Felitïa had never been allowed in the King’s Study. It was a room used for private meetings between the monarch and various nobles or courtiers. When she had last been in the palace, she had been far too young to be allowed to participate in such meetings.

Although smaller than the throne room, it was still expansive, able to hold a lot of people when necessary. Its walls and floor were of fine walnut panelling, which gave it a darker, cosier feel, despite the fact that it was well lit by a large chandelier, the light from which was reflected in the large mirrors that graced the centre of each wall. Beneath each mirror stood a table, on three of which were books. On the fourth sat a small clock, its face held by two gold nymphs. The King’s desk stood in one corner of the room at an angle in front of two alcoves. On the desk was an assortment of papers, a vial of ink, and several pens. Behind the desk, in the corner between the two alcoves was a cabinet on top of which was a bust of Queen Felitïa. In the corner opposite the desk, a fire burned lazily in a small fireplace.

Upon entering the room, most of them found places to sit in the various red-cushioned chairs placed about the room. Felitïa’s mother sat behind the desk, while her father wandered over to the clock, picked it up, and started lazily winding it. Apart from the King, only Ardon remained standing.

“Your Majesties, perhaps we should begin with the message,” Ardon suggested.

The King put the clock back down on the table and turned to face the others in the room. “Agreed.”

Cerus stood up and came forward with the scroll. He was about to hand it to the King when the Queen said, “Cerus, hand me the message.” Cerus scowled briefly before turning to face the Queen with a smile. Taking the scroll from him, she broke the seal and unrolled it on the desk. A moment later, she frowned. “It’s written in Folithan.”

“Curious,” Ardon said before walking forward and snatching the scroll.

As he read it over, his eyes widening, Felitïa took a moment to stop the walls spinning in her head. Now she was away from the crowds in the throne room, it was probably safe to allow things in. Alas, the flare she’d been experiencing had died, so she only got the barest hint of anyone’s feelings.

“What does it say, your Grace?” Barnol Friaz asked. He was a big man, barely able to fit in his chair. His round face was barely noticeable behind his bushy grey beard and sideburns. The folds of his doublet sleeves and his hose added to his width. He bore little resemblance to his daughter, Tianna.

“Troubling.” Ardon held out the scroll to Felitïa. She took it from him and tried to read it. She was so out of practice with Folithan that much of it was incomprehensible, but she recognised enough for it to shock her.

“Well?” The Queen stood and planted her fists on the desk. “Enlighten us!”

“It seems the Volgs want a meeting on Scovese.” The Patriarch found a seat and sat down.

“Outrageous!” Barnol Friaz said.

“Impossible!” the Queen said, throwing her hands wide and knocking over the vial of ink on the desk, spilling its contents over the papers there. She scrambled to try to rescue papers before they were spoilt, and for a moment, the scene was almost funny. Both the King and Cerus rushed forward to help her, Cerus first retrieving a cloth from one of the alcoves behind the desk.

“But Scovese is just a legend,” Annai said.

“The Volgs certainly believe it’s real,” Ardon said. “They’ve even provided navigational coordinates to help us get there.”

That would explain the numbers at the end of the message. Felitïa had no familiarity with the coordinate system used.

“Let me see that,” Annai said, reaching for the scroll.

“Of course.” Felitïa held the scroll out so her sister could reach it. “I didn’t realise you could read Folithan.”

Annai stopped just short of taking the scroll and scowled. “That’s quite all right. I’m sure that’s what it says. But how can we trust the Volgs? There might be nothing at the location they give. They could be laying a trap for us.”

“That, unfortunately, is a distinct possibility,” Cerus said, wiping his fingers off with the now darkened cloth.

“A great deal more than a possibility,” Barnol Friaz said, the Friazan lilt sounding odd on his deep voice. “We don’t even need to look to the stories of their treachery; they’ve already proven it with their actions, both against Princess Felitïa, and against Prince Garet’s fiancée.”

“Your Highness,” Captain DeSeloön said to Felitïa, “perhaps you could read us the message. With a translation, of course, for those of us not versed in Folithan.”

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

“Allow me,” Ardon said, taking the scroll back from Felitïa. “‘My dearest brother, Many centuries ago, our two peoples were able to stand side by side with all the other peoples of the world in friendship and harmony. We were as one people, working together for mutual benefit and prosperity. In those days, neither of our peoples feared or reviled the other. In most things, we agreed. However, for those occasions when we disagreed, our ancient forebears built a great city on the neutral island of Scovese, where delegates from all the different nations and peoples could meet to discuss and solve their differences. So brilliant and successful was this idea that the gods themselves blessed it and decreed that whenever any one nation or people should desire a meeting there, all others should oblige them. Such was the way our ancestors kept the peace.’”

“Nonsense,” Barnol interrupted. “Volgs and humans living in harmony? They are creatures of Night. The point of Scovese was to keep them in line.”

