Dream Come True

It may or may not have been the middle of the night. It felt like four in the morning, but my cell in the dungeon was deep underground and let in no light, so I couldn’t have known for sure. I was asleep when the door swung open and two guards grabbed me. I screamed, startled. For a moment I had no idea where I was or what was happening, and when I remembered where I was a second later, it was no comfort. I still had no idea what was going on.
　
Being dragged out of your bed--even if it's a mat in a cell--in what’s probably the middle of the night is terrifying, and I don’t remember clearly where they brought me, until I was dragged through two great doors, into the throne room.
　
Not the middle of the night, then, my muddled brain told me. The king wouldn’t be here in the middle of the night, would he? And he was there, sitting on his throne on a platform at the end of the hall, looking down at the room. The guards dragged me towards him, and stopped before the throne. “Here’s the prisoner,” one of the guards said, unnecessarily.
　
“Unhand her,” the king ordered.
　
“Your majesty, she’s a thief, she’ll just run.”
　
The king’s voice went cold. “Unhand her,” he ordered. He said to me, in a softer but no less commanding tone, “Don’t try to run.”
　
“No, majesty.” My voice trembled, and my knees trembled more. It was a miracle I didn’t collapse to the ground when the guards released me.
　
“Are you Arlica?”
　
“Y-yes, majesty.”
　
“I’m King Torenth, I’m sure you know. Arlica, have you heard the rumor that I’m mad?”
　
“No, sir. Majesty, I mean. I don’t hear much, locked up and all.”
　
“It’s an old rumor. The truth behind it is that the kings of Durthia are guided by the gods. They send us dreams, and if we are wise, we act on them.”
　
I wondered whether he was crazy after all, but of course I didn’t say anything.
　
“You must be wondering what any of this has to do with you. I just had one of the dreams.” He paused. “The gods want me to marry you.”
　
“What the hell?” I demanded. Of course I knew better than to speak to the king like that, but I was utterly shocked.
　
“That was my first reaction as well,” King Torenth admitted. “But I’ve never been misguided before, and the dream was… emphatic, and urgent. I would never force you to marry me, but if you agree you’ll be doing a great service to your country, and to me.”
　
And to myself, I thought. The king didn’t seem like a bad person, whether or not he was crazy, and being a queen would beat being stuck in a prison cell by far. “Yes.”
　
“We should be married as soon as possible. I think I mentioned the dream seemed urgent. That’s why I had you brought here at this hour, as soon as I woke up from the dream.”
　
“So it is the middle of the night!” I couldn’t help but say.
　
Torenth looked at me, probably wondering about my intelligence as much as I was worrying about his sanity. “That’s why it’s dark out.” And there were windows in this room, and it was dark outside, the room only dimly lit by torches.
　
“I’m used to it; I didn’t notice. When are we going to be married?”
　
“Is next Tuesday too soon for you? Some of the court ladies will help you arrange for your dress and… I don’t know, whatever else, and my staff will arrange the ceremony.”
　
“I don’t have any plans.”
　
Torenth had the guards escort me to an empty suite in the castle, where despite everything I slept soundly. The next week was nonstop preparations.
　
The wedding was larger than I expected, though I shouldn’t have been surprised, of course people wanted to see their king get married and get a glimpse of the mysterious bride. It was outdoors, so there was plenty of room, and apparently Torenth, or more likely, his staff, had expected such crowds, because there was more than enough food. I didn’t trip as I walked down the aisle, I didn’t fumble over my vows, and the kiss was breathtaking.
　
I was surprised at how well things were turning out. My only expectations had been that this would be better than the dungeon, but now I began to think that I could actually be happy. I still wasn’t quite sure about a man who would get married based on a dream, but everyone has their quirks.
　
