Typically, when Cailu was summoned by the queen, Kirti was dismissed to ‘do as she liked’ in the city. Naeemah would always accompany him, but Kirti had never been invited.

  It was a wonder that Cailu now called both her and Zahra to his side with Matt and Ceres at the entrance of Ronona Castle.

  “Here goes nothing,” Matt said to Ceres as the doors were thrown wide.

  Kirti held high expectations for the coming meeting.

  Lush velvet carpets softened their steps on their journey to the throne. Tapestries of blue and white decorated the walls, embroidered with Saoirse’s mask in great detail. The columns from the castle’s fa?ade repeated throughout its interior, flanking them on either side of the carpet.

  The welcoming chamber was empty outside of a string of stationed guards at their posts. Kirti had been led to believe that at least a handful of nobles haunted the queen at any given time. To see an empty throne room that was more than twice the size of Rājadhānī’s felt odd.

  When they reached the dais, Queen Nehalennia perched with the rigid posture of nobility on her throne, canting her head towards her newcomers. Her violet hair flowed down to her hips, and her eyes were lined with a bright red hue. Two kittens who appeared to be nearing their teenage years mimicked her posture in smaller thrones of their own on either side of her, their violet hair touched with streaks of gold. Three more golden-haired kittens who were little more than toddlers quietly played at their sisters’ feet, dressing porcelain dolls and pushing horses on wheels back and forth.

  “Queen Nehalennia. You are well, I trust?” Cailu bowed. The rest of them followed suit.

  “I am, thank you. It was good of you to write in advance of your visit. This is quite the entourage you bring,” Nehalennia replied, looking at each of them in turn.

  When Nehalennia’s wandering gaze washed over Kirti, the cold, calculating malice she carried with her took Kirti’s breath away. Flashes of the queen’s memories teased at the edges of Kirti’s vision.

  The thrill of watching Cailu bury a blade into Queen Melasia’s heart. Frustration with Espada’s disappearance. Unbridled joy when the council agreed to both Nehalennia’s ascension and that it would be best to put such a tragedy behind them with haste.

  After the chance meeting with Espada and the flickers that Kirti had captured from Cailu, Nehalennia was the final piece. The satisfaction of unintentionally discovering one of Nyarlea’s greatest secrets was nothing short of ecstasy.

  A delicious shiver traveled down Kirti’s spine. Oh, Cailu. Traveling with you was the greatest decision of my life.

  “Is there a less formal setting we may use, Your Majesty?” Cailu asked. “There is much to discuss.”

  Nehalennia stroked the silk fabrics over her stomach and favored it with a long stare. “This is the most comfortable place for me at this time. I fear this pregnancy has been more burdensome than the others.”

  “I see.”

  “I should hope that forbidding all other Nyarlean citizens from occupying the castle this afternoon is privacy enough.” Nehalennia lifted a delicate hand and gestured to the guards. “You have assured me in the past, Cailu, that the Queen’s Own and the Royal Guard are to be trusted. Are we to end that now?”

  “Of course not. I ask only for the benefit of those who join me. We will remain here with your comfort in mind. It is private enough.” He extended his arm to his left. “This is Matt, Ni Island’s man. Ceres of Shi Island is a member of his Party.”

  Matt bowed, and Ceres curtsied.

  “I regret that Tristan, Shi Island’s man, could not join us today. I tasked him with a difficult economic undertaking, and he is on San Island as we speak.”

  “You have another man managing your island?” Nehalennia raised a brow.

  “Yes. It will allow myself, Kirti, Zahra, and Ceres,” Cailu gestured to each as he spoke, “to quell the prodigious Defiled threat on Shi Island in exchange.”

  Kirti was bemused to hear Cailu mention them all by name.

  Nehalennia folded her hands in her lap. “This should have been discussed with the council first, do you not agree, Cailu?”

  “While yours and the council’s efforts are noticed, these problems require immediate attention. Especially now that we have the knowledge, power, and numbers to do so.”

  “Oh? Did your choosing to slay Magni fall under these terms as well?”

  Kirti worked very hard to keep her face neutral as she watched the exchange. Zahra and Ceres shifted uncomfortably. Matt was difficult to read.

  Cailu’s tone hardened. “We followed the laws of sanctioned duels, Your Majesty. You received the reports of your [Priest]s and my numerous missives on this matter.”

  “I have, yes. I simply wonder what message this sends to the other men.”

  “The same message we have always sent. We must unify the islands if we hope to stand a chance—”

  “And one hears such detestible rumors in court. Certain allegiances shared with a self-proclaimed queen. Allegiances that would spur unprecedented duels, perhaps?”

