have her coronation, but her mother would not be the one to adorn her.

She jogged down the staircase and made her way toward the kitchen in the back of the castle. It was early enough that the staff had only just begun breakfast preparations, and the other lords, ladies, kings, and queens were not awake yet.

As she drew closer to the kitchen, the sweet aroma of fresh passion fruits and the savory smell of various cheeses and breads filled her nostrils, making her stomach rumble.

"Princess Aymeri," Grazia, one of the chefs, greeted her with a curtsey, which Aymeri returned with a smile. "Are ya ‘ungry. D'ya need sum'en?

Her stomach rumbled again and she nodded. "I can help myself. Mother always did."

Grazia was an older woman who had worked in the castle long before Aymeri was born. She was the chef there when her mother was just a teen. There was no other chef in the castle like her. It was as if she cooked with magick. And maybe she did. If magick was in fact coursing through Aymeri's veins, maybe it coursed through all of them.

"I am sorry for ya loss, Aymeri. I wanted to come to ya chambers pers'lly, but with ev'y'on here to tend to, I didna have the time."

She understood how busy the woman was. Taking care of twenty royal visitors was not an easy feat. Some of them even seemed obnoxious. It was a wonder her mother ever got along with any of them.

Aymeri leaned against the island and took a bite of a ripe strawberry. "Grazia, mother has confided in you for ages. Did you know she was ill?"

The woman put a knotted bread in the oven and used a cloth to wipe the sweat from her forehead. "To be hones' wi' ya, she didna say an'in to me. No physicians came in ei'er." She closed the distance between them and whispered softly. "If ya ask me, som'en's no righ'."

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of," Aymeri whispered under her breath. "If you hear anything, could you please keep me informed?"

"An'in for ya, dear."

"Have you seen Ser Parzival this morning? I don't want to wake him from his chamber if he isn't out and about yet."

The woman shook her head. "I'll let ‘im know ya was askin'."

Aymeri nodded, finishing the last of the fruit on her plate. After washing it, she made her way around the rest of the castle, hoping to find her royal advisor but after asking several of the castle workers where he was without an answer in return, she had all but given up.

"Princess Aymeri?"

The princess turned around to find a woman dressed in peculiar clothing that did not seem to match any kingdom or royal lineage. A green cloak covered her from head to toe, and her face was covered by a thick veil.

"Yes? Who are you?"

The woman shook her head. "Not here. There are too many eyes."

Aymeri looked around. There was no in sight. "Madam, no one is around us."

The woman shook her head again. "Please, this is urgent. Believe me. There are too many eyes."

Aymeri sighed. "Very well then. I know a place in the garden where we can speak freely. Have you been to the castle before? Do you know your way around?"

She didn't want to assume the woman had never been there before, especially since she didn't know what her mother had been up to the days leading up to her death. When the woman nodded, Aymeri inclined her head. "Very well. I will let you go on before me, and will meet you out there momentarily. We can take different paths. Just meet me by the fountain in the middle of the garden. There is a bench behind it."

Inclining her head, the woman went on ahead of her.

She had just rounded the main staircase heading into the garden when she almost bumped into Ser Parzival. He was in his formal attire, wearing the colors of mourning. "Oh! There you are, Ser Parzival."

"So I am. Some of the staff said you were looking for me? Is all okay, princess?"

Aymeri's stomach spun like a whirlpool. She wanted to talk to the woman, but she needed to talk to Ser Parzival. Then, all at once, she wasn't sure if she should say anything to him about what she was thinking, or about the door to the forbidden floor being open. But on the other hand, he was there to protect her as he had protected her mother and father. Why shouldn't she tell him? It seemed she wasn't the only one thinking something was amiss with her mother's demise.

But if she talked to him then, would the woman wait for her in the garden? Or would she lose an opportunity to get more information about her mother? She couldn't decide which of the two were more important.

"Aymeri? Is everything okay?"

