The Eighth Saimar: Prologue

Continue on to Chapter One || Back to Novel Index

Turelli sat near the fire, knitting needles clicking as she listened to the Winter wind swirl around the palace in its fierce anger. She sighed with a mixture of impatience at the conditions outside and contentment that she was safe and warm in front of a fire, engaged in a relaxing, if ultimately boring, activity.

But, the spirits willing, not a hopeless activity. She held up the tiny, half-finished garment and surveyed it critically, imagining it complete and around the body of a baby, a newborn son. A slight smile, the first one she had made all day, touched her lips as she sent her imagination even further, picturing a boy with the perfect beauty and wisdom of his father.

She sighed and forced herself to put down the knitting. There was no boy, at least not yet. When Aidan came back from the Council perhaps they would try again. It would be so wonderful, to once again have a baby in the household, a little perfect being to take care of, who always needed her, who never talked back . . .

As if the spirits needed to remind her of her current situation, a crash sounded in the room next door, startling Turelli out of her reverie, followed by the shrill wails of two young but far too independent and disobedient girls screaming at each other.

“You broke it!”

“It was an accident!”

“Not true! I’m telling Mama!”

Turelli sighed and closed her eyes, awaiting the inevitable. She heard the door to her room crash open in a very undignified manner, followed by pounding feet and more shrieks, much closer now, of the girls, without preamble, attempting to defend themselves against the other.

“Mama, Naydyn broke my doll, the glass one Da got from Ayst.”

“Accidently!”

“No, you’re just mad Da didn’t get you one, too.”

“I am not. I don’t care. I’m too old for dolls.”

Turelli opened her eyes. “Stop it!” she cried, and it was enough to startle the girls out of their screaming match. Two identical pairs of gray eyes turned to meet her, their owners gaping at their mother so uncharacteristically raising her voice.

“She broke my doll,” said Enovi, the younger of the two.

“I didn’t mean it,” said Naydyn, tears welling up in her eyes. She was eleven, nearly twelve, and should have known better, but her mother knew the tears often worked on Aidan. Turelli, determined not to let her own daughter get away with that sort of manipulation, faced her sternly.

“Did you apologize?”

“I did,” Naydyn insisted. “But the stupid baby wouldn’t listen.”

“I am not a baby!” Enovi shrieked.

If only you were, Turelli thought with another internal sigh. It had been seven years since Enovi was born, and no other children after her. The older the girls grew, the more useless Turelli felt. She wanted a baby so badly, and a son this time. She wondered when Aidan would be back. The Council had already run over by three days now, and Turelli missed her husband.

“Mama!” Enovi’s cry tore Turelli out of her thoughts. She forced herself to pay attention to her daughter.

“Your sister apologized, and that’s all you can ask for,” said Turelli, as patiently as she could.

“But my doll broke!”

“Your father will get you a new doll,” said Turelli. “Please, children, is it possible for the two of you to stop fighting for one night?”

“She’s mean to me,” Enovi pouted.

“She always gets her way just because she’s the youngest,” Naydyn countered.

“Stop it!” cried Turelli. “I don’t want to listen to this anymore. Enovi, go to the nursery. I’ll call Eva to come entertain you. Naydyn, Master Bran told me you haven’t been doing your history reading, so why don’t you do that now?”

Naydyn’s eyes grew wide and dismayed as Turelli mentioned her tutor. “But Mama, history is boring!”

“I’m too old for the nursery,” muttered Enovi.

“I don’t care, and you are not,” Turelli replied to both her daughters. “Go on. I don’t want to see or hear you again tonight.”

Enovi went, with much mumbling and stamping of feet. Naydyn, always the more rebellious of the two, glared defiantly at her mother. “I won’t go. I hate history, and I hate Master Bran.”

“Please don’t argue with me, Naydyn,” said Turelli.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” said Naydyn.

“I’m your mother,” said Turelli, growing angry. “As well as your Albrey.”

Naydyn sneered. “You’re not the Albrey. A real Albrey would be with her husband in Ayst, not sitting here doing the work of servants.”

Turelli sat back in her chair, shocked. “Where did you hear that?” she demanded.

“I’m not telling,” Naydyn shot back. “But it’s true. You never go with Da to the council meetings.”

“It’s not my place to go,” said Turelli. “I must look after the two of you.”

Naydyn glared at the bit of knitting Turelli still held in her lap. “If you had a boy, you would forget about me and Enovi.”

