Above us stretched a dark sky, dotted with countless stars forming constellations I couldn’t name. To the west, a shimmering nebula caught the eye—a celestial anomaly known as the Eye of Akhorus, named after the one-eyed god of the nomadic orc tribes. Other faiths had their own names for it, but this was the one that stuck with me. Ahead, the castle loomed, bathed in the eerie glow of Mike’s enchanted torches. Their flickering light cast shifting shadows over the walls and towers, making the place look like a bastion of some monster, like the lair of a malevolent sorceress. Was it just my imagination running wild? I couldn’t help but wonder how the nearby villagers viewed it.

I sighed as the prince and Sir Gamesh peppered me with questions about what had been agreed, their voices a constant drone as our mounts trotted steadily toward the castle. The path was still illuminated by the holy light of two paladins riding ahead. I fought the urge to snap at them to extinguish those damn lights so I could properly admire the sky.

Well, not much had been settled, but at least for now, there were no hostilities. The elves had agreed to stay put in their current encampment, giving me a brief window to investigate. I needed to dig into the orcs’ ranks, uncover the extent of the treason, and—most crucially—find out what had happened to Princess Therella.

Leaving Ju and Alice behind gnawed at me. I hated it, feared for their safety, and felt the simmering urge to burn the entire elven camp to the ground and drag my friends back. But I knew Ju wouldn’t appreciate that, and it wasn’t a solution—not yet, anyway. The best course of action was to resolve this mess quickly. Or at the very least, find out where that elusive princess had vanished to.

While discussing the situation with the prince, Lynx kept harassing me with his low growls, his observations rumbling through my thoughts. Annoying as he was, he had a point. Those kids were far too low-level to sneak past unnoticed. If the elves had missed them, their flank security must have been laughably lax.

And then there was the ambush. How had the assassins managed to stay hidden long enough to strike? The general had gone ahead, hadn’t he? Shouldn’t he have spotted them? I didn’t know the attackers’ exact levels, but the fact that the priestess had managed to fend them off, even when caught off guard, was curious. True, she was a high-level priestess, but Ju had mentioned that her strengths were almost entirely in healing, with barely any offensive magic. Yet she had survived. That raised more questions than answers.

"Your mount seems rather displeased," Sir Gamesh remarked, his tone carefully measured. "Aren’t you worried it might bite someone?"

I snorted, catching his subtle attempt to wedge himself between me and the prince. Nice try, but no. I gave Lynx a pat on the shoulder.

"Sir Gamesh, he’s not particularly fond of elves," I replied with a shrug, my tone light but pointed. "Especially that general. Let’s just say the impression wasn’t favorable and he tries to convey it in this way."

I turned towards Sir Gamesh, a sly grin tugging at my lips, Dame Elania happening to be just behind him.

"Don’t worry," I said breezily, "he only eats those who try to harass me."

Lynx let out a low, rumbling protest, which only made the moment more amusing. Dame Elanea gasped, her eyes darting to Lynx.

“Oh, that one!” the prince chuckled at my feeble attempt at humor. “I think I can sympathize with your mount!”

I couldn't openly converse with Lynx in his current form—doing so would reveal to everyone that I understood beast tongue and that his growls were far more than simple noises. But there was a loophole: monologuing. It allowed me to frame my thoughts aloud, giving Lynx the chance to respond in his own way, even before we reached the castle.

From what he’d been hinting, he suspected something far darker. Either some of the elves, including the esteemed General Wogt, were complicit in the assassination attempt, or they’d learned of the plan and conveniently allowed it to unfold. Lynx’s theory? Wogt might just be itching for a war to call his own.

Drackar's orcs had only learned about the elf delegation at the last minute. Even then, they didn’t know the specifics—just that a delegation was coming. Sir Gamesh had kept most of us, including me, largely in the dark. It wasn’t until much later that I even found out about the princess. But the attackers? They seemed to know exactly who their targets were: the princess and the vice-queen. And somehow, they also knew about the shrine, which I hadn’t even heard of before now.

Could they have gotten their intel from sources within the elven ranks? Or, more troublingly, from someone inside the Kingdom? The thought gnawed at me.

Ugh, I hated these tangled plots where you couldn’t tell friend from foe! So much of it didn’t add up. Why attack the vice-queen with a force that was clearly inadequate? If Drackar had orchestrated this, he could have sent far more capable orcs. But then again, why would Drackar want to ignite a war with the elves in the first place? What could he possibly stand to gain?

As I stepped into the castle’s yard, I motioned for an orc to summon Drackar to the office. I needed to inform him about the two young orcs and see what more I could glean from him. I sighed, already anticipating the challenge. If only I could handle Flo’s truth rays without ending up embarrassingly drunk—this was precisely the kind of situation where they’d be invaluable.

Unfortunately, even if I managed to get some, regular truth serums like the ones used on the young orcs wouldn’t work on mid-level individuals, let alone someone as formidable as Drackar or his lieutenants.

Before confronting him, though, I decided to head to my room. My shoes were still caked in mud, and my feet felt grimy. A fresh pair of shoes and a quick wash would at least help me feel somewhat composed.

I bid the prince farewell, promising to keep him updated on my investigation. He nodded and turned toward the east wing, where he and the paladins were staying. Meanwhile, I slipped into the main hall, my mind already racing through the questions I’d need to ask Drackar.

I had barely taken two steps into the hall when a horde of gremlins came charging toward me, shouting at the top of their lungs—only to skid to a halt just short of collision.

"Not Alice," declared the leader of the pack.

At those magic words, the entire group froze, exchanging disappointed looks. Their leader turned to the maid, who was valiantly trying to wrangle the lot of them, herding them like unruly cats.