“I do not need a lecture on theology, my lord,” Ardon said. “I am merely reading what is written.”

“My apologies, your Grace,” Barnol said.

Ardon cleared his throat and continued, “‘Alas, no peace is everlasting. There came a time when our differences were so great, that even discussion at the meeting place on Scovese could not solve them. A terrible war broke out between our peoples and Scovese was abandoned. For over two millennia, it has remained unused. For many, it has become a place of legend.

“‘It is my firm belief that the time is long past for us to renew the friendships of long ago, and dearly hope that you, too, will share this belief. I hereby invoke the ancient law placed down by the gods themselves and call for a meeting on the island of Scovese between all the peoples of the world to take place as soon as all involved are reasonably able to make their journeys there. I look forward to meeting you, my brother, and rekindling the prosperity our two peoples once enjoyed. May our descendants reap forever more the benefits of the legacy we will create there.

“‘In the names of the Holy Triumvirate: the Father, the Keeper, and the Spirit of Nature.’ Then it’s signed with a name written in a different script. That’s followed with ‘seventy-sixth of my name, son of,’ and then another name written in the other script. Finally, in a post-script, he provides co-ordinates for the location of Scovese.”

“His little ending there about the the Holy Tri-whatsits,” Barnol said, scratching his beard. “That gives his lie away quite clearly. Everyone knows Volgs are Darkness Worshippers, all of them.”

“I agree,” the Queen said. “It’s been over two millennia since a meeting was called there. Why call one now? It must be a trick.”

“Can we afford to take that risk?” Cerus asked. “Your Grace, what about the Law of the Gods?”

Ardon rubbed his chin. “A difficult question to answer. If the Volgs are sincere, then we are obligated to go. The question is, how do we know if they are sincere?”

“They must be lying,” Annai said.

“Must they?” the Patriarch responded. “Why?”

“Well, they’re…evil.”

Ardon smiled at her. “Even evil beings tell the truth sometimes when it suits their purposes, my dear. Think of it, your Majesties. What better ploy! They arrange for us to be suspicious of them by making attacks on members of the Royal Family and their friends. Then they call for a meeting on Scovese, going so far as to actually be prepared for one. However we, in our suspicions, believe them to be treacherous, so do not go. But because they were prepared to hold a meeting—perhaps even actually hold one with those of other races who do show up—we are the ones who have broken the law. We are the ones who must pay in the afterlife.”

“Bah!” Barnol Friaz spat. “Surely the gods would see through such subterfuge. They would know us innocent of any crimes.”

Ardon gave a half nod—more a tilt of his head. “That is a valid interpretation.”

“So, you believe we should make the journey, your Grace?” DeSeloön asked.

“It is not an easy decision, my son. However, yes, I think it is probably the best course of action, as undesirable as it might be.”

“I disagree,” the Queen said. “We will not be played for fools by these creatures. And I am willing to justify my decision in the afterlife to the gods if necessary. They will be my judge. All that’s left to be decided then is what to do with the Volg ambassador.”

“I agree with his Grace,” Cerus said. “I believe we should make the journey.”

“I don’t,” the Queen snapped. “You’re overruled, Cerus.”

So much for discussion, Felitïa thought. Personally, she wasn’t certain what her own opinion was. Everything had happened so quickly. If the Volgs were sincere, though, it might be a chance to learn about Corvinian. But if they weren’t sincere...

“Father, this is your decision,” Cerus said. “However, at the very least, I believe it deserves further discussion.”

“It’s not a decision to be taken lightly, is it?” the King said. He fiddled with some of the spoiled papers on the desk, frowning at them.

“You’ve heard my opinion, Wavon,” the Queen said. “You would be a fool to disregard it. If the doubtful sincerity of the Volgs is not enough to convince you, think of the logistics of such a voyage. It would take ages to reach there. The Great Ocean is aptly named. Even with the coordinates, finding the island would be like searching for a needle in a haystack!”

“I suppose either decision will require a lot of discussion about how to handle it,” the King said with a sigh, heading over to the bust of Queen Felitïa. “Bound to take all night. And I was so looking forward to the ball following the banquet. I suppose we’ll have to reschedule.”

“Perhaps we should take a vote,” Cerus suggested. “Just to know for certain where everyone stands. It could be the basis of further discussion.”

“I vote no,” Annai said.

“Thank you, my dear,” the King said, “but I don’t think that will be necessary. Votes just produce deadlocks around here, anyway.” He ran his hand over the bust of Queen Felitïa, almost lovingly brushing the stone cheeks. “It was so much easier when you made all the decisions,” he whispered.

“Wavon, your mother has been dead for many years,” the Queen said. “She cannot make the decision for you. Either make it yourself or let me.”

The King sighed and put the bust back on the cabinet. He turned around and placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders, gently massaging them. “Oh, I have made my decision, my love. I have.”

“Then do tell us, Wavon,” the Queen said.

After he told them, the real debate began.