One of the many perks of palace life was the food. And drink. Zandrue couldn’t forget the drink. All freely available at the snap of a finger. Well, almost. she didn’t get to have servants follow her everywhere, so snapping her fingers wasn’t always enough. But she didn’t have far to go to find someone to bring something to her.

At the moment, however, she needn’t go anywhere. A selection of fruits, pastries, and bread was laid out on the table along with several pitchers of sparkling wine. She was trying to go easy on the wine—she’d had a lot last night—but she couldn’t turn down a little. The others weren’t here yet, so she was trying to avoid eating everything before they arrived. However, she had helped herself to a few sugar pastries. They were very tasty, albeit not quite sweet enough, in typical human fashion.

While she waited, she paced around what the servant who had led her here had called a “breakfast cabinet”. It was as big as some homes she’d been in. She looked out the windows, stared at herself in the large mirror to make adjustments to her gown and hair—another thing she didn’t get servants for—and traced her finger along the gold filigree on the walls. Finally, she stretched out on the couch underneath the mirror and sipped at her wine. This was the life.

Now, she just had to make sure the Queen didn’t kick them out before Garet’s funeral, however long it might be until then. Nobles from across the country were being invited, so it might take awhile for them all to get here—months even.

Cerus would be their greatest ally, Felitïa had said. Zandrue had been perfectly happy with that. She’d had a very fine time with Cerus last time she’d been here. That wouldn’t happen this time though—not just because she didn’t want to make Rudiger jealous, but also because Cerus wasn’t here. That had been disappointing to learn. He was in Lockanith, making war arrangements for the South. Would he come back for the funeral? Maybe, but it would be too late for him to give her any aid.

Ardon was their second-best ally. She’d have to make contact with him soon.

“Be careful of Ardon,” Felitïa had said on their last night together—another night the wine had flowed freely. “I trust him, but…”

Zandrue looked her in the eye. “But?”

“He’s a master political player, and he doesn’t do anything without various ulterior motives. I trust him, but that trust only goes so far.”

“I kind of got that impression last time I saw him. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Looking back now, she regretted using those words. Whenever she told people she’d be fine these days, something always went wrong. However, she was looking forward to dealing with Ardon. She was confident she could handle him.

After Ardon, their list of allies was mostly non-existent, so she would have to make new ones.

“Sinitïa’s an ally,” Felitïa had said, “but she won’t be able to give you much help. I don’t know much about my other siblings. Cerus speaks highly of Gabriella, so you might try her.”

Gabriella wasn’t here either.

“I know nothing about Malef and Pastrin,” Felitïa had gone on. “Even when I lived there, I didn’t know them. I almost never saw them. I used to really like Thilin, but he was only four when I left, and I barely saw him when we were last there. I’ve no idea what he’s like now other than he’s grown bigger than Garet was. He’s nearly Rudiger’s size.”

Then, of course, there were all the people she shouldn’t trust. “I’ll figure it out, Felitïa. I will. I know how to handle these sorts of things.”

What a change. A year ago, Felitïa had been terrified of politics. On their first trip to the Palace, Zandrue had been the one giving Felitïa advice. This time, it had been all Zandrue could do to get a word in over Felitïa’s advice to her.

The breakfast cabinet’s door opened and a servant showed Quilla into the room, closing the doors behind her again. Quilla ignored the food, went straight to one of the chairs, and dropped into it, her head hanging low. She looked a mess. Her short, dark hair was dishevelled, her make-up was smudged in several places, and she was still wearing the same purple kirtle she’d been wearing yesterday. It was crumpled as though she’d slept in it.

Zandrue placed her wine goblet on the low table in front of the couch and slid over to the end of the couch closest to Quilla. “Good morning. You all right?”

Quilla looked up. Her eyes were bloodshot. “Sure.” Her mouth moved into a shape approximating a smile. “I think. Maybe. No, not really.” She wasn’t wearing the small, heart-shaped locket Zandrue had almost never seen her without.

“What’s wrong?”

Quilla scrunched her eyes and lowered her head. “I’m not sure...I…” She jumped to her feet, pushing the chair back behind her and nearly knocking it over. “It’s this damn place!” She marched over to the breakfast table and snatched a pitcher and goblet. “I hate it! I loved it with Garet, even when the Queen and those like her were constantly cruel to me. But I hate it now.” She poured some wine and slammed the pitcher back on the table. “Something happened last night. I think.” She tilted her head back, and gulped down most of the wine in her goblet.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Quilla finished her wine and picked up the pitcher again. “I had a bit to drink last night. A little too much.” She poured herself more wine.

“Okay, so?”

“It was a lot too much. I got drunk. Really drunk.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“I don’t do that.” She put the pitcher down again, and swallowed half her goblet’s contents. She paced over to the window.

Zandrue grabbed her own goblet and joined her. The window looked out over the front courtyard. The rain from last night had stopped and the sun was shining. “We all do stuff like that once in a while, even if we regret it afterwards. But I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you, is it?”

