The Raichan Palace was abuzz with more activity today than Ygrain had seen in the entirety of her captivity, going on almost two years now.

  A corps of engineers from as far as Raushan examined every inch of the palace for entrances and vulnerabilities, going over the grounds and defenses, but in the end no point of entry could be discovered for the would-be kidnappers.

  A flood of soldiers from the nearby garrison at the capital of Shahpur were brought into the palace, doubling the men patrolling the walls and paths.

  A caravan of supplies, and carpenters were called in to construct housing for these men in The Cupboards, and hammering and sawing echoed through the palace for many weeks after.

  When the steady tide of new faces seemed to slow, Ygrain wondered if at last the palace would settle back into its deathly quiet.

  This notion was shattered by the blowing of a great horn from the Regent’s Hall, a royal summons.

  All the men and women in the palace gathered as quickly as possible, piling into the Hall.

  Impatient and confused at the unexpected interruption, they chattered nervously amongst themselves.

  Ygrain looked about for the prince, but could find him nowhere.

  The great horn boomed again over the shuffling murmurs of the crowd.

  The great doors to the hall were pulled apart, and light streamed into the dim chamber.

  Through the portal a noble woman stepped into the hall in slow, purposeful strides.

  She was tall and slender, nearly as tall as Ygrain, with sharp features only heightened by the long, flowing black hair that ran down to her waist in a midnight wave.

  She wore a torc, a ring of metal around the neck of worked silver that was lined with sapphires that shone in the sunlight.

  She wore a dark blue and gray silk veil which flowed all the way down to the floor, her movements sending the flowing material rippling about her.

  As she entered the people bowed their heads low.

  Close behind the beautiful stranger was an entourage of figures that came bustling in behind her.

  There were jesters in greasy makeup and jangling bells, actors and poets, a host of handmaidens, each more lovely than the last.

  An entire detachment of soldiers came thereafter, each with their helms tucked respectfully under one arm, hands on their sheaths.

  These too were unusually attractive, Ygrain noted, amused.

  The woman had sad, dark brown eyes, and a regal, commanding presence.

  Royalty.

  She spared the princess a glance, a soft pursing of her lips, before being swept back into her entrance, turning away.

  The parade of figures walked down the long hall to the foot of the Moonfire Throne.

  The prince, to Ygrain’s surprise, was waiting for them, a broad smile plastered on his face.

  “Auntie Valya!” he said, rushing forwards, burying himself in the woman’s waiting open embrace.

  The woman gently squeezed the boy back.

  “Hardly princely behavior my dear, you’re beginning to take too much after your dear old auntie,” the woman said warmly, rustling the boy's hair.

  She turned to address the crowd.

  “Greetings, friends, countrymen, citizens of the Empire. I recognize many of you, but for those to whom I am a strange face I wish to introduce myself properly, I am Lady Kaivalya Raich. Sister of King-Regent Kaiaan, lady aunt of our prince Kairava. I have been gone for many long years from this place, my home, but in lieu of the recent danger to my nephew the prince-''

  She turned and looked down at the boy, matronly concern clear in her dour expression.

  “-And to our honored guest, the Princess Ygrain,” she met Ygrain’s eyes and winked.

  “I have decided to again take up residence in the Raichan Palace. I will be taking over the administration of the day-to-day comings and goings here and for our blessed capital of Shahpur until my brother, our honored king-regent, returns from the Emperor’s war. Or someone has the good sense to replace me,”

  The joke broke the tension, and people noble and lowborn alike joined in laughter.

  Ygrain couldn’t believe her ears.

  A shadow loomed darker in the corner of the hall before slowly slinking out of the hall without a sound.

  Ygrain watched Slyke go for a moment, strangely disturbed at the watchdogs absence.

  She preferred to keep her eyes on him.

  Valya too watched the killer go, even as she spun tales of her travels for the amassed and delighted crowd.

  Her smile wide and shining, her eyes brimming with hate.

