He looked as shocked to see her as she was to see him. His fists clenched and a killing look flashed on his face for just an instant. But once his storm of anger subsided, Ror's face was painted with sorrow.

"I didn't expect you to be here," he said stupidly.

Cara swallowed hard. She felt a killing look on her own face. Whatever Gammon said, she would never forgive Derrion for this. She wanted to turn and leave, and almost did, but something within her compelled her to stay.

"Nor I you," she said coldly. Her voice had threatened to falter, but she desperately kept it from doing so. "It would be dishonest of me to say I'm glad." She couldn't be sure, but it seemed Ror's lip quivered beneath his wild black beard. A trick of the candle light. He didn't weep then, why would he weep now?

"And I'd be dishonest if I said I was glad to be here," he replied.

"Why are you here?". Her voice leapt from her mouth, at once angry and confused.

He took a deep breath, his wide chest almost pushing its way through his beard. "To ask Derrion for aid."

"Aid?". Her mind raced to guess what aid Ror could possibly want from Derrion, or any human, and how could possibly dare to ask anything of her kin after what he'd done. "What aid would Derrion give you? And why ask him now, of all times? Have you forgotten the blood you shed? Human blood, Ror. Though I suppose I ought not be surprised. You've fought twelve battles before. What's a thirteenth?" My father was not the first human he slew. And he fought the drow. They likely sought revenge. I assumed they were the aggressors, but I know nothing of these people. Thrond may have assailed Primus and caused them as much grief as they did us.

"Soldiers," he said, his voice growing slightly bolder, "to reclaim our kingdom."

"Reclaim?" She remembered a comment Lady Jayna said that she half heard, that the dwarves sacked their capital after suffering a defeat. Father, what have you done?

"I wondered if you'd know. Had things gone as I hoped, we would have spoken before anything was done to your father."

"Before you crushed his skull and splashed his blood on my face?"

This time his lip did quiver, and he lowered his head to hide it. "Gislain..."

"Yes. Gislain was there as well. Ten years old and one, and she was less than a stone's throw away from her father while he was butchered. You're a brave warrior, Ror. To have murdered an older man in the dead of night, while he begged for mercy in his bedrobe, while his children looked on!" Her voice had risen to a shout, and she felt her hands shaking and her eyes brimming hit hot tears. She drew in a sudden breath and closed her eyes. Some moisture squeezed out onto her cheeks. She'd hoped not to cry in front of him, but it was too late. her eyes continued to water, and as tight as she held them shut, tears oozed onto her her face.

"I only want to hear one thing from you," her voice was quaking. "I want to know WHY," she was on the verge of sobbing. "I was fond of you, Ror. Smitten even. Every moment I was in your presence I felt both safe and thrilled at the same time. I never knew what you were going to do, or what you were going to say, but I knew in my heart whatever it was it would make me smile, and it always did." She covered her face and sobbed. Derrion, you heartless bastard! You will never have High Alden's friendship, no matter what kind words you say about my father, and no matter what aid you give us. She thought grimly that he might also aid Ror. She wondered if she'd be able to accept Eruhal's help in rebuilding their castle, knowing they also were helping their enemies.

Are the dwarves truly our enemies, though? The thought made her sick. There was so much she didn't know. Dennel's tortured face flashed in her mind, and in her deepest thoughts she saw the black sun, only not in the sky, but emblazoned on a banner held by her father's dead hand.

"I was fond of you, as well," Ror said faintly. He still gazed at his feet. Cara noticed in the shifting candle light that there were a few dark splotches on his boots.

"I still am, I suppose. Though I imagine you hate me, now. And I don't blame you."

She fought hard to compose herself and managed to stop her sobs, but her tears would not be denied. They gushed down her cheeks, showing themselves to Ror so that he would know the pain he caused her.

"Why?" she asked.

He looked up, and his face grew suddenly hard, though there was still a shade of regret in his bright, emerald eyes. "I would have asked your father the same question, had my anger not so flared. I would have left your city standing, and chained him to the wall of your deepest dungeon, and brought you and Hale and Gissy and Istan down with me, so that he could tell all of you how he sold us to the goblins and the drow, and tried to murder Halfur and Yemi. Yemi, Cara. A child, who has never crushed an ant under her foot, and he tried to crush her with boulders while she slept under his keep, then sent a band of killers and rapers after her and my brother as they fled for their lives!

"Justice is done, and I bare none of you any ill will. But I will only apologize for the shock I caused you and Gislain, not for the execution of a traitor. Your father was scum, Cara. You serve no one by hiding from that truth."

When first he began to speak, her heart had softened. She was suspicious of Halfur and Yemi's departure, and the timing of the cave-in, and to hear fears too dark to contemplate being confirmed had shaken her. But when Ror's tone changed, and he stood firmly by his murder of her father, her anger rose hotter than she'd ever felt it, and with clenched fists she opened her mouth to shout. But Ror stepped forward, sudden as a bolt of lightning.

