A brisk breeze blows through the open pedway leading to the castle. They pass cozy couples as they nestle together watching the evening settle in. Moira pulls the shawl over her shoulders as she watches the stars glimmer between pockets of clouds. The scent of distant rain melds with Sara’s light citrus scent. Nicole’s ladies spent all afternoon dressing Sara in outfits and ribbons; choosing her current attire meticulously.

She adjusts her own dress, something left behind from last spring’s royal tea party. It hugs her curves a bit tighter than she prefers it’ll due for tonight. Nicole invited them for supper and despite her protests, she lost the battle against Sara’s enthusiasm.

“Eclipse why didn’t you dress up like we did?” Sara asks, turning her head to the panther walking behind them.

“Because I am a Guardian, not a doll.”

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling pretty sometimes. Moira do you like my dress?”

“You’re a pretty young lady,” she smiles. “Did the ladies give you some oils to wear?”

“I chose orange blossom!” she shoves her fist in front of her nose, “smell!”

Despite Sara’s excitement, dread creeps in as she counts the doors to the dining hall. Not like any meal with Margaret was ever pleasant to begin with but now that they know her secret; everything is worse. Not only did the queen agree to massacre the villagers of Dragon Haven, but Sara is the last survivor. Two guards dressed in royal blue uniforms stand guard outside the door. She stops Sara while they’re still outside of earshot.

“Okay, before we go in, do you remember what I told you?”

“Um…. don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t mention where I’m from or what happened to mommy and daddy…”

“And?”

“Oh, chew with my mouth closed.”

“Yes, she is definitely ready to dine with royalty now. Pray we survive this with as little pain as possible,” Eclipse mumbles.

The curtains remain shut for the mourning period and the candlelight casts shadows across the faces around the table. Both mother and daughter share porcelain skin, a slim frame, and cherry red lips but the similarities stop there. Margaret’s scowl darkens her once youthful face. Her prized feature, wavy glossy black locks, slither down her back; her servants whisper it resembles the colour of her heart.

The tension hangs in the air and smothers any cheeriness Nicole emits. No one speaks as the meal begins, which as awkward as it is, is the best outcome she can hope for. However, Nicole, according to her education tries to make it an enjoyable night. Most of the topics of polite conversation fizzle or die because of Margaret’s silence. But one thing she admires about Nicole, is the girl isn’t a quitter.

“Have you heard of the new fashion craze from Lollardum?” Nicole asks, “you wear it under your dress, and it slims your figure. Kendra says—”

“Moira, who is the stray?” Margaret interrupts, “you in the business of gathering runaways now?” It’s the first words spoken to her since she arrived hours ago. It’s also the first time she’s had to meet Margaret’s judgmental glare.

“As mentioned, Sara’s under my temporary guardianship. She is with me as per her family’s request until she is reunited with her distant relatives.”

“Sounds like a great way to spend your summer,” Nicole smiles at the child. “What is your favorite part so far?”

“Definitely here, this castle is amazing. Oh, and Moira’s salmon, Eclipse caught it but she has this little spice bottle in her pouch and she put it on the fish and it was way better than what mommy made.”

“Fish seasoning?” Margaret laughs, “what rock did you pull her out from Moira? Imagine being so impressed over some spices.” The way Sara hangs her head enrages her more than she expected. Sensing the conversation going south in a hurry Eclipse clears his throat.

“We had an amusing discovery recently, are you familiar with Dragon Haven, Your Majesty?”

“I heard it was a nice place if you prefer a dusty grotto of squatters.” Sara’s face reddens as she stares at her plate. Moira squeezes her fork picturing it flying into the queen’s forehead. Margaret senses it too, she stares; daring her to act on her desire.

“How odd, that you seem to know intimately, because Moira and I have travelled around most of this area and only recently stumbled upon the village. Amusing fact, the place is absent from most maps. However, I presume with your infinite knowledge you know every inch of your lands.”

“The late king revealed its existence on his death bed.”