She had no choice. He was standing in front of her, and by the concerned look in his eyes, she knew she couldn't just leave it alone. Not after she had asked half the staff where he was. The woman would just have to wait.

"Yes and no, Ser Parzival. Could we talk in private for a few moments? Perhaps in Father's study?"

A queer look glinted in Ser Parzival's eyes, and for a fleeting moment he seemed perturbed by her question. But the moment passed briefly, and he smiled. "Of course, Princess. After you."

The walk to her father's study seemed longer than it had been the first two times she'd gone there over the past few days. But she knew she was doing the right thing. Ser Parzival was more experienced than her, Jorlyn, and Drystan combined. He had been the royal advisor for decades, and helped keep Treoles as the highly respected kingdom it was. If anyone could help them sort out her mother's death and why that door to the forbidden floor was open, it was him.

As they reached the door to the study, he stepped in front of her and held it open. Nodding her thanks, the new queen stepped inside and sat in her father's chair. As she waited for her advisor to sit across from her, she adjusted her burgundy skirt.

"What is it that you'd like to discuss, princess?"

She took a deep, calming breath before speaking. She was sweating through the lehari she wore. "This is a serious matter, Ser Parzival, and I'd like you to swear to me that what is said in this room is never repeated to anyone."

She thought it best to not include Jorlyn and Drystan. Jorlyn was to remain a mere handmaid in everyone else's eyes, and as far as Drystan was concerned, he was supporting a friend's daughter. She would not compromise what her mother started.

"Of course, Princess. All matters discussed between the two of us remain hush for yours and the kingdom's safety."

She inclined her head and leaned forward, folding her sweaty hands on her father's desk. She imagined he'd done this countless times before as well. "I have reason to believe the suicide note you found in my mother's chambers to be a fake, planted there by someone so we do not question her untimely demise."

Ser Parzival's face screwed into confusion. "Planted? What are you insinuating, princess?"

"I believe my mother was murdered."

A dark look passed over Ser Parzival before he let out a chuckle. "Murdered? What ghosts are you speaking to, child? Your mother was loved by all. No one would think of doing such a thing!"

"I thought so, too." Her voice was small as she sat back in her chair. "But it doesn't make sense to me, Ser Parzival. Mother's door was locked from the inside, and it never is. She never talked of being ill or feeling queer. If she had truly thought of suicide, why did none of us have an inkling that she was unhappy? Why didn't she show any signs of sadness? Of loneliness?"

"My dear, I know the death of your mother has been hard on you. Losing both parents at such a young age must be devastating. Sometimes, these illnesses just don't show themselves. Sometimes, they happen silently, and the people experiencing the most pain hide it well. Perhaps your mother didn't want you to worry about the demons she could not face herself."

While she understood what he was telling her, Aymeri didn't believe it. She wasn't in denial. Yes, she was grieving, but that grief was not blinding her. If anything, it was making her think clearer. "You're wrong, Ser Parzival. She had a feeling someone was going to hurt her. I found notes in her room, in a hidden drawer."

Ser Parzival grew rigid in his seat, a disturbed look on his face. Whether anger or fear, she couldn't tell, but a sense of impending doom washed over her. He leaned into the table. "Notes? In a hidden drawer? What did she write?"

"There were names and lists of foods she was eating."

He arched an eyebrow. "Names and food? Did she write anything else?"

Aymeri frowned and shook her head. "No."

He sat back in his chair and shook his head. "There is nothing we can do with just a list of names and food, Princess."

Her stomach bubbled with anger. "My mother is dead , Ser Parzival, long before her time. Before she could teach me how to run the kingdom. Before my coronation. She had hopes and dreams that she spoke to me days ago. Not weeks, not months. Days , Ser Parzival. She spoke about having me betrothed and dancing at my wedding. So do not tell me there is nothing we can do. We have a list of names, yes? Couldn't we talk to everyone and see what they noticed? What they heard? Maybe we'll be able to see if someone is guilty of murdering my mother, because I have a feeling that if I'm right, I'm next."

