The rest of the morning was spent in relative peace. Once Mira and Biani had composed themselves and gone again to the sitting room, Issa suggested that they go for a walk through the gardens. Feeling restless, Mira agreed at once.

They donned light cloaks and collected the designated King’s Guard at the door. Mira fought down her frustration as he followed them through the palace and out into the weak sunshine of a new spring day. She understood why he must be there, but she chafed at the demand. Surely the Alerian Council of Lords did not think that two young women would be any threat to their nation? But the guard had a nice face, and nodded each time she glanced at him, and her irritation abated, though only slightly. It could be worse, she told herself. At least we have the liberty of walking where we would.

The palace gardens were cool and damp, the leaves of the many trees and shrubs heavy with yesterday’s rain. Mira breathed in the fresh air and pulled her cloak a little closer to herself. She was grateful for it. Spring had only just begun, and here, so high in the mountains, the air contained a sharp chill.

Biani ran ahead, leaving a swath of wet, trampled grass in her wake. She called back occasionally, telling Mira to look at a bright daffodil or a cluster of purple-slippered crocus. Mira watched her bright head bounce through the hedges and felt another small part of her burden lift from her shoulders. We must make a habit of this, she decided, though her slippers quickly became saturated with the wetness and her feet were growing cold. If Biani was happy, it did not matter.

Issa walked at Mira’s side, and together they spoke of trivial things: the changing of the seasons, which types of plants grew in the gardens, and noting how much snow covered the mountains. Mira was still unused to being in their enormous shadow. In the lowlands of Mesia, where she had been raised, the mountains were only a gray stripe on the horizon. There was something unsettling about having so much of the sky blocked from view by tall, impenetrable rock walls. Mira trusted that, in time she would adjust, for the mountains were truly beautiful. But in the meantime, she felt their ever-present nature looming ever over her.

Mira had called Biani back to them and they were beginning their slow return towards the palace when she noticed two figures coming towards them through the gardens. A moment later, Croftin Meran, accompanied by a young page boy, approached. Mira smiled at him, happy to see a familiar face. She had met Croftin shortly before the wedding, and had been thoroughly impressed. He was absolutely smitten with Issa, that much was obvious, and Issa seemed content in his affections. Mira was sorry their wedding must now be delayed until the official mourning period of King Garazor’s death was over.

“My ladies,” Croftin said, bowing and sweeping his hand flamboyantly to the side. “What a wonderful idea, to walk in the gardens! I would have joined you, but I was busy with affairs of state. A truly boring morning, if I must be honest.”

He grinned down at Biani, who smiled shyly back. Then, he gestured to the page.

“I believe you are being summoned, Lady Mira,” he said seriously.

The boy nodded, his eyes darting nervously around. “Prince Rhoden requires your presence immediately,” he said. “In the audience chamber.”

Mira’s stomach clenched tightly. A meeting in the audience chamber could only mean a conversation, private or otherwise. She was not certain she was ready to face Prince Rhoden, but she shook herself from her thoughts and nodded respectfully to the page.

“Thank you,” she said. “Tell him I will come directly.”

The page bowed and retreated, jogging back towards the palace. Mira watched him go, a feeling of trepidation growing inside her.

“Come, Biani,” she said. “We’ll return to our chambers. You must change, and I need a new pair of shoes if I am to go to a royal audience.”

“Well, that won’t do at all!” Croftin cried in mock outrage. “You are to be summoned to the prince, while your sister must remain confined indoors?”

Mira eyed him humorously. “There will be other days to walk the gardens, Lord Meran,” she said.

“But none so beautiful as this one!” Croftin protested. He crouched next to Biani, drawing his head in closer and conferring with her as though they were having a secret conversation. “Besides, you have not seen the Closed Gardens, have you, Mistress Biani? With the private waterfall and swinging bench? There’s also the most wonderful climbing tree. You must try it! Do you think, if you asked your sister nicely, she would let you?”

Biani looked up at Mira with hope in her eyes. “Can I go, Mira? Please?”

Mira wanted to argue that climbing trees was not the sort of behavior fit for young ladies, but then remembered how many trees she had climbed when she was Biani’s age. With a sigh, she made as though the decision was very difficult.

“But there are so many exciting books to read indoors,” she said, and Biani pulled a face.

“They’re not exciting,” she said. “They’re boring.”

Issa laughed, the sunlight shining on her clear skin. “We’ll watch over her,” she assured Mira. “Go to your summons. You don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Mira watched, smiling, as Croftin took Biani’s hand and led her away, Issa following behind them. Then, she gathered her guard and made her way back into the palace.

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

When Mira arrived at the audience chamber a quarter of an hour later, she found there was already an audience underway. The tunnel-like room had high walls supported by thick pillars and a raised dais at the end, on which sat an ornate, golden throne. Prince Rhoden sat on a chair in front of this, addressing a large group of white-robed Ennist priests, and only paused briefly as Mira entered. A couple of men stood or sat on the dais around him.

