Gris checked his timepiece. It was going past the six mark, and he needed to get dressed for the parade gathering at seven. After talking and convincing Limp to stay in the infirmary, he was swept up by palace issues, which he would eventually hand over to Orlan while he was gone.

"By the r-roster, the majority of royal officials will be at the Ceremony," he told his six overseers. "All cleaning sh-should be ending right now. I don't w-want any of my workers in-in the North Wing, unless some idiot gives a dire ring."

"Yes sir," they said bopping their heads.

"I want my kitchens c-clean and no family visits unless it's outside the palace," he said with a frown. "I prefer everyone to be checked-in their q-quarters by one in the morning. No later. No excuses. We must be back at least b-before the royal's return."

"Yes sir," they said.

"If any issues arise, Orlan will be on-call. Summon me if the issue is grave," he said then skimmed his messy clipboard. "I don't want anyone e-exc-cessively drunk. Riots are known to occur on nights like this. Thievery, murder, and-and violence, which I w-want you to be protected from. The last thing I want is for any of my workers to be accused of something."

"Yes sir."

"This goes for everyone. Limp must not leave the infirmary; I don't care if he hurts you to the c-core. That man stays there to recover," he said. "Any questions?"

Everyone shook their heads. Apparently, they were used to this extensive set of safety precautions.

"Good. Orlan will be on-call for me, like I said," he said then gave an exhausted sigh wishing he could crawl into bed rather than go to The Alter. "Let's just get through this okay."

They nodded, sorrow leaking from their eyes and faces. This was not a time for celebration or joy, a contrary to the emotions of those considered Fair.

"You all are dismissed."

"Gris, you need to get dressed," Orlan said as everyone left his messy temporary bedroom slash office.

"I know. I need you to collect some things from my chambers," he said leading the way to the backdoor entrance of his chambers.

"Like what, Your Highness?"

"Limp had chosen my outfit for tonight w-weeks ago. It's still in my wardrobe and marked."

"Okay."

"Also, I need you to grab a few other things, but it must be dis-screet."

"Absolutely," the slim servant said bopping his head.

They strolled through the kitchens, now empty and spotless clean to the door leading to the tight foyer. Across the foyer was the hall leading to his chambers and to his heartache, a guard was placed at the entrance to make sure he didn't enter.

"Orlan," he said taking him to the side and placing a torn parchment into his hand. "Here are the items I n-need, but most imp-portantly, I need a letter sitting on the dining table."

"Okay... Why is it so important?"

"It just is," he said feeling irritated for multiple reasons. "Stuff the important things at the bottom of the chest in my bedroom. You'll see what chest I mean."

"The one on wheels?"

"That one," he said. "I will be in my study waiting for your return."

"Yes, sir," he said.

"Oh and make sure to grab my sword," Gris said. "I didn't put that on the list. It's somewhere in my chambers..."

"Great. Knowing how messy it is up there, it's going to take me hours," Orlan said in a snippy tone.

"I know. I apologize," Gris said. "I'll make sure to send you assistance."

"Quickly now, Gris. You need to get ready."

"I know," he said beginning to approach the guard glaring at them in distaste.

"You have been banned," the guard grumbled.

Gris held up a hand for him to be silent. "I know. I'm banned. But I need my outfit and accessories for tonight."

The guard frowned. "I'm not supposed to let anyone through."

"I don't care. I need my outfit," he said then gestured to Orlan. "Make sure you get everything I told you to get."

"I will," he said. The young man edged his way pass the guard who refused to give any space for him. He ascended the stairway making a face at the back of the guard's head.

"Allow me to inform you now guard. I will send one more assistance for him."

"Whatever," he said as if in pure boredom.

Gris shifted feet, gut churning with unease and malice. Unease for the horrid thought that the Commander had taken Hasana into his chambers and violated her. False images of possible things swam through his head and wished he had the power and the courage to slide a sword through the man's chest. Then he felt the malice burning for the disrespect and dishonor of those on the palace's security who were trained in the King's Academy to know their place whether their opinions and disdain for the royals.

Clamping his mouth shut, he walked back the way he came and halted at a grand window with a great view of the palace's north and western wings. Mageia had to have ran this way when she had slipped from Limp's supervision. The girl was a brave one for sure and most likely scared. He was not angry with her actions. He would've done the same thing. An open door, an only chance to run, to make an escape. Yes. He would've done the same thing.