  Jealousy? Kirti couldn’t hide her smile. What a marvelous meeting.

  Cailu squared his shoulders. “You stray from the point of this conference, Your Majesty. This drivel is unbecoming.”

  “Drivel,” Nehalennia repeated slowly. She frowned and smoothed her dress over her thighs. “And what is the point of this conference, Cailu?”

  “For the last ten years, I have been your only sword to wield whenever and wherever you require. Today, this changes.” Cailu folded his arms behind his back. “First, I will henceforth no longer be a member of the council.”

  Kirti watched as the queen’s frown deepened, and her piercing expression bore into Cailu as if she could set him on fire. Perhaps she could! Kirti idly pictured the duel between Cailu and Nehalennia and how quickly the queen would lose. No one else would need to lift a finger.

  “Second, all requests for aid to Nyarlothep shall be shared between myself, Matt, and Tristan,” he continued. “For a time, I will assist in deciding on who best it will be to dispatch, until we reach a better understanding of our strengths.”

  “Mama?” One of the younger kittens waddled to the queen’s calf and tugged on her dress. “Are you okay?”

  “Hush, Hotaru,” Nehalennia hissed. “Keep playing with your doll.”

  “Mm.” Hotaru slumped down and leaned on the throne, then picked at the lace on her doll’s skirt.

  There was an uncomfortable silence in the room, and Kirti breathed in its sweet scent.

  “Is there more?” Nehalennia asked.

  “One final note before we continue. Should the next man on Ichi attempt a parallel rule to Magni’s, I will dispatch of him sooner rather than later. We have the opportunity to improve every island at last, and I refuse to allow another fiend to destroy everything we have worked for.”

  The queen reached over the armrest of her throne and stroked Hotaru’s hair. The movement was stiff and methodical. “Perhaps you were correct. I wish to speak with you, Cailu. Alone.”

  Damn! Just when the sparks were beginning to fly.

  “Fine. Before we do so, however, where is Sam? You assured me she would be available.”

  “And so she is. Sam?” Nehalennia turned to her left and beckoned a guard who stood a few feet away from the dais.

  A young woman with short brunette hair, tall ears, and a thick brown tail marched to the front of the steps and stood at attention. “Reporting for duty, Your Eminence.” She bowed to Cailu, then Matt. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Matt. We’ll get you to [Battleguard] in no time.”

  “Wait, what?” Matt furrowed his brow. “Cailu—”

  “I urge you to acquaint yourselves with one another while I speak with the queen,” Cailu interrupted. “I will not be long.”

  Matt took a step forward, but Ceres caught his arm. Kirti licked her lips. Not all was lost.

  Cailu climbed up the stairs and offered Nehalennia his hand with a bow. “Your Majesty?”

  Nehalennia glowered up at him, but took his hand and let him help her stand. “It is time for your classes, girls. Go find your tutors immediately.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  The older princesses rose from their thrones, took the hands of their younger sisters, and hurried out of the chamber. Cailu and Nehalennia weren’t far behind, vanishing down one of the castle’s expansive hallways. Kirti kept her arms crossed and allowed her gaze to veer between Matt and his appointed trainer.

  The sensation she experienced was one she had yet to taste from the boy. It was acrid, ireful. She sensed an abundance of resentment for Cailu due simply to his resemblance to another.

  A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Delicious.

  Matt gaped. “What did you mean by that? That you’d get me to [Battleguard] in no time?”

  Sam blinked. “I’m to be your [Battleguard] trainer. Did Cailu not mention this?”

  “No,” Matt scoffed, “he didn’t.”

  Sam frowned. “I see.”

  “Sir Matt.” Ceres placed a consoling hand on Matt’s shoulder. This one was the very picture of grace and duty, willing to fight and die for not only the queen, but for Nyarlea. Boring. “I understand your desire to train with Erina. I do not approve of Cailu’s decision to supersede your wishes, but time is precious.”

  Matt took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. His hands were balled into fists, white knuckled and squeaking from the leather around his hands. The boy was doing everything in his power not to blow up.

  Sam held a gauntleted hand to her mouth and cleared her throat. “I’d like to show you to your quarters before we talk further.”

  “Right.” Matt licked his lips and leveled his gaze with Sam. “Then I guess that’s what we’re doing.”

  Sam’s attention veered to the guard. “I shall take them to their quarters.” She pointed at two of the guards. “Cordelia, Elenor. Remain here. As for the rest of you, return to your scheduled posts.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” the women responded in unison.

  “Come with me,” Sam said as she took the lead. “I’ll see you to your quarters.”

