The day was fading from late afternoon into early evening when Avalaine’s carriage finally reached the courtyard of her father’s castle.

Avalaine was startled that it seemed a little small and quaint now.

Having just come from the home of the Royal Family of all Maeraland, her home of Mount Lirra could not compare to the majesty of that grand palace.

Still, she had never been so glad to be back. It was not just a sensation of homesickness, but having seen the pile of rotting animals in the grasslands had both frightened and energized her.

She was certain that this was some sort of depraved, ritualistic killing. Who else but man would do such a thing? Or could do such a thing?

It certainly hadn’t been one of the large cats that prowled the grasslands. They would have eaten anything they caught, not piled them up and left them to spoil in the sun.

Avalaine could not get the sight of the decaying corpses out of her head. Neither could she rid herself of the smell. They were leagues away by now, but she swore she could still smell it.

She had to tell her father and warn him. She didn’t know what the purpose of the vile act had been, but she was certain it could not be good.

Maybe Elves? she thought. Although she had never heard of Elves killing animals and leaving their bodies to rot. But who knew what might happen with creatures so completely insane.

Myria had been unusually quiet since they had seen it, and Avalaine had not minded one bit. She needed this time to think.

The carriage came to a complete stop. Shortly after, a guardsman opened the door and offered his hand to Avalaine.

She took his hand and stepped out into the sunlight and wide open space of the courtyard. Somehow, the stonework of the ground felt extra hard under her feet.

Myria soon followed and stood next to Avalaine. The two watched as the south door to the castle opened and a veritable entourage of figures spilled out.

From the size of the group, Avalaine was certain it was her parents, their guards and their attendants who were moving directly toward her at a brisk almost-run.

“My dear!” shouted a booming voice which could only belong to her father, Earl Brentan Lirra.

The grouping split apart. Guards and attendants stepped to the side, leaving only three people. These were her father, the Earl, her mother, Countess Margaret and her younger sister, Lady Alyssa.

The Earl was a tall, barrel-chested man who was bald on top, with red-hair and a red beard that somehow had not gone gray yet. His black cloak was thrown open as he extended his arms toward her. Avalaine could see that he was wearing his best finery.

Her mother was also dressed in one of her finest gowns, but hung back, a knowing smile on her no longer youthful, but still handsome, face. Her blonde hair had faded to gray, but it suited her just fine piled up on her head, and it still looked impressive to Avalaine.

Lady Alyssa, Avalaine’s sister, did not look as if she wanted to be there. The girl was just over sixteen summers and was more interested in running and fighting with the boys than in being a Lady She did not suffer wearing her gown with much grace, and was pulling at the lace around her neck.

Alyssa’s blonde hair was put up in a neat bun that Avalaine knew would be pulled free as soon as the girl could break away. She offered a disinterested scowl to Avalaine as a greeting.

The two had never been very close, with almost ten years separating them, so Avalaine did not feel insulted.

“Father, you greet me like a foreign emissary!” Avalaine laughed, as she was enveloped in a hug from her father.

“Of course!” said her father. “Nothing but the best for the Prince! Er— where is he, by the way? Is his carriage late?”

Avalaine was confused, and she recoiled a bit from her father.

“Father, no! The Prince is not with us? Why would he be?” she asked.

Lady Alyssa snorted out a scornful laugh, then looked down at the ground when a baleful glare from her mother trained on her.

“But…” her father continued, “…he had taken such a fancy with you. I was sure he would come back here to ask for your hand in marriage.”

All were quiet then. Avalaine felt burning embarrassment as everyone stared at her.

“No. The Prince made no such overtures, Father,” she said. She looked down at the ground as she said so.

Again, no one spoke, and Avalaine did not know what to say. She almost felt as if her father would hold this against her.

“Well, it doesn’t matter!” cried her mother. “We are just happy to have you back here, sweetheart!”

Avalaine found herself enveloped in another hug, this time from the Countess. As she hugged her daughter, the older woman whispered into Avalaine’s ear.

“Don’t worry dear, marrying a prince of the land was always a long shot. There are still other options!”

Avalaine grimaced, but tried to hide it when her mother broke the embrace.

“Father,” Avalaine said, hoping to change the subject. “We saw something strange and terrible on our way in.”

Earl Lirra had been staring into space, and had heard nothing she had said.

