Young Writers Society

She was proverbially called ‘the Night Huntress,” whose myriad of legends swarmed in the winds of the kingdom and its cities just as much as the air itself. A marauder of souls, a Keeper of the moon, the rider of the Raven Stallion, whose wild coat shone like an onyx jewel and whose eyes contained no life. The Huntress herself knew not of any of these legends, for her only recalls of what townsfolk called her ‘daring’ adventures were what she called a good night’s pay. A little quarrel, a bite mark or two, and within a few moments, she had a satchel of shimmering Moonshards slung across her back that was a handsome reward for a simple job.

Though many did not know, her days were filled with gaudy tea parties and poofy pink dresses. She was an exemplary model of any young lady in her time, for she had practiced using a more lavish type of speech than any of the other young women in her classes, and had taken the crown upon her head with an uncanny sort of grace, that was an unknown type of elegance that any of the other girls with titles had seen. Her speech was ruthless and sharp as the dainty headpiece had been laid upon her hair. She had remembered it as perfectly as if it were but a day ago;

“Your Grace,” she had murmured. “I am not yet fully trained in my classes, nor have I any purpose in this kingdom; I cannot take this crown.”

An old man with a scraggly white beard peered down keenly at the girl as she knelt before the Throne. His nose twitched before he began to speak.

“You are one of the only two people in this entire kingdom with the King’s own blood streaming through your veins; if the Prince shall ever succumb to this world’s cruel laws, you shall be the one to take his seat in the Dayhall.”

“That would be the High Nobleman’s position, Your Grace.” She cast a quick glance at a young man sitting on a pillow by the throne. His mouth twitched with the hint of a smile, just before the Huntress glared at him. He sharply turned his head away and drooped it in defeat.

“But who are you to disobey the King’s command?” the old man asked. “He has given me strict directions that today will be the day you become a true member of the Throne.”

“The King just wants this crown to act as a chain around my neck,” the Huntress retorted. “He’s going to keep me here all my life. And if he can’t do that, he’ll send me off to battle to bleed to death.”

A group of young ladies from her class gasped at her cruel tone. The huntress rolled her eyes; they had not yet felt the wrath that their titles would give them.

“I would rather have a chain around my neck than die in battle.”

“Then you are a fool.”

The old man waited silently, with a stern look, for the Huntress to bow her head in defeat.

“Fine then,” The Huntress growled. “But I will have my own terms with this crown.” The crowd went silent. Slowly, the Huntress stood up, raising her chin defiantly at the old man. Behind him sat the King, frail and old, with a type of fury she had never seen before in his eyes. She smiled before continuing.

“You will make me the second heir after Prince Lucien. The High Nobleman has no need to sit on his little high horse except so that the King can spite me. If I become the heir before him, then I will have free terrain over this palace at night, control the people of my choice, and take the Nobleman’s seat as my own. And if I don’t get those terms, then I’ll have no choice but to wrest the crown from the Supreme Starstalker and shatter it.”

The King eyed her. He sat up on his Throne and looked at the High Nobleman, who seemed to be so extremely terrified of the Huntress’ terms that he would melt away like a puddle. Finally, the King let out a breath.

“You may have all your terms. But, Soleil will stay in this seat. You will take his place as heir.”

“Then let this coronation be so.” The Huntress bent down on her knee and gripped the folds of her dress tightly as the crown settled on her hair. She let out a breath, her eyes beginning to droop as she stood and presented herself to the Dayhall. The faces of all the Noblemen and their family were in shock, the Starstalkers covering their mouths in horror. All except one.

Lucien smiled and nodded his head as she met his eyes.

Pounding, messy steps sounded through the quiet of an overlook. The Huntress had been silently watching fireflies of all different shades of blue, purple, and yellow land on the leaves of the trees below her and meticulously create a beat with the pattern of their lights; it was as if the fireflies were not their own, but only a piece of a grander entity. The Huntress hummed softly to their beat as more and more flickering lights showed. As she heard the footsteps snapping twigs and disrupting the languor of the night, she stood up, as did her horse, and mounted him. He let out a soft nicker as she patted him with one hand, pulling her dagger out of the other. Servants and Benders didn’t come out this late at night, and not one of the titled people had an ounce worth of bravery to explore during the cool nighttime.

