"Limp I need you to keep everyone busy and under control."

"I will," he said following Gris out of the Mess Hall.

"Give Wistaal a piece of your mind and ground him to his sleeping quarters."

"Of course. Don't want him and his big mouth growing trouble."

"I didn't see Hasana or Orlan-,"

"I noticed too," Limp said. "I'll send someone to find them."

"Oh yeah and retrieve those records from my chambers and take them personally to Lord Hercones. I don't want anyone else doing it but you. And bring me my journal."

"Right away," he said. "Gris."

Gris stopped and faced his friend. "Gods be good."

He nodded and went to catch up with the soldiers only to run into one of his father's escorts.

"You've been summoned by the King," he said.

"I know," Gris said questionably and searched the area for the two soldiers.

"Are you okay?" the escort said upper lip scolding.

"Um... yeah," he said scratching his head. Where did they go?

Brushing off the goosebumps crawling his arms, he allowed the escort to take him to the King. He thought it would be his office. Instead, they entered the Royal Quarters and stopped before the grand double doors of the King and Queen's bedchambers. The original one.

"Why are we here?" he stiffly said to Ser Garret standing guard. The knight simply shrugged and gestured for one of his soldiers to open the door.

Gris took a deep breath and entered with his head high. He knew he must shove aside his hatred for the man to stand in his presence and ask him questions of his own. A cringing ache formed at the back of his head and bile clogged his throat. Despite his hatred for him, he hated this bedchamber more. Actually, they both hated this place yet here they were.

What amazed him the most was how beautiful and clean it still was. Apparently, his father didn't want to change the room or to destroy it. To make matters worse, nothing was moved. Everything sat where it was left, five years ago, except the bed was made and a window was open.

Gris walked further inside, letting his fingers rub along a pillar made of tree bark by the entrance. The familiar smell of roses and tree bark brought tears to flood his eyes.

"Come here," his father said from somewhere in the room.

He fully entered the sitting area of the royal suite. Compared to the King and Queen's present suite, this suite was a palace within itself. Gold, silver, crystals, marble, and tree bark structured the room, designed the room, and furnished the room. Huge pots of roses of many colors were spread about with candles, despite the grand chandelier lit above them.

Gris rubbed one of the sofas remembering the days when he'd pretend, he was climbing mountains. His mom would sit across the room, feet propped up on the sofa, eyes deep in a book or a scroll while Limp would play with him and give him new toys. His father though was never around, but when he was, they all were happy. Never did he see them upset with one another or with him.

"Father," he croaked. "Why are you in here?"

His father stood by the chimney, staring at the small fire. A glass of liquor was in his hand, and he had unbuttoned his shirt, and donned his ceremonial attire into something comfortable. He looked like a normal nobleman with true sorrow in his eyes.

"I come here often," he said.

"Why?"

"Because I miss her," he said.

Gris clenched his fist wishing to punch the sofa. "No, you don't. I don't either."

He broke into a chuckle. "That's what you say..."

"It's true," Gris said breath growing faster to restrain his anger.

His father finally shifted his gaze to him revealing red sore eyes of someone who'd been crying for a while. Gris held his breath, never seeing him like this before. Even when his mom died, the bear-of-a-king barely shed a tear. He shifted feet not knowing what to make of this.

"Did I hear correctly that you had a vision?" he said.

Gris frowned remembering Lord Hercones' outburst. "I did have one. But I was told in the vision not to tell anyone-,"

"I don't want to know," he grumbled shaking his head. "I've learned how disobeying a vision can have terrible repercussions on the person who was given it."

"What are you talking about?" Gris said narrowing his hazel eyes.

"Tonight, at the Altar, I prayed for a way to fix what I broke between us. The gods answered by returning my memories."

"What do you mean return? What memories?"

"Grisonce, a great handful of people in Ardania were cursed eight years ago," the King said. "It was a curse to wipe away specific memory. It also deprived us – or maybe just me of past emotions and desires to help the Strange. Initially the curse turned me partly like my father who even I will admit was a terrible man."

"Wait, I don't understand."

For a minute, his father stood motionless staring at the fire flickering in the hearth. Almost too long because Gris started to fidget and step closer. He could smell the strong liquor on his heavy breathing. His cheeks were red, and his eyes turned glassy. Then he regained his composure as if forcing himself for a tough explanation. He took another sip of his drink.

