Platinum Prisons: Book 4 of The Rose Tree Chronicles

Chapter Five: Within the Walls of Three Platinum Prisons

"For a Slave to be freed by its Owner, the command must be made in front of witnesses..."

That same night, after Doralyn had delivered her message to Inara, Makiar moved through the dark corridors of Aimonbay Estate. The cold marble echoed beneath his black satyr hooves which clopped sharp and deliberate in the silence. Candlelight flickered along the stone walls, casting restless shadows as he pushed open the heavy door to the study. Inside, the air smelled of ink and incense. Rallian sat hunched behind his broad, cedar-wood desk, its surface buried beneath crumpled parchment. He didn't look up, fingers still rifling through the chaos like a man searching for something lost forever.

"You summoned for me, my Lord?" Makiar said with a bow, his horns dipping in the dim glow of the study.

"Yes, I wanted to give you this order now before I forget." Rallian handed his butler a folded slip of parchment. Makiar read it over as Rallian continued. "I was right about Lila, I'm right about the Marchioness of Aramycius. I need cuffs specially forged with that Elvic curse. Once I have those in my possession, I will finally enact my plot to expose her for what she is to the empire. I want you to put the order in tomorrow morning."

"Yes, my Lord." Makiar folded the parchment again and pocketed it. "It shall be my first errand."

"See that it is. You are dismissed."

Makiar bowed and exited the study. Thunder rolled somewhere beyond the stone walls as he headed straight to his chamber. He read the order for the shackles over and over beneath the soft torchlight which flickered restless patterns across the parchment. The material crumpled in his grasp as he debated disobeying the order. He much preferred not to take part in dishonoring Lady Ivanna so severely, but at the same time his orders from the marchioness had been to always obey the marquis.

When he finally reached his rather bland and empty room, he lit a chamberstick and placed it in his window. Then he sat at his desk and bounced his furry leg as he waited, reading the order for the shackles several more times. He sat, elbows on his knees, the parchment clutched in both hands like a weight he couldn't set down. Lightning flashed through the window, washing the room in pale, trembling white. At last, Rein showed up after having just left Vincent to pursue the messenger.

"Have you found them yet?" she asked.

"No, something else has come up." Makiar turned in his creaky chair and lifted the order for her to see. "You may want to tell Lady Ivanna to hold off on whatever plans she has next."

Rein knit her brow at the parchment. "Why? What happened? What's that?"

"An order for Elvic shackles," Makiar answered. "Once they are delivered, the marquis intends to enact his plot to expose her ethnicity to the public."

Rein's shoulders drooped. "I was hoping that he'd changed his mind considering it's been four years since he said he would do this."

"It wasn't until he got confirmation on Nadia's ethnicity that he felt comfortable enough to finally act on it," Makiar replied. "Now, I realize the Lady wishes to allow him to go through with it, however I seem to be playing a role, and I would much rather not be involved. So please inform her of my situation when you let her know he has finally decided to set his plan in motion."

"I'll let her know," said Rein. "When does Rallian want you to place the order?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"His timing is impeccable. She's returning to the ocean tomorrow."

"That's the Marquis of Helvetica for you."

"I'll let her know before she leaves, and figure out what she wants you to do. How's the search for the correspondence coming along on your end?"

"I feel confident that it's no longer on Aimonbay," Makiar answered.

"So do we. I've been searching his safe house in the Lucierna for weeks now, I don't believe it's there either. I think it's on another estate."

"Check Woodview Manor in Preshire," Makiar suggested. "He visits that property most."

"Perfect," said Rein. "What do you know of an early diary? One that contains entries about a trip Rallian made to Vira?"

Makiar raised his eyebrows and looked up in thought. "Griffins, it's been quite a while since the marquis visited Vira. Decades, in fact. He has family there, distant family. Any entries about such visits would likely be in childhood diaries, and I don't think those would be on Aimonbay since I don't see him revisiting such things."

"Where?" Rein asked.

"Same places, I would imagine. The safehouse or Woodview. If not on a bookshelf, then stashed away in a tower or cellar."

