Silver Skeletons: Book 3 The Rose Tree Chronicles

Chapter Three: The Rose Tree

"A Slave must have written permission from its owner to obtain an apprenticeship or to participate in trade."

Nearly an hour after she'd first been summoned, Nadia stepped once more into Count Rallian's study. Her hair, now dyed a deep, inky black, gleamed beneath the candlelight. She dipped into a curtsy before the desk where the count sat hunched over yet another letter, his quill scratching steadily across the parchment. For a moment, the room held only the soft rasp of ink on paper. Then Nadia broke the silence.

"I've dyed my hair like you asked me to, Master."

The count peered up from his scribbles. "Very good. Have a seat there."

With a flick of his hand, the count gestured toward the same chair Nadia had occupied earlier. She obeyed, settling into the seat as the leather creaked softly beneath her. Behind him, the curtains had been drawn open. Through the glass, Nadia caught sight of Rein once more. She stood just beyond the window's edge, her eyes fixed on the room.

"I received a letter from Queen Ariana stating the king has commissioned a search party for you," Count Rallian explained. "I had you dye your hair so that you do not match the description the searchers will receive. I have also had a new cuff made for you."

The count gave a sharp nod, and Alik stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Nadia's shoulder to steady her. Across the room, Nazar approached with a curious instrument in hand: something akin to a pair of slender pliers, though its purpose was clearly more precise than crude. With careful movements, he clamped the tool around the base of her cuff. A soft click, a twist, then the old piece slipped free. Without a word, he reached for the new one and fastened it in its place, the metal cool against her skin.

"Your new name is Lila," the count continued in the meantime. "Everyone will call you Lila, you will introduce yourself as Lila, and you will respond to the name, Lila. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. So, have you learned much from your peers about this new life to which you've been introduced?"

"Somewhat, Master."

"Well, it'll all come in good time. Meanwhile, there was something else I wanted to discuss with you." Count Rallian gestured for his servants to leave, and only continued after the door had shut. "We all have a heritage; we are all of different ethnicities. For instance, my daughter is part basajaun, elf, and human. Garnet is half elf, half limoniad. Mauro is half oread and half basajaun. And so on and so on. So, my question for you is, what are you?"

"I'm part elf, and part napaeae." Nadia suddenly found herself thankful to her eight-legged governess back in the Obsidian Palace.

"Really? So how old are you?" asked the count.

"Ten," Nadia answered like the miracle worker had told her to. "I'll be eleven next month."

"And how can I be certain that you are any of what you say?"

Nadia shrugged. "I don't know, Master. I know Elvish, but I suppose everyone does."

"I see. Well, Lila. I'll have you know that I've been studying up on sea creatures for many years now: naiads, water sprites, mermaids, sirens, hydriads, nereids, and so on. I am convinced they all exist. In fact, I have seen a mermaid with my own eyes. I am also convinced that some of my slaves are seafolk. I have already found at least three mermaids among them. That being said, if you're one of them, I would strongly suggest you tell me now."

"You've found mermaids among your slaves, Master?" asked Nadia, genuinely perplexed. There were more of her kind living on land?

"Indeed, I have," the count assured. He sat back in his seat, happy to boast. "I've learned enough to know how to spot them from a mile away. So, would you like to confess to me now?"

"I told you what I am, Master," Nadia replied innocently. "But I do think it's wonderful that you are so knowledgeable on sea creatures."

"I know you seafolk wish to keep your existence a secret, and you're doing a fine job of it since most of you are still universally categorized as a myth. However, I know better. All these books that you see here discuss seafolk, and few of them contradict each other. They teach how to spot mermaids, and the three that I've found among my slaves have every tell-tale sign."

Nadia tightened her muscles in an attempt to control her nerves. "H-how do you spot them?"

"Turn around and reveal your back to me."

Dozens of bubbles popped in Nadia's stomach. She slowly rose to her feet and turned, her mind racing for some plausible excuse to explain the delicate dotted patterns which trailed down her spine and along the backs of her arms. With reluctant hands, she lifted the hem of her shirt. She could almost feel the weight of her master's gaze pressing against her bare skin, each second stretching taut as he examined the markings in silence.

"I suppose you're going to tell me those are not the markings of a mermaid?"