“That’s not true,” said Turelli.

“I wish you did have another baby,” said Naydyn, two spots of red suddenly appearing high on her cheeks. “Then I could do whatever I want.”

“Naydyn . . .” Turelli began.

Naydyn looked a little sad. “I’ll go read history.”

“It’s not true that I would ignore you,” Turelli said again, feeling her heart break as her daughter turned her back.

Naydyn whirled around, her eyes blazing, once again startling Turelli. Naydyn’s moods changed so fast that rarely could anyone keep up with them. “You know what Master Bran told me? He said that I’m the Albreyasen, and that I’ll always be the Albreyasen, no matter how many sons you have, because I’m the oldest, and we don’t do things here the way they do in Cadiress. Even if you have a stupid boy, he’ll never, ever be Brey. And I’m glad!” With that, she turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Turelli’s eyes filled with tears and she put her knitting aside. She stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the snow whirling around in angry eddies, never really settling on the ground, but seeming to wrap the palace in some kind of insane, spinning cocoon. She began to weep, not only for her daughter’s harsh words to her, but because of their truth. Turelli knew she wasn’t the kind of Albrey the people of Artesia had wanted or deserved, and she was horrified at herself for making Naydyn think she was more in love with a potential son than she was with her flesh and blood daughters. Her thoughts latched on once again to the thought of that son, and she wept harder as the old feelings of failure welled up inside of her. She had not been pregnant in seven years, despite her best efforts. It was likely she would never have another child, no matter how many baby garments she knitted nor how hard she wished and prayed to the spirits.

If I did have another baby, it would probably just be another girl, she thought bitterly. Even though Turelli knew that nothing short of Naydyn’s death would prevent the girl from ruling Artesia one day, and that if she did die Enovi would take her place, Turelli couldn’t help but dream. Intellectually she realized that even if she had a son he would only be third in line for the throne, but Turelli had been raised in a far different culture, where the thought of women ruling was not only scandalous but blasphemous, and no matter how long she lived in this new land she felt she would always think that. It was only natural, at least in Turelli’s homeland of Cadiress, that a woman dream for a boy to carry on her husband’s name and blood.

She turned away from the window. But even Cadiress had changed since she was a girl, when the nation had been peacefully absorbed into the ever-growing expanse of Artesia; peacefully because Artesia did not unreasonable demands upon Cadiress, nor insist it follow Artesian ways. Also, if Cadiress had gone to war Artesia would have won. Artesia always won.

But still, changes had come.

Turelli, lost in her thoughts, at first couldn’t tell if the soft knocking she heard was someone at her door or the wind banging something loose in the night, perhaps a shutter somewhere in the palace. But the knock repeated, and it was too regular and right behind her.

She turned and crossed the room, opening the door to reveal a maid, whose name she did not know. The young servant looked new, and Turelli put on her kindest smile. It hadn’t been long ago that her station in life wasn’t much higher than the girl in front of her.

At the Albrey’s smile the maid visibly relaxed. “Albrey, I’ve been sent to find you. The guards just admitted a visitor into the palace, and he wants to speak with you. He’s waiting in the front hall.”

“A visitor? Tonight?” Turelli cast a dubious glance at the snowstorm outside. “Who is he?”

“I didn’t stay to hear, Albrey,” said the maid, bowing her head quickly in apology. “But I was told it was urgent.”

Panic flew through Turelli. “Aidan,” she breathed. Had something happened to him? Was he dead? What else could be so urgent that a man would brave this sort of weather? She pushed past the maid and through the door, emerging into the outer room of her chambers. Evidence of her daughters was still there in the form of various toys and pieces of ribbon they had been playing with, though someone must have already come and cleaned up the pieces of the broken doll. She grabbed her overcoat from its hook by the door, for it was cold in the front hall, and went into the hallway. Pulling the overcoat on she raced down the hall carpeted in plush purple, slowing only slightly as she reached the stone staircase that would take her down to the first level and the front hall.

She arrived in the front hall out of breath, her overcoat still unbuttoned. Fumbling with the clasps, she looked about her, focusing on the two guards in their light gray winter uniforms keeping a close watch on another man, this one uncommonly tall and dressed in black fur from head to foot.

