At his table in the hall beside Aaleyah, Saan traces his fingers around the rim of the chalice. His eyes scan the crowd as he allows Aaleyah’s words to sink in. They do not come as a surprise, but why did they still hurt more than fighting on any battlefield?

  Beside him Aaleyah swiftly empties her chalice and then refills it. Once. twice. Holding her head high she is a pillar of calm. So when she speaks he is not expecting her words to sound tight. “Please, you must understand that lack of trust has nothing to do with how much I care for you.” She moves closer to him, her hand hovering over his own. Her regretful eyes, and twirling fingers do not hide her stress, and call for his comfort.

  With a sigh he places his hand in hers and she immediately twirls his wedding band. “What must I do to be worthy of your trust?”

  “You already do everything, there is nothing more for you to do.” Her gaze is earnest, “You are perfect.”

  “I assure you I am not.” He squeezes her hand. If he was stronger, would she confide in him?

  Aaleyah places her other hand atop of his. “Trust is a dangerous thing. Only those you trust can harm you. My family once trusted so many people, we on-” her words cut off sharply. “Maybe mankind is incapable of trusting others before themselves.”

  He pulls the scarf over her shoulder with a sad smile. “I understand. Betrayal is a terrifying thing. As long as you do not believe in trust, I will not ask you to grant it to me.”

  She runs her thumb over her nail.

  “However, I trust you. If one day you realize that trust is possible, I hope you can grant me the blessing of having yours.” He lifts her hand to kiss it. “Let us end this conversation.”

  Aaleyah nods and together they watch the dancers, the soft music attempting to grant them peace.

  As the song ends, applause is heard before the notes of the second song start.

  “Are you still angry with me?”

  Saan frowns. “My anger is not directed towards you.” If anything it is to himself. Towards his name, towards his timing being sinfully too late.

  “Anger is felt all the same,” she states, hardening her eyes once more.

  “Does my anger make you uncomfortable?” He asks, facing her.

  “It makes me apologetic. There is nothing this one can do to ease your anger. What you desire from me is impossible. You wish for me to rely on you, give my heart to you, but this one has sworn to do no such thing again.” She does not hide, and he watches the pain and exhaustion swim in her eyes.

  Saan mulls over her words, perhaps it is the wine that allows her to pour out the honesty that she would otherwise keep to herself.

  “My anger is difficult to explain. I feel I have failed in protecting you. The reason you do not trust, the pain you have felt in your life, the loss, the anger, the hatred,” he taps the rim of the cup. “I so greatly wish to protect you but I am too late.”

  “This one is able to protect herself, the high prince need not feel stress from that.”

  “I never thought you could not protect yourself. You are so strong, remaining so is a tiring task.” He gives her a tight-lipped smile. “On the battlefield it is vital to keep up the morale of my troops, to keep up the morale within myself. In doing so I sometimes forget my own fears and pains while wearing the mask of strength. I wish you could-”

  “In the future,” she pauses when he turns to her, and he attempts to soften his gaze. “Any plans made with Hammun will never exclude you,” she vows.

  Perhaps this is the best they can do. “Thank you.”

  At the table next to them Hestia sits silently fuming. Her hands grip the fabric of her skirt tightly, her gaze focusing on Hammun talking and laughing with the guests of other kingdoms. It was once admirable the way he could control the room and have all compelled to listen.

  After hearing of Prince Kian’s crimes, with every heartbeat she can feel the blood and anger coursing through her veins. How many of her people have been enslaved or slaughtered while she prances through the palace? Hammun knew, and told her nothing. Aaleyah. She also knew.

  Perhaps she has proven to be too foolish to understand. Hammun told her that he would be honest with her and would not hide information about the queen from her; was it because he was hiding something else far greater?

  Lightly slamming the table in front of her with her hand, “From here on out, I vow to learn. I will be a princess that my people need.”

  The festivities end and Saan nods for Helan to follow Aaleyah to her chambers while he approaches his brother.