Rein nodded. "Noted. I'll let you know what Ivanna says about the marquis's plot against her as soon as I can. Meanwhile, keep a close eye on Nadia's orb. We have reason to believe it will go missing soon."

Makiar pursed his lips when Rein flew off without further explanation.

Unfortunately for Makiar, Ivanna's only response to Rein was that she would ponder her next course of action and inform them of her decision after her trip to Ocean Rose. She returned to the ocean the following morning. So, Makiar put the order in for the shackles. He and Rein both felt it likely that Ivanna still intended to let the plot go through, and he was to play his role as commanded.

§

Meanwhile, the leshies had taken care of Nadia's bloody lashes. While she hung chained to the cold stone wall, they pressed a cloth soaked in herbal oils to the wounds, providing cool damp relief against searing pain. Then they left her alone in the dark. At first, the solitude felt like mercy. No shouting, no fists, no commands. Just the chill of the dungeon and the faint scent of herbs clinging to her skin. But as the hours dragged on, the quiet turned restless. Her mind ran rampant, replaying the previous day, rewriting it, imagining what horrors awaited her next. Dread grew in the silence like mold on the walls.

At length, Nadia commanded her mind to dream up more positive visions. She fantasized about what she would do when she was finally free: what the cottage on the Aquamarine Coast would look like—no, the Coral Coast. She would move far away from here.

Then Nadia awoke to the thunder of heavy boots on stone, and voices echoing down the stairwell. The cacophony aggravated the pounding in her head. To her relief, the steps softened when they reached the limestone floor, and then stopped in front of her.

"Put her on the table," came the voice of her master.

Nadia painfully raised her head to see four blurry figures standing before her. She recognized her master and the servant who regularly worked downstairs, but she couldn't make out the other two who stood behind them. When they approached to unchain her from the wall, they cleared into Alik and Nazar. They lifted her from the floor and fastened her onto a cold, stone table with her arms outstretched, palms up.

"I need to make a point to the other merfolk I own, Lila," she heard Rallian say behind her. "When they come forth and admit what they are, your suffering ends."

Nadia knew the others wouldn't confess; she wouldn't have either.

A flicker of movement pulled her gaze. By the furnace, the dungeon servant slid a long-handled shovel into the coals. Embers clung to the iron like stars dragged from the darkness. Nadia's breath hitched. Her voice felt buried somewhere too deep to reach, but even if she found it, it would be useless. Tears slipped from her eyes as she steadied herself. The servant turned.

The first wave of embers spilled across her left forearm, slow and deliberate. Agony bloomed instantly, white-hot and alive. A scream burst from her throat before she even knew it was there. It ricocheted off the stone walls, shrill enough to silence the room. Then came the second coat. Her right arm trembled beneath the penetrating heat, her breath now broken into ragged gasps. She squeezed her eyes tight, and prayed for it to be over.

But no hands reached to cool the burns. No salve was offered, no relief was provided. Nadia's binds were released, and Rallian stepped forward to claim her. He grabbed her by her scorched arms, fire lancing through her skin where his grip met the burns. He proceeded to drag her up the dungeon stairs, her legs barely finding purchase beneath her. At the top of the corridor, he flung her to the floor. She hit the stone and offered her sizzling arms to the cool air, which filled with the odor of her own charred flesh.

Around her, footsteps gathered like a tide. She curled her fists, jaw locked tight, and averted her gaze from the growing crowd. She didn't need to see their faces or feel their eyes.

"Would anyone like to confess yet?" boomed the marquis. His voice commanded the still air as all present held their breaths. "If you wish to avoid Nadia's fate, I strongly suggest you come forth on your own accord. It is no secret I know how to find out the hard way, and when I do, you're next!"

With that, Rallian lifted Nadia up by her burns, and her scream tore through the still air, causing many of the staff to flinch. Then, he hauled her back down to his dungeon where she was shackled to the wall again. The cuffs clinked as they were fastened once more, the chains left loose enough to let her twist and writhe, but not to escape. The burns still radiated heat, every movement scraping like fire beneath her skin. She was provided no treatment for her new wounds. Just stone and silence.