She stopped, her mouth open slightly. The man was wearing a cloak made of the same black fur as the rest of his clothing, and the hood was up so that she couldn’t see his face. But she recognized the clothing. The fur came from a rare wolf that was only found in Cadiress and Saobard. No one had ever caught the wolf in Saobard; the forests were thick, and it was said the wolves lured hunters to their deaths there. Hunting had been marginally more successful in Cadiress, which mean that the fur was highly prized and very expensive. Turelli knew that only a child of the ruling house of Cadiress could afford a cloak made entirely out of the black fur, not to mention an entire outfit. There was only one member of that house who would have reason to visit her, and there was no mistaking the height.

The man turned toward her, and her fears about Aidan vanished completely as her suspicions were confirmed. Forgetting the buttons on her overcoat, she smiled broadly. “Kaistas! How good to see you!”

“Sister,” said the man, his voice as gravelly as she remembered. He pulled down the hood, revealing an angular face with sharp cheekbones framed by long, yellow-blond hair. “I think your weather tries to kill me.”

She smiled. Though Cadiress was cold, it was dry and rarely snowed. “But you are safe inside now, brother. What brings you here on a night like this?”

“Cannot I visit my sister?” he said, raising one black eyebrow. His accent was thick, and Turelli noticed the guards making secret grins at each other.

“Of course,” she said. “Come, we’ll talk more in my chambers.”

“Are you certain, Albrey?” spoke one of the guard, serious once more.

“This is my brother Kaistas,” she replied. “Of course I’m certain. He’ll not harm me.”

The guard nodded dubiously. Turelli beckoned Kaistas toward her, and turned to lead him out of the front hall. She thought better of it, and turned back. “Have you heard anything about my husband? Whether he’s due home soon?”

“Nothing,” said one of the guards while the other shook his head. “No one’s out on a night like this.” He looked at Kaistas. “Almost no one.”

Turelli nodded, trying not to let the disappointment show on her face. She knew the guards and staff already looked down on her, both for her Cadiressian heritage and her disinterest in the specifics of ruling an empire. She knew they were used to an Albrey who took as active a hand in the rule as the Brey.

But Turelli couldn’t change the way she felt. She wasn’t suited to rule, anyway. Aidan and the seven Saimara were more than capable of looking after the nation’s welfare.

She lead Kaistas up to her outer chambers, and was pleased to see that someone, perhaps the little maid, had built up the fire while she had been downstairs, giving the room a cheerful, warm glow. She helped Kaistas out of his thick black cloak, hanging it up on the hook by the door. She dismissed her two regular chambermaids, who were openly staring at Kaistas, and then invited him to sit upon the red cushioned couch in front of the fire. He did so, looking around in amazement.

“A good room you have, sister. Better than before, yes?”

Turelli smiled. “It is. I’m very grateful Aidan takes such good care of me. But tell me, why are you really here? If it was only a casual visit, you wouldn’t have come in such weather. The maid told me you had something urgent to say. What is it?”

Kaistas held up a hand for silence. “Always you ask questions,” he grumbled. “But you are right. I am here not for pleasure, but for help.”

“What is it?” she asked. “Is it Father?”

Kaistas’s look turned sour. “Why do you ask after him? He would not be so kind for your benefit.”

“He’s still my father,” said Turelli. “He did give me a better life when he negotiated my marriage to Aidan, and for that I’m grateful, no matter that he was only thinking of himself when he did it.”

Kaistas shrugged. “A good reason,” he admitted. “Me, I am not so fortunate.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I am disowned.”

Turelli let out a little gasp. “He wouldn’t do that!”

Kaistas stared past her, looking angry. “Are you so surprised that he does this? Since I was born he believes I am not his son, that our mother is a whore, sleeping with other men. I am surprised he waits so long to do this. Mother died long ago.”

Turelli took Kaistas’s hand in sympathy. She noticed the skin of his fingers was rougher now, not the smooth and unblemished hands of a royal son that she remembered. He had been having to work for his living.

“Still, I don’t see Father being so heartless.”

“He changes,” Kaistas said. “I change. All of Cadiress changes, sister.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s terrible what he’s done. I will of course do everything I can to help you.”

“I thank you,” he replied, his last syllable lost in a dry cough.

“Oh!” said Turelli. “I’m rude beyond words. Would you like something to drink? They have tea here, and a delightful new drink made with beans Aidan’s started importing from the island of Vymeth–he just negotiated a trade agreement with them, the first one in Artesia’s history–but it’s called chocolate, and it’s hot and so delicious . . .”