Nothing in the next few months spoiled my happiness. Though my new position took a lot of getting used to, I liked being queen. Not just being free and having everything I could want, but helping rule a kingdom as well. I liked judging problems and making political decisions. I liked my husband as well. My life was a dream come true, and not just literally.
　
Torenth and I had been married for three months when I found out for sure that he wasn’t crazy, or even, as I’d thought was probably the case, seeing his inner self in the dreams.
　
I’d gone to sleep, and then there was a light, very bright but not at all blinding. Everything was very clear, not only clearer than dreams usually are, but clearer than life, even. I sensed a presence, and after trying to observe whatever it was, sensed it pushing me towards something, so I allowed it to. I looked where I was guided, and saw my bedroom. Torenth was asleep. The door swung open and two men came in, then three more, guards who had been stationed outside our room, but I couldn’t see their faces. They were all armed, and very quickly they went to the bed and killed Torenth. And then I could see outside, a dark swirl of fighting and blood and destruction and death. “No!” I screamed.
　
“No!” I woke screaming, repeating, “No!” But Torenth was next to me, alive, wakened by my screams. “It can’t happen!” Torenth tried to comfort me, but all I could see was the dream. I knew in my mind and my heart that it was no ordinary dream, that it was true, or would be, or maybe, hopefully, would be only if I couldn’t prevent it.
　
I wondered if you’d have them,” Torenth said after a while.
　
“What?”
　
“The dreams. They’re not hereditary, they come to the ruler of Durthia.”
　
“Can they… be stopped?”
　
“Sometimes.”
　
I told him what I saw. We stayed up the rest of the night, discussing how to prevent what I’d seen. Have only the most trusted guards, keep weapons at our bedside…. The best thing, we agreed, would be to find and stop the plot before it got that far.
　
We kept our eyes peeled for an hint of anything, and we found it. Nothing solid, but there was an ominous undercurrent to the normal rumors and gossip. The chaos I’d seen at the end of the dream would come, if Torenth and I couldn’t prevent it. And we’d have to be alive to prevent it.
　
We did everything we could, but there really wasn’t much we could do. And then, one night, the dream came again, or rather, the dream light came, and a voice saying urgently, “Go! Now!” and then I was awake.
　
Though everything seemed as normal, I knew that they were coming, would burst into the room with swords at any moment. Torenth must have had the same dream, because he was also awake and looking around frantically. I grabbed a knife, jumped out of bed, and ran to the darkest corner of the room. Torenth started to do the same, but just as he’d stood up the door burst open and they came in, just as in my dream. Except that in the dream he’d been laying down, so at least something had changed.
　
Queens don’t usually act as bodyguards for their husbands, but then, most queens don’t grow up fighting in the streets. I pounced, stabbing the man closest to Torenth in the back. Torenth grabbed a weapon and was fighting one, one was still in the doorway, blocked by the others, and the other two went for me. I tried to fight them with my knife, but they both had swords. Desperately, I grabbed for any thing, and came up with a vase that had been on the nightstand. I swung it over the guard’s head. He hadn’t been expecting it and fell to the ground covered in shards of broken pottery. Torenth stabbed at the other one, who spun around, giving me the chance to stab him in the back as well. And that was all of them; Torenth had gotten two while I was busy. We weren’t dead. I couldn’t muster up much more feeling than mild surprise.
　
“That’s not the end, you know,” I told Torenth.
　
“You think there’ll be more of them?”
　
I shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But that wasn’t… the main point, I guess. I’m not sure how to say it, but our lives are just… incidental. Not to me, I mean, but… you know what I mean. The whole country’s going to go up in flames, metaphorically and quite possibly physically, unless we can stop it.”
　
“Then we’ll stop it.”