Time slowed into a haze of pain. The hours stretched, unmeasured. At length, Nadia's body began to fade, her eyelids grew heavy, and her breath shallow. Sleep hovered at the edge of her senses like a mirage.

But the creek of the dungeon doors snapped her back, followed by more footsteps. Only one pair this time. Her stomach twisted, a hollow rumble resounding in the stillness. She couldn't remember when she last ate. How long had she even been down here? What day was it? What hour?

She moved to sit up, but her aching muscles were too stiff. She tilted her head just enough to make out the polish glint of jewels through her swollen eyes: Marquis Rallian's moccasins stopping inches from her. Maybe it was just an illusion, but Nadia thought the marquis seemed to stand there in silence for a small eternity, long enough for her to imagine everything he might say, none of it good. The air grew heavier with each heartbeat.

"They finally confessed, Lila. The leshies are going to take you to your chamber in about an hour so you can recover appropriately."

Nadia lacked the energy and will to respond, and without another word spoken between them, Marquis Rallian left.

About an hour later, as promised, three leshies carried Nadia to her bedroom where they tended to her injuries. She kept her eyes on the deep purple curtains draped over her window. The leshies worked in silence beside her, their small hands brushing ointment over her burns, icing her swollen face, and tending to the many cuts about her head with practiced care. Her crimson bedsheets hid the blood which seeped from the aggravated wounds. Soon, cool bandages followed, wrapping her arms in pale strips like fragile offerings.

Nadia maintained her focus around her room which smelled faintly of lavender and bitter herbs. A porcelain vase stood on the cedar table beneath the windowsill, a rug from the Monturian Islands covered the wood paneling of the floor, and her bedding was finer than most. She had spent years collecting comforts, layering the space with soft fabric and warm colors. But none of it had ever brought the room back to life.

Not since Garnet of Mayove.

The memory flickered: Garnet laughing as she tucked away contraband books, the hush of whispered secrets late into the night, her bright eyes sparkling to Rein's tales. The room had once breathed with sunshine when she was there, filled with hope and joy even in the most hopeless of situations. Now Garnet was free and worked as a noble servant beneath the Imperial Advisor, Polaris, and Nadia shared her room with no one. She turned her head slightly, the bandages tugging gently at her skin. Of all the days, she missed Garnet most on this day.

Finally, the leshies placed an oil-soaked cloth on her back before they left her to rest. Once they had gone, Rein entered through the window and sat cross-legged on Nadia's nightstand.

"Morning, Nadia."

"Rein," Nadia whispered.

"I'm here," Rein replied.

Mauro quietly stepped in after seeing the leshies leave. "How's she doing?"

His sudden voice almost sent Rein back out the window, but she quickly composed herself when she recognized Nadia's scruffy-faced friend. "I find that in most cases, one looks worse than one actually feels. I'm hoping this is no exception."

"I'm sore..." Nadia managed. "And tired."

"Then we'll leave and let you recover," said Rein. "Once you're well enough to ride to Thorncove, Lady Ivanna can relieve your pain. She's currently returned to Melnah Valley, but she doesn't intend to stay long. Evidently, the New Tide Festival is an important holiday for seafolk."

"I recall," Nadia replied. "What time ... what day is it?"

"It's nearing the afternoon," Mauro answered. "Miseria twenty-second."

"Thank you." Nadia closed her eyes and, at that moment, fell asleep.

§

Relieved to learn Nadia was safe once again, Rein felt this was a good opportunity to begin another mission. During the past four years, she had kept busy reading Rallian's journals when she wasn't looking for the correspondence between him and Ariana. Today, Rein felt obligated to continue to go through his journals for information on what happened to Lady Ivanna's mother.

After Ivanna had read the letter she had received from the miracle worker in Moss Canyon, Rein was stunned. She had read most of Rallian's journals and not one of them had mentioned anything involving a mermaid in Vira. They mostly spoke of his experience as a High White Knight, as well as his retired days during which he conveniently avoided speaking of Queen Ariana entirely. However, nothing about a trip to Vira, a distant wealthy country.