  Kairava nudged her and looked up, eyes drooping with concern.

  “Are you well, Auntie?”

  It should have been you.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  She flinched.

  The thought struck before she could silence it. Always they came to her, hateful and heavy, when she looked into those dear little eyes she loved, blue like no other Raich.

  Would she hate them less if they were dark like hers? Like her sons?

  She sighed with a bitter weariness.

  It didn’t help to dwell on who lived and who died.

  They were the survivors, for better or worse.

  “Just weary from long days of travel.”

  And even longer nights, she thought, glancing absentmindedly at her many delightful traveling companions.

  Keeping that thought to herself she turned back to her nephew, forcing herself to smile brightly.

  “I think I would like to retire, walk with me nephew?”

  “Of course!”

  She ordered her guard to handle the rest of the travel arrangements. Lugging in her sizable luggage to the disused corner of the Royal Compartments that held her old chambers.

  With that work concluded she and Kairava walked the grounds, leaving the dispersing crowds to their labors.

  “I would like to hear everything I have missed, my little khajia. And perhaps when we are good and caught up, you could arrange a meal between us and the young princess?”

  Kairava started.

  “Ah, I am not so sure that is a good idea, aunt.”

  “Mmm? And why is that my dear?”

  “Ygra-I mean uh, the princess, she’s fearful of our people. I’ve tried making her feel more at home,” the prince began, eyes growing distant. “I reduced her staff of maids, they pestered her. I got those trained in Imperial assigned to her so she had someone to speak to. I even told the guards to make themselves invisible where she’s present. But she still can only see us as jailors and this palace as a prison.” Kairava frowned. His disappointment clear.

  He truly cares for the girl, Valya thought chidingly. A mistake.

  “She may not be willing to have a meal with her kidnapper's sister.”

  “But she may dine with his son?” Kairava nearly choked.

  “I have seen you glancing after the girl, and your familiar speech would imply familiarity has grown indeed. Even in this hostile soil,”

  She gave the palace gardens a disdainful look.

  “It’s just not the same anymore, you know. We’d have just built a new one if I had my way, if your father wasn’t so stingy that is,”

  “A new garden would cost far too much for the nation while we’re at war,”

  “I meant the palace.” His aunt whispered. “But yes, the war. I think there’s more inroads to be made in talking to this girl, rather than keeping her isolated in a comfy cell. The girl feels imprisoned, because she is imprisoned! Let us show her she is not.”

  “How?” Kairava asked, curious and hopeful.

  “We will plan a visit to the capital, with the princess in tow as a guest. We can show her the wonders of Shahpur. And then perhaps we can discuss matters,”

  “What sort of matters?”

  Kairava’s smile faded as his aunt’s face leveled.

  “...I think it would be best if you were both seated, with a warm meal in you before we speak of it.”

  The prince was shocked.

  He’d never known his aunt to be secretive in all her years. Valya was warm, boisterous, uncompromisingly honest.

  But it had been many years since he had seen her, and perhaps that night had changed her, as it had changed him.

  Valya’s eyes looked past him, scanning over her surroundings silently.

  Searching for a glint of midnight black against the colorful backdrop of the palace green.

  ...

  The palanquin lurched and swayed under the unsteady arms of servants.

  Ygrain sat atop it, uncomfortably swaying along, trying to hide her mounting sea sickness. She and Kairava sat facing one another, resting cross-legged on soft silk.

  Small burners of incense kept the insects at bay, and made the entire trip smell of burning saffron, and charcoal.

  Uhtren lay between them, gnawing with great enthusiasm on a thick length of bone.

  Through a thinly veiled curtain, the outside world filtered through in a shade of palest gray. Ygrain could see rows of soldiers at the palanquin's side, marching in step, their formation never faltering, the stumbling servants keeping pace behind them.

  “Sorry about the, um, swaying. We haven’t used the palanquin in a long time, I think they may be out of practice.” the prince said, his eyes remaining downcast as they had most of the long trip.