“How diligent of him, he passed so suddenly but managed to think of the dusty grotto in his final moments.” Moira suppressed a grin as the queen struggles with a retort. Even Nicole exchanges looks with her, wondering what the panther is planning. “Your Majesty, I heard Bellavere has a new general.”

“It does.”

“If I may, Diamond is an exceptional soldier, in what way did he fail you?”

“He was too old and outdated.”

“General Stone of Alexanderia is friends with Diamond and close in age,” Moira adds, “King Avalon still retains his services.”

“Avalon refuses to rid his court of his only friend and places Alexanderia in a vulnerable position.”

“What ‘vulnerable position’?” Her interest piques. The two kingdoms benefit from a close relationship. In exchange for fish and shellfish Bellavere exported bear and beaver pelts to Alexanderia. Because of a shared boarder, it’s a greater benefit for them to work together than be enemies. But the queen seems to forget her husband’s friendship with king Avalon as she continues to insult him.

“The older the person becomes the more impaired they are. It is a shame Avalon is too stupid to realise that. Alexanderia deserves a monarch; not a fool like him.”

“I think General Stone remains in place because of his level of experience.” She sips her drink, “his strength comes from the trust and respect from his men.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“And what do you know about trust and respect? Who can respect someone who fakes piety and humility when everyone knows how selfish you really are? You have all these high hopes for a better world but the world does not need to change, it is you. But you never listen to me, and I am tired of explaining it to you. One day your life will come crashing down,” she purses her lips, “Oh how I pray to the Gods to witness when they crush you.”

“And I pray I’m there when yours fall as well.”

“I do not miss that smart mouth of yours. I heard your mother had one too; no wonder it got herself killed.”

“How dare you!” She threatens her with the trembling fork in her hand, “insult me all you want but leave my mother out of this.” She ignored the queen’s abuse for years but knowing that she hired the man responsible for destroying her family is too much. Her blood boils and the smirk on Margaret’s face demands her fist.

“A shame your spineless father lacks a temper like yours,” she grins, “he can benefit from it.” The fork whizzes across the table landing centimeters from Margaret’s arm with its teeth in the wood.

Her chair screeches across the stone floor and she storms away before Eclipse says anything. Throwing a tantrum only proves Margaret’s point but it doesn’t matter. If she had to sit through another wave of insults and her arrogant smirk then she may murder her. Her vile debasement of her mother’s name is unforgivable. Those precious memories are what soothes her fragile heart. But Margaret always cuts to the core.

As her feet lead her to an ancient door in a dusty corridor, she is aware of tiny footsteps following her. Sara says nothing but watches as the door opens with a creak; revealing forgotten stone steps. She counts the stairs, taking comfort in knowing each step is one more step from Margaret. The winding staircase climbs higher into the bell tower and ends at another abandoned door. She yanks it open and overlooks the kingdom. As she inhales the cool evening air her soul rejuvenates in the calm before the rain.

“I’ve never seen a bell this big before,” Sara peers inside the hollow instrument.

“’It takes great strength to ring a mighty bell.’ Well, that’s what people here say anyway.” She sits on the edge, letting her feet dangle in the breeze. “I don’t know why I keep returning, it brings the worst out in me.”

“How come the queen hates you?” She sits next to her.

“She claims I’m a bad influence on her daughter.”

“Are you?”

“I met Nicole when I was eleven and she was nine.” She absentmindedly swings her feet, “my father requested I return home during my holiday from the Academy. But instead of spending time together we travel here for him to conduct business with her father. One afternoon, Nicole and I are having tea with this snobby lord’s son. I hated him, but Nicole’s friendly because their fathers were planning a betrothal between them. The boy was a brat. He says when they’re married, he’ll throw out her childish toys.”

“That’s mean, what did she do?”

“The same as always, stand there listening to hurtful words and trying not to cry. I, on the other hand, splashed milk all over his expensive clothes. He ran away crying like a baby. We’ve been friends since.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

“So much trouble,” she smiles, “my father was furious; he shuffled me home and grounded me until I returned to the Academy. Margaret blames me for ruining Nicole’s betrothal.”