  Saan watches Hammun say his goodbyes to Head Advisor Shah. “Before you say anything,” he holds up his hand, “could you have thought of any other plan that could have worked as well as this one?”

  “Plans that endanger my wife are the thoughts of death seekers,” Saan slowly says, pronouncing each word with a held back edge. “As well as my wife she is your sister, how could you allow her to walk so close to mental danger. You and I both know that that prince-” He cuts himself off.

  “She was never in danger.” Hammun waves his hand around the hall in the direction of the guards. “Who would dare harm her? The guards, Helan, and most importantly, you were here. Who could approach her before you can react? Besides,” he drops his voice to a whisper, “she is more than capable of protecting herself.”

  Not with Kian! Saan wants to scream. “She should not have to. She should not have to be in a position to protect herself. She should not feel like she is in danger. Knowing defense is lovely, needing it is not.”

  Hammun rubs at the side of his temples. “Saan, this was her plan. Thanks to her we were able to arrest the prince under crimes that will not weaken or break the alliance. His insults to her in such a public space, no one can deny it. The witnesses from numerous people, and kingdoms will make it impossible for the Trivplah’s to bury it in the sand.” Hammun taps his shoulder. “Do not allow your emotions to prevent you from seeing how perfect this plan was. Aaleyah is amazing, your feelings make it hard to see her strategic skills. The day she joins you on the battlefield will be the day people redefine fear,” he jokes.

  Her plan? Saan adjusts Hammun’s clothing. “You will not endanger my wife again.”

  As he walks away Hammun mumbles, “He took it better than I thought.”

  In the halls, Aaleyah makes her way to her chambers. Now that she is standing she can feel the slight slowness of the wine’s numbing effect in her body. Forcing her hands to her sides she lifts the skirt of her dress so she can walk without stumbling. Her lips a fine line as she forces her eyes open wide to focus on each step.

  Helan moves closer. “Is high princess well?”

  Aaleyah pushes her hair behind her ear. “Helan, may you answer a question?”

  “Of course,” he answers, his hand ready to catch her.

  Her foot hovers over the floor with each step as if she is dancing. “Are Captain Helan’s actions out of guilt?” Her foot stumbles and she shuffles to the left to avoid Helan’s assistance. “I am fine, answer please.”

  Helan drops his hand. “Permission to speak freely?”

  “Granted.”

  Helan catches her elbow when she stumbles. “Helping you has never been out of guilt. You are my best friend’s sister. He is not here to stand by your side, thus I will take the mantle. It is never through guilt.”

  She laughs. “Captain Helan assists me out of duty.” Those words sting her eyes. “Captain Helan caught me those Blue Moons ago because it was his duty to do so. To save the last Aljehni.” Her vision blurs with unshed tears and her foot knocks into the side table. Paintbrushes clatter to the floor, but are caught in Helan’s hands.

  A garnet paperweight escapes Helan’s eye and falls hitting her ankle before smashing onto her foot. The spark of pain rips her out of her emotional state and forces her to become more alert. She swallows her tears as the pain intensifies. “Forgive my clumsiness, Captain Helan.”

  Helan drops down to pick up the paperweight. “Forgive me, my words have shocked you.” He motions down the hall. “Shall we?”

  Aaleyah hides her grimace. Helan will not walk in front of her, so she must keep up appearances.

  Arms wrap around her waist and her world tilts as she is lifted off the floor into Saan’s arms.

  “Where are you injured?” He adjusts her weight, so she leans into his chest. “What happened?”

  Helan bows and apologizes.

  Saan waves at Helan. “There is nothing to apologize for. It is not a norm to have our high princess clumsy.” He brushes a curl away from her eye.

  Helan takes his place behind Saan and Aaleyah.

  “My injury will not prevent me from walking.” She frowns, her center of gravity has completely shifted, each step dizzying.

  “You admit you are injured.” He rests his hand on the back of her head. “Thank you.”

