The square before the Citadel was burning. Mira had no idea what caused the blaze, but it lit the night with hellish flames. Tongues of fire licked at the air as though they would devour it. The mob that had filled the square was gone. Yells came from inside the Citadel.

Mira and her father hesitated in the shadows of a shop front. The carriages were all but gone. A few stragglers mingled in the square.

“If the mob is inside, how will we enter?” Mira asked. “They’ll notice us immediately.”

“We can try one of the side entrances and pray that they do not.”

Moving quickly, they made their way back towards the now broken doors of the Citadel. Mira noticed with a shiver that not a few bodies still remained on the cobblestones, whether the victims of the beast or the mob, it was impossible to tell. The firelight cast deep shadows over the square.

They were a street away when a voice rang out.

“Who goes there?” a man called. “Friend or foe?”

“Friends, I can assure you,” said Mira’s father, though he kept his face in shadow. Mira pulled the hood of the cloak more securely around her face.

“Unless you aim to help us, leave,” the man said, coming closer. In the darkness, his features were impossible to make out. But Mira saw with a stab of fear that he carried the outline of a rifle gun. A member of the City Guard?

“Please,” said Lord Escallon. “My daughter is missing. We believe she might be within the Citadel. If we could just look—”

“I said leave,” said the man roughly. He gestured with the barrel of his rifle. “There’s no one inside. Be off with you.” His eyes, barely pinpricks of light, flicked to Mira. Her heart pounded. “Wait,” the man called as Mira and her father turned away. “Remove your hood, wench.”

Trembling, Mira lowered the hood. The man took a step backwards and lowered the rifle.

“Mesians! Over here! I have them—”

Mira’s father rushed at the man, tackling him just as the gun went off. Together they struggled on the ground, but the man was larger. He rolled on top of her father, punching. Mira tried to wrestle the gun away from him, but he pushed her aside, knocking her to the ground.

Another man appeared out of the darkness to join the fray. Mira cried out in alarm and scrambled to her feet, but suddenly the man with the gun lay on the ground, unmoving. Her father half-lay nearby, panting. The third man stood back.

Mira rushed forward to her father, who gathered her in his arms.

“Thank you, sir,” he said to the stranger.

“They will have heard that,” the stranger said. “We must leave before they come.”

Lord Escallon nodded. He pushed himself into a sitting position, then gasped in pain.

“What is it?” Mira asked, alarmed.

“I think I’ve been shot,” Lord Escallon said, examining his side. Mira could see dark blood spilling there.

“We need to go,” the stranger said urgently. Dark shadows were moving in the doorway to the Citadel.

“He’s wounded!” Mira snapped. “We can’t.”

“It’s only a graze. I can walk,” Mira’s father assured her. He looked to the stranger. “My youngest daughter is missing,” he said. “We think she’s inside the Citadel.”

The stranger turned to the great domed building, and in the light of the fire, Mira could see him more clearly. Tall and handsome, with auburn hair and beard, his eyes were like embers.

“This way,” he said, and supporting Lord Escallon, they all ducked into a dark alley.

The stranger led them through alleys and across streets, a winding path that took them ever farther from the cries behind them and ever closer to the rear of the Citadel. Mira’s father kept a hand pressed to his side, and Mira watched him anxiously. His breathing seemed to be more ragged with every step. Mira could see the walls of the Citadel when he collapsed.

“I’m all right,” he gasped as they propped him against the front of a building. “I just—need to rest—”

The red-haired stranger knelt, and using a knife ripped open the side of Lord Escallon’s coat. Even in the darkness, Mira could tell that the wound was much worse than he had made them believe. He grit his teeth and leaned his head against the stone, closing his eyes. Working silently, the stranger pulled bandages from a pouch at his waist and began wrapping them over the wound.

“Do you have a carriage waiting?” he asked quietly.

“In the lower town,” Mira said. “We were going to find my sister and return, but…” She looked at her father. “He can’t go any farther. He’ll never make it in time.”

“We must find her,” Lord Escallon whispered. “We must find Biani.”

“There’s no time,” she said, her voice breaking. “We need to find the carriage and leave. You need medical help.”

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“Lord Escallon,” said the stranger. “Mira is right. You cannot remain here. If the Alerians find you, they will use you as a pawn.”

“Biani will be that pawn,” Mira’s father rasped. “I cannot leave her to that fate.”

“I’ll stay,” Mira said abruptly. Both men turned to her.

“No,” said Lord Escallon. “They’ll do the same to you what they would do to me.”

“I am more valuable than you,” she said, realizing it was true. “If I stay, it will be a sign of faith. I can prove to the Alerians that Mesia is not responsible for the attack tonight. But you must also convince King Sebastt that Aleria is innocent in this. In the meantime, we’ll find a way to expose who was behind it, and we’ll re-establish the treaty.”

“No,” her father protested. “Mira, it’s far too dangerous. You can’t—”

“I can’t leave Biani,” Mira said. “And—” She hesitated. “I can’t leave Cael. He needs me, Father. I’m fearful to leave him alone. With…him.”

Her father raised a hand and touched her face with cold hands. “Another test, Dear Heart?”

Mira swallowed down tears. “Yes. Another test.”

