“I heard one was at the masquerade,” muttered a woman.
“My servant says one of them attacked Princess Liane during the hunt; that’s why they took her to the temple,” said her male companion.
The woman gasped. “What are Empress Eveline and the Midnight Guard doing if they cannot keep elves out...”
He hadn’t seen who killed the singer, but he’d seen the man who’d attacked Liane. Not an elf, but a mere mortal. What made them assume it was the elves? Was it bias, or had it been the killer’s intent? Whoever they were, they’d done it to incite panic. The crowd was already brimming with restless fear, and now they were kindling waiting for the match.
Pacing courtiers brushed against him, and he tensed, holding back the urge to lash out at them. If they didn’t let him out soon, he might go mad. Surely, they wouldn’t keep them here long, just long enough to calm the mania. It was too late to stop rumors from flooding the capital, but they could at least soothe the mob before they incited the entire city.
Doors opened at the far end of the room, and the crowd surged toward it, grasping at the guards as they entered. They pushed most of them back, with shields making a blockade as they selected ten people to leave. The optimist might have seen that and thought they were letting people go in groups, but being a pessimist, he suspected otherwise.
Unable to stand still, he pacedthe perimeter of the room, searching for an unprotected exit. Guards watched him; he felt their stares follow him around the room. Remain calm, he repeated his mantra. He was being conspicuous. Better to sit, wait and watch. A few courtiers rested on the double staircase, and there was room near them. If he sat down up there, he could survey the room.
He took a seat and watched the door that last opened. Minutes dragged on, and they didn’t come back to release anyone else. When it did open, the original ten returned, and ten more were taken.One woman, tears streaking her white face powder, fainted in a man’s arms. As he’d feared, they weren’t letting them go; they were interrogating them. Not a problem; he’d endured torture and interrogation before. If he must, he’d use the allure to lie his way out of there.
Group by group, they took people out and then returned them. With each new group, the whispers grew louder, rippling outward. A young man broke away from a group at the foot of the stairs to whisper in an older man’s ear, a few steps below Erich.
“They’re using some stone. If it touches one of the corrupted, it will illuminate,” the man said.
Ice coursed through his veins. A rune stone? A shaman he met in the eastern desert used it to test the magical aptitude of his apostles. They were extremely rare and impossible to deceive. If it were real, it would expose his corruption.
“You don’t think the killer is here, do you?” a young woman squeaked.
“My gran is from the north, and she said elves can shape-shift. One might be hiding among us, in plain sight,”replied the young lord.
They cast suspicious gazes around the room, and a few flicked in his direction. The last thing he needed was a terrified courtier pointing fingers at him. Humans didn’t think when they were scared, and outsiders were easy targets. There were other loners, like himself, scattered across the hall, and it wouldn’t take long before they gathered them all up for questioning. Erich shifted in his seat, debating moving, but it wouldn’t make a difference while they were all trapped in this tinder box waiting to catch fire.
Someone from the group below him got up and made toward the guards. They’d turned on him quicker than he expected. Sizing up the guards behind him, Erich considered fighting his way out, and the dragon raised its head, stirring at the prospect of bloodshed. Beyond the guards was a window that looked out onto the night sky. He could try escaping out of it as he and Fritz had the night of the masquerade, but this time he wouldn’t have Fritz’s magic to help him.
A hand fell on his shoulder, and Erich spun around, raising his arm in a defensive gesture, and met Prince Mathias’ grinning expression. He’d been so preoccupied with plotting his escape, that he hadn’t heard him sneak up behind him.
“Can I speak with you a moment?” Prince Mathias asked.
Was he working with the Midnight Guards? Prince Mathias was at eye level with him, even standing a step below him, and much heavier than him. His wide stance meant he wouldn’t be easy to knock over, and without using his dragon strength, he wouldn’t want to fight a man with tree trunk arms bare-handed.
“Now seems like a strange time,” Erich said slowly.
“Time isn’t on my side, unfortunately.”
“May I ask whatcan’t wait?”
“Liane.”
The Midnight Guards were behind Prince Mathias. There wasn’t time for clarification. Better to trust and hope for the best.
“Lead the way.” Erich gestured toward him.
Then turned to walk down the steps and the Midnight Guard blocked their way. Upon recognizing him, the guards bowed.
“Forgive me, your majesty. But we have orders to test all guests.”
“I will personally vouch for Prince Erich of Sundland. If your captain has questions, direct them to me. Understood?” he commanded with a smile.
They bowed deeper and, with a hand clamped on his shoulder, Mathias led Erich out. Neither of them spoke as they strode down the empty hallway and into a private room. It smelled like Lord Endland’s study: leather and cedar. When he was a boy, he and Lord Endland would sit by the fire together in squishy armchairs, drinking warm cider. It was one of those rarer moments in his life when he’d been at ease. The room had the same sort of feeling of comfort, but he wasn’t safe, not while he remained cursed in Artria. Those memories were better left amongst the cold ashes of the fire he’d burned them in than let them leave him vulnerable. Erich frowned. He was in what appeared to Prince Mathias’ office, but why had he brought him here?
“Nervous?” Prince Mathias chuckled.
“Not unless you think I should be?” Erich replied, relaxing his posture.