The Cave Behind the Waterfall

This story is cowritten by me and my mom, Linda Handwerk. It's based on a bedtime story she told me when I was little.

I slept through my thirteenth birthday. For a week. I thought Jid was being abnormally nice, for a little brother, when he gave me a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice as a birthday morning treat. What I didn’t know was that it was laced with sandman root, which has the interesting property of putting anyone who drinks it to sleep for a fortnight.

My parents were livid, and issued a royal proclamation that sandman root was to be eliminated from the kingdom. Which worked, pretty much. The only place you can find it now is my childhood secret hideout.

My brother and I found the place when we were little and playing catch beneath the waterfall. We ran after the ball and discovered a hidden cave. It wasn’t as large as our palace, but it was larger than a cottage, and that was plenty large enough for us. The most amazing thing about the cave was that it was made entirely of multi-colored quartz crystals. It had a smoke hole near the top, and during the day I felt as if I was in a rainbow colored womb of light. Jid and I had lugged dozens of cushions and quilts in, I had a stash of my favorite books, and boxes of dried fruits and nuts. Even better, the other end of the cave opened into a passageway to a meadow that was accessible from nowhere else. It was full of beautiful wildflowers, including the huge yellow blooms of the sandman plant. A perfect setting for magic, then and now.

My brother doesn’t go there anymore. He thinks it’s childish, and prefers to spend his time in more adult pursuits. If only he knew the more adult pursuits I use the cave for now, with my boyfriend, Biame.

That’s where we were when the Plurgeans attacked. I should explain that our kingdom does not have much of a military. We never needed one. My parents co-rule a land that is rich in resources and has just the right amount of people. As far as kings and queens go they were generous and fair; they were loved.

The Plurgeans consigned them to the deepest, dankest, dungeon.

Jid was thrown into the river. This would have been a bad thing, had he not been a strong swimmer. As it was, he disappeared under the waterfall, and the Plurgeans assumed he was dead.

The first I knew of any of this was when Biame and I were interrupted by a squeal of disgust. I looked up to find Jid soaking wet at the entrance of the cave. “Get out here you pervert!” I shouted.

“Mali, you idiot, they’ve taken the kingdom!” Jid wailed.

I jumped up, then thought about it. This was my brother. The same brother who’d drugged me on my thirteenth birthday, told everyone that I was a foundling he discovered in the midden heap, and put pins in my crown on every formal occasion. Of course his story wouldn’t actually be true.

“Mali, if this was a joke, don’t you think he’d be threatening to tell your parents on us?” Biame said softly.

Jid heard, however. “I couldn’t tell our parents anything if I wanted to! They’re in the dungeon!”

I know my brother, and he was telling the truth. My heart stopped. I was ready to grab whatever I could find for a weapon and attack, but I wasn’t that stupid. We would only have one chance, and we couldn’t waste it on rashness.

We waited in fear for days, making plans and shooting them down. Finally, Biame said he would go out and gather information. He was the least recognizable of us, and after a few days without a change of clothes, he smelled like a peasant, albeit a hot one.

Biame’s face was grim when he returned. The situation was worse than we’d thought. Plurgeans had commandeered houses and farms, our people were in dungeons or enslaved, and the Plurgean leader was to be crowned king in two days. It seemed hopeless.

We continued to brainstorm. The Plurgeans were great warriors. Their only weakness was their fear of magic, but we didn’t have any so that was no help to us. There weren’t enough people in our entire kingdom to defeat the Plurgeans, even if they had been free. We had no powerful weapons, no close allies, no great magics. The thing we were best known for was our riverboats, and you can’t defeat an army with riverboats.

Suddenly, I started laughing. Jid glared at me. “Do you find something funny about all this? Or do you have some grand plan that can rescue us?”

“Actually, I do,” I smirked. “We’ll serve them thirteenth birthday cocktails at the coronation.”

“Yes!” Jid was enthusiastic. “You’re a genius, but I’ll deny it if anyone ever asks.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Biame.

We explained, and he stared incredulously at Jid. “I’m glad you’re not my brother.”

“Yet,” I murmured.

“But then what?” Biame reflected. “So what if they’re asleep, what can we do with them? There aren’t enough dungeons for all of them, even if we could drag them into place.”

“We’ll have to kill them,” Jid said, but he looked queasy at the prospect.

“Can we live with ourselves if we do?” Biame wondered. “I wish we could just wave a magic wand and have everything go back to the way it was.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “Why not?”

It took hours to brew enough sandman juice. We made it extra concentrated, so the Plurgeans would sleep for even longer than I had. The afternoon of the coronation, we disguised as servants, and managed to slip in among those in charge of the drinks. We added a little something extra to every keg of wine and ale. Then we crept back to the cave and waited.

