The day is busy, but at least my tasks occupy me enough to help me forget about my troubles. It's been a week since the poisoning attempt, and the issue begins to fade away from my mind.

It's cooler today, semi-transparent clouds absorbing some of the sunshine, and I don't feel the heavy tiredness that usually enwraps me by midday. I dine with Sagaristio, Messenio, Techo and a few other nobles who are invited to join us for the first time in a week. The food is delicious, and some of it I even eat before my food tester tries it, which earns me a few reproachful looks from Sagaristio.

The guests act cheerful, but they don't eat much. The wariness underneath their fake merriment annoys me. Only a handful of people knew about the poisoning attempt, but the rumors have clearly spread.

I send for Emilio, hoping his habit of speaking his mind would provide a refreshing contrast to the fake pleasantries of my guests. Yet a eunuch comes instead, to announce that Emilio has left for one of his rides. I shake my head and continue to eat, making a mental note to limit his riding hours to the mornings, when I'm busy and less likely to have a need of him.

I retreat to rest after the meal. With a hint of satisfaction, I close the door on my guards, leaving them outside, and unlock the one connecting my room to that of Narin. She comes in, quiet and efficient, as usual, and does her magic until, sated and exhausted, I drift to sleep in the bliss of the perfect summer afternoon.

I wake up alone, groggy and disoriented. My midday naps never last more than a couple of hours, and yet the room looks too dark for what's still supposed to be an afternoon. I get up and throw some water on my face from the basin in the corner, then walk over to the window, my muscles stiff from sleep. The sky is almost completely covered by clouds now, and not the transparent ones from before, but grey, thick ones. There's wind, too, its cold tendrils crawling under my shirt immediately, making me shiver.

From the courtyard below come the sounds of doors clapping, voices and hurried footsteps as the inhabitants of the palace prepare for the bad weather. A few guards stand by the main gates, discussing something. Then two of them walk leisurely towards the gates and start drawing them closed, one from each side.

Before they can finish their job, there's sound of hooves, and a white horse runs in through the remaining opening. The two men pause in confusion, and the others turn to look.

The horse makes a round in the courtyard and then stops, snorting and jerking its head. It's saddled, but there's no rider. I watch it dumbly until my sleepy brain catches up, and then I recognize it.

I'm going down the steps in no time, bellowing orders to bring me someone from the Women's Quarters and to find Sagaristio or Messenio. I burst into the courtyard, my bodyguards stomping behind me, their weapons clattering. Curious spectators scatter away.

"When did he leave?" I snap at the eunuch who's approaching me hastily as I walk over to the white horse. It snorts and backs away, but then stops, allowing me to catch it by the reins. It's Manilla, for sure, the calm, powerful beast Emilio has been riding. It doesn't look calm now. Its sides rise and fall rapidly, like after a long run, and it eyes me wildly.

"He's left before supper, my king," stammers the eunuch. "With his servant and his guard, as usual. He was late, but...I wanted to inform you, but... The guards told me you were asleep..."

"When before supper? How many hours ago?"

"About three hours." His voice trembles when he adds, quieter, "Four, at most."

I clench my fists, feeling more chilled than can be explained by just the wind. Four hours. Even if he's ignored my order to limit his riding to one hour a day, this is too long. He hasn't escaped—we're on an island, albeit a large one, so there's nowhere for him to go.

Something must have happened.

Perhaps he's had an accident, a broken leg or something. Even though he's a good rider, such things happen. But wouldn't his companions have brought him back already?

Sagaristio is striding across the yard towards me, and behind him, a few people lead horses out of the stables.

"Heard you were having troubles with your pretty boy," he says, coming closer, looking serious despite his playful tone. "Want me to lead the search?"

"I'll lead the search," I say. "Let's go."

The air is heavy with the upcoming rain as we ride across the river, heading towards the mountains. A smaller group was sent to search the town and the harbor, but those are unlikely places for him to have gone to, too crowded for riding. There's nothing else for him to do there since he's allowed no money and can't buy things or stop to eat in taverns. He must have gone to the countryside, like he usually does.

We continue up the main road, past the fields and the low sharp roofs of the villages. Everything seems deserted, people having taken shelter before the storm, and we only encounter a few peasants. We stop to ask if they have seen Emilio and his entourage, but they claim they haven't.

It means nothing, I tell myself, kicking my horse. He must have passed here hours ago, what are the chances these men saw him?

Yet my heart is as heavy as the clouds above us.

Our group is getting smaller as we pause occasionally to send parties of two and three to investigate new directions when the main road splits into smaller ones. By the time the road begins the incline towards the forest-covered slope, there's only half a dozen men left. As we ride into the forest, it gets darker still, the leafage swallowing what little light still gets through the thick clouds.

We reach the place where the road splits in two and there we stop to let our horses rest and to decide where to go next. One direction leads to the waterfalls, the other—to the deep Garas canyon. I contemplate each direction with a heavy heart. In both places, accidents happened.

"All right, we split," I tell Sagaristio, and then I pause as my eyes fall on a strange-looking patch of ground under the hooves of his horse.

"Move," I tell him as I make my horse come to his side on the road.

The whole area of the sand there looks as if it's been soaked by—blood, my mind cries, but I push the thought away—by something dark, and the trail of color is leading to the bush growing by the side of the road.

Something pale is peeking from the tall grass underneath it.

As I come closer, I realize it's a human hand.

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