It was still the middle of the night when Emily woke up. When it became evident that she wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep any time soon, she slipped out from under the dusty old covers, stifling a sneeze. Tiptoeing across the room in the moonlight, she headed for the window, looking out at the ruins of Arcadia. While it was ominously silent, it was also hauntingly beautiful, with the dark silhouettes of the huge buildings stretching as far as the eye could see.

At first, she had been strongly against returning to the palace for the night. The lack of memories from early in the day still scared her. Now, she was glad she had let Arthur convince her that it was the best place to be. Captain Caldwell had agreed with him as well; it was probably the safest place to be. If the palace was half as frightening to other people as it was to her, then they would be safe.

Unlike the last time they had been here, it felt strangely safe to her, almost welcoming this time. Either something had changed or it was the sound of Arthur snoring softly that was putting her mind at rest.

With a little searching, they managed to locate the bedrooms in the palace. They were located on the third floor, overlooking the courtyard at the front of the palace. From the windows, she could see straight down the main street. It wasn't the street that held her attention, though. In the distance, there was a faint orange glow. Obviously, there were more than two people in Arcadia after all. She could almost imagine the look on Michael's face when she told him in the morning.

That brought another thought to her mind: maybe it was Michael who had made her feel so uncomfortable in the palace earlier. Having claimed that he needed somewhere quiet to record his findings, he had shut himself in one of the other bedrooms, only appearing briefly to collect his helping of stew that Captain Caldwell had cooked. Cooking on a small fire on the stone floor had reminded her of the countless nights she and Lewis had spent doing the same. She would have given anything to have him sit opposite her tonight.

In the past, she had never been able to imagine relying on someone as much as she did on him. Not only did she find it amazing that he always knew what to do, but she also missed his companionship. He could always be counted on to make her feel better. Arthur tried his best, she thought as she glanced in the direction of his sleeping form, but it wasn't the same. They might be bound by blood, but she always felt removed from him. It was as if they were complete strangers sometimes. Why hadn't Sebastian taken them both in when he had plucked her from the orphanage in Tristan?

Making a mental note to ask Thomas about it, Emily turned back to the window, her eyes scouring the horizon again. They had only just settled on the distant glow when there was an almighty crash from somewhere much closer. Instinctively, she looked around at Arthur, but he was still fast asleep. Remembering how he had slept right through countless storms on the way to Arcadia, she smiled weakly. The building could fall down around him and he would probably carry on sleeping.

Captain Caldwell had taken the adjoining room; perhaps he had gotten up and fallen over something in the dark. For a moment, she considered turning back to the view of the city, but, in the end, curiosity got the better of her. At least if he was awake, she would have someone to talk to for a little while.

Carefully, she stepped over Arthur as he lay sleeping on the floor. Despite the huge bed, he insisted on sleeping on the floor. In the end, she gave up, letting him do whatever he wanted. As quietly as she could, she slipped into the adjoining room. 'Captain Caldwell?' she hissed, peering around for any sign of the sailor.

In response to her inquiry, there was a grunt from the bed, followed by a loud snore. He was still asleep.

For a moment, she considered waking him. The only other person in the palace was Michael, and she didn't really want to bump into him in the dead of night. There was just something about him that she didn't like. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. Since she first set eyes on him, she has always kept one eye on him. While his knowledge of Arcadia and the war was incredible, it seemed a little odd. He was also adamant that there was no one else in the city.

That was the second option. Michael could still be fast asleep in the next room, which left only one other explanation for the huge crash she had heard: they weren't alone. No, she told herself, it was probably just Michael poking around. He had been itching to explore before, but she had insisted they all stay together. Despite willing herself to go back to bed and forget all about it, she found herself heading for the door, far too awake to sleep now.

In nothing but an old shirt and pair of shorts that she had stolen from Lewis' old training clothes, she slipped out of the door, closing it softly behind her. It wasn't until she was standing outside the door of the room that Michael had shut himself in that she remembered the amulet lying on the bedside table beside the picture of Arden and the blonde girl, whom she still maintained was his sister. Perhaps she should go back and get it, she thought, pausing in front of the door.

If Michael was asleep, then she would go back and get it, Emily decided as she pushed the door gently. To her surprise, it swung open. Michael had always seemed so secretive; surely he would have found a way to lock the door or, failing that, stop it from opening so easily. 'Michael?' she whispered, taking a couple of steps into the room as she looked around.

Unlike when they had arrived, the bed was neatly made, the moonlight filtering through the window onto the dusty green covers. Slowly she looked around the room, peering into the shadows in the hope that he had, for some unknown reason, also decided to sleep on the floor.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He was gone. The rucksack he had also brought with him had vanished as well. She had barely started to consider what he might be up to in the palace when there was another crash. This time, it sounded as if it were a lot further away. She knew it had been a bad idea to come back to the palace, especially after he had insisted that they come here as a condition for using his boat. Ever since they had arrived in Arcadia, he had been suggesting that they split up. Was he after something in the palace? He had talked so fondly about the weapons that were supposed to be kept here.