The rest was, if not easy, at least straightforward. When we returned to the palace the next morning, every surface was covered in sleeping Plurgeans. We emptied the dungeons and slave pens, and told everyone our plan. My parents were proud of us. I decided it was a good moment to introduce them to Biame. Being parents, they didn’t know quite how devious Jid and I were, so they assumed Biame was the brilliant mastermind. I felt it wise to let them keep that notion, and started to make plans of how to bribe Jid.

With that many people, our scheme wasn’t impossible. We piled the sleeping Plurgeans onto the boats. It took almost two weeks to reach their land. We were worried that they would wake up, but our luck held.

We knew that if we shipped them back, they’d return; after all, our kingdom was easy game. But the Plurgeans are a superstitious people. It took another week, once we were back in Plurgea, to create the illusion. Not with magic, but by positioning the sleepers in little tableaus. We put them in their beds, positioned them around tables at feasts, and filled the marketplace. Of course, we didn’t let them off that easy. We filled the beds with the most unlikely of randomly put together couples, replaced the food and drink at the tables with worms and maggots and wineglasses filled with the contents of chamberpots, and replaced all the money in the marketplace with ashes.

We saved the best for their king, of course. We dressed him in his wife’s finest evening gown, and positioned him on his chamberpot. In the middle of the marketplace. The chamber pot, of course, was filled with pig’s blood and maggots.

They were still sleeping when we left. Of course, we never saw them again. I almost regret it. I really would have liked to have seen the king’s expression when he woke up.

There are rumors about the evil magicians that rule our kingdom. Biame and I aren’t magicians, and we’re not really evil. But at least our kingdom is safe.

Execution

I’ve been here for a few months now, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Here—I’m not sure what to call it. Someone called it a menagerie of mages, a Magiary, and the name seems to have stuck somewhat, but since it was meant as an insult, those of us who stay here are torn between rejecting the name and trying to reclaim it.

The Magiary is a large house with lots of towers, and is intimidating from the outside but a friendly, cozy place inside, for the most part. The house is not inside the city, but the main doorway is set into the city wall, which is only a few feet high there.

It’s a school, sort-of, and probably several other things as well. People come here to learn magic, and Malexandra and whatever other magic-users happen to be around teach it. There’s nothing official about the Magiary. It’s in Majardea, but everyone knows the king has no control over it. There aren’t many rules here--most of the normal things such as don’t kill or steal are assumed to be obvious. Besides for that, it pretty much amounts to everyone here being expected to not do anything cruel or utterly idiotic. The king’s laws don’t apply here, and so problems are dealt with by Malexandra—you can imagine how relieved I was very when I heard that, considering there’s a warrant out for my execution. But official laws are highly frowned on, and I don’t worry about anyone here turning me in. On the same note, we’re not allowed to go watch executions or other public punishments.

You wouldn’t think that last one would be a big deal. I’ve never had any urge to go watch someone being killed, and the fact that it could easily happen to me has made the idea even less enticing. And it’s not like my friends would want to, either. Devrin’s a bit squeamish, and while Quaos is the last person in the world I’d call squeamish, seeing people die isn’t entertainment for her either.

But we were walking around the city, just for the fun of it. It had been raining for a week, and now that it was bright and sunny we wanted to get out. At first we thought the crowds were just other people who felt the same. But they were all headed in the same direction, and a cheerful woman with a small child on her shoulders told us that we should hurry, because all the best places to see the execution from would be taken.

“Oh no, we won’t be able to get a good view of someone being killed! Whatever shall we do?” Devrin was being even more sarcastic than usual, which is saying a lot.

“We should go,” I said.

“Back home, you mean? This does rather ruin the beauty of the day.”

“No, to the execution.”

Quaos and Devrin both stared at me. “Because your idea of fun is watching people die?” Devrin asked.

“No, because it could have been me.”

“And it could still be you, Aniya, if anyone recognizes you,” Quaos said sharply. “I’ve had friends in line for execution before, I’d prefer not to repeat the experience.”

“I’m not just going to go home and pretending nothing’s going on,” I said stubbornly. “You can, if you want.”