"They're not, Master," Nadia insisted. "These are napaeae markings."

"I don't believe it for a second, Lila." The count's tone grew dark. "I advise you to confess now for your sake, because if I must prove it before I can extract the words from your own mouth, I will not be happy about it."

The miracle worker's warning repeated over and over in Nadia's mind. She swallowed her panic as she let her shirt drop back down, and slowly turned to face the count again.

"I assure you, Master. I am what I told you."

"Do you even remember what you told me?"

"Part elf, and part napaeae."

Nadia watched the tension twist in her master's jaw, his eyes sharp with restrained fury. His hand rose, trembling with the effort to contain himself, and he pointed a single finger at her. "You'd better be telling the truth, young miss. I'm giving you a fair warning. Get back to your chamber, it's time to turn in."

"Yes, Master," she said with a curtsy.

The moment she stepped out of the count's study, a quiet breath of relief escaped Nadia's lips. Free of his presence, she picked up her pace, the hem of her borrowed skirts brushing her ankles as she scurried up the stairs. Each step toward the bedroom felt lighter, as if she shed the weight of her master's gaze with every stride.

※

Rein wasn't pleased with the turn Nadia's situation had taken. It was only a matter of time before someone uncovered her true heritage—her features alone would give her away soon enough—and with it, the secret of her curse might not be far behind. Count Rallian was proving himself far more astute than Rein had anticipated. How long could Nadia's truths stay buried in a place like this? It was anyone's guess, but what Rein did know was that once the count uncovered Nadia's weaknesses, getting her out of his grasp would be nearly impossible.

With that in mind, she took off, wings catching the salt breeze as she soared toward the coast. The cave where Nadia had first arrived yawned open at the base of the cliffs, half-swallowed by tide and shadow. Rein darted inside, eyes scanning the gloom. She fluttered around, weaving through sea-carved stone and pooling water. It was good to know that Nadia knew how to hide things well when it was of high importance, though at this moment it was a bit irritating. Then, Rein caught a faint glint beneath a jagged rock. The waves had begun to reclaim the sand, exposing the curved edge of the golden ball. Rein floated down, pushed some wet sand over the glint, and tossed a layer of seaweed on top for good measure. She hovered over it and frowned. Futile. The tide would likely reveal it again within the hour. Nadia would need to return. And next time, she'd have to find a hiding place that could actually hold a secret.

※

The following day marked Princess Nadia's first as Lila the Slave. By midmorning, her hands were already sore from labor. She had hauled buckets of water from the rear courtyard well, the worn wooden staff biting into her neck. She had helped prepare breakfast under the watchful eye of the kitchen staff, slicing fruit, setting the table for the master and his daughter, and clearing dishes with steady silence. After that came the sweeping, the scrubbing, and the wiping down of counters to ready the kitchen for brunch.

Now, she was on her knees in the grand foyer, working beside Garnet. The white and silver tiles stretched endlessly ahead of them, each one gleaming with the faint promise of elegance until dulled by dust or footprints. Nadia plunged her rag into the bucket, the water now clouded gray, and began scrubbing in firm, circular motions. Her arms ached, her knees throbbed against the hard floor, and still she worked.

"We get paid today," Garnet told Nadia with a bright smile on her face.

"You do," Nadia corrected. "I don't."

"I'll split my pay with you."

"No, keep it. I'll get mine next month."

It was here when Mauro came hurrying toward them, his footsteps quick across the polished tiles. He wore loose black harem pants, and a dark purple vest that hung open to reveal his sun-browned chest. His arrival was sudden, but not unfamiliar. He was the second slave who had accompanied Count Rallian and Garnet back from the palace the day before.

"Master has a bunch of trunks of things he doesn't want any more on stage!" he informed. "He says that when we go on break, we can take what we want to keep!"

"Ooo!" Garnet clapped her sudsy hands together. "How exciting!"

"On stage?" Nadia asked.

"The stage in the grand hall," Mauro clarified.

"If we finish the floors early, we can get third pick!" Garnet said to Nadia.

