“Well? You’re just staring at me with your jaw dropped.” Anwen crossed her arms. “I’ve been through a whole lot, so there’s not a lot that can bring me crashing to the ground. Just spit it out, Ivan. I think I’m more worked up about you refusing to talk than I can ever be about whatever you have to say.”

  A silence held for a few moments, feeling more like hours for the impatient Anwen. Then, drawing strength from somewhere unknown, Ivan forced himself to speak.

  “Back in that dungeon, something happened. The Shogun died…”

  “Who doesn’t know that? It’s what he deserved. After what he did to Genichi-san, there was no other way he could repent for what he did. Am I supposed to feel upset about that?”

  “The Shogun wasn’t the only one who died that day. I’m not talking about the Daimyo.” Ivan spoke, his voice cracking.

  “What?” Anwen gasped, sensing the distraught in Ivan’s tone. “What happened when I was knocked out? Tell me. Please.”

  Ivan tried to move his lips, but he could not make a sound. He stared at his hands for a moment before squeezing them into fists so tightly that his arms shook.

  Before Anwen could get any sense of what had happened, the doors of the hospital room swung open. Ilias had entered the room, and his eyes were locked on Anwen.

  “It’s true. You did wake up.” he spoke, his tone indifferent.

  “Ilias?” Ivan whispered, his pupils shrinking with anxiety.

  “Ilias!” Anwen put her hands over her heart, her face reflecting the tenderness in her soul upon seeing her younger brother safe and sound. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “Why?” he said as he stomped his way over to Anwen’s bedside. As he got closer, she realized that the boy was not happy to see her. “Why are you still alive, and she ain’t? Tell me, Anwen!”

  “Wh-What are you talking about?” Anwen furrowed her brow with concern. “Who isn’t alive? I’m alive because Stefan took out the Shogun. Who isn’t alive?”

  “Ilias, I was just about to tell her. You don’t need to say anything,” Ivan tried to offer a word of comfort to the bereaved boy, but to no avail. “Go back to Captain Rohan. I’ll handle this.”

  “No! Ivan, you don’t understand! You can’t tell her what I feel. You can’t do anything right now.” Ilias’ hands closed into fists at his sides.

  “Ilias, what’s wrong? You can tell me whatever you want. I’m your big sister. Um, can we start with why you’re staying with the Captain?” Anwen said, despite the nervousness clearly indicated in her voice.

  “You’re my big sister? Like hell you are. What kind of big sister tries to be a hero and ends up being the reason her brother’s mama gets popped in the head? Is that what a big sister does? Do you think you did something right?”

  “Huh?” Anwen was utterly confused.

  “Don’t act like you’re confused! Mama’s dead ‘cause of you! You just had to shout that out and get yourself tied up like that, and you know who saved you? Mama did! And—and she’s never, ever coming back!”

  “I-I don’t get it,” Anwen turned to face Ivan. “Aunty Manisha died? What’s he talking about?”

  Ivan sighed empathetically.

  “They were about to shoot you,” he said, visibly choking. “Miss Manisha threw herself into the bullet’s path and—”

  “You let her die, Anwen!” Ilias screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “This is your fault! You didn’t have to say anything, but you did! You told the whole country that you loved Stefan… and it killed her! Ma’s dead ‘cause of you.”

  Anwen’s face became pale as life itself seemed to drain from it in a matter of seconds. Sweat dribbled down her temples as she clutched her blanket tightly.

  “She’s dead… because of me? No, she isn’t dead. She's supposed to guide us back home. She can’t be dead. Ilias, stop telling me these things. It doesn’t even sound right—

  The back of a small hand slammed across Anwen’s face, knocking her over onto her side.

  “You… you should’ve never saved me from 'em cretins at the beach. You should’ve walked away, minded your own business. I shouldn’t have met you, Anwen! We were never supposed to cross paths!”

  At that moment, she realized that the same anger that Ilias expressed with all his juvenile might was the same kind of rage she knew Gareth kept deep within him for years but never displayed in front of Anwen. There were no lies being told. Manisha was dead because she wanted to help.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  It might as well have been that Manisha’s blood was on Anwen's hands.

  “I hate you, Anwen! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” Ilias sobbed as he pounded the edge of the mattress with his fists.

  “It’s not her fault!” Ivan suddenly snapped, jumping to his feet. “She wanted to help, and so did your mom. You can't blame anyone for trying to do the right thing. The only person responsible is Stefan. He didn’t kill the Shogun fast enough, but I understand why. We can’t keep pointing fingers, though. Ilias, let’s go. We need to leave.”

  He wrapped his hand around the boy’s forearm and dragged him towards the door. Before he stepped through, he turned around to see Anwen lying face down, her body heaving with sobs as she press her pillow down on her head as if to shield her from the horrors of the world.

  “I’m sorry, Anwen.” Ivan managed to say, before stepping through the door.

