“But your dream prince is a ghost!” My valet was beside himself, but I wasn’t about to give in.

  “Shamraven’s Hollow is open, tonight.”

  He glanced toward the open balcony, and the gathering dusk.

  “My lady, my…my Queen, please!”

  “I want him back.”

  “But you have to be at the ball, tonight. The kingdom cannot survive another war.”

  “Hush your mouth!” I warned, all too aware that the walls had ears. “That’s not something I want the world to know.”

  He stared at me, his face growing pale, his eyes luminescent with unshed tears. They’d be tears of frustration, I was sure, and I refused to let them move me. I watched his face, as his mind worked to find another excuse to turn me from my path.

  “My lady, you are needed. Your suitors…”

  “Are not whom I would choose.”

  His lips firmed in a tight line of disapproval, and his next words were a slap across the face.

  “The Prince Rothvannen did not care a whit for you!” he said, and I gasped.

  “He so very much did!”

  “He did not. He only cared for your fortune and your lands.”

  I felt my heart freeze, wanted to send the man from my presence, banish him from the castle, to cry, and shout, and scream, but queens did not do such things, and especially not when their kingdoms were at stake. Now, it was my turn to stare, as I felt my face grow cold and pale.

  “Tell me,” I said, hearing the brittleness in my voice, and he took a step toward me, his hand half-extended as though to soothe. I backed up a step. “Now.”

  “Let me show you,” he said, and walked to the window overlooking my private courtyard.

  I followed, coming to a stop beside him, close, but not close enough to touch.

  “Watch,” he said, indicating the corner I knew as ‘The Cascades.’

  Water splashed down a rock wall, and into a pool at its foot. The ferns bordering either side had perfumed foliage that scented the air when wet, and fish swam through tall stands of lilium at the waterfall’s base.

  The prince and I had spent many hours on the stone bench tucked alongside a garden bed opposite, trusting the water to mask our voices.

  I had not returned, not to my courtyard, and certainly not to The Cascades, since the night my prince had taken an assassin’s blade meant for me.

  The assassin had also taken my lady-in-waiting, which was why I now had a valet—the man who had once walked at Rothvannen’s side, who had fallen for his counterpart, and grieved her as much as I had grieved my prince. For that alone, I listened to what he might say.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  As I waited, I stared at the Cascades, my secluded bench, and the scene of my recent nightmares.

  “Watch,” my valet instructed, indicating the shadows over the bench.

  I opened my mouth to protest, but the shadows stirred, a familiar form coalescing at the entrance to my courtyard. I cast a swift glance at my valet.

  Twelve months!

  Twelve months had passed, and he had failed to show me this? I stared at the shape of my prince, waiting at the garden gate, saw my former lady’s maid come into being at his side.

  Never!

  I hitched my skirts, and turned swiftly about, avoiding the valet’s outstretched hand. Quickly, I stepped from my chambers and into the hall, hurrying for the stairs, as my heart leapt and hammered in my chest. I moved quickly, so as to avoid the rapidly gaining footsteps of my servant.

  “Why?” I asked, keeping my voice low, so as to not attract the attention of my guests.

  “My lady,” he protested, “Please stop so I can explain.”

  “You have until we reach the foot of the stairs,” I snapped back, turning into the stairwell, and hurrying down toward the garden.

  With a softly muttered curse, he followed me.

  “Well?” I pressed, one hand lifting my skirts, the other on the rail to steady my descent.

  He huffed a sigh.

  “The assassin!” he said, and I came to such a sudden halt that he ran into me.

  “I’m sorry, my lady,” he said, grasping me by the upper arm to stop me falling.

  I ignored his apology.

  “The assassin,” I pressed.

  My valet had wounded the assassin, made him miss his mark, driven him off before he could kill me.

  “He still lives, my lady.”

  “And?”

  “If he completes his contract before your next betrothal, the Prince Rothvannen will live again.”

  “How can that be?”

  I was balanced precariously on the stair, half-turned so I could see him.

  “Because the Prince must live, if the Guild is to receive the full price.”

  I glanced about the stair well, the valet following my gaze.

  “Please, my lady. Might we return to your chambers?”

  But I thought of my Prince, of my poor lady-in-waiting, of being able to ask if what the valet was saying was true. I straightened my back, shook my hair over my shoulders, and started down the stairs, once more, albeit at a slower pace.

  The valet’s response was preceded by a sound of dismay.

  “My lady,” he said, not letting go of my arm, but not trying to halt my descent. “At least, take this.”

  I paused, long enough to spare him a glance, saw that he offered me Prince Rothvannen’s blade.

  “That was supposed to be buried with the Prince,” I managed, but I accepted it, anyway, and let him take it back so he could belt it around my waist.

  “There,” he said, adjusting it so the scabbard was partially hidden in my skirts. “Be careful when you draw it.”

  I sighed, and turned to resume my journey down the stairs. Of course, I would be careful when I drew it—if I drew it. And I knew how, having insisted on lessons after the demise of my prince. I heard my valet fall into step beside me, but ignored him, until he stepped ahead to open the door to the courtyard.

  I did not expect the way he turned the handle and kicked the door open, nor the way he turned abruptly back and swept me against the interior wall, and I certainly did not expect the multiple whistle of rapidly-fired darts. These shot through the doorway, as soon as it was open.

  “Your prince is by the gate,” the valet said, taking me by the shoulders, as he shifted away, and looked into my eyes. “He cannot enter without your consent. Speak with him, first.”

  I nodded, and he released me, then stepped into the doorway to lead the way outside. More darts whistled, and he fell, rolling to one side to clear a way for me.

  “Watch for the assassin,” he said, and I nodded, staring at the darts protruding from his chest, staring harder as he plucked them free, and cast all but the last one aside. That one, he held up for me to see.

  “It’s poison,” he said. “Enough to take its time in killing you, so the prince could wed you, and then mourn your loss.”

  I glared at him, recognizing the discoloration on the tip as the same I’d seen on the assassin’s discarded blade, twelve months ago.

  “I don’t like your tales,” I said, and he shrugged, pushing to his feet, and standing to one side of the door.

  “Then let’s go speak with your prince,” he challenged.

  I glanced out into the dark.

  “The assassin?”

  “I will watch for him. It will take him some time to reach the courtyard from where he fired.”