Nadia couldn't quite understand why Garnet was so thrilled about getting third pick, but she couldn't help admiring her for it. There was something infectious about her cheer. Despite her deep, shadow-toned features and the hard labor they both endured, Garnet always carried a brightness in her expression, a smile that seemed immune to circumstance. Nadia found herself hoping that some of that quiet strength might rub off on her in time. She'd need it. The reality was setting in: she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Maybe not ever. And if that was true, then learning to endure it with grace might be the only way forward.

Garnet picked up her pace, scrubbing with renewed energy, her excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. Nadia followed suit, not out of hope for the reward, but to help Garnet reach her much-desired third pick. They finished sooner than expected. But still, when the time came, there wasn't much left. And Garnet beamed like it was the finest prize in the world.

"We can use what's left of Her Ladyship's old clothes to make into clothes for us," she said. Then she looked at Nadia. "You should take them actually. You don't have any clothes yet."

Nadia took them without giving them much of a glance, but her fingers lingered on the fabric. The silk slipped through her hands like water, cool and weightless. As she drew it closer, the faint scent that had followed her through the halls finally made sense. A delicate trace of lilac clung to the folds, subtle but unmistakable.

"I haven't seen the countess yet," she reflected.

"She died two months ago of an unknown illness," Mauro explained while he rummaged through the trunks. "That's why Master's getting rid of all her things."

"Oh, how unfortunate." Nadia couldn't help the lack of sympathy which she felt for the count, but attempted a sort of pause that she hoped would make it appear as if she felt something. "Well we could also use some of these items to make our room look nicer. That way it doesn't feel so bland in there all the time."

"That's a good idea," Garnet agreed. "Here, we can put the things we want in this trunk."

She tipped the last remnants from a nearly empty trunk into another, and Nadia eagerly helped pack it with their chosen treasures. Halfway through their break, and with Mauro's steady assistance, the girls' bedroom had shed its dull emptiness. Crimson lace curtains now framed the window, their delicate fabric catching the light with a soft glow. Two of the countess's many bedspreads adorned their beds, rich and inviting. Flickering candles hung from wrought iron sconces along the walls, casting warm shadows that danced in the quiet room. Between their beds lay a black and gold rug, its intricate patterns grounding the space. A cream-colored cloth draped the small table by the window, completing the scene. The final flourish was an empty lavender vase, set carefully atop the table, a quiet promise of beauty yet to come.

"I'll pick flowers for it tomorrow," Nadia offered.

With a graceful flick of her wrist, Garnet conjured a bouquet of dark, exotic blooms: black bat flowers, delicate bleeding hearts, and rich chocolate cosmos. The petals seemed to pulse with a quiet magic, a whispered reminder to Nadia that Garnet was part limoniad

"I really like it," Garnet said, wringing her hands with glee.

"What do you think Master's going to do with the items nobody wants?" Nadia asked.

"Probably toss it," Mauro answered.

"Do you think he'd let us sell them in the market?"

"I doubt it," Mauro snickered.

"I don't see why not," said Garnet. "All he has to do is give us written permission."

"Exactly," said Mauro. "What are the chances? Besides, we don't know how to sell things, make price tags, or even price the stuff."

"We can ask Miss Mirriot for help," Garnet offered.

"Who's Miss Mirriot?" Nadia asked.

"She's the oldest slave here," Garnet answered. "Usually when you get too old to work, your master puts you down because he no longer has a need for you. But Master wanted to keep her because she's pure human, and humans are the wisest creatures in the world. He uses her for occasional advice."

"Well then let's ask for Master's permission when you get paid today," Nadia said. "If he says yes, we can go to Miss Mirriot for help with actually running the stand."

"I'll let you do the asking," said Garnet with a nervous giggle. "I don't usually like to ask Master for more than he's already given me."

"Why? Does he get mad?"

Garnet shrugged. "I don't know. I've never tried."

"I see."

※

By the end of the day, Count Rallian's slaves lined up in front of the servant who watched over them to be paid their monthly allowance. As stars equaled about twenty-five cents, the total amount added up to be around ten dollars. There was no reason for her to report to Alik, her designated superior. Instead, Nadia made her way to the grand hall, where she found her master reclining on a mound of colorful pillows across from the stage. He sampled slices of fresh fruit, the juice glistening on his fingers, while a troupe of finely dressed women performed an elegant, measured dance under the glow of amber chandeliers.