Mira walked quickly and quietly on the side of the room, until she could hear what was being said. The new High Priest, who had officiated the funerals yesterday, was speaking. He was a tall man with sharp features and his gray-brown hair reflected the light from the windows above.

“We cannot thank you enough, your Highness,” he said with a clear voice. “If we gave our thanks for the rest of our lives, our gratitude would be inadequate. The Heartstone is a priceless treasure, irreplaceable in the artifacts of the past.”

As Mira drew closer, she saw that the High Priest held a crystal in his hands, about the size of two fists. She recognized it immediately. The Heartstone. High Priest Tallis had held it aloft during the wedding ceremony two nights before. A small spike of fear shot through her like an arrow. The beast had disappeared with it clutched in its hand. How, then, had it come to be in Prince Rhoden’s possession? Once again, her doubts flared within her chest.

Prince Rhoden accepted the thanks of the priests with a nod of the head. In the bright light of day, he looked even darker than normal, his skin inky and void-like. His expression was difficult to read, but his voice was firm and calm.

“It is indeed an unparalleled treasure,” he said. “And I am happy to return it to you and the Church, where it belongs. But I cannot take responsibility for its finding. That honor lies with Aras Rapidian, High Master of the Brethren of the Dawn. He deserves your thanks, not I.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He gestured to his left, where a small man sat, quietly contemplating the priests behind round spectacles. The priests all bowed and murmured thanks, and the man raised a hand.

“I hope you will no longer cling to your doubts,” he said, and though he spoke quietly, it seemed as though his words pierced through everything in the room. Mira felt them within and around her.

“I hope this will serve as additional proof that your prince had nothing to do with the attack in the Citadel,” the man continued, and every ear listened attentively. “He has returned the Heartstone to you with no malice. Take it, and the intention in which it was given.”

Rhoden stirred. “May the grace of Ennis rest on you, and your endeavors.”

The priests bowed again and thanked both Rhoden and the man at his side for the return of their precious stone. They placed the crystal carefully within a padded wooden box, and then exited the chamber, their soft sandals making hardly a noise on the stone floor. One of them looked keenly at Mira as he passed, and she realized with a shock that it was the caramel-haired priest who had dispersed the mob within the Citadel and who had kept Biani safe on the night of the attack. He smiled swiftly at her, and then was gone with the rest.

Rhoden spoke quietly with the man at his side for a moment, and when they were done, the man rose and left. As he passed Mira, she met his eyes beneath the spectacles. For a moment, she had a feeling of utter powerlessness beneath his gaze. It was as though she was frozen, not with fear, but with awe at the sheer amount of power she saw. She saw power and strength and deep sadness through it all, with a darkness at the edge. At the same time, she knew that he was looking at her with the same intensity, reading her soul as though it were the pages of a book.

Then, he walked past Mira, leaving her to wonder who, exactly, he was. She had the odd feeling that this man was like the ones from the old stories: mysterious as Tor and strong as Ren. Capable of fantastic feats of magic, able to bring armies to their knees or raise a tower from the ashes, if he so desired. The thought simultaneously thrilled and terrified her. She turned to watch him go, but caught only the glimpse of the back of his head as he left the chamber.

Mira composed herself as Rhoden’s attention shifted to her and invited her to step forward. The chair at his side had been filled by Lord Crasmere, the High Chamberlain of the Council of Lords. The elderly man smiled kindly at Mira, and she returned the gesture. A couple of other chairs were filled with other men, men she assumed were a part of the Council, though she did not know their names. There was an older man with a long, drooping face, and a middle-aged man with short, curling hair.

“Lady Miriandri,” said Prince Rhoden, and the use of her full name made Mira’s stomach twist. She remembered how she had told him to call her Mira, but now she was unsure whether he used it for sake of propriety, or another reason entirely. In the moment, she wasn’t sure which she preferred from him.

“We have some questions for you, if you are agreeable to answer them,” Rhoden continued, looking down at Mira seriously.

She swallowed. “Of course,” she said.

“Then I will not waste our time with meaningless conversation,” he said, and he learned forward. “After the attack on the Citadel, nearly every member of the Mesian party left and returned to Mesia. Yet you remained. Why?”

Mira eyed him critically. Surely, someone must have told him the reason? How could he not know why she had stayed?

“My youngest sister, Biani, was left behind in the chaos,” she said, speaking firmly. “I remained with her, so that she would not be alone.”

“That is very good,” said Rhoden, “but, forgive me, my Lady. I do not believe that is the true reason you stayed.”

Mira’s face flushed. “Why not?” she challenged.

“Your sister would have been returned to your family at once, had we found her. We would not have kept her a captive. However, because you decided to stay, your fates are, for the moment, sealed.”