The Huntress tightened the girth of her saddle and led the stallion behind the tallest brick wall of the outlook. She didn’t know who the footsteps were of, but if she could escape quickly, she would.

“Lainie,” a voice whispered. The princess leaned forward, listening for any traits of the person’s voice. They didn’t speak again. She quickly pulled out her dagger.

“Lainie,” the voice said more profoundly. It was a deep, smooth, voice, but young.

The princess knew who it was. Quietly, she stood up, putting her dagger back in its sheath on the saddle. Emerging from the bush, she brushed off a couple of leaves before rushing to the person and grabbing them by the neck for a hug.

“Lucien!” she murmured. She brushed his hair out of his ice-like eyes and smiled. “You’ve been gone for a week. You can’t just do that without telling me. I could’ve told you where to hide from the First Line.”

“You can’t exactly blame me,” Lucien smiled. “You’ve been in who-knows-where during the night. What have you been doing anyways?”

“I’ll show you.” Lainie grabbed his arm and hopped onto her horse, nodding for him to get on as well. He slowly mounted the stallion, gripping tightly onto its hindquarters as soon as he got on. Lainie shooed his hand away before clicking her tongue and beginning down the steep trail at a trot.

“It’s as if you’ve never ridden before,” Lainie laughed. Lucien gripped her shoulders tightly as they rode through the quiet forest, startling small herds of deer and causing owls to fly deep into the thorny underbrush. Lainie looked around before gently tugging on the reins and bringing her horse to a slow. They had arrived in a hollow filled with soft, golden light that reflected off the amber and yellow leaves of the trees. The grass was strangely soft, and Lainie could hear the faint barks of a vixen entering her den. Lainie jumped off of her horse and made her way to an old oak tree with a small hollow in it. Lucien jumped off as well.

“Where did you find this place?” Lucien whispered. He ran his hand along the smooth bark that covered the gold-leafed trees.

“An old Willian garden, I think,” Lainie muttered. “That is, before the borders shifted.”

“Before Father took his place on the throne.” He walked over and tied the horse’s reins to a tree before peering at Lainie . She was rummaging through the tree hollow, pulling out wide leaves and twigs and carelessly dropping them onto the ground. “What’s in there, anyways?”

“You’ll see.” Lainie smiled and presented a large, satin sack to Lucien.

He’s going to love it. Will he love it? He has to love it.

“A…Bag.”

“Well, you have to open it.” Lainie dropped the sack in his hands and pushed it to his chest. Slowly, he sat down and untied the drawstring.

“Oh, hurry up,” Lainie muttered. She grabbed the bag and dumped it onto the ground. The bag had contained a pile of Moonshards, small diamonds, glistening in the golden light from the leaves and the moon.

Lainie stared at Lucien’s perplexed face as he felt the small shards between his fingers. She had worked for months to collect such a large bounty from the outskirts of the palace, and it only seemed logical to her that Lucien would show her an overabundance of gratitude. She had been whispering to him during their ‘story time’ about all of the adventures she had taken part in to earn such a pay, and all of the flabbergasted civilians able to witness it. There were a couple of nights she had remembered distinctly, but none compared to this.

“It’s…It’s mesmerizing,” Lucien whispered. “But how did you get all of this? Where are you going to spend it?”

“I’ve told you my stories, Lucien.”

“But you only ever told me the stories of your scars, not the whole.” Lucien furrowed his brows and gave her a stern glare.

She had known perfectly well that she only told him of her near-fatal accidents because if she told him every detail about the story, he would’ve snatched her away and told her it wasn’t safe to be with commoners. Lainie thought that common people were superior in every way to those of the Throne, however; they had to earn their pay and wash their own clothes and cook their own food, all things Lainie had never learned before them. Of course, almost all of them were terrified when she rode up like a beacon of death on Raven. Still, she enjoyed spying on them from the shadows of the underbrush and learning how truly sincere people live.

