Finding proof was more difficult than she thought it would be. None of the servants from Margennar were of the chatty type, and when they did talk to her it was with the distant polite tone of someone who didn’t give a shit and thought they were better than her.

Even the boys who tended the horses were all neatly paired up with the female servants who were in the group, and the older soldiers never so much as looked her way. If it wasn’t for the leering looks of the men from Mirtlemeadow, her ego might’ve suffered. Her only option was to play nice, get close enough to them and actually talk. Vindictive gossip she was good at extracting, the heart-to-heart approach still needed work.

Sim was afraid. It was something she sensed without words or facial expressions. Most people thought Sim was always afraid, always alert. The truth was that she put up a front of fragility, knowing full well she was the safest person in the castle. But in their brief conversation, Hara had noticed a difference. Sim was confused. And Hara could hardly blame her. A beast who didn’t kill people yet still drank blood. If that existed, then Hara was the Empress of the Flying Pigs.

“I’d like to show you something,” a voice whispered in her ear. Hara was sweeping the corridors. It was her duty early in the mornings. At first she had hated the groggy feeling she felt to her bones when she woke up early. But it offered her insight to secrets that other people rarely got.

Mornings were the time when most of the castle slept, but it was also the time when philandering husbands and wives snuck out of rooms that weren’t their own. Blackmail was a good way of lining her money purse and ensured that her job was a permanent one.

Her broom froze mid-sweep, and she turned her head to face the person who had snuck up on her. Not many people had the talent to surprise her. She was alert, the more cases of infidelity she knew about the safer her position.

A girl. She was simply a pretty girl, bony but definitely not from lack of food. Her ashen blonde hair hung in pig tails around her elfin face, a bit childish for her age. Hara realized the girl was around her own age, but portrayed a feeling of innocence. She was like Sim, but Hara knew that the innocence here was genuine. The long arched eyebrows above the girl’s brown eyes raised high, questioning why Hara hadn’t yet moved.

Hara leaned the broom against the wall and clasped the girl’s outstretched hand. The girl immediately set off, almost running through the halls. Finally they were at the guest wing, in a small room with only one window and one door.

An old man sat on a stool while a girl laid down on a low-lying bed. She had her eyes closed, but her brows were furrowed. The man was in his mid-fifties, his dark greying the front. He had a small sharp knife in his hand.

“This may sting a bit,” the man said before making a shallow incision across the girl’s upper arm. Quickly he let the blood drain into a cup and mixed a clear liquid in. He bandaged the wound and stepped back.

“Enough for today,” he said. The girl stood up and covered her arm with the sleeve of her dress. “Half of a cup.”

“Thank you, healer,” the girl said.

“Happy now, Hara?” the blonde girl asked her. “Our prince does not kill anyone for blood. You have your proof. He doesn’t know anything about this little demonstration. And I’d prefer he not find out. I know that you and your princess highly doubt his goodness, but he is nothing like your queen… or like his brother.”

“I’m still not convinced,” Hara admitted.

“That’s fine. I’m more concerned about the princess than a servant girl. If you can take me to her.”

“No.”

“Pardon me, but I don’t think-”

Hara scoffed. “I’m not going to lead you to her. Because I’m not convinced.”

“That is fine. I am perfectly capable of reaching the princess on my own. You may depart now.”

“Look here blondie,” Hara started. The blonde girl had seemed innocent, but it turned out she was just stupid. She was a servant that had been fooled into thinking she was something worthier. “You can talk to Sim, but in the end she’ll think the same thing about this that I do. My advice, try something else.”

* * *

Sim listened to Hara rage about the arrogant blonde girl and tried to make a decision. The question of trusting the prince had become ten times heavier. He just seemed desperate, so desperate to gain her trust. Even his servants had figured it out. She knew how servants operated when they hated their ruler.