  “You already know, there is no point in lying.” She hides her face, tired of seeing his confident eyes.

  She can feel his chuckle as well as hear it. “You should drink wine more often.”

  “I do not wish for you to carry me,” she tells him with closed eyes.

  “But you are so comfortable in my arms.”

  She drops her head to rest on his chest. “It is not as if you will drop me.”

  His arms tighten around her. “Never.” he tells her whilst kissing her head once more.

  She feels a kiss on the top of her head. “This is unfair,” she mumbles.

  “What is?” He says, a smile in his tone.

  “You drank more wine than I did, how unfair that I am the one who feels so dazed?”

  In her chambers, Saan sets her on a chair. “My beautiful Leyah has many skills, holding your liquor does not need to be one of them.”

  Watching him rise, her heart pounds. “Will you leave?”

  Saan calls for Leelin to prepare water for a bath. “Does my wife require my presence?”

  Her hand curls around her dress, her body flushing with heat from the wine. “No,” she tells him, but finds herself unable to look away.

  He twirls one of her curls around his finger. “Care to say that again?” He whispers.

  “It is not wise for you to stay when I am like this,” she whispers, her hand moving to hold onto his robe. “You should leave.”

  “Is that so?”

  She pulls his robe. “You are not angry with me?” She asks imploringly.

  His lips hover over hers. “My anger is never at you Leyah.”

  With those words she feels a weight leave her shoulders.

  “High Prince Saan-” Leelin flushes and quickly turns away. “Apologies for interrupting, the bath is ready.”

  Aaleyah rises swiftly, but her foot protests and she falls into Saan’s chest.

  “Leelin knows we are married.” He wraps his arm around her waist to steady her. “What are you so shy for?”

  “I am not shy. I will not drink wine again,” she vows, her hands on his chest.

  Saan wraps his fingers around her small wrists. “I quite enjoy my honest wife.” He lifts her into his arms and walks to the bath.

  Sitting her on the chair next to the bath he taps her nose. “Shall I call Leelin to assist you?”

  “Yes please.”

  Saan kisses her cheek. “Then I shall see you in the morning.”

  Aaleyah watches him turn away and her hand catches his. “Saan, promise you are not angry at me.” Her eyes water at the thought.

  “Leyah, I told you I was not-” his words halt when he looks at her. “Leyah.”

  “I am sorry. I am unable to trust you. It is not because you do not deserve trust. It is me. I am the wrong one. I will pay for my wrongs, and I do not wish to have you pay too,” she admits, refusing to look into his eyes, but her hand clutches his tightly. “When I go you will find someone who can grant you all you deserve, and all you desire.” Her tears fall.

  “I have already told you,” his hurt tone calls for her attention. “Do not go where I am unable to follow. Every action you make must be for the good of your life.” He pulls her hand off of his robe and kisses it. “You will go nowhere.”

  Aaleyah’s eyes spark with anger. “Because I am an Aljehni?” She stands holding back her flinch. “Has anyone ever asked if I wished to be one? Has anyone ever asked if I wanted them to die for me!”

  “You are my wife!” Saan lifts her by her waist to alleviate her pain. “You are a Dlumaeni as well. Can life with me be enough?” He asks impassionately.

  Aaleyah hops back to the chair, her mouth a hard line. “Please call Leelin in. This one will see the high prince in the morning.”

  Saan chuckles in frustration. “You are sober now.”

  It is not a question but she answers. “Yes.”

  “And you no longer wish to tell me the pains of your heart.” He steps back, locking his hands at his sides.

  “This one wishes you a good night,” she tells him, but her body refuses to wear its false smile.

  Saan frowns. “Sleep well, Leyah.”

  In the hallway, Hestia maps out her actions for the next day. She would speak to Prince Kian herself and save her own people. That is what a princess did.

  “Hestia? You are falling behind.” Hammun chuckles.

  Hestia lifts her head to face Hammun. He stands so confidently, at peace now that the night went the way he desired; now that he has all that he desires. Without saying a word, she picks up speed rushing to his side.