“Fine. I found a well-paying job as a guide.”

“Guide? You haven’t even been past the Highlands! You don’t know where the biggest chasm cities are!”

“Well, in case you didn’t notice, I also found out that your personal library is stocked full of all sorts of old war maps. Of course, since you haven’t been in that library for a year, you wouldn’t know a thing about all of the information just waiting to be discovered in it.” Lainie glared at him before collecting the shards and putting them back in the sack. He had been gone for so long that he didn’t even know what was in his own library. It was quite sad, really. She hoped that she would also find some good books in there that wouldn’t be laid waste by her brother’s absence.

“Just…Be careful.”

“I’d be more careful if I actually had someone at the palace who cared about me.” She tied the sack up and stuffed it back into the cavity of the tree. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I just wanted you to take the money.”

“Why? You were the one who earned it.”

Lainie sighed and untied Raven from a tree. “Because you’re gone all the time, Lucien. I thought that if you weren’t going to pay any attention to anything in the palace, I could at least get you some money to help get you somewhere.”

That way, you’d feel guilty about my gift and force yourself to stay here.

“It just doesn’t make sense. There has to be something you want with that money.”

“There is. It’s just not that important.”

Something rustled from the underbrush. Lainie grabbed Lucien’s arm and carefully navigated her way through the thorny bushes until she found a safe place to perch in the shadows. If the thing that made that sound was what she thought it was, she would be in more trouble than a horseman stuck with a filly. She carefully studied each tree of the hollow, trying to differentiate any other life from the plants. She could feel Lucien’s hot breath on the nape of her neck as he gripped her arm tight and made his way in front of her.

“Move, you big lump!” she hissed quietly, but he did not budge. He just gripped her arm tighter before pushing her farther into the thorns. She clenched her teeth at the feeling of the thorns cutting her face, cold and stinging.

Suddenly, a person appeared from the brush. But he was not like any Lustreian she had ever seen. A Willian.

He was quite handsome for a Willian person; he had deep green eyes, and a warmish-gray skin compared to the cool, stone-like tones of his kind. And, unlike most Willians on the Eastern Bend, he had light golden hair instead of white. He looked carefully around the hollow, adjusting his tunic made of maple leaves, before sitting down and forming his hands around his mouth. He began to call out a name in his breathy, mellow voice.

“Night Huntress,” he called in his soft, Willian accent. “Night Huntress.” He looked around once more before standing up and sighing. “I knew this was fake. Shouldn’t have ever believed that silly girl I saw in the woods. Just a scam; a big ole’ scam.”

Lainie’s neck stiffened as he took a breath and began to call again. Her eyes slid over and met Lucien’s, who was gazing perplexedly at her. She couldn’t keep him from knowing the truth, but maybe she could keep him from knowing the whole of it. All she knew was that she didn’t want to lose another customer.

“Wait here,” she whispered into her brother’s ear. His arms coiled back before he reached out to grab her as she crawled away to escape the greenery.

“You can’t just leave with a strange person calling out here,” he growled. “What if he kills you?”

“A Willian?” Lainie softly snorted. “I highly doubt it.” She shook off his arm and crawled out of the thorn bushes, covering her already cut cheeks with her arm to protect her from any poking. She slowly stood up and made her way to Raven in the dark, who was laying patiently outside the bushes. She unbuttoned the satchel on his saddle and pulled out a bow and a few arrows. The princess held an arrow to the bow and slowly stepped over a bush, back into the hollow.

Lainie was right behind the Willian. She could take in more details about him, the way he smelled like dewy moss and how he had an earring of a deer dangling from the tip of his long, pointed ear; he must have been a deer herder before he made his way to Lustreia. She held her breath so he wouldn’t feel it on his neck.

Suddenly, he turned around and put a knife on her neck. He smirked.

“You realize we could both end things right now for each other,” she growled. The Willian just smiled and put a slight bit more pressure on the blade.