“I’ll take your father to the meeting place,” said the stranger. He lifted her father to his feet. “God willing, we will reach them in time.” He looked mournfully at Mira. “Good luck.”

“I’ll find her,” Mira said, grasping her father’s shaking hand. “I’ll bring her home.”

She watched as they moved awkwardly down the street. Silently, she prayed that they would make it safely, that her father would be all right. Then, she turned and headed in the direction of the high Citadel walls.

----------------------------------------

The inside of the Citadel was dim. The candelabras, which had so gloriously shone an hour before, had either been extinguished or burned out. Mira walked carefully down the central aisle of the Citadel, choosing her steps carefully. Priests and servants moved about, straightening chairs and tending to the dead. On the raised platform at the end of the building, where Mira had stood and clasped hands with Cael, there appeared to be some kind of stand off.

The mob still carried torches and lanterns. They faced the platform, on which stood a handful of figures: a couple men Mira recognized as being important Alerian lords, two Ennist priests, and Prince Rhoden. A company of navy-uniformed King’s Guards surrounded them, their spears and rifles pointed outward.

“Hand him over!” a man in the crowd shouted. “He’s not worth your protection.”

“Think about what you are saying,” one of the lords retorted. “Prince Rhoden is now the only surviving heir to the throne. You are threatening your king.”

“He is no king of ours!”

“Murderer!”

“Just moments ago you punished the Mesians for the attack,” said one of the Ennist priests, a tall man with caramel hair. “Now you place your blame on our prince. You are tired and frightened. You should return to your homes. No more blood need be spilt tonight.”

Mira walked until she was directly behind the mob. Moving quietly, she pushed herself through them. She had shed her father’s cloak in the entryway. She was no long trying to hide.

The crowd, realizing who she was, began to part for her. She fully expected to be seized, but when no one did, she walked more confidently. She knew what they saw: her bedraggled appearance, the blood on her dress.

When she reached the front, she met eyes with a tall bearded man, whom she presumed was the leader of the mob. He looked disdainfully at her, but in the presence of the priests, and with the King’s Guards’ barrels pointing at him, he said nothing.

“Lady Miriandri,” said the lord who had spoken before. He was gray-haired and long-nosed and Mira remembered him to be Lord Crasmere, High Chamberlain of the Council of Lords. His face betrayed his shock.

“We thought you had fled,” Lord Crasmere said. “With the riots—”

“I had,” said Mira, stepping through the line of guards. She turned and faced the crowd. “I returned, because I realized that I could not leave my people. Leaving would betray what I believe to be true, and it would only cause more speculation. Mesia is not responsible for tonight’s vicious attack.”

Murmurs ran through the crowd. The bearded man at the front spoke.

“Oh? And who is?”

“I’m not certain,” said Mira. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a couple of cloth-covered bodies and did her best to ignore them. “But I promise you as your future queen that we will discover who did this. We will find them and they will suffer for what they have done.” Her voice broke.

The sandy-haired Ennist priest stepped forward. “Go in peace,” he said, raising a hand over the crowd. “Ennis will protect us all tonight. The danger has passed. Tomorrow, we will face this new era of our nation.”

Grumbling, muttering, the mob dispersed. It wasn’t until the last torch had vanished into the night that Mira took a great shuddering gasp and sank to the floor.

“My Lady!” said Lord Crasmere, moving forward. “Are you all right?”

“I think, my Lord, that the lady is merely overtired from the night’s events,” said the Ennist priest. “Perhaps it would be best that we all adjourn to the palace for now?”

“Yes, yes,” said Lord Crasmere. “Can you stand, my Lady?”

Mira took one look at the cloth-covered corpses nearby and collapsed again.

“Prince Cael,” she said, her head bowed. “He is dead?”

“The physicians took him to the palace half an hour ago,” Lord Crasmere said. “We have not heard news.”

Mira nodded, not daring to raise her hopes.

“The sooner we return, the sooner we will know,” he added, extending his hand.

“My sister,” Mira whispered as the elderly man helped her to her feet. “She’s only eight. Did you find her?”

The Ennist priest, who stood nearby, tilted his head. “Ah, yes,” he said. “One moment.” He walked to a door in the wall. Once it opened, he spoke softly into the room beyond and Biani emerged, holding his hand. Mira’s heart, which had been heavy with the possibility that she would not be there, lifted with relief and joy and immense sadness.

As soon as she saw Mira, Biani released the priest’s hand and ran to her, her eyes red with tears. Mira caught her little body in a tight embrace, crying with her.

“I’m sorry,” Mira said again and again. “I’m so sorry, Beanie.”

“I want to go home,” Biani whimpered into her chest.

“I know. I know.”

When, finally, they stood, they found Lord Crasmere had waited for them. He gestured to the side. Mira was about to follow when she saw Prince Rhoden. The dark-skinned young man stood a few paces before them with his head bowed and shoulders slumped. He raised his head to watch them leave, and Mira met his gaze. She could see pain there, and confusion, but her own anger eclipsed that. As she passed, holding Biani’s shaking form next to her, she spat out in venom, “Stay away from us.”

Had she lingered just a moment, she would have seen the pain these words inflicted. Darkness drew around Prince Rhoden, and he melted into the shadows of the night.