King Alistair stalked out of the palace, his body tense as a compressed spring.

Scurrying behind him came the figure of Lord Callum, quiet determination running through his posture.

“Your Majesty—”

The King abruptly turned and walked in another direction, moving more quickly than his advisor could follow. He had a moment of quiet before Lord Callum caught up with him.

“Your Majesty, please, we must discuss matters of state!” Lord Callum exclaimed.

The King turned around and glared down at him. His tall and powerful frame appeared suddenly prepared for violence, and the smaller man instinctively shrank back for a moment before he found his courage.

“We have important affairs to resolve,” Lord Callum said, lowering his voice.

“Lord Callum, you know that my daughter remains in her coma, correct?” King Alistair asked.

“I do, sire.”

“And that my Queen was wounded in the same attack?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, but—”

“What affairs do you imagine are important to me right now? I am taking the air, and in a few minutes, I will return to their side.” His voice emerged as a low growl.

Lord Callum’s face turned pale, and he said nothing for a long few moments, simply staring at the King as if he feared imminent death.

And for a moment, King Alistair saw how he must appear in this man’s eyes. Unshaven, the hair on top of his head long and unkempt, and his clothing dirty. He had not properly groomed himself or bathed since he heard the news about his wife and daughter a week before. He had already been under the weather before this information reached him.

I must look like a wild beast, and I heard the way I sounded. He took a deep breath. The strongest warrior on the continent, according to what people say, and now I rave like a madman. No wonder he is afraid. Calm yourself, Alistair. He is not responsible. What happened to them was your fault.

“My apologies, my lord,” he said through gritted teeth. He let out a sigh. “You will forgive my display of emotion. Please say your piece, and I will answer it as best I can. And then you will please leave me to my walk.”

“Um, yes, Your Majesty,” Lord Callum said, releasing a long breath he had apparently been holding. “There are a few matters. There is the national defense, of course. The Parmonians have proven amenable to the mutual defense pact you proposed. They are sending a representative here to put the matter to writing. The Dessian Duke’s heirs are on their way as well. After your last correspondence, they moved their trip up. Should we ask that their visit be canceled—er, I mean, postponed? Perhaps to the original time?”

The King glowered at him. Canceled. As if he doubts that my Rosslyn will ever wake. He forced himself to rein in his temper again and thought about the question more seriously for a moment. No. If either of them is to be a candidate for her hand, this is not a bad time for them to see her. In truth, they should see her vulnerable. No one is always strong. They may very well see her weakened again at some time in the future, and I would like to know how they will react. When she marries, her husband must remain at her side in sickness as well as in health.

“You will not cancel or postpone their visit,” he said curtly. “And there is also no need to inform them of the Princess’s condition. Make certain that information remains in a tight circle. Along with the business about the mutual defense pact. No one should know about that, at least until it is finalized. If word leaked, it might accelerate any potential attack.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lord Callum replied. “We will keep the information within a closed circle. The other matters are…”

He began discussing domestic law and economic policy questions, and it was not long before the King’s head began to hurt.

Does he have to discuss this now? he thought. None of these matters are urgent.

“Do what you think best, Lord Callum,” King Alistair said, interrupting the man. “I am not in the best frame of mind to handle minor policy questions at the moment.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, instantly bowing his head.

The King waited for the other man to leave his presence, but Lord Callum stayed in the same position, hesitating to move, as if he had something else he wanted to say.

“Is there another matter?” King Alistair finally asked.

“I apologize for broaching this delicate subject, sire. How is the Princess?”

The King let out a heavy sigh. “Her condition seems to be unchanged, almost since she arrived.”

“I see. Your Majesty will remain at the Princess and the Queen’s bedsides until they make a full recovery, then?”

“I will probably take an hour to make myself more presentable soon,” King Alistair replied. “Since my Queen awakened for a short time this morning, I expect she will soon be spending longer periods of time awake. I would not want to inflict my presence in my current state upon her. But I will be focusing my attention on my family at this time, Lord Callum, if that is what you mean to ask.”

“Just so, sire,” Lord Callum said. “The affairs of the Royal Family are the affairs of the nation. We all understand that you must handle those first, before anything else.”

“What is it you want to say?” the King asked.

Once again, the man paused, apparently doubtful about what to say.

“If we are to continue this conversation any longer, you will follow me on my walk,” the King said. “I have held still for too long. I think better on the move anyway.”

He began walking, and he sensed the other man moving briskly to keep up. They moved along the garden path in silence for a few minutes, and King Alistair felt some semblance of inner peace returning.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Things would be all right. Rosslyn would wake soon. Carolien would fully recover. They would negotiate for the return of Lord Baranack to Claustria, and then King Alistair would have him hanged, drawn, and quartered.

He shook his head at his own unrealistic optimism.

And I will live out my days in peace, my border with the Empire quiet and secure, and see Rosslyn marry and produce healthy children, and I will pass my throne on to her. Pleasing notions, at least.

“It is about Lord Baranack,” Lord Callum said abruptly, breaking the King’s train of thought.

“What?” King Alistair asked. “What about Lord Baranack?”

“I have heard a rumor…” He allowed his voice to trail off.

“Do not leave me in suspense as to this rumor, my lord,” the King said. He waited.

“A rumor that he betrayed the Kingdom,” Lord Callum finished. “I heard that was the last thing the Queen said to the soldiers before she succumbed to unconsciousness.”

King Alistair slowly nodded. “Aye. It was.”