“Of course I know that. But I’ve heard your stories; marauder of souls, killer of the chimeras. At least ten of my kind come to you in the night in hopes of making it into your pathetic little country, only for you to let them be hung by officers as if you didn’t care what kind of promises you broke. I don’t want that to happen to my family, nor do I want my family to come to track me down and find you. Do I make myself clear?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Lainie hissed. “What do you want from me?”

“Calliey Thatcher,” he said. “She came to you about a week ago, in hopes of working her way up to a noblewoman. Stories say she died just three days later. It was all because you let her into the palace, and they didn’t trust her. So, I’m here to kill you.”

“Brutally honest about the whole ‘killing’ thing. How about we talk things over a little bit of food?”

“I’m not falling for that.”

“Oh, but you did,” Lainie smirked as Lucien grabbed the Willian around his chest and dragged him away towards the horse. The Willian thrashed around wildly, baring his fanged teeth and glaring coldly at his captor. Lucien tied his wrists with a leather strap and helped him onto the horse. The Willian huffed and turned away, blushing blue.

“I will find Calliey.”

“As I said, we’ll talk about it.” Lainie put her foot in the saddle’s stirrup and trusted herself into the saddle. She grabbed the reins and started Raven at a trot, holding out her hand to feel the velvety leaves of the Hummingbushes. The air was cold and crisp, and though the fireflies had retired for the night, the forest was still abuzz with life and quiet chaos. She spotted a bear plucking bilberries off a bush and a hummingbird zipping away toward what she suspected was a nest.

Lainie glanced behind her. The Willian was looking wistfully into the quiet woods, his lips softly parting as he took in a deep breath.

“Not so pathetic now, is it?” Lainie asked. The Willian looked sharply up with his brows furrowed.

“It isn’t ideal. But neither are you.” The Willian jumped off of the horse and kicked up his foot before slamming it down, snapping the leather around his wrists. Raven startlingly kicked his back feet with a loud, roaring whinny, bucking off Lainie and riding into the night. The Willian quickly jumped onto his feet, grabbed the reins of the horse before he got far, and swung his foot into thew stirrup. He waved his hand nonchalantly as he rode off.

Lainie groaned as she got to her feet. She didn’t remember how she fell off the horse, but she remembered that the Willianwas riding on it. She pulled out another arrow and began to run fast as she could, aiming to shoot at the young man’s feet.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” he called as he pulled the knife out of his pocket once again. Lainie laughed wheezily, nearly out of breath.

“You wouldn’t try.”

The Willian just smiled and hung his arm low, the blade so close to Lainie that she had to slow down or else she would be cut. She jumped onto a low hanging tree branch and began to climb, tree to tree, until she was finally parallel to the saddle. She jumped on and grabbed around the Willian’s chest, forcing him to halt Raven.

“I’m just going to run off again.”

“To the palace? Where I was taking you?” Lainie shook her head. “You aren’t very bright.”

The Willian jabbed his elbow into Lainie’s stomach. The horse picked up speed again, jumping over a rock and heading upwards towards the castle. Lainie, flabbergasted at what had happened, slowly reposed in the dark of Blackwood trees before heading to the palace. She jumped over rose bushes, crept over arching stones, until she crouched at the frigid river seperating the forest from the opulent gardens of the palace.

She could see Raven’s obscure silhouette in almost no contrast to the black of the night. The Willian descened from the saddle, brushed off his legs, and headed towards the grand doors of the palace. The Dayhall would have retired for the night, but the Nightcourt would still be alive and well, most likely going over executions and the other dark things they went over. She would have to stop him before he figured out where it was.

Lainie made her way to the wide palladium bridge, with swirling railing and small emeralds engraved where hands would rest. The bridge would emerge into the Cogon paddock, where horse would graze on soft, feathery grass and were free from any poisonous weeds. Lainie felt the soft tips of each plant as she made her way through the trail. She met the eyes of a young white mare with a chestnut snip, who was making her way to the second paddock. She continued until she made her way to the golden doors.

