She catches Nicole crying when she thinks no one is watching. Sometimes Moira intervenes, she can usually distract her enough to get her through the next few hours. But eventually she’ll spy her friend alone in a secluded area again, lost in her own sadness. It’s a battle she can’t win, there isn’t enough words. She can’t heal the betrayal. The uncertainty surrounding her future, her relationships, herself. Its this uselessness that causes her to turn the other way. It’s painful to ignore her, but its worse to get too close to her sorrow.

Although her guests are recovering, she isn’t any closer to a solution for Nicole’s situation. She sits on the throne tapping her fingers on the armrest. The palace is vacant, the throne room a vacuum, and she’s left with her own miserable thoughts. She counts the pillars, noting the long shadows stretching over the marble. Off to the side a door creaks open, she doesn’t need to see who it is, judging by the footsteps its her knight. Whether it’s the shadows crossing his face or the exhaustion in his stance, something seems off with him. He’s more absent lately, but she assumes its because of his extra duties she isn’t supposed to know about.

“Eclipse won’t talk to me, but Chris informed me of a new hitch in the plans. Is it true about the Bellaverian catacombs?”

“I think its best to assume it’s true until it’s confirmed by one of your uncle’s spies.”

“They’re supposed to be extinct… there isn’t a military alive that has counter measures for this type of situation.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, there’s only two people in Alexanderia that has any information on these things. One is a child and the other is the woman who banished us from her home.”

“I can’t involve civilians, it’s too much of a liability.”

“Then we’re at an impasse.”

“More like back to step one.”

She wants to scream, grip his shoulders, and shake him. Everyone wants answers, but her every idea is shot down. Why bother? She has other ways to waste her time. She doesn’t need other’s to do it for her. There’s a commotion from outside, the door slams open, and Nicole’s shrill pleas echo towards them. Behind her is Theo with Kendra in handcuffs.

“Moira this is a lie! Tell them it’s a lie!”

Kendra’s on the verge of tears and Theo’s wide eyes tells her he’s in way over his head. On their heels is Lex and Beckham shouting at each other while Eclipse’s roars falls on deaf ears.

“It is a matter of security!” Beckham yells.

“This is hearsay!” Eclipse roars.

“Your Majesty, I insist you place Alexanderia’s safety over personal matters!”

“Moira, this is outrageous; I demand Lord Beckham relinquish proof.”

“Please Your Majesty, I swear I never did it, I couldn’t!”

“What in the world is going on?” But they still bicker, shouting over each other. “Enough! What is this all about?”

“We received word Princess Winterman’s servant, Kendra Waltz, is accused of murder.” Beckham answers, “there are rumours there is a conspiracy against the queen and the princess is behind it. We must return the princess immediately or face criminal implications.”

“Where is your proof of this conspiracy?” Eclipse counters.

“My sources tell me the queen issued a warrant for Kendra Waltz’s arrest. We need to deport all of them while we can. We cannot be accused of harbouring criminals, Your Majesty.”

“I am not a criminal!” Nicole protests. “I ran to save my life and that of my ladies. There is no doubt in my mind that he plans to kill us the moment we return. Our lives are in danger. To insist us to return is signing a death warrant.”

“Your presence here places all of Alexanderia in danger!” Beckham bites back. “Your Majesty, if we issue political asylum, we become a target for Bellavere’s aggression.”

“Are you trying to tell me that if I don’t return my friend to her unstable home that her aforementioned, unstable mother will attack us instead?”

“We already suffered Bellavere’s aggression once, let us walk away while we can.”

“And throw my friend to the wolves?”

“We must put Alexanderia’s safety before the individual. We need to protect our people.”

“I want to see this arrest warrant.”

“Your Majesty! You will put your people at risk of an attack? And you call yourself a Mage,”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Enough Lord Beckham!” She shouts over Eclipse’s roar. “Leave before I remove you myself!”

“You’re the undoing of this kingdom!”

“Insolence!” Eclipse growls as Beckham slams the door. “We will get to the bottom of this. Give me time to sort this out.” Lex stands off to the side holding an envelope; the colour drains from his face.

“Is that for me?” He’s unnaturally silent as he hands her the crinkled letter. She reads the finely written cursive, understanding his hesitation; the words are direct, dignified, and deadly.

“The messenger waits outside for your answer.”

“It’s from Margaret.” Her hands tremble, “it’s as Beckham said. Either return Nicole or face war.”

“Say it isn’t so,” Nicole whispers, taking the letter from her. “Moira, this might be mother’s handwriting but it sounds different.”

“Are you saying this is a fake?” She hates the hope fluttering in her chest. Anything to prove her worst nightmare isn’t coming true.

“The signature is hers,” she frowns. “But it is more composed than her usual long ranting sentences. It sounds like she copied what someone else wrote for her to say.”

“You suspect Kipling?” Eclipse asks.