"Balvor's dead!" he thundered, then raised a finger toward Cara. "The drow, whom your father aided, piled on top of him and ran him through with spears, no further from me than you were when I punished your traitor of a father. I watched my people slaughtered by the hundreds, overwhelmed by armies from three kins and monsters I've never seen even in my nightmares. Balvor was killed, Idana is missing, along with dozens of children my sister played with, and now I'm forced to grovel to an even worse traitor than your father for help reclaiming my home! My people are vagabonds, scraping rocks for weeds to burn and worms to eat. And I don't even know if my mother and father are alive, Cara. The drow have them, if you wish to know. They were torturing my father when I saw them last. I heard his screams echo in his throne room while I fled. And I only fled because of his command and the need of the people screaming in fear and pain behind me."

Cara could only stand with her mouth agape. Ror turned and went back to his seat in the shadows.

A war raged within her then. One army fought to go to the table and drop to her knees, to apologize to Ror for her father's treachery, and say anything she could to atone for his crimes. The other army wanted to turn and flee, as Ror had been forced to. She wanted to run down the miles long stair and lock the door to her chambers and bury herself beneath her mountain of pillows. Then a lone soldier stood apart from the two warring camps, and it was this soldier who won the day.

"Well," she said, not knowing who was speaking with her voice, and afraid of the coldness with which it spoke, "what's done is done. We've wounded you, and you've wounded us in turn. I doubt I hold any sway with Derrion, but I'll recommend he gives you the aid you ask. Perhaps, in time, our people will forget these dark times, and might again be frie..."

"I care nothing for your people, Cara. Or their friendship. All my heart has room for is reclaiming Thrond, and what I did to your father will be kind compared to what I do to the goblins and the drow. Your father earned his death, and I was glad to deliver it to him. Had you seen the horrors his petty scheming brought on my people, you would not have dared to speak to me as you have this night. But you didn't see, and you won't see even now, so there's nothing more for us to say."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

His words crushed her heart as his hammer crushed her father's head. She could feel her face twisting with anguish. She fought to keep still, to keep from weeping, or screaming, or hurling a candle at Ror. Her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white, then her stomach roiled. She turned desperately, looking for a potted plant, a bucket, anything in which to vomit. There was nothing, and so she emptied her knotted guts onto the floor. Shaking, she stood and leaned against the wall, then flung the door open and ran down the hall to the stairs.

She wept madly, and the sound of her weeping was loud as a warhorn as it echoed off the walls of the never ending stair. She might have heard the swift footfalls behind her, had she not been so grievously hurt. Her ankle was throbbing, and her foot buckled as she stepped and she fell forward. She saw the long, steep stairs rushing towards her face, when suddenly she was lifted into the air as if by a giant. She found herself looking upwards towards a small, scraggly haired chin set atop an overly muscled neck. It was Gammon, her new brother. He'd come after her, saved her from a deadly fall, and was now carrying her to safety. She buried her face in his tunic and closed her eyes as he gently took her to her rooms.

He put her down as soon as they reached the bottom of the stair. They walked side by side in silence through the keep. Cara wanted to hold onto his arm, and lay her down on his shoulder, but she wondered how that might appear to anyone still awake. There were many, it turned out. Nieces, nephews and cousins of Derrion and Joanevere, along with a number of courtiers, and even some of the Esperians were sitting on benches and speaking quietly to each other. They all turned their heads to look at her. She walked a gauntlet of stares and whispers, unable to hide her tear stung eyes and pale face from their gawking looks.

"Your mouth, princess," Gammon said.

She wiped with her wrist and felt dried bile rubbing off. She was nauseated with embarrassment, and almost retched again. Her thoughts quickly began to fill with hatred for Derrion. She wanted to hate Ror, but every time she thought of him she pictured Halfur pulling Yemi out of her bed and saving her from the Dyer and his gang of criminals. It was more than she could bear. She wanted to be angry with Ror over his hurtful words, but they were true. But she couldn't believe that her father would knowingly do such awful things. She couldn't imagine in a thousand thousand years that he would put Idana in danger. It was too much. Her head was reeling, her heart was racing, and her belly would not sit still.

But worst of all were the stares. Why are all these people still awake?! She was just beginning to feel a measure of peace, even mirth, and this murdering second son bastard of a king had to do this to her. Now the people she'd hoped to find friendship with were seeing her inexplicably covered in vomit and tears, and there would be no more escaping their stupified looks on the morrow then there was now.

"Cara?" said Hale. Her and Gammon were nearing the guest wing where their apartments were. Hale was sitting on a bench against the wall, playing his cittern for some lord's daughter. Both he and the girl had the most dumbstruck looks of anyone. She quickened her pace, but Hale rose and came after her.

"Cara. Stop. Have you been crying again? Has something happened?"

She whirled. "Well, you wouldn't know that, would you? Your Grace!"

"Cara!"

"Don't you dare, Hale. Don't you dare. You sit right back down and play your cittern and sing for this doe-eyed wench whilst the rest of us tend to things. Do it! Sit back down and do the only thing you've ever bothered to learn. Just do us all a favor and try not to wet yourself. Not that even that would matter. You'd just run and hide. You've found all the best places for that, from what I hear. At least you learned something while Derrion fostered you. Though I'm glad father died before learning what!".

