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Sandra and I rushed through the tunnels as fast as our legs could carry us, our long grey skirts hiked up in our fists while our feet flashed as swift as the army’s proud stallions. The shadows themselves wreathed and curled along the walls, lashing out with dark thorny tendrils that slashed my legs as I ran. I had kept in mine Alec’s warning that the shadows were only something that magical users could see and were generally harmless in their current form, but that didn’t stop the scratches on my legs from weeping scarlet blood as I ran towards the garden.
The passage ended as the wall swung outwards in the hallway overlooking the garden. I skidded to a stop, narrowly avoiding a painful collusion with one of the decorative suits of amour that was stationed around the hallway. I lowered my skirt, the eerie creeping feeling of eyes watching my every move was unshakeable. I glanced around but the only set I could find was the pair that belonged to the painting on the wall.
Resplendent in all her beauty, the former queen Maribelle was breathtaking in her simple summer gown of white. Her long dark curls were of the same color as her son’s if his hair had not been shorn in the army style. The similarities between mother and son did not end there. They both shared the same pale complexion and those high cheekbones that were so sharp you cut yourself on. Although the queen had a certain glow to her figure, almost like an aura of the gentle spirit inside. It was no mystery as to how two kings had fallen in love with her. Even now, years after her unfortunate passing, people still spoke of her kind spirit. However, the longer I gazed at her portrait, the more it felt like something was off.
But something was off with those eyes.
Just like her son’s, I could see a devious light glowing in the depths of those glacial blue eyes. One that could freeze a roaring flame into submission should it have the desire too. I shivered despite the warm temperature of the night, feeling the icy kiss of frost skittering across my skin. It was almost like I was gazing at a shell, one carefully constructed to contain the many secrets beneath the skin. If I had not known better, I would have sworn that the queen was still watching from her position in the portrait through some power of magic that remained so many years after her passing.
“Come on! Of all the times for you to stand and gawk at these musty old paintings!” Sandra grabbed my arm and we charged off, the queen’s frigid gaze sliding along my back as we did.
The king was stamping around the garden in one of the most fearsome tirades I’ve ever seen. His beard was halfway bound in its braid, wiry pale strands sticking out like straw escaping from its containment and in great danger of being stepped on by his sandaled feet. He was no longer in one of the robes that he normally wore, instead being clad in a plaid kilt that reached just above his bony knees. Travain and Angelo kept pace with the ranting monarch as he screamed his fury to the skies above, but both men having long since given up any attempt to soothe the ill-tempered beast. “How dare you useless piles of horse shit lay around and allow one of my oldest friends in this kingdom to be murdered? I should behead the lot of you and find myself a new heir and servant!” Nikos screamed with a shrill fury as one of the longer strands of his beard made it under the sole of his shoes and he tripped, falling forward flat on his bony stomach in front of my feet.
“Your highness, if you would allow me to explain once more.” Angelo—ever the picture of diplomacy in his spotless grey suit and tie even at this time of night—attempted to restate his claim. “The aviary master was alone in his personal cottage, one that was also unguarded by the army soldiers that are stationed in the castle. We had no reason to believe that he or any of our household members was in danger, thus we had no reason to place the man under protection. It was only when a maid found the body impaled on a tree did we realize that you were in danger.”
One of the maids found him? I looked to my side and saw Sandra nodded heavily with a tight grimace. My eyes widened a bit and I silently mouthed my question, “Was it you?”
She nodded once again.
“Kyri! Thank goodness you’re here!” I was momentarily distracted as a gnarled hand clawed at the folds of my skirt and my bare legs beneath. The king peered up at me with a crazed light in his eyes. “They are trying to kill me! All of them! They want to kill me and take my crown for their own evil use! But you’re not going to let them get me, are you Daughter of Mikoff?”
“Of course not.” I soothed while awkwardly patting the king’s bald head. The monarch sobbed furious incomprehensible cries into the fabric of my skirt and I looked up to silently plead with the prince to take charge of his maniac stepfather.