Rein pondered this as she made her way to Rallian's safehouse in the Lucierna Forest, and she prayed she would find the journal there so that she wouldn't have to trek all the way to Preshire. Either way, she felt certain her search would be a fairly long one. Hopefully she and Ivanna could manage some patience.

§

The Palace of Helvetica shimmered in the distance with its gilded domes, and its walls dressed in bright colors that clung to their old pride. But time had made quiet work of it. Hairline cracks split the marble façades, and rust crept like ivy along the domes. Limescale crusted the wrought iron gates, eating through their once-polished rods. Cobblestones in the courtyards shifted beneath the weight of foot traffic, loose, chipped, and treacherous.

Inside however, the illusion held firm. Mirrors dominated the walls, silvered to perfection, each surface without blemish. The guards stood like statues, flanking every archway, still, silent, and stoic. The air inside the palace did not stir. Every object sat in its appointed place, polished and arranged, as if held there by the sheer force of tradition.

Prince Raynar was the only motion in the great hush. His boots fell in rhythm across the ornate rug as he made his way toward the stairwell with his dark brown hair slicked back, and his white military uniform crisp with every seam immaculate. He cut through the silence like a disciplined soldier, regal and self-contained as he ascended the stairs to the fourth floor. His mother's bedchamber doors opened without a creak. She sat before her silver vanity, robed in sky blue, her posture as poised as ever. The light caught in her pale pink hair and played off the curves of polished metal around her.

But it was the mirror that caught him.

Dozens of small pearls rimmed the frame—except they weren't all pearls anymore. Some had been replaced. Tiny, clouded eyes stared back at him, lifeless and watching. The longer he looked, the more certain he became that they noticed him too. A chill climbed his spine, uninvited and unmistakable.

"Oh, there you are, Darling," Empress Ariana said to her favorite son, snatching his attention away from the unnerving display in front of her. She continued to casually paint her silver claw rings with her pink snowrabbit venom. "We hear your brother will be graduating next month. At long last."

"Indeed, so long as he can pass the test the first time around," Raynar replied, recollecting himself. "Lord Polaris doesn't go easy."

"As he shouldn't," said Ariana. "Anyway, the fact that your brother's test is coming so soon has brought us to realize how quickly you boys are coming into manhood. That being said, have you thought about when and how you intend to propose to the lovely Lady Skye?"

Raynar swallowed hard but pulled his shoulders back to hide his discomfort. His attention shifted to the number of snowrabbits which carelessly hopped about the small koi ponds that spotted the chamber, their red eyes judging him and his many weaknesses.

"No, I suppose I thought I had more time."

"Well, it would look much better to the empire if you had established a family before you took the throne, don't you agree?" Ariana asked.

"You've ruled just fine without a husband, Mother," Raynar argued. "Why shouldn't the empire expect me to be able to rule just as well without a wife?"

"It isn't so much the spouse as it is the heir," the empress explained. She set her rings aside. "The empire wants reassurance the bloodline will continue, and a bastard child through a mistress won't suffice ... though in our case it seems to create fair competition. The kingdom didn't react well when Darius was your father's firstborn; much division occurred and still exists today. Darius has many supporters who feel because he is the firstborn, he should be on the throne after us. The fact that he has started courting a noble lady only further complicates matters. It is your duty to prove yourself more suitable for the throne than your half-brother. We're doing everything we can to keep him distracted even though his mother swears he has no intention of pursuing the throne, but it is imperative you do your part in all this before he realizes his chances. Show the empire you are worthy and capable of rule and continuing the bloodline to avoid a civil war. Marry and provide an heir with your wife, preferably before Darius manages to."

"Mother," Raynar wet his tongue. "I feel I must express ... I don't find Lady Skye to be a suitable wife, much less empress to our empire."

Ariana studied Raynar with an expression void of emotion or thought. Then she glanced back down at her claws when she asked, "Who else did you have in mind?"

Raynar cast his eyes to his feet. "No one as of now. I wasn't aware I was allowed to search for anyone."