“I’m sorry about your Mommy. I didn’t know she was—”

“Dead.” She stares away in the distance, “it happened a long time ago, don’t worry about it.”

“What happened?”

The nightmare comes too easily, like the day in the abandoned temple, she recalls the smiling woman holding her while she swims. A perfect day at the secluded beach. But the night, when the sun sets all she sees is darkness and an ocean of fireflies. The scream is what haunts her; it stops the words from reaching her tongue. And although Sara yearns for this secret, she can’t utter it.

“I can’t talk about it. It’s too deep of a wound; if that makes any sense.”

“Mommy said wounds don’t heal right if you don’t clean them before putting the bandage on.”

“This is a little different than that.” Sara ponders the answer before changing the subject.

“Moira, are the people who killed my parents here?”

“Unfortunately, yes, and it makes everything more complicated.”

“What are we going to do? Do they just get away with it?”

“It’s complicated. I mean, is that the Oath I follow forbids me killing people in cold blood. Trust me, I want to, but I swore in blood to the Gods. Not to mention because of the political angle they’re protected. So, we need to find another solution.”

“What do we do?”

A heavy raindrop splatters against her suede shoe. Then another hits the rain gutter beside her. The clouds burst unleashing pellets over the unsuspecting rooftops. The bell house provides enough protection but she pulls her knees to her chest; watching sheets of water descend upon them. In these instances, she enjoys the isolation, she forgets Sara is beside her. But even through the rain the lights from the cathedrals glow reminding her of duty and sacrifice.

“First, we get you as far from here as possible. Once we’re safe we’ll go to the next step.” That’s all she can focus on, one step at a time. No point wasting her energy on the uncertainty of the unknown. To her surprise Sara climbs to her feet and offers her hand.

“Okie dokie, I’ll go pack. We better change, we won’t get far in these fancy clothes.”

Unlike her friends, she can’t sleep. The brief storm leaves her energized and her mind too active to rest. The damp drizzle looms over the streets and follows her until she reaches the cathedral stoop. The service is under way and she has a wide selection of pews to choose from. A few off-duty guards and elderly patrons scatter among the usual clergy and nuns. But the midnight service can’t bring the peace her soul seeks.

The angelic hymns fill every corner of the space, but she feels beyond the Gods reach. Even the sanctuary doesn’t feel safe. The fear churning inside isolates her from the rest. They sit in the pews oblivious to the threat walking the streets. A secret she hates to know. The neighbours at the end of her pew shuffle as a cloaked figure sits next to her.

“You are welcomed to use the royal seats, the view is better,” Nicole peeks from under the hood.

“No way, having most of the service obstructed by these lovely heads is my favourite part.” Nicole giggles but the smile fades.

“Eclipse confessed you are leaving.”

“No rest for the wicked, unfortunately,” but Nicole didn’t appreciate her humour.

“But you just arrived, surely Sara would not object to staying for a little while?”

“Nicole, I’m sorry but something’s come up…”

“…are you leaving because of Mother?”

It’s a dangerous question, and one Nicole already knows the answer. Even if Margaret isn’t planning on attacking another town, she insulted her family for the last time. But its worse than that, Kipling is dangerous and soon the world will know the truth. Unfortunately, Nicole's caught in the middle of it all. She promised Eclipse secrecy, but Margaret's plans place Nicole in a precarious position. As heir and people’s favourite, she is key to either Margaret's success or demise.

“If anything happens here, I want you to go to Alexanderia.”

“What do you mean ‘if anything happens?’”

“Promise me.”

“What do you know that I do not? Will you meet me there?”

“Stay there until it’s safe to return.”

“Will you meet me there?” it’s a plea and a question rolled into five simple words, “please Moira, promise me.”

“You know I won’t make that promise.” Nicole nods solemnly. She takes her friends hand, “you aren’t alone, your people love and support you. I love and support you. Have faith in yourself.” Nicole squeezes back with a half-smile.