That was it. Now she had to go and investigate, she decided as she turned her back on the room, returning to the dark corridor. For a moment, she hesitated; surely she should wake Arthur and Captain Caldwell or, at least, retrieve the amulet. Then again, time was of the essence, she thought, remembering how the woman and her daughter had managed to get away just a few hours ago. She had to find Michael before he could do anything. With one last glance back at the closed door that belonged to the room that she had been sharing with Arthur and Captain Caldwell, she took off, sprinting down the dark corridor, her bare feet slapping against the cold stone.

Emily had just reached the end of the corridor when she suddenly thought about what she was doing. She was going looking for a man that she had always been suspicious of in the middle of the night, alone. For a second, it was as if she were back in Arden Vandemark's house as she froze at the top of the sweeping staircase. Surely Lewis would tell her to go back and get the others. Then again, he had raced off into the unknown when he knew that there wasn't time to waste. She had already spent too much time hesitating.

Michael wouldn't hurt her, she thought, trying to convince herself that he was here to help them. The thought had barely settled in her mind when there was another crash. At least she hoped he was there to help them, she thought as she hurried down the stairs, trying to pinpoint where the noise had come from.

In the moonlight from one of the windows, she saw something sparkling in the middle of the corridor up ahead. For a second, she slowed down. Lying in the middle of the corridor was a suit of armour, the pieces scattered across the floor. She was on the right track, at least.

Almost tripping over one of the pieces, she accidentally caught it with her foot, kicking it against the wall with a crash. Caught between the fear that she might have alerted Michael and the hope that she could have woken Captain Caldwell or Arthur, she carried on running. The most recent crash came from somewhere downstairs.

Taking a sharp left turn at the end of the hallway, she headed for the grand staircase that led down into the entrance hall. She was almost halfway down the stairs when the cold night air that was flooding through the long-gone doorway hit her. She found herself cursing the missing doors and yet thanking them at the same time as the moonlight that was flooding in reflected off another broken suit of armour. How could Michael have knocked over two suits of armour? Especially ones that were in places where there was at least a little light from the moon.

Before she knew it, she was across the entrance hall and sprinting down the dark corridor where the four of them had been exploring when she had panicked the day before. She realised it was a trap, skidding to a halt as she entered the room at the end of the hallway. With a bang, the door slammed behind her. 'Michael?' she whispered, unsure whether she wanted him to reply or someone else to.

'Well done,' he said softly in her ear as a hand appeared on the back of her neck, preventing her from looking at him.

'Michael, what are you doing?' she asked, trying to turn towards him. Instead, his grip grew tighter, forcing her to look at the large, crumbling stone arch that was being supported on three sides by scaffolding. It seemed to be the only thing in the room, towering over them.

'I must confess, for a while I didn't think you would come,' he said, pushing her forward.

'Arthur and Captain Caldwell will be here any minute,' she said as confidently as she could manage. Hopefully, Captain Caldwell was a lighter sleeper than Arthur. Maybe he had heard the bang when she accidentally kicked the piece from the suit of armour against the wall.

'No, they won't,' Michael said smugly. 'They won't be waking up any time soon. It's just you and me now.'

'What did you do to them?' she demanded, trying to twist herself free from his grip. In the end, it only resulted in his fingernails digging themselves into her skin.

'They'll be fine,' he muttered. 'It was just a couple of drops of a sleeping concoction I created.'

'Why are you doing this?'

'I need answers, you see,' he said. 'After all, my notes must be complete when I return home. Why are you in Arcadia?'

'We're searching for George. Someone saw him trying to convince a captain in Belsey to take him to Arcadia. He stole the crown, just as we told you.'

'You're lying!' Michael hissed, smacking her on the back of the head. Almost seeing stars, she stumbled forward, breaking free of his grip in the moment that he had relaxed it.

'Why would I lie?'

'You came here looking for a weapon,' he insisted. 'I know what you are! You want to return Arcadia to what you think is its rightful place.'

'What?' Emily said, baffled.

'You're one of them. A precursor!' Michael shouted. 'You want us all to live under the slave regime like we did in Arcadia.'

'I have no idea what you're on about,' she snapped.

'Yes, you do,' he said as a long, silver knife appeared in his left hand.

She needed to buy some time, she thought as she backed away, trying to spot anything that she could use to defend herself. Why hadn't she stopped and picked up the amulet? 'Arcadia fell for more than a century. You never lived under a slave regime. I didn't even know there was one.'

'Well, my family did! Now, why are you here?' Michael demanded as he advanced, the knife held out in front of him.

'I already told you,' she shouted, backing away. With a thud, she felt something cold against her back—a metal pole falling to the ground beside her.

'You're going to enslave us all again,' Michael muttered to himself.

He was almost within striking distance of her when there was a piercing scream from her left. At once, both of them clapped their hands to their ears as they searched for the source of the wretched sound. From the broken archway beside her, a foggy arm was reaching out of the swirling mist into the room. Suddenly, she remembered. The face in the fog, the arm. The moment she realised what it was, pain shot through her head, sending her vision swimming.

In front of her, Michael's blurry form moved closer, the silver blade in his hand shimmering. Pulling her hands away from her ears, she stumbled as the screams reverberated around the inside of her skull. Reaching down, she grasped the metal pole, wobbling forward as she swung it at Michael.

With a crunch, the pole connected with the side of the head. For a moment, he seemed to have been stunned before he crumpled to the floor. Dropping the pole with a clatter, Emily covered her ears. Doing the only thing she could think of, she ran from the room without ever looking back.