"Nari," his father said almost in a lost whisper, "she loved the gods so much. She had in mind to become a priestess one day. But my father wanted me to marry a Komali. But becoming a princess didn't stop her. Her devotion and interest in magic presented her before the gods. You were eight years old when she had the vision while praying into a fire. I was there when it happened. Her eyes were glowing white, and she froze in a daze."

Gris' jaw dropped and he held his breath, afraid his hard breathing would cause him to miss something.

"She was told not to tell anyone, except me or Rasheem. Apparently, an old man told her to protect a little girl with purple eyes. He didn't tell Nari where to find her or when she would be revealed. He claimed she was the next Fairest and possessed a lot of magic in her blood and bones. If anything were to harm her, there would be great repercussions."

Gris recalled the old man in his vision and suddenly felt uneasy.

"Did she describe his appearance?"

"She did. An old man with purple hair and purple eyes."

"Did he have a cane?"

The King shrugged, "I think so."

"What did you do about the vision?"

"At first, Rasheem thought she'd gone mad, but I saw this occur with my own eyes. But even then, I was skeptical. Over the next few months, Nari grew obsessed with the Book of Legends, history, the gods, and magic. She would disappear for long hours and return lost in thought. She'd have various theories about the girl and her power and her position in the realm. It unnerved me, Grisonce, to the point I prayed we'd never cross this girl. Then five months after the vision, a group of resisters to the Crown were captured trying to flee across the border with illegal paperwork, and amongst them was a girl with purple eyes."

"You met Mageia?"

"I did. She was brought in secret to the palace with her mother Vale Holt."

"Is she in relation to the former Commander Leon Holt?"

"Yes," his father said. "No one knew Leon was married. She thought revealing this would help her and her daughter's case."

"Was any of this recorded?"

"No," his father said. "Thadd wouldn't allow it, but Lord Hercones on the other hand...he always journals everything."

"Who else was there to witness this?"

"Many others. Ser Conner, Joelis, Judge Criily, some of the councilmen, some scribes. Possibly Rasheem as well."

"What about a Ser Trekon Arynliit?"

"Yes. Yes. Him too. He was Thadd's knight escort," he said.

"I think Mageia knows him somehow," Gris said.

"I'm not surprised. Trekon was very close to Leon, as I recall now," he said. "And Eron too was there."

"Eron? Really? What for?"

"Well, my father was training Eron to be his dangerous weapon, so for torture perhaps. But he never harmed Mageia."

Jealousy crept into the hatred he had for Eron and glared into the fire. "Was I there?"

"No, but no doubt you heard about the girl. Word did spread fast."

"I don't remember," he said clenching a fist.

"I suppose you are still under the curse," the King said.

"What curse?"

"Allow me to get to it," his father said. "At that meeting, Nari and Vale tried to explain to my father that the girl was important to the realm and that he could play a great part in it. But my father was a prideful man and despised magic despite his need to keep Eron close. Then Nari's obsession turned from magic to sorcery. She went against the old man's instructions and used the opportunity of Mageia imprisoned to take some of her blood."

"Are you sure mother did that?"

"I'm sure of it. The day before the execution, Rasheem found vials of the girl's blood in her chambers. He told me and then we destroyed them. Then hours later we found out Eron tried to help Mageia escape from the Doomed."

Gris gasped and gave his father a look as if this man had gone insane, or possibly drunk too much.

"Eron tried to save her? I don't believe it."

"It's true," the King said taking another sip of his drink. "The boy had a heart once."

Eron was good... The very thought of him being that way made Gris nauseated.

"They were caught though, and Nari had him whipped which was a great shock because she loved that boy. She took him from Joelis and Thadd a few months before to raise him properly."

Gris stared at the flames, speechless.

"Although Nari had disobeyed the old man and harmed Mageia, she still tried her best to stop the execution. She secretly was learning magic with a few of the priests and decided to create a curse using what remained of Mageia's blood to kill Thaddeus, Joelis, Criily, and many others. Thankfully, I wasn't on that list. I was against it, but I didn't try and stop her. Those people on her list were not good people, Gris. She was trying to save us all from an impending judgment. She was close to saving Mageia, but Joelis was clever. He found out about her secret apothecary below the palace grounds and had her, Eron, and everyone helping her arrested. Mageia and her mother was executed, noon on the next day."