Mira felt her face grow even warmer. “I see,” she said through gritted teeth.

“So I ask again,” said Rhoden, his tone relentless. “Why did you stay behind when the rest of your family left?”

She took a deep breath, calming her irritation. “I was also worried about Prince Cael. I wanted to care for him and make sure he was all right.”

Rhoden seemed to ponder her words for a moment, resting his chin on his hand. Then, to her annoyance, he spoke again.

“I understand your concern for my brother,” he said. “There is not a person in Aleria who does not wish him a swift recovery. And, as you were to be his wife, you are perhaps more intimately tied to him than any of us have a right to claim. But we have some of the best physicians in all the lands. They are equipped to handle every medical situation. They do not require assistance.” He looked hard at Mira, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Why did you stay?”

“Your Highness,” interrupted Lord Crasmere, his long face tight with distress. “I would advise against this line of questioning. Lady Miriandri has already given her reasons. I doubt there is more information she can give us.”

He thinks it’s our fault, Mira realized with a flash. The attack on the Citadel, the monster, Garazor’s death. He thinks Mesia is to blame.

Prince Rhoden spoke quietly. “In this moment, Lord Crasmere, I will eliminate nothing to find the culprit.”

Mira’s irritation grew into anger, and once again she felt the loathing she had felt inside the Citadel two nights before. She glared up at Rhoden, and though her father had always cautioned her from speaking words in anger, she no longer cared about propriety.

“I’ve already said that Mesia was not to blame for the death of the king” she said, speaking slowly at first, but with every word moving more quickly. “My father and great-uncle confirmed this. I do not like to be doubted for the sincerity of everything I say! I have spoken the truth, and I expect to be believed.” She took a breath, and her anger came suddenly on her in a rush. “You ask why I stayed, Prince Rhoden?” she snapped. “Yes, it is for my sister and Cael, but it is also for you. I do not believe that you are as innocent in this as you claim, and I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Rhoden looked taken aback. He lowered his hand, but kept his gaze fixed firmly on her. Mira was so angry that she felt she couldn’t control what came out of her mouth.

“I stayed in Aleria because I don’t trust you,” she continued hotly. “I don’t think that the attack at the Citadel was an accident, and I wouldn’t trust you to lead this kingdom, not if you were the last person in it!”

Her voice rang through the air, leaving the small audience in stunned silence. Rhoden stared at her, his face inscrutable. Then, inexplicably, he laughed softly.

“Is that all?” he said, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Lady Mira, I do not trust myself to lead this kingdom. I know I have not the talent or the skills, but it is good for me to hear that others share my same doubts. I consider myself very fortunate to have counsellors whom I admire at my side, and whose advice I can receive.” He turned his head to the left. “Though, my apologies, Lord Crasmere, for not heeding your warning. I should have left the questioning lie.”

Mira felt the heat of anger still in her, though a part of her was now confused and unsure. Rhoden gave her a small smile.

“If your reason for staying is because you do not trust that I am who I say I am, then you may find yourself in a numerous company,” he said. “That seems to be the opinion of a great many. I hope, with time, that opinion may prove itself to be false.”

“You didn’t cause the attack on the Citadel?” Mira asked bluntly.

Rhoden shook his head. “There is a third party, one which neither side was aware of. We do not yet know its motives, but its power and capacity for destruction is very clear. My uncle left to track it down and Lord Rapidian, whom you just saw, is to join him in his search. I trust that we will soon have a resolution to this conflict, and that both Aleria and Mesia will learn and see the truth for themselves.”

He looked kindly at her. “I do not blame you for fearing me,” he said. “But please never doubt my sincerity. I will never doubt yours again.”

Mira gave a curt nod of the head, then listened as Lord Crasmere began to speak. He explained her situation to her, noting that she and Biani were, in fact, prisoners of the state. Because no fault could be placed on their heads, they were not imprisoned as criminals but were restricted to the palace and grounds, to be escorted by a guard at all times for their safety. He made it clear that Aleria wanted no quarrel with Mesia, and that if their king were to demand for their return, Aleria would bring them safely home.

“If Mesia wishes to continue the treaty, once the truth of the matter is made known, then we will gladly accept it,” said Lord Crasmere. “The treaty was the labor of several lifetimes and it would be an everlasting shame to eradicate it completely. As a Council, we will work towards that as our goal, and we would ask for your help as well. If you believe your country would see it in their best interest to continue forward with the treaty, then we ask that you do what is in your power to help it move forward.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she promised.

Then, Rhoden gave her a invitation to dinner that night, and the meeting was over. Mira curtsied low and departed, her anger now completely gone. She wondered, as she walked through the long room and her guard fell into step behind her, why it had been so important to Rhoden to know her reason for staying, if her answer had not affected him very much.