“I will have tea, thank you,” said Kaistas, holding up his hand again and smiling at her. She smiled back and blushed. It was like they were children again, when Turelli talked constantly and stalwart, silent Kaistas always had the presence of mind and kindness to inform her when she started babbling.

Turelli relayed her brother’s request to the maids, who were in the hallway, hovering around the door. She made sure both of them had gone, then shut the door and turned back to Kaistas. “So what do you need? Money? Shelter? I’m sure I could convince Aidan to aid you, as soon as he returns from the council meetings in Ayst.”

Kaistas looked at her, his face troubled. “I am not sure you can help me, sister.”

“I’m the Albrey. I’ll do everything in my power to help, and that power is considerable.”

“You change as well,” said Kaistas, not unkindly. “You talk as them, even.”

Turelli smiled wanly. Since marrying Aidan she had worked hard to overcome her Cadiressian accent, which had garnered many stares from her staff when she had first come to the palace at Untoreld as a small, frightened sixteen-year-old girl. “You haven’t seen me in nearly thirteen years, brother. Of course I’ve changed. I’m no longer a child. I have children myself.”

“Yes,” said Kaistas, and his moody look softened for a moment. “They are here? The children?”

Turelli thought about telling her girls that she didn’t want to see them again for the rest of the night. Well, their uncle was here now, and that was a special occasion. They had never met him. “I will send someone to fetch them,” she said.

“If it is too much trouble . . .”

“Of course not,” said Turelli. She turned as the door opened and one of her maids walked in, carrying a silver tray stacked with two cups of tea and a pot. “Oh, good,” said Turelli, unceremoniously taking the tray away from the maid. “Find my daughters, will you? Tell them I have a surprise for them.”

The maid glanced at Kaistas, her eyes wide, but she nodded. “Right away, Albrey,” she said, barely above a whisper. She turned and left the room.

Kaistas gave a feral grin. “The servants, they cower before you.”

“I think she’s more frightened of you,” said Turelli, frowning. “Cadiressians are not known for their kindness here.”

“Bah,” said Kaistas, waving a hand. “It does not matter. I plan not to stay.”

“Where will you go, my brother?” said Turelli, once again taking his hand.

“I know not,” he replied. “I am unsure whether there is a place for me.”

“What do you mean?” asked Turelli, but at that moment the door opened and the maid entered, holding Enovi by the hand. Naydyn, a black look on her face, sullenly followed.

Kaistas stood up as the girls entered the room. Turelli smiled at her daughters, though her mouth wavered when she looked at Naydyn. “Enovi, Naydyn, I would like you to meet my brother, Kaistas fidh Vintan, from Cadiress.”

Enovi stared at him, her eyes wide, and Turelli was suddenly struck by how much Enovi looked like Kaistas. The same gray eyes, which Turelli and Naydyn also shared, the same blonde hair and black eyebrows, the same boxy chin. Unfortunately, these same features which made Kaistas attractive in a melancholy, brooding way, looked odd on a girl. Turelli had already resigned herself to the fact that Enovi would never be as pretty as Naydyn, who had inherited the best physical features from both her parents. She was just glad that Enovi was too young to have noticed this yet. Turelli feared the day when she did. The girls were jealous enough of each other already.

“Uncle Kaistas?” said Naydyn, and Turelli noted with disapproval the note of scorn in the girl’s voice. “Is it true that in Cadiress women are slaves?”

“That is not true,” said Turelli, shocked. “Where do you hear such things?”

“Master Bran,” said Naydyn with a small smile that Turelli knew meant she was lying.

“Women are not kept as slaves,” Kaistas pronounced gravely.

“Sure,” said Naydyn. “That’s why Mama was so desperate to get away.”

“I don’t know who has been telling you these lies, young lady, but they are not true, and you shouldn’t be repeating them,” said Turelli sternly. She looked apologetically at Kaistas. “Please don’t mind Naydyn, brother. She’s at that age.”

“Father would not have allowed that sort of talk to come from you,” said Kaistas, looking disapproving.

“This is Enovi,” said Turelli quickly, pushing her younger daughter forward. She had seen Naydyn open her mouth, no doubt to say something insulting. “She’s my youngest.”

Enovi looked at her feet.

“Look up, dear,” said Turelli. “Kaistas is your uncle. He won’t hurt you.”