The two men walked in silence for a short while, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Lord Baranack’s treachery was also nearly the first thing the Queen said upon opening her eyes, after she praised the Goddess to awaken by my side and asked about Rosslyn’s fate. Despite his generally poor mood over the last week, the King smiled as he remembered the brief conversation before Carolien fell back asleep. I am lucky my life has worked out as well as it has. I have made so many mistakes in my reign, but they were rarely punished. Because I lived in a time of peace. Until now.

“It is hard to imagine,” Lord Callum said, finally breaking the silence. “He was so trusted.”

“We were all blind,” the King agreed. “It was almost impossible to imagine that one of our own would betray the Kingdom.”

In the past, the Empire had corrupted many people into servants of its cause, but they had almost all been commoners. It was extremely rare that someone from the privileged classes could be persuaded to sell out his land and his faith to work with the enemies of the Goddess. Such events usually only occurred under great duress in the midst of war.

The King still could not fully wrap his head around it. There was no rational, self-interested reason that a man in his position could have to betray faith and country—both his native and adopted countries, in this case. What could the Empire have promised him? Wealth?

Lord Baranack was already a noble, though not an especially important one by birth. He could have lived a life of luxury and done no significant work at all until his dying day if he had chosen. His peers might have looked down on him, but he would have suffered no true punishment for it.

Unfathomable.

“What can we do about him, Your Majesty?” Lord Callum asked.

“We will negotiate for his return from the Empire if we can, and if not, we will find an opportunity to remove him by other means,” the King replied.

In some respects, Lord Baranack’s punishment was already beginning. King Alistair had already sent word to his aging father-in-law by secret messenger to inform him of Lord Baranack’s treachery. In the days to come, the traitor would be quietly tried in absentia and his lands seized.

But of course, that was not nearly enough to compensate for the harm the traitor had done.

They walked in silence for a little longer, but just as the King was ready to turn back and return to the palace, something caught his eye.

He stopped and tilted his head down to get a better look look.

An unusually large spider’s web, including some threads that gleamed golden-yellow, presented itself. Behind it, the King saw something he had not seen in years.

“What an auspicious omen,” he murmured.

“What is, sire?” Lord Callum asked.

King Alistair simply pointed at the chrysalis that stood behind the silk net.

“A butterfly in metamorphosis,” Lord Callum said.

“Just the sort of thing I want to see when I walk around out here,” the King said. “Not that I expected it. This is just—” He searched for the appropriate word for a moment—“a happy accident.”

“Do you know what species it is?” Lord Callum asked. “Identify did not work for me for some reason.”

“That is because the creature is in the midst of its transformation. Its species is in flux.”

He did not want to say more to Lord Callum. He felt inexplicably drawn to the tiny creature. Then he felt a chill on his skin. That reminds me. Winter is here. Perhaps I can take him inside.

“Does its presence bother you?” the Lord asked. “I can have a quiet word with the gardeners—”

“No, no,” King Alistair said. “Far from it. I think something like this might be good for my Rosslyn. A living thing.”

In his mind, a dozen legends were swirling around, competing for primacy of place. But no matter which one he focused on, he knew the core lesson of all the history of butterflies in the Kingdom of Claustria.

“It is a good omen,” he reiterated.

Barely thinking about it, he reached toward the creature, his hand breaking instantly through the fragile web that surrounded the chrysalis. He continued moving forward but then caught movement from the corner of his eye.

A massive spider. Pretty, with something like an hourglass shape on its back.

He caught those details as the arachnid leaped toward his face.

The King blocked the spider from landing with his right hand and turned his attention to it.

I wonder what kind it is. Identify.

Goldie, Willful Golden Hourglass Spider (Female)

I cannot recall this species. She must be a rare one. And she has a name.

He maintained a sense of wonder and curiosity about the spider even as she hissed at him and repeatedly bit his hand—or tried to. Her fangs repeatedly stabbed at the webbing between his first finger and his thumb, but they lacked sufficient power to break the skin. The King’s body was constantly reinforced with Mana. He had abundant reserves that he had trained himself to keep in use at all times, including while he was asleep.

“Your Majesty, are you all right?” Lord Callum asked urgently. “We should have the gardeners exterminate these creatures. The brazenness—”

The King waved for him to be quiet.

“I am fine,” he said. “You should be careful, though. This little one is a biter. A pity. She seems to be a unique species. I would have liked to let someone study her. But anyone other than me might suffer poisoning.” He grasped Goldie’s back legs between two vice-like fingers and carefully walked her over to another plant, around twenty feet away from the chrysalis. Careful not to harm her, he set her down on the plant and then walked briskly away.

He sensed that the spider was trying to follow him.

Is she trying to protect the butterfly from me? Or is she waiting to prey on a superior species as soon as it emerges fully formed from the chrysalis?

In either case, he easily outpaced the little spider, strode over to the chrysalis, reached down to the soil, and plucked the plant, along with a handful of earth around it, from the ground.

“We are going inside,” he said. Barely breaking his stride, he rose and walked past Lord Callum, who quickly moved after him.

The advisor spoke as he caught up with the King. “Sire, are we just allowing the aggressive, venomous spider to roam the garden freely, then? Or should I tell the gardeners to deal with it?”

“She is no ordinary spider,” the King replied. “Just as this is no ordinary chrysalis. Tell the gardeners to wear long sleeves and gloves, but they are to leave her alone unless they are attacked. If that happens, they are to trap the Willful Golden Hourglass Spider if possible or kill her if absolutely necessary.”

His heart was beating more quickly as he stepped back into the palace, and he could not help looking down at the chrysalis once more.

When did creatures like these last appear in our garden?

The King walked straight toward the room where Rosslyn and the Queen were recovering. Perhaps foolishly, he imagined the creature in his hands might be able to do something for them.

Thank you for appearing in our hour of need, he thought. Please help my family.