He stared up at the clouds forming in the sky. Dark and angry they looked almost as if a god had decided to break through the barriers between the realm and the Serene. The very thought chilled him and drowned him in sudden dread. Tonight, seven people were going to die a terrible death and there was nothing he could do about it.

For a quick second he wished his father would drop dead so he could claim the throne and change the Laws. But his heart ached for the man who hated his own son because of a ridiculous stutter. He recalled what Hercones said about his father shunning him so not to taint him to be like everyone else. If that was true, it meant his father wasn't a lost cause. Whether his indignation towards him, Gris confirmed he didn't want him to die.

I only wish I was born into another family, he said to the gods who could change his life, form it, or delete it all together.

Gris gave a dry chuckle, sniffled, and wiped his nose with a dingy sleeve. He shuttered himself back to reality and continued back to his study.

A half hour or so later, Orlan returned with a boy servant and the chest on wheels.

"I'm sorry, Gris but there were guards inside too, they wouldn't let me into your study to get the Book of Legends and your journal," Orlan said. Gris gave a growl and massaged his aching forehead.

"Okay so what were you able to get?"

"Just your outfit and sword and things," he said.

"And the letter?"

"I saw none on the table," he said.

Gris gasped. "What do you m-mean you saw none? Limp said a p-parchment was there."

"I only saw an ink jar and pen," Orlan said.

Realization flooded him at once. "Eron must've found it..."

Orlan seemed clueless but equally afraid. "What was this letter about?"

"Limp allowed Mageia to-to write to her family," Gris said now wishing to die having failed Mageia yet again.

"Oh. Well, I hope she didn't address it," he said.

"I don't think she did, but who knows..."

"That's weird he'd find and take that when your quarters are such a mess," Orlan said. "How'd he know to read it and see it was from that girl?"

Gris stared out a window as his thoughts grew dark. The sky had grown darker now that the sun was beginning to set. It was thick with clouds, with no wind or breeze or rain as if Mesori was holding her breath to hold back a horrific storm.

"Hasana..."

"What about Hasana?" Orlan said.

He stuck his fingers through his wild curls and felt it was hard to breath. His skin crawled with a new lair of fear.

"She was with Limp when Mageia escaped. She- she saw her at the table writing th-the letter."

"Okay..."

"Orlan," he shouted grabbing the man by the shoulders. "She was with me w-when Limp disclosed where Mageia w-wanted the letter d-delivered."

Within a second Orlan caught on to his worry. "No. She wouldn't...," he said shaking his head, but the thought already was gnawing at him.

"She would if the Commander threatened her to f-find out the information," he said heading for the door. "I need to find her."

A strong hand grabbed hold onto him and pulled him back. "No. Gris. You need to get ready for the parade. Now."

"To hell with the parade and the damn Ceremony. Hasana may be in trouble."

"Gris," Orlan said blocking his path to the door. "Do you really want to further upset your father? He had sent you a summons requiring you to attend on the threat of taking your birthright."

The prince gave an irritated growl and paced the room in anger. "But we need to do something."

"I will go and find her."

"Do that please," he said knowing the last thing he needed was his birthright taken or he wouldn't be able to change his kingdom in the future.

"Don't worry about Hasana. She's a strong girl. She wouldn't cave into the Commander."

"Anyone would cave into that devil," Gris snarled, fist clenching at his waist.

The door opened to his study and Mira entered with three helpers carrying hair and cosmetic items. The older woman frowned glaring at him from head to foot.

"I know I'm about to get dressed now," Gris said. "But have you seen Hasana? Any of you?"

All of them shook their heads.

"I have this Gris. I'll find her, don't worry," Orlan said and dashed from the room.

Mira signed, What is going on?

"Too much, Mira. Too much," he said digging into the chest and pulling out his sculpted idol of Rasaal and went to place it on the windowsill. He dropped to his knees and placed a hand to his heart in submission. He felt the others do the same thing out of respect.

"Blessed Ferries, I s-seek you and pray you forgive me for any wrongdoing to c-clear a path for my voice to reach the ears of the Holy Divines. Gods help us all. Please, I p-pray to you, Holy Naphri, goddess of our hearts and souls, to comfort Mageia and the Sacreds in this time of grievance and fear. I pray to you, Holy Sakon, god of protection. Protect Hasana and all those who have a good heart and a heavy heart on this dark day. And I pray to you, Holy Rasaal, the god I cherish with all my heart. Bless me with wisdom and guidance in every s-single thing I do. I need you right now. And this I pray to the Divines above, have mercy upon us all."