Chapter One

Her bare feet were cold against the marble corridor as she walked toward her mother's private chamber. Since the time she was presented with her own wing, her mother allowed her to be the one to her up for tea and breakfast in the morning. Now that she was twenty-two, nothing had changed. Just as she did every morning, she knocked on her mother's door, the sound ominously echoing in the empty corridor. She listened carefully for any movement from her mother's chamber, but when she didn't hear anything—not the sound of the creaking bed, not the sound of the chair scratching against the floor as her mother pushed it out of her way, and not the sound of water rushing—her heart began drumming like bongs in her chest. Taking a deep breath, she turned the gilded lock, only to find the door secure from the inside.

But mother never locks the door... Rolling her eyes at the obvious carelessness of the new servant, she rapped at the door, yelling for her mother to wake up, that she couldn't get in. But after several times, panic settled in. This was very unlike her mother.

Running through the corridor and down the long, winding staircase, she mercilessly screamed everyone's names she could think of, but it wasn't until she got into the dining hall and bumped into the newest servant—Jorlyn, she thought was her name—that she finally got a response.

"The whole of Dramolux can hear you, Princess Aymeri! What's the matter?"

"My mother is not responding to my knocks on the door."

"Did you try using your key to open it?"

While the servant's response was matter-of-fact and in good faith, Princess Aymeri was still annoyed by it. What didn't she think of that? "Would you accompany me?"

"For such a small task? You are not seven, Princess. Holler if you need me. I will be listening."

Though it wasn't the response Aymeri hoped for, the servant was right. She didn't need assistance in unlocking her mother's door. The Queen might just be in a deep sleep. Lately, Aymeri noticed, she was busy meeting with the Queens from the other Kingdoms, negotiating with them for their support against Empress Dimia. It wasn't too far out of the question for her mother to be exhausted.

She ran to her room, then back to her mother's. Just as she opened the door, the sun began to spill into the room like fresh orange juice into a cup. "Mother, it's time to get up." She pulled the curtains apart to allow the natural light in, but when her mother still didn't stir, Aymeri crossed the rom to gently shake her. "Come on, mother. I know you are exhausted, but there is much to do and tea to be served."

Making a sound of defeat, she pulled the covers off her mother's sleeping body and screamed in horror at what lied before her. Crisp dried blood covered her mother's nostrils and lips, as cakes of it pooled and streamed out of the corners of her mouth and down her chin. "Mother!" Aymeri screamed. "Oh, gods! Mother!"

Tears streamed down her face as she tried to gather the strength to call for Jorlyn, but no words could form on her tongue and her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She feared if she moved, her legs would buckle beneath her and the floor would claim her life.

"Princess Aymeri, what is—Oh!" Then after a brief pause, "Guards!" before running out and leaving Aymeri on her own again.

"Oh, mother!" Aymeri whispered, falling to her knees. What have you done? Tears flooded her eyes again as she held her mother's cold blue hand in hers and rested her head on their hands. She barely registered the steady hand on her heaving shoulders before she heard a gruff voice call her name.

Ser Parzival had been part of the Royal Guard for as long as Princess Aymeri could remember. In fact, he even served under her grandmother, Queen Zara. Not only was he the head of the Royal Guard, he was also her one and only adviser; there was no one Queen Ismana trusted more with her life and as a result, so did Aymeri. After her grandparents died, it was Ser Parzival who filled—or at least tried to fill—the void they left behind.

"I am sorry, my child."

The words touched her heart and she knew she should respond but not one word left her lips. There was nothing anyone could say that could make her pain disappear. Standing up, Aymeri straightened her red gown and wiped at her eyes. Balling her hands into fists, she squared her shoulders. "Gather everyone in the throne room."

"Princess?"

She knew what he was going to say, that she should take some time, they could handle it all for her. What they'd never understand is that they couldn't do this for her. Her mother always made her promise to handle the good and the bad duties that came to her, on her own. That was the way it was going to be.

Without looking at him, or anyone else who gathered in her mother's chambers—servants who probably never entered the chamber before—she walked out of her mother's room, pausing only briefly to say: "Now, please, Ser Parzival."

"Yes, Princess."

Aymeri didn't hang around long enough to know how much longer they lingered in her mother's room or what they touched or didn't touch. Nothing mattered now. There was nothing left in her world, now. She was completely and utterly alone.

Tears didn't stop falling as she changed into a more appropriate dress—long and black with white embroidery. Jorlyn, without having to be asked, brought a garland of white roses to braid into her hair, and did so without saying a word. Though she had been servant in their palace—really a handmaiden to her and her mother—for only a short time, barely a month, she knew so much about them. Even the things they didn't say aloud.