  “Silence from you is worrisome.” His fingers brush against the back of her hand before she moves it to cross her arms. “What troubles you so?”

  As her head shakes, the beads of her hair pin clash together melodically.

  “Nothing? Was it the wine? Have you had too much?”

  Hestia shakes her head again.

  “Hmm.” Hammun crosses his arms at his back. “Perhaps the food was too spicy. Have you not adjusted to Aidjeeken food yet?”

  Staring at Hammun from the corner of her eye, his confident exterior reinforces her plan of silence.

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  “I have to say you did an amazing job tonight. Truly a fine example of a Nevalvn princess,” he compliments.

  Hearing those words her footsteps falter. “What?” She asks in astonishment.

  “It is true. You showed everyone present the grace and beauty of the Nevalvn Kingdom.”

  Her chest grows cold. “I said nothing, I did nothing but sit there.” Her mouth opens to say more words but her brain goes blank with anger.

  Hammun nods and takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “We successfully imprisoned Prince Kian of the Trivplah Kingdom, this is a feat worthy of joy.”

  “Crimes I was unaware of,” she whispers in guilt. “My people were hurting and I-”

  “Our people,” Hammun soothes. Taking her wrists, he urges her to uncross her arms so he can squeeze her hands. “Your people are my people, your kingdom is my kingdom, who and what you love, is who and what I love.”

  She swallows back her tears at his words. “We have arrived at my chambers, goodnight.” Pulling her hands away she rushes inside before her tears fall.

  The next morning Aaleyah wakes up to a bruised foot and swollen ankle. Leelin helps her wrap it and rushes to fetch a bowl of cold water. Kamil nervously waits at the corner of Aaleyah’s chambers.

  “What is it Kamil?”

  She jumps at the sound of her name. “High Princess, it is nothing this one was-”

  “Come closer. It is hard for me to hear you.”

  “High Princess Aaleyah this one was told to, this one should,” Kamil shakes her head nervously, “it is nothing. This one serves you and no one else. High princess this one is to serve you and only you, correct? Is High Prince Saan,” she shakes her hands, “High Prince Saan-”

  “Has High Prince Saan given you an order? What is it?”

  Kamil kneels. “High Princess Aaleyah, this servant has wronged you.”

  “No need to kneel, what is the order?”

  “This one was told to report to High Prince Saaan if the high princess worsens in the morning. This servant was ordered in the past not to bother the high prince with worries. But-” her hands smooth the skirt of her dress, “this one has to break an order,” she whispers defeatedly.

  Sitting in silence, Aaleyah recalls the events of last night. He promised he was not angry, but she should not continue to push him. “Tell High Prince Saan that his wife is injured and if he has time, request his presence.”

  “Thank you high princess, thank you!” She rushes off to follow her orders.

  As the doors close Aaleyah holds a hand over her eye, she should not have dranken last night. Look at the results! An injured foot, broken pride, and an unsatisfied husband. Worst of all, she will be unable to help Hammun speak to Prince Kian.

  “Dreaa are you there?”

  Dreaa rushes into the main room. “Good morning high princess.”

  “Morning, please send a servant to Prince Hammun expressing my apologies for being unable to meet this morning.”

  In the lowest part of the palace Hestia makes her way down the corridor. The dungeon Prince Kian is held in is made up of 3 sections. The first section being the containment cells, this is where people are placed before or during a trial and punishment has not been sentenced yet. The second section was the detention cells holding people who committed crimes against the state. The final section held the punishment cells, there prisoners received their physical punishments before being moved to the prisons outside the palace.

  Her head feels uncomfortable underneath the helmet, a scarf tied around her neck to help hide her face, the pants a tad too big. She walks the same way she has seen Musinm move and hopes that no one can tell that it is here. She spent most of the morning stitching the cloak so it would not drag on the floor behind her. For the first time in a long time her steps are silent; no clinking of her jewelry. She just needs to walk calmly, or does she have to stop and bow? How do guards bow? Is it right hand over left fist, or is it right fist over heart?