Nadia approached the blue marble steps, and paused before him. Then, just as Garnet had taught her, she lowered herself into the proper slave's bow: right knee to the ground, forehead and hands resting on her left knee. The marble felt cold against her skin, and the hall fell into a hush around her.

"Lila," said the count. "Your stipend isn't due until the end of next month."

"Yes, Master," Nadia replied. "I know. I only had a question to ask."

"What is it?"

Nadia rose. "What do you plan to do with the rest of the late countess's things?"

"I have yet to decide. Why?"

"I was wondering if Garnet, Mauro, and I could sell them in the market?"

"For you three to profit off it alone?" the count asked.

Nadia hadn't expected this question. She worded her response carefully. "Unless, of course, you wanted some of the profit."

"What if I wanted all the profit?"

Nadia couldn't hide the disappointment from her face. "Well, there's really nothing I can do to stop you from taking it all, I suppose."

"Well they are my things, are they not?"

"Of course, Master."

"What did you plan to do with the money acquired from selling my belongings?"

"I have no clothes, Master. Garnet has been kind enough to let me borrow hers. Perhaps some blankets for my bed when winter comes. Other necessities."

The count took a moment to consider. "You make a fair argument. Very well, you may sell the items and keep the profit. However, if your chores are not completed correctly and on time even once, you will not be allowed to sell anything in the market again. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Master. And thank you."

"I'll have your permission forms filled out for you on the eve of next Market Day. I am only doing this for you because I realize that you do require necessities. Don't get used to this generosity."

"Of course, Master."

"Good. When you finally decide to purchase clothes, see Alik before you leave. He will provide you with some extra crescents in case your profit isn't sufficient. That money will be for clothing purposes only. Since you primarily work inside, I want you dressed elegantly. Understood?"

"Yes, Master."

"You may go."

Nadia curtsied and slipped away, eager to share the news. She found Garnet and Mauro quickly, and the moment she told them they were allowed to sell their master's discarded treasures at the market, excitement lit their faces. Without wasting a second, the trio made their way to Miss Mirriot's quarters to ask for her help. Her room was tucked away on the first floor of the castle's west wing, nestled beside the kitchen. Its odd placement suggested it may have once served another purpose—perhaps a pantry, Nadia guessed, given the proximity to the ovens and storerooms. They paused at the door. Garnet raised her hand and gave a gentle knock.

"Miss Mirriot?" she called. "It's Garnet, Mauro, and Lila."

"Come on in, Children," came an aged voice.

Nadia followed her friends' lead and entered when they did.

"What might I do for you three?" Miss Mirriot asked.

The elderly woman sat hunched behind a large wooden loom, her frail hands pausing mid-weave as the children approached. Threads hung suspended between her fingers, the pattern half-formed yet already beautiful.

Nadia took in the room with quiet awe. Miss Mirriot shared the small and solitary space with no one, but its walls were alive with color and story. Blankets and afghans hung like tapestries, each one a masterpiece born from decades of quiet labor. Woven into the fabric were breathtaking scenes of Xyntriav: mythic beasts soaring through painted skies, forgotten heroes locked in ancient battles, and dreamscapes spun from starlight and memory. Every thread carried a piece of history, and every detail had been shaped by Mirriot's worn but patient hands. Nadia stood transfixed, caught in the soft gravity of it all, as though stepping into a story she wasn't quite ready to leave.

"We were wondering if you could help us run a stand in the market," said Garnet.

"You must get Master's permission first, Honey," said Miss Mirriot.

"We have, Miss," Mauro answered. "We're selling his unwanted things, and we get to keep all the money too!"

"Well that is splendid! How very generous of him. Now, how can I help?"

"Pricing, tagging, setting the stand up," Garnet explained. "Maybe even running it."

"Well then we best get started!"

※

By the next morning, Rein had returned once again to the Helvetican Palace, wings aching and spirits low. She scanned the grounds with a hopeful eye, searching for anyone who might still stand with Nadia in this unraveling ordeal. The king's support, though unwavering, didn't feel like it would be enough. Something about him felt fragile, malleable. Rein needed more.