Travain rolled his eyes, gesturing towards Angelo to take custody of the king with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The old fool! Take him to his pathetic excuse for a tent Ankolo, Michaelo... whatever your name is! I need some sleep after listening to his pathetic blathering tonight. You there!” An unnamed soldier in the distance turned and began walking to where the prince stood, bowing so low upon arrival that the shoulders of his onyx cape brushed the ground. “Take the body to the cemetery and dump it in a grave. It doesn’t matter where, just as long as it’s gone before the sun rises!”
With that said, the prince strolled off to the house, leaving us with the sobbing mess of a king clinging to my skirt. “No! No! Don’t let him take me! They’re going to take me and slice off my skin and fry up my eyeballs like bacon! You have to believe me! They are going to kill me at the gala!” Nikos’s reddened eyes rolled backwards in his head while his hands continued to tug on the material of my skirt with a strength that I wouldn’t have believed existed in those bony arms of his. I clutched at my skirt desperately with both hands while Angelo had his arms wrapped the king’s waist and was trying to lift the man from the ground, Sandra valiantly trying to pry his fingers from the loose fabric but the king would not relent.
“Your high-ness! N-No one is going to harm you tonight!” Angelo’s elegantly chopped words trailed off into a pain filled hiss as one of the king’s feet caught him square between his legs – a direct hit to his vital parts based on his actions. The butler immediately sank to the ground in a groan, his hold momentarily released on the king as he clutched his gloved hands over his injured parts.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Nikos kicked out again and caught Sandra square in the chest, knocking her flat on her back against the stones, and rolled to his feet and ran off towards his tent screaming profanities along the way.
I looked down at the ripped fabric of my skirt, a good six inch gap had been torn level with my knees and hung like a gaping mouth in the heavy grey fabric. “Well... that was exciting.” Sandra puffed as she sucked in the breath she had lost with the blow to her ribcage. “I wonder why Nikos wanted us here if he wasn’t going to ask us where we were? It looks like the others are gone as well. Strange.”
“It... was actually... the prince who wanted to question the staff.” Angelo’s voice squeaked a bit as he stood up – with a great amount of difficulty, I might add – and offered Sandra a steadying hand to stand up. She made full use of his offer and swung up to her feet, brushing her hand across the rear of her skirt to dislodge any dust before we returned inside. In the distance, I saw the soldiers moving about as they lifted a sheet draped figure between them. Solomon’s body I would assume. “His highness has already questioned the rest with no success as to discovering the identity of the murderer.” His voice had straightened out a little, but was still a bit higher pitched than his normally well-polished tone.
With nothing else to be done, Sandra and I headed up to our respective quarters and into bed. As I laid there with my head on my pillow, I thought I heard the soft hooting of an owl – Stryker’s hoot exactly – but the longer I laid and listened, the more the nightly silence pressed down on my weary body till I too was asleep as well. Despite my late arrival to bed, I woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly energetic despite the late hour that I arrived to bed. I rushed through my routine before heading down to the kitchen, leaving behind a loudly complaining Sandra beneath the bundle of blankets on top of her bed.
“Morning, Rosa!” I called cheerfully as I entered the sweet smelling kitchen, the scent of fresh cinnamon and yeast floating on the air and lending itself a heavenly aura that nearly knocked me senseless as soon as I opened the door. The grey dressed girl looked up from where she was rolling logs of pale dough in long rolls and smiled. The cinnamon rolls already smelled mouth-watering and she hadn’t even placed them in the oven yet.
I nabbed a cup of coffee and a slice of bread leftover from last night’s dinner before retreating to the corner that I normally inhabited for my morning meal “Good morning, Rosa! Something sure smells delicious, besides you’re lovely little self that is.” Thorn came strolling in from the garden area and whistled merrily. Based on his bright smile and twinkling eye, I deduced that the guard captain must have slept right through all the activity last night, or he was one of the lucky people that didn’t require a lot of sleep—One of which I sadly was not. “And just how are we doing today, lovely Kyri. Still as lively as a fresh spring breeze I see.”