  “Prince Hammun,” a servant calls and Hestia freezes her eyes narrowing in on her fiancee. When did he come?

  Down the left hall Hammun turns his back to Hestia to greet the servant..

  “This servant comes from the high princess’ chambers, this one has a message.”

  “Rise, and tell me your message.” Hammun seems impatient, his words blunt without the flattering smile.

  “High Princess Aaleyah sends her apologies for being unable to meet Prince Hammun.”

  Meet? Hestia makes her way past Hammun. Why were he and Aaleyah supposed to meet? How many plans does he have that she is unaware of?

  Reaching the stairs to the dungeon, Hestia spares one last glance around her, the guards do not seem suspicious. Feeling a sense of accomplishment, she makes her way to the stairs, a huge grin on her face.

  “Princess Hestia, it is dangerous in the dungeons.”

  Frowning, Hestia turns. “How long have you been following me?”

  Musinm bows. “This guard’s duty is to protect the princess.”

  “That does not answer my question.” This entire time she thought she was evading the guards, but really they were all evading her.

  “Is there something Princess Hestia needs?”

  Hestia chews the inside of her cheek. She can say nothing and return to her chambers, maintaining her role as a dense princess. Or, she can stand strong regardless of punishments and be the voice for her people.

  “I am going to have a word with Prince Kian,” her tone is sharp, daring Musinm to tell her no.

  His eyes dart to the guards at the corner of the hall.

  “Do not look at them, look at me. Am I not a princess of my own power? Am I not the figurehead for the Nevalvn Kingdom? Tell me Musinm, are you able to tell me no? Are you able to tell me anything?”

  “Figurehead?” Musinm cocks his head in thought. “Princess Hestia, this one holds no power over you. But this one will be punished severely if the princess insists on entering the dungeons.”

  Hestia can feel her resolve wavering, Musinm has done nothing wrong, will he truly be punished because of her? “Musinm, will your punishment be equal to the lives that were stolen from my people? The prince in the dungeons is responsible for burning down my temples, burning my people alive, enslaving those who dared to fight back. Do I truly have no right to speak to him?” She steels herself for the next words. “The only way to stop me is physically. Will you?”

  Musinm says nothing and Hestia rushes down the stairs. No longer trying to be sneaky, she ignores the guards, relying on Musinm to stop them.

  At the bars to his cell she speaks. “Prince Kian, so many crimes you have committed. Has the night treated you well.”

  Lifting his head, his blue eyes scrunch in confusion. “And who are you supposed to be?”

  “Give me space, I do not wish my conversation to be heard,” She orders Musinm but he remains in place “Musinm, please go get your master, Prince Hammun personally. No one else can know.” He still hesitates and Hestia rolls her eyes, “You said you fear punishment, is it better to get him or not?”

  Musinm finally leaves and Hestia glares into the prince’s cold eyes. “Now it is just you and I.”

  Crossing one of his arms over his torso, one elbow rests on his hand, his finger hovering over his eerie smile. “And who is it I am with?”

  Hammun sits in his mother’s chambers at a table across from his father. “We evaded the discussion on who controls the Nevalvn mines last night, but we need to decide on an answer. It must not be us.”

  “I agree, it rightfully belongs to the people of Nevalvn, but at this time we cannot leave it in their hands.” Hearing a murmur from the queen, both men move into action. Hammun finds a warm blanket for his mother, and the king checks the pulse on her wrist.

  “Is mother alright?”

  “I will not lie to you Hammun,” his father sits on the edge of his mother’s bed. “If we do not find a physician or a cure within the next two weeks…best outcome she is paralyzed, worst outcome she returns to the lotus gardens.”

  “Lotus gardens!” He studies his mother’s tired face. “She no longer seems in pain, I thought that was good.”