"Everyone has been gathered, Princess. Take your time."

Aymeri smiled briefly at the sincerity of her tone and followed her out as a way of assuring Jorlyn she was fine and could handle everything—even though her stomach was doing somersaults and her chest was tightening and her hands were shaking like a nervous tick.

She took it one shallow step at a time, using the bannister and the length of the winding staircase to steady herself. As if she knew exactly what Aymeri was doing, Jorlyn stayed only a step in front of her and in that moment, she was grateful her mother left her something special.

By the time she stepped into the throne room, the sun was its highest and spilled through the entire room; not a single torch was needed. Murmurs filled the entire room and through the buzzing in her head, she couldn't hear a single word—not that she wanted to. Only the gods knew what they were saying. The moment she stepped onto the carpet lining the way to her mother's throne, all murmurs seized and silenced weighed heavily in the room.

Keeping her shoulders squared and head high, facing forward, she walked toward the intricately designed throne that Queen Zara had redesigned for her daughter, Queen Ismana. In all her life, in every palace she visited, never had she seen a throne quite like it. Today, that throne would see its first bare day and she could swear it knew it, for the throne did not look as inviting as it always did.

Once at the throne, she closed her eyes and summoned her grandmother's courage before turning to the Palace's inhabitants—among them: servants, guards, knights, cooks, stable workers...Aymeri focused only on Jorlyn who placed herself strategically at the back, as if she knew Aymeri would focus on the doors and, ultimately, her escape.

"My humblest apologies for having Ser Parzival bring you all here under short notice. You are well aware that my mother and I do not believe in making announcements without proper notice. However, these are extenuating circumstances." Aymeri's chest heaved as she thought about the next words she had to say, as if saying them aloud made it all true and all the more real. "This morning, I found my mother, your Queen, dead in her chambers." Whispers and questions interrupted her speech and died as soon as they started as she held her hand up. It was something she had seen her mother do often. "I am aware of the questions you all have and the shock which plagues you. Like all of you I, too, share these emotions and I assure you Ser Parzival and the Royal Guards along with the Knights of Maudlin, will do all they can to get to the bottom of what happened." She paused for a moment. "Ser Parzival if you will please tell the people what you found?"

Ser Parzival stepped out of the crows and onto the platform next to Aymeri. "After thorough examination of Queen Ismana's chambers, it appears as something has been plaguing her for quite some time; an illness that couldn't be cured."

Aymeri breathed deeply, her head swimming. An illness? Mother never said anything about feeling ill. All my time spent in her chambers, with her in the throne room, not a cough, nor sneeze, nor fever, nor chill. What then, could have plagued her?

"—see to it that her final wishes be taken seriously and carried out as soon as possible."

Gathering herself as Ser Parzival looked over to her to finish, Aymeri took a steadying breath. "We will keep you all informed of the timing and procedures of Mother's funeral. No one is too leave this palace without my permission. Word of mother's death needn't get out before we have all of her things gathered." Aymeri took another breath. "You are all dismissed."

She waited as patiently as she could without falling over, until the room cleared out. "What are you not telling them?" she demanded from Ser Parzival.

"Jorlyn, please close the doors on your way out. The Princess and I must have a private conversation."

Jorlyn bowed dutifully to the both of them, closing the doors behind her as ordered, and Aymeri turned back to Ser Parzival. "What is it? You're frightening me."

"Well, Princess, there is no easy way to say this..."

"Out with it, Parzival, please."

"I think I better let this do the talking."

Ser Parzival slid a paper out of his breast pocket and handed it to Aymeri. It had her mother's seal—broken by Ser Parzival, she assumed. Thumbing the paper, she tried to imagine what was written on it, but dreaded opening and reading it.

"What is this?" Her eyes widened despite her wishes, revealing the horror whirring inside her being.

"It seems your mother wrote it before her..." he let his words trail off. "It explains the...events...of this morning."

Hastily, now, Aymeri unfolded the paper and read it word for word a dozen times before the words came out of her mouth. "What kind of pressures could she not confide in me about? To lead her to this?" She dropped to her knees, her world closing in on her. "Why, mother! Why?" she screamed, her tears choking her until she was gasping for air.

The room began to spin around her and as her eyes slowly opened and closed, she could see the door to the throne room ajar, then the next time she opened her eyes, it was closed again. Had someone—her thought didn't have time to form before all went dark around her.