“Rosa, do you have any boots handy?” The cook turned and blinked at me in confusion, not entirely understanding the meaning of my question. “Because the horse shit is getting high.” I clarified around my mouthful of bread.
Rosa snuffled and snorted into her sleeve, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief while they darted to between Thorn’s crestfallen expression and my slight smirk.
“No! It can’t be!” Thorn cried in mock horror as he dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together in a prayer-like fashion. “Where has my beautiful, shy Kyri gone? She can’t be replaced by this vile, sarcastic being that has been tainted by the evil influence of the one disgracefully known as Sandra?”
“I heard that you over-emotional, narcissistic jack-ass!” Sandra growled as she slunk into the kitchen. Her wiry curls had refused to be controled this morning, framing her head in a giant halo of kinky brown strands that stood straight out from her head in every direction. Purple bags lined the thin skin under her eyes and a scowl had formed across her features. She greedily snatched up what remained of the coffee Rosa had brewed on the stove – the dregs were all that was usually left for us anyway – and chugged down the brownish liquid before fixing Thorn with a vile glare that could have boiled his skin from his bones if it had a physical effect. “How are you so dang chirpy? Weren’t you up at all when all that happened last night or did you sleep through it as normal?”
Thorn stood up and rested his hip against the cabinet, one hand idly attempting to snatch a piece of my makeshift breakfast which I promptly thumped with my middle finger in retaliation. “You mean the event where you found Solomon’s dead body impaled on a tree branch and screamed so loud that every soldier in the barracks heard you all the way across the training field and more than a few wet themselves because they thought they were being haunted by a phantom? Yes, I heard you. As did ever soldier under my command. If you had taken notice, I was one of the first ones there and also one of the last ones to leave as I had to make sure that all the evidence had been collected as needed. So, no. I did not achieve my usual nightly rest that keeps my handsome features in such a delicate position. I can practically feel the wrinkles of exhaustion forming right now.” At this he paused and flashed an antagonizing grin at my friend. “Just so you know for future reference, a jackass is one of my favorite animals.”
I snorted so hard that I started choking on my bread. Rosa was the only one who took pity on me while I coughed and gagged as she had left her activity with the fresh rolls to pound me fiercely on the back with one sticky hand. By the time she was through and I had recovered enough to breath, my spine felt like it had been pounded through to my stomach. For such a little thing, Rosa was certainly strong. Almost insanely strong.
While I still possessed my life – for the moment – I departed from the kitchen much to Rosa’s anguish as Thorn and Sandra had now taken to throwing glops of brownish mush that may have been some sort of stew to be prepared later at each other while the cook tried to save what remained of her hard work. I felt a great deal of pity for her, but not enough pity that I stayed. After all, I had my own work to do as well to prepare the house for the Gala.
The Summer Solstice Gala was a grand affair—the closest second being the spring equinox and then the autumn equinox—of summer warmed air, glittering fluttery fashion for the ladies in only the most season appropriate colors, and the daring choice to bare their arms to the brisk kiss of the night air. Plunging necklines and exposed shoulders were also another factor was another act of fashion that would not be seen outside of the lighter summer gowns and would be exposed to the night air as well. It was a night of festivities and promises for the surprises of summer life all done underneath a beautifully twinkling moon – it was also a popular season for wedding proposals as well—All of this and more would be accomplished if you were not a commoner.
For a commoner, summer meant endless heat and stifling conditions. Inescapable by no one except through a suffering, smothering death where the heat felt like it was baking your very lungs into dried strips of leather from the contaminated air that poured forth from the factories. I knew several people, mostly the elderly, who had died from the intense heat of the summer, but that hadn’t stopped me from loving the change that came every year.