  “The royal physicians have done a tremendous job alleviating pain; but they have not found a way to help her heal. Her life energy continues to drain.”

  “Your majesty, there is a woman outside the palace gates. She says she was summoned here,” the Master of Ceremonies calls out.

  Hammun shakes his head. “I will go, father should stay here.”

  He walks to the court hall with Official Zareh. “A woman summoned? By who?”

  “Therein lies the confusion. She gave a letter, but no one can read it." He offers the letter to Hammun with both hands.

  “What language is this?” he asks in disbelief. Never before has he seen such shapes. “Where did she say she was from?”

  “She traveled from Cyeunu.”

  “West of the kingdom.”

  “The border of the kingdom has populations that still speak Ancient Aidjeeken, but this,” Official Zareh motions to the letter, “language is not one I have ever seen, or heard. The syllables are harsh, her tongue moves quickly, and the tone fluctuates often.”

  “She speaks it as well? Nothing sounded familiar when she spoke? Many languages share commonalities, surely something seemed similar.”

  “If so, this one was not intelligent enough to catch it.”

  In the court hall, Hammun waits for the unique guest, studying the letter in his hand. While he does not have the linguistic abilities Aaleyah has, he is still adept in languages. How is it that he can understand nothing?

  The doors open to a petite woman, her olive skin catching Hammun’s eyes first. This skin complexion is a key feature of the Azatixos people. That, along with her light brown eyes and wavy hair, confirms her origins. Very rarely do the Azatixos travel to the capital.

  Before him she prostrates herself, bowing low until her forehead touches the floor. “Your grace, this subject is named Lajia, and comes from Cyeunu.”

  “Rise.” When she does, he studies her face, a narrow nose, and prominent brow. “Your heritage seems diverse.”

  “His grace is very wise, my father is of Azatixos origins-” the next words she says are impossible to decipher. Her tone changes, as her jaw moves quickly producing sounds Hammun has never heard.

  “What language is it you speak?”

  “His grace, is not the one who sent out the letter?” Her hands grip her robe and after deliberation she bows again. “This one has made a mistake and apologizes for intruding on the palace. She will leave immediately.”

  “No.” He holds the letter in his hand, “This is not the letter you wrote?”

  “No, your grace, this was the letter that was sent out asking for this one's presence.”

  “What does it say?” Hammun asks, his curiosity reaching its peak.

  Her hands shake on her lap. “If not his grace writing the letter, then who did? It speaks of a need of a doctor-”

  “A doctor?” Has information escaped the palace?

  “A-a-a physician, one of miraculous skills,” she motions to the letter, “at the bottom it is signed with the royal seal.”

  “You say your name is Lajia,” Hammun goes over the information, “you traveled a great distance all the way from Cyeunu for a letter that you do not know the author of?”

  “Your grace it has the royal seal, or course this one could not disobey.”

  “You still have not told me what this language is. Is it a new language that has started in Lipya?”

  “No, your grace, it is not a new language.”

  “How many people speak it?” He asks, feeling irritation at her perfected allusiveness.

  “Would his grace believe it if told that until a few moons ago, this one thought only she could speak it.”

  “Do you think me a fool, Lajia?” He makes his way down the steps and hands her the letter. “Read it, what does it say?”

  “Your grace, it is hard to translate, my Aidjeeken is not good. In Lipya we speak Ancient Aidjeeken.”

  Hammun holds back a frown; where is Aaleyah when you need her? “Read what you can.”

  “Vanish is understand, no understood; the cause of inflicted vanishing it understandable-” she starts and Hammun exhales slowly; this will call for all of his patience.

  “-heavy heart ask presence, of the same origins, our lives are full of dangers. We experience loss, extremely? At this moment this letter is written to you, something something need you, your skills I beseech you to lend. For something of the same origins,” she finishes.

  Hammun locks his hands behind his back. “Have you truly read this to the best of your abilities?” Seeing her nod, he looks up and breathes. “So you are someone with medical skills? Who is it in the capital you believe you must save?”