They didn’t, of course.

Executions took place on a stage in a large, beautified square. The square was packed, and we stood far from the stage and right next to the path leading to it which the accused was marched down. The path was empty; everyone knew it was bad luck to stand on it, and most people tried to stay as far away from it as possible.

The path stretched all the way to the prison, and was relatively straight, so we could see the guards marching the prisoner towards us from a long way off, and they marched very slowly. As they drew closer, we saw a scowling woman in chains, held on each side by a uniformed guard.

That could be me. The thought repeated in my mind over and over. I could feel myself in her place, barefoot, wearing only a thin prison shift and thick chains, marching to my death. It could be me.

“We should stop it.” The words popped out of my mouth before I could think them through, but I had no desire to take them back.

“It’s not that easy,” Quaos objected.

“We could do it, though. Just, grab her when she comes by, and we know enough magic by now we could probably get away.”

“What if she’s a murderer?” protested Devrin.

“Well, then, that would make two of us,” Quaos reminded him.

“Same goes for treason,” I added. “So you’re in?” I asked Quaos.

“I’m always up for stopping executions!” Quaos said with a crazy grin. “At least I won’t have to kill a king this time. Hey, the worst that can happen is that we end up on the block next to her.”

“So it’s not like anything really bad could happen to us.” Sarcasm, of course, but Devrin had said ‘us.’

“So, our plan is really just to grab her and run?” Quaos asked rather incredulously.

“Um… we improvise after that,” I said. I was very nervous, even terrified, and maybe beginning to have second thoughts about the whole thing, but I had just to glance at the woman to see myself in her shoes, and my second thoughts disappeared.

And then, they were next to us. The guards had swords; I, stupidly, hadn’t thought about that. Still, they didn’t have them out, and were holding the woman’s chains. So I let myself kind of stumble into the guard closest to me, and when she was off her guard, so to speak, grabbed the chain from her hands. She hadn’t been expecting it, but she reacted quickly and grabbed it back, and we were playing tug-o-war. Devrin, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, had grabbed her sword from its sheath, though he wasn’t doing anything with it. I took a deep breath and used a bit of magic to heat the chain. It hurt the prisoner as well as the guard, but it only lasted long enough for me to jerk the chain from the guard. Quaos, I saw, had the other guard on his knees, holding his head in his hands.

We ran.

It wasn’t just the guards behind us; the crowd wanted their entertainment. The prisoner, still chained and now burned under the chains on her waist and left ankle, was not fast. This was the part we hadn’t planned for, and the dangerous part—if they got us now, we were all dead.

Devrin, who had been at the Magiary the longest and was the most studious, did something magical that seemed to slow down everyone else, as though they were moving through thick syrup. We got a bit of a head start, but he only managed to keep it up for a few seconds, and the use of so much energy tired him. We began to slow, and the crowd was upon us, the people at the front just reaching out to grab us—

And suddenly, I felt a large jolt and the four of us were in Malexandra’s tower. I felt rather nauseous.

“That was quite impressive,” Malexandra said. “I haven’t seen a rescue like that since I was- well, in a long time.

The woman who was to have been executed finally spoke. “Who are you? I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but who are you and what the hell is going on?”

We introduced ourselves. Somehow, our names didn’t seem to lessen her confusion.

“Okay, it’s nice to meet you and all, but where are we, how the hell did we get here, and why?”

“You’re in my tower. I was alerted to the unusual occurrence by a friend and brought you here in order to keep you from the bloodthirsty mob and bloodthirstier, if rather inept, guards. Now who are you, and why were you about to be executed?”

“Smuggling. I’m a smuggler. I was a smuggler, I guess, I don’t think I’ll be going back to it. My name is Wrayli.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m worn out from transporting all four of you, but if you give me a few minutes I’ll do something about those chains, and your burns.”

“Sorry about that,” I said.

Wrayli shrugged. “Better than being dead.”

We all stood around awkwardly for a minute. Suddenly, Devrin laughed loudly. We all looked at him.