For the past couple of days, she had been caught in a relentless loop, darting back and forth between the palace and Aimonbay Estate. The effort was wearing her thin, and exhaustion had begun to settle into her bones. When she awoke that morning, she whispered a quiet prayer that either Nadia's situation would find resolution soon, or the need for constant travel would ease before it broke her.

With spring in full bloom, Rein had shed her heavier garments and stowed them carefully in the branches of a pear tree near Aimonbay Estate. The coat, long sleeves, and leather boots had been a peace offering from Captain Tzatara during her voyage to Arcor, where Rein had reunited with Nadia's mother. It had been winter at that time, but summer loomed close, and spring wrapped the land in a gentler warmth. Now, clad in a crimson tube top layered over a fishnet shirt, matching leggings, a black skirt, and black slippers, she moved freely in the breeze. The old garments would wait for her return in winter, if this place held Nadia for that long.

As soon as Rein arrived at the palace, her attention snapped to the palace gardener. His boots crushed petals underfoot as he dashed through the flower-laced courtyard with wild urgency, his arms flailing slightly as though he couldn't move fast enough. Rein followed at a distance, fluttering toward a high window that granted a bird's-eye view into the royal family's private dining hall.

The room, though smaller than the grand banquet hall, was still expansive with its long, light oak table capable of seating sixteen comfortably. It had been designed for large family gatherings, yet this morning, only the king, queen, and their three sons sat at the far end, enjoying a quiet breakfast. Plates of eggs, toast, and roasted vegetables were neatly arranged before them, and the rich scent of freshly ground coffee lingered in the air.

Unlike the kingdom's official halls, this chamber bore more personal touches: the walls beheld the royal family's crest, along with Ariana's ancestral emblem, and those of distant bloodlines. Trinkets with obvious sentimental value rested on polished podiums and inside delicate glass cabinets; a collection of forgotten heirlooms, gently collecting dust. But all of it faded from Rein's focus the moment the gardener appeared in the doorway.

He halted just short of stepping fully inside, visibly stricken. His face was pale, his chest heaving, but to his credit, he stood tall, arms stiff at his sides, posture locked in place like a soldier delivering grim news. The royal family froze, forks halfway to mouths. Five pairs of eyes turned to him, waiting as the poor man struggled to gather the right words. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost. And Rein, watching from above, felt the weight of whatever was coming settle like a stone in her chest.

"Your Majesties," he blurted out. "M-might I have a word?"

"Well, we do happen to be in the middle of breakfast..." Queen Ariana answered.

"What is it, Wendell?" asked King Darren.

"It is about your Rose Tree, sire," the gardener explained. "Something is very ... wrong ... You must see for yourself."

"At this very moment?" asked the queen.

Wendell hesitated. "Please. There's something ... frightfully wrong."

The royal family exchanged uneasy glances, the silence at the table thickening around them. Whatever the gardener had seen, it was urgent enough to disrupt their private meal, and troubling enough to draw concern from King Darren. With barely a word between them, he and Queen Ariana summoned Lady Lusi and Lord Polaris, leaving the three princes behind to finish their breakfast in a cloud of uncertainty. They followed the shaken gardener out of the hall and down the corridor, their pace brisk and quiet.

Rein didn't need to be told where they were going. She had been present the day the Rose Tree was planted over three centuries ago, in solemn tribute to Gerardo of Liko. The memory still lived in her bones: the heavy hush of the Royal Cemetery, the way the soil had drunk the light rain. The tree had stood ever since as a sacred symbol of peace, and remembrance of a hero of the Stone War. She left the palace window and darted toward the cemetery, a knot of unease tightening in her chest. But when she arrived, something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

The Rose Tree was gone.

In its place stood another. Rein hovered there, stunned. This couldn't be right. No one was permitted to tamper with the Rose Tree. Not without the king's express command, and even then, Parliament would have to approve the motion. It was a law etched into the very framework of Noelle's traditions. And yet ... it had been replaced. Could someone truly have managed to remove and swap out the sacred tree in a single night unseen? Rein's wings stilled mid-air, and she settled onto the branch of an adjacent tree. That kind of silence didn't happen by accident.

It wasn't long before Rein heard Queen Ariana's sharp voice breaking the stillness of the cemetery, agitated, and growing louder with each step. She emerged between the gravestones, flanked by King Darren, Polaris, Lusi, and the ever-distressed gardener. Her lavender skirts billowed as she lifted them high above her ankles, determined to spare the silk from the damp soil. But her matching slippers weren't so fortunate.