“Stop right there!”a deep, resonant voice bellowed. Lainie stopped in her tracks as a silhouette emerged from another garden, beside the stables. A man, in shining, pure white armour ran up to her, almost out of breath. He removed his helmet from his head to reveal his curly, ginger locks, and a astonishingly pale face. Then again, Lainie couldn’t say anything; she might have even been paler than him.

“Monsieur Olivier,” Lainie announced, giving him a curt nod. “Why are you out at such an hour? And with that very striking outfit? It’s as if you’re trying to be caught.”

“Acute as always, Princess.” His voice was light and cheerful, but she heard a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I’ve been announced guard of the Nightcourt, along with a few of my peers.”

“Since when were there guards for the Nightcourt?”

“Since your broth-Prince Lucien- eluded the indoor guards yet again tonight.” He cleared his throat and glanced at the door before returning his gaze to her. “Speaking of which, we just found some illegal elvish man trying to waltz right past us into the palace, only half an hour after the Prince’s presumed escape time. You and the Prince wouldn’t have anything to do with such a matter, correct?”

“I haven’t an idea what you’re talking about. I was just lounging about on my terrace when all of this turmoil arose. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Nightcourt to be getting to.” She bumped past his shoulder and pushed the doors open.

“Be careful!” Olivier called. Lainie snorted as she made her way through the empty Dayhall.

“In my own home? I’ll be fine.”

Lainie passed the locked doors of the Dayhall, dark and mahogany, as she silently crept through the main hallway. Her leather shoes were so quiet and her breathing so soft that the only thing she could hear was her own heartbeat. Finally, as her heart beat louder and louder, she broke into a run, escaping to the hall leading to the Nightcourt in hopes of ridding herself of the horrible, rhythmic sound.

The floors of the Nightcourt’s hall had rose petals sprinkled here and there. A small, crumpled piece of paper lay right at Lainie’s feet, a little heart drawn between the folds. She opened the paper.

“To the most noble of the Throne, and the most ravishing of all Lustreia,” Lainie read the words out loud. She growled, throwing the piece of paper onto the ground and stomping it with her foot. She didn’t believe she was to be contained by the cage of love most fancy ladies put themselves in, but rather lead the life of a noble general, winning wars and saving her people. How silly she thought of someone to truly believe they could steal her away like some sort of bag that they would link arms with at galas and tea parties. If anyone in the Palace had an ounce of respect for her, they would leave her as she liked; alone.

Lainie continued through the hallway, watching as the blue torches flickered and turned all shades of turquoise or indigo. Each torch seemed to have it’s own shade of blue, and it’s own beat that it danced to; it was almost as if the flames were alive.

Princess, a voice called. Lainie whipped her head around. There wasn’t a single soul; not even the Second Line knight had followed her in. She put on her cloak and kept walking.

Princess Lainie, a voice called again; this voice was smooth, and quiet, but all the more unnerving. It called her in, made her lose her thinking; her heart no longer beat. Her feet led her closer, closer still, to a blue flame, whipping wildly back and forth. She could feel heat tingling on her face.

How eerie do you look, in that little black cloak, the flame whispered, moving back and forth. As if you could’ve done something wrong. I know someone who did something wrong.

“Who?” Lainie asked, but the words were not her own. The fire coiled around her, only inches away from her hair and her face.

You are his heir, the fire growled. If he doesn’t pay the price, you will.

“Price,” Lainie repeated. “What price?”

The fire launched itself at the Princess.

Her hair sinched, falling out unevenly as blistering boils appeared from her burns. Her clothes scorched, she stumbled back in fear, unbeknownst to the trance she had been in. The other torches joined in as she fell to the ground, hissing and coiling as if they were snakes. They wrapped around her, launching her into the air, before letting her fall ten feet to the ground.

But she was caught.

“Princess!” It was Oliever, an astonished look on his face as his widened like those of a deer. He ran swiftly to the other end of the hallway, breathing heavily as Lainie gathered herself on his back.

“You weren’t supposed to follow me!” Lainie wheezed, coffing from the smell of her burnt hair. Though still long, one side was black instead of dark brown, and slightly shorter than the other.