“Brentan!” hissed the Countess. She lightly slapped the Earl on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Oh! My apologies, my darling,” said the Earl, who was still visibly disappointed. “Please say again.”

Avalaine was now annoyed, but reigned her emotions in.

“I said, we saw something terrible on the way in from the grasslands. An awful pile of carcasses left to rot in the grass.”

“Another one!?” the Earl blurted out.

Avalaine was shocked. They already knew about this? There had been a previous such discovery?

“Yes, m’Lord,” said Kelto, the carriage driver, who Avalaine had forgotten was nearby.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“One of the guardsmen that came to meet us said they saw a similar thing just three days past,” said Kelto. “Had I not seen it myself, I would have thought they were prone to mummery, but now…” he trailed off.

The Earl seemed to attempt to compose himself.

“It’s nothing, I’m sure,” he said, and once again he enveloped Avalaine in a tight hug, lifting her off the ground.

“Father, stop!” Avalaine cried out, laughing.

He gently landed her back on the ground, then stepped back.

“We’ll talk no more of rotting carcasses, as we have prepared a midday feast. If the Prince and his people are not here, then that’s all the more for us! Come, let us eat and talk of your trip!”

The Earl grabbed Avalaine’s hand and began dragging her away. Her mother and sister moved to follow. Avalaine barely had a chance to call back to Myria to see to their belongings before she was out of sight, pulled back into the castle.

Myria, Kelto and a smattering of guards were left behind to think on the Earl’s words.

***

Much later, well after full the full dark of night, Myria stalked through the halls of Mount Lirra. Her fists were curled up so tightly her nails were digging painfully into her palms.

All she encountered in the halls knew it would be best not to approach her, as she was in one of her moods.

This was the sort of mood that Avalaine never saw, of course. To her beloved sister, she must always be polite and deferential.

Myria burst through the door of her chambers, then slammed it behind her.

Looking around, she saw the modest room had been well maintained in her long absence, but the fool porters had brought not only her items, but Avalaine’s as well, and her trunks and other baggage were taking up most of the space.

She stopped herself from screaming in frustration, but only barely. At least they had lit the candles for her.

They had dumped Avalaine’s things in here because she was seen as Avalaine’s lackey, her personal servant. Now she would have to make arrangements to have the items taken all the way across the castle to Avalaine’s chambers.

Of course, Avalaine did not live in this cold, drab wing of the castle. This wing was only for lessers.

I am just as much a Lady as she is, Myria thought, even knowing it was not quite true.

Her own father was a barely-landed Baron in service to Earl Lirra, so although they were both Ladies in principle, Myria knew Avalaine held higher status.

Avalaine had always ranked higher in everything. Myria thought often of how she had been Avalaine’s sidekick and tagalong for their entire childhood.

Her whole life, Avalaine had been the one who was beautiful, who was smart, the one who was funny, the one people liked.

Myria sighed, then threw herself backward onto her bed, flopping down without care.

Now Avalaine had a chance with a Prince of the realm, and somehow the man was not good enough for her?

Myria took one of the pillows on the bed and placed it over her face. Safely positioned, she let loose the loudest scream of rage she could produce. The pillow muffled it somewhat, but she was sure others nearby could hear it.

She didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing was ever fair.

Myria had seen how hard the Prince had tried with Avalaine, and she could not even give the man a kiss without complaint? So what if his hands wandered a bit? He was a PRINCE.

Rolling over onto her stomach, Myria buried her face in the pillow.

She would have given the Prince anything he wanted, but of course she never got the chance.

As usual, she was barely acknowledged and treated as a servant when she was nearly Avalaine’s equal. It was enough to drive one mad.

Myria flopped over again onto her back, her eyes tightly shut.

And what was the reason for Avalaine’s disdain for Prince Randall? Why could she not be more giving to one of the possible future rulers of Maeraland?

Baron Garrick Varsus.

Myria shook her head and almost laughed.

All knew of Avalaine’s pitiful infatuation with the Baron, and they had all known for years. Avalaine was terrible at hiding it, though she didn’t think others could see.

The funniest thing was that the only one who did not appear to know was the Baron himself.

Varsus was a good man, but he was a lesser man to the Prince. That was no insult, it was just the truth.