"Well, being betrothed, you naturally don't have that option," Ariana conceded. "But we understand your concerns, so we will compromise. You have until Spring Solstice to find a more suitable young lady. Our Spring Solstice Gala will be the event where you announce your engagement to either Lady Skye, or another noblewoman you find preferable. Should you find someone by then, we will endeavor to gently break the news to Sir Rallian."

"The time is much appreciated, Mother. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Son. You are dismissed."

Raynar bowed and exited the chamber, his jaw tight and fingers twitching at his sides.

§

Once Raynar left, Lady Lusi stepped forward, Ariana's childhood friend and first Lady in Waiting. Though Ariana's bright, violet eyes had sunken in slightly over the past four years, this was the only sign of age she showed. Lusi on the other hand appeared to have aged much as her dark brown hair had just begun to gray, and hints of crows-feet touched the corners of the dark circles around her gray eyes.

"If Sir Darius doesn't want the throne, surely the people won't force him on it," said Lusi.

"We suspect once the idea is put in his head that he could swiftly ascend the throne with the support of the majority of the empire, he wouldn't turn the offer down." Ariana slipped her rings onto her fingers. "We've worked very hard to earn his loyalty, and Lady Thaïs's loyalty, and we've tried to keep the idea out of their minds, but loyalty quickly flees at the notion of power. We'll just see to it that Darius remains distracted and busy... perhaps send him on some dangerous missions and pray he doesn't return."

"I believe I may be able to help with that, Your Majesty," came a voice from the doorway.

Ariana and Lusi turned to the double doors to see Lord Maurice, Ariana's dwarf principal secretary and spymaster, standing at the threshold with a letter in his hand.

"How's that, Maurice?" Ariana asked.

Maurice slowly entered the chamber as he explained. "I just received word that Lady Ivanna of Aramycius has enacted a plot to end your wars. She's recruited the aid of four assassins to execute the mission. It isn't clear what this mission is, but they are scheduled to set sail for Vira tonight."

"What does Vira have to do with anything?" asked Lusi.

"We suspect they're leaving to fetch someone or something," Maurice answered.

"Do what you think is necessary to stop these assassins, Maurice," Ariana said. "And use Sir Darius. Don't use firearms, however. We want prisoners to question. Meanwhile, we would like more details on this plot."

Maurice bowed low. "Right away, Your Majesty."

§

The palace labyrinth lay quiet beneath a dusting of snow, its winding paths softened to slush, hedges stiff with frost. The central fountain stood frozen, a sculpture of ice and silence. But Lady Thaïs, untouched by the cold, lounged at the edge of the basin. Her limoniad gift pulsed gently around her, coaxing life from the dead season. Green leaves unfurled in defiance of winter, lilies and periwinkles nodding in full bloom beside irises and forget-me-nots, their colors vivid against the whitewashed world.

She wore a thick silver coat, shimmering like fresh snow under the pale light. White and blue strands of hair spilled over her shoulders, catching on the breeze as she turned another page in her poetry book. Her gaze followed each line with quiet devotion, the stillness around her broken only by the occasional rustle of a leaf.

Then came the footsteps, slow and heavy, crunching through the melting snow. Thaïs glanced up. A smile broke across her face, bright and sudden as spring breaking through ice. She closed her book gently and rose to greet the familiar figure approaching through the cold.

"Darius!"

Thaïs set her book down beside her and stood to hug her son. Darius, who dwarfed his mother in size, returned the embrace.

"I'll have to cut this visit short, Mother."

Thaïs pulled away. "Whatever for? We hardly get to see each other as it is."

"Lord Maurice is sending me and my unit on a mission against Lady Ivanna's men. The empress is suspicious of her for some reason. The goal is to arrest them before they reach her ship."

"How long will you be gone?"

"I can't say for certain. Lady Ivanna's men are trained well. Lord Maurice suspects the Imperial Guard will fail to apprehend them, and I will be sent to follow them to Vira. But I came here to tell you I've purchased property in Preshire. When I return, I can retire from this, and we can live out our days there."

"What? Why would we do that?"

Darius glanced around before he answered in a hushed voice, "You know I don't trust Her Majesty."

"She's done so much for us, Darius. She provided you an education as a squire, hired you as a knight, promoted you to a High White Knight, and kept me as a Lady in Waiting after our king's assassination."