Before the ball could ever begin, there was still way too many things to be done here in the mansion. Most namely being that the garden and outdoor dancing space would have to be prepped for the party. The grounds itself shouldn’t be in too bad a shape since we had just cleaned them for the garden party, but the decorations and streamers would still have to be hung in place.
My mind was twirling with the possibilities of the decorations for the party as I retrieved a feather duster and headed for my assigned work station for today, the library to dust the shelves filled with books. A work of art in itself, it was my most favorite place in the castle with the tall, arched windows that filtered in the beams of sunlight to pool on the slightly scuffed floor. Large desks were scattered about at random inside, each one a bearing a space for at least two chairs to sit comfortably side by side. A stone edged fireplace edged the interior wall but what was most numerous of course was the sheer volume of novels that lined the shelves. Blue ones and red ones, bound in black dyed leather or green, with flecks of golden outlining the titles or with simply a hand marked inked words, they were all so beautiful that it was like a dream to me. I loved the crisp smell of the paper each time I opened a volume and the weight of the novels in my hands. For some reason, none of the other’s seemed to want the duties of dusting the library but that was just fine with me. I loved it and the silence that it brought – apparently none of the others realized just what a valuable resource they had on hand.
With my duster in hand, I tromped up the stairs to the second floor where my target happily awaited. It was still dark at first, the curtains having been drawn by the last person who left, but I happily flung the heavy draperies backwards to allow the cheerful morning light to flood the interior.
That’s when I heard footsteps, angrily clopping ones that spoke of the state of rage of their bearer. My hand paused, still upraised and bearing the feather duster as I was about to begin my duties. A muted squabble of voices reached my ears, one that was shrill with anger, and some inner voice warned me that I needed to hide. I darted towards the isles between H and I, pressing my spine painfully close to the jabbing edges of the gigantic wooden shelves as I waited for the unknown one to pass.
“I’m sick of waiting!” A voice raged. One all too familiar as I had been on the receiving end of her tirades more than once. Milasy. I wasn’t aware that she was visiting the prince this morning. “I want this done now!”
“Don’t worry, my dear. All will be accomplished in due time. It is only a few more days till the ball and then it will all be over.” A different voice, male this time, oozed with a soothing sympathy to the irate girl. It wasn’t the prince, I was certain of that. This man had a deeper voice, one that sounded as slippery as oil. Although I couldn’t place the stranger’s voice, the way he spoke in such cultured clipped words sounded familiar. Very familiar.
“A few more days! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? How much time I’ve spent sucking up to that wizened old lunatic and his conceited stepson? Do you know how hard it is for someone like me to fawn all over Travain’s every move while also trying to keep every other available female in this entire kingdom from throwing themselves at the future king? It’s horrible I tell you! And now you want me to wait till the Gala before I can be proclaimed as the next queen! I don’t think so. If you won’t do it, than I will!” Milasy’s voice had gone so ear-piercingly shrill that it felt like a thousand tiny needles were being driven into my skull.
“They are going to kill me at the gala” Nikos’s words came back as a phantomesque whisper in the dark. Maybe the crazy monarch wasn’t so crazy after all.
The male voiced scoffed. “You think that you have what it takes to do things right? That’s hilarious. You’re just a spoiled little girl who couldn’t hold a blade to save her life! A perfect partner for the foolish prince.”
There was a crash and a thump traveled through my back, the ringing of steel being drawn as something crashed into the opposite side of the aisle. A body most likely. “Do you really want to see what I can do?” Milasy hissed on the other side of the wall. I crouched down next to the floor, expecting the need to run at any moment.