“You were acting quite suspicous, your Highness,” Olivier huffed, swerving into the next hallway before he hit a door. “I was simply investigating. Plus, I’d think you’d be more grateful for me saving you back there.”

“I’d be thankful if you put me down!” Lainie shrilled, waving her fist int the air. “I am not some petite little snob-girl that waits for somebody to save her! Put me down!”

The heat of the fire tickled Lainie’s neck as it quickly followed them through the hallway, scorching each and every brick from floor to ceiling. Two smaller flames reached close, slinking towards Lainie’s arms. She gripped Olivier’s neck tightly as he swerved again.

“Put me down! You’ll go faster!”

“But I don’t have time to stop!”

“Fine, then.” Lainie let go of the knight and kicked off of him, spinning in the air. She was half afraid she would land right in the middle of the flames, burning to death like a sapling in the forest fire. But soon, inches before she landed on the ground, the fire receded back to it’s torches.

Lainie landed on her feet and knuckles, wincing as her fingers bled from a harsh meet with the ground. She laughed with a wheeze; she was alive.

As the princess got up, she saw Olivier on his back, eyes closed and peaceful. She couldn’t tell if he was alive. Lainie ran to his side and skidded on her knees as she landed on the ground. She pressed her hand to his cheek.

“Sir Olivier!” she whispered. “Oh, don’t mess with me now; wake up! Wake up! Sir Olivier!”

But he remained silent. Lainie’s hand slowly slipped away, coming to rest on her lap.

“You silly boy,” she growled. “Now we’ll have to train a whole new knight. We don’t even have a use for your things anymore; they’ll just be auctioned off to some commoners who don’t even deserve it.” She leaned back on her hands and stared at the pale, lifeless body. How silly he was, to risk her life for her; someone who didn’t even care about him, or the fact that she was a princess. She would have sold him out in an instant if it cost her something; so why did he do it?

The princess heard a cough.

“Olivier! Olivier!” She shook his hand as he lifted his hand and wheezed ash. His eyes blinked open before smiling.

“You…You made it.”

“Enough about me!” Lainie pushed his shoulder and stood up. “I almost thought I would have to help the General interview for a new knight. Do you know how horrible that is? It’s just a bunch of puny commonfolk that think they ‘have’ something because they can ride a horse and hold a sword. Plus, I would’ve had to attend some sappy funeral.”

“And you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“Never!”

Olivier just laughed as he slowly made his way to his feet. He stumbled to the wall and leaned against it, looking forward to the other end of the hallway. His eyes were widened and his dry lips parted. Lainie glanced forward, confused as to what he was looking at; then her jaw dropped.

Everything had happened in front of the whole Nightcourt.

Soleil sat on a silver throne shaped like the crescent moon, the contours of the throne outlined with shimmering diamonds. He sat with one leg over the other, his head resting on his clasped hands. His face was contorted hideously, with his eyebrows furrowed and casting a shadow so dark that his eyes looked black. His lips were grimacing and showing his yellow teeth, but for the most part, his skin remained smooth.

Lainie stood up and awkwardly shuffled into the Nightcourt, where the retired Starstalkers in faded blue robes and Benders with gray skin stood watching her in astonishment. Lainie’s eyes drifted to two guards with a captive held between their arms; a Willian, with gold-tinted hair and deep green eyes. He growled at her before one of the guards put a hand on his throat.

Olivier rushed in behind her, wheezing, before making eye contact with Soleil.

“Your Grace,” Olivier murmured in a wavering voice. He bowed his head and bent on one knee. “What an honor it is to be in your-”

“Enough,” Soleil growled, putting his hand in the air. “We had an unexpected refugee run into the palace and demand that we take the Night Huntress’ head. What would you have to know about that, Princess?”

“Not a thing. From what I’ve heard, she’s a very kind person that saves the lives of refugees.”

“Then why does this Willian say you killed his sister?”

“He’s crazy! How long do you think he stayed up at night to get here? He’s sleep deprived, is what it is.” She cast a quick glance at the Willian as he bared his teeth at her. She gulped, returning her eyes to Soleil.