At one time, Myria had considered seducing Varsus, just to upset Avalaine, but Varsus was not of high enough status for her. To be a Baroness would not give her the rise of her fortunes that she wanted for herself.

Even worse, it still might not put her on even footing with Avalaine. As she was the daughter of an Earl, the question of rank could be somewhat murky, and Myria didn’t want that.

When she got what she deserved, there would be no question that Avalaine must curtsy to her and not the other way around.

Myria sighed. With no marriage offers and no other prospects at hand, it did not seem likely that she would ever realize her dream of becoming Avalaine’s superior.

Suddenly energized again, she sat up from the bed, then stood and crossed over to her large standing mirror. This was not easily done. As there was so much of Avalaine’s baggage in the room, Myria had to squeeze in between two trunks to reach her destination.

Now standing in front of the mirror, she appraised herself.

Her brown hair had always annoyed her. It was just so common. Why could her hair not have been blonde like Avalaine’s?

Myria turned her head this way and that. She could see a hundred things wrong with her face. If it was just a little fuller here, and a little thinner there, if her nose was shorter, if her lips were more full.

She ran her eyes up and down the reflection of her slim body. It was good to be slender, but sometimes she felt as if she did not have the shape of one. She could never wear any of the plunging necklines that Avalaine wore.

Myria knew that Avalaine was not the largest-breasted woman, but she could definitely attract the attention of men when she wore those dresses.

For Myria, there was no point. Men only looked her way when there was no other option.

Even back at the Royal Palace, Squire Bevan had taken up with her, and yet many times she caught him ogling Avalaine when he thought she wasn’t looking.

She knew, as she always knew, that any man would choose Avalaine over her.

And when she lands a PRINCE, she throws him back! Myria thought in disgust.

There had been other offers, too. Yet Avalaine somehow managed to stave them all off, all much to the disappointment and anguish of her father.

And all for Baron Varsus.

Myria gritted her teeth. She decided that the next time she saw Varsus she was going to… well… she did not know what she was going to do. But if it would hurt Avalaine, she would do something.

Fury rushed through her again, and she needed an outlet.

Turning, she kicked one of Avalaine’s trunks over, spilling clothes and other items out onto the floor of her chamber.

Damn, she thought, now I have to clean this up.

She bent down to retrieve one of the gowns Prince Randall had bestowed on Avalaine, when she saw something glinting on the floor.

Going down onto her knees, Myria crawled over the spilled clothes toward it.

It was some kind of gemstone. A small, faceted crystal that looked about as big as her palm.

Reaching out, Myria picked up the crystal.

Immediately, the candlelight dimmed, and a rush of cold flowed through her body.

“Oh!” she cried, but it was not painful. Just unexpected.

The candlelight returned to normal, and then Myria felt the cold recede.

She had never seen this gemstone before, in any of Avalaine’s jewelry boxes or ever on her person. Myria knew every one of Avalaine’s pieces and coveted them all.

Holding the gem up to the candlelight, she examined it closely. It was clear, or should be, but somehow the light did not pass through as it did with normal crystals.

The gem seemed dull, yet it held Myria’s attention.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

Somehow, this gem was the answer to the prayers she had never said out loud, or even in her head.

For some reason, holding this crystal made her feel as if things were finally going her way.

Myria smiled, and for once, it was not forced.

***

Outside of the castle, IT waited in the tall grass surrounding the estate, still recovering from its journey across vast leagues of land.

It had used a great deal of energy to transport itself from the land of its pawn to this place.

There had been precious little energy to spare and when it had arrived, there were no human souls nearby to use for sustenance.

With so little strength remaining, all it could do was call out to lesser beasts, drawing them in so it could feast on their life-forces.

Feast was the wrong word. It garnered so little sustenance from base animals that it was almost not worth the effort. Almost.

Little by little, it had regained strength, repeating the same ritual as it lay nearly dead in the tall grasses.

Then, it felt someone pick up the gemstone.

A rush of energy was felt, and suddenly it could feel the thoughts of this mortal woman. It could sense her physical body and her vibrant soul.

It had not expected this.

The gemstone was not of its making, and it did not know the ultimate purpose of the object, only that it was made by a lich of greater power and knowledge than itself.

Right now though, it knew that this woman was…. compatible. There was a darkness to her than it had not placed there, unlike with Barnaby.

It smiled as it lay otherwise motionless in the grass.

This woman could be useful.