Quilla shook her head. “Where’s Rudiger?”

“Still in bed. He might be a while.” Rudiger liked to sleep late after a vigorous night—and last night had been vigorous indeed. There was something about palaces and luxury that really turned Zandrue on. She’d kept him going late. She brought her goblet to her lips to hide the smile forming there. She shouldn’t be smiling at Quilla’s discomfort. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

“Maybe it was just a dream. It’s all really hazy, and I don’t remember it very well. I shouldn’t have drunk so much.”

“You don’t seem to think it was a dream.”

Quilla turned to face Zandrue. She bit her lower lip. “I saw Dyle last night.”

Zandrue nearly dropped her wine.

Quilla put her hands to her face and scrunched her eyes again. “I don’t know what to do. I wish Garet was here.”

Zandrue put a hand on Quilla’s shoulder. “Tell me everything that happened.”

Quilla lowered her hands, tears in her eyes. “I don’t remember. Not most of it. He came to me in my room.”

“You’re sure it was him?”

Quilla nodded.

“It’s been a long time. People change. Memory’s a funny thing sometimes.”

“I could never forget his face, no matter how long it’s been or how old he gets. I was married to him, remember? And at the time, I did love him. He’s got a long scar now. I’m guessing Felitïa gave him that. She said she’d cut his face. Trust me. It was him.”

“Did he hurt you? Or...worse?”

Quilla shook her head. “No. I’m fine. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

“He’s a killer, Quilla.”

“I know, but I don’t think he’d hurt me. I can’t really explain why. I just…” She turned aside. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you remember of what happened?”

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

“He came to my room, let himself in. I guess the doors were unlocked. I’d been talking earlier with Patriarch Ardon. Maybe Marna forgot to lock the doors after he left. No, wait. I sent her for more wine. Maybe she forgot to lock the doors while she was out. Anyway, Dyle got in. He said something about it being a long time and then...then I don’t remember. Just a few images. I definitely drank more wine. A lot more wine.”

“I thought you said Marna had gone for more wine.”

Quilla rubbed her forehead. “It was for a different wine I like more. I still had other wine.”

“You don’t remember anything else?” Zandrue asked.

Quilla shook her head and turned back to face Zandrue. “Nothing. But I need to know, Zandrue. I need to know what happened between us. What did he say? Did I scream at him? Did I kick him out? I don’t know. And what’s he doing in the Palace? How’d he get in here?”

“Yeah, I’d like to know that too,” Zandrue said. “Where’s your locket?”

Quilla’s hands shot to her neck and chest. “Oh gods. It might be in my bed. I came straight to you after waking up. I wouldn’t even let Marna do my hair and make-up. I better go check.”

Zandrue grabbed her arm as she turned towards the door. “There’ll be lots of time for you to check later. Right now, we need to think.”

Quilla paused, but shook her head. “You’re probably right, but I really need to know.”

“What is it to you anyway? I’ve almost never seen you without it.”

“It was Garet’s engagement gift to me. So please, let me check.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Quilla shook her head. “No, go get Rudiger. Then meet me in Garet’s apartments. We can talk there.” She placed her goblet back on the table.

Zandrue nodded. “All right, but be careful.”

“I will. Thank you. See you soon.”

Zandrue smiled at her, and Quilla darted from the room.

This was an unexpected complication, although in an odd way, maybe it was a beneficial one. For nearly ten years, Zandrue and Felitïa had wondered what had happened to Dyle. Felitïa had caught a glimpse of him in Tyl last year, but that was it. Now he was somehow here in the Palace.

In order to be here, someone had to have let him in. That meant someone in the Palace—someone with some authority—had let him in. That person was either a Darker themself, or the Darkers had some sort of hold over them. Zandrue sighed. She needed allies—ones who knew everyone in the Palace well—and she needed them fast.

She swallowed the rest of her wine, grabbed a handful of sugar pastries, and headed out. She hadn’t made it very far when a servant girl coming down the hall called to her. “Ms Armida?”

Zandrue stopped. “Yes?”

The girl approached and curtsied. She held out a folded piece of paper. “I was told to deliver this to you.” The girl was no more than fifteen or so and had a full head of golden brown curls and brown eyes. She was vaguely familiar.

Zandrue took the slip of paper and the girl curtsied again, then scurried away. “Wait!” Zandrue called after her. “Just a moment!”

The girl rounded a corner.

Zandrue considered chasing after her. She was probably faster than the girl, but the girl almost certainly knew the Palace better, so Zandrue sighed and let her go.

Hadn’t the girl been one of Felitïa’s handmaids last time they’d been here?

Zandrue unfolded the paper. It contained only two words and an initial: “Study cabinet. A.” She smirked. She should have expected something like this. The timing was terrible though. She folded the paper up again. She should probably destroy it, but the wall lamps wouldn’t be lit until sunset, so she would just have to remember to do it later. For now, she tucked it under the belt of her kirtle.

