By mid-morning the following day, the royal household had become aware of the situation; the Nazeers had departed during the night and taken the Illymium princess, Starlex, with them. Starlex's horse, Sola, had returned to the stable, lathered and with reins dragging. The question rattling Scipio and his small coterie of henchmen was why the princess was captured.

Hyperia, tense hands hidden within the folds of her morning gown, thought she knew who was behind the treason. But needing proof, she sent one of her servants to fetch Moranna.

The servant returned moments later and informed the queen that Moranna had taken off during the night.

"Go after her then, and bring her here!" Hyperia shouted as the servant hurried off to carry out her order.

Two equestrian guards were dispatched to Pendulum Road to search for the runaway maidservant.

Dire and desperate thoughts funneled through Hyperia's brain like molten lead as she made her way down the hall for a private meeting in the king's war chamber.

"Have they sent a word of any ransom yet?" asked Scipio's main advisor, the wealthy landowner Dolceto Davadas.

Scipio scowled and shook his head.

"Nor will they," Hyperia spoke up.

The men turned to acknowledge the dark-haired beauty in a burgundy gown as she entered the war chamber. She closed the door tightly behind her.

"If you know something, wife, say it," Scipio snapped. The Nazeers had been a thorn in his side for too long, and this news about his sister-in-law pushed the thorn in deeper. He didn't want to start a war with the Nazeers, but this transgression could not go ignored. Some action on Oran's part must be taken. The question was what should be done and to what degree. At this point, he needed more information before he could make that determination.

"Starlex was taken by Nargos Nazeer because they are planning another siege of Mynimium," Hyperia said with a calm voice and a composed visage, although within the folds of her gown, her white fingers trembled.

"How do you know this, and why wasn't I told?"

Hyperia dropped her eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry, my lord. I should have said something. It was a conversation I overheard between my maidservant, Moranna, and some of the Nazeers. At the time, I took it as nothing more than silly women's gossip."

"And we have no reason to think it's anything more than that." Scipio paced the thick carpet in his war chamber, rubbing his short black beard.

Flenn Illymium cleared his throat and said, "I passionately advise against waging any full-on attack against the Nazeers. They've amassed too powerful an army. Such an operation would require weeks of preparation and strategy. To act rashly now would be a grievous error."

Scipio huffed. His anger was riled, not because he cared that much about Starlex (she was little more than a sister-in-law to him), but to have a member of his household snatched within Oran city limits was a reprehensible offense. He consciously uncurled his tight fists at his side and said, "What do you suggest, Flenn Illymium?"

"The princess must be returned at once." Flenn's eyes, violet lights within folds of wrinkled flesh, were hollow with fatigue. "But we need to keep this intelligence only within our small group." The enormous sleeves of Flenn's sapphire robes grazed the carpet as he slowly circled the large table on which sat scrolls and unfurled maps of the Four Corners. "If news of this gets out, Oran will appear weak to the rest of Ardelym."

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Hyperia's brain buzzed. Flenn Illymium was right. The fewer who knew, the less chance of her deception leaking. With growing horror, she was certain Moranna had heard the prophecy and told Nargos Nazeer about it. That was the true reason why Starlex was kidnapped.

If Starlex were to bear a Nazeer son, that child would be the next great king.

Hyperia's brow tensed into fine lines as she secretly admonished herself for allowing her sister to slip through her fingers so easily. After hearing Illym's prophecy, she should have immediately taken care of Starlex herself. It would have been easy for her sister's skiff to sink in the sea.

I need to get her back here at once! ruminated the queen, Before Nargos or one of his kind can plant his seed.

"Who is your best warrior in Oran, my Lord?" Hyperia blurted out.

Scipio appeared thoughtful for a moment, his jaw tense beneath his closely trimmed beard. Slowly he turned and opened the double doors to the balcony. Golden light spilled into the somber room, filling the crevasses of the dark, carved paneling.

He stepped out onto the balcony and settled his gaze on the citadel's west wall. Beyond the front gate, the Wols were leaving Oran City to make their slow return to the Weir. Behind them, impatiently on horseback and foot, waited the Skaards, eager to return to their warships and their battling brothers in the north.

"Not only in Oran." Scipio pressed his palms onto the marble railing. "The question is who is the best warrior in all of the Four Corners?"

Hyperia, Flenn, and Dolceto joined him on the balcony.

A smile tugged at the corners of Scipio's lips. He darted his eyes at Dolceto and said. "Bring Bonn Skaard to me at once. And hurry! He and his men are about to depart our city."

* * *

In the crowded courtyard near the front gates, Tylla, Rigel, and Jabe pushed their way through the crowd of citizens who had gathered to send off the departing guests. Young maidens, smiling shyly, handed wildflowers picked from the hills of Oran to the Skaard soldiers, the greatest astride tall mounts.

"Could these damn Wol women move any slower?" Leiffen asked. "And speaking of women." He leaned down to accept a flower from an Oran girl. Tipping his fur hat at her, he inquired, "Why don't you come with us, love? We could use your beauty to melt the ice in Kadaar."

The girl's face exploded in a crimson blush.

Bonn Skaard snickered as he slowly walked his horse behind the Wols' bowed heads.

"She's in there somewhere," Tylla cried from the sidelines. "Carmelle!"

"That's her!" Rigel shouted, pointing at a pale, freckled face hovering above the Wols' homespun shrouds.

Tylla pushed into the gray mass, not caring whose foot she stepped on or whose ribs her sharp elbows prodded. Rigel and Jade followed behind, struggling to keep up.

Carmelle's tear-stained face lit up when she saw Tylla, whose coral gown and brightly shining jewels glowed in the dour sea of Wols. With an anguished cry, Carmelle embraced Tylla tightly. The cowl she wore slipped back, revealing a raw, shaven head.

"Tylla," she cried. Sobbing onto the princess' shoulder. She breathed in Tylla's exotic perfume as if it were oxygen.

"That's enough!" A sharp voice punctured the crowd's hum just as Genya Wol's sharp stick struck Carmelle across the shoulders. Carmelle cried and sank to her knees.

Tylla let go of Carmelle and pointed a shaking finger at Genya. "As princess of Oran, I command you not to strike my friend!"

"I have dominion over the Wols, Princess Davadas," Genya said with calm assurance.

"Not within the gates of my city!" Tylla retorted, her caramel-colored skin flushed with rage.

A smirk alighted Genya's face as she roughly pulled Carmelle to her feet. She took a few steps backward, her sharp eyes fixed on the princess, a handful of Carmelle's shroud still clenched in her white fist. "We are no longer within your city gates, Princess," Genya said as the last Wol passed through the great open archway.

Tylla stopped before the gate and watched helplessly as Genya dragged Carmelle away. When they reached Pendulum Road, Carmelle fell to the ground, a cloud of dirt spinning around her. She refused to move until Genya flogged her again with the thin stick.

"No," Tylla cried, putting her hands over her ears to blot out the sound of Carmelle's anguished cries.

Rigel had been hanging back, but now he approached his weeping cousin. “Come on, my sweet," Rigel said. Jabe was on the other side of her, and together, the young men led Tylla back to the palace and away from the waning crowd.

At the gate's entrance, just before the Skaards were about to pass through, a young guard ran breathlessly up to Bonn and grabbed hold of his stirrup.

"What do you want?" Bonn asked impatiently. He had waited long enough to leave this rich but, in his eyes, empty city.

"The king wishes to speak to you at once, Bonn Skaard."

Bonn and Leiffen exchanged a look.

"Alone," the guard added.