  Her attempts at conversation had been met with short and polite responses.

  There was nothing of the boy from that night on the lakeshore to be found, much to her exasperation.

  “It's alright, not how I’m used to getting around is all. You’re quite sure we can’t just walk?” her voice was cross, speaking in nauseous lurches.

  She petted the little dragon’s silk-like hairs to calm her nerves, its reptilian purr broken only by the occasional snap or cracking of the bone.

  “Unfortunately not, it is considered a sign of great disrespect to enter a city by foot or by dragonback, when you come in peace.”

  “Gods, I almost hate to ask. Why is it a sign of grave disrespect?”

  She had learned she could goad the quiet boy into bursts of speech, conversations even, so long as she teased at his scholarly obsessions.

  They had spent many admittedly pleasing conversations lying by the lakeshore, talking ancient legends of dragons, Guhran, and the world beyond.

  “It comes from the old days when wars and bloody rivalries between noble houses were common. The thought being, a lord who entered a city slowly by palanquin surely has only good intentions.” He smiled.

  “Because he won’t be going anywhere in a hurry.” Ygrain snorted.

  At that moment a servant nearly tripped over a patch of loose stones and the palanquin rocked dangerously for a moment, threatening to tip over before the man regained his balance, swearing.

  Both of them broke into intense fits of laughter, giggling broken only by the disgruntled grumbling of the palanquin carriers.

  “Guard, let's have the carriers switch, get some fresh hands and let these men rest. And once we arrive beyond the city gates we are to depart on foot,”

  The guard began to argue but Kairava raised his open hand in a silencing gesture, as he had seen his father do a thousand times, and to his shock the man miraculously quieted and obeyed.

  Ygrain was impressed at how far that quiet lonely boy had come in this short time they’d spent together.

  How far they’d both come.

  But it hadn’t been a short time, had it?

  Nearly a year had passed since her captivity in Guhran began. It felt like only yesterday, and Ygrain could no longer remember when it hadn’t been so.

  She caught Kairava’s blue eyes and smiled a little.

  The message passed up the line.

  Ahead Lady Kaivayla’s palanquin was carried by four of her personal guards, each mountainous man bearing the weight with ease.

  Between the soldiers and the palanquins, many servants accompanied them, like a small village, random assortments of servants, maids and cooks and anything else they might need.

  Gadhar and Alane amongst them, both laden with travel packs and goods for the journey, both sour in the face from the long and difficult journey by foot.

  After a few minutes, a man called out

  “ANDDD HALT!”

  The entire platoon of soldiers came to a uniform stop. Servants catching up a moment or two later. The palanquins were set to the ground, as replacement carriers were found.

  “Something’s bothering you,” Ygrain said, more accusation than question.

  Her stomach finally settling as she blessed the unmoving earth.

  “There is,” he admitted with some relief, blue eyes momentarily meeting hers.

  “But you won’t tell me?” her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “I...I think something's happening. I just don’t know what.”

  Ygrain narrowed her eyes.

  “My aunt is worried. And it’s not like her.”

  “The war maybe?” she probed.

  “I don’t know.” he answered with a sigh, sounding tired.

  Ygrain’s mind raced, imagining a hundred fresh terrors that might await them in Shahpur, before coming to a conclusion that startled her.

  “Alright...Do you trust your aunt?”

  Kairava paused, thinking for a moment before responding.

  “I do. She’s always been good to me, even after everything that happened.”

  The night Kairava’s life had been destroyed.

  He hadn’t said any more, and Ygrain hadn’t pushed, hardly one to judge when she could still barely speak of the night his father had killed Uhtren.

  “Well, if you trust her, I suppose...well I suppose I trust you.” she said, distractedly.

  “Aren’t you afraid?” his eyes held hers.

  “These days, I’m always afraid, Rava. Today seems no less dangerous than any other. So who knows, maybe today will be nothing but smooth sailing! We could only be so fortunate.”

  …