"She's dead," Sagaristio says, straightening up.

The body lies on the road where he dragged it from under the bush. It looks like a human-sized rag doll, a discarded and torn one, its clothes smeared with dirt. The dress is still recognizable, though—as well as the face, even with the glazed eyes staring sightlessly at the sky. Her chin looks stubborn even in death. She's been a good servant to Emilio, and I feel a pang of guilt looking at her. I've never even bothered to learn her name.

There's no doubt they were attacked. The gushing wound splitting her throat from ear to ear leaves no hope for an accident.

"Close her eyes," I say, and Sagaristio obeys.

A feeling of hopelessness spreads inside of me. Emilio is likely as dead by now as the woman lying by Sagaristio's feet. That's how it all has ended. I've snatched him from his old life and brought him here only to be killed by some nameless robbers.

"I'll go to the waterfalls," I say. "You are coming with me." I point at three of the six riders surrounding us, their eyes respectfully cast down. "You take the other three and check the canyon. Try to approach quietly in case they --" I swallow. "In case they haven't killed him yet."

"They?" says Sagaristio.

"There had to be more than one man to overpower Emilio, his guard and...her."

"Perhaps it's better I come with you, then."

"No," I say. "We must check both directions."

It takes me ten minutes to reach the Maravian waterfalls. There's no need to be quiet, for the falling water, despite the distance, is loud enough to conceal the sounds of our approach. The road gets gradually narrower until it turns into a rocky trail, the firm sandy surface replaced by sharp stones, too dangerous for our horses to continue. Ahead of us, it goes on along the upright cliff, its grey slopes rising high to conceal parts of the sky, only the barest of vegetation clinging to their rocky surface.

Farther ahead, the first waterfalls are visible. From here they look like glittery ribbons dangling from a distant cliff, but up close they're walls of water plunging deafeningly into the abyss.

I dismount, followed by my companions. They all look vaguely familiar. I make sure to spend time around my soldiers, and even memorize some of their names, but these three are not among the ones that guard the palace, the ones picked and approved by Sagaristio.

The recent poisoning attempt comes to my mind, and the chill from the distant waterfall suddenly deepens. I'm alone here with these three men whom I don't really know—at least not well enough to go with them along the narrow stony path, where a single push by an unhelpful hand could be so easily written off as a tragic accident.

And should we continue? I glance in the direction we came from, at the trees covered slopes to the both sides of the road. If Emilio wasn't killed, it's unlikely he was dragged on along the dangerous mountain trail, where his struggling could endanger the kidnappers. And if he was killed, it'd be more convenient for them to hide his body among the trees, or simply...

My eyes shift to the abyss below, where the tumultuous torrent makes its way among the rocks, disappearing from view. If he went there, he's beyond help. Yet if he's been left for dead somewhere under the trees, perhaps there's still something we can do.

"You," I say, pointing at one of the tree men—a young, freckled, eager-looking type. "Hugo, isn't it?" His eyes go wide, and that strengthens my assumption that he can be trusted. To-be-assassins don't get so excited over you remembering their names. "You stay with me. You two will continue along the trail."

"How far, my king?" one of them asks, business-like.

"Past the waterfalls," I say. "If you don't encounter anyone and don't find..." A body? "And don't find anything of interest, there's no point in continuing further."

"Yes, my king." They bow their heads and retreat, heading towards the trail.

"Let's go," I say, turning to Hugo who seems on a verge of fainting from the realization that now he's his king's only attendant—and possibly protector. He nods solemnly, his freckles standing out more than before on his suddenly pale face.

Following my orders, he ties his horse in the bushes, away from the road. I mount my ride and we turn back, heading away from the rocky edge. I ride slowly, peering into the trees and the underbrush, while he walks among the trees to the left from the road. That side seems more promising for the forest is thicker there, and yet when I hear the suspicious sound, it comes from the right.

We're far enough from the waterfalls so that the sounds of the birds and the rustling of the leaves can be heard, as well as the sounds of Hugo's occasional stepping on branches, but the quiet noise that reaches my ears is different.

It sounds like muffled moans.

"Hugo!" I call as I dismount and unsheathe my sword.

Holding it ready, I step over the shallow gutter on the side of the road and enter the shadows under the trees. The underbrush is not too thick here, so I make my way easily among the trunks, stepping quietly on the moss, watching out for signs of movement. Then, the sound comes again, and, following it, I reach an opening among the trees.

My eyes register a few broken branches and a torn shred of cloth dangling from one of them.

Then, I see Emilio.

He's half lying on the ground, his hands tied behind his back. His feet are tied together as well with rough thick ropes. His eyes are fixed on me. There's a gag in his mouth, held in place with a long piece of cloth secured around his head. He's trying to say something through it but all that comes out are inarticulate, panicked noises. His face is dirty and wet, his eyes swollen, and there's what looks like a beginning of a bruise under his left eye.

Worse still, he's half naked, what little clothes still on him torn and disarrayed. His skin looks dirty and bruised, and on the naked side of his thigh I see what looks like a swollen bite mark. I stare at it in shock, trying to grasp what I'm seeing and at the same time reluctant to know.

A dry branch cracks behind me and I whirl around, my sword ready, only to find Hugo standing there, gaping at the view with shock that probably mirrors mine.

"What're you waiting for?" I snap, blood rushing to my face. "Don't look at him! Get you shirt off, put it on him!"

I turn back to Emilio to see him trying to scream through his gag, his eyes wide and horrified, and, worse still, fixed on something behind my back.