“High Nobleman of Lustreia,” Lainie said, stepping forward before the throne. “I would never try to kill anyone, nor make contact with an untrustworthy refugee, if I could help it. What makes you think I would kill one of them?”

“You did run in here with a knight as if he was your equal; who knows what else you’ll do.”

“That’s unfair. We were running from this…This thing! You can’t blame me for that.”

Soleil sat up, his eyes widened and his pupils small as a sunseed. “What thing?” he asked.

“I don’t know; it was just a thing!” Lainie tried and failed to form her hands into some sort of shape to describe it. “It was the torches. They…They formed into this mega-flame. They tried to kill me. We should put them out.”

Soleil’s eyes buldged so badly Lainie thought they would pop out. Finally, he shook his hair, revealing how greasy his golden hair was, before opening his eyes again and leaning onto the crescent of the Moon throne.

“As you’ve claimed to have nothing to do with the Willian, I’ll let him live. What would you like to happen to him, Lainie?”

‘Let him come with me,” she announced. “He can serve his time as a slave of mine.”

“It will be so.” Soleil snapped his fingers and the guards threw the Willian to the ground. He got to his feet and rushed over to Lainie, breathing heavily as he stood beside her.

“When we get to wherever you’re taking me I’ll-”

“Oh, shut it.” Lainie lifted her chin up and stared at Soleil. “Is that all, Your Grace? Honestly, how silly of you to think I killed someone. And those rose petals? Very cliche.”

“I won’t tolerate you calling me ‘silly’. Say it again and see what happens.”

“You’re silly.”

Soleil clenched his teeth tightly as rage filled his eyes. He let out a short, sharp breath before waving his hand wildly in the air. “Just go.”

“I’ll escort you,” Olivier spoke up. He cast Lainie a bittersweet smile before bowing to the High Nobleman.

Lainie walked ahead of the other two, quickly making her way down a dark hallway without any torches. She refused to glance back.

“I can’t believe you just lied. What would have happened if you revealed that you were the Night Huntress? Would you have gotten the punishment you deserve?”

“Quiet, Willian man; you can’t address Her Majesty without first saying her title.”

“I’ll talk to her in any way I please!”

“Princess,” Olivier whispered, speeding up to walk beside her. “Is this really what you want to do? Why not just have him executed?”

“I’m not going to just do that to him,” she growled. “His sister is already dead. How come you’d think I’d be so cruel?”

“I heard everything you said when I was laying on the ground.”

“What did you hear?” Lainie refused to admit she was alarmed, but she positively hated embarrassing herself in front of anyone with mild importance, even if they were lesser than her.

“Oh, you know; ‘You silly boy!’ ‘They’ll be auctioned off to some commoners who don’t even deserve it.’” His voice was shrill as he imitated the princess’ high-pitched voice.

“I don’t believe I gave you permission to imitate me.”

“I didn’t think I needed it.”

Lainie rolled her eyes as Olivier rushed to opened her door. She walked in daintily, holding up her black overdress. He slammed the door shut before the Willian could get in. He opened it himself and glared at Olivier before quietly closing it.

Lainie collapsed on her frilly pink bed covers and sighed. She looked around the very pink room, with roses on the walls and a basket filled with tulips on her gold-accented desk. The room was covered with maps on the floor she had been studying; the ones she had mainly been studying were the ones that led to the Unknowns, past Ice Claws. That area of sea was supposed to be incredibly dangerous, but she knew it was where Lucien longed most to explore. She had wanted some kind of proof to know that he wouldn’t surely die from the ravenous waves of the northern seas. She had found none.

“Olivier, go find one of the maids and tell her to send up some spice bread and tea.”

“Your Highness, I can’t leave you alone with this man.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him even say a word about fighting.”

“But-”

“I command you to leave, Sir Olivier.” Lainie gave him a stern nod as he slowly walked over to the door and left. SHe set her gaze on the Willian, pointing to two cushiony pink chairs in the corner. He walked over and sat in one, as she did as well.

“What’s your name?”

