Young Writers Society

The candle burned out on the nightstand, smoke curling from the blackened wick. Siren blinked and rubbed at her eyes. The sun was shining through the window. The shadow of the tree outside stretched across the wall.

Siren stood up and walked over to the door. She rubbed her eyes again, hoping it would somehow make Anton reappear. When he didn’t, she paced back to the bed and flopped down on it, only to jump up again seconds later and resume her pacing.

She heard a soft knock at the door. At first she thought she’d imagined it, but the sound repeated. She rushed over and practically slammed the door in her own face trying to get it open.

“Anton!” She exclaimed, then froze.

The man on the other side of the door was not who she was expecting. He was short, round, brown-haired, and distinctly not Anton. After a moment of panic, Siren recognized him as the innkeeper she had seen the day before.

“Oh,” she said, too exhausted for eloquence. For some reason he looked like he had news she didn’t want to hear. She wasn’t in the mood to hear bad news.

She tried to discreetly close the door in his face, but she didn’t make it very far before he put out his hand to hold it open. “Could I speak to you for a moment, Miss?”

She reluctantly pulled the door back open a crack. “Alright, what is it?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

How did I know? She sighed. “Very well, let’s hear it.” Tell me that Anton is coming back soon , she added silently.

“Well, you see Miss, it’s a rather delicate matter. Would you like go sit downstairs?” He gestured for her to come out.

“No, I would not like to sit downstairs. I’m not leaving this room. Now what is it?”

The innkeeper shifted on his feet. “Well, you see — Are you quite sure you wouldn’t like to sit downstairs?”

Siren slumped against the door. She knew she should act a bit tougher in front of this stranger, but she was too tired. “Alright, we’ll go sit downstairs.”

As much as she might hate to hear whatever news this man might have, she needed to know. Besides, Neil and Anton were knights. They could handle even a death mage.

“Of course, Miss.” The man turned and tottered down the narrow hall towards the staircase. Siren pulled her shoulders back, took a deep breath, and followed.

Stumbling to the base of the stairs, she sat as gracefully as she could in one of the chairs by the empty fireplace. This early in the morning, the tavern was empty. Although they hadn’t been particularly cheerful yesterday, the room somehow felt more barren without any customers. It was vaguely creepy, even with the sunlight coming in through the windows.

The innkeeper brought cider and soup, neither of which Siren touched, and plopped himself in the chair opposite her.

The two of them sat for a moment. Siren stared at the innkeeper, and the innkeeper stared at the table.

“Well? You wanted to speak to me?” she finally began.

The man shifted in his seat. “Yes, of course Miss. You see…” he trailed off.

Siren forced down a royal huff. “What’s your name?”

“My name?” The man looked up, surprised.

“Yes, that’s what I asked, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, certainly.” He straightened a little. “I am Feren Frostwood. And you are?”

Siren struggled to remember the alias Neil would have told this innkeeper. She couldn’t just tell him she was royalty. “I’m Kuren Honeypearl.”

She had always thought Neil was just being paranoid, but now the idea of a false name made her feel much safer somehow. She’d have to remember it.

“Now, could you please tell me what’s going on?” She tried to ask as gently as she could, but it was struggle.

Frostwood slumped in his seat. “Of course, Lady Honeypearl. I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

He shifted in his seat a bit more, then straightened. “The men you came here with were your guard, yes?”

“Yes, of course.” She forced down a jump of panic. They had just gone on a mage-hunt, after all. Of course there would be news about them. It wasn’t as though they were dead.

“Well…” Frostwood hesitated before plunging ahead. “They’re dead.”

Siren gaped. “I’m sorry?” She struggled to keep the indignation out of her voice. Who does this man think he is? Of course they’re not dead!

Frostwood shifted uncomfortably, but once he’d started talking he couldn’t seem to stop. “A few of the village men saw them go off chasing the mage, Miss. When they didn’t come back, a few of them went to investigate. They found the bodies. I’m sorry.”

“Where’s your proof?” she demanded.

“My proof?”

“Of course! You can’t simply go making a claim like that without any evidence!”

“But I just said –”

“Said what exactly?” Siren leaned forward in her seat, staring the man down. He shied away and didn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t know what to tell you. They found the bodies.”

“And where exactly are these bodies? They’re not my men, I can tell you that.” There was simply no way that Neil could be dead. He’d been chosen as the captain of her guard for a reason. He could stand up to a mere death mage.

“Well, it’s not as though they were going to drag them back, Miss. The death mage could have been anywhere.”

“And if you didn’t see the bodies, then how do you know they’re my men’s? And just where are these people who supposedly stumbled across these corpses?”

“Miss, please… They were wearing royal guard colors...”

The man fell quiet. Siren wanted to scream into the silence, but in the end, she simply lowered herself back into her chair. She couldn’t remember having stood up.

The silence stretched on. “How many did they find?” Siren asked quietly.

“Lady Honeypearl, I know this is difficult –”

“Did any of them have red hair?”

“I don’t –”

“How many?” Siren’s knuckles were white from clutching the arms of her chair.

“Eight, Miss. I believe that’s how many you had with you yesterday evening?”

Siren nodded. She had a guard of eight of her father's men, plus Anton, her personal bodyguard. So one was still missing.

Before she could ask, Frostwood said, “No one mentioned a redhead among them, but Miss, if he’s not back yet…” He paused, then rushed on. “If he hasn’t returned yet, Miss, then I don’t believe he’s going to.”

“What are you saying?”

Frostwood sighed. “I think, Miss, that perhaps it would be best if you moved on.”

Siren stared.

“I understand that you wouldn’t want to leave things as they are now, but it would certainly be safest if you didn’t simply wait around here with a death mage on the loose. Besides, a respectable lady like yourself must have important matters to attend to elsewhere.”

Siren felt her nails digging into the wood of her armrests. What right did this man have to order her around? She needed to take matters into her own hands! She needed to do… something. She realized she didn’t know what she could do, especially with her royal status on the hush, and she realized that the innkeeper had a point. She huffed and glared at him.

Seeming to realize that he’d gotten his meaning across, Frostwood drove the point home. “I’m sure that your guard would want you to look after yourself first, Lady Honeypearl.”

Siren lifted herself onto her feet and straightened her shoulders. Frostwood hurried to stand as well.

“I will return for my men. Only eight of nine are currently accounted for, so please keep an eye out for my missing soldier.” Before she could get a reply, she turned and marched back to her room to pack. It seemed she would be returning to the capital alone.