  Kirti tapped her elbows, sharpening her concentration as they entered the hallway. Reading the air for voices and errant strands of emotion was a taxing, albeit rewarding, skill. They were especially plentiful here, sweeping through her in whispers. Rarely did this happen unless she was in possession of a soul who felt a connection close by. Two of the stones in her pouch were growing increasingly louder with each step forward.

  Anticipation clawed at her skin, begging her to break away from the group. There was something important in this castle.

  Sam stopped at the sixth door down the hall to the right—away from Cailu’s direction—and gestured to it. A guard was standing next to it, and she saluted Sam.

  “This is where Matt and his Party members will be staying,” Sam said, turning the golden knob and pushing the door open. Inside were two four-post beds, with vibrant silks tied to each post. A simple tug at the knot, and the silk would come undone, offering its occupants a modicum of privacy. Sam stood to the side, then waved to the room across. “And that’s where Cailu’s Party will be saying.”

  “And when is Cailu coming back?” Matt growled.

  “Cailu may be in talks with Her Eminence for quite some time,” Sam replied.

  Kirti snickered, and Matt turned on her. “Something wrong?”

  Kirti shook her head and smiled. “Not at all.”

  Matt’s eye twitched.

  Sam strode to the door across from Matt’s and opened it. The room was a mirrored version of Matt’s. Sam opened her mouth to speak, and Zahra quickly retreated inside.

  Don’t regret traveling with us too much, dear Zahra. You have so very much to learn.

  “Anyway,” Sam said, “you are free to explore the castle at your leisure. This is a luxury offered to the Parties of men. That said, however, there are locked-off and guarded areas reserved exclusively for the queen and princesses. Please respect that. If you have any further concerns, please speak with the guard next to your room, and she will deliver the message directly to me.”

  “Why deliver it to you?” Matt asked. His words were getting terser and terser. It was a wonder he hadn’t shouted.

  Sam furrowed her brow. “I am the acting captain on duty today, and like it or not, I will be your trainer. So I would appreciate it if I were made aware of what was happening.” Her voice adopted a firm, punctuated tone during the latter portion of her statement.

  “Of course,” Ceres answered. “We will address any complaints to the appropriate channels.”

  Sam smiled. “Thank you. Matt, you and I will speak again later. For now, rest.” With a firm nod, she turned around and marched down the hall opposite.

  “Would you like to explore the castle, Sir Matt?” Ceres asked.

  Matt shook his head. “Not right now. Can we just relax for a little bit? This on top of traveling is a lot to take in.” The heat of fury melted into a simmering frustration. Kirti mused at just how similarly Matt’s exasperations were to Cailu’s constant aggravations.

  Ceres’s eyes flickered with a hint of disappointment, but she quickly nodded and clapped her hands against her apron. “Of course. I understand.”

  And the kitten was forbidden from play.

  Kirti started down the hall. As much fun as this had been, a more pressing matter called to her. The murmurs of Matt and Ceres grew distant until she heard the sound of two doors clicking shut.

  Now, the beating heart of Nyarlea was hers to explore.

  She retrieved the stone filled with Magni’s Essence and rolled it across her knuckles once, then clasped it tightly against her palm. His voice had been growing louder as of late. Accompanying the occasional comment regarding Ichi Island’s woes or Naeemah’s attempt to usurp him was that of Sanrai. That much didn’t surprise her. However, what did catch her attention was his near-constant need to mention a ‘book.’

  Kirti maintained a brisk pace, glancing at each door she passed and paying close attention to the Essence within the stone. Essence magic was fickle. The ‘souls’ that passed into the stones were erratic, repeating conversations from their past, prickling her skin with emotions. Their seemingly random nature was anything but, requiring a level of patience found in few. Most important of all, was understanding that these stones could not be spoken to, only heard.

  Those attributes alone provided difficult obstacles. However, there was a method of circumvention. Souls were bound by an unknowable force, connected to the objects and people they encountered in their lives. Whenever the Essence was close to something it valued, a memory was sparked, and she listened intently.

  ‘Sanrai. There is no one else I trust,’ came Magni’s whisper.

  ‘My sister is a fool,’ Sanrai’s voice followed shortly after.

  Kirti huffed a sigh. This had become a problem as of late. So long as she carried Sanrai’s stone, Magni’s conversations would continue to gravitate toward her and their shared moments. The issue was made worse with Zahra’s presence.

  If Kirti was to tread the path she had chosen, to unlock the mysteries of Nyarlea’s most tightly guarded secrets, then that left her with one choice.

  She stopped, trading Magni’s stone for Sanrai’s. A power her fingertips had grazed only a handful of times in her life emanated from within. The Spell cast with this Essence would be potent enough to save someone from fatal wounds, to level an entire skirmish’s worth of soldiers. Used properly, even the strongest of Defiled would be felled within a Spell or two.