Enovi chanced a glance up, almost immediately returning her gaze to the floor. Turelli sighed. Enovi was shy and awkward as well as unattractive. Turelli feared for the future of her daughter, often wondering whether a good marriage match could be made for her. She hoped the girl’s awkwardness had more to do with her young age than her actual personality.

“She’s shy,” she explained to her brother, and started to regret bringing her children to meet him.

Kaistas nodded, and looked around the room. “Your sons are not here? They are with their father, perhaps?”

Turelli felt her face grow hot. Of course Kaistas, a born and bred Cadiressian, would be more interested in meeting the boys of the family. “I have no sons,” she stuttered. It was her turn to look at the floor.

“No sons?” repeated Kaistas, surprised. “The Brey still keeps you? How will he have an heir?”

“I am his heir!” Naydyn yelled, seemingly unable to keep silent any longer. “Me and only me! He told me so himself.”

Kaistas looked at her, eyebrows raised. Then he turned to Turelli. “Surely she is not serious?”

Turelli shrugged. “She is my eldest child, and the Albreyasen, the primary heir.”

“But,” Kaistas looked confused, and a little angry. “The people of Cadiress will not accept a woman as ruler.”

“Cadiress will accept what Artesia says,” said Naydyn haughtily. “We conquered you.”

“You conquered no one, little girl,” said Kaistas lowly, looming over her. Naydyn took a step back, her eyes wide.

“Please, Kaistas,” said Turelli. “Don’t frighten her.”

“She will learn her place,” said Kaistas, “or a man with less noble intentions than I will teach her.”

“What does that mean?” Naydyn demanded.

“Naydyn, Enovi, I think that’s enough visiting for tonight,” said Turelli, turning pleading eyes to the maid, who took her cue and gathered Enovi to her. “Uncle Kaistas will be staying for a bit, so you’ll have chance to talk to him again.”

The maid led the girls away, and Turelli sighed with relief. She turned back to Kaistas. “I apologize, brother.”

“I am the one who is sorry,” said Kaistas. “I forget that not everywhere is like Cadiress.”

“You will stay, won’t you?” said Turelli.

“Perhaps for a few days.” Kaistas reached for his cup of tea and took a sip. “What other events of your life have I missed, sister?”

Turelli helped herself to her own cup and smiled. “Despite what you may think the job of an Albrey is, I don’t do much. I look after my daughters, and direct the palace staff.” She looked into her cup, deliberating. “May I tell you something? I think those here don’t approve of me. I think they want an Albrey who helps her husband rule. They think they deserve it, and I agree with them. I just don’t know how to go about it. I’ve been Albrey for thirteen years now, Kaistas, and I think the way things are done is a good way. I don’t want to change. I don’t know how to change. Kaistas?”

He was looking into the fire, his gaze faraway, his jaw clenched. She noticed a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead and became concerned. “Kaistas, what’s wrong? Did I say something to upset you?”

Kaistas didn’t answer her for several long moments. Then he seemed to shake himself out of his reverie, even though his strained expression didn’t change. “N-no,” he stuttered. He suddenly stood up, knocking over the tea tray and splashing hot tea over Turelli’s lap.

“Oh!” cried Turelli, jumping up. “Kaistas! What’s wrong?”

“S-sorry,” he rasped, running to the door and grabbing his back fur cloak. “I must leave.”

“You can’t leave now!” said Turelli, glancing outside at the snowstorm, which was still raging. “At least stay the night.”

“You understand not,” said Kaistas, and there was a note of desperation in his voice. “I must leave immediately.”

“You’ll die out there!”

“Perhaps that would be best,” said Kaistas, throwing on his cloak and opening the door. “Good-bye, dear sister. It is unlikely you will see me again.”

“No, you can’t go,” said Turelli, running after him as he fled out the door and down the stairs. He ran faster in response, and Turelli knew his long legs were easily outrun hers. She chased him down the stairwell, nearly losing her footing several times. When she rounded the last turn and could see the front hall, she called out to the guards. “Stop him! Don’t let him leave!”

The guards moved to restrain Kaistas, who had nearly reached the big stone front doors of the palace that would lead him into the courtyard. Kaistas stopped in his tracks and turned desperate eyes to his sister, who was still on the stairs. “Let me go,” he said, pleading. “Please. Don’t make me hurt them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Turelli, continuing to the bottom of the stairs. “You aren’t going to hurt anyone. You’re not well. Come with me, and I will have a physician see to you.”

“No!” Kaistas howled, whirling around as the guards pressed closer. “You must let me leave! I cannot stay!”