  It went through one ear and out the out the other, deafened by her own muffled sobs. She didn’t know whether she wanted to call Ilias a liar or feel his pain, to berate Stefan or to be in his warm embrace, or to deem herself a hero or a murderer.

  ---

  Dozens of servants had gone about their morning as per usual, their routines unchanged and similar to any other day. Many operated vacuum robots, before emptying them out and taking them through the maintenance tunnels to dispose of the rubbish that was collected. Some had been up before dawn in the kitchens, making sure that the Royal Household and their fellow employees were fed. Others changed linens and clothing and made sure they were clean and tidy to wear and use.

  Some wondered why the beaming smile of the Crown Princess had not yet greeted any of them, but they decided to stash the thoughts away so that the castle could be presentable and operational.

  Suddenly, the sound of dozens of heavy, stomping feet echoed through the halls and rooms of the Karesti Palace, but the servants did not stop their tasks. This very well could have been the Royal Guards partaking in a drill, honing the skills needed to protect the Palace and its inhabitants with their lives. It was semi-regular, so they simply went on with their duties. But soon, many realized that these men and women did not don the purple and blue associated with the Royal Guard, but rather the white and grey of the Titanian Military.

  “Everyone, stop what you're doing!” Count Moller yelled as he was interrupted in the middle of his rounds around the great building. “This is a serious matter, so don’t do anything foolish! Don’t try to make yourself stand out!”

  Soldiers of the Military grabbed servants by the arms, dragging them to the Great Hall. The force they used could’ve easily broken the limbs of beings as durable as Titanian if the servants resisted. This was not some joint exercise being done between the Royal Guard and the Military, as even the men and women assigned to protect the Palace were being taken to the Hall.

  “By order of General Rhona Karesti, you are all to line up against the north-facing wall of the Hall. Any attempts to disobey this order will be met with punishment!” Lieutenant Colonel Antelius’ rough voice boomed through the Hall as he marched into the grand room.

  The employees of the Palace, fearful of the great General, promptly lined up before soldiers could slam them against the wall, doing the action for them.

  Moments later, a single woman stepped through the door Maedoc had left open. Dressed in full military garb, she walked with calmness and conviction. None of the employees dared to make eye contact with her. She stopped at the middle of the hall, halfway down the line of employees. Behind the General were several soldiers, holding their rifles at the ready, prepared to shoot at a moment’s notice.

  “I only have one question to ask all of you. Just one, and you can go back to your duties. Well, before I get there…”

  She held up a thumb-sized electronic chip between her thumb and index finger for all the employees to see, covered in dried blood. It was the very same chip she had ordered to have implanted on Ninon shortly after Halsten’s incapacitation.

  “Have you all had a moment to look at it? Good. Now… who can tell me the location of the Crown Princess and her caretaker?”

  Rhona’s face did not indicate anger or frustration. Instead, it was relaxed. Her smile reached her eyes, and it was gentle. This was not a look any of the employees wanted her to make—it only meant that the outcome of this detention would satisfy her dark, twisted soul.

  She pivoted her neck to get a look at the face of each employee. They were all the same—professional, courteous, and respectful. However, she knew this was nothing but a feint.

  “Why all the silence? I know someone has a good story to tell me.”

  “Erm, Your Highness… we did not even know that neither Her Highness the princess nor Ms Silje were not iwithn the Palace premises,” a servant who was feeling a little too brave commented. “We were never notified of something like this.”

  Making eye contact with the General as she moved her head, he did not have the time to see that she had pulled out a pistol. He only realized that he was shot at when crimson dripped onto his shoulder, the tip of his ear singed into nothingness with a ray of Reserve.

  “If you don’t have an answer to my question, you don’t speak. Now, if none of you want to speak… that’s okay. Because I already have my answer,”

  Rhona had used the time she used to shoot at the servant to activate her Detection and dig into the Reserve subtly emanating from their bodies. With her level of control over it, she examined the emotional state of all the employees in the moment it took her to pull the trigger.

  “You’re all very good at making faces, which I appreciate. The roof over your heads harbors a legacy of centuries of professionalism and prestige, and you’re all doing well at keeping that up. But...!”

  Many servants flinched as she suddenly raised her voice, the tone of her speech taking unexpected turn. But with Rhona Karesti, there was little that one could predict of her.

  “…I sense a disgusting emotion within all of you. All of you! You’re all afraid. All except for two of you.”

  The employees tried to look at one another through the corners of their eyes, keeping their heads still to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

  Rhona turned around to face her own soldiers. She was not afraid of facing her back to people who had no reason to trust her—what could they do, anyway? Rhona could easily handle her own against the entire Central Council, so what could these mere unarmed servants do against her?

  “Take Count Moller and Ser Brin in for questioning in my old study,” her voice had lessened to an authoritative but relaxed tone. “Escort the rest of them back to their work stations.”