"This is not how we desire to spend our breakfast," she whined. "The last thing we need is to trudge through the Royal Cemetery so early in the morning. Especially after yesterday's affairs, one could imagine we are a bit stressed. There had better be something severely wrong with this tree, Wendell. Something life-threatening."

"For all we know, Your Majesty, it may very well be," Wendell replied forebodingly.

They finally stopped in front of what had replaced the Rose Tree, and Wendell gestured toward it. "Here it is."

So ... this was the Rose Tree? Rein's eyes grew wide, and she stared at the unfamiliar bark and altered shape, as if willing it to somehow explain itself. Yet, Their Majesties seemed to accept this as if nothing had changed. Only one other pair of eyes mirrored her alarm. Polaris. He didn't speak, but his stiff posture and the faint narrowing of his eyes told her everything: he saw the dilemma immediately.

"I don't understand," said Darren. "What is the problem exactly?"

The royal family must seldom give the Rose Tree any attention.

"Sire," said Wendell. "Rose trees have pitch black bark and vibrant, green leaves!"

"Well, what happened?"

Polaris approached the tree to examine it closer.

"I'm not sure, Your Majesty. That's why I brought you out here. I swear, just overnight the bark turned into pearl and the leaves became black as night!"

"You mean to tell us the bark is literally pearl?" Queen Ariana asked. Her mood softened with her increased interest. "Not simply the color?"

"Well if you touch it, it feels just like pearl," Wendell explained with an exaggerated shrug. "So ... I just assumed."

Polaris felt the bark, and then pinched a leaf between his fingers. "Did you notice anything peculiar about the tree before it changed like this?"

"Well..." Wendell thought. "It seemed as though yesterday I had to water it again even though I had already watered it the previous day. Generally, rose trees are only to be watered on a monthly basis."

Polaris knelt in the dying grass, and sensed the cracked ground around the base of the trunk. "It appears it might need watering again."

"Oh splendid! So now I must water it every day!"

Polaris pressed his ear against the trunk. "Did you notice it has a heartbeat?"

"What did you say?" Queen Ariana squinted her eyes at the royal advisor.

"But rose trees have no dryads!" Wendell exclaimed.

"Even then, trees don't have heartbeats," Polaris added as he pushed himself back to his feet. He brushed his hands together and made sure not to get any dirt on the large burgundy sleeves of his angarkha.

"So, what does this mean?" asked Darren.

"Is it haunted?" Wendell asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," replied Polaris. "My first guess is that it might be an omen of some sort. Perhaps a warning."

"A haunting sounds more plausible," Ariana commented.

"An omen of what?" Darren asked.

"At this point, I'm not sure," Polaris answered. "I would need time to study it. My first assumption would be the possibility that this may have something to do with Gerardo of Liko. Perhaps he recently passed and this is the tree's response."

"Gerardo of Liko committed suicide before this tree was planted," Ariana reminded.

"Perhaps not. It's possible that the legends are true."

"Myths you mean?"

Polaris narrowed his eyes at the queen. "At any rate, I would need to study the tree and conduct some research to gather the useful details before I could give anyone a solid answer to this occurrence."

"Well figure it out then," King Darren demanded. "I have more important matters to worry about. Come, Ariana. Let's finish breakfast so that I may begin my day."

"Oh, we've lost our appetite," the queen replied as she regathered her skirts. "We'll simply change and take a stroll through the labyrinth."

No more words passed between them as the group quietly made their way back toward the palace. Polaris lingered for a moment, casting a final, analytical glance at the Rose Tree. His eyes moved with quiet calculation, already mapping out how he might study the anomaly further. Rein's gaze shifted to the royal couple. Just before they crossed the threshold, she caught Queen Ariana pulling aside her Lady in Waiting. The queen leaned in, murmured something low into Lusi's cat-like ear, who nodded in response. The exchange was brief and furtive, and that was enough to set Rein on edge.