  She moves to bow again. “Lajia, no need for formalities. Answer the question.”

  “Your grace, this one’s mission for coming here is to find the person of same origins. The person who knows the same language; maybe they will know what I do not.”

  “When did you receive this letter?”

  “This one did not receive it, this letter was posted on the side of a fabric store.”

  A letter filled with secrets was posted for anyone to read? “This letter was posted in plain sight, because there is only one person who can read it?”

  “Please do not think me liar, in all of Cyeunu, no in all of Lipya there is no person who knows this language. When this one saw it-”

  “If no one else speaks it, how did you learn it?”

  Her mouth clamps shut, and Hammun smiles. How many secrets does this doctor have?

  Down in the dungeons, Hestia removes her helmet and scarf. “I am the one whose people you harmed, and I am here to know why.”

  Prince Kian’s cunning grin makes Hestia uncomfortable, but she refuses to show it. “Why did you burn my people, why did you enslave them?”

  “You are the so-called princess. You had your kingdom side with Aidkjeen to protect the mines; how does it feel knowing now you are legally giving them away?” He paces his cell. “With a woman in power it only leads to loss of power.”

  Hestia grips one of the bars. “You mercilessly kill because you have a problem with power?”

  Crossing his arms, he rests his back on the wall. “I saw your face last night.” He chuckles. “You did not know of the tragedies in your kingdom. It has been almost a Blue Moon. Your people have cried and begged, pleaded for help, pleaded for aid.” He scrunches his nose. “Your people are so proud, it took five attacks before they finally gave up.”

  Her breath catches in her throat.

  “I went to the mines first, but they held up such a resistance, it was quite troublesome. Luckily working in the mines is a dangerous thing. And what do families do when their loved ones have dangerous jobs?” He speaks to her as if she is a student and her hand grips the bar tighter. “They pray. Every morning, children, mothers, and grandparents; they all went to the temple to pray for their loved ones' safety.”

  Prince Kian nods to himself. “It is my duty as a prince to help my allies receive the honor they deserve. It is also perfectly aligned with my agenda.” He snaps his fingers. “This is the way of royalty, one must make sacrifices for the greater good every second of the day; a make pretend princess like you could never understand.”

  “You killed all those people in the temple? How,” her voice trembles, “how many times?”

  “The plan was to only do it one time, but after the first burning who would have known it would force more people to visit?” He laughs. “I had burned thirty people alive, you would think they would wisely stay away from the temples and stay home. But no, nadit apkar, faithful idiots; they traveled to a different temple and prayed even harder.”

  Hestia’s eyes sting, a lump filling her throat. “No.” Her hand falls from the bar.

  His blue eyes bore into hers, a sinister grin on his face. “I burned them all alive with their goddess that they trust so much.”

  “Goddess Zimiea,” she calls a tear escaping her.

  “Yes! That is the goddess they prayed to. It was her temples I burned. The workers at the mine were so distraught, I told them I would send medical support for their family in exchange for their lifelong servitude.”

  “You lied to them! Their family is dead.”

  “They learn that when they disobey my orders.” He shrugs. “It works quite well. Alas, now that the treaty has been signed the future will hold more difficulties.”

  “You are a monster.”

  “I am a royal! Did your fiancée not allow your people to burn for moons in hopes of placing me in this, this,” Hestia watches him stumble for the word, “fapinfaso!” He exasperates, obviously not knowing the word in Aidjeeken. He catches her eye and sighs. “Young princess, do you wish to save your people?”

  Hestia nods.

  Prince Kian motions to the walls enclosing him. “I am unable to release them from their enslavement here. And if I am tried, we will just kill them. The only way your people can return to their homes is if you let me go.”

  A cold shiver runs down her spine. She has failed her people for moons, if she really allows for the slaves to die without returning home; she does not deserve to be called a princess.

  In Aaleyah’s chamber Saan rushes in. “How is your injury?” He kneels, lifting her foot ever so gently in his hand.