“Um, you know how we’re not supposed to go to executions? Well, we rescued the condemned prisoner, so we weren’t actually at an execution, since nobody was killed.”

“Well, I’m so glad you’re not in trouble,” Wrayli said, but she laughed.

The Price of Loyalty

Why me? I reflect as I wait in the darkest shadows of the dark room. Had it been anyone else who’d overheard the plot, they could have reported it and received gratitude, perhaps even a reward. To do the same, I am risking… everything. Everything I have left, anyhow. But it was once been my job to risk my life to protect Queen Iglacia, and whatever anybody thinks, my loyalties have never shifted.

Finally, the door opens and moonlight floods the room, silhouetting Andren in the doorway. He knows I am there instantly—he’s not the queen’s spymaster for nothing. A knife leaps into his hand as he orders, “Show yourself. I know you’re there.”

I step forward. Andren has always been hard to read, but I can tell he is surprised to see me. “Lilidy,” he says my name quietly, and lunges at me.

I expected it, so I dodge him, and swing onto his sofa, putting my hands in the air to show him I mean no threat. “I came here of my own will, because I have something important to tell you. Just hear me out before you do anything,” I tell him.

“Why should I listen to you?” he demands angrily, so angrily.

I want to tell him that he should listen to me because he’s always trusted me and I’ve never given him reason not to, but he wouldn’t believe it. “Because the queen’s life could depend on it.”

He hears me out, of course. I knew he would. The only question is, what will he do when I finish talking?

“I’ve been working as a maid, in Sir Bitan’s household,” I begin.

He raises an eyebrow. “Spying for who?”

I shake my head. “I am loyal to Iglacia; I wouldn’t spy for anyone else. I’m working as a maid.” Andren looks at me like I’m crazy, and I think he’s torn between not believing and not understanding. In truth, I’m not sure why I did it either. It’s not a desirable job, and I could have gotten a better one. I feel it’s my penance, but I don’t know for what. I didn’t do anything wrong. Though on the other hand, I was the one who originally suggested that the barren queen pretend Kylana’s unwanted baby was hers. If you look at it that way, it is all my fault.

I continue. “I was washing dishes. Well of course I was, as the most junior kitchen maid I was always washing dishes-” I babble when I’m nervous. You’d think that would be dangerous, but it’s actually served me pretty well—when you start babbling about dishes or your horse or whatever your terrified mind focuses on, you don’t seem much of a threat. But I would really prefer to be able to tell my story as neatly as possible, especially now, so I take a deep breath, and say, “Sorry. Anyway, I overheard Sir Bitan and another man talking. I don’t know if they didn’t notice me, or just assumed I didn’t speak Irigardian, but they spoke quite freely. Bitan was talking about whether it would be easier to have Iglacia poisoned or stabbed, and the other man laughed and said they might as well do both and arrange a fall from a horse as well, and the same to Coyld.” I reported as I had been taught to, what I had seen and heard, not how I felt about it, but I know my voice showed my disgust with their talk of murdering Iglacia and her six year old son. Well… But, no, though Kylana had born him, he was Iglacia’s son.

“Why should I believe you? You betrayed the queen once, why should I think this isn’t a trap?”

“I’ve never betrayed her. I don’t know how it got out, but I never told anyone. Andren, why would I do it? Kylana was like a sister to me, and I would give my life for the queen. How can you really think I would have betrayed them?” Logically, I understand. Only four people knew: Andren, Kylana, Queen Iglacia, and me. Kylana was the one who was killed by it, and the queen had every reason in the world to keep it a secret. So if Andren hadn’t done it, he knew it had to be me. But it wasn’t.

“I wish I could believe you.” He sounds as if he means it, but that doesn’t mean anything. “But Lilidy, I’m the one that taught you how to lie.” It was true, and if I had been lying, I’d have said much the same things I have, and just as convincingly. Maybe more so. Except…

“If I’d done it, I wouldn’t have come back.”

“Maybe you want me to think that.”

“I wouldn’t sacrifice my life to make you think well of me. The only reason I’m here is because I couldn’t stand by and do nothing while they plotted against the queen.”