"Are you sure she died?"

"She died," the King said and lowered himself into an armchair. Gris went and took the seat across from him.

"I saw it myself. They opened her wrists, and she was dead within minutes. The poor girl. But I remember now, as if it happened yesterday, how the sky erupted in thunder, but no rain. The clouds fell upon us at the Dais and it swept us off our feet. But there was something different about this cloud from the one earlier."

"What was it?"

"It was black and purple, and it wasn't warm. It was icy cold. That moment my father had a massive heart attack and died. Mageia and her mother were thrown away and forgotten like the rest who were executed that day. Everyone dispersed with confusion on our faces. The only person I know who clearly remembered Mageia and everything within five days of the execution was Nari."

"Did she do the curse within her cell?"

"I think so," his father said. He gulped the rest of his drink and sat the glass on the table.

"Nari tried searching for Mageia's body and never found it. Obviously, she resurrected at some point. Then a year or so later, people began talking about this girl thief with purple eyes. I did feel a hint of familiarity when I saw her at her court appearance, but I couldn't remember."

"What happened to my mom? Was she ever charged with Thadd's murder?"

"No. I became king and kept her part in his death a secret. Although, she declared she had nothing to do with it. But her love for magic grew. She began to isolate herself from those who loved her. Her obsession was unquenchable to the point she almost put everyone under this roof in harm. I told her to stay away from you and she did. Then the incident occurred, almost burning her to death, as you know it from there."

Gris averted his eyes to the patterns in the rug. Memories of crying and worrying about his mother in the infirmary surfaced. He shifted uncomfortably. Her skin was so badly burnt he remembered the wretched odor of burning flesh. This was one of the main reasons he stayed away from the Ceremony sacrifices.

"No one knew how she survived it," his father continued. "But Rasheem figured it out. Nari would mumble like a maniac, I shouldn't have disobeyed."

After a short pause to allow Gris to absorb this information, his father poured himself a new drink. He took a sip and trembled as he stared at his son.

"Grisonce."

He dug his fingers into his flooding eyes and forced himself to look at his father.

"Yes?"

"You are an intelligent boy. Do you know the root of every Komali downfall in Valeeran history?"

Gris gave a sharp gasp as realization slapped him hard. "Power and magic," he said.

He nodded. "It's like an addict tasting for the first time after many years of being sober. It was in her blood the day she was born. The vision your mother had was the taste she needed to see she could obtain and master the impossible. And meeting that girl only fueled it into an obsession."

"Father, I am not like her," he said firm and strong.

"I know. With or without my memory, I had set my worries above my rationing, not realizing how it could lead you to darkness."

"But it has not. Changing Mageia's decision only led me to anger. What you did to Limp is unforgivable," Gris said. "But despite it all, I am not interested in power and magic. I mean – I wouldn't mind being King to help the Strange. I- I just want equality and fair laws."

"You have a good heart and I pray it stay as such," he said. "But anger can change a tide quicker than any emotion. It is known to never cross a Komali."

"Father, I am good. I promise. I have witnessed with my own eyes what magic and sorcery can do to a person. Gods, I will never be like her."

He could see doubt and worry in his father's eyes and wished there were a way to prove he was speaking true.

"Look, Grisonce. I know it is not my place to say this, but believe me when I say, that I do love you and want what's best for you. Grisonce, you should stay away from that girl, away from her magic."

Gris' jaw dropped. He could see why he'd say this, but Mageia needed him. The old man in the vision told him to stay with her, to help her knowing he was a Komali. He didn't know how to respond without sounding insane. His father was right.

The door to the bedroom opened without a knock of warning. Ser Garret rushed around the corner with a soldier on his heels.

"What is the meaning of this?" his father bellowed, rising to his feet.

"The Commander summoned a Royal Leave." Ser Garret said.

"What for?" the King said growing furious.

The knight said, face flushing of its color. "The palace slaves are rioting. They've set the East Wing on fire."

Gris gasped and stood to his feet as horror slithered up his spine. "Oh no. Limp."