It was incomprehensible why Hara showed such animosity towards the prince’s servants. Perhaps because they didn’t succumb to her usual methods of investigation, maybe because the blonde girl had managed to sneak up on her. Sim didn’t know and didn’t want to ask her. The less she thought about the prince, the more stable her life seemed.

Awain was preparing for his return trip, and the prince should’ve begun his wedding preparations. Sim knew that the wedding of such a proportion would require months of planning and a staggering amount of money and labor. Nauseatingly displayed exorbitance required immediate attention, and she saw no steps being made in that direction.

The servants all gossiped about the queen’s acceptance of the alliance. The prince had been forced to play his hand. He had accepted, but with the reluctance of someone being forced to the gallows.

Sim paced at her desk. There was only one method for her to follow. She was a good actress, and she would pretend to trust him for as long as it caused her no harm. There were a lot of questions she had about the prince, but at the end she had to remain favorable to anyone who was a way out of the castle.

He waited for her in his chambers. It had been unexpected the sudden invitation to have breakfast together. She walked out to his chambers unescorted, ignoring an irritated Hara’s glare as she walked by.

The blonde girl that Hara described was the one who served the tea, standing behind the prince. She was better dressed than most servants, and definitely very pretty. Normally Sim would’ve assumed that the girl was a paramour of sorts, but there was no contact between the two individuals.

The girl worshipped the prince, serving everything without needing a command. The royal didn’t even look in her direction. The only thing he valued the girl for was her efficiency. Everything around her was bland, the food as well as the conversation.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your engagement, your highness.”

“Hardly something to congratulate me about, princess.”

The prince looked tired. The stress added lines to his otherwise young face, and he brushed the thick black locks of hair out of his face. He rubbed his forehead and smiled at her. Sim just smiled as if he hadn’t said anything.

“I assume the queen will want to travel to Margennar after the wedding?” she asked.

“No, actually. It was one of her conditions that she remain in Mirtlemeadow. She wants to stay here for the rest of her life. For the rest of her existence.”

“You don’t want to,” Sim stated. She could hardly blame him. He was more human than she had anticipated, in the way he moved and fretted. The queen never fretted, never fidgeted. Even in the midst of battle not a single movement or breath was wasted. He was stuck in a dying country with a dead woman, most likely for the rest of eternity. She knew the feeling.

“It’s not as if I have another option here.”

The politics that he had always used to his benefit had suddenly turned against him. His parents, who before had been his idols in terms of justice and proper rule, had suddenly become antagonists in his story. Their orders had always been to maintain peace. Now for the maintenance of peace he had to marry a monster.

If it had been anyone else he wouldn’t have been so miserable. It wasn’t Morgan’s past or her current lifestyle that irked him as much as it was her love of it. She saw nothing wrong in what she did. She didn’t think of herself as a human being anymore. She didn’t even think of human beings as human anymore. She saw them as food or as vermin, depending on her mood. And that was something he knew he wouldn’t be able to change.

The little princess in front of him was probably the one who understood him best. Ten years was basically a second to him, but it was an eternity for her. She looked as if she knew the truth of the affairs around her, whether or not they were in her control. He spied the silver chain around her neck, the threads discreetly woven into her clothes. Her research had been put to some use.

“I was hoping we could join forces,” he suggested. “I want to end her.”

Morgan didn’t wait for the princess’s reply. She had thought Aryan would’ve acted intelligently. He had been given the opportunity of an alliance with someone like her, and he had sought a weak little princess instead. The princess was nothing more than a wallflower, and this particular wallflower knew no walls outside of the castle.

But the thought of him trying to betray her was enough. It was enough for the fires inside her to ignite and for her to start on her own revenge. He had told her of Nikayl’s death so carelessly, almost bragged about his brother’s demise.

She was sure he wouldn’t be so nonchalant when he was sent off to meet the same fate. The sounds of their clinking china was nothing to the roaring sounds in her ears. She could hear only her anger, only pay attention to her plans of retaliation.

Sim answered, “I think there is a way.”

The queen didn’t hear. She had decided on her bait.