I’d ran, before, when I should have been solving that crime, but if I’d stayed, I’d have been trying to solve it from prison, if I was lucky. Still, I shouldn’t have given up. I could have worked at it from a safe distance. I’d have to now, anyway. Not just to save my own skin, but because it couldn’t be a coincidence, two plots to take over the throne within as many months.

But Bitan couldn’t have been behind the first one, because how could he have known? In truth, the only person it could have been, other than me, was Andren. But despite everything, I trust him. Not the safest thing to do, in this job, but I just can’t conceive of him being involved.

I run through other possibilities in my mind. The queen’s husband, before he died? But then why wait so long. “Coyld’s real father?” I don’t even realize I’m thinking aloud. “But he, whoever he was, never even knew who Kylana really was or that she was pregnant, much less what happened afterwards. And they tricked a doctor-“

“Lilidy, do you think I haven’t gone through this a thousand times?” Andren asks me. “The only ones who knew that Coyld is Kylana’s son were you, me Kylana, and Iglacia. Iglacia had no reason to reveal that and every reason not to, and she swears she never did. Kylana wouldn’t have, and she’s the one who was killed because of it, she would have been betraying herself. I never told anyone; I don’t know whether you believe that. You say you didn’t, and I don’t know whether I believe that.”

“Well, that’s a marked improvement from practically being ready to burn me at stake.”

“What am I supposed to think?”

I shrug. “I don’t even know what I think. I do believe it wasn’t you. Why is it that the only three people who could have revealed it are the only three people in the world I trust?” I don’t expect him to answer, and he doesn’t.

“Do you think they’re related?” he asks me after a few minutes of silence. “Kylana’s death, and this plot you overheard?”

“No such thing as coincidence, of course,” he smiles at that, the words he must have told me hundreds of times, “But is it directly related, or just both about the legitimacy of her line? Kylana’s death was almost certainly an attempt on the queen, do you agree?”

“Or on the prince.”

“Either way, she wasn’t the main target. If the assassin hadn’t killed himself….”

“Which was the point, of course,” Andren reminds me.

“I know, I know. Anyhow, this could be a second attempt by the same people, and I lean towards thinking it is. On the other hand, since the truth about Coyld came out, there could be others who aren’t happy about it.”

“Either way, who would have motive?” Andren is more thinking out loud than asking me, but I’m used to this. He is, I suddenly realize, back to treating me as one of his trusted people, rather than a traitor. Whether he knows it or not, in his heart he believes me.

“Or to look at it from the other direction, what is Bitan’s motive?” I suggest.

“How far is he from the throne?” Andren muses. “No, he’s not in the royal line at all; he was only her husband’s brother.”

“Who would be next in line, if something happened to Iglacia and Coyld?”

“There’s no clear successor. It could come to civil war.”

“Would that take Coyld dying too? I’d think there’d be even more of a civil war if he was alive and one of the claimants to the throne.”

Andren shakes his head. “There’d be some people who wouldn’t want him, bit Iglacia’s well loved, and she’s made it quite clear that Coyld is her son and heir. Most of the country would rally behind him, and any war would be over quickly with Coyld as the clear victor.”

“And Bitan doesn’t have any right whatsoever? So what’s his motive?”

“Morals? Politics? Or… who was the man he was talking to? Maybe it isn’t Bitan’s plot.”

“Maybe, but that’s not the sense I got. It seemed to me as though the other man was just hired help, an assassin or a middleman.”

“We’re not getting anywhere looking at it this way, so what about this? We don’t know who revealed that Coyld is Kylana’s son, but who first found out about it?”

“Whoever hired the assassin who killed Kylana? I don’t see where you’re going.”

“The question is, what was the goal? Did they want Kylana dead, or the queen, or Coyld, or all three of them, or any two? Or either of us, we were both on the stairs as well. And we’ve been assuming it’s about Iglacia, but Kylana worked for me for over a decade; she had more than her share of enemies.”

