“You have my hand on it,” Alric said reaching out.

The wizard looked down at Alric’s open palm and smiled. “Your word is enough.” He turned away and without so much as a parting gesture began walking down the slope.

“You’re going to walk? You know it’s a long way to anywhere from here,” Hadrian yelled after him.

“I am looking forward to the trip,” the wizard replied without glancing back. Following the ancient road, he rounded the corner and slipped out of sight.

The remaining party members mounted their horses. Myron seemed more comfortable with the animals now and climbed confidently into his seat behind Hadrian. He even neglected to hold on until they began down the ravine back in the direction from which they had come. Hadrian expected they would pass Esrahaddon on the way down, but they reached the bottom of the ravine without seeing him.

“Not your run-of-the-mill fellow, is he?” Hadrian asked. He was continuing to look around for any signs of the wizard.

“The way he was able to get out of that place, makes me wonder exactly what we did here today by letting him out,” Royce said.

“No wonder the Emperor was so successful.” Alric frowned and knotted the ends of his reins. “Although I can tell it didn’t come without aggravation. You know, I don’t extend my hand often, but when I do I expect it to be accepted. I found his reaction quite insulting.”

“I’m not sure he was being rude by not shaking your hand. I think it is just because he couldn’t,” Myron told them. “Shake your hand that is.”

“Why not?”

“In The Letters of Dioylion, they told a bit about Esrahaddon’s incarceration. The Church had both of his hands cut off in order to limit his ability to cast spells.”

“Oh,” Alric said.

“Why do I get the impression this Dioylion fellow didn’t die a natural death?” Hadrian asked.

“He’s probably one of those faces in the hallway.” Royce spurred his horse down the slope.

Chapter 6: Revelations by Moonlight

“I heard you were looking for me, Uncle?” Princess Arista swept into his office. She was followed by her bodyguard Hilfred, who dutifully waited by the door. Still dressing in clothing mourning her father’s death, she wore an elegant black gown with a silver bodice. Standing straight and tall with her head held high, she maintained her regal air.

The Archduke Percy Braga rose as she entered. “Yes, I have some questions for you.” He resumed his seat behind the desk. Her uncle was dressed in black as well. His doublet, cape, and cap were dark velvet, causing his gold chain of office to stand out more than usual. His eyes looked weary from lack of sleep, and a thickening growth of stubble shadowed his face.

“Do you now?” she said glaring at him. “Since when does the Lord Chancellor summon the acting queen to answer his questions?”

Percy raised his eyes to meet hers. “There is no proof your brother is dead, Arista. You are not queen yet.”

“No proof?” She walked over to Braga’s chart table where maps of the kingdom lay scattered everywhere. They were littered with flags marking where patrols, garrisons, and companies were deployed. She picked up the soiled robe she saw there, it bore the Essendon falcon crest. Poking her fingers through the holes cut in the back she threw it on his desk. “What do you call this?”

“A robe,” the archduke responded curtly.

“This is my brother’s, and these holes look as though a dagger or arrow would fit through them nicely. Those two men who murdered my father killed Alric as well. They dumped his body in the river. My brother is dead, Braga! The only reason I have not already ordered my coronation is that I’m observing the appropriate mourning period. That time will soon be over, so you should mind how you speak to me, Uncle, lest I forget we are family.”

“Until I have his body, Arista, I must consider your brother alive. As such, he is still the rightful ruler, and I will continue to do everything in my power to find him regardless of your interference. I owe that much to your father who entrusted me with this position.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, my father is dead. You should pay more attention to the living, or you won’t be the Lord Chancellor of Melengar for long.”

Braga started to say something and then stopped to take a calming breath. “Will you answer my questions or not?”

“Go ahead and ask. I will decide after I hear them.” She casually walked back to the chart table and sat on it. She crossed her long legs at the ankles and absently studied her fingernails.

“Master Wylin reports that he has completed his interviews with the dungeon staff.” Braga got up and moved from behind his desk to face Arista. In his hand, he held a parchment, which he glanced at for reference. “He indicates you visited the prisoners after your brother and I left them. He says you brought two monks with you who were later found gagged and hanging in place of the prisoners. Is that true?”

“Yes,” she replied without embellishment. The archduke continued to stare at her, the silence growing between them. “I am a superstitious woman by nature, and I wanted to be certain they had last rites so their ghosts didn’t remain after their execution.”

“There is a report you ordered the prisoners unchained?” Braga took another step closer to her.

“The monks told me the prisoners needed to kneel. I saw no danger in it. They were in a cell with an army of guards just outside.”

“They also reported you entered with the monks and had the door closed behind you.” The archduke took another step. He was now uncomfortably close, studying her manners and expression.

“Did they also mention I left before the monks did? Or that I wasn’t there when the brutes grabbed them?” Arista pushed off the desk, causing her uncle to step back. She casually slipped past him and walked to the window which looked down at the castle courtyard. A man was chopping and stacking wood for the coming winter. “I will admit it wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but I never thought they would escape. They were just two men!” She continued to stare out the window absently. Her gaze drifted from the woodcutter to the trees that had lost all their leaves. “Now is that all you wanted to know? Do I have the Chancellor’s permission to return to my duties as queen of this realm?”

“Of course, my dear.” Braga’s tone turned warmer. The princess left the window and moved toward the exit. “Oh, but there is one last thing.”

Arista paused at the doorway and glanced over her shoulder. “What is it?”

“Wylin also reports the dagger used to kill your father is missing from the store room. Do you have any idea where it might be?”

She turned to face him. “Are you now accusing me of stealing?”

“I am simply asking, Arista,” the archduke huffed in irritation. “You don’t need to be so obstinate with me. I am merely trying to do my job.”

“Your job? I think you are doing much more than your job. No, I don’t know anything about the dagger, and stop pestering me with accusations thinly veiled as inquiries. Do it again and we shall soon see who rules here!”

Arista stormed out of Braga’s office, leaving Hilfred to jog a step to keep up with her. She promptly crossed the keep to the residences. Asking Hilfred to stand guard, she rushed up the steps of her personal tower. She entered her room, slammed the door shut, and locked it with a tap from the gemstone in her necklace.

Breathing heavily, she paused a moment, with her back pressed against the door. She tried to steady herself. She felt as if the room were swaying like a young tree in a breeze. She had been feeling that way often lately. The world seemed to be constantly swirling around her. Yet, this was her sanctuary, her refuge from the world. Here was the one place she felt safe, where she kept her secrets, where she could practice her magic, and where she dreamed her dreams.