Turelli stepped closer to him, and he thrust one hand toward her. “Come no closer, or you may be hurt.”

“Brother, why would you hurt me?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. “You’re not yourself.”

“No, I am someone new,” said Kaistas. “I have changed.” He suddenly clenched his fists and startled trembling. “I-I warn y-you, l-l-let me g-go,” he cried, shaking so hard that his words were nearly illegible.

The guards looked at Turelli and she nodded at them. They moved in and grasped Kaistas, one for each arm, then, as one, suddenly let go as if their hands had been burned. They backed away from the man, their eyes wide and fearful.

“What is this?” one of them whispered.

“What’s going on?” Turelli demanded. “Guards, take him! Kaistas, please listen to reason.”

“No!” screamed Kaistas, and Turelli had the feeling he wasn’t responding to her words. He threw his head back and gave a long, curdling howl and froze the blood in Turelli’s veins. He thrust his arms out and suddenly the two guards were on fire, engulfed in flame, and they were screaming. Turelli stood still as a statue, too horrified to move, as the guards ran around like living torches, screaming. She couldn’t look away as they dropped to the floor in an effort to smother the flames. It wasn’t working. She began to feel dizzy, and blackness encroached on her vision until she felt like she was looking through the far end of a dark tunnel. She swayed on her feet and reached out for support, but there was nothing to grab, and the floor rushed up to meet her as darkness overtook her sight completely.

When she woke there were several maids standing over her, one of them grasping a rag covered with a foul-smelling liquid that she had been waving under the Albrey’s nose. Turelli sat up, gasping. “What happened?” she cried. “How long did my faint last?”

The maids looked at each other, and then at something behind Turelli. “Not long,” one of them finally said.

“What?” said Turelli, turning around to see what was behind her.

“Please, Albrey, don’t look,” said another maid, but it was too late. Turelli whirled back around, one hand over her mouth, her stomach threatening to reject the tea she had drunk not long ago. She closed her eyes, trying to get the image of the guards’ blackened, charred bodies out of her mind. They had barely been recognizable as human.

The maid with the rag backed up a pace, and then Turelli could smell burnt flesh, and she hurriedly beckoned the maid closer, almost sighing in relief as once again the rag’s scent covered the other, far more horrendous one. “What happened?” she asked again.

“We don’t know,” said the mad with the rag. She was a large woman named Henlah, who had been with the palace at Untoreld probably since before Aidan had been born. Turelli found her rather intimidating and usually avoided contact, but tonight she was glad for the no-nonsense woman. “We heard the screams and came running. Bella,” she pointed to a short, young maid with red hair tied neatly in a knot, “had the presence of mind to fetch water from the kitchens. We dowsed the poor men, but I’m afraid it was too late.” Tears had appeared in Henlah’s eyes. Turelli remembered that she and one of the guards on duty tonight had been good friends. “We found you on the floor, but we were hoping you knew what happened.”

Turelli thought back to what she had witnessed. Kaistas. Kaistas had somehow set those men on fire. But that was impossible. He’d had no means to start a fire, and he hadn’t been close enough. And they’d ignited so quickly . . . Turelli shuddered. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t remember. I just saw those poor guards on fire and I . . . it must have been a terrible shock to me.”

“As it would be to anyone,” said Henlah kindly. “Do you feel ready to stand?”

Turelli nodded and took the woman’s hand, climbing shakily to her feet. Only then did she notice the chill. She wrapped her arms around herself and turned toward the doorway, which stood wide open. The courtyard of the palace was walled and provided some protection against the wind, but the winter air still intruded through the door.

Henlah ordered a pair of maids to operate the gear that closed the massive stone door. “Terribly sorry, Albrey. I should have closed it sooner.”

“I thought you had opened it to get the smell out,” said Turelli, her teeth chattering.

Henlah furrowed her brow. “No, Albrey, the door was open when we got here. We thought maybe the guards had done it in an attempt to put the fire out.”

Turelli couldn’t remember that part. But then she thought of Kaistas, and she turned fearful eyes toward the door. He was out there. He had murdered two men.

He said he had changed.

She shivered again as a chill that had nothing to do with the cold ran through her body. “Bring me the chocolate drink,” she told Henlah. “I am retiring early tonight.” Henlah nodded and disappeared. Turelli walked toward the staircase, turning once to look at the closed door, wondering.

Continue on to Chapter One || Back to Novel Index