“Does that work with how it went down though?” I relived the scene in my mind. We’d been coming down the stairs of the palace, Kylana and Andren on either side of the queen, Coyld and I a few steps behind. Suddenly Kylana fell, an arrow in her chest. Iglacia bent to help Kylana; Andren ran after the archer; I tried to shield Coyld, but he screamed for his mother and ran over. Iglacia grabbed him—

And suddenly, I see it, I understand who did what and how it all happened. I must have made a noise, because Andren looks at me sharply and asks, “What?”

“I know who revealed the secret.”

“Well?” he demands.

“Think of exactly what happened, when Kylana died.”

He gives me a look, but says, “We were coming out of the palace. Kylana fell on the steps, bleeding. You and Iglacia tried to help her, and I ran after the attacker, and Coyld screamed for his mother, and she grabbed him-“

“No,” I interrupt. “That’s your interpretation. What actually happened?”

It takes him only a second to see it then. He looks at me in awed horror. “Kylana fell and he screamed, ‘Mother!’”

“She must have told him, I think. Iglacia wouldn’t have, and…. Maybe she just wanted him to know. She loved him, of course. She couldn’t have thought…”

Andren nods. “I’m sorry, Lilidy.”

I shrug. “You didn’t know.”

“I could have trusted you.”

“You? Trust someone? I know you better than that.”

He smiles, but then his face goes grim. “I think we agree that Coyld wasn’t behind it.”

“Of course not. He’s six, and even if he could have, he loves Iglacia, and loved Kylana even without knowing she was his mother. “

“And he’s not a child to go around telling secrets just because he knows them. So the question is, who manipulated it out of him?”


“The obvious answer would be Bitan, but if so, why?”

“Fortunately, we don’t have to speculate anymore,” Andren said with a grin. “I’ll go up and invite Coyld over for some hot chocolate.”

While he was gone, I prepared the drink. About ten minutes later, Coyld flew into the room, nearly knocking my cup from my hands with his hug. “Lilidy!!! I’ve missed you! You’re back!”

I hugged him back, then gave him a glass of hot chocolate, and the three of us sat down to talk.

“Do you know why I was gone?” I began, because I couldn’t just blurt out, “Who did you tell that the queen isn’t your real mother?”

“To spy on bad people,” Coyld replied cheerfully.

“That ended up being part of it, but it was actually because your mother and Andren thought I’d told people that Kylana was your real mother.” I watched his reaction carefully.

“You knew?” he asked me, surprised and worried. “But she said nobody was supposed to know!”

“I knew before you were even born,” I told him. “But what we need to know is if you’ve told anyone.” I was careful to keep my voice light and unnacusing, but Coyld still looked a little scared.

Andren added kindly, “It might have been someone who already knew, and asked you about it?” I glanced at him. I hadn’t thought of it, but that made the most sense—that someone had suspected, or even just suspected there was some secret, and used Coyld to verify it.

“Oh, him,” said Coyld. “It was just my cousin.”

“Your cousin?”

“Imkel, my cousin,” Coyld explained.

I wanted to slap myself. “I’m an idiot!” I exclaimed loudly. “It wasn’t just some assassin, it was Bitan’s son!”

We wait to discuss it until Andren gets back from bringing Coyld home. “I told Iglacia. She sends her deepest apologies and hopes you’ll return to her service. Though, some spy you are; you worked in Bitan’s house and you didn’t even recognize his son?” He was joking, mostly.

“I wasn’t there as a spy; there’s no reason I would have. I’ll do better next time. The question is, does this change anything, besides for confirming it?”

“Does it give them a motive, you mean? I think it does. He’s not in direct line for the throne, but no one else is any closer, and as a strong young man, with a family—you know his wife’s pregnant?” I hadn’t known, but did realize that it would make him a better candidate for the throne, in most people’s eyes—they wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with another civil war when he died. Andren continued, “And he is related to the queen, even though it’s just by marriage. He’d have at least a chance of winning the throne, and that’s enough of a motive.”

He sent out several men to arrest Bitan and Imkel. They returned with their prisoners two days later. Imkel demanded a trial be combat, to the death. He lost. Bitan settled for being tried by the queen. He also lost.