The enchanted fabric walls of Tara’s personal quarters began to glow at exactly five o’clock in the morning. The matriarch of house Donner enjoyed a few peaceful moments of comfort before she recalled why she was alone in bed. Her spirits fell further as the facts of her reality came back to her. Her condition of loneliness would not end when she rolled out of bed. There would be no one to comfort her at the end of any of the stressful days to come.

Dubois always used to make their bed first thing in the morning. He insisted that at least some of the housework be left to him, but she would often help him anyways. For the second time in her thirty three years of life, Tara made her marriage bed alone. She managed not to cry as she walked back and forth from one side of the bed to the other, folding each layer of bedding in Dobois’ favorite style. She wiped a few tears from her cheeks as she removed a pair of flowery, feminine trousers from the hand-crafted armoir that had been one of her husband’s seven anniversary gifts. She paused a moment before the Dubois’ shaving mirror to quell her emotions. Even at this hour of the morning, her courtesans would be about, and it would not do for them to see her crying after her husband’s funeral.

Only one of Tara’s subjects awaited her in the meeting room adjacent her quarters. It was her favorite member of the court, Malek Sier. In official terms, Malek was not a subject of the house Donner. He was not contractually obligated to follow orders from Tara, Orion, or anyone else. For some reason, he had chosen the servant’s life. He was the most consistent, trustworthy master of intelligence Tara had ever known, and she was happy to see his face first thing this morning.

“Good morning, Lady Donner.” Malek bowed his impeccable bow.

“Good morning, Malek. I am glad to see you this morning. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing you haven’t already done, Lady Donner. And what can I do for you?”

“Did Hex scuttle back to the Queen last night?”

“He did.”

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“He used a mine entrance in the North Cliff.”

“I assume this entrance has been mapped?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Malek produced from his tidy black robes a map of the decommissioned mine entrance. Tara accepted it with a smile. Malek always knew just what she wanted.

“And what news this morning.” Tara beckoned to Malek, and he joined her on her morning walk. It was a ritual the two had shared for months.

“Well, the Queen’s beast, Cirrus, has been put into a state of hibernation by the Archwarden’s demand.”

“How much do dragons eat?”

“There are some things I do not know, my Lady.”

“No, there aren’t Malek.” Malek smiled at the ground.

“A beast of Cirrus’ size and weight would require approximately two hundred and ninety times the sustenance a human would require.”

“Very well, what else?”

“A rumor has been seeded in the market camps.”

“Alright….”

“It is rumored that in order to decide which of Goldcrest’s citizens should control the food stores, the leaders of each major political faction will compete in a contest of gladiatorial combat.”

Tara could not help but to sneer at the idea. She took on a very different expression when she realized Malek spoke in earnest.

“That’s laughable.” Malek’s expression suggested otherwise. “Isn’t it?” Malek did not have to speak to tell her just how true the rumor might be. “Could you end this rumor, Malek?”

“Perhaps, but I do not think I will.”

“Malek. Do not tell me you believe that the men and women we’ve been wrangling for months will fight one another in the streets for the people’s entertainment.”

“No, but there will be a fight.”

“I respect your judgment, but I refuse to believe we have fallen so far.”

“Welcome to the apocalypse, my Lady.”