  “Hitting the bone on the side of the ankle is nothing serious. Other than pain for a few days this one will be fine.” Aaleyah moves Saan’s hand off of her foot.

  “Can you hold up your weight?” He lifts her foot again and blows on the side of her ankle.

  “Yes, everything is fine.”

  “Can you hold your own weight without pain?”

  Biting the inside of her cheek she decides to tell the truth. “Not exactly.”

  Saan places her foot back to the floor. “Today, stay off your foot, walk as little as possible.”

  Studying his caring face, she cannot stop the pang of regret, “This one apologizes for words said last night.”

  “You are not at fault, Leyah. I-”

  Helan rushes inside. “Prince Kian has escaped his cell!”

  “What!” She and Saan ask simultaneously.

  “The news came only a moment ago,” Helan reports.

  Saan rushes to the door. “Set a perimeter on the outside of the palace, he could not have gone far.” He pauses and turns back. “Please stay inside off of your feet. I will return,” he tells her before rushing out the door.

  Aaleyah pulls out a paper and writes a letter to the Khor towers. “Leelin-”

  “High Princess.” Leelin rushes into the room. “A bird has delivered a message,” she says, presenting it to her.

  Seeing the sun seal Aaleyah reaches for it immediately. Scanning its contents, she stands in shock. Lakia has arrived! “Has the palace received a new guest this morning?”

  “This one can find out.”

  “Do so and alert me to where they are immediately, I need to go to the queen’s chambers.”

  “High Prince Saan asked for you to-’

  “- Leelin this is an emergency.” Aaleyah quickly writes a note and seals it. “When you locate the guest you can use this to bring her to the queen’s chambers.”

  Leelin bows and rushes out. Aaleyah slowly and carefully makes her way out. Exiting her wing, the palace halls have fewer guards, most likely having left with Saan.

  Rounding a corner, she bumps into a guard from the dungeons.

  The guard bows low, his right thumb over his left.

  “Who are you?”

  The guard bows again, the same incorrect thumb placements.

  Positioning herself to lean against the wall. How ironic she is next to the same table with the paperweight that is the cause of her pain. Her hand slides behind her to hold it. “Prince Kian.”

  Chuckling darkly, he lifts his head showing his icy blue eyes. “Truly I can never lie to you.” He removes his helmet.

  Aaleyah scans the hall and sees no other guards.

  “They are gone, I had inside help,” he tells her. “Your weight is off, have you been injured?”

  “You are to be tried for your crimes, you can return to your cell willingly or forcefully.”

  “Will you make me?” He lunges for her and Aaleyah blocks him, her hands moving instinctively. staying on defense whilst avoiding her injured leg she elbows him in the stomach and pushes him away. “Guards!”

  He pulls on her arm and she swings the paperweight at the side of his head.

  Prince Kian spins away in pain and throws his helmet, the metal slamming into ankle. Then he surges forward and slams her into the wall. Locking her hands in place, his hand wraps around her neck.

  “This is how your husband held me last night.” He tightens his fingers and she gasps for breath, her fingers reaching for one of her hair sticks. She kicks out her knee to hit him but he forces his weight against her pressing her into the wall. “But this hold does not harm you. No,” he sneers in her face and lifts his other hand snaking it into her hair. Her crown falls to the floor, the clang echoing in the hall. “I know what you fear the most. Tiy urdegese esekkes ye?” He tightens his hold in her head, yanking her head back to expose her neck. “Is this feeling not familiar, Xeyn!”

  Her chest tightens, her mouth opens to cry for help but no sound escapes her lips. No. Focus! The words have no power as her mind blurs. The walls, the voice, the name- the only thing keeping her present is the pull at her scalp. His fingers gripping her hair. The memories burn. She must not go back, she is not there. Not anymore. But his hand, her hair-

  Too much.

  Too close.

  The memories invade, attacking her like a sword, tightening with every breath she is unable to take.