“Hard to tell. I barely speak to him, let alone have any idea what his writing style is. But something did happen before we left. I have prayed on it, and now it seems to be more concerning than originally thought.”

“Did he say something to you?”

“No, nothing uncouth. Kendra, remember when we confronted him in the hallway. When he lied about mother donating her belongings?”

“Yes, Your Highness, soldiers were carrying everything from the queen’s quarters. It is plausible (albeit unlikely) for her to donate anything. But they were removing logs from the fireplace, pokers, and end tables. I found it odd.”

“Sounds like they’re taking anything that isn’t nailed down.”

“More like anything that could be used to fight back,” Zack finally speaks. “When was the last time you spoke to your mother? Like physically saw her?”

“Last time I saw her was before she left to come here. When they returned, I was asleep so I missed her arrival.”

“Are you aware Kipling took your mother hostage while he was here? It was his insurance policy; he knew we would not risk killing her and starting a war.”

Ironic….

“Are you implying he is keeping my mother prisoner in the castle?”

“He might’ve used a military coup to take over Bellavere. Maybe he assumed you knew and didn’t want you to tell us.” He says her name directing her eyes to his. But all she feels is numb. “It might not matter what our decision is whether we like it or not; he’s on his way here.”

Glancing out the windows, she remembers the Treason; and the wave of fireflies marching towards her. Despite the sunny sky the kingdom darkens, and a familiar terror takes hold.

“Theo release Miss Waltz,” Eclipse directs. “Nicole, I suggest you and your ladies remain inside the palace grounds for the time being. General can you set up a rotation with your trusted men. I want the princess guarded at all times.”

“At once My Lord. Theo you will remain on first shift until I can arrange relief.” Before Nicole leaves, she squeezes her hand mumbling that she will pray for them. She watches Eclipse escort them out, feeling a tinge of jealousy at their freedom.

“Your Majesty, please, we can’t return her to that woman.”

“Lex… I don’t know anything about war… I mean Mages—we—aren’t trained for it. We are forbidden…” What about Zander’s blessing; maintain balance and order. But does engaging Bellavere contradict his command? Or is it what he wants? Disobeying the Gods is different than disobeying the Chancellor; Godfrey has no authority over her soul. “I need time,” her voice trembles as panic consumes her body, “there has to be another way.” She walks off the dais shoving the letter into Lex’s hand. She reaches the staircase as tears well to the surface.

This isn’t happening, not now, not all at once.

The pieces of her world shudder, the ground, once stable, swirls at her feet. Duty, freedom, friends, and war spin out of control in a chaotic whirlpool; slamming into each other. Doubt slips from its cage and slithers through her veins as she grips the banister. Guilt smashes against her as she places a foot on the first step. This is all her fault. If only she hunted Remo instead of attending the Academy.

If she was braver and killed him months ago, he wouldn’t have killed her father. If her family didn’t exist, Sara would have her loving parents. The Council’s right, she tells herself, she’s a threat. Everyone will die because of her. Squeezing the railing she fights her heart to climb the stairs. She isn’t trained for war, she’s expected to save lives, stay neutral and protect. But today, she is alone; deciding the entire fate of her kingdom, her people, and her home.

Is this… home?

Kipling’s murderous rage destroyed the safe harbour Alexanderia was. The palace, like the mountains, encompass her in high stone walls. Like her father, she’s destined to live in a decorated prison. Following the same routine of fake smiles and polite lifeless conversation until life ends...

I wanted more.

The trembling in her heart shakes her body; on quivering legs she ascends the polished staircase. I’m not qualified. I’m not enough. She pulls the pins from her hair releasing the blond tresses from their restraints. I’m powerless to stop Kipling; he’ll win, and my friends will die. They clink on the stairs, the twinkling echoes as numbness replaces panic. There is nothing left to do, she declares at the final step.

The future lays before her, the centre of the whirlpool beckons her closer. Swirling walls of water surround her; there’s no escape, only the acceptance of fate. Death and torment cascade from the ceiling, her involvement in their dance pushes her forward. She yearns to forget her past, present, and future. She aches for mercy from her nightmares.

Crossing her room, she steps outside on the balcony overlooking the kingdom. A breeze whispers against her skin; ‘it’ll be over soon.’ Her body is leaden, used and beaten. The whirlpool crashes, the waves swallow her, drowns her senses, and summons relief. Soon I’ll be free.

“Alexanderia is my prison,” she grips the railing and takes a deep breath, “the Avalon name is my jail keeper and the people are my foreman.” Balancing herself on the railing she surveys the empty courtyard. “The Gods are my puppet masters, controlling me with strings of pain and sorrow.” Closing her eyes smothering her tears, she curses the heavens above, “I refuse to be a mere marionette!” the words spill like venom; “It’s my life! My destiny, and I alone control my demise!”

Extending her foot, she shuts her eyes and pushes her body forward.