She awoke in a comfortable bed, beneath a thick blanket. Her body ached and she snuggled into the soft, warm surface beneath her. She didn’t open her eyes; she was content to rest some more. It didn’t take long, however, for memory to start returning to her. When it did, she jerked upright but hit resistance and fell back down with a curse. She was bound in place. She hurt. Ether, she hurt. Her heart pounded as it sunk in that she was trapped. Liam was dead, and the crown had her. Something inside her broke. A sharp pain flared to life in her skull. She struggled against her restraints, desperate to clutch at her head and stem the rising agony.

All other pains had shrunk to nothing in comparison, and she began to thrash, heedless of the damage to her arm, or torso. She screamed, but the sound only made the hurt greater, so she clamped her mouth shut. The entire world shrank to nothing as she suffered in silence. It was more than she could withstand, and yet she had no choice but to endure. She was convinced that she was dying, and took some comfort in that. One way or another, this would end. She could only pray that it would be soon.

*

When Rook arrived at the castle, his biggest concern was reaching the prince before another idiot mage beat him to it. He walked quickly, but with decorum, attracting glances from the servants – and why not? His black necromancer’s robes commanded attention and respect in equal parts. To his irritation, he was stopped short of his destination.

“Mage Alaton,” said a minor noble he knew to be the princess’ lady’s maid, “Abriana requests your presence.”

Rook forced a smile. The woman’s aura shone luridly, as aura’s belonging to sycophants frequently did.

“I will check in with the princess later.”

The lady’s maid looked as though she wanted to object but Rook brushed past her. Abriana was not important today. When he reached the great hall, he was irked to find that two academy mages had beaten him there. They stood beside the king and prince, and turned to acknowledge Rook as he entered.

“Mage Alaton,” said the mage who wore gold-trimmed scarlet robes, “How pleasant to see you.”

Rook dipped his head in acknowledgement. The red robes marked the man as a physical mage, who specialised in elemental magic. The man beside him, who was younger, and whose robe lacked the gold-trim, was his apprentice. Rook knew them both. Mage Audric Heathridge and his protégé, Fionn Carthedge. Audric was an advisor to the king.

The prince looked to Rook and smiled broadly. Rook was struck, once more, by how young the prince seemed. The two were not dissimilar in age, but Rook considered himself to be the more worldly of the two. The prince’s open face, with its innocent blue eyes was always a surprise.

“Rook,” said the prince, “It’s good to see you.”

“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” the prince said, “I’d like to catch up with Mage Alaton.”

The expressions of the academy mages were sour, but they offered no complaint. Rook hid his smile until he and the prince had turned the corner. Then, the prince threw one arm around his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, old friend.”

“It’s good to see you too, Kiernan.”

“Timely, as well,” Kiernan said, “I’ve found something I wanted to show you before taking it to my father.”

The prince led him through the castle, and out onto the grounds. There, they mounted horses and journeyed to a hunting lodge belonging to Kiernan personally. Rook was curious. Kiernan’s aura sparkled with anticipation.

“What is it you wanted to show me out here?” Rook asked.

The prince grinned, “It’s more of a who than a what,” he said, as he climbed off his horse.

That was when the screaming began.