"I sense an ulterior motive behind her generosities. I don't trust her. And while I'm gone, please protect yourself against her."

Thaïs stroked her son's jawline with a careless smile on her face. "And how exactly do you expect me to do that?"

"Beware of her claws, for one," said Darius. "And any suspicious requests she makes of you. Don't accept any food or drink she hands you herself."

Thaïs chuckled softly. "You worry about me too much, Darling. Only worry about yourself on this mission you embark."

"You trust too much. Just be careful, Mother. When I return, we will leave this palace. The preparations have already been made."

Darius did not wait for his mother to reply. He left her presence, and made his way out of the labyrinth.

§

That afternoon, Ivanna was present in the Obsidian Palace where the meeting she had dreaded for the past month took place in a massive conference room. Its dark stone walls shimmered under the glow of preserved glowfish suspended in delicate orbs. Luminous gems were set in the pillars like stars half-buried in night, casting pale reflections across the long geode table at the center of the room. The coral platters along its surface held offerings of sea grapes, spiced kelp, and salted roe, feasted over and decorative as the conversation churned on.

Ivanna was the only female present, as always. The golden shells of her kochylia caught the light in twinkles, her sheer black sleeves undulating in the current. Her hair, wrapped high and firm, shimmered with gold pearls. She sat composed, spine straight and shoulders squared against the anxiety which rose like a tide in her chest.

Around her, the court undulated with motion and color. She studied each of the high-ranked noblemen at the table with their sleek, iridescent scales and solemn bearing: a few naiads, their forms rippling in and out of transparency; a pair of shark-born lords with silver-tipped fins at their biceps, speaking with sharp confidence; one or two with eel tails, quiet, watchful, and coiled with subtle energy. Their flesh bore the marks of their lineage in vivid patterns, fins arching from their arms and backs like ornate crests.

She listened to the drift of topics: travel and trade routes, alliances, crime, all carefully distant from what she knew would eventually surface. Nadia's name hadn't been spoken yet. Part of her wanted to get it over with, to let the weight drop and be done with it. But at least she was filled in on current ocean politics.

"Very well," Emperor Jaskaran finally concluded, stroking his flowing beard. "We will apply these changes and then discuss the results at our next gathering." Here, he addressed Ivanna. "Now, how has the situation on land progressed?"

Ivanna could feel her food fighting its way to her throat, but she forced it back down before she answered, "I have finally been able to enact my decoy plot. I have a group of competent warriors titled my 'Rogue Assassins,' en route to capture the decoy as we speak. Polaris and I expect success from this mission. Meanwhile, we have also enacted another plan to locate the correspondence between the empress and the marquis since our past attempts have been fruitless."

"And what of freeing my daughter from slavery?" Jaskaran asked.

Ivanna inhaled deeply to calm her nerves. "I have nothing new to report on that end, Your Majesty. Polaris and I have agreed it's best to observe how Ariana reacts to the sudden end of the war before we focus our efforts to plotting Princess Nadia's freedom, which as it stands, entirely depends on rediscovering those letters."

"You don't believe she's ready to fight in the arena?" asked Jaskaran. "No one has raised the funds to purchase her?"

"Funds aren't an issue in that regard, sire. The marquis has made it abundantly clear she's not for sale. Considering he's one of the wealthiest men in the empire, no amount of money will sway him. As for the arena, Nadia's skill is not what concerns me."

"What concerns you?"

Ivanna wasn't certain how to phrase her next statement. "Looking at her current situation from all angles and observing the state in which Noelle politics stand, Polaris and I can't help but feel that the princess is safest as Sir Rallian's slave at this time, Your Majesty."

"Safe?" Jaskaran spat. "How could you possibly come to this conclusion?"

"We tried to warn you, sire," spoke one of Jaskaran's advisors. Ivanna couldn't help but notice this was Mon Thalor, the chevaun responsible for the sabotage on her emerald mine. "Putting Her Highness's well-being in this fish-wife's flippers was not the best decision."