"My lady," the maid said, offering a quick curtsy. A couple more human women appeared behind her, bowing their heads as they curtsied as well. Clearly, this was one of Alice’s projects involving the orphans from the domain. I sighed.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I'm sorry, children," I said, my tone softer now. "Alice has to stay with Lady Ju and the elves for a little while longer."

Turning to the maid, I couldn’t help but let a bit of my frustration slip. "Why are these children not in bed yet?"

The maid dipped her head apologetically. "I'm deeply sorry, my lady. They heard the horses and thought Lady Alice had returned," she explained, as if that would excuse the pandemonium.

I sighed again, resigning myself to the chaos of the moment. Without another word, I ascended the stairs, leaving the poor women to handle the gremlins alone. They’d have to fight their battle without me tonight.

As I reached the fifth level and passed the library, a cheery voice called out, “Hi, Mom!”

I still wasn’t used to being called "Mom." It took me a few moments to gather my thoughts. Since the days of playing house with Lola when I was five, no one had called me that. The memory made me chuckle, and I turned to face Sid. He was seated comfortably, sifting through the books Ju had left behind, likely hunting for another fairy tale about dragons.

He looked up, his eyes bright. “Oh my, you look tired, Mom!”

I shrugged, letting out a weary sigh. “I’m dealing with some elf troubles, and the orcs aren’t exactly making things easier either.” I paused, raising a brow. “And you? Why are you still up and not in bed?”

Given how Sid usually slept through half the day, I was surprised at how lively and alert he seemed. He flashed a grin, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth, his energy almost contagious.

“I had things to do in my tower! I want to become a respected dragon!" he declared proudly, puffing out his chest. "When you have time, I'll show you everything!"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and instead gave him a sidelong glance, taking a measured breath.

“Alright, I’ll make time tomorrow,” I promised.

My instincts nudged me—he was definitely planning some kind of surprise. I didn’t need our telepathic link to figure that out. But I had bigger issues to tackle tonight. I turned toward my room, taking a step before pausing and glancing back.

“Sid, have you seen anything unusual? You know Princess Therella is missing, right?”

Given his habit of flying around, he might’ve spotted something that could shed light on the princess’s disappearance. He stopped rifling through the books, his face lighting up as he responded.

“I know, Mom. Everyone’s talking about it! By the way, is it true that Ju is a princess? I had a hunch, but I wasn’t sure!”

I raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. How did he hear about that already? I wondered.

“Yes,” I acknowledged with a nod. “I think she’s unhappy it was discovered, but sooner or later, it was bound to come out…”

A wide grin spread across Sid’s face.

“Hah! I knew it! Now it makes perfect sense why you keep her locked in your room!” he declared triumphantly, as if he’d just cracked an ancient riddle.

My cheeks instantly flushed red. Locked? Ju wasn’t locked in my room! Sure, she was there often—maybe more often than not—but that was just a girl thing! We liked to chat, share stories, and occasionally, she’d sleep in my room. I felt safe in her arms, comfortable even. That was it. Nothing improper!

I almost let his comment slide, but my curiosity got the better of me.

“Why on earth would you say that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Sid beamed with pride, like he was about to share some universal truth.

“Because, Mom, every respectable dragon has a princess in their tower! It’s common knowledge!”

I rolled my eyes.

“Hah! Where did you even get that idea?”

“I read it in that book about dragons! That’s why I wanted my own tower!” Sid declared, puffing up his chest proudly.

“Sid, just so we’re clear, you will not put Ju in your tower. Got it?” I said firmly.

“Mom! How could you even think I’d take your princess?” he replied, sounding genuinely offended.

My tired brain, slow as it was, finally started ringing alarm bells. I blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. Surely not... My mind struggled to catch up with reality.

“Sid,” I asked carefully, “do you have a princess in your tower?”

He nodded eagerly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Of course! Every dragon needs a hoard and a princess in their tower! That’s how they show they’re important!” he explained, his tone as proud as if he’d just recited a universal law.

Oh, the fucking fuck! My knees buckled, and I nearly collapsed. I gasped for air, clinging to the hope that there was some innocent explanation. Sid wasn’t the type to kidnap girls… right?

“Is… is Kate your princess?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Sid shook his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and regret.

“I like Kate, but unfortunately, she’s no princess,” he said with a sigh, as if this was a tragedy he’d come to accept.

I stared at him, my mind racing. Summoning every ounce of composure, I forced out the question I dreaded.

“So you… you… had something to do with Therella’s disappearance?”

Sid’s cheerful demeanor shifted.

“Mom, may I not answer this question?” he asked raising a brow.

I blinked, my breath caught in my throat. Then, against all reason, I started to laugh. It wasn’t a normal laugh—it was the kind that came when everything had gone so absurdly wrong you couldn’t do anything else. A hysterical, choking laugh.

This was too stupid to be true.

He watched me slantwise, his expression calm but watchful. Strangely, I found myself more worried about him than anything else.

I’m not allowed to yell. I’m not allowed to yell, I reminded myself, gripping onto whatever rational thought I could muster.

“She’s okay and unharmed… I hope…” I managed.

“Of course, Mom. As much as I can know something like that about a missing person,” he said, with a maddeningly casual tone. “She’s doing fine—reading a book and waiting for some food.”

It was oddly reassuring, despite the convoluted phrasing. There were still questions gnawing at me, but at least the girl wasn’t in immediate danger. I took a slow, deliberate breath in and out.

“Will you bring me to her?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

Sid shook his head, a solemn look on his face.

“Mom, I can invite you to visit me, but I can’t bring you to her. That would mean breaking my word. You might meet her accidentally if you follow me… or come to visit my tower. But before that happens, will you promise me something?”

His tone was serious now.