There was a few mumbled words and then footsteps faded away in opposite directions as the little assassination party broke up. I stayed hidden there a while longer, letting all the speech I just heard soak in my mind like water in a sponge. Milasy and someone else were truly planning to kill the king at the ball, which would then make Travain the automatic king of Althea. Milasy’s relationship with the prince must be more serious than what the rumors said if she was sure of her upcoming crowning as the newest queen. Despite his apparent affection for me, I had no affection for the mad king himself as he had caused too much unwanted pain with his actions over the years, my only gratitude being that he granted me permission to work here after I was discovered along with Alec. But I also had even less affection for his magic despising stepson who had tried to murder me on the spot. Of the two demons, I would feel more comfortable with the mad king on the throne rather than his stepson, then my future would be ensured—at least for the moment.
I pattered through the empty hallways on silent feet till I had found my target. Sandra’s assigned portion today was to wax the ballroom floor on the ground level of the castle to look all shiny and new once more, a rather innocent task since the party was going to be held in the garden unless it was raining. With one light push, the door to the ballroom slid open and I stepped inside, almost falling down on my rump because the floor was so slick – It was supposed to be waxed to help protect the floor from scratches, not to make an indoor skating rink. I slithered and slid across the floor to where Sandra was down on her knees and spreading the wax with a cloth in her hand in long sweeping strides.
“Hey, Sandra!” I hissed and she jumped, sliding at little herself on the smooth floor as she pushed herself to her feet, looking none the worse for her impromptu morning battle exchange with Thorn except for the smattering of an unknown greasy brown substance on the top of her blouse. “And just where have you been, little miss I’m-so-chirpy-after-getting-only-two-hours-of-sleep? Don’t tell me you are already finished with your duties-“
“Would you kindly shut up for a moment?” I hissed while casually pulling out a cloth from my pocket, bending down to dip in the wax and started smearing it across the floor. “You’ll never believe what I heard!”
“Ooo! What was it? One of the guards gossiping about the latest flight of fancy between the magistrates? Was it Lady Maelia and her personal guard? Did the Magistrate finally catch them together?” Her eyes were so big and round that she looked like a child waiting for a gift.
I cast a suspicious glance around our surroundings to ensure that there was no unwanted ears around before I began to whisper what I heard. “Someone is plotting to kill the king at the ball. While I was in the library dusting the shelves, I overheard someone approaching through the hallway, a very angry sounding someone so I hid between the isles in case it was his royal highness. It was Milasy Ghro talking to some other male person about an event coming up and that she couldn’t wait any longer. That she was sick of sucking up to the king and the prince and she wanted that person to go ahead and do the deed so that she could be crowned queen in waiting.”
Sandra picked at the knotted string of fringe hanging from the edge of her cloth with her fingernails while lowly mumbling in an effort to disguise her words. “I’ll admit, it does sound bad. But we don’t know for certain that they were talking about killing the king. Maybe Travain is going to propose to Milasy at the ball and she can’t wait any longer.”
I arched an eyebrow in question. “And the person called Milasy a spoiled little rich girl and Travain a useless playboy prince who wasn’t fit for the throne.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that one. But what if... I don’t know, they are just talking about the engagement. What then? We can’t do anything unless we have evidence that Nikos life is in danger.” Her fingers continued to pick at the knotted strands until the cloth began to unravel in long dirty white strands.
I sighed and removed the battered material from her hands. “Listen, I know that you and Alec are some sort of mystical magic users that have decided—for some strange reason—to try and do something about the insane rules of this kingdom, but I also get the feeling that you are hiding something. I’m not going to ask what, but whatever it is, I want you to honestly tell me that you think it would be better to leave the crazy old king on his throne, or risk his magic hating stepson or even one of the other magistrates should they decide to pull a coup.”
Sandra’s eyes flickered back and forth from the castle walls to me, her teeth worrying against her bottom lip. Finally, after a long period of silence, she spoke. “If you promise, and I do mean promise on the pain of death, that you will not tell Alec I told you this. I will take you tonight and show you part of the reason we are here. But you have to promise!”
“Okay,” I shrugged, not entirely understanding what the great secrecy was about but my curiosity was peaked. “Then let’s get to work.”