  Determination winning over regret, she held the stone in her palm and quietly enunciated, “[Release Captive].” The stone cracked at the center, drawing deep lines across the surface. A blue-green stream of smoke rose into the air, dissipating as it reached the ceiling. She brushed her fingers against the rock and it crumbled to dust. Sanrai’s soul, if that is what she truly captured, had been set free.

  Patting away the dust from her hands, she resumed her walk. She continued for some time, keeping Magni’s stone close, until she came before a grand set of doors. Carved into its make were the visages of men past, etched in a gold metal that contrasted with the otherwise perfectly white wood. A pair of guards flanked the doors, each of them favoring her with squinted eyes.

  ‘The Defiled are not what they seem,’ Magni’s voice whispered.

  A chill swept over her, drawing goosebumps across her skin.

  “What is beyond these doors?” Kirti asked, crossing her arms.

  “The Hall of Remembrance,” the guard on her left answered. “It is a memorial for the men who have passed. Items of great import are on display.”

  Kirti nodded. “I would like to see it.”

  The guards looked at one another. “Sorry, ma’am, but without the queen or a man’s—”

  “I am here with Cailu,” Kirti answered. “Speak with Captain Sam if you don’t believe me.”

  “I will do just that.” The guard spun on her heel and strode down the hall.

  Kirti waited impatiently, toying with the smooth stone between her fingers as Magni’s voice grew stronger. Let me in!

  Finally, the guard returned with a curt nod. “It is as you say. I received confirmation from Captain Sam that you are to be permitted.” She pushed on the left door while the remaining guard pushed on the right. The doors scraped against the marble floor, giving way to a grand room filled with shelves and displays. “The curator will assist you.”

  “Thank you,” Kirti said, offering the guard a knowing smile. The guard was loyal to her queen. Too loyal.

  Kirti strode into the room, her eyes assaulted by all manner of weaponry and armor and scrolls, some of which likely dated back a century or more. A woman in long white robes with sapphires in her hair walked down the center aisle with a gentle smile and clasped hands.

  “Hello there. My name is Chenelle. I am the curator of this sanctuary. Is there aught I could assist you with?” she asked.

  “I simply wish to bask in the glory of men long gone.” Kirti made no attempt to hide her sarcasm.

  Chenelle started, then quickly recovered her warmth. “Hm. Very good. Please call upon me if you require anything.”

  Kirti smiled and kept Magni’s stone clenched—perhaps too tightly—in her palm as she passed the curator. The room was separated into no less than a dozen aisles with several shelves and display stands shielded by cases of glass and implements to ensure the items weren’t easily knocked over. She picked an aisle at random and retreated from the gaze of the curator.

  Chipped swords, snapped [Crafting] tools, scrolls, books, even the [Civilian Mode] outfits of deceased men, were but a small number of the various items which decorated the room. She paused to look at one that was particularly bizarre. The case was gargantuan, holding an anchor that appeared to have spent far more years in Nyarlea than Kirti.

  She hummed, then righted herself and continued down the aisle. Magni’s stone grew warm. His voice stronger.

  ‘The circumstances are correct. I know it.’

  Kirti swallowed against the knot in her throat. For what felt like the first time in ages, she found herself growing agitated, eager for an answer she was uncertain she’d ever find.

  ‘Put her in the cage. We will watch her overnight to see if anything changes.’

  Magni’s voice grew louder, more incessant. She quickened her pace, letting Magni guide her. It was here. Her answer. Her reason for living.

  ‘I’ll have the head of whoever let her go!’

  She rounded the aisle’s corner and came upon a large case. Her breath caught.

  Behind the glass was a display that should never have been there. A mannequin made from thick fabrics and finely carved wood stood inside. It was tall, with its arms held firm around the handle of a large sword made of black metal. Armor of the finest golden sheen draped over the body, and a hole where the mannequin’s heart should be had singed the armor…Magni’s armor.

  An overwhelming feeling of regret washed over her. Magni’s regret.

  ‘I should have told them the truth.’

  Kirti felt dizzy with excitement, giddy with confusion, and ridden with guilt. Magni’s voice reached a pitch that should have carried to the curator and beyond, but no one else would hear him. His Essence was hers alone to understand.

  ‘Day 0. I will document my every thought on this matter. The citizens here wave this off as an illness, but it is the third time I’ve borne witness…’

  Kirti ripped a worn leather journal and an Enchanted quill from her [Cat Pack], and she started writing.

  ‘The Defiled are not what they seem…’

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