"Indeed," said a second advisor. "This is perhaps the most preposterous conclusion she's drawn concerning the interest of the princess yet."

"Perhaps if I was allowed to shed some light onto why a human being and myself came to this conclusion, Your Majesty?" Ivanna insisted.

The room was silent for a moment, and she could see that Jaskaran was fuming. She let him consider in silence.

"Explain," Jaskaran said simply.

"Sir Rallian is not only Ariana's most trusted confidante, but he is Noelle's prime resource. Even if the friendship between the two was to falter, vexing the marquis would not fare well for Ariana. That includes attacking the princess in any way as Rallian considers her his most prized possession. Now Ariana has vowed not to sentence Princess Nadia to death, but once she is free, little is stopping the empress from devising an elaborate plot and make her death appear as happenstance. Additionally, Prince Raynar is heir to the throne, and he is not much better than his mother. In fact, it can be argued that he is worse because he acts on impulse. Ariana at least plots her actions, which makes her next moves easier to intercept. This can't be said about Raynar. If he, like his mother, were to continue to perceive the princess as a threat, and she did not have the protection provided by being the favorite slave of Noelle's prime resource, we don't believe Raynar would hesitate to act. Thus, Princess Nadia is safest beneath the marquis at this time."

Jaskaran considered Ivanna's explanation for a moment. "So what now?"

"At this point it is mostly a waiting game, sire," Ivanna replied. "Our hope is that once the war is over, Ariana's plight against Princess Nadia will weaken in some way since she's no longer a necessary pawn in some scheme. Perhaps given time, she will no longer perceive the princess as her greatest problem. Meanwhile, Polaris hopes to condition Raynar to turn from his mother's ways, and I hope to secretly advocate for Darius to take the throne: King Darren's firstborn. I personally feel that an excessive growth in the Royal Order will effectively distract Ariana from Princess Nadia. This would allow us to take more risky action to free her, which I strongly believe I can make happen with my vast and capable resources. Besides that, our greatest chance against the empress is to find those incriminating letters between her and Rallian, which discuss in detail their mutual plot to enslave our princess and start a war. Unfortunately, the fact remains that this will all take time."

"Very well," said the emperor. "In that case, all things considered, we'll enter her into the arena and when she wins, relocate her out of the empire. I will provide you with whatever resources you require to make this happen."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Ivanna replied. "Her training shall be complete in five years, after which we will sign her up for the arena if we haven't already freed her by then."

Ivanna could tell by the emperor's glare that he was severely displeased. "I thought you said her skill did not concern you."

"Which is true, sire. She is progressing very well in her training, which is expected of someone descended from the great Emperor Gerardo. Once her training is complete, she will be an expert swordswoman. However, it takes a decade to master Iah-Ra."

"You graduated sooner, couldn't she as well?"

"Certainly, but if she were to graduate as soon as I did, that's still another three years away. This is why Polaris and I are trying to find other avenues in the meantime."

Emperor Jaskaran continued to glare at Ivanna, but she refused to take back her words. She watched him suck a deep breath through his nose.

"Two years, Chevess Ivanna. You have two years to free your princess from captivity. If she is not freed by then, she is to be entered into the arena, and I will hold you personally responsible if she does not survive. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Ivanna replied as calmly as she could manage. She wanted to argue, but figured it wasn't the best time. The emperor appeared wrought with emotion.

"Good." Jaskaran rubbed his face. "I don't wish to continue discussions tonight."

"But Your Majesty—" began one of the nobles.

"No, we're finished. Whatever hasn't been addressed tonight can be addressed at our next cabinet meeting. Thank you for your time everyone. Rest well. I shall see you all at the festival."

Emperor Jaskaran rose from his marble shell-shaped seat, and everyone else followed suit. The emperor was the first to leave the room without another word, or even a glance at anyone. That was when the naiad beside Ivanna, Mar Nereus (or count) addressed her.

"I don't know why he doesn't dismiss you. You make no progress."

"If you're convinced you can make more progress than I with no resources and a limited knowledge of land-life, be my guest."

With that, Ivanna downed the rest of the nectar in her golden goblet and swam away to return to Melnah Valley.