Chapter Nine

“Thanks for saving me from that heart attack.” Although the prince tried to make a joke, the silence that carried over the two of us as I sat at his bedside was deafening. The shifting of weapons outside the prince’s bedroom door was a constant reminder of how guarded the prince was—even in his own bedroom.

It had been a week since the attack at the royal banquet. Fallon’s funeral was held yesterday; it had been as solemn and dark as the kingdom of Aria right now. His death was a critical blow to Aria’s peace of mind, and the menacing feeling that permeated the kingdom’s once gleeful streets made no one feel safe within its walls. The jesters who entertained in the city square lost much of their paying audience, since Aria’s citizens were superstitious to an extreme.

Titus smoothed his tousled dark brown hair against his head. Although the deep wound on his chest was bandaged, I couldn’t keep the image of his bloodstained shirt out of my mind. It turned out that Kasib was actually a royal physician from Balua, so he was remaining in the castle until Titus’ wounds were healed. He said that it would take several days before the prince was fully healed. Kasib also remarked that Titus was lucky that the dagger didn’t pierce his heart.

The scene from that night continually replayed in my head, casting dark shadows across everything I did. Although I tried to force them back, the jester’s words of revenge and Fallon’s bleeding body tortured my memories.

“Lannie, you can’t change what happened.”

I looked at Titus. His usually cheery face was now pale and serious in comparison. I rubbed my hands together, feeling the insignificant palms that had stopped the trajectory of the weapon that almost killed Titus. “I know I can’t, but…” I trailed off, not knowing what to say next.

The prince stretched across his satin bed, revealing the stark white bandage beneath his blue tunic. “The fate of the jester and dryad are in the hands of the council right now,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, it’s not that…” I squirmed in the too-comfortable chair. The thoughts that were plaguing my mind weren’t as simple as the prince assumed. I rubbed my palms again. “Why was that nymph let into the castle?”

“Odelia sometimes goes out on a limb,” he explained as he scratched at his neck. “It was safer in the past because the nymphs had magic restraints on them. That nymph was supposed to be checked, but…”

“But she wasn’t,” I finished for him. “The question is: Why?”

Titus shrugged one shoulder from his lazy position across the sheets. “Any guess of yours is better than mine.”

“Well, aren’t you a helpful one.” I crossed my arms and glared at the floor. “The nymph wasn’t checked,” I mused. “That led to her enchanting the guests and allowing the jesters to attack.” Even though Titus would be useless in providing possible theories to the assassination plot, speaking my thoughts out loud helped me think.

Suddenly, Titus sat up. “I just remembered: one of the guards said that they never saw the nymph go into the banquet hall.”

“So she was concealed with magic.” I stroked my chin thoughtfully. “I thought the castle took extra care to prevent that sort of thing. Aren’t the naiads supposed to guard the castle from magical beings?”

“They’re to,” he agreed. “But I guess their grudge against me clouded their judgment.”

I chuckled. “The naiads have a grudge against you? Why? What did you do to them?”

“I didn’t do anything,” he snapped, glaring at me. “They’ve always hated me for no reason.”

My thoughts drifted to the dark-skinned naiad who always seemed to pick on me when I tried to exit through the back bridge of the castle. “Sounds like my situation.” I sighed. “So let’s say that the naiads decided to betray us because they hate your existence. That still leaves the question of why these particular jesters were picked—and they were allowed to bring a nymph into the castle.”

“Odelia has organized other banquets with singing nymphs,” Titus offered. “But I don’t know if she picks the particular groups that perform here.” He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “They usually don’t request to perform. The jesters are selected by someone.”

That made me silent. If they requested to perform, then there would be no problem and no hesitation within my mind. But the fact that they were selected meant one thing: “Do you think the jesters had inside help?”

“Inside help…” Titus’ eyes widened. “You can’t mean from inside the castle. We don’t harbor traitors here, Lannie.”

I uncrossed my arms and looked at him seriously. “You never know. It’s a possibility.”

We sat in silence. My gaze was locked on the room’s sliding glass doors that led to an open porch. Light streamed in from behind the curtains, breaking through the darkness of the shadows. If a traitor was hiding within these walls, it must be someone trusted, someone who expertly concealed their actions in the shadows. As long as that threat lingered, Titus, Clarice, and Philippa were in danger. Odelia, too. Not that I really cared about her, but…

“I have a question.” Titus waited for me to look at him before continuing, “Why were you awake when the nymph was singing?”

I contemplated his question for a moment. “I remembered what my mother said about dryads. They make you hallucinate.”

He nodded, although I knew he wasn’t thoroughly convinced. “But you didn’t hallucinate, did you?”

“No, I think I did.” I had remembered my mother, but was that a hallucination? What type of hallucinations had my mother been talking about? “But why were awake?” I shot back at him. “That dryad was still singing when you woke up.”

His sheet suddenly became very interesting to him as he picked off a hair. “I don’t know. I just heard your voice.”

“Uh huh.” It was obvious that Titus was hiding something, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe he possessed a secret talisman that prevented him from hallucinating? “Well,” I said, “I suppose my voice can get loud sometimes.” My memories were jolted back to the thunderous scream that had erupted from my mouth when the jester’s assistant killed Fallon.

I felt something on my head, and looked up to see that Titus had placed his finger on my forehead. He was tapping my head vigorously. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to see if you’re still in there.”

I whacked his finger off my forehead. “What are you? Three years old?” I exhaled sharply. “I have to go back home.” I rose from the chair. “Don’t do any serious thinking while I’m gone.”

The criticism wasn’t lost on Titus. He was obviously offended. “Hey, sometimes I come up with a few good theories, Lannie. You just watch,” he said. “I’ll be the one to figure all of this out.”

                                                ————————

My footsteps were soundless as I moved across the cobblestone road to the Lower Quarter. Even though it was just past noon, there was a dark aura that plagued the streets. Shops were closed, streets were sparsely populated, and mothers ushered children into their homes as I walked past. The guards in the city square set to work preparing the guillotine for the execution of the prisoners. Even with the activity of the guards, the kingdom was quiet.

I had wanted silence for so, so long.

But when you’re too focused on what you want, you never know the significance of what you have until you lose it.