Narrowing her eyes, Rein edged closer, watching the two conspirators vanish into the palace. With no way to follow from within, she chose the perimeter, weaving through the gardens and clinging close to the palace wall. Through the scatter of windows, she managed to catch fleeting glimpses: a flash of lavender skirts, the soft glint of silver jewelry. Queen Ariana was in a rush, gliding up the orange-carpeted stairs like a woman with a secret burning in her chest. Lusi trailed behind in her gray robes, breathless and struggling to keep pace. When Rein finally lost sight of them, she took a calculated risk and flew toward balcony of the royal bedchamber. She hovered just outside the entrance, hidden in the shadows, and peered inside.

The chamber, like much of the palace, was draped in excess. Every wall was crowded with mismatched mirrors, their frames clashing in style and age. A series of koi ponds reflected dappled light onto the red brick floor, and Rein instinctively backed away from them. After her harrowing dive into the koi pond in the White Castle beneath Arcor, she wanted nothing to do with these ones.

Her eyes shifted to the white fur rug nestled between a cold fireplace and a set of magenta velvet chairs. Across from the bed draped with sheer pink curtains stood the centerpiece of the room: a gleaming silver vanity with the largest mirror of them all looming atop it. The vivid palette of the kingdom still scraped at her senses, but at least the room was saturated with a delicate floral fragrance, the kind she could breathe in for hours.

A moment later, the double doors flung open. Queen Ariana stormed in, skirts swirling around her legs. Lusi followed close behind, her footsteps hurried and uncertain. Rein pressed herself closer to the balcony wall, her ears sharp, her wings stilled. Whatever they were about to discuss ... it wasn't meant for anyone else to hear.

"We found the message to Klaris just before we went down to breakfast," Ariana said after the chamber doors closed behind Lusi.

The queen swept across the room without hesitation, heading straight for her writing desk. She sank into the silver-backed chair with practiced elegance, the lavender folds of her gown cascading around the legs like water finding its shape. Even as she reached for parchment and ink, her voice carried on, issuing quiet instructions to Lusi while her pen began to glide across the page.

"We were very fortunate to get ahold of it before it went to Saíd. Now, you are to take this directly to Sir Rallian. No response is necessary."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Lusi replied.

Rein ached to see the words taking shape beneath the queen's quill. Whatever message Ariana was crafting, it couldn't be anything good. Suspicion curled in her chest as her eyes followed each deliberate stroke, then the swift sealing of the envelope. Ariana tucked the letter inside with another, which Rein could only assume was Darren's message to Klaris. The weight of secrets hung heavy in the air, just out of her reach.

"Do you suppose there could be something serious happening to the Rose Tree, Your Majesty?" Lusi's cat ears lowered in worry as she nervously played with her dark brown hair. "Like an omen? After all, King Jorge did ask God to bless the tree. Perhaps God did more than bless it?"

"An act of God doesn't seem likely, but we were considering the possibility of an omen." Ariana stood and held the envelope close to her chest. "But we can't let anyone know of our suspicions. We'll continue as we are, and if something serious should actually occur, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." The queen held the letter out to Lusi. "Run along now."

Lusi offered a graceful curtsy, the dark green and gold of her sari catching the light as she turned and slipped out of the chamber, the sealed envelope clutched in hand.

Left alone, Queen Ariana moved slowly toward the nearest wall of mirrors. Her hands rose to her temples, fingers pressing against her scalp as if trying to massage away an invisible weight. She stood still for a moment, then leaned in, studying her reflection with a piercing gaze, as though searching for answers in the face staring back at her.

"Don't worry, Mother," she said. "We will be stopped by nothing."

Rein blinked, baffled by the sight of the queen speaking to her reflection as though it were her mother, but she deemed it the least of her worries. With a quiet sigh, she fluttered up onto the balcony's awning, rubbing her face in frustration as she paced across its narrow span, her thoughts as restless as her wings.

"So that was the letter that King Darren wrote to King Klaris about the first letter demanding the kingdom for Nadia's return," Rein explained to herself aloud. "Somehow, Ariana got ahold of it before it was sent to Klaris, and now she wrote another letter to the count putting the message that Darren wrote into the same envelope. God, I wish I could learn what's being written in these letters before they're sent to anybody! Clearly both Ariana and Rallian are responsible for this, but which one is initiating it? Who would want to start a war? I wonder if I could get ahold of those letters..."