Long after Kairos left him, and when the night air grew chilly, Silas rose and set his drum on the log, quieted by his prayers. The king left much earlier in the day, storming to the castle on his horse. He would need a confession from the princess, and no doubt he had his answer by now. The elders were in assembly in Nico, waiting for the official accusation. No hurry. Time will bring all truth to the surface. Sentries most likely took the princess to the dungeon and the prince had withdrawn to wrestle with his soul. Silas had a powerful impulse to find him.

He sauntered on his way, contemplating on that morning’s events and what might happen in the next few days and how Arell would handle what was to come. Those thoughts were overwhelming, especially since he loved the young king as much as he loved his own children.

Arell possessed no malicious bone in his body and so it would hurt him to see a beautiful young lady executed. Silas did all within his power to caution Arell, and yet Arell ignored the warnings and allowed himself to fall in love with the princess. This would impede justice. As a king, Arell needed backbone—strength to face not only triumph but disaster. More than ever, Silas sensed the need to talk to Arell and to give him encouragement.

The young king often spent time by his father’s side in the graveyard, and Silas assumed the cemetery drew him there tonight. The walk to the eastern shore would take a few hours, but the moon hadn’t risen yet, and there were many words to tell the stars. Mourning doves serenaded him as if in answer to his invocations as he strolled along the beaches, maneuvering around the tide pools, the coves, and followed the strings of seaweed left behind as the tide ebbed.

When he reached the sand dunes and climbed the hill, his assumptions proved correct. Arell sat quietly in the graveyard next to his father’s grave, hugging his knees. Silas approached him with care, lowered himself next to him, and waited. The sound of the rolling surf was all that interrupted the silence until Arell sighed and acknowledged Silas’ presence.

“I could have loved her, Silas,” Arell said. He looked up at the trees. The gentle swaying of the branches cast shadows across the graves that resembled ghosts, as if the spirit of his father hovered over them, stirring Arell’s angst.

“Right here is where my father is,” he patted the ground. “Gone to the Great Eternity, and yet his presence is among us. He loved me and never expressed ill feelings toward me, ever. You know? Even when I showed no interest in his legacy, he still considered me his son.” He looked at the chief, his eyes red. “But he’s gone, Silas.”

The chief nodded.

“And life goes on.”

Silas held his breath for what Arell might say to him, hoping his words would not shame the Cho Nisi, nor dishonor their king. He’d seen Arell with the princess. Love was not an emotion one could hide, even if Arell wanted to. Regardless, no affair should discount the gravity of this situation. The woman committed a dire injustice toward their nation, and they must punish her.

“My father lived his life as righteously as any man. I’m sure he made mistakes, but one thing he wanted, and he told me this, he wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to find love and have a family and continue with life the way he did as a youth, before the rebellion, and when he arrived here.”

“I remember those days.”

“Yes, I know you do. Silas.” Arell looked aside, speaking more to the grave than to Silas. “I lost him. I lost my mother years ago, and now my father lies beneath the earth next to her. Will there never be happiness?” Arell looked at him, pain clearly wrenching his soul.

“Silas, I lost my heart to this woman. But because of her, my father no longer lives. I didn’t think love could turn to hate so quickly.” His hands shook as he brushed his hair out of his face. “I resent her, yes. I hate what she did, and I don’t care if it was an accident.” He rubbed his head and covered his face, his words muted. “Silas, I have seen the style of Cho Nisi executions. It would be too much for me.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t think my father would advocate that sort of revenge either.”

King Arell spoke no disrespect with these words. Arell struggled within his soul. This Silas saw through the turmoil, and he accepted that Arell didn’t want to see this young woman killed. As chief who also witnessed executions, he, too, despised them. The chief put one hand on Arell’s shoulder and the other, with his fist, he tapped his heart. “I will speak these words tomorrow. I cannot promise you what the verdict will be. We must all be strong in life and in death. Justice must prevail.”

Erika shook from the wet and cold of the mossy walls that enclosed her like a vengeful womb. The king’s blood that is on her hands will quickly transform into her blood poured out in vengeance over this isle. She moaned at the thought of death being her solitary friend and so speedily. Never had she thought she would court the end of her life like this? She had assumed, if she were going to die young, it would happen on the battlefield, defending her homelands, or rescuing her brother or her father. Never had she predicted she’d be executed in a foreign land as a reprisal for killing an allied king. How had she come to such a fate?

As she leaned against the stone wall and closed her eyes, she envisioned her bow raised, a noise in the grass, the string releasing, and then her arrow soaring into the brush. She tried to grab it as it flew away from her, to bring it back, but she couldn’t catch it, of course. There was no negating what she had done. The man was dead and entombed on a grassy slope on a beautiful reef that had once been his home. Would they bury her in the same graveyard? Or would they toss her corpse out to sea? Or burn it?

Why hadn’t she taken time to understand or weigh the circumstances? Why did she forever act on impulse? She’d been a fool. Her ultimate mistake brought her here, in this dungeon, and her life would soon be over.

When the guard locked the cells beyond hers, Erika rose and grasped the iron bars. Already she felt paralyzed and buried with life continuing without her.

Her clothes still harbored the fragrance of the castle. Arell touched the fabric that afternoon and she could even now imagine his softness against her skin, reminding her how gentle he’d been with her—how sweet his kisses were—how lovely his teasing–his warm arms and caresses. He had offered his palace to her, completely unaware of her evil deed. And she let him continue with his fancies, all the while deceiving him.

Arell had been the closest she’d ever come to loving someone.

She gazed down the dark and empty dungeon, wishing by some slim chance he’d arrive again. Hoping he’d whisper the same words he whispered to her once before. “You don’t deserve to be here. Come to the castle with me.” Yet she knew he wouldn’t. How could he? She killed the most important person he had in his life.

Erika glanced out the small window above her. A full moon had recently risen and the light from it reflected on the cell’s embankment, giving the stones a haunting sheen. On the hillside, back-lit by the silvery globe stood an ancient oak tree. Its branches twisted and gnarly reached to the sky much like an elderly woman pleading for mercy. A raven sat on one of its limbs and when Erika spotted it, the bird bent his head as if he saw her. They made eye contact, and then the fowl opened its mouth and squawked. The tone that came from the bird didn’t sound like any crow she’d ever heard before. It sounded more like a hyena—laughing.