“I have no need to tell you.”

“Your name.”

“Fallow,” he sighed, looking angrily away. “I demand that you let me find my sister’s body.”

“I wasn’t the one who killed you, Fallow,” Lainie desperately whispered. “I did get her into the palace and I did see her make good friends with a very kind noblewoman. But I didn’t see what happened to her before she died.”

“Then where does that leave me!?” Fallow roared. “I came here for closer and revenge. Not a soppy little girl like you pretending that you’re better than me.”

“I’m not soppy, and I never pretended I was better than you; that’s just your ego. Also, never call me little girl.”

“But that’s what you are.”

“Maybe I should have had you executed, if I had known you wouldn’t be the slightest bit more reasonable.” Lainieslammed her fist on the armrest of the chair before leaning back and sighing exasperatedly, throwing her head in the air.

“I just want to see her face,” Fallow growled. “It’s as if even that one simple hope has been taken away from me. What reason did I have, coming all this way, if I could never see her again? This is a foolish country. A foolish, foolish country.”

“I’m sorry, Fallow,” Lainie murmured. “But there’s nothing I can do for you now. All I can say is that hopefully, she at least got a taste of her dream.”

“But that isn’t enough!” he roared. “You can help me! You just don’t want to.”

“Sneaking out is already a pain in this place; you can’t expect me to just put hunting down a body on top of that.”

Lainie sighed and closed her eyes. She wished Lucien were there right now, able to squeeze her shoulders and tell her he would handle it. But he wasn’t; he was off in the forest, yet again, speaking to those stars in the sky as if they were better than his own sister. She had given him everything she had, to the point of money, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing she could do would get him to stay, to even think about staying. She was close to disowning him, demanding she was first in line for the Throne before even him,, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it; she would give him one more day.

“Fine.” Lainie looked up and smiled at Fallow. Working with him would make her brother furious; it was the perfect plan.

“Fine to what?”

“I’ll help you. But it will come with a cost.”

“What cost?”

“You must find my brother, the one who helped me take you captive, and you must take his map away from him; that way, he’ll become lost, and have no choice but to be imprisoned here in the palace.”

“You don’t seem all noble and royal-like anymore. Making you’re brother lost? I almost admire you.”

“Well, there’s no reason to act like a royal when nobody treats you like one.”

The door slammed open. Lainie thought it would be the maid with her spice bread and tea, but it was Solieil, angry as a lion, heaving his shoulders up and down as he stared coldly at her.

“Oh, well now you’re just being dramatic,” Lainie snorted with an eye roll. “What am I in trouble for this time? Did my dress today not have enough bows on it?”

But Soleil just walked towards her, silently, until he was so close she could smell the fish on his breath. He grabbed her by the throat, his grip so tight that she couldn’t breathe; her eyes began to water as the air was slowly forced out of her lungs.

“You know.”

“Know what?” Lainie wheezed, feebly laying her hand on Soleil’s. He brushed it away before staring into her eyes again.

“You know what. The Royal Flammes. They spoke to you.”

Lainie struggled to nod.

“They are trying to escape, or worse, kill me.” Soleil shuddered as he uttered the words. “But I can’t let that happen. I won’t.”

“Then…Then put…Them out.”

“Put them out?” Soleil laughed maniacally. “The King would have my head if I did so. But I want to keep my seat.”” He pulled out a blade from his pocket. “I just can’t do that if you know.” He put the blade on her neck, tensing his arm as he prepared to slash through it.

“Princess!” a voice called. Lainie struggled to look at who it was; her eyes were rolled to the back of her head. She tried once again to put her hands on Soleil’s, but she couldn’t. She was so close to falling asleep…

SLAM!Lainie fell to the ground. All she could hear was her heartbeat. Her repetitive, never-ending heartbeat. Oh, how she wished it would quiet. How she wished there was silence. How she longed that someone would pick her up and lay her on her soft, commodious bed. How she hoped that her brother would find an ounce of dignity within himself and save her.

“Princess…”

She refused to respond.

Oh, how tempting sleep was.