She spun back around, wincing at the pain in her ankle, and stormed down the hall to her chambers. She flung the door open, then slammed it shut. She heard an oomph behind her, but she was beyond caring. Let anyone come in here who wants. Come see the Weeping Princess! You dunderbrained beltsniffers apparently don't know how to weep yourselves. She thought of Joanevere and her rum, and her horrible comments she made about her brother Marcas. The whole march from home, Cara kept asking herself if a brother was worth a throne, but Joanevere was glad one brother killed the other to take the throne. And to top it all off, her own brother was proving as useless as Marcas. She hated everyone, and everything, and wanted to see all of Castle Gwynd crumble to the ground as the Tall Hill had.

She threw herself on her bed bad and pounded it with her fists. Feather stuffed pillows flew through the air.

"Princess," said a small voice.

Cara turned, ready to scream, but it was Kylie.

"Shall I stay with you tonight, Princess Cara?"

The fire in Cara turned to smoke, then ashes rained sadly in her heart. She sat upright, collected herself, then tried to speak, but no words came out, only a pained sigh.

"Are you both well?" said a voice from the hall. It was Lady Jayna.

"No," Cara said meekly, "but we will be."

"Of course, child. You just need time. I'm glad you have your cousin here to comfort you. I'm off to my apartments now. I'll see you both on the morrow."

Lady Jayna left and Kylie shut the door, then sat on the bed next to Cara.

"I thought I was done," Cara said. Her tears were unending tonight. She'd felt relieved when they'd stopped, but they were back now in a torrent.

"None of us are," Kylie said, "save His Grace, and poor Keelie. They get to sleep it all away now, but we've still got living to do. But that's a good thing. It's good we're here to weep for them. I see it as a gift, Your Highness."

"A gift? How could hurting this much be a gift?"

"Because, Princess Cara, we were blessed to have such grand people for kin. Those who aren't weeping over His Grace and poor Keelie, well, they're worse off for not having had the privilege we had. So yes, Your Highness, it hurts something awful, but I'd rather be the one sad to lose His Grace and poor Keelie, than the one sad to not have had them."

Kylie's words shined a thin, warm beam of light through Cara's rain of ashes. While the pain and grief had come back hard, as if to punish her for daring to feel happy and hopeful, her handmaid's love was enough to sooth her now. Cara took Kylie's hand and laid her head on the girl's shoulder, as she had wanted to do with Gammon in the hall. Kylie leaned her head onto hers and they both swayed gently back and forth.

"You're sister was a light in my heart," Cara said.

"A rude and crass light, at times."

Cara smiled, the closest thing to laughter she could muster. The wind coming through the window was warm but howling and damp. A heaviness came in with it, a heaviness that warned of rain.

Kylie rose to close the shutters. "Such a stormy summer we're..." she screamed and jumped back.

"What is it?" Cara rose and went to the window. Her heart quickened as she got close. She expected to see a white banner snapping in the wind. Instead she saw torchlight glinting off the kettle helms of guards, and the huddle of Esperians filing out of the keep and into the streets of the inner ward.

"I saw something," Kylie stammered.

Cara's head darted about, but she saw nothing in the night but the regular mundanities of castle life. "Where?"

"In the... in the..." Kylie's voice shook as if some terrible beast were staring her down. Her fear was making Cara nervous.

"In the what? Go on. Kylie, please, you're frightening me."

"In the sky," she whispered.

Kylie's lip shook, and she pointed a quaking hand upward. Cara followed her finger and saw something that froze every drop of blood in her veins. There, next to the moon, was a hole in the sky blacker than any darkness of the living night. It was small, maybe twice the size of the Titan's Torch, but it was a dark that went on forever, and Cara felt as if she were being pulled off the ground into it. Then it moved; undulated, or pulsed, she couldn't tell, but for the span of a blink it looked like a burrowing worm. Suddenly there was a crackling sound like distant thunder, and faint cracks branched across the sky.

The wind rushed louder and there was a distant red glow from beyond the keep. The air grew hot, and Cara felt a tingling coming upwards through her feet. The hair on her neck and arms stood on end. The red glow must have come from the Titan's Torch, which was far to the east. It spread and intensified, then focused into a lance-like beam towards the black wound in the sky. The black hole wormed outward again, wriggling through the firmament and reaching towards the glow of the Torch. The Torch turned from red to violet, then the sky quaked and the web of branches grew dark and broad. There was a third rush of wind, this time so great it ripped banners from standards and flung people to the ground. Cara and Kylie fell backwards and lay as still as two corpses, then there was a flash of pitch darkness. Cara lay there for what seemed an eternity, too terrified to look back out the window. When she finally did, she crawled slowly to the sill first. To her relief, the wending branches, the violet lance, and the wound in the sky were gone.

"Princess," Kylie whimpered, "what's happening to our world?".

"I don't know," Cara said, her voice barely half a whisper.

IT stirs, said the Voice.