She knew it wasn't right to talk to her advisor like that, but she had to get her point across. If he wouldn't listen to her, who else could she confide in? Who else would have the reach and pull to get the information they could not?

The old man took a deep breath and gave in. "I will do your bidding, Princess. But if this turns out to be nothing, you must drop the matter."

She'd agree to anything as long as he listened to her.

"There is one more matter, Ser Parzival. Someone was on the forbidden floor."

There was that look again; the darkening of his green eyes, the way they narrowed ever so slightly.

"Who?" His voice was rough with anger, his fingertips pressing into the table.

"I don't know. I entered the staircase mistakenly, trying to take King Drystan to the guest wing without having to enter mine. When I got to the floor, no one was there. All the doors appeared locked."

"You were told to never to go there!" He pushed out his seat, stood up in one fluid motion and leaned down, towering over her.

Fear settled into her being, her stomach knotting, tears pooling in her eyes, heart beating as violent as tree branches on a window in a storm. "I-I-I'm s-sorry. It was an hon-est mistake, Ser Parzival."

"Let it be your last!"

"Yes, of course! I know it's forbidden! I don't want to end up like her! If I had known, I wouldn't have even gone up the stairs."

The mad look in his eyes dissipated almost immediately, and he straightened his clothes to stand to his full height. "I know, Princess. I apologize for my reaction. It is just that I care so deeply for you. You are like a granddaughter to me. I truly do not want to lose you, too. We have already lost your sister, your father, your mother. So much tragedy surrounds this family. Without you, think of what will happen to the kingdom. Who will they turn to? Whose hands will it fall into? Please, Princess, be careful of what you do and who you trust. Make no moves without telling me."

She stood up and locked eyes with him. "I promise I will tell you everything, and I urge you to do the same. I know I have to step into my mother's role as Queen of Treoles soon. Let her death week pass, and I will do what I need to for the kingdom."

"Very well, Princess."

She waited for Ser Parzival to leave the study before she took a deep breath. Running the kingdom was going to be difficult, but proving there was foul play involved in her mother's death seemed impossible. She just hoped the elder would be able to get all the information he needed for her. Then, once everything was laid to rest, she'd be able to rule her kingdom in peace.

For the moment, though, she needed to find out why that door was open. Though she promised Ser Parzival she would stay away, she knew she couldn't. It was too hard having to keep it from him when all he wanted was to ensure her safety, but it was too much to risk someone locking the floor off completely. She would wait for nightfall, and she would take Drystan with her again. In the meantime, she would talk to the woman and see what she wanted. Perhaps she could give them more information.

Walking briskly to the garden, she did her best to avoid any possible contact with the others in the castle. She was sure many of her guests were waking and coming down for breakfast, and she was sure Jorlyn was starting her "handmaid" duties. She knew they would worry about her absence, but she knew she'd be able to smooth it all over with some valuable information.

As she exited the double doors leading to the garden, the cool air sent a shiver down her spine. The sky was still overcast, and she could smell the rain in the air. A storm was brewing, she was sure of it. She passed several statues of the goddesses they prayed to before she reached the large fountain in the middle. When she stepped behind it, she was disappointed the woman was not there. Had she been with Ser Parzival so long that the woman grew impatient waiting for her? Or had she just not arrived yet?

Looking around the garden, she noticed other royals taking leisurely strolls, but the woman she had come into contact with was nowhere to be found. Just as she was about to turn around and go back inside, a scroll under the bench caught her eye. Bending down, she took the scroll in her hands and unrolled it. "I saw you speaking with your royal advisor and knew you would be long. Do not fret. Meet me back here just before the sun reaches the horizon in the morning."

A sense of dread came over her. Clearly, the woman had something important to disclose, otherwise she would not have gone out of her way to ensure they had a proper conversation. Worrying about it would prove no use. In the meantime, she would mingle with the other guests while she awaited her chance to find out what secrets the forbidden floor held.