The Palace had dozens of study cabinets, but she had a good idea which one was intended. She briefly wondered whether she should collect Rudiger on the way, but decided against it. If he was wanted there, he would receive his own invitation. Of course, this could be a trap. Dyle might be trying some sort of deception to get her alone, but she doubted it. Even if he was, she could handle herself.

Famous last words.

She remembered the way pretty well despite the length of time since she’d last been there. When she arrived at the doors to Felitïa’s apartments, there was a guard standing there. He bowed to her, then opened the doors.

“Thank you,” Zandrue said as she passed through.

Everything was exactly as she remembered, from the painting of Queen Felitïa over the fireplace to the position of all the chairs—she wasn’t sure any of those had even been moved since she had last been here, though they likely had. She headed straight to the spiral staircase near the middle of the salon and ascended it.

The curtains of the study cabinet were drawn back, letting a little of the morning light in. An ink stain marred the floor near the top of the stairs, but otherwise everything was in perfect shape. Even though Felitïa wasn’t currently staying in these apartments, someone was keeping them clean and dusted. Probably the person sitting in the chair at the writing desk—not him personally, but he was likely the one ordering it done.

“Ms Armida,” Patriarch Ardon said. There was a pitcher of wine and two goblets on the desk. One goblet was already full.

Zandrue curtsied. “Your Grace.”

“Thank you for coming so quickly. I’d offer you a seat, but I’m afraid this one is the only one up here, and at my age, carrying one up from the salon is likely more than I could manage.”

“That’s fine.” Zandrue walked past him to the window. “I don’t mind standing.” She looked out the window as she was gazing at the view. He could have had a servant bring a chair up, so he wanted to limit her comfort options. She would keep her back to him for a moment longer.

“Some wine?” he asked.

Zandrue shook her head. “No, thank you.” She turned to face him. “What did you want to see me about, your Grace?”

He picked up the full goblet. “Quite a few things, as it happens. How much time do you have?”

“Not much. Quilla’s in a bit of a state. She’s expecting me and Rudiger to join her soon.”

“Ah yes. I heard she left her apartments rather bedraggled this morning. Tell me what happened.” He sipped at his wine.

“First off,” Zandrue said, “the girl who brought me the note…”

“Marna, yes.”

“Wasn’t she one of Felitïa’s handmaids?”

“She was, though for now, she’s Quilla’s.”

“And she works for you?”

Ardon gave a small, closed-mouth smile. “Technically, she works for the King and Queen. However, she does do me the occasional favour. Now then, tell me what’s up with Quilla.”

“Isn’t that her business?”

Ardon raised his eyebrows. “Yes. And…?”

Zandrue took a deep breath. She had no idea if Quilla would want her telling anyone this, but if anyone could help them at the moment, it was Ardon. “Her former husband, Dyle Aderman is in the Palace. He came to her last night.”

Adron’s head shot up and he spilled a drop of wine. “And? What else happened?”

Had she caught him by surprise?

Zandrue shrugged. “She doesn’t remember. She was drunk and can’t remember anything that happened between them.”

He rubbed his chin. “Yes, she was drinking rather heavily when I spoke to her last night. It must have happened shortly after I left.”

“Any idea how he got in here?”

“I’m afraid not. He’s presumably not using his real name, though I am aware of his description and know of no one in the Palace matching it. This will need investigation.” He placed his goblet down and stood up. “I’m afraid this impromptu meeting must come to a premature close. I need to look into a few things. Besides, Quilla is expecting you. Please, help yourself to the wine before you leave.” He bowed his head to her, then descended the stairs.

Zandrue wandered over to the desk and poured herself some wine. From below came the sound of the salon doors opening and not quite slamming shut. She sipped at the wine.

She hadn’t expected the news to affect Ardon so much—or rather, she hadn’t expected him to show it. She needed to proceed carefully. For now though, she needed to collect Rudiger and get to Garet’s apartments before Quilla started to wonder where she was. She finished off her drink and hurried down the stairs.

As the guard closed the main doors behind her, he said, “Will you be gone long, my Lady?”

Zandrue stopped and turned back around. “Are you expecting me back?”

“You are staying in these apartments while Princess Felitïa is away, are you not?”

Zandrue smirked. “Yes. Yes, of course.” Ardon, that old dog. “Though I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Lots to do today. What’s your name?”

“Edmon, my Lady. Edmon Strandwit. I am one of three on a rotating schedule to provide you with security while you remain in the Palace.”

“Good to meet you, Edmon. I’ll be back later. Oh, let my, uh, handmaids know that I would like to talk to them as a group when I get back. I assume there’ll be handmaids, yes?”

“Yes, my Lady. They should be here soon.”

“And there’s an ink stain on the floor of the study cabinet. It’s probably there to stay, but have them see what they can do about it.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Excellent. Keep up the good work, Edmon.”

Oh, she was going to enjoy this.